Where to begin?

It was a helluva weekend, and I saw a lot more of the province I ever thought I'd see in such a short period.

I will start on Thursday:

Thursday: Leave 2 hours late with Mr. Consultant. We drive south to a city 2 hours away and purchase $1200 worth of groceries at Costco - that's 4 carts, packed to the brim. It was fun, but I lost my appetite for the next 2 days. We leave the city at about 3pm and start the 5 hour northern trek. We arrive at our destination at around 8:30pm. We unload our van, pack away the groceries, and end up repacking the van of stuff we will need in our chalet. We prepare things for the next day, watch the Apprentice and go to sleep.

Friday: Wake up at a reasonable hour and get started preparing for the day. The 'cooks' show up late so I spend most of the day cutting vegetables. I still smell onion on my hands. We set up for supper, eat, chat with the attendees and then start drinking.

Saturday: Workshops all day. I videotapped the procedings, but always seemed to miss the best stuff, of was standing at the wrong place at the wrong time. Oh well. I learned two things this weekend. I am an awkward person who generally thinks and acts to the world differently than most people. Hence, it takes me longer to do simple things because I don't always think effectively. The other thing I have learned is that I was always like this, and will always be like this, and you can't deal with it, bugger off. I just need to teach myself not to be so hard on myself.
Saturday Night: As soon as I popped the top of my bacardi, Mr. Wonderful calls to tell me his father had an accident and severed his thumb. He was being sent by ambulance to where I was so I was going to see him that night afterall. I ran around to find them a chalet. I found one, but it was being occupied by several rowdy people, so it was a no go. Mr. Wonderful arrived back from the hospital at about 1:00am, just as I was kicking the last person out and about to settle into bed myself. I was exhausted, and looked like hell. I was ready to wow MW the next day by wearing my best, pushiest bra, and the nice shirt everyone likes, but the unfortunate accident of Mr. Wonderful Senior put a wrench in it. No matter, we had great sex anyway.

Sunday: Woke up, begrungingly, and helped with breakfast. Filmed more footage, then tried to pack as quick as possible so as not to keep the Wonderful Family waiting. We hoped in the pick up and drove the half hour north to MW's house. Barely a word was spoken. Note to self: Should a wedding ever be in the picture, conversation cards may be helpful for all families involved. Also, book translator in advance. Eep.
Anyway. Arrived at house. MW Senior unpacked the pickup in about 1.3 seconds, with his bandaged, mangled hand, even. They left ASAP. MW showed me around his house (very nice, though the furniture leaves a lot to be desired). He went back to work while I read and napped, interrupted by more sex, and a house inspection. After supper, we went for a walk to rent a movie. I showered and got in my comfy clothes to cuddle on the couch while watching Constantine. Oh, alliteration. Neat. Sunday night was spent listening to George Carlin on the Ipod and then, uhm, more sex.

Monday: Ugh. After still more sex, we get up to drive to the supposed pick up location for the shuttle. Long story short, everything got FUBARed and the shuttle left without us. We miraculously bummed a car and MW drove me 45mins to where I could take a bus back home. I arrived with about 20 minutes to spare, in the pouring rain. I rode for 4 hours and finally got home last night.

All in all, though, no complaints.

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JALLAPENO!!!!


One last thing... Is hotmail down, or is it just me?

Ugh.

I'm going to kill her, I swear. All last weekend, and today, I have this woman talk about how her boyfriend will be gone all night. Oh, boo FUCKING hoo.

Do you realize that I used to see my boyfriend every 3 weeks? And that now, with this job, I may only see him every 3 months? Do you realize that our plans for this upcoming weekend are practically down the tubes? That, although this may be the last time we'll see each for the foreseable future, it may not happen? For Christ's sake, woman, if you don't shut up about how much you miss your boyfriend after a few days of being apart, I will drop the photocopier on your head.

No, I don't mean that. I know your feelings are just as valid as mine, but, please, have a little sensitivity.

Wah.

Two interesting things happened last night.

1) Mr. Wonderful and I had "a talk" last night.
2) I went running.

So, first. I don't want to get into any details about this conversation, but all in all, it was a good conversation. I've been feeling increasingly insecure about what will happen over the next few months, and it was good to know I was not the only one. It was a bit of a re-committment to each other, which felt good. It was also an admission of how difficult it will be over the next 9 months, as, unlike our other bouts of long-distance-ness, there is very little control over when we can see other, where we can see other, and how. Nevertheless, I know I will do anything I can for this relationship.

I do bring you this article, if you are interested. It's an honest little article, and made me feel slightly better.


So this brings me to the second item. After getting off the phone, and finding I no longer had an appetite for the very, very yummy Tika Masala I made, I decided I need to get out of the house to burn off the sudden surge of nervous energy I had. So, I found my oversized gym shirt, and some shorts, and put on my well-worn sneakers and headed out the door.

There are trails around my house that I use regularly to get to and from work. I often see joggers on these trails, but I know, deep down, that I am so not one of those people. To illustrate:

And so, I won't be trying that again anytime soon, at least in public. I'll stick to walking.

So.

It's finally dawned on Mr. Wonderful that his new job is actually a form of self-induced celibacy, and that Catholic priests may actually be getting more action than him.

So, what now? When I was my little village, I knew we'd see each other every 3 weeks or so. There was something to look forward to. But now? Now, we're not so sure. It'll be a hit and miss as far as reunions go.

I've had this fantasy scenario running through my head. MW will call me up, as usual, but, oops!, he dialed the 'wrong number', and he's reached some horny, pretty young, thing. Hm, sounds hot, non?

Unfortunately, here's how I actually see the conversation going:

*RING*
Me (in my cutesy, Pretty Young Thing, sexy voice): Hello?
MW: Hey baby.
Me/PYT: Who is this?
MW: What?
Me/PYT: Who is this?
MW: Oh, I must have the wrong number.
*CLICK*
Me: Damnit.

*RING*
MW: Hello?
ME: Okay, that was actually me, I'm trying to be sexy. Call back again.
MW: Uh, why?
ME: Just do it.
MW: Fine.
*CLICK*

*RING*
ME/PYT: Hello?
MW: What are you doing?
Me/PYT: Who is this? Are you looking for my parents? They're gone for the weekend, and I'm home all alone....
MW: What? You're back at your parents house?
ME/PYT: I don't know what you're talking about.. I'm just a catholic school girl and-
MW: Are you drunk?
ME: No, but, uhm, I have this bottle of wine, and I thought maybe I'd, like, you know, stick it up my, uhm, vagina.
MW: Vagina?
ME/PYT: You know.. my....p-..p.... Oh, forget it.
*CLICK*

I'll admit it. I'm akward when it comes to phone sex. Having talked about sex parts - in proper, medically accepted terms - I find it silly and embarrassing to say dirty sex words. I recognize that "put your giant, throbbing cock in my wet pussy" sounds a bit more erotic than "enter my aroused vagina with your erect penis".

However, I want to get both our juices flowing, even if it's miles away. Any suggestions are welcomed.

I found this meme at Sonja's, and I thought it was fun. Here it is:

Go to your music player of choice and put your entire collection on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and after each one press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question.

What do you think of me, random music player?
Metro - Dead Disco (I'm out of date? Do I, like Disco, 'suck'?)

Will I have a long and happy life?
Eurythmics - Talk To Me (I'm trying...)

What do my friends really think of me?
The Cure - Friday I'm In Love (Awww, shucks, thanks guys!)

What does my significant other think of me?
Beastie Boys - Intergalactic (I guess he thinks I'm, like, out of this world hot? Or maybe just weird?)

Do people secretly lust after me?
5-6-7-8s - Woohoo (That's a good sign!)

How can I make myself happy?
George Michael - Too Funky (I agree, George Michael does make me happy.)

What should I do with my life?
Cake - Frank Sinatra (Gamble, drink, smoke, and hang around with same? Done and done!)

Why must life be so full of pain?
Blink 182 - The Rock Show (I agree. Rock music is the downfall of society...)

How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Apollo 10 - Joy (Uhm, okay, but could you be more specific?)

Will I ever have children?
Beyonce Knowles - Work It Out (You mean, a child? Out of my vagina? Right now? ARE YOU TELLING ME I'M PREGNANT?? DAMN YOU BEYONCE!!! DAAAAAMN YOU TO HELLLLL!!)

Will I die happy?
Cake - Never Give You Up (I'm a bit old to be put up for adoption..)

Can you give me some advice?
Eminem - Lose Yourself (Sweet.)

What do you think happiness is?
Everclear - I've Seen Better Days (Maybe I'll ask again tomorrow?)

Do you have any advice to give over the next few hours/days?
Gwen Stefani - Hollaback Girl (Well, that advice is bananas. That's right. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.)

This is, if for no other reason, by Halifax is the Best City in Atlantic Canada.

FEMALE ONLY BATHHOUSE!!!

Can you imagine? I recommend reading the whole page, to get an idea what it is all about. It's incredible.

Would you go?

Personally, I don't know. I have visions of many, many lesbians who may not necessarily appreciate the 95% heterosexual women who would show up just to say they went, or to find a third for a threesome with their boyfriend, which is, frankly, probably where I'd fit in. On the other hand, it would be a great way to step out of one's comfort zone and let loose for an evening.

I've been reading a lot on open relationships ("swinging"), and it's funny the thought of girly-bathhouses never came up. At swining parties, it is the women who always have control of the situation. Single men are never allowed access, and women also have the right to choose. Men are the toys, the accessories. With the She-Dogs, it seems they simple cut out the middle man, quite literally.

I thought I'd give a bit of a run down of the past weekend, since the top 10 list only gave a taste. And if there's something I'm not good at, is stopping while I'm ahead.

It did not get off to a good start. Mr. Wonderful, even before leaving to come to the city, had incredibly bad luck. This resulted in a severe lack of funds. He even threatened to sell his ticket (!), and go home. Thankfully, this was the frustration talking, and he did nothing of the sort. Thank god, because it would not have been a good idea to leave me with his friends for the weekend. I would have either killed them or fucked them*. Either way, not good.

*(Just so you know, I wouldn't have fucked them because I was particularly attracked to any of them. They were just a group of particularly undersexed men who saw me as liberated and lovin' the nookie, and I don't know if I could deny their advances were Mr. Wonderful not there.)

But, things worked themselves out, for the most part. My parents were supposed to leave for the weekend, leaving us the house to ourselves. Unfortunately, they changed their minds, and we had to mind our P's and Q's for 2 more days.

After a late bus (aargh!), I arrived Friday afternoon. After a few hours of solitude, the troops started arriving. I strapped on the ol' walking shoes and went for a liquor run for myself and Georgian Georgie (henceforth named GG).

MW and GG were busying themselving doing boy type things, so I decided to do something that MW does from time to time, without conscience - disappear. I grabbed his new Ipod Mini, loaded with a Bill Maher audiobook ("New Rules"), a frosty alcoholic beverage and sat out as the sun went down beside our koi pond, with newly installed lights. It was bliss. I went in 3 more times for 3 more drinks. By the time MW and GG found me, I was thoroughly hammered. Again, another thing I rarely do, without conscience.

Soon after, more troops started arriving. There was Janik, a Hairy Bastard (that's right, HB), and Stephane, the most undersexed of them all, who I will call Couch Sleeper (CS). I was still in the back yard, drinking the last of my booze. I was social as hell, which is quite unlike me. Yet, being the only girl among boys does something for ones confidence, I think.

After working out the language logistics (at this point, I was too trashed to speak French eloquently, so they spoke French, I spoke English, and all was well. MW seemed to have a problem with this, as they occasionally would lapse into English, but soon everyone relaxed), we talked about our work, our lives, and of course, sex. After the last of our gang showed up, Francois (henceforth known as Pussy Whipped because.. well.. do I really need to explain it?), MW gave me The Look. Oh, how I LOVE THE LOOK. Litterally, the come hither look. With all the boys around, in and out of rooms, and, tragedy of tragedies, the parents upstairs, we had nary a moment to ourselves. Yet, with that look, I would cross a thousand miles of fire and brimstone....

But, maybe I should leave the details for the Sex Blog?

I will say this, though - I felt no shame or guilt of leaving the gang to steal a few kisses alone with MW. They're guys - they know. It's not like I even said anything, it remained unsaid and unconfirmed, yet, there was no neurosis involved.

However, as fantastic as it is to play the 'just one of the guys' role for a weekend, I must say I have very little tolerance for men who act like stereotypical 'women'. I have yet to meet a group of people - men or women - who were as pussified and indecisive as this group of men. One of them could not handle sleeping outdoors, so he slunk back inside to sleep in the comfort of home. Dude: It's August. It's not cold. You suck.

Don't get me started on the never-ending conversations about plans. Who is going to be where? When? With who? Why? Where will be meet if we should get lost? Maybe you should wear shorts? No, pants?

I understand it's necessary in some situations, but, Christ. IN THE MALL?

Okay, anyway. Back to the concert.

The next morning, MW and I were rudely awoken by HB and CS. I was nekkid from the waist up, with MW laying on my booblies. How rude. Really, tents should have doorbells. We got up, dressed, and then waited a few hours to go. We decided to leave as late as possible, knowing that once we got there, we'd have to wait hours for any entertainment to begin.

As luck would have it, everything ran extremely smooth. We caught our shuttle to the concert site, and was there with enough time to explore a bit, and find an excellent viewpoint for the concert. We were quite close, yet far enough away that we could sit on a blanket during the down times without getting trampled to death.

Otherwise, everything else was great. The only downside was when I spent $20, essentially, on a slice of Domino's. They continued to increase their prices throughout the concert. Naughty, naughty.

Les Trois Accords was premier. They were.. how do you say? Comme ci-comme ça. The gang liked them, so the mood was set.

Our Lady Peace was next. I haven't listened to them much after.. whatever that album was that had all their hits on it. Raine Maida has some sort of Saviour complex that totally takes away from his self-delusioned hotness. As a homely fellow already, he really held no appeal to me anymore. It doesn't help that I knew GORD would be on stage soon.

Oh baby. Gord came onstage with a white button-down busines shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, blue jeans, and a red hankercheif to whip the sweat away from his gorgeous, shiny, brilliant bald head of his. Oh, and the rest of the band. I'm sure they looked good, too. They were all in fine form. Gord was his usual twitchy, ranting, lyrical self. No, they did not play New Orleans is sinking, but they did play Nautical Disaster, which took on a whole new meaning. They played very little new material, and lots of hits. I let loose and completely rocked out. It was amazing how uninhabited I was throughout the weekend.

It was over, much to soon, but the Stones were next. MW and I trotted off to get water and pee. By the time we came back, we could barely find our spot. As you would probably expected, there was a influx of people toward the stage, and things started to get a bit crowded.

The Stones took to the stage a bit late. I assume they must have waited for sundown, which was about 8:30pm. They blasted onto the stage amidst special effects and smoke and pyrotechnics. Impressive.

The show was.. Well, a Rolling Stones show. To try to describe would be a waste of my time and yours. If you really wanted to know, you should have spent the $100 on tickets.

There was one thing that did not make the top 10 list that was a bit of a mystery to me.

The lips. At one point in the show, the center of the stage actually detached, and rolled out into the audience, as a sort of mini-stage. As this was going on, I noticed that a giant mouth and even giant-er tongue was being inflated back at the main stage. The Stones continued to play on the mini stage for at least 3 songs, while the giant, dare I say, tacky mouth continued to inflate.

They slowly rolled back, and played one song - one song and danced around the giant mouth. As soon as the song ended, the mouth was deflated, and they continued on.

I giggled to myself internally at the time, but while waiting for our fraps at Starbucks, I just had to mention it to MW:

Me: Remember the giant mouth at the concert? The blue one with the flowers on it?
MW: Yes.
Me: Well, I couldn't help but think it parallels the function of the penis.
MW: (barely supressing an eye roll because he thinks I think everything parallels the penis). Really? How so?
Me: Think of it. It takes forever to inflate, it's only good for five minutes, and then it deflates right away.
MW: Sigh.
Me: (with a devilish grin) ... Yeah, and at the end, you're left wondering "Is that all?"
MW: (grumble, grumble) Your drink is ready.

1. Mick Jagger is the only man alive that can wear a midrift-barring shirt.
   
2. Three people and a empty bottle can make for a serviceable porta-pottie.
3. Being the only girl in a group of guys can be very fun (and not in a dirty way, perverts).
4. Guys do talk about their feelings when there's no women around.
5. I call bullshit on Raine Maida. Dude, get over yourself.
6. A girl is only allowed to sit on her boyfriend's shoulder if she shows her boobs. Otherwise, get the fuck down and stop blocking the view.
7. Even if my boyfriend is only inches away, guys will still try to cop a feel.
   
8. Dominoes sucks. They price raped throughout the concert. Do not buy from them.
9. I am never going to a concert without ear plugs ever again.
10. I would cut off my right tit to sleep with Gord Downie. Hot damn.