We here in Vancouver live on the Wet Coast. This city literally is in a rainforest. There’s around 1,200 mm of rain a year. 45 inches for you Imperialists down south. With 10% of that rain falling in the summer months, you can imagine the fun that is the winter here in Vancouver. Wanna get wet? This is your town.
I, however, am Vancouver-born. That’s a pretty small percentage, true “locals”. Most folks around these parts are imports. Not me. I don’t do umbrellas. They’re for sissies. I even ride my scooter in downpours.
Like on Monday.
I had an appointment to get to as the weather worsened and worsened, torrents coming down, and figured, “Fuck it, I’ve been in worse.” I grabbed my reflective vest, something I never wear but felt strangely drawn to do, and headed.
I raced out past the airport, and was motoring it faster than I had when I worked out there, and was, despite the torrents, enjoying the new, powerful beast my scooter had become with its souped-up new 70cc kit, crankshaft, new seals, and essentially a rebuilt motor that was geared for performance and speed by my speed-geek mechanic.
While my mechanic’s all that, it would seem the civic engineers in Richmond are fucking morons. Turns out, the Number 2 Road Bridge is NOT designed for rain. Because, why would you take rain into consideration in a rainforest? I mean, how much can it really rain after all?
Enough to send veritable rivers — I’m talking nearly three inches deep — rushing down the CENTRE of the bridge deck. You know, where scooters ride?
Chug-chug-chug-chig-chocka-bonk-bog-bog-putt-putt-thud. Continue reading
Category Archives: Specifically Steff
How to REALLY Do Kegels: Things I've Learned In Rehab
PLEASE READ THE COMMENT DISCUSSION ON THIS POSTING, SINCE THERE ARE VALID CONCERNS BEFORE FOLLOWING ANYTHING IN THIS POSTING. Let me be perfectly clear: This is NOT a posting about how to heal back pain. This remedy is for MY back pain, conjured after a few hours of one-on-one time with a physiotherapist who took $65 an hour for his diagnosis. If you have back problems, go to a professional because there’s no way you should be self-diagnosis, ‘cos that could seriously fuck you up.
THIS is about the proper way to do Kegel exercises, why getting the technique is right, and a bit of a warning about doing them wrong, as I’ve learned from personal experience.
Again, got back problems? There are professionals you need to see, not laypeople’s blogs because you think they know their shit, right? Okay. Good. Disclaimer done. Here you go:
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Well, I’m seeing a physiotherapist for rehabbing regarding my sorry-ass back after blowing it out in September. I’m apparently on track to be “healed” sometime in February. No, seriously.
Despite losing 50 pounds via cycling a couple thousand clicks and climbing some 45,000+ steps and yoga and shit, my back just up and died something fierce. Apparently all that activity is precisely why
Physiotherapy’s interesting when you have a good practitioner. I landed myself a geek who recognises the smarty-pants geek in me, and he’s breaking down very clearly all the ways my body works so I understand the mechanics behind what’s failed inside me, and how to circumvent such failures in the future.
Part of this means I’m learning about my body in a very new way.
Ironically, the number one thing I’m supposed to be doing in order to prevent this injury from ever, ever returning? Kegel-based exercises. As I wrote on Twitter, at the end of the next three months, I’ll have the strongest, most powerful twat in the world. Why? Because I’m to do 360 Kegel-based repetitions a day. Yes, 360 vagina-clenching excercises. Not like I was Little Miss Stretched-Out in the first place, either, so I’m a little daunted by the extent of these, urm, repetitions. I shall be She of the Vice Grip, I tell ya. Continue reading
My New Hairdo!
I owe you guys a posting, I know! Tomorrow. No, really!
In the meantime, I took a chance on a hairdressing school that didn’t disappoint a couple years back, and told ’em the spirit of what I wanted, that I was a “fauxhawk” kinda gal, and that I’d kicked ass and took names enough to lose 50 pounds, and this was my “reinventing” hairdo. I also told ’em I was open to something fun.
So, cap highlights done, the professor goes, “Ohmigod, I totally want to put something brighter around here–” and points to my bangs “…because it’d make your eyes look amazing. Can I do some foils? You got another half-hour?”
I laughed and told him to have at ‘er. Then he proceeded to NOT tell me what colour the highlights would be. The suspense was worth it. Total cost for cap highlights, about eight foils, and a cut? $56 after taxes.
Yeah. That’s right. Ha! And here I be, without showing you too much of me…
PS: Everyone has raved so far at work and in life. Feels great.
My Clitoris & I Wrote My Toilet Paper Manufacturer
Dear Toilet Paper Manufacturer:
You lied.
You said your paper was soft and pure. It is, you claim, a “premium” paper.
Sadly, my clitoris disagrees.
I don’t know if you realize, but girl parts are sensitive. Nice soft fleshy bits, hypersensitive to touch and even sensation? Very?
My clitoris feels your product isn’t premium. That it, in fact, is cheap-ass. And scratchy. And turning Clitty into a very cranky, and raw, little thing. Poor Clitty.
At this point I would deem your product falls under FAIL. And I, too, fail for buying 36 rolls. And my clit fails for being an innocent bystander.
All I can now say is, Toughen up, Clitty. It’s gonna be a long, rough ride.
Thanks for nuthin’, not-so-premium paper company.
Regards,
A Girl and Her Clit
Steff's Easy-Start Guide to Changing Your Life: Part One
So, a Twitterer made the comment that, with the holidays almost here, the annual malaise of reflection and regret would soon be upon him. And I thought, “Wow, this is gonna be the first time ever I sit down at the end of a year and go, “Holy fuck. I accomplished THAT?””
16 months ago, I acknowledged a few things to myself. I hated my job, hated who I had become, hated the way I treated my friends, hated the negativity I was constantly caught in, and hated my body. I was initially overcome with despondency. With so much to work on, where in the fuck would I start?
The trouble with being an unhappy person, or at the very least unhappy with your life, is precisely that: Where in the fuck do you start? Continue reading
My New Swank Sofa!
This, friends, is my sexy new sofa. This thing screams “Make out on me!” Doesn’t it? At the very least, I should think. The leather’s shade is called “Sinatra Cream”. GayBoy and I already have a joke about how if it’s good enough for Sinatra to cream… Well.
This is that expensive soft and matte leather finish that keeps your skin from sticking to it. I do promise to test that theory at, um, length at my earliest convenience.
Mm. Leather. It smells so nice, too. Don’t think I haven’t considered how annoying all the dimples will be to keep cleaned out over time, but… They look so purty. So retro and upscale yet not.
Beats the fuck out of the piece-of-shit $185 futon I’ve had destroying my back for five years.
Can’t wait to see how the makeout test goes. Now, to make some opportunity knock. But that’s phase B. See, this weekend comes the clothes shopping. 🙂
Update, and How to Be When People You Care About Need Your Help
Hello, world!
I’m still in a mad spiral as I sort out everything to do with my loan, and then I can slowly segue back to mostly-broke time-on-her-hands Steff that brings you tons to read. It’s been WEEKS since I’ve been able to sit at my writing desk to write for you, but I think the day is nigh. I miss my desk, I write nowhere like I write at my desk!
My new bed seems to be incredible. I think I never bought the right bed to begin with last time, and ten years of sleeping on it just destroyed me. Four NIGHTS into my new bed and the difference in my back is profound.
It’s easy when you’ve been a crash-test dummy like me in four MVAs, thrown from a scooter, thrown off a motorbike, and fallen down a flight of stairs, to dismiss bodily creaks and groans as just collateral damage from a life lived on the wild side of the “klutz” divide, but only four days in it’s obvious I’ve given my inner Little Miss Disaster too much credit. Really, my bed just sucked. Continue reading
On Strange Times: Our Heroine Turns The Page
Y’all needs a status report, so here’s an update on the big, bad world of Steff. 🙂
I’ve had the biggest roller coaster week ever and I’m still reeling. My new mattress set came yesterday and judging by the strange cohesive feeling in my body this morning, my speculation over my bed being at least 60% of my back problem might have been understating things.
I’m still swirling in a very busy world of doing this spending spree I’ve arranged for. Monday will be my visit to the furniture factory to buy a new sofa. A wealthy furniture-store-owning uncle has arranged for me to get wholesale on a handmade leather sofa, so, I’m buying something that’s way, way beyond the means of most of my friends and I, for a couple hundred more than I’d budgetted, but in 3-4 years I’ll still be able to sell it for what I’ve paid, so why the hell not? I’ll show you what I get once I decide. Think retro-hip leather with sleek straight lines, firm and no overstuffing. Rat pack and martinis. Continue reading
Internet Murder, Story at 11: The Death of a Friend
We’ve feared the worst and today have found out that the worst was something even beyond our imagination. Details are sketchy, but what we know is this:
My brother’s best friend from high school and the years that followed took off years ago to live up north. Being that they’re the original “internet geeks” dating back to the good old BBS days, they stayed in touch by computer.
John Altinger was the original BBS/internet geek, and remained that way throughout life. He would use the internet for everything from dating to purchasing power, so it’s no surprise, then, that it looks to have led to his death.
John has been missing since October 10th. Stories have now just run in a smattering of Canadian press about the sensational case. John was allegedly murdered by a guy making horror movies in his garage. Word amongst friends is… Continue reading
WHEW! A Better State of the Steffs, & Schoolgirl Kilts!
Yesterday became increasingly dark for me, even though I kept my good humour alive on Twitter in an attempt to keep my mind off things, so when my aunt called me in the evening to see how I was doing, I suddenly broke into the biggest cry I’ve had in a while.
I tried to downplay my financial worries and my fears, tried to be a bit more of a “man” about things, but it didn’t work out very well. I got off the phone and literally wailed, “I want my mommy!” It wasn’t one of my finest moments.
This morning she rang me. Her and my uncle are sending me a gift of cash to tie me over, as I’ve only ever been this desperate once before. I was so relieved I flat-out bawled yet again.
But yay for me. Yay for seeing that little light in the tunnel. Yay for my back feeling a bit better. Yay for maybe turning the page on the darkest part of my recent trials. Continue reading