Irreplaceable

Have you ever had an item or a piece of clothing that you absolutely adored? And then one day, someone steals it while it's hanging on your laundry line, or you lend it to someone only to never see it again, or someone accidently knocks it over and it breaks into a million peices? Or you leave them in the overhead compartment on a bus in Italy, only to have the bus take off and despite you trying to track them down during your last days in Rome, you never ever see them again?

No? Maybe that last one is just me.

That's what happened to me in Italy, back in the end of August. I bought the most AMAZING pair of boots from Bata.

Rich, mahogany leather that shined with deep shades of chocolate and amber. A sexy yet sturdy cut with glinty gold hardware. They were the boots of my dreams.

For the whole time I had them, I only wore them once. The rest of the time I would just stroke them, stare at them, try them on with different outfits. I had never been in love with an item of clothing before. And it wasn't just me. When I wore them, everyone else would gawk and coo at them. It was...scrumtrulescent.

And then I went and lost them. Freakin' bus company said they never found them, though that is a complete lie. The bus driver must have and then took them home to his wife or something. Along with chocolate liquor and cannabis chocolate that I picked up in Perugia. And an awesome winter coat I picked up for 35€.

Sadly, I went to go buy the boots again but couldn't find them. I bought another pair, still sexy, but not the same. Then when I got home I scoured Ebay as well as Bata websites in France where I could convince a friend to pick them up for me. But alas, the websites dont have the boot either.

So, I think I have to admit that it's over. Perhaps it was God's way of letting me know that he frowns against worshipping a golden god that is a pair of boots. But I can't let go! I'll never let go! If only there was some personal shopper (Dawg, the Boot Hunter?) that could track them down in Europe for me, believe me I would pay extra for them.

Last known photograph

Anyone else ever lose anything so dear, or gone on a mission to replace something? Better yet, anyone have the number of a boot headhunter?

Apartment house sense

Today I turned on the heat. For the first time since March.

See, I was putting it off and putting it off because I had stuffed a fleece IKEA blanket down the heating vents so it would muffle sounds from the other apartment. I think it worked. Or maybe it was my mildly threatening note that worked. Either way, I have been ignoring the coming cold for the last few weeks because I knew that turning the heat on while having a blanket in the slots would probably equal fire. And that's not the heat that I want.

But today, I could feel the cold through the single-paned window and as my nose started to freeze up just by me sitting on my couch, I decided it was time. Winter, I guess, is on its way and having poorly insulated windows is just one of the fun problems I have with owning an apartment.

The rest have to do with my building (and as my building has provided plenty of blog fodder before, I am sure you will all know that). It always reminds me of this Paul Simon song:

"There's been some strange goin's on
And some folks have come and gone
And the elevator man don't work no more
I heard a racket in the hall
And I thought I heard a fall
But I never opened up my door
It's just apartment house sense
It's like apartment rents
Remember : one man's ceiling
is another man's floor
Remember: one man's ceiling
is another man's floor"

Let's look at the line, "I heard a racket in the hall, and thought I heard a fall, but I never opened up my door."

Friday night, my boyfriend and I were stumbling back home after a greasy late-night meal at Hamburger Marys. It was probably 3 AM.

As we get to my apartment, he tells me he is going around the building to the back so he can get his bag out of his car. He has his own key so he can get in the building, so I went for the front door. Just as we parted ways, we heard a scream. Followed by another scream. We both look at each other and then look up at the building from where the screams seem to be coming from. There are no lights on in any of the windows. Everything else is dark and silent.

The Rockstar just shrugs (meh) and heads to his car. I continue for the front-door, listening as I go. The screams have stopped and now it's just the sound of some woman crying.

I remember thinking to myself that it was probably a domestic disturbance or some drunk girl who just got dumped or something. Considering it was very late on a Friday night, I was sure alcohol was involved at any rate.

I try and shrug it off and get in the elevator.

It stops at my floor and as I get out, I hear a mild commotion to the right of me. I look over and around the corner of the hall I can see...

On the ground, a pair of women's legs from the knee down, sticking out from around the corner.

The rear end of a man who was apparently standing bent over the body.

And the voice of the man saying something along the lines of, "Oh shit, oh shit!"

I freeze for a split second and then realize that the man hasn't noticed I am there, so I quickly book it to my apartment and lock the door. I don't know why my first instinct was to run and not to help but it was. There was something so creepy and dangerous about it all that I had to get away and reevaluate. Meanwhile, I realize that my bf is coming up the elevator.

Suddenly I forsee him getting off and stepping out into the middle of a murder scene or something and getting his ass kicked...or worse. So I pick up the phone and call him. He answers.

"DON"T GET IN THE ELEVATOR!" I yell.

Turns out he was in fact already in the elevator but the elevator luckily stopped at another floor for no reason and he was able to jump out and take the stairs (which open right beside my apartment, out of the view of the elevator and the other hallway).

I usher him inside and explain what I saw. After we stand there debating for a few seconds, we decide to tiptoe back out there and see what is really going on, if we can help, etc.

So we do, only to find no one there at all. The apartment is eerily silent. We stand around and listen for a few minutes, only to creep back to the apartment, an imensely creepy feeling hanging over us.

Afterwards, I started to feel bad that my first reaction was to run and not help. I couldn't help it, I did not feel comfortable going around the corner and see what some big ass dude had just done to some chick. I also did not feel comfortable with my bf going there as well. But by checking it out together, I felt more protected. Still, I had to wonder why I didn't see any one else coming out of their apartments to see what all the screaming and commotion was about...

Maybe they know something I don't.

For example, a few weeks ago, the Rockstar was staying over. I think it was, again, a Friday night.

I'm a very light sleeper, so as soon as I heard my doorknob jingling at 4AM, I woke up with a start.

You know that creepy feeling when you just wake up out of a dream and it's dark and in the middle of the night? Well, now imagine you hear someone trying to get into your apartment. I was freaking the fuck out.

I look down at my bf, but as usual he is in a coma and snoring away. So I get up and tiptoe to the wall and peer around the corner at my front door (remember, I live in a studio, it's one L-shaped room).

I can see movement behind the peephole. And I can see my doorknob slowly turning up and down. And then I notice I forgot to put the chain across the door.

I run back over to the bf and wake him up. Or try to.

"There's someone at the door, someone's trying to break in, go lock the door!" I half-whisper/half-scream.

It takes a good minute to get him out of bed. I point at the door, fear in my eyes. He has sleep in his eyes and has no idea what is going on. Still, he stumbled over to the door, puts the chain across and goes back to bed.

"What are you doing? Someone is OUT THERE!" I hiss at him.

"What?"

"Why do you think I just told you to lock the door?"

It took a few more minutes of this before he was awake and realized exactly what was going on. So we then get up and tiptoe over to the door and cautiously look through the peephole. I was expecting someone's evil eye to pop up in view (perhaps that's from recently watching The Cable Guy) but there was nothing there.

Now, I know a lot of you are thinking that it was probably some drunk person on the wrong floor and thinking this was their apartment. But how coming I never heard a jingling of keys? How come they never knocked? And how come the doorknob was turned ever so quietly?

Plus, two months ago there was a sign posted on the front of our building. The usual, don't hold the door open for strangers followed by a personal note. Some couple in apartment 402 had written beneath it that they were sitting at home one night, watching TV, when their doorknob had started to turn repeatedly. Someone was trying to get it.

And then below that, someone else had written, "same thing happened to me, same night, I'm in apartment 707" and below that was scrawled, "Yup, same thing, thankfully my door was locked, they tried for awhile, apartment 1101."

There were about 20 different people writing beneath it, saying it all happened to them too. Apparently someone was trying people's doors on the off chance that one of them was unlocked.

Now, I always lock my door the minute I get inside. But still. Creeeeeeepy.

Miss Impulsive

This weekend, my lover and I went to Seattle. I had planned it about a month ago to have a nice little romantic trip, especially since the Rockstar hasn't even been to Seattle (which is unfathomable when you've lived in Vancouver your whole life....it's a 2 hour drive away!)

Of course, romantic trip soon turned into shopping spree. You see, you Americans may not know this (because most Seattleites didn't know this) but the Canadian dollar is now higher than your dollar. HA HA! That's right, after years of forking over extra to shop in the states (you do have better shopping, IMHO), our Loonie has gone above the US dollar and rests comfortably at 1.07. For the first time ever, it has become CHEAPER to shop down South.

As the man at the border said to us, "Have fun shopping. It's good for our economy."

He also said it in a dead-on George W. voice which was a little unnerving.

Anyway, it was our long weekend as well so we made sure we left with plenty of time. We woke up at the horrible hour of 630 (more horrible considering it was a Saturday) in order to reach the border by 745 AM. I drove like a maniac, thinking of how nice it was going to be to get there early and just cruise on through.

For some reason though, EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE CITY OF VANCOUVER had this exact same idea. The main Peach Arch border crossing was backed up on to the highway. The truck crossing (where cars are welcome!) was backed up past the main intersection, spreading out in four different directions.

Both line-ups were over THREE HOURS LONG and I was quickly running out of gas. After waiting in line and NOT moving for 20 minutes at the truck crossing (which normally is shorter but for some reason was an hour longer than the other one) I did a U-turn and drove on fumes to find a gas station. Then I headed back to the border again. I mean, we had no choice. The hotel was booked and paid for and I had US dollars to burn.

Luckily the detour I took to the gas station meant that in order to get to the other lineup I would have to take an exit and then merge. That merging lane meant I shaved off about an hour and a half of waiting in line and SOMEHOW we were through the border and out in the other side in 45 minutes! I turned on the radio just as we got through only to hear that the lineup was now at four hours. How lucky were we?

Anyhoo, Seattle was awesome. We did touristy things like checked out the Space Needle (from down below), went to the Sci-Fi museum (which got me so nerdishly excited!) and the Experience Music Project museum, where we gawked at Kurt Cobain's guitar and jammed out in the sound booths. Later, we capped it all off with a night at the Zig Zag Cafe and Lounge. Honestly, they aren't kidding when they say they have the best cocktails and bartenders in the country. The drinks were unbelievable.

Here are some quick pics:






Oh, and of course, on the way back I blew more money than I could afford (especially being unemployed and all) at Forever 21. This is when being impulsive got the best of me. I literally grabbed clothes off the racks, didn't try them on and just bought them. Some turned out OK, but there is an item or two that I probably wouldn't have bought had I taken the time to think it through and try it on. I was just so caught up in the "HA it's so cheap!" mentality that I completely blacked out. Something tells me that I should probably avoid the states for the next wee while (until I join my parents in Palm Springs in Dec), lest that should happen again. After all, just because something is "on sale" doesn't mean you really need it.


On that note, I also did the most spontaneous thing ever on Friday. Looking forlornly at pictures of Disneyland, I suddenly grabbed my credit card, went to Expedia and booked a 5 day trip to Disneyland in January with the Rockstar.

Yup. One moment I'm bored, the next moment I'm jumping up and down on my bed because I'M GOING TO THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH WITH THE BEST MAN ON EARTH!

Seriously though. Keep my credit cards away from me ;)

Meet the Parents 3

I decided to make a blog post that wasn't about all this David Copperfield hoopla. Seems like everywhere I turn, that name is being brought up somehow. And as excited as I am to potentially be on a talk show, I also have a legitimate fear of being a media whore. So far though, it's all just in talks (btw, Vegas Princess, I can actually do interviews again starting this Friday).

Anyhoo.

Things with the Rockstar and I couldn't be better. Four or five months in and we haven't even had a fight. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I know fighting is healthy and everything, sometimes crucial to relationships. It's just...there is nothing to fight about! And believe me, there COULD be stuff to fight about, mainly because I can be such a headcase sometimes. But he is so damn patient and understanding that it never amounts to anything.

And we weren't even officially "together" at this point

And importantly, he let's you talk without getting defensive. Looking back on my old relationship, I can't believe how many fights were started just because I had an issue that I didn't want to keep to myself. My ex would get so defensive if it was anything slightly negative or even if I was just sad, that a fight would soon ensue. But my Rockstar here just lets me get things off my chest. We discuss them, compromise and crisis is averted. It's pretty damn amazing, I feel like we can (and we do) discuss anything under the sun.

Plus it definitely doesn't hurt when people are constantly telling you how great of a guy he is, how lucky you are to have him and that you have landed "one of the good ones." I definitely I agree with that.

One thing though, that hasn't happened in our 4 or 5 months of dating, is a meeting of the parents.

Sure, he has met mine a few times. And I have met his a few times. More than a few actually, I go for a family dinner at his parent's house every Sunday. I must say it annoys my parents because our parents all live in the same town and I can go and leave without even saying hello to them. But believe me, if my family was as "normal" (I say that in qoutes because no family really is) as his is, I would eat there too.

Plus, I like his family. His sister is now an awesome friend of mine, in fact we just had a girls trip to Whistler this past weekend. I've got to tell you though, we shared a bed and she sounds exactly like her brother when sleeping...teeth-grinding, snoring and all :P

Anyway, what hasn't happened is that my parents have not met his parents. To be even more specific, THE MOTHERS have not met (you may recall that his father and my father have played golf together, years before Rockstar and I met. Actually, my bf's dad has even played golf with my brother, which is beyond weird and very embarassing, if you know my brother). But our moms have not met.

It almost happened once when my mom came to pick me up from his house. My mom got halfway to the door when she saw my bf's mom standing there, all excited to meet her. Then she ran back to the car.

See, my mom is terribly insecure (it runs in the family). She was wearing workout clothes (actually, to be more correct, she was wearing a pair of my dad's long underwear) and feeling sloppy and did not want that to be the moment when she met my bf's mom, who is younger and thinner, etc.

Anyway, I think his mom was kind of insulted that my mother scurried away like that because the next day she was telling people at her gym (Curves, of course) that my mom didn't want to meet her.

Need I tell you that my mother and his mother go to the same gym?

So this gets back to my mother who then had to explain why she didn't meet her (mainly cuz she was wearing my dad's long underwear, which is a legitimate excuse IMHO). That message was then passed onto his mother.

A few weeks pass and on Monday my mother goes to the gym at her regular time (she goes in at noon, bf's mom goes in at 6AM). Suddenly everyone is coming up to her saying, "We saw your daughter on TV! (bf's mom) had told us all to watch it!" All too funny. And then the woman at the front desk told my mother that his mom was asking what time she comes to the gym at. Something tells me there is going to be a sneak attack on my mother.

Honestly though, there is a reason for this whole avoidance thing. A stupid one, but still a reason. My mother told me she doesnt want to meet his parents (to be specific, take them out for dinner) because of what happened with my ex...

My parents had taken Ross's parents out for dinner when they were in town last year. She really liked them and everything. I guess she kind of saw them as my future in-laws (let's be honest, so did I). And then, months later, he went and dumped me. TWICE in three weeks. And turned out to be not the man I thought he was at all.

My poor mother who HAD held him in the highest regard could not believe he would do something so terrible to me, and some certain events that happened after we broke up disturbed her (and me) as well. So, naturally, my mother is afraid to let the Rockstar and his family into her life. She's afraid of the same thing happening again, thinking she herself might be some kind of jinx.

Sigh. My mom is nuts. I mean, it's inevitable that they will meet one day. I just know my mom is hoping it's not when she's wearing my dad's underwear.

Actually, I'm hoping that too. That definitely could jinx it ;)

The Aftermath

Hey folks,

OK, now that all the hoopla is over I can get you up to speed on what really happened.

First of all, Inside Edition aired the show on Friday evening. Thanks to digital cable though, I was getting calls from friends who ended up watching the show hours before I did, so I knew exactly what to expect when it aired.

The good part was that they combined my segment with an interview with another girl - therefore, the attention was less on me and more on her and I could breathe a little easier. The bad part was that Inside Edition really loves their tight shots and my big fat head filled the whole screen (and actually I have a very small head, so you can understand how tight that shot must have been). Also, a lot of the more "interesting" stuff that I said was cut in order to make room for the other girl's story. Which meant all the unflattering photos of my ex, mentions of my blog and me gazing forlornly out the window at Vancouver was all cut.

There was, however, my despondent walk down Davie St, which was shown in a cheesey split screen. That was pretty cool. And I guess in some ways I was quite relieved that my blog wasn't mentioned because there are a LOT of people out there who don't know I have a blog and I wish to keep it that way.

So yeah, the show aired and I know some of you caught it. It's always hard to watch yourself on TV and thankfully I had my Rockstar watching it with me so I could bury my head in his shoulder and not have to look. All in all, the interview was quite compelling, especially hearing the other girls story. And as one of you has said, I came off sounding very intelligent and articulate - especially in comparison.

The actual shoot of the interview was fucking hilarious. The producer and the cameraman showed up at my apartment, thinking to shoot it there. I wasn't THAT comfortable with that notion since my place is teeny and kinda cluttered looking but alas the lighting wasn't good anyway. So we took off to a hotel down the street from me. Checking in was amusing, since the reporter stated she was with Inside Edition and they needed a room for a few hours. The front desk girls totally thought I was someone famous.

Ditto to the walk down Davie St., though that was more embarassing if anything. Imagine having a camera guy following you down the main street in your neighbourhood. People were gawking at me like I was some film star, meanwhile I had to pretend that I was deep in forlorn thought about Mr. Copperfield. Crazy shite the whole thing was. Thankfully we ran out of time because they were going to make me walk down the beach. Now THAT would have been too much!

It's funny because years ago this would have been my dream, but now I just found all the attention to be quite unnerving. I had many doubts about doing this interview, even after they had arranged for them to fly up here. But $500 definitely sweetened the deal for Lil' Miss Unemployed here.

The money didn't come without a catch though, I had to sign a two-week exclusivity agreement which meant no other interviews until a certain date.

That was fine with me...

...until this morning when I checked my emails (I had gone away for a girls weekend) and found several from a VERY well-known, Good and reputable Morning talk/news show in America. They too want to talk to me about my experience (which seems to get more disturbing the more I keep hearing about these other allegations and these other incidents). Now I just have to wait a wee bit and this whole Inside Edition thing will happen all over again.

In some ways it's pretty silly - all this fuss for me. But being a Journalism graduate, I know what it's all about. This is what is newsworthy right now and my story is apparently important for the public. It's not everyday that a famous, talented person is accused of something so severe and it's not everyday that more and more people are coming forward with damaging evidence.

I have my own opinion on this whole matter (and it's just an opinion, because aside from my experience with him, I don't know a whole lot) but I'll wait for another blog post to talk about that. In the meantime, I have 1 billion pounds to lose before my next interview ;P

Daela, the show producer, and I post-interview

PS - does anyone actually know HOW to get something off of the TV and on to Youtube? A few people recorded the show but I have no clue what to do next...

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

For me, anyway, is Halloween. Ever since I was a little girl, this yearly event has captured my heart and imagination like nothing else. There is something deliciously indulgent with scaring the crap out of yourself and pretending to be someone else for an evening.

Or two evenings. Or three. Or four. And maybe prentending to have more than one alter ego.

This year I had two. Both are quite obscure and fall into a cult niche. If you know who I am you are either a very smart, intelligent and witty person or a huge fanboy/nerd. I claim to be both of these things.

On the weekend, my beloved had a party. I have to say that he had the most righteous costume of them all. Of course, I am biased since I helped make the entire thing, from painting his leather jacket just so, to creating an ugly-ass vest out of Value Village clothes. But it was just so perfect. Who can remember the first thing I ever yelled at my boyfriend upon meeting him?

That's right. I yelled, "FERRIS BUELLER!"

So it was only fitting for him to go as Ferris Bueller for Halloween.

Ferris Bueller and Principle Ed Rooney make nice

And whom was his lovely girlfriend? Well, I was Lindsay Funke from Arrested Development (as played by Portia Di Rossi).


Problem with my costume though is that most people don't watch the show (hence why it was cancelled) and therefore they just thought I was a huge slut. This was not the problem at Bueller's Halloween Party where most of his friends enjoy the smart, sarcastic humour of the show. Everyone knew who I was.



But the next day, when I went to this shit-ass local bar back in my hometown, all I got were nasty nasty looks. Why? Well, I think every single girl in there thought I was making fun of them. WHY? Because they were all just slutty versions of whatever (Oooh, I'm a slutty Bee in my underwear, oooh I'm a slutty Girls Guide cookie seller, Oooh I'm a slutty pirate wench). Let's face it, for most girls Halloween is just an excuse to dress like a skank and not get called on it.

Apparently though, I WAS calling them on it. I was outright calling myself a SLUT, with no pretenses. Ironically, my costume wasn't slutty at all which was even better. Naturally, that wasn't the original point of my costume but if these skanky-ass hos are gonna be freakin' twinks about it then sure, let Lindsay Funke stand for making fun of them for one night.

And then there was the third night. The Rockstar/Bueller and I went to my first ever Canuck's hockey game. It was an amazing time and I think I am officially hooked on the game - despite us losing UNFAIRLY in the last possible second (OK so the ref "loses sight" of the puck and therefore the goal doesn't count? Of course it counts! We all saw it go in, why the hell didn't you! LOOK YOU STUPID ASS REF, LOOK UP AT THE DAMN JUMBO SCREEN AND WATCH IN THE INSTANT REPLAY YOU DETROIT RED WINGS ASS WIPING F*CK!).



Sorry. Got a bit carried away there but at least I got into it. Funny thing was that again we had dressed up in our costumes. Only NO ONE else at the game was dressed up. So we just wandered around looking like two idiots who got lost in the 80's or something. Only a perceptive few came up to the bf and said, "Hey, Ferris!" But me? Nope, I was just a big slut again.

Then, finally, last night was actual Halloween. I wasn't planning on going out or doing anything but at the last minute I slipped on this neverworn costume of mine. I had avoided it like the plague because it's....well...Gold and Red Spandex. A one-peice. Foot to fingers. Yup.

But to hell with it. It was actual Halloween night, I live on the gayest, most flamboyent street in Vancouver, if I can't get away with it here, I can't do it anywhere.



And behold....Phoenix (from the X-men) came out to play:





INSIDE EDITION UPDATE - Most likely, the show will be airing tomorrow night (Friday Nov 2nd) at 730 PST.

I really, really, really do not want to watch myself because I fear it will be overdramatic, over the top, taken out of context and I am going to look like the biggest retard. But my bf says he will force me to because I might regret it one day. I'll tell you who will regret it though... My ex-boyfriend who is mentioned many times on the show (cuz that's who I went to the show with). He has no idea about it, cuz he cut all ties with me because he thinks I keep mentioning him in this blog (well, I am now). Doesn't like the "publicity" you see. Thank God he won't be tuning in tomorrow.

But whether you do or not, that's up to you.

Do you know who reads your blog?

I thought I did. Until I got an email from Inside Edition.

Seems they were doing some research on David Copperfield and that whole lotta mess he's in and somehow stumbled across my little old blog post I made back in January.

They rang me up and I gave a quick interview over the phone, basically going over what I wrote in my blog (and jogging the memory a bit since it has been awhile since the event).

Then, deciding I was "newsworthy" enough, they told me that they were flying up their reporter/producer Daela up from LA tomorrow to film an interview with me.

I'm sorry....what?

Yeah. Exactly. What? Flying up a reporter to come and film me? Little ol' me? Me who just happened to have a pretty interesting experience at a Copperfield show and who then blogged about it (as I do with everything) is worth all this fuss?

Apparently so. Daela came up from LA to do the interview and I was a pile of nerves and wondering what the hell happened to my life so suddenly to warrant a camera crew following me down the street. It was pretty surreal, almost like the time I was on stage with Jessica Simpson as her lookalike!

Anyhoo, I'm not going to go into too much detail at this moment because I know Inside Edition is probably reading this (hi guys!) and it wouldn't be fair to disclose too much of my experience until the show actually airs (might be this Friday, but I will let you fellow readers know so keep watching this space). Also, my blog is going to be featured ON the program so I want to make sure my posts are, uh, well...kosher.

Funny how life works out. One minute you are unemployed and uninspired and the next you have cheques coming in the mail and you're gonna be on International TV!

Who ever said blogging didn't pay off?? :P

I confess...

All righty, how about something heavy to start the week? I'm actually in a very bubbly, buoyant and fluffy mood today which makes writing something kind of poignant a bit more less devastating, so onwards with the show!

Here is somethings you probably know about me:

*I am very monogamous

*I have zero tolerance towards cheaters (however, that's not to say that if it happened ONCE in a marriage, it can't be something you can work out - I know there are always expectations)

*I am very vocal at my disgust towards the act of cheating and don't understand why monogamy is so damn hard for some people

*I would never, ever, in a million years cheat on my current boyfriend. I don't even look at other men anymore (indeed I snarl at them if they come near) because I only have eyes for him

HOWEVER....

There is something about me that you do not know.

And that is, I, Ms. How Dare You Cheat, am a bit of a hypocrite....for I, once upon a time, have cheated on a boyfriend.

These are the circumstances in which it happened (and yeah, they could be seen as "excuses" but there really is no excuse because when it's wrong, it's wrong):

*I was on vacation when it happened

*I was in a very bad, stressed emotional state

*I was wasted out of my tree

*I was not feeling sexually desired by my boyfriend

*I felt safe with the guy I was with and he made it obvious that he DID desire me

*My relationship was getting boring

*I had been cheated on before a few times and what I did could amount to my own brand of vengence and karma against the cheating men of the world, especially since my then bf was a cheater himself

*I didn't sleep with the guy but it came close with all sorts of nakedness and such (I decided - even in my drunk state - I couldn't quite go that far)


So...it happened. And although all of the above is what lead to it happening, it still is no excuse. I knew what I was doing was wrong but I did it anyway. Did it mean that my relationship with my boyfriend wasn't as strong as I thought? Heck yes it meant that and a lot of other things as well.

That's not to say I didn't feel terrible about it. I moaned to my mother but all she said is "Well, you're not married so who cares?" which is apparently the standard mother response, followed by "that's his karma."

But yeah, I felt REALLY terrible and low and guilty for about 3 days and then I turned the experience around. I took what I did and applied it to my life...it made me realize that I cared a lot more for my bf than I had thought (when you realize how close you could be to losing someone), it made me realize how unhappy I was in many aspects of my relationship and, most of all, it made me realize that I am not perfect. I am human and can do many, many of the despicable things that I have always frowned against.


As you can guess though, I am still adamant against cheating. I would never do it again (I have much more respect for my love now), I would never tolerate it against me....but I am glad that it happened. I learned my lesson, got that blunder over and done with....and I don't regret a thing.

We make mistakes and we learn from them. I am grateful that I learned from mine.




Whew, glad to get that off my chest ;)

Manic Musings

*Sometimes I want to shoot apartment living in the face. My sleep is very precious to me (and I am cursed with being a very light sleeper - it's like my body takes any opportunity to stay awake) and nothing pisses me off more than when I can hear my neighbours. For example, the studio next to mine has always been dead quiet...that is until a month ago when suddenly, at midnight, I could hear their TV blaring through the walls, as clear as a whistle. In fact, I could go stand in the kitchen and still make out everything they were saying, so you can imagine how bad it was by my pillow, where it seems they are aiming their TV.

Anyway, I figured most of the sound was coming from the vents so I stuffed a blanket down there to somewhat muffle the noise. Only problem is that muffling it doesn't quite stop it, so I had to write a note to my neighbour about it. It was vaguely threatening mainly because I wrote it in the morning in the throes of a bad night's sleep.

I have to say it worked. Now when he plays the tv it's fairly quiet (though I'm not ready to remove the blanket from the heater....even though it means I can't turn on the heat in my apartment) and I can rest easy.

Sorta.

Then there is the IDIOT above me. I fucking want to blow the moron's brains out. He's always smoking out of his window, dribbling ash down on mine and talking very loudly on his phone. At night he stomps through the apartment and repeatedly drops what sounds like bowling balls. If the hockey game is on, he'll have a friend or too over, open his window and proceed to yell out of it.

Last night, after the fifth bowling ball went astray and it sounded like he was hopping after it on one heavy shoed leg, I had enough. I turned into that neighbour from Friends. I didn't have a broom handy though, and the Swifer sweeper only made pathetic whacks against my ceiling so I picked up my guitar and started hurtling it upwards. The paint from the ceiling rained down on me but I didn't care. If you interrupt my sleep, I will make it my mission to destroy you. In fact, I get more angry and She-Hulkish than I do when driving which says a lot.



*I've been jogging every week day in an effort to slim down before Halloween and in general, just lose my out-of-shapeness. Last Friday was absolutely gorgeous, a warm, sunny and vibrant fall day. On my way back from my jog I stopped at a bench overlooking the calm blue ocean and just had some time alone with my thoughts - or lack of.

Of course, this doesn't prevent some fucking moron on a bike to swoop past and yell, "Look at you, so lonely."

WTF?

Why is it that I can never fucking sit somewhere and just think without having some sorry excuse for a man make some patronizing comment. Why the fuck can't you men just leave me alone? Just because a woman is sitting alone it is not a sign for you to A) make some belittling comment on how lonely I must be JUST BECAUSE I'm not fucking surrounded by moronic men like yourself or B) hit on me, cuz you know, if a woman is alone it MUST mean she's looking for male attention. YAAAARG!



* In other news, I think I may be losing my mind. I went for lunch with my father the other day. After too much Sake, I headed back to my car. OK, it probably wouldn't have been that wise for me to drive but it didn't matter anyway because I couldn't find my car keys. Turned out they were locked in the car.

Yup. Just sitting there in the ignition.

This is the 3rd time I have done this since July and the oddest thing is that my keys do make a beeping sound if you leave them in the ignition, so I don't really understand. I must be pulling them out of the ignition just slightly and leaving them there but I have no idea why.

So after putting my billionth call into BCAA and waiting an hour before the guy came over and jimmied my door open, I decided to go to my car's dealership and get an extra key made. This would ensure that no matter what, I could always get into my car.

I tucked the spare key in my wallet and off I went to my boyfriend's house.

The next morning, as he was leaving for work, I once again noticed I couldn't find my keys.

I walked over to my car and looked in. Sure enough, my keys were once again in the ignition.

At that point I just grabbed my head and wailed. Surely, I am losing my mind. Not to mention that later that day, I lost my debit card.

What the hell is wrong with me? Am I really going mental? Do I have early alzheimers? Do I need to eat more salmon or something? Do I need to see a doctor?

Or is this just me and something I have to get used to?

Sigh.

A Walking Contradiction

As I was sitting down to a delicious pumpkin pie (and ice cream) being served at my boyfriend's parents house this Thanksgiving weekend, a thought entered my head.

I don't care much for ice cream.

I relayed this information to my bf and his family and was met with faces of shock.

How can you not like ice cream?

Well, I continued, I don't know. It might have something to do with the digestive reprocussions that usually follow but I just don't really ever feel like having ice cream. I don't like cake either.

How can you not like cake?????

Well, it's just too dry and the frosting is just too sweet. However, I LOVE ice cream cake!

Again, I was met with shocked faces. How can you dislike cake and ice cream but love ice cream cake?

I don't know, that's just the way it is. I'm an oxymoron in many ways.

I'm just glad I didn't follow that up with another example: I LOVE giving head but don't care to recieve it.

That probably wouldn't have been very well "recieved" at the dinner table.




Question to you is: what do you do that makes YOU an Oxymoron?

Weekend Topic

As you all know, I had been having trouble with my old birth control pills. After ten years on Ortho-Tri-Cyclen, it just wasn't doing it's "job" anymore, which is kinda scary. So, I switched to a monophasic kind that gave me terrible mood swings and anger problems....but on the plus side, it has revved up my sex drive (which really didn't need to be revved up in the first place but I digress).

Now, two weeks into the new pill, my moods are better (short temper is sadly inherited from my father) as I think my body as adjusted to the new hormones. The sex drive is still in high gear, which is actually REALLY annoying. Shit, now I know what all you high school guys went through. I'm clawing the air here and my poor boyfriend gets physically attacked when he walks in the door. Not that being the sexual agressor is new to me in relationships but this time I am really putting the AGGRESSIVE RAAAAAR! in it.

Anyhoo, for the last few days I was worried I was pregnant. Mainly because I thought if my last pill wasn't working as it should, then who knows. Plus my stomach felt bigger, more bloated, my boobs were bigger....OK so I probably just gained weight (stupid beer) but that didn't stop me from being paranoid all week.

Last night though - to spare you from graphic detail - I kinda of got a minor touch of a sign that I wasn't pregnant. So I breathed a sigh of relief and went "yaaaaay!" (not pregnant) and then went"boooo!" (in case this meant I was getting my period-boo). I don't know if it's like that with other women, but everytime I get it I have mixed feelings that like :P

So I told the bf this and he got all quiet. He told me that if I am worried about things like that, that I should tell him, even if I think it's nothing. He doesn't want me to worry by myself and does not want to be one of those guys who think it's the women's job to worry about birth control - after all, he said, we both are having sex.

That got me thinking.... do you think birth control should be a shared thing? Does anyone actually split the cost of their birth control (like pills) with their partner? Does their partner have any input when it comes to different forms and what not?

AND - for you women out there - if the birth control pill for a man became available (they are working on one that causes a "dry" ejaculation which sounds terrible - but less messy ;) - would you trust a man to take it? I know a lot of women would jump at the chance to have men go through this and be responsible but frankly...I don't know if I could do it.

What's new?

*Last week's depression has finally lifted and I think it is safe to say that it is NOT the pills that were making me mental. I think I was just genuinely down because of the circumstances and writhing in my own self-pity (which is a terribly selfish place to be). That said, this week I feel fine, back to my old, happy, loved up self which is a major relief.

*One of which reasons is probably because I finally have a plan. Finding a job is proving to be impossible because there are no jobs in my field or which I am ideally suited for AND if there are, they pay like 10-12$ and hour which is absolute horseshit. It angers me that employers think they can get away with paying university educated people so little...I mean, what was the point of paying all that money for school then? THAT ASIDE, I have a plan:

There is a program through UBC which deals with the admin side of film. The course is from Jan to April, the classes sounde absolutely wonderful (I don't know if "The Candian Film Finance System" and "Entertainment Law" sound like good classes to you, but for me they are to die for) AND they get you a two-week internship with a production company or whatever and job-search workshops. I am very excited and going to attend the info session next week so I will let you know how that goes, of course.

So my plan is, if I get accepted and I like it, I will either live off of EI (providing I recieve it) and be bored out of my tree or do temp work until Dec when I jet off to Palm Springs for Xmas. If I don't like the school or if I don't get it...well, I will cross that bridge when I come to it. Worst case scenario, I will look into getting a headhunter. And not the scary, tribal version....

*My boyfriend moved out! Yippee! He now has a 2-bedroom flat with his best friend J (the other friend with the bitchy gf bailed) in an awesome part of town (in the city, close to downtown). The place is roomy, clean and I can tell the bf is super excited about it. Plus, being a 12 min drive from my place ain't too shabby either. Speaking of the bf, things are going wonderful...today is our three-month anniversary (yah, yah, it's early, WE KNOW!) and was invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with the family (yeah, in Canada we have it in October for some dumb ass reason) and to go to Maui with them in February. Sweetness.

*I went out for dinner with a good friend of mine. He has this psycho gf, they've been on and off for years and this year made it "committed." Then they ended up moving in together, which I always thought was dangerous but hey what do I know. Except that the woman truly is psycho, I think I am the only female friend of his that she allows (she is bad enough to make him sign on to msn and make him BLOCK women that she thinks he shouldn't talk to). Anyway, things aren't working out, obviously, but I was a bit suprised when he told me today that they had agreed to break up on October 1st. Today being the 1st, it has been pushed back to November but I was still like WTF? You have set a date, together, on which you will break up? Apparently they decided that November 1st they will both move out and break up. Is that not the weirdest thing you have ever heard? Or does this happen more often than I think?


*In the spirit of nostalgia, I was reading some old diaries of mine from high school. I will get along to posting some of them, but I noticed a pattern here.

All of my Ex_boyfriends (except for ONE) have all been mental.

I'm dead serious.

Looking back over the years, I was suddenly reminded of this. I've had ones that accused me of being in love a guy just because of a compliment I made, locked in my parent's old bedroom because he thought I was sleeping with my neighbour (ew, no) just because my neighbour dropped by to say hello. I've been yelled at in public because I went for coffee with a guy friend. Two of them cyber-stalked me in an increasingly obsessive manner. One cheated on me more times than I dare think, broke up with me once because I was being "quiet," one had a creppy fondness for medieval weapons, one never liked me to mix with "his" friends EVER.

Out of the five serious boyfriends I had in the past, only one was/is remotely normal and who I can look back on with...well, really with a sense of "meh" and mediocre goodwill, no hard feelings, he was a good guy, etc, but that's better than one of disgust when you realize how pathetic the person you thought you knew really was.

So the question that I got was, what the hell is it about these guys that I end up being attracted to? I mean, yeah, one or two I kinda knew they were nuts to begin with, but the others I didn't really know UNTIL they became my exes. Is there some kind of hidden mental illness that I sunconciously pick up on and go "oooh this seems like fun?" Cuz it's not fun! I guess you never really know someone until after you break up, but looking back at my high school diaries I can see that in many cases I DID know all this and yet I put up with it. Sigh.

Thankfully my current bf is normal..well, in a sense. He is a bit of silly goof sometimes, more odd than textbook normal perhaps...yet I love the goofy bastard anyway. Besides, I would take funny sillyness over scary mental issues any day. You would have to be VERY silly to put up with a crazy idiot like me ;P

Where I came from Part I

This was me, 14/15 years old, holy crap.

Lately, if you haven't noticed, I have been feeling very nostalgic. It has a lot to do with the whole, going back to the music I used to like when this picture was taken, being friends with a lot of people again that I was friends with ten years ago, hanging out in my hometown (well, where I went to high school) a lot - due to said people who still live here and the fact that my boyfriend lives here...well, until he moves out on Sunday to his new place downtown, and generally being surrounded by an ongoing sense of Deja Vu.

On my Facebook account, I recently frightened a lot of people by posting photos taken ten years ago (btw, for people who are trying to add me on Facebook, I'll totally accept however the email address that I have linked to this blog is NOT the one that I have linked to Facebook). I've taken to looking through old yearbooks and laughing at the crazy stuff people wrote in them (also looking two grades back and laughing at boyfriend's geeky grade 10 picture), as well as perusing old art sketchbooks from Grade 9. In one book, I found an assignment where I had to describe myself in a brainstorm of words:


Who was I at 14 years old?

-Imaginative

-Romantic

-Kind

-Moody

-Creative

-Sensitive

-Thinks too much

-True Sagitarious

How much of that can be applied to me today as a 25/ 26 year old? I think pretty much all of it. Mind you, the teacher only gave me a 6/10 on that.

Then I ended up finding my diaries from 95-98. OH MY GOD.

It's interesting to me though, why I suddenly have so much interest in my past. Perhaps because I am looking for a peice of myself - as corny as that sounds. I mean, in order to know where you are going, you have to know where you came from - at least, I think that's a saying. Regardless, it's like I am taking stock of my life, comparing myself to the way I was ten years ago and wondering if I had thought I would be where I am today (well, I'm not driving a porsche and I'm not a Hollywood actress, so probably NO). And because I am surrounded by people and places of my past, I am reminded of the person I once was, the person who is probably still a huge part of me (as my head banging at the Pumpkins concert on Monday can attest to).

Luckily though, all this re-examination of who I am is not hindering me in anyway. I used to think I hated high school in all it's glory, and I know I did at some points. But I also hung out with a group of renegades and our hatred of the norm and the school and the conformities were what made us unique. We were looked down on, we were different and looking at everyone as they are today, I can still see that there is a touch of rebellion in everyone of us. I can wear my fancy Italian boots and my lady like dresses but underneath there is the cargo-clad, chain wearing teenager that is just dying to get out. And sometimes, I let her.

Stay tuned next week when I publish some of those diaries. Oh my goodness, the embarassment will be all mine but the laughter will be for everyone.

Pumpkin Smashing Comes Full Circle

Laaaame. Sounds like a totally lame headline I would have had to think up in totally lame journalism school.

Anyway, before I get into that, this is a question for all the women out there (men quickly scroll down until I get to the good stuff): are there certain birth control pills that make you crazy?

I recently switched to a monophasic pill because on Ortho-tri-cyclen - which I have been on for like 10 years - my period has started to come a week early. Apparently that means my pill isn't working as strong as it should...and let's face it, you don't want your pill to be working at half-capacity. So I switched, though I wasn't happy about it because my body was used to the other one and I didn't want to gain weight, get mood swings, etc.

Anyway, I have been going through a rough patch in my life. Family problems that are getting worse, being unemployed, unable to find work that suits my degree and being broke. Not sure what to do with life...etc.

So, I'm kinda depressed. The kind that you sleep all day cuz you don't want to face your crap life - it'll pass though. BUT is it the pills that are making me sad, or is it the present circumstances in my life? I mean, I can't be freaking Pollyanna Positive all the freaking time...or can I, and it's the pills that are making me more negative? Meh, who knows. Just wondering if any women out there had similar problems with their pills, tis all....

ENOUGH ABOUT THE WOMEN PROBLEMS! ON TO MANLY THINGS!

Sorta.

You may recall a post I did about the Smashing Pumpkins concert I went to 11 years ago. 11 years ago when I looked like this....


And was a "skid" as they say. Anyway, you can read that post here, I am not going to get into but anyway the point is that 11 years later, I went to see the Smashing Pumpkins...again!

What was weird is that I went with the Rockstar (who, as I have mentioned, is as big as a fan as I was way back when) AND Kelli, the girl I had gone to the concert with 11 years ago. See, it was only 6 months after the concert or so that Kelli and I stopped being friends and we only started being friends a few months ago now, so you can understand how weird it kinda was. Especially since the Rockstar and her have been friends for about 6 years and we were all there together...ahhhhh all sorts of weirdness.

Anyhoo, the concert was pretty awesome. I know that the one we saw in Seattle was better because the sound was awesome, we were at the front and it was only 2000 people there but I can't really remember much of the actual music, whereas on Monday night I totally did.

And yeah, they are missing D'arcy and James Iha but all they did was stand in the opposite corners of the stage and not move. Here we had Jimmy and Billy and they are pretty much the whole band anyway. Fuck me, Jimmy has to be the best drummer alive!

Sweet part of the night was during the awesome song 'United States' (off their new album, which rocks like it's 1993) he started soloing the Canadian Anthem. Pretty cool that he learned that.

He also took time after the show to thank Canada for being such great supporters of the band and for making the album number one here. In the States, they lost the primo spot to Bon Jovi, lol. I guess he does have better hair...

Of course, no concert can go without controversy. Though we were smack in the middle, we were thankfully out of the way of crowd surfers and moshers (though I didn't notice too much of that). Turns out (well, I found out today after reading Perez Hilton of all things) that a person actually died at the concert. Isn't that twice now?


******

Oh yeah, and to leave on a lighter note, the bf and I went to the Death Ray Global Comedy Fest on Thursday and it was amazing. Fucking hilarious performers like Bob Odenkirk from Mr. Show, Bob Posehn from pretty much everything and, the crown jewel, David Cross.

David Cross, if you don't know, played Tobias Funke on Arrested Development and is one funny motherfucka outside of the show. He was bloody brilliant.

Oh and look who I ran into after the show...



I went to the bathroom and as I was coming down the stairs I noticed that David was standing right beside Rockstar. Only Rockstar was busy watching me coming down the stairs (he wanted to see how I was going to gracefully manuever getting over this velvet rope) that he didn't even notice he was standing right beside him.

"OMG! Let's get his picture!"

"Whose picture?"

"You're standing beside Tobias!!!"

If you are wondering why I have a nervous expression in the photo it's because my camera kept dying just before Rockstar took the picture. Thankfully David had the patience of a saint (probably helped that no one else was bugging him) and when I told him he was awesome, he seemed really humbled to hear it.

Though he was probably just glad I didn't ask him if he "blue" himself.

I get by with a little tact from my friends...

I saw the movie Across the Universe the other day and it was AMAZING! If you like Moulin Rouge AND The Beatles (and trippy musicals in general) you will love this film. I thought the cast was brilliant, even Evan Rachel Wood (whom I don't really like due to her "I'm so cool cuz my boyfriend is Marilyn Manson" thing) was fantastic. Most of the songs were recorded live as they were sung which is a testament to how well the actors did their job. The guys who play friend's Jude and Max in the film are cute as hell and how much more do guys get sexier when you find out they can sing? Raaaaar! I expect to see more of those actors in the future.

Anyway, quite a crap review but I just wanted to tell you all to see it - however, if you don't like The Beatles, don't like musicals and don't like films that are a bit trippy and out there, stay away. You'll probably hate it :)


*****


So, my boyfriend is moving out (thank God, though I will miss his mom's brilliant meals) with two friends. So far it's been kind of a struggle to convince landlords to give three young guys a chance so they've been kind of missing the mark. However, I went along to look at a place on Saturday and his friend's girlfriend was there as well.

I was kinda of dressed like a bum - and when I dress like a bum, it kinda means I am dressed like everyone else in this town. Yoga pants, a ruched, fitted Bench hoodie and flip flops. My hair was in a ponytail, I had no makeup on my face but didn't really need it so that was fine.

We went to the apartment type thing and had a little tour. While the boys were being shown around, I got to talking with the other girlfriend. I had never met her before but she seemed quite sweet. An American too, but let's not hold that against her ;) Honestly though, she was from Portland, Oregon which is a rad place, and in general I think everyone from the entire West Coast of North America are all kinda similar anyway. We should have our own country.

Anyhoo, she seemed nice, let's call her M. And she seemed good for her bf, S, because she was pretty much his first girlfriend even though the guy is 24. Of course, it was quite long distance, her being from Oregon and all, but anyway, he looked happy.

Cut to: later that night, I am in Tsawwassen and going to watch a friend's soccer game. The bf and I pick up his friend (and Ex from like ten years ago...but it's OK, she's super rad) J and head out to the game.

"Hey J," says the bf, "you get to meet S's girlfriend."

"Oh yeah, what is she like?"

"She seems really sweet...."he kinda of let the last part hang in the air, so I added to it.

"Yeah, laid back and easy going, nice girl." I say.

We get to the soccer game and see M and S embracing by the dugout. We all say hello again and introduce J to her.

M smiles politely and then looks me up and down.

"How nice of you to dress up."

I look down at what I am wearing, jeans, boots and a nice top. That wasn't me dressing up, that's how I normally dress. Then I got what she was trying to say. I looked like such a bum this morning, it was nice to see I could fix myself up. Nice, in the sarcastic sense.

I looked at my bf and he looked totally taken aback. Was she just trying to insult me? Regardless, I just laughed it off, exclaiming to him "I told you I looked like a bum this morning!" (it's true, I did say that....fuckin last time I wear yoga pants out of the house).

Later, J and the bf and I headed to the pub.

"Um, the other thing I was going to say about his girlfriend is that she sometimes blurts out really innapropriate things. I had never seen it happen before but I think it just did," he said.

"No kidding!" I exclaimed, "I meet her for the second time and the first thing she is does is insult me?"

"Yeah, it's not like you guys were even talking about clothes earlier."

"You weren't?"asked J, "so she just said that out of the blue?"

"Pretty much."

Then J got excited because she wanted to hear the girl say more innapropriate things. She wasn't dissapointed.

We got to the bar and of course M and S showed up like they said they would.

I finished my first rum and coke pretty fast so I asked for another.

"Holy you lush, you sucked that back fast,"M commented. "In a hurry to get drunk or do you always drink like that?"

Once again I wasn't sure what to say. J started to laugh and my bf came to my rescue, "well she's going out with me, isn't she? I'll drive anyone to drink."

Awkward laughter followed. The bf and I exchanged a look. Then the bf and S exchanged a look. S looked pretty embarassed.

Soon, M got up to go to the bathroom. J looked over at S and said, "Your girlfriend seems pretty cool."

He breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh good, I'm so glad she's nice to you."

And of course I get insult central.

Now, I don't think this girl was trying to be mean or anything or like purposefully being a dick ("funny how she insults the way you look when you are absolutely stunning all the time and she looks like that" my bf told me) but she seemed like she absolutely lacked any tact. It's not like she blurted it out and then was like, "Oops, didn;t mean it like that." She totally meant it like that. I mean, how can you just say stuff and just think it's OK? The bf and I came to the conculsion that she is a psychopath. And what's worse is that his friend S totally knows but since it's his first gf and all, I don't think he'll be going anywhere.

Thank God she lives in Portland, though even a once a month visit will be too much once the guys are all living together. Regardless, you can be sure I'll be blogging/venting/bitching about it :)

The Merits of Dating a Younger Guy

Okaaaay, totally promising to not get mushy here. My day of mush is over, whoooo-boy it was bad though. Gee golly, golly gee. Seriously, Monday I was just useless. You know when you get really depressed and all you want to do is lie in bed and think about how sad you are? All I wanted to do was lie in bed and think about how happy I was. It was disgusting, really, like I was on some weird heroin high (never done heroin but I am just assuming here).

I have to say that as much fun as the loved up, head over heels, gaga stage is, there IS a reason why feelings fade a little bit over time...I shouldn't say fade, but the passion meter is turned down a notch.

BECAUSE IF WE WERE TO GO ON IN THIS LOCO STAGE FOREVER, NOTHING WOULD EVER GET DONE!

We would all be unemployed, broke, fat etc, sitting around on our large asses and sighing. The world would fall apart.

I am, of course, not at that stage yet where the passions are tempered (I give it a few years - damn, a few years of uselessness?), so I am trying to make do.

Here are some reasons why dating a younger man is great (lol total non-sequiter, but whatever, you'll require that a few months ago I had a post about dating a younger guy and my "problems" with it, so here is how I was so very wrong):

1.Dating a younger guy means you get to party all the time, party all the time, party all the time. I have noticed cycles in my life, I'll party when I'm in college (Auckland, Kamloops) and then there are periods where there is no partying really...like since May last year till three months ago.

The thing is, as ashamed as I am to admit it, I do like to get my drink on and have a good time. So it's beyond cool, to me, that I found someone who is as up for it as I am. No longer do I feel like a lush at lunchtime when I order a ceaser, cuz he will order a beer. When I suggest "Jagerbomb? Wanna do shots? Wanna get shitfaced?" he just nods and does it. And he WANTS me there with him, shooting those things back.

I guess it comes down to the fact that he is also a Rockstar and well he parties like a Rockstar, as does the rest of his band. Good times and it keeps me young lol.

2. When you date a younger guy, you are the older woman. This usually means (at least in my case it does) that they think it's super cool that they landed a really hot older woman (yeah, yeah just two years, but give me a break). Which in turn means they revere you and are in awe of the fact that they even got a smoking hot babe like yourself. Very important.

3. When they complain about how they are getting older and don't know what they are doing with their lives, you can just pat them on the head and give a knowing sigh.

4. Sex. Is. Awesome. It's all the time, constantly and there is energy like no other. No wondering here whether you are sexually desired or not, it's pretty darn obvious and obvious all the time. Wheeeeeee!

5. There is no pressure from outside sources and therefore less pressure on the relationship. No one talks about big scary issues like marriage when the guy is 24. He's got 4 more years of ignorant bliss before those talks start to come.

6. Though people are jaded at any age - in fact I was MORE jaded when I was 24 - the fact that he has two LESS years of being screwed over makes a big difference.

So tell me, women, do you agree with this? And men, any positive perks about dating older women (aside from the fact that we can teach you some pretty cool sexual things ;)?

Shouting from the top of a mountain

Please forgive me, I am slightly delirious as I write this and I am afraid this blog is going to be a tiny bit self-indulgent. But I can do that, you know, cuz it's my blog and all.

First off, my haircut went great. Maybe too many short layers near my face but in the end it was what I wanted. The hairdresser was sweet and she didn't lecture me or say anything derogatory about my hair...the closest thing was "perhaps more long layers since your hair is quite fine, you don't want to lose volume." I could totally live with that. Anyway, here is a pic. It really does not look any different from before but whatever. I like it.






Anyway, I had to just throw a picture of me and my boyfriend in there as well, for the reasons that are about to follow....

The other night, I did something which I have never done before.

I told my boyfriend (AKA the Rockstar) that I was madly in love with him.

This might not sound like a big deal, but since not only had neither of us said it yet, I had also been feeling this way for the freakin' past two months.

I don't know how love works, but when I got into this relationship, I did have my doubts. Not about him, but about the timing. I had just gotten out of a relationship, was I really ready for a new one, was it just a rebound, etc.

Also, because he had gotten out of a bad breakup too and was single for many years before that, I wasn't sure about that. I had so many testimonials from people who know him saying what a fucking awesome guy he is...but there is a difference between being a good friend and a good boyfriend. Even his best friend didn't know how he would be as a boyfriend.

Well that answer is he is a fucking awesome boyfriend and it's pretty much impossible to NOT fall in love with the guy.

(For those who are wondering, yes he does know about this blog but for his own reasons he doesn't read it...at the same time he doesn't care what I say about him, so as long as it not intentionally mean. And like I could even say a bad thing about him).

OK, I realize that I am veering dangerously close to inducing nausea in a lot of you. But since I have never been this happy before in my life and have never felt THIS way before, you are just gonna have to bear with me (or click the Next Blog button).

Yeah so basically I knew I loved him not even a month into our relationship. I didn't think it was possible to fall so fast (nor did I think it was healthy) but suddenly he started occupying every thought in my head. Everytime I was with him I had to bite my lip from saying it. I started telling everyone that I knew that I was in love. And I even started thinking that for once in my life I was going to say it first. I didn't need to hear it back, I just wanted to be able to say it, to scream it, to yell it, to let him feel it.

It's obvious I completely lost my head. People in Italy would comment on it ("you are so very in love, aren't you?"). Friends would comment on how blissed out I seemed. My mother even told me just the other day, "You don't look like you anymore. You look so happy. You are glowing all the time." Even my boyfriend said at one point, "I see these old pictures of you when you don't look all smiley and happy. It's hard to imagine you without a smile on your face. I would assume you were always like this." ...... And the thing is, I don't think I was always smiley. He thinks I've always been like this but I've only been smiling like an idiot because he is in my life. It's all totally him.

Anyway, I had kind of given up on letting him know though and just decided to wait till he said it. I was putting way too much pressure on myself, better to just leave things be.

Well, that was until Friday night. He had a party and for a certain reason, I was a bit put out (a familiar situation that I had been in a past relationship). He noticed this, asked me what was wrong. I told him that it had absolutely nothing to do with him (cuz it didn't, it was someone else...when your boyfriend really is that awesome, it's only natural for some biyatch to think so as well) and that I would tell him when the party was over cuz I didn't want to bother him with it.

The problem didn't go away though, but I dealt with it the best I could. Then at the end of the night, he suddenly kicked everyone out. It was late, but I thought it odd considering he wasn't like dying to go to bed and there was like 10 people still there. But he got them to leave, then took me by the hand to his room and sat me on his bed.

"OK, so what's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier, you said there was something you wanted to talk about when the party was over. Well, it's over now, what's wrong?"

"Did you just cut your party short so you could ask me what's wrong?"

"Yeah. I didn't like knowing there was something bothering you. I didn't like to see you upset. I don't care about anyone else."

Right. So this is the part where I started to feel bad because it honestly wasn't that big of a deal and I didn't want to cut his fun short but then I started to feel softer than butter. I couldn't believe that he did that just because he didn't like the fact that something was bothering me.

So, after I told him about my problem (and of course, he was beyond supportive), I lay there thinking about how impossible it was for me not to tell him that night. I had to do it. I decided to take the plunge.

Of course, I was drunk and nervous and taking the plunge lead to me laughing maniacally for about ten minutes. Then I let it spill...."There is something I have to tell you and I'm not sure if you are going to like it or not. So please, just promise you won't respond to it or comment on it for at least a few weeks. Can you promise me that?"

He nodded, I could tell that he was freaking the shit out, thinking it was something horrible.

"I'm desperately in love with you. I love you. I've been waiting so long to say it and I just couldn't keep it in anymore. I just wanted you to hear it, that's all."

He breathed a sigh of relief because he thought I was going to tell him that it was over or something stupid (ha ha GOTCHA!) and then fell silent for a few seconds.

"Well, it's not really fair that I can't say anything in response to that."

"Yeah, well you promised."

"Yeah....well Fuck that! I love you too!"

"No, don't say that because I said-"

"SHUT UP! I LOVE YOU!"

And so on...

What's funny was once we got talking about it, he had been going through a very similar thing. We both brought up the fact that when we were watching Paul McCartney's Back in the US DVD the other day, everytime a love song came on (most notably our favourite, "Maybe I'm Amazed"....at the way I love you all the time) we both wanted to sing it but we were afraid to without scaring the other person. He also told me that he felt this intense connection to from the moment we first met and I know I felt EXACTLY the same thing. And the sex, MY GOD! But I won't go into that haha :)

Anyway, that is that. Now I sit here, almost crying while I write this because I don't ever think I have ever been this happy in my life. I don't care that I was just fired. I don't care that I am jobless and that my future is uncertain and I have no money. I've got everything I need to feel like the Queen of the World.

Fuck, I am so cheesey. Promise it won't happen again.

To Hairdressers Everywhere...

I am going to get a haircut tommorow. I desperately need a trim (and when I say trim, I mean it, take off as little hair as you can, don't whack off three inches because I "needed it") but I keep putting it off for one reason: everytime I go to the hairdresser, I get a lecture.

It doesn't matter which hairdresser I go to, whether they are students or well-known, first visit or billionth. I keep getting the same lecture.

So please, Kristin, I hear great things about you and what you can do with hair. I want a trim, and I'm going to say half an inch because I know you will double it. I want my bangs trimmed, if you think I can pull off shorter, go for it, but ONLY if you think it will look good. And I want some long layers. Nothing choppy.

I also implore you to please refrain from telling me the following because I already know it:

"You have very dry hair"

"Being blonde is quite damaging"

"Have you always been blonde?"

"How about letting your natural color (dirty blonde) grow out and getting blonde highlights?"

"Your hair is breaking at the back. Do you wear a ponytail?"

"Promise me you'll never wear your hair in a ponytail again"

"It's so damaged. I don't know what I'm going to do with it"

"See this! It's breaking off here!"

"Do you blowdry or flatiron?"

"Never blowdry or flatiron your hair again"

"Your hair is so dry, it's hard to comb"

"Do you want to try our $100 deep conditioning treatment?"

And so on.

The thing is, I end up sitting there and either defending me and my hair ("Actually, I only blowdry once every few days, I always let it airdry first, I use moisturizing shampoos, when I dye my hair I ONLY do the roots, I wash my hair every other day, I try to not wear it in a ponytail, I have been other hair colors and it just wasnt me, I was born with this hair color damnit!) OR I just sit there and meekly apologize.

After all of that you would think I have the worlds worst hair. I don't. I sometimes get compliments on it. Yes, it is fine as shit and greasy at times and is often too flat. But it's manageable, it's very soft and it's very shiny. GIVE ME A BREAK!

So, you can see why I avoid the hairdressers like the plague. Hopefully Kristin will stumble across my blog before she does my hair and I won't have to lecture HER on not lecturing me.


BTW - for those who care (Simon), I have updated my other blog (see sidebar) with my review of my hotel in Rome. Ciao!

More Mishaps

I've never been very good at telling time with the 24 hour clock. Maybe because it involves adding and subtracting, I don't know. What I do know is that 1600 is 4PM (because 4x4 is 16) and that 1PM is 1300. That's about it.

Anyway, I had just taken a HELL-iSH plane ride from Italy to Toronto and totally underestimated how long the flight was going to be. See, going to Rome, I flew Vancouver to Frankfurt and that only took 8 or 9 hours because of the whole arctic circle route and the going with the wind thing. Then from Frankfurt to Rome was just a quick hop.

But my return ticket was brutal. I didn't find out until I sat down on the plane (in front of a woman who was coughing up a lung the whole time which might explain why I have had the flu since Saturday) that the flight from Rome to Toronto was TEN hours! And then the flight from Toronto to Vancouver was FIVE! Holy crap, why didn't I just fly to New Zealand if it was going to take this long?

To make matters worse, I had the middle seat in the middle of the plane. Lucky a nice Torontonian wanted me to switch seats with his wife who was seated by the window at the back of the plane. SCORE! Other than that though, the flight was hell...as most flights are.

We were even late coming into the airport ("I'm sorry, there is a slight delay, some plane is in our gate"...WHY are they in our gate? IF they know we are coming, why are they there? JERKS!) which made me worry abit about catching my connecting flight. But as it was 430PM and my flight didn't leave till 1725, I figured I had PLENTY of time.

Time to go through customs. Time to get my backage. Time to cram my duty free lemoncello back in my luggage. Time to check that luggage. Time to go through security again. Time to find my gate. Time to buy magazines. Time to go to the bar?

I just about had a drink and some bar food when I decided that I should plug in my cell and charge it, in case the plane was delayed or something and I had to text my much-missed boyfriend (he volunteered to pick me up from the airport, which was very nice). So I went to a gate that had an outlet, sat down and plugged in my phone. The phone showed the time as 530. My boarding time for plane was 1725.

"I have plenty of time!" I thought.

A few minutes later I looked back at the clock. "Wait...if it's 535PM now. And I board at 1725....and 1600 is 4PM...which would mean....OH MY GOD!"

I yanked the phone from the wall, jumped to my feet and ran down the hall towards my gate. Luckily they were just calling my row, so I composed myself as if nothing had happened and strode on to the plane.

That was freebie.

******

Eventually the plane did land, and I couldn't have been happy to run out of it. I made my way to the baggage claim area (after ducking into the washroom to pretty myself up...hello, I hadn't seen my man in two weeks and I was definitely in need of a little something something).

I, of course, had been up for 30 hours or something retarded and my Italy-synched body thought it was 5AM, not 8PM. So, I was a little out of it.

Luckily my boyfriend was understanding of my scary dazed state and we drove back to his house, stopping by my parents place on the way to drop off some bags.

My family friend Rick came running out of the door as soon as he saw me (my parents are away and he is looking after the house).

"Do you have your passport?" he barked at me.

"Yeah, it's in my purse."

"Is it really?"

What was he getting at? Of course, it was in my purse, "It's in the car, do you want me to go get it?"

"Well, it's just that some man from the airport phoned, saying you left your passport in the seatback pocket. Does that sound like something you would do?"

Actually, that did sound like something I would do. I didn't even bother checking my purse.

The man had left a number so I called him. He was in charge of checking the planes afterwards and had stumbled across my passport (luckily I had my address and tel number written in there). And even more luckily, he happened to live 10 minutes away from where I was and was happy to drop it off the next morning.

At the time though, I was too out of it to really comprehend that I had nearly lost my passport for the umpteenth time, but judging from the humourously exasperated looks that my boyfriend and Rick were giving me, they totally got it.

That, also, was a freebie. The man upstairs really loves to give me a break sometimes.


Next time, I tell you how I lost a pair of 200$ boots on an Italian bus!

If Nuns could fly

OK, this is totally out of order, but this is Italian Mishap #2. It happened about a week before Mishap #1 and pretty much involves the same specifics.

The picture above is the view from my teeny tiny hotel room (yes, Simon, I will be blogging all about the travel specifics of my trip in my other blog, in due time ;). It looks down onto the courtyard of an old, beautiful church. The view isn't pefect though because there is some sort of low roof between my hotel and the courtyard, but that at least means that I have some privacy and don't have to worry about closing the blinds when I get dressed because whoever is in the churchyard can't physically see me over the roof.

So I languish around my room, curtains and windows open, head heavy with jetlag, body drenched with the 100% humidity and thus sporting only underwear (no thongs this time).

I sit at my wee table and starting painting my toenails with this shocking blue nailpolish that I snagged at Sephora down the street.

By the time my nails are done, I look down and admire them. Odd, but pretty.

Then I look up.

There is a NUN, on the roof, looking in my room with a look of shock and horror on her face. She has a broom in hand and has obviously noticed me in my underwear during mid-sweep.

Problem now is, I don't want to further scare the lady by acting mortified and embarassed and indignant (which I was), so I smile and continue to sit there and redo my nails like I am so totally used to having Nuns see me in next to nothing.

So for those of you who have access to my Facebook, THAT is why my status was "Is sorry that a Nun had to see her in her underwear."


I'm starting to think my subconcious is an exhibitionist.

Two Weeks Later

Well folks, so much has happened in the last two weeks, some good, some bad. Mainly good though and the bad isn't so bad (just involves my usual travel mishaps and fiascos ala THIS). Most importantly though, my trip to Italy gave me time to think, reflect and relax and I couldn't feel better about being home and starting new. But because I have so much to tell you, I will just do it in short little increments, one day at the time.

Today I will start with Mishap #1.

Yesterday I got up bright and early in the muggy Rome heat and made my way with my huge and extremely heavy backpack to the train station. You see...I bought a lot of clothes and shoes in Rome (as you do, or as I do anyway) and I was straining under the weight. To make matters better (ish) I wore a dress I bought and these heavy combat-ish boots (though of the elegant quality). Yes it was WAY to hot for the 30 degree morning but it was better I wear my heaviest items than pack them.

Do I need to tell you that I have never gone backpacking with a dress before?

Hard to believe considering but true. And thus I did not understand the hazards of wearing a backpack with a dress.

After boarding the Leonardo Da Vinci Express for the the airport, I sat daintly on my backpack, careful to not give anyone a peepshow of my leopard print thong underwear. I am a lady, you see.

When the train arrived at the airport, I hopped off and strode purposefully through the crowd of people, towards my gate. Now there is a fair bit of walking involved, including a few trips on the moving walkway. But I wanted to get to check in on time, so I went forward with force. I must have been walking for about 10 minutes or so, passing people left and right and leaving them in my wake when three giggly American girls passed by me.

"Scuzi?" said one. I turned to her cautiously and seeing that I was not Italian, she said, "Excuse me?"

"Yes" I said, still walking forward.

"We just had to tell you but the back of your dress is hiked up. It's caught in your backpack."

My heart froze. "Hiked up all the way?"

"Yes. All the way."

I think I muttered thanks, or shit or something. The girls ran off towards their gate, laughing their heads off (despite that, I am so grateful that SOMEONE had the nerve to tell me).

So yeah. I had just spent 10 minutes walking through the airport with my bare ass and leopard print thong out for all to see, passing by hundreds and hundreds of people.

To make matters worse, I have a mutilated, red mosquito bite the size of Spain on my ass and my ass has expanded over the last two weeks due to overeating pasta and wine.

And that, my friends, was my last minute on Italy soil.