What am I?

At Starbucks, I came across a wall with poems written by kids from a local school or something. I found this gem:

What am I?

I come at morning and sometimes at night everyone is glad when. I come You use balls of me to make me then I dance around with You don't ever take me in Or i'll melt don't cry when I go I'll be back next time when the blanket covers Your town!

A note from the Poet:
While I was writing this Poem I was thinking about when me and mY brother made the snowman in the morning. MY brother said I want the snowman in. He took the snowman in and it melted. we made anotherone it melted too he Started to cry. I was feeling really haPPy to remember that time. To understand You need to infer is what is made of snow and when it comes.

I love that the kid remembers the snowman incident fondly, because his or her brother cried. Ha.

Flashback Memory Friday: The three bears

The first time I saw a bear, Darius, Sea, and I were on a camp trip in the Okanagan. While driving, I saw a mother and her cubs in a tree and made my dad turn around to check it out. I jumped out of the car and started walking toward the tree. Darius freaked out. Because of that, I kept walking in the same direction. Stubborn teen. I was kind of nervous too, but made sure I could make it to the car before the momma bear could make it to me. Startled, one of the cubs fell out of the tree (It was actually kind of funny). Then the momma bear and the other cub climbed down from the tree. I took some pictures and cooked it back to the car.

Darius resumed breathing, then proceeded to lecture me on bear safety for the next half hour of driving.

Ahh sheet

I started the sheets poll a long time ago to settle a debate between Fernando and I regarding how often we should change our sheets. 49% of people said they change them every week. Another 49% say they change them around a monthish. 7% change them when they smell funny (awesome), and 14% may not even use sheets. Hmmm.

Turns out the poll didn't really solve anything. The more I thought about it, the more difficult it was to get accurate pole results. I specified that the sheets were on a non sexually active bed. I mean, if there was a bunch of sperm or other awesome guck slopped over my bed, I'd certainly be doing laundry more often. However, what if someone sweats a lot? Sheds a lot of hair? Masturbates? Has a pet with gross outdoor paws curl up on the bed? Does the person sleep naked or in PJs? Does the person shower before bed or in the morning? Does the person eat and drink in bed? All these things factor into how often someone may change his or her sheets.

So I guess Fernando and I will never know precisely how often sheets should be changed.

Veggie conviction

It occurred to me today that the last time I remember eating a vegetable, was six days ago. Unless of course deep fried potatoes count. Nope, I change my mind, the last veggie I remember eating was a slice of tomatoe on my McDonald's chicken burger (crispy southwest!) about three days ago. Hmmm. Aren't we supposed to eat 5ish veggies or fruits a day, not one every five days?! Whoops. This got me to thinking, what am I actually eating?! Today I had two pieces of cake, half a tube of Pringles (Original), chocolate milk, and a cheese bun. Now that I think of it, that's pretty gross. Oh yeah and I had the last Double Stuffed Fudgee-O and some chocolate.

Gosh, don't judge me. Ha.

Confession Tuesday: Old flames

One of my first crushes was on a Ninja Turtle. It didn't occur to me that he was merely a cartoon reptile mutated by chemical goo and destined to live in the sewer. That didn't matter. Michelangelo was hot, buff, and fun. He did things his own way and took risks. He often scoffed at authority and got himself and his brothers in trouble. I think this sparked my attraction to "bad boys". In retrospect, I think Donatello would have been a better match.

Squishy squishy

I don't recommend eating chocolate mousse over your computer keyboard. Shit.

How to be smooth like Heidi

I decided to put a spin on pick up lines I've come across. To ensure they work, I tried each one out on Lucky. Ha.

1) Did you scrape your knees while falling for me?

2) Did it hurt... when I fell from Heaven?

3) Look at my feet. Look at my face. Thanks for checking me out.

4) Did you need a map? I think you just got lost in my eyes.

5) Is there an airport nearby or is that your heart taking off?

6) I’m exhausted from running through your mind all day.

#5 worked the best on Lucky.

Ghetto bus update

I got 3/4 mugged on the bus. A drunk, Irish, construction worker stole my book. The book was titled, He's Just Not that Into You.

Flashback Memory Friday: Clear Carpet Epiphany

A few years back, I arrived home to a frantic landlord and a busted door. My $3,500 laptop and stash of vacation money was gone. Shit. Cops interviewed us and some CSI dude came to take fingerprints of various surfaces. He had the black powder and everything (he was no Warrick though). Sidenote: no matter how bad things are, the uniform is so hot. Maybe that is part of why they wear it. If I get married, I think I'm going to get an outfit for my husband. I wonder where the average person can get a bullet proof vest and a decent looking fake gun. Anyway, I digress...

Real Life Interjection: A young, tall, dark, and handsome cop just came into Starbucks! I'm not even kidding! Genuine, he's the perfect height for you! For all you animal lovers, his shoulder badge says he's from the Canine Unit. Just sayin'. Whoa! How did I not notice that a table of four of them are sitting right behind me?! Er... must be because I'm crazy about Lucky (Quick Fix?!!).

Anyway, I redigress.... back to my story. So the main cop interviewing me about the items missing from my messy room (embarrassing), told me which areas to stay away from and which items not to touch because the fingerprinting guy needed to dust them. Then he said, "As for the rest of the items in here, you should be able to put things back where they were." I told the guy that this is what my room looked like before. "Er... umm... oh." He thought my room had been ransacked. That's rough. This is the moment I realized I needed to keep my room cleaner.

Ode to Latina

Today is Latina's Birthday. She's 22. Can kick ass. Freakin' hilarious. Hot. Good mom. Cooks well. Adventurous. Blunt. Creative. Can do anything. Anything. Sensitive. Charming. Assertive. Spontaneous. Talented. Silly. Just. Protective. Loyal. Smart. Open. Grateful. Artistic. Caring. Hard worker. Forgiving. Responsible. Fantastic.

Quick Fix: Problems and solutions to being a lame girlfriend

1) Ask bf what his favourite cookies are and offer to send him some. *Don't* actually send them.

Quick Fix:
Say you didn't want to send the cookies because they wouldn't be as fresh.

2) Forget hinting, tell him you want flowers. Suggest that the next day is a good time to send them.

Quick Fix:
Giggle really cute and hope it negates your faux pas while simultaneously seeming like a great idea.

3) Pee while talking on the phone to him, but don't mute it like you do for everyone else.

Quick Fix:
Whoops, I guess this just means he's closer to you than most people :) He must be extra special.

4) Tell him you can get over the height thing, but ask if he wouldn't mind getting shoes with a thicker sole. (This is a fantastic form of emasculation!)

Quick Fix:
Buy really cute flat shoes. This doesn't really fix much, but you have an excuse to go shoe shopping!

5) When on the phone with him before bed, doze off while he's talking to you.

Quick Fix:
If you wake up and he hasn't noticed, just say, "Yeah totally." If he did notice you fell asleep on him, say his voice soothes you and he makes you feel comfortable. Better yet, use the word "safe", guys like to make their woman feel "safe."

6) Toward the end of January, realize you never did get around to sending his Christmas gift. This is even more effective if you didn't finish making it.

Quick Fix:
Say you're taking your time because you want the gift to be perfect. Additionally, suggest you give him the gift in person because it is more meaningful.

Cheapskate Tuesday: Days off

Getting days off is tricky, so I came up with a solution.

There are Seven Main Steps:
1) Make sure there is something in your personal life that is bothering you.
2) Don't talk to anyone about this thing.
3) Wait for said thing to build up.
4) When your manager asks what's wrong, burst into tears.
5) Briefly explain the situation (you don't want him or her to worry!).
6) You should be sent home (hence why it is best to burst into tears at the *beginning* of your shift).
7) When asked if there is anything else he or she can do, request the following day off too (this lines up perfectly with your regular day off, so presto- three days off in a row! Good work!)

Flaws in the Trial Run:
-Lack of tissue. (Make sure to have tissues in your pocket so that you don't have to wipe your nose with a cotton ball.)
-Concerned coworkers and guests. (Not sure how you should deal with this one... slink out the back door? Wear a mask and hope they don't recognize you?)
-Roommate interrogation. (Unfortunately, you'll have to look like a fool with this one, because he or she will wonder why you're home so early.)

Enjoy your time off- hey you could even use it to deal with whatever's bothering you ;)

Sorry night wosl buddy, I gotta jachange the cycle

I decided I"m going goind not to edit thise endtyr because I'm supser tired and i want that com to come through . Shti. I'm caught up in a sick sycyle of staying lutp too late (it is cureently almost four am) and then sleeping in too mlaet because I have been working the night shifts. This is fantastic for tips, but shoddy for sleapping well.

I think ghte's er... there's only onw way to break the sychle heh heh- cycle- and that is to get up super early one day .then I'll be ablet to sleep better that night. The thing is, if I do that on a work night, I'll do a bad job at work and feel like cgarbage. So I should do it on my day off, but who the heclk wants to wak up early and feel horrible on their day off?! It's gotta happen though, and this week I just happen to have to er two days off, in a row so i think I'm going to go for kit. Heh heh, it. So, ,i'ts almost four am and I'm going to get up at 9:30. I tired that to get up wearlier a few days ago, but I turnded off my alamr. Frick. This time I'm going to put it across thr ororwom hehheh room and bump the volume. Mayeb I'll leave my blilnds open so that it's friggin bright or something.

Cofee is mey friend.

From doodles to the closet

Lucky stunk at art. I on the other hand, was the art teacher's pet (at least I was good at one subject!). In grade nine, we crossed paths when he asked me to draw something. His plan was to hand it in to avoid failing. The carpet boy talked to me. Play it cool Heidi, play it cool. I doodled something sweet and tried to play it like it was really nothing. He thought it was amazing. After that, we were good. Neither of us brought up the nightie thing.

That year we drank with his cousin who was a grade older than us. I felt so rebellious and cool. Now if I drank in a closet, I think I'd feel differently.

How to be a bad server

1) Spill an entire glass of ice water on a lady who is all dressed up. Then laugh at her. (Eventually ask if she is okay.)
2) Serve a Muslim couple pork.
3) Forget to ring in an order and then not notice after an hour.
4) Drop two knives on some guy. Laugh at him. (Eventually ask if he is okay.)
5) Ask a guy if he is an actor from CSI. No? Proceed to tell him he looks just like the psycho wheelchair guy who killed that pedophile.
6) Make fun of a group of girls who ate a lot. If done right they should feel ashamed and fat.
7) Tell them you've only spilled drinks on someone once.
8) Hide behind a post and chuck chocolates at one of your tables.
9) Not notice that there is a chocolate wrapper in someone's salad. Serve it to her and wait for her to gag on it and almost throw up at your table. If done right, she should complain to the manager and get her bill complimented.
10) Tell them you just ate garlic bread in the back and hope your breath isn't too bad. Is it?
_______________________________________
*Strangely enough, all of these people tipped me!

Flashback Memory Friday: No one kicked the bucket

I grew up in a small town by the abandoned railway tracks near the lake. The ditches next to the tracks were perfect for catching frogs and tadpoles. I had many stinky mason jars filled with them. Probably only one out of every 15 tadpoles turned into a frog. And out of those frogs, probably only one in five lived. That might even be a generous estimate.

However, I was more interested in newts. Fire bellied newts actually. They were brown with orange tummies and could easily be found on the road, sometimes mushed by the few cars on our street. One October I filled a jack o' lantern trick or treat bucket with 98 live ones. Most of them baby newts. My mom made me keep them in the garage with a lid. She hated all the slimy slithery things I brought home and demanded I let them go in the morning.

I didn't dare tell her that 96 of the 98 newts escaped in the garage that evening.

Life in the ghetto: How to avoid getting a cap in the ass

After working a gazillion shifts, I had a beautiful day off. Awesome. Feeling guilty about being so far behind on my blog, I considered taking my laptop to Starbucks. However, I was feeling lazy and chose to watch an episode of Law and Order. I love crime shows. Sea tapes a bunch of them for me. After that episode, I figured it was my day off and I was entitled to watch another one before going out. Then one more crime show. Okay, another one.

Lucky called, I paused it, we chatted, and I told him I was going to SB soon. Pressed play and then Sea called.

"Heidi, are you okay?!"
"Er yeah... are YOU okay?" Weirdo.
"Didn't you hear about the shooting?"
"What shooting?"
"The one outside the apartment! They had to shut the whole street down and everything. I've been getting calls on my cell phone asking if I'm okay, so I thought I better call and check in on you."
"Hmmm, really?! Let me see if I can see anything from the window."


Sure enough, there were scads of cop cars lighting up the street like a red and blue disco party. EFF! What a gong show. How did I miss that?! Good thing I didn't take the bus; I could have been shot at the bus stop!! Eff. Wow. Crazy.


Ironically, I was watching crime shows and missed the real life drive by. Also, they say TV rots your brain, heh heh, maybe TV saved my life. Ha.

Lust in my heart

You know how I said something about Pringles replacing my cookie obsession? Well, that's crap! Today I had the most beautiful love affair with a peanut butter cookie from Starbucks. It was passionate.

Confession Tuesday: Twinky Karma

Remember that crazy party a while back? The one that the cops went to? It was the one where the two twinkies stole my last two drinks. Arg.

Anyway, recently I was at work and really had to use the washroom... and I'm not talking having to pee. It was a real stinker too. Nasty. Heh heh. Anyway, one of the twinkies came in and said she had to use the washroom. I watched her open the door, her face wrinkle, and almost gag. She shut the door and I had to cover my mouth to keep her from hearing me laugh.

Take that Twinky. Tee hee.

Late night shopping in the ghetto

I'm a pretty smart person, but sometimes I do some really dumb things. For example, when I got off work early the other night (9:30pm), I figured I'd go across the street to the 24 hour Walmart and pick up a few things. Keep in mind, this is the ghetto. I needed mascara and some 3M hooks. However, as I perused the aisles, I kept seeing other things to add to the cart, including some weights and multigrain cereal.

By the time I got through the line up (hooray for understaffing!), it was 11pm. I called Sea from the customer service desk, but she was sleeping and I felt guilty having her get out of bed to come get me, so I told her I'd be fine. I grabbed my four awkward heavy bags, my purse, and headed to the bus stop. I was just in time to see it drive away. Sucky. Oh yeah, did I mention I left my bus schedule at home? I had no idea when the next one was coming.

So I sat down and ate Pringles. Original. I'm addicted to them these days. Perhaps they've taken the place of cookies, I'm not sure.


It was getting cold. My bus loops around the mall and back before it picks me up, so I figured that if I crossed the road and caught the bus going the other way, I could get out of the cold about ten minutes sooner. Fantastic. Hmmm. So, I shuffled down the road in the snow with my bags. Stupid weights. My bag started to tear and the handles were stretching out while simultaneously cutting my fingers. Stupid bags. I put them down and ate more Pringles. Mmmm, salty goodness. I picked up my bags and continued, stopping every 10 metres for some chips. The container may or may not have been half gone by the time the midnight bus came. Cough cough.


On the other side of the mall, the bus waits for about five minutes to ensure it's on schedule. Cool. While waiting, five guys in their late teens or early twenties started giving the bus driver some grief. So he left one of them behind and we took off. They were pissed and cussed in the back. In the Plexiglas in front of me I watched their reflection behind me. Sketchy. At one point they talked about some sort of drugs they bought (I'm suspecting it wasn't pot) and blah blah blah. Then one of them, still pissed at the bus driver, showed one of the others a weapon he had below the back of the seat. A gun?! A knife?! Shit.

One of the guys told the others to keep it cool. Four of them got off at the next stop. I breathed again. Stupid Walmart. Stupid bus. Stupid me for not getting a cab or insisting Sea pick me up.

The grand introduction

They say that the man of your dreams isn't going to show up on your door step. However, that's not entirely true. I'm not going to get all cheesy or anything and say Lucky is the man of my dreams and blah blah blah, but he did show up on my doorstep.

I groggily got out of bed (I was nine) and sauntered into the kitchen. Turns out my parents forgot to tell me the part about a carpenter *and* his son replacing the shag rug. Shit. There was a strange blue eyed boy in my living room and saw me in my nightie. Not cool.

What did I do? Did I use some sweet line or realize it was love at first sight? Nope. I ran and hid in my room. I don't even think I got his name.

Book snob

I missed out on the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter book craze. Although, Whatever begged me to watch the second LOTR movie in theatres, so I went begrudgingy. (Turns out the guy shooting arrows, riding down stairs on a shield, and fighting bad guys was pretty hot.)

Anyway, since I for the most part missed out on those two fads, I decided to get on board with Stephenie Meyer's vampire series, starting with Twilight.

It's painful. I hate it. I want to take the book and hit myself with it. The writing sucks. It's predictable, repetitive, and over uses cliche. If I have to read one more time that Edward's skin is pale or cold, or that the weather is gloomy and damp, I might just throw myself into the Bow River. Am I the only person who notices how much these books stink? Opinions anyone?

I think Sea and I are going to go to the movie tonight. I hope it's better. If not, maybe Nick and Cathrine will find me on the river bank.

Flashback Memory Friday: "Cat Scratch"

In grade six or seven, a little pink bump appeared on my left cheek bone. "Welcome to puberty!" it exclaimed.

Shit.

Somehow I thought covering it with a Bandaid would garner less attention. Everyone asked. I told them it was a cat scratch.

Quick Fix: The tweeze squeeze :S

I think I'm still kind of a rookie to the whole actually-dating-someone thing.

Turns out it's probably *not* a good idea to blog about guys tweezing their eyebrows when your boyfriend doesn't. When he asks about it, it's hard to renege on your love for them when it's in writing.

Quick fix: Appeal to his strength... zero in on his bicepts and how big they are. Who needs sissy eyebrow tweezers anyway?!

Ricky the bread stick champ

The other night at work, Ricky Bobby and I chatted at the dish pit where we discard plates and uneaten food. I joked about it being tempting to eat the bread sticks from people's tables when we're super hungry. He said he totally could. As a challenge to his male ego, I offered him a quarter to do it.

And he did.

I gave him a quarter, but he deserved ten bucks. Shudder.

Cheapskate Tuesday: How to get extra mileage out of your Christmas gifts

First: Ensure that you give someone a Starbucks gift card for Christmas or another special occasion. (Warm fuzzies!)

Second: Once opened, make sure the person forgets the gift at your house.

Third: Wait for that person to completely misread a situation and abruptly cut you out of his or her life. Specifically hope he or she severs all contact.

Fourth: Be hurt (and kind of pissed off ) and comfort yourself with a mocha on the person's card. (It's not like he or she is coming back for it anyway)

Fifth: Repeat as necessary or until funds run out.

Sixth: Wait for said person to realize his or her mistake and apologize profusely.

Seventh: Wonder how you're going to explain the empty gift card.

The snorgle couple

These days everything exciting in my life is related to public transit. I used to loath the bus, but it is oh so blog worthy. I don't get juicy information from driving in my car.

After a split shift the other day, I waited for my bus and a couple came to join me. They were about the same age as me, but kind of short. She wore an ugly toque. It was cold standing in the bus hut and made my nose run. Evidently, it made his run too because he snorgled it and then spat it. EW! I politely pretended I didn't notice, but it was disgusting. He splatted that nastiness right on the cement. I heard it. "Splat." Ew. People have to walk there. As I was reeling in disgust, he did it again- this time from the lungs. Revolting. Some men are pigs.


Then she did a higher pitched version of the snorgle. I felt queasy and tried to hide the "I-want-to-barf-because-this-is-so-gross" expression on my face. They continued talking, oblivious to their behaviour being raunchy. It continued. Then they snuggled into one another and kissed.

Pretty sure my jaw dropped, my face cringed, and I stared. EWW!!! Do they not realize that they just tasted each other's snot?! Am I the only one who thinks that's gross?


When the bus finally came I sat in the handicapped seating as not to be within earshot of the mucus slapping into the back of their throats. Unfortunately they sat right beside me. And even worse, they continued to be nasty. They actually spat scuzzy germyness onto the floor of the bus. Then they scuffed it (smeared it?) with their shoes. I wanted to die or barf. Shudder. I considered getting off the bus and catching the next one. However, it was late and I had to work in the morning. Thank God for MP3 players. Whatever, this may have been the best gift you've ever given me.

Frog in a blender

Ok... so there are these two hot Australian girls from work. They're cool. They can dance. In fact, they entered a dance competition and won by a long shot. Inspired, I decided I'd incorporate dance into my fitness regime. Even put on the new Lulu capris that Sea's mom got me for Christmas and a low cut excercise top. Gotta say, my rack was hot. Poor babies never see light.

After figuring out how to work the DVD player (something about an input button?), I followed along with the warm up. Awesome, I can do this. No probs. Er... until they started combining moves and doing a loop of them.

Shit.

Long story short, I ended up stubbing my own toe on *myself*, bleeding a little, getting pissed off, and turning the the video off. Maybe I'll stick to art.

Newly reformed woman

Crazy thing! The men here tweeze their eyebrows. I've heard of guys plucking the unibrow, but in Calgary, they go all out. Some guys tweeze them so that they're pretty thin and others just get rid of the stray ones and create a nice arch. Weird eh? The first time I saw it, I assumed the guy was gay or something (not that I have anything against people with that sexual preference), but then I noticed a bunch of straight guys did it too. I used to be mildly repulsed by this, but the more I see it, the more I think it's hot.

I'm officially the girl who thinks guys who tweeze their eyebrows are hot.

Flashback Memory Friday: Elvis wears briefs

Ok... I don't know if I'm allowed to share other people's memories on here, but I've got a good one! And I figure it's a good way to introduce you to Lucky a little more.

A while ago, Lucky volunteered to help some acting group with a murder mystery. This involved him wearing a tight white Elvis costume, getting on stage, and shaking his money maker while pretending to sing some Elvis song. Then he got "killed" and the rest of the play was about solving the mystery. Excellent. Lucky told me that because he had to wear such a tight outfit, he bought "tighty whities" so his boxers didn't show up. What he neglected to think about was the stage lighting, which isolated his new undies and "package" as he shook his hips like a wild man. Apparently, the middle aged ladies in the audience were impressed with "things" and asked for an encore.

That's my man.

Not the average New Years gulp

I was invited to three New Years parties, but I decided to have a relaxing New Years by myself. Homemade hot chocolate in my new mug, a fuzzy blanket, a movie, and time to reflect. Perfect.

Instead, I spent most of the night freaking out because Lucky wants me to meet 14 people who are important to him. I think he even used the word "crucial." My stomach dropped. What the EFF! Who has that many "crucial" people to meet?! I was thinking maybe five people. Fourteen?! I got off the phone and literally felt like I was going to vomit. FOURTEEN?! I'm supposed to meet them around Valentines too. In my mind it plays out like this:

I'm sitting at a metal table wearing a red satin evening gown and my hair is long and curled. Leaning against the door frame at the far end of the dimly lit room, Lucky is wearing a tux with his hands in his pockets. He watches me expectantly. Meanwhile, fourteen people surround us and one after the other, they hit me with questions interrogating every facet of my life. They're trying to find a reason why I'm not good enough to date him. They love his ex (they were together 6ish years) and take great pains to remind me of this. It's been hours, I'm hungry, my mouth is parched, and my hands are clammy. The bouquet of red roses, still wrapped in paper, wilt in front of me.

Happy Valentines. Shudder.

Back to real life: freaking out (so much for relaxing), I called Black. He always has some sort of mature advice that encompasses the bigger picture. Black always knows what to say.

Hmmm... so much for that. He laughed and said I could countdown to "V-day" on my calendar by crossing each day off with a skull and cross bones. He thought this was hilarious. Fantastic. Thanks buddy. However, he soon realized I wasn't being dramatic, but was *actually* freaking out. At this point, he swiftly busted out the wisdom and encouragement. After a while, he assured me that there won't be any cement rooms or bright lamps. I talked to Krikey and Ricky Bobby about it too and now I think I'm good. I'm sure things will be fine.

Lucky must think I'm nutbar. I keep telling him he can leave any time.