Remembering Ellie 1993-2008

So it seems like my year hasn't really gotten off to a great start. I was hoping things couldn't get any worse after my all night pukefest on NYE but I was wrong.

I was just informed that three horrible things happened yesterday. Not to mention I have the world's worst flu and can't move without coughing up a lung.

One is that my grandpa died. Make Hanstrom is not my biological grandpa, he died when my mom was quite young. But her mother later remarried Make, a kind, smart and gentle man who had lost a leg in the war. Now I never knew my grandparents very well, my mother and her mother have a difficult relationship (due to my grandma abandoning her when she was a baby), and I never knew my grandpa on my dad's side as he was dead too...plus everyone lives in Norway and Finland and may or may/not speak English well. But Make to me was as much as a grandfather as possible considering and I am deeply saddened to hear that he passed away in his sleep yesterday. He had stomach cancer and we all knew he was dying with only months to live but still...my thoughts and prayers go out to my mom's family in Finland.

On a closer note (to me), my dog is dead.

She also died yesterday.

My parents and my dog Ellie, as you know, have been in Palm Springs. My mother and Ellie went for a walk last night. In a quiet street next door to the condo they are staying at, they decided to cross the road at some bushes. Coming out of the bushes and on to the road, my mom notices a car coming towards them. It is quiet far off and my mom is clearly visible so she just assumes the car will slow down or brake or whatever. Regardless, my mom slows down, just in case.

But the car doesn't. It keeps coming, keeping its speed and doesn't slow down. In fact, it actually starts to turn towards my mother and my dog. My mother recalls thinking it felt like she was in some movie where someone is deliberitley trying to kill her and then remembers thinking she is going to die.

Meanwhile, my dog normally walks quickly ahead (on the leash, of course) of my mother but at this moment, she decided to stay beside my mom, between her and the car. Now my dog is partially blind and deaf so there is no way she would have really known a car is coming (believe me, she had become quite ignorant in her older years) but regardless, my dog stayed where she was. And was hit.

The car hit my dog first and she went flying to the side of the road. The car then hit my mom, but most of the impact had already been done to Ellie.

The car then took off, kept driving, leaving my mother and my dog lying on the pavement. My dog was crying from the pain and my mother was screaming for help. Being Palm Springs, a lot of people looked from their windows but couldn't be bothered. But a man from her complex came out and my mom screamed for him to run down the road after the car. He did and caught up to the car.

Soon the ambulance and fire trucks came and looked at my mom but all my mom could think about was Ellie. They told her, even though she seemed fine, she should probably go to the hospital but my mom told them, "Your hospitals are so expensive in the States, I'd rather spend the money on my dog."

They all did the best they could. Ellie had stopped whimpering and was still breathing, and she was still able to smell and lick my moms hand. The firemen gave Ellie oxygen too, in a little mask. Then my dad came out (someone had run to get him) and they both cuddled and held Ellie for as long as they could.

Finally, someone from the emergency vet team came out and strapped Ellie to a little gurney and took her into their ambulance. My mother said at this point that everyone was crying, the firemen, the ambulance drivers, the onlookers. It didn't look good for my little dog.

At the vets, they put my dog into an incubator to keep her warm. She was still alive but not really aware of her surroundings. The vet said they could do whatever my parents wanted to keep her alive but in the end, she was probably bleeding internally and she wouldn't be the same, even if it worked. My parents told them to put Ellie down, so at least she wouldn't be in any pain.

I guess the bright side of this story is that Ellie was an old dog, who we expected to go quite awhile ago. But in Palm Springs, she seemed to take on a new life. She was happy and energetic, running everywhere, being so happy. The dry air seemed to breathe new life into her and even I was surprised at how healthy she seemed when I went to visit a few weeks ago. Sure she couldn't really see or hear very well but she still loved you anyway.

But she was 15 years old and the vet said that she would have probably gone this year at any rate. I just wish she hadn't been taken by some woman in a car who can't fucking drive. But at least she got to be a hero, saving my mom from death or paralysis, letting my mother know how much she loved her life as their dog and how she would have done anything for them.

And she did.


Addendum: We will know in a few days what the police report on the driver of the car will say and I hope to God that justice is served here. Maybe the driver was drunk, or on a cellphone or blind as a bat or mental, but either way, there is no excuse for not slowing down when someones is crossing the road, and definitely no excuse to steering your car in a persons direction.

As for my parents, this is gonna be so hard on them and I only wish I was down there with them. You have no idea how much my parents loved that dog, how much I loved her and how much everyone who ever met Ellie loved her. They are going to pick up the ashes in a few weeks and when they get back her, scatter them in Boundary Bay where we would always walk her.


I decided to add something extra, part of a lovely email my mother just sent (I am very suprised she even sent one since she is the world's slowest typer and extremely computer illiterate. Please excuse the grammar - she is from Finland after all).


"The other night my little dog and i went for our usual evening walk on E Palm canyon drive . As we crossed Deepwell side street ,which was minimally lighted, i saw a car in the distant turning into it .My dog was on a leash and i felt i had plenty of time to get to the meridian section of the street before it was close to us . To my shock and horror the car turned to us and kept coming , more we walked away more it turned and kept coming . I stared at the lights and waved my arm and yelled but it did not stop . I was doomed but my little dog stepped beside me to spare me from the impact and she and i went flying to the payment screaming in pain.The car stopped briefly but then took off. I yelled for some one to help us but for the longest time nobody came .I thought only in America, people are afraid to get involved. Finally a man came out of the Biltmore bldg and i shouted at him to get the licence # of the car that had now stopped at the gate to Deepwell complex. The gentleman also called the paramedics who administered oxygen to Ellie who was still breathing . I cried and cried telling Ellie how much i loved her and begged her not to die but she was in bad shape . As i sat there beside my pet I asked a female paramedic ,why is there so little lighting in Palm Springs ? She told me people voted agaist more lights for they wanted to be able to see the stars.

I looked up in the sky and i did not see any .The only stars I saw when my head hit the payment. Soon i will be driving home with Ellies ashes in a box and with a very heavy heart and Ii will be thinking of all those pet owners walking their dogs in the dangerously dark Palm Springs. Sorry Thomas Edison. PS I like to thank paramedics and Mr.Nickerson from animal control for being kind to Ellie in her last moments." Tuuli Halle

A NYE to remember...

Happy New Year everyone! Hope that yours was fabulously fun and/or messy. Mine was...well, it was NOT at all what I expected and totally the kind of thing that would only happen to me. Thankfully, I learned something pretty important during the process.

As you can see from the picture above, and below, I did wear my dress that night. I picked it up from the alterations place in Palm Springs just before I left last Thursday and thankfully the woman did a great job of taking it in.


Then I decided to add my own touch by means of red ribboned shoes and a touch of it at my waist, to accent my weight loss. Which, BTW, is now ten pounds! Woot! I haven't been 128 for some time, and while people say I look good, they aren't putting their finger on the weight loss, but you know that's quite fine. I feel better about myself, I have more confidence and that's what matters. Oh and I'm quite proud I did it the healthy way.



Anyhoo, so everything was going to plan. I was going to look great, feel great and party hard at my boyfriend's party. In fact, I felt so good on the morning of December 31st that I didn't even care anymore if bitchy girl was gonna be there. I just wanted to ring in the New Year (and our six-month anniversary) with the man I loved.

Of course, it didn't help that I woke up at 830 AM that morning, even though I was looking forward to sleeping in all day. So I guess I was a little bit tired, plus I had these remnants of a cold/flu that I had picked up in Palm Springs. But I still felt good enough to start getting ready and clean up my apartment.

Then at 330PM, disaster struck. For no apparent reason, I suddenly felt very nauseous, very dizzy, my head was pounding and I felt feverish. I also had the sudden urge to start crying and/or screaming.

Before you go ahead and say it's PMS, let me just say I wish it was as simple as that. But you see, my period just ended - or should I say, it SHOULD have ended. I actually missed my period last week for the first time ever, and yes that would be cause for paranioa and alarm, but I just didn't think pregnancy was on the cards. I blamed the missed period on my sudden weight loss and hardcore excercising, plus I'm on a new pill, yadda yadda.

BUT because I had missed my period, I started to think that maybe this was all signs I was pregnant. So that didn't help my suddenly extremely emotional state. Regardless though, I made sure to eat more (in case I hadn't eaten enough that day) and devoured a bag of popcorn (carbs) and a can of tuna (protein) then I drank oodles of water. Then I had a very short nap, woke up feeling a bit woozy but OK, but then 10 minutes later I was back to wanting to puke, wanting to cry, wanting to die.

How could this happen to me on NYE of all times? Half of me wanted to just not go out and go to sleep but I knew I would regret it (or so I thought) and I know my bf would be devestated if I weren't there at his party. So I sucked it up, picked up a friend of mine and we raced to the liqour store. We decided to have a mickey of vodka, champagne and alize (don't worry, in the end, I didn't even open the bottle of vodka).

When we arrived at my bfs place, we were early as we knew we would be so we slowly started drinking. I had champagne with some alize in it but KNOWING how sick I still felt, I decided to pace myself and drink a bottle of water in between each glass. Then I made sure to feast on the delicious cookies my friend had made. I was being sensible.


And I have to admit, I started to feel better. All in all, I finished the bottle of champagne (as well as some of the alize and a glass of red wine) over the course of 4or 5 hours, as well as drinking water too. Now, it normally takes shots or a huge shit mix, or drinking quickly or not eating to get me really drunk. So I was a bit surpised when I found myself suddenly feeling quite wasted (and crying, over nothing really, as emotional as I was). And then came the puking.

It kicked in at about 1AM or a bit after.

I found myself in my bf's bathroom (his toilet is in a seperate room, thank God, I didn't want to hog that), sprawled on the floor and bent over the bathtub.

And I puked and I puked and I puked.

FOR THREE HOURS!

And the most AMAZING thing ever is that my wonderful, beautiful boyfriend stayed with me the ENTIRE time. He held back my hair, cleaned up my puke and missed the last half of his own damn party, just to stay with me and make sure I was OK.

When we finally emerged at 430AM, I felt like shit. Not because I had emptied my guts out for hours on end, but because I ruined my boyfriend's night. I feel so badly, even now, that he is THAT good to me. I've had so many people telling me what a great man he is and the thing is I KNEW THAT BEFORE. I didn't think he could get any better, any lovelier but then he goes and does that.

I'm sorry, but "love" to me isn't shown by a guy who writes you sweet poems but never acts upon them, a guy who will buy you presents and take you out for dinner all the time yet leave you with a sense of not knowing how he feels. Love is not some beefy, model dude that all the girls drool over. Love is not having a man with a high paying, amazing job.

Love is having a man who misses his own party to spend the night with you, holding back your hair and cleaning up your vomit. A man who sees you at your absolute WORST and still tells you how much he loves you. That, my friends, is what love is and on NYE (and our six month anniversary) I discovered how much my Rockstar really loves me and that he's definitely the man I want to marry. Plain and simple.

Of course, I still don't really know what is wrong with me. I was toying between pregnancy or food poisoning and I'm leaning towards the latter. I took a pregnancy test yesterday and it was negative but I know they can be wrong so I am going to go to the doctor as well. But I still don't feel 100%, I still feel a bit nauseous. I have no idea how long it takes for food poisoning to hit, it could have been this chicken cacciatore frozen meal I had had earlier that day, or prawns from a few nights before. I don't know, really. All I know is that there was something wrong. I rarely EVER puke from drinking, and it's always self-induced the next morning. It doesn't come suddenly, for three hours, over a bottle of champagne. Plus, I felt like shit before I started drinking too.

All in all though, it was a night to remember (though I'm trying not to, lol) and hell, 2008 can only get better from here on in!!!!

Merry Xmas

Yes, it's kind of odd to start out an Xmas post with a picture of Karolina Kurková, but I can't help but love this girl. Flipping through an Xmas Victoria's Secret catalogue is a surefire way to get in the spirit of the holidays (after all, who doesn't imagine themselves in sexy Mrs. Clause underwear, hanging stockings naughtily by the fire?)

Maybe that's just me.

Anyway, Karolina has always been my favourite Victoria's Secret model. Sure, she's gorgeous, they all are (especially Alessandra Ambrosio ) but there is something about this model's large, white teeth and natural tendancy to smile that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. In the least non-lesbian way, anyway.

That aside, this is a Xmas post...so MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! And no, I am NOT PC, and I am not gonna dumb it down into "happy holidays" - we all know about Christmas, whether we are Christians are not. So there! I hope it's all big, merry and bright for you all!

PS - who is YOUR favourite Victoria's Secret model and why? Come on guys (and gals), put the wrapping paper down and take a moment...:P

Baby Got Back (her boots)

DING DONG!

Guess what UPS dropped off at our condo's doorstep the other night?



MY BOOTS!

As some of you may recall, I wrote a post awhile back about the traumatic experience of losing my precious Bata boots in Italy, just a week after I had bought them.

Many of you wrote in with your condolences and even suggestions and offerings of help. I even hit up a few up my friends who were in Paris and Vienna, but alas, despite their efforts, the boots were nowhere to be found.

I can't believe my eyes!

My hunch was that the Bata boots were ONLY available in Italy, which posed a great problem. I didn't know anyone in Italy.

So I scoured the interweb and searched for a personal shopper out of Rome. After querying a few of them, my angel was sent to me. Barbara Lessona is a young, fiesty personal shopper who operates out of Rome. I will write more on her and the services she offers on my other blog shortly (because, if you are looking for a great time/shopping spree in Rome, PLEASE seek her out, she is amazing) so I will get to the point here.

Barbara scoured Rome for me and was able to find one pair, in my size too. She bought them for me and I wired her the money through my bank. All was well until we came to the problem of shipping.

DHL charged an arm and a leg to ship the boots from Rome to Vancouver. After all, it's not easy to smuggle Italian leather goods out of the country without paying hefty duty fees ON TOP of a hefty shipping fee.

Luckily we came to a sort of madcap agreement. Barbara would give the boots to her pilot friend who was flying to Argentina, with a few days stop over in New York. He would take the boots to New York and then I would arrange for UPS to pick up the boots from the concierge at his hotel and ship to it where I am now, in Palm Springs.

It almost seemed too easy.

OK, it was a huge pain in the ass, both on her end and on my end. But in the end, I got my boots the cheapest way possible and my life is now complete :P (well, at least in a boots-kinda way)


The End

To read more about my personal shopping saviour, click here

NYE

Greetings from Palm Springs, y'all!

Yup, I'm down here in sunny California for Xmas and so far, so good. Of course, why shouldn't it be, I've escaped the rain and am looking forward to sunning myself daily in our highly modern, art deco condo complex and shopping at premium outlet stores (Desert Hills is fabulous and I for one can't wait to hit up the True Religion store).

But of course, the ten days I choose to join my parents down here is also the ten days in which my boyfriend's band played a prominent, last minute show at the Roxy (which I missed, last night), another friend is having a party and of course, Xmas itself. I'm glad to spend it with my family (I didn't last year because I was in Scotland) but it's a bit sad to not be with my boyfriend on that special day...maybe more sad is the fact that I am missing all the fun times they are having and I will be forced to see all the pictures on Facebook. I'm really hoping to avoid any "mistletoe" pictures with his friends, as harmless as they would be, it wouldn't be fun to see while I'm all the way down here - such is why I am trying to avoid Facebook all this week).

But I am keeping my eyes on the prize: New Years Eve!

The Rockstar is having a party at his house and I am very excited. I plan to look fabulous...more so than usual (since I always plan to look good). It helps that so far, no one has noticed ANY weight loss from me (despite wearing just a corset and a short leather skirt for my Courtney Love Bday last Friday), which just spurs me on to lose as much weight as possible while I am here. Also, there is a certain ...er...bitch...that will be at the party. This girl is 22, a dark-haired, snarky, sarcastic artist who has always been sorta friends with my bf (and sorta almost slept with everyone in the band, except for him of course) and, well, she sorta hates me. Yup, I could give countless examples of her saying bad things about me and the way she openly hangs off my boyfriend whenever I'm around, but I'll just leave them be. Anyhoo, my bf and I can't figure out why she hates me so much. The only thing we've got is that she thinks I'm some sorta trophy girlfriend, some hot blonde with no humour and no brains and she's out to make me look like an idiot (she also obviously has a slight thing for my bf too).

Well I'm not going to get into a war of wit or brains with her, because I'm not sure how that would work (play Trivial Pursuit? Get in an insulting match?) but I can sure as hell look good and looking good I shall look. Or something.

Anyhoo, I have my whole look picked out. I ordered this smashing dress from BCBG Mazx Azaria on Ebay:



Selling in stores for $364, I managed to snag it for $50. It arrived the other day and it is simply gorgeous. Only problem is, the dress is a size medium and though the bottom half fits fine, the corsety top is like 2 sizes too big. There is no way I could wear it without the top falling down when I walked (doesn't help that my boobs shrunk either), so we had to take it to a tailor today. Luckily the lady is able to take it in before I leave back home - and take it in she will. There is 2 inches from each side that have to go!

Then I purchased this gorgeous, cheapo bag from Target:



I didn't see the shoes, but the bag is a wonderful red. You might think that red might not go with yellow, but I can show you where I am getting my inspiration from:



See how beautifully Reese's red shoes go with her yellow dress? That's the look I'm going for (at least in purse form). Taking further inspiration, my bangs and hair are going to look like her, and I might swipe on a light coat of matching red lipstick (and forgo the bronzey, smokey eye I was orginally going to do...what do you think??)

Maybe I'm putting too much thought in my NYE outfit, but I want the evening to go just right. After all, it's the Rockstar and mine's 6 months anniversary at Midnight.

Most of all, I just want to look hot - better than I've ever looked and I want someone to notice that I've lost weight. I mean, 8 pounds is a lot, I don't care what some people say and my parents were the first people to comment on how much I've shrunk. So I am hoping that by exercising everyday at the state-of-the-art gym they have here, doing my yoga DVD and sticking to my diet (which, despite it being the holidays, is still easy to adhere to), I'll be able to be atleast 2 or 3 pounds lighter come the New Year. Maybe no one will still notice (maybe always wearing flowly, empire waisted tops in the months before this fooled people into thinking I was already thin) but hell, I know I'll feel good!

(of course, today I woke up feeling sick with a sore throat - but hell, I'm still gonna drag my ass to the gym!)

The Secrets of My Success...so far

So last post I talked about how I'm finally getting in good shape by finding a workout and diet that I like and enjoy.

Today I will elaborate more on that because as of this morning, I stepped on the scale and it registered 130.0 pounds. Suspicious, I stepped on my other scale (less accurate) and it says I weight 125. I'm gonna go with the better scale because that other one can't be right but regardless I am a happy camper.

You see, 4 weeks ago I weighed 138. Through a lot of effort and hard work and restraint, I have lost 8 pounds - and I'm aiming for another 5 more.

How did I do it?

Well, as you know I've always struggled with my weight. I guess in some ways I was lucky because I pretty much ate what I wanted and didn't exercise which left me with a "healthy" build. But I didn't feel healthy and I didn't look healthy. All I could see was my pooch sticking out, love handles, big ass, fat arms. Oh my fat fat arms. WHY COULDN'T THE EIGHT POUNDS COME OFF OF YOU?????

Anyhoo, I did numerous things to try and lose weight. I started running in the mornings and afternoons - but I didn't do it for very long and I wasn't pushing myself. I tried to eat no carbs on the weekdays and anything I wanted on the weekends. But that did me no good. I started lifting weights twice a week, but I just felt bigger and fatter...and more frustrated. You remember when I did Cardio Core Bootcamp in March? Well during that month I BARELY lost inches and I gained weight. Yeah, it was muscle. But muscle under fat which made me feel like a cow.

Also, my main problem was motivation. See, I would see an event a month off and be, YEAH! I'm gonna work out everyday and diet so I can lose the weight in time. And then a week into it, a month would seem so long and I would lose interest and it would just die. I had a hard time keeping the momentum.

So, I came up with a goal. This Friday, the 14th I was to have my birthday party. The theme was Rockstar (or popstar, whatever) and so you had to dress up as such. I decided I wanted to be Avril Lavigne* (cuz it was easy though I hate her guts) and decided I couldn't wear the wifebeater and cargo pants with my fat arms and gut hanging out.

This was a month ago. I decided I needed a real plan for a month...and I needed added incentives in between. So I joined the Self Challenge at Self.com (it's free) and made little mini goals for myself. I wanted to lose 2 pounds a week, and so I didn't lose motivation, I decided my first goal post was to be 4 pounds lighter for my boyfriend's concert on December 1st. By breaking up my goal in two, I found it easier to stick to.

What did the Self Challenge consist of? Well, they give you a diet plan and exercises to do, but I made it my own.

I dropped the weights FOREVER and took up YOGA. My experiences over the last month with yoga are worth another post, but let's say I love it. It makes me feel happy, high and grounded. I feel constantly challenged and I love how my muscles are developing lean and long. Not only that, but it definitely helps me with my disability. I am a bonafide yogi for life now.

With yoga being done twice a week, I added the cardio. This came in the form of SPINNING. Yup, the grandest calorie burner of them all. Again, my spinning experiences over the last month are worth a post itself, but I've finally found a workout I enjoy. I used to hate sweating, now I'm dissapointed if I don't sweat buckets during each class. I love the feeling of swearing at my teacher under my breath yet knowing that I am getting the greatest workout of all. The spinning I have added to my workout on average of 3 or 4 times a week, in the evenings (classes are either 45 or 60 min long).

Last but not least, there is the diet. This is where the Self challenge came most in handy. On their website, not only do you enter what excercise you did (and they calculate your calorie burn) but you enter what food you ate.

I mean. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. YOU. ATE.

According to Self, they wanted you on a 1,600 calorie a day diet but I said fuck that, I'm going big or going home. I cut my calories to under 1000 the first week until I realized my body couldn't retain that much longer. I upped it up to 1200 (as they say, you shouldn't go below 1200 or your body thinks you are starving and you won't lose any weight) and now I am quite happy here.

What's amazing is that by recording every bite of everything (had a spoon full of ice cream the other night: 45 calories) for a month, you become hyper aware of what you can eat and can't eat. This diet doesn't restrict anything, keep that in mind, I mean I could eat an entire box of KD Mac and Cheese...(that's about 800 calories, believe me, I've contemplated it) but it would also mean that I would be pretty miserable for the rest of the day. For 100 calories I could have one of those 100 cal Doritos packs - which is mighty tasty - but knowing I'll just be hungrier afterwards, I'll have two crispbreads with Boursin Lite Cheese instead (two tablespoons worth).

Yeah, it's a pain measuring out exactly two teaspoons of butter for my morning waffles (don't get me started on the time I had to figure out how many yam fries were in a bag so I could calculate how many fries equaled one portion) but it's worth it. And you get used to it (though it took me awhile to fall asleep in the first week because all i thought about was food!).

I know all of this sounds boring but if you are looking for something that works, I suggest you visit Self.com. Unfortunately I am not one of those people who can naturally look hot by eating whatever they want and not exercising. I have to work for it...but now with my perkier, more compact ass, whittled waist and firmer thighs, I don't mind the effort**. Sadly, no one has really noticed my weight loss except for my boyfriend's mother, my boyfriend and myself...then again, I've kinda been keeping the sleeker areas covered up. Damn you fat arms!

Oh and before any of you sweet souls tell me I don't need to lose weight, I know I don't NEED to. I mean, I'm not a model or anything. But I WANT to, I'm doing it so I feel good about myself and it's working!









Left: Month ago
Right: Last Saturday









*Screw Avril Lavigne. I'm now going as a completely high and whored out Courtney Love, complete with ripped fishnets, bedhead, smeared lipstick and trackmarks!

**This extreme calorie counting and working out isn't forever. When I've reached my goal weight, I can maintain it by doing yoga twice a week, maybe a spin class once in awhile and eating around 2000 calories a day. I'm looking forward to it:)

That time of the year again...

Yup.

It's my birthday.

Betya thought I was gonna say Xmas, didn't you?

No folks, turns out that I was born on this day, 26 years ago.

26 years! Holy crap, that's a lot of years. Well, to my young, virginal brain it is.

Anyhoo, when I saw this event coming up, I thought I would blog about all the things in my life that were lacking...everything that I thought a 26 year old woman should have and then moan about how I don't have them.

I mean, as I sit here now, it's true that I am DEFINITELY NOT where I thought I would be at 26. I thought I would have a burgeoning career in a field that I loved. At least, had been working towards something for the past few years. But that hasn't been the case with me. At this exact moment, I have an uncertain future (who doesn't), no job and no real sense of accomplishment.

But you know what? It doesn't matter.

I went to bed last night thinking (and believing) that 26 is going to be a great age for me. I may lack a career at the moment, but I am going into school in a field that not only do I love but I am good at as well.

My income from the government will run out soon, but at least come May, I will be getting a job in the film business (and I do mean, BUSINESS). Maybe it won't be steady, maybe it won't make me rich - but at least it's something I've always wanted to do.

Maybe I am not married or engaged like so many of my friends (or maybe it just feels that way), but I have no doubt that it will happen and I am beyond grateful to have the world's best man by my side.

I might not live in Paris, or London or New York - but at least I actually own my apartment (even though I've been thinking lately about selling next year and upgrading to a bigger one).

I might not have degrees upon degrees like people who went to university straight after high school. But I do have my Bachelor in Journalism, which despite its uselessness, is SOMETHING to show for. And I'm not regretting all the traveling I did while slowly earning that degree either.

Yup, I think 26 is going to be a great age for me...and I'm already off to a great start for I will be in the best shape of my life. So far, I've lost 6 pounds of pure FAT in the last 3 weeks, thanks to my modified version of the Self challenge, which involves the only workouts that actually work for my body plus eating in moderation (I'll be sure to share my secrets in the next post, so watch out for that if you are interested). Anyway, the fact is I have become somewhat addicted to my workouts and will be certain to continue them through the next year until I am a smokin hot lean machine ;P

Bring on the late twenties!

(OK, maybe that's a bit too harsh for my ears, but at least bring on 26!)

Just another manic meltdown

I totally lost it yesterday. I mean, lost it as in crying hysterically, kicking the washing machine till it feels like my toe is broken, screaming in an empty house, tearing my hear out kind of way.


Where do I begin?


For starters, I have known for quite awhile that the Rockstar's awesome parents were planning taking him and I and his sister and her bf out for a very nice dinner this coming Saturday.

His mother then invited us to come over to their house early so we could help decorate the tree. I jumped on this one because I'm sure the tree will be stately, the decorations will be fab and I wasn't going to have a tree this year cuz I'm going to Palm Springs for Xmas, so I would never have a chance to put one up. Plus, this way, it's all fun in decorating AND I don't have to take it down.

Anyway, I was excited about this prospect, as well as dressing up to go to a fancy dinner.

Then the rockstar's best friend's birthday popped up. His gf was secretly planning a dinner for him that night. Of course, we could not go because we were already going to dinner with his parents. That was fine, but it was kind of annoying that the Rockstar seems to miss out a lot on his friend's plans, mainly because since he moved out, they tend to have their stuff local and not out in FunCity, where we are.

This was all fine until Rockstar said that his BF was now going to rent an ice-rink on Sunday.

My heart froze. Count me out, I said. I could tell that he kinda wanted me there, but ice-skating is not my idea of a fun time (and you'll soon find out why). But I wasn't too fussed, since it would be on Sunday, and I could just go home and do my own thing...let him go lame-ass skating if he wanted to (btw, who the hell goes ice-skating for their birthdays these days?)

Then yesterday he finds out that the skating is actually going be on Saturday, late (like from 11-midnite) so we would be able to go after dinner. But I don't want to go. I don't want to dress up, have a nice few glasses of wine and a big gourmet meal and then go...ice-skating. But it seemed I would have no choice, ESPECIALLY when we found out that the parents were renting a LIMO to take us from their house to the restaurant and back (which is at least 45 min away).



Yes, that's right. My BF's parents are taking us to dinner in a limo.



That's amazing. But it meant that I would be stuck in Tsawwassen that night which then meant I would have to go ice-skating.

Here is the thing. I can't ice-skate. I physically can't. You know my previous post about not being able to stand on my toes or on one leg? Well, I have no balance, I have weak ankles and ice-skating just doesn't work. I was born with club feet, as some of you know, and it is times like this that I am reminded of the deep scars that run up my ankles, the fact that I am too ashamed to even wear sandals and the fact that my feet keep me from doing many, many things that other people can.

For the most part, I'm OK. I am disabled in that sense and I am used to it. This is why despite wanting to be a ballerina growing up, I never could. Instead, I did horseback riding which turned out great for me anyway. But there are everyday things that I just can't do and ice-skating is one of them.



Of course, I could just sit on the bench and watch people skate around the rink. But just that thought alone brought back horrible, horrible memories of Junior High, where the gym teachers would physically MAKE me skate until my ankles almost broke and where I would have to sit on the sidelines, humilated, while the other kids made fun of me, the way I walked, the fact that I couldn't skate, that I was different, etc. Not fun for a 12 year old girl.

And so, for whatever reason, this whole ice skating issue brought all these old issues forward. My bf was at work, so I could only communicate by text how I felt but that only covered the PR version of things. At home at my parents house, where I was using their laundry machine while they are away, I let it loose. Suddenly I couldn't stop crying, screaming, freaking out. And then I had to drive home like that, as I had to beat the traffic. It's a wonder I didn't get in an accident.

I'm sure a lot of you "normal" girls are wondering what the big deal is. You take for granted that you can wear skirts and 4-inch stilettos and frolic on the beach. Honestly, if you haven't had something like this, you won't know and you won't understand and maybe you should just stop reading now, lest you think I'm some whiney little cunt who gets angry when she can't do something.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I know there is so much I can't do and yet, for a girl who was in casts up to her thighs for the first six years of her life, there is a lot that I can do too. But what's interesting is how this made me realize how much I deal with my disability each and everyday. I just never notice, I guess I just shove it aside and move on. And suddenly, one thing, ice-skating, and it all comes flooding out.

This is probably why I will never have high self-esteem, why I try SO DAMN HARD to be perfect in everyway...because I know how IMPERFECT I am....I'm doing my hardest to make up for the deficit. And that's why, when I feel like I am not pretty or thin enough or sexy enough (and that;s everyday) it hits me really hard. It's just adding insult to injury.

Thankfully, this has a happy solution. My bf's sister said she would get drunk with me at the local bar if he went skating and as it turns out my Rockstar would rather do that than going skating at any rate.

And as I got back from my spin class last night (which despite being puffy faced and weak, I still managed to go to) I was surprised to discover a very long, very spontaneously wonderful message from my love in my Facebook inbox (edited):

You might not think you're perfect but I certainly do, I think you're perfect just the way you are. Further proof I love you is that I accept everything about you with open arms, and honey with you, it's so easy. You're so easy to get along with and I still think you're the most beautiful person I"ve ever laid eyes on. It only makes more sense that we're together when I find out you're insecure about certain things because lord knows I am too, and we get that about each other which is what makes us stronger. I've never stopped thinking about you from the moment I met you and I can't imagine it happening. Each time I see you I'm reminded of how cute and hot and adorable you are, I feel like I can spazz out all I want and you'll just smile that pretty smile of yours and you can't top that. Don't ever stop staring at me adoringly because I'll never get sick of seeing those big beautiful brown eyes looking across the table at me. Don't ever change who you are because that's who I'm madly in love with and bettering yourself is one thing but you have to really have flaws to think you need a serious "makeover" and I have yet to see any real ones or ones that don't just make me love you more.

*Sniff*

I normally wouldn't post such a personal thing, but I know he has access to this blog and believe me, I've left a lot more, uh, personal stuff out. It's just so amazing to feel so badly about yourself and to have someone in your life who makes up for all that bad stuff.


Despite all these problems of mine, having him in my life does make everything seem...perfect.

Tagged, I'm it.

OK so I was recently tagged by both Girl About Town AND Tawcan so I figured I would kill two birds with one stone by posting both of them here. And no, I won't be tagging anyone else. Tag is an exhausting game.

I'll start with the hard stuff...Eight Random Facts about....
Me

*I have an older brother that I never ever blog about. It's a complicated relationship to say the least and we are not very close at all. I doubt we ever will be.

*I'm a Christian but half the time I ashamed to admit it. Not because of what I believe in, but because of other judgemental Christians who ruin the religion for everyone. I feel like when I tell people I am Christian, I am judged by non-Christians who think I am an uptight, judgemental prude and also judged by other Christians who think I'm less than they are because I'm NOT an uptight, judgemental prude. Like my Facebook religion status says, I am the "Bad ass variety." Like it or lump it.

*I have TV and cable but aside from the occasional DVD I'll pop in there, I never watch it.

*I went three years without having any sex. Now, my sex drive is higher than all the boyfriend's I've had. I symphathize with all you 18-year old boys out there - it can be incredibly frustrating.

*I've always been blonde. Except for 6 months in Grade 12 where my hair was a red-brown. In fact, that's my hair color in my yearbook picture and it pisses me off to this day.

*I can't stand on my toes and usually can't stand on one leg without falling over.

*I love it when my boyfriend forgets his shirt or sweater at my place. I love the smell of him.

*I used to be 39 pounds heavier after I backpacked through Australia when I was 18. I have no idea how I gained the weight, but I did. When I got back, a guy "friend" of mine said I would be the hottest girl in town, if I wasn't so FAT. Even though I've lost the weight, that comment has always stayed with me and I don't think I'll ever be hot unless I have the body of Jessica Biel (I'm working on it, but that's for the next post :P)

This next tag involves taking my middle name and coming up with something about myself corresponding to each letter. I have two middle names, Emma Anastazia, so I think I will stick with Emma...

E - is for Embarrass. I tend to embarrass quite easily. Even times when I don't actually feel embarrassed, my face will still go all red and hot and THEN I end up feeling it anyway.

M - is for makeup. I love it. I went to school for Makeup for TV and Film back in 2000 and it was a lot of fun, though I discovered I really like to put it on myself and not so much on other people (although I did do my good friend's wedding a few months back and I thought she looked gorgeous, thank goodness). I have tons of makeup, buy all the big and small name brands and know everything there is to know. I think I could actually teach a course on it. There is just nothing that can change a girls look and mood like makeup can. Sometimes when I put it on, I feel like I can be a whole other person. Although as I have gotten older, I find I don't tend to actually wear it everyday.

M - is for manners. I believe I have very good manners and I believe manners is an extremely underated quality. A man with good manners will win me over everytime. The only thing I need to work on is trying to cut and eat my food without switching my knife and fork around!

A - is for apologetic. Maybe it's the Canadian in me, but I will apologize even when someone ELSE steps on MY foot!


Happy Monday everyone!

Only in my dreams...

Things with the Rockstar can't get any better. For the 6 months that I have known him, and the 5 that we have been together, I am absolutely floored at how well things are going. Sure, there is the occasional problem but when I tell people what our "problem" is, they reply with "If that's your only "problem," consider yourself lucky."

In fact, just last night I was talking about something in particular with a good friend (and his ex) and she couldn't help but blurt out, "Yeah boo hoo, that must put a damper on your totally perfect relationship."

Our relationship is not perfect (and that's 80% due to me being nuts) but my boyfriend IS perfect. At least, he is perfect for me and that's probably why we fall more and more in love with each other each day. He is the first boyfriend that I have trusted 100% with all my heart. This is the easiest relationship ever, for both of us, and we both tell each other every day how lucky we are to have found each other.

Awwwww.

Right, so here is something interesting and I can't help but wonder if this has happened to anyone else...

I always have very vivid dreams and I remember them quite well. Well, in my dreams my boyfriend is ALWAYS a COMPLETE ASSHOLE!

Without fail, everytime the Rockstar is in my dream he is the world's biggest jerk. He is constantly dumping me, breaking my heart, proposing to mutual friend's of ours, being an A-hole to me, saying mean things, cheating, being disrespectful and more.

And everytime I wake up I feel devestated. The pain (and anger) I feel in my dreams is SO real that I often awake with a clenched jaw and fists. And then it takes me quite awhile for these feelings to wear off. I'll start my morning being completely pissed off at him because of something he did in my dream. I mean, I know it's not at all his fault that dream boyfriend is a complete bastard but I still can't help but feel what I felt in those dreams.

Luckily my boyfriend knows about dream boyfriend and is extra extra sweet on those days when I have trouble telling reality from dreamland. And it is such a wonderful feeling when I finally realize that my Rockstar is the complete opposite from dream version. I once again, thank my lucky stars for him.

But I have to know....why is dream boyfriend such an ass? Because things are going so well, so smoothly, am I subconciously afraid that he is going to dump me out of nowhere like my ex did or turn into an asshole while he's fooled me with his perfect boyfriend exterior? I have no idea...

Funnily enough, my best friend Kelly is ALWAYS a bitch in my dreams too. But apparently she says that whenever ANYONE dreams about her, they always say she's always a bitch. Dream bitch Kelly, we call her.

I'm just waiting for the night when Dream bitch Kelly and Dream Jerk Boyfriend both gang up on me. Hopefully though I'll have my trusty lightsaber and pet Velociraptor, so I'll be able to defend myself, with the help of Jimmy Smits and Cameron Diaz....

It's official!

My university degree came in the mail yesterday.

Sounds pretty lame but the fact was I never attended the ceremonies to pick it up in person. But there it is...I officially have had my Bachelor of Journalism since July 2007.

Which is great, because I have been telling people I have had it since April 2006. Meh.

Regardless, this USELESS degree, has taken a good seven years to acquire. Sure, I could have had it all done in four, but who knows what other useless degree I would have walked out with (Paleontology, anyone?). I took those seven years to figure out what I really wanted to do (which, ironically, isn't journalism), and DID what I really wanted to do, which was travel to my heart's content.

And so, I did it. A year at college doing general studies, a year working, a year at film school, a year traveling, a year in New Zealand studying Communications, a year of traveling, and then two years of Journalism school, followed by a year of working, traveling and attempting to finish up my four correspondence courses (all of which were actually completed in a week - the rest of the year I had to do them was quite the waste).

And then a few months of meaning to apply for graduation but just procrastinating on it until about a month ago.

But, TA - DA! It has paid off and my useless degree which is propped up on my kitchen table makes me feel pretty darn good. I'm done with school forever!

Of course, that's a lie since I am going to school again in January. Yup, I was accepted and have already paid my deposit down for my VERY intense certificate in Entertainment Administration course. I'm very excited about this because it means I get to combine my journalism and "creative" film background with the business side of Show Business. Maybe look into doing a little film marketing?

Only drawbacks is that the course is supposed to be a year long and it's condensed into 13 weeks...which includes school on WEEKENDS! GAH! But thankfully you are done quicker and you step out with an internship, your certificate and a possible job.

Hopefully, that is, with the way I procrastinate :P


*Update*

To all of you worried about my apartment and my well-being, once again I must stress that I feel safe in my wee suite and this sort of situation can happen in any building at any time, UNLESS you have a concierge, but hell I can barely pay my mortgage, I'm not made of money.

Of course, there was a sign in the elevator today, stating that last night at 330 AM, a woman awoke to find an intruder inside her apartment. Apparently he climbed up through the balcony (it was unlocked). Luckily, I don't have a balcony. Although I would be screwed if Spiderman decided to visit.

*MORE UPDATES*

Happy Birthday to my mommy!!! 61 years young and enjoying it all in Palm Springs at the moment. I'll be joining her in December and I can't wait...it's getting freakin' cold here.

And for Simon, my travel blog has been updated ;)

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.