The physiognomy of the teen.

I procured new goop that matches the colour of my skin last week. It’s not just a better match than the extra-tangy new formula MAC sent me, but better than the discontinued product I’d used since my 20s. It makes sense I’d find something better, as my complexion has changed after all this time: fewer bumps, but more grooves.

What else has changed? My beliefs, writing style, lifestyle, support system, eating habits, domain, and many more. Nearly every cell in my body has been replaced since I wrote my first blog post 25 years ago.

In case you missed it, I discuss popular sluts aka pluts:

Surely it served as an inspiration to one of the writers for Futurama as Popular Slut Club made an appearance in the 19th episode of season 6, which came out in 2011. (Thanks Jordi, for bringing this to my attention.) So, I’m taking credit for this.

Continue reading “The physiognomy of the teen.”

I taste dead people.

I work in a basement to afford to rent someone else’s basement.

I can tell when I’m missing out on sunny weather by looking at the rows of glass bricks that wrap around the workshop. It’s still an upgrade from working downtown, where people frequently used the bench outside the patio to smoke a cigarette. I’d step out to use the air compressor to redirect their smoke and annoy them with the noise.

That didn’t work as well as one would expect. I frequently had to shut the door to keep the smoke out, and while this bike shop had windows, they were covered in decals. I’ve yet to see a bike shop that is clean, cozy, and aesthetically pleasing.

Anyway, the daylight hours have extended enough for me to soak up some sunshine after work. Last Sunday, I joined Daniel for his “recovery” ride, as did Rory. I suggested doing some hills around Cadboro Bay, but the waterfront loop Alexa and I did last week seemed more straightforward for my first ride with these guys.

It was a mistake until it wasn’t.

Continue reading “I taste dead people.”

All the hearts.

Let’s get right into it:

On Tuesday, I received a text from my uncle telling me Opa was in the hospital with heart problems. I was told not to come and that he was doing ok.

My 99-year-old opa is in the hospital? How was I supposed to stay optimistic? I only had about 30 minutes left on the clock, so I told myself I could finish the bike I was working on.

I couldn’t do it. With 15 minutes to go, I bailed and walked my bike home as I was too distressed to ride. Upon arriving home, I crashed on the couch, exhausted from all my emotions. I woke up from my nap around 8pm and checked my phone.

Opa had a heart attack.

Continue reading “All the hearts.”