In that vein, my sister shared with me a news story about this wildly absurd house that looks like something Ozzy Osbourne would be proud to live in (featuring what is described as ‘glam rock’ interior decor??) that was going for a bargain-basement $16.whatever mill. Down from $17 mill, so basically a fire sale. It’s an enormous white whale, of course. Kelowna’s specialty - or should I say, people from Alberta who flock to Kelowna’s specialty. That’s not unusual or particularly unique, there’s always grossly over-rich people with bad taste buying gigantic millionaire boxes and doing insane things with them, but this one was particularly intriguing because of how nuts the dude who built it was.

Friends, feast your eyes on this quote from a shabby news story, in which they mis-spell ‘choking’ (so I guess that’s how you know it’s not AI?):

In 2003, when the house was known as ‘the glass box’, the homeowner, Kelowna businessman Thomas Poole, who had family money, made the news after he died while driving the Coquihalla Highway following a bout of cocaine use and then chocking on an apple.

HAHAH what the heck. Who is writing this?

Next up: News story from 2015 about a local-area man in Victoria who was found dead at a pretty well known horse farm, that offered riding lesson to children. Turns out he was wrapped up in a tarp and hidden in the riding arena (or suspected to be). The news story on that one, as all of ours here, was so vague as to be useless. They follow a similar format: Person, age XX, missing. Found deceased. Investigations continue.

End of story. Damn, we want the details!!

Also there’s a lot of unfinished businesses about the machete attack in Oak Bay, along Beach Drive. That’s a CRAZY swanky area, and the news stories were all super vague and we never heard what actually happened, or if anyone was arrested. The people have a right to know!!~

So, my 40th year has been the worst year of my life (cue Homer Simpson to Bart: The worst year SO FAR!).

And how do you cope with that? The every day knowing that you got the absolute shit kicked out of you, and you can’t do anything about it? Well, sit down friends, and join me around the campfire. Here’s a great list of things I have been doing, about my feelings.

Other than feeling them. I did enough of that in the spring/summer/fall that involved crying hysterically every single day, while running, at work, at the barn, whenever. And then I couldn’t run anymore. And then I couldn’t ride anymore. So, I stopped crying because I became a granite-person, dried and hardened by the sheer horribleness of my own doing/environment.

Here’s what you can do:

Create a hate list. I have quite a few of those! I was telling Ian the other day what I was triggered by, and that includes disgusting deli mayo-drenched ‘sandwiches’ that you often see in gross, wet heaps piled high at catered corporate/government events. Look- I am a fan of free food, but by CHRIST do you have to make it that?? Deeply triggered. They also have the worst fillings. Flabby ‘meat’? Wet ham. Some sprouts, also covered in mayo. Gag.

Buy things uncontrollably: I do this a lot, but I try to mitigate it by becoming an expert-level scavenger. The sales, baby, the sales. So far I have bought three cases of chocolate bars, an entire sack of Lindt *for Xmas, I am not a total animal, AND scored big when I caught a glimpse of a 7-11 closing down a few weeks ago and selling everything for a buck. MAN did I make out good!!

Sign up for an insane endurance/hyrox-style race. I can’t run anymore, sooooo…this? Issue for me: I also hate the hyrox, dude-bro ethos. As a feminist who actively tells men she doesn’t like them, I struggle with these environments. Just being real here.

Get angry about traffic, BONUS construction traffic that regularly shuts down every single access point I have going into/out of downtown from my house. For the love of everything that is holy, CAN YOU STOP FOR A MONTH. ONE. That means you, closing of Blanshard Street for all of yesterday, and then throttling it to one-lane all week. My anticipatory rage is building already. It takes me 45 minutes to drive 12km every single day. Kill me. And that’s without even more construction fuckery.

Fun extra: One street in my neighbourhood that I use has been closed for ‘construction’ since October. It was supposed to be completed in April. It’s now…almost mid-May. Is it open? HAHAHAHH you sweet summer child. No.

Another fun construction fact: They ripped that entire street up and redid it entirely two years ago. This is just part 2 or 3 of that saga.

Develop a jaw headache that takes 2 months to resolve because you clench your teeth too much. That was a fun dentist appointment, where they explained to me that I have terrible jaw pain/headache pain because my jaw is clenched all the time.

Read the book ‘Enshittification’ by Cory Doctorow, and immediately get paranoid about all social media. I like reading horror, suspense, thrillers, literary books, literary thrillers and by god, this was more horror than I could handle. I actually had to stop reading it.

On that note, and he says this in the book, but NO MORE APPS. GTFO companies, who as he says ‘sweatily insist you download their app’ and the reasons are always data thievery. Also my word check says sweatily isn’t a word, so fuck off with that too. I will use it.

There’s more, of course. But this is just to get me started, back on the horse as it were.

Luckily there was a wheeled option, so we all agreed that it was for the best and mentally prepared ourselves for the arduous 4 hours + our travel was going to take, but to get home at night? Priceless! Harbour Air arranged for all of us to ride to the airport in two taxis. Myself and two others hopped into the first taxi (early bird gets the worm!) and we immediately found out why the three of us had sort of gravitated to each other: We are all Lilliputians. I was the tallest, for reference, standing a whopping 5’2’’ (which Ian keeps telling me isn’t true, but it is. They measured me at the hospital!).

Anyways, the three amigos consisted of myself, as the tallest. Then there was John, the tiniest Black man I have ever seen, and Heather, who was so friendly you couldn’t help but have an amazing conversation right off the bat with her.

John told us he was in Vancouver for work (we all were), but that he’s been visiting friends in Vancouver recently to watch the Olympics. Specifically the Olympic Canada gold match for hockey (that we lost, for shame. Extra shame that we lost to the USA-ians, who are terrible people). He said they were out all night partying, and then he went back to the hotel to snooze for a few hours, then up at…3 a.m. or whatever that god-awful time of the night? Morning?? to hit the pubs and cheer on the team.

Heather and I were deeply impressed at John’s commitment. Particularly to partying. There’s no way I have that kind of stamina, man.

Heather told us she loves to dance, after hearing about John’s dancing all night. Apparently she goes to a dance class (called Ecstatic Dance?) offered at the Edewelwiss near me. It’s an 11 a.m. dance party that has a few rules, like no talking and no cell phones.

I told her I’d been curious about what goes on there, and that I had heard rumours that it hosted swingers parties…

Heather confirmed that it wasn’t a swingers event, just a ‘dance your butt off’ kind of event.

Once we got to the airport, I was fuming at having to dump out my drinks (so it’s fine if you are on a float plane, but the minute it has wheels, there are rules??), and spied like… 10 cans of Yerba Mate that someone had to relinquish as well. I snatched one up, popped the top and chugged it. Also offered some of the cans to my new buddies.

No takers, but I did that can proud. Also it tasted SO BAD omg. Warm Yerba Mate in whatever gross, vaguely bitter flavour? People spend money on this? For like 10 unopened cans? Sheesh.

Reminds me of that 90’s classic hype drink, Orbitz. Anyone else remember those? My sister and I saved up some allowance and bought some bottles at the Mac’s near our house. I took one big swig and instantly hated it. So gross.

Adios, Orbitz. I dumped it down a drain.

Strange, provable lies, you know?

My submission: When my sister and I were kids, but older than 12, we ran a light fraud with my mom by entering the ‘kids’ version of handcrafts for the Central Canada Exhibition in Ottawa. It was held at the Landsdowne Centre, not sure if it’s even held anymore, but man back in the day we killed it in the ‘make a unique pin’ or ‘make a vegetable creature’ categories back in the day when we were MOST CERTAINLY over 12, hah. Probably even when we were like 15 or something.

I think the funniest part of this low-stakes scam is that the very elderly ladies who ran the entries were absolutely thrilled that we took part every year and 100% turned a blind eye to the fact that we were ‘under 12’ for basically three years, hahah. They were also very convinced we were Jewish for some reason, and one category that was some sort of holiday decoration or ornament, they suggested that because we were Jewish we could always make a Horn of Plenty for that category. I’m pretty certain that Jewish people don’t really identify with what screams ‘American Thanksgiving’ but who am I to say?

Anyways, we ran those fair categories for years and won prize money and ribbons galore. It was awesome!

And to wrap up, as we approach Easter (one of my favourite holidays! I love the candy, rabbits, and four days off. What can I say, I’m a traditionalist), I am reminded of the time I crept into an Easter egg hunt hosted by the Village of Cumberland (it may have been hosted by a church, but I didn’t burst into flames so probably not), and stole an egg from the hunt.

I pried it open, pretty excited, and…it was shitty Bazooka-Joe type bubblegum. GAG.

Serves me right for literally stealing candy from babies, haha.

On that note, there is a first-ever Easter egg hunt hosted by Victoria Co-op happening on Easter weekend-Saturday. And, friends, for the first time in my personal history, they are offering a 19+ hunt! My time to shine!!

Anyways, get outta my way you darned kids, time to hunt for the golden egg of opportunity.

First of all, sincerest sympathies to that family. A horrible time for them. Secondly, SEVEN HUNDRED POUNDS my god. That’s the size of a small pony. My Oats is a large pony and he only weighs probably 950lbs? And he’s damned heavy, particularly now that he’s enjoyed his best retired lifestyle of walking-only rehab due to his ligament injury. Like how belts don’t lie, neither do girths. I can’t do up his all the way anymore, so a month ago I cut him back on his food until he’s back in action.

Let that sink in for a sobering moment: The deceased small-town father weighed as much as a small horse. I mean, I drive a Honda Fit (RIP to these fabulous little cars) and I was driving a friend and her buddy and boy did my car tilt and groan when he got in and he wasn’t massive, just tall and on the heavier side.

I was sharing the news headline with a friend - ok, I never promised I was a great person and you have to admit, this stuff gets eyeballs! There’s even a TV show called ‘My 600lb Life’ which kind of makes me wonder why the 600lbs…Seems arbitrary? 500lb not incredulous enough?

And she was telling me that she lives near a crematorium, and a few times a year the crematorium runs extra hot I guess and there’s a certain smell in the air…

So anyways, this is when I learned that crematoriums have weight limits not really because a person is too big to fit (though it is a fair consideration) but more like a human of that size has too much body fat and it will create a dangerous grease fire. She was saying she heard it takes crematories like three times longer to burn larger bodies. Some have burned down attempting this feat.

So…I wonder what livestock crematories do? Is that a thing?

Anyways, cheery thoughts for a wintry March.

Here’s a current tally of what the world is doing to people I love and care about:

• My friend’s little floof bunny died. He was YOUNGER than Marshy??

• My friend’s horse tragically coliced and was put down, the same week as my other friend’s bunny. Big D as we called him was Oats’ best friend, his big brother (even though Oats is older), and we had so many fun adventures together. Rest easy, big guy.

• My trainer’s horse started coughing up blood and died in a horrible way the same week as my other friends’ horse and bunny.

• My other friend’s mother got sick before the holidays, and was declining rapidly. She is now in the hospital with stage 4 cancer. Absolutely riddled with it.

Like, wow. Ok, we get it. The universe is a cruel place and bad things happen. But do so many bad things have to happen all at once? It’s too much for a heart to bear.

This year, the weather hasn’t even been all that terrible. The sun shines, it’s not too cold, and yet this pervasive, lingering misery hangs over us. Not all the time, but just enough to remind you that this is it, guys.

For me? I still fluctuate wildly between being thankful or trying to. I listened to a guest speaker at work (Dr. Izzo) who works on the ‘science of being happy’ and still yet it didn’t reach me that much. What I think I’m looking for with these positive-mindset folks, is how? Being positive is easy when things are going right (HAHAHAHAH yeah like that happens). I even tried! I swear to god, I tried. I tried being positive, saying good things to myself out loud, for like a month. And then fell off that wagon when Oats got seriously injured. When my knees re-blew up and my kneecaps became too unstable to try rehab running. When I realized the neuropathy I have isn’t getting better, from AUGUST. When I realized I’m still on an 8 month trajectory for specialist help for the endometriosis that returned to ruin my life.

So, how do you do it? What am I missing?

I am grateful that I can borrow a horse to ride, so I can still ride! I am grateful that I can drink alcohol again, because by christ, raw-dogging existence isn’t something I feel like I can do anymore. I am grateful for my job, my relationship and my animals.

I’m not that grateful for anything else. You know what life? Like respect, gratitude should be earned.

And no, I haven’t earned it.

After watching with absolute horror the events of the past few weeks (ok let’s not gild the lily here. The world watched the United States ‘enforcement’ members shoot and kill innocent people), it’s been very difficult to maintain perspective about…anything.

It’s this big sphere of problems, the world, my world, everything. And man, I am struggling. Actually, in curious way I think my ‘help me!’ vibes are visible to people because this week I have a social event every single day of the week, from people I didn’t expect to hear from. It’s a real pleasure. Maybe they’re picking up that I need contact, I need perspective, I need to watch ridiculous silly horror movies, and talk shop.

We talk about the world too. And about how sometimes when you’re a year out from [insert fucking nightmare mess of pain, non-stop injuries and now, insult to injury, Oats’ serious injury] you can look back with appreciation about how you overcame! You are the conquering hero!

But man, I am not there. I am so deep in it, I wonder if there indeed is a bottom or if it’s like A Short Stay in Hell and you kind of just keep falling. But the good news about that is that it indeed is temporary. If we’re getting metaphysical here, everything is, because your life is temporary.

But god help me, all I ever wanted was more.

I wish I didn’t love horses so much. I wish I didn’t love to run too much. I wish I didn’t love the feeling of absolutely pounding my body into the ground. I wish. I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish.

You know why I hold people who love and seem to identify themselves with corporate chains in such disregard and scorn? You know, the Starbucks types, the Disney types, Costco shoppers, the Lululemon types…It’s because I am insanely, hideously jealous.

Why can’t that be me? So simple. So easy. So consumptive.

Everything I want feels like grabbing water. The harder you grab at it, and clench it in your fist, the faster it slips through your fingers.

So, that’s why. I wish I had the sunshine of the spotless mind. Why can’t I be content?

I have a list of things that I am happy about and try to remind myself about them, as per regular mental health guidelines. But it’s never enough.

I actually cancelled counselling sessions I had, because it’s so excruciatingly painful to even talk about them. How many times can you rehash how your health fell off a cliff, and into a crevasse? I’m tired. So tired.

There is no cure for what I have. No medication works. No hope.

Oh, and if you’re ever wondering what fresh hell each day brings, then wonder no more! It’s always bad.

After I wrote this about 6 weeks ago, I was coming off the realization that I did not have help or answers for my health. The neuropathy, horrible knees, the extreme abdominal pain, zip.

And now? Well, Oats is also seriously injured. He tore his check ligament during the holiday, YAY~! Four months of intensive rehab, coming right up again.

Also I think I’m going to explore more of what makes me happy, like couch-sitting, watching TV, and binge eating. I love doing that. While I was writing this, I ate a pudding cup, ice cream sandwich, and a mega cup Reese’s Caramel (they are ok, I think I prefer the ones with Reese’s pieces in them).

My thanks to the people that are picking up the waves of helplessness that are probably wafting off me. I appreciate your support, attention and ability to distract, to do something different.

2026, off to a great start?

So, I pivoted neatly to aquafit at Crystal Pool, which is going to be renovated and I was vaguely against it based on how expensive it was, but then realized how necessary at least some renovations were needed when it was literally pouring down rain into us while we were doing an aquafit class in a monsoon rainstorm. Yikes. For some reason the rain pouring into me, while I was in a pool, was extremely aggravating. Even though I was wet already? You can’t reason with yourself.

Anyways, part of the reason I was glad to be done is that I pretty much hate swimming in public pools in general. Also the class was boring. However, the ‘clientele’ who attended the pool were most unboring in a fabulously spectacularly gross way, like rubbernecking at carnies.

So, sad to leave that little microcosm of weirdness.

But my last day did not disappoint! Featuring a cast of characters too good to not observe in the wild. First up- man boy/grandma love. Look, I think a close relatoinship with your grandparents is lovely, a total gem. This was…gross. First of all, they were sitting on the steps of the hot tub, you know, the part where you get in and out of the hot tub, ideally not stepping on people. Strike 1.

Strike 2 is going to sound absurdly body shamey, but I think we’ve established that I have zero high ground here, or qualms. The boy, who was WAY TOO OLD to be having a strangely physical love-fest with gramma, was a fat specimen with the worst case of gynecomastia I have ever seen. His pink skin jiggled, his boobs flowed onto his bulbous chest. It was stunning. Also reminded me of Polynesian cultures referring to the eating of human flesh as ‘long pig’ shudders internally. I’m really resisting an insane side bar about Kuru or Jakob-Creutzfeldt here, also CWD (Chronic Wasting Disease) found in deer….be strong!

The boy looked like he’d never seen the outdoors, so flawlessly unblemished was his skin and body by things like walking, or physical activity. His grandmother had her own boob-related challenges, like wearing a swimsuit that supported them, rather than letting these deflated balloon sacks drape to her stomach. I know there are better suits out there, flatting and supportive!

(I don’t have any boob-legs to stand on myself, as I realized this fall that the DEXA scan I had of my body hadn’t even registered my breasts in the ‘body fat’ category. HAHAHAH).

They were swimming together, draping off each other, grandma playing ‘airplane’ with this man-boy who was somewhere in the wrong ages of teen, cradling him and towing him along in the water.

Anyway, they were having a great time, and I am in parts awed and surprised.

Otherwise, it’s the usual gamut of men wearing very tiny speedos, leading me to think (inaccurately) that they must be srs. business in the pool. Nah, I don’t even think those guys swam. Curiously, they spent all the time in the sauna… (you say it so I don’t have to, but apparently the Y downtown got quite a rep as a cruising spot)…

And I overheard one woman telling an elderly man that last week she saw a guy shaving in the hot tub. There is a sign saying ‘no shaving or personal hygiene’ in the hot tub, but I guess this guy thought it would be perfect for shaving those whiskers!

I should do a tour of the public pools on Wednesdays. Something tells me that’s their time to shine, just around the dinner hour.

Sometimes I enter too, so I win. Sometimes she enters me and I win! Sometimes she wins, and it’s for my local area so she’ll pass along the win to me, and I benefit. I was describing this to my then-new colleagues a few years ago. They were mildly skeptical (who describes themselves as exceptionally lucky with as many serious health issues as myself?) but then I won a $75 gift card to Cactus Club at our work’s Christmas dinner, and discovered a glitch in a machine on our work fun team bonding day that paid out like 100X the tickets it should have, and well…They are believers now. During that week, I also won two tickets to ski at Whistler/Blackcomb, and the next Christmas I won an $800 gift card to Best Buy. What can I say, I’m a winner?

Oh and last week I won my alma mater’s alumni holiday contest too! $30 gift card to a fancy cupcake store (yessss), and some mugs and art swag that are pretty cute. Sweet! In November - this year was a horrendous blur of never ending pain, so I can’t remember individual months that well- my mom won tickets to John Legend. In Vancouver. She passed them on to me, and like the thankful and dutiful daughter that I am, I told her that I easily and smoothly made the 5 hour trek of traffic + ferry + Vancouver traffic to make the concert. On a Wednesday night. Instead of oh you know, selling them…

What they don’t know can’t hurt them.

I recently passed on an event here because I had Oats-related obligations (so like 7 days a week endless obligation, lolll), but also because…It had this copy: The Happiness Equation: Science-Backed Habits to Cultivate Positive Mindset by Neil Pasricha and to be very honest with you, that really isn’t my thing. Instead, I passed it along to a buddy who I knew would appreciate the seminar.

In fact, it 100% isn’t my thing. I can’t get into the self- help sphere, literally at all. Something deep inside my psyche absolutely bristles at that type of language.

It’s a new scam, and like most scams…they go for the low-hanging fruit, and pick up the gullible first, like a seagull going for your fries when you leave them sitting on a bench.

It’s like hearing someone mispronounce something that you ARE CERTAIN is pronounced differently (can be your name or the name of a country. They are equally rage-inducing, and I am not sure why?!).

Looking at you, CBC. Man. One day I should do a list of weird things that I am triggered by, and one of those is the way CBC pronounces Beijing. BAY-JING. UGHHH. That, and pictures of eggs, and mayonnaise glop. GTFO forever.

One of my other proud moments was when Ian’s mom asked if he wanted mayo on a sandwich (after telling us that they don’t eat sandwiches or bread anymore, or pancakes I guess). What is with older folks telling you what things normal people enjoy, heck, they used to enjoy and that they no longer eat?? I also think it’s untrue. They are a sandwich people. My parents are exactly the same way. It’s bizarre.

They still somehow manage to be a 3/4 cup of rum in a rum balls recipe people thought!

Ian told her no thanks. We have a no-mayo household. HAHAHAH

(Title shamelessly stolen from Paul Tremblay. I am a fan of his work, though not all of it).

Overheard at Crystal Pool when I was dragging my (sore and horrible) feet about going to my aquafit class:

A woman talking to her friend: “So my dad was telling me he was having the electrician out, so he was going to hide the liquor in his liquor cabinet. I was like, oh yeah good idea and didn’t think much of it, until I was telling my husband and he thought that was really strange. He asked if we always had such low opinions of people in trades?”

I also learned recently that Tunisia is a horrible place to vacation/visit. Who would have thought? All I personally am reminded of when I think of that place is the arguments my sister and I would get into when we were in grade six, and were doing class presentations on countries in Africa. I had the Ivory Coast (and got to showcase a fine piece of ivory that I had, a tiny polar bear I called ‘Sixpack’ with zero grade six irony!

My sister had Tunisia, and we argued a lot over the pronunciation. TUN-isia? OR TUNeesea…

I’m more of the drawn out one, personally.

And as this is the new year, and people are sharing glowing recaps, mine are…less glowing, more glowering. Ah well, such is life. I feel like instead of sharing those golden recaps, I’d probably share every single shit thing that went wrong in my health this year, and to cap it off, Oats went lame last Tuesday- guess it was close enough in the old year to be included, though it’s now bleeding into the new year and where does that take me?

Straight into hell, that’s where! Also, I took a very light pot gummy and watched The Shining at the IMAX with friends last week and WOW highly recommend. That is a fabulous experience. You feel everything. I was riveted.

Lesser recommended: After another go-around with the Demon Drug ‘Venlafaxine’ (10/10 do not recommend) you may recall I wrote about trying this out a few years ago for anxiety, and it fucked with my brain immediately. Like it made me forget how to sleep?

Whyyy did I think this time would be different? The (wrongly reassuring pharmacist) told me to take it in the morning, despite it being slapped with many ‘causes drowsiness!’ labels. So I did. And then proceeded to not sleep for two days straight, leading to extreme vertigo and dizziness, blurred vision, shakiness and tremors. THANKS. I almost fell down my freaking stairs in the morning because I was so out of it and couldn’t see straight. My vision was so blurry I then couldn’t read my work emails until like after 11am.

Now it’s listed under ‘allergies’ for my medications. Thanks for nothing, you asshole medication.

I have heard of others taking it with some success, so I guess like all things, your experience varies greatly per user. I have a pet theory that for people like me, who tend to run really high, and emotionally hot all the time…It’s terrible. It triggers that insane, psychotic, restless, climb-the-walls energy that makes us so loveable!! And difficult to be around!

Oh and here’s a cute little pharma-story to end with. I googled side effects for this medication, because I honest to god felt like I was experiencing some form of psychosis. Saw this little tidbit from a national health agency saying if some people experience negative side effects, like say…endless insomnia…then it’s probably because their sleep hygiene needs to be addressed, and poof! You’re all cured!

Gee, thanks guys. Miss me with that absolute, patient-blaming gaslighty bullshit nonsense.

So, back to the drawing board. Like most things. Like all things.

Oh, and this is a long one: People who exaggerate how amazing ‘this one simple trick’ is that will completely change your lives. This can be anything (check out below of my mini-hate add on list!!):

• Turmeric- gtfo. I can’t take this as it will contraindicate with my hormone blockers. Stop recommending it.

• Black pepper supplement- gtfo X 3 for the same issues.

• A SAD lamp- I have one, and NO it is not like ‘drinking a cup of coffee in the morning’. You know what is? DRINKING AN ACTUAL CUP OF COFFEE. Jesus wept.

• How terrible birth control is- yeah, it’s terrible all right. If you’re trying to control women, oh boy, I bet it makes your job like at least ten times harder!!! (note I hate the devil Mirena IUD since I believe it actually triggered my severe and disabling endo, but that’s another story).

• Not drinking alcohol- I had to stop drinking casually due to my extreme fear of being paralyzed with 12/10 endometrial abdominal pain during a uncontrollable flare. I am also now seriously allergic to alcohol. How did this happen?? No, I don’t suddenly feel amazing. You only really feel that if you might be an alcoholic.

• Not drinking pop- Again, I didn’t lose 10 lbs magically by not drinking pop. I didn’t lose anything actually. Drink it or not, you have bigger fish to fry (unless you are American, in which it is soda and maybe Mountain Dew makes up a larger percent of your diet than it should).

• Not drinking coffee- Again, I had to experience this the hard way, had to stop drinking coffee after an unfortunate mushroom poisoning incident that stripped my gut lining. What magical experience did that create for me? Fucking endless headaches. Yay.

• Swimming- Ok you know what, I like swimming in the ocean, in a lake. But swimming pools? They feel like the world’s noisiest, most sensory appalling bathtub track where people are on you/at you/over top of you constantly. The tedium…NAH

• People who complain about the ‘trauma’ of a completely non-traumatic thing, like how they have been personally victimized by Daylight Savings Time, or pickleball. Maybe some people need to experience real pain and suffering, for once. Any volunteers?

• Using medical opiates= addiction. Not really. If you need them, use them. I’m done feeling ashamed of how I have to live.

• Rude receptionists. I actually got a stone-cold lecture from the endodontist’s office, when I called them about my one-year checkup for the dental surgery I had last year (that they did not book me in for, and seemed non-interested to), about how ‘dental pain and numbness in my jaw’ doesn’t apply because she told me it wasn’t on the same side of my jaw as the surgery. YES IT IS YOU ABSOLUTE DONUT. Christ. Is she assuming I (and I guess most people?) are so dumbshit that we can’t remember having dental surgery on one side, and call for unrelated dental pain? What the actual fuck? I literally interrupted her and told her- yes, I know what side it’s on and it is THE SAME SIDE AS THE SURGERY.

Also this: People who rush to defend corporations. And for an added bonus- they victim blame! Hey, hear me out: Maybe, just mayyybeee, a corporation doesn’t need your white knighting? Are they personally paying you? Stop. Stop all of it.

Sometimes, I feel like the only emotions I feel these days are rage, waves of extreme anguish where I literally cry uncontrollably, and frustration. So this was nice. Get it all out.

And that’s it- but remember folks: There’s always more to hate!

In the middle of this rant, I said it was going on my hate list! A colleague told me she would, indeed, subscribe to my hate list.

So, here it is folks. I honest to god feel like I will go back and update this regularly. So many things to hate, so little wordspace, right?

The Hate List (non exhaustive):

All Halloween candy now (you know why. I saw a Halloween bag of American ‘chocolate’ candies that aren’t chocolate, they are called ‘Sixlets’ and aren’t that good, and I have low standards, and the bag was $24.99. Whaaaaaa).

Oh and on that note, I saw a bag of Hershey’s ‘fangs’ which is their cookies’n’creme ‘‘chocolate’’ bars (lol b/c it’s definitely not chocolate, but whatever), and it was 50% off after Halloween. All good, right? Except that measly little bag still cost over $6.50?! This, friends, forced me to do some math. I only do math under duress. I bought 2pk Mars bars on sale at the dollar store for two for $1.50. With the combined weight of the two bars (at 85 grams) and the weight of the shit-tastic Hershey’s fangs, (at 270 grams)…well, you do the math. You literally only need to buy 2.5 2pk bars for just over three bucks for this to make sense, vs. over $6 for…white wax bars, and mostly wrappings.

Also, Mars bars are HIGHLY superior. Am I being gaslit by Big Chocolate?

Companies that endlessly ‘shrinkflate’ it and tell you it’s because some people are asking for this! Who, may I ask, is getting to be ripped off? Is this because we have an obesity problem? I want names!

Follow up- going to the third year of any event that was amazing the first or second years. Guaranteed 10/10 the event is going to absolutely blow. They will take away the vibe, cost, or whatever you like about it, double the price, cram 1,000 more people into it, and cheap the hell out on the product or services. UGH. Get in on the ground floor, then get the hell out. See also my recent blah experience at the local Chocolate Fest, of which I just wrote in their survey about why I am not attending again.

People who walk side-by-side on the sidewalk and refuse to give any space to me, a fellow pedestrian. Bonus points if they are a man (or older woman) who then get in my face and scream at me for…the audacity of trying to share the same sidewalk. Fuck off!

Cyclists who scream at pedestrians. Also get bent!

Cyclists who whiff me on the Galloping Goose. Are you seriously flirting with disaster because you cannot stay one foot away?

Americans (in general)

Americans who refer to their sad farce of ‘Thanksgiving’ as ‘Turkey Day’. UGH show some respect, you ignorant sad morons. Everyone hates you.

Americans who endlessly fetishize Thanksgiving (pardon, Turkey Day). WHAT is with this? The salivating over …turkey? side dishes? Arguing about green bean casserole (to be fair, it is probably the only vegetable they eat all year). The endless ranting about having to invite family over, but secretly loving it? The weird martyrdom of having to prepare entire meals, with all the ‘fixins’ (ugh I also strongly dislike that term for some reason), that they seem to love/hate? What is with this? Add on: People who use the term ‘I ate on this all week’ or whatever. Gross. Hogs slopping at a trough, aren’t we?

And a necessary follow-up: People who are like Disney adults, (but maybe they aren’t?) who don’t decorate for Halloween. Oh, no. Too spooky. Instead, they put up an inflatable Snoopy…for Halloween. What on earth? No, it also isn’t Grinch time. It’s skeleton time! And stop rushing me into Christmas. I already have real issues with that holiday.

And a third follow up: Disney adults. Yeah I get it, don’t yuck someone’s yum (and I am an adult who loves Peeps, has a real candy and chocolate obsession, loves ponies and bunnies, whatever), but this is a hill I am still willing to die on. Grow up! Admit that you love being catered to, as a child, instead of consuming real adult culture! There’s a strong reason children love Disney, and that reason is that they are too immature/dumb to appreciate the real world yet. What’s your excuse, adults? Mona Lisa too intimidating for you? I would get it if it was Guernica, but c’mon, paying to have teenagers making minimum wage dance around in costumes and be nice to you shouldn’t be your best, most amazing ‘Happy Place.’ And this is going to make me sound horrible, but it makes me laugh when people get pickpocketed or whatever there. It’s unthinkable!!

I had to come back to edit this, because I guess the Meta algorithm is very certain I like feeling ragey, because it offered me this: A page for people who are Disney freaks, and one of the posts was someone crying about how their CHILD didn’t want to go to Disney with them, so they needed help and support about how to enjoy this experience solo….You can’t make this up, my god. You know if a kid is fed up with this shit, that’s kind of reaching the end of your rope, really.

Another follow up is the (devastatingly sad) post from a woman who was sad Disney had rules about not bringing in urns filled with loved one’s cremains. So she couldn’t bring her son, who had passed away, to Disneyland because his cremains were in an urn. Horribly sad, but like also WTF?

My fourth- and I swear to god last- follow up is people who get married OR honeymoon at Disney. Yes, I bet you are just the most unique person ever.

People who use ‘I about died’ instead of JUST ABOUT DIED. Well, I just about murdered you for that! Stop dropping ‘just,’ it is there for a reason, unlike you.

The idea that everyone on the internet needs to share their thoughts. No. The Internet was a failed mistake and should be replaced with a minimum IQ test, or at least some sort of cognitive test to determine if you are too crazy/senile/at risk/dangerous or predatory to be on the internet.

People trying to sell things, like A HOUSE, with the worst photos, or no photos. Please. Get serious. Bonus to the person selling a multi-thousand dollar ring on Marketplace with the blurriest, worst photo possible.

People trying to sell things with no location listed. Thanks, you just made me google wherever the hell Dinglesplat is, and I learned it is approximately 30 minutes outside of Prince George, but hey I guess to you that is ‘close to the city’…shudders…

People who write crazy things about people, places or things that you love and/or currently use. Looking at you, woman who compared the (driveable and walkable) hill gradient at my stables as ‘scarier than the Rocky Mountains.’ What the actual fuck.

Weaponizing of mental health. No, I don’t actually think everyone now has the following: CPTSD, autism, ADHD, AuDHD and whatever else word salad is trendy right now. But it sure seems like it on the internet, and really appears to a. excuse bad behaviour, and b. provide a handy ‘get out of jail/work/life’ free card. Mental health is your responsibility, not an excuse.

Phew, that felt good. Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Hate List!

Yes- I mean, I’m currently wearing the jacket to do my sad walk-shuffle these days, after oh, three months of non stop foot pain/neuralgia, my run days appear to be over, but the jacket is decent and breathes well!

She told me she loves to run, she is 65 years old (seniors love to tell you their age. It’s a thing that seniors and children do), and is also walking right now because of her terrible sciatic pain.

Sciatic pain seems to be A Thing. A month or so ago, another senior (rider this time), told me when we were on our poker ride that she loved to run too and had to stop due to terrible sciatic pain. Interesting.

I guess when I finally get over my horrible burning foot pain (which will probably never happen), I guess I also have terrible sciatic pain to maybe look forward to?

Anyways, the lady told me she ignored the pain for one big race because she was in denial and really looking forward to it, so she ran it anyways! …Without a bib number, or I guess, registering as a participant…

So I said, yeah you bandited the race eh?

She was confused about that, and said no, she ran it but told the organizers she didn’t want a badge (she was confused about race medals), because she wasn’t a ‘real racer’…

She also seemed a bit uncertain about when this race was (the Royal Victoria Marathon/half marathon is always on Thanksgiving). I asked her oh, was that the one during Thanksgiving? And she was confused about what race I was talking about, hahah.

Anyways, she proudly told me she managed the half in about three hours, but it set her back by now months.

Man, I’m so there too and I didn’t even bandit a race to get that way!

Even better if you start a friendship with someone who lives really close to you (maybe they walk their dog at the same time as you?) and then have a really vicious and drawn-out argument, so now it’s just awkward (can we sidebar on spellcheck? What language does think I’m writing in? I misspelled the word ‘awkward’ and it gave me the following suggestions: akbars, awakes, and awards. WTF)..all the time.

Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.

Also another sidebar rant about language. I like to pluralize things, I am not sure why but I do it. Kind of like how on any given day, both or one of my socks is inside out. Again, not sure why I seem incapable of wearing socks the right way in or whatever, but one time I had a friend call me out (and my sister too hahah) about why our socks ALWAYS seemed to be inside-out?

I am experiencing foot pain, but it’s in both feet. Saying ‘feet pain’ sounds weird. So does ‘foots’ pain. Do better, English!!!

And while I’m in a ranting mood (no joke, I actually mentioned at work that I have Halloween candy that is on my ‘hate list’ along with people I hate, neighbours* I got into weird feuds with, companies that piss me off, the NEVER ENDING FREAKING TRAFFIC CONSTRUCTION, tourists, oblivious morons walking in clumps on the sidewalk (see also tourists), loudspeaker cell phones, and other things). So let me add this to the conversation:

I really hate when companies say they are removing something people like, to offer you better ‘choices.’ Ding ding ding! Alarm bells should be going off in your head. Nobody is asking for shittier products, smaller products, cheaper ingredients, less of a product (including my personal nemesis of ‘shrinkflation’, looking at you Cadburys’ Creme Eggs, and that, friends, is the biggest hill I will fucking die on).

No, no no.

In no world should they be allowed to use that cowardly, mealy-mouthed language. Friends, I am a comms professional. Spin is my game. Do you think I can’t recognize spin from a mile away?

I am reading a new Stephen King novel (Never Flinch), and one well-read wino tells another to get better educated, saying ‘late stage capitalism is left to rot at the bottom’ or something like that, and man…It’s 100% true.

Greed outstrips everything. Revenue/cash is king.

*Generally I am good terms with my neighbours, if a bit cold. For some reason I have had a few issues with random ones, like the neighbour when I was a kid who chopped up my mother’s entire front garden, from the ground, because some of her pumpkin tendrils were drifting into their yard.

Another one we caught backing into my parents car when we were walking home. They started driving away. My sister chased her down the street.

Another one yelled at us that his kids (who were 16+) were trying to sleep at 11 p.m. on NEW YEARS EVE when we were throwing firecrackers off our back deck. I lit a fuse too close to the wick and it blew up in my face, scorching my cheek. Hah. Also his kids were most certainly getting wasted. The firecrackers were my parents’ idea.

Another neighbour here confronted me and asked if my husband was deaf. I was very confused, took my ear buds out (I was walking my dog after work), and said no? She said she thought he was because he NEVER SAID HI to her. Also she implied that maybe I’m deaf too or just rude I guess. I think I just said what the hell are you talking about and walked away (ok, might have given her the finger too). Get off my ass.

This is the Selling Edition: World’s Most Annoying Thing on the Planet.

This is a two part rant/enjoyment session: The extreme amusement I get from the delusional people who are selling their random crap on the internet (and boy howdy, do I MEAN random crap. Emphasis on crap).

Shout out to the person selling opened bags of protein powder with ‘only two scoops taken!’ for $30…exactly the price of that product new. With no person reaching their grubby-ass hands in there, removing scoops. Yuck. And another shout out to the hopelessly delusional people selling gift cards that they didn’t want for…exactly the same price as the card. Oh, wow, yes let me buy that off you, random internet stranger, for EXACTLY the same price as oh, you know, buying a gift card to Starbucks/Lululemon, where I don’t also have to be worried about getting ripped off. Wowza.

Maybe people shouldn’t be so ballsy, ha.

The second part is the bizarre reach-outs you solicit when you sell things. I do get some amusement out of this, usually way later when I’m done being infuriated by looney-tunes. Those, I save for stories later!

And I can’t tease you with that little cliffhanger, so here goes the Story of the Rage Dismantling Exercise Bike.

I bought an exercise bike last year off Facebook Marketplace (see, it does have its place!). A cheapie, it worked ok for a month or so and then the resistance dial stripped and it wouldn’t work anymore. Which, fine, I don’t blame the guy selling it, it’s a cheap bike so you get what you pay for.

(note this was during the interminable year of blowing my knees up, which I keep as a literal running tally of ‘never ending injuries’ in my head that I often reference in my head when I’m in a weekly rage spiral about how my body sucks)…

Anyways, I immediately bought a new one, a little pricier but not bad. Of course, I hate it and of course it refuses to die, but that’s another story.

So I left the carcass of the old broken bike sitting to rot on my deck for…like almost a year. Yikes.

Then this fall I felt energized to get rid of everything in my house, probably as some sort of trauma reaction and that bike HAD TO GO. So I went to FB Marketplace, posted it for free but that it had a broken resistance dial that you could probably drill a new one in.

Within like 10 seconds, I had some guy I want to refer to as ‘that asshole’ but anyways, he very eagerly messaged me saying he could pay. I was confused and said yeah it’s broken, for free. And then the dude had the absolute audacity to say you didn’t read my message, you pay ME $70, and I’ll take it to the dump.

Where in anywhere did I say I was interested in paying YOU to take this? GTFO. If I have to take it to the dump, I will take it my own self you avaricious and grasping piece of shit.

So I told him that, in not so many words, and deleted and blocked him.

And then grabbed my trusty screwdriver and started rage dismantling the entire thing. And I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself… And a few hours later, my anger dissipated, I checked my Facebook and saw like three messages asking to pick up the bike. Fraaaaaaack.

Understandably, most weren’t interested in my now-pieces of a bike.

One lady was though, so I bundled up the pieces, screws, seat and everything and left it outside overnight for her to pick up. She indicated she’d head over around 10 a.m.

The next morning, I went to take Gidget out around 8 a.m. and the pile of bike was gone!?

Did…someone steal my pile of junk? If so, like good for them!~ But then I had another problem- this lady coming to pick it up. I sent her a message saying look, I think someone else took it overnight.

Surprise! She messaged me back and said all good, she’d actually come even earlier in the morning and gotten it. HAHAH weird eh? So, all’s well that ends well… this time.

Until next time, weirdoes of Facebook Marketplace.

Ok I had to go in and update this, because this week (Halloween) I saw someone posting, and this is not a joke- a FULL BURIAL PLOT. On Facebook Marketplace. Wowza.

So, if you’re curious, it was going for $1,500 and it is at the Hatley Memorial Gardens, which I understand is a pretty nice spot. I am not sure if that is a competitive price or not?

HOWEVER

The overall premise is rather Sisyphean- Man’s search for meaning. In this case, a man ends up in Hell, greeted by a traditional style demon. The demon laughs about this, saying they like to present themselves like how Christians expect Hell to look. But that they are a merciful Hell, and the Devil isn’t as cruel as the Christians want him to be. No, no. This is all for show.

Everyone gets a Hell tailor-made for them, for the sins they have committed. This man ended up in Hell for worshipping the wrong god. The real god is a god Zoroaster, a niche religion on Earth, but the right one.

He is condemned to a gigantic library (but not for forever!), where he must seek out the book of his life, in whole, with correct spelling. Problem is, the books are blank, or gibberish, or anything. It looks, and feels endless.

While the demon scoffed at the notion of ‘eternal’ and everlasting, assuring the man that this stay is temporary and for educational purposes, not punishment, it’s clear that concept of time…Requires context. The man suffered and suffered in an emotional sense, but all of his needs were cared for. He slept well, he could eat anything he wanted, but he was a prisoner in this endless hellish library of his life. Others were there too, and some of them were violent. At the end of the book, his solace was that the demon wasn’t lying—this wasn’t permanent. But how many trillions upon trillions of years?

How long until temporary becomes permanent?

A meditation retreat a friend of mine went on worked off the premise that this too, shall pass. It is temporary. Suffering, discomfort, unhappiness- all fleeting.

So I guess, don’t let them drag you down?

I currently feel like I’m so dragged down, I’m literally at the bottom of a well. (One time Ian got into his parents well to fix something. It was so cold down there he had to wear his dad’s ancient shorty wetsuit, which was hilariously too small for his dad and barely fit Ian. It had lobster-claw mitts instead of gloves!)

I guess this too is temporary, but after days, weeks, months, and then years, I feel like it’s freaking permanent. Pain leaves a scar on your brain.

A Hell of my own making, no demon needed.

And yet! There is always hope (that can take whatever form you need. Mine, throwing money, time and emotional availability at a zillion + 1 appointments, all in a vain yet hopeful attempt to fix what is wrong with me. And there’s more than one thing wrong).

If you keep doing it, that means you have hope and haven’t given up, so I am clinging on to that.

I will keep searching for my book.

Unlike the seething cesspool that is FB in general (hell, let’s go with ‘the internet’ for a refreshing take), it’s pretty low-stakes hilarious. And less victim-blamey than the internet. Honest to god, people don’t really need to share their opinions, particularly when those opinions seem highly targeted towards this silly finger-wagging of you should have known better. Save that for the people who really should know better, like women getting involved with men in prison.

Like the judgy catchphrase I found on some swag at a horse show I was at in Whitehorse, sponsored by Yukon Worksafe: All accidents are preventable. Oh, really? At a horse show? I’d love to see anyone prevent any shit hitting the fan around horses, pretty much ever.

The other day I saw someone posting in a local FB group, complaining about buying pretty expensive and tiny, pancake-or-cookie flat scones. I am familiar with the bakery they were describing, and yes it is pretentious and very $$ for kinda ‘eh’ stuff. People absolutely salivated over the chance to jump all over this person for ‘choosing wrong’ or alternately, defend the bakery because that was how scones were supposed to look like you dumbass philistine!! Haaaaaaaaah. At least pick a lane, people. Choose the right victim this time. Is it the bakery or the buyer?

So yeah, the internet and I guess FB Marketplace is just a smaller microcosm of how people are absolutely hilariously heinous, at large.

My final note on this: I did join (in a moment of extreme weakness and curiosity) a local area FB group. This lasted for approximately ten seconds, when I was presented with a post of some local asshole complaining about picketers from the BCGEU daring to march ‘around his neighbourhood block’ which he felt they had no right to do, as there was no provincial government office that extended that far.

GOODBYE!

So, I guess instead of delving into the painful misery that that is continued existence, here are things that annoy me instead:

My fingers always seem too wet to use fingerprint/touch access for my smartphone? I can’t be the only person who has this problem. Channeling ‘Len’ from 30-Rock, when he says he has very ‘wet’ eyes. Hahah gross.

Same with feet- clammy central. ARGH

For some reason, Facebook thinks I might be a bald man, or at least bald-curious? It recommends these pages to me that I swear could only be attractive to men who are interested in going that way. Because I get suspicious about tech ‘eavesdropping’ on me, it’s probably recommending these to me for two reasons, aka stop spying on me computer and/or phone:

1. Whenever I start feeling mentally unstable, I threaten to shave my head. I mean, it worked/didn’t work for Britney, so why not me?

2. There is an older man in my community sphere who I actually really dislike/hate. He is bald but in my opinion, he ‘hides’ it by wearing a baseball cap all the time. Whenever I feel particularly petty, I like to reference it by saying, ‘‘Well, he’s very confident for a bald man.”

Which, yes, it is a horrible thing to say but I hate him, sooooo…

Me, teenage girls and gay men. The pettiest b’s all around.

At least we are good company! (I know I am not a good person, but for the record I don’t have anything against bald men or women. It’s a look I am quite often interested in emulating myself!).

And, in a final note, I was eating a pretty darned strong pot gummy in bed one night *thanks friend, for the bounty! and remarked to Ian while I was gazing lovingly at Marshmallow, how much he thought taxidermy cost.

Just food for thought here.

Last week we went to the very nice spa downtown (HAVN), and had a glorious three hours of lazing around, going to hot tubs, saunas, salt scrub showers, and the like. The weather was cool, and nice to hang around in. The vibe was…weird.

I don’t think I would necessarily recommend booking HAVN on a stat holiday, just because of this experience. It started feeling pretty crowded, with some people that just had zero decorum.

You kind of had to see them, but it all checked out- very loud hair/nose piercings/group, with one woman in their group who, I swear to god, was wearing a fetishwear swimsuit. Ian’s eyes were on stalks!

You know how sometimes it’s nice to leave something to the imagination? Welp, that’s not this chick’s vibe- at all. Her ‘swimsuit’ was all strings, with cut-out sections at the two triangles of the ‘top’ covering exactly 1 nipple apiece, and a cut out of her crotch as well. So, uh, what exactly is this swimsuit covering? Not her ass, that’s for sure- it was just strings.

She was also the person that barged into the salt shower scrub when Ian and I were in it, and proclaimed ‘lots of room to share’!’…uh, yeah I don’t want to bump into your bare ass, lady.

Make swim burkas poplar again!

It did remind of me of when we were travelling in Mexico for six months, and were watching windsurfers in the Baja. It was extremely windy, with sand whipping into everyone’s faces. Great for windsurfing, except we watched some poor beginner chick getting absolutely dragged across the water roughly with her weird and deeply uncomfortable thong sun suit that had long covered up arms get wedged deeper and deeper up her ass. Freaking yikes man.

Three years later and she’s probably still picking that atomic wedgie out.

Unrelated but also living rent free in my head: I was walking home in the afternoon after work, and a vaguely homeless-looking man ran past me on my street, yelling to me. He was carrying his shoes, running in socks. He also had a long fox tail attached to his waist with a small black belt. I took off my headphones, and he was shouting and pointing to a bag on the sidewalk in front of the section of sidewalk that I have been avoiding because it is absolutely swarming with wasps from a nest. There is a sign in front of it saying WARNING: WASPS but I guess no action on those hostile wasps, because the sign is enough?

Anyways, he seemed to be racing down the street to the bag in front of wasp-town, yelling to me that he was going to…grab the bag?

Whatever dude. Don’t involve me.

I was running on the Breakwater and saw a bunch of tourists (or what I presume are tourists, this place is like Disneyland on crack in the summer) gawking at the ocean. I normally tend to ignore these groups, having been fooled one too many times at them staring avidly at…nothing.

But. BUT! There was the tiniest baby harbour seal. I have seen baby seals before, but never this teeny-tiny. It was more flappers than seal. Adorable. Of course I never have my phone (it’s the size of a freaking brick) when I see these little sea critters.

On that same run, a guy riding his bike pretty fast on the trail yelled out and extended his hand to me: YEAH BABY!

I did my own slaw-jawed gaping at him. I think I’ll take that as a compliment!

And on that same run - it was a nice sunny day so I think that brings out everyone - I saw a portable sauna (?) parked in a parking spot, angle parking in front of the ocean trail. It had a bunch of young, shirtless and pretty ripped men who came out of the sauna and were spraying each other with water guns. It was pretty nice, not gonna lie. Maybe they were filming an ad for either a sauna, or a gay-themed social media event. Either way, carry on young men! I celebrate you!