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.
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
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:
- Chips (of course...)
- Hot dogs. Preferably Shopsy's All Beef Wieners. Preferably done on a stick you whittled yourself.
- S'mores. Last year we discovered the joys of using fudge sundae sauce instead of chocolate pieces. Ehn!
- 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.
- Chips...
- Beer. Although not technically a food, it can make a nice substitute.
- 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.
- Grilled cheese.
- 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.
- 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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)