Picking up the Pieces

Paying the Price

2008-08-14T11:00:00.000-06:00

*Watching a television commercial*

TV Commercial: Money can’t buy love.

Me to FM: Yeah! For you, my love is free. It won’t cost you a thing!

FM: Hah! No, it did cost me something.

Me: What the hell are you talking about?

FM: *Insert jesting tone of voice* It cost me everything and I’ll be paying for it for the rest of my life.

Me: *Punch*

Downwards

2008-06-11T14:45:00.002-06:00

You know, I tried to hold out on writing a post simply because life has been the fucking shits and I’m using whatever energy I have left to not pack my bags and flee to somewhere warm like New Zealand. But right now, I don’t care. My blog, my rant and if people don’t want to read a foul mouthed person, then don’t read it. I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR.

Where to start... Oh yeah, how about May Long camping? Bullshit is what it was.

Our escape from the city to a place where there were no televisions, no phones and no computers turned out to be a fucking rave party of some goddamn sort. I knew there would be partiers, but are you serious? We had two groups beside us playing their lame trance crap until six-in-the-goddamn-motherfucking-morning. I shit you not.

And then, coming back home, made me realize even more how badly I’ve been feeling like shit. It was at that point that I fully understood Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset by Modest Mouse.

I’ve been feeling like there’s something missing in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I do have wonderful friends and a wonderful fiance... but... something just isn’t right.

I’ve never been one to want to travel the world, but lately I feel like I’ve missed out on some glorious places and people. Most people would think, “Just go out and travel!” but it’s never that simple. It’s called a fucking stable job and a mortgage. Maybe it’s just because I miss my sister so much, who’s currently traveling Italy. Again. For the second time. Ugh.

Oh and about this job? You know, it’s not pleasant having to wake up every damn day feeling like you’re living a lie. Dead serious. I feel like I’m living a lie. The business world is not me. A desk-job, office life is not me. The attitude these people have is not me. THESE FUCKING CLOTHES I’M WEARING IS NOT FUCKING ME. The fact that I can’t wear skirts to work because of the tattoos I have and the fact that I have to now remove certain piercings (eyebrows, earrings, etc.) is not me.

But then what the fuck is me? Over the last decade, I have been one of the unfortunate people who’s had their creativity and ambitions crushed by depression. I envy those whose mind is only fuelled by their depression to the point that they are able to come up with creative works of art. I’ve lost myself over 12 years ago, and I’m not entirely sure who I am. So how the hell am I supposed to figure out what I want to do? I’m only bringing myself further down by working in this career.

But maybe all this is brought by the shitty weather we’ve been having. It has been raining non-effin-stop, and the moment the sun shines through the clouds it goes back into hiding and it starts pouring again. And this has been going on for weeks. FOR WEEKS. I CAN ONLY HANDLE SO MUCH FUCKING PISS FROM THE SKY.

Seriously. I received that in an email this morning. It isn’t a lie.

Now, let’s get into my issues my body is going through from all this crap. I’m not sleeping well so I’m always tired. I’m beyond irritable and on edge. I’m lacking an appetite. I’ve got the runs. Oh, and occasionally my eye will start twitching like a lunatic who just got sprayed in the eye with lemon juice.

I’m too exhausted, mentally and physically. I’m feeling like a lost child in a massive department store crying for help but there’s no one around to hear the cries because it’s after store hours and I got locked in.

Yeah, that’s right, locked in.

God, I’m losing my mind. I need to figure things out, but I need to figure out where to start.

Nelly Don't Know Hot

2008-05-16T09:52:00.001-06:00

It’s getting hot in here and I’m tempted to take off all my clothes.

It’s finally begun to feel like Spring. I can tell from my itchy, watery, sticky eyes. Oh, and the wicked warm weather.

Now, we all know that during May Long it always rains (sprinkling of raindrops for Sunday and Monday), but I’m okay with that. As long as there is no snow, I’m good to go.

Brand new tent – check.
Booze – check.
Up till 12:00 a.m., last night, to ensure that the majority of things are packed so that we can head out camping after work – check.

The last time we “went” camping was the long weekend of September last year. Except, we didn’t go. It’s like this – we stayed up late to pack everything up so that we (Future Mister and I) could get up early and head out to the mountains. Prior to this, FM had been having gut issues and his gut issues wouldn’t subside. After much nagging on my part (I was worried he had appendicitis, even though he didn’t display any of the symptoms) and after much resistance on his part, he finally agreed to make a quick stop at the doctors before we rush home to pack up the vehicle and leave.

Yeah. We never made it home.

Guess who was right? Guess who’s nagging paid off? And guess who demanded a bouquet of flowers for saving a life?

Me.

Despite having zero symptoms, it turns out he did have appendicitis.

Without going into a whole lot of detail on the events to follow (it still saddens me to think that we could have been in the middle of nowhere and God only knows what would have happened if his appendix had burst), let’s just say that FM laid on a waiting room bed for 8 hours while 3 doctors poked and prodded him trying to determine if it really was appendicitis (again, zero symptoms). The doctors finally decided to get him scanned and half an hour later he was rushed to the operating room to remove his appendix.

During his prep, FM must have gone through shock because he suddenly went pale. He asked to go to the washroom and after 5 minutes in there I knocked on the door to see if he was okay.

Actually, you know what, I don’t even want to type it out because I don’t feel like tearing up at the thought of that day/night/the days after, etc.

All in all, it was a horrendous experience. I realize it was a simple appendicitis that needed to be removed, but with the waiting times in hospitals in Calgary and the events that followed during his prep, I was almost certain that his appendix would have/had burst.

One day I’ll write out the whole tale of FM’s appendix experience; including the amazing changes in our lives because it happened (Like finding his biological father! Through facebook of all places!).

Until then, I’m going to continue counting down the hours till I’m off work so we can go CAMPING!@#$

Cheap Treat?

2008-05-13T11:56:00.000-06:00

I think it’s fairly clear that I’m in a slump. I feel the need to treat myself to something.

I want to get dolled up and go out. I’m tired of the same old jeans and t-shirts. This seems like it’d be such a simple task, but I don’t feel like being the person who is all dressed up with no where to go and the person I’d like to get all fancy with is not a fancy person at all (aka the Future Mister).

I’ve thought about maybe dying my hair and getting a nice hairstyle, but hair colouring is expensive and I wouldn’t know what sort of hairstyle would look good for me.

I’ve thought about going on a small shopping spree. Then I remembered that, too, involves money and God only knows I hate shopping for clothes.

A spa visit would be nice, but damn those cost quite a bit of money.

Money seems to be a huge issue for me. Not only do I not like the idea of spending money on myself, but money is tight when you have a mortgage, bills and a wedding to save for.

I do have a tattoo gift certificate that will treat me nicely, but I’ll still have to wait months until I can actually get an appointment.

If only treating myself were cheaper.

The Getaway

2008-05-12T10:47:00.000-06:00

I’ve been busy. Lame excuse, I know. But seriously, I have been busy.

Since the beginning of March, I’ve been finding that there aren’t enough hours in a day to get things done. This has caused me to be severely irritable, impatient, annoyed, frustrated, tired and I could go on, but I won’t. Even the weekends aren’t long enough to get shit done. I guess it doesn’t help that we had ANOTHER snow fall warning and had a full week of snow. In May. “April showers bring May flowers.” LIES. ALL LIES.

Last week, I took a flex day from work. I normally despise taking time off, but I was desperate. Desperate mentally and physically.

You know it’s time to take a break when: you start muttering obscenities under your breathe when your phone rings or when coworkers approach you; you start taking old school wooden pencils and snapping them just so you can break something; you break your computer mouse because you are so goddamn frustrated and have to bullshit to the IT department on why you need a new one; you freak out at the senior manager of your department because he’s making you so fucking angry.

Yeah. Enough was enough.

Work still has not slowed down, especially with our largest event quickly approaching (this also does not include the few other events that we’re hosting that are also extremely large), but I’m trying to pull through as best as I can.

Presentations! Meetings! Corporate World! Screw you.

I swear to you Internets. This May long weekend I best be going camping. For the last month, I’ve been itching to escape. Anywhere, but here. A place where there is no television, no phones and no computers. I realize that it’ll still be cold, but I don’t give a damn.

I just need to get away from it all.

Nice A-Hole

2008-04-21T14:09:00.003-06:00

I thought I'd give One Plus You - Cuss-O-Meter a try and this is what I got.

Created by OnePlusYou

You're shitting me, right? There is no way that is accurate.

819% more than other websites who took the test?

Man, it takes a lot of will power for me to not write things like,

"What the hell ever. I guaran-fuckin-tee I don't swear as much as some of those people out there."

"This is bullshit."

"Cuss-o-meter, fuck you."

But, seriously. That number is wrong. I don't think I'm that bad.

Born in the 17 Century

2008-04-18T09:35:00.006-06:00

Because I have nothing better to talk about (aside from the fact last weekend I wore short-shorts, a tank top and flip-flops and this weekend I'll be wearing a winter jacket because you know, Mother Nature likes to fuck with me like that) here's a photo, from last year, that I had to take.

I get the impression that they will feast on your blood. Or something.

Yes, that sign was posted in front of a house. I wonder if the members get to wear red, velvet cloaks.

Edited to add:

HAAAAAH. I just went to squeeze some lotion from a bottle and there must have been an air pocket because when I went to squeeze some out, it exploded lotion gunk all over my desk and monitor.

Damn, there's even some in my hair. hahaha. Happy effin Friday, eh!

Not Like I Used To

2008-04-14T08:49:00.000-06:00

Note to Self: Eat food before you decide to party it up like it were 1969. Because boozing with no food will do you zero justice when you clearly do not have the drinking capabilities you once had. If you think you can down those nine doubles in 2.5 hours, expect some of it to come back out. Idiot.

P.S. VODKA GIVES YOU NASTY SHITS, REMEMBER?!

Is it April?

2008-04-10T10:38:00.006-06:00

Dear 1+ Feet of Snow and 2 Hour Commute to Work (from the 0.5 hour commute):

Snow and traffic. Fuck you.

kthx.

Regards,

AJ

And to you, Snowfall Warning, eat ass.

100 Things...

2008-04-08T13:30:00.001-06:00

...about me that you probably don't care about.

1. I first wanted to write one of these lists when I was 23 years old.

2. Two years later I'm finally writing one.

3. I've been told I'm tall. For a girl. (insert eye roll) I'm 5'7".

4. I tend to roll my eyes a lot.

5. My eyes are brown and my hair is dark brown.

6. If you tell me my hair is black, I will cut you.

7. I'm addicted to a few things. Chapstick is my greatest addiction.

8. I am a smoker who has been trying to quit for years with no success.

9. I hate that I ever started smoking.

10. If given the choice to pick between my chapstick addiction and my smoking addiction, I'd pick chapstick.

11. I'm allergic to chocolate.

12. And strawberries.

13. Yes, I realize that it sucks the hardcore.

14. People say I'm a picky eater. I prefer 'particular'.

15. I don't eat anything that comes out of the water, or anything that looks "odd" or has an unpleasing texture. This includes caramel, fungi, bean sprouts, foods that have seeds in them (unless I de-seed them... like tomatoes) and the list goes on and on.

16. I really do love food.

17. I have a horrific phobia of bees/wasps. Just the thought of it makes me want to cry.

18. If I could learn to play every instrument in the world, I would. Namely the tuba and bagpipes.

19. I currently can play guitar and bass guitar. Everything else I play would be considered noise.

20. When I was 19 years old, my eye cornea was ripped.

21. Yaarrr! I got to wear an eye-patch!

22. I skateboard for pleasure. That's it. Nothing fancy.

23. I love the season Summer.

24. Winter can bite me.

25. Did I mention I was born and lived in Edmonton for 13 years? The Winters are cold and freezing till Spring.

26. Calgary gets chinooks. Yeah, I know - It's not something about me.

27. I still love the cold, freezing city of Edmonton more than Calgary.

28. I've once lost a finger nail.

29. I've twice had alcohol poisoning.

30. I once puked and passed out in front of a church.

31. I'm certain God is still angry with me for that.

33. One day, I hope to not have such a potty mouth.

34. Until "one day", I say fuck it.

35. I've suffered from depression and it's ugliness since I was 14 years old.

36. I don't like admitting to it so I never talk about it.

37. I'm a pro at hiding my true feelings and emotions.

38. I've already had enough just typing points 35-37 out.

39. I'M A SUPASTAR!

40. My one and only sibling is two years younger than me. We're very close.

41. The bitch left me to go travelling the world and is currently living in Scotland.

42. I miss her a lot.

43. She and I like trying to figure out what genes we got from each parent.

44. We would be considered "mutts".

45. My hair used to be straight. Then I dyed it goth black and my hair has never been the same since. Any other hair colour that I dyed my hair with, never destroyed my hair the way the black did.

46. It was almost like the hair dye mutated my mom's straight hair genes and my dad's wavy hair genes took over.

47. Oh, I still have two wisdom teeth that need to be removed.

48. I don't handle change well. At all.

49. If I could eat one thing for the rest of my life, it'd be cheese.

50. I have 18 piercings and seven tattoos with two more tattoos waiting as a Christmas present from last year.

51. Don't assume I'm some crazy ass, wild freak because of that.

52. I'm incredibly shy and fearful of a lot of things.

53. I do open up to people after a while. Sometimes it takes months to be the loud mouth that my friends know me as.

54. My ideal vacation spot would be Venice, Italy. I'm certain there isn't a more romantic place than riding under the moonlight where the streets are made of water.

55. I'd have to starve myself for a month before going there. I'm sure I'll gain 30 lbs off pastries alone.

56. There are plenty of people that will tell me I could use those extra pounds.

57. I don't make it very obvious, but I'm the biggest sucker for romance.

58. I don't think that wanting to have a surprise bouquet of flowers delivered to my work is asking for much.

59. Yeah... I cry easily. It doesn't matter if it has to do with something happy or sad. If it tugs at my heart, I'll cry like a sissy.

60. But, call me a sissy or imply that I'm a wimp? Don't be surprised if you get a hard fist in your face.

61. Okay, so perhaps I've been told that I get vicious when I'm angry.

62. Maybe if I didn't pent up all my anger all.the.time. it wouldn't be like that?! HUH. PUNK.

63. I love lotuses.

64. And the colour blue.

65. I also like having a system to everything I do. A "routine" if you will.

66. Otherwise, I believe chaos will ensue and I cannot have that happen.

67. Why yes indeed I have been called neurotic before!

68. OH! I looooove Winnie the Pooh.

69. I was going to write another point about Winnie the Pooh until I saw that I'm on point 69. I giggled a bit.

70. Every Christmas I always receive a Winnie the Pooh item. My collection is large.

71. Ugh. My head hurts and I'm only on 71. I resort to Advil Liquid Gels too easily.

72. My favourite author is Aldous Huxley. I hope to one day own all his books, regardless of the fact that some are difficult to find and are expensive.

73. Since I've been 17 years old, I've been single for no more than a month with the longest span of singledom being 10 days.

74. I am not impressed by it, but more ashamed by it.

75. I never was much of a casual dater. Nearly all of my relationships were long-term.

76. I find humour to be a very important quality in any person.

78. I've only worked at two jobs and volunteered at many places.

79. If I could, I would go back to my job at Dairy Queen where I worked as the supervisor/cake decorator. Unfortunately, it does not pay the bills.

80. If I ever win a large dollar amount lottery, I would quit my current, well paying job and work at DQ again. I'd also pay off my parents' debt, pay for my sisters schooling, pay off the mortgage, buy a few items and save the rest.

81. I'm stingy with money. I always feel guilty if I buy something for myself. On the plus side, I'm always able to save money.

82. I don't think I could live without music.

83. Taking a walk and eating at the same time pleases me.

84. I like to think that I'm burning off the calories as they come.

85. Apparently over exaggerating my injuries is a hobbie of mine. I can't help it if I think I'm going to bleed to death if I get a papercut.

86. Currently I'm thinking, "GOOD GOD, when is this list going to end?!"

87. I've had the same email address since I was 14.

88. British Bulldogs are my favourite breed of dogs. If I had one, I'd name it Bubba.

89. My dad is wretchedly allergic to animal fur.

90. I'm allergic to cats and pollen.

91. I've recently been hooked on Iron Chef America. HAI!

92. I can only speak one language. I wish I could speak more.

93. Flying on a plane scares me. I don't care about physics; something that large should not be in mid-air. I've only flown twice.

94. When I fall, I fall hard. This applies to everything.

95. I didn't have my first alcoholic drink until a few months after I turned 18. The legal drinking age here is 18.

96. I'm currently PMS'ing. HAH HAH.

97. I tend to give out too much information. Like the above point.

98. I once played in a punk-effin'-rock band when I was in high school. It was fun while it lasted.

99. I really want to end this list with a big bang of a point, but I lead a relatively dull life so I'm not sure what would classify as a "big bang".

100. More or less, give or take, I'm relatively content with myself.

One for the WTF!@#$ File

2008-04-04T11:31:00.000-06:00

An employee is out of the office today, therefore, leaving his office vacant.

I felt a rumbling from deep within.

I acted like I had to drop something off in his office so walked over to the office door, opened it, and in I went.

I made a 180 degree turn, paused, and you guessed it – I let a silent one go.

I then proceeded to walk out and closed the door behind me.

It was fan-fuckin’-tastic.

I’m only slightly ashamed of myself.

Can't Even Fake Productivity

2008-04-01T10:26:00.000-06:00

Booooo. Boooooo on me.

Only 1.5 hours left till the April Fools Pranks must cease and desist! And I have failed in providing a prank of a sort.

I hang my head in shame.

Perhaps if I weren’t sitting here at work I could have done something. Or maybe if I planned ahead of time I could have pulled something off. Alas, I am lazy.

I’ll have to try again next year.

Hello World!

2008-03-31T10:58:00.005-06:00

Hi! I’m Leiland. I’m the devil in disguise!

I give you stink eye!

I’m a cute hamster! I’ve heard the man human call me a rodent numerous times, but ignore his gibberish.

My hobbies include sleeping, eating, peeing and flinging my poo at the humans. I’m real good at it. I’ve hit the human targets many times. This displeases them.

Lately I’ve been gnawing on the cage, mostly on the wires where the humans release me. Dungeon door is what I make of it. The she human has been eyeing me and my dungeon gnawing. I’m fairly certain she does not approve because she keeps filling my living quarters with flavoured sticks for me to chew on. If only she human could get it through her head that this will only shut me up for mere minutes before I’m back to the dungeon wires.

You feed me KRYPTONITE?!

A couple nights ago, I almost broke free. The force of my gnawing must have rattled the dungeon doors and it flung open. As I started to step out, I heard the man human bellow to the she human. Before I knew it, she human was ranting and raving.

Back in the dungeon I went. The humans looked very sleepy. This pleases me for the noise of the dungeon door must have startled them out of their slumber. The humans have placed tiny wires around my vicinity doorway. I hear twist-ties come out of the human’s mouth.

zzzzzzzzzz

I’ll continue to gnaw. And cause chaos in the human’s lives. I’ll continue to plot against them. And plan for my escape. YOU HUMANS WILL NOT STOP ME. RAWR.

Death to you man human!

Murphy Better Know What He's Doing

2008-03-27T09:04:00.001-06:00

What is that thing? That thing with that name… Murphy’s Law? Is that it?

I hope so, otherwise I’m just a tool who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

I’m going to give it a try because I’m incredibly tired of waiting around anxiously.

I’m waiting for an email reply back with some form of information on a contract to read over and sign. Oh, and waiting to write up a hefty cheque for a deposit. Because you can’t have a wedding without a venue. And you can’t have a wedding, with a venue, without a date.

whatthegeezusgoddamnfuck?

I know. I know.

How and when did that happen?

In due time.

In the meanwhile, a couple days ago I confirmed with the manager of the venue that we’d like to have our wedding ceremony and reception at their club. And after a good month and a half, we (the boyfriend – can’t I just call him that for now? I’m not used to fiancé just yet – and I) finally picked a date. Now I’m just waiting for this so-called contract so that we can fork over OUR SOULS (aka a $1,000 deposit cheque because apparently we swim in money) (we really don’t… FYI).

And now! I’ll wait and see if I receive information on this contract today.

Work with me, Murphy’s Law! Work with me!

Waiting is Never Fun

2008-03-25T09:24:00.003-06:00

UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH.

My gut. My wretched gut. It's turning tricks. Selling its soul to Satan.

In the last few days, I don't know what the hell is up with it. I've got gas coming out of every orifice of my body. It hasn't been pretty.

I'm fairly certain that the fact that I'm waiting for an email reply back on a particular subject isn't helping the situation at all. I was holding back on posting an entry till I got some form of concrete information, but apparently that's not going to happen.

Waiting...

Waiting some more...

G'DAMNIT.

The Gandharvas Takes This One

2008-03-20T09:23:00.001-06:00

Happy effin first day of Spring. I'm so over this Winter and Snow bullshit. So over.

Let's all do ourselves a favour and rock out with your cock out and jam out with your clam out!

Skivvie Thief

2008-03-14T09:59:00.001-06:00

Well, how awesome is it that after God-knows-how-long I finally type a post and then that’s it. I sicken myself. I also noticed that I really need to update that thing called flickr.

What’s even more sickening is that I’ve been ill with a cold for over a week, stressed to the max with work, averaging about 2 hours of sleep a night since Saturday of last week and to top this sundae with a cherry? I’m PMSing. That, folks, is never a good combination.

And just to make things even more exciting and turn things even more sickening, I’m back with another infamous AJ story!

The Tale of the Skivvie Thief. Because that’s just what the world needs more of.

Back over a year ago, while I was still living in the apartment downtown (What? Oh, yeah, I moved away from that apartment a while back. I know. I know! Update more often.), I got to experience my first laundry thief.

I was one of those people who went down (all 18 floors) to the laundry room, left their laundry in the washer/dryer and went back up to the apartment. Trusting in the “goodness” of man-kind, I never bothered worrying that my laundry would be rifled through. I would like to also add that I was never one of those pricks who would leave their clothes in the washer and/or dryer half an hour after the cycle was done just because I felt like I was King or Queen of the g’damn world.

Once my clothes were finished with the wash, I dumped everything in the dryer and left to go upstairs till the clothes were done.

After my alarm went off to let me know that time was up, I went downstairs to pick up my clothes.

As soon as I looked at the dryer, I noticed that a sock was stuck in the door. I figured that I was in a rush and didn’t realize that a sock tried to escape. No worries, just retrieve the sock, dump the rest of the laundry in the basket and head back upstairs.

A few days later, I was rifling through the laundry basket looking for a particular pair of skivvies that I had washed earlier. (Yeah, you read right. Looking for skivvies in the laundry basket. A few days later. Because I hate folding laundry. OKAY?)

And that’s when I noticed I had no skivvies in that basket. None. Nada. Zilch. The eight or so pairs I had washed were gone. A SKIVVIE-MOTHEREFFIN-THIEF. They left my socks. My shirts. My pants. They just wanted my clean undies that had been in the wash and thrown in the dryer.

I was so distraught that I had to go out that night and buy eight more pairs of skivvies just to make up for the loss. To be honest, it was probably for the best. Because, really, who needs about 25 pairs of skimpy skivvies? Apparently, I do.

What I don’t get is why would the Thief wait until they were in the dryer? I mean, if you’re really into that “thing”, wouldn’t you want them pre-wash?

Needless to say, I spent the next while keeping a close eye on my clothes in the laundry room after that ordeal.

Time Warp

2008-01-17T13:41:00.001-07:00

Looking back, through all my old posts, there were a few things that ran through my mind.

Like, geezus, maybe I should have censored some of that stuff I wrote about. But then I remembered that I don’t give a crap.

Or how some of my rants made me seem like a complete lunatic on the most bizarre combination of drugs possible. Then I realized I’m fortunate to be one of those people who do not mask what they’re really like in real-life and create a false online personality. I’m really as boisterous as I make myself out to be, but without the combination of various drugs. That’s skills right there.

Also, the drinking? The fact that my liver is even still functioning is a miracle. Understandably at the time I was going through a “minor” bump in the road, but DAMN, if I were my liver I would have said ‘fuck you’ and gone on a trip to the Bahamas. I am currently reporting that AJ-the-Drinking-Tank cannot handle the booze like she once did and prefers the comfort of her sofa than the floor of a random bar.

Aside from those thoughts, I really wanted to change the template that I had been using. I looked at what was offered through Blogger and didn’t quite like the selection. Then I remembered that I’m shit out of luck because I’m a complete n00b who knows nothing about creating a template or customizing it. Hence why this plain, boring, blue template is on your screen.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shove Kleenex up my nostrils as I continue to battle this nasty cold virus.

The Return?

2008-01-16T10:36:00.002-07:00

It's funny how when life starts to whirl out of control that I decide to pick-up where I last left and try to make sense of how things have changed in over a year.

I feel rather guilty for abandoning this for so long. I've thought about writing so many times and everytime my laziness griped a tight hold on me and I ignored the idea of typing out a sentence or two. Why? Because apparently that's how I roll.

I contemplated the idea of started fresh. New name, new blog, new everything. But it didn't quite sit well with me. I didn't write here for long, but I had all my stories that were a part of my history - my life. I couldn't just pack-up and go, and leave it all behind. Whether I like it or not, my past posts happened... every damn event... every damn word... and certainly, every damn emotion. Which, by the way, what the hell is up with the last post that I left off with? That'll need explaining. Lame. What was I thinking?

Much has happened in my world since October of 2006, both good and bad. I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed at the idea of updating everything that has happened. I'll be taking it one day at a time. Starting off with updating a few links because GOOD GOD so outdated.

I certainly hope I'll stick to this writing business. My world has felt so lonely without it. Much venting, bitching and creating chaos to ensue. Let the uncensoring begin.

It's Always Been You

2006-10-06T10:50:00.001-06:00

Hi.

I honestly don’t know what to say.

I’d like to start off with a massive SORRY. I have been completely absent online and I suck. I am aware of that. There have been a lot of things going on right now that have been consuming me mentally and physically. No need to worry… there are just a few things I need to sort out in this thing I call Life.

I do, however, feel compelled to mark this date.

There is no real significance to this date, but for me, it means a lot.

I don’t want to say why, not just yet (because I’m a freak like that and I don’t want to jinx anything) but let’s just say that I have not felt this happy in months. I’ve got that feeling of hope and pure excitement.

This is something that I truly believed would never come… not after my many mistakes and due to bad timing over the years. THE YEARS.

I, honestly, have wanted this for years.

This, possibly, is my chance for true happiness. This time I will not screw it up or let anything get in my way.

Here’s hoping that everything falls into place. It’s definitely too soon to get as excited as I am (and I may be in for a huge disappointment), but at least now I have hope. That’s all I need to keep me trying. Hope.

The Walking Disease

2006-09-27T10:26:00.001-06:00

Well, just to point out the obvious, because I’m an ass like that, I’m still alive. Although, I admit, I’d rather I weren’t.

Nah, I’m not trying to be a little emo fuck, I’m just stating the truth.

I’ve been ill, folks. Sick. Diseased. Unwell. Below par. A runny nosed, phlegm hacking, nasty person.

Believe me, you, I do have stuff to write about. It’s been awhile since I last posted and plenty has happened since. However, chances are it’ll never get posted because, well, my brain has all but a few brain cells left due to being sick. Seriously though, I’m drinking tea.

I HATE TEA.

For the love of God, I hate tea.

That’s how bad it is. Oh fuck, it tastes so gross. When I start to regain composure again, I’m going to ruffle through my head to find out who suggested this tea crap to me and beat them up for it.

Heh. On the bright side, the last couple of days have been slightly enjoyable. That’s probably because I spent it stoned off my ass. I created myself a cocktail of Cold FX, Dayquil, Benylin, Vitamin C, chicken soup, various juices containing 180% vitamin C and Neocitran. I decided to leave out Advil Cold & Flu because I thought that would be pushing it…

I’ve begun to warn family and friends that if I see a bright light coming from within the dark, I am so going for it.

Did I ever tell you guys the story of when I did see a bright light and I turned it down? OH! Or the time I was visited by Lucifer? Hmm… maybe not. I’ll have to write it out when I’m feeling better. I tell ya, it’s a gooder! Everyone I tell the story to believes that I was hallucinating, but I swear I wasn’t.

Damn this tea is gross.

So, I am at work right now. Contaminating everything, I’m sure. I did take Monday and Tuesday off, but hell, the work is piling up but I cannot focus because I’m too busy shoving Kleenex up my nostrils.

Not the most attractive image, I know. I apologize.

I also apologize for the fact that I’m fucking sweating like a pig sitting in the hot seat of Hell beside Satan. There’s only so much pit-stick that a person can put on before it starts to get really gross.

Okay. This is officially one of the worst posts ever. I’m going to shut up now. But mark my words, I’ll be back. I will return with a fully functioning immune system.

P.S. Ugh, this is gross. People actually drink AND enjoy tea?

P.P.S. I just sneezed and coughed at the same time. It was gross. And painful.

P.P.P.S. HAH! AND, I entered PMS mode. So add Advil Liquid Gels to my cocktail to ease the pain of the horrid cramps.

The Funk

2006-09-15T10:16:00.001-06:00

This just fucking sucks.

What the hell is wrong with me. A funk. That must be it. I’m in a funk.

My mood is getting worse with each day and I have an idea why, but really? An idea why doesn’t help solve anything.

Girls’ night out last night SUCKED. Well, it started off okay. But the music played, the atmosphere and the crowd at the place we were at? SUCKED ASS.

Ugh. Just thinking about last night is making my head hurt.

Holy fuck. It’s 3 degrees Celsius outside. Old Man Winter, take a fucking hint – GET LOST. Until I gain about 100 lbs of pure fat to insulate my body, don’t come around here.

I’m refraining from going through a box of pencils and snapping each one in half.

What the… One of the guys I work with just answered his work phone with, “Hi, Dominos Pizza.”

OOH. HAAAH. AND, get this, last night I ate a small piece of chocolate in hopes that it’ll make me feel better. Sure this doesn’t seem like much, but people, I’m allergic to chocolate. The last time I ate chocolate, let alone had a craving for it, was seven months ago. I WAS DOING SO GOOD. The worst part? THE FUCKING PIECE OF CHOCOLATE DIDN’T HELP.

That, alone, made me want to cry.

I think I’m going to take a short break from writing on here. I have nothing productive or good to write about. I need to seriously figure out what the hell I’ve got to do to get me out of The Funk, BEFORE I go into PMS mode.

Should Have Been Called Mad Cow

2006-09-14T09:45:00.001-06:00

Well, I may as well admit it. I mean, it’s not as if it isn’t obvious enough.

I am in a foul, foooooouuul mood.

These last few days I’ve been on the edge. Angry, irritable, frustrated.

And let me tell you; it certainly does not help The Mood when it is a fucking 6 degrees Celsius outside. It is September 14 – I SHOULD NOT BE WEARING A WINTER JACKET RIGHT NOW.

Actually, that last part is my fault. I seem to have forgotten my jacket-wind breaker-type thingy at a friend’s house last night. BUT STILL. It should not be that cold outside that I have to resort to a winter jacket. It’s raining a hell of a lot and it is damn cold.

I HATE the cold.

I seriously cannot stress that enough. Seriously.

I do not like dressing in layers. I do not like wet shoes and socks. I do not like frozen body parts. I do not like nipplitis. I do not like putting away my summer clothes and skateboard.

I’m seriously thisclose to stomping my feet.

It is that bad.

And I can’t help but wish that I could go on vacation. Again. Even though I just had a vacation two weeks ago. Or something.

It is becoming far too difficult to refrain from punching someone in the face.

I should have just stayed home today.

I have a bad feeling that when I go through my menstrual cycle for this month that it’s going to be ugly.

Maybe my body is just preparing me for the wretched PMS to come.

Perhaps my body is all, “Watch out bitch, ‘cause it’s gonna be a rough week this month.”

I am so not looking forward to that.

Relief

2006-09-13T09:53:00.001-06:00

Huge sigh of relief.

I just found out that an arrest has been made in the murder of my friend’s brother. My friends and I couldn’t be any happier for her and their families. I can’t wait to see her tomorrow; her mood has definitely improved.

Dreams

2006-09-13T09:18:00.001-06:00

When I moved to Calgary, it was just prior to starting the eight grade. The junior high I went to only went up to the eight grade as opposed to the ninth grade. Now that I wrote that out, I’m realizing that it was rather pointless; moving on.

As grade eight was coming to an end, the entire grade went on a retreat out somewhere in the middle of… well, somewhere (I can’t recall where, apparently).

There were about four yellow buses taking the students to the retreat. I sat beside my friend and we were chatting about anything and everything.

As we were getting closer to our destination, the buses took a turn down a dirt road. Suddenly, I say to my friend, “Whoa. This looks familiar. This road is a place that I’ve dreamt about before and I dreamt that we were going down the road in a bus too.” My friend looked at me with surprise. “Eh. Whatever. Probably nothing. Besides, in my dream the bus broke down suddenly, but I’m sure that’s not going to happen.”

Just as I finished my sentence, the bus ahead of us broke down and was sitting at the side of the road.

My friend and I were silent after that.

Déjà vu?

Coincidence?

Or just plain nutty.

I’m thinking nutty.

That wasn’t the only incident I’ve had regarding my nutty dreams come real. But after last night, I certainly hope it’ll never happen again.

I woke up this morning in a cold sweat.

I had a horrible dream.

Far worse than any dreams I’ve had regarding my teeth falling out. Far worse than my OhmyGod My Boyfriend is Cheating on Me dreams. Far worse than my AJ in Wonderland dreams. The dream I had last night… I can’t even write or talk about it.

I have a terrible gut-wrenching feeling about it, but I’m going to ignore it and hope that the dream was just my sub-conscious telling me that I’m a worry-wart freak.

The Rant and Rave Files

2006-09-12T14:05:00.001-06:00

I feel like giving a good bitching. Fo’ serious.

First on the list, that damn Britney Spears.

Whether or not it’d be true, I can believe it. Why? Cause she’s fucking dumb like that. How lazy can one person be? Apparently, VERY LAZY. “Oh, lookie me, I’m Britney Spears. I’m a lazy fuck. Why celebrate my childrens' birthday on separate days when I can do it all on one day! It’ll be like, killing two birds with one stone!” My God. MY GOD WOMAN. Cunt.

Next up, Toronto, Ontario.

Are you fucking kidding me? This is a joke, right? Please tell me I read this wrong. NOPE, NOT WRONG. I mean, I certainly don’t admit to being brilliant, BUT C’MON PEOPLE. Even I could have figured that out. That is a shame. If I were a relative to the old lady, I would have taken the fuckers that didn’t change the street names, set them on fire, call 911, have the fire department go to the wrong address, THEN LAUGH. Fuck, I know I’m cruel. But I’m sorry, that’s just me. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you.

Now, this one just puzzles me.

What the hell ever happened to good ol’ fashion candy? Sure, it may rot the kid’s teeth, but only if they don’t brush and floss! Seriously though. “C’mon kiddos! Gather round mommy and let’s smoke a joint!” Lady, you make me sick. ‘Nuff said.

Okay. This one. Hah. Kinda makes me giggle.

Of course he thinks he’s the Jesus! I’m sure after being a heroin addict you’re bound to think some crazy, stupid thoughts. HAHAHA. If that’s the case, then there are probably plenty of psycho-whack jobs out there that believe they’re the Jesus. HAHAHA. Moron.

Uh, then there’s this.

To be honest, I don’t even know what to make of it. I’ll pass.

Phew. I feel much better.

Snooze Buttons and Traffic

2006-09-11T15:29:00.001-06:00

I don’t quite have a specific purpose for this particular post other than recalling what happened five years ago. I realize that there are a lot of tributes and memorials happening today, and some may be growing tired of it, but I’m going to write out what I’ve got to say anyway just because it’s on my mind and has been each passing year.

I have a friend who lives in New York and worked across the street from the WTC. My friend’s father worked in the WTC.

When my alarm clock went off, five years ago, I heard on the radio news that a plane flew into a building. Still in a daze, I hit the snooze button on my alarm and slept a little longer before heading to work. When my alarm went off again, I woke up recalling a dream I had about a plane flying into a building.

“Pshaw. What a fucked up dream.” Yeah, okay AJ, just a dream. As I continued to get ready for work, the radio news kept repeating a story of two planes flying into the WTC in New York. As soon as it clicked in, WTC-New York-Dylan, I panicked. Knowing that my friend would have been at work during the attack, I quickly picked up my phone and starting dialling his cell phone.

Busy tone.

Okay, try his work phone.

Busy tone.

Damnit. Try his home phone.

Busy tone.

I kept up this routine for an hour until I got to work.

When I got to work, and after many failed attempts to get a hold of my friend Dylan, I called up another friend to find out if she knew of Dylan’s father’s phone number. She did not know of the phone number but she, too, had been trying to get a hold of our friend. No luck, whatsoever, between the two of us.

Two days passed by and still no luck getting through to any of his phone numbers. Finally, I had received an email from him. He mentioned to me that he was okay and so was his dad. He did not have enough time to write a long email, but mentioned that he would call me as soon as he could and to let everyone else know that he was okay.

About a week later, I finally get a phone call from him. He survived because, like me, he decided to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. My friend Dylan has an outstanding record for always being on time and being prompt with his work; but on that day he decided to be a lazy bastard and for that I am grateful. His building was destroyed on September 11. Dylan’s father survived too. Thankfully, his father was running late for work because of traffic. I don’t remember which floor of the WTC his dad worked on, but had he been at work on time, he would not have survived.

Today, I am grateful for snooze buttons on alarm clocks and shitty traffic.

So Stubborn, It Hurts

2006-09-11T14:08:00.002-06:00

There have been a couple of occasions, in my life, where I was at the doctor’s office constantly (either every day or every couple days for months at a time). Because of my last experience with this, which was approximately 10 months ago, I have been so damn turned off at the idea of going to the doctor’s office for any problem that may arise. I’d rather stick it out and hope for the best (aka Oh God, I Hope I Don’t Die in my Sleep).

My latest “trying to stick it out” may come to an end if things continue for another month… or so… yes, I’m stubborn… I know.

Ever since May, I’ve noticed that I’ve been bruising a hell of a lot easier than usual (c’mon folks, you’ve seen the bruise pictures). And lately I’ve been feeling woozy and very feeble. I figure that by eating some food I’d feel better. Oh no, I tell ya, that doesn’t work. If anything, eating makes me feel worse. I’ve been back from lunch for an hour now and I feel like I’m going to keel over and die.

UUUGGGGHHHHH. I just want to go home and lie down. My food, my delicious food doesn’t want to stay down, in my gut, WHERE IT BELONGS.

I know. I know. Stop whining and do something about it. But let me tell you, my fear of going to the doctors and finding out that there is something wrong with me scares the living shit out of me.

*flashback of needles, ultrasounds and horrible, horrible pills*

If I start bruising on my face or start vomiting blood, then I’ll go to the doctor. Until then, I think I’m still good.

It’s still good. It’s still good. It’s still good. It’s still good.

Hah.

Back in Black

2006-09-11T10:13:00.001-06:00

A few nights ago, I received a text message on my cell phone that read “Angie u suck”. When I checked to see who sent it I was beyond puzzled. The phone number was no where in my cell phone so the message did not display the name of the person. Here I’m thinking: Well, this person obviously knows me; they even think I suck! Hah! I decided to text back “who dis”, but since the original message was sent half an hour ago, I wasn’t sure if the person would still be awake to see it (this is about 11 p.m.). As I was trying to figure out which drunken day it was that I may have given my phone number out to some random guy, I transformed into the Super Sleuth and phoned the mystery number from my home phone.

The person on the other end was an old friend from high school/past co-worker. She and I used to hang out all the time with other mutual friends of ours but over time we drifted apart. I forgot that I saw her about half a year ago and had given her my phone number.

We made plans to hang out last night at a pub we used to go to six years ago.

It sucked.

I’m sorry, but it did.

I forgot how scuzzy it was and how drunk I had to be to enjoy that place. And it certainly did not help that I’m a shy person and the conversation coming out of me amongst the strangers was very minimal.

Until…

Ta-Da!

I found out that my friend’s fiancé was an Edmonton Oiler fan! Huge Oiler fan!

He and I spent a large portion of the evening chatting about the team, the stats, the upcoming season and all the delicious hockey gossip that we heard or read of. It was great being able to talk about the Oilers with another fanatic other than my own family.

Which brings me to this: Folks, prepare yourself. In a week’s time, the NHL pre-season begins. That means it’s time for me to bring out the Oiler gear and start planning my schedule around the Edmonton hockey games.

MWAHAHAHAHA.

I have waited for this moment ever since the 2005-2006 season ended. Finally! My hockey withdrawal will end.

Bruise Pictures

2006-09-08T17:35:00.002-06:00

Alright. So here are pictures of the horrid bruise I managed to get as per the previous post.

The day after going to the rock club, I woke up in the afternoon to find this on my leg.

It was large and in charge, and it hurt like a bitch. The area that was bruised was also swollen and it hurt to run let alone walk.

On Day 2 of the bruising, I noticed two more bruises on my knee.

Although it's not quite clear, I had four different shades coming through the bruise. I also had found two more bruises: one on my lower thigh on my left leg and one on my upper thigh on my right leg (which looked like a smiley face... laughing at me).

On Day 3 of the bruising, I found MORE bruises around the larger bruise AND the large bruise had extended its painful region even further. At this point, the bruise took up half of my calf.

Look at that fucker! How in God's name did I manage that? Oh wait, I know how. I partied hard.

Best Vacation Ever?

2006-09-08T10:35:00.001-06:00

WARNING: This is a long, boring post that makes me sound so uncool. But, if you want to be guaranteed a good time? You folks should seriously get together with me because you will be certain that by the end of the night, you would have painted the town red, blue AND green.

I am not even kidding when I say that it is amazing that my skin has not turned a lovely shade of jaundice and that I am still surviving. Is it even possible to still be exhausted after taking holidays? Yes, I can confirm that it is.

I had big plans to make my vacation as productive as possible especially since I only had a total of 8 days off. Those plans were shot to hell as I somehow managed to be drunk 6 out of 8 days. And we’re not even talking about, you know, the slight tip of a buzz; we’re talking full-out I am so drunk that HI! Where the hell am I and how did I get here?!

Day 1:

Got off work; went home; got dressed; left home; met friend; went to bar.

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

Char + AJ + Pool Table = Pool Table Dancing (my math skills are so good)

Dave, T, Ron and Mystery Friend = Amazed

2 a.m.-ish: Char’s friend Bob wants to take her out for food. Bob’s friend wants to take me out for food. We went out for food.

3… 3:30… ish… a.m.?: Stumbled into bed.

4 a.m.-ish: Char calls. Proceed into drunken conversation.

Day 2:

And on this day, God rested and so did I.

Day 3:

Drink specials and $50 bar tab for the rock club. Char and I are back at it.

Two beers each as soon as we get there; shortly after enter more beers and too many shots.

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*dancedancedancedancedancedancedance*

Dancing on tables and speakers has never looked so good. Until the morning after when we found bruises on our body. My bruise is revolting (pictures to come in next post).

3:30 a.m.: Finally leaving club.

4 a.m.: Finally going to bed.

Day 4:

UUGGGHHHH DEATH.

2 p.m.: Woken up to an unpleasant phone call. Argued.

3 p.m.: Get ready to go out.

7 p.m.: Meet Char and others and got told that we’re heading to the pub.

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

(I seriously cannot stress the amount of drinking we did and all the free shots Ron and Dave got us because they loooooove us)

Just before 3 a.m.: Leaving pub. Plenty of stumbling going on. Plenty of crying (a good friend was leaving the next day to Kelowna for school).

Got home at who knows what time: Went to bed? Really, by this point I have no clue what happened. I think there was another drunken phone call from Char. No wait. HAH. I remember now. It was I that made the drunken phone call this time.

Day 5:

This is where it starts to go really blurry.

OOOH! I remember now!

Party at Jerry’s.

Still painfully hungover from the previous night, Char and I catch the bus to meet Ron to take us to Jerry’s place.

Meet Ron. Find out Jerry and two other guys are doing idiotic hardcore drugs. Ron doesn’t want to take us to Jerry’s. Went to pub.

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

We call a cab to take us to the pub we were at last night; word on the streets is that everyone else was there.

We waited for a cab at the 7-Eleven. As we stood outside we saw two guys doubling on a single bicycle with one other guy following behind on his own bike.

Two Guys Doubling: *bicycling by*
AJ, Char, Ron: *looks on our faces that say, “what the fuck?!”
AJ, Char, Ron: Look at those fucking losers.
Single Guy Following Doubler: Hey, wait up you guys!
AJ, Char, Ron: Oh my God. We know those fucking losers!

Turns out the cyclists were Jerry and his two friends.

After catching the cab and heading back up north to the pub, well, I’m sure you can guess what happened next.

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

2:30-ish a.m.: Find out there is a party at Dave’s.

But first, went back to Char’s place where we got out the rum and OJ. At some point Ron passes out so Char pours our drinks into Christmas mugs and out we went to walk to Dave’s place. As of that point, I have no idea what time it was… all I know is that it was some time after 3 a.m.

Wooooo! More drinks at Dave’s!

Chris farts around.

Cody gets his mack on with Char and me.

Ugh, Dave’s roommate Steve… we won’t even get into that.

Battle of the Pirates vs. Ninjas! Who would win?

Tom and I were Pirates all the way. Char, Cody and Chris were Ninjas all the way. Pirates lost. No one else cared.

Cody passes out. Geezus that kid can sleep through anything.

I believe I finally got home around 5 a.m. or so.

Day 6:

BBQ at Char, Ron and Darcy’s place (all roommates). I’m still feeling like ass.

Mmmmm. So much good food and so much to drink.

By this point, Char and I were feeling the effects of a dying liver. We went to bed by 2 a.m. wondering if we would end up waking up the next day.

Day 7:

1 p.m.: Hell yeah! We woke up and were ready to go out again!

But first, to the Tattoo Festival!

I spoke with my tattoo artist, got a glimpse of Kat Von D and saw a lot of hoTT tattoos.

(Side Note: ohmyfuckingod. I just noticed that I forgot the put my ear plugs in this morning. damnitdamnit.)

After spending a few hours at the festival, we all went home again to get ready for that night.

Why? Because Char and I had free cover for us and 14 friends to the rock club! AND drink specials all night. That’s right folks, we gathered up a posse and were back at it.

9 p.m.: Bring on the drinks!

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*drinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrinkdrink*

*dancedancedancedancedancedancedance*

Char and I promised our male friends that we would dance on the table. By the end of the night, our male friends had made a bum load friends with other guys who were standing around watching us.

The two highlights, out of many, of that night that Char and I have decided upon:
1) While on the speakers, two guys got our attention and asked if we wanted to go and party with them after. Our answer: Uh. No thanks.
2) Some guy grabbing my ass to get my attention, and when I turned around to figure out what-the-hell, he raised Char and I the devil horns \m/ and screamed at the top of his lungs, “You two are fucking hot!”

By the time the club closed, I get a call from Ron (who bailed early) asking if I was coming over. Char, Dave and I (the drinking tanks) figured that we’d head back and drink more.

On the way to their place, I knew that if I didn’t eat something I was going to pass out.

We got the cab driver to pull into an A&W drive-thru and we waited. And waited. And waited. The line-up was far too long so Char and I decided to have Dave wait in the cab while she and I made friends with someone further ahead in the line.

Char and I: *walk up to random car* Excuse me. Sorry. We’re in a cab and the price keeps going up because we’re waiting around in this line. Could we order our food with yours? We have money!
Two people inside car: Yeah, sure.
Char and I: Thank you! *pause* Could we come inside your car?
Two people inside car: Uh, yeah, go ahead.
Me: *climbs into vehicle and bumps into something*
Char: It’s a baby seat! *sits in baby seat*

Char and I had a great conversation with these people and got our food MUCH sooner than expected.

We got back to Char’s place and woke up the sleeping drunks on the couches. By 3:30 a.m., it was Char, Dave, Ron, Tyler, Trevor and me. The lone survivors. Until Tyler and Trevor left; then it was four.

*Insert rum and coke in mini-jugs*

Now here’s where it starts to get unbelievable.

So as we were drinking and wondering how the hell we were not dead with sleep, we took out Char’s talking Napoleon Dynamite doll. The four of us then took out our cell phones and pranked a bunch of people with Napoleon quoting various lines from the movie. This was at about 8-friggin-a.m. in the morning. We must have called about 40 people and gotten about 15 phone calls back asking who the hell just called.

If you recall, we woke up on Day 7 at around 1 p.m. Once we got to Char’s place and continued to drink, the remaining four of us drank until 10 a.m. on Day 8. Tanks, I tell ya, we are tanks. By 10:15 a.m., we figured we’d be even more hardcore by walking out in broad daylight, no sleep in our systems, drunk off our asses, and walk down to the pub to drink more.

I have to admit, I’m glad it was the long weekend because when we got the pub it wasn’t open. The four of us hung around the area for a bit when we decided that we are either stupid for being up and drinking that long OR we were the coolest 22, 24, 30 year olds we know.

After we all left and I went back home, I managed to get only four hours of sleep. Four hours of sleep from 1 p.m. Sunday till 1 a.m. Tuesday morning. I couldn’t tell if I was still drunk, hungover or sick from exhaustion.

Day 8 and 9:

RESTED.

Since getting back to work, I have slowly been pulling through and am still very sleepy. I believe my brain is still on vacation and that my liver is plotting against me.

Pictures of the horrid bruise to come later this evening. Be prepared to be disgusted.

Punctured

2006-08-26T20:00:00.001-06:00

Mommy and Daddy are going to kick my ass.

Remember when I mentioned that my piercer is retiring out of the business? Well, when my sister told me that she wanted to get a couple of piercings, I suggested that she go to the guy I go to.

Now, remember when I mentioned that I think I’m done with getting piercings? Well it didn’t last long.

The temptation was too strong and knowing that at the end of this month my piercer was going to be gone I figured that I’d get some piercings too.

I was set on getting a double eyebrow piercing and a vertical labret, but only if there were retainers available so that I don’t get shitted on at work.

When we got to Adorned I found out that they only had one retainer so I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Because I’m sort of lame and wasn’t willing to get the typical single eyebrow piercing, I decided to wait on the vertical labret and took my chances on the double eyebrow and hoped that if I strategically placed my hair in front of the piercings my work wouldn’t notice the one eyebrow barbell.

And holy hell it hurt. The first one wasn’t so bad, but it’s always the second one that hurts to most (why the hell didn’t I remember this when I got a double nostril piercing?).

My sister was by far the calm one. She wasn’t shaking or clamming up the way I was. “It’s just a needle.” she said. Yeah, a sharp needle that goes in one end of the skin and out the other.

My parents are in Edmonton attending a wedding for the weekend so I figure that I have a few days of survival before they find out I got more crap done to my body.

If my mom reacts the same way she did once she found out about the other piercings and tattoos I got, I’m going to be very busy cleaning the shit off the ceiling.

Revolving Stage Takes All, Eeediot.

2006-08-25T09:29:00.001-06:00

Too busy.

Can’t talk.

Second last working day before holidays.

But can I just say?

Last night, I lost more brain cells than I ever have aside from drinking. How so?

You’d understand if you watched the first two seasons of Ren & Stimpy. Straight. Three DVDs. Or as my friends Char and Dave would put it: The Ren & Stimpy-a-thon.

HAPPY HAPPY. JOY JOY.

Ack. Die.

Much later in the night, three more friends joined in the Ren & Stimpy-a-thon after they returned from the Tool concert. That’s right, folks. Last night was the Tool concert. The one that I was supposed to attend but got stupidly drunk the night before tickets went on sale.

I was harassed.

“TOOL WAS FUCKIN AWESOOOME”

“HOLY SHIT, MAYNARD ROCKED”

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Although I may not have seen Tool in concert last night, I did get to rub it in their faces that I did see them the last time they came and during that concert I got to see Maynard perform on his own personal revolving stage. Can these guys say the same for them? No. I win. Sort of.

Darcy, though, was kind enough to give me his liquor wrist band. I was grateful for that.

Don, on the other hand, was warned numerous times that if he didn’t stop bragging about the concert that he was going to get a good beating.

That eeediot.

Okay, seriously. No more Ren & Stimpy for me for at least another year.

Edited to add:

Right now, at work, we’re hosting Slam City Jam. We’re talkin’ Tony Hawk, ramps, music, the works.

We’re also talkin’ skateboarders. Everywhere. I am melting as you’re reading this.

Too Much Sexyback

2006-08-24T10:40:00.002-06:00

Geezus. Horrible, horrible, flashback.

It’s happening again. See! Notice!

I’m at the final stages of Bust it Hardcore During the Last Week (aka busting my ass at work so I can go on holidays without freaking out). Things haven’t been overly pleasant thanks to the new booking system we got a few months ago. If I’m not mistaken, I would have sworn that the Upper Hand mentioned that this new system would make things easier. Well, Upper Hand Sir, IT HASN’T. Not for me, anyway. I still have plenty more to do, at work, but I’m definitely making progress.

Aside from work, my friends and I have been getting together quite a bit lately because a friend of ours is moving away to Kelowna, BC, for school. Why. Why are these people leeeeaaaving?! My God, soon I’ll have to pack my bags and move just to keep up with the trend.

So last weekend (Friday and Saturday) was another Drunk Fest, and this coming Saturday will be too. It truly is amazing how I can manage to still pull off the Drink My Face Off and Stumble into Bed at 3:30 a.m.

Saturday the 19th, was when I really fell through the cracks. My friend (Cammi, the friend that will be leaving Calgary for beautiful Kelowna) and I went to a bar downtown where we were joined by her older and younger brother, my sister and three other friends. I’d like to point out that anytime we are out with Cammi’s brothers, there will be plenty of free drinks and shots. Plenty. The bar we went to was not that great. In fact, we hated it. But we stayed and tried to make the best of it. The music, however, was great, except for the fact that the DJ played a selection of songs over and over again.

Totally off topic, but I figured I should write this down so that in years from now I can read it and either a) kick my own ass or b) ask myself, “What the hell were you thinking?”

The reason we stayed at the crappy bar was because Cammi’s cousin, a nurse at the Children’s Hospital, was attending a Doctor/Nurse/Thingy at the bar. My friend Cammi invited me along and, well, I went because, HELLO! DOCTORS!

I did come close to being picked up by one doctor until I quickly turned him down. The reason: He kept trying to be “funny” or “cute” or some bullshit like that and kept calling me a name that isn’t my name. In fact, I loathe the name. Nah, it wasn’t Miss Bitch or anything like that, but it was Angelina – the name I hate second to Angela. That’s right folks. The gig is up. Where the fuck did AJ come from any way? Seriously. I picked AJ because I was afraid that an ex-boyfriend would find me or my current at the time. I think over time I’ve stopped caring; as long as no family or relatives find me, I’m okay.

Just for the record, I have never in my life gone by the name AJ. My cousin, when he was younger went by AJ; those were his initials. Interestingly enough, those are my initials too. I feel like Darkwing Duck, about to come out of disguise.

ANGELICA, for the love of God, IT’S ANGELICA. Not Angelina, not Angela. I hate when people think that Angie (what I really go by in my mysterious real life) is short for Angelina or Angela. Gag.

Doctor: *busting out all the flirtatious moves* So, what’s your name?
AJ: Angie. *busting out flirtatious smile*
Doctor: Oh, Angelina!
AJ: Uh, no. Angelica.
Doctor: Angelina! *wink*
AJ: An.gel.i.ca. *scowl*
Doctor: Nooo, I think it’s Angelina! *nudge*
AJ: Ugh. Moron. *walks away*

And so ends the pointless, off-topic, story.

By 3:00 a.m., and after hearing the DJ play Justin Timberlake’s Sexyback four times, the bar patrons were finally getting kicked out. Cammi left with her brothers, while I went with my sister and three others. I don’t remember a whole lot by this point, but after waking up at 4:30 p.m. the next day, and seeing these items around my place, maybe I can make some sense of what happened after we left the bar.

Well, at least I know I ate some form of food after getting home.

What.the.fuck.

After I spoke with my sister on the phone, she informed me that I had taken this sign off some billboard-type thing. In my drunken rampage, I managed to reach up and swipe the sign as the three other people with us followed in my steps (One of these people being a sixth grade teacher. That’s right, folks, this gentleman we were with was a sixth grade teacher that swiped a smaller sign.).

I seriously hope that one day when I have children, they never find out these wild stories about their mom. Maybe when they’re about to celebrate their 30th birthday I will let them in on a few adventures I’ve had.

When my friend Cammi called me later on Sunday to see how I was doing, she was quick to point out that I didn’t sound too good.

Cammi: Hey Ang, how’s it going?
Me: Uuuugggghhhh. Deaaath.
Cammi: Uh, you don’t sound so good.
Me: Thanks.
Cammi: Yeah, I’m not feeling so good either.
Me: Good to know that I’m not suffering alone.
Cammi: You know what it was, right?
Me: What?
Cammi: It was too much Sexyback.

And too much Sexyback it was.

Zoning Out Through Headphones

2006-08-18T09:38:00.001-06:00

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that headphones are heaven sent. They provide sound for listening to music, etc. in the privacy of your own ears, but they also provide a wall between you and others around you. Now you’re thinking: Is that a good thing? Or are you implying that’s a bad thing?

For me, it’s a good thing.

More times than most, I like to keep to myself when I’m in public without someone I know being with me. I have had far too many experiences with strangers coming up to me and trying to start a conversation; including the time where, out of my own pure stupidity and mistakes, managed to meet my future (and currently ex-) stalker (yeah, we won’t get into that).

I have found that by wearing headphones, people tend to leave you alone. Sure, most of you probably have realized this by now; it’s not that hard to understand that yes, with headphones on, people will leave you alone. Unfortunately, there are some people out there that don’t follow this.

Allow me to let you in on a secret: Sometimes, I wear my headphones (plugged into my Ipod… not just headphones alone, ‘cause like, what the hell, eh?) and I’m not listening to any music. I will stick those earpieces in just so it looks like I’m listening to music and hoping that I’m not making it too obvious that I just want to ignore weirdos. This system, however, has backfired on me numerous times.

The latest failure involves a co-worker. Sure she’s nice and friendly and all that jazz, but personally, I find her obnoxious. She’s one of those people that when I see walking up to me, I start to develop a twitch in my eye and I hope that a vehicle will suddenly strike me. Not completely serious, but you get the idea.

In the mornings, we usually end up taking the same train to work. I avoid eye contact and make myself look occupied by “listening” to music or pretend that I am taking a short nap on the train (yes, completely serious).

You know what? This always fails. She always tries to make her presence known by waving her hand right in front of my face or if I’m “napping” she will flop her damn ass right beside me and sits so close that her friggin’ body is practically caressing mine.

You just don’t do that. I cannot stress that enough.

This morning was no different; except for one thing…

I was listening to music. I felt the need to be serenaded by Justin Timberlake. As I’m in a half daze, imagining that Justin will have me nekkid by the end of the song (mmmmmm), I was rudely brought back to reality when she decided to stand in front of me and start talking to me, WHILE I STILL HAD HEADPHONES ON.

It took what little inner strength I had to not say: I’m sorry, but do you see these? (hold up headphones) When these are in place, DO NOT, FOR THE LOVE OF JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, INTERRUPT MY WILD FANTASY.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish listening to the song.

The Moral

2006-08-17T13:12:00.001-06:00

Okay, I got one now.

Haaaaa!

‘Kay, this is going to be good.

Ready?

The moral of the story is: Always keep your fingernails cut short. You’ll never know when your finger may end up in someone’s eye.

Teeheeee.

Alright, that one sucked too.

Living the Pirate Dream: The True Story

2006-08-17T11:44:00.001-06:00

At nineteen years of age, I had lived out the dream of many young children and porn stars. I was a pirate that then converted to getting cum shots in the eye.

For real.

Okay, not quite.

Before you all get excited at the thought of pirate porn and go skimming through this post to get to the good part (seriously, I was totally kidding about the pirate porn) I’d like to start off by writing that my feet, my precious, pretty feet, are extremely sensitive and I will act out in a violent rage if you try to touch them. With this being said, let’s move on to Living the Pirate Dream: The True Story.

One evening, back when I was 19 years old, I was hanging out in Fucktard’s (aka Jason #2) room. He was a cruel man with cruel intentions for that evening. Being well aware of my Do Not Touch My Feet or Die Rule, he decided that it was all a bluff and felt the need to test out this rule. He attacked. Like a lion to its prey.

I immediately panicked and started screaming bloody murder. You would think that he would have stopped after I started to throw punches to his head and proceeded to aim for his balls, but no, he had a goal and that was to torture me.

Finally, after about 10 minutes of this, I managed to kick my feet away from his grubby hands and I wrapped my right arm around his neck (also referred to as The Super Choke-Hold) and used my left hand to grab his arms to hold them back.

This backfired on me.

As he was trying to escape my death grip, he swung his left hand around hoping to pull my right arm away from his neck. This resulted in him missing my arm and landing his finger in my eye.

Instantly I pulled away, started screaming profanities and whimpered, a lot.

The pain I felt was not the typical, “Ouch. I just accidentally poked my finger in my eye. Oh wait… okay, it feels better now.” Rather, this pain was much sharper and did not subside.

After the eye stabbing happened, I tried for hours to open my eye. It watered constantly and the pain had become unbearable.

I was unable to sleep that night and still my eye refused to open. The pain, my God, the pain. Instead of falling asleep, I was up all night crying because I could not imagine what the hell was wrong and why it hurt so much to the point that I wanted to rip my eye out.

Because I couldn’t sleep, I was able the see a doctor early in the morning. By this point, my left eye (the victim) was swollen shut. The doctor’s office was about a 15 minute walk from my house but because I couldn’t see out of one eye and horribly enough it started to affect my good eye (my good eye had begun to swell slightly and I was only able to open that eye a minimal amount) it took me 30 minutes to get to there. What I should have done is gotten a ride to the doctor’s office. Thankfully for me, I was not hit by any vehicles especially considering I was walking around blindly.

As I sat in the doctor’s office, with one hand clutching my left eye and the other eye barely open, I hoped that I would not be deemed blind; otherwise, Fucktard was going to be fucked.

The doctor finally came and he had to pry my left eye open. He took one look at it and said that I needed to see a specialist, immediately. The doctor phoned my dad and my dad was on his way to pick me up.

When I got to the eye specialist’s office, they had all been prepared to take me in right away. The eye doctor was a very nice gentleman and asked me a lot of questions regarding what happened. I was a little uneasy to tell him the story because seriously, “Yeah. My boyfriend stabbed me in the eye with his finger and apparently he doesn’t know how to cut his fingernails, or something.” After I told the eye doctor a not-so-detailed version of what happened, he was very sympathetic and abruptly told me to never let my boyfriend live this one down. I agreed.

Because my eye was swollen shut, the eye doctor forced it open and put in these magical, eye numbing drops. In a second, I was able to open my eye and everything was wonderful. Until he examined my eye and told me what was wrong.

Doctor: Oh… It seems that when your boyfriend poked your eye, his fingernail must have ripped your cornea.
Me: RIPPED?!
Doctor: In fact, every time you blink, there is a piece of your cornea that is still left intact and it is flapping up and down.
Me: *trying not to cry hysterically*
Doctor: What happens, when the cornea is damaged, it causes the eye to swell to the point that it is unable to open; basically, what happened to you.
Me: *trying to push aside the thought of ripping Fucktard’s cornea out of his eye*

In order to allow the eye to heal, I was given an eye patch that was plastered to my face with medical tape. (Side Note: I’m allergic to medical tape. After the patch came off, I was left with a temporary scar on my forehead and the side of my face) The eye patch was to remain on for a week and at which point I was to return to the eye doctor’s office to have the eye re-examined.

Having the eye patch was incredibly embarrassing. Every where I went, I got strange looks from people. It was also difficult to do regular things because my vision was completely thrown off.

When I saw Fucktard that night, his mom freaked out at him. She took one look at me and was concerned.

The mom: Oh my God!! What happened??
Me: *re-tells the story*
The mom: *look of shock and disgust*
The mom: JASON *MIDDLE NAME* *LAST NAME*! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?!?!$#$%^*&

A few days later, I decided to get drunk. This was a very, VERY bad idea.

In the drunken stupor, we (friends, etc.) figured that it’d be cool to draw an eye on the eye patch. Now, picture this for a second: Eye patch. Drunken idiots. Black, yellow and red felt markers.

The outcome of this was a round eyeball, coloured in yellow, with red veins. It was the freakiest thing ever.

When I got home, my sister took one look at me and ran away screaming. She couldn’t look at me for days. I’m not even going to get into the reaction of my parents, strangers and the eye doctor.

After a week, the eye doctor took off the pirate patch, examined my eye and told me that it had fully healed.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

But.

During this process, my eye had dried out.

He wrote down the name of a cream, that I could purchase, that would help with this problem.

Firstly, this cream, for a tiny tube, was fucking expensive. Me = NOT impressed. Secondly, this cream (please note: cream; not eye drop) was to be put in my eye every hour that I was awake. This routine was to be kept for two months. At that point I would have to go in for another check-up with the eye doctor and I continued this routine for a year.

Every time I went to put the cream in my eye, I had to wait a minute before wiping the excess cream away. Because I had to do this every hour, every day, for nearly a year, it became known as AJ Going for the Cum Shot. Because in all honesty, that’s what it looked like.

Years later, my eye is still doing fine. There are days, however, when I would still get a sudden pang of pain in that eye, but I’m going to assume that it’s normal.

The moral of this story: If you want to live out the dream of a pirate turned porn star, just touch the feet of someone who has specifically told you not to.

What the hell, that wasn’t even a moral, but it sure is useful information to give out on career day at school.

The Demotion

2006-08-16T11:30:00.001-06:00

There are quite a few things I recall, when growing up, that really shaped the person that I am today.

Back in the 80s, when The Beastie Boys released Fight for Your Right, I would run around the house screaming the words. My parents despised The Beastie Boys after that. I still love them. Then there was Faith No More. I was quite intrigued by this genre of music and all I ever wanted to do was rock it like there was no tomorrow.

I’ll spare you the details of my punk rock, grunge and goth days. But I would like to point out that sometimes, flannel should be worn only on lumber jacks or at home with no one around. And sometimes, fishnet stockings shouldn’t be worn on your arms. And maybe, dating a guy with liberty spikes that have been dyed every colour imaginable was cool at the time, but not when you realize that “every colour imaginable” included snot green. (What the hell was going through my mind during these years?)

I constantly have friends and strangers ask me, “How is it that you have all these piercings and tattoos when you’re afraid of needles?” To be honest, I’m not sure of the answer myself. I am horribly afraid of needles and to this day, I still cry when I get a flu shot. But, I do know when my admiration of piercings came into play.

When I was 11 years old, a tiny sixth-grader, I was at the mall with my family when I saw Him. He was without a doubt older than me, probably in his 20s, but it was lust at first sight. But what caught my eye was this piece of metal attached to his lip.

“My God!” I thought. “Who hast bestowed this gorgeous creature amongst us?!” (Hah. Okay, it was more like, “OoooOooH! Pretty boy!”)

That piece of metal, attached to his lip, was a lip piercing. And I felled in love.

At that point, I only had my ear lobes pierced, but now I wanted more… More… MORE! Throughout the years, after He with Hot Lip, I continuously asked my parents if I could get another piercing, even if it was only another ear piercing. They always replied with a no. My mom firmly believes that people with piercings and tattoos are part of a gang and that they only mean trouble. My dad is beyond religious and firmly believes that the human body is not meant to be tampered with. I believed that it’s my body and if I wanna make it pretty with piercings then g’damnit I will do so! But not until I was of legal age at 18 years old.

A month after I turned 18, I told my parents that I was going to get a piercing and that there was nothing they could say or do to stop me. Within three months, I had gotten 5 piercings and I still wanted more. My parents were not impressed.

Before you knew it, my 20th birthday was approaching. I wanted to do one last “young and stupid” thing and I was thinking that a tattoo would do the trick. Prior to this time, I had never wanted a tattoo. They were so permanent and the idea of a tattoo machine dragging across my skin made me want to cry. But, what the hell, I was going to be 20 soon and I may as well do something dumb like get a tattoo.

So I did. And ohmygod. It hurt. Like a bitch.

The tattoo only took 25 minutes to do and that’s with a 5 minute break between the outline and the colouring, but it was somewhere within those 25 minutes that I swore I would never, ever get another tattoo again. Maybe it was the fact that I started to tear up at the end, or maybe it was the fingernail marks that were ingrained in my arm, but whatever it was, all I knew was that it was far too painful to go through again.

We all know how this story goes: AJ manages to continue to get piercings and sometimes goes crazy enough to stretch them herself (Ew, you don’t want to know the story. I’ll give you a hint: it involves being bored and stupid, bruising, puss and blood!) and managed to get two more (with two more in the next few months) tattoos.

Over time (about a years worth of time), I forgot the pain of the tattoo, loved how it looked and went to get another one. Since then, I basically threw out the ‘never again’ and said gimmegimme more.

I hope that one day, when I’m 80+ years old, I will be lying in my coffin with all my piercings and tattoos still intact. I have no intention of ever permanently removing any piercings or tattoos. That is, until now.

*deep sigh*

There has been this one helix (cartilage) piercing, on my left ear, that I got when I was 19 years old, that I have always had problems with. It almost seems as if it never fully healed and has had its ups and downs with being okay or being infected. Because of this, it is the only piercing I slightly despise.

Yesterday morning, while getting ready for work, I felt compelled to take a look at this particular piercing. As I gently flipped the top of my ear over to get a glance at the backside, I was horrified at what I saw; the disgusting signals of a badly infected piercing.

GEEZUS GODDAMN MOTHEREFFIN PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT.

For the first time ever, I am seriously considering removing the piercing; demoting myself in my number of non-natural holes. But, demoting? I don’t think I could do it. I would have to get another piercing, maybe two, just to make up for this one loss. To be honest, I think I’ve grown tired of getting piercings.

So, I’m going to attempt a different option before I remove said piercing and be mentally forced to get one or two more to make up for the loss.

Last night I bought every item needed to try out every remedy I knew of to heal an infection/any scar tissue/swelling/etc.

I’ve got the sea salt, the chamomile teabags, the Vitamin E and tree tea oil.

Tonight, I enter my ear into my Boot Camp of Insane Horrors and hopefully one of these treatments work.

My poor ear… my poor, poor ear… Damn you pretty, lip-ringed boy…

Going Out On a High Note

2006-08-15T15:25:00.003-06:00

Well. I’m.

Not so impressed with.

Ugh. I can’t even type it out.

But, it is horrible. C’est TRES terrible.

Maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. BUT to ME it is horrible. And a real downer. And makes my eyes water a bit.

I can’t bring myself to talk about it or type it out. Tomorrow I will. Until then, I need to look at the brighter side of things.

Like:

Finally getting my birthday dinner with my family tonight. We’ve all been busy with birthdays, partying (no wait, that’s just me) and work that we haven’t had time to get together for my dinner. I’m thinking Olive Garden. Mmmmm…

September 2-4: The Calgary Tattoo & Arts Festival that we are hosting at my workplace. I plan on bringing a lot of cash with me when I go. All the wonderful things I could check out and buy… the possibilities are endless! I’m going to have to start planning on the perfect outfit to wear. My tattoo artist is a guest artist during the festival and there is no way I’m going without looking my best. teeeheeee.

September 28: Bad Religion/Dropkick Murphys! ‘Nuff said. I did a contract for that concert last month, but because it wasn’t officially confirmed yet, I had to stay quiet.

Perks! Yes, perks. With my job, the perks are fantastic (free concert tickets people, free concert tickets). So when Rob Zombie rolled on over to our venue, I managed to get tickets and ohmygod, it couldn’t have been any better. Seriously. It was great. No, wait. Great is an understatement. IT WAS FAN-FUCKIN-TASTIC.

Coffee. Yes, I am currently enjoying a freshly brewed cup of coffee. And it tastes great.

Talladega Nights. Personally, I thought it was damn hilarious.

This concludes post number #101. I think I ended it on a positive note. Up next, post number #102: The Demotion.

Told You So.

2006-08-14T18:40:00.001-06:00

Well, that last post took me nearly five fucking hours to publish. This lousy thing called Blogger decided that it did not want to post any pictures and felt the need to delete text when published.

It is late. I have laundry to do. I'm fucking hungry. And I was supposed to meet up with someone this evening.

Did I mention that I'm hungry. Cause I am.

So, unfortunately, I will not be able to reply to any past messages piled in previous posts nor will I be able to lurk your sites and type out any witty comments until tomorrow.

Seriously, Blogger, it's things like you that make me avoid the computer.

PS. Yes, I noticed some grammer/spelling errors in the last post, but I'm too afraid to edit it AGAIN in fear that text and/or pictures will disappear on me again.

Screw Stella. How AJ Got Her Groove Back.

2006-08-14T14:00:00.003-06:00

Ohmygod. I’m a total wreck. I just escaped the horrid tentacle grip of these bizarre life-forms that beamed me up (all Scottie-like) and deemed me as their new Master of All That is Lazy. And Mentally Not-All-There. And well, Et Cetera. For those who would like to head to up Canada to beat my ass: Do it. Doooo it. Please knock some sense in me. Seriously, though. We could sit back, have a beer. Screw bringing your own booze. Believe me. I have more than enough in my fridge. It has to go. (Side Thought: I should take a photo of the innards of said fridge. Beeeeeer. But food? Quite possibly non-existent.)

So here’s the lo-down. The month of August has been tinkering with my brain. It has made me a little… insane. Where to start…

I have been busting my ass at work. I’m trying to get all my work done so that I can take some vacation time without worrying too much about coming back to the office only to find 50 emails in my inbox and about 30 unheard messages on my phone. It has happened before. I may have peed my pants a little. Let’s imagine that it never happened. The crappy part of this “busting my ass” is that I busted too early. It turns out that I am unable to take holidays until the last week of August. What I should have done is try to relax a little at the beginning of August and slowly work my way up to Bust It Hardcore During the Last Week. So in turn, because all my work is done on the computer, I have been so very turned off by this piece of technology. So very, very turned off. So turned off that DIE COMPUTER DIE I HATE YOU. You see? My mind = GONE. Which in turn has guided me away from the Internet. BUT! That’s only part of it.

I, AJ, officially the LAZIEST person on earth (you’d all be disgusted with how lazy I can be) has done the unthinkable. This is how it went:

*Enter AJ into a sport-type-thingy store*
Sales Person: Hi, is there anything I can help you out with?
AJ: Yeah… I’m looking for running shoes.
Sales Person: Okay, do you have an idea of what you have in mind?
AJ: *blank stare* *deer caught in headlights* *trying to not run out of the store in a panic*

After a while of trying to figure out what the hell I am to say, I did try on a pair of New Balance shoes.

Sales Person: How do those feel?
AJ: Err… I think okay… They’re going to take some time to get used to.
Sales Person: Oh? Are they uncomfortable?
AJ: No… they’re comfortable, but I’m more accustomed to shoes like these.
AJ: *holds up worn in DC shoes that have clearly been through a rough time*
Sales Person: Oh, okay. Well, take a short jog around the store to see how they feel in action.
AJ: Say whaaa? *trying not to laugh at the idea of me jogging*

So there you have it. I bought my first pair of non-skate shoes. Only took me 23 years, but I did it. Of course my friends now believe that aliens have kidnapped my mind and switched it with someone else’s… but that’s alright! So I’ve begun to go running a few times a week and taking advantage of the exercise room that is available in my building. Lastly, my God folks, you have no idea how useful your suggestions were in finding running shoes. New Balance = super and reasonably priced. A shoe size larger = brilliant. However, this whole running and exercise deal has come with an embarrassing price and another new low for me.

One word: Lululemon. People. Oh.my.word. Never, EVER in my life would I have imagined that I’d be a Lululemon wearing psycho-freak. Because, you know, I’m too hardcore for that shit. Or something like that. Well, that and Jamie… and my sister… CharCammiGarrettStephen and anyone that I am friends with, would start calling me a yuppie if I purchased anything from that store. Alas, I have already purchased this, that and this. Totalling about $230.00. Oi… But in my defence, my ass had never looked so good before. The pants are amazing. It’s like magic!

Lululemon Pants: I dub thee the power of HOTT ass!

Now are you starting to understand the Mentally Not-All-There?

Also, I started eating healthier! I no longer snack on chips for breakfast! No wait… I still have a nibble here and there… But aside from that, major improvement every where else. Except for the beer thing. I’m sorry. But I draw the line there. That will be my carb intake. So all in all, I’m about 5 or so pounds away from my desired weight. Next topic.

HAH. Shit, this is post is going to take half an hour to read.

My friend, my bestest friend Jamie, has left me. He packed his bags and said, SEE YA BITCH, I DON’T CARE IF I LEAVE YOU. Well, he didn’t say that, but I bet he was thinking it. Months prior to August, Jamie had been planning a trip to Vietnam. Deep down, in the depths of my soul, I had ignored his planning in hopes that he’ll change his mind and stay. Before you knew it, he had purchased his ticket and all the begging and guilt trips that I brought on were pointless. He was going to leave for Vietnam for six months and there was nothing I could do about it. Seriously. What the hell does Vietnam have on me? NOTHING. Sure I’m not a beach… and I think eating meat other than chicken, cow or pig is wrong… But I skateboard. And play guitar and bass. And have no problems running around in the streets drunk. Can these people say the same for them? Didn’t think so. Anyway. The day before his flight we spent it together hanging out and enjoying ourselves.

See! Food! I basically said screw eating healthy, let’s go all out!

The one thing Jamie left for me was this dino. We used to shove plastic animals in each others pants. What the fuck? Yeah, I know.

The most difficult part of the day had arrived. The day I had to say good-bye. And I cried like a sissy.

I hate that bastard. Okay, only slightly hate.

Aside from all that, I’ve seen a lot of my family lately. My dad had a barbeque over the long-weekend, my mom’s birthday was on August 9 and my dad’s birthday was on August 13. It was good to see my family so much during the last while.

HAH! I found this label that my sister stuck on my dad's water bottle.

Teehee. My dad accidently dropped the delicious meat.

Last, but not least (or at least I think this is it… who knows… I forget easily… maybe there’s more… anyway…) my birthday that took place on August 11! Folks, I am officially 24 years old with zero cavities/fillings. Why did I mention that? Because my teeth are rocking with age.

And may I just say? I partied as if it were 1982. HAH. Geddit? 1982. Year I was born. HAAAAAA. So clever.

I had decided to take a vacation day for my birthday and I loved it. I slept in, went for lunch with my dad, went for a run then to the exercise room, watched a DVD and prepped myself for a night out on the town. I had gathered all my friends and we were heading to a rock club so that we can get wasted and dance like there was no tomorrow (in my case there thankfully was a tomorrow).

Beeeeeeeer!

Number of beers drank: Lost count
Number of shots drank: 1, 2, 3… Lost count
Number of people I met that night that shared the same birthday as me: 2
Number of times my sister had to pull my drunken ass away from hot rocker boys trying to pick me up and/or snag a kiss: 8
Number of minutes I argued with my sister regarding pulling me away after the hot mohawk guy after he asked me to dance with him: 15 minutes, give or take
Number of my friends (number count including me) dancing on top of the speaker like we were the latest item in a strip club: 7
Number of times I thought to myself, “what the g’damn fuck was I thinking/doing last night?”: 1,000,000,000,000,000

When you're smiling like this, you know that it's going to be a good drunken night. And a painful morning.

Updates! FYIs! Oh My!

2006-07-27T09:57:00.001-06:00

Update 1: As per the previous post, this so-called-bomb? WAS A CAMERA BAG THAT SOMEONE LEFT BEHIND. My sister told me. That’s how I found out. And certainly not from the newspaper. Why? Because apparently it’s more important to print an article on how Lance Bass came out of the gay closet as opposed to writing an article on why my defenceless belly starved because someone forgot their camera bag. Not that there is anything wrong with the Mr. Bass story; kudos on him for coming out. Plus I’m a sucker for celebrity gossip. But seriously, the Mr. Bass story does not belong on page 2 of the newspaper while the “downtown scare” gets excluded, completely.

FYI 1: Pickup lines that NO guy should use:
“Girl, your hips do not lie.” If one more guy mutters those words to me, while I’m dancing with friends, will seriously get hip-checked.
“You have nice breasts.” HAHAHAHAHA. Okay, sorry. This one I have to laugh at. My friend actually had a male say this to her. The look on her face = priceless. We were all fairly disgusted.

FYI 2: I have a dentist appointment today. I dislike going to the dentist. My dentist has a television in each of the rooms. I like watching The Simpsons while getting my teeth cleaned. I will be turning 24 years old soon and I have never, ever had a single cavity - ever. My teeth could beat up your teeth. Not sure how… but I’ll figure it out. BUT. If any of you find me online later crying? It’s because my dentist has told me that my lucky streak is up and a cavity has been found. I was serious about the crying part. I will cry.

Update 2: 15 DAYS TILL MY BIRTHDAY. I’m not looking forward to being a year older, but how often does a day come around when all the focus and attention is on you? ONCE. It’s called a birthday. And mine will be filled with fun, laughter, dancing and you can bet there will be a lot of beer, random shots and hopefully no Blow Jobs. They’re incredibly messy… This year I’ll get to celebrate by birthday twice. The only reason I’m doing so is because four of my friends will be out of either a) the city or b) the damn country. So technically I guess I just voided the whole, “…how often does a day come around when all the focus and attention is on you? ONCE.” thing. But that’s okay! Cause it’ll be my birthday! HAH.

No Food for You! NEXT!

2006-07-26T13:24:00.001-06:00

I’M STARVING.

I went out for lunch, as per usual, and decided to go to the downtown Subway. As soon as I turned around the corner, after getting off the train, I spot police tape everywhere. Up and down the block, zigging and zagging through the streets – police tape, police men and women, police vehicles, all had taken over. And all I could think of was “must make it to Subway.”

I managed to make my way through the large crowd of people, slither under a row of tape and step into the point of destination. I had waited in line for about 10 minutes (yeah, it gets busy during the lunch rush) when I noticed the police folk directing people away from the tape. And that’s when it happened.

A policewoman stepped into Subway and grabbed our attention: “I know you’re all here to grab some lunch before heading back to work, but I’m going to have to ask all of you to please leave and head down the street. We have found a suspicious package and if it is a bomb we don’t want to see any of you injured.

CRAP. SHIT. MUTHAEFFIN’. NOOOOOOOO. FOOOOOOD.

As I started to walk away from my intended point of destination, I realized that I would not have enough time to hit another restaurant and decided that I would head towards the train station.

Now I’m stuck with a dinky bag of chips for lunch. REGULAR flavour nonetheless. Ugh.

***To the idiot that left said mystery package downtown: I hope you starve.

(Not Worthy of a Real Title)

2006-07-26T10:28:00.001-06:00

Someone said something to me last night that angered me. I didn’t say anything about it at the time and basically acted like nothing was wrong. Once I got off the phone with this person, all I could think of was “Fucker.” And that was it. This morning, on the way to work, I recalled what this person said and again all I could think of was “Fucker.”

I’m thinking that I still am slightly cheesed off. (Cheesed off? Where the hell did that come from? Is it even a word or an expression?)

Aside from that, I’m finding that I’m becoming increasingly annoyed with a good friend. He’s a fantastic person to talk to for advice and all that typical chatter among friends, but he constantly has to throw in a sexual comment – every-friggin-where. Enough. I am so tired of things like:

Me: Hmm… oh, what to have for dinner tonight.
Him: Sausage. *wink wink* Polish sausage. *nudge nudge*
Me: No.

or

Me: I’m cramping. My “friend” is back for the week visiting.
Him: Aww, bebe. I’ll be over with some oil… maybe a back massage… you could bend over too…
Me: Hmm, no.

or

Me: I think I’m going to go do some shopping tonight.
Him: I’ll go with you. We can pick up some toys for you. (Translation: Toys at the Love Stop)
Me: Uh. Pass.

Then there is Jamie. Sir Asshole is leaving soon for six months. Leaving just prior to my birthday. Because he’s an ass like that. I’ve been worrying a lot about how I’m going to survive with him gone for that long. I realize that it’s only six months. But he is someone I talk to every day, numerous times. Sadly, I see and talk to him more than I do my family. Jerk. He better bring back wonderful gifts for me. Which I’m sure he will. He always does.

Lastly, my birthday. Sixteen days, folks. My mom recently asked me what I wanted for my birthday. To be honest, I have no clue. There really isn’t anything I need or want. Or, maybe there is and I haven’t thought of it yet.

Okay, I’m ending this post here. I honestly can’t believe how pointless it was. There’s 3 minutes of your life you’re never getting back! HAH HAH HAH.

In My Prime

2006-07-25T09:14:00.001-06:00

When I was 18 years old I was down at the clubs. A lot. I was legal to drink and drink I did. My friends and I would be dancing till the venue turned on the lights and kicked us out.

For years upon years, I had a Grade A ass. Derriere. Butt. And that’s not just me saying it, because God only knows that I’ve always had a slight dislike for my buttocks, but all my friends believed so. They found it to be quite the grab-able commodity.

One night, while at a club in the south of the city, there was an ass contest. Think: wet t-shirt contest… only with ass; minus the wet.

My friends were pushing me to enter and since I was drunk (haaaah hah) I went for it. There were ten girls in total (all who were in great shape and rightfully deserved a spot in this challenge) and five judges (all males, one being a friend I was with).

It was a simple contest. Girls: stand there; let male cop a feel. Guys: cop a feel; judge.

Out of these ten girls, I won.

Who the hell would have thought?

Sadly, that was one of the highlights of my early, ridiculous adulthood.

That was six years ago. Now, I realize six years is a long time but during those six years my ass has lost its touch. Along with my legs. And the belly. And so forth.

About three months ago I had encouraged myself to get back in shape, start (attempting) to eat better and look good in a friggin’ bikini by the summer. Since April, I have made progress. Definitely eating better, getting exercise and I look decent in bikini. OH! And, my proudest moment of it all? Fitting into shorts that I couldn’t squeeze into four years ago. Still haven’t given up beer, though. But I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.

Anyway. Right now I’m looking into building some form of muscle in certain areas of my body (thighs, obtain Grade A ass again, lower abs) and get some cardio going to burn off the fat in those areas.

Here’s where I need help. I, AJ, have never owned a pair of err… running-type-shoes. The shoes I have always owned were skate shoes or docs or anything of that variation.

They will not do any justice in running.

Now, I know that there are runners reading this. Ahem.

Help me. Believe me. I need it.

What are good brands? Good for running, jogging, speed walking (ha ha. You all should see me speed walk. I overly exaggerate it. It makes people laugh. Possibly at me. Not with me…). Oh, and nothing that would burn a massive hole in the pocket that holds my money.

Suddenly I have George’s voice in my head: “I declare this! The summer of George!”

Move aside Georgey-boy, this is the summer of AJ!

*insert maniacal laughter*

Ms. AJ's Neighbourhood

2006-07-24T15:30:00.001-06:00

It’s like Mr. Roger’s Neighbourhood, only it’s not. Or even better! Like Cheers, where everybody knows my name.

Last week I had made the final decision on what I wanted to get and went down to the building that my piercer and tattoo artist share.

It was like I was coming home again. It’s great when they remember your name; especially since the last time I went to visit was back in November.

During my visit, Scott Veldhoen checked up on the last tattoo he did for me and took a photo of it for his portfolio. This man makes my heart melt. No word of a lie. I had purposely prettied myself up for my trip and was tempted to “accidentally” flash him while wearing a skirt. Don’t worry. I held my cool and made sure that everything was kept in place. Afterwards, I booked an appointment for the next tattoo. Unfortunately for me, he is booked up till past Christmas so rather I got put on a cancellation list. Because what I’m getting will take anywhere from 3-4 hours, it’ll have to be broken up into two sessions - here’s hoping that I can get in before the damn New Year.

And of course, since I was there, I figured that I’d buy new jewellery. I’m only slightly ashamed to say that I spent $200 on a pair of spiral plugs, two new nostril studs, new septum jewellery and an extra nostril retainer. BUT. In my defence, my piercer gave me a massive discount. So technically $200 is a steal.

Lastly, I’d like to state a fact: When girlfriends get together and one of them starts to cry? The rest will follow. Without fail. Every.damn.time. And when you put alcohol in the mix? Things get ugly and males should keep away.

Just sayin'.

Beyond Un-censored

2006-07-21T14:09:00.001-06:00

Before anyone goes charging in and reading the following words on this page, I believe that it is best if you stop reading here. The subsequent paragraphs are intended for my own personal ranting and raving, and honestly? Probably makes me look like a cruel and horrible person. WHICH, deep… deeeeeeeeeep down inside, I truly am not. Now I’m sure that I’ve only stirred up the curious kitty that lies in all of us, that some will continue to read it, and that some will want to give me a good cyber beating; however, thankfully for me, this is my site and technically I could write about florescent pink feces for all I care.

Anyway.

I was reading the newspaper this morning; I read an article that turned me into a pencil snapping maniac.

Although it may not be the newspaper article, here’s an online idea of what it was about: “Boat trip to Cyprus 'horrible'”

Seriously. What the goddamn fuck. What the hell has landed in your gastrointestinal tract and decided to grow shit for brains. If it were me? Trying to get on that damn boat? I would have been all, “Out of my motherfucking way assholes. I’ma land me on that filthy-assed shit vessel and save my sorry ass.”

Don’t get me wrong. I dislike crowded spaces and vomit just as much as the next person. But believe me, you, I would have taken a good puke-fest on me by ten people than sit my ass around and wait for the chance to have the Grim Reaper find room in his appointment book and rip me a new asshole… or cunt… his choice.

(Can’t say you weren’t warned. It’s even typed out on the right-hand side. “Highly un-censored”. Yeah. I guess I should bold it.)

All in all, although it may have been unorganized and crowded and disgusting and yada yada yada, I would not be bitching about it the way these people are. I would have taken whatever I could get, graciously kiss the boat and thank the higher Gods for allowing me to be one of the folks that got out safely. That, and that the boat didn’t sink. And to the fuckers that could only focus on the negative side of it all rather than focus on how fortunate they are to have been rescued?

SWIM THE FUCK BACK AND GET NAILED IN THE HEAD BY A MISSLE.

Parents Do Know All?

2006-07-18T15:40:00.001-06:00

My sister just called me. The typical signs of panic are running its course. Lightheadedness, tightness in the throat, shivers, numbing in the hands. I need to find a bathroom. I think my parents know.

Fork in the Road

2006-07-18T11:56:00.001-06:00

I’ve got to be honest; especially to myself. The last few weeks have not been easy.

I believed that with work slowing down I’d be able to relax, calm down and get at least 30 extra minutes of sleep a night on top of my 3-5 hours. None of this has happened. I’m finding that I’m going around in a circle that, obviously, is just.not.ending. I manage to land myself in fits of doubt in myself and others. This then drags on to the constant questions that, of course, come with no answers. That, then, concludes with tears. Many, many tears.

On Friday I promised myself that I would enjoy the weekend and party it up as if it were 1969. Yes, 1969.

Friday night I had gone out with some friends and we begun the drinking of many beers at 6:15 p.m. During the course of the evening, the males played poker and my friend Char and I took our seats as the cheerleaders. Let me tell you, she and I have perfected the MC Hammer dance.

I’d like to point out that riding a skateboard drunk is not a good idea. It is also not a good idea to ride a non-street legal, mini-motorbike down the road. Following an ambulance. With a fire truck following behind said bike. I’d also like to point out that it was not I that pulled that stunt. I can’t say the same for the skateboard incident. In the end, we drank until 6:00 a.m. No, sadly, that isn’t a typo. I did not make it home until 7:00 a.m. but it was so worth it.

Saturday night was a rough night. I’m not even going to get into details because I don’t remember much of it. All I know is that I woke up feeling beyond ill, finding lots of empty bottles and recalling something about the skate park and how there is sand there.

Sunday turned out to be productive. I did the dishes, a couple loads of laundry and took it easy. But that’s when it all went wrong. I find that I am incapable of “taking it easy.” The second I’m left alone I am filled with constant mind chatter. I recall the nightmares I’ve had over the last few months, the memories of what used to be and how I tried so hard to find things that make me happy but ended up failing miserably.

In the last few months, since the Fucktard incident, I have done more things for myself than I ever have. I got a new haircut; bought a crap load of new clothes; bought a bass guitar and amp; slimmed down about 10 lbs and 2 inches in the waist; and partied hard with friends. You’d think that I’d be a damn happy person after this. You’d be wrong.

So, I’m thinking, what else is there?

AH HAH! I know.

A new tattoo or piercing.

In the last week, I’ve felt that same tightness in my skin that typically signifies that I have GOT to get something done to my flesh (haha, what the hell) in order to relieve that addiction to the needle. PIERCING OR TATTOO NEEDLE. Geez. No offence to those that err… enjoy the other forms of the needle, but no thanks – I’ll pass. (Side Note: I am actually terrified of needles and yet no one believes me when I say so.)

Right now I am looking at the pros and cons of what I am interested in getting. I don’t have many options for piercings because of work, but I have a couple of ideas in mind and a few questions that the artist will have to answer for me. I also have many ideas of what tattoos I would like to get, but for the time being, I have it narrowed down between two ideas (maybe three… if I decide to go small).

So currently I’m debating between:

Piercing
- A venom tongue piercing (Weird I know, but I don’t like the average one tongue piercing.) (Same with the one nose piercing thing; hence the three nose piercings.) (Who am I kidding, in my personal preference this goes for all piercings.) (Maybe 15 piercings is enough and I should stop while I’m ahead.) (Screw that.)

Or

- A vertical labret (This, however, will only be done if there is a retainer available to hide it from work)

Tattoo
- A lotus flower on the top of my right foot

Or

- Can’t say. HAH. This idea is slightly more original and I don’t want some fucker stealing it (not saying that any of you would, *wink wink*). Basically the tattoo would be on the outsides of my calves (matching tattoos with each one being done a month apart) and would be approximately 5-5.5 inches high and maybe 4 inches wide (if it wraps around my leg slightly).

As of right now, I have a few ‘undecided votes’, a few ‘tattoo votes’ and zero ‘piercing votes’. Hah.

I need to figure out what to do.

They're After Me

2006-07-14T12:00:00.002-06:00

OH MY FUCKING GAWWWWWWWWWD.

Now I am damn paranoid!@#$%&*

I saw something come at me while I was sitting at my desk.

I was all, “WHOA.”

I took out a compact mirror and checked myself out. There was something in my hair. I took my pen and flicked it off.

I thought I was safe.

Until.

The insect came back, full force.

I got a good look at it.

IT WAS A MOSQUITO COMING TO SUCK MY BLOOOOOOD.

I have enough mosquito bites. I don’t need more. I need my blood. I don’t need West Nile Virus.

I freaked out. COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. (I’m a sissy, I know.)

I GRABBED MY PEN AND STARTED SWINGING IT AROUND LIKE A MAD WOMAN.

That’s right. I tried to fight off a mosquito WITH A PEN.

WHAT THE FUCK.

It wasn’t working (obviously). The Devil Blood Sucking Mosquito kept trying to get to my face.

I threw the pen and ran.

Literally.

I also screamed. A little.

I hope no one saw or heard.

Now my skin is crawling and I’m all shifty-eyed.

"It was her!"

2006-07-14T09:20:00.002-06:00

If anyone comes asking you folks if you have seen the white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, I DID NOT take it…

and/or

If I suddenly come down with food poisoning or am dead, it was the white chocolate macadamia nut cookie…

Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the tempting cookie that was just sitting there in the staff lunch room… I hope it didn’t belong to someone else…

I mean. What cookie?

Note to Self: Do Not Try to Kick it Old School

2006-07-13T16:22:00.001-06:00

Note to Self: Although you have 15 minutes left until you have the night to yourself, please, for the love of God, next time keep in mind that there are other people working too. DO NOT try to kick it old school, at your desk, to It’s Tricky by Run DMC. You WILL get Looks. You WILL be embarrassed.

Barely Surviving

2006-07-13T09:01:00.001-06:00

Geezus. Okay. Quickly folks, while I have a few minutes.

IT HAS BEEN G’DAMN, FUCKING INSANE.

I’m still alive. Barely.

It is Day 7 of The Madness and I still have three more days to go. Will I survive till then? Doubtful.

I’ve got stuff to write, but no time to write. Tonight will officially be the first night I have to myself. ALL TO MYSELF, NO ONE AROUND. What will I be doing? Leaving the computer off, not answering any phone calls, eating healthy, maybe go for a walk aloooooone, sitting on my ass watching television and possibly passing out from exhaustion.

Only three more days.

Only three more days.

Only three more days.

Just keep telling myself that and maybe I’ll manage to pull through.

In Addition...

2006-07-04T18:08:00.002-06:00

In addition to my previous post regarding the new shoes, I’d like to point out that I have not lost my mind and that indeed the shoes were worth it (or maybe I’m just saying that to convince myself that they were…).

Look! See! I wasn't so insane after all! I do own pretty shoes!

How was I to deny my feet the joys of these?

I'd like to point out that I am aware of my chicken legs. I've been aware of them since elementary school... and all throughout junior high... and high school. Believe me, they aren't going to get any "fuller". Lastly, I am aware of my freakishly pale, pasty, no-tan-in-sight legs. It's hard to tell in these photos because of the lack of flash when the pictures were taken. I have zero intention on getting these suckers tanned. In fact, I aim for the pasty-white look. No, that wasn't a joke.

No, really, it isn't.

Seizure Induced

2006-07-04T15:11:00.001-06:00

Are you all prepared for a seizure? ‘Cause I know I am. Apologies for the loads of crap posts lately; it has been ultra crazy at work and the lack of sleep has been worse than usual. I’ve got plenty to write about but I’m finding that I’m only able to squeeze in a few minutes to reflect on what has happened the last few days. So until things start slowing down, I’m going to have to keep throwing out more brief posts. I know. I know. It’s pathetic.

July 1:
Oh, Canada Day! I must say, this Canada Day definitely ranked somewhere in my personal top 3.

(Okay, it has taken me 13 minutes just to type all this out. I have revised this -/me stares intently at document- addendum three times now. No more.)

The weather was perfect but I must have gotten at least 10 mosquitoes’ bites. First the gentleman and I went down to the city park where there was a Canada Celebration going on. We ended up watching a magician do his thing when he asked the crowd a particular question, ended up pulling the gentleman up to his “stage” and proceeded to do a magic trick involving the gentleman himself. I sat there watching, in all my glory, laughing hysterically like there were no tomorrow.

After the park, went back to his place, drank 3 litres of champagne between the two of us, packed a thermos with more champagne, grabbed a blanket and headed down to watch the fireworks. We then sat ourselves down and watched the fireworks, with the most perfect view, drinking “7-Up” from the thermos.

July 2:
Did he say what I think he said? I’m sure I heard wrong. Otherwise, someone is sending mixed signals and needs to get their antenna fixed.

Played a hell of a lot of bass that evening. After playing the bass so much lately, and then picking up a guitar, the guitar really does look and feel like a toy. Not that it is a toy… but… it’s just so much smaller? If that made any sense.

July 3:
Finally went out with my family to celebrate my sister’s birthday. She’s been working a lot lately. First, though, we hit the mall. I regret it. Sort of. The regret comes from buying two pairs of shoes. TWO. What.The.HELL. Me. Of all people. Allow me to explain. I’m not the stereotypical female when it comes to shoes. My idea of awesome accessorizing is all about the belt. I’ve got plenty. I try to avoid being like my sister who has maybe 20 damn pairs of shoes that are just black. WHY?! I do not understand this! I own a pair of DCs, Globes (I love them too much to throw out… even though there is a massive hole in the bottom), Converse, a pair of cherry designed flip-flops, an adorable pair of ballerina flats, a pair of HOTT black heels, two pairs of work shoes and my skank boots. After yesterday? Add a pair of really adorable, irresistible, heel-type-thingies with a ribbon that ties around the ankle and a pair of sandals that, I guess, I could have done without… UGH.

Oh, I also found out that liquid foundation will not, I repeat: WILL NOT, cover up a tattoo. I guess I won’t be wearing a skirt to work any time soon. UGHx2.

AND! After nearly a year, my sister is finally starting to pay back the money she borrowed from me for her trip. It’s a sickening amount that she borrowed. Let’s just say it’s in the thousands. THOUSANDS.

July 4:
Forty-nine minutes later, I’m finally wrapping this up.

Went to get coffee this morning and saw packets of Sweet N’ Low. I must have been traumatized from that one time because as soon as I saw the packets I got a horrible flashback and could taste the horridness in my mouth.

Happy Canada Day, eh!

2006-07-01T13:43:00.001-06:00

Happy Canada Day to fellow Canadians! and to my readers down South! and to those around the world! Yeah, I know some of you don’t care, but meh! Tonight I will be out and aboot (hah!) getting drunk off champagne but I won’t be need a toque (hah!) because it ought to be nice out today, EH (hah!!).

(Get this, I really do say ‘eh’ a lot… so damn stereotypical of me. But! I don’t say ‘about’, ‘aboot’. That should count for something…)

Counting Down

2006-06-30T15:02:00.001-06:00

Side Note: I’d just like to point out that I am slightly saner with the high consumption of coffee in my system.

For me, around the end of June to mid-August is typically hectic in regards to dates I have to remember/count down to. This year is no exception.

On June 27, it was my sister’s birthday. Now I continue to count down the remaining important dates that are up and coming.

6 days till Stephen’s birthday.

7 days till the chaos begins at work.

20 days till my friend returns from Europe after being there three months for her practicum. Damn that lucky bitch.

20 days till I miss the Warped Tour. Again.

30-40 days (approximately) till Jamie leaves me for a foreign country, for 6 months, because he is an asshole.

40 days till my mom’s birthday.

44 days till my dad’s birthday.

And last, but not least, and quite obviously out of the date order sequence,

42 days till I get alcohol poisoning, also referred to as my birthday.

It's Safer If You Stop Reading Here

2006-06-30T10:28:00.001-06:00

Absent. Or something. That’s what I am: absent. Or, (insert really long pause)

I can’t even finish that thought or sentence or whatever you want to consider it.

That is how tired I am.

In exactly a week, the organization I work with will be hosting our largest event. This event comes around every year and is known world wide. And have ONE DAY, I SET YOU DAMN OUTLOOK REMINDER FOR ONE DAY, NOT ONE HOUR, BEGONE BEAST. Geezus. As I was saying, have I mentioned how tired I am?

One week to get every thing set up and organized. One week to ensure that, aside from my regular work type stuff, that the committee I assist is good to go for the parade. And I’m sleepy. And maybe because I only got four hours of sleep last night. And the night before. And before. And before. And rinse, wash, repeat.

Yes, I know. Shut up. Stop complaining. Wah, wah. JUST GET SOME DAMN SLEEP ALREADY, WOMAN.

This is where I start whimpering. Yes, I do have a trademark whimper. No, seriously, I do. It’s rather cute, so I’ve been told. But then again I’ve also been told that it’s cute and HOT when I get angry. Maybe that’s why my friends purposely try to get me angry. Little do they realize I BITE! HAHAHAHAHAHAOAH0H0AHA0.

Fuck.

Anyway.

Wait, I need to scroll back up to see what I was writing about.

Haha, oh yeah.

So, yes I know, just get some sleep already. But I try! I really do try! In fact, I even have a cute bottle of prescription sleeping pills that look like orange squishy Tic-Tacs. So what is my problem? And more so, why am I still never getting any sleep?

Simple answer to such a complex question! Or… is it simple question and such a complex answer… I have no clue.

I try to avoid taking these orange squishy Tic-Tack-like magical pills because I am fearful of forming an addition to them. C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Do I really want to be writing from a rehab centre as a pill-poppin’ sleep sedative addict? No. Not really. May be amusing, but no. And yes, it is something I’m worried about and would rather not risk.

So instead, I opt for ridiculous NONSENSE because I cannot for the life of me form a thought or sentence that makes sense. Or keep my eyes open.

BUT! AH-HAH! A BUT! It is the Canada Day long weekend! Which means lots of rest and relaxation before the MADNESS begins. And fireworks! Oooh, this makes me want to write about my pyro days! As a wannabe pyro! And how I couldn’t be left alone with anything that could start a fire! And how I accidentally almost lit a male’s crotch on fire! Oh and how I almost accidentally lit a boyfriend’s room on fire! And my high school Light-A-Fest fiesta! With the Doors coming to light my firrrrrre! And how after this I’m going to be thoroughly disgusted with exclamation marks!

And how I better quit now while I’m ahead. Period.

Oh and by the way, get this. From what I've been told, how I write and express myself (whatever you want to call it?) is exactly how I am in real life. I don't do the whole, OH let me write something and go off into whateverthehellitis and really it's a disguise. No. Nothing like that. So you all should be grateful that you're not around in Cowtown to witness the insanity that is Me right now. I'm seriously considering hiding at home today from the outside world.

Note to Self: Re: Sweet N' Low

2006-06-28T09:35:00.001-06:00

Note to Self: Do NOT use Sweet N’ Low in your coffee anymore. Do NOT be tempted by the ‘low calorie’ sugar. It does not taste good. Possibly, next time, attempt one packet rather than two. The package did not lie when it said that one packet of Sweet N’ Low equals two packets of regular sugar. OH GROSS. Stop trying to drink it! STOP TRYING TO DRINK THE COFFEE GET A NEW ONE. Lesson learned.

Maybe I Don't Want to Remember

2006-06-27T15:22:00.001-06:00

Occasionally I’ll read through my archives to remember some of the things I’ve done/felt in the past. I like holding on to memories, hence why I usually write of the weirdest stories sometimes. Last night, lounging around with a few friends, I recalled two things that have happened in the past that I hope I will never forget because they are so darn funny.

One of the reasons why I watch hockey rather than playing is because I would sit in the penalty box more than I would be on the ice. When I was in grade 7, I was kicked out (not literally kicked) of gym class during floor hockey. There was this one girl in my class, that no one could tolerate, who said to me that I wouldn’t have the guts to physically hurt someone during a game of hockey. I scoffed at her words! The second she and I were on the floor together, and the ball was by her, I took the hockey stick (plastic hockey stick that was provided through the school) and slashed the back of her leg. This sent her crying and me telling her, “I told you so.”

HAHAHAHA. Oh geez. Maybe that isn’t a memory I want to remember. I honestly am not that vicious of a person. I don’t think.

The second memory I recall involves Jason #2, aka Fucktard. Back the first time around, when we dated, he was all into Star Trek (gag – sorry). Star Trek was on Tuesday nights and during this time he was not to be disturbed. Well, I made the unfortunate <-insert eyes rolling counter-clockwise-> mistake of phoning him during a Tuesday viewing of Star Trek.

Him: Hi?
Me: Hey, how’s it going?
Him: Uh, what are you doing?
Me: Um… just wanted to call and see what was up…
Him: Do you know what today is?
Me: Err… Tuesday?
Him: No. It’s Star Trek night. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.
Phone: *CLICK*
Me: !@#$$#%!&#$%

Classic. Right there, classic. Although at the time I was slightly slighted, I find it fairly hilarious now and it certainly makes for a laugh when I tell my friends today.

Take the Internets to Work Day

2006-06-27T10:02:00.002-06:00

Today is Take the Internets to Work Day. You know what I’m talking about. It’s like the whole Take Your Kid to Work Day, but unfortunately for me, I’m childless. You will all have to do for this day.

So why the whole Take the Internets to Work Day? Because. I’m tired. Very, very tired. And sleepy. And, I guess they’re both the same thing. Tired and sleepy. And now I’m not making much sense. I’ll stop here. Yes, also fully aware that I've posted work pictures before. Work with me people!

Come Internets and behold. Click on the pictures to get a clearer look with details on what is what. BUT, as a fair warning, I’m the boring host that would bore a child if I truly brought them to work with me.

First, Internets, the day starts off with opening my desk drawer! OOOoooh, Aaahhh!

Then I stare at the piles of paper on my desk. Thrilling, I know.

Then I say screw it and proceed with my beverages of the day.

Note: Work being done not shown.

Proper Punctuation Does Not Exist Here

2006-06-26T09:20:00.002-06:00

Guess who’s NOT going to the Tool concert because someone decided to get uber-fantastically wasted off a bottle and a half of wine and clearly made the stupid mistake of not eating much the entire day even though said person is clearly a “tiny” person, at 5’6” and approximately 125 lbs, then to have been found puking to the Porcelain God refusing to get up and telling a very unfortunate male to “fuck OFF” cause, you know, laying drunk on the floor is the COOL thing to do, then to have said male thankfully be strong and move the living-dead to a nice comfy bed, then telling the rest of the guests to BE DAMN QUIET because he’s got his poor girl sick in bed and MY GOD she is a vicious one that will attempt to bite anyone who tries to move her, but luckily enough said male did not hold it against the drunk loser and let her sleep-in until the room stopped spinning at 3:damn30 p.m. the next day and still was kind enough to cook her breakfast food, while she explained her drunkenness to prepping in stamina for her upcoming birthday and HOLY GEEZUS this is the WORST sentence in the ENTIRE damn WORLD because honestly where the hell is the proper use of punctuation and PERIODS, which would have been used if someone did not lose a BILLION brain cells due to a lame reason like “building up STAMINA for her upcoming birthday” which clearly was a cover-up for “WARNING: DRUNKER ON THE LOSE” and OHMYGOD breeeaaatttthhheeee, breathe, and seriously, JUST GUESS who’s NOT going to the Tool concert because of this?

No, really, just guess.

You are the Awesome. You’re right. ME.

I’m not going to the Tool concert because it was I who was supposed to get the tickets at 10:00 a.m. The day after the Madness started. The day in which the room stopped spinning at 3:30 p.m.

I’m sure I’d be kicking my ass a lot harder for this stupidity but, thankfully for me, I have already seen Tool in concert before and the rest of the concert goers weren't overly excited to see them live.

I’ll let this, uhm, error, slide this time, but next time I won’t be so easy on myself. I’m sure that how I felt the next day was torture enough.

Besides, I’m still convincing myself that I was trying to build up stamina for my birthday in August.

Oilers Appreciation Day

2006-06-22T14:47:00.001-06:00

Yeah. No. Still not over it. It certainly doesn't help that I missed out on, what Edmonton's mayor called, June 22, 2006 the official Oiler Appreciation Day.

How I wish I could have been here.

End of the Line

2006-06-20T11:23:00.002-06:00

I had a happy childhood. It was filled with so much laughter, fun, family and friends. Every weekend my dad would wake my sister and me up with the aroma of cooked sausage on the frying pan; the one thing that would get us up from sleeping-in too much. There would be pancakes, bacon, eggs and toast – the works. Every Christmas my mom would decorate the house from top to bottom! Our household contained every colour you could find in a crayon box. My mom would bake delicious goodies and created gorgeous floral arrangements. She would make chocolate lollipops and I indulged. Each night, before going to bed, my family would tell each other ‘I love you’.

For some reason, that all ended shortly after my 13th birthday.

When I was 12 years old, my dad sat my sister and me down and explained that we were moving from Edmonton to Calgary because he was being transferred there for work. I still remember the shock and disbelief I felt. We were to move just days before my 13th birthday.

My sister, who was 10 years old at the time, and I had devised a plan to somehow stay in Edmonton.

We figured that if we could somehow get enough money we could give it to our dad and we could afford to stay in the only place we knew as home. We created a Secret Fund jar out of and old peanut butter jar and put all our allowance in it. We needed more money. My sister and I then took out the construction paper and made holiday/whatever-just-cause-we-can cards. We made cards that said ‘I love you’; cards that said ‘You’re the best’; cards that said ‘Good job’ and the list when on. We charged a quarter for each card and each quarter went to our Secret Fund jar.

A couple of months before we had to move, my sister and I sat our parents down and showed them the money we had saved. All 120-some dollars. We explained to our parents that see! lots of money! Now we don’t have to move! I guess I don’t have to tell you folks that the Secret Fund jar didn’t quite work. In the end, my parents were proud of my sister and me and decided that we should split the money and put it in our savings account.

On August 1, 1995, my family and I took our belongings and left home; but not until I had carved in ‘I was here 1995’ into the wall siding, near the bottom, behind the door.

Leaving Edmonton was emotionally heart-wrenching for me. I vividly remember the drive from the NW down through to south Edmonton. Staring out the car window, looking at all the trees pass by, wondering if things would stay the same. As we were about to leave the Edmonton city limits, my eyes filled up with tears as I stared at downtown Edmonton getting smaller. To this day I still cannot listen to I Will Remember You by Sarah McLachlan – the song that played on the radio as downtown kept shrinking – without crying. I took one last look at the welcoming sign to Edmonton: Welcome to Edmonton – The City of Champions.

Living in Calgary had changed my family. My dad no longer enticed my sister and me out of bed with the aroma of sausage. My mom waited until December 21 to decorate the house and decorate with the bare minimum. There were no more baked goodies. No more floral arrangements or chocolate lollipops. We stopped saying ‘I love you’ before going to bed each night. My sister was no longer the sweet, innocent girl I once knew. I became drawn in, angry, violent, and bitter and had zero friends for the first three months living in Calgary.

Although over time I have grown to not be so bitter, angry, etc. I still miss Edmonton and still consider it my home.

The one thing that kept me partially sane over the years was the hockey that I could watch on television. My family and extended family were hockey fanatics. In the family, you either watched hockey or you played hockey – mom, dad, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins and my grandmother. The Edmonton Oilers were a part of The City of Champions and that is who we cheered for. Living in Calgary and being an Oiler fan has NOT been easy.

Firstly, there is the Battle of Alberta. Edmonton doesn’t like Calgary and Calgary doesn’t like Edmonton. Can you imagine the harassment I got for my team? Insane. Any chance I got, if I saw someone wearing Oiler paraphernalia, I’d try to make friends with them. Now although the Oilers are not the greatest hockey team around since they lost all their great players (Gretzky, Messier, Fuhr, etc.) I have always believed that they are the best and have never in my life cheered any less for them, not even when they were losing 7 games in a row. I do not jump on the bandwagon and I will be a die-hard Oiler fan till the day I die.

When the Edmonton Oilers made it into the Playoffs this season I was so damn happy. They were struggling to gain the eight spot and they managed to pull through and jump over Vancouver to get it. I was determined to not let anything get in my way of me missing a playoff game; even if it meant giving myself food poisoning.

First up, Detriot Red Wings. No one would have thought that the eighth-seeded team could kick out the top team. Even I was afraid.

Next up the San Jose Sharks. At first, Edmonton was down 2-0 in the series. But guess what? The Oilers came back and came back hard. They took the series with winning four games in a row.

After that, the Anaheim Ducks. I had a feeling this was going to be easy considering the regular season statistics. I was right. The Oilers ate the Ducks.

Then it was the big finale. Edmonton vs. Carolina. By this point, I had only one thing on my mind. WIN THE CUP. The Oilers were the true underdogs and had come a long way. The last time they made it this far was back in 1992 and I was ready to relive it in 2006.

The Oilers had a rough start after losing their star goalie, Roli. But, the Oilers fought hard and after proving to the world that they are hard workers and will not go down easy, they managed to tie the series 3-3 after being down 2-0 and 3-1.

Last night was game 7. It was officially the most important hockey game I have watched in my entire life. I was living it and breathing it. As like every other game, I went down to the bar on a popular strip and sat myself down with the same person that has been watching the games with me.

Last night it all came to an end.

I was furious. I cried. I felt an emotion that I had never felt before.

In the last short while, I have never seen so much blue. There are blue Oiler jerseys, blue Oiler caps, blue Oiler car flags and so much more everywhere I went. In the pubs, I have heard more people cheering for the Oilers than I have in years. During last night’s game, there was a loud roar of GO OILERS GO and LETS GO OILERS, LETS GO. It was a constant chant that did not let down, not even with it was certain that the Oilers were not going to win and when it was down to the last 30 seconds. I did not let down either. And even after the last second came and went, the crowd was still cheering GO OILERS GO and I was there, with tears in my eyes, chanting along with everyone else.

And at that point, though crushed beyond repair, I had never in the last 11 years of my life, felt as happy as I was at that moment. My team had come so far and worked so damn hard to even get to a game 7 in THE Stanley Cup final. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But the best part of it all? It was the first time in 11 years that I had felt so close to home from so far away and last night, with so many people wearing the team’s colours and screaming the team’s name, it was the truly the happiest moment of my life since living in Calgary.

Tonight's the Night

2006-06-19T10:48:00.001-06:00

That's all I've got to say...

For now.

No, wait. Except for: Wear your blue.

What a Load of...

2006-06-17T14:47:00.001-06:00

Well, it has happened. It rained enough to flood areas of the park I frequent. I certainly hope it doesn’t get any worse than this. Although, it’s not as bad as it was last year, by far.

Here's a view of the pathway under the bridge. This, technically, is nothing compared to what it was last year.

Look at him. Poor Jamie looks so sad standing against the tall railing. I don't blame him. His hidden nude tanning spot has been destroyed by this flood.

But no! Not sad enough that he isn't willing to take a dive into the river! Here he gooooes!

As of right now, the water level is only at the 1 mark. Last year the water level reached the 8 mark. Here's hoping that it won't go past the 1 mark and that the water level will only go down from here.

In My Other Life

2006-06-16T11:49:00.001-06:00

I went to this link after reading about it on one of Miss Zoot’s post. I could not resist! I had to try it out for myself, and I did.

This is totally me in cartoon-like form. Well, except for the shoes. They didn’t exactly have a selection of old-skool Chuck Taylor hi-tops, or DC’s, or Globes, or Etnies… or anything like that. But everything else? Without a doubt, me.

What I'm wondering is, where is my nose?

Letter to Mother Nature

2006-06-15T11:08:00.001-06:00

Dear Mother Nature:

Heed my words! This rain must come to a halt! Let this important notice be your first written warning. Please note that under no circumstances will I go easy on you for your next warning. Termination will take place.

Ms. Nature, I have currently lost count of how many days it has been cloudy and dreary; this does not include the rain that has followed.

Ms. Nature, you have managed to confuse the weatherperson which caused said weatherperson to state this morning that it is currently, “13 degrees and wet outside.” As I heard “wet” I believed it was fair to believe that it only meant that the ground was, you know, wet. That is until I stepped outside and came to the realization that “wet” meant a massive downpour. This will not be tolerated.

It is with a fair assumption that I speak for everyone when I say that wet socks are not comfortable. Two hours later my socks have finally dried off.

I will, however, give your props on a couple of items. Last night, you managed to end The Thunderstorm by the time I went to sleep. This will not go unnoticed for I am fearful of The Thunderstorm, especially if I am trying to sleep. Secondly, I am grateful that you held off the rain long enough so that my partner in crime and I could walk the hour to Peter’s Drive-In and to the 7-Eleven next door. This was perfectly synchronized with the Edmonton Oiler’s game. Which, by the way, DID YOU CHECK THAT SHIT OUT?! Mother Nature, were you as turned on as I was by it? Cause seriously. I was turned on. Yo, Ms. Nature, I hear Old Man Winter is available during the off-season. Why don’t you, *nudge nudge* give him a call… know what I’m sayin’?! Word.

In conclusion, with the summer season upon us, please cheer the hell up because I am more than certain that I’m not the only one who wants this rain to stop. Oh, and it’d be greatly appreciated if you could make the rain stop before noon because I am starving and the idea of walking in the rain to get lunch does NOT turn me on.

Sincerely,

AJS

The Queen of Incoherency

2006-06-14T10:23:00.001-06:00

Because I’m having a hard time focusing, and putting words into proper sentences and paragraphs, I will continue with this post in point form. I can guarantee that it will not make much sense.

~ Rain. Mother Nature, make it stop. I’ve got shorts and flip-flops waiting to be worn. I’ve got a skateboard sitting in the storage closet. I’M TIRED OF STARING AT THE GROUND TO AVOID STEPPING ON REPULSIVE WORMS, THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. It makes my neck sore.

~ I’m hoping that the sharp, stabbing pains in my head is nothing. They’ve come and gone for a few years now. Lately I’ve had a fainting feeling every time I walk around. I wonder if this is, possibly, related to my caffeinated coffee use throughout the day. Sadly I need a cup of coffee right now.

~ I’m tired. I’m very, very sleepy. And my head hurts.

~ My workplace is a zoo right now. Not literally, but it is scary out there. We’re currently hosting our second largest event with an expected attendance of 15,000 to 20,000 PER DAY. Sure it’s only for three days, but seriously, I’m already starting to develop a twitch.

~ I used to do fine in large crowds. I’m not doing so fine now, for some reason. With all these cars… and people… ACK. My teeth start to grind, my fists are clenched, and my eyes dart left to right like a bullet. I’ve become jumpy.

~ In less than a month we will be hosting our largest event. There is a minimum estimated attendance of 1,100,000. Every year that figure is surpassed. That figure is then divided by 10 for the 10 days it takes place. That’s a minimum of 110,000 per day. I need to quickly fix this jumpiness.

~ I went grocery shopping yesterday and my sister came along. Note to Self: Never go grocery shopping again with your sister. This woman, who turns 22 in less than two weeks, climbed into the shopping cart and refused to get out. She then proceeded to try to grab everything in her path. My body is sore from trying to push the cart. What the hell.

~ I have found the solution of getting over an ex-significant other and totally forgetting that on Sunday it was two months that the fucker left. Solution: Fume silently at new partner. No wait, strike that. New significant other. No, strike that. I’ll figure out the term when I know what is going on.

~ I may have over-reacted and resorted to spite. I need to fix this problem.

~ Haha. Get this. I’m sick, AGAIN.

~ Friends tell me to take Cold FX. Apparently it’s a miracle worker. I bought a small bottle. Geezus, that shit is expensive. I better get my money’s worth.

~ Mr. Don Cherry supposedly takes Cold FX and swears by it. But, do I believe him? I am NOT a fan of Mr. Cherry. He makes me twitch. Also? Toasted does NOT taste better.

~ Rumour has it, there is a small patch of sunlight coming through the clouds. I don’t believe it’ll last long. But I hope it does.

~ I watched Brokeback Mountain with my sister last night. I cried at the end. Crying at the end of sappy, romantic movies is not unusual for me. I keep a box of Kleenex close by for that reason.

~ I need coffee.

~ Apologies for this being incoherent.

Sometimes the Urge Takes Over

2006-06-12T15:42:00.001-06:00

Sometimes, at work, when I go to the ladies restroom and I’m the only one in there, I like to stand in front of the mirror and make funny faces at myself. What goes through my head while I’m doing this is, “What the hell? Stop it.” I don’t listen to myself and I continue to make funny faces.

I have no idea why I felt the need to share that.

Mr. Psychic Man

2006-06-12T10:37:00.002-06:00

Back however many years ago, possibly three or so, my sister dragged me to a Psychic Fair. What the…? Yes, a Psychic Fair.

My sister is a huge believer in psychics and magic stones and potions and tarot cards and all that errr “interesting” stuff. I’m not quite sure if she is still practicing her tarot skills and such, but I know she still sleeps with these weird stones under her pillow. Personally, I don’t buy any of that stuff and after seeing a psychic myself, I firmly do not believe in the magic of it all.

At the time of this Psychic Fair, I had been a couple months into the relationship with Chad but still frequently thought of Jason #2 (circa after break-up #1). Also, during this time, my sister had wanted me to go to Greece with her for a two week trip before I became employed full-time after finishing post-secondary. My thoughts surrounding these events were: Am I going to be able to “move on” and get over Dipshit (his given name before he upgraded to the current Fucktard)? Will this new guy screw me over like the rest (Hah. I know, I’m a pessimist)? Do I really want to get on a plane and risk losing my life because ohmygod screw physics! should something that large be in mid-air (no, really. should it?!)?!

My sister had decided to go for the full-out reading, which had the asking price of well over $100. Being the sceptic that I am, I only forked out approximately $60-80 which was the mid-range asking price.

During the session, the psychic recorded on cassette the half hour session for me and the hour session for my sister.

The following two points are only a couple of reasons why I don’t believe in psychics:

1. Said psychic told my sister that within the year she would fall in love and be pregnant out of wedlock. Please excuse me while I piss myself from laughing.

Okay. I’m okay. Allow me to explain why this was not only funny but also so not true. My sister doesn’t quite want to fall in love. Back many years ago her heart was broken by the one guy she loved. Since then… Well, let me put it this way. Up here in Canada, there is a statistic, of some sort, regarding the average number of sex partners that a person has. I believe the number is seven. My sister proudly admits that she has surpassed that. By a lot. I mean, A LOT. Just yesterday she told me that she has started going through the alphabet. “Lets see… I’ve got A, B, C, E, F, M, N… Gotta find an O… I have T…” And she went on and on from there. Oh, and she has not become pregnant.

2. For me, the psychic said that I had been battling my emotions between two men. That part was true. But then the psychic took a wrong turn at, “The man you are with now will be the one for you and you can trust him. He will make a mistake, but only once, and from that point he will never harm you again.”

Oh, Psychic Man, you are SOOO funny! Psychic Man apparently failed to read the memo on how Asswipe screwed me over.

Now, I gotta admit. Psychic Man was right on one thing. During my reading he mentioned that he saw “travelling” for me. I was stunned by this because, as mentioned earlier, my sister and I were thinking of going to Greece (well, my sister was thinking about it, I was dreading it). Then Mr. Psychic Man had to open his big mouth and mention, “I am getting the feeling from my sources (his what?!) that you are uncertain of this trip I’m envisioning (envisi-what?!) and that this trip will not occur.”

At that moment, my eyes darted toward my sister and the look she gave me… It was worse than a glare… worse than If Looks Could Kill… it was like, “DIE EVIL SISTER OF MINE, DIIIEEEEE.”

Funny. To this day I still don’t think she has forgiven me for emitting magical rays to the psychics “sources” about how leery I was about the trip.

A Day Like Today (Yesterday?)

2006-06-09T10:25:00.001-06:00

I can’t believe I’m going to waste a post on this, but I am going through p.a.n.i.c. mode.

It is raining. It has been raining all day. Why would this bother me? Of course I’m going to tell you.

Last year, possibly about this same time, we had rain. And not just a little bit of rain, I’m talking a massive down pour for about two weeks straight. This caused a colossal flooding of the river. This river then proceeded to flood various buildings of my workplace and flooded basements, parking lots, etc. two blocks from where I used to live. The worst part? The rain completely flooded the park that Jamie and I frequent when we want to take an easy ride on the skateboard. The pathways were submerged in disgusting, dirty water and the park benches could only been seen by their very tops. After the flood, the pathways were closed off for quite some time because of the damage and because of the length of time it took for the water level to go down. All in all, it destroyed my skateboarding routine in the spring.

And that’s not all! The worms. The disgusting, slimy, squishy worms. Once the rain starts, they all come crawling out of their filthy holes in the ground and take over the sidewalks and roads. It freaks me out to be honest. It really, really does. Gah.

Then there are the wet socks and shoes. Even though it has only rained for a day, by my work and downtown the sidewalks and roads are already piling up with huge puddles of murky water. It is a task to be able to plan each step strategically to somehow avoid these puddles. Unfortunately for me, I was unable to plan each step that quickly and am currently warming my very wet, cold feet.

Oh, and the smell. OH THE SMELL. It is especially horrid when you’re trapped with soaking wet people on a train and all you can smell is the scent of wet people - or also known as the scent of an icky, wet dog.

-15 minutes later after putting the laundry in the dryer-

Hrm. There was something else I was going to write about. I have completely forgotten what it was. It was good too.

OOH! I remember. Haha.

Now that I think about it, it really isn’t that good.

I finished a contract at work for a movie shoot that will be taking place at my place of employment. It will actually have real famous people. I realize that this all sounds fairly ridiculous, but up here in Calgary we don’t get many famous folks dropping by. I have devised a scheme to enter the shoot and steal their clothes. My idea was then followed with a typical comment on how eccentric I am (believe me, if you heard my idea you’d understand why eccentric is fitting).

I have until June 21 to put my plan into action. I will prevail.

Added Note: Okay, technically this post was meant for yesterday but due to circumstances that could not be helped (aka Blogger being down) it is being posted today.

P.S. I had a couple of photos that I was going to add to this, but apparently Sir Blogger won't allow that either. Photos to be added whenever I am allowed to add them.

Falling Off Track

2006-06-07T10:21:00.001-06:00

Yes, I fully realize that it’s been awhile. I have been swamped with work and it makes it so much harder to get anything done when I’m wallowing in my own self-misery.

What the…? Wallowing in my own self-misery? Yes, indeed. In a few days it’ll be two months. Friends keep telling me that it’ll get easier. In fact, I thought I was “there”. You know, the point where you stop constantly thinking about it and you’re there cheering yourself on, “Good on ya! You totally did not pay attention to the anniversary that would have been and that Fucktard packed up just mere weeks ago! No wait! I tooootally did not think that, cause like, I’m sooo over it!”

It has not gotten any easier. Or, at least I don’t think so. Alas, I need to push aside these thoughts and feelings because I feel as if I am falling off track with what I need to be focusing on.

Work needs to be done. Reports to complete. A gentleman to assure that “I’m in this 100 percent.” A team to cheer on. All this, and to assure myself that IT WILL GET EASIER.

One Issue Down, One to Go

2006-06-02T14:47:00.001-06:00

HOLY MOTHER'EFFIN SHIT OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND FREE FLOWING!!!!

So. Honestly. I need to calm down. And breathe. Before I have. A heart attack.

As mentioned previously, in the last post – Issue #1 – it has been solved!

Solved.

AND, I didn’t have to do a damn thing! Apparently, due to unfortunate circumstances, the meeting has been cancelled and will be rescheduled for the early fall.

Which means… I WILL NOT HAVE TO MISS A GAME. Oh, yeah, that and find a food poisoning method.

Tonight, I will rock it out like no other!

Brains of the Operation

2006-06-02T10:17:00.001-06:00

I have two issues with no solutions for.

Issue 1:
Hockey. Yes, that’s right, hockey. It will be back in its ultimate, full force starting Monday, June 5. Looks like Edmonton will be taking on Carolina. I believe that my team is going to kick ass. BUT, they will need my full psychotic, superstitious ass keeping watch over the game… every game. So where’s the problem with that? Well, you see, on Wednesday, June 7, I have a meeting that “I have to attend” that goes from 6:00 p.m. to 9:30 p.m.

GAME FRIGGIN’ TWO IS ON THAT DAY AT 6:00 P.M.

What the goddamn. HATERS! HATERS I TELL YOU. If, keyword: if, I were unreasonable at all, I would believe that The Man is keeping me down by purposely planning the meeting at that time. Well guess what? I am unreasonable and I do believe that The Man is keeping me down!

I mean, I totally realize that these people are jealous that their team, The Flames, did not make the playoffs, but really now… do they have to take it out on me?! For fucks sake, this will be the first game I miss during the playoffs. Unless…

I, AJ, will need to come up with a brilliant plan that will without a doubt get me out of that meeting.

I was thinking, HMMM, I could call in sick but that wouldn’t work because the people I work with all know that I was sick but am better now. Then I thought, HMMM, maybe there has been a death in the family but ohmygod I would hate myself for even saying or thinking that. AND BAM! Maybe I could pull of food poisoning!

I know what you’re all thinking. “Are you fucking insane? You’re not actually going to fake food poisoning just to watch a hockey game?!”

Well, actually, yeah, I am considering it. And I can’t fake it either; it’s got to be real. All this for a hockey game? You bet your ass I’m serious! I figure that I need to pull off a safe, but serious enough food poisoning that I cannot attend the meeting and/or work yet still catch the game and then I’m golden. But I will need to have it so that this lasts only one day, not a week or something.

Haha. You know, reading back on this, it sounds fairly EXTREME. But believe me, if you folks were able to ask my friends, they would tell you that this is normal behaviour for me.

So, I need to find a food poisoning method that is safe but will get me ill enough to miss the meeting and/or work. Unless I come up with something else before Wednesday, I’m going to have to bust my ass on this to research a way to make this work.

Issue #2:
Spring is here folks! Well, it’s sort of summer. But that’s only because it seems to me that Calgary weather has decided to skip spring.

Everyone at work, well only the ladies, are all wearing pretty skirts. I looooove wearing skirts and would love to wear one to work on occasion. The issue? I can’t wear a skirt to work because I figured that getting a tattoo on my left, inner calf would be so damn awesome. Sure I could wear thick nylon stockings to cover it, but when it is 26+ degrees Celsius outside it is not a smart idea.

I do recall seeing a television show, once, about a lady who has tattooed herself to be a cat… or tiger… or something like that. When she goes to work she uses make-up to cover up the facial tattoos and you honestly couldn’t tell that she had any tattoos on her face!

So… because I don’t quite wear make-up (because I rock like that) I don’t know what sort of make-up could be used to cover up a tattoo so well. Suggestions anyone? Foundation? Um… powder stuff, or whatever it’s called? Erm… theatre make-up (I’d like to avoid that option if possible)?

So there you have it; two issues, with a few ideas, but no solid solutions.

How Tired Is Tired?

2006-06-01T23:49:00.001-06:00

Geezus. It is 11:46 p.m. and I am just waking up. No wait, let me start at the beginning.

Went out last night. Got home. Did not sleep till 3:00 a.m. (I do have an unfortunate sleeping problem). May have had a few drinks before coming home. Had the temperature set at a ridiculous high. Wore sweat pants and a shirt to bed. Woke up at approximately 6:30 a.m. screaming, ripping my clothes off and throwing them across the room. It.was.too.damn.hot.idiot.me. Took forever to get back to sleep. Woke up for work in a daze. Got to work. Still in a daze. Twelve noon hits - still in a daze. Coffee. Coffee. More coffee. Promise myself to go home, do laundry and get to bed early. Did laundry. Watched television.

At that point I can only assume I dozed off because the next thing I know I am waking up and realizing that, well, I am waking up.

I am beyond grateful that tomorrow is Friday.

Update:

So grateful that tomorrow is the weekend.

Went to bed at 2:00 a.m. thinking, "Shucks, it's gonna be easy to fall asleep! I bet my body is still in the whole I-am-Still-Not-Quite-Awake-Put-Me-to-Sleep Mode."

No.

no, No, NO!

THAT.WAS.NOT.THE.CASE.

period. end of story.

I was up, tossing and turning, turning and tossing, for another hour and some after that, all the while thinking, “Body is still in the I-am-Still-Not-Quite-Awake-Put-Me-to-Sleep Mode… body is still in the I-am-Still-Not-Quite-Awake-Put-Me-to-Sleep Mode… body is still in the I-am-Still-Not-Quite-Awake-Put-Me-to-Sleep Mode.”

The Impracticality of It All - Part 2

2006-05-31T17:35:00.002-06:00

In addition to my last post, I feel the need to show off these Hickory Sticks that I speak of. Click on the pictures to see the notes attached to them.

The Hickory Sticks

The Innards

Hand... must... get... in... bag.

Ah Hah! The Sticks are out.

The Impracticality of It All

2006-05-31T10:26:00.001-06:00

Hickory Sticks. You’re delicious, but to be honest with you, I avoid buying you because you are just not that practical.

No, I’m serious.

If you purchase a 50 g bag you got to really reach in there just to pick up those little sticks with your little fingers. And if you have larger hands? Yeah, you’re going to have a problem even fitting your hand in the bag. Then, of course, rather than obtaining a chip and popping it in your mouth, you’ve got to gather up all the little sticks and strategically get them in the mouth without losing a few sticks along the way.

If you purchase the larger bag version of the Hickory Sticks you may be thinking to yourself, “OOOH! Look at all those sticks! SoooOOOOoOOo many sticks!” ‘cause, you know, it’s a larger bag… hence the many sticks. Hmm. Truth be told, I have no idea where I was going with that last part – chances are I’m the only person thinking, “SoooOOOOoOOo many sticks!”

Anyway.

I find that the best way to eat Hickory Sticks is with a spoon. Yes, a spoon. With this spoon mechanism I can guarantee some good stick shovellin’ into the mouth at a much quicker pace than if fingers and a palm (used as the “plate” of course) were put into action.

Plugs For Pervs

2006-05-30T09:16:00.001-06:00

I hate, Hate, HATE it when this happens. I’ve got a feeling that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

I forgot to put in my plugs in this morning. PLUGS. As in FOR THE HOLES IN MY EARS. Pervs.

Why would this bother me so much? For starters I work in a professional business environment and for second starters the people I work with? Yeah, SO not into any of the “junk” I have placed in or on my body. I already have to remove four piercings and put retainers in three others (the others can stay put because you either can’t see them or I just don’t want to remove them), so if they see a 2G hole in my ears?

Ugh. I can see/hear it now. The looks. The whispers.

Yeah, that’s right. It does bother me.

Today will be a day of strategy, where I strategically keep my hands over my ears and use the excuse, “Shucks! Isn’t it cold in here?!” while they give the look that you should only be giving to the crazies! HAH. And this had to happen on the day that we do the monthly birthday celebrations. Now the whole department will be there and I’ll be sitting in the corner, covering my ears in all my glory!

AHahaA HAH.

/end of rant.

Best Friends

2006-05-29T15:22:00.001-06:00

As per Dawn’s question, to my post regarding losing my fingernail, I shall relive my years growing up with all the best friends that have come and gone.

There are some people in this world that have been fortunate enough to keep the same best friends from their youth all the way into adulthood and maybe into their senior years. Others, like me, have gone through best friends like a person would with socks. Okay, not quite, but you get the point.

Ah yes! Kindergarten. I remember my first best friend ever was a friendly girl named Nadia. She and I were inseparable, from playing in the class to playing in the playground during recess. We only got into an argument once and it only lasted a couple hours; to be honest, I don’t even recall what the argument was about. That friendship only lasted a year because my family and I moved to a different area of Edmonton and I had begun a new school.

In grade 1 I quickly became friends with a lovely boy named Michael. He would also be my first “boyfriend”. We were like “peas and carrots” or so Forrest Gump would say. For some reason, Michael was a bit of a bully so none of the children liked him a whole lot, but he was always wonderful to me. We went through a short period where we were slightly upset with each other. It started because I became friends with another boy named Brandon who lived in the same townhouse complex as me. Once Michael got over it, he and I got married in a snow castle in winter. In fact, I still have the ring he gave me – a beautiful, heart-shaped, plastic pink ring. That marriage lasted 3 years. The only reason it ended was because his parents got divorced, his mom re-married a Hulk Hogan look-a-like and he got sent away with his dad. A couple of years ago I heard that Michael became a Gap model for their commercials.

Then there was Anna. I can’t quite remember how long we were best friends, but I’m thinking it was around four years. We did everything together and even buried a time capsule to open when we were 20-something. That friendship ended a few months after I moved to Calgary. Back in the day before email, we wrote each other quite often until one day she stopped responding. Eh, oh well.

Hah. Then there was Veronica. We were best friends for about a year or so. Then came grade 7 and she went all Commando Bitch.

Hrmm… then there was Brianna. Best friends for about a year. Until I snapped out of it and realized that I no longer liked getting in trouble with the law and ditched her as a friend. Definitely a smart decision on my part.

Then, there was Celine – the friend that caused me to lose a fingernail. She and I were best friends like there were no other. We were all, woooh yah! bbf 4 evah! We did everything together and were stuck like glue. You know those high school girls that you see wearing the same thing or had matching bags? Yeah, that was us. (Please note: Yeah, I am totally ashamed of it now.) She and I were best friends until mid-grade 12, then the falling out. It all started when Celine, and another friend of ours, did not like how I kept “stealing” all the guys that they liked. First of all, it’s not “stealing” when the guys were the ones asking me out. Cannot be helped! Well, I guess the breaking point for them (after “stealing” Trevor (aka hot punk rocker with mohawk); Scott (aka Scottie the Hottie); and some other guy who’s name I can’t remember (aka guy I can’t remember) )was when I started dating Jason #1. Looking back on it, I should have let them have him because MY GOD that would have saved me the trouble of “Jason’s”. Anyway, Celine and other friend decided to go around and spread the rumour that I was a slut (HAHAHAHA. Honestly? So far off.) and that I was psychotic. Teehee. Okay, maybe I could see the latter. Once I found out about this rumour, I said, “Fuck off” and that was the end of it between Celine and me.

As of today, I have managed to keep three best friends that I love dearly, two of which have been my longest friendships to date.

There is Miranda (aka Whitey). She and I were friends in grade 9 through to grade 12. As of right now, she is one of the two friends I have maintained since high school. She and I both find it fascinating that we managed to stay best friends, especially considering we weren’t very close in high school and our personalities can clash quite a bit.

Then there is Derek. I have been best friends with this guy for four years now. He is like the brother I never had and he has always been there for me when I needed him. I, without a doubt, could not ask for a better friend than him.

Or could I? Because my all-time bestest friend in the whoooole wide world is Jamie. Not only do we have quite a history together (nearly 6 years of history) but we even have quite a story to tell on how we became friends. He means the universe to me and I would be completely lost without him. He is the first person I go to when I’m upset or happy and when I’m angry he’s the first person I’ll go to punch (yes punch, but at least it’s mutual – I’m there when he needs someone to punch).

And so that ends my insane list of best friends throughout the years. Best friends that I wish I could have kept in touch with would be Michael and Anna, and I certainly hope that I will maintain my friendship with Whitey, Derek and Jamie.

Oilers Are Moving On!

2006-05-29T10:05:00.001-06:00

Hallelujah, Praise the Lord! I AM TAKING A HOCKEY BREAK.

As mentioned previously, I am so drained from this hockey madness that has been created from my team making it this far in the playoffs. Well, especially since they are complete underdogs, they almost did not make it to the playoffs and were sitting in the eight spot.

I am so tired from doing so much laundry, so tired of pubs, so tired from yelling and cursing (Jamie wants the playoffs over with. I’m apparently “not normal” since the playoffs started.) and sooo tired of Heineken. Crap. NO. Not tired of Heineken. I just need to take a leave of absence from it.

So why this sudden hockey break? Because after 16 years my team is…

GOING TO THE STANLEY CUP FINALS TO BRING THE CUP BACK TO THE ‘CITY OF CHAMPIONS’!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s right folks, on Saturday, May 27, the Edmonton Oilers won the series (4-1) against the Ducks with a 2-1 hockey game. Now it’s all up to the Eastern Conference to finish before we can move on to The Finals.

I don’t believe I have ever been happier before in my life. Wait, let me think about that one…

Yep, definitely. Never been happier before in my entire life.

Yeah, that girl standing over in the crowd of cheering Oiler fans? Her. The one jumping, screaming and possibly just dropped her bottle of beer to the floor. That’s me.

Now, I don’t want to jinx anything, but if they do win the cup it will give me another excuse to get a tattoo, as well as put into action some of the other great ideas I have to celebrate the moment.

/me knocks on wood.

Anyway. Once I calm down, wake up a bit and get some coffee in me, I will post again with yet another story. I just had to get the hockey excitement out of me.

Left Hand, Ring Finger

2006-05-26T11:08:00.001-06:00

When I was in grade 10, a young 15 year old back in the day about 8 years ago, I lost a fingernail.

Classes were ending for the day and my best friend, at the time, was standing by my locker. She returned a magazine to me (I believe it was a rock magazine of some sort, Circus perhaps) but rather than handing the magazine to me, she quickly stashed it in my locker just as I had opened it and closed the locker just as quickly. Not knowing why the hell she did this I opened up my locker again only to have her close it again.

Me: What the hell? What did you do to my magazine?!
Her: NOTHING! Nothing at all…
Her: *the look of, “ohmygod, I am a deer caught in headlights”*

We then proceeded to push and pull on the locker door in a battle of strength. There I am prying my locker open with one hand pulling on the door, while my other hand is stationed at the base of the locker. My friend had a death grip with her palms pressed against the front of the locker pushing with all her might.

Before you knew it, with the strength of her pushing and the fact that she had her entire body pressed against the door, I had given up and went to remove my hands from my feeble attempt of holding open my locker.

Instead, I only managed to remove one hand, the right hand trying to open the locker door; my left hand was still partially leaning against the neighbouring locker with just my fingertips slightly over the crease that connects the locker door to, well, the rest of the locker.

The locker door slammed down hard on my ring finger on my left hand. A sound that I still cannot forgot.

I started yelling out obscenities as my friend stood there wide-eyed and in shock.

And I still remember the blackness of the blood that began to fill out beneath my nail. Starting from the cuticle and quickly making its way to the tip.

I cried. I screamed. I panicked.

My finger had begun to swell up twice its size and all that went through my mind was that I will NEVER be able to play guitar again. It was at this point that I feared that I would never be able to live out my Rock Star dream. (Please note that I was in a massive amount of pain, scared and in a MASSIVE amount of pain: I truly believed that if I lost my nail that the tip of my finger would flop around, hence why I would never be able to play guitar again. I completely blame the immense amount of pain that I was in for the simple fact that I did not stop to think that no! this is not the case! There is a BONE in your finger that will prevent it from “flopping” around!)

After my hysterical crying I went to the nurses’ office where they packed me up with ice and a band-aid, and sent me on my way.

The next day my nail started to push upward from my finger due to the tremendous amount of dried up blood that accumulated from the injury. Then “flop”. The tip of my ring finger went limp. It turns out that it was all a lie and that there really wasn’t a bone in my finger to keep it from limping on me.

HAH! Just kidding.

After the dried up blood pushed my nail off, my finger (still intact) was so horrid looking (seriously, there was no nail on my finger! of course it’s gonna look horrid!) that I had to put a band-aid on immediately. I never looked at my finger after that for a few weeks. Whenever the band-aid needed to be changed I got someone else to do it for me and I only started to peak underneath the band-aid when I knew that a new nail was growing in. Thankfully, you don’t feel a thing when a new nail is growing in from scratch.

Update!

Best Friend in grade 10: Somewhere in Calgary, maybe. She and AJ are no longer friends after a falling out in grade 12.

Locker: Still doing fine. I think. Hopefully being put to good use. Like storing school books. Or something.

Circus Rock Magazine: Collecting dust. Deep, deep in the bowels of a closet somewhere.

The Many Band-Aids used: Landfill? I don’t know… it seems fairly reasonable. Oh, unless it is covered in seagull feces. That too is reasonably possible…

AJ: Looking at her fingernails thinking, “When comparing my left ring-finger to my right ring-finger, the left ring-finger is actually shorter in length… damn the bitch that slammed my locker on my finger… I will forever be dubbed a freak.” She is still not living the Rock Star life.

Left Hand, Ring Finger: Livin’ it up as if it were 1999. Doing great and looking good. Still mackin’ male ring-fingers.

Slowly Being Drained

2006-05-25T17:21:00.001-06:00

I’m not feeling up to par today. I’m so exhausted and still sick as hell.

My dad called me at work today to see how things are going for me, whether or not I’m feeling better. I simply told him no. After telling my pops what symptoms I’m feeling he proceeds to tell me that it sounds more like a flu virus than a cold.

Great. < /sarcasm>

Part of the reason why I’m feeling so lousy, aside from the cold/flu/whichever, is that I am being completely drained by the NHL playoffs. I am not kidding when I say that it is extremely difficult and tiring being a hardcore fan.

Since April 21, I have watched every Oiler game religiously. By doing so, this has caused me to lose many hours of sleep. It is also exhausting when you’re not a superstitious person but suddenly you are. For myself, I am not a superstitious person. I believe in one superstition and that is “knocking on wood three times”. That’s as far as it goes for me. During the playoffs, though, and every year in the past that I can remember, I turn into a psychotic irrational freak. Each playoff and occasionally during the regular season, I find myself coming up with new superstitions.

So far this playoff run, this is what I have come up with:

1. For a few games, at the beginning of the playoffs, my sister and I noticed that the Oilers would always score a goal shortly after we spoke with each other on the phone. When the game was on and either one of us felt like ohmygod! the Oilers may get this damn puck in the net! we would call each other up and BAM! Just like that, they’d score. This superstition was short lived due to one particular game where we tried this trick and instead of the Oilers scoring, the opposing team would score.

2. Having my MSN left on during the game and having a specific nickname and specific picture display. On game day, I am henceforth known as ‘GO OILERS GO!’ and my display picture is the one of me in my favourite Oilers’ shirt. If this routine is not done, I fear for the worst.

3. Oh, and if I miss a game and they lose? I will fully hold myself responsible and beat myself senseless. If I watch a game and they lose? I will curse the Lucky Panties and stop wearing them.

4. Ah yes, the Lucky Panties. I had worn my Lucky Panties during the Anaheim and Calgary game and it was the game that the Flames lost and were officially out of the playoffs. However many days later, I happened to be wearing the same Panties during an Oiler game. It was at that point that the Edmonton Oilers started their winning streak. Since that point, I have worn my Lucky Panties for every game. This brings me to the exhausting portion of being a hardcore, superstitious freak. Because I am sooo not disgusting, I make sure the Lucky Panties are washed before each game. Since each game is every second day, this requires a hell of a lot of washing. I either find myself scrounging for laundry to do an entire load or I’m washing the Panties by hand.

5. After I get home from watching the game, I must then change my MSN nickname from ‘GO OILERS GO!’ to ‘Thank YOU, Lucky Panties!!!’ (with the exact number of exclamation marks). This here must be done because heaven forbid the Panties are not thanked and clearly appreciated.

6. Lastly, I firmly believe I have to have numerous beers during the game or else it’ll bring bad luck. And yes, I am totally serious about this one.

As I was finishing up the phone call with my dad, he told me to be sure that I get plenty of fluids to aid the “flu” and that NO, beer does NOT count as a fluid.

I’m almost certain he was shaking his head on the other line as I told him that it would be a curse if I failed to drink tonight.

Beyond Pointless

2006-05-24T23:32:00.001-06:00

First and foremost? I continue to watch American Idol and…

Are you all sitting? Seriously. You’re going to want to sit down for this.

You’ve been warned.

Clay Aiken performed and oh.my.god. was I in heaven. Clay Aiken would definitely fit into the category of My Dirty Little Secret file. Clay… is soooo dreamy. I have loved that man since he got his makeover when he was a contestant on the show. And you know what? I don’t care who knows! Yes! I dig Clay Aiken and (get this) I also got his album when it came out. Sure, this did get me banished into The Land of No Return within my group of friends, but damn, it was worth it. Oh Clay. *swoon*

Anyway, let’s move onward and hopefully I didn’t make myself out to be a total geek.

An apology in advance for any of today’s post being completely random and quite possibly incoherent.

Last night wasn’t exactly what I would call a good night. Yes, my team did win but if you had watched the game you would understand why I’m not as ecstatic about it as I should be. The rest of the evening also did not go too well. I have only one word to say regarding it: Fuck. And no, not Fuck in a good way.

Now, America, I’ve got an enquiry for you. Are Ipod listening rooms/lounges/etc. popular down there? I ask that question because the bar I was at last night had Tuesday Ipod Listening Night. Upon questioning, “What is this Ipod Listening Night you speak of?”

Oh God. I’m sorry. I’m still watching American Idol and goddamn, speak of the devil. If it isn’t Prince himself performing on stage.

aaahahahaha0ha0h0haa0ha

Okay, focus. After asking the bartender, “What is this Ipod Listening Night you speak of?” he explained that all you have to do is bring in a playlist, on your Ipod, and they’ll play it in the bar for you with their large and in charge, fancy speakers for all to hear. He mentioned that in the States this was very popular and that it’s, “Happening all over.”

Is this true? I mean, being up in Canada and all (eh) I wouldn’t quite know.

As well, I am able to admit that I am an obsessive label peeler. And not just any label, but beer labels. I am completely UNABLE to drink a beer without having the labels all peeled off. And that’s not all. I have to place the labels PERFECTLY in an EXACT position facing me. Otherwise? I get all edgy. Maybe tomorrow, if I remember, I’ll bring my camera to show this. No, wait. Tomorrow, after the hockey game, I’m going to see an Iron Maiden cover band… not too sure if I want to bring my digital camera with me. Back to what I was saying. Even the bartender, last night, mentioned that he’s going to have to take the labels off before giving me the beer. It is just that obnoxious.

Sorry, mild interruption. YESSSSS. Taylor won American Idol. After Chris got kicked off? And Elliot? I knew that Taylor had to win. HAD.TO.WIN.

See? I warned you this would be all over the place!

OH! Slowly, but surely, I am getting the hang of this bass guitar playing; although, I admit, I still am finding myself trying to play it like a guitar. I did manage to learn to play Another One Bites the Dust by Queen! Shhh... Yes, I realize it's an easy one.

I just cleaned all three nose piercings.

This is probably the most pointless entry I have to date.

Live Blogging

2006-05-24T21:18:00.001-06:00

LITERALLY!!!@#$#@@!#@$%$#!@#

I am TOTALLY blogging this... LIVE!!!!!!!!!

OHMYGOD.

I believe I may have creamed my panties.

My hands, they are shaking.

Bad.

Okay, I've calmed down. CALMED DOWN.

So here I am, watching American Idol (I couldn't help it!) and lone behold Chris Daughtry comes on stage to perform with Live! And honestly? Anyone who knows me knows I am obsessively in loooooooove with Live (perhaps just Ed... but that's another story).

Alright, the performance is done and I couldn't be any happier. Now if you'll excuse me, before I write a real post, I must change my panties.

The Prince

2006-05-23T14:33:00.001-06:00

I could not resist.

As I was looking through MSN News I saw a headliner that read, “Prince Voted 'World's Sexiest Vegetarian'”.

Here I am, all, “OOoOOOooooOOoh, Prince William?!” as I wiped the drool from the side of my mouth.

I clicked on the link, and rather than finding Prince William, I find this instead.

Talk about bursting one’s bubble.

Victoria Day Long Weekend

2006-05-23T09:20:00.001-06:00

Well it’s back to work now that the glorious Victoria Day long weekend is over. Everyone here is off talking about how fabulous their weekend was. How was mine, you ask?

SHITTY.

Honestly, that’s the best way to describe it.

For the last week or so I have been pumping my body with lots of vitamin C and fluids in hopes that I could ward off a cold that I could totally feel coming. You know: the sore throat with the occasional sneeze. I knew my immune system was going to possibly give in at some point, but REALLY, did it have to happen during the LONG WEEKEND that I had been waiting for since the LAST long weekend?!

So there I was, snotty, coughing, head a spinnin’, feverish chills and a throat so sore that I could have sworn that someone shoved sandpaper down my throat at night. Now you’d figure that I would have rested Friday night all the way till Monday evening… HAH! I scoff the idea. Rather than doing just that, I dragged my sorry ass out and continued to watch the hockey game Friday and Sunday night, including going out Saturday night for my friend’s birthday.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I ended up going home early on Saturday because MY GOD I thought I was going to die. Thankfully I had some smarts in me and rested all Sunday day, afternoon AND early evening… until I got back up and went out again to the pub for the hockey game.

My face, grimace, can.t.stop.

BUT. Fret not for I wised up and stayed home all Monday eating can after can of chicken soup, drinking fluids, attempting to OD on vitamin C, snacking on Advil and drinking Benelyn cough syrup straight from the bottle.

Today, I’m still feeling like poop, but I’m at least seeing an improvement. Here’s hoping that I don’t bring myself back down because heaven forbid I miss the hockey game tonight.

Truth be told, when this hockey season is over I am SO going to lock myself up in my place and not leave for a week. Okay, except maybe for work… and to possibly get groceries… oh can’t forget laundry… err… and maybe leave to see a few certain people…

My Awesome Technology Skills

2006-05-19T10:28:00.001-06:00

AH HAH. Clever AJ, clever.

I’ve just been passed a co-worker’s Blackberry. She had forgotten it in her office so she had someone bring it over from the other building. Here I am, all, “What a contraption! So, uh, what am I expected to do with it?” Answer it if it rings, apparently.

My predicament? How in God’s name does one answer this Blackberry mechanism if it rings? I see no Talk Button.

Of course. It just rang. So I sat here at my desk, staring at it, hoping that I could use some special mind power to answer it. I failed. Thankfully I no longer have this Blackberry in my possession for the owner has claimed it.

Party Like It's 1992

2006-05-18T16:10:00.001-06:00

I am so damn exhausted. I mean, sure I have trouble sleeping and I have typically average about 3-5 hours of sleep per night for over the last two years, but this right now is ridiculous. My throat hurts, my head hurts and for the life of me I cannot keep my eyes open. Why has it been so bad lately? Well let’s see… NHL playoffs. I have been keeping up with every game and it is wearing me out. Which by the way?

EDMONTON OILERS ARE MOVING ON TO THE NEXT ROUND!!!!!!!

ROCK THE FUCK ON!

Yeah, I know. My team rules and I have been blessed with Lucky Panties.

Next round: Oilers vs. Ducks

Looking at the stats for the regular season, the Oilers and Ducks played each other four times and each time the Oilers won. Here’s hoping they can do the same!

All I know is that I am going home and napping because this next round is going to be murder on my mind and soul.

Crud. The next game is tomorrow. UGH. I guess I’ll have to do the whole hand-washing of the Lucky Panties again, since I don’t have nearly enough laundry to do a load. This is how dedicated I am to the Panties… and the Oilers.

Edited to Add: Yes. I was extremely happy that my team won last night. In fact, so happy that I am not even kidding when I say that I was holding back tears of joy. As well, during the singing of the American anthem, my fellow Edmontonians did not boo; instead they cheered as loud as they could. Now that is doing me proud.

Lucky Panties

2006-05-17T10:39:00.001-06:00

Houston, we have a SERIOUS problem.

***Please note that I am sincerely sorry for all the hockey talk, but OH MY GOD, I should just have “Hockey is Life” tattooed on my forehead***

Tonight is game 6 between the Oilers and the Sharks. My gut is churning from all the insane thoughts and worries that I’m experiencing.

First off, the game is in Edmonton and I am hoping that my fellow Edmontonians do not act as STUPID as the San Jose-ers… or whatever they’d be called… during game 5. Yeah, you know what I’m referring to.

Secondly, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HIGHER GODS OF ALL THAT IS GOOD PLEASE LET THE OILERS WIN THIS!!! and every single following game until they win the cup…. Really now, I’m not asking for much.

Thirdly, since the second round of playoffs and within the last couple weeks, I have done laundry so often that it’s to the point that my laundry loads are becoming increasingly smaller. Why you ask? Two words: Lucky Panties. Yes, that’s correct, Lucky Panties. Sometime over a year ago I went out shopping and found an extremely HOT pair of panties/Brazilian-cut/g-string/goth-corset styled type panties (what the fuck? I know; it doesn’t make sense). Well, every time I wear them I get lucky! Lucky as in, err, lucky? Good luck basically comes my way when I wear them. So for the last few Oiler games I have been wearing them and declaring, “Yes! I AM wearing the Lucky Panties! C’mon Lucky Panties, don’t fail me now!” And surprisingly enough they haven’t yet. BUT, I’m worried about tonight in fear that what if today is the day that the luck in my Lucky Panties runs out? WHAT IF?! Then what?! I may very well have to toss out ‘dem Panties. And if the Oilers lose tonight then ohmygod will I even survive till Friday for game 7? The game that decides the fate of it all?! UGH.

Lastly, my gut is churning because tonight I’m going to attempt to bring something up to a certain someone. Just the thought of it makes me go into an anxious freak attack – hmm sorta like now where I feel my insides are going to explode, that I’m going to pass out, that my throat is closing in on me and OH MY GOD I CANNOT BREATHE – I need a brisk walk.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the luck in my Panties has not run out and that all will go well tonight… and hopefully something good will come out of the conversation I hope to have, as long as I don’t chicken out again…

P.S. This here, Lucky Panties post, is post number 50. It’s an even number… half way to 100… should I be concerned with this? Would this be considered “lucky” or am I just doomed for the rest of the evening? OR maybe I’m looking into this too much? OR maybe I have completely lost my mind and need to be kicked really hard to knock some sense into me? I have a feeling it’s the latter.

Ma, Pa, I'ma Be a Rock Star

2006-05-16T10:51:00.001-06:00

As a child growing up, you start to dream of what you want to be when you’re older. Some children will have their mind and hearts set on that one specific goal, while others, like me, will go through phases of what they want to be when they grow up.

I don’t recall the exact order of goals I had of what I wanted to be when I grew up but I do know that, for the rest of my life, I will be haunted by a single cassette that my mom had recorded of me when I was 3… 4… years old?

Mom: AJ, what do you want to do when you grow up?
Me: I want to help mommy wash the dishes!

Ugh. Dreadful. To this day my mom still brings it up and tells me what I smart child I was. Personally? I believe she forced me to say and record it; otherwise, she would ban me from eating. Okay, so maybe that isn’t true… but I still tell my mom that is what she did.

At one point I wanted to be Sherlock Holmes. Don’t ask why because I couldn’t even tell you. I guess I was a freak like that. It must have been the whole sense of mystery and adventure that I was attracted to. But believe me, you, if I ever own a basset hound I am so naming it Watson. In the end, this dream was short lived.

So I moved on to wanting to be a writer. Oh the wild and crazy ideas I had running through my young mind! Unfortunately for me that bubble was busted when my dad, I believe, told me that it’d be nearly impossible for me to achieve such a goal.

Next up, the artist. When I was younger I was a talented artist. I drew and painted like there was no tomorrow. Because of the talent, my parents and school teachers constantly entered me in local, provincial and country wide contests. I had high hopes that one day I’d be a famous artist like Salvador Dali or some other insane version. However, and yet again, that vision was shattered when I was told that artists only become famous after they pass away. Yeah… that wasn’t going to work out for me.

Soon enough I was 13 years old and realized my true calling in life. The life of a Rock Star! Oh yes… a Rock Star. Hardcore Punk Rock, to be exact. I was a rebel on the loose and there was no stopping me. After much begging, I had talked my dad into getting me a bass guitar and we were off to the local guitar store. When explaining to the sales person what I was looking for, he quickly turned away the idea of a bass and offered to show me a selection of guitars. Apparently learning to play bass would have been too difficult and that a 6-string guitar would have been easier. Now by the time I hit 13, I was a shy and meek person (not very hardcore, eh?), failed to stick to my guns regarding a bass and I ended up with an acoustic guitar. It was so not what I was looking for. I mean, if I’ll be playing a guitar, let it at least be an electric!

A year went by and I finally received an electric guitar (the exact one shown in the picture – sexy colour, I know.) as a Christmas present. I believe I may have peed myself from the excitement. I was gonna rock out like no other! Now, I admit, the guitar wasn’t quite the one I wanted, but who am I to complain? It was free! Being it was a Christmas present.

As for my dream guitar… I’m not even kidding when I say that just looking at a picture of it makes me tear up and choke. It’s beautiful… gorgeous and so damn SEXXY. It is, the Gibson Les Paul Standard. I have wanted one for YEARS, but they are so darn expensive. If I could throw at least $2,500 around, I would buy one in a heartbeat.

Now, fast forward 10 years later. I am not a Rock Star, although at times I will pretend to be. Career-wise, I am no where close to what I thought I’d be doing. I still daydream about the day I went to the local guitar store and got a 6-string as opposed to a 4-string. I do not regret playing guitar or owning one instead of a bass. I adore my guitars and would grab them in a second in case of a fire. BUT, I still have a part of me that would love to play bass and still wonders what it’d be like to own one.

WELL NOT NO MORE!@#$&!

As mentioned previously, I splurge on myself a couple of times a year. Well yesterday I made the decision to buy a bass guitar! OHMYGOD!! I couldn’t even explain to you folks right now how ecstatic I am. NO WORDS. No words to explain! I was seriously up till the wee hours playing it. I was so turned on by the sound. I also purchased an amp to go with it, ‘cause God only knows that if I played my bass on my guitar amp… BOOM. All in all, I am 100% pleased with my purchase and couldn’t be happier. Seriously. You cannot tell me that this Ibanez bass guitar doesn’t turn you on too.

Straight From the Devil

2006-05-15T15:59:00.002-06:00

If you are easily offended or dislike a dirty potty mouth, stop reading here – otherwise, proceed.

As I’m sure any faithful readers will know, I am a hardcore Edmonton Oiler fan. I do not go bandwagon hopping when my team is failing and I am proud to admit that I cheer for the “Deadmonton” team. I wear the Oiler shirts proudly and will gladly get in anyone’s face when I am confronted for cheering for the opposing team. I do not bite nor do I pull hair – I use fists and feet… with the occasional crotch kick.

I admit, lately I’ve been consumed with the NHL playoffs. I’m finding it difficult to focus on anything else when the evening arrives. But seriously, it’s hard to focus on anything else when my team is kicking so much ass right now. True I may be jinxing things by being so all and mighty about them, but its okay, because regardless I will still believe they are the best.

Last night Edmonton played against the Sharks in San Jose. Because it was Mother’s Day, I watched the game with my family rather than at a pub. I am certain that my parents were glad to get me out of their house after the game, especially with my sister and me drinking the beer and being very annoying and belligerent.

Firstly, I’d like to mention that the Oilers won AGAIN. The series is now 3-2 Edmonton and the next game shall be a good one.

Secondly, I will begin my ranting and raving regarding the Shark fuckers who think that they can boo along to the Canadian anthem.

If you are reading this, and you are one of those Shark fags that booed along? Get the fuck out and stop reading here.

I currently and gathering up enough sarcasm for this, but I am soooooooo sorry that your team sucks dirty, stankin’ fish cunt that you feel the need to boo to the Canadian anthem. My apologies that this Oiler team from up north is kicking your San-fuckin’-Jose ass so badly that you need to make that pathetic sound from your ignorant mouth. Don’t you pricks even realize that your team has CANADIAN players? You idiots. Maybe we’ll take back some of the great Canadian hockey players you have and ship them back to Canada. Cheechoo, Thornton. Gorges, etc. – WE’LL GODDAMN TAKE THEM BACK. Then we’ll see what a fucking lousy team you’ll have left. HAH. No wait… IT’S ALREADY LOUSY. AAAHAHAHA.

Oh, and booing Pronger? Do you folks in San Jose really believe that booing him is going to put a hex on him? Because honestly? It doesn’t seem to be working. Don’t wear yourselves out and just put an end to it. May as well focus on something constructive, like cheering for your team… maybe it’ll help them win a game here and there.

In the meantime, while you learn to cheer for your damn team instead of booing the other team and until you can learn to open up your mouth for something useful rather than be an ignorant-fuck pissing all over the Canadian anthem, work your larynx by sucking on your choice of prostitute’s strap-on.

Sometimes Ignorance Isn't Bliss

2006-05-12T14:38:00.001-06:00

I will typically avoid talking/writing about certain topics for the very reason that it is extremely personal to me and over time I have perfected the art of “keeping it in”. This though, will be the exception because frequently enough I read articles like this one.

I wish, back 6-10 years ago, that they had publicly come out with this report. If I had known what the outcome was of taking this drug, along with a couple others, I would never have taken them in the first place. Back then, I never could understand why taking such a drug made me feel a certain way when it should be “helping” me. It was only until a few months later I was told that I should have been monitored.

After taking the drug for about a year, I realized that all they (the doctors, etc.) were doing was upping the dose and changing me from one drug to the other, or a strange combination of a few. Finally, I said fuck it and took myself off it all.

And you know what? I’ve done fine since then. Why? Cause I fucking rule like that. HAH. Sorry.

I admit, there are good days and bad days (or weeks, whichever) and sure I am not on anything for the anxiety (like hell I’ll go back on that drug shit).

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely not against being on antidepressants. In fact, if it works for you? Rock on, go for it. I just happen to be one of those people that had the opposite affect.

All in all, I hope that doctors, psychiatrists, etc. give patients a fair warning of what may happen. Never in my life would I ever want anyone to feel/act/do what I felt/did when I was on that stuff.

Hmm, which reminds me, I gotta figure out what the hell I’m going to do for life insurance since these fuckers won’t insure me because of my past. Like hell, I’ve been a damn angel now for at least 4 or 5 years! GIVE ME A DAMN BREAK.

k, thnx.

What Was I Thinking?

2006-05-08T10:47:00.001-06:00

This is bad… I need to do some serious refocusing because I’m starting to forget what’s important.

As I went about my daily routine this morning, I had just finished reading DILF’s post on Mason Jenning’s new video.

It then got me thinking… “HMMM,” I pondered, “wasn’t there supposed to be something that I was supposed to remember… or do… or buy…?”

That’s when it hit me.

GEEZUS!@#$%*& DUH. I mean, I had only been waiting for this moment, counting down the days, for only months upon months!

New Live album comes out tomorrow for us folks in the great north we call Canada.

This is a tradition that I have managed for the last 9 years: when the new Live album comes out, purchase it that same day; otherwise, feel the wrath of DOOM and DREAD.

It’s crazy, I know, but I can.not.help.my.self. I adore them tremendously and would go to the extreme just to see them or at least be able to touch Ed’s rod of… – er – Hi.

I’m thinking I need a cold shower.

Anyway. Tomorrow, I know what I’m doing the second I’m off work! Hopefully I will be able to contain myself till then…

You've Been Warned

2006-05-07T15:42:00.002-06:00

I fucking tell ya. There are some massive effin pricks out there and Jason happens to be one.

Here I am, Saturday afternoon, hoping to watch a movie that will lift my spirits.

So I go looking for The Big Lebowski. Hell yeah that movie rocks.

I look. I look some more. High and low. Low and high. Searching all around every nook and cranny.

What do I find?

NOTHING.

That worthless sack of shit fucking took MY fucking Big Lebowski.

Honestly? I am fucking close to trashing the entire fucking place out of pure rage and anger.

Someone is going to get punched in the goddamn face tonight.

Oh, and yes, this is being posted on Sunday because that thing called Blogger decided that it didn't feel like publishing my post yesterday.

Time Controls Us

2006-05-05T15:09:00.001-06:00

Oh my effin… Am I seeing this correctly? The last time I updated was Monday? Geezus…

Things have been fairly hectic lately. I’ve been ploughing away with cleaning my place up, trashing all of Jason’s things that he has left behind and things he has given me. All in all, I threw out 4 large garbage bags full of crap. I managed to move things around so that the place doesn’t look as empty (e.g. moving my guitars and amp to where his desk used to be). Aside from cleaning, work also has been busy. The end of the month is what kills me… that and top it off with all the projects I haven’t been able to focus on, its been quite a mess.

Oh, and we can’t forget how much of my time is taken up by hockey!

Folks, I am so ecstatic to say that my team is moving on to the second round! Rock the fuck on, Edmonton Oilers. I have also managed to make a few new enemies (read: all the Calgary Flames fans at the pub). For those who are keeping up with the hockey games, Calgary LOST in game 7.

AAAAHHHAHAHAAH0AHAH0AHA0AH00HA0.

*insert massive maniacal laughter from Hell*

As mentioned before, I am probably the only person in Alberta that was NOT hoping for a Battle of Alberta. I’m not ashamed to admit that yes! I am still angry and bitter regarding the hockey season prior to the lockout. I’m completely and utterly outnumbered by Flame fans and I was the centre of mockery when my team did not get as far as that lame team they call the Flames.

NOT NO MORE, I TELL YA!

Sunday, May 7, Game 1, Oilers vs. Sharks. I am so there in the blue.

Moving Along

2006-05-01T10:09:00.001-06:00

So tomorrow will be week #3 since the Fuckhead took off and my God what has happened since?! Plenty, I tell ya, plenty. Now, I can’t fit everything into one post but in due time I can gauran-fuckin-tee that I’ll get to it all. Until then, here is the short list.

First off? Why the hell was I not informed that it’s already MAY?! For the love of all that is deep-fried… I am completely spaced by this. I’m freaking out a little because on the 3rd it would have been another month anniversary for Fucktard and me. I need ideas on what I can do to pleasantly occupy myself from blubbering in a corner crumpled into a ball. Need.ideas.

Remember how I mentioned I was a cheapskate? Well, I went on a shopping spree! Clothes, pretty panties, THE WORKS. Sadly, though, it only cheered me up for about a couple days; then the guilt set in and I felt like a loser for spending so much money. Gag.

teehee. Also? Remember my haircut story? teehee. I decided that I needed a change to maybe aid in my shift and went to get a haircut at a hairdresser! Now, you’re thinking, “Good on ya!” No, no… BAD ON ME. This story will top off any of my haircutting stories. That I promise you.

I’d also like to mention that I have consumed more beer in the last 3 weeks than I have in the last TWO YEARS. It’s to the point that my stomach is making funny gurgling noises. If translated correctly, I believe it’s saying, “HELP. She’s attacking the liver with the liquor! LET US OUT OF HERE.”

Now here’s the part that may or may not shock anyone. Yes! I, AJ, have done it again! As mentioned previously, I have always managed to land myself in a relationship almost immediately after a break-up. I haven’t decided yet if I totally rule or if I totally suck for this, but I pulled it off again. I’d like to make it clear, though, that it is NOT a serious relationship. Its only been two dates, plus the initial meeting, but so far things are looking well. I haven’t decided yet if this is what I want but regardless, I’m enjoying the company. Also, I’m fairly lost with this whole “dating-thing” because I don’t quite “date”. The last real date I had was maybe over three years ago.

Lastly, and possibly the one thing that has been the hardest for me, I have slept ON MY OWN (ie. with no friends around to comfort my dreadful soul) for about a week now. It’s not that I am unable to sleep on my own, but because I had grown accustomed to a Fuckface (oh, I’ve got plenty more Fuck-names) sleeping beside me. I still get the terrified tension the second I know I have to start to get ready for bed, but hell; at least I’m doing it on my own. I gotta have some credit for that. The credit that I don’t deserve, though, is the fact that I still need to have a drink before I sleep. Without it, I will constantly wake up in a panic and take forever just to doze off. Fret not, in time I will attempt to do it without the drink.

Oh wait… I just remembered one other item that I have got to mention. EDMONTON-FUCKING-OILERS! Tonight, Game 6, 3-2 Oiler series. If the Oilers nab this one, they will be moving on to the second round. The part that I’m not happy about? The fact that the arch-nemeses, Calgary Flames, is also playing tonight with a 3-2 series. Ugh, yes, I completely realize that I live in Calgary and that I’m cheering for the enemy in the Battle of Alberta, but I was born in raised in Edmonton and my God they are still my team. Keep on rockin’.

Pathetic Love – Part 5 – The Return of Jason #2 (aka J)

2006-04-28T13:49:00.001-06:00

To start off the big finale, here is Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

When Jason #2 suggested that we meet up I had to inquire why. Why in God’s name, after what you’ve done, should I see you? Supposedly he was interested in seeing how things were for me and all that crap.

We met up at a pub/restaurant and immediately my heart skipped a beat. Ever since we had broken up, I had never once stopped loving him or wanting to be with him. Now that I saw him face to face I knew I had a goal. Get him back.

To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult. After he and I talked for a few days we had come to the conclusion that yes, we would like to give it another try. From the get-go we laid out exactly what our expectations, hopes and goals were. No surprises this time.

Just like any fresh and new relationship, things were great. We laughed, smiled, sexed and all in all it was wonderful. Shortly after we started dating, again, I moved out of my parents’ house into my very first apartment. It was a small, one bedroom apartment but I loved it. Living on my own was a huge adjustment; I was fending for myself in a battle of my own wits. Thankfully for me, Jamie lived 3 floors above me and Jason stayed over frequently.

Now I’m sure you’re all just waiting for this and guaranteed you all expected it, but yes, the time came when Jason and I were arguing again. This time was different though… we really tried to make things work. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Who would have thought? So, we dug through the trenches and pulled through every single time.

This next part is my personal favourite… Months later, Jason had finally decided to make another commitment in the relationship and he and I were going to find an apartment together. That’s right folks – together.

And you know what? We found a wonderful apartment together and it was bliss. After years of Pathetic Loves I had found one that I wouldn’t let go of! I can’t even describe the happiness I felt. We were moving in a good direction and I couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next.

Over time, Jason and I had talked seriously about marriage. I’m all, “OHMYGODOHMYGOD.” The man who has had serious commitment issues was actually thinking of committing!

Then one day, at the beginning of April 2006, I suddenly noticed something wasn’t quite right… I felt as if something between Jason and I wasn’t the same anymore. It was as if his mind wasn’t fully there in the relationship and that it was off somewhere else. This exact feeling was the same I felt the first time around when I found out that he hadn’t been as honest/faithful as he should have been. I brought this up to him and he dismissed it as me being paranoid… okay, fair enough, I guess.

On April 7 I brought my worries to him again. The feeling and worry hadn’t left me and I felt it was appropriate to talk about. I mean, that is what you do in a relationship, right? Well, he blew up. Next thing you knew he was angry and brought up a crap load of things that weren’t even related to what we were talking about. At that point, we stopped talking to each other.

On April 10 we finally spoke and discussed how we both felt. I explained my feelings and he explained that we needed to work on our communication. After that, everything was fine between us, almost as if nothing had happened.

The next day, April 11, at 7:30 a.m., he drove me to the chiropractor as per usual. I finished at the chiropractor later than normal and when he suggested us getting breakfast, like we always did after the chiro, I told him that we wouldn’t have time and if he could take me straight to work.

Once we arrived at my work we did our usual good-bye routine. “Love you.” *hug* *kiss* “Love you too.” Because Jason had to work a night shift the evening before he told me that he was tired and that he was going to go home, take a nap and call me when he woke up. This was an average routine with nothing out of the ordinary. So, as I left the car we hugged and kissed again, and told each other ‘I love you.’

I continued on my day, at work, feeling great knowing that we were able to overcome another obstacle.

By 4:00 p.m. I noticed he hadn’t called me yet, which is rather odd because he usually would have woken up by 1:00 p.m. I decided to call home to see how he was doing and there was no answer. I called his cell phone and it was turned off… it is never turned off… Back and forth I continuously dialled the home phone number and his cell phone number. Still nothing.

The second 4:30 p.m. hit, I left work and quickly caught the train to head home.

I could feel myself getting anxious and prayed that I wouldn’t have another anxiety or panic attack. Repeatedly I told myself, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re getting freaked out over nothing.

As I’m writing this… I can tell you honestly that I’m trying to not cry and that my heart is racing a million miles per hour.

I reached the doorway and opened the door.

And all it took was one look.

To notice that things weren’t going to be the same.

His shoes were gone. The queen sized bed we shared was gone. The two end tables, the coffee table, his desk and computers, his clothes, his linen, his dishes, his television… it was all gone.

During the 7.5 hours that I was at work, he had managed to move all of his belongings out of the home we had made together.

All that he had left behind was a note… that he had left and was never coming back, to not even bother looking for him. No further explanation. And there I was, curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, crying my heart out.

Since April 11, he has changed his cell phone number. I have written emails in hopes for an answer and maybe some closure, but I have yet to see anything in my inbox from him.

Since April 11, I have written 5 parts to a Pathetic Love story in hopes that maybe it will work as the closure I need.

Since April 11, my anxiety attacks have increased to at least 6 times a day.

Since April 11, I have spent the majority of time sleeping over at friends’ because I cannot stand the thought of sleeping alone at what I used to call home.

Since April 11, I haven’t been able to fall asleep unless I take my prescription sleeping pills or have a beer before I go to bed.

Since April 11, I have been surrounded by friends that I know would never leave me like that.

Since April 11, I have cried more than I have in, possibly, my whole life.

I know it’s not the end of the world. With each day that passes I hope to become stronger and that soon enough this will pass. With the lease not up yet on the apartment, I will have to find a way to be able to cope with the emptiness that has been left behind.

Until then, I will continue to hope that maybe… just maybe… Part 5 of my Pathetic Love story will be the last time it’ll end in shit.

“…I'll pull myself together
I'll say that I'll forget her, I'll breathe
and I'll say she never hurt me
and look at it as learning
and laugh about the good and the bad
because I will live forever
we don't belong together
I know I'll be the better
one day I will make it through”
~ Silverstein

Edited to Add: By this point, on April 11, we had dated, again, for a year and 5 months. Grand total: 3 years and approximately 2 months.

Important Service Announcement

2006-04-27T11:17:00.001-06:00

We'd like to interrupt the regular scheduled programme for an important service announcement, aka “My Angry Letter to Heineken”.

My Dearest Heineken:

Now, you and I have been friends for nearly 6 years and during these 6 years I've grown to love you dearly. You have been there for me when no one else has and you've comforted me in a way no one else could. But last night, Heine, you crossed the line.

Heineken, I TOLD you last night that I had to work the next morning. I completely realize that you were involved in the night's activities for a good reason, which is fine by me, but you failed to tell me that I had one too many.

Firstly, don't hand me that crap that I didn't tell you I had to work in the morning. Seriously. I must have said it at least 6 times throughout the night "Nooo! I can't get drunk! I've got to be all responsible and stuff, and get to work sober!", so you damn well knew about it. So what the hell is stuck up your ass? I thought we had an understanding: I drink you; you tell me when I'm buzzing; I stop drinking you before I am drunk. Last night though? NOTHING LIKE THAT. You see? You made me use the Caps Lock. Heine, when I left the pub I felt sooo fine. Not even buzzed. But the second I walked through my doorway at home? BAM! You struck me like a freight train. Honestly, it hurt.

Secondly, before I leave the pub, you're supposed to give my bladder a head's up that it's full and it needs to be released. Because you failed to do so and I couldn't hold it in any longer (well, that and there wasn't a single place opened at that time), I had to mark my territory in another area of Calgary. Downtown. In an alley. Between two dumpsters. Only to realize there was someone on their balcony beside the way. I can't even muster up enough sarcasm to tell you how classy I felt.

In conclusion, I am very angry with you right now. I'm just not feeling up to par because of your behaviour last night. I will forgive you in due time... possibly this Friday. Wanna hook up then?

Yours truly,

AJ
(aka "My head hurts, my gut hurts and I can't tell if I have to pee or not")

Pathetic Love – Chad – Part 4

2006-04-26T09:49:00.001-06:00

And again, here is Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.

After Jason had ended the relationship I had a fairly negative outlook on that thing you call love, but I wasn’t about ready to give up on it.

A couple of weeks later I had met a guy named Chad. He was incredibly fun to be around and he definitely brought out the fun, adventurous side of me that I never knew I had. He then had asked me out and I went for it.

We had so much fun together, from almost getting run over by a guy in a wheelchair to finding billboard signs and stealing letters from them. We were very happy together.

Shortly after we started dating he got accepted to a school in another city. I was fairly upset with this because I didn’t know what to do in a long distance relationship. So when the time came for him to go we promised each other that we would always call, correspond through MSN messenger and make trips to visit each other.

This was working out well but his stay over in the other city wasn’t very long. He ended back in Calgary and continued to try to get into a school here.

Then on New Year’s Eve, something happened that to this day I still don’t know what it is. Things were different between us and we weren’t as happy as we once were.

As time went on, things were becoming more difficult.

Then it went from good, to difficult, to worse. I had found out that he had been cheating on me since day one. Literally. Pretty sad, I know. I must have cried for days and weeks. At that point I didn’t know what to think or do. In fact, just writing this out brings back horrid memories of a time that I would rather forget.

I was in love again and betrayed again.

We had tried for a few months to make things work: trying to talk things out ourselves and even seeing a relationship counselor. For some reason, he couldn’t stop lying to me… it didn’t matter what the lie was – it would start off small and then he managed to turn it into something so huge that you couldn’t even believe what he was saying.

Things ended badly between us and I was left confused, angry and sad – again.

Sometime during the last couple of weeks that Chad and I were together I received an email from Jason #2 (aka J). Shocking I know!! You’re all probably choking as you’re reading this. I figured, what’s the harm in meeting up with him? There were no hidden agenda’s… it was just to meet up for the first time in a year and six months and see how each other was doing.

…Yeah… I totally went for it… We met up and that meeting will lead up to the final episode of Pathetic Love Part 5 – The Return of Jason #2 (aka J).