i keep trying to buy clothes, but it doesn’t seem to work out.

i had two hours to kill before my union meeting last night and since it’s five weeks until LONDON and i pretty much hate everything in my closet right now, i decided to waste time trying on things which wouldn’t fit/look good/be affordable and then leave the store dejected and sad.

yeah, not so much.

i found ALL THE SHIRTS!  srsly, i haven’t had that much good luck shopping in, um, years?  one of the best parts was clicking selfies in the mirror and then sending them to my girlfriends for a virtual consultation.  even if their input wasn’t used on an item, just taking a photo of myself in a piece was a great way to vet something.  i shall do this more often in future!

so, i found four, no, five, no, six, really awesome tops and took them out to the register to pay.  when they got rung up, i realized i had a “spend $100 get $50” coupon!  at home. on the fridge. where it was absolutely no use to me whatsoever.  fuck.  luckily for me, lovely amber who liked my eyeballs said they could put them on hold for me if i could come back tomorrow (today, that is) with said coupon.  yes! please! thank you lovely amber!  and off i went to my union meeting where i learned that sometimes people are really fucking cruel behind your back.

anyway, fast forward to getting home with my really late dinner of crispy chipotle snack wraps to eagerly put my coupon in my bag lest i forget it in my all-too-common morning malaise, when what do i see on the back of it?  “April 26 – May 3.”  fuck.  as you might have figured out, today is not May 3. it’s May 9. coupon fail.

but, because i was still in desperate need of shirts and have more money than sense, off i toodled at lunch to pay for my pretty tops.  i fought Kingsway traffic, walked in and asked for my items and the lady behind the register said “you know, everything is 40% off tomorrow…”

so, my fancy new things are back on a rack in the store in Burnaby awaiting a quick morning trip out to finally, i hope, buy them and have nice shirts to wear to help me feel a little better about living in 2014.  the end.

or is it…

so, i’m single in 2014.

i got dumped two days before xmas. by text message. after almost eight years together.

and i still don’t know why.

to say it was a gut-punch is putting it lightly. i’ve spent the last month mostly in shock. it’s only been the last few days when i’m finally getting sad. i think i preferred the shock, though.

everything reminds me of him. everything i’ve done for the last eight years has included him. i went down to bellingham with the girls a couple weeks ago and while wandering around target i kept catching myself thinking “i should look at [blank] for chris. oh, wait.”  it was hard. it is hard.

i have a box of his things in the trunk of my car, but i can’t bring myself to go anywhere near his house. i avoided a union meeting because i just couldn’t bear to be that near where he lives. plus, we always hung out before them and, well, i really didn’t want to have to explain why he wasn’t there with me to my co-workers.

that’s the other terrible thing.  pity face.  i’ve been slowly telling my co-workers, but only when they directly ask about him. and then they get the pity face. yeah, that’s awesome.  no, not really.

thank god for my friends. they’re amazing and being so good to me. i’m sure i’d be in a much, much worse place if it wasn’t for them.

so, yeah. words. ugh.

i’m not proud, but i’m about to whore myself out to you, my last two gentle readers.

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i’m going to go have a shower now. i feel a little dirty.

i might need to turn off the internet for a while.

i’m feeling overwhelmed by the amount of creative talent which abounds in the world and am increasingly aware of my lack of accomplishment in any one endeavour.

i’m not jealous of all the amazing people making amazing things. i’m honestly amazed at their abundant talent and creativity.  i’m sad that i’ve wasted 41.583 years not finding that thing at which i was meant to excel at.

okay, i might be a little envious of those people who are equally skilled in multiple disciplines.  that’s not entirely fair. what if they’ve stolen my intended skill somehow?

maybe i’m just meant to be overwhelmingly average in all my undertakings?  that’s not so bad, i guess.  there’s a place for normal people in the world.  it’s just that the pinterests and the tumblrs and the facebooks all seem to show me that everyone but me is out there being glorious and pooping magical rainbows without a hint of struggle or self-doubt.

in the mean time, yeah. i think i need to pull back from online consumption for a while.

i’m kind of turning into Mr. Rogers here at work.

i come in. i take off my jacket and shoes. i put on a sweater and a different pair of shoes. i teach children how to handle dangerous chemicals. i play with puppets.* i take off my sweater and shoes . i put on my jacket and a different pair of shoes. i go home.

in other news, you really want to be my neighbour these days.  we got new double-pane windows installed in our building last week.  the only unfortunate part of the whole thing is the privacy film i had on the dining room windows didn’t fit the new ones, so until i replace it, my neighbours have a glorious view of me in all my pantsless tv watching in the evening.

i’m totally their equivalent to the Friends’ ugly naked guy.

* i wish i got to play with puppets.

i’ve been in a bit of a tailspin lately.

my eating has been all over the place. my housekeeping has been on a rollercoaster. my spending has been utterly out of control. my emotions have been all over the map.  basically, i’ve been a fucking wreck for about a month or so and i’m kind of annoyed by it.

so, i’m going to take the opportunity of the start of a new month tomorrow to attempt to rein in some one of my runaway habits.


last time i did a NO SPEND month, was february 2012.  it went pretty well, if i remember correctly.  i intend to do the same thing as last time. no non-necessary purchases for 31 days.  this includes a decrease in the amount of eating out/fast food because, holy fuck, i’ve been doing a lot of that the last couple of months.


i just realized i might be setting myself up for failure by trying to do four things in one month.  all the pros say to only attempt to change one thing at a time lest ye be crushed by anxiety and failure.  so, my priority will be the NO SPEND portion because that probably is causing me the most stress at this point.

see you in a month!

for the past week or so i’ve been receiving texts. specifically, texts containing cat facts.

i don’t know how i became so lucky to be the recipient of these texts, but they’ve been highly informative, sometimes hilarious and, recently, creepy.

i’m pretty sure they’re coming from one of my friends, but at this point i kind of don’t care which one. i’m just starting to look forward to my daily dose of cat facts!

mr. david, if you please.

 so, when i was in college, i fell in love with art history.  actually, back up a step.  i fell in love with art history during my grade 12 western civilization class. that’s actually why i started taking art history classes in college. i imagined myself growing up to become a well-known art restorer, working in all the most amazing museums all over the world, ensuring that priceless paintings and sculpture would not be ravaged by time and inattention.

anyway, i remember one evening in the darkened classroom (it was always dark in there because we were always looking at slides of art, duh), a photo of michaelangelo’s david appeared on the screen.  it could even have been this picture for it seems very familiar to me.  my teacher (whose name i forget, but not her horrible perfume) started talking about how michaelangelo carved david’s head and hands to be larger than normal to ensure that people viewing it from the ground would see them in proper proportion, etc.  she then made some sort of comment about david’s physique and it’s realism. i remember being confused because i didn’t think david’s hip lines were real. they seemed more like the hip joints on g.i. joe dolls than what one would find on a real human male.

you see, at the tender age of 18, i had never seen a man totally naked. at least, never a man who had the buffness of david. mom’s playgirl of burt reynolds didn’t prepare me at all.

to this day, whenever i see this sculpture i blush for my 18-year-old self and her delightful naivete.

i’m bored and tired and grumpy and emotional.  i have a blog to whine about all those things, right?

i’m tired of people asking me how my weekend was. or my last night. or my vacation. because, you know what?  they were dull. and boring. and uneventful because i don’t do anything or go anywhere because i’m either tired, sore or broke 99% of the time.

i woke up at 2:16 a.m. in an emotional tizzy, complete with elevated heart rate and rapid breathing, because of my stupid dreams which were filled with hope and excitement and fear and terror and things i both want to do so very badly but can’t and things i don’t think i’ll ever be able to do because i’m either tired, sore or broke 99% of the time.

sunburn. on the back of my neck. where my “feeling ugly” shirt collar is rubbing against it.  awesome.

yeah, i have a shirt i pretty much only wear when i feel bad about myself.  if you see red plaid, you know i’m extra delicate that day.

if someone says they’re in a bad mood or not good or some other un-positive response to your “GOOD MORNING! HOW ARE YOU?!”,  don’t fucking ask why. just say something like “oh, that’s too bad” or “if you want to talk about it, i’m here” or “would you like me to leave you alone?”. the last thing a cranky and/or emotional person wants to do is freaking explain why they’re cranky and/or emotional, goddammit.


so… my internet home is 13 years old today.

yes, it’s gotten a little neglected lately. twitter and facebook and instagram have kind of taken over as the place i dump my brain so i don’t explode all over myself.  plus, i don’t even think any of y’all know this is here anymore now that google reader shut down (if google doesn’t believe in rss, it must not exist).  i did finally get around to updating the infrastructure for the website and paid for the next year’s worth of hosting and five years of domain name, so i must not yet be ready to let it go.

you don’t actually just want to hear about cats, cleaning and my financial spreadsheets, do you?  because, really, that’s all i have going on these days.  i had this discussion with friends last night about how i need something. something to sink my teeth into. a project or something new to learn because i feel so stuck and boring these days.  i’m happy for suggestions, by the way.

anyway, yeah. 13 years. my blog is now starting high school.  how scary for it.

i’m thankful for all of you still reading. i’m thankful for all of you who have come and gone from my life through these years. reading my words and sharing yours with me. you all are what made this whole thing worth it.  i loves you.


2012: it’s not goodbye. yet. maybe.
 time files (and so do i!)
2010: pass the cake!
2009: well, fuck me running
2008: belated, like always
2007: (it looks like i was busy trying to buy car, and forgot)
2006: trolls and stalkers and spam, oh my!
2005: belated blogday
2004: four fucking years!
2003: (there were technical difficulties of some sort, it seems)
2002: time flies
2001: who woulda thunk it
2000: the post which started it all

since i went to the bother of upgrading my cms to fix all sorts of growing issues with the antiquated version i’d been using, i thought i should write something to go with with the shiny new engine driving things around here now.

so, some things:

  • this site is now running its fourth content management system in 13 years.  first came blogger, then greymatter, then moveable type and now wordpress. whee!
  • i had a birthday. it wasn’t a big deal.
  • my stressed out foot boners seem to be almost better. between two months off work, a month and a half of slowing returning to work, physio, chiro, podiatry, new orthotics, tennis balls, ice packs and disabled parking spots, i’m almost cautiously optimistic that my feet might be better. ish. maybe.  i’m totally paranoid to declare myself healed because every other time i’ve expressed optimism, something has flared up and made me want to cry and hack them off.
  • i found someplace i can walk around in trees. this makes me happier than i can say. i missed the smell of forest.
  • i still want to get rid of all the things and start over fresh.
  • cats. so awesome.
  • after three months of not cooking, i think i’m ready to start dealing with food again.
  • it might be a sign that every time i’ve found a telus pvr on sale i’ve not been able to buy it before the sale ended.  i have until july 10th to decide if i’m keeping tv.
  • got my hairs cut off after over a year and no one noticed.  NO ONE.  so sad.
  • speaking of hair, i’m so close to shaving the cats.  my poor vacuum is being worked to death.
  • even though i rarely feel like i deserve it, i have some amazing friends who are very kind to me and i’m thankful for them all.

always being the biggest one in the group meant that i couldn’t ever shop where my friends did. nothing ever fit me in the places we’d go and i wouldn’t dare suggest we go to the one store/section which had things i could try on. the only thing i could buy when out with others was shoes. so i did. i bought a lot of shoes.

now, thankfully, i have friends who i can actually shop with. it’s a still a novel experience and so much girly fun to be able to throw things over the changing room walls to share the awesome and/or hilarity with. even though i’m still bigger than everyone else, sometimes i can try on the same things and it is good.

but, shoes. my one solace. shoes are now off the table. the last few years have utterly ruined me for shoes. what with my hobbit-wide feet and non-existent arches and orthotic inserts and plantar fasciitis and, most recently, stress fractures, finding shoes which 1) fit; and, b) don’t hurt in some way is almost impossible. unless, of course, i don’t care how fucking ugly and or expensive they are.

i didn’t realize just how much i relied on my ability to find shoes when i couldn’t find anything else to help me feel normal. now that that is gone… it’s just kind of makes me sad.

do i wake up to fire and brimstone tomorrow? frog-rain and gyllenhaals trying to save the planet? or, do i get a whole december 21st to do with as i please? or! is there a set time for everything to go to apocalypse? 3:38pm mayan time, perhaps?

i’m not trying to be all glib; i just want to know if i’ll have enough time to get a few things done before it all goes kaboom, you know?

truth be told, i’m hoping i get a full friday. i’ll go to work, come home, snuggle cats, laugh with my mom, watch Fringe, go to bed and then just cease to exist.

while i understand that not everyone is going to be a rockstar/princess/president/celebrity and that there need to be garbagemen/sewer workers/gas station attendants for the world to work properly, some days i have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that i’m not more successful.

then i get cranky with myself.

i’m just a clerk. i file things and organize things and buy things and distribute things. i’m good at answering questions about computers. i make a comfortable living doing this menial office work. i get to go home at the end of eight-and-a-half hours and not worry about much. my co-workers respect me and often give me quite glowing feedback.

i just sometimes feel like i let people down.

sometimes, i even feel like i let myself down.

i forgot my blog’s twelfth birthday. i’m sorry, weblog. you’ve been good to me. you deserve better…

2011: time files (and so do i!)
2010: pass the cake!
2009: well, fuck me running
2008: belated, like always
2007: (it looks like i was busy trying to buy car, and forgot)
2006: trolls and stalkers and spam, oh my!
2005: belated blogday
2004: four fucking years!
2003: (there were technical difficulties of some sort, it seems)
2002: time flies
2001: who woulda thunk it
2000: the post which started it all

  • 12 years
  • 2,835 entries*
  • eleventy-million designs
  • all the photos
  • 4 computers
  • 3 cars
  • 2 apartments
  • 1 girl

with twitter & facebook, texts & imessages, friends & boyfriend, the reasons i started this website in the summer of 2000 just don’t seem to be there for me any longer. i find this place a thing i feel i should update, rather than one i want to update. i come by once a month or so to put some more words on the internet which no one but a handful of you with it still in their RSS reader will read. unless they’re famous or topical, no one wants to read the verbal diarrhea (flashback: that was the title of my first website circa 1994) of some fat, forty-year-old cat lady.

since i seem to have become a crazy purging minimalist, i wouldn’t be surprised to find myself cleaning out the cobwebs from these URLs one day. i have no concrete plans to mothball and/or delete anything (i kind of hate it when people just randomly delete their entire web presences — especially if they do it often), but i can forsee a time when i might try to curate it down to the “best of heather 2000-2012” or something a little neater than this shitty default template of bleh.

i’ve met so many amazing people thanks to this blog. seriously, so many amazing people i call my friends because we started reading each others’ thoughts on screens over the last decade or so. some, i’ve lost touch with and wish i hadn’t. some, i’ve lost touch with and don’t mind that much. but, to those who are still in my life, just a little or very much a lot, i’m so thankful for your friendships, so grateful for showing me your worlds as i showed you some of mine. you’ve all helped to make me a better heather.

*these counts don’t include the six months of blogger.com entries which weren’t imported individually into the subsequent CMSs & didn’t have comments to start with, so i had to use a third-party comment system which eventually went bye-bye without an archive.

However it started, it must have been somewhat like this. Although, truth be told, I’ve long forgotten all the details that make such an experience the type which, as it is happening, makes your mind halt for a moment and note to itself with mild astonishment, “This, I believe, is something I won’t ever forget.”

I do remember how it ended, though. I can recall every tear, every sob, every whisper as I walked through town. If you’ve ever tried to keep a secret among people who have known you in any way more than passing acquaintance, you know it is an impossibility. And to still those wagging tongues whose owners seem to have naught to occupy themselves save reveling in their perceived glorification compared to your gossiped fall from grace takes the skill of a snake-charmer and the will of God.

The days leading up to my moment of reckoning were the same effortless days of childhood that everyone experiences. The delight in attempting to capture crickets in the vacant lot down the street, sitting on the front step blowing soap bubbles and truly believing that you could use them to communicate with your playmate next door, coming home at dusk, covered with grass stains and dust and being whisked off to a hot, soapy bath by a mother whose continuous chatter about cleanliness barely hid her longing to do the same. Days that seem to last forever. Days that never come again.

Sarah, my best friend Jenny’s little, and intensely annoying, sister, had just finished carrying out our cardboard lemonade stand to the curb in from of their blue and white split-level home. She came running back into the kitchen, her platinum blond hair bouncing in its tiny ringlets, panting with exertion and excitement. Jenny was negotiating the use of the “good glasses” with her mother while I sat in the nook, brow furrowed in single-minded concentration upon my task. Our sign had to be perfect.

“Shelley,” Sarah panted into my shoulder, “can I colour the lemons? Shelley? Can I?”

I’ve always been hard to disturb when occupied with a task I was determined to perfect. Poor Sarah may as well been pleading with an Easter Island monolith for all the reaction she garnered from my twelve-year-old form.

“Shelley!” Sarah stomped, turning to her sister. “Jenny, can I colour the lemons? Shelley’s ignoring me again.”

Jenny looked over her shoulder at her sister, her honey-coloured hair falling down her back in shimmering waves. “Shelley?” she softly asked.

No matter how deeply within myself I’d delved, regardless of the importance I’d prioritized a task, Jenny had the uncanny ability to pierced my attention and draw me back to the world at large, or the world we had created for ourselves.

“Mmnh?” I mumbled around a mouthful of chestnut hair as my mix-matched eyes sought out my closest friend in the world.

“Sarah wants to colour the lemons after you’ve finished drawing them.”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of that obnoxious seven-year-old even going near my masterpiece; but I’d never been able to deny Jenny anything. I could tell from her look and subtle tiredness in her voice that she saw this as a means to an end. Occupy Sarah and we could be free of her for a short spell.

“Yeah, okay.” I said after removing the offending lock of hair that somehow always managed to find its way into my mouth when I was concentrating. Looking at Sarah, I directed her, “but don’t mess it up. I’ve been working on this all morning. Okay?”

This was all Sarah wanted to hear. “Okay! I’ll be super careful, I promise!” and she skipped happily to the other room until she was beckoned to her task.

I rolled my eyes and sighed a little as Jenny smiled that sympathetic grin, which seemed to say, “It’s okay. And even if it isn’t, it’s not the end of the world.” If anyone else had given me that look I would have flown into a rage, hissing like an alley cat. But it was Jenny. Beautiful, even-tempered Jennifer.

Again, I put my head down and that offending lock of hair snaked its way back between my lips. My total concentration broken by the preceding exchange, I could make out Jenny’s conversation with her mother as I completed the finishing touches (leaving the lemons black outlines for Sarah, of course) of our soon to be proud banner declaring: Lemonade 2¢.

“She’s only trying to help because she looks up to you two so much, Jennifer” Mrs. Mitchell said to her twelve-year-old daughter as she smoothed a stray bang from Jenny’s eyes.

Jenny nodded slowly, “Yeah, I know, Mom. But she really gets on Shelley’s nerves sometimes.” She stealthily glanced over at me with that statement, hoping I hadn’t heard her. She’d been my buffer from Sarah for as long as that imp was old enough to start following us on our adventures. She knew how much Sarah irked me, and in her amazingly peaceful way, without ever once complaining about it, understood what it would take to make me happy and made sure it was done.

For that, and a million other reasons, I loved her beyond comprehension.

– i went to Thunder Bay, Ontario. there were mosquitos and a sunburn.
– my mom came to visit for two weeks and i didn’t once want to kill her.
– i got a new dress. it is pretty.
– i found out i don’t have any heart damage from my 2009 pulmonary embolism.
– i got another new dress. it was ugly so i sent it back.
– i turned 40. there were cakes.
– i got new brakes (thanks, josh).
– i couldn’t find any new shoes.

it’s been an eventfully uneventful summer so far. there seems to be lots of things happening, but also lots of things not happening. i’m either too busy and stressed out or bored, lonely and sad.

oh, and the cats are shedding. a LOT.

one interesting development which came from my 40th birthday party (thanks again, kimli!): turns out that people see me as a Doctor Who fanatic. i got a Dalek cake, original Doctor Who art cards, a sonic screwdriver pen and eleven tiny Doctors. i never really saw myself as a crazy fan, but i guess others do. yeah, i know i named my cats after characters on the show, but that was mostly because they’re my companions (get it?). and, yeah, i have a tardis on my iphone, but that was a gift. i dunno. i guess it’s just strange to get such a different perspective on how others see me.

tonight, i’ve invited the internet over to my house to take away all my craft supplies. since the kittens came into my life, i can’t go into production like i used to because they’re always trying to help and most of the things i like to make need curing time and if there’s anything out the cats think it’s for them. unfortunately, i don’t think many people are going to take me up on my offer which disappoints me some. i have a lot of cool shit! i’d much rather it went to fun people i know that the Sally Ann where it’ll probably just get tossed or lost in the piles of unwanted stuff.

i’m currently entirely disappointed in work and it’s frustrating not being able to talk about it to get it off my chest and out of my head. but, i can say that i really hope we change pensions because if we do, i can then officially start the countdown to retirement at 55. fifteen years, baby!


you know, i had a great weekend.

i went out for a birthday dinner where i tried ethiopian food for the first time (and loved it) and then decimated an ice cream cake while watching “cack” videos. had the car serviced and drove my first courtesy car to a very important meeting, braved saturday afternoon costco for almonds and then had friendly pub times. then, we had brunch and sneaky airport reunions with scary accessories and celebratory chicken & african chocolate bars.

everything about the weekend was awesome, except… i’m exhausted and i feel entirely drained and worn out. i didn’t get my laundry finished or my cooking done so my lunch is a haphazard hash of leftovers and my breakfast was far less palatable with the missing cheese. i got less than zero quality me time and, holy fuck, am i grumpy about it.

i don’t even get any relief because i have to get the laundry & cooking done before i go back to the airport to pick up someone else tonight.


i guess i’m just not built for fun times. sigh.

so, i didn’t mean to, but i accidentally decided not to tweet for a week to see if anyone would notice the absence of my 140-character-at-a-time addition to the interwebs.

no one did.

wait, that’s not entirely true. my mother noticed. after the third day, she sent me a text asking where my tweets were.

thanks, mom. i knew you loved me best!

this is good information to have, i suppose. i should be leaving a week’s worth of food and water out for the kittens because that seems to be the minimum amount of time they’d be without anyone coming to check for my body if i happened to suddenly expire. of course, they could just eat me, but i like to believe they love me too much to desecrate my corpse after only five days.

yes, you could call me an optimist!

but, because i didn’t want you to go entirely without my tweetitude, here are the tweets i would have tweeted if i’d been tweeting this week:

  • sick day. blergh.
  • happy (belated) birthday, @kickpleat!
  • suddenly obsessed with getting an iMac. too bad i have no money and all future monies i may receive are spoken for.
  • wash hands. apply lotion. wash hands. apply lotion. wash hands. apply lotion.
  • i’m getting tired of waking up an hour after i’ve gone to bed. wide awake. THIS IS NOT NAP TIME, DAMMIT!
  • red licorice and tomato soup do not make for a nutritious dinner.
  • how long should i wait for a charge to appear on my credit card before i can safely assume i got my parking for free?
  • it’s taken almost eleven months, but i think my belly button is finally back to not being all weird from surgery.
  • i really wish it wasn’t such a big deal. #obamalovesthegays
  • at $50/mo., it would take me 6 years 4 months to buy all the tech i want today.
  • of course the first person to notice i hadn’t tweeted in three days would be my mother. you didn’t notice, did you?
  • ow. owowowowow.
  • mewling quim! i love you joss whedon.
  • i feel like getting shwarma now.
  • i’m going to pay for this in the morning, but that was really, really worth it. really.
  • happy fifth tweeting anniversary to me! (how ironic is it that i’m not tweeting on it.)
  • @rose_and_amy need to stop being so adorable in the mornings. it makes it too heart-wrenching to get out of bed.
  • if Ian Somerhalder plays Christian Grey in the movie, i might just die from the sexy. (yes, i’m reading FSofG. shut up, you read Twilight!)