Sat May 5- Bridget Jones or Me?
Bridget Jones or Me? Scenario 1: Earlier in the day, I had put my hair
in a ponytail. The hairband was kinda loose and tended to slip. So in the
evening, when the hairband seemed to have fallen off and gotten lost, I used
another hairband, this time to just tie up the top of my hair. I then traveled
all the way to the place where my dance class was to be held. In the washroom,
I noticed something dark in the toilet water. It was the first hairband. Yes, I
plucked the hairband out of the toilet, but no, I didn't put it immediately
back on my hair. What's the moral of the story? Um, comb your hair out before
you leave the house?
Scenario 2: I took a chocolate square from the fridge and placed it in the pouch of my hooded sweatshirt, with the intent of eating it later when the square got a tad warmer. Of course, I then promptly forgot about it. So at night, when I took my sweatshirt off, I felt something mushy and warm in my pocket and remembered that I still had chocolate there. Laundry time.
Scenario 3: I have a white stain on my navy blue khakis which I can't wash out. Not happy as I like wearing these pants all the time. I suspect the white stain is from toothpaste residue. Is there bleach in Colgate? I recently got toothpaste on my Club Monaco sweatshirt too, on the right shoulder.
Scenario 4: I can't find my red cotton Banana Republic sports jacket anywhere! Boohoo, as I really liked it. It was ridiculously overpriced too and I had the sleeves altered for me as well. The last time I distinctly remember wearing it was to work during the summer. I wonder if it's still hanging on the hook of my former office door or in the cloak room. As if I'm going to call these people up again. I have my pride. I'll have to write this up as a loss. Damn.
I just feel like I have no fond feelings for my brother. No fond memories either of us growing up. Never really got along. It's especially evident when I see how other guys treat their younger sisters. We still can't even have a civilized conversation. Last night, I asked him who he was going to vote for in the upcoming provincial election. The jerk acted all pompous on me, swearing and attributing my intent to vote for the NDP b/c he thinks I'm a future welfare bum. Other people vote for the NDP too, but he would never speak to them with such disrespect. I can't have an intelligent conversation with him whatsoever. My family is supposed to be an encouraging presence, there for moral and other types of support. However, I don't feel at ease around this guy b/c he's always putting me down and puts me on the defensive. I always feel I have to come up with something nasty to hurt him back. Example of what he said yesterday, "Everybody knows you're an idiot." Everybody? He doesn't understand or appreciate me at all. He thinks that just b/c he makes a lot of money and is in a much higher income tax bracket that he's someone of significance in society. Of course I know his comment isn't true. I know I'm a worthwhile person. I find myself infinitely more interesting than him, after all. Why does he say things like that? I know Ann Landers would say that he treats me this way b/c I let him. But how do I do that, exactly?
Some thoughts on Survivor 2:
I was pleasantly surprised that in the days after the Vancouver Sun Run, my
legs weren't sore as expected. Yes, I could bend down to sit on the toilet seat
without pain in the quads! And yes, I could also walk down the stairs! Ah, the
power of using the whirlpool & Tiger Balm right afterward. My butt and hip
flexor muscles were a bit sore though. Guess I'll Tiger Balm those areas next
Bridget Jones's Diary: No, I never did end up reading the book and I don't think I'll need to either as I have now seen the movie (after 19 wasted minutes of commercials first...19!). I think the best scene was when Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) was turned on by BJ's (Renee Zellwegger) granny-type panties. "Oh fuck me, Mummy!" I didn't really sense too much chemistry between Colin Firth's character of Mark Darcy and BJ though. Darcy just stared at her stony faced throughout the first parts of the movie. No expression, no humour, no personality. Didn't buy the romance. And what exactly was so endearing about BJ that made Darcy like her 'just the way she is'? You come out of the movie going, "Well, that was a fun, fluffy movie," but then there isn't much else to say. In the end, BJ ends up with nice guy Darcy instead of the cad Cleaver. Whoopee ding. So the 32 year-old chubby, drinking, smoking BJ finds a decent civil rights lawyer in the end. Too convenient. This doesn't happen in real life so easily. If you had to choose between BJD and Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (from which the character Mark Darcy was based), choose P&P. But then again, if you had to choose between P&P and Austen's Emma, I highly recommend Emma.
I've been attending a women's beginner soccer clinic these past few weeks. Fun. I've never played competitve soccer before. I was always terrible at it as a kid b/c a) I have horrible foot-eye coordination, and b) no one ever taught me properly what to do with the ball, except how to stop it with one foot and kick it with the inner side of my foot. Well, either that, or the other information never registered b/c I couldn't do those anyway.
Good-bye Cigarette Man! The male tenant downstairs is returning to Beijing in just over 2 weeks. After that, no more second-smoking in my own home (hopefully). The guy smoked 3 (yes 3) packs a day of likely unfiltered ciggies. The rental agreement clearly stated that smoking was prohibited and we kept telling him not to smoke indoors, but in the less than 3 weeks that he's lived in our basement suite, I have only seen 3 stubs outside. The loser even smokes indoors when it's sunny outside. I was so ready to cry bloody murder. Fortunately, after he leaves, his daughter will be moving out with a friend who has an extra room. I suspect that either this friend or themselves, or both parties, had planned all along for the tenants to only stay at our house for such a short time, without telling us of course. Even though the agreement had explicitly stated that they must give us one month's notice, they didn't. Now we're in the process of looking for new tenants again. People truly only think about themselves. Is this what people think capitalism is about? Fuck that kind of capitalism, then. Lessons learned: Absolutely do not rent to people who you have not seen before. You've got to see each of the tenants face to face (and smell their clothes for cigarette smoke). Plus, you get a sense of their personalities, though that often doesn't help b/c before you've agreed to rent out to them, they're really nice and polite, but once they've moved in, they're their true selves.
Most of the people calling are Mandarin speaking, from mainland China. There aren't too many people from Hong Kong or Taiwan immigrating nowadays. In fact, many of them have returned for business reasons.
My uncle's wife just had breast cancer surgery (and was discharged the next day). Total shocker. I didn't find out about her condition until just a few days prior to the surgery. Her cough had lasted a long time and didn't seem to improve despite trying all sorts of medications, so she finally had X-rays done. And I guess that was how they first detected a lump, which was fairly big. Who knew.
Cancer scares the shit out of me. I can't believe I agreed to see that movie about a year and a half ago starring Susan Sarandon and Julia Roberts, in which Sarandon's character eventually dies of breast cancer. It was my belief even then that I should never pay to see movies in which people die of cancer b/c real life is depressing enough. Fortunately, it wasn't that moving a movie so I didn't become too upset afterward. Go get a mammogram, people. If I have enough guts, I would too.
My dad and brother have been rather insensitive, or maybe I've been oversensitive about this. My dad, hearing that the surgery took about 4 hours, said boastfully, "Hmmph, if I was performing the surgery, it would've taken only half an hour." And upon hearing that my uncle has hired a woman to look after my aunt and the house for the next month, my dad remarked that my uncle was making too big a deal about the illness. Oh, breast cancer surgery is done all the time. It's so common-place. Making such a big fuss over it will only make [my uncle's wife] more anxious. And my brother, acting Pseudo Medical Whiz Jr., said that if you're to have cancer, breast cancer is the one to have b/c there's a higher survival rate than with other cancers. Oh shut the hell up. Wait til you get cancer (not that I'm wishing it to happen!), then you'll be able to show more compassion. Fuck off. One in ten women are diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime and no tremendous progress for a cure has been made in the last 50 years. People do DIE from breast cancer. Anyone who can't understand the fear, shut the fuck up.
[I just came back from visiting her tonight. She still has a hemovac (to drain tissue fluids) attached.]
I attended a huge (and free - guess that's why it was huge) ultimate frisbee clinic and barbecue this afternoon. Prior to the clinic, the concept and skill of throwing forehanded (i.e. flicking) was foreign to me. I had always just thrown backhanded. Now, after the clinic, the concept is no longer foreign. The skill still is though. And catching hurts. The part of the palm directly below my left thumb is slightly bruised and my left middle finger is in pain when I try to straighten it. But it was fun. At least I know a bit of the rules and terminology now. Plus, I got a bit of sun and exercise, though my forehead is bright red now. Guess I do need sunscreen even though I'm Asian.
I think it's the lazy and introverted person in me that's always reluctant to go somewhere on my own. My excuse is that I feel tired if I can't use other excuses that day like needing to wash my hair, etc. (I knew people who were going to the clinic, but I was driving myself there. I was 1/2 hour late.) But once I've arrived someplace, I feel fine. And I'm glad I went. I was really bad last weekend though. I just flaked on people b/c I didn't want to drive to beach v-ball on my own even though it was a gorgeous day out. And I wanted to go to visit some open art studios but I was unmotivated to go on my own. What else I didn't end up attending that weekend even though I wanted to: a couple of dance performances (which coincided with International Dance Day) and a power yoga session. It'd be so much easier if I had really artsy friends. I remember telling a friend that on the first Saturday of each month, some small galleries on South Granville row have wine & cheese and the exhibiting artists are there to talk about their works. My friend asked, "Why would you want to go to those?" (Just as bad as this other friend who asked me who Gloria Steinem was when I had once asked her if she wanted to attend a lecture by Steinem. I was so disgusted/ shocked that I didn't bother respond.)
Each day that I go out to play sports or see a movie or see artworks, I know that I'm just trying to avoid some other pragmatic things I really ought to deal with.
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