caution: gate swings both ways

Do you remember when the public gardens gates used to have a little plaque on them that said that? It was the source of constant hilarity amongst my friends. Its a shame really that they changed it and put up that lame "don't feed the ducks" warning.

Last night, while having dinner with a friend, a group of unrelated friends (meaning that my dining companion and the in-coming group were not friends with each other) chanced into the restaurant and sat at the table next to us. I knew the group of people in varying degrees. I am quite good friends with one of the, casual friends with two of them and a casual aquaintance of the other. One of these people (a casual friend - female), came over and hugged me and gave me a little peck on my forehead. I'm not a terribly affectionate person myself, but I am fond of said individual (in as much as our casual friendship and limited knowledge of one another allows) and thus was not bothered by the affectionate greeting, although perhaps a wee bit taken aback.

Later in the evening, all that remained of the group was myself and my friend (not the original dining companion, but the friend that came into the restaurant with the other group of friends). As we chatted over a glass of vino, he laughed a bit to himself and said the earlier in the evening, when i left the restaurant for a few minutes, one of the other diners at his table (the casual friend who greeted me so enthusiastically) asked him if I was into girls (the questioner knows bits and pieces about my romantic life, just from the casual conversations you have with people you know on that level, i.e., at the same house parties, occasionally going out with the same group of friends to hear some music, etc.), thus the question, i suppose, was "Do i swing both ways? ". He said that his response was that he didn't think so, and then he looked at me questioningly.

I was a bit taken aback. I mean, if that's your thing, fabulous. If you are the kind of person who says its the individual that you are attracted to and that gender is not the issue, well, good for you. It certainly opens up the dating pool a bit. I, however, am not one of those people. Perhaps that makes me closed minded. I was curious as to what would make her ask that question, and he said that she commented on the fact that i am highly flirtatious, equally so with men and women. I was rather surprised. I don't know that i'd ever have thought myself to be flirtatious. In fact, i would have thought that i was an ineffectual flirt-er, as it seems to me that men don't realize that i'm flirting with them (read that mysteries and musings posting from a few weeks back to get the full implications of that statement). And now, someone has commented that they find me highly flirtatious!!???!!! I always just considered myself to be friendly...chatty, maybe.....excessively chatty. perhaps. Funny that a woman would think i was flirting with them, but men don't seem to pick up on it.....

For some reason, i can't post pictures anymore. I'll see if i can gain access to someone else's computer in the near future and try it again.

Enjoy you sunday - it really does feel like fall. I was up at dawn and went out to Conrad's Beach - my first time there! I highly recommend it.

xoxo Violet

the people in our neighborhood

I'm trying to remind myself that this is a joint-bloggery, thus the title "...in our neighborhood", but Poppy is pretty busy with other things these days, so mostly, you're just hearing from me, Violet. I had a weird experience today while walking my dog...yes, yes, i know every other bloggery is about my dog -walking stories, but i can only writie about what happened, and since i walk my dog several times a day, things always seem to happen while i'm engaging in said activity. I'm sure the bloggeries were more entertaining when i was hanging out at my favorite, smoke-filled cigar bar and drinking beer, talking about sex, but these days, i'm living a slightly more pristine life-style, and thus, walking my dog...a lot. I'll get bakc to the beer drinking and dirty conversations soon enough, i'm sure. its just that i'm trying to tidy myself up a little bit...not physically, exactly (although not spending quite as much time drinking pints in a smoky bar is sure to help), but mentally..i guess mentally..... .

There's this old house almost on the corner of my street - one or two houses in on the street perpendicular to my street. I have to walk past it pretty much every time i cross the road from the Commons. A bunch of guys...older than me, but not old, dirty, but not in that good, sexy dirty way, and idle..in that way where they sit there all day long, making comments about the passers by. I've stated before that my dog is a little bit unusual looking, thus comments are frequently directed at him. However, the comments that come from these individuals make me feel uncomfortable. An example of this is one particular man (there seem to be quite a few of them living there, but never more than two at a time on the porch..perhaps they take shifts?) has offered to take a pair of scissors to my dogs ears - a variety of times. I'm sure..well, i'm not sure, but i'd like to hope that this is all in jest...but something about the way he eyes my poor puppy makes me uneasy. Unfortunately, my dog has a tendency to lie down in the middle of the road. He does this pretty much in the same place all the time - very much within view of the house in question. This, of course, is cause for hilarity and uproarious laughter by said men. As i pass, more comments follow. I nod, look ahead and do that sort of pained smile/grimace.

But today - well, the line is blurring in the sand. For today, said men have started making comments about me. As i walked by today, one noted that the dog didn;t stop in the street, and i nodded politly to acknowledge this truthful statement. He then said "Hi doggy! Aren't you a nice lookin' doggy! I'd love to give you a pat..." (i've vetoed him patting the dog before as this encourages stoppage and i'm trying to teach him how to walk without stopping). The porch-sitter then said said "Screw the doggy. Check out the nice-lookin' owner. I'd love to give her a pat...". I wish i had turned around and given him a steely glare and marched onwards indignantly. But what did i do? I shrugged my shoulders meekly and kept my eyes straight ahead, dragging my dog behind me as they laughed.

I'm not sure what has gotten into me. I guess i don't want to be rude. But honestly, why say something like that? What does he think he'll gain from it? That perhaos the bext time i walk by, i'll invite him over for pasta and a friendly, neighborly fuck?

soundtrack days

Well, hello there! How nice of you to have joined us on this sunny saturday afternoon. I was just out for my 4th dog walk of the day, and noticed the leaves drifting downwards from their branches. Yikes! I'm just not ready for it yet. How come winter just goes on forever, but just as i'm getting used to the balmy weather, Fall is setting in ? Nothing against fall, of course, in fact, i like it. Fall is sweater weather. I like wearing sweaters much better than i like wearing shorts. In fact, i'm generally anti-shorts, the exception being my cut-off at the knee boys levi's cords. They are true bliss and the time we spend together is far too brief. However, sweaters. the right kind of sweaters, are like wearing a blanket out in public....sigh! Random musings, i realize, but this is the kind of day that makes me feel that way....kind of sentimental, or something.

Did you ever wish you could have a soundtrack to your days? You know, with the exact right music playing in the background at the exact proper moment? I'm getting it right now. There is someone playing the saxophone over in the Commons, which makes for an odd soundtrack for the ultimate frisbee tournie that is currently underway, but fits in beautifully with my state-of mind. Not hard core, soul-groovin' saxophone...more like saxophone lite. I actually wrote "lite" like that to emphasize a point - normally, i eschew such ridiculous bastardization of the English language, but the "lite" was to imply that it what i am hearing has that "easy listening/adult contemporary" feel to it. Bordering on Kenny G., but just far enough away to make it the right thing to be drifting in through my open windows on a saturday afternoon, y'know?

Last night, Poppy and I were walking down to check out the Buskers Festival, and spotted these two guys sitting on the wall across the street from the Black Market. They were both holding ridiculous signs, one of which read "sparajuana"? and the other read "Ladies - will trade sperm for pot." Isn't that a scream?? Of course someone looking for a sperm donar is going to want to be inseminated by a stoner-pot head kid off the street! We thought it was so great that we made a little trade with them - i happened to have some dutch syrup-wafers in my bag (do you know the ones i mean? they're all chewy and full of syruppy goodness - kind of like a portable waffle), so i distributed them to the pot-head beggar boys in exchange for letting poppy snap their picture with their signs held up and me in the middle. It is just so awesome - i'll try to get it up here soon, i realize we've been somewhat lacking in the photo department.

I'm sorry to say that i'm going to leave you for now. There are a variety of things that i'm trying to pack into my saturday, including reading pointless magazines, cometing my kitchen sink, reading the new book i bought yesterday (The Tender Bar - ever heard of it? its a memoir...i'm trying to ease myself out of fiction in preparation for joining the real, working world starting next week), go watch Shakespeare by the Sea's final presentation of The Wizard Of Oz (i made some of the props - i want to admire my handiwork) and see Al Tuck play tonight at Ginger's. Its an ambitious schedule, i realize, but i'm an ambitious gal. See you soon!

xoxoxox Violet Petticoat

i'm just sayin', is all....

I'm going to warn my readers before they get very far into this entry: today is the day i air my various grievances...and believe me, i have plenty. I almost typed "believe you me", but as i am aware that that is not proper usage of that expression, i didn't. My friend's mom used to use it that way, and being the little grammar brat that i was, i was always tempted to correct her, however, my extremely polite upbringing did not allow for me to speak to "grown-ups" that way. I still sort of have some of that lingering within me, even though i am a "grown-up". Perhaps that is why i often turn into a verbal doormat for others. I don't want to be rude, so i let them get pissy with me, even when i'm not at fault.... hmmm....okay, enough of that stream of thought - on to the bitchfest of aujourd'hui.

Several minor problems that have to be dealt with right away, all involving vehicles...well, my vehicle, the very same one that was broken into last week. I realized today that my Bright Eyes album is missing, as is a recent Jolie Holland cd that i have had the opportunity to listen to twice. fuck. After that little incident, more trouble has ensued. The day before yesterday, as i was driving home (and why was i even driving? i usually walk here, but had an appointment at the bank and had to dress up in somewhat "responsible memeber of society" clothing, and chose to take my car as my "responsible person" shoes just aren't as comfortable as my "i'm a slacker and don't care if i look like an irish washer-woman" shoes) from the very cafe at which i wrote the last bloggery, i got into a car accident. It was minor really, the typical "fender bender"..i think i hate that expression and i want to do away with it forever. I need a replacement though...i wonder if it has to rhyme? No matter what you want to call it, it doesn't change the cold, hard fact that i rear-ended someone (ooooo! "rear-ended"! if that doesn't belong on the list of "words that sound dirty but actually aren't" then i don't know my pseudo-dirty words).

AND THEN....today, whn i got up to walk my dog, my neighbor smiled at me, pointed at my car and said "You got a ticket there on your windshield.". Why did he smile about that?? A street-cleaning ticket is nothing to smile about! I even moved my car before i went out last night, but i thought it was wednesday and i moved it to the wrong side of the fucking street! Shit.

Okay, those are the small petty complaints of the day, but i had to get rid of them so i could move on to what i really want to say. i think i'll change colour too, just to keep things interesting. (i'm nothing if not considerate of others)

How's this? Mauve? Thistle? Whatever you want to call it, i think it makes a lovely contrast to the sage green from above and thus i'll continue with it.

Lately, I've been having a problem with long drawn-out flirtations (on various levels - remember the "have your cake and eat it too" bloggery from a few months back?) that seem to come to an abrupt halt with the admission of "my girlfriend...". The usage of "my girlfriend" doesn't come out early in conversation. No, no, no. It usually weasles its way into things in the form of the subtle slip-in. Allow me to demonstrate:
~(after several 20 minute conversations in 3 chance encounters in 1 week) "Oh really? My girlfriend's sister really likes that book too." ???????

~(after being bought a beer, asked what our plans for the evening were, asked if i'd seen such and such a movie,etc.) "Yesah, my girlfriend really loves Woody Allen's movies as well."

All of this leads me to question my ability to read people. Is it because i was involved in a long-term relationship and now that i'm free and out in the world again, i have somehow lost touch with the social cues and norms of casual society chit-chat? Poppy and i were talking about it last night, and she says that the older she gets, the more she finds men and women to be the same. She has remarked that she knows women have always hit on her (men as well, but that goes with out saying - Poppy is pretty hot in that pouty-lipped Bridget Bardot kind of way), but she could never tell exactly when someone was being friendly or if they were flirting with intent.

The "flirting with or without intent" dilemma really needs to be addressed, especially for the socially clueless, like myself. People generally wear wedding rings as the age -old symbol of
a) fildelity b) continuity (may the circle be unbroken, etc.) and also c) to show that they are the property of someone else (but i think anthropologially speaking, that is just in the case of women). Thus, a ring on someone's finger generally suggests (at least for us somewhat morally responsible folks) that these are not the people to whom one should direct their flirting with intent. So, here is my proposal: there should be some kind of sign, marking, piercing, tattoo, sign on the godamn forehead, badge, button, pin, keychain....etc., that must be worn by those who are flirting without intent because they have nice little honey waiting home for them, warming up their bed. At least then people won't be caught off guard when the object of your flirtation slips in the subtle "my girlfriend/my boyfriend."

WHEW! i sure am glad to get that out there. We have a little photo-shoot planned for this weekend. prepare thyself for some fun, fun, fun......

mysteries and musings

I've solved one mystery but have dug up a few more questions in the meantime. The public "out-ing" of my SSP self and real-life self from last week has been resolved, more or less. Through a chance encounter late at night in the middle of a field full of people who had been consuming various substances for 24 hours, someone 'fessed up that they tipped off the random individual who asked about my involvement with the SSPs on the patio of one of our favorite haunts that fateful night....ooooo "fateful night" - doen't that sounds dramatic. The night wasn't really all that fateful, actually. I suffered the embarassment of stuttering with shock when confronted with my alter-ego, left the premises shortly therafter, puzzled about it aloud to the only person in that group of friends who is aware of the SSPs, and then we all played pool in a smokey basement bar. i suck at pool. i got my ass whopped(whupped? whooped?). Does that make it a fateful night? I doubt it. Although, i have been rethinking the writing of this bloggery ever since.
The culprit (he who told one of his beer drinking companions to ask me about the SSPs and have me freaking out about it for a week), was a part of the original "Poppy and Violet" night, so i guess perhaps he had a small involvement with the creation of the SSP's alter-egos (involvement in the sense that the evolution of Poppy and Violet came about as we played up a pack of lies to said individual and friends). But when the mystery was solved several nights ago, although i was relieved that i hadn't actually been recognized by a random person (strictly for professional reasons, of course), i have started to question several things.

By putting so much "out there" (out there being on public display via the internet, i suppose), am i actually liberating as aspect of my personality, or am i presenting an inaccurate portrait of myself for those who know me in real-life (or meet me after reading all of my musings)?
I realize that this is all becoming very "dear diary"-ish introspective bullshit, blah, blah, blah, but seriously, will what started off as a bit of fun between roomates looking to spice up a dreary February become something of my demise? Its not that the stories you've been reading are false - au contraire my friends, they are all the real deal. BUT, they are nothing out of the ordinary, i don't think. Shit like this ("this" refers to entires 1 through 25 or however many times i've put my fingers to the keyboard since the hatching of this little project) happens to people all the time - much of it is just snippets of conversation that tend to have sexual content..but, doesn't everyone have conversations like that with their friends? Have i crossed the proverbial line?

I'm pretty sure that i'm no more of a sexual deviant than the majority of the population (excluding the religious fanatics and people under the age of 14 and over the age of...um...75? i'm not sure when you stop thinking about sex or sexually related issues, but i like to think that my grandmother's biggest concern in life is the shade of her lipstick and when the next Danielle Steele novel is coming out). Its just that i say whatever comes to mind... or in this case, i type it.

is it bad karma to ill-wish someone who done you wrong?

This post has nothing to do with the usual stuff, however, i feel like issuing a warning to anyone living in my general vicinity of the north(ish) end of halifax: SOME FUCKING ASSHOLE BROKE INTO MY CAR LAST NIGHT AND STOLE MY CDS! fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck them!!!!!!! Also a casualty: my wicked cool headphones, the disappearance of which pissed me off even more than the CDs. My only consolation: half the CD cases swiped from my glove compartment were empty, their contents safely stowed in a CD wallet currently in my living room. If i had magical powers, i would send that bastard a nasty case of boils, hives and a really, really bad cold, along with an infestation of fruit flies and ants..and maybe some other vermin as well..mice..yeah, mice. Take that, CD thief.

I wonder how many times the average person has their car broken into over the course of their lifetime? This is my third. Does that mean I have bad "car karma"? I know, I know, I could be taking the "pollyanna" forgiveness route here and say something like "Well, not everyone can afford a car, and maybe whoever took my stuff is so hard up that they needed to steal my things so they could sell them and buy a meal...", but i just can't do that. I can barely afford a car myself and i certainly can't afford to go out and replace all the stolen stuff. Forgiveness does not come easy in such situations. I hope the culprit trips up on their way into the second hand CD store to hawk my stuff and falls flat on their face into a pile of dog shit.