Unfortunately among all these accomplishments there's a whole list of shit that I haven't been doing that I was really supposed to, like, for example, FIND JOB. But hey, that's really nothing new. Let's face it. That just tops a list that's still somehow longer than my mom's answering machine messages. Although I guess the idea was that moving out of the Dollhouse would provide all this space and time for me to enjoy a more well-rounded life... and that includes finding more work, performing more & creating more, making more money, and generally getting on with chasing my dreams. Unfortunately since the Dollhouse is now officially one week in my past, I no longer have any excuses to keep me from getting started on that shit. Feck!
Although I'm telling you right now, leaving DH it has DEFINATELY not hit me yet. It's pretty strange. Nothing's felt different. I think it's cuz I've still been there every other day, swearing at the piles and piles of burlesque debris dug out from every glittering corner. WHERE the FUCK did all that shit come from???? The other day we were cleaning out the Pink Office and we found some true artifacts. For example, this very important sign:
You'll notice that this sign was totally laminated because we actually used it. We had it up near the door to the main room. Lemme tell you, the only thing worse than douchebags are douchebags that drink a bunch of booze and then think "Hey! I know! Let's drink GHB and then have our heart stop and our eyes roll back into our heads and make the DH people freak out and call the ambulance because we have subconscious deathwishes / and / or douchebag friends who assure them that this type of behaviour is like, totally safe!" Not that that ever happened or anything (everyone was fine, don't worry). But yeah. Important sign.
Also we somehow ended up with keys to pretty much everyone's car that has ever parked on 8th Avenue EVER.
And let's not forget the impressive collection of unclaimed IDs & bank cards, some of which we of course charitably donated to younger relatives (who are practically 19 anyway, jeez!!!). As for the rest, not gonna lie, we may have found SOMETHING to do with them...
Rrrrright. So yeah. Among the other office debris there was mostly half-used make-up, a kajillion safety pins, several mystery pills (hmmm.... the BLUE pill? or the RED pill?), a tibetan prayer bench, a collection of Winnie The Pooh plushies and many many other hilariously random artifacts whose presence make no sense whatsoever. Still missing: the sane part of my brain I'm pretty sure I left in there somewhere around 2006.
And so. The last "keeper" things have been moved to the cute little East Van home I share with some pretty amazing people (sigh of gratitude). I look forward to sipping tea and mercilessly recounting tale after tale of horrible, horrible debauchery right here on this very blog. Oh will it ever be FUN. And I have PICTURES. Mooo hahahahahahahaaha. HA. (ha).
This of course will need to happen amongst the crossing off of things on the dreaded Shiz CP Has Been Totally Avoiding, like doing my taxes, fixing my bike, installing my speakers, finishing my mom's hilarious clowning website.. oh yeah, and finding some work so I can write hooks under a roof (useful, those roof things). Also I wanna start formally corset training again... I did a month in April and noticed a huge difference in my curve situation, but then producing the fest and moving everything out of the DH made wearing a corset everyday seem just straight-up unrealistic. Melanie at Lace Embrace says that it would have been fine but I don't know, I was a bit scared my stress juice would like, tarnish it. I got Tallulah to take some pix of me "before" the training started though so I'll post them up here when start over. I'm just so fucking addicted to corsets. I think I'll wear my black one tonight.
I guess I still feel like a weird mom in the sense that going to the DH tonight to see Calibre will be like going to your grown-up kid's new house. You're proud and scared and feel a bit useless and yet accomplished all at once. Coincidentally Funkhunter's Dunks called me something pretty funny the other day... Mama Rave. Is it good or bad for someone to call me Mama at age 29 I wonder? Hrmmm....
Anyway. Gonna do some promoting for the BassCoast (because I LOVE THEM) and then get ready. I still have about 3 boxes of crap to organize in my room but whateves. A girl's gotta have a dance break.
bassface n' lace,
oxox
CP
ohh the emotional rollercoaster... here's a new pic by Peter Schmidt of me at Taal Mala's urban steampunk palace...
