The Relationship Evolves

A couple weeks ago on a Wednesday night, I was riding the ferry home from Victoria, and I was cranky, with a capital crank. The only seats available were just a few rows away from a huge, throbbing mass of teenagers, and their shrieking self-consciousness made it awfully hard to focus on my Jane Austen and listen to my Coldplay. Ok, so I was in a whiny place to begin with, but still, I did not deserve this. I decided that just the thing to sooth my battered nerves would be a little cup of the delicious-looking soft serve being waved around by all those obnoxious teenagers as part of their communication system or mating ritual or whatever.

I headed off to stalk around the ferry and deduce the source of the ice creamy goodness, sure that this would be just the thing to perk me up, or at least make the next hour bearable. I zeroed in on my target after freaking out some 9 year old boy and his mother by grasping his arm, gesturing at his ice cream and saying "That. The ice cream. Where did you get it?" They pointed me towards a little nook selling coffee and chips and most importantly, housing a big silver machine with a magical lever promising a swirl of chocolaty-vanilla goodness for deserving folks, such as I. I suddenly felt calm, even charitable. Luckily for that 9 year old boy and his mom, they had disappeared to Car Level One by the time I tried the lever, and realized that the machine would be giving me nothing but a slightly lewd, sputtering cough. Dude behind the counter: "Yeah... I think it's empty." Kat: "[rage]"

The fact that I'm not writing this from a women's detention centre means that I didn't give in to my instincts and return to the scene of the teenagers, distract them by busting their DS's and PSP's and ABC's and XYZ's in order to confiscate their cups of ice cream and consume them, secure in the knowledge that I deserved it, dammit. No, I stopped myself. Partly because teenagers are gross and not yet practiced in the arts of hygeine, but also because I am a bigger person than that.

Also, because I realized that I was carrying in my bag the last of the Milk Duds. Our relationship may be rocky, but they're there when I need them, that's for sure.

Blocked by Chewy Deliciousness.

So, I feel really silly saying this, but I've kind of had a bit of blogger's block for the last week or two, which is why I haven't posted anything. I've opened the site up a bunch of times, stared at the empty field, thought about interesting things that have happened of late, had trouble thinking of interesting ways to write about them, got discouraged, and gone off to eat some Milk Duds. The box of Milk Duds is almost gone, so their siren song will soon have no control. In the meantime, I think they deserve a haiku. Am I right? I'm right.

Caramel goodness,
Chocolate coating: Lure me,
You crafty vixens.

Alright, this bodes well. I'm back on the haiku horse. Let's go for one more, for good measure.

Brought home from movie,
To sit on coffee table,
Bad for my fillings.

The block, she is broken.

In the immortal words of Kirsten Dunst: Bring it On.

Remember that time I had bed bugs? No? Oh! Silly me... You weren't there! Of course! You should have seen it. Wait.. not that I'm wishing it upon you, dear lord in heaven, no. Even if you are a horrible, terrible person who has found this blog; indeed, even if you are Dick Cheney (Hey, you!); heck, even if you are [deep breath] Geddy Lee, I do not wish that trial of physical and psychological misery upon you. Gak! Wait! What was that? On my skirt! Get it off! GET IT OFF! Oh... heh... silly me... just some fluff... you'll have to excuse me... just the thought of that.. God, it was horrible.

So, as I was saying, that was way worse than all the mosquito bites I currently have on my legs, strategically placed by the little buggers to be rubbed and tickled by my pants when I walk, making me want to stop on the way to the bus to scratch frantically at my kneepit. I was not aware they had that kind of capacity for planning, but my hat is off to them. Look at me: appreciating their skills, but moving on with my life, unscathed, because they cannot break me. I've dealt with worse. Remember the bed bugs? Oh god, I do.