Lost girl in the street

Yesterday was New Years, and via my 19-yr-old kinda attitude, in true drunken fashion, a couple of adventures came to pass. But I can't put them all in one story and lose my regular readership, so you'll have to read another post in a day or so.
But here's todays story:

It's 3:30 in the morning, and in the middle of the street on 20th Avenue, in front of Jimmy's stands a girl. Like a deer caught in headlights, she's just standing there, looking confused, and listening intently, holding something in her hand. She's wearing a short-sleeved dress, but no jacket. Her shoes don't match her outfit at all as they are ass-kicking/moon-walking/combat-looking boots.
She takes a step to the left and a step to the right, clearly distraught and frustrated. Then she bends down to pick an object up from a deep pile of snow. Her blackberry.

It always happens to me, what could I say?

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.