Spy vs Spy at Good Wooden Leg

Joanna and I headed out at lunch today. We were both hoping to catch some sun and warm up a bit. We walked the usual route over the bridge down Osborne. We met up with George, who was coming out of the Shoppers. I gave him a cheerful wave before remembering that we are supposed to be sworn enemies. "Oops! I forgot to snub you!" I giggled.

Earlier in the week George asked me, "which one of us is supposed to be the evil one again?" I explained that after 25 years of being fair and virtuous I was feeling enticed to cross to the dark side, although he clearly is more evil looking than I.

"I'm not very good at this evil thing," I admitted.

"Fine, I'll be the evil one," George said and carried on his way back to the office.

When Joanna and I got back we saw George again at the photocopiers. I can't remember what he said, but I then turned to Joanna and said, "y'know, neither one of us is very good at being a villain. We're just both too nice."

I wish I could eat my sweet sweet words because when I walked into my cube I found a crime scene on my desk.

I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently because last week I hung Abi's pony, George cracked my monkey. I guess some tiny thugs of his came in and whacked the poor little guy over the head with a pencil. Tragic, yes, but I think I might actually have shed a tear if they had done something to the little penguin who sits beside the monkey. Naturally, I took tons of photos for the investigation. I think there may be a finger print too.

Naturally, George has an alibi and apparently Hollene has joined his team. I think she's after my shoe collection.

The evil war is on, but help me readers, how am I going to top this?

Jill is wearing Starbucks and bringing a whole new meaning to "extra hot"

Abi, Joanna and I decided to walk to Starbucks today. I wasn't wearing good walking shoes but Hollene was sweet enough to lend me a pair of hers. I'm not sure what made me think her wedge thong sandals would be more comfortable than my wedge, non toe-severing sandals, but it made perfect sense at the time.

It was drizzling and there was a breeze at our backs as we made our way across the bridge. I ordered a latte with a shot of almond, extra hot because by the time the coffee makes it across the wind tunnel that is known as the Osborne Street Bridge it's usually just the right temperature for ultimate enjoyment.

As we headed back we noticed the breeze was more in the range of gale force winds directly from the north. The wind, in combination with the shoes had me shuffling along like a two-toed sloth. My neon green umbrella, held at a 45 degree angle in front of me, acted as a hazard sign to on coming pedestrians. Just as we passed the Shell station my left ankle rolled and a string of expletives fell out of my mouth. As my faithful readers know, I never curse. My mouth is so clean I could wash my hands in it (I think that metaphor sounded better in my head). I don't know if Abi and Joanna heard me, but they did stop and turn around to see me standing there in the rain with latte splatter on my pants, jacket, dripping off my hand; my umbrella turned inside out; sniffing because my nose is no longer stuffy but running constantly; and, as Abi described it, displaying the saddest look you ever saw on my sweet little face. I think the first thing I did was look at my right hand which was carrying my wallet and realized with grand disappointment that I didn't have my camera with me so I couldn't get someone to take a picture for the blog (if I was going to have to own the experience I at least wanted to share as much of it with the world as possible). Abi ran and grabbed me a stack of napkins from the gas station convenience store (it lived up to its name!). I am now back and mostly dry. I returned Hollene's shoes and left her a sticky note on them to thank her for lending them. There's a lesson to be learned in this somewhere. I think I know what it is.

Jillian the Villain

I've been at Good Wooden Leg for a year and a half now. My past experiences taught me that building a good relationship with the graphic designers will make life a lot easier. Not to mention that they are usually fun, cool people. I did everything I could to get the designers to accept me, embrace me. I gave them flexible deadlines.I listened to them when they told me my client's idea of design wouldn't hold up in a kindergarten art class. I fed them chocolate. I took their "gentle" teasing and even supplied them with endless fodder for mockery. Nevertheless, while I could sometimes enjoy a brief stay in Artshoppe land, it was always cut short by Tracy sternly directing me out with her pointing finger and laser beam eyes.

And then along came George. George joined my team a few weeks ago. There wasn't an empty cube in the writers' area of the department so they gave him one on a nearly empty row behind the Artshoppe. I like George. He's a cool guy. Funny and self-deprecating. The Artshoppe likes him too. Apparently they like him a lot.

Yesterday Abi was feeling frustrated. Too many people were asking too many things of her. I admit, I had many many projects on her plate. I guess I had one too many.

"I want a pony!" she said to Chris, one of the senior designers.

I laughed to myself upon overhearing this. I remembered the I want a Pony site that the Google guys showed me last summer. I sent it to Abi to make her laugh. And she did.

This morning I opened an e-mail from George addressed to me and Abi.

-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 10:01 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill


…would never let you have a pony.

I, however, honour my promises.

Abi dropped by my cube soon after.

"Look!" she said and proudly held out a small, purple My Little Pony with a pink mane and star shaped comb. "I named him Pantone." And then she added, "George is my new favourite designer."

And just like that, a little flame inside of me was snuffed out. George had officially moved in and I had been swept aside into the pile with the other demanding, unforgiving, unrelenting writers. The Artshoppe Mascot I would never be.

Another e-mail arrived.

-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 10:01 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: RE: Horrible, Horrible Jill


See, isn't it nice to have a pony? Jill would not have given you a pony. If Jill ruled the world, not only would no one have ponies, there would be no ponies. None. At all. A world without ponies. Ruled by Jill.
We must do what we can to prevent Jill's plans for pony-less world domination.


Around 11 I walked over to Abi's cube. I needed a break and thought I'd stop by to see how she and Pantone were getting along. But when I got there, Abi was not in.

There sat Pantone in all his purple and pink glory on Abi's desk beside her glowing Mac monitor. On the other side were her headphones, resting in a heap of their own serpentine cord.

I'm not sure what exactly came over me at that moment. Maybe it had to do with the coffee machine that took my last 75 cents that morning but did not dispense coffee. Maybe it was the bug taking up residence in my nose, or maybe it was just that taunting smile on Pantone's face that made me do it. I left Abi's cube hardly able to hide the smile.

Not long after, a new headline appeared on the e-mail

-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:16 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill


A hate crime has been committed on Pantone Pony. Jill's quest for global control takes an ugly turn?

It would seem that someone had hung Pantone Pony from the top of Abi's monitor using a noose fashioned with her headphones. George swore that Pantone's hanging would be avenged. Abi was distraught and couldn't imagine who would do such a thing. But George knew. Another e-mail followed.

-----Original Message-----
From: George
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:27 AM
To: Jill; Abigail
Subject: Horrible, Horrible Jill


Well then we must strike back at something that Jill loves just as much. Let's see, what could that be...

Got it.

"Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling CLEMENTINE!"

Clementine is what Abi calls Truck despite my loud protests that his name IS NOT CLEMENTINE!

Despite George firmly pointing the finger of blame in my direction, Abi had no idea who had committed the crime.

-----Original Message-----
From: Abigail
Sent: Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:27 AM
To: Jill
Subject: I'm all sorts of crazy

I just asked Gus if he hung my pony.

Upon reading this I cracked up. Gus naturally would have had no idea what Abi was talking about never mind whether or not to take her question literally or as some kind of euphemism for well, I'll let you use your own imagination. I laughed out loud. Kat asked what all my noise was about and I replied, "I hung Abi's pony." My timing could not have been better, or worse, as the words escaped just as Abi was approaching my cube.

"Jillian! YOU HUNG PANTONE!?!?"

Abi then sent out a mass e-mail apologizing to everyone she accused of hanging her pony and held me up as the culprit. George then announced that I and my evil anti-pony agenda had to be stopped. He declared a Jill Jihad, or, a Jill-had for short.

And that is how I fell from grace at Good Wooden Leg to become Jillian the Villain.

I'mb naught [sic]

I'm not sick. This is what I keep telling people. I'm fine. Maybe, possibly, some few days ago I was afflicted with some kind of bug but presently I am at worst, recovering from a temporary dysfunction of the sinuses. I'mb naught sick.

"You sound sick," Amara said to me this afternoon. Kat agreed.

"No! I'mb better now! It no longer feels like I'm inhaling razor blades whenever I breathe. I've actually improved dramatically since this morning!"

Abby told me this morning to go home. Not so much because she cares, but because I hand her a lot of work these days and she doesn't want me to add a file folder of pneumonia to her work load. She was probably right, I shouldn't try to be a hero. I'm not good at being sick though. I wasn't tired or anything so I would have had to sit at home on the couch watching gawd awful daytime television while surrounded by a mountain of Kleenex. I did try to avoid making any phone calls today though because my voice sounds pretty funny.

Last night I tried to sleep sitting up so I could sort of breathe. I also put a dab of Vicks in my nose, which burned more than helped. I had some pretty weird dreams too. I talked to Michael Buble in a bathroom and I think I went snow tubing with George Stromboulopoulos. See, I'mb naught sick. I'm on acid, or whatever Vicks is made of.

Actually, aside from this stupid nose running/stuffing thing, the day was pretty good. The Shoe of the Day on my page-a-day calendar was a pretty pink sandal; I was randomly added by some interesting guy on Facebook; the vending machine guy gave me a free bag of chips; a lady complimented me on my shoes while I was at the photocopier; I made the early bus home; I found a new, shiny penny on the ground after I got off the bus; and I got my income taxes refund in the mail today. I'm telling you, I'mb feeling too habby to be sick!*

*Unless somebody would like to buy me ice cream to make me feel better ;)

Let's not wait till the water runs dry

I know it hasn't been story time since I was in the center of the universe last week. I did make it home, for those of you who have been wondering. It was a small miracle I suppose, given that apparently Air Canada had a rash of mechanical problems that week. The trip home was good and uneventful. Actually, it was down right enjoyable. For two and a half hours I was suspended between all the good memories of the trip and all the good feelings of returning home. It was the same happy feeling I have on a Saturday morning when I wake up from some wonderful dream but know that I can stay in bed for a little longer before I need to start my day.

The rain arrived on Friday and stuck around pretty much the whole weekend. On Thursday I had decided to visit the library in search of some contemporary non-fiction. I didn't care about the topic--politics, environmental issues, important personalities--I just wanted to get lost in a well researched yet well explained argument. It's something I haven't done by choice well, perhaps ever. I picked up a book on the world water crisis as well as one on the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. I started the water book on Thursday, put it down for a while because it had a terribly dry(ha ha) start, but picked it up again on Saturday and haven't put it down much since. Reading about a water crisis while being confined to the indoors because of a downpour is an interesting predicament. (I have been singing Boys II Men Water Runs Dry for the past three days.)

On Saturday afternoon I was checking my e-mail when I noticed someone online who I haven't talked to in quite some time. I stared at the little green light beside his name for a while. Do I say hi? If I do, what do I say next? Do I have any interesting news? What would he find interesting anyway? What on earth do we have in common anymore? I was just about to open a chat window when he beat me to it. "Meep." he said, just like old times. I still fumbled through the conversation, searching for the right thing to say that would keep the moment going, afraid to say the wrong thing that would lead to a dead silence and one of us giving in by saying, "well, I should get going". It was an annoying, awkward, stressful, short conversation but a definite highlight of the weekend. I spend my whole life surrounding myself with people who make me feel comfortable. There's something I find enticing about being in the company of this person who is interesting yet makes me feel like I'm constantly trying to do a handstand on a tightrope in my pajamas.

Since then I've spent my free waking hours reading my book outside in the warm sweet sunshine, only stopping to watch of course, The Hour (and write this blog, which was hard to do knowing that there was still a good hour left of sun to catch, but alas, I have missed my audience.) There will be many stories to tell soon, but until then I may not check in with much frequency. I'm outside soaking in the sun. I suggest you go do the same.