Whatcha got in that bag, Lady?

My co-workers crack me up sometimes.

This conversation happened this afternoon.

My co-worker who we will call CA (because no one will figure it out) is cleaning her keyboard with one of those compressed-air cans.

Me: I need to do that too.  My keyboard is gross.

(My keyboard is gross.  I'm not lying.)

CA: Just fart on it.  Fart through a straw.

(We're classy)

Me: I'm pretty sure that would result in a much bigger, much more unpleasant mess in my keyboard.

CA: You can't do that, can you? That's right, you can't!

Me: I can't what? Fart?

CA: Yeah, because you got the [ostomy] bag.  Right?  I thought you couldn't fart anymore.

Me: I never got the bag.  Didn't I tell you that?  About a week before my surgery the doctor decided they could save my rectum so they just attached it to the small intestine.  I swore I told you that.

CA: I didn't know.  I thought you had the bag.

Other members of the Grey Carpet Area (hereby known as the GCA): Yeah, we knew.

Me: Yeah, no ostomy. Everything works about 90% the same as before.

CA: Oh jeez! I thought you had the other thing done, 'cause you always had that little red bag with you.

This red bag. From my awesome friend Sammi. Because Sammi is awesome.

CA: You're always taking it into the bathroom with you and everywhere you go.

Me:... that's my purse.  That's why it's with me all the time. Sometimes I'm on my period and need a pad and sometimes I just want to put on some lipstick.

CA: Holy shit! You're kidding me!

Me: (grabs purse and opens it) See?  No shit in here.  Well, okay, there's a lot of shit in here.  But no feces.

Me: That being said, if it ever does come down to an ostomy bag, I'd totally be into a Wonder Woman design.

(Fun Fact:  These exist.  Thanks for the link, SB!)

GCA: *hysterical laughter and smart ass comments.. including something along the lines of "Go for the Wonder Woman bag, because you don't wanna shit in a Gucci."*

CA:  Oh my god.  OH MY GOD.  The other day, when you dropped the plant..!¹  I was all worried because you left your bag on the floor next to all the dirt.. and you were nowhere near it.  I was panicking thinking something horrible happened to you, because you weren't with your bag!  That's why I picked it up and brushed it off and was all worried about getting it back to you!

(I had gone to get a broom. See footnote.)

Me:  I thought you were just being nice!

At this point, I have tears running down my cheeks, I am laughing so hard.  People are coming in from other departments to see what is going on and why we are laughing about pooh-bags and shitting in Gucci.

This must have been especially confusing to anyone who has joined our department since last January. I can kind of understand the confusion, because in all fairness, back when I was first diagnosed with colitis at the tender age of 18 and had the dreaded words "colostomy bag" uttered to me, I thought it would look kind of like a fanny pack.  At this purse, with its shoulder strap, does kind of sit over my hip, where an ostomy bag might go.

It's been a while since I've laughed that hard.  Cancer is bullshit, but poop jokes never get old.

---

¹The other day, coming into work, I attempted to carry two large spider plants, my tote bag, my purse and a coffee into the building in one trip and succeeded in dumping one of the plants upside down on the floor.  Considering I was carrying my travel mug in my cleavage, things could have gone much worse.

The continuing saga of the so-called penis table

I have what some may call irrational and so may call perfectly rational hatred for MDF (also known as chip board) furniture.  I have a shit ton of it in my house, but I absolutely loathe it.  

Thing is, it's inexpensive and light and usually comes ready to assemble.  Ergo, I have a ton of this crap in my house.  Book shelves, dressers, desks etc.  

But I dream of wood.  Real wood furniture.  I dream of eventually replacing every piece of cheap, shitty, Walmart/Canadian Tire etc prefab crap with oak, or maple or pine.  

A few years ago some friends of mine were moving out-of-country an as such, had divested themselves of most of their furniture.  By the time they their going away party, they were down to a coffee table set and a couch, both of which were slated for the dumpster the next day.

It was a few hours into the night that I realized that here was a rather nice wood coffee table set, that was just going to be thrown in the garbage without my intervention.  I asked my friends if the would mind if I took it instead and they quite were agreeable to this arrangement.

There was one small catch.

Prior to my "hey, this is some pretty decent shit" revelation, our host had presented the partygoers with a few Sharpies with which to sign their well wishes on the last of the furniture before it made its way to the dumpster.

Do you know happens when you combine an apartment full of revellers and a batch of Sharpie markers?

Penises.

Penises on your new coffee table set.

So many penises.  And boobs.  And penises with boobs.  Some sort of multi-headed penis hydra.  And a penis palm-tree.

There was even a Cock Ness Monster.  I kid you not.

Nonetheless I was determined.  With help, I dismantled and fit the set into my car, then took it home and hid it in the shed away from my children's impressionable view until I could find some time to strip and refinish it.

Three years later, I'm finally getting around to this project of mine, mainly because I dislike my current coffee table and I got tired of hemming and hawing about whether or not I was actually going to get around to refinishing the damned thing.

It's slow going.  I started off using a paint/varnish thinner but after multiple chemicals burns and some kind of reaction to my nitrile gloves that caused my hands to heat up and stiffen in an alarming manner, I decided that paint stripper was fucking bullshit and sought out a heat gun, which I was able to borrow from a friend and former co worker.

What a difference.  I've only burned myself bad enough to leave a mark once (although I've probably singed off some leg and arm hair with flying paint chips), and the gun goes through the paint and varnish much faster than the paint stripper did.

I am hoping to at least have the whole set stripped, if not sanded, by the end of the summer.  But that is what I have been up to.  

Work in progress.. 

Weekend Update... but sadly, not the one with Tina Fey or Norm MacDonald even.

This will be a much shorter post than I had originally anticipated as I have roughly five minutes to throw a quick post up while I finish my coffee before I have to head into the bathroom, pretty myself up a bit and head out for another FUN-filled week at work.

Friday night, after getting the Sunday newsletters to bed, I went for a quick drink with my fellow co-workers.  Fun, and something that should be done more often I think.  Couldn't stick around long as I had a previous engagement to go thrift-store shopping with one of my best friends.  I scavenged for parts to my halloween costume, which came to me through Pinterest at the last second and managed to pick up a winter jacket and some curtains for my front window so I can stop flashing the neighbours.  As per usual, K and I ended up reducing ourself to giggling fits to the amusement of the Goodwill staff with our running commentary regarding some of the more... um... 'unique' and 'vintage' finds.

For dinner we went to a nearby East Side Mario's where my menu had gunk on it and our waiter threw coasters at us and hovered while we tried to decide.  It was disconcerting, this manner.  He was not an incompetent waiter.. all our order arrived in a timely manner and as requested.  But so aggressive! It was like he was waitering AT us.  Not the most impressive restaurant experience I've had.

Saturday was a day of coffee and cuddles and relaxing and not getting much of anything done.  Wouldn't have done it any other way.  That night I travelled to Toronto with Tess to Toronto to see the Mountain Goats in concert.  I have written previously my love for this band so you know this was very exciting for me.

See the excitement? My phone is shit and I don't have a working camera right now, so this is what you get for pictures.

The show was not disappointing (aside from the fact that the Phoenix is sorely lacking in seating of any kind so my legs were not happy the next day).  John Darnielle - with whom I got to meet and speak briefly - comes across on stage as someone who not only is happy with what he does, but genuinely excited... like 'Holy shit I can't believe I get to do this for a living' excited when he performs.

They played a number of newer songs, along with older tracks that I recognized as well.  J.D. also manages to engage the audience, telling stories and interacting and improvising.  There were a few tunes I got the impression had been made up on the spot.  If that's the case... wow.  Just wow.  Amazing.

The night ended with 'No Children' which, anyone who goes to Open Mike night knows, is probably my favorite tune of theirs.  An excellent choice for the end of night sing-along.

Oh dear.  I've gone way past my time limit.  Gotta go throw my face on.

Tootles, all.

Lies I have told, or intend to tell, to keep the Tooth Fairy alive.

I am, quite possibly, the worst Tooth Fairy ever.

Really, I am. I should really just give up the charade and tell the kids the God's-honest-truth and end the madness once and for all, for everyone's sake.

But where is the fun in that when I can just keep coming up with more and more elaborate lies and stories to keep the fantasy alive.

"Mom? Why didn't the tooth fairy come last night?"

(truth? I forgot.) "well honey, you didn't actually lose your tooth until it was almost bedtime. She was probably all booked up for tonight."

Next night: "mom, the tooth fairy still didn't come."

(crap, no spare change) "well, you know, the worlds population is growing exponentially, which means a lot of kids losing a lot of teeth, everyday. She clearly can't do it in one night. Fairies are small. It takes them a longer time to cover a greater distance. It's not like she's Santa Claus. She doesn't even have the religious exemptions Santa gets."

That weekend they are at their dad's so clearly TF isn't going to show while they're away. So by the time they come back, it's been a week and no TF.

Okay, here's the part of the story that not only makes me look like the worst tooth fairy ever, but possibly the worst mother ever as well.

I gaslit my own child in the name of tooth fairy face-saving.

Day five or six. I have once again forgotten to stick some change under the pillow. So I stick three bucks in my pocket and hang around the girls' room, grumbling dramatically about the disastrous state it's in. While i'm in there, very stealthily, like a ninja, grab the tooth and call out "hey Tierney! Did you check to see if the tooth fairy finally came?"

"No!" comes the call and I slip then money under the pillow before she makes it to the door in time to hear "...but Reagan did." Tee finds the money ("Wow! Three dollars? Last time I only got two!" "yeah, that's probably accrued interest.") and admonishes Reagan for not seeing that the tooth fairy was there after all.

Rees insists that "well, the tooth is still there!" which, no, it's not. It's in my pocket. She can't undstand it. It's actually fairly upsetting to her, especially as Tierney is insisting that she must be imagining things.

Finally: "Uh, guys... The tooth fairy is magic you know. You don't think she could have snuck in when neither of you were looking?"

Oh, total inconsistency for the win.

So I made my child question her own reality in order to avoid outing an imaginary tooth-peddling floosy. Go ahead and judge me.

My friend has kids of a similar age and has confessed to also being a terrible tooth fairy. I figure this is great, as it gives me plausible deniability (my catchphrase of the week) and a case to paint the Tooth Fairy as some sort of incompetent schmuck who generally just isn't very good at her job. We came with a few other scenarios that we can bullshit our way through:

Scenario: the last tooth garnered three dollars, this one only got a buck seventy five.
Truth: I bought an extra coffee this afternoon.
Explanation: the price of teeth is based loosely on the price of gold and the daily interest rates.

Scenario: how come {name redacted} gets more/less than us?
Truth: I'm cheap/overcompensating for not spending enough time with them and/or being a shitty tooth fairy
Explanation: property taxes.

I could keep this shit going until they are thirty-five, at least.

**************************

My second post is up at Different Paths, Same Destination. Go, read, love.

"Lady, Are You On Glue?"

Cross-Posted at MyFitnessPal.com

"Are you on Glue?"

That is what my inner sloth said to me when I decided yesterday that I was going to sign up for this year's Warrior Dash.

I'm laaaazy. And I'm not in awesome shape. Oh, I'm in better shape than I used to be (I can do pushups! and FULL SIT-UPS!) but on the whole I don't tend to think of myself as athletic, or even particularly fit. Hell, at time I've revelled in my own non-athleticism.

In high school, those who took phys ed had to, twice a year, run a 2400m race. At the beginning of grade nine, I was the kid who half-ran, half-walked, red-faced, huffing and puffing and in tears by the end of the run. At the end of grade nine, I was the kid who stolidly refused to run, and walked, head high and throwing glares at the Phys Ed. teacher, the entire distance to finish dead last with a time of roughly 23 minutes and 18 seconds.

I had my compusory gym credit, and I never took it again after that.

So needless to say, signing up for something like this is rather out of character for me. I mean, seriously? climbing? Fire-jumping? CLIMBING? (I have a wee fear of heights.. and climbing)

I don't know. I feel like challenging myself.

I can't actually register until the 13th, when I get my baby bonus so I have time to back out, if I want to. But really, what do I have to lose? I have two friends interested in signing as well, one a mom who has taken up running and wants to get in (better) shape, and another who will be roughly 17 months post-transplant when the race comes around and is also looking for a challenge. Not to mention my kick-boxing instructor and some women from that class may be signing up as well.

This could get interesting.

I've got some red on me...

Oh Toronto Zombie Walk, how I adore thee.

Yesterday marked my second time at the Toronto Zombie Walk and I'm still washing blood out of my hair today.  Last year I went with a good friend of mine, and found the whole experience thrilling.  This year I got to take my two girls as they are old enough not to be too freaked out by the.. well.. freakshow. Reegs, the little one got right into it.  My oldest is getting to that 'too cool for school' age and it took some cajoling to get her into the spirit.  I was also accompanied by two of my oldest friends and my 16-year-old cousin who sometimes scares me with how much like me at that age she is capable of being.

Part of what I enjoy aside from the opportunity to engage in some imaginative, poor-taste, grotesque humor is that it's a very uncommercial, organic event.  It has yet to be bought by corporate interests and seems truly to be a home-grown community event.  Participants are generally well behaved, the cops that help to make sure no one is impeding traffic are, beneath the gruff exterior, generally well-meaning.  (as one cop tried to corral us out of a busy intersection by yelling 'clear the way' myself and another guy responded a few times with "We're working on it!" to which she replied with a sympathetic "I know..")  Non-participants seem to enjoy the event as well, gathering in doorways to watch the parade go by.

I also love how people manage to take one unifying theme (ie.. zombie apocalypse) and come up with what seems like hundreds of different ideas, even if some do show up year to year.  I have come to the conclusion that each walk will have, invariably, the following (amounts are approximate, and probably exaggerated):

• 1 Zombie Waldo
• 2-3 Zombie Jesus'
• 21 Zombie Brides
• 3-7 Zombie hunters (that is, Hunters of Zombies, not Zombiefied big game hunters)
• 118 Shaun of the Dead characters.
• 1-2 Thriller-Era Michael Jacksons
• 275 Zombie Nurses
• 314 Zombie Schoolgirls

Each year I go, I tend to get a little gorier.  I haven't done a theme costume.. mostly I just go with generic zombie.. Some nasty fake scar tattoos, light makeup, and a shite-load of fake blood.  Everywhere.  It generally does the trick.

Product Shot! Where's my damn money, Tim Hortons??

The girls had a bit of a theme.. Prom-Queen Zombie (making good use of the dress from last year's Carrie costume) and Hobo-Clown Zombie (I was reminded of Sol the Clown from my TVOntario childhood)

In front of the house.  Yes, That's a dead baby on my porch.  I put the ass in class.

At one point during the walk, I thought they may have been getting tired out, until i realized that Reagan was not getting tired.. she was TOTALLY in character.  Foot-dragging and all.  That's my girl.

So before I post some random pics, I'm going to take a poll.  Which of the following is a bigger dick move.

Entering a small, classy type restaurant (half hour away from the parade) in full Zombie Regalia, minus blood and makeup after crowding into a single stall bathroom to clean it all off, however still wearing aforementioned gaping headwound tattoos due to not having the necessary rubbing alchohol or baby oil necessary to remove them without taking a layer of skin with it.  Sitting down in said restaurant, practically ass-cheek to ass-cheek with other diners, all of whom are staring, some in amusement and some in disgust, and potentially disturbing their dinner...

 - Or -

Entering a small, classy restaurant in full Zombie Regalia, piling 5 people into a single stall washroom to wash off blood and makeup, thus occupying said washroom for a good 15-20 minutes and using all their paper towel and then walking out again, having decided that as a group you'd feel much less guilty about ruining people's dining experiences at a Kelsey's or a Boston Pizza?

Survey Says?

No matter, what is done is done.  At least we cleaned the blood out of the sink first.

Anyway, here's some more pics:

Lots of OWS themed signs. This guy told us he was headed down to Bay Street after the walk.

Group Shot, me the girls and my cousin

Reegs doing her zombie face

This year's family Christmas card portrait

Kiki, who made up for a lack of make-up with a very convincing and chilling zombie-stare

Tierney looking frighteningly gorgeous

Amber*, who took most of these pictures

So much fun and Hallowe'en isn't even over yet!!

*Sarah, this is the friend that I said looked like you in the post with the picture of you and your daughter on the pony.

Wordless Sunday.. because anyone can have Wordless Wednesday.

Okay, so it's one word.

The Good, The Bad and the Delightfully Cheesy.

Been a little quiet the past few days, I know.  Going through some stuff.  Had to cut off contact with someone who was very important to me in order to save myself a whole lotta time going through the emotional wringer and would you know it pretty much blows?  Big time.  Running the gamut of emotion, angry, sad, self-righteous and well.. you know how it is.  Boys n' such.  So I've been disgustingly emo over the last 24 hours.  I've had a few of my closest girlfriends be super supportive as I got all weepy and snotty and introspective about it, even though over the last 12 months or so the "I swear this time it's really DONE" has been nothing new to any of them.

But I swear, this time, it's really done.

Hit the local Party On The Dock this past weekend, which proved to be quite the raucous affair.  There was much beer, much dancing to all-ages friendly (as in 9 to 99) cover bands.  Okay, this is something that gets me every year.  The headliners are a group called Northern Harbour, who bill themselves as

The Ultimate Jimmy Buffet Tribute Band!

But.. if it's true as some say that Jimmy Buffett is essentially a cover artist himself, then wouldn't a Jimmy Buffett cover band really just be a generic cover band that happens to play Margaritaville and Let's Get Drunk and Screw? (which, incidentally, Northern Harbour DID play much to my amusement).

Anyway, was a fun-filled evening.  We closed the party, headed to the local bar, closed the bar, got food, ended up at the park and next thing you know it was all "Oh hey.  Hello, 5 am! Fancy meeting you here!"

A word of advice: Sitting down by the water in the wee hours of the morning may sound like an awesome serene idea, but you change your mind quickly when you wake up in the morning with goose shit on your pants.  Had awesome Karen-Walkeresque moment the next day as my bestest and I sat in her backyard feeling rather rough and a small child was driving around in one of those Power Wheels dealies.  Shielding my eyes from the sun I asked "Is it really necessary for that kid to be driving that thing this early in the afternoon?"

I'm fucking witty when hungover, I tell you.

My shitty mood after last night's drama nearly resulting in an ass-kicking today as I got a wee bit snarky with some folks who insisted on ignoring the giant No Loitering sign on the front door of our building and wound up with a rather frightening woman up in my face because apparently I'm doing a huge disservice to their hanging-around-in-front-of-Tim-Hortonsing by not-so-subtly suggesting her friends try standing 2-3 feet to the left or right AND NOT IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING DOOR.

How silly of me.

And then some guy got his ass handed to him in the parking lot about an hour later.  Cops and everything.  I have a great view from my desk.  And YES, I DID call 911, as buddy was taking quite the beating but I guess someone beat me to it because all I had to say was the address and "Fight" and they said "Yeah, we're already on our way." at which point the cops pulled up.

I swell with absolute pride at my town, which is NOT AT ALL white-trashy in ANY WAY.

Today my geek worlds collided.  For about 6-8 years I was a soap fan.  To be clear I was regular follower of the Guiding Light.  It started when I was hospitalized at 18, after which I drove my ex-husband nuts with it for years, and when the Sister and I lived together we watched religiously.

I stopped watching after I moved out on my own in 2005, as I wasn't home when it was on and I didn't have a VCR.  The show was cancelled in 2009 and a little part of me was heartbroken that I never saw the last episode.  I found out today that in 2006 Marvel Comics did a Guiding Light crossover based on a halloween storyline where Harley (one of my favorite characters) gets super powers and becomes a heroine by the name of 'The Guiding Light'

Har Har.

So this evening I wasted a whole lot of time looking up clips from this story arc on YouTube, and trying to find out where I can get my hands on the comic portion of the storyline, which apparently included Spiderman and the Avengers, as well as GL characters such as Buzz Cooper and Gus Aitoro (*drool*)

Beth Ehlers and Ricky Paull Goldin

Harley all Comic-fied - Source

 The link to the Comics Alliance page has a preview where you can see some of the other drawings.  I enjoy seeing the characters rendered in comic style.

The story arc on the tv side is atrocious, but what do you expect? Part of the fun of soaps is the groaningly bad melodrama and improbable story lines.  Hell, that's part of the fun of comics too.

They have so much in common.

Watch, and giggle.

Stop touching your crotch, sir, and an update on the vehicular situation.

Last night I went to a show/cancer benefit down in Toronto at the El Mocambo with some friends.  The venue was pretty cool, I'm told it was quite the rockin' place in its time.  Since my friend worked until 9, we ended up getting into the Tdot around 11ish, in the middle of one of the bands sets.  I don't know what they were called, but they were fronted by a very small woman with a very big voice and they ended with a pretty kick-ass cover of the Beastie Boys' 'Sabotage'.

Second band was a group called BlindRace, and hell, I didn't know what to make of these guys.  I wanted to like them, but they couldn't seem to make up their mind as to whether they wanted to be Creed or Sepultura.  I'd like them for a bit, then get a distinctive Creed vibe and I could see that although I may enjoy them now, they were probably destined for Creed-esque future suckitude.  And the singer came across like a rather mysogynist douche of Scott Stapp/Chad Kroeger proportions. 

And he kept touching his crotch while he was singing.  All.  The Fucking.  Time.  It's distracting as hell.  After the show I went up to him and told him "Good set, but you need to stop touching your crotch when you sing."  He laughed at this and said he couldn't help it and without considering the awesome double entendre I said "Yeah, I imagine it's probably hard."  He then proceeded to try chatting up T. and I we were just like 'Eep, okay let's get out of here.'

The headliners, Goldie Luxx I found fairly unimpressive.  I think the singers vocals threw me off.  They weren't laughably bad like the previous band, just kind of didn't do anything for me.  Maybe I'm just getting old, who knows.

On the way home we stopped at the King Road truck stop for gas and coffee and some guy in a Corvette came up to us and was trying to sell my friends car parts (They're both Neon Racing enthusiasts and do a lot of customization to their respective vehicles).  Out of nowhere, at a gas station at 3:30 in the morning.  Totally random.

Then between the south end of Barrie (you know the place, where all things good and pure go to die) and roughly Horseshoe Valley road we were being tailed by a douchebag in a giant pick up truck who was, I don't know, trying to goad E. into racing or something?  Slow down until we pass him, then zoom past us, then hit the brakes and slow down until he was beside us again, riding along side.  At one point I wondered if the jackass was going to try and run us off.  It was pretty scary.  A couple of times he pulled over until we passed him, then would speed up to pass us again.

Finally we got up right behind him to take down the licence and call the cops.  I guess he figured it out because soon after that he got off at Horseshoe Valley Road.  Some people.

So with that segue, a quick update on the car buying situation.  I put a deposit down on a 2007 PT Cruiser, after much deliberation and meeting with more car sales people than I could ever possibly want to.  I plan on having a giant bonfire with all the business cards and brochures that I've amassed over the last couple of weeks.

New wheels-to-be.  Tentatively named Petey.

I still stand to be vehicle-less for a few days, since I haven't gotten the insurance money back yet and the rental is due back on Monday.  I'm waiting on a check, which I then have to send to my loan people so they can take their chunk, then they put the remainder in my account.

Then i am motherlovin' CAR-LOAN FREE!!

So, I tend to anthropomorphize my cars (previous vehicles being Bessie, Lurch, Betty and Mabel the Sable) and my friend suggested the name Petey, relating it as a tribute to another friends late rabbit.  I didn't quite get what that had to do with anything.  Being the quick one I am, it took me a full 24 hours to make the connection

PT=Petey.

Today, I questioned a cartoon's manhood.

I received a text from the Danno today.  He likes to send me the occasional brain teaser, like the one below.  I am convinced he's absolutely batshit insane sometimes think he might have some issues (you know I'm just kidding, right?).

Danno: Question: Which one of the looney tunes do you suspect had the biggest penis?

Me: Well, Elmer Fudd and Yosemite Sam are out.  The violent temper and affinity for firearms indicate insecurity and a need to over-compensate.

Me:  Based sheerly on the laws of proportion, I'd say the abominable snowman.  Biggest character=biggest penis.

Me:  Incidentally, my phone forces me to spell out penis.

Danno: Yeah, I was in the same boat, combining Pen and Is, but my phone learned it after the first time I used it. :-)

Danno: Your insights into this sensitive matter are much appreciated.

Me: Hey, I'm here to help.

This is a man with some masculinity issues to work out.  Source

Best V-D/Flag Day/Family Day weekend EVER.

So, as many of you may know, I am not a fan of the greeting card industry sponsored sham of a holiday that is Valentine's Day.  Much like Christmas and Halloween, any spiritual meaning has long ago been sucked dry, although the latter two I still manage to enjoy - Christmas because I'm lucky enough to have a loving, mostly-functional family to share it with, who don't turn it into a soul-sucking greedfest, and Halloween because well hell, I enjoy any excuse for candy and the combination of sexy clothes and fake blood.

(don't ask me about Easter - it doesn't even register on my radar)

For the last few years, the period between Boxing day up until around the end of February has generally been pretty rough for me.  Call it one part seasonal affective disorder, two parts shitty memories associated and one part holiday letdown, it's generally a time for depression, bad thoughts and withdrawing into myself, big time, especially in these recent years since splitting the ex-boy and finding myself perpetually single around the holidays.

This year, I was determined NOT to let all this get me down.  Surprisingly enough the drama I've been dealing with lately has actually helped, because even though it's stressful, it's also been exhilarating.  Life is definitely not boring.  But yeah, back to the story.  This year, to make it though this snot-rag of a holiday, I decided I was going to be my own Valentine, and utterly friggin spoil myself.

I ♥ me.

Friday night, I had a friend over for movies and chitchat and whatnot, which was fun.  The girls were at their dad's, which on a weekend such as this, is probably a better environment for them, especially if my plan failed and I did get all butthurt and sad and mopey and human-faucetty.

Saturday I got up at a decent hour for a weekend anyway, did my helpdesk emails and took my car up to the dealership for a much needed oilchange, which gave me a good hour for a walk up to wal-mart in the gorgeous sunshine and crisp, cool air.   Coming back I discovered that cutting through the woods takes time off the trip, but that breaking through the crusts of the snow every 2-3 minutes is annoying.  But I was feeling adventurous and outdoorsy and it was all good.

Next I went to gather Lori and Amber, a couple of dear friends of mine who were also flying solo this year, because we had booked some manicures and pedicures at a semi-posh salon/spa in Penetang (which is why I say semi-posh).  I drove out to Vic harbour to get Amber, with the windows down and the music up.  I can't even begin to describe how fantastic the weather was this weekend.  Definitely a huge difference from past February's.  We hit Subway for some lunch (as I am being health-concious once again - broke 200 last week :-) where I discover that I've left my bank card at the dealership, so double back where my card is being kept safe by the very nice, very attractive manager who is a family friend and looks like Gary Sinise.  Mmmmmm.

After picking up Lori, we head to the salon, and are escorted up the stairs for our pampering.  There were only two esthetician's (holy hell, I think I actually spelled that right) on that day, one of whom was booked, so we went one after another.  They have a private room for the mani-pedi's with little whirpool footbaths built into pedestals on which one sits.  Royalty, I felt like.

We were sharing the room with a late-forties executive type who seemed none-too-pleased to be in our company, as we are excited and rowdy and generally loving life at this point.  I once read in a book, 'The pistachio prescription', one of those young-adult adolescent-angst type novels that women see tile and it's true-confession time.  A joke, but not too far off the mark.  Bathrooms, hairdressers, spas... these environments just seem incredibly conducive to conversation.   Some of my best conversations with my mom/sister have involved at least one of us on toilet/in the bath and another on the counter/perched on the edge of the tub.  I've told hairdressers things I wouldn't confess to a catholic preist.

I digress.   We worried from time to time that maybe we were too chatty and rowdy, between the irritated exec and our own girl who was very quiet and subdued.  That is, until exec-lady left for her facial and it was just the four of us, then she came out of her shell and was laughing and giggling along with us.  It goes to show, the level of professionalism required is dictated by the customer.

After we were all pampered and taken care off, they wrapped my toes up in moisturizer and cellophane so I could put my socks and boots back on, and Lori helped Amber with her boots as her nails were still a little wet, and we went to the Rye for coffee.  We had planned to browse some of the nifty little shops on P-tangs main strip, but it was after four and a lot of stuff was already closed.  Yeah, I know, what is up with THAT?

Took Amber back to her house and hung out with her and her mom for a bit, then decided to visit my parent's just to say hi.  I'm quite proud of my dad right now, as he quit smoking two weeks ago, and from what my mom says, he's NOT driving her nuts with it.  They had some friends up and were getting ready for a country-themed dance.  Mom invited me to stay for dinner, so I had what was probably the best batch of spagetti I've ever had of mom's, and that's saying a lot as she makes some damn good pasta.  After we clean up I decide to head home, debating whether or not I want to try and go out that night, or stay home and paint and watch movies.

Amber and I had discussed going to the rippers, and although I was intrigued, never having been, it just wasn't really appealing to me.  Lori gets on MSN and convinces me to get all tarted up so we can hit the bar, and go dancing, which is what we did.

Now, in the time that we've been hanging out, Lori and I have discovered that we tend to doppelgang (can that be a verb?  I'm making it a verb) each other.  So it was quite the laugh when I showed up to the door to discover we're both in the exact same shirt ready to go out.  Incidentally, a similar thing happened when my friend came over friday - we were wearing sweaters that were frighteningly alike).

Hitting Bleachers, we discover that we are there entirely too early, showing up at 10, and that there is about a dozen people there.  Positioning ourselves with a view of the bar, we're almost immediately approached by some adorably socially-awkward barely-legals who have dared each other to approach the two women at the bar.  Giggling uncontrollably we make conversation with these two for a few minutes before they make their way to a booth.

The bar was full of young bookish types that night, and we had nicknames for them all - 'Weedy-shy-guy', 'Sloan-guy', 'Adonis' (a tall drink of water with a head full of blond curls), Punk-boy etc etc etc.  I ran into my former co-op student and told him we were out ooogling attractive young men and that he should consider himself oogled.  Ran into a friend from high school who told me with an appreciative look that I was looking really good.

We danced until my feet were killing me, closed the bar, all the while being chatted up by several randoms, or being made eyes at etc.  The belly dancing lessons have been a great help to me as I felt like I knew what I was doing and not just A) flailing wildly or B) half-assedly swaying back and forth.  Yes, we were a sight to behold on the dance floor.   After closing the bar we headed home, each on our own as planned but with an inflated ego and sense of 'Damn-I'm-Hawt'ness.  Well, I did.  I can't speak for Lori, but all in all it was a hell of a night.

Sunday morning I got up, either hung-over or strung from lack of sleep (I was fairly moderate the night before), drank a butt-load of water, ate a banana and headed out for yet another beautiful, sunshiny walk (although more sore than the day before) walk to retrieve my car from Bleachers' parking lot so I could drive down to Barrie for some thrift store shopping and all-you-can-eat sushi with Sam.  Again, I'm feeling in love with myself, and rather extravagant.  I pick up some incredibly cute finds at VV, including a flowy green and black type blouse-thing, a cute black and white striped sweater, a very flattering tank, striped t-shirt and a pair of adorable hippie jeans with a bunch of emrodiery and designer holes worn in the fabric.  The jeans are a bit tight, but if I get down another five, should look Fabulous.

Sam and I meet up at Aji Sai and I have the Rock'n'Roll, which I have been aching for for almost two years now.  We talk and I catch him up on all my recent happenings and I come out of the conversation feeling good (or better) about some of the stuff I've been feeling not so good about. 

Go to pick the girls up at the ex-hubsters and find myself grateful that I can go there and be relaxed and chill out while they get ready to go without hostility and drama.  I wouldn't say we're friends, but we get along and can hang and chit-chat without issues.

Now I'm waiting for the girls to get their room cleaned.  It's the second annual 'Family Day' and I'm not working today... Good times.  If the rooms get cleaned, there's the possibility of swimming at the Y, or tobogganing (provided there is enough snow left on the hill) or something fun like that.

All in all, despite one or two dark 'poor me' moments (coming home tipsy and alone is not always fun) I'd have to say this was one of the best 'Day before Flag Day's (which I have been referring to it as, to avoid the dreaded V-word) I have had in many years... definitely in my single years (although 2004 was close with the Nickelback/Three Days Grace concert - back before Nickelback sucked ass) and even rivaled some of the married years.. which incidentall, I don't remember many of those.

Tootles, all.

Conversations I never thought I'd ever have.

Counselling a friend:

"If you're going to have a fuck buddy, your husband is probably the worst choice ever.  Think on that."

On Accessorizing:

"'that's a nice eyebrow ring.'  'Thanks, it matches my friend's clit ring'"

Conversation Starters:

"So I have a friend that runs a fetish site..."

Friends don't let friends....

"If I ever find out, be warned, I will bitch slap you." "Okay but you gotta let me put it on the website"

I thought my own dreams were disturbing...

My friend and co-worker Aimee apparently had a dream that I was a heroin addict, and was chasing her around trying to jab her with giant syringes as she pleaded for me to give up the junk, for the sake of my children.

It kind of makes me wonder if other people dream about me, and what about.

I've lately been trying to start keeping a dream journal, but between a tendency to sleep in, and sheer laziness, it's been slow going. I did get one down though. The other night I dreamt that I had bought a big fuck-off black pick up truck, that got stolen when I decided to leave the keys in it while I slept on the big grassy hill in Rotary Park (I think that's the one... the big huge one on Bayshore drive). I woke up to one of the guys that used to work at the Tat Shack telling me my truck had been stolen.

So I went to a sporting good store and asked my sister if she had seen my truck. She said no, and asked me what the make and model was. I stood there, perplexed, because all I could answer was "Um... it's shiny, black and really big". Nicky berates me for buying a truck and not even knowing what kind I bought.

So I decide to go to the cop shop, where one of the ladies from the co-op board takes my report. The cop shop is apparently now located in the lounge above the YMCA pool. She also gives me a hard time about not knowing what kind of truck I drive, as well as for leaving it unlocked with the keys in it. I tell her that I didn't want to leave it LOCKED with the keys in it.

Most embarassing moment.

Again, I'm finding stories I told people a while back, and since I'm bored I feel like posting random shit.

I once, in an incident I must have repressed for many years because whenever I guess asked my most embarassing moment I forget about this one, was thrown cartoon style from a tread mill.

It seems I am unable to walk at a speed of 6km an hour. News to me, wish someone had told me before hand.

Now wait, it gets better. I Wasn't thrown right away... No, I had had the foresight to grab hold of the handle when things started to get a big dodgy... thing is, I was still holding on when my feet came out from under me. So I am still holding on to the bars though. Picture me if you will, going 'fwap fwap fwap against the tread. Yup. Feeling intense heat growing against my shirt-front, I decided it might be a good idea to let go before I set myself on fire. Whoosh.

Now because this is me, this doesn't happen in the privacy of my own home where I can look around and say 'Oh thank GOD no one saw that'. No, fate doesn't like me quite that much. THis happens at the local Y. On one side of me, my friend and workout companion laughing her ass off like some kind of retard, not trying at all to do something logical like help me. On the other side of me on a stationary bike, one incredibly handsome man, looking like he just witnessed an antelope being devoured by a pack of jackals. Just horrified.

Cue the Go-Gos day four

We woke up at 6:15ish in order to throw some clothes on and head over to the salon to get our hair done for the ceremony. We make it there for around 7:30 on the dot, yet the lady doing our hair (one hairdresser, four hairdos... let's do the math-timewise... =NOT A HELL OF A LOT OF TIME) as the ceremony is at 11am. So needless to say, we were a little worried when it got to be about 7:50 and the lady had still not shown up. Amy and I walked down the road to look for a coffee shop, as by this time I was getting to a point where I was gonna get really effin ugly if I didn't get some caffeine into my system, stat.

Beyond the car rental, I have no idea how I spent nearly 400 bucks while I was down there, considering I don't think I paid for a single meal, large or small while I was there. Someone was always buying, and insisting on it. Even for the coffee, I had offered to get everyone's coffee, then Amy plunks a 20 down at the coffee shop.

We get back, and Vina is there and has already begun working on Sammi's do. But it's looking nothing like she had said she was getting. She had described some sort of french braid thing, but mean while, Vina has pulled it all up on one side and is teasing the shit out of it, and poor Sammi looks ready to cry, either out of fear or pain, as Vina was not particularly gentle with the brush. Wendy pulls me outside and we have a moment of 'Oh my GOD, what is she doing to her? What if she hates it? Do you think we'll be able to find a Supercuts to fix it?'

FORTUNATELY, Vina's vision was true and gradually a lovely do came out of all the curling and pinning and teasing. We each got our turn, and despite worries to the contrary, we actually got to the ceremony site right on time, with time to spare to check out the reception room, and toast a glass of wine, as Sammi's nerves were getting little shot at this point I think.

The ceremony was very moving, and I kind of wish I was Jewish, or that I didn't feel bad about appropriating the customs of other religions (although I don't know if I can say 'other' if I don't belong to one to begin with) just because I like them.

The reception was fun, food was AMAZING, and all in all everything pulled together nicely in the end. After the reception was over, Sammi, Anthony and Amy took off so they could take pictures, so I took Ian and Wendy back to their hotel room then headed back to the apartment. I pulled up the same time as Mike (groomsman and downstairs neighbor) and Brian (from the rehearsal dinner), and they said they were gonna come up later when everyone got back, so I said cool and went upstairs, figured out how to work the DVD so I could throw some music on, and went to work cleaning the apartment, which sammi and anthony seemed very appreciative of when they got home. I said to consider it similar to the ancient traditon of preparing the bridal suite.

We ended up going down to Mikes place and watching the remainder of Tommy Boy, and Sammi and Anthony decided to upstairs to lie down *snicker snicker* seeing as Sammi didn't sleep the night before, as she was up doing the playlist for the reception. So I stayed downstairs and hung out with Mike, Brian, Scott, and .... Ed? I think the other guys name was?

Funny story. I really am a social retard. So Scott comes in, and he's there for a few minutes and I introduce myself, not recognizing him as the guy I talked to at the reception for like A HALF AN HOUR. Dah, dumb. But yeah, hanging out with these very fun people I have known for less than 24 hours -- Score One for the normally socially inept and painfully shy. At around 8ish we pile into Mikes car and take off for Mexican food -- The dirtier the mexican restaurant, the better the food, apparently :-D

The more you know.

Again, I got treated, which was pretty cool. And then I got mildly groped by Brian in the car as he was 'searching' for the seatbelt in the very crowded car. Yup.

There were plans to go to a bonfire at the beach but as my plane left early the next day, I decided it would be better if I just went to bed instead, as I was pretty beat by that time, although I was very tempted by the knowledge of possible campfire jamming.

So I went back, packed all my stuff up and crashed on the couch for the final night.

We're all living for the weekend

Well this was a fun weekend, that's for sure. Well worth putting off all the work I have to do :-)

I picked up Sammi and Eric in Barrie on friday after working my arse off on the group project that's due on Tuesday. That's done, now all's left is to present. Although shite is gonna hit the fan, if our ousted group member (just one, we let the other one back in, because as it turns out, he did have all his shit together) shows up. Gah, I hate drama.

So we drove up here, dropped our stuff off at my place and headed out to the Harbour legion for Karaoke. It was freakin dead so it allowed me a chance to break out some stuff that's a little more edgy than the usual Legion fare. My voice has been effed up so I stuck with more fun stuff than anything really challenging... If I recall, I did:

REM - Imitation of Life
Dead Milkmen - Punk Rock Girl (which was friggin fun)
Everlast - Black Jesus
Ramones - I wanna be Sedated

There's one more, but I can't remember. Sammi and Eric got up and did some stuff too, they seemed to have a pretty good time.

After the Legion closed, we hit last call at Shananas, it was pretty busy there.

Saturday, spent the morning watching Clone High on DVD ("Helping people out is what John Stamos is all About!") then went out for lunch/dinner at the kings buffet.

Went grocery shopping, where sammi got beat by a mechanical santa then Sammi and I went off to a Passion Party hosted by my friend Lori (aka the little witch), which was a friggin riot, and I bought fun 'me-time' toys, including one that hooks up to an MP3 player and works in time to the music. MICHAEL STIPE!! MICHAEL STIPE!! hahahaahhhaaa (inside Joke). It was friggin crazy fun, so I'm hoping to host one myself in the next couple months. I have a lot of pervy friends who would enjoy this :-)

Afterwards we came back, and Nic and Dan come over and Sammi had hid a dirty note in Dans room, which upon being found resulted in a whole lot of homoerotic fun, and hilarity ensued. Watched a bunch of youtube, and Nic brought over copys of his new CD. Good times. Eventually ended up watching some kids in the hall, about 5 episodes from the first season. Good times.

So today I drove them back home, we went to Erics (with the kiddies in tow) to look at some pics from a fashion show, then Sammi and I and the girls went to McRaunchies for dinner then drove home. Tierney and reagan told me stories for bedtime for a change, complete with shadow puppets. They're bloody cute those two are.

So tired, and I have a big paper due, so it's gonna be a stressful week, but after that I only have exams to worry about until january. Huzzah.

...

Man. Memory Foam is the SHIT. Like a giant orgasm in mattress form.  Nic, you're a fuckin' rock star, man.

More fun than a well oiled midget

First off, let me say thanks for the support on my little crisis yesterday. The thing is, I was not so much worried about trying to BE something I am not, as I was concerned about appearing to be something I am not, which is completely psycho. The crisis haws been averted as I, on the advice of a good friend, decided to just suck up the embarrassment and explain myself. Reaction was very sweet, very understanding and very amused. Life is good.

LAST NIGHT WAS EVEN BETTER!

So stats exam was yesterday and as it was the last exam Sam and I had made plans to go out and party afterwards. Ended up getting invited by some people (jeff and shelby) from stats to go out to 55 Special, as it was 7.50 pitcher night. Pitchers are not good. They make it very hard to keep track of your consumption. So after the exam we worked out who was going to do what driving, eventually deciding that I would drive there and we would suck it up and pay for the cab back to Sam's place, thus eliminating the need for a DD.  We picked up Richard, headed over to Shelby's place, sat around and talked hockey and cars, then we piled into the vehicles of two of the guys who were there, (unfortunately their names escape me) and headed to 55. I haven't been to that place since I was 15, for Nicky's baby shower when she had Randy. It was pretty packed, with a surprisingly large amount of young people despite its reputation as a cougar bar. The DJ, Kevin, who is a sweet heart, was playing some awesome music and I was in a dancing mood and looking pretty hot to boot. Curse you Sam, once again for forgetting the camera *shaking fist* as we were all looking pretty damn hot. Met some a couple of fun but reallllly drunk guys (okay I can't point any fingers) outside, one of whom got a real kick out of the Ramones shirt I was wearing, and the other who kept making stuff up, then the other guy kept calling him on it. Danced my BUTT OFF which was great! 

SO, then Sam gets kicked out of the bar, so we said (Rich and I) we would go with but as it was only 12:30, I was so NOT ready to go home yet. So we headed over to Fitzys downtown, which is my NEW FAVOURITE BAR IN THE WORLD! Had a Blast there, great music, haven't been to a bar that will play hard rock and punk and stuff in forever. Got groped by a random stranger and had to get all passive aggressive on his ass, conversation (as much as I can remember) went kind of like this:

RANDOM DRUNK GUY (RDG): How you doing? what you up to?

ME: Hanging out, just having a good time

RDG: wanna take off? go somewhere?

ME: Nah, thanks I'm sharing a cab with my friends here (gesturing to Sam and Rich who are ensconced in a rousing game of video poker)

RDG (as is trying to grab my ass): I'll share a cab with you (something unintelligible). Come on lets take off

ME: I'm fine here thanks, having too much fun.

RDG: oh come on (more unitellible stuff)

ME: I'm FINE right HERE. THANKS. In FACT, I'll be better over THERE. (I walk away exasperated) Yeah, Fitzy's is kind of a blur.  I remember talking to Ryan from history last year, and Nathan from stats and at one point I kissed this guy Curtis, a ex of one of my friends. Yeah, I felt bad about that. Crashed at Sam's, fell asleep pretty much as soon as I hit the floor. Caught about 10 minutes of Desperate Housewives before I crashed. 

SO that was my night last night, it was a friggin BLAST.

Slept until noon today, then picked the girls up, stopping for groceries on the way. Saw Steve Miller (no, NOT of the Steve Miller Band) Kind of waved, and he looked at me like I was just some random freak on the street. Not cool, those of you who know me well know why, and I don't really wanna go into it. Blech. But OH WELL, good things are on the horizon for me, I feel pretty secure in that.