Some things are beyond using the mute button

Someone (who shall remain nameless) called and left a minute long message on my voice mail. Long messages don't bother me. However, this person was calling from her bath tub. It echoed and everything. She proceeded to tell me how she got a bath set for Christmas and was trying it out. She doesn't usually use scented products, because they make her skin itchy, but this stuff isn't too bad. She likes the way the bubbles feel. Anyway, call her when I get a chance.

Even I think this is too much information. Hello cementedvisual.

Good thing I love her.

Cheapskate Tuesday: Christmas mules

This year I could have made thoughtful gifts and sent them back home, but that would be too expensive. So I decided to go for gift cards. They fit in an envelope, are cheap to send, and people like them. The only snag in my plan was that my nephew Gremlin wouldn't understand a rectangular piece of plastic as my way of showing him I care. Kids need toys. Cool ones.

So Lucky and I spent half an hour picking out some sweet dinosaur and zoo animal toys that move and make noise (I think Lucky had more fun with these than my nephew will!). *Remind me to tell you a funny story* Anyway, being a cheapskate I was not looking forward to sending these in the mail. Fortunately, Special offered to mail them for me- he's a courier so he gets a discount. Awesome. Most people would be happy with that. However, I'm cheaper than most people. Knowing Special was going home for Christmas, I asked if he had room in his suitcase to take them. He did. Problem solved: gorilla and triceratops ride the plane for free :)

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* Funny story: When Lucky and I were taking gifts, wrapping paper, and movie munchies to the till, an old lady stood in line behind me, and Lucky stood behind her. All of a sudden Lucky got a peculiar look on his face and cooked it over to the next till. What's the deal with that? He stood there smiling. It wasn't a shorter line. Hmmm. Then it hit me: a waft of stink. At first I thought he dropped a bomb and ran, which would have been cold. However, his expression told me it was the old lady! Ewwwwwwww. Old lady farts are nasty. Plus it hung in the air forEVER and the cashier took her sweet time. I thought I was going to die. No, vomit, then die. Lucky laughed.

Sometimes Confidence is not enough

Sea got me some new fancy make up and make up brushes for Christmas. Today I thought I'd try them out and experiment with the smokey eye effect. Feeling like a bit of a fox, I strode confidently into the front lobby at work. Alarmed, Friendly stopped me and asked if I was ok. Weirdo... of course I was fine. She seemed confused. Perhaps my eyes were watery or my cheeks were red from being outside. However, as I made it into the back room, I received a myriad of stares. Ok, what's the deal?! I asked one of the girls if there was something wrong with my make up. Her hesitation told me there was. She said it looked like I'd been beaten. Enough said. I washed it off.

*Note to self: experiment with make up on days off.

Confession Tuesday: Did I forget to mention?

Stella's dating Lucky. I'm Stella.

Things I have in common with my 3 year old nephew

I got a package in the mail today. In fact I got two. Most grown-ups would open them at Christmas. Not me, I grabbed a knife and ripped those suckers open (think packing tape)! Paper, ribbon, and boxes everywhere! I didn't even take my shoes off at the door.

I snoop at every present. I hold it, shake it, and squish it. I'm pretty good at figuring them out too. When I was a kid, I would hunt down the gifts in the house, gingerly cut along the tape line,peer at my present, then replace the tape, and arrange the gifts exactly as I found them. No one knew. This year Sea hid all my gifts in her room and gave me strict instructions not to go in there. To be honest... I grabbed the phone in her room and peeked. I know that's wrong... but I did. However, in the direction where she told me not to look... not that I was looking... I saw she covered something with a sheet. Summoning all the will power I could muster I left the room at that point. I think I deserve props.

Once Whatever gave me a gift bag wrapped up like Fort Knox (sp?) and said not to look inside. I did anyway and there was a note that said, "I told you not to peak!" Busted. Maybe I'm five.

Sniff... sniff

Lucky's lady

Lucky has a new woman and I'm glad. He's nuts about her. Since things started happening between the two of them, it's like he walks around in a Frank Sinatra song. Ooh- or maybe Whoville. (I friggin' hate Whoville, but it's a happy place and I think that's where he's at). I'm glad he finally found a girl who realizes what a great guy he is. That girl's going to be the luckiest girl ever (pun half intended). If she breaks his heart I think I'm going to bust her knee caps.
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Cookie update: Only five boxes!

Flashback Memory Friday: What alterior motive?!

Ok... so maybe it's a little scandalous, but a while back, I used a friend's son as an excuse to go to the fire station. It's true. Worked like a charm. The kid was stoked that he got to see the fire engine complete with flashing lights and a seat in the driver's chair! Pretty exciting eh? The guys even let him wear a hat, boots, and a jacket. Cute. It made his day and gave him an experience to remember. So glad I could be a part of that ;) Tee hee.

Strongly recommend this ploy. Could possibly work at a police station too. Go get 'em sisters!

Smudged mascara trash talk

Dear Impatient-bus-driver-who-leaves-unreasonably-early-from-major-check-points,

YOU suck and I think you smell! Thanks a lot jerk for screwing me over twice today. Both times you left 10-12 min early, which meant you left me and other passengers stranded in the snow. It's effen minus 37 tonight and I have better things to do than to spend half an hour (twice) sitting in an effen snow drift in the ghetto. My hands, toes, and limbs burned with cold; my snot froze; and my eyes watered, causing my mascara to smudge. I love looking like The Joker to people passing by.

What if someone were to get hypothermia or mugged? What if you left behind one of those moms with her stroller? Never mind the people who have jobs, meetings, and other important things to show up on time for. What justifies you leaving ten minutes early? What could be so important or beneficial? There are timing points and bus schedules for a reason. If you want to make your own schedule, become self employed.

Sincerely pissed off,
Heidi
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*This is my frustrated vent, so don't think this is me all the time :)

P.S. I held my thumb out to hitch a ride on a fire truck. No dice. They smiled at the effort though.

Cookie eating snow sorcerous

When did -20 become decent weather and -14 become good weather? How did I get conditioned to this? I think I'd put on a bikini if it was plus 5.

Also, how did our cookie cupboard count drop from eight boxes to six, in only a few days? Hmmm. I think the cat is eating them. Stupid cat.

The coolest thing happened last night! I was in the dark and took off my massive, multicoloured, thriftstore, sweater and I could visibly see the static! There were silver sparks everywhere (Heh heh... I'm fighting the urge to say I'm electric). When I reached out to touch the sweater lying on my bed, there were three inches of sparks from my hand to the sweater. SOOOO cool! This provided a solid four minutes of entertainment.

I think you should put something in the dryer without a fabric sheet, then go play in the dark.

Confession Tuesday: Too much information

I chickened out of sharing the juicy Confession Tuesday entry, so you get a much grosser edition instead: What I'm like when I'm sick.


Being sick sucks. I wear sloppy clothes because they're comfortable and no one will see me anyway. Right now I'm wearing an over-sized, multicoloured knit sweater that I got at the second hand store for four dollars. Underneath that I've got my neon yellow T-shirt I bought in Santa Monica. It's ripped and faded. I'm wearing my raw spinach green capris because all my pants are dirty. Laundry is not a priority. To keep my calves from getting chilly, I just hike up my black socks that I got in the men's' section of Zellers. Who needs a bra when I nap most of the day? Run free boobies, run free! Showering takes too much energy because I'd have to unrobe, clean up, re clothe, and then dry my hair so I don't get a chill. This is gross because I probably stink, but I can't smell it so therefore I don't care! I feel wretched, so greasy hair and clammy armpits have become trivial. Snot rags overflow the garbage container in my room. I haven't rinsed out cans of soup or washed the dishes. Items are scattered all over the place. Who cares? The high points of my day occur every four hours when I can take my next set of meds. That means more pills, and/or Buckleys. I'm convinced Buckley's is equal parts pine juice and hydrochloric acid. I feel tough taking that stuff, but it works.

Do I sound nasty? Heck yeah! However, I bet my description secretly sounds familiar. We're all a little sketchy when we're ill. Nothing matters other than getting better or alleviating as much discomfort as possible. For example: when your nose becomes chapped from blowing it so often, what can you do? Yesterday I discovered a brilliant and inexpensive solution (which could have been a Cheapskate Tuesday idea!): if you dab chapstick on your beak, it totally soothes it. Just don't use your chapstick for other things afterward.
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P.S. If you haven't filled out the sheets poll yet, please do! Time is running out.

How I accidentally asked a strange man to spend the night

The other day Sea, her relatively new boyfriend Krikey, and I were kickin' it at the house playing some cards (I lost terribly!), and eating a life changing treat. As a side note: the life changing treat is one that my previous roommate Bamba and I came up with. We'd layer Moosetracks ice cream, Double Stuff Fudgee-o's, and Reece's hardening sauce. It's to die for. Whatever, Fairweather, and I perfected it in a cup. I haven't met anyone who doesn't like it. I think I'd judge them if they didn't.

Anyway, back to my story: Sea got up to go to the washroom and it occurred to me that Krikey might wake up earlier than Sea and me. So, I let him know that we keep the cereal above the stove and that he could help himself in the morning. His eyes got huge, his back straightened, and his muscles tightened. What, was the guy too cool to help himself out? Er... nope. Turns out that my sister hadn't invited him to stay the night. Awkward. He said they weren't at the bring-your-tooth-brush stage of their relationship yet. Oh. Whoops. What do you say after that?! "Well, at least you know where we keep our cereal." Yep.

Pansies are at least beautiful

I woke up to ice on the *inside* of my bedroom window. It felt like an 1800's time warp. I imagined myself as Susanna Moody (minus the wolves of course).

Sea thinks I'm a pansy. She made fun of me for wearing my snow boots when there was only an inch of snow. I didn't think it was unreasonable; However, it became the big joke. I thought I was tough stuff for even "braving" the snow, Victoria goes into lock down only a few inches.

People here are hard asses. No one complains much about the snow. They carry on about their daily lives: go to work, get groceries (imagine pushing a shopping cart through a foot of snow), and meet people for dinner. The schools don't even close unless it's minus 38. Minus thirty frickin' eight! That's nuts. Imagine walking to school like that. People also plug their cars in to warm up. Isn't that crazy? Maybe I am a bit of a pansy.

Gosh and Santa would be jealous

Currently Sea and I have eight boxes of cookies in the cupboard. When did we become the girls with eight boxes of cookies?!

Flashback Memory Friday: The ultimate in grossness

Two weeks ago, Ricky Bobby, Birthday Girl, Glitter, and I went bowling. They mocked my germophobia and licked my ice cream when I wasn't there. I was so not impressed, not a fan of people messing with my food. I was going to throw it out, but Ricky ate it. After that, I kept my cup of water in my hand at all times. Yep, even took it when it was my time to bowl. Got a spare.

After receiving countless jeers and sarcastic comments I took a swig of my water, held it in my mouth, then spat back it into my empty cup. "Ricky, you too manly or germophobic to drink this? Ooh Mr.-can-dish-it-but-can't-take-it eh?" Heh heh heh. Pretty funny until he snatched the cup from my hand and shot it back like he was doing a round. Warm, slimy, backwash. Shudder.

How Safeway reminded me of how selfish I can be

Had a moment in the grocery store. Actually, two of them. I was in the line getting pissed off because the lady two people ahead of me (lady #1) was taking so long. Could the cashier go any slower? I was tired. Dizzy. Congested. Friggin' hurry up already. What a waste of time, I definitely should have been in the other line.

Moment Number One:
As lady #1 took one of her four loaded grocery carts to the parking lot, the lady just ahead of me (lady #2) commented to the cashier that lady #1 had quite a few carts. The cashier gleefully replied that they were for seniors in need, and that lady #1 went out of her way to do this every week. "Bless her heart!" Wow Heidi, way to be a jerk, at least you can buy your own groceries. When was the last time you did something for someone in need?

While pondering my selfish nature and how I needed to work on it, along came Moment Number Two:
Enter lady #3 (aka "little old granny"). She busted out her Ziploc bag of carefully clipped coupons. Joyfully, she offered me one for my bag of rolled oats (for baking). Frantically she flipped through the stack and lamented that she may have used it already. "Shoot, it was for 75 cents too!" At this point she raised her eyebrows expectantly at the value she was willing to part with. How thoughtful was that? How willing am I to part with the things I value?
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P.S. If you run out of milk and wonder what a Chunks Ahoy cookie would taste like dipped in Coca Cola... it's gross. Don't do it.

Special ways of sleeping

Special lives in Edmonton, which is a three hour drive away (longer if the roads are icy), so if he comes to visit, he usually stays the night. Sea has a comfy, yellow, floral sofa and a matching arm chair, so guests usually end up sleeping on the sofa bed. Well, except for Special. He usually falls asleep in the arm chair. Picture six feet and four inches of gangle. Now picture that draped over a chair. That's Special.

I timed him once. It takes him precisely ten minutes and twenty seven seconds to fall asleep. You can tell he's asleep because his jaw drops and he makes that slow nasally sound. Once he's asleep, he's fair game. One of the first times he crashed, I stuck my stuffed bunny (not that I sleep with one...) under his neck so it looked like he was sleeping with it. Yeah, I took a picture. Another time I devised a plan to put mousse in his hand and then tickle his face. Black said that was going too far.

Anyway, this weekend, Special and Lucky both stayed over: Lucky took the couch and Special claimed the chair (incase Lucky would fight him for it?). After tossing and turning (again, picture that in the chair), Special thudded to the floor. This didn't wake him up. So... being the good friend that I am, I decided to tape around his body with green painters tape (thanks for helping Lucky!). When we were finished, it looked like a crime scene. Mocha would be proud.

Heh heh.

Cheapskate Tuesday: Vocombulous ways of getting imaginary quarters

Lucky, Special, and I play a game for quarters. We never actually collect them or keep track, but it's a lot of fun. We try to insert uncommon or upper level vocabulary into conversation. If it is smooth and impressive, then we "give" whoever's speaking the quarter. I tricked Lucky into "giving"me a quarter by using a word that Taco and I created last year. Vocombulous. It means sneaky or sly. I've used it a couple of times and no one asks what it means.
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*At some point there is a really juicy Confession Tuesday coming up...

House parties and why I don't like them

Like I said, most people drink a lot here, so it's not surprising that every few days someone from work has a house party. Here are the "highlights" of the last one I went to:

-Justin drank a little too much and divulged a fair bit of information on his sex life (specifically the guy from last night and how much his butt hurt)
-Big Kid spilled my glass of alcohol. It was full.
-Some random guy asked me to take my tank top off. (As a side note, does this really work for him?)
-Freaked out by the last comment, I grabbed my hoodie... except someone spilled beer on it. Gross. Fortunately one of the girls was kind enough to lend me a t-shirt.
-Now fully layered up, I decided to grab one of my two other mudslides from the fridge. Turns out two under-age twinkies were already drinking them. Great. When I confronted one of them on it, she seemed surprised and offered the rest of my bottle to me. Ew, yeah right. I declined and chastised her for stealing other people's alcohol. Ok, whatever happened to the days where teens asked older people to boot for them *before* a party?!
-Strange guys showed up (six of them) and were sloshed. They intentionally spilled alcohol everywhere. Jerks.
-Someone stole Justin's smokes.
-Who's doing coke in the bathroom?
-Time to go.
-While waiting for my cab, the police came.
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On a positive note:
*Hung out with Ricky Bobby (who was sober), he offered to be my boyfriend for the night if any other guys bothered me. That was thoughtful.
*One of my more reserved male coworkers challenged one of the girls to a "bend and snap" competition. This is perhaps one of the funniest things I've seen in my life.

Stampedeville

The men are insane. I’m just going to leave it at that.

The weather is amazing. I’m almost always wearing a lighter jacket than everyone else. When people say that it’s a different kind of cold, it’s true. Minus five here feels like plus seven in Victoria. And the sun is *always shining*. It looks like summer every day. No seasonal depressive disorder for me! Don’t get me wrong, I miss the green grass (it’s brown here) and the flowers in Victoria, but Vic can keep it’s effen gray skies and rain. It can keep those mother huge spiders too.

The wild rabbits here are creepy. They have legs longer than mine, a body like a small dog, and big bulgy goat eyes. Ew.

Also, there’s not a lot to do here. I mean, there’s shopping and theatres, but other than that… it’s pretty skimpy on fun. At home people go for walks. Who the heck wants to walk around here? I think that’s why so many people drink and do weird drugs. Most people smoke too.

There are no old cars from the seventies or even the eighties. They rust. My car would be an antique here.

There is recycling, but you have to drive to it. Ew. However, they don’t recycle plastic except for plastic milk jugs, which are refundable.

Ladies of Asian decent (politically correct enough?) mainly dye their hair red: either burgundy, orange, or red red.

There are hardly any Starbucks. This is the worst part. It’s sad. I’m trying to get over it, but it’s hard. Today I bussed for an hour and half to get to a Starbucks that has working internet. There’s only one plug in though.

*Side note, a middle age man just came into Starbucks wearing head to toe red and black plaid. He’s about six foot one and his pants are a tad too short. His shoes are brown clogs with a buckle and they click when he walks. Black socks. I just busted a couple at the neighbouring table laughing at him. I’m torn between sharing their sentiments and admiring his confidence.

Flashback Memory Friday: The flowers I've received

Sorry everyone, my computer was down and I've been working 12 days straight, so I didn't have a chance to get to Starbucks to use their internet.

Stella got flowers sent to her at work from her sweetie. *Sent* to her. How sweet is that?! She said she almost cried and then ran around work showing everyone- coworkers and clients. Apparently she beamed all day and keeps the card that came with the flowers in her pocket. They were her favourite kind of flowers. Oh yeah, he sent them to her for no reason. The card read, “Have a great day.”

I’ve been given flowers from men a few times.

1) Once, an ex-boyfriend tried to win me back with flowers. He busted out the, “I love you” line. I knew it was crap and called him on it. I accidentally dented his classic car the same night. It was locked, but didn’t close all the way, so I hip checked it. Whoops. The flowers were a generic bouquet that could have been given to his grandma if I didn’t want them.

2 and 3) Another time I got flowers from a guy I met on the internet (not Taco). Actually, that reminds me, Taco gave me a red rose. Even though this was really cliché, it was pretty. I was more impressed that he walked to get it. Maybe if it was pink or yellow or something I’d have liked it more. When it was getting wimpy looking, I cut off the flower and kept the stem. I’m an artist so I can do weird things like that. Anyway, the other internet guy gave me flowers, but I can’t really remember them. This is not a good sign.

4) I once got a rose bush for Valentines Day. The thought was nice. They were yellow and beautiful… until they died. I was never able to rejuvenate the flowers. Perhaps that is symbolic of the relationship. Ha.

5) I asked Spreadsheet once if he ever gave me flowers. He said he did, but I don’t remember. I think he’s making it up. But then again, maybe he did. Hmmm.

6) I think one of the most romantic flowers ever given to me was a pink rose that was picked out of the garden at the place I was staying. I was crazy about the guy and he was crazier about me. He got up early, climbed through the window and gave me the rose when I woke up. The guy was so sweet. I hear he’s in a heavy metal band now.

7) I thought I was going to die. It was late at night and I thought I’d take a short cut through the Empress Hotel garden. It was poorly lit and a guy sitting on some steps on the right said something. Then some guy jumped the fence on my left and started walking toward me signalling for me not to move. He held his hand behind his back maybe with a knife or something. Great, I was about to get mugged or stabbed to death and there was no one around. I was frozen and couldn’t move. He came within about two and a half feet of me, hand still behind his back. My eyes were huge. I stopped breathing. He whipped out a pink rose. I inhaled again.

8) When I worked at the hotel I was befriended by a hot Mexican guy. He wanted to take me out to dinner at midnight. I said yes. I think I must have been crazy. Darius nearly had a heart attack, so did Spreadsheet and Fairweather. They still chastise me. Anyway, the guy and I went for a beautiful secluded walk along the water and sat on some rocks and talked. He smelled so good. I can’t believe he didn’t try to kiss me. I might have gone for it too, he was beautiful. On the way back to the hotel we walked through a rose garden and he managed to break off one of the most fragrant yellow roses I’ve ever smelled. However, I was more flattered that he was willing to cut up his hands on the thorns. He bled all over the place and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, it was endearing.

9) A while back, Lucky and I sat on the pathway. We were talking about life and love and whatever. I think I was venting about having my heart broken (possibly flower guy in #1?) and Lucky picked a red rose from the bush and gave it to me. He said he thought I was beautiful and that other guys were stupid. He offered to break the other guys’ knee caps. I never told Lucky… but I kept this flower and it’s shrivelled up and kind of nasty now. I still feel beautiful whenever I see it.

10) Fairweather has given me the most flowers because he knows how much I like them. I got a dozen long stem red roses for grad. He left them on my door step. Another time he gave Mocha and I a dozen roses for Valentines. I imagine those were crazy expensive at that time of year.

He gave me beautiful purple lilies (not the kind I’m allergic to) as a housewarming gift when I moved into Crazy Norma’s (actual name). I harvested the flowers and made the petals into a pulp useful as an ink. I decorated an envelope for Fernando because I know that’s the kind of thing she’d like. I wonder if I ever gave it to her. Hmmm.

One time we got in a huge fight over something and he left flowers on my door step. I knew it had to be him, but I didn’t say anything and neither did he. I hated those flowers. I could have burned them or stomped on them because they made me mad and I felt re-hurt every time I saw them. I left them outside. Effen flowers.

11) Darius gave me flowers once. Or rather he paid for them. I picked up a bunch of groceries and saw the most gorgeous yellow roses with orange tips. Obviously I had to have them, they were stunning and smelled divine. I think these could possibly the most perfect roses I’ve ever seen. Anyway, when I got home, Darius said he’d pay for the grocery bill. Sweet! When he saw the cost of the roses, he had a fit. I wish I would have timed it, but I think he went off for approximately eighteen minutes about the whole thing. I insisted I’d pay for them, but with pride he declined. Over the next week we had a number of guests come over and they each adored the flowers and when Darius said he bought them, the guests melted and thought he was the greatest. He soaked it up as though buying me flowers was his idea and he was happy to do it. Unbelievable.

12) My prom date’s mom got a corsage for him to give me. It was white. I accidentally crushed it in the door.

13) Attitude’s fiancé and her picked out a half dozen multicoloured flowers for me for my Calgary send off party. One of the heads came off and he taped it back on. I think it was yellow.

Out of all these flowers I think my favourite ones came from Lucky and Darius. I hope I get flowers at work one day, that’s always been a dream of mine.

Flashback Memory Friday: The Homesick Edition

I miss walking through Oak Bay and counting poodles on Sundays. I crave BBQ, salad, and chocolate covered strawberries. I miss swatting mosquitoes and eating popcorn with too much butter while trying to watch Muriel's Wedding. Annoying cat with shedding fur and dirty paws. I want to play botchee (sp?) ball with Jack in the orchard and try to sneak up on the deer. The Office isn't the same. Neither are margaritas or chicken ciabatta sandwiches with the mayo scraped off. I miss girl chat and giggles. I could go for some banter. Maybe some bingo. Perhaps I'd even show up to play pool, especially now that I know where it is. Midnight pancakes. Toilet papering cars. Blizzards. Starbucks. Walking. Eff.

Ode to Sea

This entry is a great big shout out to my sister Sea, who deserves props big time. She’s helped me out sooo much since September that it’s not even funny. That girl deserves a gold star. In case you think I’m sucking up, I’m not, she doesn’t even read my blog.

Here’s a list of reasons why Sea has been the coolest:

-She’s letting me stay with her for free until I pay off some bills
-She buys all the groceries (except for chocolate milk and cookies)
-She lets me organize the house however I want
-She drove me to work when I lost my keys and missed my bus. This is especially cool because she had already been at work and had to come home, get me, drive me to my work, and then go back to her work. (I now keep my keys in the same spot all the time)
-She listens to me vent/ramble about boys
-She lends me her clothes, shoes, jackets, and curling iron whenever I want
-She lets me use her cell phone when I go out late so I can call her if anything goes wrong
-She let Special stay over for the weekend even though she never met him and knew he is an Oilers fan (apparently this is a big deal)
-She lent me money to get a bunch of new clothes
-She records all three CSIs and The Office so I can watch them when I come home from work. She hates Horatio, but records him anyway, which is deep.
-She lets me tie up her phone for hours (cough cough… like for 4 hr and 15 min ;))

So this is merely a brief list of the coolest things she’s done for me. But it goes deeper than that, she genuinely cares and goes out of her way to let me know this J. There’s no lip service. I know I can count on her.

I try to show my appreciation with little things, but I don’t think they adequately show how grateful I am to her. When I get the chance, I make her lunches, write happy notes, bake her cookies, and keep the house clean. I empty the garbage, but she takes it out because the garbage room smells. I almost chundered Cheerios all over the place once, it was a bad scene.

My sister is cool.

My sisters are cute, but tough stuff too

Sea is the oldest, she’s 35 but looks my age. She’s blond and pretty. I have a guy friend who can't speak when she's in the room, it’s cute. At first I thought he was just being a snob. I call her Sea because she’s an author and that's her pen name. She's the one who threatened to kill the guy I was dancing with.

Attitude is 27 and she’s also hot. She’s got dark, almost black hair and huge black eyes with really long lashes. Guys love her rack because it’s huge. I call her Attitude because she’s super tough stuff. If she’s mad, she’ll punch someone out, even if it’s not the person who pissed her off in the first place. I learned from a young age not to mess with her because her eyes get blacker and bulge a bit when she’s about to take someone down. I accidentally cut her thumb with gardening shears when we were kids. I thought she was going to kill me. However, when she’s in good humour, her eyes sparkle and she giggles so sweetly that you’d never know she has the potential to rip your head off.

My younger sister Latina is 21 and is about a size one. She has big brown eyes that are lighter than Attitude's, but they have the same long lashes. Her eyebrows are perfect. Above her big lips she has a mole like Cindy Crawford. I call her Latina because she’s really passionate. She can go from sweet and smiley to venomous in about two seconds. I don’t mean this in a bad way, it’s just who she is.

Latina is a traffic hazard: wherever she walks guys almost crash their vehicles craning their necks for a glance at her. I’m convinced that if she were to wear a potatoe sack, a trucker hat, and green gumboots, men would still offer to take her out for dinner. Her wedding ring and the baby on her hip don’t deter them at all. It’s like she has an aura of love powder and guys can’t think straight if they get a whiff of it. If I find out where this powder can be purchased, I’ll let you know.

Even though she’s tiny and incredibly feminine looking, she can kick some serious butt. If there’s something on her mind, she’ll let you have it. No sugar coating. And like Attitude, she’ll take you down. Ka Pow! Batman style. Seriously. She’s like a pitbull attack dog. Once she plowed a man in the face.

My baby sister Rugby is 14 and she’s tough too. She’s about 6 feet tall, wears men’s sneakers (because women’s don’t fit) and she’s muscular. At school she beats up the bullies. Her rugby coach says she’s got a promising future. No kidding. I went to one of her games and she was like a bowling ball rolling down the field with little bowling pin kids flying all over the place. Two kids clung to her calves in a feeble attempt to bring her down. But before you think she’s an amazon woman or something, she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re the most stunning blue. Rugby also gives the best hugs.

Cheapskate Tuesday: How to get free drinks at Starbucks

When you order a peppermint mocha while it’s busy, and the young barista accidentally splashes you with the peppermint syrup, make a big deal about it. Joke that he got you in the eye and pretend to wipe it off your arm.

Ten minutes later, when he realizes he forgot to make the rest of your drink, he will feel terrible and apologize profusely. Play into his guilt. Razz him that he’s showing you no love and ask what you did wrong. Remind him about the syrup incident and act confused and heartbroken. Make sure not to carry it too far, we don’t want to push the young guy over the edge. Laugh and ensure him that you’re fine and not in a hurry or anything.

An hour later when it’s slow and you’re still catching up on your blog, he’ll show up with a second beverage and a smile. He’s not Karl, but the next time you come, he’ll remember your drink and make a larger version of it for you. Awesome.

As some single girls reading this know, there are two ways to approach a girlfriend who gets a new man in her life: 1) You can hate her for having a man when you don’t, cringe when she mentions his name, and secretly hope he’s a bad kisser. Or 2) Be stoked for her and live vicariously through her romance. I'm opting for vicarious living.

Sea's dating a sporty guy who shaves his head and offered to cook for us. We sit on her bed and labour over what she should wear on her dates. Is the black shirt with the button snaps too dressy? Does it go with the green khakis? It doesn’t make her butt look big does it? Nope. Maybe a pink sweater would be nice and feminine? Hair up or down? Down. After the dates we analyze everything that was said. Since they’ve been on three dates, does that mean they’re dating or seeing each other? Are they boyfriend and girlfriend?

We decided that dating is when two people go places together but aren't committed. Seeing someone means you're sleeping together but not committed. Sea thinks someone is your boyfriend or girlfriend if you’ve slept together and are committed. But what if there’s commitment and no sex? We decided you can call each other boyfriend and girlfriend in that case too. Sometimes Christians use the term “courting." I think that means you like someone and want to get to know him or her, but you don’t want to call it dating because there’s no commitment in that. Courting doesn’t involve sex.

My other sister Attitude just got engaged. How exciting is that?! To celebrate, I stuck my foot in my mouth:

She phoned me excitedly and said, “Heidi, this is my official phone call to ask you if you wanted to be a part of my—”
“I’ll totally be your maid of honour!” I interjected, “Er, I mean… uhhh… whoops.”

Fortunately she saw the humour in my faux pas and confirmed that she wanted me to be her maid of honour. What was I thinking? (Sometimes I wonder how I can have such bad social skills. I think that’s why I like Grisham from CSI Las Vegas.) I can’t wait to help her with everything. She’ll be such a beautiful bride. Maybe I’ll start doing sit ups. Or... maybe I’ll order another frapaccino. Hmmm.

Stella’s “special guy” who lives in another town sometimes takes pictures on his cellphone throughout the day and sends them to her so it’s not like they’re far apart. She loves it. I think it’s sweet. If I date someone, I hope he does that. She has her e-mails delivered to his phone. I’m not sure how that works.

Last night was crazy

I rode in a limo, danced with Elvis (complete with blue shades, white cape, and six inch silver platforms), and twirled in my dress as the snow fell.

Ewwwwwwww!

At work, Soother Boy and I were at the beverage station grabbing drinks for our tables. He accidentally brushed my buttocks with the ice scoop and appologized. 1990, shudder. Ice scoop. Shudder.

Flashback Memory Friday: The Taco Chronicles 2

For some reason, Taco didn't turn around and get back on the ferry after the Spiderman costume incident. Maybe he should have, it would have saved me grief later on.

Long story short, we ended up kissing. However, I didn't take his 5 o'clock shadow into account. That man has the thickest facial hair I've ever seen, I'm talking bush man material if he grew it out. It literally took the skin right of my chin. Not only did this make for unpleasant kissing, which it totally did, but it later looked like I scraped my chin. Imagine trying to hide that? A band aid? Nope, too ridiculous... plus I only had Sponge Bob band aids. Make up? No, that would probably look clumpy and lead to infection. So I left it.

It was Christmas Eve. "Oh my goodness! Heidi, what happened to your face?!" It was ugly, I'm not going to lie. I tried to joke around it. "Uhhh, skateboarding accident." My brother busted me on that one. "Heidi, you've had the same skateboard behind your door, with the plastic wrap on it for two years." Now everyone was attentive and pressed me harder for information. No joking this one off. Darius didn't buy it either, he stayed at my house and knew about the date. Dang. Most *cool* dads would probably try to cover for their daughters. All eyes were on me. People knew there was a real explanation and they were waiting for it. They spent the next twenty minutes razzing me. I finally gave in.

There are reasons I don't introduce the guys I like to my family. When I was in high school, I brought Stereo Mike home. Ten steps into the house my brother squirted him with a water gun and Latina threw a basketball at his head. If that wasn't enough, my mom and her friend thought it would be funny to ask him what his intentions were with me. First date, thanks guys.

Actually, come to think of it, I think my family has been trying to sabotage my love life all along. Back in the day when I went to the bar with Sea (I may or may not have been underage), I was dancing with Mr. Guy in a baseball cap. Apparently he was a little too friendly with Sea's kid sister for her liking. She asked to cut in and dance with him. Sure. I went and got another long island iced tea. When I came back to dance with him, he wouldn't come near me. What's the deal with that? I tried to get closer, but he just backed away. He said Sea threatened him. WHAT?! If he touched me again, she'd kill him.

This reminds me of a time I went to the pool with Sea and Darius. I was supposed to meet them in the hot tub. Being a teen, I was the last one there. Cute little bikini and hair in place, I entered the tub. Darius says six guys swarmed me. I chatted with them until Darius glided through the water and exclaimed, "I'm her father and I've got a gun you know!" They scattered like bowling pins. Thanks Dad.

There was also the time my auntie chased down some guy named Steve and tried to set me up with him. She actually *ran* after him and introduced herself and told him she had a lovely niece she'd like him to meet. I was standing right there. Awkward much?

Sometimes people ask me why I'm still single.

Happy Red Cup Day to all!

Today the red cups came out at Starbucks and launched the Christmas season for me. I'm convinced this makes their drinks taste better. I smiled all the way to work: no one could bring me down. Not on Red Cup Day.

However, I miss Karl. I miss his big brown eyes, his awkward conversation, and the way he smiles at the floor and then back up at me after he drops something. But, I think I have a new crush. Well, kind of a crush.

There's a new barista in my life: her name is Leanna. I'm straight and don't swing Katie Perry style, but she's the best! Yesterday she made me a peppermint java chip frapacino with extra mocha and no whip, which is my favourite beverage of all time. Not only did she make it right (it's a pretty complicated order), but she exceded my expectations. I've been a Starbucks addict for a good six years now. I've been with a lot of beverages, I have experience. However, I don't think I've had such a perfect frappacino. It was soooo chocolatey. Leanna drizzeled chocolate sauce all over the inside of the empty cup in cool designs. Then she made a flower design with chocolate sauce on the top. Wow.

___________________________
-Grandmas on the bus today: 4
-Bought chocolate milk ;)

A month minus 12 days until December

Yesterday I thought I'd phone Gosh after he left for work and leave a message on his phone to let him know I was thinking of him. Turns out it was a holiday, he was sleeping, and BC is an hour behind. Heh heh, I'd like to say I felt bad- I even apologized and offered to let him go back to bed. But really I was just happy to hear his voice.

Stella calls her crush (are they dating yet?) each morning before she goes to work. It makes him feel valued and inspired to work harder (or something like that). He tells her she's beautiful and she loves it. My sister Latina wakes up with her husband every time he goes to work. They usually wake up at five or five thirty am. That's straight up crazy, especially on a Saturday morning. He says his day is rotten unless she wakes up with him. Maybe I'm not in love and that's why I don't understand these things. I think if some guy woke me up to say good bye to him, I'd throw my alarm clock at him. Maybe a lamp.
______________________________________
Weird Calgary News Update for Today:

-Yesterday some lady in the North East found a grenade in her back yard. She took it to the fire station.
-Some guy abducted a woman at gun point from her work so he could sexually assault her. Something else about him stealing a car from a senior citizen.

Cheepskate Tuesday: How Edward Scissorhands can save you money

With my hair short, I notice sooner how fast it grows. This means it looks shaggy and loses its style faster. Being a cheapskate, I thought I'd save the twenty bucks (which could then be spent at Starbucks) and cut it myself. Have you ever tried to snip the hair behind your head? It's not that easy. Initially I thought I'd just cut a bit off the bottom. Then I decided to trim off some of the "bulk". Heck, why not create a unique new style?!

Now I've got a sideways mullet. My hair is pretty short on the left and sweeps across my forehead and hangs longer on my right. It reminds me of a comb over. Actually, I think it looks kind of cool.

Moral of the story: Maybe late at night is not the best time to cut your own hair ;)

Advice from a coworker

Watch out for the bartender, he's a dog and will try to sleep with anyone. Ok, thanks. She doesn't know me well enough to know that wouldn't be a problem.

Beware: Rain cloud entry

Tonight I'm grouchy. I'm annoyed that things aren't going the way I want them to. I'm pissed that I don't trust that people mean what they say. I hate that I could be misinterpretting. I'm irked that things change when I'm not ready for them to. Why the fuck are we out of chocolate milk already?

Burn the retinas of my imagination please!

I hung out with Special today. I'd like to say things were awesome, and for the most part they were, however, there is a bit of a problem. See, last week Special called me on the way to water polo. Not a big deal right? Wrong. Before going to play, he planned to stop by a swim shop and pick up a Speedo. I laughed and teased him about it. Turns out he was serious. He intended to exchange money that he had earned for a tiny piece of stretchy fabric to wrap around his gear. This was a conscious decision. I tried to warn him and talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen.

I mentioned before that Special is six foot four, which is pretty tall. This means he has looooong legs and a looooong torso. In between the two he wore that stretchy piece of fabric pulled over his manliness. Shudder. Fortunately I never saw it, I just heard about it and that was definitely bad enough. He informed me that it was black and that he made it look good. That's not cool, I don't think he should have told me anything about it. After Genuine and I had the double neon Speedo attack in Mexico, I've been a little traumatized. So, today the whole time I was with Special, I had to repeatedly repress the spandex imagery. I could baredly look him in the eyes. We went to Starbucks- I went with Speedo man. We walked around downtown- I walked with Speedo man. We went up the Calgary Tower- Speedo man. Then we watched The Matrix for seven hours. I sat next to Speedo man. I pictured him diving into the water like that. Shudder. How am I ever going to get this out of my head?! I think some things should never be imagined. I wish Will Smith would beam me in the eye with one of those Men in Black pens.

Flashback Memory Friday: The Taco Chronicles

Apparently this move wasn't cool. I had no idea, I thought it was guaranteed to be a success. Whenever I tell people what happened, they burst out in laughter as though it was preposterous for me to have any faith in that idea. How did I miss that? Hmmm, maybe that's why I'm still single.

Alright, so a year ago (ish) when I lived in Victoria I decided to try my luck at online dating. I should have known better, because I tried that once and it did not go well. Maybe the second time would be a charm?

So I met this guy online, he was six foot four (awesome!), had dark hair, dark eyes, and one of those sexy soul patches. I'm a sucker for a soul patch. Anyway, we talked a lot on the phone, joked around and things seemed to be going fantastically. Finally, we decided to meet up. Fernando was out of town for the week and said he could stay at her place. (Side note: that's a pretty dang good friend eh? I mean, would you let a friend have some strange dude sleep in *your* bed while you were gone? Maybe she was desperate for a cat sitter, I'm not sure. Regardless, it was super cool.) Anyway, I was feeling a lot of pressure to create the perfect first impression. Do I go for the girl next door look? The trendy look? The comfy sporty look? How do I wear my hair? Should I wear heels so I seemed taller? Do I go with the red ones or are those too pointy? Maybe he'd think I was Cruella Deville in them or something. Hmmm. Tough call.

Then I got a brilliant idea! We joked around a lot on the phone, so I thought maybe I should go for the funny approach. Guys *love* it when a girl can make them laugh. Plus it lightens the mood. Perfect. The guy, lets call him "Taco", is an avid comic book fan. He collects comics, comic character action figures, and comic character belt buckles. I figured this was my in. See, if he loved comics and I dressed up like one of his favourite characters, he'd love me too! Makes sense right?

Turns out this idea sucked. Big time. Turns out a guy wants to date a woman, not Spiderman, even if Spiderman has breasts and long hair. To be fair, he showed up after cutting his own hair and spilling gravy on his shirt.

Stella's sappy date

Super cute story. My friend Stella has a crush on a boy and he likes her too. (That actually happens to people?) Anyway, they live in separate towns and don’t get to see each other very often so she told me they are going to go on a unique date. They plan to dress up in their separate towns and rent the same movie, but talk on the phone while they watch it so that it’s like they’re together. How cute is that?! Ok, maybe it makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit… but it is endearing isn't it? Go Stella go!

Grandma's got it going on

The other day I took the bus at 10am for a change and was surprised to see how many grandmas were rockin’ the public transit. It was weird. I mean, normally I see about one, maybe two grandmas max on a bus, but there were about six of them. They all got off at different stops too and none of them seemed to know each other. This happened again today. Weird eh? But then I figured it out!

Turns out the grandmas are brilliant! I’m convinced they ride the bus at 10am to scope out the mail men. I’m not kidding. Laugh if you want, but I’m sure it’s true. The mail men here are hot and at 10 am they are out in full force. We must have seen about five of them hitting the pavement. Pervy old grannies, good for them. Ha.

Confession Tuesday: Variations of "Bay"

First of all, sorry about last Cheapskate Tuesday, I got so distracted by boys that I forgot which day it was, my bad. Another thing I’ve been thinking lately is that Cheapskate Tuesday entries really aren’t sustainable if I do them every week (I’m simply not cheap enough yet), so I’m thinking of alternating Cheapskate Tuesday with Confession Tuesday.

To get things rolling, today will be the first Confession Tuesday entry. It’s really bad too. I told Special about it in the car the other day and he agrees. He wasn’t sure I should post it at all. Anyway, here goes:

I’ve dated a bit, but I’d say I’ve only had two serious relationships, the first one was with Mechanic Guy for a year and a half and the second one was with Spreed Sheet for three yearsish. Mechanic Guy used to call me Dear or Baby and I called him Bay. I think it was a shortened version of Baby. Who knows. Anyway, years later when Spreed Sheet and I started dating, I accidentally called him Bay. Whoops! I don’t know what happened, it just slipped out. However, he loved it so much that I couldn’t stop it. Now what? I couldn’t tell him, he’d be offended. How bad is that?! You can’t call two boyfriends by the same nickname, that’s terrible! So, I never told him and to make me feel less guilty, I spelled it “Bai”.

Reap whatcha sow

Famished after work, I grabbed the box of crackers from the cupboard. Some jerk left the box practically empty. Then I realized it was me. I ate an apple instead.

Inventing new games to the smell of chicken

I think my Starbucks standards are plummeting. Since there are virtually no Starbucks here, I’ve had to start going to Safeway to get my drinks. It’s rough. Safeway has no atmosphere. I guess technically it does, but that atmosphere SUCKS. The Starbucks is near the door where people with their whiny kids stream by. Sigh. I have to sit at a couple of wimpy tables next to the hot chicken. Did I mention the fluorescent lighting? Yep, things have gone downhill for me.

I think the worst part is the lack of music. In fact, the other day an advertisement came over the intercom informing customers that Purex was on sale. Something about superior softness and embossed tissue designs. Awesome, I love thinking about my ass while I’m trying to enjoy a mocha. Shudder.

There are also security guards everywhere here, including the grocery stores. Maybe that’s for all the people trying to shoplift rolls of Purex when it’s not on sale. Naturally, the security dude hangs out by the doors so I feel like I’m sharing my table with him. It used to make me nervous, but after a while, I decided to turn this uncomfortable situation into a game. I decided to *try* and look suspicious to see what would happen. Sometimes I pick up Starbucks mugs and look over my shoulder at the guard to see if I can stir up some suspicion. Other times, I come in with a Safeway bag from home and take things in and out of the bag to make him wonder if I’m slipping in a little something extra. So far nothing has happened. I think that means I’m winning the game.

I started another game, but this one doesn't involve a dude with his pants hiked up too high. It’s called the slurpee game and anyone can play. One day I noticed that someone left a giant slurpee cup on a shelf. The person placed it behind some other items so it could only be seen from the side of the shelf. Instinctively, I was tempted to put it in the garbage but I resisted and decided to see how long it would remain there. It was there a week and a half... but I’m not exactly sure if I won or lost the slurpee game. I guess it doesn’t matter as long as it takes my mind off of the smell of chicken.

Guy on the right wins

I wonder if people ever stop wanting to be "cool." I doubt it. My friend Genuine is cool. She lives in a trendy new condo complex called The Verve, which sounds like the name of a club or a hot new band. The complex has a number of buildings that center around a sand volleyball court and a pool. I think there is a rule that no ugly people are allowed to live there. Mocha and I peer through the blinds and debate which guy who lives across the way is cuter. She thinks the guy on the left, but I disagree. The guy on right is more fit, dresses better, and has a great fashion and decorating sense. We think he shops at Ikea and might be metrosexual. The guy on the left busted us peepin' and now Genuine keeps her blinds closed all the time. She was not impressed with us. I still think the guy on the right is better looking.

Genuine is hot. Normally, I’d probably secretly hate her, but she is also one of the kindest people I’ve met. She is model tall, has the best blue eyes, and a great rack to boot. I don't think she knows she's cute. (By the way, I'm straight- so don't wonder or anything.) Anyway, I like that she gives everyone the benefit of the doubt and puts others before herself. I think I’d like to be more like that.

Flashback Memory Friday: why cats shouldn't be duct taped

Every year I go as a cat for Halloween. Black ears, black whiskers, black tail, and a black nose. Easy, simple, and cheap. One year my friend Whatever made such a big fuss that I wear a different costume, that I decided it wasn't worth the hassle to hold my ground. Boy was I wrong.

I didn't really think it through. I grabbed a roll of duct tape from the kitchen drawer and started wrapping my leg. If I couldn't go as a black cat, I was going to go as a duct taped cat. Brilliant. Turns out that I didn't have enough tape. Picture how cool I was going to Canadian Tire with tape up to my thigh. How do you even explain that? I just let it slide and tried to act normal. "Hey buddy, what are you looking at?"

Another thing I didn't think about was how I was supposed to pee. We went out and it was a long time before I could take the costume off. Have you ever tried to bend in duct tape? It doesn't work in case you were wondering. It also doesn't trap in heat, so if for any reason you decide to wrap yourself in duct tape, make sure to bring a warm jacket.

Freezing cold, tired, having to pee, and not being able to bend... make sure you have a way to get out of the costume. Basically, your only option is to cut yourself out of it. Make sure you haven't been drinking too much and neither has your friend, so when he or she comes at you with scissors, the person is safe to cut you out of it. Hopefully you're not shy either because you'll be naked and have weird bendy foldy marks from being squished. It's not cool, no one should ever have to see that. Just sayin'.

How you know you're in the ghetto

First, you go through a short section of semi nice houses that all have security alert signs. All of them. It’s amazing. Then you start noticing houses that have peeling paint, no gardens, boards in some windows. There are broken down cars in the driveways and lawns, young women with strollers, chain-link fences, and flags in the windows instead of curtains. Most of them are Calgary Flames flags. I once saw a black toilet seat intertwined in one of the fence links. Who does that?

There’s one section of the ghetto that has a trailer park with the homes practically sitting atop one another on the corner of two busier streets. For some semblance of privacy, people put up blue, orange, grey, and green tarps along the fence. There is a scruffy shih-tzu that is tied to a yellow rope when it’s nice out. And I’ve yet to figure out what lives in a chicken wire cage, with a tunnel contraption. It runs 12 feet in the air and is hooked up to another larger cage. The dimensions are too small for a small dog, but the mesh is too big for a rabbit. I have no idea. Maybe it’s a boa constrictor.

There are also no big name stores in the ghetto. Not even a Safeway. There might be a Tim Hortons, but I haven’t seen one on my bus route. There is however a black sign with neon writing that offers 2nd and 3rd mortgages on homes. This is kind of sad. So is the amount of litter. It’s pretty gross.

I once saw a group of younger “rough” men wearing matching black bandannas in different ways. I told Sea, and we think they might be gang members or something. She offered to drive me home when I work the late shift. People get killed here by gangs practically every week. Last week some couple were killed in a restaurant in the North East. I work in the north east. Gotta love the ghetto.

Dirty, nasty, pervy Heidi

First, let me say that I’m not proud of myself and as a disclaimer, it wasn’t my fault. I had no idea. Second, this has nothing to do with the entry from yesterday.

I finally got a job (hooray!) at a popular restaurant here in Calgary. Stoked, I flipped up my hair, wore something cute and went to orientation. Awesome. On my way inside, I noticed a brown haired fox of a man, sitting in his car perusing some papers. Wow. He wore a white dress shirt, a blue tie, and his hair was spiked cool. I bet he was also there for orientation. He must have been about 23 or 24. I’m such a cougar.

Inside, they had a huge table set up with name tags to mark our places. The hot guy sat next to me and we chatted for a bit. Breath Heidi, breath. Someone asked him if he was a student, and he explained that he just finished school, which fit in well with my age estimate. I wondered which degree he got. Probably business or some nerdy degree involving equations. I’d ask him later. Anyway, we watched some videos and filled out some forms, which is when I leaned over to scope out his birth date.

This is also happens to be when I almost died. Turns out Hot Guy was born in 1990. WHAT THE EFF?! Was that an 8? Like, 1980? Leaned over. Nope. Sick. Gross, he was younger than my brother. Ew. In fact, he graduated at the same time as my grade 12 students this spring. Sick. My skin crawled and I wanted to run away to boil myself. Since that moment, I stopped talking to him. Maybe that’s mean, but I was convinced I was probably going to jail. In fact, I thought the police (the mind reading kind) were probably waiting for me outside the restaurant to arrest me for being pervy. Maybe the media would be there too to film a dramatic take down.

Fortunately, there was no dramatic take down. We’ve been working together for a couple of weeks now, and I still can’t talk to him. Every time he speaks, I imagine him holding a soother. Nasty. I thought about swearing off men all together just to avoid this ever happening again.

In my defense, he looked older. He was dressed up and mature.

Dear Abby

There's this boy... he thinks my laugh is cute. He makes me blush. I think he's great.

Chocolate cravings

My period is two weeks late. I'm not concerned at all, which is one of the benefits of getting no action. Most women out there would be freaking out and buying pregnancy tests and calling their girlfriends for advice. I get to drink chocolate milk, eat a Caramilk bar, and relax.

Mexico Trip Decoded: part two

12) Carlos and Reuben

When a man kisses your hand and tries to win your heart, you shouldn't call him Carlos when his name is Reuben. Whoops :S

13) Touching Mexican Ass

Shame on you for what you were thinking, I pet a baby donkey! It was fluffy and had long lashes. Ha.

14) Flashing the Zebra

Turns out sunscreen should be applied all over, not just on your shoulders and nose. We sat in the sun for two hours and I got one of the worst burns in my life. Not only was it Valentines red, It was a weird pattern. Because I sat was sitting in my bikini top (hey old dudes can wear neon speedos) and shorts, the shadow of my bust and the bend in my stomach left some sweet contrasting, white, wavy lines to complete the valentine love theme. I looked like a zebra. I think I saw a child run away. I wished I had aloe vera.

15) Boat Stilettarita

This is a condition in which one loses balance and is not sure if that can be attributed to the rocking of the boat, the margarita, or the stilettos she is wearing.

16) Mexican Turkeys

This is what they call pelicans. They're everywhere and they're ugly. Disney picked the wrong animal to deliver babies to doorsteps. Ew.

17) Quicksilver chocolate cheesecake on wheels

I'm too ashamed to explain this one.

18) 15 American minutes

This is different than 15 Mexican minutes, which generally are equivalant to 25-40 American minutes.

19) Wrinkly old man chicken skin

I held a gargantuan iguana (if you can imagine) and it had a creepy flap of scaley skin under it's neck that felt like wrinkly old man chicken skin might feel like. Five doses of Purell didn't make the creepiness go away, but it did minimize it.

20) Butter on the pillow

The chocolate mints on our pillows looked like the butter packets we encountered at meal times. I switched them when Genuine wasn't looking... she figured it out.

21) Duck in towel maneuver

The dining room was super fancy shmancy. Our waiter Wendal (Denzel Washington's nephew?) placed cloth napkins on our laps and cut parts of our meal. It was intense. When biting into the duck, I encountered some creepy chewy bit that elicited a gag response. I nodded and smiled as Wendal said something and then quickly spat it into my napkin when he wasn't looking. This reminded me of Lucky. I did that when we went for dinner once: he was embarassed because the head guy busted me. Come to think of it, Lucky hasn't taken me out for a nice dinner since.

22) The wheeze

This is embarassing. When I start laughing really hard I can't get enough oxygen, so I start wheezing. This in turn makes me laugh harder, which makes me wheeze even more. This happened to me in the hallway because something Genuine or I said was hilarious. I started wheezing and had to lean against the wall for support. Genuine took off around the corner giggling. One of the staff was sincerely concerned and tried to help me. Embarassed, I wheezed more dramatically. I think he was waiting for me to collapse.

A similar thing happened when Mocha and I went for a blizzard. I should explain that on a flashback Friday.

Mexico Trip Decoded: part one

1) "One More"

There were six flights of stairs to get to get from our stateroom on the cruise to the place where they serve the most delicious (and may I say unlimited!) food. That's 111 steps up and 111 back down. So, doing this three times a day for meals... plus more (lets be honest!) Genuine and I averaged about 1000 steps a day. I think my muscles seized for the first half of the week. Muscles burned in places I didn't know I had them. When we got to the second to last floor, we'd say, "One more." Feeling over confident one day, I tried to run up all of them. That was dumb. I almost died.

2) "Personal Space!"

This is what I shouted in my sleep when Genuine unknowingly cuddled up to me in the night and put her arm around me. Freaked me right out. It was particularly alarming because Genuine is super shy and reserved. I'm used to sleeping by myself. Nothing could have prepared me for the midnight snuggler attack. Genuine still can't believe she did that. Next time I'm bringing pepper spray.

3) "Sad face to the right"

There were so many stairs and hallways that we had to get creative. Genuine's friends were on the eighth floor in the hallway which had the sad mask. At the sad mask, we needed to turn right and then stop at the bum painting. Our room was on the floor with the buildings and magic eye painting to the left. Our room was infront of the second to last red jube jube light.

4) 8560, 8558, 8565, 8570

The first three are the wrong room numbers. 8565 housed a man who seem perplexed as to why we were at his door. We weren't sure what we were doing there either. Another time I tried 8560. The housekeeper made fun of me. He didn't even bother telling me it was the wrong room, he just laughed.

5) Swan Slug

Our housekeeper made us a swan out of towels. It was amazing! Excited, I touched it. The neck fell over and it turned into more of a slug. I tried to fix it, but had no success.

6) Solarium

This is where Genuine and I met up for our late night hot dog and pizza ritual. The wind blew really hard and we accidentally flashed the goods. I was glad to be wearing undies.

7) "Does it come with a husband?"

In Mazatlan, we went to a fancy shmancy diamond shop where some dude pressured me to buy a ring. I asked him if it came with a husband and he said something about being willing to marry me if I bought the ring. I asked him if he was planning to go back to Canada with me, but I can't remember what he said. Genuine and I booked it.

8) Ice Box Hill

There is a hill in Mazatlan that is made of rock and before the area had electricity, people from a nearby area would bring loads of ice to put in the cave to keep food cold.

9) Catarpillar

I saw a toddler with a green booger that kept getting longer, it crept out of her nose and made me want to vomit. Kids are gross.

10) "It's getting colder Jack"

This was us making fun of the movie, "Titanic". The hallway to our stateroom was on a lower deck and it was significantly colder than the other floors. The narrow halls looked the same as the movie.

11) "We should have sniped them from the top."

Genuine and I soaked up some rays while reclining on the deck. Music played, and a warm breeze swept over us. Peace. That is... until two old dudes in neon speedos rocked their packages and big bellies over to the pool. Shudder. How can you not stare?! Our eyes were fixed on the glowing beacons of brightness. Double shudder. Words cannot explain, it had to be seen to be believed. Afterward, it occured to us that we could have taken a photograph from the above deck.

Flashback Memory Friday: How to be cool

When I was in grade four, my friend Kelly and I brought tie dye shirts to school. We hid them in our bags along with some sweet belts and make up. We weren't allowed to wear any of this, but we were oh so grown up and sexy. Picture a t-shirt dress cinched with an elastic butterfly belt and paired with pink lipstick. Our white socks were rolled down because that was cutting edge cool. And we were cool.

Some people should eat breakfast others should press mute

I showed up to my first day of work on alcohol day. This was a good sign. However, it was a false one. I lost where the door to the kitchen was and had to go to the bar to ask how to find it. No I wasn't drinking yet. A guy, I'll call "Grouch", chastised me for being where I wasn't supposed to. Great first impression. The rest of the day he snarked at people. I think he scared most people. Maybe he forgot to have breakfast. He pushed past another new person and indicated that she should shoot herself in the head. He even made a hand gesture of a gun going off. Gulp. Welcome to work.

Part of our training involves sampling alcohol beverages. We tried eight of them and it was beautiful. Until Grouch came in. People got quieter and their heads hung lower. Perhaps they were secretly hoping he wouldn't notice they were there. I don't know what overcame me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to stick my tongue out at him and make a face. I was dead meat. Bye bye Brookes, game over. He stood there, his face frozen. Pretty sure my heart stopped. Way to make enemies with the mean guy on the first day. Then he smiled. I breathed again. Maybe he liked the challenge of someone not taking his shit.

The day was pretty good otherwise. Although I ate too many bread sticks.
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Last night I talked to Lucky for an hour. I had to pee. So I did, but I didn't mute it. He didn't notice the trickle nor the water when I washed my hands. I was almost scott free until he asked why the phone echoed. Was he on speaker phone? Er.... not exactly. I think I'll go back to using the mute button.
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More to come regarding Mexico adventures! Sooooo much to tell including: "Flashing the zebra", "the snuggler", and "Solarium". Ew, and possibly "the caterpillar".

Guest Blog: Life lessons and Future Shop

Everything I Need To Know About Dating I Learned At Future Shop

Yodell/Mocha here. Filling in for HB while she's off having fun in the sun. Am tempted to write all sorts of insanely jealous things. But being that I'm mature, responsible, and you know, such a good friend, I will pout silently, here in my grey rainy Langford.

When HB asked me to guest-blog, I didn't know what to write. On my own blog, there is no pressure. It's mine, and I can write what I want. But on someone else's blog, there's so much pressure. What if I turn off their readers? So, I thought, what can I tell you? HB suggested a dating story. Now, those are few and far between. But, then it occurred to me, I'm so great at helping you all learn valuable life lessons. I do have one dating story that can teach you all some very valuable life lessons :) So, here is my story about Rocky (not his real name, but it's close).

Life Lesson #1 (LL.1) - Don't go to Future Shop to meet guys.Hate to generalize here, but, well, I will. They're either skinny and nerdy, or creepy. Or a combination of both. Enter Rocky.

LL.2 - Learn how to say "No, I don't want to give you my number."Practice this at home in front of the mirror. Don't stand in shocked silence for 3 minutes, and then blurt "Sure, why not." Really doesn't send out the "Eww, I find you creepy" message. In fact, quite the opposite.

LL.3 - If you were foolish enough to give out your number, screen unfamiliar numbers.If a call comes in from an unfamiliar number, let it go to voicemail!! For goodness' sake, don't answer it on the second ring just because you almost never get calls on your cell phone.

LL.4 - If you were idiotic enough to answer your phone, be extremely busy for the next 6 months.So busy that you don't even have time to pee, let alone go on a date the next afternoon!!

LL.5 - If you, at age 19, have to pick him, at age 32, up downtown because he lives at home and can't get his parents' car for the afternoon, warning signals should IMMEDIATELY sound in your head.Go directly home. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

LL.6 - Learn how to slap. Really hard. With either hand. Ambidexterity is important.That way, if he grabs your hand 45 minutes after making your acquaintance, you can let him know what you really think.

LL.7 - Always, always, ALWAYS have an escape call planned.Don't be forced to resorting to drinking lots of coffee and then calling your family from the bathroom. It's really not cool. Especially if there's someone in the stall next to you.

LL.8 - When your date-from-you-know-where is over, resist the urge to say "We should do this again sometime."You shouldn't. You won't. It's not cool to leave any room for doubt.

LL.9 - Avoid Future Shop like the plague for at least 6 months afterwards.Actually, I avoided his specific Future Shop for over a year. I still get a creepy crawly feeling in my tummy when I go there though. Thankfully, I live in Langford, and can just go to the one out here :)

I hope you've found these lessons as helpful as I have. With any luck, if you follow these tips, you should have a 100% success rate in not picking up men at Future Shop! I hope they serve you well blog world!

Guest Blog Cheapskate Tuesday: Heidi is my inspiration

Cheapskate Tuesday Entry- By Special

What does it mean to be a cheapskate? I think in order to be a truly effective cheapskate you have to be doing things that make you standout. For instance, I have called Heidi 99% of the time and she has called me once. Now, I understand that her situation is pretty limited being here in Calgary, however, the essence of being cheap isn’t really wearing off on me. Yet.

Being a cheapskate isn’t a one day a week thing. It’s a daily thing. A lifestyle. Brookes finding someone to fund her entire trip to Australia wouldn’t be enough. She’d have to suggest taking the crew out to dinner with the money she saved, wrinkle her nose at anyone ordering anything over $12 or $13 and then to top it off giving the waiter/waitress $50bucks on a bill that came to $47.23 and saying ‘keep the change.’

That’s cheap.

Scrooge was cheap.

Fact: Heidi is on a free trip right now in Mexico. All expenses paid. How is this possible?

Fact: She ‘makes’ her own holiday gifts. Easter, Birthday’s. Yes, Christmas is not exempt.

Fact: She has duplicate Airmiles’ cards which she has given to choice family members so that they can collect airmiles for her.

Fact: She doesn’t believe in a thermostat or heat. I don’t think she knows just how cold it’s going to get here in Alberta {For example, she opened the sliding glass door ALL THE WAY and it’s minus 4 outside, she said, “I’m glad I don’t pay the heating bill.”}

Fact: Heidi has not had a regular job to go to since June. She’s worked, but she hasn’t had a regular position.

I’ll bet that slowly, the image of Heidi being a cheapskate is starting to enter your brains. You’re thinking, like I am, that wow, my friend really is a cheapskate and I should be paying attention if I want to save more money.

What’s the cost of this though? I’ll warn you in advance that if you indeed want to become a cheapskate it’s not enough to let the next guy pick up the tab.

Having made my case for Brookes being a cheapskate let me make a case for the total opposite.

Brookes is always available to talk about things. You can call her up and if she’s busy she’ll call you back. Doesn’t matter what it is. She’ll make you cookies {even if I prefer the dad’s oatmeal chocolate chip} for any old occasion.

That’s rich.

Mother Theresa was rich.

Brookes it seems has a knack for always having time to do things. Even sleeping. I guess it’s fair if she’s a little cranky when you call her at 10am when you KNOW she only went to be 4 or 5 hours ago. She just, won’t answer the phone.

Fact: Brookes picked up the tab for her own coffee instead of letting me buy it for her when I was down in Calgary.

Fact: Brookes managed to pay her rent without having a regular job to go to.
Fact: Brookes always has money for Starbucks.

Fact: Even though she makes her own gifts, she’s really good at it. I wouldn’t ever think twice about getting a gift from her that was hand made. It’s good quality. You can’t put a price on quality. Like the coffee cup I got. I would have paid a great sum of money for that cup. Instead, I got it for free, and Brookes paid.

Fact: Brookes donates her own blood and brings people flowers. Albeit, useless ones that get tossed on the kitchen table. However, it is the thought that counts here. I’m not speaking from experience.

It appears that Brookes might not be as cheap as some of her jokes. She just knows how to save money. If there were different levels of being a cheapskate, Brookes is maybe a level 2 with 1 being low and 5 being high.

Brookes it seems has plenty to go around.

She just knows when to chince out.

Bonus entry: Navy Seal

Ok, I know I don't usually (ever) post twice in one day, but today is an exception. I almost died. I'm not kidding.

Special took me to the airport and helped me pick a seat. Maybe you don't know this about me, but I get really nautious if something smells bad. For example, I used to do homecare and had to stop eating breakfast because I didn't want to chunder on my client. (I dry heaved every time I had to change him.) Also, I don't take the garbage out because I almost blew chunks in the garbage room. Sea witnessed this and made no qualms about being the garbage person in our suite. I also didn't change my nephew's crap diapers. This is my favourite kid in the world, I'd do anything to look after him. Except this. I tried once, but I had to phone my mom to come do it. I don't know what it is, I'm ultra sensitive to smell. Anyway, back to my story: Special helped me pick out a seat specifically as far from the back of the plane as possible. There's no way I'd survive sitting next to the washroom. NO way.

Turns out I ended up sitting next to a guy who's breath smelled *exactly* like ass. I'm not even exagerating. At first I thought he was farting, but then I realized the smell came when he opened his mouth! Can you imagine?! How is this even possible?! Did he have fecal fries? Shudder. Double shudder. Triple shudder and a shake. What could I do? "Hey buddy, can you hand me your barf bag, because with breath like yours, I'm going to need it?" No way! Besides, what would I do if he tried to engage me in conversation?! Ew. I would die. Right there.

I needed a plan. If I offered him a mint, he might decline or worse yet, try to use that as a stepping point to chat. With an hour long flight I couldn't risk it. Next step. I needed to avoid talking to him at any cost. Ok. I started writing in my jounal. This is effective because it seemed like I was engrossed in something important. Maybe I was a student writing a paper. Maybe I was an author in the middle of an inspiration. Maybe I was writing my deepest darkest secrets in a jounal. Maybe I was Maybelline. To further solidify the "don't talk to me" vibe, I put my MP3 headphones on and leaned as far away from his seat as possible. Perfect. Not sure what the lady on the other side of me thought, but it didn't matter at this point.

Unfortunately, this didn't stop the smell, it just prevented him from interacting with me. Plus McStinkerson was exhausted and kept yawning. I hoped he'd get a coffee from the cart to wake himself up a bit. No dice. I needed to go deeper. I needed to be tough. Navy Seals are tough. GI Jane was tough. So I watched him from the corner of my eye and whenever he yawned I held my breath. Mission Impossible music played in the background. I heard it. I held my breath for as long as I could while the bum-breath-funk disipated. Then: "Pahhhhh! Wheeeeeze! Pahhh! Wheeze!" Inhale. Exhale. I played it cool like I wasn't really gasping for air.

I thought of writing a note on a peice of paper and ringing the bell for the steward. I'd smile sweetly and hand over the note, which would read: "Please! The dude beside me has breath that smells like pure death, please insist that I move to another seat! I'll give you a quarter." I'd even draw a frowning face with tear drops under the eyes. If she didn't like my drawing and shot me down, I could be in a worse situation. I scraped that idea.

The smell was unbearable. I even took my barf bag out and kept it under my journal just in case. I prayed. I prayed that God would help me not to throw up. I just ate pizza and I knew the acid in my stomach would have turned the cheese rancid. No one wants to sit next to puke girl. Besides, it was imperative that I keep the barf bag for cookies. Be strong, you can do it. Navy Seal. Navy Seal. I started laughing. Hysterically. People were staring. This only made me crack up more. Try hiding insanity. "Gasp! Hahahaha. Gasp! Wheeze! Hahahha!"

Focus. Stop it. Focus. I got some water from the cart. I thought maybe it would settle my stomach and help me calm down. Instead, it disolved the pizza bread in my stomach making me feel queezier. Not good. Not good at all. Maybe I should get up. Seatbelt sign went back on! Shoot. Wait a minute, the plane was going to land soon! So close. So close. I sweated. I honestly did. Hold together soldier, hold on.

I made it! The plane stopped, the lights came on. McStinkerson stood up and created the most beautiful metre of distance that has ever existed. I claimed honourary Navy Seal status for my tenacity and assiduousness.

El gonesa

Justo wantedo to leteh tu knowesa I ama goingo a Mexico untileh la 2o of Octobera. No entrios untilah I getio backo. Fiesta pour mia.

PS Supereh caliente copos sittingo nexteh to mia.

Triscuit confession

I put the box of Triscuits back in the cupboard even though there are only two and a half crackers left.
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PS I am no longer losing my mind. I will definitely blame caffeine for yesterday's insanity. How did I forget about number six?

Losing my mind

It's 4:16 am and I'm losing my mind. Last week Sea suggested something and I shrugged it off. Now it is plaguing me. I can't sleep. However, I could probably chalk that up to the frap I had at Starbucks (a grown up made it). Anyway, the idea was ridiculous and I immediately dismissed it, now it replays in my head like an Abba song. I'm going insane. Ahhhh!!! What do I do? Do I take heed of my older sister's advice? Do I listen to my mom? Perhaps it's an effort by higher powers to brainwash me. There's colossal risk involved. The unknown is gargantuan. Maybe it's conceivable. Maybe there could be triumph. Maybe it would be the best decision of my life. Maybe it's just Maybeline.

I could totally go for one of those balls that you shake and something flips up and says, "Yes" or "no". Although, my luck it would probably say, "Maybe later." Ha. Too bad I think Ouija boards are devil creepiness, because I could go for one of those right now. However, I'd probably need another set of hands and my sister's sleeping. I could wake her up, but she'd probably kung fu me or throw a high heel into my eye, which reminds me of a CSI episode. Shudder.

Ok, I'm going to roll a di. If it is 1 or 2 I'm going to assume yes. If it is 4 or 5, I'll assume no. If it's 3, it means I need to go to bed and stop fretting about this. I'll do best of three. Here we go....

(rolling....)
4
(rolling....)
5

Phew. There's my answer. Nothing like making important decisions with red dice that say, "Shelly's Casino".
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PS I totally rolled the di again and got 2 twice! Does that mean I should go for it? I rolled again and got a 3. That means I should go to bed. Ok, one more time: 6. Shoot, I forgot all about six. What the heck is six supposed to mean?!

My life with slugs

Someone told me if you lick a banana slug, it will make your tongue go numb. I always wanted to try it, but the nastiness outweighed that desire.

I ran from the police. The reason why isn't important. It was dumb. I cut through the woods with two friends and scaled a ten foot fence. I fell and landed on a slug. I felt remorse for it. I was wearing a green hoodie that belonged to my friend. It was slimy after.

At university I learned that the maximum recorded speed of a slug is 0.064 mph. Tuition dollars at work.

There is an old man who used to hunt slugs in the dark. He scoured the walkways with a bucket of saltwater and a device to pick them up. He counted them. It was late.

A boy made me cry once. It was dramatic. I bawled my eyes out on the floor next to a slug. I didn't even care.

Fernando bought copper tape to surround the base of her cabin because she finds slugs in her closet.

I like watching slugs, they're peaceful. Their eyes are mesmerizing when they move in and out or wave around. The slime is majestic and reminds me of Saran wrap.

Cheapskate Tuesday: How to save on your phone bill

It's 11:33 pm and I just got off the phone. The person was wondering why I hadn't posted yet. No pressure.

Sea doesn't have long distance on her home phone plan. So, how am I supposed to contact people back home without cashing in my RRSPs?! I once ran up a bill to Africa calling Whatever. It was $700, I thought it would be $70. I could sell drugs. I live close to the ghetto, this could actually work.

Today I came up with the perfect plan. It came to me by accident. Today I unknowingly called Lucky while he was in class:

"Hello?"
"Hey Lucky!"
"Hey beautiful, intelligent, princess!" (Ok, maybe he didn't phrase it exactly like this)
"Hey, I just called to let you know that I think you're awesome. You're the best. That's all I have to say, I just wanted to let you know."
"Aww, thanks girl. Hey, I'm just in class, why don't I call you back later?"
"Sure Lucky."
"Thanks again for the nice message, I'm so glad we're friends."
"Bye."
"Later."

See how that worked? 10 points for a thoughtful call that made his day, and another 10 points for getting him to call back and talk for an hour.
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Other blog entry updates:

1) Special suggested that if the cat dies while she is at home with me, that I just go to the mall. He said not to come back until it's dark. Just run from the problem. This is the best idea yet: my sis would think Ducky died while I was out. Brilliant.

2) People now e-mail me when they change their sheets.

3) Black hasn't called me again. He thinks I'm peeing when I talk to him. So does Special.

Who's driving me home?

Let me introduce you to my bus drivers:

1) Newbie: Guy who goes the wrong way, backs up the bus, and asks us (passengers) which way to go. Super nice... but kinda scary.

2) Madam A. : Lady who is type A. Every hair is in place, her clothes are pressed, she adjusts everything often ie the garbage can, the mirrors, the tickets, the mirrors, the garbage can, the tickets. Efficient.

3) Mr. Go-Stop McChatterson: He's young and eager. It's gas pedal or brake. Yells out the window at people. For the most part friendly.

4) Mr. Cruise Control: It's tempting to sleep on this bus. He drives at an even speed. Slows down and speeds up gradually. Sometimes he cruises right pass our stops. He seems surprised every time.

5) Mr. FANtastic: First indication he was different- sign on the bus read, "Go Flames Go!", instead of the destination. He wore a Flames Jersey and held a portable radio, which rattled off the details of the game. I could have paid with a cracker. After a while, he pulled over, got off the bus and smoked. FANtastic drank an amber liquid out of a cloudy plastic cup with a lid and a straw. It was either apple juice, urine, or beer.

6) Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver: OK first, let me premise this intro with the fact that I had just come from a stressful but successful interview (I got hired!). I was wearing my new black and white dress with a cute thin purple and fuchsia belt (thanks Mocha!). Before I caught the bus I stopped at Starbucks to get a venti hazelnut iced coffee. What a refreshing way to celebrate! Once I stepped onto the bus, Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver looked me up and down and licked his lips. LICKED HIS LIPS! Ewww! I was too overcome with shock and the desire to boil myself and wear a parka that I didn't come up with a chastising remark. He continued the creep fest by eyeing me in the mirror. He sealed the deal as the Blacklisted bus driver when he slammed the doors on my arms, and caused my entire beverage to spill on the grass . The nearest Starbucks is a 40 min bus ride away. Sniff.

I'm crossing my fingers for Madam A. or Mr. Cruise Control tomorrow, but I'm bringing my parka just incase.