Thursday, December 30, 2010

I Am A Moth Who Just Wants To Share Your Light

Tomorrow night we say goodbye to 2010.

You know my feelings on the subject. Good friggin' riddance to a shitty year.

That said, I'm not completely delusional. While I've blathered on and on about how 2011 has to be better, and will somehow be "The Year of Awesometastic Kris", I'm well-aware that my life will not automatically become wonderful at 12am on January 1st (yeah, and magical pixie dust will be floating all around me as cute little leprechauns shower me with money and 30 perfect men beg me to take them as my significant other, while all the people who have hurt me are suddenly banished to tiny metal cages in the Antarctic, never to be seen again.)

Sadly, that just won't happen. A chick can dream.

Dear Kris, things aren't so black and white. Love, Kris.

This past week, the last week o' 2010, has been a pretty horrible one. This year is sticking to its guns as far as letting itself be known as the worst yet. But I'm tired of sitting here, literally crying every damn day because I've been screwed with yet again, or because everything that seems hopeful becomes immediately horrible.

That, my friends, is a shitty existence. Huzzah! A revelation.

What I do know is that things take time. And this year, my goal is to learn. Learn how to let go of negative situations and the people who bring them. Learn to be positive and keep reaching and working toward all of the things I want to accomplish. Learn to convince people that poutine is a vegetable and beer can cure memory loss.

So that's that.

Best part of any year. My girl.
Sorry 2010, but I'm better than that crap. 2011 will see me getting back to myself again, cuz holy hell... it's time. And as you can see on my sidebar above, there is now a Best of Shambled Ramblings to remember the, uh... better times.

How bout you? Screw resolutions, how do you plan to improve your whole damn future?

(and, oh... p.s. - If anyone tries to kiss me at midnight tomorrow, you may get punched. I'm kissing myself as a way of saying "Shazam! You survived the year! And your dress is pretty 'n stuff! Have a beer!". You've been warned.)

Monday, December 27, 2010

Your Head In Your Hands, And Her Kiss On The Lips Of Another

So, Christmas is over.

Presents have been unwrapped and are sitting around your floor, waiting for new homes. Your bank account is showing negative integers, which you plan to ignore until the new year. You've gained ten pounds over the past few days, but you laugh it off as a "food baby" that will magically disappear in mere hours. (You hope.)

Well, I'd like to prolong the holiday's warm, glowing, warming glow just a little bit longer.

Your ol' pal Kris Kringle, The Shamblin' Ramblin' Santa Chick has got one more present to stuff your post-Christmas stocking proper.

I'm giving away one HTC Snap Smartphone with Unlimited Talk and Text for 3 months to one of you awesometastic readers. Free, free, free from Mobilicity.

Mobilicity is hooking you up as part of their "Give, Get, Share" campaign to raise money for the S'Cool Life Fund. For every "Like" Mobilicity receives on their Facebook page, they donate $1 to the organization. (So go "like" it, help raise some money, and enter contests to get fun stuff.)

To win the phone that I'm giving away, there are two ways to get your name into the contest:

1. Leave a comment and let me know who you'd call first if you won the phone. And why. Entertain me with your reasons, I get bored easily.

2. If you're a Twatter on Twitter, just post "Hey! @ShambledRambler gimme a phone! #givegetshare #shambledramblings "

Simple, right?

So ditch your old '91 Zach Morris top-of-the-line mobile telephone, cuz you're about to win something better. (On second thought, give it to me. That would make me infinitely cooler.)

If you don't win, don't worry. There may or may not be a secondary prize for someone who may or may be awesome. Maybe.

Contest ends on January 5th. G'luck, friends.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

I Can See A Better Time, Where All Our Dreams Come True

I used to be a Christmas obsessor.

Oh yeah. You know the type.

I  had countdowns on calendars, extensive lists of gifts to buy, and silly giddy excitement that is usually found in 5-year olds, before they ever hear that crazy rumour about Santa being fictional. (Screw you. He's real. I saw him at the mall and he gave me a candy cane.)

When money got tight (read: non-existent), Christmas became a little bit different. It was hard enough to find a way back home, nevermind buying the perfect presents for everyone. There was too much stress and too many complicated details to allow us to get into the "Christmas spirit" correctly, so the past few haven't been as happy as they should've. (Not to say we didn't make the best of it, see here and here).

It's a little strange to read this old blog letter to Santa and see how the year progressed from there. Reading it made me tear up a bit, I won't lie. Egg nog makes me emotional, ok? Geez.

This year will be my first Christmas and New Years in ten years as a single chick. It's a little (lot) different, not planning visits with the "in-laws" or doing everything as a couple. But you know what? As weird as it feels, I'm really looking forward to this one. Spending time with family, being able to give gifts, etc.

And spoiling this little Santa Claws.

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays, everybody.

And just like every year, I'm posting the Pogues:

Cheers to all of you. (And stay tuned for a Shambled Ramblings giveaway in a couple of days!)

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Happy Christmas Your Arse, I Pray God It's Our Last

Looks like it's time for the Superlame VideoBlog... Christmas-ified!

It's 8 and a half minutes of proof that I'm your friendly neighbourhood loser. Including your Christmas wishes, gross mistletoe men, an "old slut on junk", some Run and some DMC, an outfit change (from Santa to reindeer in the blink of a bored eye!), and Daisy being turned into one of those pageant children you see on Dateline specials.

Ah, the joy. The merriment!

You ready?

Merry Kris-mas!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

I've Got More Love & Speed Than Your Lonely Souls Can Chew

I've been going through old blog posts lately, compiling a "Best Of" at the request of a few readers. While it's been kind of fun to look back at every post I've done, it also brought up some bad memories.

Even though I randomly read old posts a lot, I've been avoiding the ones written near the end of 2009 and the first couple months of 2010 (for obvious reasons, right?). But this time I had to.

Looking at pictures of my old apartment in the village made my stomach sick. It literally (and stupidly) made me breathless and cold.

It was like re-living the past, in a way. Pictures reminded me of how it felt to walk home those specific days, dreading whatever hell or bullshit would surely greet me that night.

Pictures of my old bedroom reminded me of lying there alone, never knowing where the other occupant may be at the time. Fights that ensued, tears of confusion and hurt that could've been avoided. I've forgotten how that felt; suppressed it.

Pictures of the dogs. I took so many, knowing Jack would be leaving. I remember apologizing to them for all the craziness, and for having to separate them. More crying (I am an emotional loser), holding them both and not wanting to let go.

That couch reminds me of stressing. Wrapping my head around the behaviour of others. Trying to figure out where I would end up, what I would do. How to budget everything. And then the final straw and the resulting breakdown that made me leave the city.

I now remember all those awful feelings. I don't ever want to feel them again. There's a reason I've pushed them away.

Look at me, I'm Freud.

But going back further, looking at even older posts, I was able to see some happiness. One day I'll explain what life was like and why it had been hard for us. But I managed to find a lot of happiness in it. And that is something I'll hold onto. Situations and people may change, but the good things are worth remembering.

So, in a way, compiling this "Best Of" has been a bit therapeutic. Ain't that special?

At the very least, I now know I've come a long way from those months, and from everything since. And I'll just keep getting better and better until this chick is all smiles, always.

Ok,ok... Always is a hell of a stretch. Most of the time, then.

All new memories from here on are going to kick ass. No ifs ands or assholes. I mean.... buts. And if you had a part in the good ones... thanks for 'em, folks!

Now to (purposefully) switch gears, here's my question for the next vlog - Christmas Edition:

What do you really want for Christmas? And if you don't celebrate, what would you want if you did?

Be honest now. Santa Kris wants to know.

Ho ho.....ho.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

I Only Stick With You Because There Are No Others

Today I'm going to introduce a new term to your personal vocabulary. That term is "Potch Cruncher". It was coined in the summer of 2006...

What an idiot I was. I went a little crazy that summer, going out to bars every damn night although I had to work at 8 the next morning. I was dealing badly with a temporary breakup, and didn't quite know what to do with myself. So bars became my crutch.

One night during that jerk-tastic summer, a friend and I stopped by a house party on our way to the bar. I didn't know anyone, but you know me... I'll talk to just about anyone. One guy that I was not talking to decided that I was real goshdarn peachy keen and neat-o. He was cute, but I was uninterested and ready to leave. Before I left, he said "Come back after the bar, cuz I'm gonna kiss you."

My thoughts? Sorry buddy... not happenin'.

So to the the bar we went. That particular night, I was going to make an effort to be somewhat responsible and go home early-ish. An 8am work start can come quicker than you'd expect. As I'm driving my friend home, she decides that she wants to go back to that house party. I tell her I'll drop her off, but I'm not getting out of the car. I don't want that Kissy Dude to know I'm there, because he'll never let me leave.

Little did I know that she texted ahead to let them know I was dropping her off.

Of course she did.

I park in the driveway, telling her to hurry and get out so I can go home. As soon as she opened her car door, there he was. Kissy Dude. The next thing I knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat grinning at me like an escaped mental patient. The guy was stealth. And so, as he foretold earlier, he kissed me.

It should really end there, right? He kissed me, I laughed at him, then I went home. But no. There's still the potch crunching segment of my tale.

As he kisses me, he takes the opportunity to punch me in the crotch repeatedly. I shit you not, dear readers. He was punching me in the crotch. And dammit, it hurt.

I yelled "What the crap are you doing?!?!" His response? Something along the lines of "you know you like it."

No. No, I did not like it. He was clearly an idiot. So I quite literally threw him out of my car and drove away.

And that is the story of the Crotch Puncher, known to me, my friends and random locals as the "Potch Cruncher".

Beware, ladies. Your crotches may be in peril.

Monday, December 13, 2010

If The Dizzying Highs Don't Subside Overnight... Doctor Blind, Just Prescribe The Red Ones

Welcome to Monday - it's date night with Formspring. After we formspring we'll have formsprang, and be formsprung. I can't guarantee that it kisses on the first date.

Commence with the questioning.

What's your favourite color?

You must not be Canadian, with yer american spelling of colour. Except you spelled favourite the Canadian way. Well now I'm just friggin' confused! Do you live on the border?

Anyway. Dark red. But also black. Put 'em together and add a bit o' purple, and voila - you have my wardrobe.

How come you never show skin like other bloggers do with their naked or half naked pics? Shy?


And I'm pretty sure that my family wouldn't quite dig that. They read this. And now they're comin' after you, pardner.

Is Daisy single and if so what does she look for in a fellow canine? Does she like neutered? Up to date with shots?

First, I'd like to say that half the questions on my Formspring are for me, and half are for Daisy. And a lot of them are asking about her doggy dating preferences. Sometimes I dunno 'bout you people... I shake my head.

But yes. Daisy likes her men neutered, fun-tastic, and ready to be dominated. That said, she still loves her best friend Jack. And he's the first dog I ever fell in love with, so I'll fight you if you try to replace him with your mutt. (Unless he's a Jack Russell. In that case, send pics! We'll talk.)

Holy crap, what have I become....

What kind of look do you like on a man? Dark, blonde, tall, short?

Nice of you to ask me the same question you asked my dog.

I like guys that are tall, dark and awesome. But if the chemistry is right, I'll throw my "type" out the window. Except for the awesome. He must always be awesome.

Have you ever had a bad boyfriend?


You mean bad like... Michael Jackson "Bad", right? Either way. 

Sha'mone, my friends. Sha'mone.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

I've Got More Troubles Than A Diamond's Got Shine

If you read my last post, you know that I dubbed 2010 "The Year of the Suck". More nasty things have happened in the past 12 months than I could possibly list in a blog post, so it seems aptly titled.

It has sucked.

But in the comments, Jetson Stamina decided to call me out and throw a challenge at me:

Just for shits and giggles, I challenge you to write a post about 2010 being the "Year Of The AwesomeTastic" A non-sarcastic argument for why you think 2010 kicked some dirty ass. - Jetson Stamina

Challenge accepted. Sorta.

A post about this year being "awesometastic" (thanks for using my word, JS) should really only be a sentence long. But I'll try my best to stretch this mofo out, and list all the slightly almost good things that happened this year. Let's see how this goes.

1. Daisy. My favourite thing ever. The year started badly for her when her Daddy moved out and then her best friend Jack did, too. Then moving from her familiar spot in Toronto to my hometown of St. Catharines was tough. She got over it, though. More people to love her daily, a big backyard to run in, long walks by the lake? Yeah. She may miss Jack, but 2010 has been ok for my girl.

2.  I had to quit the job I loved and move outta the city, but that meant moving in with my parents. Doing this allowed me to save a bit of money and pay off some of the major debt that resulted over the hard years that the ex and I had. Most importantly, I was finally able to get Daisy fixed. $600 later, I was poor again. Worth it.

3. I had a great 27th birthday. No drama, tears or asshole behaviour. Lots of amazing friends. Much needed and much appreciated.

4. Spending Saturdays at Mansion House with my old Booze Crew. Also living a couple of blocks away from Miss Leah again. Car rides, singalongs, having someone to bitch to. Family being around. These are good things.

5. I was able to distance myself from some negative situations and take some time to reflect on the past few years. The conclusions I came to weren't necessarily good ones, or ones that I wanted, but sometimes painful things need to happen in order to figure yourself out. I also finally took the time to see a counselor for awhile when I felt like I couldn't handle my own thoughts anymore. Added to that, I managed to stay single for once in my life instead of throwing myself headfirst into another love, or even falling back on a past one.

While I've been very unhappy and repeatedly hurt or forced to deal with what seems like the worst luck ever, I suppose it all needed to happen. I don't know why yet, but someday it'll all make sense.

So there ya go, Jetson Stamina. A somewhat "awesometastic" list for 2010. It doesn't compare to the "shit-tastic" list (that would be 5 to 1,000,000), but it'll have to do.

Challenge completed. 

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Take These Broken Wings And Learn To Fly

I used to believe that when a string of bad things happened, one great thing would pop up soon after.

This usually proved true when I was younger.

After a bad day that involved some very nasty scenarios, I was asked to a movie by a boy I had a crush on.

Years later, I had a horrible and embarrassing situation that left me mortified and upset. That same day, my first boyfriend asked me to be his girlfriend.

When I broke my foot, crashed my car and all my hair fell out, I won the lottery and got my own TV show. (Ok that one is a lie, but you get the point.)

So whenever the really awful things would happen, I'd just tell myself  "Don't worry, girly. This just means that something good will happen soon."

Well, I've stopped believing that.

After the past few years, and then this one which I've dubbed The Year of the Suck, it seems as though things will never balance out again. As Masuka said to me just the other day, "I'm beginning to wonder if you just have really bad luck or what.. cuz you dont seem to ever get a break."

Masuka is wise, as you all know.

I realize that I whine a lot lately (it's my damn blog and I'll bitch if I want to). But honestly, the list of things that have gone wrong is astounding. Obviously, there are things too personal to blog about and even things that I haven't told anyone at all. And as I sit here, after another bad day, and recall all of the negatives of this past year... it makes me wants to crawl in a hole, because I'm wary of what's next.

That being said... if Young Kris was right, and all the bad shit simply means that something kinda good will happen soon and sustain some type of balance - does that mean 2011 will more than make up for the shit-tastic ways of 2010?

If so, my friends who have stuck by me will be in for some awesomeness. And so will I.

If not, this ship will keep sinking. Glug, glug, glug.

So... do you believe in karma? Fate? Balance? Or do you think stuff just happens simply because...well,  it just does?

Enlighten me, monkeys. I'm curious, like George.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Just Another Half Of The Two-Headed Freak, But I Need Him Like My Heart Needs To Beat

This weekend I headed into Toronto. Had a full day of apartment hunting on Sunday planned, but Saturday?

Oh, Saturday was for parties. Had four to attend, but could only make it to two. I am just one chick, after all. A chick who likes beer and fun times with folks I missed.

I love catching up with people I haven't seen in awhile. It reminds me exactly why I want to be back in the city.

See what I'm sayin'?

Aside from jobs and opportunities, people are a huge reason I fell in love with the city. I made a lot of amazing friends during my years in Toronto, and it's because of them that I felt at home.

Sometimes you lose touch, sometimes you don't. They still affect you.

It's also pretty great to realize how many different groups of friends I have there.

And I mean different in every possible way. I can only assume that my multiple personalities must appeal to certain people, not unlike a circus sideshow.

Everyone, say hello to the voices in my head.

To all of those not pictured and not seen, I love you dorks too. Promise.

Even if we've had a falling out of some sort (and even if I wanna throw things at your head), it's a guarantee that you still mean a lot to me.

Don't ask why this post is somewhat sentimental. Since when is my blog a freakin' love-in?

Blame it on the 50, perhaps. There may be some beer fumes still swimmin' in my little head. (Late night poutine, too. Cuz I'm delicate.)

And now, I am back home...

Stressing over apartments, getting anxiety over other things, and far too used to being generally unhappy.

There's a whole lotta crazy going on in my brain.

But I'll soon be back to annoy all Torontonians yet again, on a permanent basis.

I can sense your excitement from here. Aw, shucks.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Pick Your Pocket Full Of Sorrow, Run Away With Me Tomorrow

On my last post, I got a pretty interesting comment from an anonymous poster. Try as I might, I couldn't ignore it. Instead, I thought it deserved its very own entry:

You always talk about beer and fatty food and I think you should consider cutting that out of your diet. You are such a pretty girl and men don't like girls who eat a lot or drink a lot of beer. That might be why you attract these types of guys, because you don't seem delicate enough. You have your looks and you seem really smart, but maybe once they find out you drink beer and eat mcdonalds they are turned off. What if you start gaining weight? I hardly drink and I eat small portions of healthy food and that's how I keep trim for my boyfriend. Just giving some advice, I know being single can be awful.

Who's not delicate?


First of all, I have to say that I really hope this is a joke. Someone's feeble attempt at crappy comedy. Because if not, then it just kinda makes me sad.

I will never ever change myself in hopes that I'll attract a man who can claim me as his own and throw me in the kitchen. Barefoot and pregnant, of course. Screw that. If a man doesn't like a girl who enjoys a bottle of 50 and a Big Mac, then he probably isn't my kinda dude. And for the record, I have no problem attracting men, thankyouverymuch. Some guys like personality.

Now, my dear anonymous friend, since you fear that I'm getting fat, fret not! I love gross fatty food, but I don't live on it. I eat like a normal human; I love food in general. I'm currently 5 foot 8, and usually just under 120 pounds. I think I'm managing ok. (As a matter of fact, Wii Fit tells me I'm underweight - does this mean I should go on a poutine binge?! I hope so.)

All that crap aside, let me tell you why your comment really bothered me. This line right here: I hardly drink and I eat small portions of healthy food and that's how I keep trim for my boyfriend.

Don't keep trim for your boyfriend. Keep healthy for yourself. If you honestly think that your boyfriend will leave you if you gain a measly ounce, then he isn't worth the salad you're surviving on. Instead of giving me advice on how to snag a man, and telling me that I'm not "delicate" enough (Me? Undelicate? Fuck that.), stop living your life based on how you think some guy wants you to be. Seriously.

For me? I need a boyfriend who will want to go out for a pitcher of beer and some chicken wings. Maybe (probably) some other fatty foods. That's called fun. Fun is good for relationships. And I'll tell you this much... every guy I've dated has liked the fact that I'm a beer-chugging, Big Mac scarfing, potty-mouthed kinda chick.

But hey. Maybe we're just different. At least we know we'll never be vying for the same men.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sudden craving for two McChickens, a case of 50 and a side of poutine - extra cheese, of course.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I'm Not Here To Feel The Bones Of Some Forgotten Saint. I Know Who I Am & I Know Who You Ain't

This past Saturday, my friends and I were at our usual bar. Hanging out in the same ol' spot, a guy walks by that a couple of us recognize.

The Ex Doppelganger.

The Ex Doppelganger is a guy we've seen before; he looks like a shorter version of my ex from years ago. It's not just a slight resemblance, it's so dead-on that it quite literally creeped me out.

And so, as we're talking about the uncanny resemblance and trying to avoid his eye, he comes over. Go figure. He starts talking, doing the usual bar night pick-up approach. Eventually I just can't take it - it feels too much like the Twilight Zone. So I tell him.

"I'm sorry, but you look exactly like my ex and it's really creeping me out. You have to stop hitting on me and my friends. This is just too weird."

Sometimes I think I need to wear a sign.

Did he listen? Nope. Instead, he used it as an "in", thinking somehow I'd be more attracted to him because he looked like someone I dated in my early 20's. Between talking to me and my friends, he kept popping up to try again. I was annoyed, and he quickly learned how to turn annoyance into anger.

"So maybe I look like your ex, but aren't I much prettier?"

I was dumbfounded. "What? Are you honestly calling yourself pretty?"

"Look at me. I bet I'm much better-looking than that guy, don't you want to give me a chance? Think of how good we'd look together."
So... maybe I kinda lost it at this point. I'd had it. In front of everyone in that part of the bar, I called him out for being an arrogant predator who didn't know when to leave a girl alone. My friends backed me up - we were angry. At this point, he decided to tell us that he had a girlfriend. One who didn't know he was out trying to pick up other women.

Nice guy.

I'll spare you the rest of the details, but let's just say that The Ex Doppelganger (TED, for short) became not-so-well-liked by most people in the bar that night. Once his mythical "charms" were rendered useless, he left.

So let my story of creepy TED be a lesson to you all - men with over-inflated egos, an inability to listen when a girl asks them leave her alone, and a girlfriend sitting at home while they're out trying to pick up other ones... they're not so good, Al. And I've met too damn many of 'em.

These dudes ruin things for the good guys (who, I promise, DO exist. Somewhere).

And now you know one of the (many) reasons why your Shambled Rambler is a single chick, and why she doesn't always enjoy it.


Saturday, November 27, 2010

I'm So Mad To Love You And Your Evil Curse

I just received an email from a very sweet man, thanking me for an old post I wrote on my other blog. So, since that old post made more than a few people take the time to message me, and since that blog attracts a different readership than this one (and, y'know... since it's Saturday and I'm lazy), I've decided to re-post it here.

The Orange Post-It (April 16, 2010):

I recently came across a post-it note that I had taped to my desk at the radio station.

A co-worker and friend had told me about an old saying her elder relatives had taught her, so that she would use it throughout her life.

It was in Hebrew, but she had her grandfather translate it for me.

Once translated, the crux of this old saying was that you could judge a man by the way he handles:
his anger,
his drink,
and his pocket.

Meaning that if a man had a bad temper, drank too much and was not wise with his money, then you were smart to keep looking.

But if you found a man who had all of these under control, then he was a good man worth keeping.

So roughly a year ago, on this orange Post-It note, I wrote:

"His anger,
his drink,
& his pocket."

I did not want to forget.

For me, I think it's a great indicator for who you want in your life in general. Friends, lovers, male, female... everyone. Including myself.

I want to know that I am always in control of

my anger,
my drink,
and my pocket.

Perhaps this orange Post-It note needs a new place to remind me.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

I Can Be Your Liar, I Can Be Your Bearer Of Bad News

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that it's already November 25, 2010.

Where did the year go? I think I missed the fall. And the summer. Oh, and spring and winter. Those too. Everything happened in shitty slow-motion, yet I somehow lost track of it all.

Luckily I have this hand-dandy blog to serve as my own personal time machine. (Not as sweet as a DeLorean, but we can't all be as McFly as Marty.)

Drank too much and can't remember a specific night?
Look at your blog!

Blocked out a memory but need to use it against someone evil?
Check out yer blog!

Wasted your youth and want some way to get it back?
Sorry, honey. You're pretty much screwed.

So, my Blog Time Machine allows me to look back and see how my November of 2009 went and then compare it to November 2008, etc. I can always re-read and see how things were in my "old" life. Ah, memories of stuff 'n junk. And my awesome dogs.

I also see that, while all the crap around me has completely changed, I'm still the same ol' me. Good, bad or ugly.

Hell, maybe next year I'll use my Blog Time Machine to look back and say "Man, I was a weird chick back then", and then hop in my jetplane en route to my personal island. You're invited, too. Bring beer.

(And while my other blog won't be an especially fun time machine, I have briefly stopped neglecting it. Briefly.)

So... where would your (Blog) Time Machine take you, boys and girls?

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

We Are The Smile Of Light That Brings Them Rain

I'm well aware that many of my readers come here for reasons other than my questionable wit, non-existent charm, and slightly impressive facial expressions. Some of you come here for the other bitch.


"My Daisy brings all the boys to my blog, and they're like... you have a cute dog."

(Sorry, had to.)

Today is Daisy's BirthAversary.

We rescued her two years ago today, and I've decided to make it her birthday as well.

No, I don't have the power to "create" birthdays randomly for people (unless of course I birth 'em), but it seems that crackheads neither have the ability to count, nor the thought to write something down on a handy-dandy invention called a "calendar".

If you're confused by that, read this old post. It explains how we got her, and how sad her situation was. And why you should maybe kinda possibly stay away from crack.

We assume she's around 5 years old now so, for all intents and purposes, this has become her 5th birthday as well as her 2nd anniversary as my best girl.

To celebrate, I'm taking her to get all prettied up and pampered. Whether she likes it or not.

It's no secret that I'm fairly obsessed with my dog, but I have good reason.

In the two years since we got her, a lot has happened. Mostly difficult and sad. It's well-documented that I've had some pretty low times.

But through it, she has always brought a lot of happiness to me and everyone around. She is honestly the most loveable dog I've ever known, along with Jack. She's my best friend, and my family.

I realize how uncharacteristically sappy I may sound, but I don't care. D is my partner in crime, always.

Happy BirthAversary, girly.

You're the bee's knees.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

You Can Hear Happiness Staggering On Down The Street

Gather 'round, children. Today we're going to discuss a nasty li'l creation called the "cigarette" and my long-term relationship with it.

I hope you packed light, cuz you're now entering Flavour Country.

For many many years, I've been some form of smoker - usually just occasional. Then in my early twenties I dated a heavy smoker and hung around a lot of other smoke-fiends. That led to me smoking more.

I am weak-willed, and smoking is a very social thing that non-smokers never understand. I've met some of my favourite people and had some of my best conversations outside over a cigarette.

There's a strange unspoken bond between people who smoke.

Fast-forward to 24 year-old me, in a serious relationship with a non-smoker. So I cut down quite a bit, save for nights out and social occasions. Over the next couple of years I didn't smoke much at all (partially because I couldn't afford to, partially because I'm just such a nice girlfriend... nah, that can't be right).

Then 2010 happened. Stress kicked me in the ass and made the smokes my dearest friend again. When I found myself alone in my apartment most of the time, I could usually be found on my balcony. Shivering my ass off, smoke after smoke, staring at the CN Tower and wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life.

Fun stuff.

It didn't stop. I was smoking daily again. I was so unbearably sad and completely angry this past year, and it just made me smoke more and more. I can vividly recall many times where I'd be crying my eyes out with my head in my hands, puffing away on a cigarette like it would somehow fix my life.

It didn't, of course. So I did.

Things started falling into place recently, and one day I stopped and realized "Hey... I haven't had a cigarette in a week". As of right now, I have the same pack I bought before Halloween.

That, for a smoker, is huge.

I haven't fixed everything that was wrong, but I'm not in the same place I was. I'm not using cigarettes as a crutch. That may not mean shit to you, but it's fairly monumental to me.

Now lets just hope that the next guy I date isn't a heavy smoker... or this somewhat smokeless chick is screwed.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

I Want To Watch It Come Down

Could it be... the return of the vlog?

Indeed it is. After a hiatus from ye olde video blogs, they're back. Without a vengeance, mind you.

This week we're doin' it Big Lebowski style (expect random quotes), going on a march of the pigs with our nine inch nails, meeting my cousin from BC and her manfriend and his manfriend, and talking about underwear while hearing a tune from two sibling plumbers.

And oh yeah - we're playing with balls.

Ya dig?

(The voice audio is a bit quiet. Blame the machines, not me. The MACHINES!)

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Carve Your Heart Out For Keeps In An Old Oak Tree

When I was younger, I used to write songs. Oh yeah. This is one of those posts...

I had always wanted to be the chick singer in an awesome band. The concerts I held in my bedroom were pretty amazing, but no one (aside from my band posters and stuffed animals) would ever know that at the time.

I liked metal. I liked classic rock. I liked alternative, punk, progressive, grunge... all of the rock and/or roll goodness. So many bands to love, the majority of which had male frontmen. I wanted to one day be among them, prove that chicks could rock just as well. (My headbanging skills are unmatched to this day. I mean it. I'll own you.)

But when I was a pre-teen, I realized that guys my age didn't want girl singers, and that girls usually stuck to pop groups. So I started one.

Yep. I started an all-girl pop group.

I wanted to make us "edgy", and I wrote all the songs - picked parts for the other girls, fixed up the harmonies, all that crap. Because I had a crazy popular website at the time, I used it to find group members. Girls from all over were sending me demo tapes, and I had to pick which ones made it.

I shit you not. I was young and insane. Needless to say, I decided to forget about it after all that work. Screw pop, it just wasn't my thing.

I never did join a real band. I sang randomly with a few through the years, but left it at that. My guitar (named Ziggy Stardust) is pretty neglected because I've never learned to properly play it. I always said once I mastered the guitar, a band would be born. And it would kill your face with awesomeness. Or... um.... it'd be.... good 'n stuff.

And now? I sing all the time. To my dog, and to household appliances. Loudly. I only sing in public when half drunk and hogging the karaoke mic. As for my guitar - still can't really play it.

But I will. I have talented teachers all around me who will make sure of it. And I may never start that asskickin' band, but that's cool. As long as I can bust out some acoustic singalongs at any given moment... then I'm satisfied.

Til then, I'll stick to karaoke-ing the 70's classics and serenading my dog.

'Scuse me while I go take a blowtorch to all the old cassettes featuring yours truly belting out tunes.  All evidence must be destroyed.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

My Envied Lady Holds You Fast In Her Gaze

I've exhausted this subject already, but it seems I need to bring it up once again.

This post is for you.

I'm sure you know who you are.

You may not realize it, but many others know too.
My friends know who you are. Your friends have started noticing the odd "coincidences".

You said you wanted to be like me, but I didn't realize how much you meant it. Holy hell.

You take what you read and you adopt it.
You repeat my words and pretend they're your own.
Take things that I'm known for and pretend you are too.
But when you involve people and things that are close to me, it gets beyond personal and pisses me off.

You are trying too hard to come across as something, no, someone you are not.

But hey, if it's working for you, then go ahead. Keep doing it.

Continue to show up at the places you think I'll be.
Copy my tastes and follow everything I say and do.
Change who you are completely.

But you will never be me - and why would you want to be?
Instead, you're that girl who is too afraid to be herself.

For that, I truly pity you.

On the other hand...

If you're so damn set on being a bastardized and badly-executed version of me, let me assist you in your journey.

I'll gladly send you:

an ex boyfriend from years ago (hope you like booze and babysitting)
an ex best friend from kindergarten (she'll eat your crayons)
a lock of my old blonde hair (how very Single White Female)
my depression & anxiety attacks (enjoy! yay!)
my personal wannabe stalker chick (... scratch that one. oops.)

Wait by your mailbox for all those Kris-related things. And while you're waiting? Do me a small favour.

Grow up and get your head outta your ass.

Thanks. I feel better now.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Listen To The Girl As She Takes On Half The World

It's another day where my brain is at a loss for blog topics, due to real life keeping the grey matter busy. Busy doesn't always equal "superfuntime blog fodder", and so I turn to my fallback.

Formspring questions & cell phone pictures.

You knew it was coming.


Does playing hard to get ever work?

Can't say for sure, as I've never played it. I've BEEN hard to get because I sometimes need convincing, but playing hard to get is for suckas. Unless it works for ya.

It can bite you in the ass, though.

Sometimes two people want to be together, but both play hard to get because they don't want to seem weak. They hope the other person will admit their feelings first. It's a power struggle due to stubbornness and can result in those two people never ending up together. Shame, really

Moral of the story? If you want someone, tell 'em.

What a novel idea!

2010 is almost over. What is one thing you've learned this year?

Aw, hell.

It's no secret that that has been a particularly nasty year for me. Murphy's Law was in effect for most of it. (Y'know... everything that can go wrong will go wrong). You, my dear readers, had to suffer along with me for whichever parts I actually shared on here. Be glad I didn't write about them all.

But what have I learned? Hmm....

I learned that I'm awesome and will never again let people make me believe differently, nor will I let them screw with me again. I learned that being alone has its merits. I learned that change can't be avoided, so ya gotta embrace it. I learned that Daisy will kill any small animal she's permitted to catch. I learned that I have an insane capacity to love, and I'm not ashamed of it. Mock me if you will.

Guess that's more than one thing. So i also learned that I still suck at math. 

Are you in love yet? We're waiting for it.

I'm always in love. Whether with something or someone, it's always there in some way. (No, I don't love "lamp". But I might've had a passing fancy with "ceiling fan".)

Yeah, yeah....I know what you're asking. Oh, the love life questions. I will always get exactly what I'm after, somehow. But these things take time and this roller-coaster ride isn't quite over.

So don't start planning my wedding yet.

Unless ya wanna pay for it.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...