Happy Halloween-ie!

The 80's Halloween party on Saturday night was ah.ma.zing. People went all-out with their costumes and the band was incredible. They had a trombone and a saxophone! I swear, it was like we were in St. Elmo's Fire. The music was awesome, line-ups for the bar virtually non-existent and eventhough I lost my coat-check ticket (which happens all the time) I'd memorized the number (because I lose them) and was able to walk home in relative warm-ness.

I'd been working on my costume for weeks and it was really fun to see all the pieces together. I decided to dress up as Big Bird after seeing a costume online. It was hella money so I used its general concept and made it myself.

I couldn't find yellow boas, so I dyed white ones.  A fairly intense process, but it worked out in the end.  I sent the picture to a ties-aren't-just-for-the-office friend who described it as a "Muppet Crime Scene." Amazing. 

They looked really bad afterwards and I thought I'd ruined them (and threw a small tantrum)

A quick blow dry though and they came back to life -- yellow! The feathers went everywhere but it was worth it.

Next I painted styrofoam balls to look like Big Bird's eyes.

Some foam, wire and a glue gun can make almost anything!

I had to add a hairband as I got a little carried away with its size and there needed to be extra support. 

This is the final product!

I got the tank top and skirt on sale and everything else from the dolla store. The tights were hilarious and brought the whole thing together and they were a buck too! I had the shoes already. The total cost was under $40. It survived the night, so I'll be the best Big Bird ever next year too!

Happy Halloween!!
Because I can't resist, the boys were a couple a weenies. 


What the Summons?

As mentioned in a previous post, Marc and I have lived in New Brunswick for just over a year. 368 days, to be exact.

I've lived in a few different places for much longer and this has never happened to me. It was so unexpected -- so sudden. 

Marc came in with the mail. There was a brown slightly-oversized envelope with my name printed on a label. 

"I know that I paid the parking ticket from when my parents were here." He said nervously as he handed it to me. His eyes a little wider than usual.

I turned it around and saw that it was from the Sheriff's office. My heart sank. Glaring, I look at Marc who's eyes are now much wider than usual, jittering anxiously from side to side. 

I could feel the annoyance creeping up my spine as I expected a large fine from the City of Fredericton (sometimes Marc forgets to do things - it's totally unintentional and I'm learning to embrace it...slowly). 

At the top of the official letter is the Provincial Logo. I scan down, seeing my name and the date "November 29th."

Shutthefrontdoor...I've been selected for Jury Duty. 

For Reals.

What a nightmare. 

Crappity, Crap Crap. 


Mayo Mystery...Solved!

Since the last post about baking, I've been finding new ways to use bagels (mostly because they're so delicious I don't really want to eat anything else). Yesterday I thought I'd do a tuna melt.

I preheated the oven, cut the bagel in half and sliced up a few cheeses. It took a while for me to find the can opener in our overstuffed utensil drawer, but eventually was able to open up a can of tuna. A few dashes of garlic salt and a little chopped onion later, I opened the fridge to grab the mayo.

We have a larger-than-average fridge but since we've been watching our pennies, it's not exactly stuffed. A few weeks ago, we'd run out so I was positive that there was a brand-new non-opened jar...I just couldn't find it?

I called Marc to ask him about the mayo's possible location but his cell went straight to voicemail. Feeling like an idiot for either forgetting the condiment at the grocery store or on the cold pavement of its parking lot, I made the tuna melt sans mayo.

It wasn't the same.

A few hours later I figured I'd get an early start on supper and went into the kitchen to suss out the situation. This is when I found the elusive jar of mayo...in the freezer. It was completely solid.


I figured that I'd just put it back in the fridge and it'd be fine. People froze things all the time, right?


What greeted me this morning was the grossest thing ever. It was like white soup with a bunch of oil floating at the top. I shook it to mix it up and it just became chunky....ew...*shudder.

Life Lesson #128: Mayo doesn't freeze.

Life Lesson #129: Pay attention when you're putting the groceries away.

Life Lesson #130: I don't like mayo anymore.


Happy NewBruns-iversary!

Yes, it has been 365 days since we moved to New Brunswick. It's hard to believe that a year has passed by  already.

In celebration of our (arguably) most life-changing decisions to date, I've prepared an Ode to The East.

Oh New Brunswick, you lovely place
we moved so fast, almost like a race.
To the city that welcomed me many years ago
it's where we needed to be, that's fo sho. 

Marc went from having over a two hour commute
to just twenty minutes and job security, to boot!
He loves the property and chopping wood,
smiling every day, who knew this was his hood?

The boys are delighted to be outside without collars
but are still misbehaved, not coming when we holla(s).
They don't understand all the nature that they see
and bark like crazy at deers, bunnies and bees.

Just like before, I'd hoped it'd be the best 
place for me to recover, heal and rest. 
I'd missed my gals more than I'd known
and psyched to get to see their children grow(n).

So thank you, East Side for being so fly,
for giving us a fresh start and this great house, oh my!
We absolutely love it here and don't think that we'll leave
and why on Earth would we, we're surrounded by trees!

BAM - poetry by moi.

Tonight, there will be celebrations at the new Relish location (a super-awesome gourmet burger joint) a trip to Home Depot to measure out the stripper pole that Marc's making me for my birthday (Oh, yeah) and Dairy Queen for dessert. 

Happy NewBruns-iversary everyone!!


Bakin' My Balls Off (metaphorically, obviously)

Whew! Yesterday I knew what it was like to be barefoot, pregnant and stuck in the kitchen. Well, minus being barefoot cause I was wearing flip-flops...and the pregnant thing...but I sure was stuck in the kitchen! I'd come to the realization earlier in the week that we'd become too reliant on packaged foods, demonstrated by our considerable collection of cardboard wrappers that make it impossible to sit on our front benches. I thought to myself, "Jennie, you need to make things that can be frozen and there needs to be breakfasts, lunches and dinners." Oh yeah, home-cookin' here we come!

First up, breakfast. We'd gotten a flyer in a magazine (Style at Home, the subscription was a wonderful present from my mother) that had a recipe for Doughnut Muffins. Done. They weren't terribly difficult to make, but next time I'd add more apples and some cinnamon into the batter, as the cinnamon only made an appearance in the topping.

Mmm...cinnamon and sugar topping
They really do taste like doughnuts.

Next up, lunches. It's getting cold out, so Marc's switching to hot foods for lunch. I picked up some soup and he has been loving it. What goes best with soup, you ask? Bagels!! 
Now, grocery store bagels are good, but I looked at the ingredients and they're full of long-named things. Great Canadian Bagel makes delicious ones, but they're about 5x the price of grocery store brands. I checked out some recipes and although time-consuming, they really aren't that complicated. Marc got some larger ones while I made myself smaller versions. I must say, they're just as good as GCB! Next time I'm gonna add cheese and some herbs...and maybe some sesame seeds.

In total, I was able to make 13 - a baker's dozen (nbd). 

Finally, it was time to make supper. Marc's favourite food, in the world, is pizza and unless they're on sale, we don't buy them. That being said, they've been on sale for a while and we've kind of (me, anyway) gotten sick of the same thing. I have a fantastic pizza & flatbread cookbook, so I turned through the pages until I found a great recipe for calzone dough. This recipe was the easiest of the bunch and within an hour, including the baking time, we were eating delicious pepperoni and 3 cheese calzones. We each had our own and I had enough dough to make 2 additional ones (Hawaiian style with the leftover ham from Friday night's supper and pineapple chunks) and popped them into the freezer.

So there you go; my Saturday in a pictorial-spread. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep up my new cooking regime, but so far it's clear sailing ahead! I can't wait for Marc to get up because this morning we're going to have bacon and egg sandwiches on soft-home-made-Montreal-style bagels. 

Mmm...bacon and eggers.


My Sister's Weeper

Oh man, I've just had the most exhausting 2 hours. Why, you ask? Well, without really knowing what I was getting myself into, I got sucked into My Sister's Keeper, which really should be renamed.  

I knew nothing about this movie, except that it was sad and had a good cast. Within about twenty minutes, I was a mess. Since then, it's been teary-central every six.

If you haven't seen the movie and is on your list, stop reading here. 

All right - who biologically engineers a child to hack up in hopes of saving another? It wasn't the best start, but the reason that I kept watching and subsequently fell under its emotive spell.

It didn't take me too long to figure out that it was the cancer sister's idea to have non-cancer-and-engineered sister say she didn't want to donate a kidney, but that didn't make the story any less heart-wrenching and devastating. I was hysterical at more than a few points and was very grateful that nobody came to my door because my face was so puffy that I could have passed for the Pillsbury Dough Boy's sister. The story is unlike any I've ever heard/seen and as much as I wanted to stop watching (and, I did for a few hours) I couldn't stop myself from seeing how it ended...even though it was fairly apparent.

Just to clarify, I don't cry at the sad things, but am completely vulnerable to sentimentality and this flick was all about the sentiments (juiced-up sentiments, and by 'juiced-up,' I mean super-mega-steroids). 

Although slightly predictable, I didn't see a court case coming, where the non-cancer sister who wanted to emancipate herself gets taken to court by her mother. With all of the strange-story-lines, there was a whole lotta love, which is what drove me over the edge. 

It.was.a.disaster. Both for the plot's outcome and my consequential emotional meltdown. I don't think I've cried this much in a movie, well, since I Am Sam but this was worse. How could people have seen this movie in the theatres?! Runny mascara marks for everyone (cause this was definitely NOT a man-targeted-movie)! 

Frankly, it was a relief when it finally got to the funeral scene. I feel like I need to take a nap to recover. Heck, I may need two.

Well played, sneaky weepy movie. 


Timewarp Flashback:

I'm not a hard-core Gleek. I don't really watch the show, but love the music so I guess that makes me a Glee- instead of a Glee-fanatic. 

That being said, I've seen pictures of the Rocky Horror Picture Show episode and have been riding a first-class ticket on the Reminiscing Express. Back to what? Well, if you can believe it or not, The Timewarp was my university residence's theme song. Yes, it's an unusual choice as some people have never seen the (friggin' fantastic) flick and cannot wrap their brains around a cross-dressing main character and the overt sexual references. Oh, who am I kidding, the overt sexual references were incredibly appropriate for an all-girls' residence (I jest, I jest). Nothing got an entire bar's attention faster than 80 girls doing a flash-mob Time Warp. 

Anyway, the still shots of the group dance were enough for me to drag out the scrapbook I made from my first year and a couple of amazing things fell out.

First, an award from 2001/2002 titled, "Way to Blow Off A Hot Singer" for "Letting the lead singer from {insert local band here} know just how uninterested she was in him. To make a mortifying story short, I had gotten myself totally wound up about some kind of sporting event that was taking place the day after the-local-and-fairly-good band was playing at The Dirty Nut (former bar that has since been converted into office space...insert nostalgic sigh here). The singer of local-with-a-good-demo group was friggin gorgeous and despite his invitation for me and a few gals to go back to the band's house for an after party, us going and having a great time and his fairly persistent hitting-on-me-attempts (to the delight of my gals as he looked a little like David Usher and totally worked the lead-singer swagga) I kept repeating that we had to "get going soon because of House Wars tomorrow." It was one of the only times that I cha-cha-blocked myself (female equivalent) but later patted myself on the back because the next time I saw them perform, it was clear that hottie-mc-hottie-pants was into some serious narcotics. 

Second, I found two sheets of "Hall Quotes" that our hall-big-sister (a Proctor who was commissioned by the school to keep us in line...clearly ours had fallen through the cracks as she partied harder than any of us) put together at the end of the year. Our Partying Proctor put up pieces of bristol board in the hallway with markers and whenever one of us said something funny or stupid (mostly stupid that became funny) we'd rush to the board to write it down. I've been howling at some of the things on the compiled quote-board list and have decided to share some of the highlights. Don't worry, I didn't include any "had-to-be-there" moments (I think, anyway). It's simply amazing how much more of a grown up I am now...(names have been removed to protect the not-so-innocent).

I sat up and thought I was unconscious. (followed immediately by) I can't spell unconscious...or promiscuous...or Bridget.

I love Hanson's Xmas! I love bumping and grinding to Hanson!

What would you do if I stuck my tongue up your nose?

Guys, it smells like vag and corn in here (I'm laughing at this one while typing).

Look, I have a big, purple, swelled camel toe.

Who wants a piece cause I'm giving it out for free! - I said this one, but it was clearly taken out of context, right?

I'm almost afraid to type in 'hummer.com'

As soon as you burn your macaroni, you'll come back here begging for Beaver (Beaver was the residence catering service...who on Earth came up with that name? I mean, come on!)

I'll just be some weirdo living in my parents' basement saying, 'bring me your kitties.'

Oh man, those were some crazy times.


Dear October:

I am ready for you to be over. Here are the reasons why.

1. It's too cold for my super-cute tan trench but still too warm for the debut of my new winter coat. Between cold and sweaty, I choose cold because it doesn't mess up my hair. However, in a few more weeks I won't have this problem. 

1(b). Also, it sucks when it looks really beautiful and warm out but is only 3 degrees (shown by Fiona, my AyePhone at 9am this morning). When there's snow on the ground, I expect it to be cold. No snow on the ground means I still hold out hope that it's flip-flop weather. The disappointment is starting to (theoretically) eat my soul. 

2. I've been diligently working on my Halloween costume and am ready to wear it now, but will stand out like a sore thumb until the super-fun party I'm going to in 11 days. I don't think I've been this excited about dressing up since I went as the prettiest-butterfly-ever about six years ago. It's taken way more time that I'd originally thought, and has included dying feather boas in my kitchen sink, but it's turned out really well and I'm psyched to rock it out to some 80's classics (the party has an 80's cover band. Awesome, I know). 

3. The countdown to Christmas (and my birthday) officially begins Nov 1. I love, love, love Christmas and eagerly await for the appropriate time to break out my Chipmunks' album and the movie "Elf," starring the hilarious Will Ferrel as Buddy. There are so many amazing quotes from it that make me laugh every time. Also, there's nothing better than the smell of inside trees. 

4. I'm completely ov-ah having to mute terrifying movie trailers in the middle of my sitcom comedies (Marc is also growing tired of covering my eyes and speaking loudly on unrelated topics to drown out the screams). For reals. I'm not sure why or how, but these movies are getting creepier and more disturbing each year. I've posted about it before but the newest previews for "Paranormal Activity" are starting to infringe on my happy sleepy times. Face-close-ups of scary faces should be outlawed - think about the children (and me...but mostly the children)!

5. I had tickets to opening night for Sex and The City 2 (waaay back), but got sick and couldn't go (*fist shake). I've been waiting forever for it to come out on DVD, and finally comes out on October 26th. I've heard it's not as great as the first (which isn't as great as the TV series) but I was heartbroken when I wasn't able to go and seriously have been looking forward to seeing a tanned Aiden (as he looked super-smoking in the previews). 

6. Finally, I'm ready to Fall-Back in time. It sucks getting up in the morning and not being able to see outside because it's pitch black and the stars are out. Sure, turning back the clocks means that the sun sets earlier, but you get an extra hour of sleep that night - Holla!

So please, worst-month-of-the-year October, finish up your business quickly and get on outta here!


Dear Christian Bale:

Last weekend, a few friends and I were sitting around, chatting about which actors are the best looking. My Rapunzel-haired-friend suggested that Johnny Depp was the top of the heap, but specifically when he was in "Chocolat." We all agreed that Mr. Depp is unbelievably attractive in that role, and it got us to talking about other actors' specific heat-inducing characters. 

Naturally, you were on the top of my list.

I have loved you since I was a young gal and only allowed to watch Disney movies. "Newsies" was one of my favourites, with all of the singing and dancing off of streetlights, but you were by far the greatest thing about that movie. Then, you were in "Little Women" and became a full-fledged hunk-crush for me (despite the period costumes and non-flattering mini-mustache in the end). 

As I grew older and was able to make independent movie choices, I branched out into the world of PG and R-rated films, where I learned that I do not like anything that is scary or creepy. Many of your character choices fall into this category as your career expanded (so I missed a few) but when I saw "Batman Begins," everything fell into place (yowza). I've commented before about how you made the best Batman ever and I guess that others agree with me, as you've played the caped-mega-hottie-crusader twice. If I were your wife during the filming of either movies, I would insist that the costume (and voice) make it home at least a couple of times. Perhaps you are a method actor and would have done so anyway, but I cannot think of a better way to spice things up than having my scrumptious hubby (obviously, I'm speaking from her perspective here) come barging in, talking about whatever Batman would talk about, and then get in my bed. mmm...Batman. 

The funniest thing about all this (if I didn't sound like a crazed-stalker already...trust me, I'm not) is that since last weekend, "Batman Begins" was on Showcase, "Little Women" was on Slice (or W, or something) and a Tie-or-no-tie friend referenced "Newsies" (well, technically, he said that he had a 'newsboy' hat, but close enough for me!).

Um...are you trying to tell me something? If Batman Returns is on in the next few days, I'm taking it as a sign that you are somehow bugging my house so you can get more residual cheques. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind, but next time you're around planting hidden spying devices, let me know and I'll just let you in! Maybe we could have a cuppa tea or something? 

There's no need for sneakiness; we're all friends here (please ignore the life-sized cut-out, sitting at the dining room table...I kid, I kid).

(If you could leave your Batman costume for Marc though, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you in advance). 


I'm It (The Sequel).

Nikki at The Fashionable Wife tagged me in a get-to-know-your-blogger game and her timing couldn't be more perfect because I've been keeping a fairly low profile recently and therefore, haven't had a whole lot to post!

1. What is your favourite book?
I'm not sure that I have a favourite fav, as I like a lot of books for different reasons, but I positively adore Emily Giffin's books and the Harry Potter series. That being said, there is one book that I can read over and over again and still get into it, and that's Drop Shot by Harlan Coben. It's part of the Myron Bolitar series, who's character is a sports agent/private investigator, and as per the title suggests, is about competitive tennis. If you're a sports fan who loves funny murder/kidnapping/blackmailing plots, then you'd probably be into spending some time reading the many books in this series. 

2. How did you meet your significant other?
At a birthday party. I'd actually met him a few days earlier when I was sweaty and disgusting after a run, but it was for a brief moment due to my grossness (seriously, I was dripping and it was nasty). The next weekend, he was at the birthday party and we didn't stop talking once we started (despite his wardrobe choice of a head-to-toe brown ADIDAS warm-up suit, complete with matching hat - although he insists he was also wearing the co-ordinated shoes, which is inaccurate because he would have remembered me making fun of him, obviously, because there's no way that I would have let that one slide unnoticed- loveyoubabe!). The next day we had our first date and did long-distance for a few months until I moved back to Toronto. 
I knew that he was different when we'd been dating for about 3 weeks (not that I admitted it, obviously) and had gotten stuck on a carnival ride during an impromptu and torrential rainstorm. Everyone around us was freaking out and we were laughing -- hysterically. My flip-flops flew off in opposite directions, my mascara was dripping all over my face and I had to hold my jeans up because they were so wet they'd have gotten me arrested for streaking. Marc found my shoes and we spent a little while longer playing in the rain of the now-deserted amusement park. The roads home were closed due to flooding and it ended up being the longest date I've ever had. 
Slightly more than the question asked, but the rainstorm's the best part of our story. 

3. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Well, if I was back to 100% health, I would go back to Biarritz, in the south of France and take some more surfing lessons. It was, hands down, the most beautiful place that I've seen. Oh - and I would also go to Harry Potter land in Florida and buy myself a wand and possibly a hat...and some random magic candy.

Downtown Biarritz

La Grande Plage

Me surfing. Oh yeah. It was awesome. 

4. What is your favourite thing to do in your spare time?
This is a trick question, seeing as I'm still in life-time-out-mode, so I basically spend my days living like a premature retire-ee. You know, going for nature walks and picking up pretty leaves that I can paint later, cooking & baking complicated recipes that people who work would never have the time to do (blame Martha), and of course, going grocery shopping in the middle of the day...bahaha. This blog has become something I've taken a shining to though, so I can add that to the list as well.

Disproportionately long tree branch with lanterns and origami cranes. A Jennie original.

5. If you didn't have to worry about money, what would be your dream job?
Hmm..well, if I didn't have to worry about money and could really do whatever I wanted to...I'd make myself the Prime Minister of Canada and whip this place into shape. Having a zillion dollars means that I could run as an independent candidate and therefore, not be swayed by campaign funding. Seriously, we have yet to have a PM with a sense of humour and I think that's what's been missing. Oh yeah, I'd kick some serious a-double-ess with all that power. Mmm...responsibly executed power. 

6. What is one thing that never fails to make you feel better after a long/hard day?
Pepi and The Pickle, our furry babies. It's strange how they're so in-tune with me, because when I'm really not feeling well, they're chill and just want to cuddle. That being said, when I'm feeling great, they're constantly up in my grill, demanding walks, attention, and being chased around the living room coffee-table.

Here they are, on full squirrel alert. 

7. What is your favourite thing to cook/bake?
Cakes!! Cakes, cakes, cakes! Marc and I took a Wilton Cake Decorating Course last winter and it was so much fun! I just love making cakes that look like other things (please note: I make amusing cakes instead of "pretty" ones). My ultimate favourite cake that I've made thus far is a poutine cake for a blonde-and-witty friend's birthday (for those who don't know of the delectable Canadian treat, it's fries with cheese curds and gravy...mmm...gravy). 

8. What is your favourite thing in your closet?
Since we're in Fall now, I'd say a pair of shrug vegan-friendly gray buckled boots. I just adore them and wear them with leggings, jeans and dresses. When winter comes though, my answer will change to the new Soio and Keyo winter coat that I got seriously discounted at Winners (of all places). It's cream with chocolate piping, front pockets that make sense, a wide belt and their signature amazing collar. I'm not exactly wishing for the snow to come, but it's definitely a silver lining to the frosty days that are just around the corner!

Thanks for tagging me, Nikki!


A Gay Ole' Time

Well, it was an amazing five day visit, with my RHF (rapunzel-haired-friend). Five whole days with one of the coolest chicks on the block and it.was.awesome. We really didn't do a whole lot, but decided that it was important for RHF to experience the Fredericton night-life before she left. 
Since Monday was a holiday, we thought we'd hit up a local joint for Karaoke on Sunday night. After an appropriate amount of pre-bar bevvies with a couple of local friends, we grabbed our coats and headed out to "sing." Downtown was dead, as most people were at home in turkey-comas, so we bypassed the Karaoke place to hit up the one bar that was sure to be awesome. 

Obviously, I'm referring to the local gay bar (and by "gay," I mean homosexual). 

We weren't totally sober, but managed to have difficult time understanding how the cover charge worked. We're all cover-charge professionals by now, so you'd think that it'd be a simple process. Well, for some reason, on Sundays there were options. It was fairly chilly out, so we were anxious to get inside the bubble of heat that we could feel radiating out of the front doors and the barely-dressed lady  behind me couldn't understand why it was taking so long for the line to move forward (um, hello?!? get a coat). As RHF appropriately asked, "Why does it have to be a riddle?"

Here's the simplified version of what the door dude was explaining in a ridiculously complicated manner (in hindsight, he may not have been the problem. Moving on). 

Option 1 - $3 for nothing but getting in
Option 2 - $8 for getting in, and also getting a bracelet that would make all of your drinks half price and free coat-check.

We were confused because who wouldn't go for option 2?! Aren't you in a bar to drink?! That was fantastic thing #1.
Minutes later, the four of us were inside and making use of our surprisingly ugly (remember we were at the gay bar?) bracelets. We danced, got some drinks, and then inevitably found ourselves looking for the ladies' room. 

Which is when we discovered fantastic thing #2, The Boom Boom Room.

The Boom Boom Room was a randomly placed bar that is on the 2nd floor with the washrooms Essentially, it was the waiting area if there was a line. At first, we were a little confused at the placement, however, it didn't take us long to see the genius. So the little Boom Boom Room was manned (pun intended) by a single bartender and his primary purpose was to concoct delicious shots while you waited (except for the Purple Dragon, which was super gross and tasted like expired grape cough syrup). 

Sheer genuis. Seriously, whoever thought of that should get some time of entrepreneurial award. And the name is hilariously appropriate. Although, that award-winner is also responsible for the bruh-tal flight that RHF had on Monday. There's nothing worse than being awake for your entire hangover, unless of course, you're having said hideous hangover on a teeny-tiny plane where you've been forced to sit next to people who are drinking beer while you use your entire brain to focus on breathing and not having to use the ever-so-unsexy paper bag, conveniently located behind the bar menu, in the pocket on the seat in front of you. Luckily, she succeeded. 

Bracelets for everyone!!


Heidi's Latest Insightful Twitters

This is the last full day that my rapunzel-haired-friend is here visiting and we've had so much fun I may "accidentally" burn her e-ticket home...I kid, I kid. 

I'll be waiting until tomorrow afternoon to write some posts about our adventures (because who wants to visit with someone who's writing on the computer?!) but found some gems on Ms. Montag's Twitter that were too good to pass up. 

1. I am officially a laundry mat! 
I couldn't have less of an idea of what she was trying to say here. Was she officially "off" to the laundry mat? Was she GTL'ing with the Shore-boys? Is she dressing up as a laundry mat for Halloween? Is she doing people's laundry while letting people walk all over her? So many follow-up questions with that one. 

2. Today is the first day I have decided I am done forever wearing my nose tape! It's been long enough! 
Um...what? Nose tape? I'd say that deciding to stop wearing nose tape is, good? Was she wearing nose tape outside and in public? I cannot think of a reason why you would wear nose tape all the time...unless it's one of those snore-stopper-thingies, but even those are only worn inside and in the privacy of your bedroom. 

3. Laying out in the freezing cold cloudy weather. I heard you can get a tan when it is cloudy but I think all I would get is a cold! Not worth it!
Wait. Stop the presses. Was she actually doing this? Just how cold does LA get, anyway? I can just picture her shivering in a teeny-tiny-bikini, holding one of those reflector sheet things. Priceless. 

Oh Man. 

Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving!!


Suckers: Defined

Wow, a whole 20 minutes until another blog posting...

So, I realized that in my time-filling-haste, I forgot to explain how "the Suckers" movement began. 

A long, long time ago (actually, only about 5 years, but that's not as good an opening) I was living in downtown Toronto, in the heart of the fashion district in the.best.loft.ever. I spent my days going to school and volunteering, and my nights hitting the town with my crew. Because of my location, I was often the host and always had lots of visitors who made use of my 2nd bedroom/office. 

One night, my-new-mommy-friend and I were very drunk and looking for a snack. For some reason, the standard apres-bar-panini wasn't going to cut it - we wanted something greasier. Luckily, there was a McDonald's around the corner, so off we went in search of fries and strawberry milkshakes. When we got into the place, it was packed with fellow drunk-ards, so we had to wait in line for a while. There was a younger-but-still-of-age couple in front of us and the dude was wobbling back and forth. He eventually decided to leave the line and sit down, but came back when it was their turn to order. Here's what happened.

McD's: Can I take your order?

Dude: I want a quarter pounder.

McD's: The meal, sir?

Dude: Whatever.

McD's: Okay, would you like to upsize your combo?

Dude: Whatever (*wobble, wobble).

McD's: All right (*slightly confused, but making the best of it). What would you like to drink?

Dude: Whatever (*wobble, starting to lose interest in the ordering process as he started looking behind his girlfriend and bopping to a song that only he could hear).

McD's: Um...well sir, what kind of drink do you want?

Dude: WHATEVER! Just give me the burger!

McD's: But sir, you ordered the combo and I need to know what you want to drink. Is Coke Okay (*patience starting to wear thin as the place is packed and he's taking a thousand years to not order something)?

Dude: Whatever...(*wobble, wobble, turns to his girl)...drinks are for suckers.

His girl took over at this point and he ended up getting a Coke (and therefore, became a sucker). I have no idea why he'd say something like that, or why all he chose to say was 'whatever,' but it was one of the funniest things I've seen/heard. So now, we use the phrase all the time...obviously, because it's hilarious! 

Please note: the saying of anything being for suckers must be repeated in a monotone and apathetic voice in order to have the proper effect. Now you know. 

Waiting is for Suckers

Ever have one of those days where time stands.still? No matter what you try to do to occupy yourself, you can't help but check the time, compulsively, every three minutes.

Welcome to my nightmare Wednesday.

One of my dearest friends is coming in from out of town before she peaces out to Australia for an indeterminate amount of time. I'm beyond excited that I'll get to see her pre-other-side-of-the-world-adventure, but I'm so excited that I can hardly type this post.

Back Story: From grades 2 - 6, I would get so revved up with excitment for my end-of-year class parties that I would physically make myself ill and spend the last week of school, in bed. 
For reals. 
Sometimes it would be the flu, a cold, or occasionally, just extreme fatigue brought on by not being able to sleep at night, due to the anticipation. I, of course, don't really remember doing this, but my mother said that it was simply ridiculous. My birthday's just before Christmas too, so you can see that this self-inflicted-sickness actually happened twice a year (conviniently at the end of each semester). My parents just loved how I'd be up at 3am screaming, "SANTA! SANTA CAME!!! IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!" the morning after waking up to, "BIRTHDAY!!! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!! WEEEEEEEEE"...my poor parents...
Eventually I grew out of the habit and was finally able to attend the parties that I'd heard so much about ( you know, cause I missed 5 years in a row) and have learned to reign in my bubbling hysteria (sometimes)

Until now, because THIS is EXACTLY like THAT!!

The last time I saw my rapunzel-haired-friend was in August, for the.best.wedding.ever, but this time we'll get to visit without all the other bru-ha-ha happening. She doesn't land for another five hours and my stomach is in complete knots!
What is also not helping me stay (even slightly) calm is my close-to-due-date-friend gave birth last night to a little baby girl! My new-mommy-gal-pal is the only friend I've seen through their pregnancy and I'm just delighted that I'll get to play with cutie-face-magee (not the baby's real name, thank goodness) whenever I want to. I'm gonna be a friggin' wicked aunt (obviously). This morning, I got the text telling me that everything went well, and my Level-10 excitement meter sky-rocketed to a 15 (is this what it feels like to be a sketched out Chihuahua?).

So now I sit, anxiously willing time to go by. 

So far today, I've gotten halfway through making my Halloween costume, where I burnt my knee and hand on a hot glue gun (how do children use those things? They're dangerous), run a million errands, cleaned the kitchen, done three loads of laundry and walked the dogs.

T - 4.75 hours and counting....

So, you can all expect some epic stories to be appearing here in the next five days. If the East Side thought that Hurricane Earl was bad, then perhaps I should have put out some kind of warning that Hurricane-awesome-friend-duo-goodbye-weekend is on the horizon.

Hold onto you fedoras, Fredericton!

(how did that only take 19 minutes to write?!? ARGH!!!)


Pepi Got Snubbed

Since moving here, almost one year ago, Marc and I have had many encounters with Nature (some of which have been documented in this blog). This morning, I was able to capture a Nature-inspired moment with Pepi (furry baby #2). Luckily, I had my camera on-the-ready and here's what when down.

First though, here's a picture of Pepi. We adopted him from a rescue organization when we heard there were tonnes of puppies that had been seized in a puppy mill raid. It took us a while to suss out what kind of breed he was, as he has many strange behavioral traits (cleans his face like a cat, chases birds, "pets" bees and beetles and has impeccable balance). Our vet suspected that he was a cross between a Japanese Chin and a Pekinese. 
Fun Fact: we like to give personalities to things that we love, and therefore, both Pepi and The Pickle have accents when they "talk to us." The Pic has always been Parisian and we decided that Pepi was probably Mexican. 
Here he is, having a siesta (we found the sombrero in Mexico, so it's authentic). 
The following images are a pictorial account of Pepi's Nature-snub (more specifically, a deer-snub).

Pepi & The Deer 1: Hasn't Noticed Yet.

Pepi & The Deer 2: Spotted.

Pepi & The Deer 3: Yappity, Yap Yap.

Pepi & The Deer 4: Staredown.

Pepi & The Deer 5: The Snub.

I stood on our front porch, watching it unfold behind my camera's digital screen, laughing my head off. That deer couldn't have cared less about Pepi! Eventually, he just sat down, tail wagging, begging for the deer's attention. To Pepi's dismay, after the deer had a little grass-snack, it just walked back into the forest. I have no idea what Pepi would have done if he could have gotten closer (we have an electric fence) but I'm fairly sure that he'd try to play with the deer, as he tries to play with every other Nature-creature he encounters...you know, like Porcupines...*sigh. 

Oh Pepi; you're so weird. 


My, My, My, My Fiona

It's with claw-like finger positioning, that I type this post. Why, you ask? The AyePhone (I've officially decided that it's way funnier to say it with a pirate accent, so it's staying). She's an addictive thing, little Fiona (we had a conversation on the way home from the store, where she formally introduced herself) with her games, slid-y screen, AyePod capabilities and countless other applications. 

Here's what happened this morning.

I was entering new stuff into the AyeCalendar application on my laptop, so I could sync it up with Fiona. I entered everything in, managed to actually find the cord in the disaster area formally known as our living room and then started looking online for the manual on how to sync 'er up. 

(for clarification purposes, I was upstairs while Marc was downstairs)

Me: Why can't I find the syncing instructions?

Marc: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I don't know how I load the calendar stuff. With music, I drag stuff onto it, but I can't seem to grab the calendars.

Fiona: *blank stare, noticeably silent

Me (after a few seconds): Seriously! Marc, why can't I find anything? 

Marc: What?! I can't hear you?



Fiona: *still silent

Me (after a few more seconds of fruitless searching): ARGH!!! This is so stupid! Fiona! Why are we fighting?!? You're supposed to make my life easier! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!?

Fiona: *non responsive, screen went dark

So, I put her in a corner-time-out and busied myself doing other things and after a little while, I tried the calendar-sync-disaster again. 

Turns out, that all you have to do is plug Fiona into a computer and she automatically does everything! There's no instructions because there aren't any. The whole time I was trying to figure out how to drag icons, she'd been syncing herself. 

Oh Fiona - you make everything easier despite my attempts at complication. 

Nicely played. 


Dirty Hooker vs. Apple Pie

I decided to break my usual "out once a month" rule and hit up a friend's goodbye party last night. Because she's such a cutie, I made her a Bon Voyage cake. It took the majority of yesterday, but it ended up turning out grandly (I subscribe to the 'winging it' strategy, so there have been many cake wrecks, which you should check out because there are some epic baked-good failures out there aside from my own). Here's what I made (she had a canoe-rental company this summer).

Moving on...

The party was fun, although I wasn't really able to hang out with everyone because the majority of party-attenders were smoking four thousand cigarettes in an open garage and I thought I.was.going.to.die (tobacco and I don't get along). A witty-and-pretty-blonde friend and I hung out in the back shed to escape the oxygen-deficient garage environment (it was raining really hard, all night long. boo) until it was time to head to the bar, which is where the night starts to get a little fuzzy.

I do, however, vividly remember our server talking us into getting the worst shot ever. Now, this particular bar has an AMAZING little shot called "apple pie" and it's delicious (because it really does taste like apple pie! (mmm..pie). As soon as the non-garage-smokers and I got to The Original Grace O'Malley's (no offense, Toronto, but you clearly stole this bar's concept...although I do like the addition of the large fake tree that you added for ambiance) we went straight for the bartender who creates the wondrous concoction. Several slices later, we were at a booth and a server came over to see if we needed anything. She saw that we were all about the cinnamony-but-not-burny-in-any-way shots and said that if we liked that one, we'd love a "dirty hooker." (interesting side note: looks like prostitution may be decriminalized in Canada, so the server's suggestion had appropriate timing)
The name sold us and we ordered a round. She came back to our table a few moments later with yellow-y looking liquid (not a good start) and put them in front of us. We cheers-ed, threw 'em back...and then literally (figuratively) died.


Literally, the worst thing that's ever been in my mouth (OK, maybe not that bad, but just thinking about it now is almost enough to have me rush into the bathroom). I can't even accurately describe The Worst Shot Of Life, but it definitely had airs of cough syrup and rancid bananas.

Now, this server knew that the bar had been set pretty high, as all we'd been ordering were the mouth-watering-pseudo-hot-from-the-oven pie shots, so why would she have suggested a could-actually-make-me-upchuck substitute? It wasn't even almost the same! None of us liked it - at all (who would? could? it was SO BAD!) and she even stuck around to watch our faces or horror and disgust as our taste buds tried to rush the exit doors of our tongues to escape being introduced to the dirty hooker. After the gross-ness had (slightly) subsided, she just walked away! No apology, no explanation, no complimentary sorry-for-the-disaster-that-I-sold-you apple-pie shots. 

Side Story: When we'd first arrived, we had to hit the bank machine by the inside door and turned the corner to find two substantially-armored-out police officers. I'd completely lost my ability to have internal thoughts  by the time we'd left the party, and the officers didn't seem too pleased that they'd "Obviously, done something really stupid to get stuck with bar-duty on a Friday night." Turns out that they had to patrol all of the bars in the area, yet were conveniently absent when I was thinking about pursuing Fraud charges against our server for her "swamp land in Florida" shot description/recommendation. 

Maybe the officer's non-presence was a good thing though, as spending the night in the drunk tank would have sucked (as I was "positive" that I couldn't get arrested for being drunk in public as long as I stayed "inside" the bar and therefore wasn't "scared" to talk to them about the crime-of-the-century). I feel positively wretched this morning and I blame that dirty hooker. Nothing that a cheesburger can't fix, though.