I am the worst blogger ever

It's been nearly a month and a half since my last post. I am the worst blogger ever, and I understand that I've likely lost most of my audience. You've all turned your backs in disgust and dismay, and found new things to read in order to fill your time and that gaping pus-weeping void in your soul. That void which until now I had hoped to straddle with my large thighs and poo. But here I am, on my knees, begging you to come back and read my blog again. Because I swear this time I'll try harder. I'll make it work. I need you. You have to understand, I had one very very good reason for my absence It was a force greater than both you or I, one that could not be denied.

You see, a month and a half ago, I joined Facebook. Facebook is my Allah. I pray to Facebook five times a day or more, and it has given meaning to my life. I can't stay away from it, it brings me so much joy. Find me on Facebook, I'm listed under Carol Johnston.

Anyway, I wanted to write something quick in here, and express my intent to maintain this blog at the rate you have come to expect. I wanted to apologize. And there is lots to catch up on!

Here are some coming attractions in the life of newlyweds:

• Carol quits her job; regains part of soul
• Eric is regularly touched by a magical man
• Trip to Paris
• Trip to Egypt
• Cheese in Paris
• Falafel in Egypt
• Poo in Paris
• Poo in Egypt
• Farts in Egypt
• Smells of Egypt
• My new heavy periods and super absorbancy tampons
• Muslim mens in Egypt
• Camels
• A poo story I heard in Egypt

Please stay tuned, I need you.

I'm a bad blogger

I know how long it's been - it's almost a full month since my last post. I'm very very sorry. I realize that I promised just a few months ago that this would never happen again. Sometimes I lie...flat on my back! Zing!

What does that even mean? I don't know. I think it has to do with sex.

Anyway, I am here to update you on the happenings in the last month. I will try to be as brief yet thorough as possible.

Happy Birthday To Me
On Saturday February 10th, I turned 27. For the past few years, birthdays have been a bleak affair. The year I turned 21, I had been dating Eric for two weeks. He sent me flowers, got me a little beanie lion, and topped it all off with an "over the hill" card. I almost started crying on the spot. Then he propositioned me for sex, and when I suggested we hold off, he told me he wasn't into commitment, just wanted the sex, and wasn't planning on staying with me long term. All I have to say to that is "HAHA!! SUCKA!!!!"

Last year, I turned 26 while 26 pounds overweight. There was some poetic tragedy in that, and I spent two weeks on the couch crying, as Eric invited over a steady stream of visitors to watch me wail about how I was old and had accomplished nothing. It was shameful and humiliating.

This year, we were determined not to let my birthday suck. After all, 27 is the youngest I am ever going to be for the rest of my life! So we booked an all-inclusive trip to Varadero Cuba, with big plans to lie on the beach for a week and drink slushy slushy rum. Five days before our departure, I came down with a nasty nasty flu! I even got a note from my doctor saying I should stay at home all week and not go to work. So I spent the week, flat on my back - zing! - hoping that I would get better for my birthday.

As it turned out, my fever was under control, but I was still sneezing and coughing up liquid boogers and phlegm constantly. I was That Woman on the airplane, who wouldn't shut up with the nasty sick noises. And then I was That Woman on the beach who had to sit up to cough out her viscera every few minutes. And then I was That Woman by the pool who sneezed into her towel at regular intervals and made it wet with boogers. But by the middle of the week, I was feeling mostly better, with only the occasional coughing fit to alarm and annoy fellow travellers.

Then I got a big sunburn, and have been peeling since we got back. Right now the patch above my yoohoo is flaking. Cuba, you are good times.

Jamie Fraser Is My Newest Obsession
While in Cuba, I read a book that Eric's aunt Sandra gave me for Christmas. Sandra is a poet/writer/tv producer/superstar and she gives me the best books. This one was called Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. What a HELL of a book. Nothing like the incest-ridden perversions of yesteryear, this book was a shining beacon of action-adventure-historical-fiction-scifi-romance. It had wars and time travel and sword fights and huge castles and lairds and spies and gay rape and flogging and witchcraft and murder and the hottest most heart wrenching sex ever. And I've read my share of sex, let me tell you. These sex scenes fill you with yearning.

The man of the book is a tall, gorgeous Scottish highlander named Jamie Fraser, and I am fully in love and in lust with this man. I have no greater passion in my life. I have added him to my list of men for whom I would leave Eric without a thought. He's in the top three. Everyone needs to go out and read this book. It has changed my life. Let it change yours.

Let it change yours.

Chinese New Year Sucks My Married Butt
The weekend we returned from Cuba, it was Chinese New Year. Growing up, Chinese New Year was like a second Christmas. But instead of presents, we would get pure unadulterated cash. The loot came in red paper envelopes, and served to make us rich little bastards for the rest of the year.

The two happiest moments in the life of a Chinese kid born in the 80's occurred when
1) The government got rid of the one-dollar bills and replaced them with loonies. This meant that in every red envelope, there would be a MINIMUM of $2!!
2) The government got rid of the two-dollar bills and replaced them with toonies. This meant that in every red envelope, there would be a MINIMUM of $5!!

At one point, we heard a rumour that they were going to do away with the $5 bill as well, and replace THAT with a coin. My brother and I almost shit ourselves thinking of the possibilities. But that never came to pass. I count it as one of my life's biggest disappointments.

Then I got married. This is the biggest bum deal in the all of Chinese history. Once you get married, you stop collecting the Chinese New Year Cash Settlements. All the grownups (except your parents) cross you off their lists, and laugh maniacally into their siu mai. Not only that, you are now responsible for GIVING AWAY money to all your younger relatives. You make your own lists, and the unmarried children in your family laugh maniacally into their cha siu bao.

This was the second year Eric and I had to prepare stacks of $5 in red envelopes, and give them away. This is possibly the biggest motivation for us to start having babies. So we can collect through them while they are still too young to know what's going on. We plan to steal their money. Every Chinese parent does it. Not one feels ashamed. Every Chinese kid is outraged when they're old enough to learn what's been happening. Not one gets compensation.

We are a sneaky race.

I Got a Yeast Infection Anyway
Remember how my doctor said that antibiotics wouldn't help my flu (obviously) and would only give me a yeast infection on top of everything else? Well I got one anyway. Canesten 3-Day is what my doctor tells me to use for that, and it's quite convenient. I just really hate how the next day, I'll be at work, and the dissolved pill will start running out of me, and I can feel it coming out, and it's all pasty and gritty in my underpants, and makes it feel slimey when I wipe after going to the washroom.

Just Can't Get Enough
Something happened with my hormones, and I can't get enough of the sexy sex. This might be how it feels to be a teenage boy, because I can't concentrate on much of anything, and I'm practically useless in most settings where I'm not engaging in the sex. You would think that this has improved and spiced up our marriage, but it has actually served to add a lot of stress and violent expectation. My vibrator is working overtime, Eric can't keep up with demand, and we've already had two big fights over the lack of service (and the fact that Eric doesn't do me the way Jamie Fraser would), causing me to angrily banish him to the second bedroom. Two nights this happened.

If you think I sound unreasonable, then eff you!! I will rape you!!

We're Not Trying To Have a Baby
There are rumours going around that we're "trying". I just want to put this out there - we are not "trying". We're just "practicing". And while we're on the topic again, we're not "practicing" "enough".

How do I like my eggs in the morning? Unfertilized! Ba-dum boom!

I will end with a long-overdue haiku.

How to write a poem
When topics are so varied?
This will not be great

Stealth

I'm very sick at the moment. My doctor says that antibiotics won't do me, since it's a flu, and in addition to not helping, antibiotics will probably just give me a yeast infection. I don't want a yeast infection. I've been passed out in bed for the past three days, and I'm hoping very hard that I'll get better by Saturday, because that's a) my birthday and b) the day we leave for Cuba (for my birthday).

Earlier tonight, I was lying on the couch, coughing my lungs out and watching American Idol. Eric walked past and farted.

Carol: "Did you just fart?"

Eric: "No...I made a fart sound."

Carol: "...with your butt?"

Eric: "No...with...my mouth."


(Eric just now: "I DIDN'T FART!! I MADE A FART SOUND!! WITH MY MOUTH!!! DON'T BLOG THAT!!!!")

Feel Dirty

**This post is descriptive and gross, but it is not about poo**

I am reading the worst book right now. It's called Wideacre by Philippa Gregory. Don't read it. Or you know, read it and share my feelings. That would be nice too.

I love Philippa Gregory, she wrote The Other Boleyn Girl, a very popular retelling of the Anne Boleyn fiasco through the eyes of her sister Mary. It's sexy, it's enchanting, it's propelling, it's a great great read. She's also written other books that all take place surrounding The Other Boleyn Girl, about Katherine of Aragon, and Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth I...while not as good as TOBG, I still enjoyed each one immensely and would read them again. Which is a good and economical idea because I own them.

So I thought I would check out some other books by this author, not from the Tudor England era, and I found the Wideacre trilogy. I went and bought all three books, and they were on my big "Books For Carol To Read" pile. I finally got around to starting it. I was eager to get into the story, because it was a period piece, about a girl in Georgian England, and how she loves her home and the land, and she fights to stay there despite the land being entailed to her older brother who has no knack for being a squire, but that's the law. There's supposed to be love and lust and murder and betrayal. Wonderful things, all.

This book is savagely raping my mind.

The murder and betrayal? It's pretty horrible. So far, she's murdered and betrayed her father, and then this guy she was banging when she was 14. Actually, what happened was that she was angry with her father, and so she told her bang-buddy that he could kill him. And so he does. And then she got angry at him for doing that, so she murdered him herself. Or at least, she THOUGHT she did, but it turns out he escaped, bloodied and broken, and is presumably out there plotting his revenge. That's all generally disturbing and kind of creepy.

Okay.

The love and lust? It's with her BROTHER!! She's having sex with her BROTHER!!! Her BROTHER is inserting his PENIS into her VAGINA and EJACULATING in it!!!!!! The whole deal is now that her father is dead, Wideacre has been entailed to her brother, and he's the new squire. And she's obsessed with the land, so she starts lusting after him. And he's kind of a big pervert who likes to be beaten and whipped, and gets off on pain. And he lusts after her too. And so they start having hot and heavy incest sex, and she has his baby! Unbeknownst to everyone, she tricks his wife into adopting the baby and pretending its hers, and then her brother tries to end the sex. And so she puts together an S&M room, and leads him there and dominates him until he's sobbing with lust! She whips him until he bleeds, and then she gets on him and bounces on him till he's about to come, and then she gets off and SLAPS his penis and CUTS it with her ring, so that his sperm sprays out all mixed with his blood on his stomach.

SO SICK!! The last thing I read was their mother accidentally walking into the parlour while he was humping and grunting on her, and so some shit is about to go down. The last thing you want if you're being humped by your brother is for your mother to walk in and see his pasty white buttcheeks flexing so he can put his brother-rod into your sister-hole.

I can't handle this book. It's making me ill. I can read really fast, and usually a book will last me one or two evenings. If I drag it out a lot, and only read 20 minutes before bed or something, I can make it last a week. But I am loathe to read further in this book, and so it has put a complete stall on my reading schedule. I can't decide whether I should just stop the book altogether and burn it along with the remaining two books in the trilogy, or if I should just push through the nasty incest and horrible patricide and predictable matricide, and just finish the damn thing.

I will now end with a beseeching haiku.

Brother sister love

Shouldn't involve genitals

Don't put that in there

This is going somewhere

When I was in grade 8, our school took us on a trip to Quebec City. It cost maybe $150, maybe $250 per student...I can't be sure anymore. But I remember I was very excited to go. There was a big buildup to the trip, and we did fundraising by selling very large boxes of microwave popcorn. I remember when the shipment of the popcorn came in, we stored it in a supply closet on the main floor of the school, and when you walked past the supply closet, you would be hit with the unmistakable aroma of fake salty microwave popcorn butter. As a bright-eyed eager beaver and Student Council Vice President (coming in second to Kim Russell who blew me out of the water with her KFC - Kim For Council campaign, but ahead of Kevin Poon who was a very good friend and extremely well-respected brainer who walked to the high school to take grade 9 math every day), I actually think that I participated in the distribution of the popcorn boxes after school.

In Quebec City, I roomed with Nina Nayar, Karen Gaettens, and Jenn Rees. I think the third girl was Jenn Rees. I'm fairly certain. In any case, our room was one of the best, it was huge, and very very comfortable. My mother bought me a black purse that converted to a fanny pack, so that I could safely store the $50 she had given me for spending money. I remember that one night we went to have a nice dinner, and Nina ordered fettuccine alfredo, which is one of her favourites. But there was egg in the dish, maybe in the noodles. And Nina is allergic to eggs, it makes her tongue super itchy. That's why every year for her birthday, her mom would make ice cream cupcakes. So she sadly couldn't eat her dinner. After dinner, I got a tea with milk and sugar.

I got a caricature drawing of myself in Quebec City. It was the first comical caricature I had ever had, and I got hooked. I would later go on to have caricatures drawn of myself in any city I visited where I could find caricaturists. This particular drawing turned out to be the most racist one I would acquire. I had tiny slanty eyes, and huge - nay, gargantuan buck teeth, and the only thing that caused it to resemble me were the glasses and the little mole-freckle I have on my upper lip. The drawing also depicted saggy breasts and large saggy hips. I was only 13, and I was very skinny, with no boobs to speak of. But I loved the drawing...I had long since developed the ability to laugh at myself. Aware of my awkwardness, I wanted to be the first to laugh, because that way no one could make me feel bad.

On the bus ride home, Liz Reynolds got sick on the bus and threw up in the coach toilet. (I'm quite sure that this was the trip - there was another trip we took in grade 7 to Ottawa, and that could have been the actual vomit incident, but I am fairly confident that it was the grade 8 trip to Quebec City when this occurred). Liz Reynolds would go on to become the first of my friends to lose her virginity. She had sex with Steve Potter in grade 9. It was all very gleefully shocking, and I clearly remember her telling me that they knew they were young, but it "just felt right". I also remember that Bon Jovi's Always was their song. Maybe two months later, the relationship had degenerated, and it was "all about the sex". So they broke up. Liz owned a cream coloured sweater that I always admired.

The smell of Liz's puke on that grade 8 (or 7) day was really terrible. It was several degrees beyond sick, and I'm surprised that no one else started yakking in response to this odour. It's all the worst things you can imagine about the smell of vomit, times a hundred, because you're on a bus for 6 hours driving home from Quebec City. Plus you're only 13, and the days of puking weekly on a university building after 20 drinks at Alfie's and humping some horny dude on the dance floor who tried to put his hands in your pants while you gyrated in his face were still far in the future. The smell of the hot sticky vomit in that stuffy cramped coach was beyond anything I had experienced before. And I was trapped.

Everyone else on the bus agreed, and some of the girls got out their aerosol cans of some cheap underage whore fragrance. This was the kind of thing you can buy at Shopper's Drug Mart for maybe $4. I want to call it "Malibu"-something, but I can't say for sure, because my strict classy Chinese mother would never in a million years let me buy something so trashy. As much as I wished that she would. The girls emptied their pre-teen stripperwhore fragrance cans into the air in an attempt to mask the odour, while poor Liz sat on the floor of the coach with her head between her knees.

The result was a sickly sweet tropical perfume smell, with strong, occasionally overpowering under notes of vomit. It was a sickly sweet tropical vomit smell. The perfume smell was a relief, but the vomit smell underneath could not be ignored, because you KNEW it was vomit. The entire ordeal lasted for a good long time, and the scars are still on my soul.

Okay, this is where I was going with this:

I didn't have to go the washroom all morning today. Usually I'll go about twice in the the morning, and one of these trips will involve poopie. But today, nothing came down the pipes until after I had eaten my lunch. This is unusual, but no matter. The important thing was that stuff was indeed moving. I walked down the hall to the washroom and pushed open the door.

THE WASHROOM SMELLED LIKE MALIBU-SOMETHING AND LIZ REYNOLDS' VOMIT.

The nasty smell hung in the air like a thick moist cloud, and as the odour met my nostrils, all these vivid memories of that Quebec City trip came rushing back to me, and suddenly I was a 13 year old girl again sitting on a bus trying not to breathe in the stench surrounding me.

The assault left me so disoriented, I didn't even think to turn around and use another washroom. I confusedly found a stall and went in and lined the seat with tissue, and sat down. I sat, pushing and waiting desperately for the smell of my own feces to travel up to my violated olfactory area. When it hit me, the relief that flooded through my body made the blood rush to my head. I was gratefully sucking in lungfuls of my poo smell, just to avoid the nightmare smell of Liz Reynolds' vomit.

Of course, as my pooing came to an end, the Malibu vomit smell came pushing back in, persistent, insistent, and all-pervasive. I held my breath and wiped my bumbum and pulled up my pants, and flushed the toilet and ran out and washed my hands, and staggered towards the washroom door. Upon stepping out into the hallway, my stomach gave a great great lurch, and I stood there gagging and coughing, trying to expel the malodorous gases from my poor besieged body.

It was horrible. Horrible.

I don't have anything else to say. I'm physically and emotionally drained.

Hold me.

Conversations at Bedtime

Eric and I were snuggling down for bed last night. He lay on his back and I cuddled my head into his shoulder, slinging my arm over his midsection. He had one arm behind his head, the other around my shoulders. Eric clearly was feeling lazy and tired. I clearly had the closest access to his crotchal area.

Eric: "Adjust my balls...pull them to the left..."

Carol: (pauses...adjusts balls...pulls to the left...)

Eric: "Ahhhhhhhhhh okay. That's what I want to do all the time."

Carol: "...pull them to the left?"

Eric: "No, move my balls around...all over the place...constantly..."

Carol: "....."

Eric: "Having a ballsac is so annoying. Balls."

Carol: "....."

Eric: "....."

Carol: "This is so going to be blogged."

Eric: "...yeah it is."

I will now end with a balls inspired haiku.

Testicular sac

Grab the scrotum, pull it good

O futility!

Obligatory Post-Holiday Post

I hate it when this happens, when I neglect to post for so long out of sheer laziness that I don't even know how to address the entire fiasco of the holiday or anything that has taken place. I know I bring it on myself. But here we go...

1) The holidays actually weren't so bad
I luckily don't have anything in the calibre of the trainwreck holiday tales of my contemporaries. Tales of torrid sobbing and mobs with pitchforks...not my bag this year! We spent Christmas Eve with my family, Christmas Day with Eric's family, and New Year's Eve with some friends from university. I gots me stinking drunk at the Annual Cooledge Christmas Spectacular, and was too drunk to make the trip back home to North York, thereby requiring Eric to drive me to my mommy's house at 1:30am, calling on my cell to make her wake up and come unlock the deadbolt, then taking off all my clothes and throwing up in her washroom. Other than that, I have not much to say here. Great families, great gifts, great food. Whoo-hoo!

2) The coming and going of the High Definition Boxing Day Purchase
We went to Best Buy on Boxing Day, thinking we'd check out the great savings, and talked ourselves into buying a 40" Samsung LCD HDTV. It was very exciting, and it wouldn't even fit into our car! We had to drive our car to Eric's house, and pick up his family's minivan, then Eric and his dad went and go the TV and brought it back to our condo, then they came back to get me, and later that evening we set it up.

Unfortunately, a flat screen LCD HDTV looks like ass unless you have a high definition cable feed, and high definition monster cables, and a progressive scan dvd player. And since the sound quality on LCD televisions are notoriously bad, you also need a new surround sound system. Eric was sad and disillusioned, and we took the tv back and returned it. Which in restrospect is quite awesome because now it's like we have $2000 of extra money.

3) So much sex
For some unknown magical holiday reason, the sex occurred every day. Every single day. It was like old times, back at Queen's! I actually think that Eric wrote to Santa, and that's what he asked for. It creeped me out, but I felt compelled, and I couldn't stop.

4) Costco rape
Why do we keep going back to Costco? Last week we went to buy a single big box of Swiffer dry refill cloths. We left with $65 worth of Swiffer dry refill cloths and Ziploc freezer bags. How does this happen??

5) ShinyPants
We finally - FINALLY - got to see my best friend and erstwhile lover Peggy for the first time in one and a half years! I love Peggy, I absolutely LOVE her. And to my soul damaging loving jealous horror, that bitch got skinny! She's an intern in hospitals all over New York City. Along with her hot intern boyfriend. They're Grey's Anatomy, they do rounds and see patients and operate on people together. I asked her if they have sex in the oncall room, but she said that no they didn't...but on occasion they go out to the parking lot for "breaks" in the car. But I digress. That bitch got skinny!! A diet of coffee and no sleep has made her shrink into this tiny curvy sexy bombshell, but with unshrunken boobs. I'm going to convince her to go into plastics, and then when she's got her own clinic, I'm going get her to make me look like her.

6) There is no item 6
I wrote the number "6" down and then couldn't think of anything to put in it. So that's the end of the post. I will try never to let such a long break occur again.

This is what's wrong with me

** To family members who have complained, friends of family members who I don't even know who have complained, and anybody who doesn't generally like to hear about the poo: This post involves my vagina. Stop reading now if this is something that will upset you. Thank you, and quit yer whining.**

I've called in sick for three days now. This isn't really cause for weeping, as my job sucks my soul out of my ass and makes me eat it again through my nose. But I really feel like total shit. My pain is twofold:

1) I Have Some Kind of Virus-y Cold
My body is achey, and I have sneezes and coughs, and much yellow phlegm. My tummy is not overly tolerant, and I also have some slimy slippery diarrhea and gas. I have a perma-headache. This was worse yesterday, and I spent most of the day on the couch watching CSI Miami and feeling sorry for myself. Today, the sneezes are fewer, and the diarrhea is better. The headache is however still kicking my ass. This is the first part.

2) My Vagina is Broken
Eric and I made the sex on Sunday. Nothing overly adventurous, longer than usual but not by much. Nothing was dry or chafey. A fine time was enjoyed by all. I experienced a burning sensation afterwards, but thought nothing of it, as Eric's semen is apparently poison to me, and this burning has occurred before. I sat on the couch moaning and glaring at Eric for the next couple hours, then let it go.

The following morning, after I had already emailed in sick at work due to the cold, I got up to hawk up phlegm and go pee. The feeling of burning ripping searing pain that shot up through my vagina as the stream of urine passed through into the toilet was indescribable! But I will try.

It felt as though someone was taking a rusty saw, and was attempting to widen my vagina with long hard trembling strokes. But before they started sawing, they had taken some gasoline and doused my labia with it, as well as the saw. Then they lit the saw on fire. Then they started sawing.

Before I had gone pee, nothing felt wrong, but after going pee, my poor vagina burned and burned and stung and hurt all day! I called Eric at work and sobbed at him,

Carol: "You ass!! You big sonofawhore!! What kind of STD did you give me, you lying cheating piece of puss-ridden dickface?!! You broke my vagina!!!"

Eric: "Honey, I didn't give you an STD! Call your doctor..."

Carol: "NO!! I'm just going to sit here and DIE!!!"

In an attempt to relieve the pain, my vagina is creating some kind of slippery lubricant, I think to relieve the friction as I attempt to walk from point A to point B. Unfortunately, this lubricant stings all the time. I have found that if I shower and gently cleanse the area with a mild soap, then I can wash it off, and it doesn't sting as much all the time. Which is good. Except that the slippery lubricant also appears to act as a shield for when I pee. For when I've washed off the stinging lubricant, it burns like the ninth circle of hell when I pee (as opposed to the sixth or seventh circle). It's a lose-lose situation.

Also, since I had a virus-y cold thing, I was ravenous and thirsty all the time. But I wanted to avoid drinking any water, so I wouldn't have to endure the torture of urination. This in turn made me dizzy and gave me huge huge headaches. It's been a shitty few days.

And I'm never making the sex with Eric and his killer sperm again.

The Musings in My Mind

1) I like over-microwaved food. I like to zap the shizit out of my food before I eat it. I'm not sure if this is normal. Eric just microwaves his food until it is pleasantly on the hot side of warm, and then he munches away. I usually double his microwave time and then am unable to touch my food for the next 5 minutes at least. But this is the way I like it, for the following reasons:

1. If I am microwaving it, it is probably leftovers, and by heating it up to near-volcanic temperatures, I will kill as much bacteria as possible. This makes me feel safe.
2. I enjoy the nasty chewy crust of dark mass that inevitably forms on the edges and corners of your food when you overmicrowave something like pasta with cheese ie: lasagna. It is salty and unidentifiable and strangely satisfying.
3. I feel that superheating will improve the flavour of my food.

I made a pan of lasagna on Wednesday, and we've been eating it ever since. We got four meals out of it, two lunches and two dinners. For my first lunch lasagna, I took it to the office microwave and set it on high for 4 minutes. It came out sizzling and smoldering, with delicious black chewy crusty edges. But later that night, when I got home and microwaved my dinner portion of lasagna, I used our fancy Panasonic "Sensor Reheat" option. This option usually overheats the food wonderfully. But this time, my lasagna was not mouth-burningly hot, it was just meh-warm, ESPECIALLY in the middle. Plus there were no dark chewy edges and corners. So I put it back in the microwave for a manual 2 minutes on high. Then it burned my tongue.

This is what I think happened: I think that the smoldering cheese on top of the lasagna got hot and melty really quickly. And it sent up heat signals for the "sensor" in the microwave. So therefore, before the body of my lasagna was sufficiently heated to near-volcanic temperatures, the cheese had already sent up enough heat signals that the microwave assumed that it had done its job. Which it hadn't. But the important thing is that now I know for next time, so I can override the sensor crap with my own manual 4 minutes on high.

2) My morning number two time has moved up. I used to go at around 10:30am, every morning. It was a convenient time to take a break. But recently, I've been going sometime between 8:30am and 9:30am. I wonder what is going on?

So this morning, I made a very decent poo. I had eaten one and a half oranges last night. This poo kept its shape quite well, and looked like a healthy snake. I'm not sure what kind of snake, but a plump one, with decent length. The actual poo may not have been a continuous snake, but once I threw the toilet paper in, you couldn't really tell where it broke up in the middle parts.

And then I started thinking of Buffy episodes, specifically of the ones where nightmares come true, or where alternate universes' rules come into play in their own universe. And I started thinking if something strange were to happen like that to me, how gross would it be if I went to the washroom one morning at 9:00am-ish, made a poo that looked like a healthy snake, and then as I was admiring it in the bowl, it came to life and attacked me? A snake of feces! And it would be trying to bite my face with it's poo-teeth, and it would leave poo-marks all over my clothes, like Mr Hanky the Christmas Poo. And I would understandably start screaming, and the poo-snake's head would dart into my mouth and try to stab my tongue with its poo-teeth. And I would try to beat it away, and then I would smush it and it would get all over me, and then I would be covered in poo, with no good explanation of how it happened. I think that would suck a lot.

3) I wake up in the middle of the night to go pee almost every night. The reason is probably because I drink water before going to bed. I know that if I want to avoid going pee in the middle of the night, then I should perhaps consider not drinking water before I go to bed. But I read an article once that said that if I was dehydrated, it would affect the quality of my sleep. So I make sure to drink water before bed. This works out because I'm usually thirsty before bed anyway, which I take to be an indication that I could be dehydrated in the first place.

I usually check the clock when I get up to go pee. On average, it's 2:30am-3:30am. I wake up at 6:00am, so this is a reasonable intermission in my sleep.

But what I hate is when I get to bed late, and then I get up having to pee, and I find that it's 5:50am, and there exists 10 minutes until the alarm is due to go off. This is the worst possible occurance, and it inevitably puts me in a terrible mood. I really really hate when that happens, it makes me angry just thinking about it.

4) Do I love Eric because he's wonderful? Or is he wonderful because I love him? Is he the sweet invention of a lover's dream? Or is he really as wonderful as he seems?

5) I used to be quite nice looking. I would go so far as to say that I was "cute and pretty", possibly even "cute and sexy", depending on what I was wearing. But since I've gained this weight, I'm quite sure that I've traversed through the lands of "cute and pretty" and "cute and sexy" to "plump and pleasant". I'm still pleasing to the eye overall, but "plump and pleasant" is definitely a more accurate label. I'm not sure I've made my peace with that yet. It may really be time to go back to the gym, because I was hoping I wouldn't hit "plump and pleasant" until my 60's. I enjoy being a girl, I'll have to try harder to maintain my girlish figure, rather than proceed to a matronly girth so quickly. Noted to self.

***********Bonus Game***********

Identify the three Broadway songs mentioned or alluded to in this blog post, and the shows from whence they came.

Porketta!

Eric and I decided to go to Sudbury this past weekend. Because we lack the ability to think smart thoughts. Who goes to Sudbury in November? The answer is: no one. No one goes to Sudbury in November. According to my friend Patti who works (and lives) in Sudbury, November is the ugly month. She assured us that any other month of the year, Sudbury is lovely. In any case we visited in November, and had a hoot of a time.

Two noteworthy events:

Eric Is Horrible at Humdingers
Patti bought Cranium Turbo Edition on Friday, so we played it all weekend. The first time we played, we teamed up in couples, Patti with her boyfriend Colin, and I with my husby Eric. Cranium Turbo Edition has the added feature of Turbo Cards, where you have to try to complete three of any type of question instead of just one. My favourite is Humdinger, where they give you a song, and you have to hum or whistle it for your team to guess. I'm really awesome at Humdinger.

I got a card on a Turbo round:
Jingle Bells
White Christmas
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

I had this one in the bag!

Patti: ReadyOkayGo! (starts the timer)
Carol: Hmm-Hmm-HMM, Hmm-Hmm-HMM! (Jingle bells, jingle bells...)
Eric: Oh! Uhh.....dashing....through the snow?
Carol: (incredulous) HMM-HMM-HMM, HMM-HMM-HMM! Hmm-Hmm-Hmmm Hm-Hmm! (jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!)
Eric: Uhhh......sleigh ride?

I decided to skip Jingle Bells.

Carol: Hmmm-Hm-Hm-Hm-Hm-Hmmm-Hm-Hmm! (I'm dreaming of a white Christmas!)
Eric: Oh! Uhhh.....hmm hmmm hmm....ahhh.....
Carol: Oh my god!
Patti: No talking!!!!!

I moved on...

Carol: Hm-Hm-H-H-Hm-Hm-Hm-H-Hm. Hm-Hm-Hmm-H-Hmm-H-H-Hm (Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful)
Eric: Oh! OH!!! The.....weather......outside is frightful?
Carol: HMM-HMM-HMM!! HMM-HMM-HMM!! HMM-HMM-HMM!! (LET IT SNOW!! LET IT SNOW!! LET IT SNOW!!)
Eric: Uhh.....delightful....Christmas.....Christ was born....
Carol: HMM-HMM-HMM!! HMM-HMM-HMM!! HMM-HMM-HMM!! (LET IT SNOW!! LET IT SNOW!! LET IT SNOW!!)
Timer: Bzzzzzzz
Carol: I HATE YOU!!!

Pork Bingo
On Saturday, Patti and Colin took us to a dive bar somewhere in the bowels of Sudbury for Porketta! I was very excited for Porketta, as she had told me about it. Essentially, you play bingo, but instead of normal bingo cards, everyone gets laminated sheets with three playing cards on it, for $2/round. And you wait to see if any of your three cards are called. When all three of your cards have been called, you win! Instead of shouting "BINGO!" you shout "PORKETTA!!" And then you win a pound of pork. I would like to say that again. AND THEN YOU WIN A POUND OF PORK. They literally weigh out a pound of greasy rolled roast pork, and then you eat it! This is literally the best bingo idea ever!

Patti's friends got to the bar a half hour early, but already the tables were full of old wizened Sudbury people, waiting for the pork madness to begin. So they were relegated to the pool table. By the time we arrived, Porketta was in full swing, and Patti's old roommate had already won two pounds of pork! They passed that around, and on our first round playing, Eric shouted "PORKETTA!!" and he won a pound too! I have never loved him so much as I did at that moment.

My porketta card sucked ass. I won nothing. But Patti won twice, so within our little group of four, we won three pounds of pork. Within the entire pool table of young people, we won seven pounds of pork in total! We gorged ourselves on greasy spiced pork, and consumed alcoholic beverages as befitted a dive bar. Then, our bellies distended with pork meat, we piled back into the car and went back to Colin's house to play more Cranium Turbo Edition.

Unfortunately, the following day as Eric and I were about half an hour into the three and a half hour drive back to Toronto, I got a very severe tummy ache. I cannot overexaggerate the severity of this stomach pain. Eric pulled over at a log cabin restaurant on the side of the road where I had extreme explosive porketta diarhhea. I call it porkahhrea.

Thank you, Sudbury.

Carol and Eric Fight Battle with Costco

We bought a paper shredder at Staples on the weekend. We were sorting through papers and things and needed to destroy documents containing sensitive information. So we went out to Staples and spent about $80 on a paper shredder, plus $1 donation to the Special Olympics. They actually had a couple Special Olympics kids there, running around clumsily and yelling things, so you felt like an ass if you didn't donate the dollar.

Turns out the paper shredder sucked huge. Don't buy ArmorID paper shredders. They are loud and ineffective. They could compete in the Special Olympics of paper shredders, if you know what I mean.

So yesterday, Eric picked me up from work, and we drove up to Markham to return the craptastic paper shredder. We decided to pop into Office Depot and Costco to check out alternative paper shredders as well. Office Depot had nothing good. But Costco! Costco had an awesome paper shredder, for $52-ish! It shreds up to 10 pages at once, plus credit cards. My mom has a similar model, and hers shreds cds. I don't know if this will shred cds. But in any case, it's an awesome paper shredder. So we grabbed one and we were on our way.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52
Total: $52

Then Eric said "Let's walk around a bit, I want to get some orange juice." I knew this would be trouble. Within two seconds of walking out of the aisle with the paper shredder, we saw an endcap display with all-purpose wine glasses. Eric and I have two sets of gorgeous and expensive Reidel wine glasses. One set of chardonnay glasses and one set of burgundy glasses. They cost hundreds of dollars, and we're obsessed with them. But we don't trust anyone to use them. It's all part of the obsession. So Eric wanted to get these wine glasses - they were supposedly for both red and white wine, there were 8 in a box, and the best part, they cost $18.99 for the whole set! This is fantastic. So he grabbed one and we were on our way.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52
1 Case Red/White Wine Glasses: $18.99
Total: $70.99

Then we passed by the books section. The thirteenth book in the Series of Unfortunate Events books had come out, so Costco had in stock a box set of all thirteen books! I had been wanting to buy up this set for a couple years now, but had held off thinking that a complete box set would probably come at a better price. The books look very entertaining! Eric said that if I didn't get it now, I might well regret it later. I had no choice. Eric had to go and get a buggy. We loaded the paper shredder, wine glasses, and the giant box of hardcover books into the buggy, and we were on our way.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52
1 Case Red/White Wine Glasses: $18.99
Lemony Snicket Box Set: $114
Total: $184.99

Three metres later, we walked by the dvd section. Eric paused and made a case for buying TWO boxes of wine glasses. He had obviously been pondering. After all, they were a great price, and it would come in handy when we had more than 8 people at the condo drinking wine. That's some pretty good logic right there. So he jogged back to the display to get another case of wine glasses. While he was gone, I glanced at the dvds. The Little Mermaid Special Edition 2-Disc DVD set was RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! I snatched one up, and held it up for Eric to see when he came back with the wine glasses. He looked at it, gasped, and said okay well I guess we have to get that! I love Eric, he's awesome. Into the buggy it went, and we were on our way.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52
2 Cases Red/White Wine Glasses: $37.98
Lemony Snicket Box Set: $114
The Little Mermaid DVD: $23.98
Total: $227.96

On the way to the refridgerator section, we resisted Christmas cards, display snowmen, 4-packs of Guylian chocolates, and giant Toblerone bars. As Eric went to look for the orange juice, I wandered into the Italian/Greek refridgerated foods section and found a big jar of anchovies - for under $6!!! We had eaten some amazing anchovy antipasti in Rome. I wanted more of the anchovy action! Into the buggy it went with the case of four Tropicana orange juice boxes.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52.00
2 Cases Red/White Wine Glasses: $37.98
Lemony Snicket Box Set: $114.00
The Little Mermaid DVD: $23.98
Italian Anchovies: $5.67
Tropicana Box of 4: $11.99
Total: $245.62

As we made our way up to the cash registers, miserable with no self control, I stiffened my resolve. I don't need all this! It's the end of the month, we have bills to pay, Costco sucks and doesn't accept any credit card other than Amex. We shouldn't be spending the cash! I stopped the buggy and turned to Eric. "We don't need all of this." Eric looked at me in surprise. And then slowly, he said "Okay....what don't we need?" Together, we decided we didn't need two boxes of wine glasses. 16 wine glasses is a lot, and we don't even know if they'll really be any good. The second box of wine glasses came out of the buggy. Then I finally blurted out "I don't think I need the books!" Eric searched my forlorn face carefully. "Are you sure, honey?" I nodded. I could ask his sister Haley to borrow them. She had all of them. I'm uncomfortable with this in general, as I hate lending out my books, and thus do not like to borrow books from other people. But do I need a $114 box set of hardcover children's books? Perhaps not. Eric ceremoniously lifted the box set from the buggy, and took it back to the books section.

Royal Paper Shredder: $52.00
1 Case Red/White Wine Glasses: $18.99
The Little Mermaid DVD: $23.98
Italian Anchovies: $5.67
Tropicana Box of 4: $11.99
Total: $112.63

WOW! I was so proud of us. We had managed to cut our Costco bill by nearly half, just seconds from check-out! We had fought Costco, and while we may not have dominated, we were also not raped.

Of course, later that night, Eric opened up the wine glasses and was so impressed with them that we decided we would go back maybe today and pick up another box. And I did some research online, and found that the Lemony Snicket books were actually a pretty good price at Costco, and maybe I do want them after all...my kids might like to read them in the future. So we might be going back to get them as well.

Damn you, Costco.

That's Amore!

Setting the Scene
I’m sitting on an airplane somewhere over the Atlantic. There are two ditzy, materialistic, middle-aged Canadian-Italian women from Etobicoke in the seats behind us who think they are still young. They are loud and I hate them. The seats are uncomfortable and I didn’t buy the $5 headset, so I can’t hear the dialogue on the shitty Keanu Reeves movie that is playing on the shitty television screens. I’m sick of playing Tetris on my Nintendo DS. I have no book, because I only packed four, and I finished them all earlier this week. I have mosquito bites on my arms and neck, my skin is dry and flaky, my mouth tastes gross. My hair is starting to feel greasy and is clinging to my neck. With five and a half hours left to go on this flight, I have nothing to do and can’t sleep. So I’m composing a blog post that I can upload as soon as I get home. Yay blog post! Now you'll know why the if the post is impatient-sounding. I'm in airplane hell.

Why I Haven’t Posted in Three Effing Weeks
We’ve been on vacay in Italy for two weeks! And the week previous to the trip, I had nothing. Okay, this isn’t true, I totally had a thing, the hair thing. But I was too busy trying to pack for Italy. If this makes me suck, then I’m sorry. Please keep reading!

The Hair Thing – In Brief
I was sick of my seriously long hobo hair. I went to get it cut. Bitch cut it way shorter than I told her too. Will be seeking new hairdresser soon. Am now ugly. Uglier.

LUSTY ITALIAN GETAWAY
So! Down to juicy bloggy business! The husbo and I set off on a Contiki tour exactly two weeks ago. It was an itinerary called Simply Italy. There were about 35 people on the tour, some were cool, some were not cool, and we ended up roughly divvying up into rough cliques, much like high school.

Okay, I must pause for a second. I thought long and hard about how to approach this blog post. If there’s one thing I find horribly boring, it’s people’s travel blogs. There are a few notable exceptions. But for the most part, they’re bad. Sorry, people with travel blogs. But you suck-o.

I’m not going to tell you everything I saw, because that can pretty much be summed up like this: “I saw some big-ass cathedrals, and some big-ass ruins, and some big-ass important pieces of big-ass art. It was all big-ass amazing, and my life has been enriched and my perception of the world has been big-ass changed forever. That reminds me, I still have a big ass.”

So apart from all that, here’s the other stuff:

I Revealed Too Much Information
Being the only married couple in the group, Eric and I were socially overlooked in the beginning. For about two hours. For all you Contiki people reading this, don't try to deny it. You were friendly, but assumed that we would be bland, and probably wondering if we would share private kisses awkwardly in front of you when you didn’t want to see that kind of domestic intimacy, thereby spoiling any kind of partay mood. Then I started exposing private details, and everything shifted into normal focus: people laughed at my stories, and pitied Eric who obviously seemed uncomfortable but resigned to the sharing of said stories. Welcome to our married life! It's like a car crash. You can't help looking and listening, but you know you shouldn't. These were some of the things I revealed during the course of the trip:

• Good Wife/Bad Wife a.k.a. Eric Loves Figure Skating and Carol is a Bitch in the Morning
• Eric Pukes in Carol’s Mouth in Cuba
• Carol Waxes Her Yoohoo/Eric Trims His Entire Body
• Frequency and Satisfaction-Rating of Poopies Made on the Trip
• Eric Has a Big McBumhole
• Sometimes When We Do the Sex, I Just Lie There
• We Pop Each Others’ Body Pimples
• Eric Only Asked Me Out To Get Laid
• Eric Dumped Me To Get Laid By Other People
• Eric Failed To Get Laid By Other People But Did Make Out With a Large Girl With B.O. In An Alley
• Eric Won’t Let Me Put Things In His Ass

I Made Out With An Aussie
Everyone makes out with an Aussie when they go to Europe. And now, I have too! Her name is Lucy, and she’s a great kisser. Eric was passed out at the time, and Lucy herself doesn’t remember it. I later found out that Lucy threw up afterwards. But it was good. Lucy’s hot. I was less hot, I was wearing my glow-in-the-dark flannel jammies with the sheep on it, and I had my hair tied up on top of my head so that it stuck straight up. It's possible this is the reason she puked off the side of her bed following the Cana-Aussie lesbian tongue action. But the important thing is that I molested her over my husband’s unconscious body, and she was totally digging it.

Eric Can’t Do Accents
There were two people on the tour who did the best accents ever. Tara from Sacramento was a tiny little hot powerhouse who was completely hilarious, and Jim from LA was an uber-deep musician. They hooked up on the second night and totally stole our couple’s thunder. But it was cool, because they could do accents – Tara especially. She could imitate everyone, and she would act it out too…so when she quoted her oddly silent Brazilian roommate, it turned into a one-woman side-splitting comedy act that made me want to shit my pants.

I can’t really do accents. I can sort of do a really poor English accent, and then everything else I try comes out sounding like a Chinese accent. It’s really kind of embarrassing.

After the tour ended, Eric and I secretly tried to practice Tara and Jim’s Mexican accents. I could kind of do it. Eric couldn’t.

Carol: “Eeef dees eess torchurr, chayne mee too da waal!”
Eric: “Haha! Yeah! If this is torture, chain me to the wall!”
Carol: “You’re still not doing it.”

All Homeless Italians are Cripples and Amputees
This is really just an observation. But they are. It started with a few men with exposed stumps in the place of arms, sitting in some doorways, mumbling something incoherent in Italian (I suppose it could have been coherent to Italians, but it was not to me. I speak not the Italian tongue). Then there was a man limping around in a church courtyard, making humming and clicking noises. Eric's guess is that he was mute, and didn't have the use of one leg. But the best (worst) one was one woman with no legs, pushing herself along the ground on a skateboard and wailing. We thought she was a dog at first. It was really creepy, and it makes me wonder how they all lost their limbs. I actually secretly wonder if they did it on purpose to make more money on the streets. They gave me a new appreciation of the regular homeless people in Toronto.

And most importantly...
My Best Poo
I pooed every single day in Italy. In fact, sometimes I pooed twice! And they were mostly excellent poos, poos that I would be delighted to dump out every day forever. But the best poo was in Capri. I hadn't gone to the washroom all day, and it was mid-afternoon. I had to go pee really badly, so we found a public washroom in Anacapri. It cost 0,50 euro to use this washroom which was clean and smelled okay, and had soft toilet paper. I made giant pillows with the toilet paper to line the seat, then I sat down and revelled in a zen-like stream of urine. Then at the tail end of the pee, there came a sudden swift and powerful push from my rectum and a firm, solid, satisfying load of poo came rushing out of my bowels like a giant cobra exiting its snake-hole. The poo just came and came and came, as I sat in horrified delight at this unexpected and aggressive move by my intestines. When I got up and looked in the toilet, I saw the most beautiful coil of fecal matter piled up high and proud in the bowl. I had bemoaned the folly of European toilets, and the way the holes are so deep that you can never see how much poo you've made. This toilet was no different, but my incredible - nay - death-defying bowel movement had risen above all such hindrances and was displayed there in all its glory. The best part was that it only took two wipes with the soft toilet paper to clean my bum, and then I was on my way.

And that, my friends, is truly amore.

Our new friends are giving me a complex

Last Christmas at the condo potluck holiday party, Eric and I made friends with two other young couples who lived in the building. Rosy and Alvin, Brenda and Warren. We've all gotten together a few times now, and the guys have gotten together even more, to play video games and stuff. Everyone is asian (except for Eric, he is not asian).

We get along really well, and they're all extremely nice. At first I thought that we were all about the same age. They had all gotten married recently as well, and they looked like us. But upon further investigation, I was surprised to find that they are all older than us, by like at least 5 years. They are all in their thirties. We, if you don't recall, are in our twenties.

On a side note, every time Alvin calls, he asks if he interrupted us having the sex. He seems to think we have the sex every moment that he doesn't see us. I'm not sure why, maybe he feels that because we are young newlyweds and Eric is white, perhaps the combination makes us uncontrollably randy. We haven't once been having the sex when he calls, but I plan to start telling him that we are, with descriptions.

We went to see a movie together last Tuesday. There is a movie theatre across the street, and so we met in the lobby and walked over as a group. (Carol and Eric: "Hey guys, sorry we're late, we thought Alvin as going to call again or something" Alvin: "Uhhh, sure guys. You sure you weren't in the middle of something else?" Guffaw guffaw)

As we walked over to the theatre, I became acutely aware of a difference between the other girls and myself. They are tiny. They are thirty-something and teeny tiny. Both are normal height, but they have cute little butts the size of cereal bowls. They have trim little waists with no love handles. They have no double chins. They have slim little thighs that don't strain against their jeans like they're trying to escape. Their clothes fit them properly. They look fantastic, and are incredibly successful and kind. They are giving me a complex.

My ass is a monstrosity. My waist is slowly disapearing, widening more every day. I have a double chin the size of a medium banana. My thighs think it's Jigglefest every day, and are definitely straining to escape my jeans. None of my clothes fit.

I'm going to go cry now. I hate you Rosy and Brenda. (I'm going to be embarrassed about saying that if they start reading my blog...but I guess I'll tear down that bridge when I blorpingly roll into it.)

Homecoming 2006

Carol's News is Unimpressive
Every year at homecoming, we run into billions (yes, billions!) of old friends and acquaintances. It's lovely to see everyone again, and to "catch up". Everyone asks "So what are you up to? What's new?" Husby and I started working after graduation, and didn't go on to do masters/med school/law school/PhDs/teaching in Japan. Still, the last two years were easy. First we were all "We're engaged!". Then we were all "We got married!". This year, the exciting news dried up.

Old Friend/Acquaintance: Oh my god, CAROL! (*hug hug kiss kiss*) How are you?
Carol: I'm good!! (*hug hug kiss kiss*) How are you?
OF/A: Not too bad, not too bad...So what are you up to? What's new?
Carol: Well actually, since you ask, Staples had this great Back to School sale a couple weeks ago, and I bought a new box of crayons!
OF/A: ...
Carol: Yeah! It's a huge one, like 96 colours. I'm not even joking. It was...let's see...it was only about six dollars. Yeah. So I've been working on my colouring books since then. I have two, a Care Bears one and a Disney Princesses Dreams Come True one.
OF/A: Huh.
Carol: Yeah, it's been awesome. What are you up to? What's new?
OF/A: I'm finishing up medical school and I've discovered a cure for cancer.
Carol: Good times.

Eric Discovers Something Special and Tender
Our (hot hot) friend Brandon came up for homecoming this year. Now at the risk of sounding totally condescending, I consider Brandon as my pet. He was frosh when my friend Peggy and I were in fourth year, and he was like our hot little baby boy. We loved him and took care of him when he drank too much. Since we graduated, Peggy's gone away (yes, to medical school), and Eric and I have adopted Brandon together. I now consider Brandon to be mine and Eric's pet, but mostly mine because he belonged to me first. We plan to eventually adopt him and have him live with us forever.

Brandon drove up to Kingston on Friday night, and came over to drink. We were all sitting around, and Brandon wanted to go to a party. I didn't want to go, because I was already hungover from drinking in the afternoon. So Brandon wanted Eric to go with him. The two of them set off at 11:00pm, in search of boozin' good times.

Long story short, one of the girls (TheHippie of ThePeach fame) with whom we were staying was going to her fake boyfriend's house to get some booty. And by booty I mean ass. And by ass I mean raunchy porno sex. So she had said that we could sleep in her unoccupied bed. Brandon was supposed to be staying elsewhere.

At 3:00am, when Eric had still not returned, I decided to go to bed. I got into TheHippie's bed and fell asleep. Eric and Brandon both returned later, and apparently immediately removed their clothes. Eric then began stalking around the abode, looking for me as I wasn't on the futon. I saw him tiptoe up and down the hall outside TheHippie's room in naught but his boxers. Then he stuck his head into the room. I could see him straining in the dark to see who was in the bed.

Carol: It's me
Eric: (whispering) Honey, it's okay! YOU SLEEP HERE. I'm going to go SLEEP WITH BRANDON.
Carol: .......Okay. The sleeping bags are here on the floor, why don't you-
Eric: (whispering) It's okay! WE WON'T BE NEEDING THEM.
Carol: .......uhh...
Eric: (whispering) Okay, goodnight!
Carol: ........uh, goodnight.

I thought to myself, boy this will make a great gay story in the morning. Then I went to sleep.

In the morning, I woke up and went into the living room. There lay both sexy boys, looking sleepy but happy. Both wearing nothing but their boxers, with tiny blankets pulled up only to their waists. Brandon lay on his back, head resting on his hand, gazing up at Eric. Eric lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, his free arm drapped lazily across his front, hand resting inches from Brandon's dewy skinned body, smiling down at Brandon. I stopped in the doorway.

Carol: "Well....this looks gay and cozy."

Both chuckled. Neither moved. Other people came in the room and stared. Then they both got up. They had showers. They shared a towel. Then Eric drove Brandon to the house where he was supposed to be staying, so Brandon could get a fresh change of clothes. They were gone for almost an hour.

Nothing takes an hour in Kingston. Nothing except gay sex.

At the Portsmouth Tavern, Eric and Brandon sat next to each other with their heads together, and had many chuckles and quiet conversations. The rest of us made comments about their apparent sweet new love for one another. Both laughed. Neither moved.

At one point, I had finished my first drink, and so had Eric. Eric got up to go to the bar...and came back with a drink for himself, and A DRINK FOR BRANDON. Nothing for me! Everyone noticed.

"Hey Eric, you buy a drink for your boyfriend, but not for your wife??!!"

Later that night, Eric sat me down.

Eric: Hey honey, you don't really mind about the whole Brandon thing, do you? Like, it doesn't really bother you, does it?
Carol: (breezy) No, haha. No it totally doesn't bother me, I was just kidding.
Eric: Okay, good. Because you know, it's not really a big deal. Last night was kind of crazy, and you know, it was just that one thing led to another...

Yes. Eric has indeed Discovered Something Special and Tender with Brandon. My hot little baby boy pet is now obviously Eric's Hot Little Baby Boy Pet Ass Humper.

Finally, I just checked and:
ThePeach Already Told Most of My Planned ThePeach Stories
So you can read them here and I can go eat my leftovers from the weekend. I sound so cool in her blog. Guess which one is me! ThePeach's hair and rack (not to be confused with "hairy rack") are out of this world. This never more evident than this weekend when she lost her bra and her boobs looked like perfection.

I wonder if I got her to dance for Eric with her boobs, whether he would forget Brandon?

I will end with a spontaneous haiku.
Coming Home to Queen's
Eating deepfry till I puke
Now my husband's gay

This is so far one of the shittiest weeks ever

It probably started out with the sketchy sushi place. Last week was a pretty intense sushi week. Gloria took us out on Thursday, Luke and Cathy took us out on Friday, then we went out on our own on Sunday. I've eaten a lot of sushi in my time, and I think I have become a little reckless with my sushi consumption. Though I prattle and preach about the dangers of eating at a bad sushi restaurant, the truth is that I don't really think I'll get sick. I've never gotten sick off of sushi before.

On Thursday, we went to Crazy Sushi. It's a great place, a little on the pricey side, but clean and delicious. On Friday, we went to Sakura. Eric had discovered Sakura during his lunchtime quests to bring me sushi rolls. The rolls had been decent, so we decided to go to the restaurant proper for dinner. I walked in and was immediately sketched out. The carpets were very dirty. I think the words I'm looking for are "horribly filthy". But it was busy, and we were there with Luke and Cathy, plus we had eaten their rolls for lunch and never gotten sick. So we trekked on, ate a delicious dinner, then went home to watch Gone with the Wind, which Luke was finally made to understand, is NOT a musical, and NOT to be confused with The Sound of Music. No problems.

On Sunday, after a weekend of working at the wedding show out by the airport for our wedding photographer Janet, we wanted sushi again. I was on a wasabi rampage. So we decided with a shrug to go back to Sakura. It was run by Korean people, so they gave you kimchi and a bunch of other free appetizers to go with your meal.

This time, I had to go pee really badly, so I went before we ordered. And oh LORD the washroom was nasty. And here's the particularly disgusting part. which I haven't even told Eric yet - there was NO SOAP BY THE SINK. I shit you not. I was very tired and very hungry and very stupid, so something prevented me from insisting that we leave right away. So I got some Purell out of my purse, we stayed, we ordered, we ate. Nothing tasted weird, though to be fair, I drenched everything in wasabi.

About an hour and a half later, I was feeling weird. Not puking weird, but a little achey in the tummy, with a headache, and a funny feeling about my body. I went poo right before bed. My poo smelled like cow manure. It was gross.

I had a terrible night. I tossed and turned and kept having weird vivid dreams. In the morning, I felt horrible all over. But I was very tired and very stupid, and I got in the shower, got dressed. I got a stomache ache right before I left the house, and went to the washroom. I was greeted by the gross feeling of chunky liquid poo squirting out of my butt in a continuous stream, then I went to work. At work, my stomach churned as my head throbbed and my body ached. I went to the washroom, and the feeling of pulling down my underwear felt as though I was dragging a brush made out of small sharp needles across my hips. This was followed by more squirting liquid chunky poo. I whimpered at my desk and did my work. Then, as pains started shooting up my abdomen, I decided fuck it, I'm going home.

At home, I slept all afternoon and woke up with a fever, and a body so hurty that sitting down perfectly still was painful. I forced Eric to gently massage my feet, my calves, my thighs, my hands, over and over again to try to make them feel better. I went poo, and it smelled like vomit. LIKE VOMIT!!! It was disgusting. I told Eric he should go and smell it. He declined.

This morning, I was awoken with a giant giant stomach ache. It felt like something with sharp tentacles was pulling at my insides from all angles. I went poo. It was drippy and nasty and continuous and my stomach ache would not go away. I tried to go back to sleep, but was awoken every 20 minutes or so by the pain, and had to go sit on the toilet for ten minutes, crying. This continued until about 1:30pm. Then the pain subsided, and I only had to go to the washroom every 2 hours or so.

Then Eric came home and fussed over me. I was just starting to feel cherished and cared for when someone in the building decided they hated me and did something to set off the fire alarms. The loud blaring sounds cut through my headache, straight into my brain where they proceeded to rape and pillage everything they touched. On and off and on and off for about 15 minutes. Then the firetrucks came, and said they were investigating the problem. Nothing else came of it, but it's nice to know that when the fire alarm goes off in the building, we will just sit here and wait to burn.

I hope I can return to work tomorrow, as I need to remind my boss that he said I could have this Friday off for Queen's Homecoming. Though if my insides are still trying to murder me, and I have to go shit cloudy glops of vomit from my ass every half hour, I don't see how I will possibly be able to go.

And now I'm sitting here writing this miserable blog post. I hope that you clicked on this site, noticed there was a new post, and settled in hoping that it would be entertaining and fun. I hope that you found it was boring with a touch of gross, and that you feel as pissed off as I do.

I'm not even going to end with a haiku. I'm just going to end abruptly, like this.

I could be in FHM

Last week while at work, my friend Jen messaged me on MSN. Not that I do that at work or anything.

Jennifer - haus hunter: "Our friend left his FHM magazine here last night. You should hear some of these quotes!"

Carol - Exhausted and devoid of pig: "Okay, like what?"

Jen went on to quote ridiculous things apparently said by women, likely taken out of context to make all females look like Horny McSlutty Hos who love to be naked when no one is around to judge them. I laughed and scoffed.

"My breasts are the greatest funbags of all time"

"The minute I hear music, I just have to grind my hips"

"We did girlie stuff, like throwing our underwear out the window"

"I've had sex in the sea. It's dangerous but worth the risk"

"My favourite underwear is lingerie-a nice thong with a really skimpy bra-although I went to a party the other week in a really tight dress, so I had to go commando. But then I do walk around the house naked a lot, so I'm used to it"

Wait a second...

"I only wear bikinis to do my housework- in bed I take everything off"

Waaaait a second!!

Turns out, I'm a Horny McSlutty Ho. And so is my old roommate Gloria. We could totally be in FHM. These would be my quotes:

My roommate and I used to sit around the house naked together with the windows open

We would eat cheese too, but that's neither here nor there. It was really hot sometimes in September, and we didn't have the air conditioner plugged in. Plus it was just way more comfortable. I remember the first day Gloria came home from class, and I was watching FoodTV in naught but my thong, bare ass-cheeks pressed against her futon. She came in. She looked at me. I looked at her. I said "What, it's hot." And she shrugged and said "Okay", and took off her clothes.

I've had sex in a waterfall. It was loud, and you get lake water up your yoohoo, but it's worth the risk.

Because then you get to tell people you did it in a waterfall. Actually, I was terrified of drowning, I'm not a very good swimmer.

We wore bikinis to do housework - in bed, Gloria takes everything off. I know because I used to get into her bed in the mornings to snuggle.

Gloria came up with the idea of wearing her bikini to clean the shower. I think she didn't want bathroom cleaner to accidentally splash on her yoohoo or nipples. I usually cleaned the kitchen, and thus did not need a bikini. But she didn't want to be the only one wearing a bikini, so I would change into mine as well. As for the naked lesbian snuggling, what can I say - she was a good snuggler, and she had a heating pad in her bed. And I'm a whore for snuggles.

When we got too stressed out from studying and needed a break, we would change into our bikinis, put on some good fun music, and do a couple of shots while bouncing around the apartment. One time, Gloria set up her tripod, and we took pictures.

It was a fun way to relax!! And Gloria was experimenting with an old SLR camera that used to belong to her dad. It made perfect sense.

When I dress up, I almost always wax everything bare and go commando

Dresses show panty lines. Especially clingy dresses. And what is the point of going commando in a clingy dress if little half-inch pubic hairs are going to be poking through the material at your crotch?

I will end with a spontaneous haiku.

When you're quick to judge
Who you mock could be yourself
You slutty ho, you

Passion buys the farm

We had an interesting struggle the other night as we were getting into bed. In a rare display of night-time amour, Eric wanted the sex. In a yet rarer display of sexual disinterest, I wanted not the sex.

Eric: Mmm baby, you're so hot. So hot.

Carol: We're not doing it, you know.

Eric: But I love you, I want you so bad.

Carol: Get away from me, I'm going to vomit.

Eric was persistent for about 10 minutes, wanting to "hold" me. He was all the way over on my side of the bed, and I kept on squirming and slapping his hands away, complaining of headache, ticklishness, and nausea.

Eric: I want to kiss you. (kiss kiss)

Carol: I think there's a hard booger in my nose. Every time you kiss me and smush my nose in, it kind of hurts, like there's a thick crusted up hard booger in there.

Eric: ...that's not sexy.

Carol: Good, get that thing away from me.

Eric: This sucks!!

Carol: We did it yesterday. And the day before.

Eric: I WANT MORE!!!

Carol: YOUR PENIS IS POISON!!!!

Finally, Eric was convinced not to try and do me. We struck up a bargain wherein I didn't have to submit to his lovemaking at the moment, but had to promise to give it to him the following day. I agreed on the condition that I could be on bottom. Then I acquiesced to going over to his side of the bed to snuggle. Snuggle snuggle. Then I thought I smelled something.

Carol: Did you just fart?

Eric: No...do you want me to?

Carol: Why would I want you to?!

Eric: What if you fall asleep, and then I do you while you're sleeping?

Carol: Get away from me!!

Marriage is so fun. And no, I didn't end up giving it to him the next day either. Or the day after that. Maybe today...but I doubt it. I'm really tired today.

Anybody Out There got a tissue?

Earlier this week, I finished reading Anybody Out There by Marian Keyes. I love Marian Keyes, she has a fantastic writing style, and I love her awesome female characters and the gorgeous sexy men for whom they spread their well-formed legs. I was really looking forward to this new book because it was big and looked meaty and delightful.

Let me tell you, it was not delightful. I was not filled with delight by this book. I spent the entire weekend crying my goddamn eyes out. I swear to you, the first 25% of the book, you're mostly curious and confused, and then the remaining 75% of the book, you'll spend bawling so hard you can't possibly read the words on the page.

This is not to say that the book wasn't excellent, because it truly was. It just made me feel like I wanted to die.

When Eric noticed I was crying, he was quite alarmed. We were sitting on the couch in the sunny afternoon, he was playing Paper Mario, and I was reading my book. He was understandably preoccupied with his video game, so he didn't notice that I had been silently weeping for five minutes. This unfortunately meant that he jumped when I suddenly I screamed "Give me the tissue box!!!!!" Then he watched, appalled while I cried for the next two hours, mopping and licking up my tears and snot.

I had to take breaks from my book all weekend, and it took ages to finish the thing. I usually eagerly read through books very fast, but every time I picked it up, I'd be crying within a minute. It was very draining.

On Saturday morning, I had to go poo. I don't ever go poo without a book, unless it's a tragic accident wherein I think I'm going to go pee, but then I sit down and halfway through my pee, a piece of poo sticks its head out and goes "Look at me...fllllllllllorp!", and is halfway out of my butt by the time my pee is finished. And then I'm angry because I have no book. Most of the time, if this starts to happen, I frantically call out to Eric to bring me a book because some poo is sneaking out. Then he'll bring me a book and everything will be fine. But sometimes, I might be at home by myself, or Eric may be pooing in the other washroom, and then there's no one to bring me a book. I am forced to sit there reading nothing while I poo. Angrily.

So anyway, I had to poo on Saturday morning, so I took my book and went to the washroom. I sat down. I opened my book. I started pooing. I started crying. It was the first time that I've ever felt the simultaneous evacuation of tears and feces from my body at the same time. I sorrowfully felt my poo (wet and slippery, solid but with an almost oily consistency) push slowly but deliberately out of my poo-hole, as tears ran down my face, and I gulped for air between sobs. It was very odd, and felt very wrong. I now understand why bawling and defecating don't go together like ramma lamma lamma ke-dingity dingy dong. Because you're subtly distracted in an incomparable way as the air gently fills with the aroma of stool. It feels gross and ridiculous. But that's what I did on Saturday.

Bet you didn't think this was going to be a poo post.

I am gross and sneaky

My boss emailed me this morning:

From: Cowan, Karl
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:14 AM
To: Chan, Carol
Subject: Default report category

Hi Carol,

It appears that you have accidentally changed the SAP Default Report Category (see attached). This has caused some programs to not work properly. Manuel will set it back to the original version.

Report Categories do not behave like other standard SAP objects. They don’t warn you that you are changing the standard. Be careful next time.

------------------------------------------

From: Chan, Carol
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:15 AM
To: Cowan, Karl
Subject: RE: Default report category

Oh my goodness. So sorry about that, it won't happen again.

Carol

------------------------------------------

From: Cowan, Karl
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:21 AM
To: Chan, Carol
Subject: RE: Default report category

No problem. It could have happened to anyone.

------------------------------------------

From: Chan, Carol
Sent: Friday, August 11, 2006 9:24 AM
To: Cowan, Karl
Subject: RE: Default report category

BUT WHY DID IT HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME?!?!?!!!!! **sob sob sob**

------------------------------------------

I got such a big kick out of this, I copied it and showed it to Eric. Eric messaged me on MSN:


Eric says:
HAHAHA... you're cute!

Carol says:
Yeah, I liked it.

Carol says:
I peeled off a large piece of pinky toeskin yesterday, and it's like a trophy on my desk

Eric says:
GROSS!!!!

Eric says:
You did this at work?!?!?!!!!

Eric says:
You're so gross!!!!

Carol says:
No!

Carol says:
I'm so CUTE!

Carol says:
Awwww....look at me.

Carol says:
I'm so cute!

Eric says:
You were cute! Now, you are gross! SO GROSS!!

Carol says:
....so cute?

Carol says:
(Angel Face Emoticon)

Eric says:
awww! cute!

Carol says:
Yeah!!!

Carol says:
(heh heh heh)

Eric says:
sneaky! you're so sneaky!

I got such a big kick out of this, I blogged it. Bloggy bloggy.

I will end with a long overdue haiku.

Toeskin, hard and dry
Pick it, peel it, ease it off
See it on my desk