2011 Resolutions

So, here's the deal people: it's a tradition of mine to go through all the resolutions I made last year, and see if I achieved them all. And this year, I feel like I owe everyone an explanation as to why my numbers game did not go as expected, and why I have to re-enact that resolution next year.... but, it's New Years Eve, and I don't have a plan. The night is gonna be pure epicness (or so I'm trying to convince myself of) and therefore in the spirit of keeping an optimistic mood, I shall leave my negative banter about 2010 for another time and concentrate on the year ahead.

In my bedroom I have a whiteboard that I've owned for the better part of 10 years. It's one of my outlets, and basically, you could take one glance at it and know what I'm trying to accomplish that given week, and what's bothering me. Like a canvas for my doodles. Currently it holds my resolutions, written as follows:

-find a natural high (love counts, because, you love love)
-it's not all about you... acknowledge that (most of it is though)
-get a "real job: that you most likely hate, but looks good on paper
-find a fun part time job/volunteer position to re-establish yourself
-there better be a damn good reason you're in bed before midnight!
-be yourself, if that means a "bitch", then so be it

That's at least the jist of them. I'd also like to:
-remember to act like you're 5 (danceparties, go carts, singing, playground, swimming, lazer tag ect
-save close to $10,000, or buy a motorcycle
-go on a rockstar cruise or a hot vacation or a US roadtrip
-avoid Ontario like the plague
-get a real website so this post is more amusing

And my last rule: this past year I tried to get in touch with my feelings and be a nicer person. I tried to condition myself with jumping jacks to prevent myself from saying what's on my mind and hurting people's feelings. By bottling stuff up, I turned into a pathetic weepy female who has no personality, no social life, and scares off men.
In 2011, I have a no crying rule so if you see me shed a tear, I have to do 100 jumping jacks.
*sidenote* if after the 150 jumping jacks, I happen to still be crying, I will continue doing jumping jacks till I smarten the fuck up.
*punishment* no Jack for 72hrs if rule is disobeyed. (someone hold me to this)

Anyway, yeah, Happy New Years Eve - do it up!

Expectations

I often make fun of people who settle for others; especially in relationships. You see couples like them all the time, the boy who's not good-looking enough to have walked in with that "bombshell"; the girl who's trying too hard to please the boy she's with, even though he's prolly just using her for sex, and sleeping around on the side. I sing these people the "lowered expectations" tune from old-school mad tv. It's like the self-respect issue people talk about, where settling is not an option.

But, in this blog, I want to focus on the other side of things. The people who's expectations are so incredibly high, nothing will ever measure up to them. They think they're too good for everything and everyone, are never incorrect, and as a result, they tend to be less happy on as day-to-day basis.

I, myself fall into the 2nd part of this equation, and tend to live in my own idealistic world. My thoughts reside in a fairy tale land where life is always grand and everyone surpasses my expectations. In this world, people arrive early and pleasantly surprise you all the time. When you think of perfect events, down to the weather and the music playing in the background, that is in fact my diluted sense of reality. It's like I live in a cheesy romance novel written specifically for me. In my world, the sun may as well always be shining and everyone could be on an e-like high, skipping around like smurfs to their themesong. Shit, I may as well throw in a unicorn.

But this year, I discovered more than ever, that the world I physically live in, the "real world" as they call it, likes to shatter my fantasy world on a regular basis. Shit, even the smurfs eventually have felt fear and run away from Gargamel and his cat. So why is it that I try so hard to avoid everything that isn't pure perfection?
Anyway, as a result of this blog, my question is,
"How do I start living more-so in reality, so that I stop getting hurt, when my day doesn't turn out IDEAL?"

The Christmas Thang

Everyone has their own shit going on when it comes to Christmas. That's the way it's supposed to be. Your own ridiculous meals and traditions with those that mean the most to you.
My father called me from Ontario for the first time in months to ask me if I had gone to confession and if I'm looking forward to midnight mass. Knowing full well that I wouldn't've gone just for the sake of it, I think the purpose of that phone call was to get me frustrated or upset during the holiday season, because that is in fact tradition.
But I have my own holiday tradition: On Christmas eve afternoon, I like to walk across the street to Daves Liquor Store, and spend a ridiculous amount of money on various liquors that will be used during the upcoming weeks for Christmas cocktails. I then, gather with my roommates and whoever else wants to be involved and we spend all day watching the fireplace channel on tv (except the one that is on this year sucks balls and I'm gonna have to write a strongly worded letter to shaw).
We wait until midnight to open presents, or else the night seems meaningless, then in a drunken stooper we go to the park across the street to take dirty Christmas photos with the lights display.
This years Christmas went a bit differently, but along with caroling to myself, I also skanked frequently to spread the Christmas spirit, but more on that later.

Lameness.

My big New Years resoultion for 2011, is to get a life.

I've realized that over the course of 2010, I've gone from like a 4/10 in lameness, because I didn't have any friends, and don't enjoy "clubbing" ect in the city of Calgary, to like a 9/10... for no good reason at all.

I met my boy towards the end of January at last call, having followed a guy in a kilt into a bar I hadn't ventured to before. One thing lead to another, I hung out with my new boy till 5am that first night.
FFWD to the last few months of my life, I don't even know when the last time I was out past midnight was. Let alone not in-bed before 1am. There has been no random bars, and not even the meeting of strangers. Heck, I had a party this past weekend, and even then, having tried my hardest, I made it until 12:15am, then passed out in my own lameness, fully clothed with people still at the house.

My numbers game has failed miserably and will have to be re-attempted next year with another wind of positive attitude, because this lame thing, is totally not part of who I am. I'm up late today (it's 12:30am right now), but doing awesome things? nah. I'm stepping outside of my room to glance at a moon because I'm getting txts of a lunar eclipse. If these txts weren't keeping me up, I'd be sleeping right now.

And we could say lameness is allowed, as it's a Monday night. But truth be told, I have no job to go to in the morning, so that's a bullshit excuse. And oh, my life just hit a 10/10 on the lameness scale. My mom's msging me on msn. She lives in Ontario and it's 2:30am there. Even she's got the willpower to stay up past my bed-time.

Mustache

So, it is indeed the month of November... and Mo-vember is charity month as people may/may not be aware. In an order to promote mens health and raise money for prostate cancer, men are encouraged to grow mustaches (awesome!)I went out with a friend who finds mustaches hilarious, the other day. And, I could play along, draw on a mustache or what-not, but people's view of what a mustache is seems to be so false these days. A mustache: hair on your upper lip, not on your whole face. For the love of God, people! Handlebars: no, Goatee: no, Beard: no, and Scruff: no! These do not count as mustaches! The reason Mo-vember is awesome is cuz you have to look like a loser participating!
So after many many minutes of arguement, the Mo-vember rules verdict:
The definition of a Moustache:
1. There is to be no joining of the Mo to side burns – That’s a beard.
2. There is to be no joining of the handlebars – That’s a goatee.
3. A small complimentary growth under the bottom lip is allowed (aka a tickler).
Remember, it’s Movember, not ‘Beardvember’ or ‘Goateevember’
c/o the official Mo-vember website! (once again, I'm correct)

I'll Live.

For those of you who have shown overwhelming concern for my well-being (which, realistically speaking, has been none of you - thanks a lot), I was un-diagnosed for skin-cancer by an actual doctor.
It wasn't so much a diagnosis, as a glance at me and the words "nope, that's not cancer" but it has allowed me to get more sleep at night. I no longer have to drink each day in order to feel something. Oh wait, I still do that, and it seems that getting a buzz is becoming more difficult.

Yesterday, I almost Fell. Again.

Embarrassment. I don’t really like to believe in the concept. I mean, what could be so bad that you could be overly self-conscious about? Falling. I don't get embarrassed often, but there's really no graceful way of falling. You can't look cool doing it, or say you did it on purpose... But more embarrassing then falling in front of your friends, is falling in front of the same friends TWICE (what up?).
So, yesterday after an awesome live show and a few cocktails, while walking in my awesome boots, which I'm cursing today, I did a ice-type slide on some asphalt, almost bringing me to a plummeting halt on my ass in the middle of the road. Almost. Even still, that wouldn't have one-up'd the time I fell over my own feet and landed on my face, oh a short 3-weeks-or-so ago alongside the same people. Except that time I was sober.

This whole ordeal (clearly it’s impacted my life drastically) got me to thinking about one of my favorite expressions on peoples’ faces, ever. The look that people get when they see someone fall has to be the one I like to see most (not that I’ll keep falling to see it). Their eyes light up with excitement and you could almost see the insults cultivating themselves within their brain, just waiting to burst out in conjunction with a long stream of laughter. But after a second, that silent-hopeful look embraces a hint of worry, in case the person, having hit the ground with a bang, actually hurt themselves; at which point laughing would just be inconsiderate. Hence the still silence continues with that look of soundless concern/hopefulness. And as soon as the victim looks up from the ground with that nod saying “I’m alright, I’m just a dumbass” everyone exhales their uneasiness and proceeds with the mocking.
I don’t know why I like this look over all others. Maybe it’s the indecisiveness of it all. Or the fact that you know a million things are running through their brains in mere seconds, all while they’re trying not to be insensitive, but not wanting to deny themselves the pleasure of laughter and ridicule. *Shrugs. I’m sure I get that look on my face also.

The Dufus that Sat Next To Me on the Plane

I love vacations. Usually you disembark on an adventure to a new place that you’ve never seen before. You’re anticipating the excitement that awaits you upon arrival at your destination; the new sights, smells, languages and people. And while vacationing, you embrace the opportunity to act differently than you normally would; you flirt a little more, step outside your comfort zone, and kick with those you normally wouldn’t lift a foot for. Vacationing is great… But the annoyance that is life always gives you a downfall. (pft, and I claim to be positive)

After traveling a couple times a year, I still hold firm to the belief that getting from point A to point B is as much the adventure as much as the destination you are trying to reach. But after the allotted traveling time, having dealt with people who’s personalities don’t coincide with yours, and wish you were back in a familiar place so you could finally relax, one idiot always seems to ruin everything.

While in Mexico on a recent vacation, the roomie and I, came across an older gentleman that was out to have a good time. He’d drink excessively, turn loud, and just want to dance. Harmless he was, and rather entertaining for the most part; but like I said, you come to your wits end eventually. As we left our resort to bus it an hour to the airport where we’d have to wait for another 3, before the another 5 spent in-flight, the busload was ready for the long drawn out day, taking an afternoon siesta, most of us… Except for this man. He was ready to serenade the whole bus, asking the bus driver to pull over at a liquor store to buy beers for the bus. How awesome would this’ve been if we were just getting on vacation? Sweet! But totally unnecessary at the farewell.

I was keeping my fingers crossed that he was not seated around me on the plane. I love the guy, but I was finished. With the roomie at the window seat and me in the middle, we were on the plane ½ hr early waiting for that one annoying passenger to get on so we could just get on with it. Normally the passenger you’re waiting for when this happens, is me, because I’m at the bar instead of the plane. But this time, it was the guy who would sit down next to me. Lucky guy is greeted on the plane with a serenade of “boos” (do that to me, I dare yah) then drunk-o sits to my right, in his non-assigned seat. Promptly, I pretended to sleep, then put the headphones in to ignore him. But despite my efforts, I was not so fortunate to be oblivious to his drinking and flirting with the flight attendants, his comments on my choice of beverage, his whining about his head phones not working, or his screaming to his friends further up in the plane. All the while, I just wanted to land and be home. Oh life, you are building up my tolerance level for a reason. My kids are gonna be fuken brats aren’t they?

The Bill

In my opinion, the way people pay their bills, says a lot about their personalities. Excluding your close group of friends (which one would assume offer to pay tabs on a regular basis, with a half-expectation of you “getting the next one” without any hard feelings if you don’t) who’s spending tactics are impeccable, based on the mutual understanding that the other party is not an asshole, you can judge people on how they spend.

Example: You’re out for dinner/appys/drinks with some acquaintances, and the bill comes. The table has agreed that one tab would be sufficient, and everyone could just throw in cash. One could assume that everyone would calculate and pay their own portion, then throw in a bit for the tip. Red flag one: some people are less generous than others with their tips. They actually consider things like waiting longer than usual for food, and argue that the service wasn’t “exceptional”. Others think that the waitress paid enough attention to the table, was personable and friendly, ect.

NOW, tips aside so I could get to the point of this blog: What gets me most after a fun hangout and a couple of drinks, is when, after everyone’s thrown in their portion and the bill is not shorted, the one person who counts out how much of a tip the waitress is getting and argues that she should get less. “We’re tipping 30%, and the service wasn’t that great”. Seriously?!? Everyone has parted ways with their money in whatever fashion, why is it up to this one person to judge how much of a tip one should get. Why is this even a discussion? Should everyone really take back a loonie, as if it’s really going to make a difference?

I looked over at the girlfriend of this boy, who initiated this debate at our table yesterday evening, and asked “you’re the one dating him, does this happen often?” because I was shocked that it had to take place at all.
At my favorite bar, when my friends and I go out, you better believe that the tip is almost 50% of our bill. That’s the way it should be. Otherwise, people should drink at home.

And that’s AnnaB’s opinion on that.

Is Silence Golden?

A person I don’t recall, had told me recently, that I talk too much. Moment of reflection: yes, I do like to speak; true, I rarely have anything intelligent to say; and yet, I was unaware that I was irritating. Regardless, I said “Challenge Accepted” and vowed to go out this Halloween as a Mime. 24hours of using my sub-par acting skills to showcase my meaningless thoughts, rather than speaking them. A fairly amusing evening awaited.

Sleeping alone, the first part of the challenge went fairly well, as no one could call me out on talking in my sleep, or even prove that it happened at all. Midnight-10am, accomplished. Breakfast and tv watching was also a cakewalk: one roomie left the house, I waved goodbye; the other came home, I waved hello; easy as pie. But it was only after an hour of watching tv in silence, with my white painted face, that the roomie noticed it was acting out of the ordinary, and clued into my challenge. 3hours later, she was bored of having me not speak and tired of guessing what I was saying. *Mime shrugs* People came over to hang out, rolled their eyes at my get-up and silent drinking, and eventually we went to my favorite bar.

My personality, allows me to take a joke and almost encourages that I be on the receiving end of one. So I have to give props to those that make fun of me that night. My waitresses (who have memorized my order months ago) props for asking “what did you want to drink?, 1 what?, you want a beer?”. Props to the friends and randoms who would ask: “what? You have nothing to say?”, "why so quiet over there?". And even props to the roomie for comparing me to Lassie with that mocking baby voice asking “tell me… what is it girl?"! *Sigh* at least silence doesn’t allow me to be mean, and didn’t do any jumping jacks that night!

After the bar, I found myself at a houseparty with my 2010 Halloween crew. Lady GaGa, LL Cool J, Ceaser, Bond, and a random mime, with ½ older persons to the right, and ½ younger persons to my left. Pft, I could mingle as a mime! I made friends with the older folk: I had M&M catch me like a fish on a line only to reel me in then throw me back. And the younger folk were awesome also: Avril Lavigne and Mario took me to the basement to steal their mom’s jello shots.
But the defining moment of the night when you knew I've had enough to drink was when I pulled a boy onto the dancefloor and he started doing a table dance instead. I mimed giving him money while sitting on the floor, and then proceeded to take off his sock and swing it around my head. That’s when he kicked me in the head and I fell backward in embarrassment and agony. Now guys, I know not everyone likes clowns, and a mime is another stupid version of them, but knocking me out, is that really the answer?

At the end of the night, it seemed like everyone just wanted me to talk, but sadly, I still had nothing important to say.

Did she just say that?

A blast from the past, and Ontario, came to visit and hang out for a bit. This girlicious friend I used to live with, is the girl that will go out with you and drink and dance all night. And thanks to random nights out with her, I have 11 more numbers to get before my "numbers game" could officially continue.

While at my favorite bar with a cute boy I know, for my own amusement, I told him to go up to my female friend and tell her an awesome pick-up line.

The line: Hey, How do you like your eggs in the morning? Scrambled or fertelized?
Girlicious: Oh, I'll take em any way you make em baby
Boy: For real?
Girlicious: Yeah, I love when a man cooks for me
Boy: So would you like them scrambled or fertelized?
Girlicious: Scrambled, over-easy, poached, whichever, as long as I get breakfast!
Boy: Haha, I give up.
Girlicious: Oh are you talking about sex? I don't want a baby... but a little sperm up there never hurt anyone!

That was two drinks in. I'll let you use your imagination as to where the night escaladed from there. How do you not love her?

Thanks, That Just Made My Day

Today I got diagnosed for skin cancer by a hearing aid practitioner who knows because she "googled" it.

Now for those who know me, you know I don't "believe" in doctors. I mean, I believe that they exist, they have to be super smart, and they apparently make a shitload of money. But as far as my health (amongst other things) goes, I'm more of a "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" kinda person.
With that being said, when I went hiking a few summers back and fell of the mountain to fuk up my ankle, it may as well have been broken, and yet, I refused to see a doctor. The reasons? 'Glad you asked'. First off, refer to the last blog about "waiting". I've had enough bad experiences with offices that I'm done with it. Especially if the advice they give me at the end of the day is "don't walk on it". 2nd off, I'm a firm believer in the fact that advil and whiskey can cure more than people let on, and therefore, unless I'm in dire pain, I prefer to just wait it out.

Furthermore, I think of doctors a lot like I think of religious leaders. They only tell you what you can't/shouldn't do. Don't sleep around. Don't drink. I'm young enough to enjoy life, and I really don't want to be lectured on all the things I shouldn't be doing. Who's that band that sang "if it feels good do it... even if you shouldn't... don't let doctors bring you down"?

But at the end of my work day today, I got bluntly told that I have skin cancer. Well thanks to the non-experts out there, I'll take your opinion into consieration. But as far as a real doctor is concerned, unless he's super sexy making me so infatuated that I can't wait to go into his clinic and wait hours on end just to see him and take my clothes off in front of him, I'm just gonna pass. Thanks though, hearing I'm gonna die just made my day. *rolls eyes*

Waiting

There are very few things in life that I hate more than waiting. I’ve never had much tolerance to just sit around and wait for something. Back in my concert going days, I never stood in line to get into a show. I would get there when everyone was already in, even if it meant missing the first act. I would bud in line or make friends with a door guy who could get me in via the back. But standing in line and just waiting, is not what I did.

Even now, I can’t stand the concept of waiting. It just blows my mind. There is always something better you could be doing instead. That’s why airports frustrate me so much. There’s so much time to kill when you’re there, and it seems like you’re just sitting around wishing something would happen.

It’s funny how my deep hatred for the act of waiting has anger flooding through me as I write this. And even so, as I write this, I’m waiting for a boy to show up. A boy, who is out doing things rather than just sitting around. And on the other end of that spectrum, I’m trying to think of things to do while I kill time waiting for him.

Numerous words come to mind to describe my actions. But none of them are of a positive nature.

...too bad feelings get in the way...

On an episode of "Saved by the Bell", Zack said "I love school, too bad classes get in the way". That's my opinion of school as well. Thinking back on the years during which I went to college,I remember good times and good friends. Classes were indeed an inconvenience that took time out of my drinking and socializing schedule. Eventually class (aside from the 1 or 2 that I enjoyed) became a place that you could meet up with friends, to hang out when it was done. "Will you be at stats?, sweet, wanna grab breakfast after?"

I feel simularly about life. "Life is awesome, too bad feelings get in the way".
I thought I grew accustomed to life and the feelings and fights it had in store for me, but I was wrong. I only grew accustomed to other people's feelings. Other people would get upset with me or angry at what I said. Anything that directly involved me was only a "tiff" that you'd roll your eyes and it would pass. (I don't like those strong emotions) But I think for the first time in my life, I now have to acknowledge that I do indeed have feelings... but only when it comes to one person. I feel the joy and sadness that doesn't only come from attending a punk-rock concert. But subsequently, I also shed tears that aren't ones involving me cross-legged-and-drunk on a kitchen floor.

I'm not sure I've wrapped my head around this whole feelings thing yet. I think that avoiding it my whole life has worked out great so far. The most pain I'd feel, was that from the jumping-jacks I'd have to do for having hurt your feelings. And even now, I don't care what you think of me. Just this one person. How'd he manage to get in anyway?

Tears in my Eyes

Does anyone remember my post about gatorade being like McDonalds arches? One of my better posts I think. The point of it was, that after a night of drinking, the crawl out of bed to grab a beverage to quench your thirst in the morning, is a difficult one. This is my story:

My numbers game is back on. I need to get another 28 (penalty) phone numbers before the game could re-start. Then I need to catch up on the weeks I've overlooked. Not an easy task, but one I'm up for. Therefore, I've decided that hanging out at bars is the easiest way to do so, and my beloved "power hour" (an hour of hardcore drinking at my favorite bar) is the highlight of my uneventful days.

Yesterday's power hour was fun, as I introduced my new friend "FireKracker" to it, and in true awesome form, she went for the gold. 3 vodka-sodas, 3 long islands, 3 shots of tequila, and 2 vodka-redbulls later, the hour was over. *dual meaning* Hahaha. But I kept up (mostly), drinking well and having fun.

The point: Though I slept in till noon, as I've not nowhere to be, the motivation to get out of bed, put on some clothes *damn cold house* and wander upstairs to pee/hydrate ended in disappointment, as when I opened my fridge door neither my gatorade nor my sunny-dee was anywhere to be found. Talk about putting tears in my eyes first thing in the morning.

Alone in the house I could scream all I want, simultaneously wishing I could smash stuff. But that doesn't bring my gatorade back.

Indifference.

I found that I'm growing to dislike people more.
I work along-side them and purposly walk to the other side of the display. Away from the meaningless stupid conversations. I don't want to hear your stories. I don't want to share any of mine with you.

For the first time in my life, I think I prefer silence.
My own thoughts will keep me company. And I'm not even thinking of anything that important.
Oh 12hr shifts.

Life is a Disappointment

I don't actually believe these words that I write.
I don't believe that the guyfriend would intentionally try to hurt me or that I won't overcome the not-so-awesome days I've been having.

I went to my favorite place in the world recently, the mountans that make me smile no matter what mood I'm in.
I still cried more than I should have...*shrugs* but at least I did so in a beautiful place.

More-than-halfway Update

Km's driven: 2,707 km

States crossed: 2.5

McDonalds meals eaten: 4

Energy drinks dranken: 3.5

Cd's listened to: 21

Nights spelt in car: 2

Hitchhikers NOT picked up: 2

I left late on day 1 (3pm) and therefore ended up in MooseJaw, SK for the night with no exciting stories to tell, or much to show for it. As punishement, I slept in the car.

On day 2, I successfully became a fugitive on the run when I crossed into the US border via Northern Dakota, but then decided to go check out the State Fair that was taking place... 3 hours killed - driving catch-up required. As punishment, I slept in the car.

This morning I got up with a new motivation. I stopped minimally (only in Chippewa Falls were Jack Dawson from Titanic was originally from) and drove the fuk out of my day (Did Minnesota, and 1/2 of Wisconsin). I got into Milwaukee at about 6, searched for the internet until 7:30, and found a motel by 9). Tomorrow's plan: Warped Tour and 4hrs of driving (as a reward).

Random things seen: a guy on a motorcycle driving 110km without a helmet... rebel!

So many obese people at McD's, note to self, vomit.

Many many mullets.

At least I amuse Myself.

Roadtrip update: pretty much uneventful. Thanks for checking out the blog peoples.

Alright alright, I'll update you on the most important stuff. Yesterday I drove the Canadian leg, through AB into SK and spent the night in MooseJaw. Uneventful.

This afternoon I crossed over into North Dakota, successfully claiming my fugitive title, since I am technically fleeing the country with that whole warrent out for my arrest. The guy at the border did give me a hard time, but not about the warrent, instead, about me being refused access to the states a few years back. Apparently, that's on my record also now. I tried to only minimally roll my eyes when I explained to him that I was 19 and trying to get into the states to see a punk rock show, that I did very little research on. It didn't help that I was the first person crossing that day, and that no one ever uses that border crossing, as it was via backroads.

Whatever, he eventually let me in, and I celebrated to myself, until I realized I didn't exchange any money *rolls eyes* About 4 years ago I got stuck in the States for a long time because no banks in Ohio would exchange Canadian money for me. They all eventually sent me to Kentucky, and all I really wanted was gas. At the Kentucky airport (which was the only alternative apparently) I was only able to exchange money if I had a boarding pass and so this game of me being stranded continued. Needless to say, I didn't want a repeat of this, so the money thing made me paranoid... but it's solved now.

North Dakota started out exciting enough, the towns a little different from the Canadian side. But soon, it just began to resemble Saskatchewan. Now I love SK when I'm on a trip with the roomie, and not pressed for time, because I'll do random stuff... but let's be realistic, no one wants to drive through prairies by themselves.

The solution: Let's just say that I girl can't have any more fun than driving down a road at a high speed on cruise control, the wind messing up her hair and some punk rock song blaring the speakers off her shitty ass car... wearing a short skirt, with a toy in between her legs. You suddenly get an appreciation for the straight and boring roads, realizing that you only have to stay in between the lines. And there's not even any cars around, so there's no worries of downshifting or changing lanes. It was a good afternoon!

That's all you get for right now people, as I'm sitting at an empty "visitor center" which has wireless randomly and need to get a move on to the next state!

.withdrawal.

Whenever I start to think that I'm going to miss somebody, I force myself to think of my friend SWAT Guy. Last fall, he married a girl from Scotland, and to this day, she lives in Scotland, and he lives in Ontario. Yes, they travel back and forth as much as they can, but their stay is limited to 3months at a time, and the money's tight. Hopefully her papers are all done up by the end of this year. But it makes me think, do I really miss this person that badly? Or am I just dramatic?

I leave in the morning, dreading my whole trip across the US to Ontario. I wish that I could hang out here, and go camping with people, and chill in the backyard with our new fire-pit. I wanna kick it with Sophie, and enjoy the guyfriend's company. Can it be true that I'm not depressed and therefore don't want to leave this content life that has formed itself for me in Calgary?

The trip won't be half as bad as I make it out to be in my head (fingers crossed), and I'll return relatively unchanged and with a few new stories. But no doubt, there will be some serious withdrawal from those I've grown accustomed to. *tear* (yeah right) see you in 2.5 weeks!

Just me, some punk rock, and the road.

When I came to AB with the best friend 4 summers ago, I had taken daddy's car. A 96 diesel Jetta, which saved us some gas money initially, but has caused nothing but problems from Saskatoon on. But none-the-less, a promise is a promise, and daddy will get his beat-up piece-of-shit car named "Jinx'd" back at the end of this month.

As of tomorrow, I take off for my road-trip by myself. As much as I love people and would agree to anyone coming along for the ride (some people are invited more than others), with passport issues and work schedules, it looks like this one is all me.

I could round off a list of worst-case scenarios, but I'd rather not think of those, and it's hardly my style; so we'll pretend I'm going to have this awesome soul-searching trip over the next 5 days. Filled with nothing but open roads and nostalgic memories from my old-school cd's.

It won't be like one of my Jeep-adventures while driving through rainstorms with no roof and a bikini on.... rolled down windows will have to do. And I can't say that I don't have mixed feelings about the trip. I mean, realistically, when's the last time I've spent 5 days alone?

Rebel.

I've always been telling people that I was a rebel. I'll sneak in alcohol to a show or a bar. I'll sneak backstage to meet the band. I've hopped fences and danced on cars. Hell, I've even cheated on a college exam... how dare you assume I'm a "square"!

Last week, something happened that gives me another reason to confirm that I'm a rebel. I mean, I try so hard to be, so this just confirms it: there's a warrant out for my arrest. Here's the story in it's original form.

It's 9:15pm and I"m sitting at the Canadian customs between the Montana border. Outside it's pouring out and we're all tired as fuk, having only gotten 5hrs of sleep after drinking a bit too much, and we're miserable. We've been here for about an hour now, after a mishap of me not being able to promptly find my passport, and my dad mentioning he had 200 native-reserve smokes with him. Turns out it's illegal for him to be in possession of those, and he's inside now talking with officers.. I guess I should be holding y breath that no huge fine comes out of this. And so, I sit here, cold, wet, and in silence, rolling y eyes at how smokers inconvenience my life. Then I get a knock on my window and am asked to step out into the rain. Turns out ther's a warrant out for my arrest cuz I'm a motha-fuken-bad-ass-rebel. I love Babb Montana, but not this much! -July 13th

So while searching my dads past records, I guess the officers got bored and searched a bit of mine. A c-train ticket could apparently get you into a shit-load of trouble. All kinds of thoughts ran through my head when the officer told me "you've got to be fuken kidding me", "I don't have time for this bullshit", "I need to get the guys to Calgary, and me to work in a day" ect. ect.

And with me having to drive across to Ontario next week, I guess I should go and get this shit settled before they try to arrest me for fleeing the country or something. But seriously, how bad-ass would I be if I got taken away with cuffs on my wrists? -think about it!-

I propose a challenge

To whomever is willing to accept it (I have a top 3 in mind, but don't wanna share), let's bring AnnaB some amusement in her life.

Prefix: with disappointment, I am sad to say that my previous plan of hiring Girlie a boy to clean her house off of craigslist, did not happen. Not to say that it won't, but my amusement for 3 weeks ago has not been fullfilled.

Though I had a challenge for a friend of mine over Stampede (which I'm anxiously waiting to get an update on, and it might make me happy and therefore give me something to write about) I feel like another one is in order.

The Challenge: You always watch movies and see the scene where a girl or guy are on 2 dates at the same time and try to manage both. I do that with promo jobs, and know that it's not always easy to do, but sometimes you get away with it. I want someone to go into my bar of choice (The Cage) where there is a room upstairs and one downstairs, and for one hour, do a two-date-at-a-time type deal (even though it could just be hitting on two different people).

I feel like the 1.hilarity of watching someone multi-task this will amuse me. 2.seeing if the persons being hitting on end up in the same room, will do the same, and 3.pulling it off and getting 2 phone numbers out of the deal, would be ideal.

People get "played" all the time. I'm just bored and mean enough to make it a challenge. Anyone?

Dependencies

Talking of my detox, got me to thinking about dependencies. We really do brainwash ourselves into thinking we need something, when we could live perfectly well without it. Honestly, giving up anything you love, or even, have grown accustomed to, is a challenge; but eventually, you need to challenge yourself "just cuz" and when you do, why would you cheat, if you'd only be disappointing yourself?

I think it's funny what you realize you're addicted to something. Alcohol, drugs, assholes. Those are the main ones. But even the little things like lying, driving, routine...

It just makes me think about how easy it is to change things, but no one feels it necessary until it's borderline too late. You don't remember what it's like to wake up not-hungover. You think working an 8hr day without a joint is impossible. You don't know why you feel guilty cuz of him, but you do. You bury yourself in your lies, hoping to not get found out. ect ect.

But hey, I've acknowledged that I don't need Jack. But I'll still go out and drink, so maybe I'm a hypocrite for even writing these thoughts.

Catching up.

Hey all. It's been another few weeks of hectic bullshit work stuff, with a splash of family coming to visit; and in my stress-filled-state, blogging just wasn't a priority. Go figure.

When hanging out in my bed and getting my shit together the next few days, chances are I'll vent about life as a whole and the little things that irritate me, and give some updates in general.

A little bit of what's been going on: About 6 of 7 weeks ago after a trip-went-wrong to Fort Mac for a promo, where I had officially out-drank myself, I came back to Calgary vowing to do a detox. No booze, minimal pop & energy drinks until Stampede. Considering I've only consumed whiskey, diet cola and red rain the last 3 years or so of my life, (seriously, no water, no juice, no milk) this seemed like a valid challenge.

The detox went well, other then putting an even bigger halt to my "numbers game". The game which is now pretty much non-existent as personal crisis' and a non-buzzed state made me completely disinterested. Note to self: start it back up again.

I followed my rules of staying sober through the "hardships" (*rolls eyes*) of my life, with the exception of shot, on Canada Day, after a stressful day at work and dealing with drunk-ards on Stephen Ave. I walked into a bar, got a shot of JD with a side of coke, then promptly walked out. The shot went down into my stomach with a mocking tone, reminding me the whole time as to the reason I went onto detox. It sat in my throat through half the ctrain ride tone, with the chase barely helping. And as I walked home, I was a bit content with the way it had gone down. I had began to wonder if I missed drinking as much as I had brainwashed myself to think. If, when I started drinking again, I would just fall back into my old ways, as if denying my body what it so desperately wanted. But my body didn't miss alcohol as much as my mind. I didn't want to do another shot, I was happy detox would last one week after that, and I was happy with my having accomplished it.

But detox is over now. Let's be honest: I'm nowhere near as hardcore as I was previous to it. I'm a full out lightweight when I go out these days, which may cause some problems for the upcoming wedding, cuz... who wants to see that sober! So... detox... check.

Next?

Psycho

A few months back, the roomie posted the definition of "psycho" on her fb page, and we all laughed at the fact that a friend of mine was dating a guy who matched this description. Since some time has gone back and she is no longer "with" him, I thought I'd share the insanity that surrounds the outside of my social circle on a semi-regular basis. I'm not one to get into anyone else's business, unless it's for random gossiping around a round table full of booze. That, I do indulge in. I'm straight up a self-absorbed person and I'd rather talk about myself than anyone else. Hence this blog. It all makes sense now, doesn't it?

So, a couple weeks ago, while hanging out in my bedroom late at night, I get a phone call from The Magician (my friends ex). I instinctively put it on "silent" as it was midnight, he's not a friend of mine, and I wasn't in the mood to chitchat. (What you don't know about "The Magician", is that he is the possessive-jealous type that used to call his girlfriend consecutively a record number of times). Apparently this trend has carried on to her friends, cuz at 12:09 I get a second phone call, and a third at 12:12. At this point in time, I shot a txt to my friend (his ex) to make sure she was alright, cuz the phone calls were unjustifiable. No out-of-the-ordinary response from her.

I proceeded to get another call at 1:30 and one more at 2:12, all the while wondering why he wouldn't just txt me with what the issue was. Finally I get a txt: "I'm calling because your friend is talking about killing herself". Another txt right after, and one more after that. Since I knew she was alright and just upset at shit going on in her life, I ignored all calls and txts from the Magician, until it got ridiculously late and I txt'd him simply saying "Lose this number"

The response: "Wow. What kind of friend are you? I call and tell you that she says she's gonna try and kill herself and you can't even find it in your heart to see how serious this is? You should be happy that I care enough about your friend to try and do something. Deleting your number now. Sorry to have bothered you. Won't ever happen again"

Then he proceeded to call the cops on her.

Just to clarify: I'm a bitch. I care about myself more than I care about you. I'll be brutally honest to the point of hurting your feelings and won't feel remorseful if I make you cry, because it was probably justifiable in my mind. But I am not a bad friend.

I'm not the person who's shoulder you could come and cry on, and I hate hearing you whine about life. But you're allowed to vent. And 99% of the time, I'll drink it off with you until you pass out and are ready to face another day.

My friend, was having bad day, and said "I wanna die", not "I'm going to kill myself". Normally I would've drank with her, but I was on detox, and pre-occupied (with a boy!). I checked up on her, neither one of my other roommates got a distress call, so clearly it wasn't all that serious. But for this asshole to call me a bad friend for the 2nd time in my short few months that I've known him... that's bullshit... and so it got me thinking. (read newer blog for my random thoughts. It'll be more light-hearted than this one)

Paranoia

Paranoia is such a foreign concept to me... like compassion... yeah I've heard of the term and maybe have seen others go through phases of it, but it never really registered with me.

I'm the person who likes to hitchhike in foreign countries, and travel by myself. I climb mountains without a harness and never really think twice about anything bad happening. And when something goes wrong, I'm the first to justify it. To find an explanation, even if it may be unreasonable.

When "bad stuff" happens, I do one of two things: I ignore it, and continue on as if nothing happened and life is perfect. Or I walk away. I move to a different place, or I distance myself. But never have I experienced a feeling, where bad stuff happened, and therefore made me paranoid afterward. I've never had the need to be suspicious of everything and everyone, doubtful that they were telling me the truth and unsure if I could trust them.

Nope, that's never happened before. That's probably why I've had about 6 wallets/purses stolen and my jeep broken into like 10 times, while parked in the same parking lot. I shrug it off and go on thinking that it won't happen again.

But now, for the first time in my life, I'm terrified that stuff might "go wrong" again, and am paranoid.

I just don't know how all you paranoid people out there deal with this feeling everyday? I mean, a couple hours and I feel sick to my stomach, I can't imagine this on a regular basis. I must fix it.

wut up?

how I spent my weekend.

A Chase Around the City

Amazing Race meets Fear Factor, but it's called CityChase and has been happening in Calgary for 3 years. With over 1100 participants this year, my partner and I decided to join in on the action and try to finish within the first 150 teams.

Backstory: I'm not athletic at all. I could get to the peak of a mountain if I have a flask of JD with me, and no time-limit, but that's about as far as it goes. I'm not a runner (once I learned I can't outrun a bullet, or a bully, I stopped trying). Swimming is limited to: a) with a lifejacket b) in a hot tub c)when I dive into the pool and need to get to the ladder. And, after high school, I decided that I don't want to do any physical activity without getting paid for it. Yet somehow, CityChase sounded like a great idea to me.
A roommate of mine, and my partner in crime for the race has a bit of a better track record. She goes hiking often, has taken outdoor rec in school. She's trained for the RCMP in the last year, and has seen the inside of a gym in the last decade. But being sick on the weekend of the race (and having called into work the day before), we were in for one hell of a day.

"What have we gotten ourselves into" is the thought running through our heads as we leave the house in the morning. I'm wearing jeans, and she has some expensive sandals on. Our backpacks hold anything and everything: winter gloves, a flashlight, 3 energy drinks, clean underwear, and so we're off on our journey. 2 guys on the ctrain let us know we're in over our heads just by looking at them. They're dressed in their gear and look hardcore in their sunglasses. I could look hardcore too had I not registered the day before, or picked up our stuff. But after registering, and changing our team-name from "The Lakecomers" to "The Jack'ettes'", we eat some breakfast and point out "hey, at least we didn't bring a purse". We ignore the opening "warm up/stretching" exercises... amatures, and paranoia sets in when the announcer starts talking about a clue sheet that we don't possess. The strategy: make an alliance with some 40 year old ladies and just follow them all day.

The race begins: We run east along the Bow River in Eau Claire for about 3 minutes with the mass of people. Then we run out of breath and walk. We get to the clue sheet, read while walking to the C-Train and decide we're either headed to the Science Center or Kensington, depending on whichever train comes next. Kensington it is. We're in the cab reading clues outloud, and then meet our "alliance". A team called the "Keep it Simple Sisters" equipped with friends helping them on the other end, and a blackberry for all the secret info. Score!
Challenge 1: Running, reading maps and finding flags to spell a secret word. Those challenge fukers even thought ahead to create more than 1 map, more than 1 word, so that we couldn't cheat.Whatever, at least we know how to spell. Our word was "Check". Moving on.
Challenge 2: Wheelchair basketball. Wheelchairs, backwards, through pylons. Then score some baskets (without travelling... odd) and play a 2 on 1 game. Hilariousness, we're so gonna join a league! Challenge 3 involved paining bones overtop my skin at the science center Yeah, I looked ghey the whole day, but I wasn't the one that was gonna be naming them, so I decided to go with it.

Being moderately good at one activity, our next stop was Chinook, where we climbed up a rock climbing wall in no time at all, and after bowling with some wooden kart thing (stupidest activity of them all) we were on our way back downtown. But as we waited for a train, some teams told us of a park with 2 more challenges, we took off running again. At this point in time, we realized that our "alliance" were in much better shape than us. They could run, and we felt like we were holding them back. We let them go ahead and said we'd meet for a beer after. Then came Challenge 6: Frisbee golf. Chucking a Frisbee at a tree and having a penalty if you have to throw x-amount more than the alloted times. The penalty (like a harder pushup) sucked, so we cheated our way through it, and went on to our next and favorite challenge. It was a spider web type deal that we had to climb through, and though I got a bit dizzy, and got a wedgie, it was awesome.

I learned to play blackjack at the casino, saving my partner in crime from eating bulls balls. We rode a bus down 17th with about 80 more participants. Sang with strangers in a car at the top of our lungs, and stabbed potatoes while quoting unknown people, before heading back to the finish line. And out of 550 teams, we came in 146th!

After finishing the race and beaming with pride, I got some ice cream and went for a leisurely kayak down the river, hopped on the shuttle bus and went to the afterparty, where I stayed true to my detox and hung out with my partner in crime and the "alliance". Life is an adventure, and I wish I had more days like these. Days were you do things without thinking twice about them. Hell, I would've eaten a cricket, played with a teranchela, done some pole dancing, chained myself to a girl, or run up 52 fights of stairs. Next year I'll beat 11 challenges, or 146th place. Are you up for the challenge?

The Game that is my Life

So there I was... hanging out on cloud 9 as if such a thing happens everyday. I was walking around with a smile on my face, only thinking happy thoughts in my delirious state of "smitten-ness". Then one day, out of the blue, as I sit down on my hammock on cloud 9, I start to fall. The trees that the hammock was attached to were both sabotaged, cut like pencil points in the middle, the way you see on cartoons. Jack must've been around cuz I didn't even notice. I tumbled down in denial the whole way, not acknowledging the fact that I'd left cloud 9 and stuff had not gone the way I planned: perfectly.

I finally landed on cloud 6, justification cushioning that fall, still dazed from denial. Cloud 6 isn't a bad cloud to be on, it's the one in the middle that still allows for happy moments mixed in with the not so happy ones. But once you've been to cloud 9, you always want to go back. So why settle for the in between?

I took out my map to take a look at which way to get back to cloud 9 which I had gotten so accustomed to. From cloud 6 to cloud 7, there's the obstacle of truth. Truth is one of those sketchy bridges that you see in old movies. The ones made out of rope and wood, with half the pieces missing. With every step across you second guess yourself, but to make it to the other side, eventually you have to trust your judgement and just go for it.
After that, to get to cloud 8, you have the obstacle of trust. Trust is a rope that dangles from the sky. One of those ropes that kids use to tie to a tree and swing on to jump into the lakes. The issue with trust is that, 1. you don't know where it comes from and therefore, the likelihood of you getting hurt is great, and 2. it's not something that you could start and then change your mind on. Once you jump onto that rope and start to swing across, you better just jump off on the other side.
The last leg of the journey back to cloud 9 is the ladder of Forgiveness. A long ass ladder that seems like it goes on forever. Every step up makes you doubtful of your decision, and a few steps are even missing which makes you question continuing your climb. But at the end is cloud 9, so if you've started up the ladder, you can't logically turn back.

I sit here, cross-legged on cloud 6, looking at my map and contemplating a strategy for this trek. It's an overcast day... again. All these clouds in my way of the sunshine that shines a bit higher up. I think I'll attempt the voyage to the 9th cloud. What do I have to lose? I mean, I could fall down to cloud 2, but that's a risk I'm willing to take... just not right away, probably in a couple weeks.

Hanging in the Rain

You know what I love more than anything? Rain. When it feels more like fall than it does spring, and everyone is walking around all miserable as we all lived in Ireland rather than Canada. When the puddles and the overcast skies seem endless and my puddle filled skater shoes make my feet beyond frozen... that's what I love most of all. That's what today has in store for me.

A State of Distraction

I'm at one of those points in my life, when I really don't know when my next day off is going to be. I've recently started a promotion for Sony, then one for Telus, after which I'm doing one for RBC, then Sony again, and probably back to Telus. Although some of the work is totally fun and I don't mind doing it, I think back to last summer when all I did was work, getting roped into that obsession with money that people talk about. I have up my summer months not enjoying my friends, or the mountains nearly enough, and though my trip to Europe was awesome, I've regretted the amount of hours I had to clock in to achieve it.

I don't want to make the same mistakes this summer. I want to visit Waterton and hang in the mountains. I want to party at Stampede and go for random weekend getaways with my friends. I think that this year, I have to concentrate more on happiness than money, so that's my new plan.

The work couldn't've come at a better time though. After the week spent in a depression-like-state, I needed something to get my mind off of things. Everyday when I wake up to get to work, I roll my eyes at having to get out of bed for a reason, but appreciate being out and about when it does happen. So for the next month or so, I'll coax by distracted by work and obligations, hopefully with random adventures along the way.

Weekend 1: Citychase
Weekend 2: Official Camping Kickoff
Weekend ?: Waterton
Plan Set. Ready? Go!

A Whole New Low

Usually, when people are feeling "out of it" they show it in different ways.
Yes, there are the standard: be distant, stay in your room, stop eating ect. ways.
And everyone has a different way to break out of the funk.

I realized that I've hit a whole new low, after hanging out in my bed for days,
when the only reason I had to get out of bed today was to go see a MILEY CYRUS movie.

That's right, I showered, got dressed, and put on make-up to go see this, apparently 4/10 $3 movie. But hey, a distraction at it's best, as I spent the whole thing wondering why the acting is so unbelievably poor, and why I've seen this storyline more than 10 times before.
Good choice ladies.

this feeling.

I detest daytime hours when i' feeling this way.
I want to crawl into a corner and die. a dark corner, not this one filled with light shining through my windows.
I put my makeup on darker than usual today, wore mainly black clothes.
But the expression on my face would say more than anything else I do.
Me? I'm distraught.

And so I sit and wish for night to fall. Hoping it will bring darkness and a sense of solitude.
A dark solitude in which I could be miserable for a while.
But that's just today, I hope.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll find a way to fix my new found issues.
Maybe I'll feel less resentment, and be overwhelmed with forgiveness.
Maybe we could meet in the middle, and continue life together.

Or maybe I'll continue feeling like all degrees of hell, wanting to jump in the river and just stop trying.

Out of My Element.

A friend of mine asked me to go see a show today. A very talented artist that she had introduced me to about a year ago, was playing in Calgary at some never-before-heard-of-by-me venue.

Having no plans for the night, I agreed to the overpriced (in the ways of I'm used to paying $5 for a show kinda way) performance.

We arrive at a venue where there is a room set up (not a bar, a room). There is a made stage with a semi-circle of chairs set up in front of it, and a roll out bar (with only wine and beer) set up in the corner. Everyone is 40+ except for my friend, me, and another couple.
The performance was good. The artists that played were talented, no doubt... but the atmosphere!

I've bitched a lot about having gone to bars and felt old, since everyone is 19. I keep thinking that maybe I should go out and do new things out of my element. But I am not ready for the posh wine-drinking, gentle hand-clapping, "bravo"-exclaiming crowd that was found at said concert this evening. An 8am set time and a man taking a nap in the back row does not summarize my idea of a good time.

I tried to go to something similar a couple years back when on a visit to Ontario. A punk-type band that I knew were playing an acoustic set at an art opening for a local photographer. Since I have an interest in awesome photos, and awesome acoustic from a band I admire, I convinced my friend Alz to get dressed up "all nice" and come with me. Even at that show, the chocolate fondue and soft-drinks threw us off, but we decided it was good for what it was.

Tonight wasn't a bad night, but would I do it again? Probably not for a few years.

Words that Broke my Heart

Hanging out with the guyfriend the other day (yes, I am seeing someone... so for those of you who have ever met me in your lives, pick your jaws up off the floor, shit happens. For those of you who know me currently, please stop making fun of me, I kinda don't hate him) he had unknowingly spoken some of the most hurtful words to me.

The topic being discussed, is pretty much irrelevant.
The words, I wish he could take back.
His opinion will hopefully change, whether sooner or later.

For 3 days now I've been thinking about the consequences of such words. How they will effect me in the future, and if I could ever really get past their meaning. They haunt me, though I see his reasons for having spoken them. On this one topic, I wish things were different.

(pouring my heart out, even if in a vague way. don't ask)

Apologies.

Alright, so I've gotten enough ridicule from the 3 people that actually read this blog, about not having posted in a while. What can I say? School may be over, but I still fall into my "slacker" tenancies.

I'd like to say "sorry" for having posted nothing, for such a spread of time. And since it's been said, so get over it. Also, you should probably spread the "AnnaB blog" word to others who are bored in their everyday lives, so more than the 3 of you are reading this, and I actually feel motivated to write something.

Lastly, I will reward you all for swinging by the site. You will get 2 very short "thoughts" posted right now, and then one a day for the next few days. You're welcome.

The Numbers Game

Rewind back, for those of you who are not regular readers of my blog.
At the beginning of the year, I came up with a resolution to "expand my social circle". In order to do so, I would have to go out, be social, meet new people, and acquire 2 phone numbers every week.

The purpose: if you meet x amount of people, about 20% of them or so, will turn out to be decent human beings that I might be able to hang out with.

The jist of the game so far: I started seeing someone and therefore have been slacking.

I've been surviving based on some drunken weekends about a month ago when I went above my "quota" and have been using the numbers on reserve.

Now: last week I HAD to get my 2 numbers, because the "backups" have run out. I failed at this.

The punishment: Outstanding #'s x 2, + current week's numbers
(2 that I didn't get, x 2 = 4, + the 2 for this week..... 6 numbers)

That's what I'm trying to do this week. I was supposed to go out with my friend HomesliceW/Butta' today. I "skirted up" and was ready to have a decent time... even in my tired haze. But I wasn't feeling the "hardcore" show he was taking me to, and ended up at comedy.

Best pickup line ever: "Are you a comedian?" -no. "Are you dating a comedian?" -no. "you're here with someone though, right?" -dude, I'm just hanging out. "And you're so pretty doing it!" -haha, thanks. (wait for it) ... (ready?)
"Listen, I'd continue talking to you, but you're either gonna slap me, shoot me down, or end up giving me a fake number. I'm just happy to be sitting beside you"
-blank stare- ... It's been like an hour and a half and I still have no response to this.

But hey, 1/6 numbers for the week, good huh?

sad.

I don't remember getting sad many times in my life. I mean, I'm a spoiled brat, so tears would flow anytime I didn't get my way.... and there's those few times when "loved ones" would shed tears, so I would do so also, out of obligation... but not much more beyond that.

But at some point in time during my teenage life, I remember getting upset enough that I hid myself in the closet. I was crying, but was embarassed about it (I'm tuff) and therefore I felt the need to hide in case anybody came into my room.

That is how I feel today.

When 5 Year Olds Can't Fix it All.

I remember back to the time when I was learning to ride my 2 wheel-bike. I'd love to say that I was the type of kid that just took it upon myself to learn, and with my attitude, I'm quite shocked that I didn't. But I was daddy's little girl, and if it was going to take hours upon hours of daddy running around the school parking lot, holding the back seat of that bike, that's how it was to go down. And when I got hurt, it would break his heart to see me upset.

I'd fall off my bike and give an over-exaggerated reaction to my scraped knee. (Much like screaming bloody murder when my father just threw me into pool to "teach me how to swim". Way to risk me drowning dad). Being too young to curse at the world for doing me such an injustice, I would cause a scene by crying and yelling. In turn: daddy's heart breaks, and I get a multitude of bandaids, and kisses to fix the pain. I get some ice cream on a cone, and I get to stay up late watching tv... until it's all better. (I got whatever I wanted)

When I last saw my "5 year old boyfriend", it had been after my first time ever going to a ski hill to learn how to snowboard. I had fallen so many times that my whole body felt like it was burning and all I wanted to do was lay as still as possible in an alcoholic state of contentment. He, on the other hand, wanted to play, jumping on me and yelling in my ears. I was in too much pain to be nice to him, but I told him that I was dying.
"You're dying?" he said... "for real?"
"no, not for real. I just really really hurt myself" I told him.
He looked at me with all the concern a 5 year-old can look at you with, not knowing how to fix it. Then he got an idea. "I could fix it" he yelled as he ran out of the room.
I smirked to myself, loving his enthusiasm for wanting to make things better, and relishing the 3 minutes of silence he gave me by leaving the room... but then he came back... with a popsicle!
"My mom said I could give you this... where does it hurt? I'll kiss it better!". He said, and he did.
Then he invited me to his racecar bed to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. It was a good night.

To this day I find myself panicked when someone around me is upset. I don't know how to deal with pain or genuine anger. And god-forbid someone be disappointed... how the hell do you fix that? Fuk'd if I know! But this is what I have learned, though I don't want to accept it.
-When something hurts, a bandaid and a kiss will make it all better. But when someone is hurt, fake bandaids and 100 kisses will not.
-When you're upset that someone's upset and you want to make yourself feel better, and ice cream is not around... chewing ice will not help you either. You need the real deal.
-Pouting is also a gimmick, and not everyone reacts to tears.

See normally when someone is upset, I say "Fuk em". It's not an emotion that I like to instill upon myself, so I'll avoid it at all costs. But in recent cases, I find myself joining them in this god-awful state. And then, with two people upset instead of one, how do you fix that?

defective.

What first brought me to Alberta, was the promise of a management position, at a hotel on a hill. I was to work at a giftshop, (in my head it was a marketing-related position), in which I would get to delegate work to others (score!). My attitude shone through quickly, and I was soon known as the "mean" manager, and totally unjustifiably so.

I remember one day, as I was sitting in the assistant managers office, gossiping instead of working, I got a sharp pain in my chest. It was a stabbing, squeezing kind of pain. (Probably something to do with the multitudes of alcohol I had consumed on a regular basis during the summer). You'd think that it was something to do with my heart, but it was located on the right side of my body, rather than the left. I walked up to our front desk manager, detouring away from "work" some more, and asked with legit concern, while holding my chest "Hey Vans, if my heart's on the left side of my body, do you think my Evil side is on my right? It really hurts!" She gave me the coldest stare I've ever witnessed on her face, and flat out replied "I thought your heart was your evil side"... for a second, making me even more concerned, before we both burst out laughing.

I'm reminded of this story now, because the other day, when feeling like a mean person, I started looking for my heartbeat. I've never been able to find my own pulse, let alone anyone else's, but I thought a heartbeat would be different. But even jumping jacks in the living room to wake it up, don't seem to work, and I find myself laying in bed at night, very still, trying to hear or feel it, with no result.

In the movies they always say that when you fall in love, you're supposed to "give your heart to someone". I've never been in love, but maybe it's because it's all related somehow. Why would I need to give my heart to anyone, if there's no proof that it even exists, or if it does, that it's not defective? I mean, I believe the organ does exist within my body... that's why my left boob is slightly more elevated than my right, but I don't think it does anything: like beat.

Fantasy World.

So, I was walking through Central Park just the other day... talking with a friend about relationships and such... then he asked "how long have you known him?" and I replied "It's been like, a day". Thinking I was kidding he gave me a distraught look asking "you're kidding right?" to which my response, with a glazed look in my eyes as I stared up into the sky, was "no... and tomorrow, it'll be two days!"
That didn't really happen to me. It happened in the fairytale Enchanted... but what's wrong with believing that? What's wrong with having only positive feelings on the subject? Spare me the whole "it's not realistic" bullshit, cuz I don't care. The movie being so far fetched, I still adore it, because it allows you to be happy over the little things in life.

What I want to know, is why people are so obsessed with reality? Why it's so important to consume yourself with all this information about how many murders or suicides happen. How many people unjust-fully die. Why fill your head with such worry? (See "Why Worry" song by the All American Rejects). Doesn't anyone believe in fate anymore? Like, if I was gonna die tomorrow, it would happen. Whether it be being hit by a bus or falling off a mountain, or being shot by some asshole... almost like Final Destination styles?

And why is that I seem to know the people that take reality so seriously? Where are those daredevils that rock climb and whitewater raft and not really think about not surviving? I would never climb a mountain if the thought running through my head was "you're gonna fall". No one would continue going higher. I wouldn't wanna skydive from a plane (totally doing it this year roomie) if I was thinking "my parachute is probably not gonna open". And I would not be trying to climb to cloud 9, if I knew that cloud 1 was a bit worse, but a lot safer, because the fall wasn't so great. Yes all those examples had to do with heights and I don't know why it turned out that way. I just think people should be happier in the moment they're in, that's all.
Oh, and if you're not... alcohol helps.
***please drink responsibly and don't end up like me last Friday night***

...something coming soon...

Maybe my promises mean more than the ones that are posted on the walls of our house. Maybe.

the 9am job...

far from a 'real' job, and yet, just as inconvenient with a 9am start ect ect. How long do you think that'll last? and who's gonna post blogs in before noon for the lunchtime amusement of others?

my phone's crapping out, maybe it is iphone time... give that to me alongside a vehicle and see what happens!

Lies.

While driving by the not-yet-open liquor store on 14th/20th, I was thinking out load about getting a job there... You know, close to home, something I'm interested in... I was told that if I worked there, I could steal liquor! ...and I laughed. One of my "issues" is that I can't lie. I'm horrible at it, and therefore don't do it. Can you imagine me working at a liquor store, loving Jack as much as I do?
The manager: "Jack's your bf, right?"
me: "hell yeah
Manager: "all of our Jack is missing"
me: *shrugs*
It would never work. Since I can't lie, I could never steal, so I wouldn't.. unless Iwas bored of the job and didn't mind gettting caught.

But it's been said that when people lie often, they get so wrapped up in their lies that they can't even keep track of them anymore, and end up thinking most of the stuff they say is true. I lie to no one. I try to be as blunt and straightforward as possible - even if it hurts your feelings. And liars piss me off. Whether it's being done deliberately or not, I will not stand for it.

I live in my own delusional world thinking that people are good and that nothing bad will ever happen to me. That I could travel the world and hitchhike with randoms, to sleep in people's houses whom I've just met, and give everyone a chance. One day that might come back to bite me in the ass, but I'M AWARE of that, and therefore aren't lying to myself... just avoiding to acknowledge the worst.

But the delusions that others undertake, the ones they perceive as happiness within their own lives, well those lies have to stay within their heads! As Jillian from the Biggest Loser stated once "I know you're wrong, and you're lying" and because of that, we just will not get along. Especially in a stupid lie, I just want to back-hand-front-hand-back-hand slap you! ...Or just ignore you all together. Those are my thoughts on liars, I can't put up with it, because it WILL upset me. And I'm a very happy person!

Who says you can't make up your own drama?

Backstory: As a new years resolution for 2010, I've decided to expand my social circle. The plan -2 phone numbers a week! As it's easier for me to flirt/befriend males rather than females, I now have a few "prospects" in my phone.

Wings: All I wanted to do last night was to go out for some wings at my neighbourhood pub. I txt'd my roommates, with no positive response... Txt'd C-Dawg, and got a "maybe". And therefore, I started txt'ing my "new friends". I sent a shout to the snowboarder I picked up the day before St. Paddy's, and to Superfly, whom I had met working over the weekend. I also txt'd ArmyGuy and HomesliceWButta'... But inevitably I ended up at the bar alone waiting for C-Dawg, and expecting only him.

**sidenote: snowboarder story: I had been in hanging with Girlie wandering around shops and getting our hair did in a kind of "girls day". I walked into a snowboarding shop thinking I should buy the overdue boots/binding for the board I got, so I could be a step closer to trying to learn hot to "shread". After flirting to get a good deal, and that not happening, I decided I'd be more likely to spend $300 on booze than a snowboard. And therefore I looked at the guy in the store saying "what time you drinking at tomorrow?" and after getting a response, closing the deal with "awesome, I'm down, what's your name and number?"**

The story: After a walk and a traveller, I sit down at the bar and shoot the shit with the barkeep who tells me I'm not officially a "loner" if I'm meeting someone. (Apparently I have to get stood up to get that nice title). Then a guy walks up to me, says hello as if he knows me, and taking off his jacket sits down beside me. I make small talk with him for 5mins before I realize it's "snowboarder guy". And after another 5mins of converstation, he says "I don't even know your name!" Who does that? Meets up with randoms whos name is not even common knowledge?

C-Dawg walked into the bar soon after, sitting down on the other side of me, converses a bit with my new friend, and orders a water. (Damn my friends are lame!) I'm on my 2nd drink by now and laughing to myself as the boys talk to me, and try to befriend eachother, apparently having skateboarded together before. As I'm fishing for things to talk about with the boy to my left (snowboarder) and sharing promo-work drama with C-Dawg to my right, I'm also txt'ing a guyfriend of mine.

The guyfriend, swings by the bar to say hello, seeing me with 2 guys he's never met on either side of me. I'm laughing even harder on the inside at my situation, and am now only paying attention to him, ignoring the boys to my sides. And as I decide to walk him out, stopping to makingout with him in the "hallway", Superfly and his friend walk in!

Haha, snowboarder and C-Dawg are now friends, me having left them alone for a bit, and Superfly and his friend are trying to establish themselves at the bar, walking over to talk to me periodically. I'm cramping up from laughing at the inside, and drinks and shots continue. The bartender starts to mention the multitude of boys sitting around me, and asking me who I'm going home with. Everyone puts their money on C-Dawg apparently ignoring the boy I was makingout with, but leave with C-Dawg I eventually do.

And after walking him to his place, I decide to find my own way home. No deal. After wanderings, I come to a dead end and decide that I'm not going to backtrack. There's a fence with a hole in the middle, and a huge field/hill on the other side. Sketchy to the normal person at 2am, but not I. I climb the "hill of death" (Prince of Wales reference) which leads to a bench overlooking the city, where I sit for a few minutes. Damn, I wish I had another traveller. After catching a wind and running down the other side of the hill, I followed the lights towards SAIT and found my way home, still laughing to myself about the night of drama that none of my female friends got to witness.

Lost in Anger and Frustration

Have you ever gotten yourself lost in someone elses drama? Ever woken up feeling beyond angry, and not knowing why? And then when you assess what the source of the frustration is, you realize that it has NOTHING to do with you? That's how I've been feeling the past couple days. Unable to control things that frustrate me, unable to make other people see my viewpoint on situations, and unable to make my friends happy.

Me, I don't like to lose. I don't like to feel out of control, and I hate feeling helpless. But there's only so much you could do before you do feel like you can't fix things, and that feeling drowns you inside. When I get to that point, I ALWAYS walk away. Although being unable to help kills me, sooner or later you have to cut your losses, acknowledge that things are out of your control, and walk away.

I thought about stuff that has to do with me the other day. I have no drama. Absolutely nothing. Not that has to do 100% with me anyway. And I think about myself a lot, so if there was anything drama-esque, I feel like I would've found it.
I tried to make some drama up. Pretend that there was a web of lies within my friends and that I was the naive stupid girl. Shit, maybe I'll be surprised and it'll turn out to be true. But then I was told "we'll cross that bridge when we get to it" and so I wait for "my drama" to unfold. I wait to find out about the wife/kids/dog that would blow my mind, and shock me.

I just wish I could pass along some of my boring contentment to others... without taking on their bullshit drama and heartache.
And those are my afternoon thoughts for today.

The Hierarchy of Friends.

*prefix* Whether you've ever met me/hung out with me/heard about me/or know me really, really well... you have to accept one thing about me, before any kind of relationship can develop. (well, you don't really have to, but if you don't, you will VERY quickly become frustrated and walk away. So why even bother?). I think I'm always right. Always. I love to argue and am willing to listen to/debate/be converted to your way of thinking, but since I am always right, chances of that happening is slim.

Because I can be overly-harsh with people, some assume that I don't think before I speak. Or that I don't consider the consequences of my actions. But I do. Always. And 99% of the time, I would not change those spoken words, or those committed actions... because they happened for a reason!

*the backstory* Let's rewind a couple of months to back when Not-N2 and I were still friends. Our most frequent argument was about the fact that "I treat different people different ways" and that "I would go out of my way to hurt some people more than others". I agreed with the first but disagreed with the second. I believe I could read personalities fairly well and since I like to test people, I always want to know how much of my "shit" people could handle, that's why I come across as mean. (Inevitably, I am who I am and can't stop everyone from crying about the things I say, but I'm okay with that)
The "treating people differently" I admit to doing. Everyone does it. Not-N2's argument was that it was "unfair", as if I should treat everyone exactly the same. Please tell me that you'd talk to your mother the same way you'd talk to your drinking buddy. Or to my boss the same way you'd talk to a 10year old bully. If you ever tell me that you treat your best friend the same way that you treat an acquaintance, or that you treat your boyfriend the same way you treat Joe down the street, I should introduce you to Not-N2, because I think that's a load of shit!

And now for a story of how another one of my friendships came to an 'end' because I didn't control my actions, or... just do what I was told! (The "happy couple" involved, will be referred to as 'her' and 'him')

*the story* Back in the city from a stressful work-weekend away, I'm in the car with 'her'. We're going to pick up 'him'. Everyone is exhausted and needing a "time out". Attitudes, like punches in a boxing rink are swinging at one another, and I've just decided that I've had enough of 'the happy couple's' shit for the weekend. If anything I don't agree with is spoken, I'm no longer "playing along", I'm no longer holding my tongue or being nice. I'm done!

So as we're driving to get 'him', my friend sitting in the driver seat, and me in the passenger, I'm the bitch that says "I hope he likes sitting in the back" while buckling my seatbelt. (some would say: "a mean thing to say" but (as my roommates pointed out) totally justifiable, since he's a boy, and I'm in the front seat to begin with). Asking me to get out and move to the back would be ridiculous, right? Apparently not. And therefore, I lose my shit! My anger is twofold:
1. When on the phone with 'him' my friend felt the need to give him a "heads up" about me sitting in the front (if that's not a girl screaming "please don't hit me!" on the inside, I don't know what is). Simultaneously, it's a slap in my face as she's just broken the friendship code. I had told her I wasn't moving no longer than 30secs prior. Note to self-she tells him EVERYTHING!
2. As we continue driving to pick the prick up, she looks at me with that doe-eyed look and says "can you please get in the back? I don't want to fight with him". (My response to this comes from a weekend of anger because of their fuked up relationship) Being a bitch, I ask in a "are you fuken-kidding-me" kinda yell: "Oh yeah? would you rather fight with me?" Then, I start up a screaming match of "mock" arguments between her and I, from her perspective (the girl he's gonna make cry at the end of the night) and mine (the frustrated friend that wants her to realize how far backwards she's bending over for the douchebag). I scream for 3minutes in a deafening manner with no response from her, hoping she'll get the picture and realize that I'm right. She asks me to switch seats. I ask her to pull over. The end.

*suffix* The Hierarchy of Friends works in different ways. Boyfriends can be more important than friends. But is the boyfriend #1? Would he sit in the front seat if your mother or grandmother was in the car? Don't get me wrong, people like the front seat, that's why "shotgun" was invented, after all. But we hit a whole new dynamic when you ask a person to GET OUT of the vehicle and SWITCH SPOTS on a car ride that will take less than 10mins, for no other reason then 'your bf will pick a fight with you'!!!
This blog is not about a seat in a car, it's actually about me being stubborn, and correct. (Haha, no.) I have my bullshit limit, the same way Not-N2 had hers. I could've kept my mouth shut on that ride home, done what my friend asked, and we'd still be on good terms. But I CANNOT justify being treated like shit, so that she could be nice to a boy that treats her like shit. Fine. From her perspective, the boyfriend is more important then herfriends, alright. But now she's gone and disrespected me, and I THINK that's not okay!
At the end of the day everyone chooses their battles. My friend chose not to fight with 'him' but rather me instead. Well, BRING IT! Because I don't regret my actions, and I do think I'm right.

Shoes?

prefix: I've had a few drinks last night, then hot tubed and gambled and drank and hot tubed, and then, well, eventually passed out. This morning wasn't a disaster or anything, but it was funny.

The conversation: Girlie & The Magician stopped by the my room early in the am. I opened the door (after putting pants on) and came out, wearing pants/tank top/barefoot.
Girlie (wearing socks): "Shoes?"
Me: No.
Girlie: "But, shoes!"
Me (looking down at her in socks and me barefoot): "No!"
Girlie (looking confused): "Will they let us into the restaurant without shoes?"
Me (shrugs): "I dunno"
Magician (frustrated): "Really Girlie, just used your words!, can Girlie get some shoes?"
Me (dumbfounded): "Oh, YOU want shoes".

This is how the conversation went in my head:
Girlie: hey, are you gonna wear any shoes?
Me: No!
Girlie: really, you're not gonna wear any shoes?
Me: You're not wearing any, neither am I.
Girlie: do you think we'll get in trouble?
Me: That's a risk I'm willing to take
Magician: For fuk sakes, give my gf some fuken shoes
Me: oh shit, YOU wanted shoes. Who knew.

the thought process in the morning was way too much to take.

The Makings of a Good Weekend.

I'm supposed to be working a Speedstick sampling promo in Calgary right now. Instead, I'm hanging out in Native-land, at a casino, where, at 1am, no one is gambling, but instead, everyone is sleeping. The O-town, S-Club7, B4-4 and Good Charlotte videos amused me for a while, but gimme a break, something has to be going on around here.

As BabyMama gets some money for covering my ass under the table for this weekend, I will be giving out food with the Magician, who's already gotten me to run errans for him, and Girlie, who thought it was a good idea to wear heals to the ski hill... amongst others.

The hot tub chill sessions are rather amusing, and I guess the waterslide doesn't hurt, but overall the day's been uneventful and therefore I'm trying to start up some drama for none-other than my amusement.

Beefs:
-who the fuk wears high heels to a ski hill?!? For a girl who doesn't appreciate being called "Girlie" on my blog, or at least denies (for the most part) being one, this is fuking ridiculous. I might as well have worn sandles out here and then looked shocked when people made fun of me! -Mr. Cool, if you can't afford the bad habit, fuken quit! No one tells you to smoke, and having someone else buy your cigarettes for you is gheyness. As the roomie just bitched about that to your gf, I find it hillarious that less than 48hrs later, you asked for the cigarettes. At least Boss-man humoured you. That was nice of him.
-The fact that someone calls me at 8am and requests that I work that weekend frustrates me to the equivalent of a boy calling at 3am to get some ass. I said yes, I always do, but I am aware of my stupidity.
-And the room situation ended up giving me a choice. Like a 'which is worse' statement going through it over and over in my head, is what that was. I chose the one I could argue with, without it resulting in tears. We'll see if drama follows. (to be continued...)

-At least Jack's cool. (Yah the one everyone's thinking of, though he shows up sporatically) but the other one as well. I found out that we have common-opinions, and therefore am amused.
-And the green dye still on my hand from the night before still puts a smile on my face. But at the end of the day, I can't complain for being in the mountains and getting paid for it!