And now, as promised...

I've arrived at a new Improbable Life Goal, folks!

*waits for applause to die down, like they do on David Letterman or Ellen, shifting idly from one foot to the other, waving, pointing, and randomly saying 'hi' to people in the audience*

Thank you... Thank you...

*ahem*

Now, as I was saying. The last goal I added was back in... Like... Well I don't really remember, but it was some time ago. And although I have yet to earn any money as a back-up dancer, I was offered a full time contract with an aspiring singer/Mr. Beef.

So *rubs hands together* without further ado, my new ILG is...

... To attend a party at the Playboy Mansion.

Clarification: I do not want to be Heidi or Kendra or Bridget. I don't want to be a porn star. I will not dye my hair platinum blond. I have no interest in bunny costumes. I don't want to be in Playboy, nor do I want tassels on my nippy noodles.

What I want is to be fabulous enough to get all glammed up and rock it out at an all day party. What I want is to make it onto the guest list, to wander around the rooms, to meet the strange people, and to wonder what it would be like to live in an imaginary world full of silicone, money, and ridiculousness. Totally surreal, right? I mean, who lives like that?! Wouldn't you want to know what it's like, just for one day? Wouldn't you want to cross that off your list so you can say, "Yeah, I've been there. I did that. S'kay, but I muchas prefer le couch, stove popped popcorn, and free movies from the library..."

I'll keep you posted, you guys. When I'm invited, I'll get your help deciding on an appropriately slutty outfit. Ha!

I think I finally have it...

On the Labour Day caravan to cottage country, Punk and I were listening to the top 102 rock songs of all time, as voted on by the 102.1 FM radio station. Although I failed to agree with the majority of the song order, it did get me thinking... What would my top songs be?

Now I want to preface: when I say "top songs," I mean to say the songs you can (and do) listen to over and over again. The songs you stop for when radio channel surfing. The songs you not only stop for when radio channel surfing, but the songs you jack the volume for. No flash in the pan songs. No popular-right-now-but-in-six-months-time-you-won't-even-remember-who-sang-them songs. We're talking your top songs.

I've given this some good thought, and I'm pretty sure I've finally nailed down my list. So here goes:

1. Billie Jean, Michael Jackson
2. Sympathy for the Devil, The Rolling Stones
3. In Your Eyes, Peter Gabriel
4. Bitter Sweet Symphony, The Verve
5. Bobcaygeon, Tragically Hip

What do you think?

Any takers for declaring their own list? It's hard. It's a commitment. Don't rush it.

In other news, I think I've decided to add another Improbable Life Goal to the list... Tune in tomorrow for a full update!

Home for a rest...

Thanks for playing, folks! And excellent work, Fingers! I'm glad we're still on the same page. The only slight correction I'd have to make is to say I enjoy salt n' vinegar popcorn shaky stuff, not white cheddar. Although I've never actually had white cheddar, so you could in fact be correct and even I don't know it yet... Wouldn't be the first time!

In other news, 'tis been an insanely busy week. Not only at work (where I left poor BG to fend for himself most days, being completely incommunicado via MSN--sorry BG), but after work, too! Monday was yoga. Tuesday was a get together with the library ladies (bun convention), which means I missed trivia (did we win?). Wednesday was a ridiculous run, and some serious apartment cleaning. Thursday I got my hair cut at lunch and volunteered after work, followed by a much needed grocery shop. Friday is the Ti-Cat game, followed by a Saturday of shower preparation, and the much anticipated party on Sunday!

Dear me. I will need Monday to rest. At work. Under my piles of back backdated professional journals that I still need to read. And the sticky note reminders I still have to remind myself with. And the files that need organizing. And the book truck that needs unloading...

Here are some things that Fingers and I agree and disagree on. Can you tell which items are which?

1. A Swiss Chalet dinner with a side salad and house dressing.
2. High School Musical 1, 2, and 3.
3. Kate Gosselin.
4. Camping comfortably.
5. Sushi hand rolls.
6. Listening to the CBC.
7. Spreadsheets.
8. The movie "Wet, Hot, American Summer" (p.s. Who has my copy of that?)
9. Winning.
10. The song "Ring My Bell" by Anita Ward.
11. Lucky the cat.
12. The use of foul language (in an appropriate setting).
13. Tanning.
14. The word "expresso".
15. The television show "Location, Location, Location".
16. Scary movies.
17. Ketchup shaky stuff at the movies.
18. Skinny dipping.
19. Broccoli on pizza.
20. Being frugal.

p.s. Fingers! No giving the answers away until end of day, k?!

Pet Peeve #964

Sunglasses that fog.

You know when you leave the house and put your sunglasses on, and get in the car on a nice cold, sunny morning, and you jack the heat up a smidge, and start driving down the street towards the stop light, and you just know there's something fishy going on with your vision because something is just not right, and then you see it out of the corner of your eye, a fog, and it's starting to grow, and all of a sudden there's a great big foggy patch over both your eyes, and you have to take your sunglasses off and wave them around in the air a bit while you're driving/blinded by the sun?

I hate that.

Tomorrow's blog will tackle run-on sentences and how to avoid them.

Yoga

Fingers, Lil' Fingers and I are all taking yoga at the local recreation centre. We were looking for something to "take up" in the fall, as ladies like to do, so Fingers did some investigating. Specifically, I think after the buzz of ultimate Frisbee we were all hoping for something active and different. And wow! What a deal she found us. In fact, the whole venture seemed almost too good to be true--$50 for 10 weeks of yoga, all within walking distance of the apartment and 'da house!

Take my advice. Something too good to be true, is too good to be true.

Now that's not to say rec centre yoga isn't awesome. Because it is; don't get me wrong. But it certainly isn't what most would call "active". In fact, yoga lady actually encourages us to bring a blanket so we can cover ourselves and nap for the last 10 minutes of class. We spend an additional 10 minutes heavy breathing.

And that brings me to another point about rec centre yoga... The comical people in rec centre yoga (besides the obvious three clowns in the back of the room.) As an example, during our heavy breathing we're told to close off part of our esophagus to make a deep, throaty noise... We're told to "hear the ocean" in our breathing. Tonight the woman next to me (who grades science tests in between moves) calls out, "Um, I'm breathing but I don't hear the ocean..."

???

Yoga lady also encourages us to "be aware"... Be aware of our environment... Be aware of our spine... Be aware of our thumbs... Be aware of the odors in the room...

*record scratch*

Odors? In the room? Would that be the smell of middle school floor mats, feet, or the oh-so-yum-in-the-tum aroma of chlorine and peroxide from the across-the-hall pool deck?

Rec centre yoga is defs worth the $50.

The Weekend Wrap-Up!

Friday: After a vair long day at work, it was off to KW for a Rangers game. Can't say I've ever been to an OHL event, but it turned to to be some serious fun. Especially considering I was looking forward to it about as much as I look forward to my yearly physical. Funny how things work themselves out, huh? The thing you dread the most becoming the thing you enjoy the most? Factor in someone who pokes more fun at you than anyone you've met before, and you have yourself a refreshing change.

*smile*

(as a side note, this doesn't mean I'll be looking forward to my November physical...)

Saturday: 'Twas beautiful. Josie, Fingers and I took the glorious fall weather as an opportunity to attempt the recently advertised 10-acre Dundas corn maze.

Holy three hour tour, Batman! I honestly thought I was going to die in the endless expanses of the bloody highway five corn fields. Much like pancakes, the place was all exciting at first, but by the third attempt at finding destination #13 on the map, holy mother I was feckin' sick of it! My only consolation was the tiny bag of cheesies I won for decoding the pit-stop puzzle.

Saturday night, BSB and Fingers hosted a dinner party for eight. We spent most the evening discussing poo in various forms (animal and human), and horror movies. It was just what I imagined an adult dinner party to be.

Sunday: After sleeping in far longer than anticipated, Beef and I took a trip to the dog park, where I was privy to my worst nightmare: humping dogs. It would appear everyone wants a piece of my sister's black lab. She's a sweet thing who's always looking for the next lick, but seriously... Did both dogs need to take her by the jugular? I eventually plugged my ears and got up from the picnic table. I couldn't watch. Neutered or not, I don't like to think of animals enjoying sexy time, which is another reason why I champion for cats (who are much more discreet with their threesomes).

Finished the evening with a tight little run. I seriously lurve running at night. It's a redonk Corey Heart pleasure, minus the sunglasses--not only is it an amazing time to see some of the most random things, but it's cool outside, my muscles get all sore and tired, I get chilly and crave a good snuggle, there's very little traffic, no one can see my wobbly bits or the snot I'm smearing on my sleeve, and I sleep better.

But don't worry Beef, I wear super reflective clothing, including the two reflective ankle bands, and a shirt that could blind a MAC truck.

All in all it was a supa fly weekend. Here's hoping the week plays out similarly *wink*

Sweaty time

I just saw an add for a psoriasis medication that can lead to tuberculosis and open sores.

I'm sorry, but how is this a reasonable risk? Which would you honestly rather have: Psoriasis or open sores (and really, aren't they quasi the same thing...)? And what about Psoriasis vs. TB? Hmm?

*shakes head*

On a scale of one to humping dog, I'd say a disease that attacks the lungs and nervous system is about as close to the humpity hump as I'd like to get.

In other news, the heat has spontaneously popped on in my apartment, and I can't seem to turn it off. I'm working with hot water radiators, and since returning from Ireland my apartment feels more like Guam than Hammertown. And the worst of it is, the Muscley Armed Landlord boy is "away" until the 21st which = no relief for me. Needless to say my fan is working overtime, and I'm rarely if evah wearing pants at home.

Visitors be warned.

Yummers

If you could own a restaurant, what kind of restaurant would you own? And we're talking fantasy restaurant, here. None of this "I'd buy a Tim Horton's franchise".

Me?

I'd like to own a peanut butter and jam restaurant. Peanut butter sandwiches made on your choice of bread (white, brown, honey, raisin, etc.), with your choice of jam/topping (jam, jelly, fluff, nutella, m&ms, banana, etc.). Then you could get your choice of sides, and they'd all be in bulk, like chips, cheese cubes, and apple slices ('cause those are my favorite things to eat with peanut butter sandwiches.)

And of course, there would be a milk fountain with crazy straws to drink it with.

You?

Four funnies in one week:

One, seeing The Office for the first time since the new season started. I'm not sure which was better... When Jim got into the discussion with Andy/Dwight about Battlestar Galactica, or Michael beating Holly to the photocopier to be purposefully annoying...

Hmm...

*taps finger to lip*

I'll think on it.

Two, seeing a re-run of the SNL skit with Kristen Wiig (who is deliciously hilaripuss in every way), "Jeremy and Stacia". Seth Rogen is gold. I honestly wept, I was laughing so hard:



"I said we!!!"

Three, passing a man at the Rockton Fair with the world's classiest t-shirt, and wondering how on earth the woman holding his hand could fathomably leave the house with him dressed that way.

Four, having an obscenely drunk man in line for an Octoberfest sausage at the Concordia Club tell me I'm "sexy" (more like "slexly" when you factor in the slur), and that I deserve to hold his Scooby Doo. We clarified he was referring to the stuffie he won in a ring toss game, but still. Worth a giggle. Damn, I'm a lucky girl.

Irstfay atesday areway alwaysway awkwardway.

Right?

Is there anything that Bill Murray can't do?

And they thought it was weird I put maple syrup on my French Toast...

There's something slightly off about milk in other countries. Like it's thick in all the wrong places, or sour in all the wrong ways. I always leer away from foreign milk and milk products--yogurt, cheese, etc. I was the same in Cuba and Mexico and the Dominican, too. It's just... Wrong. On a scale of one to humping dog, I'd rate it about an 8.

The Australians, however, loved the foreign milk. They drank it up like no one's business, buying it by the mini jug full to drink on the bus. Mind you, they also purchased eggs at the supermarket and kept them on a shelf in the hostel, arguing eggs didn't need to be refrigerated...

"Is a chicken's arse cold?" they argued.

No, it's not. Or at least I don't think it is, although I've never actually been near a chicken arse with the exception of the occasional hot dog. I also figured it futile to suggest the egg does not, in fact, emerge from the chicken's arse. But I digress. I did, however, remind them that the milk they were shoveling down the by gallon was kept cold in a fridge, and last I checked (Rockton Fair circa Thanksgiving weekend 2007), "a cow's teat was neither cold nor refrigerated..."

There was no comment to that.

In other news, I'm thinking about a kitten again.

Just thinking...

But thinking a lot...

That commercial for Whiskas where the guy acts like a cat ("Hubert") freaks me out a bit...

Is there anything grosser than a humping dog?

*thinks to self*

Nope, I'm pretty sure there's nothing grosser than a dog that humps. On a scale of one to ten, I'd put a humping dog at a solid ten. In fact, I'd replace the scale with "on a scale of one to humping dog..." A humping dog actually triggers a bit of the old gag reflex, and that's sayin' somethin' because besides throwing up outta fear in the Ghostbusters movie theatre, and once when I had the Norwalk virus, not much triggers that sucker.

In other news, I'm off to the land of the lederhosen and Oom-pa-pa on Friday, courtesy of Free Samples and fab Cathy. Yaris and I will be making like the wind with the rest of the German's on the So'Oh autobahn/Highway 6. We all know the five words every girl at Octoberfest wants to hear, right?

Right?!

Count 'em off on your fingers for me, will ya?

Will.
You.
Polka.
With.
Me.

Like music (oom-pa-pa) to the ears, non? Here's hoping there's a replay of the last trip when someone was slipped a secret sausage...

No joke. Suzanne actually found a sausage in her purse...

*shifty eyes*

Sexy Bus Tours of Eire!

Dia dhuit!

Did ya miss me? A wee bit, perhaps?

Ah shucks *scuffs toe*

Just in case you're wondering.. It was a grand. GRAND. Fan-feckin-tastic. Good craic. Amazing. I lurved it. I want to go back. I wish I was Irish. I miss it. It wasn't long enough.

Le sigh.

I spent the first two days and nights in Dublin by myself, touring the city, pub crawling, drinking, and meeting people. I must have walked every street three or four times, and can proudly admit to eating the world's largest package of fish and chips physically possible. I toured Guinness. Slept in St. Stephen's park, ate breakfast at Bewley's, and partied in Temple Bar.

Monday I joined the tour. Super nervy I'd end up with a group of weirdos, whispering silent prayers there would be at least ONE normal person in sight.

Turns out there were about 2o normal people. I represented Team Canada, and fought many a battle against the loan Team USA-er. But we were both outnumbered by Team Australia, who had me laughing the entire trip (to the point I actually wet my pants a little.) Together we road the sexiest little bus, led by Aidan, the Irish tour guide...

We were in Westport, Galway, Doolin, Dingle, Killarney, and everywhere in between. We saw every imaginable picturesque place, and drank every little bit of blackness to be found. I learned how to set dance, who Fungi the dolphin is, what a Hooker really looks like, and from the Australians, what a "bogen" really is...

Word of advice: 'tis never a good idea to be hungover on a moving bus...

In all, I was vair sad to leave them Friday night. So much so we decided to drag it out until 4:00 Saturday morning. What can I say? The Tasmanians love to dance. And as a result, I barely slept those 8 days... Am sick as a dog now, but it was well worth the trade off...

I have a ridiculous amount of pictures... I'll post some of 'em here, but I don't want to bore you.

Doughmore Beach

Doolin

Coumeenoole Beach

Views near Croagh Patrick

Priorities...

Faerie Ring

Donkey Dealer in Dingle

*blows out candles*

'Tis my 29th year.

*looks behind back*
*looks under each foot*
*looks under each arm*
*pushes up glasses*

Yup. Just as I suspected.

...

I'm old.

Psst... But I'm also fabulous. Hee!

And I'm off to Ireland today! So scr*w you, 29!

*does Irish jig*
*blows raspberry*
*runs away*

OhmygoodnessOhmygoodnessOhmygoodness!

On the 25th day of September, my true love gave to meeeeeee...

8 days of PAID. FARKING. VACATION.

*twiddles thumbs*

I'm excited.

*drumbs fingers on desk*

I'm really not doin' anything at work.

*slurps latte*

Did I mention I'm excited?

...

'Cause I am.

*shifty eyes*

What time is it? How many hours to go? Is it inappropriate to drink Guinness at work? It's just vitamins, right?

Ehn!

Pet Peeve #894

Take your sunglasses off when you're inside!

Gawd.

Flashback...

Randomly thought of (and told a story about) a trip to Waterton Lakes National Park tonight... Weird. But it got me thinking about the place itself, and so I flipped through some of my pictures. And damn, that place really was unbelievable. I'm glad I got a chance to see it:








Disconnect...

In the latest edition of InStyle, there's a spread on Kimora Lee Simmons and her jewelry collection. Apparently it's massive. Apparently she has a thing for diamonds. THIS ring is but one of many given to her by ex hubby, Russell Simmons, for forgetting their anniversary. Apparently she's also "really into wearing big precious stones on [her] pointer finger right now..." Apparently precious stones on the pointer finger are chic.

Her favorite and most treasured piece is a pair of black and white diamond drop earrings, given to her by her boyfriend "just because..."

Kimora Lee Simmons is dating Djimon Hounsou.

Djimon was the star of Blood Diamond.

...

Are you getting where I'm going with this?

But wait, it gets better...

My favorite part in the story is when she highlights the Rough Diamond &Malachite Green bracelet that she and ex Russell designed as part of a fundraiser called the "Green Initiative". The Green initiative helps to protect and preserve Africa’s "most important and precious resource, human life, by supporting education programs and initiatives." All the money from the sale of the $125 bobble goes to building houses in African communities where diamonds are mined...

...

Umm...

...

Now, while I'm not the smartest knife in the drawer, I know dumb. And I smell me some dumb in this story:

Kimora is a diamond wh*re. The diamond wh*re is dating Dijimon Hounsou. Dijimon Hounsou is the star of Blood Diamond. Blood Diamond brought the true horror of the diamond industry to the forefront of national news. New initiatives are starting up to fight the injustices of the diamond industry. Initiatives like The Green project. Headed up by the diamond wh*re herself. Who continues to collect and flaunt her HUGE COLLECTION OF BLOOD DIAMONDS!?

Who's dumber? Kimora or the author of this article?

A Week of Weird:

Sunday: I drove past a man riding a motorized scooter. Like a scooter a senior citizen would ride to Dollerama or Tim Hortons for a double-double (not the Vespa kind). Not so weird, you say? It is when you consider he was pulling a hitch... A full sized, 4x4 hitch.

Monday: I ran past a Big Wheel locked to a bike rack. Remember the kind you used to race up and down the street with the neighbour boy? Mine was a Hot Wheels kind. Not so weird, you say? It is when you consider both back tires had been jacked.

Tuesday: I talked to a man on the phone who wanted to know how he could access the Latin document I had used/displayed in my class today. As in Latin, the language. Not so weird, you say? It is when you consider he wasn't in my class today. Nor can I speak Latin, let alone write it.

Wednesday: [will update when (inevitably) something weird happens...]

Peanut

Pants had a baby! Pants had a baby! Pants had a baby!

Her name is Sarah Madeline. No pictures yet, but as soon as I talk to her on the phone *scuffs toe* (because I'm a terrible friend and haven't had a chance to call her yet...) I will harass her for some fab chubster pics.

Until then, three cheers for Pants and SS and Sarah!

Hip hip hurray!
Hip hip hurray!
Hip hip hurray!

Bhahaha!

More funnies from Fingers' phone...

From Dark Horse: "Yo, I was just at Manans (?) siphoning the babies" This is a mistranslation of, "yo, I was at Mana's VISITING the babies!

From Lil' Fingers: "Hi Heather. Ok. I really called you. I didn't just want to leave you a message. But while I'm at it I guess I wanted to tell you that I like to dress up my cat in two twos and little booties. Also I am a robot. Also let me know about that diarrhea. And as well yeah I actually wanted to talk to you just about the yoga and stuff. So hope you're having a good night. Ok. Love you, bye."

Prenatal

Tonight was my first and last trip to prenatal class with Beef. First, because Mr. Beef was at a baseball game and Beef needed someone to go with her in case there was a "partner component" to the class. Last, because it was gross. While I'm all about babies, and while I know someday I will have one/two/fourteen of my own, at the present moment I did not need to see the slide show of breast feeding conditions--engorged boobs, blocked ducts, soar nipples, or my personal favorite, mastitis. Google image them. Do it. I dare you.

Good luck with all that, Beef. I will be there with a casserole when your giant boobs start manufacturing their own yeast.

Side story: Public Health Nurse lady asked the group what "others can do to make things easier on mom during those first few weeks?" I leaned over to Beef and quietly volunteered:

  • Slander?
  • Pushing?
  • Pointing and laughing?

I then giggled uncontrollably. Beef? Not so much...

Har de har har...

Fingers has paid for a new telephone service that transfers all her voice mail to her email. Basically, when voice mail comes to her phone, it's sent to someone in India who translates it into text. As you can imagine, this leads to some pretty funny translations, not the least of which was this:

"You have a new voice mail from 905blahblahblah sent on 2008/09/09-20:19:31. The converted text is: Hey [Fingers], I got your email. That's pretty funny. I like to talk like a robot. Also I hope your diarrhea is ok. I heard that it was expulses(?) and yeah let me know about that. Ok, bye."

My fav part is the (?) like you can actually see someone sitting on the other end of this call playing it over and over trying to figure out what that second last sentence was...

3 Things You Might Not Know About Me:

1. When I was a kid, my dad used to bring home all sorts of bizarre things from the hospital, illnesses aside. When we were really young, he'd bring us preemie diapers for our Cabbage Patch Kids, and chocolate milk, and giant plastic syringes that we'd play with in the bathtub. Then there was the time he made a special trip to fashion me a plaster hump for my Igor Halloween costume. I'm not sure what we did with it after that. It was in the upstairs hall closet for a long time, but I haven't seen it in years... Odd... How does one dispose of a plaster hump?

2. The first slow song I danced to with a boy was Hotel California. I was in grade nine, and thought it was super cool that he asked me to dance to the world's longest song.

3. There are times I will go through the drive-through and just order a fountain Coke. What can I say? Sometimes I just really want a fountain Coke. Punk was astounded that anyone would actually do this, let alone do it more than once in a lifetime. He seems convinced I am the only person since the history of the drive-through that drives through for a fountain pop, sans burger, fries, etc. Sounds like a challenge to me, non?! Check out the poll...

Ireland-a-go-go

I finally booked my sweet leetle Dublin hostel, and bought some fab new hiking boots, and I think it's finally starting to set in that I'm going on vacay in three weeks! Squee! It's only a week, but it represents many firsts:

  • First time in Ireland (obvi)
  • First time in my professional career taking a paid vacation (redonk)
  • First time traveling alone (!!!)
I plan on wasting a bit of time later today creating a list of all the things I still need to do. Laugh away, all ye fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pant-ers, but I need the organization. The last time I travelled to Europe I was with Fingers, and she'd assembled a spreadsheet of our needs and itineraries months before we'd actually left (Fingers, if you're reading this, do you still have said nerdliness, or is that ancient history? I still have a paper copy, I think...)

Beef and I are taking a mini-break to T.O. next Sunday to frequent the M.E.C. Looking for a raincoat and a carry-on/daily bag. Mother "lost" (read: pick pocketed) 185 Euros when she was in Spain last month, so she's paranoid I get a thief-proof bag. Tra la!

p.s. Pants is dilating!!! Not quite sure how one tells one is dilating, but I'm vair excited for she and SS nonetheless. Help cheer on Baby LawPants, please!

Maybe it's silly, but I can't help it.

Alternate Universe

At the game on Monday, Fingers and I joked about how different she would have been had her parents, for example, been the type of people who chose to tailgate... As in, they type of parents who chose to bring their toddler to the seedy underbelly of the downtown Hammer on the evening before the first day of school so they can get sh*t faced in an abandoned parking lot.

(For the record, Mr. and Mrs. Fingers are lovely people, and prefer to watch the Ti-Cats from the pleasure of their own living room.)

But this gots me thinking: how different would my life have been had I made different choices? Like what if I had chosen to go into French Immersion in grade school? Would I have been besties with Christian Weller? What if I had chosen to go to Trent for Environmental Science, as originally intended? Would I be a vegan lesbian? Of what if I had never gone back to the library that fateful summer when the City wouldn't hire me for a silly Parks and Rec job? Would I evah have gone to library school, or would I be the manager of the Lime Ridge Suzy Sheer? Or what if I had chosen to stay in Edmonton...?

Dear me. I'll tell you where I wouldn't be... by the looks of things, about 6 months along! Ha! Commitment phobic, indeed. It's redonk, really. Totally and completely redonk. And if you do the math, it just makes THIS even more ridiculous than it was originally seen to be.

For the record, I'm glad I'm a barren not-knocked-up, heterosexual, meat eating, anglophone, MAC grad, geek librarian living in So'Oh.

It's just silly thinking of the alternatives...

GI Joe PSA - Body Massage

Football Shenanigans

Tonight was the Labour Day Classic: Ti Cats vs. the Toronto Argos. A yearly event to perpetuate the hate between So'Os rival cities. Generally, these games are held during the day, but this year they decided to beef things up with a little TSN coverage, so the shenanigans weren't due to begin until 7:30 pm. As a season ticket holder, it's my duty to join in said shenanigans, so we went with the group tailgating in the downtown Hammer.

We should have known the event was sketchy at best when we arrived, only to find a giant open lot that once made up the recess area of a recently closed high school, littered with bottles, BBQs, the Hammer's finest toting open alcohol faster than you can say "law suit". Each car was charged $20 to get in... Who the money was going to, or what it was paying for, we're not quite sure. We eventually decided this event was hosted by the Ti Cats, while the city turned a blind eye. But we drank our beers and ate our roasted corn, regardless, and one of us even chose to partake in the SINGLE port-a-potty, opting out of the only other "restroom" option: peeing on the outside wall of the school.

We sit in the end zone. Meaning it's open bench seating. So there's a need to get there early if you want to get a decent seat. We always sit in the same area, but we arrived a decent 45 minutes early to catch the "pre-game show" (read: sketchy Argo cheerleaders working their hooch boots), and to people watch (read: watch the downhill spiral of drunkenness...)

Things eventually took the turn we were expecting. Due to the aforementioned tailgating, fans became increasingly intoxicated and belligerent to the point where I watched one man attempt fisticuffs with a group of security guards, a crowd of police officers putting on their man handling gloves before descending into the stands, and a young man throwing up in the foyer by the hot dog guy. My decision to leave the game at half time was further fueled by the girl who was pepper sprayed in the face (in the face!).

*sigh*

It's too bad, really. Although I love the games, and I love the people watching (and I'm even starting to understand the plays a bit more), I don't enjoy feeling like I'm watching my game in Beirut.

To quote Zack Morris (sort of...) "I love the Ti-Cats, it's too bad Hamilton gets in the way..."

Is it like this in Calgary, Hurr_ah? Saskamatoon, Pants?

Ireland and India

Le billets pour Ireland arrived yesterday, and travel agent lady is escorting them out to me at work this morning. Holy personal service, Batman. She wants to make sure "my accommodations are in order". I hesitate to tell her that I have four Ireland/Dublin guide books and a Lonely Planet DVD sitting on my desk that I have yet to really look at...

Question for anyone out there (Ash, Lady G, Sleeves [were you there on your escapade?]) who has been to Ireland before: can you recommend a good hostel in Dublin? It's so hard to choose based on what you see online... Fingers and I thought we had a sweet hostel booked for London, but it turned out to be a bit on the shifty side. Part of me wants to stay right in Temple Bar (Hess or Whyte Ave, in comparison), but another part says it might be wise to stay a block or two away.

In other news, I stuffed myself with Indian food last night. And although I was full, I actually had to tell myself to STOP EATING because I seriously could have kept packing it in. Damn you, Butter Chicken. Damn you all to h*ll.

*climbs up on stage*

*blows into microphone*

*takes deep breath*

STOP IT! Seriously... How many times do I have to ask?

*steps away from the microphone*

*shakes head*

*walks off stage*

Holla!

My first and fourth point in Ultimate last night! Woo to the hoo. Just in time for the end of the season, I might add. Nothing like going out with a show, right?

In other news, today is BSB's birfday. Holla!

And finally, I caught a few minutes of the show "Wipeout!" last night. Um, hilaripus. Think Japan's "Most Extreme Elimination Challenge" but with dumb Americans, and the funniest event evah... The Big Balls. I almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard. Those Big Balls just never get old. I could watch people flail around on 'em all day long. Seriously, stupid humor, but it's worth watching all 7:46 of this video:

So. Frustratinks.

This is the second time in a month that my cable has been affected by the silly twats at Cogeco. The first time, someone moved in upstairs and when they hooked up her cable (switching some switch in a box outside our building) they in turn knocked mine out.

Fine. Whatevs. I go four days without cable until they can send a technician over to flip said outside switch. Chicky on the phone told me I wouldn't have to be there, that it was an outside issue, and that technician man could fix it without having to be let into the apartment. She was right.

This time around I dropped my cable package to receive fewer channels, and dude came on Wednesday to flip another switch. Coincidentally, since Wednesday my TV has been fuzzy. So I call this morning (first time I could get to it with working nights and wedding hoopla), and dude on the phone tells me to unhook my VCR, blah blah blah, and if that doesn't work, I'd have to be in my apartment from 12-5 on this Wednesday for another service call. When I pointed out the last time I wasn't needed--that I was specifically told I didn't have to be in my apartment and that this was an outside issue--he says I'm wrong.

To which I say, "So, what you're suggesting is that it's just a coincidence someone was here working on the cable outside on Wednesday, and since Wednesday I haven't had cable? Wouldn't it make sense that this is an outside issue, and not an inside issue?"

To which he says, "No."

Dumb @ss. I have to call back tonight to tell them I've unhooked my VCR, and plugged the cable line directly into the wall. I then have to confirm the need for a service call. But I think I might go to the mattresses on this one though, asking to speak to a manager, because I've now been paying for a months worth of cable when I haven't actually had it for more than half of the time.

What do you think? Advice?

Poll time:

I was talking to mama this morning and she said that when a wedding is early in the morning, and the reception is later at night, people usually don't wear their "fancy outfit" to the ceremony. That they change into their more formal outfit before hitting the reception.

Educate me.

What do you think?

Is it just me?

On my way to work this morning (or should that be afternoon, as I started at 1:00?) I passed a murder of children, none of which was older than 10, each of which was toting a large Starbucks chilled, mocha, something-or-other.

Am I the only one who thinks it's weird to see children drinking Starbucks?

It's offish...

I think I've offish identified my #1 pet peeve: people who drive with no awareness of what's happening around them.

You know these people. These are the people who drive really slowly in a parking lot, and randomly break, and sit there, so you have no idea what they're doing. These are the people who move over to the left hand side of the road in order to make a right hand turn. These are the people who don't signal. These are the people who don't let you in when you're merging. These are the people who drive in the fast lane and don't move over when someone is clearly trying to pass them. These are the people who stop at a corner when there's no stop sign, or it's their right of way. These are the people who suddenly slow down on a side street, but don't signal that they're doing anything, and then randomly pull over to the side of the road after making you wait behind them for 5 minutes while you're growing more and more frustrated tyring to determine if they're head has been pulled firmly out of their @ss or if there's still part of it wedged up there.

These are the people I can't stand. And these are ALWAYS the people I end up behind on the road.

"If I had $17,000,000..."

Punk bought me a lotto ticket for Saturday night's jackpot. He said the $17,000,000 would help pay for Goose's "medical bills". I said thank you, and offered to buy him a Blizzard if in fact I was a winner.

As you can see, I'm not.

But had I won, here is a list of the ridiculous things I would have done:

1. I would have paid a Molly Maid to clean my apartment. Daily.

2. I would have purchased a cake shop specializing in house-shaped cakes. (*wink* that one was for you, Keri...)

3. I would have bought one of those Oscar Myer Wiener-mobiles, and driven across country passing out hot dogs and good cheer (stopping, of course, in Saskamatoon and Calgary for vegetarian, non-gluten, no sugar hot dog-like bi products... yum...)

4. I would have purchased THESE and I would have walked around in them all day, every day. Because I can.

5. I would have some roller skates. Just because. My neighbour used to have them, and they had a key to go with them, and they were white with big red wheels, and I lubbed them. I would roller skate up and down my street.

6. I would have found the biggest bed imaginable with an even bigger down filled pillow topper, and some of huge soft pillows with kabillion thread count sheets. Because I'm a kabillionaire, and it's only fitting that my sheets should match me. And I would lay in it all day (when I'm not rollerskating or walking around in those killah shoes) and I would cuddle.

7. I would take out a student loan and pay it right back for the satisfaction of just doing it.

8. I would find some way of making it safe to mail kittens to people. Because it would be nice to receive a kitten in the mail.

You?

Update: Goose is walking around, and even purred on my lap this morning. He's not himself, and he's not eating much, but no more trips to the vet. For now. Reality is he's 12 years old, and feeling his age.

Goose

Dudes. Goose is super sick. Keep your fingers crossed for me/him, will ya? He's a really good boy.



Texas Hold 'Em

I was robbed out of $80 in a Texas Hold 'Em poker game last night.

While I enjoy the game, and had a lot of fun playing, it was getting s'rsly late and I needed/wanted my bedders. So I just randomly started calling "all in". Well wouldn't you know it, b*lls to the wall actually works for me and I start winning.

Now I'm invested again.

So it comes down to me and a friend's brother. And on the draw I'm given:

So I call "all in". And he calls me.

Turns out he has:

I pretty much assume I'm pooched, until I see the flop:

Fantástico, as my Spanish brothers would say!

At this point I'm pretty sure it's in the bag. So I stand up and start jumping up and down. Turn card?

Nothing for either of us. I start dreaming of what I'm going to do with my $80, when I'm hit with the river:

Robbed. Totally and completely robbed.

But what a way to go out, huh?

Five confusing and/or random statements:

1. When it rains, it pours. And this is no commentary on the current torrential state of So-O.

2. There are so many things I want to say, but don't say, but should say, but can't say, which makes me think they're better off left unsaid. So I store them in my cheeks, like a flippin' hamster.

3. I can't help myself. It's as if the nerves in my fingers detach themselves from my brain, and even though everyone inside of me (emphasis on the everyone) is saying "No! Stop! Don't do eet!" I do it anyway. And then as soon as it's done, and I'm looking at my handiwork, it's then that I realize those lurkers inside of me know what they're talking about. I should have pulled a Paul McCartney and just let it be.

4. Page 153 was the TSN turning point. I thought I was doing okay until GD page 153.

5. I like the way it all fits horizontally.

Why do I bother with the Fortino's self check-out? I hate that farking thing. I inevitably end up being told to "wait for cashier assistance". But if I farking wanted a cashier's assistance I would have gone into a farking cashier's line! And I already DID put the milk in the bag, so stop telling me to "place the item in the bag"!

Gawd.

Psst...

... Camping pictures are up!

Update:

Beef found us some uniforms for the INOs:



Which one do we choose, do 'ya think?

2008 INO

There was some serious talk last night after our very first Frisbee play-off game (default win--no one from the other team actually showed up?! WTF... Talk about a big honking zero on the 'ole "spirit scoreboard"...)

We've decided to host the first annual summer INO: International Non-Olympics. The idea being that we hold tourneys in various non-Olympic (yet equally as fabulous) "sports" (note, I use the word sports liberally:

  • Cups
  • Croquet
  • Lawn Darts
  • Old Maid
  • Bocce Ball
So, the INOC (International Non-Olympic Committee) will be busy over the next few weeks planning events and preparing locations for the expected crowds. I'm looking at you people to help generate ideas, re: games to play. Any suggestions?

I'm also taking uniform design ideas. Please try to make them more attractive than this year's Canadian track suits. I don't want on-lookers collapsing into seizures on account of your designs.

Camping Extravaganza 2008

As a reprieve of last years shenanigans, the high school ladies descended on Bon Echo again this year for our second annual "Ladies Camping Soiree". T'was muchas fun, mi amigos!

Fingers and I left Friday morning, and burned up the 401 with very little traffic. Correction, Fingers, FREE SAMPLES, and I left Friday morning. Although the poor dear broke her toe and was unable to accompany us in flesh, a voodoo version of herself (pictured left) managed to make the trip. Please note I trimmed the hair into the "Posh bob" for visual effect. Please also note fake FS is slightly overdressed, as real FS usually is.

With FS navigating, Fingers at the wheel, and me sipping lattes and choosing the music, we made record time. We even made two pit stops--one for Happy Meals, and the other for extra Motts Caesars (Lord knows you can't have enough Caesars). FS was super pumped to arrive, and even helped carry the wood into our walk-in campsite.*

*note: while our campsite was rockin', the carrying of 5 giant food bags, 4 bags of firewood and kindling, 2 tents, 2 air mattresses, 2 packs, 2 coolers, 2 floaties, 2 camping chairs, 2 foot stools, 2 sleeping bags and pillows, 1 case of beer, 1 bag of tools and cutlery, 1 huge mutha tarp, and a partridge in a pear, tree was not.

Friday evening was beautiful, and after our evening nature lesson ("Nature's Way" at the amphitheatre with Jess and Erin) we settled in for a campfire and gossip. Oh, and FS went for a nature hike.

Saturday morning = polar bear swim.

Saturday was a bit drizzly-doo, so we set up our giant tarp engineering styles (honestly, we were so on fire, you'd think a team of dudes assembled it and not little 'old Fingers and LL), and had pina coladas (at, like, 9:00 a.m.)

Next we toured the park, Fingers ate the worlds largest hot dog, I had a coffee, we brought fake FS up to check-in so she could wait for Poomobile (pictured right), and took a nap. A most hungover Poo arrived (wedding the night before) and brought what appeared to be the storm of the century with her, just in time for dominoes and cheesies under our wicked, kick butters tarp creation:



Saturday night cleared, though, and after meeting the worlds funniest pug (Jennifer LoPugs.. Yes... You read that correctly. Check out the paparazzi photos she let me take of her, will ya? Too many important gigs to be caught in photos with me...) we ended the night with another nature lesson ("Dangers and Explosions"--I now know way too much about leaches...), and more campfire-ing. Oh, and grilled cheese (yum!) There may or may not have been some girly gossip in there too, and my cheeks might have hurt from all the laughing. But my lips are sealed.

I also almost wet my pants. Unrelated to the laughing.

Sunday morning = another polar bear swim (to combat the grossly greased hair sit-i-ation).

Then Poo volunteered us for CHURCH *eye roll* and after what could conceivable have been the longest bloody non-denominational service of my life (filled with what Poo claims were "grammatical errors" on the part of the preacher), we missed what possible chance we had of suntanning. So we headed back to camp for Caesars and cards (Old Maid). Followed by snacking. And napping. And snacking. And more swimming (and almost being run over by the Mugwump ferry boat and my mid-swim panic that I would drown in Lake Mazinaw), followed by subsequent napping and snacking.

Sunday afternoon we got nervous as new campers arrived in the site above ours. The gentleman brought a guitar and we had visions of his serenading us all night with replayed version of "Kumbaya". Although I was fully prepared to beat him with my marshmallow stick, he kept the droning to a minimum. We took a quick trip down memory lane and visited our old campsite, only to unanimously decide we could never go back to car camping after being on a premium walk-in site--the noise, congestion, children on bicycles, car alarms, and rowdy rowdies was almost overwhelming.

Sunday night FS wanted to go to the final nature demonstration ("Please to Mate-ya") where she managed to pick up (pictured left). We were totally impressed--just look at his biceps, will ya? Then Fingers took us back to the campsite for the worlds greatest pita pizzas and beer (and silly conversations about things like "am I drunk, or is there a daddy long legs on my face?") We capped off the night with dollar store sparklers.


Monday we packed up, and with muscley armed Poo and substantially less reserves, managed to cart our gear out in under an hour. I rolled my tent with about 1000 daddy long legs trapped inside, which will no doubt pop out at me all angry and sh*t this weekend. Tra la. Alls well that ends will.

We're super pumped to re-book for next year, but might be bold enough to try Sandbanks. Only 362 days left to plan...

Fan Letter to the Guy Who Makes My Morning Coffee at the Second Cup

Dear Second Cup Man,

Hi, how are you? I am good. You are my favorite coffee person (seriously!). This is due to a number of reasons, but mostly because of the fact that you always remember I bring my own coffee cup cosy, so you don't wastefully put on an extra paper one. You are not David Suzuki, and you work in a store that gives out millions of paper cups a day, but you are helping me to save the world one paper coffee cup cosy at a time. I think that is awesome.

Have you seen that they opened a Starbucks on Locke Street? They did. I've been there, and it's stupid. Their selection of hot drinks are expensive and there is no nice place to sit with more than one palsie to have a tea and a conversation at the same time. Someone always ends up facing the wall. Has Second Cup thought about putting a store on Locke Street? Do they tell you about these things before they sign off on them? They really ought to let you have a say in what goes on... That's just my opinion.

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. Please don't try pushing that tall non-fat Icepresso on my the next time I'm in. I know it's your job, but I'm not that kind of girl. It would also be completely rad if you could remember that I like your medium house blend with skim milk. Try to remember, okay? After that, do what you have to do.

Sincerely,

Library Lady

P.S.--Homo milk in any capacity, let alone in coffee, is farked up, and I am not okay with it. Don't tell me it's because I am not a guy because guys like big, thick milk. That is a cop out and you know it.

Camping Extravaganza 2008

Alright. That's it. I haven't been able to do anything with the soiree photos. I'll offish take my head out of my butters sometime this week and get on my game. Until then, here's the camping summary. I've indicated you where the photos will actually be (bear with me...), and will notify you lates when I'm actually able to update them. Le sigh indeed.

---

As a reprieve of last years shenanigans, the high school ladies descended on Bon Echo again this year for our second annual "Ladies Camping Soiree". T'was muchas fun, mi amigos!


Fingers and I left Friday morning, and burned up the 401 with very little traffic. Correction, Fingers, FREE SAMPLES, and I left Friday morning. Although the poor dear broke her toe and was unable to accompany us in flesh, a voodoo version of herself (pictured left) managed to make the trip. Please note I trimmed the hair into the "Posh bob" for visual effect. Please also note fake FS is slightly overdressed, as real FS usually is.


With FS navigating, Fingers at the wheel, and me sipping lattes and choosing the music, we made record time. We even made two pit stops--one for Happy Meals, and the other for extra Motts Caesars (Lord knows you can't have enough Caesars). FS was super pumped to arrive, and even helped carry the wood into our walk-in campsite.*


*note: while our campsite was rockin', the carrying of 5 giant food bags, 4 bags of firewood and kindling, 2 tents, 2 air mattresses, 2 packs, 2 coolers, 2 floaties, 2 camping chairs, 2 foot stools, 2 sleeping bags and pillows, 1 case of beer, 1 bag of tools and cutlery, 1 huge mutha tarp, and a partridge in a pear, tree was not.


Friday evening was beautiful, and after our evening nature lesson ("Nature's Way" at the amphitheatre with Jess and Erin) we settled in for a campfire and gossip. Oh, and FS went for a nature hike.

Saturday morning = polar bear swim.


Saturday was a bit drizzly-doo, so we set up our giant tarp engineering styles (honestly, we were so on fire, you'd think a team of dudes assembled it and not little 'old Fingers and LL), and had pina coladas (at, like, 9:00 a.m.) Next we toured the park, Fingers ate the worlds largest hot dog, I had a coffee, we brought fake FS up to check-in so she could wait for Poomobile (pictured right), and took a nap.


A most hungover Poo arrived (wedding the night before) and brought what appeared to be the storm of the century with her, just in time for dominoes and cheesies under our wicked, kick butters tarp creation:


[INSERT VIDEO HERE]

Saturday night cleared, though, and after meeting the worlds funniest pug (Jennifer LoPugs.. Yes... You read that correctly. Check out the paparazzi photos she let me take of her, will ya? Too many important gigs to be caught in photos with me...) we ended the night with another nature lesson ("Dangers and Explosions"--I now know way too much about leaches...), and more campfire-ing. Oh, and grilled cheese (yum!) There may or may not have been some girly gossip in there too, and my cheeks might have hurt from all the laughing. But my lips are sealed.


I also almost wet my pants. Unrelated to the laughing.

Sunday morning = another polar bear swim (to combat the grossly greased hair sit-i-ation).


Then Poo volunteered us for CHURCH *eye roll* and after what could conceivable have been the longest bloody non-denominational service of my life (filled with what Poo claims were "grammatical errors" on the part of the preacher), we missed what possible chance we had of suntanning. So we headed back to camp for Caesars and cards (Old Maid). Followed by snacking. And napping. And snacking. And more swimming (and almost being run over by the Mugwump ferry boat and my mid-swim panic that I would drown in Lake Mazinaw), followed by subsequent napping and snacking.

Sunday afternoon we got nervous as new campers arrived in the site above ours. The gentleman brought a guitar and we had visions of his serenading us all night with replayed version of "Kumbaya". Although I was fully prepared to beat him with my marshmallow stick, he kept the droning to a minimum.


We took a quick trip down memory lane and visited our old campsite, only to unanimously decide we could never go back to car camping after being on a premium walk-in site--the noise, congestion, children on bicycles, car alarms, and rowdy rowdies was almost overwhelming.


Sunday night FS wanted to go to the final nature demonstration ("Please to Mate-ya") where she managed to pick up (pictured left). We were totally impressed--just look at his biceps, will ya? Then Fingers took us back to the campsite for the worlds greatest pita pizzas and beer (and silly conversations about things like "am I drunk, or is there a daddy long legs on my face?") We capped off the night with dollar store sparklers.

Monday we packed up, and with muscley armed Poo and substantially less reserves, managed to cart our gear out in under an hour. I rolled my tent with about 1000 daddy long legs trapped inside, which will no doubt pop out at me all angry and sh*t this weekend.


Tra la. Alls well that ends will. We're super pumped to re-book for next year, but might be bold enough to try Sandbanks. Only 362 days left to plan...

Dudes.

I tried compiling the camping soiree pictures yesterday but Papa's computer was acting merde, so I couldn't get them onto a disc. Hence no camping update to speak of. But 'tis coming. Trust.

In other news, THIS made me laugh yesterday. A lot. My cheeks might even have hurt a little bit.

And the sleeping issues seem to have fallen by the wayside. At least for now. Don't know exactly what that's all about--not much has changed in my wee life. Perhaps they flew away with the fruit flies? But I haven't touched a Graval in a week or two, and I still have enough Sleepy Time Tea and herbal what-sits to choke a donkey. So should it rear it's ugly head again, I'm ready *cue Rocky theme music*

Ramblings

Bonjour mon amie! It's been way too long, peeps. Defs got the Bread and Jam sweats from lack of posting. This weekend was the girls camping soiree, and when I get my act together I'll compile the pictures and get thee an update tout de suite! Until then, you'll have to make do with this one picture of me being scared by the thunder storm that set in on Saturday, and my ridiculous ramblings.

Rambling #1: Up until this very evening, my apartment was overrun with fruit flies. I'm talking hundreds of them. An army. And I'm a tidy and generally clean person, so this was not jiving with my "flow", as you can imagine. Much like my mother who launched a full on war against the kitchen moths she couldn't get rid of (even after head-to-toe cleaning the cupboards three times, and investing hundreds of dollars in overpriced Tupperware), I was obsessed with getting rid of them--changing the garbage, scrubbing the kitchen, cleaning out the recycling...

Until tonight. Somehow, when I got home from ultimate, they were mysteriously... gone. Odd. Not a one. Nothing. Nada. Like they packed up, flipped me the bird, and flew away to greener (more vitamin C filled?) pastures.

Groovy. And a bit disturbing. Like I'm gonna open a closet someday and find a giant wall of fruit flies staring me down.

*uncomfortables*

Rambling #2: Little Tim from the ultimate team tried to argue with a table full of girls (again) that getting kicked in the doo-da-doo is worse than giving birth. To which Poomobile replied, "why don't you take an apple and shove the whole thing in your mouth, and when you can't get it to fit, I'll start shoving it in there for you, and then I'll grab a pair of pliers and try and make your mouth wider sos it does fit, and then... THEN... come talk to me..."

*even more uncomfortables*

Rambling #3: The best part of starting something is... Everything.

Shoes

I bought farking 400 inch heels last night.

Really it was the ladies who talked me into them. They were oh-so-pretty and oh-so-glittery , I just had to get 'em for the weddings this summer (I feel a bit like Baby from "Dirty Dancing" in them, you know?) So when I got home and changed into my pjs (read: underpants and a t-shirt that says "Balls" on the back), I tottered around through the apartment on them.

Emphasis on the tottering.

Not sure how well I'll do in these babies when I'm two drinks in (three... four... five...) and cutting a rug on ye old dance floor. Could be messy. Could pull a Dark Horse and fall down a flight of stairs. Maybe I should just wear my flops with a sign on my back that says "my other shoes are fabulous"?

p.s. What's worse: "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii" or "Number 16 Bus Shelter"? I think I'm going with Number 16... Hey Beef, why not take a crack at "My Father Can Grow A Full Moustache in Under 30 Seconds"?

Badges and sh*t

Sometimes I wish I wore a uniform to work. A uniform with wicked badges.

And I'm not talking the kind of badges we want to give away on our camping soiree. I'm talking the kinda badges people actually respect. I'm talking about military-awesome badges, all lined up in a row on your shirt, all fierce and shiny and "don't mess with me" and BAM!

Yeah baby.

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

*looks longingly into the distance*

Pool Toys...

... are not cheap. While yes, you can buy a standard pool lounger for $4.99 at your local Crappy Tire, you defs run the risk of deflating it with the first rock you meet ("Oh heller there Monsieur Rock, fancy meeting you *pffftttttt* ahh, cr@p...").

Pool loungers are also a negative on ye ole' fun scale. You really just wind up flouncing about with your great fat bottom in the air trying to pull yourself up onto it, making that awful plastic-on-skin-toot-sound, only to realize your great fat bottom weighs most of the pad down anyway, defeating the purpose of having a lounger to keep you dry and sunny.

This is why I went with the $19.99 Aero-Pro Disc in racing red, complete with head pillow and beer cosy (although in truth, I really wanted to spend $299.99 on the motorized Party Island, with built-in MP3 hook up, four waterproof speakers, six comfortable pillows, and six drink holders...) But seeing as there are only three of us (well, three and a half--to be explained later, FS...), I figured we didn't actually need six seats, speakers, and drink holders, so my $299.99 was better spent on le trip dans le Ireland.

...

Or spent decreasing my loan...

*shrugs*

p.s. Shhh... But I just had to tell you... I beat a certain someone to work ths morning... Hee!

Lucky

BSB and Fingers have a kittykat, and I may or may not lub him the most. You may remember him from Valentine's Days past, as the sender of my favoritest card?

Yup. Same guy.

Anywho. Lucky (that's his name) is a bit cantankerous.

Fingers says he's an asshole.
I say he's misunderstood.

Basically he doesn't like being manhandled. Or petted. Or called "puss puss". Or looked at sideways. Or followed out the front door. Or basically paid any sort of attention or given a lack there of. All of the above cause him to swat at the air and "meh" at you.

He's also a bit "hefty", as they say, which means he usually has some difficulty cleaning himself. So he's messy. And sorta dirty. And kinda mangy.

But I lubs him *hugs*

Sos as a result of the hefty and dirty, the other day Fingers and BSB had him put under for a full spring shaving. Yup, shaving. The aforementioned cantankerous-ness means he doesn't take too kindly to strangers approaching him with sharp objects--or dull objects... or really any object, for that matter--so they put him to sleep and take him to the cutters.

The result is a kittykat with a full bushy tail, a full bushy head, and full bushy kitteh boots. And a torso with a buzz cut. Literally, down to the skin, buzzy buzz buzz.

And he's a totally different kittykat. Honestly, like the weight of a thousand suns has been lifted from his shoulders, he's a born-again kitten with a new set of boots that were specifically made for walking (and that's just what he'll do...) He can't get enough petting, purring, snuggling, prancing, or showing off. He even, yes even, sat with me on a chair for 30 seconds or so while I scritched his headers (well, it was more like he stood awkwardly trying to figure out the easiest way to escape, but there was no hissing or spitting, which is defs an improvement over past attempts...)

Oh Lucky. I lub you.

Here he is doing one of his favorite things: eating... from his food keg... He's very clearly smiling in this photomagraph.


Friday odds and sods:

Manrissa and I went to the movies awhile back, and as we were driving, the new New Kids on the Block song came on: "Summertime".

Have you heard it?

Anywho. Although Manrissa is going to the concert in the fall *eye roll* we chuckled over the silliness of it all, and reminisced back to our days of the NKOTB fan club (I was a Jordan fan). And then we joked about their current song, and how men their age shouldn't be allowed to use words like "girl" to describe women, or have falsettos.

And then we joked about what the video probs looked like:

  • Cliche beach scene with cliche flowing, open shirts.
  • Cliche white suits.
  • Cliche dance scene.
  • Johnathon's still ugly.

I saw the video tonight...

And yup. Johnathon is still ugly.

In other news, there aren't enough occasions to wear sombreros.

Moreover, is it nieve of me to think that the couple in the eHarmony commercial is a real couple, and that they really did get married on May 3rd?

*sigh*

I know it... Don't say it...

And finally, I bought my first pair of le fab skinny jeans today, inspired by the ones I saw on Hurr_ah some months ago. She looked fab, and I hope to look fab in them, too. I recognize I'm a bit behind the times with my trends, as now Old Navy is selling skinny jeans, but I figure better late than never, non?*

*Actually, in re-reading this, I'm sure most of you are rolling your eyes thinking "Um, you could have given that money to a better cause, like amfAR or Save the Whales rather than spending it on sweatshop produced pants that will be out of fashion this time next year..."

Top 10 Things to Eat on a Camping Trip:

  1. Chips (of course...)
  2. Hot dogs. Preferably Shopsy's All Beef Wieners. Preferably done on a stick you whittled yourself.
  3. S'mores. Last year we discovered the joys of using fudge sundae sauce instead of chocolate pieces. Ehn!
  4. Pita Pizzas. But only if you bring Fingers along and get her to grill it for you, because the only thing worse than onions on a pizza is a burnt pita pizza, and that's usually what you get unless you have Fingers' patience. Oh, and you need foil to convection the cheese in the last 2-3 minutes.
  5. Chips...
  6. Beer. Although not technically a food, it can make a nice substitute.
  7. That weird G.O.R.P.-y stuff with oats and peanut butter and chocolate and coconut that you make over the fire and it all melts together and sits in your stomach like a big brick block but oh goodness I lub it anyway and could eat it 'till I'm blue in the face.
  8. Grilled cheese.
  9. Jiffy Pop. Again, only if you have Fingers. Because she brings her big Poo Engineering metallic glove (don't want to know what that's for..) that pretty much goes up to your armpit so you don't get burnt to a crisp shake-shake-shaking your hot poppy goodness.
  10. And finally... Although never been done on a girls weekend, corn. Bought on the way up to camping from the roadside. Husk on. Lots and lots of butter and salt.

Anything to add?

"You're nasty..."

Lilly Allen is ridiculous. So let me introduce you to my new fav song!

Voila, "Knock 'Em Out":

Ah, the memories:


(and AHHH, the horrors!)

'Tis the joy of cleaning out your basement, only to realize you buried that stuff down there for a bloody reason...

... Seriously, what was my mother thinking?

Boringks.

Work? Good.
Apartment? Good.
Yaris? Good.
Running? Good.
Vacation plans? Good.
Frisbee? Good.

*Sigh*

Nofink to report on, peeps. Nofink that I'm ready to report on, either...

It's so hot...

I'm going to take a minute and be "that girl" that complains about the weather. Mostly because there are a large portion of you who do not live in the So'O, and thus don't get exposure to the disgusting So'O humidity. So's I feel I can take a minute to b*tch.

It's so hot, my nose is sweating.
It's so hot, sitting on my slightly valour couch is uncomfortables.
It's so hot, the water tastes warm when it comes out of the cold tap.
It's so hot, my hands feel sticky right after I wash them.
It's so hot, I don't feel like having a sexy party (name that show?)
It's so hot, I don't feel like making popcorn.

And that's saying something.

Creepy things about my neighborhood:

  1. Dogs live in twos. There are two Scottie dogs, two wiener dogs, two pugs (squee!!!), and two of those dogs that look like big walking mops. And they're always being walked together (the pairs), on leashes with red collars. Kind of like those twins from The Shining, but with less weird and more "awwww, aren't ya something..."
  2. There is a witch on one of the side streets. And I know for a fact that she's a witch because she stands out on her front walk in her nightgown, with her white witch-y hair hanging down her back, pointing a finger at you as you walk/run by, mumbling something, as if she's cursing you. Lil' Fingers has seen her too. Although Lil' Fingers seems to think she might just be waving and saying hello.
  3. Raspberry bushes line the trail I run on. So every once in awhile, while I'm running, people will leap out of the bushes covered in raspberry juice blood.

Badges

For our annual girls camping weekend, Fingers and I have taken it upon ourselves to get our hands on some Scouting badges to randomly "award" throughout the trip. We were thinking the usual badges--camp fire excellence, outdoor education, friendship, etc.

Unfortunately, the local scout shop is closed for the summer (wtf?) so we have to look online. Which lead to some pretty funny google searches, and some pretty awesome potential awards. Not the least of which is pictured below. I'm pretty determined to get my hands on the following:


*snicker*

Let's play "you do, but you don't..."

You have to love when your work week starts on a Thursday and ends on a Friday. This is the kind of employment I could get used to.

You don't have to love it when your phone throws up on you and decides it's going to take a vacation from it's duties as text-message-provider-and-all-around-communicado-tool.

But you do have to love it when you get to go to the Telus store and buy a fancy new phone that's red and goes "hmm hmm hmmmmm" when you have a new text.

You don't have to love it when you forget that there's no bread and you make your favorite--egg salad--for lunch, with nothing to "sandwich" it in between.

But you do have to love it when maybe your friend Fingers is coming to the library to do some work and she says "want to have lunch with me today?" and you say "why yes I would" and she says "how about 12:00?" and you say "yes, that sounds nice."

Cottage

Sorry for the absence, folks. I've been lounging it up "inflatable party island" styles at BSB's cottage. While the weather (the the mother trucking black flies) refused to cooperate, the puzzles, drinks, snacks, sauna, midnight swims, board games, reading, hammock, etc. did. So all in all, ridiculous and mucho funtastic--holla to my friends Fingers and BSB for their huge hospitality.


While there, a soon-to- be-married friend got us thinking about the most inappropriate first dance songs. Fingers and I came up with "Love the One You're With" by Crosby, Stills and Nash:

"And if you can't be with the one you love; It's alright; Go ahead and love the one, love the one, love the one your with."

Beef came up with "Lips of an Angel" by Hinder.

"Well, my girl's in the next room; Sometimes I wish she was you; I guess we never really moved on; It's really good to hear your voice saying my name; It sounds so sweet; Coming from the lips of an angel; Hearing those words it makes me weak; And I never wanna say goodbye; But girl you make it hard to be faithful; With the lips of an angel."

Any suggestions?

p.s. I've seen my first episode of Entourage. And BG--you were right. Farking good.
p.p.s. Worth the wait.