I have a question. What’s with all the spiders in my bathtub. How do they get there? Do they come out of the spout? They must, because I really cannot picture them coming in the front door, scuttling their way to my bathroom, looking at the tub and thinking “This is IT! This is the perfect place for my spider home!”

But, if that is the case, how come I don’t have spiders coming out of the spout when I turn the water on? Never. Not even one.

I don’t know… I just wonder about stuff like this.

In other news, for those of you who are Frank Black fans, or Pixie fans, all the fans over at frankblack.net have contributed stories to an ebook, End of Miles. Wil’s got a story in it. He’s a big Frank Black fan. Actually, he’s a FAN. In all caps, bolded and colored red.

After all the fun it was fairly obvious that my car should remain downtown, and a taxi should be utilized to go home. The next morning we walked downtown to get my car and then some breakfast. That’s right, I said walked. We walked. Outside. In the sunshine. I don’t want to think about it too much. brrr…

Anyway, we walked back to the parking garage only to find my car missing. My first thought was that it had been towed, but we could not find any signage that stated cars left overnight would be towed. But we did find a couple of nice Victoria BC policemen who called the towing company who would have been the one to tow me, to see if they had my car. They did not. So we went up to the top of the parking garage to walk down and see if I was mistaken about parking on the 4th floor. I knew I wasn’t. I remembered specifically where I parked and the color of the wall. [Every floor was painted a different color.] We found it on the 5th floor. The right rear door was open and it had been, I guess you could say, tossed. Everything had been pulled out and thrown around. There was an extra key in the glove box, which is how they moved the car to another floor, I suppose.

Here is the best part, on the windshield there was a ticket, of sorts, issued by the parking garage, letting me know that they considered my car to be a crime risk, because my stereo face plate was still on, and my cd’s were out in the open. Nailed that They took all my cd’s, but left the stereo. They took a blanket out of my trunk and my favorite grey hoodie that I got from Lucy’s. Bit disappointed about that last one. I guess the most frustrating thing was, they ripped my rear view mirror down, and busted my I’m a Pepper and Mac OS X dog tags. Was that really necessary? We saw about 3 or 4 other cars with windows smashed out in the same garage. I’m glad there was no real damage done to my car. We put the rear view mirror back on and all is good.

It wasn’t until later I realized I had left my dr’s license and birth certificate in the car, tucked in the dash where I had left them, after I presented them to border patrol. Oh dopey me.

Oh, you guys… I just got a new mac at work. A 17″ MacBook Pro. It’s so pretty! Right now, I am copying everything over from squishy, onto my new mac. Which has no name yet. Any suggestions? Please keep in mind, all my macs are girls. KK suggested Vicky, but that’s my aunt’s name.

So, here is what happened. I decided to go up to Victoria last weekend, to see Wil. Who is now, officially, my Sexy Canadian Boyfriend. It’s out in the open. If my mom knows, the blog can know. Anyway, we head off to downtown Victoria, parking my car in a parking garage. After we eat, we decide to visit a veritable rainbow coalition of drinking establishments, a pop culture cross section of bars, if you will. We started off at Prism, a gay bar. Since it was fairly early in the evening, it was pretty empty. But I heard a drunk gay canadian guy [I’m assuming he was gay and Canadian, but who is to say. I am neither and I was there.] have a conversation about the shocking lack of vinegar usage in American cuisine that was an eerie mirror to a conversation shared earlier between Wil and myself. Canada is under the impression we don’t use vinegar. After a few drinks there, we headed off to Big Bad John’s.

BBJ’s is a cowboy-esque hillbilly type bar with peanut shells on the ground and all manner of things hanging from the ceiling. I loved it! It was great. It had things rigged up on wires that would swoop across the room. I’m fairly certain we saw a rubber chicken fly across the room. The details were fuzzy. There were a number of bras hanging from the ceiling as well. I did not leave mine. It was my favorite very light pink victoria secret bra. Practically sort of brand new!

Then we moved off to Monty’s, Victoria’s premiere strip club. I myself have never been to a girl strip club. Only a boy strip club for bachlorette parties. Again, it was pretty early, for a strip club, and so not too much was happening. I was excited to see these stripping girls. Stuff like that is good blog fodder, right? Besides, it’s good to experience things you’ve never experienced before. Makes for a fulfilling life and stuff. In the club, they had two versions of a punching game. You put a dollar in and punch it as hard as you can. It gives you some sort of number response, although, I am not sure how it is measured. And then a category rating. My Studly Canadian Boyfriend punched something in the 800 million range, although that could be metric I am not sure, and was categorized as a real Superman Studly Guy of some sort. We were watching the guys punch the game that was located in the front of the club, and it was obvious there were nowhere near the Superman Studly Guy group. One guy decided to high kick instead of punch, and my Moür Moür, god rest her soul, could have kicked harder than that.

What amused me about the whole thing is, all the guys in that place were far more interested in out punching each other than in the nekkid girl who finally came out to dance. I felt bad for her, so I tried to clap and give her some non-monitary encouragement. Which brings me to an interesting point. In Canada, they don’t have bills smaller than 5’s. Below that, it’s all coins. Additionally, they ladies strip down to nothing there. All the way full monty nekkid. So my concerns were, no g-string, no dollar bills smaller than 5’s…. where does one stick the money when they want to provide positive feedback for the artist, but don’t feel it’s worth more than a couple of dollars at a time? Turns out, you toss them on stage. Somehow, I find that more demeaning than having them tucked in your g-string, but that’s just me.

All the stuff is done copying from squishy to the new computer. We’ll talk more later. The important thing that you remember from that story is, if Wil punched you in the head, it would hurt. A lot. It feels like it’s my duty to say stuff like that. I’m not really well versed in the girlfriend schtick … I think I am supposed to buy him shirts and stuff too.

Despite heightened security today, I managed to get back into the country. I was not able to take the ferry from BC to Anacorties, however. I had to go over from Victoria to Vancouver and drive over.

More stories later. I am going back to work tomorrow. But right now, Pru needs attention. I need to make sure she didn’t go feral while I was gone.

I’ll be honest, looking back, the whole thing could have been handled more efficiently. But it could not have been handled more pleasantly. And, really, would you expect any less from me?

Hey kids, I’m out of the town for a few days. Truth is, I’m stuck in Canada. Literally. My drivers license and birth certificate were stolen and I cannot get back into the States. Would I lie to you? I might exaggerate, but I would not lie. I’ve gotten more blog fodder out of this weekend than I have in the past 3 months. Honestly, I’m not too concerned about the whole stolen ID thing. I’ve been having too much fun.

I’ll write more later. it’s late and I am staring out the window of my ridiculously expensive, but thoroughly delightful, hotel window at a view of the harbor and city lights. We sailed over from Victoria to Vancouver today, so I could try to go to the consulate tomorrow and see what can be done about convincing them I am an American.

Otherwise, I guess I’ll just have to convert, eh?

I know most of you are terribly fond of the razor necklace, but I have to say, I get a lot of comments on it when I wear it. Oh sure, some of them are are inquiries about my possible coke habit, but some people really like it. It’s been described as rad, cool, interesting, fierce, odd, strange and great. And some people can’t seem to find the appropriate words to describe it. It’s a conversation starter, if nothing else.

The other day, they were grilling cheeseburgers for lunch, upstairs at the cafe in my POE. You paid for it inside, as per usual, and then went outside to have your burger grilled right there in front of you. The chef said to me, “that’s an…. interesting necklace.” I assured her that I was neither a cutter nor a coke addict, and discussed my necklace’s obvious merits with other co-workers in line.

Someone joined us in line, and asked how this whole bbq thing worked, did they pay first or get the burger first and the chef clarified the procedure.

Me: of course, you could just SAY you paid for your burger and get a free lunch

Chef: now come on! you’d do that?

Me: Heck yeah I would … look at me! I’m a bad ass! I’m wearing a razor blade around my neck, for pete’s sake.

That’s me. B-A-D ass.

The internet is a magical place, kids. In the previous Then and Now, I mentioned that I could not find any information about the Now’s artist’s solo work. And the next day I received an email from Stephanie Casey, along with a nice clean version of the song. As opposed to a version clipped from a podcast. Magic!!

So, now I would like to mention that I am having a hard time finding any information about the million dollars that belongs to me. I know it’s out there, but I just can’t locate it.