Bruise Pictures

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?

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.

Revolving Stage Takes All, Eeediot.

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

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.

Screw Stella. How AJ Got Her Groove Back.

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.

Fork in the Road

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.

Happy Canada Day, eh!

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…)

Proper Punctuation Does Not Exist Here

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.

Beyond Pointless

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.

Moving Along

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’.

Update

Guess what? I think I’m ready to go! I’m thinking that later today or tomorrow I will be continuing with my Pathetic Love stories.

A lot (and at the same time not a lot) has happened and I tell ya, I’ve got stories ready to come out my ass like diarrhea! HAH! Please note that I do apologize for that poor analogy.

Honestly, these last couple of weeks would have been really difficult to get by, but I am damn lucky that I’ve got the best friends around (although I’m sure everyone would say that they have the best friends around).

Okay, it’s not just the best friends that helped me to get by… it’s also the going out to party it up as if it were 1999 that helped too. C’mon you can’t tell me that between 10 people, 105+ shots and all the beer you can handle isn’t going to help!

(Side Note: Yes. It was painful waking up the next morning)

Gifts and Bags of Surprises

Oh, gasp. What’s the date?! Crap, I almost forgot to breathe. Two of my best friends’ birthdays are coming up reaaaaally soon. There is Derek’s birthday on the 13th of April and Jamie’s on the 20th. So far, I have zero ideas of what to get Derek and I need to come up with something fast. Pronto. Immediately. NOW. Last year I had no problem finding him something. Seeing as how he is addicted to The Simpson’s, I got him a Simpson’s shot glass set.

(yikes. The more I say/write Simpson’s, the stranger it sounds/looks.)

Now, for Jamie’s birthday present, that ought to be a piece of cake. He and I have already discussed ideas of what I could get him. Currently, I’m leaning towards my idea of crapping in a paper bag, putting air fresheners in the bag (to, you know, cover the smell of roses) and then handing the present to him. In all honesty, I believe he body checked me onto the floor and said something along the lines of, “fuck you hippy.”

Yes, I know, we are seriously weird that way.

With Derek’s birthday coming up within the next couple of days, I was looking through some photos I took last year during his big night out.

Derek, he's all, "Yeah, look at me, still rockin' it out. Bring me the beer."

Jarret and Derek

After a good night of great beer drinking, we all managed to walk out without vomitting all over. Let's hope that we can do the same this year.

Like No Other

I have an enjoyable group of friends that I love dearly, but one in particular stands out above the rest. That friend would be Jamie.

On Saturday, he and I hung out and as always it was a blast (I seriously think it's impossible for us to have a boring time together). We have always managed to make the best out of every situation. We've been drunk downtown and rampaged through the streets; he's dealt with having me pass out drunk on his bathroom floor for three hours while he waited outside holding his piss; we've passed five hours of time just playing guitar and singing. He can get me to do nearly anything by telling me that I'm his best friend and that he’ll loooove me forever (like a damn road trip to his old shit-town in pouring rain listening to some rockin' CCR all the way there and back).

What a friend. Here I am passed out and all he can do is photograph me. (Click the photo for a great description of what happened)

He's the only person I know of that I can be my typical, bitchy self without worrying what the other person may think. I certainly can't tell anyone else that they are pissing the fuck out of me and I want to push them off the edge, and he's the only person that can punch a pillow and tell me that he was imagining the pillow was my face.

Back in the day, when I lived on my own, Jamie and I lived in the same apartment building. There is nothing more fun than having your best friend a few floors above you (not to mention all the skateboarding we got done at 11 p.m. at night and the three liquor stores all within walking distance).

The best was making pasta from scratch... which only took us over an hour to figure out.

I have known Jamie for six years and during that time we have survived all the ups and downs that a messed up guy-girl friendship would have. He has learned ALL of my deepest and darkest secrets. We’ve managed to talk to each other about everything – even our first relationships and going through puberty.

When I was going through a rough time with breast infection/cyst, he was there to cheer me up and tell me that I looked HOT with one massive boob (okay, he, too, laughed a little at my situation). When we were going through tough relationship break-ups, we've supported each other and told each other that the ex-significant other was a twat. When either one of us needed a date for a wedding or a party situation, we'd go along and pretend like we were an item. Hell, we even have a marriage pact.

Some guy holding a beer up to Jamie's ass.

Yeah. These are the kind of pictures I take after a bit of drinking... Keep in mind, this picture was taking years ago.

One of my biggest fears is that Jamie won't be around forever. In the last couple of years, he has been travelling to Vietnam and now he's thinking about leaving again for a much MUCH longer time. Every time that he has left, I tried to get him to stay by telling him that he'd be leaving illegally (because, you know, he didn't sign the Official Papers of Leaveance - shhh... I know it's something I made-up in my mind). I must figure out another excuse for him to stay behind (goddamn he's too smart - he figured out my Official Papers of Leaveance is fake!)... otherwise who else would tell me to "fuck off"?