Procrastinators of the World Unite....tomorrow

Everyone has their weaknesses, their Achilles Heel, if you will.

Superman has Kryptonite, Foghorn has Leghorn (or visa versa) and Achilles has his...heel.

I have myself. Or to be more specific, I have procrastination.

I think it will be the death of me.

I have a million things to do, all of which I keep putting off in order to do something else. Such as stare at the wall for hours. And nap.

I could make a list of things that need to be done and post them here but I fear that list will just give me something else to do. I should know, I often make lists of all the things I should be doing, while really I could be using that time to actually do the things I should be doing.

But I digress...

I am procrastinator and I have been for as long as I can remember. Most of the time it works for me. For example, in University (or high school) I wouldn't do ANYTHING until the absolute last minute. Other people would be studying weeks ahead of time, then I would swoop in the night before, do a bit of frantic studying, and next day write the exam. Or hand in my project. Or whatever.

I guess I've never had a problem with my way of working because it does work. I'll get A's and B's and I'm happy with that. In fact, I have been worried about something so much that I did work on it ahead of time, and guess what? I didn't do so well! I think working under pressure gets the best work out of me, and if I can do just as well as everyone else by not caring and doing it at the last minute, why not?

Of course, there are sometimes when procrastination really hinders my life. Such as now. I have correspondance to do. I have planned it out so I will be done this bloody history course by December 1st, provided I stick to my schedule.

Am I sticking to the schedule? Well, it's 1:30 in the afternoon, my books are looking at me and I am blogging instead. Sigh.

What's worse is when procrastination interferes with things you really want to do. Again, I have a list of things I would like to accomplish (write another script, write a novel, write more freelance articles, etc) and am I doing it? No.

I think I need a kick in the pants. But to save you from having to do it, I'm gonna publish this damn post, shut-off my computer and hit the books.

PS Not everything has been done in vain. Check out my other blog (also in my links as Travel Sexy, Travel Smart). I've actually posted everyday on it so it will one day amount to something. Yay me!

I cracked the DaVinci, er, I mean, Sephora promo code

Every Xmas I order something from Sephora because I am such a beauty junkie/whore and Sephora is my pimp. Or something like that.

Anyhoo, I order around Xmas because they always have these adorable gift sets and such AND if you enter in the promo code found at the back of the catalog, or usually found in the thick, perfumey pages of In Style, they send you this satchel full of deluxe samples for free. It's the best part of the Holidays, I swear.

Well, low and behold, my Sephora catalogs stopped coming to my house and it couldn't have happened at a worse time. I needed the code at the back of the catalog so I could get my free super cool gift.

Usually the code is one word, like "Goldrush" last year when there was a gold theme, or "Beachbabe" when the catalog's theme was, well, being a beach babe.

This year I went to the website and saw that my would-be catalog is all about circus beauty (or Circe de Beaute) and models done up in neon lycra with blue eyeliner running down their primed faces. Anyway, I spent a good half hour scouring the web and all those free coupon sites for the promo code, but none doing. I did find one promo code: 'JACKPOT', however you had to purchase $50 worth of Laura Mercier product to get the deluxe sample set and it was only open to US residents. Boo. You guys get everything!

Anyhoo, I took a stab at the promo code. I looked at the cover and thought, hmmm. Cirque de Beaute. Circus of Beauty (or whatever).

On a lark, I tried the word CIRQUE.

Bingo!

To make a long story short (too late), the code worked and I found I am adept at scamming my way into getting free stuff. I decided that this would make a very boring post indeed but then I figured, "Hey, nowhere else on the Web did I see the proper code, might as well post it here so everyone else can benefit from it."

And so there you are. A Sunday post and I get to help out other beauty junkies like myself.

Who do you dress for?

Everyone dresses for someone, whether it be for themselves, members of the same sex or members of the opposite sex.

One of my dear friends says that she dresses for other women during the day, but dresses for her boyfriend/other men at night. She specified exactly why she dresses for other men when she's with her man:

"I want to look good for him. Not only in his eyes, but I want him to look good in everyone elses eyes. I want other guys to look at me and think 'Damn, she's hot. And look at the lucky guy she's with.' It's not a matter of me trying to attract other guys but rather that I want my boyfriend to feel proud he's with me."

I have another friend who dresses for her boyfriend when she is with him. She tends to wear flattering, fashionable clothes when she's on her own or with friends or at work, but because her boyfriend has repeatedly said how much he loves her in sweat pants and a baggy sweater (mainly because he's really the only person to ever see her dress down), she complies and actually enjoys wearing the occasional skater hoodie, cargo pants or "unfeminine" clothes.

I have other friends who like to dress up when they know they are hanging with their girlfriends, rather than with guys. They feel best when a girlfriend of theirs comments on their clothes. Then they know they look good and made a good choice.

A guy I know dresses completely for himself. Of course, he still asks for opinions on what looks good and what doesn't. And when his girlfriend mentions how much a certain shirt suits him, he will tend to wear that more often. But in the end, he dresses for what he likes and he doesn't give a crap about what other people think. It doesn't matter if the item of clothing went out of style a long time ago (say, a bandana for example) he wears it because he likes it and that's what makes him look good in the end.

I would like to believe I am a combination of all of the above*.

*though have been called a hippie once. Which I am SO not.

My name is Wanderlusting and I'm an Internetaholic

First MSN, now Yahoo comes up with crazy little articles that make you doubt you are living your life right.

Case in point: today's topic was about Internet addiction and how to tell.

Here are the signs:

1. Lying about how much time is spent online (only an hour a day, I swear).
2. General decrease of physical activity and social life (Hmmm. Going for a run in the rain or staying in and reading Perez Hilton? Tough choice).
3. Neglecting obligations at home, work, or school to spend time online (Oh yeah. My schoolwork).
4. Spending too much money on computer equipment or Internet activities (which reminds me, I need a new computer).
5. Feeling a constant desire to be online when they're away from the computer (must. check. emails).
6. Going online to escape real world problems (what problems?).
7. Disregarding the emotional or physical consequences of being in front of a computer all day (There are consequences? Holy shit, why didn't somebody tell me?).
8. Denial of the problem (would be understandable, if I had a problem).

Underrated, Overrated

And you know what that means...well, no you don't, but I've decided to make a list of all things overrated and underrated. Don't think it's complete? Feel free to add on.

Overrated: Friday

Underrated: Saturday

Overrated: Mustard

Underrated: Garlic Mayo

Overrated: Casual sex

Underrated: Vibrators

Overrated: Acting cool

Underrated: Affection

Overrated: Grey's Anatomy

Underrated: BBC's The Office

Overrated: Strappy stilletos

Underrated: Flat boots

Overrated: Fancy expensive martinis

Underrated: Ceasers

Overrated: Children

Underrated: Marriage

Overrated: Waxing

Underrated: Deplitories

Overrated: Cats

Underrated: Horses

Overrated: Playing the lottery

Underrated: Scratch and Win tickets

Overrated: Dan Brown

Underrated: Raymond Chandler

Overrated: Jessica Alba

Underrated: Audrey Tatou

Overrated: Waking up early

Underrated: Sleeping till noon

Overrated: Night clubs

Underrated: House parties

Overrated: Contiki Tours

Underrated: Traveling solo

Overrated: Fact

Underrated: Faith

Overrated: Being in a relationship

Underrated: Being single

Overrated: Trying to be strong

Underrated: Crying your eyes out

Overrated: Realism

Underrated: Hope

Overrated: Dane Cook

Underrated: Jimmy Fallon

Overrated: Swimming in a pool

Underrated: Swimming in the ocean

Overrated: Living with someone

Underrated: Living on your own

Overrated: Knowing what to do with your life

Underrated: Not having a clue

Overrated: Blogs

Underrated: Blogs

It takes two to Tango but only one to do the Funky Chicken

I just got off the phone with a dear friend of mine.

After talking for awhile, she asked me a question that stumped me:

"Do you think that in the end...there are just some people that are happier and better off alone?

Or is it just a matter of meeting the right person?

Do we really have to pair up with one another? Or can we live a just-as-fulfilling life on our own?"

Why I love my government

Because they think this is a good idea:

(Global National) OTTAWA -- In late June 2006, a pair of Soviet-era Illyushin-76 transport planes left Canada, carrying inside their cargo bellies tonnes of precisely chilled ingredients for making doughnuts and bagels.

Along with the precious cargo, six Canadian experts made the 10,000-kilometre journey over the North Pole to a region of the world from which Canada's Department of Foreign Affairs advises its citizens to stay away.

That place was Kandahar, Afghanistan, home to roughly 2,300 Canadian soldiers who are there to fight terrorism and rebuild the nation. Their mission was simple: to set up and train a team of Canadians to open the first Tim Hortons franchise outside of North America, at a place where Canadians feel furthest away from home.

Although while the Oakville, Ont.-based company initially balked at opening a franchise nine time zones from their main market (Canada and the U.S.), negotiations between Tim Hortons and the Department of National Defence eventually led to what was initially thought to be a private franchise operation on the Kandahar airfield -- the site of Canada's main base of operations in the region.

However, through Access to Information requests, Global National has learned that it took a lot more than thirsty soldiers longing for a "double-double" morale boost to open the Afghan coffee shop -- to the tune of nearly $4 million in Canadian taxpayers' dollars.

So. Apparently the huge sum of money that was being taken off of my pitiful checks when I worked for EA was actually going to Tim Hortons. To the troops. Whom we must support...with double doubles and walnut crunch donuts.

Is it just me, or isn't the $4 M better spent on, say, I dont know...bullets and medical supplies and such?

Or is throwing hot coffee in the face of the Taliban more effective? I know the sugar in one of those English Toffee Cappucinos could seriously burn someone's eyes out.

Another gem from MSN: Jealousy and the sexes

If you've visited your hotmail account today (and if you live in the non-GMail Dark Ages, like I do) you may have noticed today's little nugget for thought. I swear, I don't know what MSN is trying to do, but every other day it seems to come up with some "research" on one subject or another. Though most I find annoying ("7 Reasons Women Cheat", "Is your date super?"), this I thought might have some truth. Then again, it might not.


Jealousy: Is is the same for both men and women?

There are two different views about the both the origins of jealousy and the different ways men and women experience jealousy. One school of thought is that jealousy is an adaptive evolutionary mechanism. Researchers in this camp have found that men tend to be more jealous about sexual infidelity, whereas women are more disturbed by emotional infidelity. Their reasoning is that men needed to know that their efforts to feed and protect their mates actually propagated their genes and not some other man’s. Women, on the other hand, needed to hold onto a man’s emotional love in order to be fed, protected, and sheltered.

Another group of researchers found that culture had more of an influence on jealous behavior than evolutionary needs. They concluded that men and women tend to become most jealous over sexual infidelity, but they think that both of their jealousies are far more influenced by societal and family experience than by survival of the species.

See, I have a hard time believing there is a real difference, but I'm not a guy so I can't say for sure. But to imply that women don't get jealous over sexual infidelity is crap, as might be assuming that a man wouldn't mind so much if his wife was in love with another.

The article then went on to talk about what kind of people get jealous. The insecure ones, they say, are most likely to, as are the ones who have been cheated on the past.

Yes, well, that's kind of a given. But I know plenty of perfectly secure people who have never been cheated on who get riled up by the "green monster." What does that say then? That jealousy is just part of human nature? Sure, but then there are people who claim to "never get jealous."

I hate those people.

And we've Lost Mr. Eko

R.I.P Mr. Eko.

You were one of my favourite character's on Lost.

Now you have died, beaten senseless by the smoke monster, against a couple of trees. All because you didn't ask for forgiveness.

What? Yeah, that part was weird. Why oh why, when the "monster" has done so many horrifying deaths, did you have to go in such a cartoonish way.

Not ripped to shreds and spat up in a tree.

Not sliced up and thrown in a river.

But the monster banged the poor priest against the trees and fucked off.

Now he is dead, and according to his dying words to Locke, everyone else is "next."

Who is going to beat people with his Jesus stick now?

Sigh.

I'm too upset and taken aback that they just randomly killed one of the best characters to even mention that if I were Jack I wouldn't trust Juliet for beans and I think she is a power hungry bitch who wants to overthrow dying Ben so she can lead her own cult. And does she really think that Ben won't fall for the cuecards while the "video" is playing? And that the "new" characters, Nikki and Paolo (who is Brazil's "Tom Cruise") are hot but annoying as hell and why couldn't the monster (b)eat them instead? And is the guy with the eye patch the owner of the glass eye the other tallies found in Season 2? Is he another poor sap, locked away in a hatch, like Desmond was (soooo glad he's still around).

Anyhoo, I'll miss you Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje and your incredibly hard-to-pronounce name. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten a driving violation like everyone else who is no longer with the show. Remember folks, drive safe or the monster will get you.

Playing Favourites

I often read in girlie magazines these quizzes that they give the celebrities on the cover. One question is always:

"What is your favourite part of your body?"

There are usually a few annoyingly humble responses "My hands because they look strong" or a few proud ones "My ass. I work hard for it."

They never ask what the worst part is and for a good reason. The minute you tell someone what your worst part is, they zero in on it. Case in point; Julia Roberts was once asked that question and she answered in the same way. Then I read in an earlier interview that she said she hated her arms. Well, after that all I could do was notice Julia's arms. Now, her arms look fine, maybe not stick thin like everyone else, but it suits the rest of her body. But I can see why she didn't want people to know that.

I got to thinking what I would consider my Favourite Body Part.

I could easily go into my worst, but I would only bore you because it would compile all of my 1998 parts (according to Lever 2000, we have 2000 parts, which seems like they are being awfully open-mided as to what is considered a body part. Hmmm I like the area below my knuckle on my pinky finger).

But what would my favourite part be? I could go for the easiest answer, which is what all women tend to go for. My boobs. How can I not like them? But at the same time they have been wishy washy as of late and plus, I wanted to be a bit more creative than that.

So, I decided on my calves. They are a bit wimpy, but it's the thinnest part of my body. That reasoning sounds a bit sad, but I've never ever had an issue with them, so I figured it was a safe choice. Besides, when I used to horseback ride regularly, they were strong like bull.

The runner up is my ear (well, both ears). A quirky choice but they are small, nicely shaped, they don't stick out and they look nice with earrings...although my allergy to metal can turn them a nice shade of green.

Anyone else?

Domestically Disabled

Guess what I did yesterday?

I bought a Swiffer.

Yeah, I know that doesn't sound like much of an achievement but considering I am probably one of the last people on the planet to get one of these things, I felt I outta shout it out from the rooftops of blogcity.

There's a reason too, that I am one of the last people on Earth to get one. I'm really crap at cleaning my apartment.

Of course, I've always been crap at it. My mother doesn't call me Messy Maaria for no reason (I think it's a Finnish cartoon character that's known for being messy...that's the only explanation I can come up with). Now, I try not to be dirty (in the negative aspect) but I do admit I am one messy woman.

And now that I live in a studio apartment, it get's awfully messy, awfully fast. I find myself cleaning everyday now, something I used to roll my eyes at. One minute, the clothes are neatly hung up, the coffee table is wiped clean and the dishes are done. The next minute, my floor looks like someone nuked my wardrobe, I've got popcorn, candle wax and water rings on the table and smelly dishes are piled high in the sink. There is only one person who lives here! How the hell does this happen?

Don't get me wrong. I'm no Monica Geller. I hate, no... I despise, cleaning. But it's either that or live in a clothes and crumb strewn hell-hole. And since it's now my hell-hole, I feel I owe it to myself to take better care of it. But damnit, I'm lazy! How lazy?

I cleaned up after my Halloween party...three days later. Shhhh.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I used to be such a disfunctional, anti-domesticated spirit and now I find myself Swiffering with some emotion that might be described as "glee" (you can't blame me though, Swiffering really is like the ads).

To top it off, the bf came over, dead tired after work. He took a nap while I cooked. I actually cooked a whole meal. Now, granted, it is the only meal I know how to cook, a whole-wheat pasta dish with Vodka sauce, chicken, mushrooms, tomatoes and bacon, but it's still cooking nonetheless.

I served it with champagne and a smile.

And a black miniskirt and long, red wig.


Hey, it was still Halloween, after all.

Jumped on the bandwagon

I've seen a lot of blogs doing this lately so I decided I just had to do it too.




Overall I'm very flattered. But then again, what celebrities aren't hot babes?

And though I don't think I look too much like Katherine Heigel, I can definitely ask, "when the hell did I ever look like Penelope Cruz?"

So I tried it with a different pic and I got Katherine again. Rose, Adriana (whoever she is), Rachel all stayed the same too, though Christina Ricci was thrown into the mix (hmmm maybe in Sleepy Hollow). But instead of Penelope, I got Halle Berry.

Um, what?

Anyhoo, I realize the photo is a bit shitty quality so click here if you wanna get a better look.

Vice or Virtue?

I think I'm low-maintence.

I've been told I'm low-maintence*.

But I'm starting to think that the line between being low-maintence and being lazy has become blurred. One has positive attributes (who doesn't like things that are easy to maintain?) and the other has negative (have you ever heard of anyone being prided for being a lazy bum?)

So where do you draw the line?

Examples of being low-maintence:

-I expect to talk with my boyfriend once a day. I don't expect anymore.
-I expect to see my boyfriend every couple of days. I don't have to see him everyday and I don't...I only get ancy if it's been more than two nights. Or maybe the correct term is randy.
-I enjoy lying in bed and doing nothing. For hours at a time. Without getting bored.
-I can have as much fun pigging out on candy from 711 than going to a fancy restaurant.
-I have people asking me how my day went. I say "Good." They ask "What did you do?" I draw a blank.
-I can talk to my friends once in a blue moon and I still call them my friends.
-I like beer. And camping.
-I can live out of a backpack for months.
-I would rather text than talk. And I'm crap at both.
-I like Kraft Dinner. Make that, Easy Mac.
-I like naps.

Examples that I may just be lazy:

-This Saturday night, Ross and I had planned to dress up as Al and Peg Bundy (as we had on Friday) and go to Commercial Drive for the Parade of Lost Souls. First our plans were to go on a pub crawl but everyone else bailed and we didn't want to go alone. This was a wise decision since it was the night after my party and we consumed one too many Jell-O shots and homemade punch (otherwise known as ShitMix).So, we figured that we could hit up a friends party on the drive and then watch this ghoulish parade.
Well, along comes Saturday evening. We are both knackered but determined...sorta. Feeling ill from last night, we decided to rent a few scary movies, so that when we return from the parade, we can watch them. Screw going out to a club.
Time goes by. We both decide to have a nap. Eventually I wake up and get into full costume, all raring to go. Ross then wakes up. He's not as enthusiastic as I am. And yet, somehow, I don't mind.
We debate if we should go or not for awhile. He tells me he doesn't care either way, that he would be happy to go or to stay at home. I find myelf agreeing. When we finally come to a desicion to go, we look at the time. By the time we would get to the parade, it would almost be over.
Neither of us seem too dissapointed. Yes, I am in costume but...it just seems like a lot of effort.
"We can watch the movies," he suggests.
"Can we go to 711 and get a whole bunch of candy and pig out?" I ask, getting really excited all of a sudden.
"Yes! And then we can hit up the McDonalds Drive-thru"
I jump up and down with joy.

Is it low-maintence, lazy or just plain sad that I got all dressed up on a Saturday night to go to an awesome Parade of Lost Souls and a fun party, only to end up staying at bf's place, watching The Amityville Horor, eating fast-food, Nerds and Bottle Caps and drinking bottles of Corona? And, might I add, loving every minute of it.



Do I look High-Maintence to you? -All dressed up and no place to go.







*this isn't to say I'm completely low-maintence. Fortunately, the things that require upkeep, such as make-up, clothes etc, are things that lay within my own responsibility and that I enjoy doing. Also, I do like/expect attention and validation and do get annoyed if people don't respond to my emails. AND, I do enjoy going out to a nice restuarant or bar or something fun and fancy. The thing is, my lazy self, that would rather stay in and be a bum, is often under pressure from...society/friends/Cosmo...to go out and do these high-maintence things. Sometimes I would much rather have a nap than go to a club, but there is a stigma associated with that. I say, let's reverse that! Napping is the new black!

Brides aren't Duty Free though

Getting married in the near future? Unsure of where to hold the ceremony? Want to make the event extra special and romantic? Want to do more than buy magazines and duty free liquor at an airport?

Well you're in luck, my friends. Amsterdam's Schipol airport has found an excellent way to combine two very related items: Marriage and Plane Travel. The most ingenious invention since Nuts and Gum (together at last).

Yes, that's right, now instead of just milling around the airport and waiting to pass time, or frantically try to hide all traces of leftover marijuana and magic mushrooms, you can get married. Why didn't someone think of this sooner?

This is perfect for someone who is only getting married for the honeymoon. Just think, you won't even have to bother with a fancy ceremony. Like the website says, you can just say "I do" and go!

I can only imagine the amount of drugged up, porned-out people flooding into Amesterdam's airport and saying, "Hey, you know what would be crazy?"

What I would really like to know is, how come Vegas didn't think of this first?







Kind of gives new meaning to the term.

The Halloween Party

My Halloween Party was on Friday night. Once again, I was unsure of how I was going to fit a bunch of people in my 430 sq ft apartment, but once again, I prevailed. Anyway, I know I was freaking out over my costume, but in the end, I was a swell Peg Bundy.





I even roped Ross into going as Al Bundy. I know the similarities weren't mind blowing (thank God!) but I think it worked. He did have to stay by my side and show off his name tag that said "Al" but people still got the point.











We also had another TV couple there, Ricky and Lucy from Canada's Trailer Park Boys. Here is Ricky getting a beer...
....and playing the Drunk Driver drinking game (which, fortunately, does not involve any drunk driving).








Here is me and Lucy, getting into trouble with my handcuffs. This is a typical pose for us. The only problem is that the handcuffs are easily opened without using the key. Had I known that before I bought them, I wouldn't have forked over the $30. Still...they are fun.









The best costume of the night, had to be the three guys who went as the Blue Man Group. Their costumes were insanely good and felt sooo weird to touch.







The only mild disaster of the night was the fact that the jell-o shots I made, didn't hold together as well as I hoped. But in the end, I just ended up serving it in bowls, and it still did it's job. As did the homemade punch. I don't think there was a sober person in the house.











Peg, Lucy and a Gypsy pretend indulge in bad habits. (Don't we look sooooo cool)





Al, Ricky and Gypsy before the Jell-O shots set in...or maybe afterwards. I don't remember.

What ever happened to Miss Independent?

I know I lose points for quoting Christina Aguilera/Kelly Clarkson, but I used to kinda sing along to this song when I was single...and I find myself really singing along to it now that I'm in a relationship.






Miss Independent
Miss self-sufficient
Miss keep your distance
Miss unafraid
Miss out of my way
Miss don't let a man interfere (no)
Miss on her own
Miss almost grown
Miss never let a man help her off her throne
So, by keeping her heart protected
She'd never ever feel rejected
Little Miss Apprehensive
I said ooh, she fell in love

What is this feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise! It's time
To feel what's real
What happened to Miss Independent
No longer need to be defensive
Goodbye (goodbye), old you,
when love is true.

Miss guarded heart
Miss play it smart
Miss if you wanna use that line you better not start
But she miscalculated
She didn't want to end up jaded
And this miss decided not to miss out on true love
So, by changing her misconceptions
She went in a new direction
And found inside she felt a connection
She fell in love.

What is this feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise! It's time (yeah)
To feel what's real
What happened to Miss Independent?
No longer need to be defensive
Goodbye (goodbye), on you (oh you)
When love, when love is true

When Miss Independent walked away
No time for love that came her way
She looked in the mirror and thought today
What happened to Miss No Longer Afraid?
It took some time for her to see
How beautiful love could truly be
No more talk of why can't that be me
I'm so glad I finally see...

What is this feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise (surprise), it's time (yeah)
To feel (to feel) what's real
What happened to Miss Independent?
No longer need to be defensive
Goodbye (goodbye), on you
When love, when love is true....

Uh, yeah. Is it sad that I can relate to this song?

My independence is who I am. I am known as a fiercely independent person. I would travel ALONE to countries for months, backpacking around, not speaking the language and be so proud of myself. I used to go to movie theatres alone and eat out alone and do everything alone. People would pat me on the back and say "Wow, you are a brave girl. So independent."

My independence is part of my indentity. It's who I am. I don't want to lose it. Which is why this song, as pop cheesey as it is, touches a nerve.

Does being in a relationship, being in love, mean a compromise of your independence? Suddenly, instead of being able to jet off by yourself to a country for months, you think, I can't do that. I'll miss him/her. When you could do whatever you wanted without missing someone or feeling like you would be happier with that someone?

Is this all just a part of being in a relationship? Is this just what comes from being in love? Or is there some secret way around it, that leaves both you and your heart intact...

Scary Stuff

Getting into the Halloween spirit, I was trying to think of movie I could rent that would scare the shit out of me.

There were some usual suspects like The Shining and The Excorcist. But most of the titles that flashed through my mind were kid's movies. Either movies I found scary as a child, or movies that weren't meant to scare children. In my clouded memory, it's hard to tell the difference. Was I really supposed to be scared of the little midget people in Willow? So I decided to compile a list of movies that freaked me out as a child, unintentionally or not. Some of these films I would like to watch, just to see if the scare tactics still work...I did that with Poltergeist last year and found while the guy ripping apart his face in the bathroom was scary, the tree reaching into the window and grabbing the boy was not.

Anyways, here it goes...

Unintentionally Scary Films:

The Never Ending Story - That dog was freaky!

Labyrinth - Hands grabbing her: Scary! Muppets juggling their heads: Disturbing! Eyes in wall: Creepy! David Bowie in Spandex: oddly mezmerizing.

Return to Oz - And this is supposed to be a children's film? I watched this high on mushrooms once and let me tell you...it's not for kids!

CareBears the Movie and the Sequel - Shut up. It had scary bits.

Jacobs Ladder - Don't think that was a kid's film.

The Witches - Anjelica Houston at her scariest.

Twilight Zone the Movie - Theeeeeeeeeere's. Some. Thing. OnTheWing. (ditto for The Simpson's version)

Aracnophobia - Need I say more?

The Secret of Nimh - There is something mildly disturbing about that film. Just so....uneasy.

Lost Highway - Again, not a child's film. But Robert Blake with no eyebrows is scary as hell.

Jurassic Park - Raptors will haunt your dreams!

Ghostbusters - There was something in her fridge...

Dumbo - Shut up. Don't tell me you weren't scared by the psychotic Pink Elephants on Parade.

The Birds - His eyes were pecked out!

Flight of the Navigator - The 1st half of the movie was creeeeepy.

The Last Unicorn - Weird, trippy stuff.

****

On a lighter note, we did some pumpkin carving last night. It was Ross's first time (apparently they carve turnips in Scotland) and I must admit...

His half of the pumpkin did turn out better than mine.

I tend to get a bit hasty and impatient and seem to plan without much thought to the physics and dynamics of pumpkin carving.








But in the end, I think we did OK. His is the pretty, cute looking pumpkin and mine is the demented looking one that has gigantism on one side of it's face.

Well, I'm off to start preparing for my party. If anyone knows of any fun Halloween games (anything that can be turned into a drinking game) please let me know. I don't know what I'm going to do with all these people in my wee studio apartment.

Our Own Worst Critic

Mysteries of the heart.


Why is it, that we can love another so deeply, so honestly and so sincerely, despite their faults (or perhaps because of them) and cherish who they really are...

...yet have trouble comprehending, understanding and believing their love for us? Are we so afraid sometimes of who we really are inside, that we can't fathom how anyone can love us in the way that we so unselfishly love them?

Stereotypically Stereotyped (?)

Since I am unemployed and putting way too much emphasis on getting a Halloween costume (not just any costume but something really cool...nevermind) I decided to scroll about the blog world as a way to take my mind of things. Things that aren't coming in time for Halloween...anyhoo.


I've always like Moxie's blog. She seems to know her stuff. So I was perusing her site when I came across this post.

If you are too lazy to go read it (though I think you should) it's basically about a girl wanting sex more than her boyfriend. She feels unattractive and useless, which is completely understandable, because we have been taught that guys should want sex all the time, and if they don't then it means they aren't attracted to you. It got me thinking because I've read a few blogs over the last few months talking about the exact same thing. It seems to be a sort of current epidemic, affecting women everywhere...

Of course, people's comments on this issue have ranged from sympathetic ("My boyfriend doesn't care for sex much either") to optimistic ("Try dressing up as Princess Leia in the gold bikini and add some spice to the relationship") to brutal honesty ("It sounds like you've gotten fat" or "He's obviously gay").

What's interesting though: let's pretend that none of those comments hit the mark.

Let's say that the "Stereotype" that men want sex all the time, isn't true.

Well... is it?

A dress cooking on the stove

I've been laid off for a week now.

Guess what I've done with myself:


A) Did schoolwork



B) Looked for new jobs


C) Started writing my novel



D) Drove around town, ripping my hair out and throwing a hissy fit at the inability to find the perfect Halloween costume since the one I ordered isn't coming in on time.

The answer is A.



Ha. Just kidding. The answer is D, of course.

First of all, let's get one thing straight:

I love Halloween. I love it like the smuggled wine I am drinking, like the buttered popcorn I just popped in the microwave.

It's my favourite time of year. I've never not had a Halloween. Even in NZ where it's not really celebrated, and where I've had TWO Halloweens, I still dressed up (as Rogue from Xmen and Marilyn Monroe, respectively). Sure I got weird looks, but I didn't care (though it was weird having Halloween on a balmy, Spring night...).

Growing up, I would have the most awesome Halloween parties complete with a haunted house in the garage. I even trick or treated until I was 15 (and only stopped because no one believed I was 10 anymore and I wasn't metablozing candy as well).

So, of course, this year I jumped in on the action of getting an orginal costume. After hemming and hawing over Selene from Underworld, I decided the blue contacts were too pricey and that I should go for something different. Low and behold I saw a costume on Ebay for Phoenix (Xmen) and soon I was bidding. All I had to do next was get the red wig. I was a bit iffy about having to wear a spandex suit (I don't really have the body to pull off the skintight look), but I made piece with it. The nicest part was that Ross decided to go as Wolverine. I'd never done a coupley thing before (then again, never really had a bf on Halloween...oh, except for my Ex, who went as ME) and I was excited.

Then I got the email. Yesterday. They hadn't shipped the suit yet. I wasn't going to get it for Halloween.

FUCKING BASTARDS.

I paid for it THREE WEEKS ago, but thanks to Ebay, I can't even complain about it because if I give negative feedback to that twat in Shaghai, she'll do the same to me. But seriously, I paid for the fast shipping, I asked if it would be here this week and everything was promised. Now, I find out I'll have a Phoenix costume...in a few weeks. What bloody use is that? Maybe for dress up (wink) but still....ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

So, you can understand I'm in a bit of a predicament. Especially since my bloody WIG hasn't even arrived yet. I'm hoping by Friday, the night of the party I'm having, but ARGGGGGGGGGGGGG.

This is when I had to think, if I do get the wig in time...what the hell am I going to be? What the hell requires a red wig? AND is a movie character, since I like to keep to that theme.

I spent last night musing about it and feeling sick. Then this morning, it hit me:

Ah ha! Ariel, The Little Mermaid. So I drove about, trying to find a mermaid costume. No such luck, but I did buy enough crap to make my own mermaid costume.

So I tried it on. I realized that I was squeamish about spandex and yet with Ariel I had to walk around in a BRA??? Who was I kidding? I'm not Giselle. I can't wear a bra in public, even if it is purple and covered in seashells.

The thought of my flabby gut being bared for all the world to see while stick-thin girls tramped around in slutty fairy costumes, made me rethink the whole mermaid idea. Damn you Ariel! Why are you such a slutty mermaid!?

Then I realized that this purple, tight ass prom dress I had bought earlier from a thrift store for $2 would be perfect for another red head....Jessica Rabbit.

Hmmmm. Yes. Jessica...red wig....purple dress...NO WAIT. Her gloves are purple, her dress is red.

No problem, I thought. I can get red dye.

Hours later, I was back at home with a purple prom dress cooking in a stock pot full of bubbling red dye. Notice I say purple still, because the FREAKIN dye did not work, even though it says it would dye acetate.

The world is full of lies.

So, here I am. Running out of time, money and options. I can't even find my backup costume, which is Kill Bill. Sigh.

What the hell am I going to do?

*Probably going to get red fabric paint and paint the dress red. But if that doesn't work, I'm screwed once more. SO if anyone has any ideas to do with a movie/tv character that either has red hair, blonde hair or a strapless purple dress, I would looooove your suggestions. Maybe even Lindsay Lohan (redhead) OR Jessica Simpson (blonde), though I don't know what I could wear that would suggest either of the two (and please do not suggest short daisy duke cut-offs...or a pink bikini). Booo, and my popcorn is burnt*

Seattle in Colour

Blogger better not f'up these photos, or I swear... *shakes fist at computer*

Anyhoo, so yes, arg. I'm in a foul mood due to Halloween stress but I'll get to that later since I should really keep in coordination with the previous post.

So, Ross and I went to Seattle over the weekend. We had been talking about it for ages, and being spontaneous he booked a really nice hotel in the Capital Hill area.

Got to the border (after a half-hour detour through the streets of Surrey because I took the wrong bridge. Alex Fraser, Port Mann, Patullo...they all sound the same) only to find ourselves in an hour-long line up.

Normally, I take the truck crossing since there is less traffic, but since this was Ross's first trip to the States, I thought the Peace Arch crossing was more "official."

Anyway. Big mistake. Line-up took forever, plus I have a knack of choosing the WRONG line. Always, without fail.

Of course, we had to go into Immigration because Ross needed a visa. The immigration officer was friendly as heck but a bit of a nutter, since he alternated speaking French and German to Ross, knowing full well that Ross is Scottish. He also added that Ross had to turn in his visa at the end 0f 90 days, so that they know he's not in California picking fruit with the Mexicans (his words).

By the time we reached Seattle, we were so tired that we just retired to our room and had a nap. Spent the whole evening debating what to do and in the end just drank, ordered room service and watched Tallegeda Nights and Superman Returns. We then decided that we are the laziest couple on Earth. And we like it.

Next day though, we had Ihop (grain and nut pancakes are SO good) and made our to the Public Market. We didn't have all the time in the world, but figured the market was such a well known Seattle icon that maybe it was the most touristy thing we could do.

It was nice, lively and filled with nutters who sell crabs and yell at you as you walk past.

We also saw two pirates, one with a possum on his shoulder and another with a parrot. And then the biggest spider we have ever seen...












Fufilling our Seattle destiny, we then lazed around in Tully's coffee for about an hour, before passing by Ross's store:

We left for Alderwood mall which has my favourite store (Forever 21) which I love because we don't have it in Canada. Of course, as luck would have it, I forgot my credit card at home so I couldn't blow a huge wad of cash that I didn't have. Instead, I just had my bank card which is a no-touch situation since I had to pay my mortgage today and well...there's not much in there.

It was just as well.

We got to the border at 8 pm, only to be stuck AGAIN in the longest line ever. This time I was at the truck crossing, but due to my knack (or curse) of choosing the wrong line, it took a bloody hour as the other lane zipped by and we moved at a snail's pace. At this time I began to lose it.

Then we finally got to the border gaurd, only to get the third degree. Apparently, I was under the wrong impression...I knew that if you go for less than 24 hours, you can only bring $50 of stuff back duty free. So I assumed that OVER 24 hours, you could bring $100.

Nope. If you stay over 48 hours then you can bring $200. So, needless to say, it was a mistake to declare anything. We got the third degree from the border jerk who proceeded to question everything in the car: "What's in that box?" "What's in that bag at your feet?" "What's in the trunk?" And then he informed us that we had to go pull into customs because I lied about how much we spent and because I only showed him one receipt. What, did he think I was going to spend an hour scrounging around my bags looking for the receipts that I most likely threw out?

Oh and he found wine and beer. Which, also, you have to declare. And we didn't.

Thankfully, once inside a nicer border customs person dealt with us. He made us pay the duty on what we bought (although, I didn't declare my Sephora purchases...shhhh) and gave us a warning about next time. Plus he waved the duty on the wine and beer which was nice. I think he genuinly believed that I was misinformed about the whole thing. Or maybe it was because Ross is Scottish and I'm blonde so he let us off easy.

Funny thing is, I've been shopping to the States about 20x (or more) in my life and I NEVER declare anything, even though I only go for a few hours and bring back $500 worth of clothes. I just artfully conceal stuff in the glove compartment, wear 3 sets of bras, skirts over pants, plus a few layers of shirts, then I take what's left, rip off the tags, muss it up a bit and scatter it around my car to make it look like it's old stuff. Works like a charm.

The truth bites. Hi diddly dee, a smuggler's life for me.