it's a gas

so i've got this interview today for a position as a "health and nutrition specialist" at a retail herbal weight loss centre. i think a pie and cake addict with a mean smoking habit would be a great guiding light for the obese. but, i really think i'm punishing myself for gaining 20 pounds in the last two months. i guess i need to start doing coke again. . .

i'm leaving for whitehorse tomorrow night/wednesday morning. i can hardly wait, so of course, i keep thinking something is going to go wrong. like, the bus to calgary will break down and i'll miss my flight. or better yet, i'll have seriously and stupidly miscalculated my travel plans somehow and miss my connections. or all my money will mysteriously disappear. well, that's already kind of happened, and it's really no great mystery.

sweet sweet love

aww. all those unborn victims. thank god they have the supernatural freaky eyes of mary to watch over them in fetus heaven. it's great to be back in saskatchewan.

i remember this one time, i was in my car on the corner of 13th and broad, and i almost drove into a young mother and her tiny sweet baby because i was too distracted by a man with a gigantic photo of an aborted fetus. he was standing on the corner of the parking lot of 7-11, which was apparently the fashionable hang out for proselytizing pro-lifers in regina at the time. i thought it was ingenious to draw attention to the sacred preciousness of life by causing traffic accidents with a giant fetus. he was also yelling his message at passing vehicles. unfortunately, his message was lost to the driving public because his giant aborted fetus kept blowing around at dangerous, extreme paper cut angles, seriously endangering the extremities of pedestrian victims. that's pedestrian victims of a giant fetus, remember. what about them?

i see you

so i'm sitting at the dining room table, eating my apple cinnamon pancakes, reading the paper, minding my own business, when i hear this horrible banging noise in my bathroom. the carpenter next door hammered his way into my apartment via the "medicine" cabinet over the sink. i say "medicine" because my medicine cabinet consists mainly of anti-aging creams and feminine hygiene products. i keep the good stuff in the kitchen where it is safe from bathroom intruders. so now i can chat with the next door neighbour while i'm on the can or taking shower. if i say something that i feel needs visual emphasis, i just open the medicine cabinet door, and like magic, there i am in the neighbour's bathroom. and vice versa. ingenious.

thank god i'll be in whitehorse next week.

book door

i think everyone should have the opportunity to be unemployed for an extended period of time. it's done wonders for me. for example, today i woke up at 9:30, ground some fresh coffee beans, made coffee, had half a grapefruit, ate some raisin bran, and got so fucking stoned i can't even believe i'm typing right now. it's great. now i'm making wild rice for lunch. i'm going to put carrots and almonds in it. and a little bit of cinnamon.

i cam e up with a great idea dor a book last night. it's called the bitches of coronation street. or the coronation street bitches. i can't decide which one i like better, but right now i'm leaning toward the former. because there are some mean bitches on coronation street. mouthy little trollops, the lot of them. and i think these ladies deserve a good study. the first chapter could be titled "who's a bigger fucking turd than tracy?" it could be a comparitive study of all round shittiness. and so on. i think it's a good idea.

i can't stop laughing right now. i think i'm so funny.

i like to eat creeps

i also heard my downstairs neighbour talking on the phone while taking a crap. i was delicately peeing and flipping through a magazine when i heard this offensive activity going on below me. it was like we were in the same room. gross. it also means that he can likely hear my bathroom activities. i'll have to be more discrete when i'm slapping my meat flaps in the tub. ha ha ha. gross.

pie hole

i was visiting my mom at the hospital a few weeks ago, and her doctor stopped by for a routine physical exam. i met him about 5 or 6 years ago when my parents set up an appointment for me. it wasn't a regular doctor's appointment-- he "counseled" me on the dangers of drug addicts. my boyfriend at the time had just stolen every penny i had. he emptied both my bank accounts after he stole my atm cards. i was devastated, and my parents wanted to help. anyway, i haven't seen him since. so he didn't recognize me right away, and then he said, "wow. you look so much better than when i last saw you. did your parents pay for plastic surgery?" really tactful, assface. it was a pretty funny thing to say, though. i just said i was aging well and gave him a smirky "fuck off old man" look. it's funny when people don't censor themselves at all.

mysterious shoe

so i'm thinking about taking a little trip back to whitehorse for a visit in the near future. maybe not the most practical idea, but i once bought a $1500 cruise i never took, so, you know, at least i'd be getting something for my money this time. like a chance to spend some hot bedroom time with the sexiest man ever. and see my other friends, who miss me terribly. they do. i'm not just saying that. and i miss them too. and i'm not working, so i've got time. but then, i get all wigged out a bit because i think i should be working, and i should be saving my money and i should be a perfect human being, and , and, and


so should i go? i will have some financial assistance, but i'm still having a hard time justifying the expense. hmmmm. . .

grimtown

oohh, i hate that tracy. i can't believe she left her little amy to go live with charlie the psycho. she's the shittiest person on coronation street. she's even worse than the husband- murdering vicar.



i'm "drawing a bath" right now. i love the big old clawfoot tub in my apartment, but it kind of makes me nervous. i keep thinking the tub is going to crash through the floor into the apartment below me. there's probably a lot of rotten wood and unstable other things between me and the guy downstairs, especially since i already flooded his bathroom with my wanton showering habits. but, damn it, i deserve a bath. even if it demolishes the building. i had a hard day! well, not really. but i did have a productive day and that means i get to eat ice cream and masturbate in the tub. those is the rules around this house, bitches.



after my bath, i'm going to get really stoned and watch eraserhead. i haven't seen that in years. after that, i'm going to read a book and wait for my man to call. it's so great being a girl! it's also great being unemployed.

can you smell me?

yesterday, when i was having a shower, i heard a man's voice in my apartment. for a second i thought it was the radio, but it turns out there actually was a real, live man trying to get my attention. it was the building owner. he was having a bit of a freak out because apparently all the water i was using in the shower was going directly into the bathroom below me. the ceiling tiles caved in and everything. so now i have to wait for the plumber before i can shower again. i'm all stinky and greasy, so i'm using this as an excuse to not leave my apartment or do any work on my course because i "can't concentrate" when i smell. so i'm going to smoke a bowl and do some paint-by-numbers instead of being a responsible adult.

the power of theatre

i just saw the laramie project at the university. it was good-- i even cried a bit. but i had the worst gas, and i had to keep my fart in because there were people i didn't know sitting around me. as a result, the gas was trapped in my tummy area where it had lots of room to move around and make other weird noises. i generally like to let my gas go free, but it didn't seem like the right time to laugh really loud, which is usually what i do when i fart. i just should have done it though, because the people sitting in front of me would shift and look around and whisper to each other whenever my stomach made gross rolling, farting sounds anyway. i wanted to lean forward and say, "at least it doesn't smell like ass, ok?" but i didn't, because what if they weren't noticing my noises, but commenting on dramatic points in the play or something?

dink shocky revolution

"dink shocky" is both a device and activity featured in the upcoming film production the brunching. the creative team at international house of killings has been hard at work on script development and will continue with production "brainstorming" sessions in the coming weeks.

international house of killings is a small and independent creative collective and is soliciting financial, pharmaceutical and technical support for their labour of love. the brunching is a complex production and requires countless hours of pre-pre-production development in order to ensure the visionary creative vision of international house of killings is fulfilled.

invest in artistic empowerment and support independent film.

international house of killings requires more money, drugs, ideas and healthful snacks to continue development of the brunching. international house of killings is accepting prototype blueprint "concepts" for "dink shocky," as well as financial and phamaceutical investment plans from interested parties.

send inquiries and proposals to international house of killings at shoshauna@hotmail.com.

burning hole

i found a new way to torture myself and i'm so excited about it. for the past 3 days my kitchen has been out of commission due to renovations, so I've been going over to the robin's donuts at the bus depot down the block to get my morning coffee and bun. and the morning counter girl hates her job so much she radiates burning, unbridled contempt. she is a black hole of resentment and bad customer service. the first time i experienced her joy, i told myself i wouldn't go back because her suckiness would poison my day too much. but then, i went the next day. i couldn't help it. i just rolled out of bed and couldn't stand the thought of walking more than 30 feet to get sustenance, so the bus depot was the only option. and now i'm hooked on her shit. she's like 4 feet tall, and i love that she hates me for no reason other than i want to buy goods from her. she hates everyone. i love to watch her abuse the other customers. hers is a safe, non-denominational kind of hate. because i don't think i'd love this half as much if she only treated me like shit.

it's the little pleasures that get me through the day.

speaking of which, i love my niece and nephew so much. they are the only people i know that treat me with the respect i deserve when i act like a psychotic retard. finally, people i can really be myself with. normally, children generate a feeling of profound indifference in me, but those little shit storms are totally "the bomb."

i'm feeling self conscious today. maybe i should just start drinking right now. i can't get high because my landlord, the plumber, and the carpenter are all hanging out in my kitchen. it's nice to have a new kitchen, but these guys are ruining my life.

vagina

here i am. posting again, i think. i need some sort of outlet for my angst and shame even though i keep resisting it.



so i moved to regina from whitehorse. in previous posts, i was freakish about not identifying where i lived, but that was only because whitehorse is so small that anyone who lived there and read my blog might be able to figure out who i am. that's where the shame aspect features. however, now i realize it really doesn't matter, and no one pays that much attention anyway.

i'm in regina because it's easier to be unemployed here than up north. it's so fucking cheap here! also, my mom is sick, so i thought it would be an opportune time to revisit my "hometown" for an extended period. so far, it's ok. although my lust for life seems to have dwindled to nights in front of the tv eating chocolate and smoking shitty weed. ahhh, whitehorse. it seems that only you have the crazies i need in order to add the right spice to my life. oh well. i like a challenge, so i'm going to make more of an effort to get into trouble around here. perhaps breadmaker can help me. . .

here comes the angst: fuck you. (just kidding) i'm actually only consciously angry about being separated from m. in whitehorse. i love him, and have an irritating habit of allowing my moods to be dictated by the frequency and "quality" of our communication since i've been gone. (maybe that's not really "anger" as such. but more like "frustration" and "neurotic emotional behaviour," but that definitely counts as angst-worthy for me.) ah, and i guess i'm angry that my mom is no longer able to live independently. she's only 61, and probably has at least another 10 years to live. but, she has to live with altered and limited mental abilities. this is really difficult for my dad. they've been married for 37 years, and now his wife is suddenly a completely different person.

i'm sure there's tons of other shit that deeply enrages me, but we'll keep it suppressed for awhile. at least until i feel a bit more comfortable in this new living situation.

i also feel i should mention that i suffered a bit of a mental breakdown in the spring and have been off work since then. it was great in whitehorse because i was living rent free all summer. now that i've "recovered" from crazyland, i have to find a way to re-enter the workforce. boring. or maybe it doesn't have to be. we'll see. any suggestions? my family is very uncomfortable with my unemployed status. don't they see how much happier i am? but i should find work, if only to get away from this shitball computer. i'm turning into one of those computer dependent people who only feel "connected" if they are "online."