Monday, November 30, 2009

Stick a Fork in It, Cause I'm Done

With NaBloPoMo. 30 posts. 30 days. Thanks for sticking it out with me. Even though at some point the posts were a bit painful to write, and certainly even more painful to read, it was well worth it.

It was an amazing writing exercise that allowed me to stop stressing so much about each post being "spot on" and just enjoy sharing the sometimes silly, sometimes melancholy thoughts that run through my head. If a post sucks, it doesn't mean I suck at life and should shut down my blog. Wait til another day and click the publish button. If a post doesn't get tons of comments, oh well, write another one and maybe that one will resonate with readers.

Not every post has to have a theme or a happy ending or a corresponding photo and that's alright. As well, comments are gifts, not validation. I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me for the last month, and it allowed me to focus more on the writing rather than watching comments build until I find it to be a suitable number. I would encourage anyone to do it at some point, and if you do you know I'll read along to see what all you have to say. Does this mean I'm going to continue posting daily? Hells to the no. But does this mean I'm going to strive for consistency in writing and commenting? Yes. So all in all the mission was a success.

Also a shoutout to my girl Paula who managed to conquer NaBloPoMo as well. You're a rock star, and a terrific writer and I'm proud of you girl.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Tis The Season

To elbow people at malls, go to ugly sweater parties and finally get rid of that god awful Movember mo' that's making my guy friends look like Where's Waldo with a restraining order.

Oh, and of course Christmas stuff. When not suckling at the teet of Starbucks Eggnog Lattes in their fiery cups I've been know to enjoy a mulled wine or two. Or in the case of last year's workplace Christmas banquet, a bottle or two. Followed by tucking the skirt into my nylons. In the front. And chatting with the boss and his wife.

Yeah. Anyways.

So I thought since it's the season of sharing I'd show you a few of my personal holiday drink recipes from my liquor stash so that you can report back with your own trainwrecky stories of mistletoe stapled to belts and making out with the janitor at your own workplace soiree.

Rum Eggnog
1 container of store bought eggnog.
Good quality amber rum
A glass.

Pour rum into the bottom of a glass. Roughly one third of the glass, but more or less to taste. Add eggnog. Be festive and add a sprinkling of nutmeg. Not too much, that shit is potent. Stir and enjoy.

Mulled Wine
1 bottle of red wine. Don't get all fancy shit on me, the 7$ bottle will do.
1 cup apple cider. Without alcohol. We're making mulled wine, not moonshine.
A blob of honey. No more, no less.
A small handful of cloves. Note I have tiny hands.
A handful of cinnamon sticks.
Some orange slices.

Throw all ingredients into a pot, and simmer on the stove for 20 minutes. Note I say SIMMER. The heat must be low or the alcohol will burn out and then you might as well feed it to the dog or get high on the leftover nutmeg from the eggnog.

Candycane Martini
Peppermint schnapps.
Candy Cane for garnish.

Measure out 3 ounces of vodka. Put two into a martini glass. Take the other one as a shot. Don't be a pussy, do it. Burns right? But in a good way. It's okay to like it.Throw in one ounce of peppermint scnapps. Use a candy cane as garnish and to stir your drink. Cause you're classy like that.

I hope these recipes fair you well into the New Year and encourage you to go to your local mall and sit on Santa's lap and tell him whatcha really want for Christmas.

P.S. Don't forget the giveaway on my 200th post is still open til Wed night.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Hello, Is Anybody Out There?

Between American Thanksgiving and Black Friday it seems like blogger world is quiet right now. Of course this is the weekend I pick to do a giveaway. Figures.


Friday, November 27, 2009

200th Post+ Giveaway!

Thank you.

It's been a long haul, and I don't say it enough, but thank you.

I started this blog three years ago for a plethora of reasons, I have gone over but also because before this blog I honestly thought noone read blogs other than friends back home looking for updates. Then I stumbled across Steph who I still think holds the bar and she was sharing hilarious stories, and painful truths and there was a whole community of bloggers supporting and each other.

Then came 20sb and I fell down the rabbit hole to this wonderful and wacky world.

It's hard to believe in 200 posts, I've been through 2 jobs. 2 apartments. 2 relationships (I'm starting to see a pattern here), and one broken heart.

Facing the hardest thing, and dealing with mental problems head on. Dealing with fears, and near death experiences. Addressing friendships solidified, and friendships changed. Spur of the moment trips, and falling from the sky. Oh and lets not forget that I'm on my third car since I started this thing.

More bad dates and trainwrecking nights than my archives would like to justify. Sharing waaaaay too much information, lonely nights, and hungover morning. Oh and you were there when I met Tinkerbell, on numerous birthdays, and have dealt with a couple blog breaks. Over the last year I have met a couple of bloggers, and hope to one day meet more.

Throughout this blog I have changed as a person. Throughout my twenties I have had a pretty good grasp of self, but through applying it to this blog it's given me confidence in my choices, my truth, and myself.

It's been a wild ride, but honestly for all the times I've had writers blocks, and days of frustration and thoughts of quitting, I always come back. Because it's not about simply entertainment and validation, it's become about friendships and release.

It's hard to believe I've gotten to 200, and lord knows if I'll get 200 more out of this, but all in all, I know I wouldn't have done it if not for you, so I have to say, from the bottom of my heart,

Thank you. now onto the good stuff. I wanted to give something back to say thanks for reading, and to continue to read so I have a 15 dollar ITunes Giftcard and 10dollar Starbucks giftcard* to send away to one lucky reader. You know the routine.
Comment= one entry.
Tweet and link it back= 2 entries.
Become a follower*= 3rd chance to win.

You have til next Wednesday. Good luck!

*That's all that I can afford. It's Christmas and I'm broke/don't have blog sponsors.
*Current followers already are counted for one entry.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

....200th Post Tomorrow

Yup, that's about it ;)

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Single Goggles

Single goggles are cousins to the beer goggles and are infact interchangable and sometimes easily swapped. But whereas beer goggles fog your vision to make the opposite sex funnier, sexier and worthwhile of relations, single goggles are trickier.

You see beer googles happen within a twenty four hour period and are akin to sunglasses at night and when ripped off in the morning light, slap you in the face with the mistake made in the sense of someone who's drivers license you look at while in the washroom and promise to friend on facebook.

But single goggles are goggles you have on all the time but fog up over time. The prescription gets stronger the longer you go without kissing, dates, and "relations". They make you question that ex you broke up with years ago and think that their drug problem really isn't that much of a dealbreaker. They make you look at that guy at the party with the limp and the unibrow and wonder if maybe he has great character and personality other women haven't discovered yet. They make you eyeball men at the grocery store and see if their groceries are similar to yours and if this is enough for a conversation starter. That guy on the dating site that has 'n/a' under profession could just be mysterious, and that guy at the bar with the Ed Hardy shirt....well that's where I draw the line.

But the single goggles are glasses that come on after a certain point of singleness, and the prescription gets deceptively stronger over time which is why you need the advice of a wingman. Not the beer goggle wingman, those have a whole other set of wingman rules I'll go over at some point. But the single goggles wingman will coax you from texting that guy that asked for your number and failed to follow through. They'll verbally (and physically if need be) slap you across the face if you think about taking him back just one more time, cause it's just soooooooooo comfortable with him. They'll encourage you to date, but won't let you scrape the bottom of the barrel just so you can at least feel like SOMEONE wants to take you out for coffee.

I think it's safe to say we've all wore a pair of single goggles at some point or another. Have you ever worn them or been a wingman for a friend with single goggles?

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Kareoke, Anyone?

It's not Wayne's World, but it should give you a chuckle for the night.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Quantity vs Quality

I warned you all that I'm stubborn. Maybe it's the red hair, maybe it's the fact that I get what I want and maybe it's both sprinkled with the fact that I can be a tichy bit batshitinsane at times.

But in the good way, of course.

So it's no surprise that some of my posts have gone down in quality and at this point if this was an essay I'd be handing it into the instructor with a sheepish smile hoping the Super Cool title page will bump it up to a C+ even though the writing is more of a C quality.

Does this mean I'm embarrassed by the quality here? Yup. Does it mean that I'm going to resort to boob shots and a KD recipe post? Probably. Does it still give me incentive to do my 200TH BLOG POST+ GIVEAWAY on Friday (a little selfless promotion works), of course.

Does this mean I'm going to give up NaBloPoMo? Nope. Because I'm sticking through this to the end. And if I have to resort to pictures of my cat/jazz hand Vlog posts or seeking out adventures on the streets for a C+ on this project, so be it.

That or I'll just drunk post for some extra credit.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

A Throwback to College Town

My friend Al (Alistair when I'm feeling refined) is passing through town and has placed himself at home at my place for the evening. He's currently watching the hockey game, while well fed and I'm surfing the internet. And although the food I fed him is a little healthier than in college and our night tamer than others, I'd be lying if it's not a throwback. Often in college Al would be over at our place eating Kraft Dinner, drinking beer and watching the game. Lives and locations change, but sometimes it's easy to go back to a routine you didn't even know is ingrained.

So to celebrate, I'm going to jack a few of the quotes off my friend Nick's blog from when we were all in college, cause we may be a little older, and a little wiser, but underneath it all, we're still saying the same stupid shit years later...

"What we need to do is torch the classrooms, burn down the clocktower, and murder our teachers." - Melissa

"If you cry and bake cakes you can manipulate people." - Melissa

"It's friday, I'm naked and I'm drinking. It's a good day." - Meghan

"I'm going to go up to random people and go 'Word to your mother!'...see how many time I get punched out." - Meghan

"I'm a worthless piece of skin!" - Al

Al: What kind of party ends at 1 AM?
Nick: The kind that starts at noon.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Do You Wanna Shag Now, Or Shag Later?

I just watched Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me.( the best of the trilogy) and have concluded that at the two parties I am going to tonight, I shall only introduce myself as Ivanna Humpalot.

This shall have no dire consequences in the morning, certainly.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Job Application

Harpo Studios
1058 W. Washington Blvd.
Chicago, Il 60607

November 20th, 2009

Pirate Meghan
Apartment w/ Cat
Kamloops, BC V2C V2C

Dear Oprah,

My name is Meghan, and I am currently applying for the job Queen of Daytime Television and Other Stuff, post date starting in 2011. I am available for this job effective 2011 and will be able to relocate to Chicago.

I have no previous experience in broadcast television, but don’t let that stop you from considering my candidacy for the position. Like you, I have a background in entertainment journalism, a strong drive and a love for great shoes. I am able to entertain and relate to others and feel I can use the platform to show surburban soccer moms everywhere, everything from Blogging to Online Dating-the Do’s and Don’ts.

I may not have a Stedman in my life, but don’t you worry I’ll pick up right off on the are you/aren’t you debate with Gayle due to the fact that I am married to my best friend on facebook and it keeps people guessing. Your Favourite Things show will be as amazing as ever with Macbooks and Iphones for all (guess I’d better start doing lunch dates with Steve now) and I even have friends in Chicago that I know would work well on the show too. Oh, but one thing is enough Adult Contemporary singers on the show, Lady Gaga and Jay-Z need to make their way to the sound stage.

If asked, I can provide an extensive list of bloggers for reference who are legit and able minded and will make a great production team for the show. Feel free to contact me at the blog provided or piratemeghan at hotmail dot com to discuss this opportunity further.

Meghan L.

P.S. Obama-rama representing.
P.P.S. Would it help if I told you I almost named my cat Oprah?
P.P.P.S. I love you.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

TMI Thursday: The Time Santa Took Out My Tampon

TMI Thursday

So, on Friday I had the unique pleasure of getting a Pap smear AND a cervical biopsy at once. Yeah, I know, you’d think it was my birthday or something (and I just officially lost all my male readers).

Let me tell you there is nothing comfortable about a pap smear from the bottom bearing paper gown to the poking and the prodding of your vadge like it’s a grade four science experiment. The epic point came when the MALE doctor came towards me with the cutter thing and stated, “This won’t hurt a bit.” And before I could think, I shrieked back, “How do You know? You don’t have a vagina!”

Yeah, a little bit of comedy to go with awkward vaginal probing. Thank you, thank you. Tip your waitress.

But none of this was an embarrassing as the time I had to go and get my tampon taken out in the walk in clinic by Santa Claus.

K, whaaaaa?

A few years back, I decided to do the whole switcheroo to tampons because before that point I’d read too embarrassing stories relating to them in teens magazines. But figured there’s obviously a market for them so started using the cotton plugs to do what they do. It’s a pretty straightforward thing I don’t need to get into.

Except that one time I went to ummm, remove the said plug and there was a bit of a problem. Ya see, the string came out. But the tampooni stayed right nice at home in my ladycave. After checking to see that fingers wouldn’t do the trick and damning my small and childlike hands I realized I’d either have to shove tongs up my vadge to get it out or go to a medical professional.

I chose the medical professional.

So off I went to the walk in clinic on a Saturday to wait for two hours. Two hours so that a doctor could come into the room that looked exactly like Santa Claus. White beard, glasses, flushed red cheeks (of course the fact that I was spread eagle with a stuck tampon may have had something to do with that) and a belly that was probably robust from beer not milk and cookies, but yeah. Santa Claus. With a duck. Removing my tampon and remarking how he’d only heard about this thing from other doctors, but I was his first stuck tampon.

Glad to be your first. Charmed, I’m sure.

Ever since then I have been paranoid about checking that damn string first. Because really, theres only so much vaginal probing a woman can take without dinner first.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Coming Attraction Posts

Santa+ A pap smear=awkward Meghan.

200th postiversary + free shit.

Blogger meetup at My Place, BYOB!

Recipe Post:Kraft Dinner and Bagel Pizzas

Blog Forum: Facebook etiquette?

Facebook status updates: The Sequel.

Home renos with duct tape and a staple gun.

What NOT To Do At Your Staff Christmas Party (Hint: Don't tuck the front of your dress into your nylons and then talk to your boss's wife).

Value Village Fashion Blogger.

Mark it in your google readers...

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Enough About Me...

lets talk about you for awhile. Is your drink alright? Would you like a top off of your coffee or tea? Take off your jacket and stay awhile. There's shortbread if you'd like....

Anyways, even though it's my blog I'm getting tired of ME talking about ME. nd when you get sick of hearing yourself, that's not a good sign. So tonight I'd thought I'd turn the table, as I have an eclectic mix of commenters/readers lately; new and old and how about we switch it up. Why don't you tell me something about yourself- Who you are? Is there something you want to share here? Something you wouldn't think I'd guess by reading your blog? What's your favourite colour and food? Biggest pet peeve? Biggest hope and fear?

I'm listening.

Monday, November 16, 2009

I Made a List, But Didn't Spellcheck It Twice

Dear Santa,

I know it’s about six weeks away from Christmas still, but I know you’re a busy man so I thought I’d let you have a heads up on this years wish list. Remember, organization (and cheap elf labour) is the key to success.

This year my list isn’t that grand, but I do have a lot of specifics so you’re going to want to check this list twice. And don’t bother asking already cause you know I prefer naughty over nice. But this year I tried hard and short of a grilled cheese night, have been doing good things, so try to keep that in your sight.

This year I want a shiny diamond ring, a nice tennis bracelet or other forms of bling.

A new dvd player, one that doesn’t fall apart. A Super Nintendo complete with accessories to play Duck Hunt and Mario Cart.

If you could pay off my VISA, it would be better than any present you could wrap. I know that would ensure you one visit of sitting on your lap.

Some new boots, a winter jacket, and some skinny hipster jeans. Perhaps from Rich and Royal, so that I can feel just like a queen.

A new bed with headboard, one that doesn’t creak. The neighbours would appreciate the discretion, as a mattress that doesn’t squeak.

Some chocolates, and coffees and gourmet herbal teas, some Starbucks cards and don’t forget chocolate gelato please.

A new Macbook and cell phone, one that I cannot break. Oh and some vegetarian casserole recipes that even I can make.

A sweet pair of yoga pants, straight from Lulu Lemon, with a matching water bottle and yoga pants would be my ideal piece of heaven.

Of course I’m going to save the best for last and I hope you don’t think I’m a prick. But a nice guy, with manners and smarts and at least a six inch…


Sunday, November 15, 2009


My mind is still scattered so I'm just going to verbally throw up a little of what is in my head.

  • Went out Friday night for one of my best friend birthdays and had more fun than I thought I would, but unfortunately an epic night of carousing lead to an epic morning on hangover for the 2nd weekend in two weeks. Saturday was spent eating takeout and napping.
  • Unfortunately I'm finding that 1.) due to the fact that I almost never drink anymore I can't handle my alcohol compsumption like in my younger years. Lightweight tendancies, blackout evenings and quesy mornings have overtaken, but I'm not too concerned as I'm thinking it's a sign maybe I should stop drinking so much. I like the taste of alcohol; a glass of wine with a nice meal, beer when watching a good hockey game, ceasars when out at a pub but I hate that the next day is filled with ten times the anxiety than one should have due to the fact that I hate the feeling of being outside of my control and getting drunk is one of those things that does that. Having a drink and getting drunk are two very different things that I am going to start exercising.
  • The debt ball is snowballing lately due to tires blowing out, emergency root canal and having my taxes done wrong so owing the gov't 200$. At this point serious adjustments need to happen so I am starting to look for a second job and am debating keeping my car parked through the spring. I refuse to be someone who is going to be drowning in debt and so the choices are: make more money and cut back on expenses and those are the two realistic ones that I can think of.
  • I just ate 1200 calories of cheesecake. 1200 calories worth of cheesecake. If this doesn't indicate a dry spell in my life, I don't know what does.
  • If my past dating career has shown me anything it's that I'm attracted to sociopath sort of tendancies. No joke. I've been trying to break this habit for the last while. And have been successful in the sense that I'm not currently dating so I'm obviously not dating any sociopaths. But then last night I was watching Dexter and realized I have a total star crush on Dexter. Not the actor who plays him, the character of Dexter. I think this is a step backwards.
  • While broke and on a budget I've also decided I need to start decorating my home. Obviously. The first step is new cushions for the couch. One budget friendly step at a time.
  • I see there is a new layout for posting on blogger for posts. I like that I can do more things now, but can't seem to find the spellcheck. This is sad for all involved.
And that's about all I have today. Off to coma on the couch and new cushions. Eating half a cheesecake will do that to you.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


I'm super hungover today.
And super lazy. My head is cloudy and unfortunately I've been thinking way too much.
I hate thinking too much.
So this is my crappy post on this crappy day.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Don't Let the Cuteness Trick You

Bad webcam pic of headbutt time....but you turn your back for one second and...

She's on my dinnerplate, stealin my noms.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

You Win, Tai Chi

I hate giving up and am stubborn to a fault. It's why I'll continue with a recipe even after it's destined to fail. Its why I\ll grasp at threads of relationships long after the flame has burned out.

But today, it's official. I'm a quitter.

I started tai chi about six weeks ago, much to the shock of my friends. It's not something I'd normally do, but that just fed the fuel even stronger. I had no idea what tai chi is, but in the Kamloops Info brochure it sounded fun, and like it would be a good branch off of yoga.

And it is a beautiful blend of martial arts, self defense and spirituality. But unfortunately it never really clicked. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to exercise, and love the zen of yoga, but something about this just never really resonated with me. I haven't picked up the moves fast, but because I haven't really wanted to. I'm going to each class with no enthusiasm or spirit and it shows in my movements and moods. I don't leave the class feeling refreshed and recharged, but simply annoyed at the wasted hour. I don't take the pin pointing of my wrong movements as a positive learning experience, like in other classes, but a magnifying glass of how I don't fit in. It's not low self esteem or awkwardness, or even just giving up before trying because week after week I go, with my smile tight and my teeth gritted and do it.

But tonight, I thought about going to tai chi and how being a stat it probably wouldn't be happening tonight and felt a wash of relief and happiness. Happiness that I didn't have to go and do a hobby that I'm paying for! Hobbies are supposed to be challenging, but above that they are supposed to be something you enjoy and in procrastinating before class to accidentally missing it I realized that it's not work the twenty five dollars to push through the next six weeks. And so I quit. Plain and simple. The words taste bitter, but I am an adult and I will not be forced to do what I do not enjoy. So come January, I will be going back to the yoga I know and love and possibly even pick up a dance class, cause I'm willing to try different classes to find the one that does.

So I;m going to pose the question to you, when do you stay with something you don't enjoy because you're getting something out of it, and when do you simply walk away and quit?

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Lest We Forget

Rememberance Day has always had meaning to me, of course. It's a day of remembering the soldiers who fought in the war and those who are still fighting. It was the day of the year where a day off school meant dressing up in my Girl Guide uniform and leotards to fight the cold while carrying the Canadian flag in a parade down to the park where veterans dropped wreaths and I hoped my chattering teeth weren't audible during the minute of silence. Afterwards there was always skating and watered down hot chocolate at the skating rink for all the students to attend. This is what I knew until of Remembrance Day until I was fifteen.

The summer I turned fifteen, I was able to go eight hours south with our Girl Guide troop to Prince George,BC where we would meet with other Guides from all over the world at a camp called S.O.A.R. There were girls everywhere with accents I'd never heard outside of movies but unfortunately the weeklong camping trip was cut short when after two days in the rain a bad case of strep throat got the better of me forcing me to pack it in and stay with my grandparents for the remainder of the week while the rest of the troop, including my mom, camped it out.

My grandparents were amazing people, traditional but not to a fault. Sunday roast was at 4:00pm every week and plants and knick knacks littered their home. Although it wasn't fancy it had everything they needed from the rotary phone to the clothes line outside. Up until that point I had mostly spent time with my grandparents on long weekends when we would visit all the while stocking up supplies for the long winters up north, all the while shelling peas from the summer garden. This was the first time I had ever spent with them, one on one.

With typical teenage angst and boredom, even during sickness I balked at their lack of sugary cereals and cable tv and utilized my illness to get a lot of soups and white bread and coins to go play at the arcade down the street. I chatted with them about school and life in general, but it wasn’t until the second to last day, when all the Reader’s Digests had been read that actual conversations started to form. It was then that my grandpa asked if I wanted to go through some old photos with him. With shaking hands he opened a dusty trunk and out came yellowed crinkled photographs and the stories to go with each.

First Group of Photographs...Growing up in Gundy, BC. Farm life for the family. Church and family and chores split among siblings. He was proud of all the hard work his family had done for rural area of BC, since deserted for oil plains and valley suburbs. A village I was only able to visit in the years after his death and see through his eyes.

Second Group of Photographs...Family, brothers and sisters each with a story he told with a twinkle in his eye. Showing that sibling rivalry was universal throughout decades and demographics.

Third Group of Photographs
...The War. Or more specifically World War Two. I'd known that my grandpa had been in the war fighting for Canada just as my other Grandpa had been in it fighting for the British, but is was something neither of them spoke about and we weren't to bring up. With a slow and steady voice he started to tell me his stories of the war. His truth.

A Photograph of Boys Carrying Guns... No older than those with fake id’s and high school diplomas. His friends. His brothers through the bonds that they shared and the horrors they saw.

A Photograph of Fatigues... Proud of the badges he wore but each one told a story of a battle he wished he wasn’t in. A test of daily survival. A memory of a war he, years later was still trying to forget.

A Photograph of His Brother... His identical twin. His mirror image. Both of them identical in stature and pose, tall and handsome. His best friend. They kept each other company, just as much as they kept each other sane. They fought in the war together for too long and were close to coming home to the lives they had back in Canada. Back in Gundy. Unfortunately both of them didn’t make it back. My great uncle, Kenneth Bulley died in battle in Italy. He buried his twin brother in a country he didn’t know during a war he didn’t want to be in.

With each story, it opened a door that had been closed shut for years. That he had to keep shut in order to go on, to come back, to survive, to marry, to live. A door that noone would understand unless you were there. It was there in his eyes, I saw it. The one person who understood was gone, and years later he opened me up to this horrific world he lived. These were not photographs from a text book, or from a A&E documentary. These were his life. Each story, told in a voice with emotion held back. Each photograph, yellowed and creased was a stamp of bravery and heartache. And in that moment, I got it. I really did.

I never told anyone about the talk we had until the next year when his sudden death had past and we were burying him in a graveyard in Gundy. Next to the headstone of his brother. His twin. It turns out that my ears were the only ones to have heard. Not his wife, my grandmother. Not his children, including my mother got to see the photographs I was able to see. To be honest, they seemed a little jealous that I had been given the experience they all wanted to ask about. Years later, I'm still not certain why me of all people, and why on that day he decided to share it all. But to be honest I'm glad he did. Because in that moment, suddenly Rememberance Day wasn’t about watered down hot chocolate and frozen fingers, it was about war tearing apart families and brothers. It was about honour and courage. It was about trying to move forward, but never, ever forgetting.

Monday, November 9, 2009

One of the Guys

I've always been one of the guys. It's a blessing and a curse. And tonight when out for coffee with my guy friends it made me wonder if it's the reason I'm single. Not cause I have tons of guy friends. But because the following can come up into conversation casually....

-sleeping with your mom
-sleeping with my mom
-phallic cupcakes
-'special' christmas cookies
-the proper way to get carted out a bar
-how drinking leads to Bad Decisions
-how we should drink this Friday
-rating the Starbucks clientelle on their 'sexability'
-would a lesbian vampire go down on a mortal on the rag or would that lead to death?
-masturbating with butter in a pinch

And would you believe everyone at the table is on the edge of 30? I'm never getting laid again.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Because Your Approval Means Everything to Me

Foiled By My Own Plan

Yesterday was kind of an expensive, shitty day. Except for getting my first eggnog latte of the year. That was nice. But the rest?

A tire blew out on the car which resulted in getting up at 7am on a weekend (grossness) to beat the snow tire lineup so I can get two new tires on Buzz Lightyear so he can continue to go to and fro. That took until about 11:30am and I chose not to blog about it.

Also at approximately 10:30 am plumbing Armageddon happened in my kitchen and I chose not to blog about the pools of water everywhere and the ruined kitchen supplies. Cause that's not too fun to blog about. Besides, I had other blogging plans for the day so those were just irritating inconveniences to get me to that point.

Ya see kittens, I had a dentist appt yesterday (yes. again.) and my dentist is heavy handed on the Ativan as welcoming as I am with taking it. 1 root canal =2 pills. So although it wasn't the longest appointment, I was quite royally effed up by the time my bestie came to pick me up. This is where the plans of blogging came in, and I patted myself on the back for being so clever.

Ativan in all its tricky glory has a tendency to make me black out. Big time. So I figured I'd blog everything I thought/did said when ativan induced which would be entertaining for you, but also helpful so that when I woke up this morning groggy and out of it I could go back to my computer and it would all make sense.

Example of the Blog I thought would be created:

4:25 Took a sip of iced tea

4:50 Decided to watch Robin Hood:Men in Tights. Wendy's baked potatoes need to get recognized in foodie circles more.

5:15 An ode to Ativan:
I love you.
You make me so sleepy.

And so forth....

What actually happened.....

Leanne and me came here. She ate her burger, I ate part of my potato we chatted for a bit, my landlord came over to fix the sink and we watched something on tv....

BLACK OUT..... wake up. Ten at night. Leanne is gone. Cat is eating the potato. TV confuses me. BLACK OUT....wake up, it's 3am. My cat, full on potato is curled up besides me. Lock the door, make my way to bed.

11:00am this morning, wake up. Sink is missing from kitchen, cat has puked up the potato on the floor, no word of Leanne and blog is not posted. Epic experiment in Ativan fail. but know that the thought was there. And in theory, it was good.

I guess the only way to make up for this is to do a double post day.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Nom Nom Nom

In light of yesterdays candy post, I'm going to hammer the final nail into the Halloween posts....

If you're anything like me, you like structure and there is no better way for a kid to gain obsessive compulsive and organizational behaviors than with Halloween candy. I remember on Halloween night dumping out the pillowcase onto the livingroom floor, shifty of anyone eyeballing the good stuff, and with frozen fingers and a buzz, sorting it into 3 bowls. The Good Stuff. The Alright Stuff. And the Throw Outables.

Here is where I show you how to determine between the three piles.

The Good Stuff: any full size chocolate bar easily goes into the good pile. Hands down. Along with anything with chocolate or nuts in it, peanut free label be damned. Everyone knows the little nugget sized bars of Snickers and Oh Henrys made any lunch day better and you would be the one the kids wanted to trade snacks with on the playground. Not that you would. Suckers.

The Alright Stuff: This is the pile where the wagon wheels and granola bars go. Not bad snacks by any means, but they're already the usual suspects in the lunchbox so they're not really special. This pile is mean to be eaten when The Good Stuff pile of candy is gone and yet you don't want the remnants of free candy to be over. Sour Kids and Caramel Corn always end up in this pile for me, but you may find that they belong to the Good Stuff pile and I can respect that.

The Throw Outables: Any fruit by default ends up in this pile because my mom said that she knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who ended up with poison or some sort of razor blade in unwrapped food. And my mom isn't a liar so we should all listen to her. Also in The Throw Outables pile? Raisins. Anyone who gives raisin on Halloween is by default an asshole. Even at seven this was apparent. Those weird corn candy things with the trifecta of ugly fall rainbows have always made their way to this pile as well as Rockets candy. Even as a kid, mamma wanted the good stuff and knew her ghetto candy when she saw it. Also in this pile? Candy apples. Covering a fruit in sugar doesn't mean there's not fruit underneath it. Caramel apples however? They obviously belong in the Alright Stuff pile. But eat it before you get to the rest of the pile due to the time sensitive nature of the fruit underneath.

Anyways, I hope this lesson in Halloween candy sorting 101 has been helpful and remember if you need any help next year I'd be more than happy to come over to supervise the sorting. But this of course means I get to choose what I want from your Good Stuff.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Diabetic Coma

Oh yeah, and in all the wrap up posts about the parties and the drama I forgot to mention one other little thing about Halloween...

Not one kid stopped by my place for candy, and I couldn't be happier ;)

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Confession Time

I'm not very good at finishing through with goals. Of my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days, I'm finding the ones with a finish line are the hardest. Jumping out of an airplane is one thing but doing sit ups for a whole month is definately another. Which is why the last few days that you may have noticed a few more posts than normal, I didn't want to admit that I've been secretly setting my goal on NaMoPoMo.

But then tonight came and I'm tired and cranky and have an ear infection and just got off the couch after a two hour nap which trumped both laundry and tai chi to stretch and get ready for bed. And I looked at my blog page and was planning on signing out without a post. You didn't know my super secret goal, so noone would have been any the wiser. But the thing is, I don't want to sweep this one under the rug like the quit soccer classes and dusty dancing shoes. This is the one I want to stick with. To grow from, to maybe even learn from?

So it's official. I'm sticking it out there. NaMoPoMo, it's on like donkey kong. I may fail, but if so it's going to be with everyone knowing the finish line in the first place. Last week I wasn't even certain if I wanted to continue with blogging anymore, muchless whether or not I had anything to say. Well, needless to say that's about to change quick. Another stressful factor is that it's going to be an exercise in not using comments as vaidation. Often I have larger gaps between posts cause I like my comments to be higherand it makes me feel the post is popular? Respected? With each comment it is a little smile towards the post. With posting every day I'm not going to have time to see whether or not I have what I consider to be enough comments before going onto the next one.

But that's all I'm going to rattle on about tonight since I have to find something to talk about for the next month! I hope this post makes sense from my sleep addled brain, but if not that's okay too cause I'm going to bed anyways.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

The Halloween MashUp

You have to take a look for yourselves to see what the night consisted of....

Gretchen loves beer, and beer loves Gretchen!

A beer wench, kissing booth, Batman and a sailor walk into a bar one time, and...

Mario and Luigi decide to join us for a good time.

Poor duct taped heel. RIP Halloween, 09.

Anyone want a ride?

Not drunk AT siree....not in our group...

And what's a wench to do after crying on the streets? Join a grumpy Batman at Denny for some grub, of course!

Monday, November 2, 2009

Man Handled

I am 5' 2". I weigh approximately 97lbs on a good day. I don't pretend that I am big, nor tough, but that doesn't stop me from voicing my opinion and sometimes running my mouth.

This is amplified when I drink.

So when I went out on Saturday and drank too much, it doesn't surprise me that I got mouthy when given attitude. I'm normally a happy go lucky drunk, but can dish it out as well as I take it in any form. Unfortunately on Saturday, this came in the form of lipping off a bouncer at a club.

He then without warning or hesitation picked me up, fireman style and literally threw me out of the bar, banning me for the night. If not for the other bouncer knowing one of my friends and alerting her, noone would have been any the wiser that I was kicked out, and I would have been stuck outside freezing.

I'm not going to dispute that I was drunk, but a lot of people were drunk that night and did not get kicked out. A girl threw up at our table and didn't get kicked out. Was I drunk? Yes. Was I obnoxious? Yes. For both of those I am still embarrassed. I'm not going to say there wasn't reason to kick me out. But to do in such a manner is making my blood boil. He could have asked me to leave the bar. He didn't. He could have walked me out of the bar. Once again, he didn't. Instead in front of a large group of people he threw me over his shoulder, knowing that I was wearing a short skirt which would expose me to the world and had his hands on me.

Would he have tried to do that if I was a guy? Absolutely not. Would he have done that had I been 170lbs? No. He took his position of authority to a level that is inappropriate and unneccesary. I may be mouthy but in no way as I am physical threat to anyone and to use physical force to get someone to leave without asking them to leave in the first place is completely unneccesary.

It all happened so quickly that I was left, bawling on the street wondering what the hell just happened. I'm humilated still as I've never been kicked out of a bar, muchless in such a manner.

This was done at the same bar that once tried to kick me out for being too drunk when I was the DD and hadn't drank, and once cut me off after two drinks for being too drunk ( I may be a lightweight but even I can handle that). At this point I'm wondering who's dog I kicked that works in that bar.

Today I am debating going to said bar to lodge a formal complaint, but am still absolutely humilated and don't want to show my face there.I just want to hide away from it all. In one way I don't agree with what happened, but it's his word against mine and my memory is blurry. It's 'the drunk girl' going against the bar staff. That being said, I don't think what happened is right and I feel that my size and weight were used against me when I was in a vulnerable state.

Just because I'm drunk does not make it right for anyone to put their hands on me inapppropriately, muchless display my ass to the world. It doesn't mean not giving me reason to kick me out, nor does it mean he should have tossed me out on the sidewalk. I could have fallen. I could have still had my purse or jacket inside. I'm wondering if I making too much out of this, but something tells me I'm not.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

The Hangover

When you don't remember the night before due to excessive alcohol consumption there are certain keys to piecing together the night.

1.) Check that there isn't anyone in your bed with you, you have your housekeys, wallet and so forth.

2.)Ask friends what happened.More than likely they are in the same boat but together you can start to make a semblance of an evening.

3.)Check for photos, text logs, and bank transactions to show you where you've been, who you texted and what you found important to record.

4.) Wait for people's messages/writing on your wall on facebook.Don't be shy, when they say "Ohmigod, I can't believe what happened last night!" ask, point blank, "What happened." Also new friend requests are a good way to start figuring it out.

5.) Hope that the colourful vomit you're expelling will show what shots you did, what post bar food was? Too much? Yeah, but it may help.

6.) Try to muster up the dignity to go back to the bar to ask why you got kicked out.

7.) Know that even if your outfit didn't start out with a duct taped shoe, the night ended with one. Poor, poor shoe.

8.) And last but not least maybe hide out for a few days to see that since you don't remember, everyone else will forget what happened.

Fuck. This is why I don't drink anymore.