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pumpkin lovewell i’m gonna tell you some things that you know and some things that you don’t. and yes, this is how i start my blog posts these days, with generalized assertions of nothingness. it is hot in vancouver lately and i gotta say, i stupid love it. it makes me miss the hot-thigh-sweatiness of humid summers in ottawa a little less. but it doesn’t make me miss the beer-soaked-afternoons-on-a patio-in-the-market any less, i must say. this means nothing to those of you who haven’t spent a canada day in an ottawa mob painted red. looking for your top.

anyhoo.

i am still in the thick of a summer of teaching and all i know – amidst piles of marking – is i love it. even when its too much. even when there is more to do than can seemingly be done. i also love camping – i know, wtf, eh? – and the new plants decorating my previously barren balcony. summer makes me happy. but it flies like nobody’s business.

i don’t want to get into an esoteric discussion about the brevity of time or life or joy because honestly, blogs aren’t really suppose to be all life-y and preachiness (according to me, the apparently judgey thoughtful spaz). but recent life events – illness in my family, the epiphany about teaching as key for me, and a milestone anniversary make me think about something a family member said to me in recent weeks about how life goes by so fast. i hadn’t seen this family member in roughly 9 nines, so it was an illustrative example of his point. last i’d seen him we were kids, poking the eyes out of fish and wrapping them up as presents for our mothers (sweet, i know). well, maybe not that long ago. but we were certainly awkward teens. and now we’re what are commonly referred to as adults replete with furry kids (cats all around), homes, and “real lives.” he was sharing sage advice from his father who’d said to him simply that it all goes by too fast. and it does. if we let it. we consistently forget as a people i think, that we can make our lives however we chose (that is, if we are privileged enough to make more than constrained choices in the world).

alls i’m saying folks, in an unoriginal sort of way, is that maybe, just maybe, all life is is texting love notes to t-bone with pumpkin scone icing fingers after class on a hot vancouver day.

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lelandtoday my little exposition is going to be about my two new and favouritest obsessions: dog the bounty hunter and survivorman. no – they are not in any way related (aside from being reality television shows) but that is not going to stop me from including both in this posting. and no – i don’t care if you don’t care.

so what i am going to do here (if only i could be this clear in the writing of my dissertation) is compare/contrast the shows and generally tell you what i love about them. and in the spirit of valentine’s day, add another random (and let’s face it) not-that-attractive guy to my list of “celebrity crushes.” you guessed it – leland chapman – or dawg jr to you b*tch.

here goes.

1. i love leland. not cause he is a hawt dawg or because he seems especially smart or engaging. i love him because he says “how’s it” the cutest out of all the members of his much-too-large family. also, he looks nothing like the rest of his family (save possibly his uncle. i’m not making any accusations…i’m just sayin’)

2. i love when survivorman (let’s affectionately call him les, yes?) becomes kind of a whiny b*tch on his show. the premise – for those who don’t know –  is that basically he gets dropped somewhere remote and has to survive for 7 days – without food, water, and (sometimes) shelter. he survives by his wits and sometimes looses his shit. those episodes are my favourite. like the man hasn’t eaten in days, bathed, been warm (or dry, or cool – depending on the climate), had water in some cases, or talked to anyone and the minute he starts complaining about his situation i’m all like – “what a baby!” then i try – but don’t always succeed – in telling myself i seriously wouldn’t last an hour. and i would definitely be dead in two.

3. this season dog has gotten much more violent. dog himself routinely yells “motherf*cker” at his ‘prey’ upon catching them and then he tries to save their souls. this is a somewhat welcomed change from the highly anti climatic run-up to someone turning themselves in and then getting asked if they have jesus in their lives. just my opinion.

4. les – on survivorman, stay with me here – kills at least one wild animal a show. every time he does he gives the same spiel – “i hate the thought of killing any animal. but when survival is at stake, any life is fair game” or something to that effect. every time he kills the animal though i judge (against the cuteness of the animal of course) which one of them i would rather see survive. les buddy, you are like losing three to ten. sorry dude.

5. beth’s breasts are seriously distracting. so are her nails. but i love her insofar as she subscribes to my motto: go big or go home b*tch.

6. okay both shows are highly gendered – just give me this moment’s ranty pants. oh yeah – and classed. oh yeah – and racialized. firstly, beth and baby lisa (can you believe they call their 27-year-old daughter this? but then again, my mother does still introduce me as her baby. so horrifyingly embarrassing. *shudder*) are always sent in to homes to talk to women in order to extract information by the very nature of their womanliness. dog himself is what i like to call a neo-sexist – you know, the older guy who likes to couch sexist (and sometimes misogynist – but always essentializing) comments in ‘joking’ terms – like “women can’t drive” and “men are the boss.” also, beth uses slang with racialized people but talks ‘normally’ with white hawaiians. also, i think the very notion of putting yourself – voluntarily – into survival situations is very gendered – read: ‘masculine.’ the notion that you can survive in the wild reminds me of the rugged (and misogynist) individualism expounded by certain men’s rights groups. also, it is *such* a classed activity. it is like how we go camping to ‘rough it.’ only a culture of plenty seeks to deny ourselves for leisure. k. rant over.

7. 90% of dog is about driving around in suvs and talking shit. it is like the perfect road trip.

8. 90% of survivorman is talking about fire. or making fire. or carrying fire from one place to another. or crying over fires gone out. producers: give the guy a lighter so i can hear him bitch and moan more. cause that is what that show is missing. drama.

9. i might have had a dream where leland and les get it on. first in the bc backwoods, then in a suv filled with people.

10. naw. i’m just messing with you. i’m just hoping to have a dream like that. i’ll keep you posted.

please share your own insights and/or fantasies about the shows. and don’t say that you don’t watch them.

cause i know you’re lyin’ b*tch.

vincentk. so there. i’m doing it too. i actually started a list of 25 things a few weeks ago after creampuff put out a blanket tag to all her bloggy friends (which was obviously only directed at me and my rack – you’re shameless roro!) but i hated them all so i am starting fresh. here goes!

1. when i was 6 i wanted to be a stripper. mostly for the costumes.

2. when people dress overly ironically (e.g., cat-eye glasses with little diamonds in them, horseshoe-patterned old man sweaters, etc.) i want to hurt them a little. you know, like shove-hurt not kick-in-the-junk-hurt.

3. i can smell everything. always.

4. i always want to help tourists. i don’t know if this has to do with my background in tourist industry or my uncontrollable desire to tell everyone what to do.

5. i am disproportionately afraid of farting in yoga class.

6. i love french fries and would eat them every meal of everyday if i could. i secretly wish i was one of those people who was all like “deep-fried stuff – disgusting!” but instead i want to kick-in-the-junk-hurt them.

7. i should always be doing one of two things: i) writing my dissertation, and/or 2) marking/prepping/reading. what i am always doing: watching some kind of former child star have a breakdown on much more music. congrats to those who got that reality show reference.

8. as t-bone always tells me, i have weird celebrity crushes. case in point: vincent d’onofrio (see post pic above). and not when he was thin. (and yes, criminal intent is on in the background. but rest assured. i am using both hands for this post).

9. i was born without a filter (see above). or else it’s broke.

10. i imagine that i have an incredible palate (maybe because of the smelling-everything thing – see above) and that i would make an excellent food critic. so, if anyone’s hiring, me and my beaknose are available.

11. my first kiss – when i was 11 – was ritz-flavoured. and with a boy nicknamed sasquatch.

12. i can touch my tongue to my nose (see beaknose above).

13. i am almost 30 years old and i hate getting in trouble. especially if it is for something trivial like peeing in public places or stealing. (k – for the record the only thing i ever stole was a rubber band from an office when i was young. and i actually think i only had the intent. that’s right. the criminal intent. see above).

14. both hands are still in use.

15. on the keyboard.

16. i believe in true wuv. like princess bride kind.

17. i love standing in front of a classroom. truly.

18. i learned my best dance moves from the dutch.

19. when i was 11, i plagiarized a line from the book – not the movie – arachnophobia and it was the only part the teacher made special mention of.

20. i once poked the eye out of a fish, wrapped it nicely and gave it to my mom as a gift. and then encouraged my cousin to do the same.

21. there is nothing funnier in the world to me than poop jokes. the word poop in fact might be the funniest in the english language.

22. there can never been enough: beer, food, asian-inspired decorations, cats, or potpourri. ever.

23. i turned two months on nude beach into a master’s thesis.

24. i have eaten alpaca. yeah, that’s right. i’m the devil.

25. i think i am a much better cook than i am. and also, i watch the food network endlessly only to have t-bone repeatedly point out that i never, ever write down a recipe or cook anything i learn how to make from watching the channel. he doesn’t understand food porn. poor t-bone.

and i shall tag: dr.beth because she often throws a little tag love my way (and she has a shiny new blog – go look!), chaos because she must blog again!, and lucas because i think he’ll think it’s fun.

k. tagging over. jacks out.

boobpillowbecause of the recent spike in activity on my blog, mainly because of my inclusion of the word “boob” in a recent post (well, only because of that really), i have decided to write an open letter to all the people out there who come to my blog, hoping for boobs, only to be disappointed by a discussion of women’s agency. boo-urns, eh? i bet it is a little disappointing for them. and i want them to know that they are welcomed and cared for by the thoughtful spaz, despite the fact that she ain’t got what they are googlin’. so here goes kids.

dear boob fetishist,

firstly, thank you for the enlightening and eye-opening introduction into the world of breast-obsession. while i have a set of my own, and seriously admire a nice rack, i have always felt somewhat outside your world. however, i underestimated your kindness and generousity in letting me in and your willingness to openly google (cause i can see what terms you’ve entered that brought you to my site, in case you didn’t know) phrases such as: “getting milk from boobs,” “milk boobs,” and, my personal favourite, “feeding milk and sex.” now while it is possible that santa googled the last phrase (that kinky bastard), i think i am recognizing a trend that doesn’t have much to do with the rights of breastfeeding mothers, women’s agentic acts of nudity, women’s choice, or even naturism. but i have to hand it to you, you have certainly opened my eyes to a new fetish. one that i would now like to inquire about.

basically i just have one question.

what the f*ck is that all about?

now, please don’t take this as a judgment. i consider myself an open-minded person who appreciates the “queering” of everyday lives and sexual desires. and i get that it’s nasty and taboo and all oedipal and such. but i wonder what actual images you are searching for. and if you ever find yourself in uncomfortable or compromising conversations with lactating mothers. perhaps, using my blog as a launching post, you could begin a handbook on your particular fetish and inform the world. and also find yourselves a name. lactoerotics? milkers? i’ll leave the ultimate decision up to you.

in conclusion, thank you for expanding my world and making me think more about what breast milk tastes like. or at least what you think it tastes like. and thank you as well for expanding the notion of what it means to be a mother. you have even managed to sexualize breast milk. i am gonna give you a big bravo on that one.

yours breastfully,

jacks

p.s. – please consider the pillow above something you could take with you to work to get through those long days. or hump like my friend J.’s dog does to his doggie bed. totally up to you.

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.

eggnog2it’s true. i should be doing ANYTHING else right now besides blogging. there is a tree to put up, an apartment to clean, publications to write, relatives to call, cats to pet. but goddamit, what about time for jacks? i just got back from a whirlwind trip around holland (and belgium) to visit family (i have an aunt who resembles zsa zsa  in more ways that one who celebrated her 95th birthday – said birthday was celebrated in.a.castle. yeah, that’s right. holland has castles. who knew? and more importantly, how awesome is it to go to a party and then sleep in a castle. oh, and then go to another castle the next day for my cousin’s wedding reception. yup. two castles. two days. two parties. two different parts of holland. i barely survived the jetlag. i tell you this not to brag – because do people really get jealous of jacks randomly sleeping in castles? i think not. but rather to share my incredulity with you. dutch castles. things that make you go hmmm). anyhoo – trip was fun – family heavy which was just what i wanted. i got to celebrate sinterklaas day there which is sorta like christmas here – presents for kids, etc. – while christmas – the 25th – is celebrated more like a religious holiday without gifts. if you are looking for a trippy holiday though – sinterklaas day is one to check out – particularly the part about zwarte (translated as black) pete (or piet in dutch). can anyone say unselfconscious blackface? yowza. but in other, only tangentially related news, it seems that i am in blogging arrears and dr. beth (whose blog currently has snow! yay!) has sent me another meme so i must get to it because it makes me feel important.

basically i have to do a bunch of fancy blog-related things that i am too lazy to figure out at the moment and i am distracted by t-bone filling up my eggnog bath (not really) so i will just write 6 random things about myself and ask you, dear readers to do the same in the comments. here goes:

  1. my nickname when i was six was popcorn head. i might have already talked about this and the way my mother cut and permed my hair like a geriatric’s, but who doesn’t want to revisit that pain over and over again? i know i do.
  2. i currently desperately want to write a short story. i thought i wanted to write a novel but now that just seems too ambitious what with the dissertation and all.
  3. i am currently sporting my natural haircolour which i haven’t seen since roughly 1995.
  4. i was born with three holes in my heart which were repaired by way of open-heart surgery when i was three. it didn’t strike me that i had actual holes in my heart until i was about 9 years old and my friend (susanne, if you read this blog, just know that i am outing out) asked me if i had any trouble with my feelings – you know, like love, because the carebears were advising us at that time in the late 1980s that without our hearts we were all just…i dunno mired in the land without feelings. fucking profound susie q. i must say.
  5. i got married when i was 25. i know! doesn’t that seem young? well i guess it does to me now that i am almost thirty. jeesh. such a little lamb back then before t-bone corrupted me with his love and proposals of marriage and such. aaaah.
  6. i love holland more than i think i would love the land of oz. however, there is no way of ever knowing that and i am aware of that.

yay! this is fun! i want to go on forever but i am afraid of how random this could get. for example i might spill about how i was a punk rocker for like my entire youth for halloween (badly approximating madonna in her like a virgin video (gawd – i STILL love that song!), or how i used to make boys i liked get down on their hands and knees so i could step on their backs getting onto the monkey bars at school (like, what was that about? can someone say control issues?). or how i love eating in random hole-in-the-wall chinese restaurants that smell suspiciously and taste deliciously. or how i love christmas far too much for someone approaching thirty. alright. i’m stopping. but i want to hear some random shit for all ya’ll and i will also be accepting ideas  for plots for my possible short story. perhaps i will blog some of it. or perhaps it will remain the untold story of a popcorn headed girl, dressed skankily like madonna, eating chinese food in the land without feelings.

um. whatevs.

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 dr. beth – after a night of vegetarian cuisine and  my constant questions about what a ping is and how i can find out how important i am to the blogosphere – has helped me out with a post idea – that is a five things meme. basically i have to thrill you by answering questions with five answers. so here goes nothin’ kids.

FIVE things i was doing 10 years ago:

  1. deciding that instead of dropping out of university and becoming a chef (in which case i would now be working for dreamy gordon ramsey – i don’t usually dig men with light hair but comeon) or a florist, i would get my phd and become a professor (can somebody say existential crisis?)
  2. putting on roughly thirty pounds instead of the average “freshman fifteen” (good times)
  3. getting up the courage to end an almost-five-year-long relationship to live a life that somehow approximated sex and the city (the former happened, the latter, not so much)
  4. falling deeply and intensely in love with critical thought (feminist, anthropological, and sociological. seriously. i had a boner for theory)
  5. discovering exercise. and tanning. later, i will refer to this part of my life as the “surfer chick stage.” i neither surfed nor ever considered myself a chick, but upon being misrecognized at christmas by a younger cousin who i heard whisper to her mother “jacks sure looks different than before” i got a sense that something was awry. btw, it was my fake tan and platinum hair. yowza)

FIVE things on my to-do list today

  1. buy the remaining components of my h-ween costume (and no, you may not know what i am going to be so there. be patient. i will post pics)
  2. eat stuff. a special moment of ingestion will take place tonight when i go out with friends who are taking their new baby on the town for the first time. i let you know how that goes
  3. read more of the fat anthology i am currently obsessed with. it is called fat: the anthropology of an obsession. i am sure i don’t have to remind you how obsessed with fat i am right now
  4. try to send five minutes with t-bone. we’ve been busy so ships passing in the night or somethin’ like that
  5. decide about going to a concert. the band sounds a little like blue rodeo. and no. that isn’t good

(and i am aware that there is nothing regarding my dissertation on that list. it’s saturday. gimmie a break)

FIVE snacks i like

  1. poutine
  2. french fries
  3. potato chips
  4. beer (if none of the above is available)
  5. guacamole (i could seriously drink that shit. seriously)

FIVE things i would do if i had a million dollars

  1. make the barenaked ladies song “if i had a million dollars” the soundtrack of my life. it would come on when i walked into a room
  2. buy a forest green volvo circa 1979
  3. travel to figi
  4. maybe move somewhere warm
  5. buy a house in the country and have too many animals

FIVE places i’ve lived in

  1. small town ontario (pop. 4200)
  2. ottawa, our nation’s capital (there are two things ottawa does well: canada day and summer)
  3. toronto
  4. vancouver
  5. that’s it

FIVE jobs i’ve had

  1. interpretive guide/reception at a national historic site (basically i dressed up as a soldier’s wife from 1846 and got called wench a lot despite that being a temporally-inappropriate term for women of the era we were representing. i gave tours and found my peverse love of all things reception-y – including but not limited to the movie the secretary. i know. so wrong to go there)
  2. i worked for a minute for my grandfather in his print shop. i was hoping it would be more secretary-like but it ended up being more print-person like. it sucked. i quit on my second day
  3. i have been a teaching assistant and i am an instructor. i heart teaching but it seems almost like a not-real job cause it only exists in the forms i have done it in academia. and plus, i love it so it doesn’t feel like work (i know that is cheesy but it is true so suck it)
  4. sadly, that is also it. embarrassing, i know. i did the interpretive guide thing for like 6 years – basically it stole my youth and i have been doing number 3 for about the same amount of time. apparently i don’t like to diversify. essentially, i am unemployable outside of academia. pray that i get a job. for reals

I am suppose to tag people here but i don’t have enough friends who blog so instead i am going to write five words i find funny. i believe this ruins the point of a meme, but i never claimed to know what i was doing on the internets.

FIVE words i fine funny

  1. mustache
  2. panties
  3. viscous
  4. scrotum
  5. sycophant (word and deed are highly annoying)

it would be nice if you chose one of these categories and provided your own answers in the comments section i might just love you forever. really i will.

so i have been scaring the shit outta myself lately with my dreams. i am not much of a dreamer normally (it is the general lack of imagination required for success in academics) but for at least three nights in a row i have had the creepiest dreams EVER.

first there was the romance with the lobster. thankfully, there were no intimate relations. but randomly, he(?) started falling apart about halfway through. i don’t know what you would do when your lobster boyfriend starts to fall apart, but i had visions of butter and garlic dancing in my head, so i saved his pieces to eat later. shut up. you’re a maneater too. so there. ultimately i was left with a pair of googly eyes. surprisingly i don’t actually feel like shellfish lately. maybe i’ll develop an allergy.

then there was the friend betrayal one (you know who you are you hot little minx who eyes t-bone like he is some deliciously slathered crustacean – i’m watching you!). and finally there was the baby-self-delivery i performed. creepy, no? i remember the labour feeling like having cotton balls stuffed in my stomach which i ultimately pulled out of stomach (apparently i am five years old and still have no idea where babies come from). it was most disturbing because instead of being covered in placenta, i think the baby was covered in whatever i had eaten earlier. which might have been indian food (a possible explanation for the tummy weirdness in the middle of the night).

so. this all begs the question: what does it mean? one friend suggested the lobster dream was my subconscious picking over the remnants of my dissertation, trying to find pieces big enough to turn into something “edible.” the baby one could have something to do with my pregnant friend being in the hospital, waiting to be induced. the hot minx dream is obviously the result of her being a hot randy minx. duh. and they probably mean more. but instead of analyzing them with the help of freud’s interpretation of dreams (spoiler alert: everything is just about sex), which i always find falls frustratingly short, another thought struck me. you feel in dreams. you have emotions in them. isn’t it strange that that just struck me? i mean, i know you feel fear when “bad guys” are chasing you (sound familiar t-bone?) or hyperventilate-y sadness when someone dies or does something desperate. but i never actually thought about dreams as vehicles for more than just pieces of your subconscious manifesting things you aren’t normally allowed to think. like, you know, like making out with your coworker with b.o. or um…i dunno, having a relationship with shellfish. anyhoo. dreams as a manifestation of feelings. weird.

so my obvious question is: what was your most f*cked up dream? how’d it make you feel? and do you have your own interpretation?

i recently got this saying on a pin from my equally-fabulous friend chaos (um, dude, post something new already!) and i thought i’d begin on a high note cause you know it is all going downhill from here. well, not really. i have just been thinking about how it is coming up on my first year blogiversary and i am still a bag blogger. that’s right kids. welcome to why i am a bad blogger installment…um…i dunno. #6? a lot? a billion?

so there is the obvious situation of my random, some would say, spotty blogging habits. to which i reply, quite haughtily, “i am a blog artiste. and plus, i cannot help that big brother was on all summer followed by a new season of biggest loser (this time with families!) not to mention i am doing this dissertation thing which is REALLY cutting into america’s next top model (go isis you hot bitch!)” or something to that effect.

there is a somewhat related issue regarding my tags. or categories. or whatever. the thing is i have no idea really what they are. or what they do. i just like when categories pop up under my post titles and if there is nothing that strikes my fancy as an appropriate category, i make another. this happens a lot. (okay, now don’t go to my list of taggy categories cause it will cause me shame. do you think i can pay someone to clean that up for me? or make it relevant? or somethin’?).

there is the issue of ‘being on the market,’ which in academicese means trying to finally become employed after years and years (and years) of unemployment (cause face it kids, being a teaching or research assistant is really just about cushy slavery). i am not gonna lie. it is the biggest job undertaking EVER. and i don’t care if some of you are doctors (you know, the kind that actually help people) or executives (yeah, like executives read my blog) and had to go through completely tumultuous application processes. it is not as bad as trying to put together the past 10 years of unemployment in terms that make you seem employable. i’m just sayin’.

there is also the issue of the weather turning. i mean, summer is busy. there are fun things to do. you know when there aren’t as many fun things to do? when it is pouring and doesn’t get light enough for you to differentiate between dawn and dusk. that’s right folks. september in vancouver. but don’t get me wrong. i heart vancouver. i am just a twit who always forgets what the weather is like here in the winter.

and there is my general obsession with fat which i haven’t spoken about in a while. right now i am cooking up a new project which contains the key words: obesity, internet, new media, activism, community, fat phobia, social inclusion, and civic engagement. sounds fancy, huh? it isn’t really a secret so much as i don’t feel like regurgitating all the hours viciously robbed from hell’s kitchen to prepare it.

i am going to end this post with a question – which again goes to demonstrate why i am a bag blogger. i always assume people are going to respond (and those of you who do – i love you more than reality t.v. well, it is VERY close) enthusiastically and verbosely. the fact that i only get a few responses (despite the fact that i think i have hundreds of adoring audience members. yes, i am a delusional egomaniac. thank you for noticing cutie;) means a) i ask the wrong questions; or b) i ask questions that are not compelling enough for people to go through the bother of creating a false name only to have me reveal their true identities in the comments section. sound familiar robinmasters?

okay, my question is: what has been preoccupying you lately? work? school? a hobby? fat? i hope you all say fat so that we can be bffs. for reals forevs.