snapshots of an idle mind

January 21, 2009

sweet sadness

Filed under: anxiety,bitter pills,bliss,cars,driving,engines,grief,life,random,surreal — sassinak @ 3:17 pm

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well, it’s official, i have a new car.

okay not entirely official as i don’t take delivery until this afternoon but you know what i mean.  it’s paid for (with some help) and the plates are off my old car and sitting in the windshield/back window.

i may have driven my old honda for the last time and i’m abjectly sad about it.

i understand that i will love my new car just as much and that i will be just as broken hearted when my mechanic says “it’s time, your car is dead” but that isn’t any consolation to me now.

there are a few reasons i’m unhappy about this transition, not the least of which is that i expected to get another five years about of my perfectly tuned, corners like a bmw, gets phenomenal mileage accord.  expected in vain because the body rotted out from under me with very little warning.

in fact i’m a little bit pissed off at my mechanic for not making me understand what was happening.  why was i fixing a rotten car?  why wasn’t i made to understand 3-5 years ago that i needed to spend some money on the body?

how was this a SURPRISE?

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there is something so *wrong* about throwing out something so perfectly tuned.  i know the body is rotten but the engine has another 200,000km in it EASY.

ah well, i think i found a guy who is going to find a solid body and use my parts to build a car… so at least he’s getting something out of it.

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so here i am all broken hearted right?

all sad about the passing of this beautiful machine…

and yet?

and yet there’s a little joy here.

i’m getting my very first NEW car!

not new to me, NEW.

as in no one but me has ever driven it (okay, on and off the truck and the broker is driving it to my house but you know what i’m saying) and i have to break in the engine.

as in i get to be the only person who cares for this car and i will know implicitly every bolt that gets changed and fluid that gets dirty and if it dies it will be entirely my responsibility.

it will be *mine* from the day it got sold until the day i sell it or my mechanic looks at me mournfully and says “it’s time, get a new car.”

and that’s cool right?

i should be excited to own my very first new car and i am… i mean i’m totally stoked and i am fully aware that i will fall madly in love with it in time… it’s just i’m having a hard time getting past the senseless waste of it’s predecessor.

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oh you wanna know what i got?

2008.5 mazda 3 sedan, five speed with no air… cause i like don’t like the air and the power anything…

i do like the ipod plug though… kind of an improvement over the tape deck

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in other news, what is with these idiots who get high performance cars in an automatic?

or worse, with a manual transmission and NO IDEA how to WORK IT???

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only thing worse?

porsche sport utility vehicle…

i mean really, isn’t that an oxymoron?

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oh wow oh wow oh wow

my car is almost here and the plates are off my accord…

god i’m sad for my accord.

man i’m excited about my very first new car…

wow wow wow.

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and for those of you who know how much i love old things?

yes, i really did basically buy the new car version of the old car i’m throwing out….

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anyone wanna buy a really good engine?

February 16, 2008

holy unfairness batman

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so yeah i’m having a day.

i’m sure you’re all having days too, some better than others… but i’m having a day. i woke up a little late and couldn’t get my head on straight and taught a funny class and went to class where i never quite felt like i was there and then…

and then the day improved of course.

i mean who doesn’t want to spend the first day of their first vacation in five years shovelling out their car after they’ve gotten it stuck? heaving on it with a few helpers? dumping salt all over the place to get traction for the feet as we push?

how about getting it out of the rut only to rub it up against a fence while doing so? calling your boyfriend at home to get you a tow truck? waiting for it and then watching as it pulls your car off the fence… now with a broken mirror and fresh scratches and sixty bucks to the awesome little old tow truck driver named luigi?

almost but not quite killing a pedestrian?

how about realising that you are no longer competent and that beyond calling a cab at three am and MAYBE, just MAYBE managing to pack you are done? can’t even write a fuck you suckers i’m on vacation post done?

doesn’t that sound like the best vacational first day ever?

how about if i tell you that’s only half of the shit that’s wrong right now? that i have a bladder and a yeast infection? [and if you know about my other …issue? that is acting up too.]

don’t you think the universe might be having a little fun with me?

dear universe, i really need a rest okay? would you mind making the rest of the week a little easier than the first day? pretty please?

cherries on top?
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for the record, i’m still feeling pretty good. i’m aware rationally that although i’m having a brutal day i have in no way impacted my actual vacation in any damaging way.

i mean hell the mirror was halfway broken already!

not to mention? it’s a chilly twenty four degrees in cayo coco right now.. i think that might be the temperature here in fahrenheit today…

all you can eat food and drink… beautiful man to share it with…

five star beach and cuban music to lull me into a drunken stupor…

average daily temperature of 26 degrees celsius and nightly of 21…

yeah, sounds good to me.

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hopefully this day will stop piling little disasters on top of each other. i’m really hoping that i can finish my laundry and make my bed and pack between now and three am without too much trauma…

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but you know what happens at 11:10am tomorrow morning?

oh yeah, i land in cuba for day one of my first vacation in five years…

sayonara kids!

November 21, 2007

i wonder

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how some people can smell so bad and yet seem never to notice.

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why i love the leafs so much when they’re sooo bad these days.

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what will happen to the planet when we’ve sucked all the oil out of it… and i don’t just mean with fuel. i just can’t imagine that nature made all that lube and stuck it down there for no reason… it just seems wrong somehow.

so, if you have no more lube between the rocks what happens when they try to slide?

seems to me the shakes will get bigger.

but i’m not a geologist, anyone else?

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why we think pumping water that sells for two dollars a litre into the ground to replace oil that sells (refined!) for one is good business practices.

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if i can sustain this 6:30 am client on wednesday mornings.

client that i love, that is my longest running client and the first one who ever paid me full price for an hour.

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when i became someone who cared about the state of her house.

although the answer seems to be ‘when she got a house worth caring about.’

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when i’m getting my next pedicure.

speaking of; here you go terry:

nat:

natpedi1.jpg

moi:

sasspediorl.jpg

nat’s toes:

nattoes.jpg

my toes

sasstoes.jpg

us

sassnnatalldone.jpg

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why folks would rather focus on their misery and pain than their happiness and freedoms.

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why some people take so much pleasure in hurting others.

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why the above two are so often the same person.

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why it’s often so much easer to hear the spitefulness hurled at you by those who dislike you than the kindness lavished upon you by your loved ones.

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why i had a weird dream about my car last night…

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and why i remembered it.

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why the posts i am often most proud of will regularly engender the fewest comments…

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why rainy grey days (IN MODERATION!) are so awesome…

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why i’m not currently napping…

October 2, 2007

head shakings

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to the ten percent of you that don’t fit into this post?  you know who you are.

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as some of you know i had a date or two with a man who drives a ferrari a while back. the particularly attention paying public may also have realized that he started an investment bank.

normally i wouldn’t be so specific but he did link the bank in the relevant post’s comment section.

anyway the man himself, though beautiful and funny, is not the point of this post. the reactions he engendered in the people around me are.

it was amazing. i mean amazing what people were saying about this man solely because he appeared to have money in the bank.

after ONE date with him that lasted a little over an hour (i had prior plans afterward) and was in fact ridiculously fun, i was telling some people about him (cause yeah, i don’t meet many men i like… er didn’t, lately they seem to be coming out of the woodwork) and i got reactions that stunned me.

things like

.you got a hot investment banker? you bitch!

uh dude? one date.

.you would hate the investment banker lifestyle.

um we know what that is?

.oh nice he’s rich!

how do we know this?

.he’s playing you.

for what exactly?

.etc

etc.

i was literally flummoxed. no one (except flower who met him and thought he was awesome) asked me if he was nice (yes) funny (yes) cute (check) hot (check) tall (mm-hmm) polite (yup) smart (seems like) or anything like that.

no one cared what he was like at all. it was all about the money or the lifestyle… and i so didn’t get it.

cut to the second date.

you know, the one with the ferrari and the driving. oh right, i may not have told y’all that it was a date. it was assumed by a few folks but i was playing my cards close to my chest since i liked him.

anyway we go on a date, i drive a ferrari and i dance around for like weeks about getting to drive the ferrari and i’m even more stunned that i like the guy more than the fucking car.

and of course since i drove a FERRARI i told everyone i know about getting to drive it which caused many questions about the owner.

but not the questions you might expect, once i admitted that said lovely driving experience had happened on an actual date it went like this:

.he’s rich? marry him!

uh TWO DATES!

.why aren’t you travelling with him?

uh TWO DATES!??!?

.what are you going to do about his lifestyle if you have kids with him?

uh TWO DATES!??????????????????????????????!

.oh those rich guys, they always go back to their own kind.

fuck you, are you calling me cheap and low class?

.just get him to buy you a new computer (mine died)

ew

.oh those rich guys, they love bohemian artsy chicks like you…

um what?

but do you see what didn’t happen? no one asked me what he was like, if he was respectful, if i liked him, if he made me laugh, if i wanted to jump him, if he tried to jump me… nothing.

it’s all about the money.

i’m stunned i have to say, and amazed that celebrities and the really rich ever date at all. i guess it’s no wonder that the celebrities and rock stars and supermodels and sports heroes tend to date within their own circles somewhat.

i mean how on earth would you know that someone liked you for you? any little innocent comment would set your spidey senses tingling and really, how would you ever be sure?

so what are people in those kinds of tax brackets left with?

matchmakers

matchmaking websites

high school sweethearts

dating in their own field or one nearby…

hrm… that’s about it.

i mean i don’t give a SHIT how much money you make so long as you can afford to live a decent lifestyle with some traveling and some eating out and some living well.

if you can afford your life? to buy me dinner on occasion? to live your dreams? to participate in mine? that’s all i really want from you.

and even i found myself having little imaginary scenarios where i got to play with the ferrari at the race track too… imagine if you were the kind of person who really cared about money…

you would do everything in your power to snag a guy like that.

how is he supposed to tell the difference between interest and dollar signs?

*shaking head* really stunned i have to say. i have so much more sympathy for celebrity love nuclearisms now…

September 24, 2007

unpaid credit cards and other calamities

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my client is a no-show, lucky you you get a post… and i still have enough work this week that i’m not worried  :)

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so

six years ago on january twenty second of this coming year i got into a car accident.  i had just spent the weekend patrolling at osler bluff ski club and was just delighted with my new ski patrol versus my old one.

my boyfriend and i were discussing moving in with each other (which we did in fact subsequently do… and then undo) and our great love for each other along with our hope that we could keep it that way.

i had just been promoted and was finally starting to get the hang of my new job (promoted, might i add, over forty eight other applicants ALL of whom had worked for the company longer than i had.)

financially i had finally gotten myself to a place where i was spending less than i made AND my car was all fixed after a short period of unemployment caused me to not fix a few things.

i had been off the cigarettes for more than a year and was believing that i might stay off (which i have) and had been working out enough that i had muscles and a nice body again at last. [amazing what a boost of energy NOT smoking gave me.]

in fact, i had just (three days earlier in fact) finally paid the balance on my credit card.  a balance which had crept up and up since i moved to toronto and just hadn’t quite managed to get itself paid off.

look, look i danced to myself, i finally don’t owe anyone anything and i have a nice life and a great job and a fantastic guy and wheee go me!

and wham.

i get in a car accident.

a little, tiny, inconsequential even, fender bender.  the kind that does all of six hundred dollars damage to one’s car IF they bother to replace the slightly scratched bumper.

the kind of accident that one effectively pays NO attention to.  and then… it crept.

little things started to hurt more and more and physical activity got harder and harder and suddenly, six months later, there i am fat and broken and hopeless thinking that i’ll never get well.   physios are giving up on me and life is just not going well.

eventually i meet my teacher and realise that being strapped to a desk is going to render it nearly impossible for me to heal and i quit my job.  nobody tells me that i’m entitled to go on disability.  nope, nor do they tell me that i might have been eligible for income replacement.

nope.

so i go it alone… or more accurately i go it alone with my boyfriend’s consent and understanding and willingness to help.

six months we think, it can’t take more than that.

yeah.  cut to a year later, i’m still broken, he and i have split up due to the stress and i’m living in a tiny little apartment and trying to support myself through teacher training while cleaning houses.  (i can’t ever work a real desk job again unless i have freedom to get up and move around constantly… otherwise?  seized up sass.) [just in case you wonder why i didn’t try to get my cushy desk job back in the meantime, it involved being strapped to a phone without a wireless headset.]

cut to another year later, i’m finished teacher training but still cleaning houses (and then i became the super of my building as well but that’s another story entirely) and wondering where the work is.  turns out there’s a bit of a glut of baby pilates teachers in these here parts and there isn’t much.

i get a client here and a couple of group classes there but really not so much of anything and the little credit card that could ends up maxed out all to shit.

cut to now.  i’m working an average of twenty to twenty-five teaching hours a week (which is about a thirty-five/forty hour week in terms of time driving and calling and waiting and… or about fifty in terms of start and finish times on the days that i work) and am slowly approaching my maximum cut-off of thirty hours a week (though at that point i will cut the schedule some so i have some earlier evenings back.)

i’ve fixed most of the shit that’s wrong with my car after five years of poverty based neglect [crap i have to call mr. law and see him about those upper engine mounts…] and boy does it drive better.  like it did when i met it even.  i mean like wicked fun to corner with again!  not as fun as it could be though, i think i’ll get some tires next time i have a spare four hundred bucks. (like november cause i like to get new tires just before winter hits.)

i’ve bought clothing that isn’t from nineteen niney eight or for work or used!

and shoes! and cds!

i can eat out whenever i like!

and here’s the kicker.  the other day i *deep breath* paid off my credit card.

due to holy terror i promptly ran out and spent some money on clothing and a CD and then i went and dropped three hundred and sixty bucks at the vet (mouse’s kidneys are fine for those of you that were wondering and the vet is delighted with their healthfulness) and just now made an appointment with the mechanic.   i then, of course, promptly dumped a bunch more payment on the card…

but see?  i paid off my credit card.

i can’t decide if i want to dance with glee or hide my ass in a dark corner somewhere and never come out so the universe can’t kick me again!

i’m sort of walking around staring at the sky and wondering where the toilet seat is going to come from (sorry, if you’ve never seen dead like me suffice to say that the main character is a reaper and is rendered dead by a flying toilet seat from a crashing piece of a space station.  such a funny show… but i digress.)

i really am scared shitless, how ridiculous is that?

September 16, 2007

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Filed under: beer,bliss,blogging,cars,dancing,facebook,family,life,random,truth — sassinak @ 1:04 am

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incidentally (god i love that word) i’m pretty drunk.

the kind of hammered where my fingers tried to type happered and then i managed to correct it.

i know that it’s wrong and all because aparently if you drink alone you’re a big old alcoholic but one of my favourite things has long been to spend an evening at home doing basically nothing and drinking a bunch of beer. i mean really now, tomorrow is my first actual day off in like… hmmm..

thinking

thinking

contemplating finding book and checking

yeah ever.

seriously, i work six days a week, if i count my schedule i work something like fifty or sixty hours a week but if i take out the hours i sit around waiting to work (and driving to work and …) it’s more like 35 and then i spend something like five thousand dollars a year on my education which involves a whole bunch of edumacation and suddenly i’m not ever taking any time off.

and then, a miracle happened. i started to work enough that i could quit my sunday class and have an actual day off!

clouds parted.

light shone down.

life improved.

but still, six days a week i work… week in and week out, christmas and august and all the weeks in between i work. and tomorrow? tomorrow i have the day off. the kind of day off where i have turned off the ringers and shut off the alarms and will turn off the computer and i can sleep until WHENEVER!

of course i’ll wake up at ten but still, i don’t HAVE TO!!!

*clears throat* somehow, along with this free sunday i managed to not schedule myself for a saturday night. i tried, i tried to get myself to go to the turning point party at the gladstone but i failed. i failed miserably.

instead i stayed home (after picking up my parents and dropping them at the airport so they can screw off to italy for the next eight months… those bastards, i’m going to miss them like crazy) and drank beer and watched a ridiculous movie.

i stayed home and i ate popcorn and hard boiled eggs and chocolate bonbons for dinner [not all at once!] and i drank beer and watched ‘the holiday’ which made me laugh and cry and shout at the tv and say ‘oh yeah!’ at least thrice and just generally wallow in my track pants and my giant old sweatshirt and thoroughly enjoy myself.

and you know? i totally get that it’s all like bad and stuff to sit at home by yourself and drink beer. i totally do. it’s like the first hallmark of an alcoholic. except (of course) that it’s the first drinking i’ve done in days and days.

and i know i should be all concerned that i love to sit at home alone and drink but you know what? i’m really not. i’m really not because i know what my issues are and beer isn’t one of them. beer is delicious but if you told me that i could never have another one?

i would be sad but i just wouldn’t care that much.

that being said, there is something so inexplicably enjoyable about being alone, at home, in your track pants, on your couch and watching a sappy/funny/cute/uplifting/true movie while drinking stupendous amounts of beer that i just can’t care that it’s supposed to be bad for me.

maybe if i did that more than once per season.

perhaps if i drank to excess daily or even weekly.

hell maybe even if someone that i cared about had ever once told me they were concerned… but no, i don’t care because you know what?

*insert silly happy dancing music here*

i have the day off tomorrow

day off tomorrow

day off tomorrow

i have the day off tomorrow

all the live long day!

*giggle*

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incidentally (hee!) i feel like blogging lately. first time in months i’ve actually been brimming over with ideas for posts to the blog.

how cool is that?

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no seriously, you can’t get just how hard it’s been to keep the blog going the last few months, there’s been like nothing at the well and suddenly?

suddenly i’m having ideas all over the place like i did when i first started it and i’m really happy about that because i was afraid that it was dying and i didn’t want to be yet another dark blog. i especially didn’t want to do that considering that there are a few people who find inspiration here.

i don’t know much but i do know that inspiring people is a damm good reason to do something.

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i don’t know if any of you give a crap at all about formula one or high end racing but holy crap mclaren.

mclaren mclaren mclaren… what the fuck were you thinking? it’s better to lose than to have high end car buyers think you’re a thief and that you can’t build a car of your own.

i mean of course they can’t, that kit thing never will work, it’s why honda and toyota [on the road, not so much on the formula one] and ferrari kick ass *grin* (and bmw is starting to build their cars from scratch again too… and really… why did mercedes ever get into bed with mclaren in the first place?) but wow… they’re going to lose so much more than a hundred million dollars… the good will alone…

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i read this on someone’s facebook and feel the need to pass it on:

7 Ancient Principles

1. The world is what you think it is
2. There are no limits
3. Energy flows where attention goes
4. Now is the moment of power
5. To love, is to be happy with
6. All power comes from within
7. Effectiveness is the measure of truth

how awesome is that?

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i have the day off tomorrow

off tomorrow

off tomorrow

i have the day off tomorrow

all the live long day

going to sleep all night

going to sleep half the day

i have the day off tomorrow

all the live long day!

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night!

September 13, 2007

hello miss goodall

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it’s interesting what happens to me when i end up anywhere near the club scene. interesting because i never do quite what is expected of the usual person when they show up at a club.

the other day my friend oasis called me up and said “sass you have to come with me, i have an invitation to a film festival party!” [toronto international film festival, much partying, many celebrities, much traffic ridiculousness and irritation to the residents of the downtown core, much media hype etc] so i think fast and sigh with relief and say that i can’t go because i’m meeting my lawyer friend to make a waiver for my studio.

this is even true.

“oh” says she, “that’s fine since nothing ever happens until midnight anyway”

“crap” think i, “now how do i get out of it? dammit not working until eleven the next morning!!” and so i say okay since i’m forever NOT doing stuff with her.

so i go and i hang with the lawyer friend and then head home (though i would SO rather hang with her) and i whip out my most gorgeous dress and toss on my face. yeah this literally takes all of ten minutes, i just can’t be bothered spending an hour getting ready to do ANYTHING except maybe be the maid of honour at lividviv’s wedding and even then i mostly stood around and rearranged my dress.

it helps that i’m blessed with hair that looks good when it gets out of bed.

so, there i am all dolled up on command and she and another lady friend of hers pick me up and off we head. and you know? i should have known better, i should have but i didn’t.

so as we pull up to this place (i’m already yawning of course) she says ‘i don’t know if we can get in’ and i’m all uh don’t you have an invitation? and she’s all ‘no, i have a pass… but i don’t know if it will work’ and i just sort of sigh and gird my loins.

i mean i do not club. i club for something hilariously fun like bridesmaidmania [actual photo of ME but i failed to really be tacky enough] and i’m perfectly willing to go to some hoi polloi shindig and press the flesh (something i am in fact ridiculously good at but in no way crave) but i really don’t go clubbing like ever.

hence the loin girding.

so off we go and they let us in and of course it’s because there’s no one there and then they decide to go find the party.

go find the party. on a wednesday night.

oh god.

so we end up at some place on brant street at what is reported to be ‘the tommy lee party’ and i find myself sitting on a riser watching a whole pile of people try to be cool enough to be invited into the vip section. i don’t really know why because it didn’t look very fun in there either but hey, i’m a snob…

so, as always happens, i totally forget to participate. in fact i end up sort of sitting back in my pretty dress and people watching (that and the music had absolutely no groove to it so who could dance?) i love the people watching, i could write papers on the ridiculous things that people will do to get attention in a club. (don’t even get me started on the people you smile at, they look at you like you’re trying to steal their souls.)

from the girl in the backless dress that i desperately wanted to feed to the girl with the great rhythm pretending to model on the catwalk to the men walking around being oh-so cool with their noses at least ten feet in the air to the men who made the women look uncoiffed to the shirtless guy with the guitar he was pretending to play to the girls i was with.

these girls who did nothing all night but look challengingly at everyone who came near them and yet refused to speak to anyone and then, immediately upon leaving each venue, complained bitterly about how much toronto sucked, how canadian men are ‘so lame’ and this city is soooo boring and they can’t wait to leave and and and to the point that i was blessedly relieved to be able to claim morning work and come home.

i mean really, if you don’t like it here? why are you still here?

i mean i can sort of see their point about dating in toronto, it’s definetely a crap shoot… but with that kind of attitude really, what do they expect? they look down on anyone who comes remotely near them and don’t speak to any of the men they actually find attractive.

how the hell does that work?

as for the rest of the crowd? it made me sort of sad. here are all these people who are so clearly trying to have fun and trying to be noticed… most especially the little gaggles of starving women dressed in their ‘sexiest’ (skankiest?) clothes who parade around and hope that someone famous or rich will discover them and rescue them from their lives.

i wish they would learn that the only person who can rescue them is themselves… knights in shining armour do not exist and even in the stories they pick the women with spines every time.

mostly i just wanted to drag them to a place that sold food and force feed them…

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it’s really tragic to see someone driving a porsche or a ferrari who doesn’t understand what shifting gears is for.

i mean it like physically hurts to hear… [such a pretty car behind me today and such pathetic driving…]

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speaking of ferraris, explain to me how driving that car has rendered my car more fun! that makes no sense but it’s true.

there i am doing racing corners on my favourite stretch of road and flying out of lights and just generally partying down in my little honda. i haven’t done that since before i replaced the ball joints!

oh yeah, baby drives like she’s young again!

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yay i’m fully booked for the next three weeks!

my life really is coming up roses these days!

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irony

not getting a ticket for doing 140 in a 70 in a ferrari

and getting a ticket EXACTLY a week later doing 60 in a 40 in your own car.

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September 7, 2007

oh shit, now i have to become independently wealthy…

Filed under: bliss,cars,driving,engines,ferrari,life,surreality — sassinak @ 11:41 am

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or cylinder envy part deux.

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or oh my, be careful what you wish for even inadvertently.

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yesterday i had the singular privilege of riding in a ferrari.

oh my god you guys you have no idea how hot these cars actually are until you’re in one. i mean sure they’re pretty and they certainly look and sound hot flying by you on the street but somehow, somehow you just don’t get it until you’re sitting in one.

when you’re IN the damm thing you can feel all that power and somehow the happy throaty growl of a well tuned engine on the prowl cannot be replicated no matter how you drive beside it. you have to be in it to get it, you just do.

not to mention the incredible urge to stroke the freaking thing. it’s just so pretty you want to pet it like a really expensive slate-grey cat.

funny things happen when you’re in one of these cars, some guy was so busy ogling the car that he forgot to watch the road and tried very hard to take out our front end while he was drooling over it. literally had his head hanging out the window looking back at us instead of watching where he was driving.

he then informed us that this car must be better than sex whereupon i came up with one of my better lines and replied “clearly you haven’t had sex with me” and he just shook his head and drooled and then the light turned green and he took off as fast as his little accord (one of the ugly ones…. the whole 1994-2006 line of accords is ugly) would take him in some strange attempt to show off.

unfortunately he did it while looking back at us and nearly took out a parked car!

anyway people point and stare and chase your car and take pictures and parking enforcement officers half the time don’t even ticket it…

but then.

oh my god

but then.

clearly my evident appreciation for this gorgeous beast and my questions about transmissions and my total car nutsness had their way with the driver and he whips into mount pleasant cemetery and stops the car and says ‘get out’ and i do.

i think we’re going for a walk in the cemetery. oh no.

not so much.

“come here” says he and i do. “get in and drive” he says and i gulp and sort of look like a panicked deer in the headlights and stare at him.

“but i might break it!”

i mean literally i was so excited and really rather terrified at the same time. i think it was worse than a virgin on her wedding night!

okay maybe not that bad.

anyway so in i get with great trepidation and very gingerly place my hands on the wheel and he adjusts all the seats and mirrors and sticks it in automatic mode (rather than manual) and sort of looks expectant.

torontof430.jpg

(yes that’s the actual ferrari i drove sitting at mosport…)

like i’m stepping on an egg i touch the accelerator and start to drive. drive like i’m just learning how and i’m afraid of all the buttons… and oh my you guys. you can’t possibly get how awesome driving a ferrari is until you do it.

mount pleasant cemetery is an old old institution in toronto that happens to have great little windy roads everywhere… View Map

so i drive around and play with the corners and then change to manual mode to try the paddle shifting and generally just giggle like a twelve year old while driving around on what is effectively a little baby private track. except then i run into another city street and he says “okay take it out”

and i’m like “you’re nuts mister… but okay”

and off we fly down this road and that with him all the time chuckling over the responses people give to a woman driving a ferrari and me totally laughing at how much fun this car is from a dead stop. cause yeah, my honda is fun out of lights but this? wow.

eventually we’re on a lovely road through the don valley and “floor it” he says and i do and it throws me back into my seat and “try the brakes” which i slam on and holy shit. SO GOOD.

anyway i take it to a dead stop in the middle of the road and then just punch it (shut up i looked if there were cars behind me first!) and wow. wow.

you guys i do.NOT.HAVE.WORDS!

about the best way i can describe how awesome driving a ferrari is is to say that for the first time EVER in my life i suddenly feel a little bit of this quest for wealth. i mean hey, if i can make a million bucks i can buy a ferrari… or maybe i’ll make a half a million and buy a twenty year old ferrari… or or or…

dudes it’s SO MUCH FUN!

so yeah, you thought i had cylinder envy on wednesday?

*laughs fool head off*

i had no earthly idea. none.

i heard little growly purrings in my ears all night long… (well okay i heard some other stuff too… lol)

September 5, 2007

cylinder envy

Filed under: cars,driving,engines,life,motorcycles,random — sassinak @ 3:38 pm

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i know, i’m supposed to want a penis rather than a vagina but i currently have a raging case of cylinder envy instead. this is particularly surprising if you understand the depth of love i hold for my auld honda.

i mean this car and i? we’ve been through a lot. with the possible exception of some books i don’t think that there’s much i’ve had for longer… thinking thinking… oh and some old ikea furniture.

sassmobile.jpg

anyway i’m the kind of person that gets attached to things and then has a hard time parting with them. so, i will of course end up designating my car an antique someday and stubbornly continuing to fix it.

okay okay i won’t, but i’m holding out for a non-petroleum using vehicle if i can manage it because i don’t like to take the environmental hit of building a new car when my old one still gets 30mpg (12km/L) in the summer. that said, the hybrids are FINALLY starting to get better mileage than i do so my tune may change.

i did see a car (honda fit) that i would get as my next used car if need be though which is a change, first time in ten years i’ve liked anything i’ve seen as much as what i’m already driving.

but that is not the point of this post. the point (what? i have those occasionally!) the point is that i have never understood why anyone would bother to spend a ton of money on an ugly car. i can CERTAINLY understand the point of beggaring yourself for something as pretty as a lamborghini diablo…

2001lamborghinidiablo6294-e.jpg

because seriously, that car is one of the most staggeringly beautiful things i’ve ever seen (particularly the one rocky drove that was black with a ‘sothpaw’ plate… love it since i are one too.)

but i could never understand the point of these high end luxury cars. they’re ugly and usually ballless and don’t look like any kind of fun to drive… like for example this maserati [for the record maserati makes fucking beautiful sports cars…]:

maserati_quattroporte_sportgt_2007_440x220.jpg

kinda ugly and not very exciting at all. not NEARLY as ugly as the one i saw the other day. and until the other day i just could NOT understand why anyone would blow a ridiculous amount of money on something kinda ugly and made for five passengers and yet still all high end.

and then i was coming out of a light on bloor street beside a significantly uglier maserati than this. there we were all neck and neck and i’m thinking ‘as if i’m letting this ugly piece of crap pass me out of a light. yeah right’ and we’re neck and neck until we shift into second and then this guy goes “whatever” and corks it.

dude left me there like i wasn’t even moving which is how i know it’s a maserati…i read the back.

this NEVER happens. i beat PORSCHES out of lights. regularly.

and suddenly, suddenly i got it.

THAT is why any one would spend stupid amounts of money on an ugly car. it has balls.

i have cylinder envy.

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speaking of cylinder envy…

i’ve been seeing motorcycles everywhere i go.

motorcycles that remind me of the one i had once that was then promptly stolen. motorcycles that make me yearn to wrap myself around a motor on two wheels and go flying around corners at ridiculous speeds and crazy angles.

motorcycles that make me want to learn to corner on my knees… which would necessitate knee pucks…

motorcycles that make me realise i cannot go another year without riding one again…

ten years… my old M license is languishing…

yup, cylinder envy…

.

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