Tuesday, August 30, 2011

One More Bottle Just To Wash The Cut Away

Sometimes I think I should rent out my dog.

Is that a bad thing?


It's just that, even though she is a complete nutbar for male attention (and is good at getting it), Daisy would be the perfect accessory for single guys everywhere. A little white dog with blue eyes who bats her lashes and wants to cuddle? Yeah. Chicks go bonkers for that crap. I see it every damn day.

It's easy. A guy could rent my little dog for an hour, take her for a walk, allow women pet and fawn over her, & then properly use the opportunity to get a number or snag a date. Simple, effective, awesome.

Not a bad side business, right?


Of course, there will always be the unwanted attention. Those who use the dog as an excuse to start a conversation, and then don't get the hint that you're not interested. I come across those a lot.

Yeah, yeah. I have a dog. You have a dog. Wow, we have so much in common and should absolutely get married and start an ant farm together. Meh.

But those are often easy to get away from. Like so:

Dude Without A Clue (DWAC): "Our dogs like each other a whole lot! Hey, we should walk together everyday! I'll pick you up at your house, what's your phone number?! "

Me: "Hmm... My dog doesn't like your dog's face up her ass, she may beat the crap out of him."

DWAC:  "Oh look, blue eyes on a Jack Russell! You sure don't see that everyday!"

Me: "Uh... Actually, I do." Awkwardly clear throat.

Slowly continue walking away, hoping DWAC won't follow.


That's just how it's done.

So... who's ready to Rent-A-Daisy?




Wednesday, August 24, 2011

I'll Be Rockin' My Rhymes All The Way To Hell's Gate

Daisy and I spent the weekend visiting the parents to celebrate my Dad's 60th bday.

Happy birthday, Dad!


Also finally met their new Jack Russell chick, Roxie.

Ugh.

My Jack Russell obsession will never end. I'm fully aware of this.


She's awesome, and in love with Daisy.  Far too much entertainment for me; I'm still trying to figure out ways to steal her for myself.

All your JRTs are belong to me.


I'm currently taking care of a friend who is recovering from surgery, playing nursemaid and shoving pills down his throat whenever possible while Daisy cuddles him to health.

We're as good as doctors. Maybe better. I do make a mean sammich.


This friend has made me a promise that if I am ever recovering from surgery and need help, he will return the favour and hire Joe Manganiello to take full-time, round-the-clock care of li'l ol' me.

Y'know... this guy:


It's a sweet deal. And now this important promise has been documented on the blawg, and therefore cannot be revoked.

So for anyone who wishes to hit me with a car, beat me up, or throw things at me until I'm maimed enough to need surgery? Now's your chance.

(I'm kidding. Sorta.)




Friday, August 19, 2011

Turn The Oscillator; Twist It With A Dollar Bill

While it's fairly common knowledge that I tend to prefer being in a relationship, I hafta admit - being a solo chick & living alone has its benefits.

In the interest of whining less, allow me to outline some of the positive points of being single and living alone.

Y'all ready?



I can sing stupidly loud and annoyingly all day and all night if I please. And I usually do, with great pride.

No one else is forced to eat the potentially inedible food I make. Just me, but I can handle it. Usually.

My made up words and nutbar voices that I use to speak to Daisy are not heard by anyone but us. And maybe the neighbours. But who gives a crap about neighbours?

Every day is clothing-optional. Not that it necessarily wouldn't be if I lived with a guy, but ya never know when people have been invited over. Hmm.

The toilet seat? Yeah, that bitch stays down. No late night fallin' in.

I can watch whatever I want at all times. If it's a crappy 90's sitcom? No one will complain. I am the all-powerful ruler of the remote.

An entire bed to myself without anyone stealing the blankets or hitting me with rogue arms and legs during the night.

I don't have to teach anyone that underwear is inanimate and will not pick itself up off the floor. There's a universal problem that exists between men and their gitch. It's not an art installation; it's laundry.

I do what I want, when I want, where I want... etc, etc. No questions asked. No one to worry about.



Not to say there aren't downsides but I think everyone should try living alone, at least once in their lives.

Don't get me wrong - I am still on the hunt for a really great dude who I will eventually wish to co-habitate with again (assuming he exists). But in the meantime?

I'm absolutely fine being alone - just me, my chickdog, and all my quirky ways.


Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Just A Second Of Your Time, Any One Will Do

This past weekend was spent how all summer weekends should be spent - by doing as damn much as possible with as many groups of people as possible.

And so I did.


A little random guitar action before Whelan's Gate.

I've been going to that bar for years and never realized where the patio was until recently. It's like a walled-in secret garden of awesome, and I now admit that sometimes I'm not so bright. Then again, I'm usually too busy making new friends inside. Yeah... that'll be my excuse.


No point posting the smiling pics of Toni and I - it just wouldn't be right.


Next day?

Beach! Oh how I love thee, beach. Sun damage and sand-in-places-I'd-rather-not-mention aside, you are the bee's tanned knees.


There was a discussion on my Facebook profile pic awhile back about whether or not my bikini is pink. I hate pink and refuse to wear it. It's the bane of my black, black existence.

However... I fully admit that it's a raspberry colour. Which is not pink. My friend's camera phone app slightly changes the colours, and so it looks pinker than it is. Use my towel as a reference, somehow. Yes, I do realize that I'm getting defensive about the colour of a friggin' bathing suit.

Judge me. I don't care. I shall defeat you all.

Onward...


After a visit with friends and their insanely cute baby (more on that visit later), we went to see Shaun and Patrick - they're getting married in September, and I'm excited.


We headed to the birthday party of a woman I've never met, in her newly acquired tanning salon.

Strange party, but fun! Strange fun.


Long-time readers will remember Patrick. (Do ya? Huh? Punk?)

Now, allow me to share something with you that was shown to me on Saturday afternoon, while in the Beaches (thanks Dan & Megan...how did I not know about this?). Apparently this video has gone viral in the past month or so, and caused a slew of related videos, either imitating or re-creating it. Look 'em up.

Enjoy. And prepare to be creeped out and then have this stuck in your head for a week.



You're welcome.





Wednesday, August 10, 2011

My Mind Is Filled With Radio Cures, Electronic Surgical Words

Apparently I haven't been as forthcoming about my day-to-day crap as I used to be. Didn't think anyone would really miss that stuff, but I get emails like this and find that, in some cases, I'm wrong:


Why don't you blog as  much as you used to? Some of us want an update! What have you been doing?

Well, I've been keeping busy. And I've refrained from posts along the lines of " Went to [random bar] on [random night], saw [random person] and danced with them to [random song] while drinking [random brand of beer]".

But, if that's what you want....

Went to Velvet Underground on Friday to see my friend Bob spin. This past week it was a 90's theme, so it was all about the memories. There was one particular guy who was rockin' out to every song and didn't care who was watching. My friend and I respected that, and told him so. Turned out it was his birthday, so we got to talking.

Like many people, he underestimated my musical taste and random knowledge. Somehow we agreed on a challenge to see which of us knew all the words to "Walk" by Pantera.

The song was requested. The song was played.

Obviously I knew all the words. I also danced out the lyrics as an added bonus for those who wanted something to make fun of.

I win.

Walk on home, boy...




Is that enough Big Brother-type voyeur action for ya, dear emailer?

Non?


The rest of my weekend was fairly low key. Saw some friends. Ate some food. Drank some beers.

The usual Shamblin' & Ramblin' way.

And all the while, this particular song has been the soundtrack to my crazy wonky dreams at night.




Who wants to play Freud and figure that one out?



Friday, August 5, 2011

Happy Days Are Here Again, & All The Drinks Half Price


I found these glasses in my kitchen...

And had an idea.


To become a bad librarian.

 But, no.

That won't work.

Rob Ford would likely get rid of me.


So I considered becoming a hipster.

I can like things ironically. I can listen to bands you've never heard of, and call them "sellouts" once you do.

Hell, I even like suspenders.

Should I be a hipster?


Shit no. I don't wanna grow a beard.


Or maybe....?

Nah.


People put accessories on dogs.

What about dog glasses?

Daisy would make an awesome nerd.

And that's gotta be better than all the other crap princess-types do to their dogs.

Right? Right?


Bah. No.

Sorry, nerd. Won't happen again.


On TV, the scholarly types are often biting the ends of their glasses.

I can do that. I can be a scholar.

See?

Look at me! I'm a scholar!


Except... I'm too messy to look like a scholar.


Alright, fine. I admit it.

These ideas bite.


Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Feeling Good Was Good Enough For Me, Good Enough For Me & Bobby McGee

Most people assume they know what my job is. That is, until it comes up in conversation.

"So, how's... um... wait, what do you do again? You write for a newspaper?"

Nah, not exactly.

"You write commercials at a radio station?"

Used to, yeah.

"You're a hitman for hire?"

You could say that, but shhhhh.

"You're a ninja unicorn?"

Bingo!


 So, what the hell do I do?

Well, I'm still a freelance writer. And I still do social media management for clients. But technically, those are just two aspects of the bigger picture.

I recently started a small creative agency, with a team of amazing freelance creatives. Any creative job a client needs done - from copywriting, graphic design, social media marketing, audio/video production, PR, etc - we do it. One-stop shop.

Yeah, you probably need us.

The website isn't up yet, but people are still finding me. For that, I give thanks to whoever is the ruler of the interweb. The team is constantly growing, and we're always looking for new talented folks and more great clients to work with.

Aside from that, I have other fun projects always on the go (some blog-related, some not), and am keeping busy. Quite frankly, my mascot thinks it's all a bit too much. She's overwhelmed.


So there ya have it. A vague description of what I do.

Don't lose sleep wondering anymore, ok? Go back to counting sheep, they're feeling neglected.

Poor, poor sheep.



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