Media Advisory

TORONTO, Ontario, Canada.

On Thursday, August 31 Molly Blogger informed the staff at BP that she has officially returned to the blogiverse. Her new and improved blog entitled "Grattitude", was officially launched last Friday with the introduction of the newest member of our loft family, a fish called Socrates, a sassy and friendly little thing. His favorite pastimes include swimming frantically around his habitat, spitting out his food pellets and chilling in his cave. When asked by BP why she chose this moment to come out of retirement and return to the world of high-performance blogging , Molly quipped that she had just too much to share with the people of this beautiful planet we Earth or, if you are a Scientologist, Teegeeack.

"I don't want people thinking that this will be the same blog as I had before" she continued. "I plan on diversifying, branching out if you will". In addition to once again highlighting some of the daily occurrences in Molly's life, Grattitude will also feature such recurring columns as "Cooking with Power Tools", "Cat Wrestling with Spaz and Oreo" and the destined to be very, very popular"How to Break Traffic and Parking Laws and Get Away Scot Free, or Not".

Put your hands together and please join Beatrice Petty in welcoming Molly back from retirement.

Reincarnation 101

** Disclaimer... as the comments that this posting is generating are coming from men who seem to think that I am "bashing" them and/or portraying them in any other negative sort of light and/or I am being pessimistic etc... I just want to clarify that a) I have the utmost respect for what would seem to be the genetically inhereted "out of sight, out of mind" trait possessed by "some" men and that b) being realistic about the fact that I may never marry seems much healthier to me than thinking marriage is the be all and end of of my life's existence and that c) well, there isn't a c per say... it was meant to be a fun and silly little posting that apparently became about how bitter and pathetic I am... from now on, I will write about ponies and butterflies**

I've decided what I want to come back as in my next life...

A Man.

And not because I think that it is the next step on the path to enlightenment. Truth be told, I think that it might be a step backwards, a little lower than cats and dolphins, but DEFINITELY higher than raccoons. Psycho little buggers they are. Anyway, my reasons for wanting to return as a homo sapien of the male persuasion are a follows... and of course, this is based soley on my experiences and my experiences alone... and for those of you who have been closely following my dating adventures over the past year or so, you know that what I know could about fill a tea cup. A tea cup that belongs to one of the little alien thingies from Sesame Street that live in flower boxes... what were those things called??? At any rate, a very small tea cup was what I was getting at.

So, what has Beatrice learned about men thus far?

1) Men are completely oblivious. This is actually the number one reason why I wish to return as one. Girls can be a little odd sometimes. When you make tentative or even definite plans with us say, at the beginning of the week, a week or two in advance etc, and then we don't hear from you for say... the entire week or we hear from you but you avoid the topic of said plans... um, we assume that the plans are not a given and then stress out and completely analyze everything to death and the result we come up with in the end is that there are no plans, there never were any plans and how could you be so mean and you can all go to hell. And then the day of the supposed "plans" come about and you get the phone call saying "when can I pick you up?". So, while the gal has spent the entire week obsessing over not hearing from the guy and getting an ulcer over it, the guy has spent the week thinking about whether or not his colourblindedness has led to him wearing a red shirt with green pants or what the knock in his car could possibly be. It's brilliant in it's simplicity. I want to be clueless dammit!!!

2) Men pay less for their stuff than women. Pick an item that is available to both sexes: haircuts, shoes, clothes, hygiene products etc... and odds are that men have to pay far less than women for the same thing. And do not even get me started on make-up and feminine products which men do not even need to bother with at all. There should be a law that says that women MUST earn a higher salary than men just so we can pay for all the extras... Coming back in my next life as a man is simply a logical way to cut costs folks. Plain and simple. And furthermore... I'm not going to spend any money on dates any more. I just decided... of course, I have no prospects for a date anytime soon so that is neither here nor there... but IF and WHEN I ever meet anyone ever again... That's what I was trying to say.

3) Men are more numerous than women. I'm thinking that were I a guy, I would have no troubles at all meeting the gal of my dreams. Logic would seem to dictate that if there are 10 men and 30 women in a population, a man would have to be a complete social reject in order to not score some honey. Now the reverse-- being one of 30 women in a population of 10 men... well, it's no wonder the old girl finds the whole thing a little challenging at times. When I was a little girl, being married or in a long term sumpin'sumpin' was a given when I was all growed up... "When I'm married..." As I got a little older "When I'm married" turned more into something like "If I ever get married..." Now? Now I just assume that I will not ever be joined in a state of marital bliss. If I had a sister, I fully expect I would be not unlike Patty and Selma from The Simpsons... except of course for some subtle differences... such as no chain smoking and not being an uber fan of MacGuyver. Don't worry it isn't as sad and pathetic as it sounds... It's just one of many realities that I need to accept may come to fruition. No sense beating myself up about it. Besides, I'll have lots of cats to keep me company and with all my friends being married, there will be lots of kids around to call me "ultra-fab" Aunt Beatrice.

So there you have it... the reasons why being a man could be bearable... of course, being a dolphin would be fun too... just not a raccoon. Anything but a raccoon.



Return of the Stalker

He's baaaaaaack...

Remember my stalker? I know, I tried to block it out of my head as well. It seems that I have unwittingly bestowed the same pleasure upon my roomie. Yep... this silly little friends network that one uses to keep in touch with past friends/acquaintances and the like. Somehow I already had a little friend waiting for me when I signed up. And while I was able to block him from communicating with me, it seems that he can communicate with others in my network. Is there a more pleasant way to wake up on a sunny Sunday morning than to find a message in your inbox from your roommate's former stalker:

well i saw your profile and i was really attracted to your smile, i hope that doesn't sound like a cheesy pick up line cause i really mean it .. well i hope u email me or add me to your msn and then we could get to talk a little bit. hope u have a great nite Ash


Run away Molly. Run away quickly.

On a completely different note altogether... you'll be happy to learn that I, in fact, will not be entering a convent as previously stated. The Former-PNB discovered as much last Saturday night at about 2am when he received several phone calls from the old girl. What can I say, apparently Romanian Moonshine puts me "in the mood"... who knew? At any rate... Poor Former-PNB... not that I actually made it over there, but, a thousand apologies to him for waking him up and for ever so patiently putting up with the ramblings of a slightly inebriated Bea.



Climb Every Mountain

Been doing a lot of thinking over the past couple of days... you know, the usual...

...When will the DVD of Little Britain series 2 be available to buy in Canada and when will David Walliams make an appearance in Canada so I can bear his children... why does my cat have to scratch the walls as if they were scratch'n'sniff stickers... why does my hot pepper plant grow like it is going out of style while my supposed green peppers grow to the size of a pea, turn red and then die... why does Suzy Rawn keep ending up in the bottom three... why are boys so complicated... things of that nature.

It is the last ponderance that has caused the most reflection... as if you are all surprised... although the Little Britain one came in a very close second. What can I say, I am a fickle Bea.

What to do, what to do. Well, first of all, I have been trying to come up with a delightfully witty way of telling Insulty McInsult... you remember him. He's the one who insinuated that my singleness was due to the fact that I preferred to actually meet people rather than chat with them over the internet. It has been two weeks now, and besides the encounter last Saturday where he accused me of inviting him to an orgy full of psychotic ugly people, I have not really heard much from him, let alone seen any effort to try to meet in person. If anyone has any ideas on how to write a brilliant "I told you so moron... thank you byebye" type of correspondence let me know and I shall include it. Oh, you're right, I could let it go... and I very well might... I just so like being right dammit!!! And besides, I wouldn't touch this guy with a 10 foot pole at this point... just having a bit of a laugh people... that's all.

Secondly... I am finding the gents that have been coming my way of late just plain boring... Is there no one exciting left out there? I am convinced no, perhaps with the exception of my little English visitor who will be arriving in a weeks' time... So, let me re-phrase that... Is there no one exciting left who actually lives remotely near me? I am convinced no. No exceptions on that one.
Furthermore... well, actually, there is no furthermore. No wait....

If you do not hear from me for sometime, it is because, after two very long minutes of dwelling on how much I, after all my years on this earth, can be so completely lacking in my abilities to understand the male gender... have decided that my only course of action is the enter a convent.

Behold, the (soon to be) new Beatrice:

Ok, so this this isn't me right now, but give it about 40 years or so... you get the picture. I think the most difficult thing for me to give up... besides the lately infrequent pleasures of the carnal nature, will be the swearing. For those who do not know me in person, you may not be aware of this, but in the real world, Bea cusses like a sailor. Every second word is "effing" this, or "effing" that. People at work accept it only because I have told them I have Tourette's but I think some of them suspect otherwise... effing bastards. I clean up the blog because one never knows when small children will stumble across it... bless their effing little hearts. Anyway, it'll be difficult but I think it can be done. Wish me luck everyone!

Sister Beatrice Mary Elizabeth Petty of the Sacred Heart


For Molly...

For all of you peeps who used to follow my roomie Molly's life with as much rapture as my own before she decided to actually live her life as opposed to writing about it... I thought I would provide you with a little update.

She is doing really well. She's out of town for the next couple of days, gallivanting around our nation's capital.

And in honour of her doing really well-ness, and because I miss her... I thought I would let her know that we are all thinking of her. And what better a way to do that than to post a picture of her favorite comedian... or tragic figure. I'm not sure which. For those who wondered whatever happened to Carrot Top... wonder no longer...


Could Have Been the Whisky...

Might have been the gin... Actually, it was almost definitely the gin, and the vodka, triple sec, cointreau, lychee etc...

What can I say about Girl's Maritini Party on Saturday? Well, I can tell you that I woke up the next day and was like "La dee da... it must be 10am or so... time to get up..." only to look at my clock and say "Holy *insert expletive here*... 3pm??? What the..."

The last definite thing I remember was arriving back to the building and trudging up the stairs to the second floor only to run into the artist neighbour from down the hall who, oddly enough, just happened to be standing in the hallway at 5am-ish. I, of course, was in a right state, but was somehow supremely conscious of the fact that stringing together two words in any manner that another human could comprehend was the most difficult thing that I had ever attempted in my life. I'm not entirely sure what was discussed but I have a sick feeling that I agreed to throw a bash in the loft before the end of the summer. Did we agree upon a date? Perhaps. I have horrible visions of me just chilling at home in my sweats one Friday night only to hear a knock on my door...

anyway, it was super fun... and by fun I mean that it is my firm belief that none of the pictures that were taken throughout the evening, save for this one of course, should EVER be seen by anyone who was was not at the party. EVER.


And supposedly there is some sort of video that was taken at some point during the evening??? This should be destroyed. Immediately.

Oh the things we do in the name of fun...

Bea "could do with a new liver at anytime now" Petty


Pirate Memory Games

Tonight Beatrice is set to attend a martini party (or maritini party for you insiders) hosted by Girl. It will be fun.

Anyway... it seems that due to some people and their un-gentlemanlike manners, the party is in danger of being a couple of gents too short. T'is no nevermind to this lass, as I am saving myself for a visit from... well... I can't give you the details at this particular moment, but let's just say that my disastrous foray into the world of Beautiful was not quite so disastrous after all... ahem...

So Girl says to me, she says "Bea, feel free to invite some of your peeps as some very un-gentlemanlike people may not be attending at the very last minute." So I says to Girl, I says "That is very un-gentlemanlike indeed. I will see what I can do", I says. A simple request with a simple solution... or so it would seem.

Now, I think you can all remember back to my last posting, or at the very least, have the capability of going back and reading if you missed it. In it, I referred to a fella who I fondly nicknamed Insulty McInsult. Now, in all fairness, Insulty McInsult was the first to respond to my call for help. How sweet, you may be saying... Um.... Please find following the abbreviated highlights of the conversation that followed.

1) Even though the goal is to have as close to an equal ratio of guys to girls as possible, it is not, in fact, an orgy.

2) Yes, there will be lots of cute girls there but I do not, in fact, have pictures of any of them. You will just have to take my word for it.

3) Yes, most people will be single, but it's just a party, nothing more... please refer to entry number 1.

4) Justifying all your stupid questions by saying that you are simply trying to get a feel for what you should wear is really not convincing anyone. If you think that wearing track pants and slippers to a martini party in Toronto is a good call regardless of the circumstances...whether the girls are cute or not, or if it is, in fact, an orgy... I'm thinking that being so tall (6'6") must mean the air is so thin that it has made you retarded (note... I was polite enough to not articulate this thought, although it was certainly top of mind).

5) You can spend 20 minutes mulling over whether or not the party will not be filled with freaky people and then decide whether or not to grace us with your godlike presence... but try not to tell me that you've spent the last 20 minutes mulling over whether or not you think the party will be filled with freaky people and that you have decided to grace us with your godlike presence. (Note... that I would certainly have tried to fill in as many people as possible prior to your arrival, that you are this big of an idiot, so don't be surprised if a lot of sniggers followed you around the party or that no one wants to talk to you.)

6) Just because I don't want to give you a picture of the hostess and/or her msn does not mean that the hostess is a hideous freak monkey. (Note. I tried to find there a nice way of telling him that the hostess wouldn't touch him with a 10 foot pole but he didn't pick up on it... Girl... it's your call. You too could have the pleasure.)

7) Sometimes an invitation to a party is just an invitation to a party. Nothing more, nothing less. Jesus.

The end result after all of this... he is not going to be attending... apparently, he is going to visit a friend in Barrie but had he had more notice... One can only feel but the deepest sympathies for this friend in Barrie.


PS... Did anyone catch the Little Britain reference made in the title of this posting??? I' so addicted... and have a new celebrity boyfriend in David Walliams... Tall, English and hysterically funny??? Sigh. At any rate it explains the fact that I made no reference to pirate memory games at all.


Bea at Work

Sorry Friends,

Been a little missing in action lately. Total apologies. I never realized just how much free time I had at work until... well... now that I have no free time at work. Oh, not to worry, I can still find the time to work on my love life... Like take yesterday for example.

Cue the Scooby-Doo flashback music...

This really tall dude contacted me on youknowwhatlife... He IMed me, which of course, should have been my first clue and after a little bit of casual banter, he asked me for my msn. I politely explained, as only I can do, that it is my experience that msning back and forth is a complete waste of time as one tends to not ever meet those people and that I prefer to not waste my time but here is my email address (I've been over this in the past). He replied to this by saying something snarky about that's the reason I'm still single and that I seemed angry and bitter and that he didn't want to talk to someone who was like that. Ironically, I was not even remotely bitter or angry up to this point, but we all know what happens when you actively start swatting at beas... their stingers come out... they don't want to resort to this as they die if they sting you, but sometimes you happen to catch them on days when they are seriously pmsing or the like. Oh yeah... beas psm... I looked it up. Anyway, short of saying "fine, then prove me wrong", I relented and gave him my msn.

Luckily this all occurred during the last half hour of work... by all accounts, the least productive time of day so I could give this 6'6" tall bundle of dog loving attitude my full attention. Sadly, it could not have been more obvious that I was nowhere close to the top of his priority list. And to top the whole experience off, at the very end he asked me if I was going to be online later to which I replied "I'm not really on at night...". "Oh, well, that's not really going to work then as I am really only on at night". I will refrain from going into the details on the hysterical laughter expletive ditty that was playing n my head at this time. But I think it was about the time when he tried for 10 minutes to convince me, bordering on insulting me if I didn't, to forgo my beauty sleep so I could be online when he got home from some party at 1am. Dude, I wouldn't stay up until 1am to go online with Orlando Bloom, let alone Insulty McInsult... Of course, nothing at all from him today.

Is it wrong to be counting down the days until I get to say I told you so? It so is... but I'm bored... and remember what happens when Bea is bored? Frightening.


To Whom it May Concern

Dear people trying to sell things in the comments section of my blog,

Just wanted to let you know that most of my readers are far too poor to be able to take advantage of the spectacular deals offered on your website(s).

For example, I know for a fact, that at least one of them had to scrape bark off a tree today just so they could get their daily required serving of fibre and Vitamin B. This is difficult enough to have to deal with without being hounded by suggestions that society finds their boobies to be too small.

So, if you could keep your advertising down to a minimum so as to not remind my dear readers of their lot in life, that would be super.


Beatrice "Solicit This..." Petty

August Quota Filled


Carrying on from the roomie's (formerly known as Mollyblogger) vow to go on one date a month... I filled my August quota by heading on a lunch date last Friday with the most boring guy alive...

It was weird. We had some food, and some drinks... and spent the goodly part of a couple of hours talking about me. How it happened, I do not know, but this guy never, ever seemed to want to talk about himself. It was one question about me after another and even when I would stop and say "And what about you? What is your favorite movie, book, cartoon, cheese, brand of shoe etc...", somehow he would skirt the question and start back at me. It was weird.

But it did get me thinking that sometimes a guy can never win. To be honest, what happened Friday had never happened to me before. The usual complaint that I have from a date is that they seemed to talk only of themselves. Take the "I literally" guy for example. The "I literally" guy literally never shut up about himself... and were I to have believed everything that he literally said that he literally did... well, let's just say that I am pretty sure that he never "literally" went to the moon, or "literally" has never not lived at home with his parents. What I do know is this. I "literally" barely got 2 words out the entire evening. Literally.

So, typically, one has the opposite problem as the one first mentioned. The date where the guy seems "literally" quite uninterested in anything about you. I've heard many girls say, on many occasions, something to effect that "he never really asked me anything about me blah blah blah..." or "he asked me questions but then related everything I said back to him". I like to call that the "This one time, at band camp..." scenario. Don't get me started about when the conversation turns to previous Lava-experiences. That's the death blow right there. You both might as well pack the evening in right there because it ain't gonna happen from there on in. But back to what I was originally talking about...

It's true. That is very typically the way a date goes. Very rarely do you get that balance where both parties are equally as interested in what the other person has to say. If I don't have to pretend that I am interested in what you are saying, but ACTUALLY am interested in what you are saying... Man, that shit's bananas... B A N A N A S. Literally. But alas... 99.999% of the time that doesn't happen.

But of the reverse... when the guy wants only to know about you, and you alone? Hmmm. Undecided. It could be good I suppose... if the guy actually asks you questions that you are remotely interested in answering. I'm not going to lie to you folks. Beatrice likes to talk. I can talk for hours and hours and hours... the sound of my voice is like the sweet, sweet whisperings of a Poplar tree, swaying gently in a warm spring breeze. Had Boring McYawn from Friday asked me questions that were interesting to answer, things might have been different. Sadly, it is my belief that asking me such things as "what kind of cat food is your cats' favorite" and "what do you think of the public transportation system in Toronto" are about as boring for you to hear as they are for me to tell.

So ladies and gents, I guess what I am trying to say is this. Be careful what you wish for.

Bea out.

PS. We should all congratulate Girl for being voted beautiful by the other beautiful people already deemed beautiful on She is now officially a beautiful and card carrying member of I am so happy for her... and by happy, of course, I mean jealous and bitter.

Congratulations Girl!!!


You all can stop hating me now...

... because it is official. I am not beautiful. I was, however, invited to join a dating site for "attractive minded people", which is I guess better than a kick in the head...

I jest.

It was fun.


I have a new challenge to keep me occupied for the time being. I have to become fluent in cockney rhyming slang by September. There are HUGE prizes at stake.


Bea "A bit Peter Purvis about the whole thing" Petty


New Friends

Hello Everyone,

I would like to introduce you to some new friends of mine. I know they are my friends because they contacted me out of the blue and their email landed in my junk folder.

My new best friend's name is Benjamin. He wants me to help create Heaven on Earth by prenatally educating and spiritually galvanoplastizing myself... not to mention a good old fashioned round of spiritual electroplating.

Sounds good to me... Where do I sign up?

Bea "call me Earthshine" Petty


Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful

And because my ego has not taken enough of a beating recently and because I just love placing myself in completely ridiculous situations, I have embarked on a new cyber-adventure, a social experiment if you will.

Last week, Girl put me on to a UK based dating site exclusively for beautiful people. Called, it is sort of like Lavalife, except that it is for.. ahem... beautiful people. Gone are the days of online dating sites where any average Joe or Josephine can sign up. works by having people (i.e. those already deemed worthy by previously voted in other folk). Your profile and picture gets put up for 3 days. In that time, members of the opposite sex either vote yes or no to let you in. Actually, it is a little more complicated than that. The following is the actual phrasing used for voting:

Yes! Certainly!
Hmm, Yes, OK.
Hmm, Not really.
No! Not at all!

I think we can all guess which votes Bea has garnered the most of. In 2 days, 3 hours and 27 minutes, it will be official. Beatrice Petty is not beautiful. Not at all!

Oh sure, I am what some people would call "adorable", or even "very adorable", but beautiful? Perhaps if there was a I would surely be welcomed with open arms. I'll keep y'all updated on the status of my application but at this point, it is not looking good as apparently the majority of shallow English people are of the opinion that Bea is not beautiful. Not at all!



Ickly McStickles

Most hilarious thing to happen after 2 days of having no water in the loft (ugh... seriously, no running water... do you know how annoying and/or gross that is?):

"You were letting him know that he was a jerk in a totally non-offensive way."

I myself was not aware that you could tell someone they were a jerk and not have them be offended until Girl was kind enough to enlighten me. Now I know. And now I know that I have this talent. Anyone who needs to tell off some guy (or girl) without offending them... send your requests my way. For a nominal fee, I will brilliantly craft something that will allow you, the offender to un-offend the offendee, the personage(s) whom you intend to offend.

Wait... does that make any sense?

Bea "now, with less offense" Petty


New and Improved Smiles... Now with more cheese

I got a call from Girl last night about a show that was on TV. It was called Hooking Up and it has officially dragged reality TV down to a whole other level. Because online dating isn't pathetic enough, they have to broadcast it on TV for the entire world to see.

Continuing on in the theme of this topi and further to my idea from a while back about starting a more honest online dating site (which I have since decided against by the way as my tech savviness really licks... and also, I am just far too lazy to embark on a project like this...), I've decided to send in some of my suggestions directly to Lavalife.

For those of you unfamiliar with the way LL works, please allow me to present Lavalife 101.

First you decide on the criteria with which you will use to search for your soul mate/casual date/one night stand etc... You can be very vague or very specific, using such criteria as eye colour, smoker/non-smoker, drinker, hobbies, interests, religion etc... For example, say you are looking for a 4'8" blue-eyed, brown hair heavy smoker who drinks excessively, has 8 kids, no education and belongs to a cult. You can find that... with just one click of the mouse. It's just that easy folks.

Ok, so you've chosen your ideal type. Let the searching begin... A typical search will bring up hundreds, if not thousands of men/women who fit your criteria. And then the "shopping" begins. You browse through any number of pictures and profiles and determine whether or not someone is worthy of your notice depending on what you read or see. Should you deem someone worthy, the next step, typically, is to send that lucky someone a smile, although some people skip this step and fork over the dough and just email you or IM you out of the blue. This is so rarely a good idea, but it happens nonetheless.

Anyway, so you smile. At this point, Lava gives you the option of personalizing your smile. They do this in the form of a "I couldn't resist" drop down box. There are many options to choose from. If looks are your thing, you can send your smile along with "I couldn't resist... (I swear, these are real):

The fact that you are a real hunk
Your hair - you still have it
Your sex appeal
Your eyes
Your smile

If you are more about personality than looks, you can choose such little nuggets as "I couldn't resist...:

Your wacky sense of humour
Your style - I think we could have a lot of fun
The way you express yourself
Your honesty

Lava also gives you the option of asking a little teaser question at the same time. It goes a little something like this (again, taken directly from Lava):

"I couldn't resist... your worldliness"

"A little teaser... ask me about... My hot sports car"

I have actually had the "hot sports car" one thrown at me. I laughed. I laughed hard.

Now that you have a little edumacation under your belt, I hope you'll all fully support the new "I couldn't resist..." suggestions that I will be forwarding to Lavalife forthwith. To be clear, these new ones are to be used when replying to a smile received.

I couldn't resist...

...The fact that I have blocked you 8 times and yet you still feel compelled to delete your profile and create a new one so that you can smile at me again (this could then be paired up with the teaser "ask me about... the fact that I hate you").

... The fact that Dude, we slept together a few months ago and you wanted nothing to do with me afterwards. Thanks for reminding me about how badly it made me feel.**

... The fact that you feel it is more important for me to know what your dog looks like than you.

... The fact that you MAY have all your hair, but I will never know because you are wearing a baseball cap... Oh, and I assume you have eyes, but you are wearing sunglasses too, so it's all purely conjecture at this point.

... The fact that your picture is so obviously taken from a scanned magazine photo, that it insults my intelligence...

I think you get the picture. Lava people, let me know if you have any other suggestions and I will include them in my letter.


** So, um... yeah. This actually happened to me today. I went out on a date with a fella many, many months ago. The Friday date turned into a weekend-long fling. He was really nice and I would have very much been interested in spending more time with him. However, after the weekend was over, I got the "I had a great time, but let's just chalk it up to a fun spur of the moment kind of thing. Have a good life..." email. Anyway, he smiled at me today and I almost peed my pants (fyi, he also now knows about BP as he searched my handle and came across the site, so he is possibly/likely going to read this... which is fine... A, if you do end up reading this... it's all in fun... seriously... call me sometime :-). So I smiled back and he wrote me, to which, of course, I replied that he already knew me etc... Anyway, long story short, it's all good, and I trust he knows that there are no hard feelings at all... Would never had met the former-PNB if it had worked out right (and we all know how beautifully THAT turned out)? But it got me thinking... and a Thinking Bea just cannot, not write about what she is thinking about and... well... you guys know me well enough for me to actually have to finish this sentence...


Handy Kitchen Tips

By Beatrice Petty.

Handy Kitchen Tip #1

When cooking with jalapeno peppers, ensure that your hands and fingers have been thoroughly, thoroughly washed before trying to relieve that itch in the corner of your eye.
house "american idol" laurie impressed lazy

Just what exactly was this person looking for exactly? Anyone? Bueller?

Didn't Mean to Frighten Y'all

I suppose that's one of the odd things about having a public journal of your inner most thoughts for all to read... sometimes your inner most thoughts can be scary and irrational. It doesn't make them any less valid, but they can be a little shocking at times. Everyone has these little moments once in a while (I hope) however, most choose not to enlighten total strangers when it happens. But I say, what the hay... if you people can be with me through the good times, then why not the bad? Till death do us part as they say... No wait... I seem to remember that pertaining to marriage and reality TV shows and not to blogs. Sufficed to say, I am not on the brink of doing anything irrational, nor am I going crazy... well, actually, you may think so after this...

So, for lack of anything else to read, and also, because I have yet to make my way to the bookstore to remedy the situation... I am starting Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince for the third time. Laugh if you must, but this is the way I work. The first read usually has me reading the words but actually being a paragraph or two ahead of where I am in the book. I also just really, really want to get to the end (although in this case I didn't because the roomie had given me the impression that something truly horrible was going to happen, which it did, but it was not wholly unexpected by yours truly and I did not know that the roomie was unaware that this certain event was not going to happen... anyway, I was scared) so the end result is that I usually skip over half the book and miss a lot. I re-read it immediately after finishing it which allows me to pick up on more of the details and some of the hints that Rowling has placed in the story (she's a sneaky bugger). In the case of the HBP, re-reading it made me less angry about the events that happened in the story (and has given me some theories)... I'm picking up what she's putting down. And the third read? That's me lamenting over the fact that it will be several years before the next HP book comes out, and many months before GOF is released in theatres.

So, has everyone who reads HP and BP finished the book so we can talk about it? Get some sort of therapy support group thing happening? Last chance to speak up cause the old girl is going to start dishing the goods anytime now.

On a different, but completely related note, I am now somewhat obsessed with Mugglenet. It's sort of your one stop shop for anything Potter related. I was on last night... in that half hour window between "So You Think You Can Dance" and "Little Britain" when I stumbled across the link for Lumos 2006, a HP symposium happening in Las Vegas next July... for a brief moment I got excited, for it meant that two of my favorite things had seemingly come together as if someone had read my mind. Vegas AND Harry Potter... Together? Surely, a joke. But it isn't. I kid you not. It's 4 days of academic presentations, Seeker tryouts, Wizarding Chess etc... I can't even...

And now back to Bea going crazy...

Ahem, as much as a) taking a trip to Vegas is appealing and b) attending a Harry Potter symposium is equally as appealing, I think entertaining any serious thoughts about attending this event would be a good indication that I had most definitely gone off my rocker. I'm not quite there... not yet anyway... fingers crossed. July is a long ways away. Yikes.


If it Feels Good Do it!

First off, you may or may not have noticed that Molly has been removed from my links. She has decided that she no longer wishes to share her life with the blogiverse. Everyone, please wish her good luck with the things she wants to accomplish. Of course, we are still roommates so if something of note should take place, you can bet I'll fill you in.

Sadly, or happily, depending on which way you look at it... that isn't the only change that is of note.

I've had a startling revelation of late... And the revelation is thus...

People are selfish.

I've been finding lately that most people seem to be only doing things for themselves. Until very recently, I had never realized that I have been doing the opposite and doing things mostly to please other people... friends, acquaintances etc... only to not have the same courtesy directed back at me. For a long time, things, events etc... that I myself have held as sacred have prevented me from doing things for moi... all because I didn't want to let others down. When I look back, I've been doing it my whole life. I don't want to do that anymore. Always with the empathy... Always the "How would I feel if it happened to me"... When I look back, I understand why I think this way... because it always does happen to me, and it sucks.

Enter Selfish Beatrice.

Selfish Beatrice doesn't feel like doing things for others right now. Selfish Beatrice feels like doing things that will make her, and her alone happy and not because others necessarily expect it, or demand it. There have been many things that I have missed out on recently; personal experiences I could have had but didn't and/or chose not to because I did not want others to be disappointed. Or, things that I didn't really want to do, but did anyway for the same reason-- to make others happy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to turn into a raging beeyatch or anything like that, I am just not going to be putting my feelings out there to the degree I have been... for the time being anyway. I'll bet that you won't even notice... Still the same person, but back to being the old Bea... Retro Beatrice if you will. The Bea who doesn't open up right away. The Bea who needs time to warm up to someone. One can only handle so much disappointment before it really starts to wear one out. Once upon a time I had a hard time dealing with my softer side and it was only very recently that I tried to do things differently. I wish I could say that it had all been peaches and cream (or Peaches and Lambert as my parents new little SPCA adopted brother and sister kitties are named... who names a cat Lambert? Honestly) and I could say that being more emotional and open has worked out for the best... but it hasn't. So the time has come for the old girl to retreat back into her shell. The one that was, once upon a time, so warm and cozy... at least, from the inside... hopefully to re-emerge when the outside climate is a little warmer... and perhaps whenever that gosh darned Sod is overthrown and the regime changes to something a little more enlightened despot-ish.



T'was a Long, Long Weekend...

But I'm better thanks... I don't know if you guys ever have those moments where all the things that might be not so great in your life all come to head at once. Being deemed not worthy of a second date by someone who I had deemed worthy, coupled with talking to my parents who are counting the seconds until I come home at Christmas, along with really, really wanting to head home for a visit now because I miss them a lot but don't have the money OR the time off to do it etc... you get the picture. Just a bunch O' silly little things really. Of course, my gift (or curse) of being overly dramatic doesn't help things in the least.

I'd like to thanks everyone for their kind words. It's nice to know that people care, even ones whom you have never met and who wouldn't know you from a hole in the head if you walked right past them on the street. The blogiverse is very strange, very strange indeed.



The World According to Bea

I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really miss my Mommy and Daddy.


Math 100

Indeed it would seem that the old girl has struck out again.

a) the first guy I have met in a long time (since the Irishman... and who even remembers THAT far back???), coupled with:

b) the first remotely interesting funny, cute, normal guy I have met in a long time (since even before the Irishman which was before they even had movable type, I think). Now throw in:

c) Sod's Law. First rule of Sod's Law dictates that a and b must cancel each other out, thus leaving Beatrice with a big fat ZERO. The equation goes a little something like this:


Where a equals 1 and b also equals 1 and c equals Sod's Law, which, of course also equal to (a+b).

Whatever happened to math where remainders were perfectly acceptable. Now that's my kind of math Dammit!