No Touching!

The other day my trainer gave me one of those ass out hugs at the end of our session. You know the hug I’m talking about – stiff arms, 90 degree elbows, face turned away from you, body rigid with the stress of avoiding contact at all costs. It’s an anti-hug, really. It says, “I need to make contact with you and this is how I’m going to do it.” There are other options – the ass out hug should only be attempted in the direst of circumstances.

There’s the handshake which, between two women, can come across as too formal after the initial handshake. Women rarely shake hands again after the first handshake – it’s either 2 kisses or a hug (a real one) after that. A light touch on the shoulder is also good – anything but the ass out hug.

I’m a big fan of touching. No, no, don’t get all up in arms and assume it’s some nasty sex thing. I just really like touching and being touched by other people. Yes, sometimes it really is a sex thing, but for the most part it’s a “feeling close to another human being thing”, which, let me tell you, is pretty good. Rub, scratch, poke and prod away my friends - I like it all. I've also been known to accept own palm slaps across the face when plied with booze. I'm also happy to administer them.

There is, however, one caveat. I loathe, nay, despise, being slapped on the ass. I don't know what it is or why it happens, but when I get smacked on the ass I am seized with a rage that I am unable to control. It is this "white fury" that I hear so much about from all the local psychos. I am almost certain that there's a wealth of untapped wrath trapped somewhere in my ass and each little smack reminds it that it's trapped, forever a prisoner. For about 5 seconds after the initial smack I feel like I might throw up due to the sheer volume of seething hate and ire coarsing through my veins. You would be correct in assuming that this visceral reaction to something so mundane and ordinary is, well, unsettling to say the least.

They got it right on Arrested Development. No Touching indeed!

Sleep? Hello?

I don't even know when it began, or why, for that matter, but it appears as if sleep and I are no longer in cahoots. Night after night I wake up between 8 and 10 times at various hours, sometimes for lengths at a time. Last night I was awake from 4-4:30. The hours at which I stir are seemingly random, my body seems impartial to odd and even numbers, whole and half hours, quarters to or after. What I am suffering from here is a serious lack of deep sleep, actual rest - and it is taking its toll. I had a mental breakdown in the grocery store the other day because I couldn't find the flat leaf parsley or mint. This enraged me for the following reasons:
(keep in mind that I was irrationally angry)
1. How dare they only have curly leaf parsley - as if I can cook anything with such a bastard herb. I don't work at Red Lobster.
2. I come all the way to the grocery store for something as simple as mint and flat leaf parsley and these MOTHERFUCKERS can't even give me what I need. (yeah - who's insane?)
3. Why is there so much dill and summer savoury? Who could ever use so much goddamn dill?

My rage quickly spiralled into tears, right there, in front of the dill. In front of other rational people hopped up on REM sleep. The injustice.

I've thought about this lack of sleep and can't come up with a reasonable explanation. I don't have a stressful job to keep me awake at nights, nor do I have a pack of babies demanding food and attention around the clock. I don't live under a bowling alley or next to a shooting range. Last time I checked this was Montreal and not Baghdad, no blitzkriegs here either. So what's the deal then?

I am going to see my accupuncturist tomorrow in search of a solution to my dilemma. Maybe she'll poke loose whatever is blocking my potential restful sleep. Wish me luck!

Non-Sequitur

I realize I've been copping out lately and posting videos rather than actually writing anything. But the truth is, I've been rather busy and some of my more inspired posts really took a lot more time than I've got right now. There's no time for prose when your tires need changing and warmer weather begs for time spent outside.
I came across this little number on youtube and wanted to share it with you guys as it made me feel about 15 again. I went to the Frente concert at Club Soda when I was 15 or 16, can't remember which. At the time I had a German exchange student staying with me by the name of (and I shit you not) Dirk Weissenburger which I think means white burger - hilarious. He came to Montreal with a suitcase full of Nutella. It was all he would ever eat. He and I also fought like cats and dogs or katze und hunds, whichever you like. He was a bit of a douche but we were also young and I think I may have been a lot meaner then, so, in the spirit of Mondays and German exchange students, I give you Labour of Love by Frente and hope its lively melodies brighten your day.

EVERY goddamn morning...

Some genius on youtube created a cartoon of what his cat does to wake him up. I am pretty sure he's got a hidden camera in my bedroom as this little gem tells the story of my life.
Thanks to Val for this piece of heaven:

Oh Dear.

Every now and then I get paralyzed by incredible bouts of loneliness. If I really put my mind to it I can get over it and function as a normal human being. But, sometimes I kind of like wallowing in it which is self-defeating and a little messed up. I guess sometimes it feels good to feel bad.
Here are some tools for making the most of your loneliness:
1) listen to really depressing music - stuff about people dying or being alone works really well.
2) call no one.
3) stare blankly at the walls
4) check your facebook about 500 times an hour - you'll feel "better" knowing no one has written to you.
5) keep the lights off - aritifical light might accidentally snap you out of said loneliness.
6) analyze all conversations had over the past 48 hours to find evidence that yes, no one wants to spend time with you and that people don't care about you.
7) make a ridiculous list poking fun at the futility of your actions.

Shit I've gone and done it again. I mocked myself into feeling better. Damn. And I was SO enjoying the wallowing.