Monday, February 28, 2011

burn after reading

Last Wednesday Jack and Will (neighbour's kids) were upstairs napping when I arrived to care for them for a few hours while their mother was out. I made myself comfortable on the olive green sofa for a few minutes and read a few pages of Catcher in the Rye before noticing I was feeling slightly frigid. I filled the electric kettle with water, picked out an herbal tea bag to plop into a mug and waited for it to boil. I heard the familiar 'click' sound that notifies me there's about 750ml of boiled water ready to meet the mug that would caress it. Seconds later my legs looked like this.

Initially I was planning on tending to this catastrophe myself but then the pain kicked in and it spread to my tummy and left thigh. I was screaming and crying and completely dumbfounded. I had no clue what to do. I called my step dad who said to call 9-1-1. I told him it seemed petty to call 9-1-1 over spilled water. I believe the screaming, crying, and barely distinguishable language coming out of my mouth were hints that yes, i really ought to call 9-1-1. I didn't want to though. I called Chris, the father of the kids sound asleep upstairs at 3:30 in the afternoon. He's a cop. He said, call 9-1-1. Okay, fine, I was convinced. I called 9-1-1. then I called the boyfriend while I waited for the paramedics to arrive because anytime I stopped talking the burning sensation got worse. I talked to him, if that's what you would call it. I cried and pleaded for my nerves to rot and die so I could breathe normally. Who knew freshly boiled water could cause such damage? Apparently a lot of people. Not me, though.

I was in a seated position when I poured the kettle of water into my lap instead of into the mug, my instinct was to stand up and strip. Leggings are tight. Panties are too but...not quite as much. So, my panties went with the leggings and when the paramedics showed up I was standing up in the kitchen crying a pantsless-pantyless cry. I looked like a total asshole. But I didn't care. I only cared about the fleshy gross body part that once looked like a leg and functioned like one too. It was throbbing. My tummy and left leg were mangled only half as badly, if that. The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. The f word may have escaped my lips a few dozen times in the 20 minutes it took us to arrive.

That flannel covered man is the boyfriend, in case you were wondering why I had an audience.
He came to take care of me. met me at the hospital and stayed over a few days.

I have had three nurses over the last three days come in to change my bandages and now I've been trusted to do them myself, for myself.

here's what the leg looked like on day 3.

Taken with my iPhone so not as clear, but you get the idea. The point is I'm healing. Slowly, but healing nonetheless.

That's all for now.

Take a page from the good book of Steph: when pouring boiling water, make sure it reaches the dish.

Monday, February 21, 2011

miami heat

Nearing the closing days of December I dipped down to Miami for 8 days of vacation fun. I spent most of my time fiddling with my new Canon G12 (courtesy of ma and papa steve a la xmas gift) and walking around solo. But I also went to Ft.Lauderdale to party and act a fool. I visited the design district and a few galleries in Miami, just to keep myself from being lost in the jersey shore wannabe culture. Seriously, everyone down there dresses like a skank ball. Anyhoodle.

The photos almost all speak for themselves so I'll get on with it and add some captions here and there.

part 1 : boardwalk mission

This photo was taken during one of my creepier's creepy to take photos of children you don't know...but I wanted to save what i thought to be a beautiful memory that a beautiful family had created right on front of me. So really, it's their fault i am so creepy.

that's a stray dog up there. click on the photo to enlarge. poor guy has a gimp leg.
I loved walking that boardwalk, especially when hobos like these were striding ahead of me. I love hobos god dammit.

"Knitta pleeeease"... Knit street art is a movement that was born out of Texas and continues to grow thanks to its founder Magda Sayeg. she has knitted sweaters for all sorts of urban architecture...she's even knitted a city bus! This bike, however, is not a Magda Sayeg original for two obvious reasons. the first being that she wouldn't knit the tires.Magda is a fair and responsible and considerate street artist and thus does not want to obstruct any object's functionality. Secondly, this sweater isn't as intricate as her work. but once I discovered knitta, the shit pops up everywhere. A tree outside of my boyfriend's place on York st in Ottawa is knitted, check ca, check check.

alright, back to the seriousness that was my trip.

Ocean Ave times two.

So I was staying chez Tony and Claire and below is the view from their balcony and as you can see they've got a sweet swimming pool. I didn't swim in it once....but it's a damn swell place to read next to.

money shot..cleavage and shit.

snails. pink snails. you haven't the faintest idea how badly i wanted to be stoned with these ladies. tabarnac.

part two: juvenile fun.

best party back yard, ever.

G and andre

So I promised a certain dude I wouldn't post the naked photos of him from this trip...but to paint a picture: we played a game in the car and he lost so he ended up naked on the side of the road in Ft.Lauderdale. it was awesome and his ass is white as snow.
the end.

Now for more photos.

nekked boys in cars. and such.

completely really ridiculously silly photos

Friday, February 11, 2011

style muse: krystal simpson

thanks to ash dawn, i fell onto her blog "What is reality anyway?" and now look to her for style inspiration.

All photos found at Krystal's blog!