Loomis Confessions.

Confession One.

"I had the worst evening last night."
"I'm sorry to hear that"
"I cried myself to sleep"
"Oh, that's unfortunate."
"It's bad enough that I'm having problems with my husband, but this menopause thing makes it a hundred times worse."

*Silence*

"Yeah, I'm passing clots of blood the size of small children."

*More Silence*

"That was probably too much information. But seriously, I thought my husband and I would be together forever."
"Well, maybe you will be."
"Doubtful."
"Well perhaps things will get better. Your bill comes to $32.95. How would you like to pay for that?"

Confession Two.

"Thank you for calling Loomis Art Store, this is Anna speaking, how can I help you?"
"Hi Anna, this is Delorsis. Do I know you?"
"Uhh, I don't think so."
"Ok. This is the first time I'll be coming to your store and I was wondering if you could tell me if you carried a certain type of paint."
"Ok, what paint are you looking for?"
"Ceramcoat"
"Yup, we have it."
"Ok, What Subway do I have to take to get to where you are?"
"We're at Woodbine and Danforth, so you'll want to get off at the Woodbine division."
"Do I have to go up an escalator?"
"Uhh, yes. You have to go up two."
"Oh. Ok. I don't know if I'll be coming today because my sister has to give me my allowance."

*silence*

"I think I might be able to come tomorrow though."
"Well, no matter when you come there will be someone here to help you find the paint you're looking for."
"Oh. Ok. Thank you Anna."

Confession Three.

"So what if you were dating someone and you decided that it was time to move in together. You however absolutely despise guns and the person you're moving in with owns one and refuses to get rid of it, even though you've asked them to. Wouldn't you be mad at them?"
"No."
"How could you not be mad?"
"It's their right to like guns and own guns."
"But if you absolutely despised them and they refused to get rid of them, they couldn't love you that much. Surely you understand this?"
"I understand your point, but I wouldn't be bothered by it."
"How could you not be bothered by it? Guns are the epitome of evil. They don't have a single positive aspect about them."
"Sure they do."
"Are you crazy?"
"They create jobs, they keep the peace."
"They instill fear and violence into communities! They're weapons. The only purpose they own is to kill, which is a gigantic negative."
"Well, what if you liked trees and I hated them and I wanted you to cut down all the trees in the backyard before I moved in?"
"That's ridiculous."
"Why is that ridiculous?"
"Because trees are not negative objects. They create oxygen and shade on sunny days."
"And if I swung a tree at you, I'm sure it would kill you just as well as a gun would."

*silence*

Get This Man Out of My Head.

"Woman... woe-man... whoooa-man. She was a thief, you gotta belief, she stole my heart and my cat. Judy, Betty, Josie and those hot Pussycats... They made me horny, on Saturday morn-ee... Girls of cartoo-ins will leave me in ruins... I want to to be Betty's Barney.

Jane... Get me off this crazy thing... Called love."

You said it Charlie.

It's fucked y'know. You settle down with someone only to think your life is perfectly indestructible. You're happy, comfortable, enthused that things are going so smoothly. You think you have everything and you're perfectly content in your little bubble of ignorant normalcy. Queue complacent sigh.

I've got it bad.
The crushing feeling that he bestows upon me creeps away when I distance myself from him. When he's not around, neither is the most atrocious feeling of paranoia and grief I have ever known. When he is around, I giggle like a little girl. I feel like I've met my equal and I swoon like a forty-five-year-old John Travolta fan.

It's disgusting.

I need the closure of a solid ass pounding. I need him to take me in a moment of sexual frustration and I need him to fuck me endlessly. I need him to finish this stupid game of bad timing and two minute phone conversations. I need him to know that this is screwing up my head and I definitely need to stop devoting so many random posts to this random man in my life because it is also, disgusting.

I don't understand how I could want to change my whole life over a five minute phone conversation regarding his work day. I'm dumbfounded by how the tone of his sweetly sarcastic voice could make me see Andrew with such repugnance.

I hate him and yet at the same time, am completely enamoured by him.

And I suppose what makes this so confusing and perhaps so magnetic is his lack of opinion, comment and commitment to the whole mess. Yes he wants me, but can't make the time for it. It's ok that he's attatched, he dated a married woman once, why would it be so bad to do it now? But when it finally comes down to it, he only wants to be friends. Emails, phone, existing together for any longer than two minutes is completely forbidden and the only place he can manage sexual coagulation is during office hours. Cause that totally makes sense.

What the fuck sir? Your gender is not supposed to be the confusing one.

So what the fuck do I do? Forget about him? Continue on with Andrew and hope that I don't think of him to keep my relationship steady? Do I somehow find the perfect timing and screw him mercilessly only to fall even more deeply in infatuation with him? Do I remain his friend and lust for him from a distance? Do I tell him how badly this is fucking me up and hope he understands and cares enough to do something about it?

What exactly do I need to do to not be a lunatic anymore? And why is it that the first time I feel passion, is when I am in a state of lunacy?

How Much Clams Coulda Diddums Shuck, if a Diddums Could Shuck Clams?

So much bad karma is coming my way. At least five hundred times the amount that it should.

I killed five hundred living creatures today and my hands are suffering for it.

Oysters suck.

I volunteered for an Italian festival through George Brown today.
Upon arriving, Glenn and I were given six gigantic boxes of Oysters to rinse, scrub and shuck. It absolutely sucked.
The smell reminded me of the beach - I missed home. The barnacles reminded me of Boris - God rest his Racing Snail soul. Standing over a sink full of smelly, shelled creatures for five hours made my back remember what it felt like to be in a life drawing class for three hours.

I really just wanted to die.

Oddly enough, it was the steel wool that sliced my finger in half and not the oysters. I'm sure it will get infected. Having it marinate in a bucket of oyster piss for five hours isn't exactly what I consider therapeutic or hygienic, But wadya gonna do a'bout it?

Eventually when Chef Shaller arrived he swept us away to his tables which were full of pastries and a giant, three tiered chocolate fountain that was surrounded by pineapple, marshmallows, strawberries and bananas for dipping.

Divine, but still, Italians are rude.

Glenn and I were happy for the change, even if it was busy and full of people speaking in Italian who assumed we understood them. Smile and nod, no one will ever know.
One man who had somehow managed to spill melted chocolate all the way up his arms used the tablecloth to wipe his hands. Classy. Another man grabbed my butt and what seemed to be a thousand monsters swarmed the table, demanding chocolate in high pitched squeels that only awful little children seem to be able to make. It sent shivers through my whole body. A choir of screaming brats is not exactly easy listening for an afternoon lunch.

At the end of the day Chef Shaller took Glenn and I back to his shop for a tour.
It's still in the process of being created and looks rather good considering. He had put in a new bathroom, new floors and a whole shit load of equipment that was exceptionally large and intimidating.

I was terribly jealous.

It was strange working with the Chef today only 'cause he seemed so much more jovial. He's sort of hot when he's not flustered and dealing with twenty-four, barely twenty, annoying students.
It's possible that I might have a bit of a crush on him, probably only because he has his own bake shop and that for some reason makes me wet. It's successful men, that's what does it. It can't be helped.

Ya, I'mma Gold Diggah. So what?

Grand times today, minus the oysters. I think now I'll retreat to bed and slowly suck the oyster piss out of my fermenting wounds.

Brown Sugar.

I'm making three brown sugar pound cakes currently.
For those of you who aren't sure what a pound cake is, it's a cake which contains a pound of each ingredient. Yes, they are expensive.
For those of you who are wondering why I am currently spending a shit load of money on three pound cakes, it's because the partners in my group for my sugar presentation are babies and won't go the extra mile to do their fair share of work and therefore, diddums is stuck with the excess weight (pun intended).

My house smells lovely though.