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hazmat-suitso i survived the plague. barely. what’s with rampant sickness taking over vancouver? seriously people, i need you to take some vitamins and stop passing your goddamn germs around. alrighty. that feels better. but seriously – i was sick for a whole week. like snotty-face, laying-prostrate-on-the-couch-sick. i even had to teach in that state and that was hella painful. i was teaching poststructural theory kids – a mindf*ck on any day of the week – let alone during plague week. so during my almost-death week i stumbled upon some crucial life lessons and i will fill you in asap!

  1. as the title of this post demonstrates – i am a full-fledged batshit crazy germaphobe. like, for reals. i am pretty sure i cont(r)acted this disease from a fellow conference-goer at a fabulous conference i attended a little over a week ago. fabulous except for the fact that it was ripe with human germs. this is the second time i have almost died after attending a conference. this leads to me to believe that i should stop shaking people’s hands. like EVER. i am currently working on a strategy to never touch strangers that will not turn me into a bonafide nutter (any suggestions would be appreciated). i figure it has made howie mandel more endearing so why not me? when someone goes in for the handshake i’ll just say, “you know that thing that howie mandel has? i totally have that too. so keep your fucking hands to yourself mister” or something equally entirely inappropriate.
  2. i am pretty good at feeling desperately sorry for myself. when people don’t manage to muster as much sympathy as i have for myself, i kinda hate them.
  3. i seriously had a virus and not even the norwalk (which my friend M. managed to get at her workplace) and i still questioned if i had the will to live.
  4. fortunately cadbury cream eggs are out because it is spring/easter-time and they restored my will to live. but just barely. i had to eat at least one a day to keep from seriously freaking out.
  5. my home became the den of sickness which basically means that due to a lack of cleaning (related to the lack of the will to live) cat fur started to engulf t-bone and me. seriously, if anyone wants cats who constantly shed and yell really loud after they take shits, we have the sweetest pair for you.
  6. pizza hut pizza also has the ability to restore the will to live. i think it is because it is basically cheese and pepperoni on top of a doughnut. yummy. doughnut pizza.
  7. i get really spastic when i get sick and become convinced that life will never be as it once was. t-bone tells me it is because i take too much over the counter cold medication but i think it is because demons possess me after the virus weakens my immune system. and no, i didn’t get that idea after watching almost the entire first season of true blood when i was sick.  so shut it.
  8. hbo really does make the wickest television serieses. and yes, i am aware that serieses is not a word.
  9. it was raining while i was sick and lead to the sickness-induced conviction that i was clinically depressed. t-bone opened the blinds and my clinical depression became more of a general malaise.
  10. i started to wonder how much a hazmat suit might cost.
  11. i made t-bone promise me that i would live. and if i didn’t it was so f*cking his fault. *shakes fist*
  12. i got really angry at oprah. because she never has anything good on her show any more. *throws cat at television while screaming “why are you doing this to me oprah?!!? what have i EVER done to you?!!?! no one cares about people’s dirty houses – you know why? because we ALL HAVE DIRTY HOUSES AND WE DON’T F*CKING CARE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE’S DIRTY HOUSES! either come clean ours or give us a car or shut the fuck up. now.”*
  13. t-bone is the bestest sick-person caregiver in the world! he didn’t even mind when i let food fall from my mouth while saying things like: “you call this fucking chicken soup? jesus dude, i’m fucking dying over here!”

these are my current realizations about the nature of my existence. if you too have recently undergone a near-death experience due to a mild illness, please share in the comments section.

chefas i sit lately between the dual screens of my computer and my beloved television, i try to come up with more reasons to whine. sometimes i think whining is the ultimate procrastination technique. or my genetic disposition. or my destiny. in any case, i am going to regale you with ridiculous stuff i am whining about today in order to um…well procrastinate. instead of my usual list however, i will present my whiny-ness as a series of conversation fragments in order to illustrate the silliness of my supposed ‘troubles.’

here goes.

SCHOOLWORK

me: “yeah. i have to revise my dissertation. it’s like editing but so.much.worse.”

unnamed voice of reason (who is currently writing their dissertation): “yeah but look at the position you are in – actually finished a draft and editing basically. i can’t wait to be there.”

me: “i’m not sure you heard me – i have to revise. and revising is like editing which i hate. you like editing, don’t you? you’re not that busy are you – wanna do it for fifty bucks?”

KITTY LOVE

me: “there are cats everywhere. they are on me all.the.time. they also have way to much soft fluffy irresistible fur. do you think [unnamed dissertation writing/fan of editing friend] would take them instead of the fifty bucks i offered her?”

t-bone: “um…are you okay?”

me: “do you think we could get more? i mean, they are pretty cute…”

t-bone: “so you want to sell our cats?”

me: “i’m not a terrible person! shut up! why would you want to get rid of the cats?!?!” *sobbing uncontrollably while squeezing hobbes too tightly*

LAUNDRY

me: “why do you even wear underwear? boxers are ridiculous anyway – they don’t do anything with regard to containment, protection, or general control-age of the junkage – maybe we should just throw all your underwear out and then i won’t have to wash them. EVER.”

t-bone: “i’m gonna just pretend you didn’t say that.”

CLEANING

me: “i have cleaned three times in the last week. wtf is with that?”

friend: “you should get rid of your cats – it is all their fur.”

me: “THAT’S WHAT I SAID! i’ll let you have one of them for fifty bucks.”

COOKING

me: “i’m on strike.”

t-bone: “yeah. i pretty much figured that out about five years ago.”

YOGA

me: “i don’t have time to be zen. i am too busy trying to line up someone to edit my dissertation, pawning my cats on unsuspecting friends, not cook and clean, and surreptitiously throw all your underwear out.”

t-bone: “i just asked if you wanted an omelet.”

SNOW

me: “why the f*ckballs is it snowing? yesterday i had allergic reactions to cherry blossom trees blossoming and NOW F-ING SNOW?!?! well, at least i can pretend it is xmas again.”

t-bone: “maybe i’ll get boxers from santa?”

DEADLINES

me: “time is relative. life is relative. just ask tom green. i mean – who ever thought he’d be on t.v. again – now look at him! i should prolly just pace myself. that is what tom would want me to do.”

DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME

me: “i’m so freaking tired. what the hell time is it? no – like the real time – like the time it was yesterday before nothing happened and we switched the clocks ahead an entire hour. yeah. that time.”

SPRING

me: “it’s f*cking snowing in vancouver and we are gonna set a record for snowfall. tonight. don’t talk to me about spring. it is just a teaser. a myth. like hairless cats and personal chefs. all lies.”

friend: “so that means you don’t want to go outside?”

me: “no for sure i do! i’ll go and get my catfur coat. be right with you!”

and there you have it – my muddled, whine-ass state of mind lately.

perhaps it’s paralyzed spring fever.

but here’s to shedding winter like an old catfur coat and un-needed boxers! jacks needs to bust out baby – so watch out!

no seriously – watch out. might try to sell you a cat or get you to edit my dissertation.

so seriously. um…watch out.

k – i should be prepping my lecture for tomorrow’s class (on the history of feminist theory and the “waves” of feminism no less!) but t-bone and i (sorry to implicate you in this honey) had this hilarious conversation about what if our cats filled out something akin to say, online dating profiles. i know, random. and this will only be funny to me (and possibly t-bone but prolly not cause i implicated him in having this ridiculous conversation and he might be borderline considering a ban on the use of him, or anyone resembling him, in future ancedotes).

anyhoo. you’ve been warned. now, onto the kitty dating profiles.

hobbes1

username: hobbesie (to cute it up for the ladies. or boys. whatever. i’m open)

likes:

  • anyone (takes after his mother, otherwise known as the attention whore)
  • junk scratches (obviously)
  • salmon-flavoured anything
  • scavenging – more specifically – licking the butter
  • mice that make a noise when you toss them into the air
  • licking sachets of catnip till they drip with my spit
  • running into the uncharted territory that is the hallway and screaming at  the top of my lungs
  • screaming at anyone who is standing
  • screaming
  • keeping parents awake by 1) screaming and 2) terrorizing sister

dislikes:

  • bianca (above mentioned sister)
  • whenever anyone doesn’t pay attention to me (learned behaviour from mother)
  • when people are too shy to go as low as i like with the junk scratches
  • cat food – i generally prefer butter

bianca

username: biancs (more chic than plain ole bianca)

likes:

  • aggressive (some might say heavy) petting
  • throwing up hairballs – but only on the carpet
  • drinking out of glasses
  • scratching the litter box and surrounding area for 10 to 15 minutes at a time – longer if parental units are sleeping
  • making bird noises at birds that are just out of my grasp (that is to say, outside the window on trees and telephone wires that i would never, on any planet, be able to reach)
  • hiding under the bed when anyone comes to visit
  • immobile people whose laps look inviting – possibly mannequins (which my parents should look into)
  • rapid-fire smacking kittens, and especially hobbes, unexpectedly in the head
  • death-breathing – which i do when anyone does anything to me that i don’t like (makes them worry i might be dying so they immediately cease and desist. works like a charm)

dislikes:

  • hobbes. and his constant brown-nosing and attention-whoring. makes me sick to my – BLETCH! (*chokes up sausage-sized hairball*) – stomach
  • people. when they: come in the door, move, stand, walk, and especially when they walk in a way that could be construed as “in my direction”
  • hobbes
  • loud noises
  • when hobbes licks me – i pretend to like it so i don’t have to bathe myself but i.hate.him and everything he stands for
  • tall people
  • people that like me

alright. i’m satisfied. teehee. please feel free to include in the comments any of your pet’s likes and dislikes.

maybe we can matchmake.

meow.

well. it was my blogiversary. two days ago. but i was sick. like snotty-faced head cold sick. and i even attempted to write a post in that state, but upon perusing it again, realized it makes no sense. it’s all tylenol cold meets shots of whiskey. thus, you get the two-days-late celebration of a year of wasting spending my time writing on this blog. there have been good times. bad blogger times. and all around inappropriate times (that post’s picture, much to my chagrin, is the most clicked on picture on my blog. i don’t know what that means, but it can’t be good). i think i have done a pretty bang up job as a bad blogger and a recovering technophobe. but just to convince you, dear sweet readers who hide from me, i will list some of my accomplishments over this past bloggyrific year as a way of saying screw you, i am gonna keep blogging and nobody can stop me (unless i actually get a job and they force me to). a year in the life of jacks-as-blogger or jackablogger:

  1. i have gone from bitching about starting my dissertation to being close to done a complete first draft. this has resulted in a search for gainful employment. when i began this blog, i hoped it would help motivate me and be an outlet and procrastination place. it has paid off in spades, my friends. spades. (i have no idea what that means).
  2. i taught myself how to use blogger and then moved over to where dr. beth, the alpha-bloggess told me all the cool kids were, that is, wordpress. THEN i taught myself how to use wordpress. it is like i am a computer genius or something. the really, really cool kids pay for their own domain but i am okay being a second-rung cool kid because i have never been one to kowtow to the whims and trends of others. or maybe i am. i have no idea.
  3. every time i think i will never be as pumped about another research project, i discover something like fat and fall deliciously, hopelessly in love with the idea of talking to people about it and turning it into something thinky (and bloggy) .
  4. i went to my first american conference (and blogged about it!) and it made me fall deeper in love with fat studies.
  5. i spoke at a blogging conference about my research.
  6. as a bona fide member of the wordpress community i have so far appeared in the “possibly related posts” section of three different blogs. they are: fat feminism: musings of a rubens woman – which, i might add, actually makes sense and looks like a cool blog; some kid’s blog who wrote a post about incest – okay, this was a little bit of a stretch but from what i saw, he was trying to be witty. i hope; and this blog, which i think is about nordic skiing. the link here – say with me folks – is a blog post about being a un-sexy pole dancer. get it? ski poles, stripper poles…anyhoo. it appears that “possibly related should be highlighted and bolded. i fear that the nordic ski people might not be getting the kind of pole-action they want (however, i posted the ic of when i went pole-dancing just to add to the confusion. hehe. take that wordpress!).
  7. i cat blogged once! sorry shells. and everybody.
  8. this list has to be ten. so here is number eight.
  9. blogging has inspired not only my future research project (about blogging and fat! wheee!) but it has also inspired that creative writing spirit that i lost roughly after i got my license. before that i would crank tori amos or classic rock (i can’t even stand the doors anymore because of how much i listened to them in my angsty youth. borf) and write really.bad.poetry while my father worried for the state of my mental health. it’s good to be back to the good ole days.
  10. basically, i kept it up for a year. and i am friggin’ proud of myself. *big shit-eating grin*

so during this little yay me blogiversary partay, i realized i don’t have a list of my categories. and i still don’t know how to tag things. um, dr. beth? help me…

oh yeah – and how could i forget: HAPPY H-WEEN kids! costume pics to come! (and tell me what you are going to be/were. now. NOW!).

so now that i have a total of 52 posts or thereabouts, i decided to get myself a shiny new home in the blogosphere. and here it is! i even changed my title cause we all know how i can’t commit to anything. so here i am, once again following in the footsteps of the alpha-bloggess dr. beth and moving on up to wordpress, thereby bringing me into at least the 20th century. as dr. beth pointed out, blogger is sooooo 1990s, and jacks is nothing if not cutting edge.

so in honour of my shiny new blog i am going to stop holding back and do something i have been wanting to do for a while. yup. that’s right. blog about my cats. and i swear to god, if any of you stop reading because i choose occasionally to catblog, well, just know that i think you’re not very nice. yeah. take that. so i told this little ditty at a recent dim sum fest (my new favourite ingestable) and it got some laughs, so here goes.

i have two cats, one is named hobbes, the other bianca. they are brother and sister and the two most beautiful himalayan/siamese cross kitties in. the. whole. world. they have completely opposite personalities and of course this makes them highly complimentary. anyhoo. hobbes is really outgoing. like really. and bianca, well. not so much. so whenever anyone comes over, or really, whenever anyone comes into our place – including us – hobbes runs to them frantically for attention and bianca runs to the bedroom to hide under the bed until she decides that you are not sketchballs. hobbes is essentially an attention whore while bianca takes to heart the cow and the milk analogy.

i give into hobbes a lot. this might be because he is an attention whore like me or because he is really needy. not sure. the point is: what hobbes wants, hobbes gets. that or you have to put up withhim screaming in your face as he kneads your chest with his massive kitty paws. and well, to put it bluntly, hobbes likes his junk scratched. not actually his junk of course. but the general area. so i concede and scratch his belly quite, well, low. this translates into the uniquely hobbesian (hehe) practice of meeting new people, subsequently flopping on them, and then waiting for the junk scratch. needless to say, this takes people off-guard. and maybe a little aback. they begin by asking if it is okay that they scratch his belly (which is a good question because most cats are not into this action). upon receiving the go-ahead, hobbes begins to kick their arms with his back leg in order to get their hands lower. MUCH lower. it is at this point that visitors begin to get uncomfortable, laugh nervously, and ask if what they think he is doing is indeed what he is doing. i say yes and they recoil in a mix of fascination and horror. i clarify and say that he likes it low, but that he does not in fact want anyone to touch it. at least i don’t think he does.

so this is my welcome and inaugural post on my new blog. hopefully, it will, as my cat’s junk-scratching desires do, demonstrate the propriety of the new handle and theme.


i’m a bad blogger because i suck at sales. these may seem unrelated, but stay with me, i’ll make it worth your while. swears. up to this point, i have not been able to lure my non-blogging friends into commenting in the comment section. i think that i know that they are out there. somewhere. in the interwebnets universe. but they elude the comments section. they are not even anonymously reporting on how irrelevant my posts are. nuttin’. silence. anyone who knows me, knows that melikes attention. so essentially i am bad blogger because i am not selling my blog to those who don’t blog and thus not getting the attention i need. like one of my cats, i am an attention whore. and i am jonesin’ for a fix.

i like that blogs have the potential for dialogue. the comments section creates a space of/for discussion. now, maybe, you say, you don’t say anything relevant to the lives of others and therefore they are not compelled to comment. you might say, your blog sucks. and after i say, shut up, you suck, i will acknowledge that you might be on to something. so i have concocted a top ten list of reasons why people don’t comment. here goes:

1. no one actually reads my blog – this is no. 1 because it is the most likely. in that case, i am a bag blogger because no one reads my blog – save for the four people that i am sure of – and even they are not always compelled to comment.

2. no one can figure out what my blog is about.

3. as in life, i talk too much and only pretend to listen. (kidding. i do listen. if its about me).

4. no one likes me. (impossible).

5. my blog has bad breath.

6. commenters need to get drunk with me first. (i am available most days for intoxication, save the days i teach. you’d know that if you invited me somewhere in my comments section. jerks).

7. the comments section is too complicated.

8. people are afraid of openly acknowledging that they know me.

9. people want me to pick a topic and stick to it. (don’t fence me in. seriously).

10. lurking is more fun than writing. i get that.

the most common and probable reason, besides all of the above, is that people who don’t blog don’t feel it is their “place” somehow to comment. i felt this for a long time. i was internet-paranoid: not filling in my email address on any website, not giving any information unless it was to online bank, not commenting on compelling blogs, not participating in any social networking. at all. but now that we as a culture have ridden the wave of facebook’s rise (and some say, fall) from grace, we can be the master of our so-called internet domains, no? this bad blogger post will therefore attempt to empower those of you who, like me, are afraid of certain types of internet participation. for fear of spam or public humiliation. i am a bad blogger. so, too, can you be. or you can at least be a friggin’ blog commenter in the friggin’ comments section.

jeesh.

(don’t make me turn this into a blog about cats. cause i’ll do it. just watch me).