Chemul, Valentine's, DIRTY THIRTY!!

Holy crap. It's been way too long since I actually posted something. It's been since the beginning of October since something has been posted on this little blog o'mine. I've written quite a bit here and there, little diddies (ditties?) but nothing that was either completed or I was comfortable with posting. Odd for me, I'm a pretty open book.

So, where did we leave off?? GWAR/Lamb of God was amazing. Not much else I can say about it. Got some GWAR goo on me from the mosh pit, almost got sucked into a Wall of Death or Hate or whatever the hell it's called. Interesting to say the least. Bands were great and discovered that I do like Job for a Cowboy, they were pretty damn good.

Okay, what else? I got a job. Working a real job now, not just writing and working temp secretarial jobs. It's temporary for now but I'm loving it. I get to sit in a trailer at a shipyard and watch the day to day trials and tribulations of a small company (who I'm working for) take on a multi-million dollar refit of an accommodation rig. It's like an oil rig only instead of gigantic drill it has some gigantic cranes. I'm still not sure what exactly it does but I do now know what a flange is and I'm starting to understand the differences between all kinds of different pumps and motors. The boys got me some pink work boots and now I'm able to crawl around on the PSS Chemul. It's fun. It's more than just the paper pushing I was hired for. I'm seeing both sides of the job -- the office work and all the shit that goes with that and then the actual work/labour side of things and all the bullshit that comes with that part plus how it all ties together. It's long days but I'm sure it's going to be worth it at the end. Wheee.

Oh and I definitely love all my rig pigs too. hehehe

Miss Lily is seven! Little Miss is four already!! And Mr. Man, my little meatball turned two!! It's crazy watching them grow and become little animals. Today they were literally swinging from the curtains in the living room. Swinging. From the curtains. I was scrubbing the tub thinking they were dancing to the music I put on but no, they were Tarzan and two little Janes. The curtain rod bent and decided to break when I was trying to fix it so now my curtains are hanging up with tacks, looks great. I guess working with pipefitters all day made me bend a little harder than necessary. It's not a pipe, it's a flimsy piece of stuff. What the hell are curtain rods made out of anyway?

Other than climbing the walls, the babies are great. I couldn't ask for better and regardless of the amount of laundry and no matter how many dinkies and dolls I trip over on a daily basis, I couldn't ask for better monsters ...er ... kids.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Rather it's Half-Price-Chocolate Eve. Not looking forward to it but I am at the same time. It's an over-rated holiday but an excuse to have ice cream cake with my babies. The three best Valentines I could ask for. Fun tinged with bitterness? Definitely. I've once again boarded the bitter bus but we're not going there.

I'm turning 30 in three days. Thirty. 30. Big birthday and I'm looking forward to it. Looking forward to The Dirty Thirty. That's all fine and dandy right now, but please, don't mention it to me Tuesday. I have a funny feeling I won't want the reminder.

And with that ... I'm tired ... goodnight readers ...

Fat Kid with Cake, Farting Bus Ladies & GWAR

Today was the day. Yesterday was supposed to be the day but I got lost and chose to get some supper instead of continue the adventure. Doesn't matter though because this morning I got up with one mission in mind: get my GWAR tickets. I didn't realize just what an adventure it would be but it sure as hell turned out to be an interesting one.

The day started out normal, just like any other morning of any other weekday. Miss Lily got up and ready for school; I showered and dressed. Little Miss and Little Man are visiting Big Cranky back in the Place I Don't Speak Of so, there was no extra rush today. It was nice, relaxed and I was damn wired about leaving the house. Miss Lily and I walked to school and once the bell rang I gave her a kiss, a hug, an "I love you" and watched her walk into her school before I bounced through the schoolyard and off to the bus stop. Seventeen minutes until the next bus came along and all I could do was stare at my watch.

I transferred buses and waited impatiently to reach the ferry terminal downtown. The ride seemed like it took the far side of forever and the guy beside me singing to himself made it a little worse but I made it. I skipped off the bus, took a deep breath and started walking. I thought I knew where I was going so I strolled happily thinking that within the next few minutes I was going to be holding those damn concert tickets. No, I was mistaken. That street is a lot longer than I had anticipated and the road that I thought I was going to find was turning out to exist only in my imagination. But I did come across a nice tourist couple who took their picture with me because they wanted their picture taken with a local.  They were very sweet and I was very happy to oblige although I'm not technically a local Haligonian but the friendly Caper part of my twisted personality came out and I told a little white lie so as not to disappoint.  That part doesn't come out that often anymore, seems I've been walking with jaw clenched and fists ready lately.  Not really sure why that is but it is what it is.  ... That was a lot of "is".

Anyway, once I left the nice tourist couple, I kept walking and believing more and more that I was dreaming this whole concert and there was no such venue.  I meandered into a Tim Horton's for a cup of tea and a pee before the trek continued.  The place was crowded with steel-toe booted/coverall covered men from the docks.  It was interesting to say the least.  The place smelled like coffee and hard work which was an oddly enjoyable experience.  I got my tea and started walking again but reached the end of the road with no sign of the road I was looking for.  Panic.  I really was dreaming this whole thing.  Why didn't I ask for directions in Tim's?  I guess hard work intimidates me.  Joke people, that was joke.

I turned my butt around and found a taxi parked on the side of the street.  I felt like a complete boob jumping in the car because I knew I was close but I was lost.  Totally and utterly lost.  The cabbie laughed at me, gave me directions and assured me that this place was not a figment of my imagination.  He also refused to drive me since I was so close.  That was a good thing though, saved me five smackeroos.  So, I started back towards Tim's and back to the end of the road.  I walked through one of the creepiest, longest, ominous pedestrian tunnels I have ever come across and popped out at a dock.  It felt like a gopher coming out of a hole.  I looked to my left and voila, there it was:  that foolish, well-hidden site.  Skip in my step again, I was home free...

Not so much.

I walked in and found a strange group of people setting up tables with highfalutin’ tablecloths, plates, silverware, etc.  I asked for assistance with finding the box office but they looked at me like I was a talking gopher.  I mean, I just walked out of a hole but I wasn't a zoo display.  They got me a manager who looked a little scared and I asked again where I could pick up tickets but was told very plainly that they don't have a place to get them.  There is no box office.  Huh?  My reaction was that of a tired, cranky and disappointed metal head. 

"Bullshit.  I called this place yesterday and it was YOUR administration that told me I could pick up tickets right here."

"For the wine and cheese event here this evening?"

Standing in my short sleeve t-shirt, tattoos on exhibit, I flung up my arms, "Do I look like I go to wine and cheese parties?"  Oooohhh sarcasm is a wonderful weapon.

This manager stepped back from me and replied quickly that I was misinformed and he was sorry but I'd have to get the tickets through the TicketPro website or the local large-chain grocery store. 

Then some acid spilled out of my mouth before I spun on my heel and tramped out of the place, "You might want to check your staff and make sure that they're damn well informed about these things before they pass on the wrong fuckin' information to people.  That way, people like me don't have to take four or more hours out of their day to get lost and find out they went to the WRONG FUCKIN' PLACE and end up spending even more time finding the right one!!"

I’m pretty sure my left finger was pointing while my right hand stayed balled in a fist at my side.  Interesting mental picture of myself.  I’m such a crab lately.  Hmmm … could be the raging hormones from my … nevermind.

Done.  Totally not the way to handle things but I was feeling a little extra cantankerous this morning.  Cantankerous is a fun little word isn't it.  I left that snotty place and headed back to the ferry terminal.  Walked the boardwalk this time though and enjoyed it.  Bagpipes, tourists taking pictures, kids playing on the little playground, the smell of beaver tails being made, the gentle sound of waves on the dock.  I loved Halifax for a few minutes.  Even stopped to sit and watch the harbour for a little while.  I stared at the shipyards across the water, watched the traffic on the bridge, the ferry making it’s crossing; enjoyed the sites and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 

I got to the bus where the only problem I had was the woman next to me with her gas issues (please people, don't fart on the bus) and I amiably went to that disgustingly large and intimidating grocery store.  Strutting myself directly to customer service, content again that I was finally going to get my tickets but I was Wrong.  (Typo on the capitalization of wrong but it works.)  The clerk at customer service was friendly and I restrained myself from swearing at him because he's going to the concert too and loves Lamb of God and GWAR.  He kindly explained that they only handle Ticket Atlantic and not TicketPro events but pointed me in the right direction.  We even had a nice discussion about how the administration at the concert venue doesn’t know what they're doing because they keep sending people there for tickets and providing the wrong information. 

I called TicketPro, they told me exactly where to go and the phone number of the place so I could call myself.  I called them too and they assured that they really do have the tickets and could pick them up any time before 4:30pm.  I'm sure the lady on the other end of the phone was confused by why I asked her so many times if she was sure that she had them, could she see them, could she hold them if she wanted to.  I was going to make sure she could smell them but stopped myself since that may be a little too weird.

By this time I had to go get Miss Lily at school.  I couldn’t believe that it really did take that amount of time for this adventure.  I picked up Lily and she was happy to come on another ticket retrieving undertaking with me.  Bus again, another bus terminal and transfer.  The box office.  The tickets.  We did it.  Miss Lily is a little upset that I won’t get her a ticket but I don’t think a concert that will have a mosh pit known affectionately as  the “Wall of Death” is an appropriate place for a seven year old.  The little girl does know every word to “Sick of You” and “The Road Behind” though.  Ahhh, my budding little Scumdog.  That’s not an insult my dear readers, that’s a compliment.

I now have my tickets for one of my favourite bands.  A band I have listened to for the past eighteen years, GWAR.  Check them out at http://www.gwar.net if you're not sure who they are.  YouTube them and watch some of their live stuff.  Theatrical.  Fantastic.  I am sooo damn excited and even more excited to share this concert with one of my best friends!  His favourite and one of my favs playing the same show. so who could ask for better?  Watching amazing, talented bands with a great friend is the best recipe for an intense and amazing night out.

Here I am, the fat kid with cake.  The rocker chick with her rock tickets.  Now just for the adventure for Megadeth and Slayer concert.  Awesome. 

Quite the Intricate Entanglement This Is…

Complications??  Oh there are so many complications.  There is so much I want to spew and spill and discuss and open up about BUT it’s way too personal.  Too much is too close and I will end up telling too many secrets.  I’m good at that.  Just feed me rum and I tell all.  Yes, there is more to that story but we’re not touching it.  Sorry. 

I do need to vent a little tonight and this is the place I seem to love the most.  At least going back and reading these silly things when my head is a little clearer I can see my immaturity and stupidity which allows me to correct myself.  And sometimes, most times, I find that I need to trust my own instincts and follow what my gut told me to do in the first place. 

I’m just trying to piece together the last few months and stop my head from spinning so I can finally get a grip and decide whether or not to throw up my hands in a disappointed, catastrophic fit of defeat.  I need to decide whether or not to cut my losses and bail out completely or just ride out the storm and see what comes.  In the end it really comes down to which is the more respectable avenue of choice. 

You see, my conundrum is this:  I’m almost enjoying this ride.  I’m almost enjoying the spinning head and everything that is coming with it.  However, the ride has to eventually come to an end, the spinning has to slow because fantasy and reality never mix, never touch and most certainly leave us confused and burned and out of control.  But cutting my losses leaves me at a great loss and waiting it out could also lead to a great personal cost.  Do I beat the inevitable to the punch and jump off the rollercoaster?  At what point does this personal sacrifice become too great?

Decisions.  Decisions.  Hate those damn decisions.

 

Got my shitkickers on & ready for the wall …

I guess it’s time I sat down and wrote another one of these little ditties (is that how you spell that?).  I’ve been avoiding it, hiding from it for fear of a bunch of crap spilling out.  It’s happened a few times already and they’re sitting in my Drafts folder waiting for me to decide what it is that I want to do with them. 

There really hasn’t been much going on for me to make quirky observations about.  The babies are fine and perfect and destroying the house on cold rainy days the way kids usually do.  Haven’t been out of the house much except to do errands and go to the playground which always proves to be an adventure.  Waiting for my landlord to hurry up and cash my rent, he’s now fifteen days late and I keep staring at my bank account balance and dreaming about the gigantic grocery order I could buy or the tickets to the GWAR/Lamb of God concert in October.

GWAR and Lamb of God.  That is one concert that I have to get my ass to.  I skipped KISS because of my hateful stomach, I certainly do not want to miss this.  I’ve been listening to GWAR since I was about 13, loving them in all their Scumdog glory and now, at almost 30, finally have the chance to see them live and loud.  I’ve only recently started listening to Lamb of God and must admit that I do enjoy them.  The only thing is that I have had to promise myself to completely avoid the Wall of Death.  Don’t know what the Wall of Death is??  Look it up on YouTube, you’ll avoid it too … that is unless you’re a lunatic who likes to fight.  I guess it could be an interesting way to get out some pent up aggression but I’m too stumpy and girly for that.  Regardless of the benefits of Walls of Death, one broken nose in a mosh pit is more than enough for me so I won’t be travelling that road again.  The Road Behind.  Hmmm…good song.

Now I’m hearing that Megadeth and Slayer are playing on November 9th.  I think I just had a mini aneurism of over- excitement and glee.  Glee??  What’s wrong with me today??haven’t been my usual turn-the-air-blue/make-a-sailor-blush swearing self.  Ahh well, maybe it’s a good thing that I’m learning to curb the cussing.

But fuck it:  GWAR! Lamb of God! Megadeth! Slayer!  It’s all my childhood, angst-ridden, moshing in my bedroom and wildly playing air guitar fantasies come true!!

I’m sure as Hell getting my ass to those concerts … whose in???

Catharsis: Not Just for Purging Your Bowels …

I’m finishing my tea, eating a chocolate popsicle and contemplating my navel.  Okay, well I’m not looking at my belly button as much since I’ve decided to write but I did discover that if I suck in the leftover baby chub just the right way, my belly button looks like a sad face.  That was way too much information wasn’t it? 

I’ve got a lot on my mind the last couple of weeks that I’ve been trying to avoid but now I’ve decided that there’s really no point and I may as well get it all out.  So far this move and this city has been nothing but positive and amazing.  It’s been healing and cathartic and wonderful.  Let’s list shall we:

Painting this apartment has made it home.  The actual painting leaves me with a sense of empowerment and accomplishment because I am a dork who hasn’t really painted before.  Mind you it’s half-assed and messy in places but I did it!!  (A few carefully placed pictures can surely hide the places that are obvious I’m an amateur at this painting thing.)

My apartment is a welcoming place, I feel like I’m home when I’m here and I’m positive my babies feel the same way.  We’re all comfortable, settled, content.  We had a picnic today on the back step with fruit and Nutella, granola bars and juice.  We were all fine until Mr. Wasp decided to visit us and haunt poor Meatball (now the proud owner of a Mohawk hair-do).  Poor Mr. Wasp, his incessant need to buzz my son brought out Momma-Bear and he ended up getting swatted with a dust pan.  I feel really bad about it and held a little waspy funeral when no one was looking.

My neighbourhood is quiet.  I couldn’t ask for more.  There are no crazy people running through the yard screaming for someone to hide them from the cops; drunken fools falling out of cabs with a different man every second night; crazy landlords, ahem, slumlords who don’t care if you fall on your ass on the ice … and so on.  Once 9:30 pm hits this place, there isn’t a sound to be heard or a soul to be seen.  Just a thought:  could everyone be on house arrest??

My family is in this city.  Sure, I left my “real” family back in The Town I Refuse to Speak About but we were never really all that close.  My friends, the family we choose is here and has really been here for me when I needed them.  I’m having quite the dating dilemma as of late and these poor girls are being wonderful about listening to all my whiny, “poor single me” revelations and the bitter Fuck You attitude that comes with a broken heart.  A broken heart that is all my own damn fault but that’s a story for another time.  Dammit.  Moral of the story:  people from your past are better left in your past and Goddamn people, head games are for teenagers and the socially impaired.

Onward and upward.  My friends here are amazing.  Seriously.  Absolutely 100% impressive … stupendous even.  Thank you girlies, for all my rants about kids tearing my house down, men who don’t know what the hell they want, my issues with the digestive system and all the toots that come with it plus all the other nonsense that spills out of my mouth on a daily basis.  And thank you for not letting me punch anyone in the throat.  That’s another long story not meant for this forum.

Long story short:  I LOVE HALIFAX!!!  Karma smiled on me and allowed me to reach a place where I can heal in peace and quiet.