I love those days when you do absolutely nothing, yet feel like you accomplished so much. Today was one of those days for me. There was a showing on the house today, so I had to be up earlier than I would have liked. And when I say I "had to be up", I really mean I didn't want strangers creeping around while I enjoyed what I deemed to be the most comfortable sleep of my life. I deem every sleep that I'm forced to awake from the "most comfortable sleep of my life". It's just the way my sleeps work. I walked into the kitchen and saw the non-perishable bags of Trader Joe's groceries that I left there from the night before since I was in the biggest rush last night to drop off my purchases, change into stretchy pants, and flee to watch one of my all-time favorite movies at one of my all-time favorite people's house. As I begin putting away my groceries I come up with the fabulous idea to organize the freezer...
I take everything out and put it on the counter. Why isn't anything frozen solid? Oh, that's because the freezer was so JAM-PACKED with food that nothing was ventilated and therefore nothing was able to freeze. NO BIG DEAL. Partially defrosted chicken is the best anyway. When did I buy a 4L tub of ice cream? Oh, that was when I MOVED IN. Gross. And chicken wings? I haven't made chicken wings in, well, almost a year. Gross. What are these green cubes in zip-loc bags? Oh right, my failed attempt at cilantro pesto. Gross. Needless to say, after I was finished with the thing it was clean, organized, and ventilated. My 14 individually packed bags of edamame beans are now easily accessible, I discovered I have enough frozen fruit to feed a small country, and I found a hidden pack of BACON! That was the BEST surprise.
After hunks of ice have fallen onto the kitchen floor and melted everywhere, I decided to mop the floor. Not just the kitchen floor, but the entire household's floors. And I did it wrong. I cornered myself so I had NO access to my bagel and was unable to get my Lipstick Jungle DVD's from my bedroom. So there might be footprints across the living room, but they're clean. As I'm mopping the bathroom floor I decide to clean the toilet. Again. I discovered the coolest toilet cleaner ever. It's foamy, it sprays on purple and turns white when it's clean, and it smells amazing [for toilet cleaner]. I'm now obsessed with cleaning the toilet. Is it weird I wish it got dirty more frequently? Or maybe it's more sane to wish I could use this cleaner for other things. Like everything.
So now my freezer is clean and organized, my bathroom's clean, and my floors are clean, and now dry, so I have access to my bagel. That I ate with pumpkin cream cheese. Best decision.
That was the productive part of my day. The next few hours consisted of lounging on the couch, eating frozen Hostess cupcakes, and watching countless episodes of Lipstick Jungle. The only thing better than eight dollar box sets is five dollar box sets.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
When one door closes, another one opens.
How exactly is it September already? How come we didn’t get a summer this year? How is it that I only got to wear my summer wardrobe (and by ‘summer wardrobe’ I mean my one pair of jean shorts and one slash two of the 1000 tank tops I own) approximately four times, but had to wear a hoody every other day of the past three months? And how is it that I’m NOT returning to school this week?! THAT is the weirdest of them all.
For the past, oh I don’t know, 23 years, I’ve spent the last week of August/first few days of September preparing for a school year of some sort. From back-to-school clothes shopping to school supplies shopping (is it weird I enjoyed this more than back-to-school clothes shopping?) to getting back in the habit of going to bed at a normal time so I could get up at 7:55 am every morning (in the past few years 7:55 am has become sleeping in for me. It could be aging, but it’s probably more due to the fact that my job requires me to begin at 4 am…so I’m up at 3:15 am…and I enjoy this?). Now, this year, I’ve spent the last week of August/first few days of September living a normal, adult life consisting of working eight hours a day, five days a week. Not buying my textbooks, not putting lined paper in empty binders, not packing my school bag 10 days in advance, and not planning the first six outfits of the school year. It’s completely foreign to me.
I’ve always told people “I can’t wait to be finished school”. I think that was a lie. I miss it.
Remember all the plans I had for this summer? A new car, trips to see K, abundant amounts of time spent with BFF drinking pepperoni caesars…well a few variations of that list actually did happen. I got a new rear window on my car, I saw K when she came to Vancouver, and I spent a good chunk of time with BFF until my bank account retaliated and no longer wanted me to consume anymore pepperoni caesars. That’s fine. I got my revenge by frequenting Trader Joe’s multiple times a week. I went from getting substantial amounts of groceries every time I went, to not being able to find anything to get because I went so often. It was a sign to bring it down a notch.
Now I’m going to force myself to be ready to move forward and get excited for fall. It does mean that I get to wear boots and scarves and sweaters (except I’ve actually been wearing sweaters all “summer”, so that one doesn’t really count). I get to sleep in pajamas with all my blankets wrapped around me like a cocoon. I get to go for brisk walks with a hot drink as opposed to sweating after four steps on my way to get a cold drink.
This fall, however, will be missing somebody along with missing school. OverSharer is taking off to Greece for three months. She claims it’s for educational purposes, I claim it’s to eat food and sit in the sun. WHY ELSE WOULD SHE NEED SUNSCREEN? Over the past few months her and I have become close. We bonded over work gossip, her oversharing stories, food, and, well, more food. Everything to do with food. Buying it, cooking it, eating it, ordering it, looking at it, smelling it, everything. There isn’t anybody else that understands my food obsession passion like her. She gets it when I describe my dinner and get more excited than me a five year old at Christmas. She gets it when I’ve created a new snack and I squeal like a five year old at DisneyLand. But most importantly, she gets it when I convince her to try it and she gets as excited and squealy as me. True.Friendship.
Work will be less interesting without her stories. I’ll just say "it describes my symptoms ONE HUNDRED PERCENT, I totes have it", and leave it at that. Except I’ll also add "looks the same going in as coming out", and know that she won’t care because I was the one that wanted to witness it. I don’t anymore.
So now she’s gone, but she has an international text messaging plan, THANK THE STARS ABOVE, so she won’t be completely out of the loop. She's really not missing much by not being here anyway. Well, she is missing out on having the privilege of knowing my newfound kindred spirit. You know when you meet someone and you just know you two will be friends and get along like peas and carrots? Like steak and potatoes? Like milk and cereal? (I think you get it.) Well that was our first encounter. I loved him from the start. (He might be scared.) And you know how I'm obsessed with basically everything I like? Well let's just say people are included.
But don't worry, I've already told him I'm not obsessed in an I'm-going-to-stalk-and-kill-you kind of way. Just in an I'm-going-to-stalk-you kind of way. And he's okay with it. At least he better be. Kindred spirits are always okay with each other's decisions.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Fixing a heart problem requires drinking more water.
I went back and forth about whether or not sharing a certain story was too up close and personal for this blog. I’ve decided to do it.
A few weeks ago I went to the doctor because I was experiencing some freaky dizziness that wasn’t okay. I obviously self-diagnosed myself and decided I had an inner ear problem that was causing this dizziness. I told people I had vertigo because when you Google the symptoms of a condition and you have two of those eight symptoms, you clearly have that condition (*you don’t have narcolepsy, OverSharer). It turns out my doctor thought it was a heart problem, not an inner ear problem. Umm, ok…
He wanted me to wear a holter monitor for 24 hours. For those of you who don’t know what a holter monitor is, Google an image of one. When your laughter subsides, continue reading. But people get holter monitors put on all.the.time, so I was like whatevs. However, Doc wanted me to wear it while I was working and drinking “excessive amounts of coffee”. I didn’t necessarily want my customers to think I was dying by having this contraption hooked up to me, and dying they would think since the sticky pads were the size of my hand and the top one was stuck to my chest, way above where my shirt was. Very, clearly visible. So I turtlenecked it to hide them and worked my shift, drinking “excessive amounts of coffee”. I also kept a “log” of activity and symptoms during this time. Go to washroom…no symptoms. Sitting down…dizzy. Lifting multiple milk jugs…mild dizziness. Sleeping…unsure?
I took the term excessive seriously. A beyond normal excessive amount of coffee was drunk, and I still, today, can’t have iced coffee. And iced coffee was my FAVORITE. I worked it out and over the course of the 24 hours I drank the equivalent of probably about 14 cups of coffee. Maybe that’s normal for others, but for me that’s ex.ces.sive.
Two weeks later Doc calls me and wants me to make an appointment. Well, I’ve worked in a doctor’s office, and I know they only call when it’s bad news bears. Great. Doc’s exact words at the appointment:
“Well, it’s not good.”
Alright…
“I want to do further testing.”
Okay…
“A 24-hour urine test.”
HAHAHA! Of COURSE he wants another 24-hour test. And of COURSE it has to involve urine. For those of you who don’t know what this test entails, well, let’s just say I pee into a jug over a 24-hour period. That’s classy. I’m classy.
Doc tells me he wants to rule out *insert big, giant medical word here*. Then tells me to Google it to read up on it. Well a) if you’re ruling it out, why do I need to know about it? Shouldn’t I read up on it if it’s something I actually have? And b) why are you telling me to Google it?! He, of all people, should know what a neurotic hypochondriac I am! So, of course, I Google it. Doctor’s orders.
“A rare adrenal gland tumor”.
Perfect. *calls Momma in tears*
Momma’s advice: drink more water.
What?
My interpretation of this advice through hysterics: drink multiple cups of water throughout the next three days.
I am now beginning to despise water. Unfortunate, since we used to be very close friends, water and I.
Upon further conversing, Momma is convinced it really is a heart problem (not my self-diagnosed burst eardrum that has been causing my dizziness and will inevitably cause permanent deafness), and that I’m fine. Last time I checked a heart was pretty important, but I trust everything most things she says, so I guess I’m fine?*
So I’ll keep y’all posted on my little situation. But let’s all be honest here; nothing ever just comes easy to me, so this little situation will be resolved a long time from now. I’ve already prepared myself for this. In the meantime, if you see someone carrying a jug around that’s partially filled with a liquid, that’s me. And it’s not apple juice.
*I know I actually probably am fine. But only my 24-hour urine test will tell.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Would I be more devastated if my car was stolen or my tanning lotion?
As I was getting ready today I thought about this blog. I thought about how I've continued to neglect it, despite my promises to do so no longer. I thought about how tonight I was going to have access to internet and probably not have much to do*, so I should make an attempt to visit this blog. Then I thought about what I would post about. While all this thinking was happening, I didn't mean for it to be a reason for something so unexpected, annoying, expensive, yet completely "blog-worthy" to happen. But just wait a second...this is MY life we're talking about. What happened is the reason I started this blog in the first place. A log, if you will, of events that make me raise my eyebrows, sigh, laugh it off, and move forward.
Maybe my car isn't meant to contain any glass? Maybe there should be shatterproof glass that cars are made with? And if there already is, maybe I should have been notified of this and ensured that all the glass that my car is comprised of has it. Or, maybe people should raise their children to not be so irresponsible and inconsiderate so they don't think that chucking things off an overpass bridge onto the cars below, causing shattered windows, is the best thing they could come up with to do on a Saturday afternoon.
I was confused as to how something could hit my rear window while I was driving on the highway. Perhaps something flew over my car, and landed on it, causing it to shatter, crackle, and eventually cave in, leaving shards of glass all over the backseat? No, no, apparently standing on an overpass and throwing heavy objects down onto the cars below is actually something that people do. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?! Why is this okay? And why are these people getting away with this? No, I didn't call the police. Until I actually got to my destination I didn't think this is what happened, because I didn't think people did this. I'm way too trusting of people. My sister's neighbor tells me he used to do this when he was younger. Thanks for sharing? It made me feel better, that's for sure.
I back my car into one of the parking stalls so the gaping hole in my window is facing a fence with bushes, and not the street where it would be an invitation to take whatever you want out of the car. I put my club on the steering wheel, JUST IN CASE, gather everything of value (read: my iPod, insurance papers, and tanning lotion), and take it with me into the house. And then I wonder what exactly I'm going to do for the next 48 hours.
I now have a car that I feel I shouldn't drive anywhere, only because I don't feel like shielding my face from the chunks of glass that would be flying everywhere while the car's moving. I'm not anywhere near home. There aren't any glass repair shops open on the weekends (I guess these things only happen Monday-Friday, 9 am-5 pm). And I work at 5 am on Monday morning. Umm, ok...ohhhhh, I see, this is one of those tests where I need to think outside the box...well, this happened six hours ago and I still don't really have any ideas.
When it happened I raised my eyebrows. Then I saw the damage and sighed because I shouldn't be surprised. Then I shut my car door, more glass fell in, and I laughed because I remembered who I am. Then I thought about the so-much-worse things that are surely happening to other people and moved forward. This sucks, and it's the most inconvenient thing that could happen, but it could have been so much worse. And so much worse things are happening right now to other people, so I'm not really justified in crying over my spilled milk. However, if you see me hitchiking (I'll be the one with...nothing. I don't even carry a purse anymore), please have mercy. Don't throw rocks at me with expectations of me shattering like my window. Maybe give me a ride? I'm not bad luck, I promise.
Silver lining of this? At least it's not raining.
*This is slightly laughable, since tonight I'm babysitting my two year old nephew.
Maybe my car isn't meant to contain any glass? Maybe there should be shatterproof glass that cars are made with? And if there already is, maybe I should have been notified of this and ensured that all the glass that my car is comprised of has it. Or, maybe people should raise their children to not be so irresponsible and inconsiderate so they don't think that chucking things off an overpass bridge onto the cars below, causing shattered windows, is the best thing they could come up with to do on a Saturday afternoon.
I was confused as to how something could hit my rear window while I was driving on the highway. Perhaps something flew over my car, and landed on it, causing it to shatter, crackle, and eventually cave in, leaving shards of glass all over the backseat? No, no, apparently standing on an overpass and throwing heavy objects down onto the cars below is actually something that people do. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?! Why is this okay? And why are these people getting away with this? No, I didn't call the police. Until I actually got to my destination I didn't think this is what happened, because I didn't think people did this. I'm way too trusting of people. My sister's neighbor tells me he used to do this when he was younger. Thanks for sharing? It made me feel better, that's for sure.
I back my car into one of the parking stalls so the gaping hole in my window is facing a fence with bushes, and not the street where it would be an invitation to take whatever you want out of the car. I put my club on the steering wheel, JUST IN CASE, gather everything of value (read: my iPod, insurance papers, and tanning lotion), and take it with me into the house. And then I wonder what exactly I'm going to do for the next 48 hours.
I now have a car that I feel I shouldn't drive anywhere, only because I don't feel like shielding my face from the chunks of glass that would be flying everywhere while the car's moving. I'm not anywhere near home. There aren't any glass repair shops open on the weekends (I guess these things only happen Monday-Friday, 9 am-5 pm). And I work at 5 am on Monday morning. Umm, ok...ohhhhh, I see, this is one of those tests where I need to think outside the box...well, this happened six hours ago and I still don't really have any ideas.
When it happened I raised my eyebrows. Then I saw the damage and sighed because I shouldn't be surprised. Then I shut my car door, more glass fell in, and I laughed because I remembered who I am. Then I thought about the so-much-worse things that are surely happening to other people and moved forward. This sucks, and it's the most inconvenient thing that could happen, but it could have been so much worse. And so much worse things are happening right now to other people, so I'm not really justified in crying over my spilled milk. However, if you see me hitchiking (I'll be the one with...nothing. I don't even carry a purse anymore), please have mercy. Don't throw rocks at me with expectations of me shattering like my window. Maybe give me a ride? I'm not bad luck, I promise.
Silver lining of this? At least it's not raining.
*This is slightly laughable, since tonight I'm babysitting my two year old nephew.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Eight dollar boxsets are the best way to pass time.
Am I really SO busy that I haven't had time to write a post in over a month? I didn't think so. In fact, looking back, I haven't done anything particularly time-consuming. I want the time back. Oh wait. I've become obsessed with Degrassi Junior High slash High. We probably all know by now that when I decide to do something I go full force. So when I see seasons 1-3 of DJH (ya, I'm cool like that, acronyming [a new word for y'all] the name of the show AND school) for $8 each I buy them, of course. Then I watch them, non-stop, in every spare second of time I have. I track down someone who owns seasons 4 & 5, with the MOVIE included (uhh yes, there IS a movie), and continue to watch it. This is probably partially because I'm completely obsessed with Wheels (the guy I would TOTALLY have the biggest crush on if I were attending DJH) and must watch him as much as possible (I've almost managed to move past the fact that his jeans leave absolutely nothing to the imagination and that he sports a mullet ponytail once he enters high school in season 4), and partially because I cannot walk into Wal-Mart and leave empty-handed. Instead I leave with multiple DVD boxsets. Every. Time. So now I have a billion shows to watch, and it gives me an anxiety attack to think that I could ever begin to watch anything while in the middle of watching something else. Alas, I finish Degrassi, and move on from there.
Except there's that movie. The movie that people are afraid for me to watch because everyone I speak to knows of my current love for Wheels and something must happen involving him in the movie because everyone avoids talking about the movie around me. The movie that may make it so I can't actually watch anything else ever because I'll feel as though it were real-life events, and that I was involved somehow. Always full force, people. How come I've never seen this movie? It might have something to do with the fact that I was 8 years old when it aired on TV, so I may not have understood these wildly outrageous, taboo topics the show deals with. Or it's because I was too busy playing with my 'Precious Places' dollhouses. Does anyone remember those? Because everyone I ask never does. I'm beginning to think that I've made these up my entire life.
Anywho, it's this crazy Degrassi show that has taken up my time. Blame that. I won't mention that as I spent 8 hours making my nephew's birthday cake this weekend I secretly wished I was watching Degrassi instead. Or that I contemplated how I could rearrange the furniture so:
A) I could see the TV from the kitchen, and
B) Roomie wouldn't notice.
Or that I revolved my errands, schoolwork, need for groceries, etc around watching it. Priorities, people. Did I live on IGA deli convenience food and iced coffee for the past however long? Maybe. Does my bank account hate me because I ordered pizza to rush home and eat while watching it because that's what they eat on the show? Maybe. Do I obsessively IMDB and Google random facts about the show and it's characters while I watch it so I can know EVERYTHING there is to know about everything to do with the show? Maybe. Am I completely giving away how cool I am by sharing such secrets? Absolutely. No judging allowed here, friends. Even though you will anyway.
Sidenote: Does anybody want to come with me to Toronto to see Degrassi landmarks? The only requirements are that you patiently deal with my squeals of excitement and hyperventilating when I see the school or the Shoppers Drug Mart from select scenes.
I think the best part of the show...umm, ok, one of the best parts of the show since there's too many to list...is that it's Canadian. So when Michelle's parents split up and her mom moves to Calgary, that's cool. Or when Istalk find out that Yick currently lives in Vancouver, that's cool. I wish it was Wheels that lived in Vancouver, but whatever. Or how about when Wheels gets a postcard in one episode and they leave the address visible and I look it up to see if they use real addresses in the [fictional] show. It turns out they do. Not like 1882 Girard Street in Full House. That's not real. And I KNOW the house Wheels lives in in the show is not his real, current address. D'uh. But when I go to Toronto for my Degrassi landmark hunt I will probably want to take a stroll by that particular address. Only probably. If I have time.
And now that I've made you all think that I'm psychotic beyond just being obsessed, I should probably mention that I'm not. Not psychotic, that is. Obsessed, yes. But we all know my obsessions are never forever. I'll find something new to obsess about soon enough. Then you'll all hear about it for an undetermined amount of time. I hope next time it's something more people can relate to. Degrassi was watched by approximately 13 people, so it's hard to find someone who understands. Kind of like 'Precious Places'.
That reminds me, for all of you people who adore being nostalgic like me, go to www.memoryglands.com. Neither Degrassi OR 'Precious Places' is on the site, BUT it's filled with hundreds of other fun stuff from the 90's. It makes me want to be little again. And feel kind of like I did when I saw sparkle cherry laffy taffy at a gas station yesterday. But I was only allowed to choose one thing, so it was kind of like I was little again. Except I chose a Wunderbar instead.
Except there's that movie. The movie that people are afraid for me to watch because everyone I speak to knows of my current love for Wheels and something must happen involving him in the movie because everyone avoids talking about the movie around me. The movie that may make it so I can't actually watch anything else ever because I'll feel as though it were real-life events, and that I was involved somehow. Always full force, people. How come I've never seen this movie? It might have something to do with the fact that I was 8 years old when it aired on TV, so I may not have understood these wildly outrageous, taboo topics the show deals with. Or it's because I was too busy playing with my 'Precious Places' dollhouses. Does anyone remember those? Because everyone I ask never does. I'm beginning to think that I've made these up my entire life.
Anywho, it's this crazy Degrassi show that has taken up my time. Blame that. I won't mention that as I spent 8 hours making my nephew's birthday cake this weekend I secretly wished I was watching Degrassi instead. Or that I contemplated how I could rearrange the furniture so:
A) I could see the TV from the kitchen, and
B) Roomie wouldn't notice.
Or that I revolved my errands, schoolwork, need for groceries, etc around watching it. Priorities, people. Did I live on IGA deli convenience food and iced coffee for the past however long? Maybe. Does my bank account hate me because I ordered pizza to rush home and eat while watching it because that's what they eat on the show? Maybe. Do I obsessively IMDB and Google random facts about the show and it's characters while I watch it so I can know EVERYTHING there is to know about everything to do with the show? Maybe. Am I completely giving away how cool I am by sharing such secrets? Absolutely. No judging allowed here, friends. Even though you will anyway.
Sidenote: Does anybody want to come with me to Toronto to see Degrassi landmarks? The only requirements are that you patiently deal with my squeals of excitement and hyperventilating when I see the school or the Shoppers Drug Mart from select scenes.
I think the best part of the show...umm, ok, one of the best parts of the show since there's too many to list...is that it's Canadian. So when Michelle's parents split up and her mom moves to Calgary, that's cool. Or when I
And now that I've made you all think that I'm psychotic beyond just being obsessed, I should probably mention that I'm not. Not psychotic, that is. Obsessed, yes. But we all know my obsessions are never forever. I'll find something new to obsess about soon enough. Then you'll all hear about it for an undetermined amount of time. I hope next time it's something more people can relate to. Degrassi was watched by approximately 13 people, so it's hard to find someone who understands. Kind of like 'Precious Places'.
That reminds me, for all of you people who adore being nostalgic like me, go to www.memoryglands.com. Neither Degrassi OR 'Precious Places' is on the site, BUT it's filled with hundreds of other fun stuff from the 90's. It makes me want to be little again. And feel kind of like I did when I saw sparkle cherry laffy taffy at a gas station yesterday. But I was only allowed to choose one thing, so it was kind of like I was little again. Except I chose a Wunderbar instead.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
A diary entry without the hand cramps.
I wonder why it is that every time I go to write a post on this [recently] neglected blog my mind draws a blank. The most annoying part of it is that I have tons to write about. TONS. But I don't want this to be a journal for all to see.
Dear diary...
Because really, I don't actually think any of you really care THAT much about the everyday going on's in my life. Ok, 98% of my readers actually already know the everyday going on's in my life, so they would be bored reading my blog. And I'm not about boredom. Except for today when it's the nicest day we've seen in 17 years, I don't work, and I can't think of anything to do. So I'm doing what Isecretly love the most: hanging out at Starbucks, drinking iced coffee, and talking to the people I love the most in the world while they slave away behind the counter and I become the demanding paying customer who steals internet. Except this time I'm sitting on the patio, enjoying the sunshine. In the shade, of course. My body would go into shock if I sat in the sun since it was just two days ago that roomie had the heat on in the house, and I was wearing jeans and a hoody because it was so cold out. I don't understand...
Ok, so update time? Maybe? Ok...
I got my windshield fixed. I was beyond impressed. Not only is my windshield brand, spankin', shiny new, but the place I went to gave me a rental car while they fixed it so I didn't have to hang out at an autobody shop for three hours (as much as I wanted to), they cleaned the outside of my car (no more caked on whipped cream streaks - thanks, MojitoMate (<-- do you like this name? We can work on it if not.)), they cleaned the inside and neatly piled up the stuff they found scattered throughout (ie: socks, a screwdriver, two pillows, a serving tray, a box of cereal, and approximately 46 tampons - but those were piled neatly on the passenger seat...and where were all of those when I was frantically looking for one? ANYWAY...), and they even shampooed the interior! Now I drive a good four meters away from any vehicle because I'm scared a rock is going to come flying at me and crack my pretty windshield. Feel free to pass me, I won't be offended. Just wave as you do, so I feel loved.
You know how I might be obsessed with bacon? Well I've started incorporating it into everything I make. And by everything I mean, well, everything. I began with bacon chocolate chip cookies. It was risky and adventurous and pretty much a hit.
Ego is boosted.
Feel like I can do something crazier.
Caramel and bacon would be superb together.
Caramel bacon bars it is.
I've made two batches in less than a week. However, I'm happy and proud to say that I did not eat both batches all to myself. I shared. I hope all of you that ate some ignored my glares as I painfully watched you consume the bacon that would normally all be eaten by me, without sharing. I'm a giver. Sometimes. I kept getting told they were delicious. I'll assume those weren't pity compliments. And it's your own fault for pity complimenting me, if that was the case, when more bars were shoved down your throat because I thought that's what you wanted. DON'T LIE TO ME NEXT TIME.
Side note: why is my Starbucks out of classic syrup? I've decided coconut is not a substitute for classic in my iced coffee. It might be worth the dollar to go next door and get iced coffee from McDonalds. It was there that my love for it was discovered. I'll let you know what happens in this suspenseful saga of my life, don't worry.
Let's rewind just over a year ago to when the Olympics were in Vancouver. I was an Olympic bandwagon jumper. I hated that they were here. I thought it was inconvenient and a hassle for anybody that lived on the "other side" of the bridge, aka me. Traffic was crazy. People were crazy. The entire world was here. There wasn't enough room. Vancouver made a fool of themselves by not having all the construction, etc. done that they planned for when the Olympics were to be here. But, K was coming into town, and I might have missed her a little bit, so downtown I went. And it was amazing. The atmosphere was insane. I was proud to be from Vancouver (Vancouver, Chilliwack, Abbotsford, it's all the same. At that particular time I don't actually think I really had a home, but that's another story for another day.).
So this whole Canucks thing feels a little bit the same. I legitimately feel excited that they've made it this far in the finals. And seeing everyone so excited makes me pretty excited. But the excitement here in the Valley is nothing compared to that in the city. So I decided I wanted to experience the excitement of at least ONE of the final games in Vancouver. Hi, BFF. Next weekend I will be sporting my Canucks tee, cheering them on in front of some sort of big screen on some street that is closed off for all of us fans (bandwagon jumpers or not), and experiencing the excitement. All I have to say to you Canucks is please win. It will be game 5. Ideally, you should make it so it's 3-1 game win by then, and then win game 5, so you win the cup. I would like to be in Vancouver for that. I get goosebumps thinking about it. I hate that I have emotion invested in this. That's not who I am.
Now I'm going to spend the rest of my afternoon stealing songs with my stolen internet. Maybe Facebook-stalk a little bit. Maybe peruse Craigslist for things I don't need and then contemplate how I could fit a bookshelf in my car. Maybe take an afternoon snooze in the sun because I woke up this morning in my clothes from yesterday (oops), so we can all guess how my sleep last night was. Stop judging, at least I woke up wearing clothes.
Dear diary...
Because really, I don't actually think any of you really care THAT much about the everyday going on's in my life. Ok, 98% of my readers actually already know the everyday going on's in my life, so they would be bored reading my blog. And I'm not about boredom. Except for today when it's the nicest day we've seen in 17 years, I don't work, and I can't think of anything to do. So I'm doing what I
Ok, so update time? Maybe? Ok...
I got my windshield fixed. I was beyond impressed. Not only is my windshield brand, spankin', shiny new, but the place I went to gave me a rental car while they fixed it so I didn't have to hang out at an autobody shop for three hours (as much as I wanted to), they cleaned the outside of my car (no more caked on whipped cream streaks - thanks, MojitoMate (<-- do you like this name? We can work on it if not.)), they cleaned the inside and neatly piled up the stuff they found scattered throughout (ie: socks, a screwdriver, two pillows, a serving tray, a box of cereal, and approximately 46 tampons - but those were piled neatly on the passenger seat...and where were all of those when I was frantically looking for one? ANYWAY...), and they even shampooed the interior! Now I drive a good four meters away from any vehicle because I'm scared a rock is going to come flying at me and crack my pretty windshield. Feel free to pass me, I won't be offended. Just wave as you do, so I feel loved.
You know how I might be obsessed with bacon? Well I've started incorporating it into everything I make. And by everything I mean, well, everything. I began with bacon chocolate chip cookies. It was risky and adventurous and pretty much a hit.
Ego is boosted.
Feel like I can do something crazier.
Caramel and bacon would be superb together.
Caramel bacon bars it is.
I've made two batches in less than a week. However, I'm happy and proud to say that I did not eat both batches all to myself. I shared. I hope all of you that ate some ignored my glares as I painfully watched you consume the bacon that would normally all be eaten by me, without sharing. I'm a giver. Sometimes. I kept getting told they were delicious. I'll assume those weren't pity compliments. And it's your own fault for pity complimenting me, if that was the case, when more bars were shoved down your throat because I thought that's what you wanted. DON'T LIE TO ME NEXT TIME.
Side note: why is my Starbucks out of classic syrup? I've decided coconut is not a substitute for classic in my iced coffee. It might be worth the dollar to go next door and get iced coffee from McDonalds. It was there that my love for it was discovered. I'll let you know what happens in this suspenseful saga of my life, don't worry.
Let's rewind just over a year ago to when the Olympics were in Vancouver. I was an Olympic bandwagon jumper. I hated that they were here. I thought it was inconvenient and a hassle for anybody that lived on the "other side" of the bridge, aka me. Traffic was crazy. People were crazy. The entire world was here. There wasn't enough room. Vancouver made a fool of themselves by not having all the construction, etc. done that they planned for when the Olympics were to be here. But, K was coming into town, and I might have missed her a little bit, so downtown I went. And it was amazing. The atmosphere was insane. I was proud to be from Vancouver (Vancouver, Chilliwack, Abbotsford, it's all the same. At that particular time I don't actually think I really had a home, but that's another story for another day.).
So this whole Canucks thing feels a little bit the same. I legitimately feel excited that they've made it this far in the finals. And seeing everyone so excited makes me pretty excited. But the excitement here in the Valley is nothing compared to that in the city. So I decided I wanted to experience the excitement of at least ONE of the final games in Vancouver. Hi, BFF. Next weekend I will be sporting my Canucks tee, cheering them on in front of some sort of big screen on some street that is closed off for all of us fans (bandwagon jumpers or not), and experiencing the excitement. All I have to say to you Canucks is please win. It will be game 5. Ideally, you should make it so it's 3-1 game win by then, and then win game 5, so you win the cup. I would like to be in Vancouver for that. I get goosebumps thinking about it. I hate that I have emotion invested in this. That's not who I am.
Now I'm going to spend the rest of my afternoon stealing songs with my stolen internet. Maybe Facebook-stalk a little bit. Maybe peruse Craigslist for things I don't need and then contemplate how I could fit a bookshelf in my car. Maybe take an afternoon snooze in the sun because I woke up this morning in my clothes from yesterday (oops), so we can all guess how my sleep last night was. Stop judging, at least I woke up wearing clothes.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Constable Douche serves and protects.
Remember the story of my rearview mirror falling off? I remember writing that post and thinking about other fun memories of me terrorizing my car that I could tell you guys. Like when I drove into a house. Or when my tires exploded on the highway. But instead, this one came to mind, and became very relevant after yesterday:
It was about three years ago, and I had just finished a long closing shift at Starbucks. I get into my car, not being able to wait to crawl into bed, only to have to get up 43 minutes later to come back to work (and I wonder why I have bags under my eyes 24/7...). I start my car, put it into reverse, turn the wheel as I back out of my stall, and *CRACK*, my windshield now has a nice spiderweb, veiny crack in it. I may or may not have forgotten to take my club off my steering wheel. Oops. I didn't even care. All I wanted was bedrightthisverysecond.
As the past three years have passed the crack has only gotten longer, wider, taller, bigger. It sometimes is in my line of vision, but not enough for me to worry about me being a hazard to anyone on the road because I can't see anything. Except the one time the sun hit the crack at the exact spot where I was momentarily blinded and couldn't see anything in front of me (or, for that matter, anywhere in my vicinity because all I saw was spots for a good 10 minutes after). It's the same as driving when my windows are still frosty in the winter because I need to be at work in the next 36 seconds and I know my route well enough that I don't need to be able to see anything while driving. Watch out fellow drivers.
In the past three years I've been told more times than I care to remember to "just pay the deductible" and get the glass fixed. Last time I checked I didn't have a spare $200 laying around to get my windshield fixed. And if I did, please let me tell you it wouldn't be spent on my windshield. I could list tens of thousands of things that I would rather spend $200 on. At the top of my list? Makeup, DVD's, pepperoni caesars, BACON (which I used the last of in the house yesterday making bacon chocolate chip cookies, so I do actually need more). But not a new windshield.
Up until douchey, regular-customer cop pulls me over yesterday. I should have known that Mexican and my witch powers would come into play when we had JUST been talking about how if we got pulled over by a different regular-customer cop that he would let us get away with anything. WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HIM THAT PULLED ME OVER? I sometimes hate subconsciously predicting the future.
I'm just driving alongside a cop car, minding my own business, blasting 'Island in the Sun' by Weezer, talking to Mexican about the sushi we're going to eat, when all of a sudden I get the feeling this cop car is out to get me. I wasn't speeding, I didn't have drugs on me, I was wearing my seatbelt, I was abiding by all laws, but I just knew he was thinking of something to pull me over for. So I turn down the next street to lose him. Home free. Or not. I habitually look behind me and HE'S BACK! I'm still not speeding, I still have no drugs on me, I'm still wearing my seatbelt, but he turns his lights on anyway. I obviously burst out laughing, because of course this is happening. My laughter quickly turns to anger as I see what cop steps out of the vehicle. Well lookie here, look who it is...
Fast forward what felt like three hours, being pulled over on the main street in Abbotsford, where I'm sure 27 people that I knew drove past Mexican and I, who probably automatically thought we were criminals (or thought I was speeding because I might do that every once in awhile), and Constable Douche comes back to my window giving me a Notice and Order to have my windshield and burnt out taillight fixed in SEVEN DAYS. Let's keep in mind that this is a Sunday, and tomorrow's a holiday, so I have FIVE DAYS to fork out a $200 deductible AND prove that it's fixed to the police station. Five days and no time. I suppose I could try and find the silver lining of this situation and look at this fix as increasing the "value" of my car for when I have to sell it and get a new one, but right now it's just a giant inconvenience. Why couldn't he have given me 14 days? That would at least give me another pay period where I could pay for it comfortably.
Let me add that knowing my luck, as soon as I get my windshield fixed a giant rock will hit the nice, shiny, brand spankin' new glass and chip OR crack it all over again, and we'll be back to square one. If I have that expectation I won't be disappointed, right?
It was about three years ago, and I had just finished a long closing shift at Starbucks. I get into my car, not being able to wait to crawl into bed, only to have to get up 43 minutes later to come back to work (and I wonder why I have bags under my eyes 24/7...). I start my car, put it into reverse, turn the wheel as I back out of my stall, and *CRACK*, my windshield now has a nice spiderweb, veiny crack in it. I may or may not have forgotten to take my club off my steering wheel. Oops. I didn't even care. All I wanted was bedrightthisverysecond.
As the past three years have passed the crack has only gotten longer, wider, taller, bigger. It sometimes is in my line of vision, but not enough for me to worry about me being a hazard to anyone on the road because I can't see anything. Except the one time the sun hit the crack at the exact spot where I was momentarily blinded and couldn't see anything in front of me (or, for that matter, anywhere in my vicinity because all I saw was spots for a good 10 minutes after). It's the same as driving when my windows are still frosty in the winter because I need to be at work in the next 36 seconds and I know my route well enough that I don't need to be able to see anything while driving. Watch out fellow drivers.
In the past three years I've been told more times than I care to remember to "just pay the deductible" and get the glass fixed. Last time I checked I didn't have a spare $200 laying around to get my windshield fixed. And if I did, please let me tell you it wouldn't be spent on my windshield. I could list tens of thousands of things that I would rather spend $200 on. At the top of my list? Makeup, DVD's, pepperoni caesars, BACON (which I used the last of in the house yesterday making bacon chocolate chip cookies, so I do actually need more). But not a new windshield.
Up until douchey, regular-customer cop pulls me over yesterday. I should have known that Mexican and my witch powers would come into play when we had JUST been talking about how if we got pulled over by a different regular-customer cop that he would let us get away with anything. WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HIM THAT PULLED ME OVER? I sometimes hate subconsciously predicting the future.
I'm just driving alongside a cop car, minding my own business, blasting 'Island in the Sun' by Weezer, talking to Mexican about the sushi we're going to eat, when all of a sudden I get the feeling this cop car is out to get me. I wasn't speeding, I didn't have drugs on me, I was wearing my seatbelt, I was abiding by all laws, but I just knew he was thinking of something to pull me over for. So I turn down the next street to lose him. Home free. Or not. I habitually look behind me and HE'S BACK! I'm still not speeding, I still have no drugs on me, I'm still wearing my seatbelt, but he turns his lights on anyway. I obviously burst out laughing, because of course this is happening. My laughter quickly turns to anger as I see what cop steps out of the vehicle. Well lookie here, look who it is...
Fast forward what felt like three hours, being pulled over on the main street in Abbotsford, where I'm sure 27 people that I knew drove past Mexican and I, who probably automatically thought we were criminals (or thought I was speeding because I might do that every once in awhile), and Constable Douche comes back to my window giving me a Notice and Order to have my windshield and burnt out taillight fixed in SEVEN DAYS. Let's keep in mind that this is a Sunday, and tomorrow's a holiday, so I have FIVE DAYS to fork out a $200 deductible AND prove that it's fixed to the police station. Five days and no time. I suppose I could try and find the silver lining of this situation and look at this fix as increasing the "value" of my car for when I have to sell it and get a new one, but right now it's just a giant inconvenience. Why couldn't he have given me 14 days? That would at least give me another pay period where I could pay for it comfortably.
Let me add that knowing my luck, as soon as I get my windshield fixed a giant rock will hit the nice, shiny, brand spankin' new glass and chip OR crack it all over again, and we'll be back to square one. If I have that expectation I won't be disappointed, right?
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