The Un-Ending Adventures of Jenny Jumps

Why am I awake, … ?

It is possible that I have slept, with reckless abandon from 1:30 to 5:30am and so my consciousness has thrust itself into awakening my body for fear of missed opportunity. Although it is unlikely that this will provide the rest required to perservere throughout the day in a positive state of mind.

Also possible is that my ridiculous habit of eating post-late-night-rendezvous and pre-pillow is getting the better of my sleep hours.

So I’m snacking on this disgusting cereal I bought; horse food. I stupidly thought it would be similar to Oatmeal Crisp; and was shopping with the Lady, so I considered that buying the no-name brand would be something that would impress her. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

It seems to be alright with apple sauce instead of milk. (a la J. Miller, God bless)

I awoke with a bad taste in my mouth. It could have been because of the champagne and onion rings I consumed - while laying naked width wise across my bed in the humidity at 12:30am - as my hors d’oeuvres to Written on the Body. heh heh heh heh :p

I was thinking about a woman I met earlier that day. Actually a few women I met yesterday really rubbed me the wrong way, but that woman bothered me slightly more.

She was claiming to be a food critic, but kept talking about how her favourite nuts were pitachios.

PITACHIOS?! Lady if you’re going to walk around claiming to be an expert on food, you might as well go ahead and call your favourite food by their favourite name. pistachios.

Thank you very much.

Critical, yes. Capitalized critic, unlikely.

It reminded me of similarily critical woman I met in a former workplace and once reminded, I couldn’t quite shake my experience of her from my consciousness. Inevitably she has disturbed my sleep at least one year after she stormed ever-so-briefly through my life.

Apparently she had irrationally rampaged a number of my coworkers’ esteems. She was - it seems - aggressive and unhappy. Not but moments after hearing of her unique conversational style from one of the girls, and expressing my lack of concern for flagrant misdirected negativity, she called to give me a piece of her mind.

Oh yes, she managed to ask for me directly - I think - and then promptly decided, though through some manner of delusion, that I had been speaking ill of her. Not only that, but she continued for several minutes to dig haphazardly into whatever potential insecurities she suspected I might have and curse them until finally with one fell swoop, she demanded that I quit, and obtain a job where I, “would not have to work with any people, ever again”.

hahahaha
hrm

She spoke at me for 15 minutes until she finally hung up. I didn’t even get to thank her. It was probably the most alarming demotivational speech I had/have ever received.

Incredible. Daddy always says, “it takes all kinds to make the world go round, Jen”. Even still, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to crawl into such a person’s head and find out what makes them tick, and how they see things the way they do.

The Lady and I have been spending more and more time together. I’m teaching her to drive; if we make it through this, I suspect we may as well go ahead and get married. mmhmhmheh She’s quite nervous. This weekend she managed to stop traffic in a parking lot, and create her own hazard light system through her rapid fire use of both turn signals and the reverse lights, at once. I’m sure that doesn’t make sense to you, - I mean she saw an approaching vehicle and panicked , braked and then started flicking the signals every which way while turning the wheels in both directions and alternating the engine from forward to reverse and back again, until I finally told her to knock it off and continue driving.

It was cute, but not really very funny. I suspect were I more tightly wound, these sorts of stressful experiences would have a negative effect upon things. I am pleased however, with her improvements.

She’s trying to teach me to eat more vegetables. ha!

I’m working on her distinction between well-prepared and salty. :)

She gave me Fall On Your Knees and Written on the Body, so I gave her Lullabies for little Criminals.

Actually she can’t stand me, and we’re currently using some kind of bunking system to tolerate each other’s morning-isms. She also claims that I hate everything that she loves and love everything that she hates, while I insist that I don’t actually hate anything; hate being such an overwhelmingly powerful emotion.

Her most consistent piece of evidence is the lack of vegetables in my refridgerator, which I insist, is a product of my inhabitual tendency to dine-in, and therefore circumstantial at best. She clings lately to this idea like a toddler to a rag-doll and so, demonstrates her insecurity with congruence, hiding as many cards as she can in hopes that if things run afowl, she could say, “see! here were the warning signs!”, although there were none.

Tricky, I suppose. Anyways, back to bed; what else is there to do at 7am on a Monday? Austin at 12. Lady at 4.

This episode is about how Jenny is sick-and-tired of handing over wads of cash to an apathetic civil servant sitting behind their 1-inch pane of glass for no service except to particpate in a mindless transfer within a bureaucratic little game of municipal cash grabbing.

Forget it! I used to lovingly laugh and say, “well I guess since I don’t pay taxes, I might as well contribute!”.

NO!

This is not ok. I just finished handing over $100 for two separate tickets two weeks ago.

I know, you non-drivers out there are thinking, “well maybe you should park more carefully and considerately”.

It’s not like that. ANY DRIVER in Toronto can tell you it really doesn’t matter how careful or considerate you are - those yellow tags appear without warning.

So the other night while out having a burger with Dylan at the Boardwalk Pub I received a ticket for $105.

Usually Toronto tickets are about $30, sometimes $60 and then once and a while they slam you.

I’m not going to pay this ticket. Not only do I feel that it was assigned unfairly - that is, I did not KNOWINGLY break the law, but the fine far outweighs the crime.

I was parked IN A PARKING LOT, no more than 25 metres from the restaurant, and there were no other buildings in the area for which the lot could have been designated. I parked at 11pm at which point the lot was so dark I could hardly make my way into it. I left at 12:45am at which point the lot was so dark I could hardly make my way out of it. So dark it was, that I didn’t even see the ticket on my dash until the following morning. If there WERE signs, I would certainly not have been able to read them without a flashlight. I can not be expected to read in the dark, nor could my WITNESS/GUEST. Not only that, but after inspecting the signs during daylight hours, it seems that the parking there is ordinarily FREE.

Anyhoo, being sick and tired of those civil servants at the municipal buildings - those ones who hold COMPLETE jurisdiction and power to cancel any pending charges (despite what they will argue) - I have resigned myself to request the trial option and so did, yesterday at 55 John Street aka Metro Hall.

Now I have returned home to plug a few innocent research queries into our favourite Google search engine. It turns out that this trial option is the best and only suitable option. You should not at any time pay for services that you did not request,demand or deserve and if it is their system that they are arbitrarily assigning to our citizens, so it is only fair that you also assign the system upon them - those civil servants.

It happens that this ticketing system is so impossibly rampant that the court system required to deal with the dispute via trial option is literally imploding upon itself.

Trial requests are being lost, scheduling is impossible, civil servants are negligent and truant and the Justices are overwhelmed by the workload that finally does make it through.

See the links below for yourself if you need any proof but I will no longer be paying my fines, period.

http://www.blogto.com/city/2007/09/another_bogus_parking_ticket/
http://www.citynews.ca/news/news_24135.aspx
http://www.civicforums.com/forums/31-canada-east/243636-diy-fight-lower-your-toronto-parking-tickets.html
http://www.torontosun.com/News/Columnists/Bonokoski_Mark/2008/06/24/pf-5968531.html
http://www.toronto.ca/transportation/parking/pdf/2007activitybn.pdf
http://www.toronto.ca/parkingtickets/parking_trial.htm
http://www.e-laws.gov.on.ca/html/statutes/english/elaws_statutes_90p33_e.htm#BK166

Sometimes I feel like people might ask me,
“are you on drugs?”
and I feel I should answer,
“no but I wish I was”.
You see, today feels like I’m all drugged
by a lack of ambition that,
having sprouted in the morning,
fell back into the earth
with a retroactive sort of gravity.
Now I am stunted by my apathy
and unable to move.

If my eccentricities
provide a distraction from your monotony,
you may at once understand my confusion.

When the world you see
does not fit with your steely paradigms,
imagine my life
as an unconventional crack in your narrative.

All I see are cracks,
the steel being too reflective
for my ultra chromatic universe.

This evening I tripped with Laura to the islands. We’ll be going back sometime next week since we discovered the amazing attractions of Ward vs Centre Island (as we suspected).

Also I spent Canada Day with Victor which was awesome; if there ever was a patriot he’s the dude. Have you seen that massive flag painting at Yonge and Dundas? Even more fun was standing around while he used it to pick up chicks. Go buddy go! lol j/k It’s a really amazing piece and I’ll just go ahead and dare you all to count the leaves! I dare ya! There are 141, so good luck! Later we went to see the fireworks at Ontario place but it was cool because we just parked on the side of the road on the EX grounds and listened to jazz music while we leaned on the car.

Then this guy who I affectionately named “Jesus” (a cause de the rosary hanging from his rearview mirror) tried to assassinate me with violent stares and curses on the way out of the grounds and later I saw him climb out of his car in the middle of bathurst and try to share his particular brand of love with the entire city. So I hollered back at him, “tone it down Jesus! take it down a notch buddy!” and then I saw him get back in his car. It was neat.

Here’s a video of me waiting for the Ward Ferry with Laura.

I’m gonna get to bed now, I just finished the second stephanie meyer book of the twilight / new moon / eclipse series and I’m taking a break (at the Lady’s insistance) to read Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald although I’m betting it won’t be as good as everyone wants to believe it is - she is after all Canadian, isn’t she? ;p

It never ends.

Landlord Tenant Board

Each year the Ontario government announces the province’s rent increase guideline for the following year. The annual rent increase guideline is the maximum percentage by which a landlord can increase the rent for most sitting residential tenants without approval from the Landlord and Tenant Board.

The 2008 guideline is 1.4 per cent.

The new rent increase guideline applies to a rent increase that begins any time between January 1, 2008 and December 31, 2008 and applies to most residential units in Ontario.

In most cases, the rent for a unit can be increased if at least 12 months have passed since the tenant first moved in or since his or her last rent increase. The tenant must be given proper written notice of the rental increase at least 90 days before the rent increase takes effect.

BUT THEN!

A landlord can collect a rent deposit from a new tenant on or before the start of a new tenancy. The rent deposit can only be used as the rent payment for the last month or week before the tenant moves out. The landlord must pay the tenant interest on the rent deposit every year.

Under the Residential Tenancies Act, 2006, the interest rate is the same as the rent increase guideline.

Exception: For the first interest payment that the landlord has to give the tenant after January 31, 2007 (this is the date the Residential Tenancies Act became the law), a 6% interest rate applies for the months up to January 31, 2007.

ha ha ha! The more you know. :)

I was thankfully reminded - by Steph :) - late Saturday night, that today was supposed to be Father’s day.

I’m a bit of a schmuck when it comes to spending time with Dad as-of-late.

It’s complicated.

***
I’m proud of Him:
- because he’s one of the most respected Engineering Commisioners in the country.
- because he successfully raised an adolescent/teenage/young adult woman single handedly without social support, family assistance or any other networks.
- because he’s good at almost anything he puts his mind to - besides threading a needle - - sometimes; mostly he’s even good at that, with arthritis hands and aging eyes, to boot.
- because he visits and takes the Doctor’s advice to heart
- because he thinks, rethinks, acts, reacts and holds back if necessary
- because he is full of wisdom and compassion, knowledge and skill
- because he’s the most determined and dedicated man I know, while still knowing and taking time to relax
- because he loves beyond words, and listens when necessary

I distrust Him:
- because his arrogance and temper most often get the best of him
- because when he is frustrated by his feelings, he expresses them with his hands
- because he can be violent, and violently unapologetic
- because he prefers things done the right way, which is always his way, no matter the cost
- because his assistance is often tendered for control
- because it wasn’t but once that he discarded a friend between heartbeats
- because he didn’t ask questions, since truth was irrelevant if it didn’t fit the plan

***

He’s always calling and asking if I’d like to go out on the boat. To be frank, after working at a Marina with Million Dollar Yachts, I was a little embarrassed to be seen on our dirty, noisy, smelly and awkward, outboard fishing boat. Also the thought of being trapped on a 22 foot stretch of fiberclass in the middle of the lake with him, when he loses his temper and resorts to violence, frightens me often to the point of illness.

Last night, I called him.

“Hey Dad, I was just thinking, maybe we can go out on the boat tomorrow, if it’s nice? And go fishing?”

He played it cool. But he was uber excited, I just know it.

***

So today I woke up at 8:30 am, and drove up to his house. I stopped along the way and picked up McDonalds breakfast and when I got there he was planting shrubs around the property fence. I didn’t really help, it was pretty much a one-person job. We sat down and chatted a little, while eating our egg mcmuffins.

We had a small dispute over labour law but he kept to his side of the table and I cooled myself and reminded myself that I should stay despite the frustration.

Then we cleaned up, packed up the gas tanks (there are three that we keep at home, and transport to and from the boat) and other items (GPS, VHF, Fishfinder) as well as plenty of drinking water, and set off for the marina.

My sister (ten years my senior - I’m the kid), usually joins him for the occasional boat ride / sun tan / fishing trip. The marina is small, so the folks there chat and are friendly and familiar with each other.

Ok, Dad is half chinese [yes that’s right, he’s half, which makes me really a quarter, but he’s just so damn culturally chinoix that the rest doesn’t matter when you look at him, except that he speaks English really well], so it’s enough of stretch when he (65) presents my identical sister (34) as his daughter. So TODAY when I stepped onboard, the nice elderly couple in the slip next to us piped up, “ohh, AND I supposed this must be your GRAND DAUGHTER! You must be so proud!”

Hello. AWKWARD.

Neither my dad nor I seemed to know exactly what to say or do at that moment. There was some definite and indiscernable moments of mumbling until finally my dad cowered and shrugged off, “no, she’s my youngest daughter actually”.

hahahaha awwwww

Okay, so we head out. There’s a lot of patience and sitting - but I remind myself, it’s not about catching the fish or the fishing. It’s about the appearance of enjoyment. He’s happy just to have me partaking in this …tick, tick, tick…. boredom.

I minded myself by reclining, and maintaining; I didn’t have to move the fishing rod, touch the worms, or the fish, or even reel-in the line, I just had to make sure the rod didn’t fall into the water. I could even sleep… oooh sleep, and the breeze / sun combo was perfect and the boat was just rocking gently. It was actually beginning to feel nice.

***

And then I got a bite, and I caught a fish and it was a perch and it was skinny and little and didn’t even feel like it was stuck on my line until I pulled it out of the water and it measured about 5-6 inches in length.

***

Something else happened. We went home (picked up KFC) because Dad had to wait for some guy to come look at his hot water heater. Dad decided to take a couple minutes when we first arrived home to plant the last few shrubs while I ate on the patio. So there I am, outside without the umbrella on our plush patio furniture which we normally keep inside. It’s me, two chairs, all the food, two drinks. The backyard door is locked shut from the inside and I’m all the way in the backyard (yes hold on this is all relevant).

All of a sudden it starts to rain.

Not just any rain - that kind of rain that every 5 seconds grows exponentially heavier until you feel as though you’ve just been subject to a south-asian tsunami. (below the belt?)

drip - drip DROP - DROP DR-DROP-DROP - WHOOOSH - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Just like that.! ^^

So I grab as much stuff as I can and glance around quickly.

Dad has just installed a brand new, water tight shed. There’s nothing inside, so I run for it, TWICE. As soon as I’ve finished the second trip, and have everything inside, the rain is so strong that I am trapped inside the shed.

Well, so I put the patio furniture cushions on the floor and sit down to continue eating my lunch. The thought occurs to me that my dad might be worried. He SHOULDN’T be worried, but he might be. After all, he’ll look and I a) won’t be inside, b) won’t be outside and c) ?

I’ve closed the doors to the shed almost entirely because the rain was literally flowing inside. Suddenly I see a shadow approach the opening and a frantic, bloodshot, desperate looking pair of eyes peer in, “JEN!?!?”, “Ya Dad?” I ask.

What a weirdo am I? So obviously I was just sitting there, on the floor of this little shed, twister kfc wrap in one hand, and sipping on a seven-up in the other, legs crossed on a little chair cushion.

Obviously.

hahahahaha It was the closest shelter, so I took it and then just made myself at home - ya know? What’s a girl to do?! I’m pretty low maintenance.

So my dad takes the hint and steps inside, and the two of us sat, inside a little 4′x6′ shed eating our lunch on cushions until the rain passed.

I dunno I guess he thought I left or something, poor thing.

***

So it was a good day. It was chill. Hope you took some time today to holla atyo daddies too!

I’m pretty sure I heard the following anecdote from a priest somewhere. I’ve probably shared it with most of my friends, and a number of strangers at one point or another:

***

A group is playing soccer on a cliffside field.

No fence has been erected to prevent a catastrophe like a fall or from anything from going over the edge.

So the group plays a carefully restricted game. No one can kick the ball too hard toward the cliff, the gameplay stays at least 100 yards from the edge, greatly reducing the play area.

One day a fence is erected, preventing falls and keeping the ball safely in-field.

The play area can now be expanded to utilize the full field area and players can run safely along the cliff’s edge without putting their lives at risk.

Now the players’ lives enjoy more freedom because of the restriction that the fence provides.

***

Lately my life has encountered a similar change.

The CENSORED schedule I endured was a difficult one and sadly, mostly unhealthy for my body and mind. It disassociated me from my friends and the things I enjoyed like regular sleep and meals, exercise and church.

It did manage to provide stability and occupation, so much so that when I did find some free time for socializing, I took it to the max. Work hard - Play hard.

Now my whole life feels like a social experiment. I’m not really working; I’m adventuring. I’m doing things I like to do, when I like to do them. I collect some money from time to time, and also pay my bills. I spend a little too much money than I should and I socialize with my friends more than ever!

I used to be unreachable to most of my friends. Now I have so many engagements that I’m constantly double and triple booking. In fact, I’m finally experiencing the other end of the stick; now when I try to make plans, it’s my friends who are too busy. Strange.

And yet in all of this social activity, I’m alarmed by how empty and clouded I’m feeling.

I would say, that stillness should be the most prized commodity in this city. Even while sitting alone in my apartment without a television, radio or other distractions there is an incessant degree of noise pollution.

Peace, is something that I would very much like to create and share.

I think that has always been my goal as a piano teacher; peace through clarity of understanding. It marks the reason why I so much, enjoy adult students. They arrive at my door with complications, past experiences, daily stresses, apprehensions, and I want to first reach through those irritations and draw them out.

Then, I give them sound.

And the ability to create it.

Surrounded by a cyclone of other raisons d’etre, we can communicate inside an eye of quality time, where an idea can grow and flourish unencumbered by that nonsense outside.

***
That’s enough. It’s getting too ethereal, even for me.

I’m constantly saying, “I think I’d like to” “I think I will”, when perhaps I should stop for a moment and just say, “I am”.

I am, enjoying a morning of absolutely nothing. I have arisen at my natural hour (11am), refreshed. I have completed at least one self-direct, earning-interested project: South - Central Recreation Centres (Toronto), I enjoyed a light breakfast (one egg and toast) and continued sipping on green tea all morning. It’s not too warm, although humid. I successfully limited the thermo-retention of my apartment by drawing the curtains last night and leaving the windows open. Now I am enjoying a gentle breeze.

***

A fellow I know, who likely has more interest in me than I can appreciate, had this to say about my interest in women:

“You always told me you had man issues, but you never really explained yourself. I had some issues with women too, a lot of issues. It didn’t mean that I was gay, though.”

Maybe that’s because you were still attracted to women, and weren’t attracted to men. Seems pretty simple to me.

Yes, when I said I had “man issues”, it was just to cover up the fact that I’m just not into them. I said it in a way to re-direct our conversations. I don’t have man issues. In fact I’m frustrated by the lack of support men receive in matters of social services in lieu of womens’ “rights”. I’ve tried to explain. It really isn’t a gender thing. I can’t even say what it is exactly. Show me a man I can love, and I will.

The truth is, I was trying to play-it-cool with you, because you’re into me, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but now that you know, you’re going to have to find a way to get over it and respect me for who I am.

It’s hard I know; I know first hand. We’ll probably have to not-talk for a while. That’s the way it goes.

***

I miss her everyday. Thanks for your self-centered guillotines of separation. That was…, keen.

i don’t wear 1″ buttons on my lapel
or birks or converse sneakers

i’m not poly or bi or anything in between
and i think monogamy is cool

i don’t like beer
or being called queer

i can’t stand tofu, vegetarian cuisine
and for the love of God, i don’t care whether or not my coffee is fair trade

if it’s more expensive, it probably tastes better and lasts longer
the word is woman, not womyn

i have no problem with religion, never mind a monotheistic one
and I choose male pronouns intentionally

i don’t do drugs, or drink every night
but i also don’t do yoga, or like animals at all

give me heels to dance in,
and a kneeler when I pray

i can change a tire, and mend a broken seam
but I won’t do either,
these are services for which I’ll pay

i think gender is important
because both strength and sensuality are admirable qualities
but when you mix certain characteristics
both become muted, and indiscernable

and the ability to exploit my own situation
is a skill that will take me far in life

there were times growing up
that I wished for a new body
I prayed to be straight from the other side

now I know that female is not a disease
it’s a power
it’s the opposite of male
and its only real kryptonite

i’ll let you take me dancing
and believe what you like
i like to flirt, and to dress up
i’ll wear makeup, and jewellery
and dance and laugh and smile

but at the end of the night
i know who I am
and the tragedy that befalls our charade

i go home alone
unable to love the way you want me to
dispassionately proving my destiny
of solitude

is this a product of my socialization
don’t blame it on my dear old dad
my emotions have been equally neglected from the start
but women are simply more beautiful

lesbian is just a word i use
to explain how i feel when i do
i know people get confused
when others use it too

i’m a lesbian inside
but i’m a girl throughout
i’m also a musician and writer
like dancing and fine dining
see? i’m not so gay.

today I wondered how you were
but I didn’t call
knowing that you had the last word is killing me
but so is not knowing if you are alright
i care about you
in a way that only love can bring about

the gloomy days are more distant now
shadowed by the opportunity for a failed reconciliation
and the days between are just hollow and lonely
they lack lustre
even while I coat my weeks in a school glue / glitter concoction of carnival like distractions
it makes my head spin and my stomach toss
and when it’s over
I acknowledge I’m alone

…

today I’ll mention brad because I promised him I would
but I don’t really have anything to say
except that we had a beer
and some guy sold him pot at our table

…

i don’t like coke
and I don’t think that it’s ok
or that people who do it necessarily have the good within them

something inside me tells me to love unconditionally
and that their soul has just been hijacked by the powdered devil
they deserve forgiveness
but their whole human still isn’t quite there
and I shouldn’t think it’s ok

and suddenly I realise how you could feel so uncomfortable
about my sexuality
when being around something so wrong
can make me feel so uneasy
and how I can make you feel uncomfortable
just by being alive

this recognition
fills me with grief
and the resolve
to refrain
from dialing your number

today I cried
with the rain
despair being the only solace
from my now fraudulent life

“Hey there! Sorry I missed your call! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”
******beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeP****************

I guess I’ve been a little AWOL lately. Yep. Sorry about that! I’ve been busy.

Most of the things I’ve been doing are top secret - impossible?! you say? alas not entirely IM-possible.

Some things will become public later on, but they’re running on a time-sensitive privacy schedule. Strange.

Also strange is the music I’m listening to; I’d forgotten how much of a Glassian fan I am.

I’m listening to Ghosts I by Nine Inch Nails.

Now I’ve always secretly been a Nine Inch Nails fan; ever since that fateful day when I first experienced the “Perfect Drug” video on Much Music when suddenly my size three panties were rushed with a deluge of teenage hysteria.

I’ve caught onto these amazing tracks thanks to Kyle and his always hilarious youtube videos.
You should try them. It’s intense.

*******************************************
I went out with a friend for dinner.

I’m about to embark upon one of those crazy confessions that probably give you second thoughts about my moral fortitude. Anyways, it’s interesting, so it goes in the book. :) lol

There are a few gentlemen I know who have more interest in me than I’m really able to appreciate.

I’m not necessarily forthcoming about my sexual preference, unless I’m on the prowl and so you see, their confusion is forgiveable. Also I don’t feel that it’s anyone’s business but my own and my partner’s - or potential partner’s.

Anyhow I’ve discovered a dating secret and you’re all going to roll your eyes because this is something your grandmother has been snarling after you for years as you steal away after dinner in your hoochy tops and your stiletto heels - “why should the boys buy the cow, when they can get the milk for free?”

Seriously though; boys will try and try and try again - not only boys because I’m guilty of it myself actually - to try and win over the object of their affection. Some boys or men will show their affection in a more materialistic and generous way than others. Some boys will consistently take you out on the town, at their cost, in an attempt to win your heart, even though you consistently tell them that you aren’t interested.

I engage in exploiting this practice. I figure, after all the “straight” girls who were “just experimenting” that I’ve endured, this is just the cosmos feeding due karma in my direction.

My experiments in this fashion came to an interesting head recently; when finally a young man - the friend I mentioned earlier - took me to canoe restaurant for dinner one night about a week-or-so ago.

Allow me to project an aside for a moment. [ASIDE]
Canoe restaurant is freaking awesome. It’s on the 54th floor of the TD building. It boasts an incredible view of the toronto lakeshore and downtown attractions such as the ACC, Rogers Centre and CN Tower. The kitchen is open concept and you can watch their staff at work from the dining room. Everyone is very professional, the meals and service is timed perfectly and the food is delicious.
[/ASIDE]

Anyway, the short story is that the bill came to $890 before tip and so this young man spent an easy $1000 on dinner with me. He then proceeded to re-tip all the staff in the restaurant in cash, $50 here, $50 there, $50 to the security, $25 falling on the ground, which I promptly picked up and staved away for cab fare home.

It’s my fault, he was freaking drunk. I knew he was trying to wine and dine me, and I didn’t want to be trashed in a fancy, public place. He ordered two bottles of wine between the two of us which was more than too much for my 5′4″ frame. So each time he went away from the table to visit the mens’ room, I did something that I had only ever imagined I might do in my dirtiest of dreams…

I poured my wine into his glass and hoped he would not notice.

He didn’t.

And THAT is how he managed to drink two bottles of wine to himself, with the exception of maybe the one glass that I had slowly consumed throughout the evening.

We continue with a brief montage to elaborate the successive elements of the evening:
- couple stumble onto street, laughing and smoking and throwing money around.
- taxi is flagged and the couple holler the name of a local lounge likely to be open late, midweek
- man is so visibly inebriated that said lounge will not allow him to enter
- woman suddenly realises the severity of her actions and probable consequences
- man leaves woman alone for some 20 minutes in a substitute bar
-woman becomes impatient and goes to find man, she discovers him vomiting all over bus shelter
-woman forces man into cab
-couple arrive at gentleman’s address, man tries to force woman out of cab, woman instructs cabbie to drive despite man hanging off cab door
-homeless man arrives at taxicab to beg for change, man becomes distracted, woman and cabbie speed off into the night.

Which brings us to the most interesting part of this story:

So I suddenly woke up, feeling panicked about two hours after having laid down. “One Thousand Dollars?” I thought, “What would cause a man to spend $1000 on a girl?” and I decided and or realised that there could only be two options. Either a)he was going to commit suicide and so money was no longer relevant or b)he was going to make a marriage proposal.

The two options began eating away at my unforgiveably curious psyche. I got up and checked my cellphone.

***FOUR NEW TEXT MESSAGES!****
1:24am Do you know, I could take care of you the rest of your life. Be with me.

1:47am You don’t know how much I care about you. If you are with me I can do anything for you. I love you Jenny.

1:51am Will you be with me the rest of your life?

2:21am I love you Jenny

** Okay, Okay. OMG. Calm down. Don’t take this seriously. Take this seriously. Don’t. No. What?!?

That - my friends - is probably the most alarming series of text messages that I have EVER received.

Okay? So alarming that I couldn’t even write about it for over a WEEK.

And just to let you all know, I had told this young man point blank SEVERAL times before that we’re just friends and I’ve NEVER even gone home with him for drinks after a date, never mind fooled around or given him any indication that I’m interested in him sexually.

Furthermore, I did send him a text message first thing in the morning saying directly, “I had a good time, but I just need you to know that we’re just friends and I’m not interested in you romantically”.

That being said, it doesn’t bother me to know that’s how he feels. It’s flattering, and satisfyingly amusing. Also I am very glad that he was proposing and not offing himself. Yes.

*****************************************
I want you all to know that I’m seeing someone. She’s my equal in everyway except for beauty and intelligence and compassion in which areas she is admired by all who meet her, including myself. She plays viola, holds a bachelor of music like me, and her only flaw, as I can tell so far, is her uncanny admiration of the harpsichord - which is forgiveable because she’s such a geek about it. She loves baroque music, wants to be a doctor or occupational therapist and likes to jam. She drinks coffee and beer but is trying out red wine for my sake, and she corrected years of my faulty chopstick misuse in the blink of an eye on our first date.

She’s great. I hope she sticks around. :)

******************************************

More confessions:

I’ve retained a lawyer.

I need to buy more panties because the crotch is ripping at the front on a lot of them. I think it might be because sometimes I grab it and do a dance if I have to pee and I’m alone at home and busy doing something. LOL I don’t really know, but I’m excited to have a reason to buy new ones.

I’m secretly serving tables somewhere in the city and… I’m good at it. I haven’t dropped anything larger than I knife yet. I also like to tell people about red wine, and they believe me.

I have two music students. One is 4 and one is 24. Just testing my musical fortitude, proving my ability to teach at all ends of the educational spectrum.

[Sadly I’m not making money from either of those ventures… I’m just helping out a few friends - I thought I should clarify.]

I will hopefully be making about $500 per week in employment insurance by continuing to do nothing. It’s important that the government continues to know I’m doing nothing. That way I can pay my rent.

Today I spent $649 on tri-fold brochures for www.musiclessonsdowntown.com. If you google “music lessons downtown toronto” our business information comes up first, WITH a map.

I rearranged my living room today. It feels bigger. Also rogers cut off my free cable tv. It’s sad but I’m really too busy to watch it anyway; so I’m taking up reading. I have a few bookshelves to fill. Don’t criticize my collection; I like teenage pulp fiction. LOL And vampires.

I just took down my Christmas lights today. I’m also working on getting candles to drip down over my empty wine bottle collection, but so far the candles are burning really well and consuming all of their wax so none is left to drip anywhere. Sheesh.

Oh and last night I went back to Alibi for Dylan’s Birthday and it wasn’t as bad as the last time because I found a new bartender and tipped him really well off the bat. The bathrooms are still pathetic and most of the staff were not necessarily friendly, but at least I got to buy a drink. Later that night I got gutsy and changed the numbers on a lotto Ontario sign so that it looked like the potential winnings were 5.2 million instead of 2.5. ;)

I don’t play the lottery. Life is chancey enough for me as it is.

That’s all I can really think of writing. A lot has happened and I have been very busy. I want to tell you how pissed I am at one of my friends, but I’ll talk about it later.

I’m thinking I might head out to the MOD club tonight. Anyone down?

So I have to admit I’ve been boiling over this one for a little while…. hmmm boiling?

Simmering is probably a little more accurate.

In any case, it all seemed to play itself out for me inside my head this morning - while I chowed down on my tomato and cheese sandwich and sipped my extra strong coffee - like a 1950’s reel-to-reel slide show.

I’ve a new cheese fetish now, btw. Sadly brie has taken a backseat to my newest fromage fantasy - Blue.

There’s no question that blue cheese is an unmistakable variety. It’s distinguishable from every other kind. The flavour stands alone; it never gets lost in a mix of any culinary creation. It’s stronger, and more potent than all the rest. Each time you taste it you know, “GAH! ThAtS BLUE CHEESE!”

Yes I love it. *sigh*

It boasts all that cheese has to offer, the cheesiness and the sharpness that “old cheddar” can only dream of sharing.

Well another thing I’ve been mulling over are my site statistics. We’re doing well, - it’s not a question of numbers, but rather of variety.

One of my favourite site statistics is the google search term query stat. It shows me what people have searched for in order to have arrived at my website. It’s extremely fascinating to me because it shows how I “snag” unique visitors.

Recently I’ve been receiving a number of visitors looking for information about Sherri Babbit and BCast Agency, not only that but I’ve been receiving some inquiries about my dealings with her.

Well, the truth is I have yet to deal directly with Sherri.

This is my own fault, not her’s. I’ve been very busy with my studio lately, but given the google query statistics, I feel that it is my obligation to engage.

Take for example that upon searching for Sherri, there are only two google entries: One asks if she is a scam and then rescinds their line of questioning by recognizing her as “legitimite“. The post is made by an anonymous craiglist user and quite frankly seems as legitimate as her website (ie. can’t anyone spell anymore?) and the second is Yours Truly.

I feel slightly badly for this effect.

She’s probably a very nice girl working out the kinks to a new business with tons of personal connections and little if any business experience. That must be it.

She needs a secretary or at the very least, a proof reader.

After receiving enough personal emails asking about her I have decided, for the sake of vindication or virtue, to contact Sherri and arrange a trial of her services. After all, she’s asking for $15 now, $15 later and I tend to lose more than $15 on a really good night at the bar with the boys (the gay boys… ya know.)

I suspect my term as a blogger and my candid writing style lends legitimacy to my opinion.

It would be unethical of me to write negatively about a young start-up business without giving them a fair shot. Maybe she can’t afford a proof reader or secretary - she just managed to get office time recently. Perhaps she is from a disadvantaged community where she is unable to secure contacts capable and willing to freely provide services like web-editing and spell checking.

The least I can do to help my fellow entrepreneur is to give her a decent write up.

So I wrote her another email and asked if I could perhaps drop off my payment in person, feeling that given the hysteria I’ve already induced, a mail order isn’t necessarily a means to ease my conscience.

I received a response… Personally I felt the tone was a little off, again - but then I thought, well maybe she knows I’ve given her a bad review, and I couldn’t blame her for being a bit offstandish.

I’ll let you judge for yourself: (Again you’ll have to read it backwards, because - not only am I too lazy to reformat it, but I enjoy the candid layout of a sent email.)

hi there just to let you know i am one of thousands of bus owners that work from home…my address is where all my correspondance and chqs goes….if you want to speak with me you can call me if you have any concerns. 555-555-5555
You can mail in reg fee to my mailing address
Bcast
SOMEWHERE street.
toronto.on
M5B M5B
sherri

On Tue, May 6, 2008 at 5:30 PM, Jenny Jumps wrote:

Hi Sherri,

I’ve been giving it a bit of thought and I think I’d
like to try out your agency.

I don’t feel comfortable mailing a cheque. Is it
alright if I stop by your office sometime this week
and just drop off the payment, get a receipt and then
discuss the next steps?

Let me know; you can call me at 444-444-4444 if you’d
prefer.

~Jenny

Well - so I was put off again. Each time I get an email with an off-tone I feel like I should stop fussing and just walk away. But I feel irresponsible leaving the oh-so-popular negative review up without following through. I want to find out what-is-up and why she can be operating with so much pretense.

Then suddenly; just when I thought it was a hopeless case, I receive a list-serve email from Sherri. She writes to tell her listers that she now has office hours on Thursdays from 11 to 3.

Now THAT is the evidence for which I was waiting. One major show of confidence. Don’t tell me I can’t meet you. It’s not an outlandish request. I too operate TWO businesses, one for which we’ve recently procured space and another from my home. While I wouldn’t be so comfortable inviting a stranger into my home and personal space, I would NEVER refuse the opportunity to meet with them. Meeting with people represents potential earnings. Good grief!

This shows prospect because it demonstrates the acceptance of constructive criticism. I am encouraged once again to make an effort to participate in her agency.

Now then, that’s one item down. Just a few more bulletins to get off my chest before wrapping up and heading downtown to paint (my colour! orange! it’s orange day!)

Victor Fraser, you don’t know him - but you know his work. He’s an artist, a literally starving artist who serves the city of Toronto in some of the most amazing ways.

He has been attacked, harrassed, defamed and altogether trodden upon for his work and appearance. His story is one of the most encouraging tales of ideology and perserverance that I will ever tell. His also, is a chastising moral play of courtesy and respect for all people and a condemnation of our aesthetic and cultural prejudices of a typically urban environment.

Eat that. I’ll write more later.