Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat


Quick Note.

February is a month full of things to do.

Busy season is demanding 60 hour work weeks; CJ and I are in the final stages of planning the wedding; friends are moving away, having babies, getting married, moving home, all occasions are celebrated with a party; I joined a three day-a-week cardio class; AND the Olympics are giving me liver disease (you try watching a hockey game without a beer in your hands, it’s impossible and I don’t even like beer) and also demoralizing (WHY CANADA WHY? WE ARE SUPPOSED TO OWN THE PODIUM NOT STEP TO THE SIDE SO OTHER COUNTRIES CAN).

My calendar looks chaotic and I constantly have the feeling that I’m forgetting something… I have little scraps of paper all over my office and home with to-do lists on them. I’ve been trying to do it all and now my head is spinning from the frenzy of it.

I’m hoping for a better March. Check back soon.


Snow Shovel Stealing Jerks.

It snowed yesterday; so much snow that it made most of the city shut down. CJ and I both happen to work in industries that don’t believe in snow days (or vacation); so we dutifully pulled ourselves out of bed at 6am so we could shovel out and get going.

At 6:20am we discovered that our snow shovels had been stolen.

At 6:20:05am, I screamed at my (mostly) sleeping neighbourhood.

By 6:22am, CJ was shovelling out with a garden shovel, telling me to calm down and just sit in the car (I did feel a little bad I couldn’t help him shovel but even when I have my own shovel I mostly stand around and complain about the cold).

We managed to get on the road by 6:45am and then got about 5 minutes from home before realizing that it was really bad out and we shouldn’t be on the roads (there were buses stuck, cars sliding into one another, a complete mess). So CJ calls in sick and I reschedule my meetings for the afternoon. We go home, make breakfast and go back to bed. While I’m still upset about the shovels, I can deal with it because in my mind some poor homeless guy took them so that he could dig out a snow fort to sleep in – plus one was broken and we kept meaning to replace it anyways.

At 3pm, I’m getting ready to leave the house (I had an appointment at 4pm) so I grab the garden shovel so I can get out again (thanks snowplough). As I’m shovelling, cursing the small handle I look down and see our neighbours shovelling out too. At first I nod and then I notice their shovels. Two yellow handled snow shovels with a hole in the middle of one of them – I happened to be missing two yellow handled snow shovels with a hole in the middle of one of them. At first I think I’m going crazy – but really, how many yellow handled snow shovels with a hole in the middle of one of them can in a block?

So I plaster a smile on my face and yell, casually and without the rage I was feeling inside of me:

“Nice shovels! You can return them when you’re done!”

The douchebag hipsters look up at me and shrug. My eye starts twitching, I turn green, bust out of my jacket and go hulk on their smug asses…. well actually… I get in my car and scream at the radio (if they’re willing to steal shovels I bet they’re willing to key my car). As of this morning no shovels have been returned to us and I hate our neighbours. Again.

I think the worst part of it, is that had they asked to borrow the shovels, I would have happily let them. I’m neighbourly. I’m friendly. Part of the reason we chose to move to this area was because we heard there was such a sense of community. However, the community is still growing and I know there is some resentment towards the yuppies (us) who are pushing the “struggling” hipster artists out; but I actually believe there is room in the neighbourhood for everyone – but not if the hipsters are going to steal from the yuppies. Because this time I’ll pretend you needed the shovels more than I did; I can afford new shovels. Next time? I’m calling the cops.


Valentine’s Day: The little things

I sit down next to him and watch tv for a few minutes.

Me: Do we really have to watch this?
CJ: I think it displays the bond and love of brothership. Of helping each other in need.
Me: Really?
CJ: *head nod*
Me: Band of Brothers?
CJ: I just really don’t want to watch Love, Actually.

He then handed me a cookie.

Happy Valentine’s Day lovelies. It’s all about the little compromises.


Valentine’s Day: How to ruin it for other people

So enough lovely dovey. I officially am going to switch sides now. Valentine’s Day is a stupid holiday.

“Oh, but it’s about showing how much you love someone!”
You twats, you should be doing that year round. You don’t need a holiday to remind you that you need to tell someone how pretty they are – it should come naturally. Besides it’s the only holiday* where there are no magical creatures involved and frankly, if there are no costumes, no Santa and no egg-laying-bunny I’m out.

I actually don’t care much about this holiday, single or not, but I know a lot of people who feel upset about it. You could spend the day reflecting on those you do have in your life that you love and appreciate but really? What fun is that?  You’ll probably end up crying. Sooooo… It’s with this happy spirit I present to you a list of how to ruin other people’s Valentine ’s Day.

–          Buy a bouquet of flowers, address it to one half of the most annoying couple you know and sign it with “Chance, xoxo”.

–          Tell your friend’s boy a shocking story about an almost sex tape you made. Then mention how glad you are you didn’t do it, lest you be always worried about it, like, ya know, his girlfriend is about hers.

–          Call your mother and tell her it’s your fault you are single because a) she talked about sex too much when you were a child or b) she didn’t talk about sex enough when you were a child.

–          Call you sister and brag about all the hot single sex you are having. Then listen to her silently sobbing while her children loudly sob in the background.

–          If you aren’t having hot single sex, call your formerly slutty friend who is now reformed and remind her of the hot single sex she used to have until she got in a relationship.

–          Tell your girlfriend how her boyfriend always hits on you (FACT: everyone has at least one friend with a sleazy boyfriend.)

–          Tell your friend’s boyfriend how awesome her old boyfriend was.

–          Come up with a fake emergency to force your friend to spend time with you instead of her boyfriend. May I suggest:

  • Childhood dog dying
  • Finding out your ex is engaged
  • Pretending you have an STD.
  • Pretending you found out her boyfriend’s ex has an STD.

 If all of this fails, you can either drink your face off (may I suggest the Super Trooper Drinking game? Drink every time Abba sings Super. It’s the reason I don’t remember my 24 birthday) OR you can actually call those you love in your life and tell them what they mean to you OR you can cheer for the Canadians at the Olympics (GO TEAM CANADA).

Happy Valentine’s Day lovelies. I hope it’s everything you make it.

 *Those fake Holidays ya’ll have in the States to make up for the fact you don’t have paid vacation don’t count. President’s Day, pfah.


Valentine’s Day – what not to gift

You shouldn’t give a blowjob for Valentine’s Day.
(That sound you just heard? Was my three male readers snapping to attention and declaring me an enemy – give me a chance to explain boys, I promise you’ll like my message).

Listen ladies, I’m all for pleasing your man. In fact, most of your probably don’t go down on your boyfriend enough. You probably don’t have sex often enough either (how much is often enough? Think about how often you have sex – do you immediately make excuses for that number? – like “well we’ve both been really tired lately, we’re on different schedules” – if so, you aren’t having enough sex).

Since most of you aren’t having enough sex (or having really dull sex) when special occasions come around your other half dutifully presents you with flowers and then promptly expects you to get down on your knees. In my books there is nothing worse than this exchange. I/you should be getting presents because I/you are pretty, adorable and awesome. Not because there is a promise of sex attached to it. I don’t think there is anything wrong with having sex on Valentine’s Day I just don’t think you should be doing it because you feel obligated to do it.

Valentine’s Day was invented for those tired couples who don’t take enough time out for each other due to real obligations (otherwise known as ankle-biters). It’s a day for those people to reconnect and find time to have sex. For us young and obligation-free (childless) couples Valentine’s Day should be about ordering in greasy Chinese and having regular sex – in other words it should be like any other Sunday.

If the only time you two take time to have fantastic sex is during the high holy holidays of couples – you are doing it wrong. You should be having that type of sex at least once a month (if not more often). There should be no expectation of special occasion sex because you are having enough awesome sex that there is nothing special about it. I cry on the inside every time a girlfriend tells me that she has sex every Sunday afternoon and it’s always the same. I cry harder when it’s once a month, once every three months, once a year, never.

If the reason you’re not having sex is because it doesn’t rock your world then you need to do this really simple thing and talk to your boyfriend about it. You don’t like that tongue flicking thing he does when he kisses you? Say something along the lines of “I love kisses where you don’t flick your tongue into my mouth”. I know shockingly easy right? It’s really impressive how far honesty will take you to better sex (if you can’t have an honest conversation with your beloved that’s a whole ‘nother topic for a whole ‘nother day). I hate hearing the words “Everything is awesome but if he could just do X, it would be better”. You know what I do when I want CJ to do X? I bribe him. I tell him if he does X, I’ll do Y and then we’re both happy (yes life really is a giant math problem to me).

And men? You know how to fix this whole “not getting enough head” issue you are so fond of complaining about? You don’t need flowers – you just need to go down on her! (See X+Y=O)

So, stop saving the good stuff for once a year. Go home tonight and have a sexy good time. Then do it again next week and the week after that. Continue doing it until you can laugh when someone mentions have “special Valentine’s Day sex” because you are getting it all the time.


Valentine’s Day: What to gift

Valentine’s Day. That’s Sunday right? Hmmm… I hate Hallmark Holidays… but I like having a theme to write about… therefore I declare this week Valentine’s Week! Don’t worry, I promise to trash the day but first up I’ll tell you how to give the perfect gift:

The most romantic gift CJ has ever given me (besides allowing me to pick out my engagement ring, which was the best day of my life – I love sparkly things and being in control) was a case of diet coke and a package of bobby pins.

The case of diet coke is easy enough (see previous post) but the bobby pins were the most thoughtful gift ever.

I was growing out my hair and I was constantly using and losing bobby pins. One day as we were headed to school and I opened up the apartment door and there was one right in front of our door. So I picked it up and popped it in my hair. This, CJ claims, was perhaps the grossest thing I have ever done in our entire relationship (he has other people hair issues). I’m 80% sure the bobby pin was mine but one can never be too sure in an apartment building. That Valentine’s Day (which was a few weeks away from the incident) I received a package of bobby pins which matched my hair colour. It was adorable. It made me laugh and let me know that he’s paying attention.

I once gave CJ chocolate milk and a pan of brownies with Cadbury Mini Eggs baked into them with my promise not to touch either one of them (he doesn’t like to share). Last year I gave him the entire boxed set of Looney Tunes, his favourite childhood cartoon (he’s subjected my nieces to hours of senseless cartoon violence, claims it will “man them up”). Just recently CJ gave me a cactus because while I love plants I kill things that don’t make sounds when they need to be fed. So far so good, cactus is still alive.

So, dear boyfriends and girlfriends when giving a gift this year I want you to think outside of the box. Everyone can give flowers, chocolates, body massage oil and head but what can you give that the other person will think quirky and always remember? What does your loved one ask for that they don’t have? For example, I’m really hoping I get a replacement grapefruit spoon.


The Tale of the Diet Coke Stealing Doctor

I rent office space in a professional building.

The professional building is filled with professional types – mostly doctors, their support staff and of the like. We have a shared kitchen which basically is only used by me, A (colleague and mentor) and the receptionist ladies. We all live in happy harmony and the kitchen keeps really clean. A and I live in this office, especially during our busy season so we keep groceries here because one can only eat out so many times. When I first moved into here I noticed that sometimes food would disappear from the kitchen – a piece of bread here, a banana there – nothing so important that it bothered me. Then, it started happened.

For those unaware, I have a serious dependence on Diet Coke. Like any dieting teenager after finding out how much sugar (and therefore calories) in regular cola, I gave it up and opted for the diet version. Soon, without noticing, I was hooked on the stuff and have been ever since. It’s legal crack. You can’t get the same aspartame taste from any other diet cola – Pepsi too sweet, 7up too aspartamey, no-name blatantly ugly tasting – Diet Coke is perfectly balanced in its sweetness and carbonization. I could probably write a sonnet in dedication to it – there is nothing better than a cold can being cracked on a hot afternoon. If you don’t drink the diet crack, there is no way you could ever understand the satisfaction you can get from the carcinogen filled can. There is something to do with Diet Coke specifically that makes it addictive. In fact, I don’t consider myself a soda pop drinker since I only drink Diet Coke. If it’s not available then I opt for water. In short, I loves me my Diet Coke and you best keep your hands off it.

So, back to “the incidents”, I used keep a case of diet coke in the work kitchen. One day I went for my very last can of Diet Coke and it wasn’t there. I dismissed it and thought that maybe I had drank it in some caffeine-headache induced blindness. About a week later a bottle went missing. This time I was sure I hadn’t drank it. Soon my Diet Coke was going missing all of the time. I stopped being able to keep it in the kitchen. Since a thief was on the loose I started keeping a vigilant watch on the kitchen (it’s a good distraction from actually working).

I soon narrowed it down to one doctor in particular who I’ve caught taking food that wasn’t his before. This doctor is kind of a jerk. He drives a flashly Lexus. He brushes patients off with a mild contempt. And apparently has decided he’s entitled to food that isn’t his. I’ve kept my eyes on him (and given him good doses of dirty looks, which from me is a scary thing) and for the most part the stealing has stopped. He knows I know what he’s up to and I have a feeling he can sense my eagerness to catch him red handed and yell at him (I love yelling at people, it’s such a comforting warm feeling).

I had thought we were at a good point until two mornings ago. That’s when I noticed my grapefruit spoon (a spoon with serrated edges on it, impossible to eat a grapefruit without one) was missing. This morning while I was digging into my grapefruit with both knife and spoon, Dr. Jerk walked by and smirked at me.

Smirked at me! I suspect it was a “Haha, you look stupid eating that grapefruit that way, don’t you know they make spoons for that” look. But I know he’s taking my Diet Coke. I know it’s on purpose (I’ve written my name on cans). I suspect he took my spoon (Ok, I’m a teensy bit paranoid, perhaps he didn’t take it). But he’s a smug jerk who will get his one day.

Until then, I just have to wait and think of evil things to say to him. Or key his Lexus tonight. We’ll see how the day goes…


But do we have enough?

(I’ve had this conversation with each one of my friends every weekend for as long as I can remember. I’ve used the KF version because we’ve had it so many times she almost doesn’t argue with me anymore… almost)

Me: So we have a quart* of vodka, a litre* of wine, and plenty of fake lashes.
KF: Yup. Sounds like a good night to me.
Me: But do we have enough?
KF: We have enough.
Me: But what if we run out?
KF: We’ll be drunk.
Me: And we’re going to start drinking so early – what if we drink everything before we can go to the bars? Then we’ll sober up before we get to the bars!
KF: I’ve never seen you sober on a Friday night.
Me: And then we’ll have to buy drinks at the bar and they always stiff you and are sooo expensive.
KF: I suppose, we are poor…
Me: And heaven forbid we aren’t drunk enough! We’ll be downtown and our dancing will just feel like out-of-rhythm gyrating.
KF: We never need more than this to get drunk. This is enough to get us drunk. We’ll have leftovers.
Me: But what if this is the one time that we need just a little bit more of alcohol to get us drunk? We do have drinking problems. Remember when we only needed a pint* to get drunk?
KF: ~eyebrow raised~
Me: It will be like that time we went to that bar and we weren’t drunk enough and we didn’t have a good time, remember it was at Christmas like two years ago? We spent the rest of the night telling each other how we were too old to go out anymore. And we were only 23 then! We’re super old now – we don’t want to not have enough
KF: Ok. Ok. We’ll get more.
Me: To the liquor store!

*A quick lesson in Eastern Canadian liquor measurement (not to be confused with the metric system which is far superior to the imperial system – this is slang liquor measurements. In fact those from Ontario will disagree with my definitions):
A quart of vodka is 32 ounces. A litre is 50oz. A pint is half a quart


Passive Aggressive Service Announcements: Job Edition

Don’t complain about your job. Don’t complain about your job. Don’t…. ah, fuck it.

I have one of those dream jobs people my age talk about. I am my own boss. I decide how much money to make (roughly, I decide what to charge and hope people are willing to pay it. But generally if you take what the average family makes in my area I make just a bit more than that, will make significantly more than that next year, and in five years I should be prancing around tossing money to the poor while wearing a seal skin coat*). I love my job. It’s awesome. That being said sometimes, just sometimes I want to scream at the very people who I need to keep happy in order to get paid.

Right now is my busy time and I want to send a general PSA for everyone out there:

If you have a person who does contract work for you and you don’t employ that person fulltime (which means you don’t pay their medical insurance) you must realize that they have other people they also have to work for. I know this concept is hard to believe but I have more than one client. This means that when you can’t reach me 24-7 I’m probably with another client, sometimes I’m not even at my office because I’m with another client. So the messages saying something along the lines of:
“It’s Monday morning at 9am and I’m at your office and you aren’t here. Where are you? Why aren’t you here?”
Are mostly useless because if we didn’t have an appointment there is no reason for me to be at my office. Or when you demand something from me on a Friday afternoon at the end of the month, I probably can’t do it because I have a million other things to do for a million other clients. I can’t drop everything I do to tend to just one client. If I did that I would lose all clients. And then I would be poor. Also, I know what I’m doing. I have a degree and four years experience in this area. I may be young but I am smarter than you when it comes to this stuff. It’s my job to make this look easy. What I present to you – the single piece of pretty paper that makes everything clear – comes from hours and hours of work behind it. No, it’s not as easy as it looks because it’s my job to make it look easy and simple.

So please, if you hire someone and they always produce what they promised on time and of a high quality, how about you lay off them just a little bit? Remember they have other things going on and if you want someone to be at your beck and call perhaps you should spend the $$ and get that?

Thanks. I feel better now.

*That’s right. I am all for clubbing the baby seals. Ok, not all for it… but we don’t complain about killing the ugly animals so I’m not sure why the cute ones should be saved. Generally I think all hunting is icky but necessary for survival… yah, how’s about I move away from this subject. Let’s pretend I said a mink coat. Mm’kay?