\m/

I'm so not into Halloween this year. So much that my costume for tonight is a total copout, using all things that I wear on a daily basis. I think it's because it would have been my grandmother's 86th birthday tomorrow (she passed away in June), and I'm presently all bummed out that I couldn't afford a plane ticket to Toronto to go and hang out in the cemetery with her. She was the only person in my entire family who never judged me, or told me I was doing everything wrong in my life. I mean, I guess that's what grandmothers are for... but being the black sheep (well, one of two, really, since my one cousin and I appear to be cut from the same cloth) of the fam, I think it was a little more difficult of a loss for me. Ah, well.

You guys, I am over pirates and zombies. Go away already. I remember when I was all about zombies in maybe the 2nd grade, and my teachers thought I was insane. Also, me and my best friend always used to draw these pictures of carnivorous plants, and then write up graphic descriptions of what they would do to their victims. We went to different schools, but both got the same comments at parent teacher interviews about where all of this was coming from.
Apparently teachers don't like creativity and want all students to write about teddy bears and butterflies. In junior high, I remember I wrote this one story where the theme for everybody was about a 'prince' who was on a quest to find a kidnapped 'princess', blah blah blah... anyway, I had the 'prince' be this asshole on a motorbike, and at the end the princess was like 'fuck you, I rescued myself because you took too bloody long' (well, not those exact words, but you know). ANYWAY. The teacher gave me something like 65% on it because she claimed I 'didn't follow the guidelines'. Yeah, okay. WHAT? What guidelines? You gave me a THEME. You didn't specify that you wanted some misogynistic ending where the poor, stupid girl NEEDS the big, strong man to rescue her. Granted, it was still 1991, but whatever. The rest of the year, she marked ALL of my stories in the same way, and ever since then I have mostly disliked teachers.

Sorry if you're a teacher. I probably don't dislike you... but this is 2008, so I'm sure things have changed.

Okay, wow, I went off on a tangent and no longer know what it was I was getting to.
So never mind. Happy Halloween.

this and that.

People are always asking me what my secret to having great hair is. I'll tell you something, it's not really any kind of secret... it's just a matter of having a really great stylist. And by really great, I also mean expensive. Trust me, it's different when you have straight hair by nature, but I don't. But I also don't like the way curly hair looks (too messy, too crazy), so obviously I needed to find someone who knows how to cut hair like mine. $200 a pop, people. But so worth it.

I always used to like going to the Tropicana on Thursday nights (corner of 14th and and 34th, in front of the drugstore). A long time ago it used to be a biker bar, but now I like it for being a quiet enough place to pop in for a drink on weeknights (by 'quiet' I just mean the crowd isn't big, they usually have a band playing, and it's usually someone I know on Thursdays) because it's off the main drag. $4 vodka last night. Who knew 7 drinks (between two of us, I'm no boozehound) could be so cheap?

I kind of hate it when people make their dogs wear clothes and Halloween costumes. I've heard people even say "Oh, but (insert dog's name here) loves to be dressed up!". Yeah, as-fucking-if. Did you ask your dog if he liked it? Didn't think so. That said, my dog usually wears a bandana around her neck, and sometimes a t-shirt. I know, I suck. Whatever. But beyond that, it's a DOG. There is no way in hell I'm making her wear a winter coat, or boots, or some other kind of stupid costume. Dogs like their own junk. Some of them eat shit. They smell. They bark. They rip stuff up. They don't like playing dress-up, okay?

I'm totally going to go watch that George W. Bush movie.

xo

I'm not fucking psychic.

Over the weekend, someone observed an exchange between myself and another individual, then nervously laughed and asked why I am so mean to certain people. Um, 'mean'? Oh, that's right. I don't treat everybody equally. Well, why should I? I've lived long enough to believe that I've actually earned the right not to be nice to every Tom, Dick , or Jane that decides they want to open their mouths in my presence. It isn't that I go out of my way to be a jerk to everyone I meet, but I get easily annoyed when I feel like my time is being wasted by insipid conversation, or sob stories about things that wouldn't be happening if these people would just pull their heads out of their asses and learn lessons for a change. Dude, I have been through way too much to want to spend my time 'counseling' people whose biggest problem is outright stupidity.

I am mean to people who do drugs.

I am mean to people who can't hold down a steady job.

I am mean to people who pretend to be smart.

I am mean to people who waste talent.

I am mean to people who can't stop talking about money.

I am mean to people who use slang I don't like.

I am mean to people who hang out with people who do drugs.

I am mean to peoples' husbands I don't like.

I am mean to peoples' wives I don't like.

I am mean to people who like sports teams I hate.

I am mean to people who are repetitive.

I am mean to people who can't spell.

I am mean to people who try too hard to make me like them.


Okay, so maybe I am just mean. Whatever. Ignore everything I just wrote.

happy dead turkey day.

Things I am thankful for:

1) Cheese.

2) Cheap (but good) wine.

3) Falling gas prices.

4) Having Monday off from work.

5) Spellcheck and dictionaries.


Things I am not thankful for:

1) Having a goddamned bladder infection. What the fuck?

2) People who drive Hummers.

3) Magpies.

4) Being surrounded by women who are too difficult to be friends with.

5) People who don't know how to use Spellcheck or dictionaries.

A tale of thanksgiving.

This one Thanksgiving, I thought I'd go to Safeway and buy those TV turkey dinners for me and my boyfriend at the time to eat because I figured it'd be funny. Anyway, I bring them home and he's all like "what the fuck?! THIS isn't what we're supposed to be eating at Thanksgiving! FUCCCKKKKK! Where's the turkey? Where are the mashed potatoes??". Um, yeah... so who died and made you in charge? Also, get your ass off the couch and go shop and cook yourself, providing you know how the stove works. Of course, I'm laughing the whole time because come on. Shit like that is hilarious. That guy had no sense of humor, not even when he was drunk. The point of this story is that there isn't one. I don't have any goddamned time to cook a turkey this weekend.

Like forgetting how to tie your shoes.

Mostly, I think girls are stupid. No, really, I do. I want to be supportive of my own gender, but a lot of times it's just too difficult. Currently I'm irritated by girls who are like, "I drink/do drugs because my husband/boyfriend/whatever doesn't pay enough attention to me".

Okay... WHAT? First of all, no, you don't actually drink because whoever doesn't pay attention to you, you do it because you're a low self-esteemed substance abuser (trust me, I know. Takes one to know one, apparently... except that now I don't do any of that so SCORE for me) who will pretty much use anything an excuse to get wasted on cheap vodka and snort fistfuls of bathtub cocaine.
And secondly, if he doesn't pay enough attention to you, there's a way easier solution, and that's to just leave the motherfucker.

I mean, come on. It's not like it's rocket science.

xo

Two cents.

One time my mom asked me why I 'like to struggle'. What she meant by that is that when given two different ways to do something, I always seem to pick the harder way. And not just with school and jobs, but even relationships. I think she meant, in particular, that I don't typically date men who are more successful than I am. At first I was pissed off that she asked such a question, but then I realized that my mom is really old-school, and she still believes that while it's cool for women to be successful and independent, they'd still do much better to pick significant others with fat wallets to make it easier for them to be able to raise children, etc. And here's the thing... it's isn't really that I particularly like to struggle, but I DO like to prove to everybody that I can do virtually anything I put mind to, and do it ON MY OWN. There's something about getting things handed to me that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, as though people don't believe in my abilities and are saying "here, just take it... no amount of breaking your back is ever going to ensure that you get this in the end, so we're going to hand it to you right now". To me, there is a lot of shame in that. It's like giving up before you've even tried. See, I got myself this far. I'm definitely not who I thought I'd be, and I most certainly have not come through unscathed... but that's cool. At least I didn't do it on some poor asshole's bank account.

Blah.

"Well, anything's better than being a Packers fan."

"What the hell does that mean? What's wrong with the Packers?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong with the Packers... I said the FANS."

"Yeah, and what's wrong with the fans?"

"Well... you guys wear CHEESE on your heads. Cheese. Are you fucking kidding me? What IS that? Who DOES that?"

"I have nothing more to say to you."

"Um, yeah, no kidding."

That's what she said.

I'm not going to go on and on about Starbucks on here, because god knows I've already bitched everywhere else about it. Long story short, Starfucks is officially boycotted. If you think you can give me bad service, cold hot chocolate, claim that your product is all fair trade (bullshit, I've done my research, thanks), and on top of that make me pay money for it, well you can take those stupid green aprons and shove them up your asses. That's that. I had a far superior cup of coffee this morning that my BF made for me, and it was free.

Next. I need to buy a dress for my friend's wedding in Mexico, and guess what, the flight has been booked since August but I stupidly waited until now to buy a dress and there aren't any stores still selling summer dresses (obviously). In that case, I think I will have to hit all the second hand/vintage places in town. No offense, Calgary, but Vancouver and Toronto are way better for second hand and vintage shopping, you are just a wannabe where fashion is concerned.
Footwear is not issue because for some reason I have ten million pairs of sandals. Okay, not really ten million, but at least 7.

Last night this lady was begging for spare change at the Wendy's drive-thru. Are you kidding me? At a fast food drive-thru? As it was, we were already paying for our salads (yes, the only thing I eat from Wendy's are the salads) with loonies and quarters, what do you want? I miss the days of the old bums that I used to run into on the street who wouldn't ask me for for money but would just talk to me. I guess then they were just 'homeless' and not really 'bums'. Sigh.

I wore my Joe Satriani tour t-shirt the other day (I am wearing it today also, shut up, it is still clean) and some guy was reading the front of it (yeah right, he was just looking at my chest) and said, "Who's Joe Satriani?" not like a joke or anything, he actually didn't know. Really? He is only one of the greatest and most innovative guitarists of all time! No, I don't personally play guitar (I can pick out a few chords, that is all), but I have been a big fan of his since years ago. He is 52 years old and quit playing football at 14 to become a musician. I love it when people quit sports to play music, it is the ultimate 'fuck you'.

So, we are probably going to order Chinese takeout for Thanksgiving on the weekend. I haven't made a turkey in something like 3 years, it is too involved of a process for me to even want to think about this year. I might just steam some brussels sprouts and cook up a pot of stuffing just so it seems more 'thanksgiving-y' or something, but really Chinese sounds awesome. Then I think on the Monday my brother and I are just going to get pizza. Traditions are silly anyway.

xo

"Nothing that's flesh colored or shaped like an animal"

Haha, so that wasn't the real post before. It was just this funny Rick Mercer link my friend sent me, and it pretty much sums up how I feel about Canadian politics.

Anyway. Me and BF went to Olive Garden last night. I know, it's Olive Garden... but come on, don't tell me you don't sometimes like to go there because you can order a disgusting amount of food and have it still be really cheap. It's bottomless salad and breadsticks, plus they kept bringing us this free wine (it was meant to be a sample, but since when is two full glasses each a 'sample'?). AND we ate dessert. Only one because I was already way too full, but BF would've let me get a whole dessert to myself if I wanted. I still have leftover eggplant parmigiana and spaghetti. they gave me breadsticks I didn't ask for as well. It's the first time we've been able to sit down to eat an actual meal at a decent time in like forever because his work hours are always so fucked... so don't judge. Normally you should see the types of restaurants I pick to go to, where nothing on the menu costs less that $20. But it's not fair to always pick places like that since I am never the one paying the bill in the end.

Blah blah Olive Garden. Well, tonight we are going to the Joe Satriani concert, and then tomorrow I have to go to a bridal shower for my friend (yeah, barf, I hate shit like that, but she's been my friend since I was 13 and I consider people like that to be family). I don't know when the next time is that I will update this thing because I am THAT busy.

xo

Good eye, sniper.

http://www.cbc.ca/mercerreport/videoplayer2.html


Go the right side and click the clip that says 'RMR- On Family'.

Ahahaha! Politics is funny shit.

Just quickly...

If you are not going to vote in the upcoming election, then stop whining and complaining about how the Stephen Harper government 'never does anything for us'.
Also, if you are not going to vote (and are registered to do so) please do the rest of us a favor and do not continue to reside in Canada. The end.

Act your age, not yer bra size.

I think I am finally over skinny jeans.

Some of my girl friends have this funny habit of saying girls that they don't like have small boobs, even though they quite obviously have huge cans. Why IS that? I mean, if I don't like some chick but she is totally stacked, I'm not going to lie about it... I might slander her poor taste in clothes, say that she isn't that pretty, or call her stupid, but there is no getting around chest size.

I like how the girl at STARFUCKS offered me their 'new' version of hot chocolate, but when I asked her what the difference was either than how it was made (I asked her how much different it tasted- was it better or what?), she said she didn't know, it was the first day they were offering it and no one had tried it yet! Oh, thanks, Starfucks girl, thanks a lot. Aren't you guys supposed to taste-test the merchandise before pawning it off onto some poor unsuspecting victim? Sorry, but I am NOT your hot-beverage-guinea pig. I fully intend to come back in a month and see if anyone has tried it by then.

Once a long time ago, I used to bring sneaky booze in to work (not THIS job, by the way) in this little flask that looked like a perfume bottle so it was extra clandestine. Then one day, there was a tiny little hole in it, and all the alcohol leaked out into the desk drawer that I kept it in and my whole work area reeked like Jack Daniels. Welcome to I sometimes suck at life by accident.

So, no one is here today, everyone is faking sick because of the nice weather. Huh, I wish I had received the memo... it's like showing up at school and three other people are wearing the same outfit. You were SUPPOSED to fucking CALL ME, not just guess that I wasn't going to wear this. Now we look like douchebag central.
Nobody ever tells me anything, they just assume I am the responsible one. Which is true most of the time. I feel an afternoon doctor's appointment coming on.