Read more of my stuff at Morning Quickie:
June 26, 2011 Sometimes I overlook the possibility that among the small group of people who actually read my blog, some of those people may not be on my Facebook list, and may not have access to the awesome-ness shared between my homies and I. Like this gem . . . .
Sophie's video debut in Justin BeaverFace's Never Say Never:
September 11, 2010 Not to BRAG or anything, but I live a pretty exciting life.
Crime and crack! Risk and raids! Messes and mysteries! Gore and glocks! Bros and hos!
That's right. I watch First 48 every. single. day. So take a step back social scenesters and world travellers and know your place among the hierarchy of thrilling lives.
I watch so much First 48 that I pretty much am a homicide detective. At minimum, I have acquired the skills necessary to commit a murder and probably get away with it. Or, if I witness a murder and want to lead the detectives in the right direction without having to make an appearance in court and lose my impeccable street cred or get shot in a drive-by, I know how to do that, too. NO PROBS, BOBS.
As usual, my summer was thrilling. Like a beer commercial but with hotter chicks drooling over my (imaginary) limp dick. I even left the house a few times to go on Sunday drives with Bear. I also spent a lot of time working (it was our busy season, afterall), and staring out the window of my condo as I watched the family across the street load up their boat for a day out at the lake. Again, and again, and again. And again.
The Summer: An Overview
The summer started out with me getting raped by my condo company, which you can read about here. Discussion roused in regards to selling the condo (not directly as a result of the raping-- this has been debated and prodded for awhile now), and I temporarily shopped around for a suitable rental to call home. Ultimately my folks and I decided that it wasn't a feasible time to renovate and sell, but this wasn't decided before I discovered that even though the rental market here is currently soft, that doesn't mean that landlords will not demand $1100 a month (utilities not included) and a year lease for a basement suite with shared laundry. AND NO! ABSOLUTELY NO PETS ALLOWED! AND NO GOING NUMBER TWO IN THE TOILET, EITHER!
NO SOUP FOR YOU!
NO PETS! EXCLAMATION POINT! BECAUSE THEY MIGHT WRECK SOMETHING.
Conclusion? I'm staying put for awhile.
I also geared up to potentially sell my car before it starts drastically depreciating or requiring major repairs. I toyed with the idea of replacing it with a vehicle that is cheaper and more practical. Ultimately the toying got dropped and was pushed onto the back burner. Again, I stayed put. Or at least my car did.
In June I won the Super Person of the Month award at work. It's fulfilling in itself to know that I work for a company that has a Super Person of the Month Award equip with a proud photo of the winner that hangs on the wall (yes, I refuse to have my photo on the wall), but actually winning it? Wow, dudes. And for the third time, too-- last time I won a clock radio. It broke before I got it home, but whatever. A CLOCK RADIO. So, there you go, Mom, my university education really did pay off.
My Grandpa is now in a home and in July his estate was sold off at an auction. I wanted to go for a visit at the time of the auction, but I didn't feel like I could take that much time off from work. So, instead I now savor the smell of the towels I was given from his estate, an irreplicable smell that reminds me of my Grannie and Grandpa and the farm, and every time I grab one before hopping into the shower, I bring the towel up to my face and deeply inhale at least two or three times. Really creepy-like. And I find myself never wanting to wash them in fear that the scent will be gone forever.
Although I am sure I will reconsider when they start smelling like "ew".
Of course, I participated in the Sits Girls 31 Day Better Blogger Challenge, but since I've already beaten that dead horse, then shot it five times and analyzed the blood splatter, I will leave it at that.
Throughout the summer, Bear experienced major problems with his truck. As a result, I am now on first name basis with the guy at the transmission shop. And Bear and I have been instructed to come back to the shop to have coffee with the guys. Soon. Like, AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. Evidence that not only do I live an exciting life, but I am also popular.
In August an Orb spider made a hell nest on my patio. THE HORROR. So horrific that I didn't even give this one a name. Thankfully it only blessed me with it's presence at night because during the day it would transform into a razor toothed clown and lure kids into the sewer.
"THEY ALL FLOAT DOWN HERE."
At the end of August the smoke from the forest fires in British Columbia rolled in and smothered our last remaining weeks of summer with an eerie, apocalyptic haze. Kind of what I would assume Los Angeles looks like on a muggy day. Total bummer.
Reporting on my extraordinarily exciting life would not be complete without mentioning my cats. I ended the summer by getting my Flat Faced Purrtards their first Big Kitty Beds. Very luxurious Big Kitty Beds at $30 a piece. And they refuse to use them. Obviously.
REJECTED.
"Some kitties don't have beds, or homes, or even families," Bear reminded them in a scolding tone. They responded by flicking their uncensored, Persian bum holes at him and stood their ground.
I have also introduced the girls to cat nip, and while Snorticus Maximus really can't be bothered, Sophie now understands the phrase, "wanna get higggghhhh?" and responds to it by bouncing around the room like an excited colt on a spring day. Bring out the green shit, human, and lets hit it! Since introducing her to drug use, she has crawled into an empty duvet cover and gotten "lost" inside of it, and she has also close lined herself by misgauging the height of the bath tub lip. Obviously the good ole' philosophy of "everything in moderation" will have to be enforced.
All in all, the summer definitely stuck to a particular vibe: The Snow Ball Effect, as Bear calls it, or the sensation of being on a seemingly never ending treadmill. Obviously I've been feeling a bit shitty lately, so to help incite some inner page turning, I bought Danielle Laporte's Firestarter Sessions, which is, more or less, a work book to help artists, writers, whoever tap into their passions and ignite their entrepreneurial drive.
Like most things, I went into it feeling skeptical and worked through the first module with only half assed interest. Yes, you're right. I was watching First 48 at the time. But the further I dug into it, the more it pulled me away from my pseudo career as a homicide detective and/ or gun slinging gang banger and demanded my purest of intentions.
When I completed all the sessions I felt as though I had experienced some really good therapy, and much of the inner confusion I expressed in my recent, somewhat muddied post, Life After Rehab, was clarified with answers and insight. Which was beyond valuable, especially after receiving such suggestive and supportive responses to that post. THANKS, GUYS. The Firestarter Sessions was exactly what my soul needed to put on it's power suit with two inch high shoulder pads, say "fuck it" to the unnecessary, negative static, and regain my focus.
September has arrived and settled. The Orb spider has disappeared, my first installment to the Condo Nazis has been paid, and I am looking into better ways to organize the condo to improve our experience while living here. Bear has flipped the bird to gambling on older vehicles and should be picking up his new, transmission-healthy vehicle next week. I think we're both relieved that a new season is starting and we're feeling more optimistic about the possibilities ahead. Not to mention, season three of Mad Men is currently airing and totally kicking ass.
Last but not least, I did make a monumental decision: I would not sell my car and downgrade. I would not ignore my heart or the soft voice of my inner girl douche bag that whispers, "do it". Fuck practicality and fuck rationalities. And so, with my loan in check and my father's superior deal digging, car shopping skills, I have bought myself a new car.
And it's absolutely beautiful.
aspiration, car, renting, snort, sophie, summer in reflections, story August 10, 2010 
This is my pride and joy and the object of my deepest affection, Sophie Bear, sucking on her hind foot. Prior to this photo being taken, she used those pants as a kitty slip n' slide, which made me respond with, "dude, you have no idea how much I love you."
cats, feel good week, sophie May 21, 2010 So apparently my kitty, Sophie Little Bear, gets high off of peppermint tea. This is a video of her taking some hits, then raging out, then owning her sister, Snorticus Maximus.
Sophie Gets Stoned from Lojo Manifesto on Vimeo.
sophie in humour, sophie and snort, video April 27, 2010 Since I started using a more spacious table for my desk in substitute of the glorified TV table I was using before, I loosened my grip on the NO CATS ON THE DESK rule thinking the new surface offered enough space that a kitty could chill next to me while I worked.
BIG MISTAKE.
You see, my cats are purebred, which means they are attention whores. Snort has always been an attention whore, although when she wants attention she expels a horrific noise out of her deformed nostrils that vibrates her nose wrinkles and comes out sounding like a dying heifer from the sixth dimension of hell. Sophie, one of the most charming kitties I've ever known, is a little more low key However, Sophie likes boys. I mean, really likes boys. And with the arrival of her third father, Sophie has come out of her shell like a blossoming rose, a blossoming rose who is a total and complete attention whore.
Sophie is madly in love with Bear and turns herself inside out for his attention. And when he's not paying attention to her, which he usually is, she will head butt him and rub her face snot on him until he does. Now that Bear is back at work for the majority of the month, Sophie has turned her attention whoredom towards me. I may not be as cool as Bear, but she guesses that I'll do.