Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat


Category Archive

The following is a list of all entries from the Ramble category.

In which I talk about sex and creme eggs.

Don’t get too excited kids. This isn’t nearly as raunchy as the title suggests.

I’m on birth control. This little magical pill makes my world a better place. I don’t have to worry about unplanned pregnancy, my skin stays relatively clear and I always know when my period is going to be.

I’ve been a fan of the pill since I was 16 years old and have spent only two months off it since then*. I’m pretty good at taking the pill on time. Even if I forget a pill every now and again my doctor has assured me that I probably wouldn’t get pregnant seeing as I have 9 years worth of fake hormones in me.**

But every once in a while I really screw up. This week happened to be that week. I had run out of my prescription so I had to make an appointment with the doctor. And then I had to fill the prescription and then it was Easter I forgot to pick it up. But I wanted to stay on schedule.

So last night I took three pills. I should have read the little info sheet which would have told me to take two last night and two today, but I didn’t, I just took three at once.

Know what you aren’t supposed to do? Like ever? Take three pills in on go. It  makes your hormones go out of whack.

Last night? I dreamt of babies (to some: a happy dream, to me: a nightmare) CJ woke me up twice for crying in my sleep.

This morning I stubbed my toe and burst into tears.
Then I got stuck in traffic and burst into tears.
Then I read a mean email and burst into tears.
Then I found out that Chi is coming for my wedding (she lives far away in a land of sun and sand) and I burst into tears.
I just burst into tears because someone ate my in case of emergency crème egg.

It took me until the crème egg to figure out my hormones may be a bit out of balance and perhaps I should question the rather out of character bursting into tears. I’m trying to not let it affect any more of my day but I just wrote three posts and scrapped them because they were about the ills of the world and people who have wronged me, starting with the first boy who ever broke my heart up to the person who ate my crème egg.

So this is what you get.

Sorry kids. I’ll do better next time.

*Those two months are recent and a topic for another day. Let’s just say that my religion is medical journals and that in my I still liked the smell of CJ after not being on birth control.

Ok, I knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Here’s a link. Imagine what someone who is getting married very soon would do if they read this.

**I am not a doctor. I am not giving you medical advice. So don’t come to me if you miss a pill and get pregnant. I don’t recommend ever missing a pill. However, if you do… I hear the pull out method is not that bad.

But of course we’re all using condoms right? … yah, of course we are…  none of us in monogamous relationships are having blatant unprotected sex. Nope. Not here. Look! A penny! Its shiny! Go look at that!

Advertisements

Confessional.

Last night I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things for supper. As I was in the bread section, not really intending on buying a baguette but wanting to look at them (diet + me = crazy) I noticed there were only white baguettes left. Not a multigrain, whole wheat, or any other type of baguette left. Just white ones. So I purchased one, happy with the excuse to purchase white bread.

I love white bread. I never buy it, it’s not healthy for you, nutritionally void blah, blah, blah but I love it. When I got home, I happily slathered several pieces of the bread with real butter and was generally in a better mood all night. When CJ got home, he too was shocked by the white bread purchase as I have him fooled into thinking I prefer multigrain.

Lies. All lies.

As I was licking my fingers and picking up the leftover crumbs of bread (see diet + me = crazy) I realized that there are many, many, little lies I tell in the run of a day along the same lines as the white bread lie (you won’t catch me dead ordering anything white in a restaurant). I don’t even know if it is a lie, just things that I do that seem socially more acceptable/healthy than what I actually want to do:

– I want sugar in my coffee and/or tea. Sweeter things taste better. But I only ever use milk or maybe a bit of sweetener.

– I want the French fries with that. I will order the salad but I really want the fries. And I want to slather them with gobs of ketchup. I will also pretend to be happy with my salad.

– I can, but won’t, eat an entire bag of chips in one sitting.

– I cannot tell the difference between a bottle of $10 wine and a bottle of $50 wine. It all tastes like wine to me. I can detect the subtle differences between wines (we had a very oaky wine with dinner last week) but as far as price is concerned? Some of the worst tasting wines I’ve had were expensive ones.

– I hate that it isn’t socially acceptable to dress up all the time for all occasions. I’m more comfortable in a little black dress and heels than I have ever been in yoga pants and sneakers. I get more stressed out when you tell me to wear “whatever, nothing fancy” than if you told me to come dressed for a cocktail party.

– I hate exercising. While I’m trying to get into it, have found classes that are enjoyable, are making friends with the girls in these classes; I would rather be home watching tv and eating the aforementioned bag of chips.

– Beer doesn’t taste good to me. I drink it (because hello I’m Canadian and it’s hockey season) but I don’t like it. I would be happier with a cooler in my hand.

Alright kids, that’s it for today. Please leave me a comment with something you lie about so I don’t feel completely left out here.


The New Girlfriend

On Saturday night I went to a show with a girl I know whose boyfriend is in a band.* At this show there were the usual fans of the band, the girls who flirt with the lead singer, the boys who like to get drunk and hit on the girls, the wives and girlfriends (WAGs) of the band and me. I’m not really into music… of any kind… but I like to drink so I’m there.

Also at the show was the newest girlfriend of one of the band members. This particular boy cycles through girls like it’s his job; so to meet a new one doesn’t even phase the WAGs. The new girl (and I’ve met several) will always try to impress those around her. One can’t help but be nervous when faced with a large group of people – a wrong move and you’ll be out. Usually, the new girl will act quiet and reserved or focus on trying to be friends with the guys – rarely do they find a way to break into the established girlfriend clique. When CJ and I started dating I made the same mistake – I was able to win over his guy friends but it took me years to get in with the girlfriends (I’m now firmly established if only because I’ve outlasted most of them).

However, this girl purchased drinks for all of the WAGs (and me, because I’m a lovable drunk) and then forced us onto the dance floor and acted like a fool – ignoring her new boyfriend and all other boys all night.

It was perhaps the most brilliant thing I have ever seen go down. In one quick and easy move, this girl won over all of the WAGs. At the end of the night all we could talk about was her awesomeness to the boys – which won them over because they listen to what their wives have to say about a girl. I didn’t even realize how sneaky this girl had been until last night when I met a different new girl in a different situation and she spent the entire night trying to fit in with the other boys in the room – not even acknowledging the girls. Us girls, being girls and all, promptly dismissed her and bitched about how she ignored us to our significant others. Of course I don’t think she actually ignored us, I just think she was shy and intimidated by us. But the next time she sees us, she’ll need to work harder to win us over. And ultimately, if the WAGs don’t like the new girl, she rarely stands a chance.

Back to the successful new girlfriend of the band – when all was said and done, everyone walked away with warm fuzzy feelings about her. The one who didn’t friend-flirt with the boys, who didn’t desperately try to impress the girls, she just bought us drinks and danced. She was so sure she would fit in that it worked – not over-confident, not bragging, just being cool. She figured out the situation; who the real people she needed to impress were and she did it.  

We should all try to be that girl.

*One of my favourite things to say about having a boyfriend in a band is that it’s like having blonde hair – everyone does it at some point and some people stick with it but most realize it’s more hassle than it’s worth.


A Pep Talk to Myself.

I’m in a funk.

For a variety of reasons but the main ones being my laptop blew up on Friday (and about 40 hours of client files that need to be recreated this week on top of my normal 50 hour workload); we need new tires; and we still haven’t moved into the new place.

Winter is creeping into the city and I find myself depressed at the constant grey skies. I wake up every morning with good intentions and find myself at the end of the day sitting on the sofa, head in CJ’s lap in near tears over life. I know this is irrational – my problems aren’t really problems. Oh, woo is me, the beautiful flat we are moving into needs another week of custom woodworking on it. Poor me, my laptop blew up and this is stressful because I am self employed and need to work extra hard for one week. At least I’m still employed and have job security, in comparison to so many others.  And winter! What a horrible thing, this living in a place with seasons. I would complain far more if I didn’t get to see the leaves change,  witness the first snow fall, smell the air of spring, feel the breeze on a summer day.  I have no reason to complain about my life – it’s so good in so many ways and yet here I am, sighing heavily at the thought of dealing with another hour of it.

My phone rings, I pick it up and screen the call. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I consistently bailed on my plans this past weekend. I blatantly ignored text messages. It’s taking all my willpower not to cancel every plan I made for this coming week. I don’t want to be around people celebrating, drinking, laughing, living life. I want to curl up into a ball and cry about the world. But I have commitments. Meetings, deadlines, people to please. I hate them all. I sat in a meeting this morning and I’m pretty sure I didn’t take away one ounce of information. I want to escape all my current problems and forget that they exist. Basically I want to run away and stop being me.  

It’s a funny thing, us humans and our obsession with being happy. It is socially unacceptable to feel sorry for yourself. You are expected to always put on a happy face and pretend that everything is ok (You want to debate that? Go ahead, I have antidepressant sales to back me up). To sit and be in a mood, a funk, depressed state is just not ok. We, myself included, are always telling each other it’s going to be ok. That we will get through whatever we are facing. That at some point in the future the sun will come out and shine down on us. Many of us need religion* to tell us this exact message. That unexpected bumps mean something.

*I’m agnostic. So, not so much with the organized religion but I believe in universal karma and will tell anyone who asks that everything evens out in life.

It’s bullshit. Sometimes the flat tire just means the flat tire. Sometimes the feeling bad about life is justified because life has thrown you some bad things. Sometimes, no matter what you do or how much good you’ve tried to give things just break down and life sucks.

There are two things when you realize you are in this position. You can accept defeat and cry about it or you can do something about it. That bullshit that is spewed – lemons and lemonade and whatnot– actually works.

Perhaps tomorrow – or maybe the next day – even the day after that – I will wake up and the weight on my mind will have shifted. I don’t stay in self pity mode for very long. I take time to process, hate it, cry about it and then I start doing something about it. I know that I can get through this if I try hard enough. That no matter the problem I will fix it. I will return my phone calls and make a delicious dinner for those I snubbed. I will be extra nice to the clients I currently hate and go out of my way for them.  I’ve clawed back 5 hours of the 40 I lost. I’ve been price comparing winter tires. I’m badgering our landlords to let us in to the new place. I’ve googled voodoo weather dances to ward off the snow.

Ok, I lied about that last one. I know there is no way to stop the snow from coming but if I thought it would help I would totally dance naked for it.

It will get better. I know this. I just need to make it better.


Why don’t you go google that?

Google is fantastic.

For the record, if I had to choose between losing a kidney or losing Google, I would totally lose a kidney. My addiction for useless information is known by all; Google and his good friend Wikipedia are my pushers.

I am old enough to remember a time before the internet when my father would patiently look up information with me in an encyclopedia or take me to a library to find a book on it. While I still like finding things out; it is much simpler to Google my question and get an answer than to trot down to the library. I do have a point… I swear… it’s coming…

I’ve googled some strange things before. I once googled if dulse* effects breast milk (my sister was breastfeeding at the time, we really needed to know). In the last 5 days alone I have asked google to find me black wedding dresses; mango sushi recipes, and what happens to you when you don’t finish your antibiotics. My point (I told you it was coming) is that I’m familiar with weird and wonderful google searches. I support one’s right to ask a strange question and find an answer.

Anyways, this morning when I logged into wordpress and checked my stats, comments etc. I discovered that someone had found my blog by googling actress “hair washed”.

Interesting. I feel bad for this person who asked about the hair washing of actresses and came up with nada. So, let me answer your question (if you are still here):

My stance on hair washing: don’t do it. Ok, well do it once every few days. Once upon a time I worked for a large beauty company – and let me tell you – those people never wash their hair. And I can guarantee you actresses rarely wash their hair too. They let their natural oils make their hair shiny and healthy. Then they use fancy products and hot tools to style it into submission. It’s true. And a little disgusting but your hair will look fantastic. I personally wash my hair every third of fourth day – I always get compliments after not washing it for a few days. Also – hair is easier to style when you have already styled it. Plus – dry shampoo takes the ick factor out of not washing your hair.

Now you know (cue shooting star).

*Dulse – a type of seaweed that is very salty and healthy. If you don’t know what it is, don’t ever try it. It’s like the vegemite** of Nova Scotia.

**Ummm, you want me to be more specific? Like vegemite, no one likes dulse unless they grew up with it. You can’t acquire a taste for dulse; it needs to have been ingrained as a childhood memory in order for you to like it. If you are still confused perhaps you should go Google for more information.

PS. I may be a bit sleep deprived from the move. Just so ya’ know.

PPS. Yes, powerful Google, I know how upset you are that people refer to searching as “googling”. I get that it ruins your branding but seriously no one tells someone to google something and then goes to Yahoo.


Friday Happy Dance!

It’s Friday!

I’m doing a little happy dance right now. Seriously. Well I didn’t get up out of my chair but I did wave my arms around like I just don’t care.

Tomorrow I’m having some of my favorite partners in crime over for dinner and wine. The official plan is that we are going to work out our Halloween costumes – this always requires some serious planning as we go over board. How many nights a year can someone dress up as whatever they want and go dancing? (One) So you need to take advantage of it. I need to top last year’s costume of a peacock styled flapper. My current thoughts for a costume is to go as a Parisian Vagabond (I don’t know what that means yet), and no doubt will involve a decent amount of eye makeup, glitter glue, high hells, netting, feathers, etc. But I digress.

The unofficial plan for tomorrow night is that I am going to get my ladies drunk and take them dancing. They just don’t know it yet.
(well they do now – HI KF AND LADY! – make sure to bring some fake lashes tomorrow night!).

The amount of excitement I have over this “sneaky” plan is sad and says something about the state of my current social life (neglected due to work).

Enjoy the weekend everyone!