and for Week Five, we present:

Story of my life, really

Story of my life, really

Week Five’s plan, in case you’re wondering, is mastering that whole Getting Out of the House thang. Which really means I’ve gotta finish that Bastille Day post about Le Chef Pierre and Le Frolic, because I’ve been too guilt-wracked over not getting it done to actually show up there since. And apparently he is as big an Armagnac aficionado as I am, so this could get expensive.

By the way, The Frolic is also the title of a really seriously creepy story by John Ligotti, one of the most underappreciated authors in the English language. And now, apparently, also an independent film. Which has nothing to do with anything, but is a fact. Or series of facts. So.

Anyway, it’s a fact that I can’t stay here another weekend listening to the rad patio party the people up the hill have every Friday and Saturday without going fucking insane. I realized in Week Two that it was entirely possible to piss your life away going to work, coming home, and doing nothing else but eating, sleeping, and reading Google+. That, however, is not the life I left Vancouver to find.

A Woman, A Plan

A Simple Plan

A Simple Plan

I haven’t been here long, and I’m finding it a HUGE adjustment (not big: HUGE, all caps, yo) so being as organized and productive as I am I decided to do One Thing Per Week, no more.

Week One: reserved for being sick. Alas, I was sick as a dog, and that being a dog that was really sick, and not to mention waking up in the middle of the night and having heart attack after heart attack seeing the light in the sky and thinking I’d slept in. I gather from work sleeping in is not such a big deal that they tell you to pack your knives and go back to the decadent, sleeping-inner, southlands from whence you came, but I’d rather not find out first-hand, if you know what I mean.

Week Two: reserved for freaking out and drinking. If you’ve ever freaked out, I don’t think I need to explain this to you. Drinking up here is different from drinking down in Vangroover; you’re much less likely to run into, say, Ryan Gosling, and much more likely to run into, say, an elder woman who tries to tell you in a language you’ve never heard before that you’re gonna get hit by a car if you don’t stop typing away on your iPod while walking down the street. And who could disagree? But it’s not exactly partying at Bar None on Raj’s tab. Speaking of which, if you’ve never done it, this is what it looks like:

Week Three: reserved for exercising and getting out of the apartment. With mixed success; in part, this was inspired by the fact that the door to work was locked on Monday and I had no other options than to toddle to the art department next door, do as much as I could on my iPhone, and then go for a stroll. Actually started the Sun Run training plan, so Go Me and all that uplifty shit. I managed to pick the least interesting road on which to run, and ended up in some Trailer Park Boys netherland that caused even DTES me to turn around and leave, lest someone try to hook me up with their Uncle Daddy.

Week Four: is reserved for regularizing the blogging schedule, which is ironic as the Manolo, my blogging boss, has suggested I take August entirely off. Oh well.

does that really work?

Eskimolandia?

Eskimolandia?

A guy tried this on me the other day, but it isn’t going to work until at least November, right?

settling in

Notice to All Employees

Notice to All Employees

So yeah, things are a little different in Yellowknife. In Vancouver, they made you get a tattoo of whoever was on the cover of Billboard’s latest issue, and DEAR GOD I wanted to wear a burqa when it was the Jonas Brothers’ turn. Eventually I ran out of space, so they just gave me new arms to start fresh, and that was when I made my escape.

I’ve been learning a little about the town thanks to these instructional tourist guide videos that a commenter sent to me.

Part the First

Part the Second

Seems pretty much right-on so far. I must say it IS amusing when people try to frighten me with stories of the Range. I just laugh and tell them about the time I went for coffee with Willy Pickton and that usually gives them some more perspective on the DTES relative to the Range.