Tales from a Coal Miner's Daughter

Captain's Log, Tumbler Ridge, Day Five.

Christmas has come and gone and another turkey has bit the dust. Not too much to report from TR other than I'm really happy to spend time with the family and really bored out of my tree. Prezzies did me well with gift certificates to stores I like, body butters, and enough Starbucks cards to last me a month.

While bored I've watched more movies than ever before, which is always nice to catch up on. I love visiitng Ma and Pa, the only thing is that since they move roughly every two years I've never been able to make friends in places they live before moving onto the next spot (boohoo, I have tons of friends at home and am not complaining, just observing). But it's still worth the visit to get a chance to spend time with them, eat real food and have mom do my laundry (yes I'm spoiled).

A few odd points to mention of TR-there's more traffic on the side roads for snowmobiles than on the actual roads. When going into the general store, people knew who I was even when I didn't know who they were. I've heard "you must be Ivan or Linda's daughter" by more than one random stranger. I debated picking up an economy pack of condoms and rollies to get the town talking about what Ivan's daughter is upto. The highspeed internet is as slow as dial up internet, but it's still a welcome portal to the outside world.

Moose and wolf tracks are akin to footprints up here and not having cell reception is not all bad, though I havespent a large portion of the time on the phone with friends. All in all, TR is not that bad and is even an upgrade from Stewart, having one stoplight AND a golfcourse. But seriously, next year Mom and Dad can come down for Christmas. I'll even make the turkey.

Merry Emo Christmas

First off I want to start the post just by saying that everything in life although busy and frantic and a bit overwhelming is great.

The staff party went off without a hitch, Jess's birthday was awesome and in general activities have been good times. At work they are even painting the office that Josh and I share from a hideous pee yellow to a nice taupe with chocolate trim. Sooo much nicer to work in.

The late night shoppers make me wanna jab a candycane up someone's ass sideways but really that's no different from any other shopper on any given year. People have been nicer during this season, goodies have been abound and cheer is in the air.

That being said I'm not sure if it has anything to do with Christmas at all, or maybe the stress-busy-travelling etc factor....but I wanna bawl. And it made me think. Do you ever have one of those days where you just feel overwhelmed and like crying, but you don't have good or even logical reason to cry. So you hold it in. You can feel it in the back of your throat when you hear a sad song or a friend says the wrong thing.

And I'm not a big crier. I can probably count on one hand the times that I cry in a calender year. I will wipe away a tear when watching a sad movie or when angry and feeling like I'm not being taken seriously. But those are few and spotty. But when there's no specific reason? It just seems very emo. cAnd yet I would gladly welcome the tears tonight if they were able to come. Have a big ol' hiccuping sobfest, but logic won't make it possible as I realize that I do not have enough reason to shed tears. B eing overwhelmed with a million things during the season is normal. Does anyone else ever have a similar sentiment?

On a lighter note...worse gift; fruitcake, cheap ol candle or chlamydia?

Don't Hate the Chef, Hate the Recipe

So last week in the staff room when asked if wanting to volunteer as a part of the staff bake swap, my answer should have been a resounding "Faaaack no!" as baking is an art I have never mastered. In fact it's something I'm downright awful at. But I found my prelobotomized mind thinking 'This could be a fun chance to learn!' so I signed up with gusto.

What was I thinking?

The first attempt was Friday. Chocolate chip cookies are easy, right? Not when you put baking soda in them, in lieu of baking powder to ensure they won't rise. Then you use whole wheat flour instead of white flour to try to make them healthy. And then you eyeball the vanilla rather than using a measuring spoon to make them mmm,mmmm good. Those are mistakes I can take credit for.

The part of the recipe that gets me is the 'preheat the oven' part. Now, not once does it give you an exact timeframe to start preheating. Twenty minutes? Two hours? Who knows. I decided that more preheating would be better to ensure that they were cooked through and it would make the apartment warm and cozy for guests. Also, spraying the pan with pam to ensure non sticking is easy as can be. Nopers! I doused, feeling quite pleased there would be no sticky cookies. They did not stick to the pan, as they were too busy swimming in oil. The cookies that came out of the pan were one large melted cookie with blackened edges and no resemblance to anything cookie like.

With a cheerleading squad of friends drinking the vino at the kitchen table I took on the cookies and failed miserably. The kitchen and myself were coated in floor. There were at least 2 eggs dropped on the floor and one on the counter. The smoke billowed and the apartment was a million degrees. The cookies were not going to make it to the bake swap amongst the delicate truffles and layered bars of the baking friendly staff.

Attempt number two. Also not my fault. The recipe calls for oil to go into the cake mix for, well I don't honestly know what for but I'm sure that it has some purpose to be there. But the recipe did not ensure what sort of oil to use. Canola? Sunflower? Motor? Who knows. The only oil I have in the house is olive oils so I figured that would do. WRONG. Apparently olive oil is a heavier oil than say canola so rather than having nice fluffy cupcakes to serve to the staff I have lead bricks in cupcake liners. Not bad, but more brownie-esque than cupcakey.

So now I am onto attempt three. The cupcakes smell good in the oven, but I already know that it could be a trick. They have the right sort of ingredients, the right measurements, the right oven temperature. All the stars are lined up for the cupcakes to be awesome, and so with crossed finger I am off to check on them.

If this doesn't work I'm off to the store to buy something that would have a recipe to go with it to try to pawn off as my own. Nothing too complex or people will know I didn't do it. Do they sell Rice Krispie squares in bulk?

Leanne's Chrissy Pressy

Don't anyone else think of getting Leanne the John Deere cookie jar set. I'm calling it now. Best. Present. Ever,

This is Why We All Get Along

"Still no internet. How primitive. We might as well get tin cans and string to talk to each other." Jessica, showing her distaste for the internet being down at work all day long.

"Why do you have a tire, rollerskates and a home pregnancy test in the back seat of your car, Meghan?" Sarah (through speculated coversation).

"He's emo, but doesn't look like he'd be emo. It's weird." Me
"He's emo in disguise. He's incognEMO." Sarah

"Lets go test drive a truck and use it to haul shit around today and take some trips out to the dump. " Leanne.

"So she got banned from the one bar for nudity, banned from another one for fighting, took my shoes and has passed out in a hallway. WTF. Ummm, are you seriously gonna go on a second date with this girl?" Me
"Probably." Lorne

You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I was nineteen I had a friend named Adam. We worked together at the same mine and we spent every break and evening together. He had a crush on me, and I knew it but it was one of those situations where neither of us brought it up. I would go to him with guy problems (not being most sensitive person around) and we would smoke cigarettes (his) and discuss love and life and how much we thought we knew about the world but obviously didn't. He was older, 24 and was one of the sweetest guys I'd ever met. He was smart and non judgemental and worldly. Of course I was interested in the tattooed biker who was playing every girl within 50 metres. Not much has changed sadly as I'm still chasing those boys.


At the end of the summer he took me aside and with a shaking voice told me he had fallen in love with me. I was surprised. I had known he had feelings for me but not to that extent. I'd never even had a guy profess feelings towards me before that point. It was weird. He told me he didn't expect me to feel the same way but just had to say it anyways. I stared with my mouth hanging open on the end of his camp bed. It was his last night and I wouldn't see him in the morning. He kissed me, and we parted way.


Two years later after I had travelled and grown slightly ( but was still full of the arrogance and ignorance of my early twenties) I ended up moving to his home town. I didn't expect to run into him but it wasn't a large city so I was not surprised when I did. He looked the same and I hugged him as if nothing had changed. It felt really nice to see him again as he was someone who was comfortable. We went to the movies together and chatted and caught up and it was just like old times; then he dropped the bomb. He had a girlfriend. It was serious. It was two seconds after he said that when it kicked in- I'm an idiot and I lost my chance to be with him. We tried to maintain a friendship after that but the awkwardness had set in. He was happy and I had to deal with that. I learned a valuable lesson...or not.


Years later I find myself in similar predicaments. Not once or twice but a few times. I had a friend who has been interested for months. I dabbled with the idea but have been too preoccupied with kissing and dating a plethora of men to consider settling down with one. Why have spagetti every day when you can have a buffet. We flirt and everything but I keep it carefree enough that I cannot find myself in any trouble for my behavior as "we're just friends". But then the attention started dwindling. Less phone calls and text messages. They're still there and flirty and fun, but without the same gusto. The spark he had for me was gone and moved elsewhere and I felt sad. I have to admit a part of it was due to the attention and admiration of someone. Selfish as it is, it feels good to have that ego boost in your life. Not enough to feed fuel to the fire of ther attraction, but enough that it makes you feel wanted or at the least attractive. But part of it was more.

Now I know that this is a mind game and I am guilty as charged. It goes hand in hand with the saying how you can't find someone when you're single but when you're taken people flock to you. I'm the person that doesn't realize I want the person until the person is no longer into me. I don't neccesarily think it's "cause I'm a woman" as I've seen many men do this as well. In fact many cheesy 90's teen flicks were based on it. The grass is always greener on the other side is I guess is the point I am making and often we don't realize it until it's too late. I've scolded friends for leading someone on when "all you have to do is say you're not interested and it's that simple". But my own medicine tastes pretty bitter and I'm getting pretty damn tired of taking it. Is there a way to outgrow this behavior or is it just a fact of not always getting what you want.

If flirting is an artform, Facebook is my canvas

Poke.
Poke back?
We hooked up and it was ____________
We dated from ____ to ____ and now ___________
Facebook messages are the new email messages.

Not only is facebooking great for getting in touch with old coworkers, classmates, birthday reminders, and to see who will be at which event to see if you'd like to go, but it's also a great forum for flirting.

Search out the cute boy from that night out (and if you're extra facebook stalky like me) see if you have any mutual friends. Facebook messaging each other when both are online pokes tongue in cheek at msn messaging. The random poke here and there for a giggle. Right now my facebook page is a plethora of men I have dated, am dating, or want to date. Screw lavalife or plenty-of-fish, this way is easier and plus I'm already on it 20 hrs a day anyways. It's great to rekindle flirtations with past boys (why? why do i do that to myself?) and to see a little bit about the guys you are into. Ex) First date "sooo my friend facebook tells me your fav band is...."Why not take advantage of the largest social networking site right now.

I can't help but wonder if others have the same sort of facebook encounters or if I'm just progressive enough to take it to a creepy sexual level.

hello out there?

does anyone read my blog anymore? just curious cause i'm noticing that as i'm starting to get my bloggin mojo back, then comments have gone from flourishing to slim to none. and my friends at sitemeter (which i really don't know how to read) seem to be telling me i have at least 3 readers or more, discluding your mom.

anyone wanna come clean? even attention whores may want a spotlight, but i'll settle for a flashlight of readers....

1+1=?

There's one thing my friends don't know about me. My family sure doesn't. My boyfriends haven't, and my lov-ah's won't. Period. My sexual number.

To me it's not relevant for anyone to know. Sex is personal involving two (or sometimes if you're a kinky bitch...not like me) or more people. I don't tell because of the judgement involved with teling 'the number'. And don't act as if you don't judge as everyone does it. I have.

I remember being virginal and nineteen (yes I was a late bloomer into the sex world) and talking with a coworker. She flippantly mentioned how she had sex with seven people in her life. I gasped audibly as to how someone could have so little self respect as to have more than one or even two partners in their sexual life. I also have associated a thought pattern of judging a person based on the number. Aka "Hi Meghan!" "Hi Anonymous person!" (all you can think about screaming in your head is "they've had sex with 56 people gross!")

I remember when starting to have sex holding a bar to others. Well I may have had ______ partners but this person has had _____. I'll never be as bad as they are!

Wow, I've been a judgemental bitch.

Maybe it's a cop out not telling people my number. My best friends don't know and they won't. It doesn't matter. I have a don't ask don't tell policy when dating. I don't care what a guy's number is. I don't care if it's the second time he's had sex or he's been with an entire swedish cheerleading squad. The point is as long as he is safe, then it doesn't matter. He's with me at that point and it's what counts. The same goes as far as myself. A guy shouldn't care about who I've been with, he should be secure enough to know that I'm with him exclusively and that's what matters.

Also in the same vein of topic, does a number define promiscuity/sluttiness or is that best left elsewhere. Ex.) I have known people that have had a lot of sex with multiple partners I would not consider slutty. And I've met virgins who I have sneered at and found to be sexually deviant. To myself sluttiness is not defined by a number. Promiscuity maybe but not sluttiness. Sluttiness in my definition is having sexual encounters that are disrespectful to yourself or others.

For example a virgin who makes a play for another girl's boyfriend is sluttier in my eyes than someone who is enjoying casual sex and is making their intentions clear to all involved. Cheating, lying, going for someone taken, manipulation are all stronger forms of sluttiness to me than a sexual number.

Not that you're going to know mine....

What's your food for thought on the topic?

Do Over

Do you ever have one of those weeks that starts out shitty and continues to get even shittier?

-death of someone I know, check (suicide is NEVER the answer)

-family problems, check

-cancer diagnosis for someone I'm really close with, check

-friend mad at me, check

-having technical difficulties with another friendship, check

-coming to terms that you may like someone, but now it's too little too late, check

-2 parking tickets, check

-fucking up at work big enough to have to admit to your new boss you fucked up.

-finding out that your insurance renewal is going to cost you roughly a rent cheque monthly, check

I think that we should be able to have one week a year that we can have a "do over" to. This would obviously be mine.