hey nugget

Remember when you went away, and I'd asked for a pair of your sweatpants for my life-sized-ragdoll-of-Shaun Project? I believe you used the word creepy to describe my idea.

Well, the Japanese beat me to it years ago -- and if the Japanese can come up with an idea like that, then surely it couldn't have been that wacky.

Don't pretend to be a stranger.


I met Jeevan in the summer of 2000, before Dave broke my heart at the Second Cup.

Jeevan and Dave had met in residence, and bonded quickly thanks to shared passions for foosball, hip hop and girls. I was the summer fling who waited on the sidelines, but was easily accepted as one of the boys. As Dave made his rounds at the pub, batting his pretty long lashes at pretty young things, Jeevan and I would watch from the corner with our beer, admiring Dave's confidence and how everything seemed to come to him so easily. The boys often teased Jeevan about his poetry and that perpetual 'nice guy' aura that never got him the girl. His
sensitivity and sense of humour made waiting for Dave bearable.

I can imagine the sorrow smothering Dave as he wrote the email last night, telling us that Jeevan died this weekend while swimming near Ithaca.

After months of nightly visits, Dave and I got back together the next summer. Jeevan introduced me to One Hundred Years of Solitude and the poetry of Pessoa. We continued to hang out at the Common Ground and watch the foosball loser drink the Vindaloo sauce at Darbar. I was still one of the boys. After the second break-up when Dave moved to Toronto, I let it slip that the sleepovers hadn't stopped. I was sitting on the steps in front of the house on Mack Street, my head down, getting yelled at by Jeevo. He told me how much he loved and respected Dave and that despite his amazingness in so many aspects, a great gal like myself should have known better than to give in to Dave once again. I was moved. They were the best of friends, and yet Jeevan's heart was too big to take sides.

The boy was all heart.


My mother has another daughter and her name is Alice. Sure, Alice has her own mother -- a good friend of Mom's -- but since she's such a delight to be around, Mom refers to her as her goddaughter in Chinese. Alice is really sweet, really bright (pursuing her Masters in Architecture in Paris) and is an all-round good girl (she speaks Mandarin to her elders). I hear that she's also incredibly feminine, but I wouldn't know. Alice and I have never met. Dad says I'm still his favourite.

I'd mentioned to Mom the other day that a nice young man who worked in public affairs at the ROM had given me his card, if I ever felt like getting coffee with him someday. I never took him up on the offer, but I did send him a thank you email which I'd typed out with the utmost sincerity. I've only seen him once since then, as he rode past me in the market, avoiding eye contact.

"Hi honey, sorry for bothering you at work... but I was wondering if you could help Alice out."

"You mean the kinder, gentler, more obedient daughter?"

"As you know, she's working on a paper about the new addition to the museum. Do you think you could call that guy from the market and see if she could speak to him about her project? She's left messages with others at the ROM and no one's gotten back to her."

"I hardly know him, Mom."

"But you have his card. You could give him a call on Alice's behalf."

"He tried to ask me out. And now I'm calling him for a favour for someone I don't even know. Gee, that won't be awkward."

"Then ask him out. This would mean a lot to Alice."

Pimped out by my mother to save a sister I've never met. I sent him an email about Alice and included an invitation for a smoothie. No response yet.


Staff party starts at 6:30.
Theme: Casual Black & White

Somehow, I'd overlooked the word Casual. The ladies will be in their capris and I will be in my party dress. I've been here a little over four months and I've barely met one-tenth of the staff at this organization (150 full- and part-time staff at eight different sites).

I always get this way before parties. "Do I
have to be there?" People make me nervous sometimes.

I'll be missing The Spirit of the Beehive at Cinematheque, and the comfort of sitting in a dark theatre alone, surrounded by strangers.

Because of the structure of the organization, people tend to stick to their departments (youth workers, daycare workers, counsellors, mediators). I will be the only one representing the development department -- the other two-thirds of it is on holiday.

Our spunky Director of HR has assured me that she feels the exact same way before every staff party -- and she's been working here for eight years. :) I've been invited to sit with the rest of the Administration staff. Fewf.

A quiet, early exit is not an option, since the party will be on a boat in stinky Lake O. If I get really anxious, I suppose I could grab a lifejacket and jump. I shouldn't be such a suck. I am sure that it won't be horrible.

But you know me. I'm shy.

Erp. Prickly pits.


morning glory on a chariot of porcelain

"Have you ever had multi-coloured poo?"

This morning, Vouvou showed Lolo something special. Very special.

Well, she has seen me naked. I guess it was only fair.