Happy Monday, folks! I’ve got some stellar news for ya’ll…I’ve just officially launched That’s Tangly.com! Woooot! Big thanks to Shaun again for setting this all up, he did a terrific job and he comes highly recommended.

So update your RSS Feeds and whatever…I’ll have an automatic redirect link set up soon, but until then, make the move!

Thanks, friends.  And hello to new followers. You rock.

Whenever I’m 10 drinks in and my eyes start crossing, I experience a particular phenomenon uncommon to most drinkers. I begin seeing people as less attractive.

This often works to my advantage. I don’t feel tempted to bring men home for a tumble between the bed sheets. On the other hand, it also leads to a lot of missed opportunities, like on New Years Eve.

My friend’s party was winding down and most people were leaving, when I started talking to a guy on the staircase. We sat together and chatted for hours it seemed, I didn’t get home until 4:30 a.m. I have no idea what we talked about, all I know is that he’s a postal worker from St. John’s. I thought I had given him my phone number, but apparently I didn’t. Anyway, he made some vague reference to going home with me, which set off alarm bells in my head. When he got up to use the bathroom, I bolted like a bat outta hell.

I have absolutely no explanation for my behaviour. I’m completely lacking any sort of interest in the opposite sex. My libido-meter is at 0. It’s just not happenin’.

Anyway, the next day I was talking to KJax, our mutual friend, and she was like, “Dude, my friend loved you! He couldn’t believe you bolted!” We kinda laughed about it and then she brought up his Facebook profile.
Dude is effing hot. SMOKING HOT. I’m a moron. I did, however, run into him last night and he totally brushed me off. I guess I deserve it.

I’ve been meaning to do a New Years update, but you know what? I have no resolutions to make. 2009 was incredibly amazing. I rung in 2010 with a few good friends and a house party, and one hell of a gorgeous dress.

The sequins! Oh the sequins!

Then last night a few of my lady friends got together again at KJax’s house, seeing as how it was Caper’s last night in town. We ordered sushi and proceeded to drink all the leftover party booze, which was an incredible amount of wine, tequila, beer and saki.
FYI, shooting Fireball whiskey and Wild Africa cream liquer is a horrible, horrible combination.

We took shot after shot and ended up walking to a party, and after that, my memory is blank. But for some insanely weird reason, TOR heard me come home wheezing like an asthmatic 90 year old man…from UPSTAIRS. She said I was wheezing so hard she got up to check on me to make sure I wasn’t dying. WTFH? I have absolutely NO recollection of this. Why the hell was I wheezing? I don’t even think I walked home. Time to get back to the gym, I think.

New Years High Fivin' Hogmanay Hootenany

Entirely too much drinking on my part. Back to adulthood.

Life Before Man – Margaret Atwood

This book was published in the 70s, which makes Atwood about 3298493 years old, or about the same age as a dinosaur.  Apparently back then she was more depressing than a St. John’s winter.  Still gorgeous writing, though.

***/*****

Oh, the joys of extended four-day vacations at home for the holidays. My wonderful, wonderful boss gave me an extra day off. I have been on hiatus from the Internet world since then, which was surely deserved. Now if I could ask you all a small favour: STOP UPDATING YOUR BLOGS. I can’t keep up. It’s stressing me out.

I’m headed back to St. John’s tomorrow, but I just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas! Happy New Year. Feliz Navidad? Bonne fete!

It’s been a great few days off, although not nearly as exciting as I expected. I miss my best friend. Last night I went to see Greener perform at the Warehouse, and I felt incredibly out of place. Fortunately, that feeling tends to disappear (as does all others) after drinking a dozen of beers and multiple shooters. I totally fooled my mother into thinking I was sober when I stumbled home at 3:00 a.m. though. Oh yeah, still got it.

Warehouse love!

Example of small town life: I was standing around talking to some friends, when we realized we were all first cousins. Cameras immediately appeared.

I received some sweet swag this year, although I’ve been really trying to take the less materialistic route lately. Everything just seems so wasteful, or maybe it’s because I’m broke. I bought such crappy presents for my family, and then left my brother’s package in St. John’s. FOR THE SECOND TIME IN TWO YEARS. I am not joking. Boy, did my mother ever complain.

So I asked for all practical stuff, like window curtains and a sleeping bag. But I was really, really looking forward to a bottle of Dior Midnight Poison perfume. It was like…my one big gift, y’know? I thought for SURE I had it. I unwrapped present after present and each time expected it to be THE motherload, and it never was. I remember my genuine shock when I reached the end of my pile. I felt like a kid receiving a jigsaw puzzle instead of a bouncy castle. It was awful, I became emotional, and I have been punching myself in the face since then for being such an irrational bitch. My parents work hard to do nice things for me.

That being said, fuck materialism. I need some retail therapy.

My "little" bro and I, having a green Christmas

I’m sitting here filling out Christmas cards (yes, less than a week before Christmas) when I realize the cheapo cards I’ve bought have the following message on the front:

’twas the night before xmas…

Now what kind of lousy, irresponsible editor purchases freaking Christmas cards with the word “xmas” on the front?! ME. That’s who.

Christmas has me stressed beyond belief. I’ve attempted shopping at least a dozen times now, and have gotten nowhere. I’d rather have FORTY WISDOM TEETH removed than step foot in that fucking mall. I have to finish everything tomorrow. I hate that I can’t buy pretty things for myself, and I’m working so hard and getting nowhere with my finances. And yes I know there are starving kids in the world, but holy crap, I want to feel pretty sometimes. Y’know? I’m tempted to stock up on lingerie just to feel better about myself.

Speaking of lingerie, I have ex-flames crawling out of the woodwork lately. They keep sending me messages and engaging in exceptionally friendly conversation, like the Karate Kid and Skank Master. I don’t fucking get it, they want to hang out over the holidays. Guess what buds? I’m not jingling your bells, I’VE ALREADY MADE THAT CLEAR.

Time to insert some cheer into this post:

This is my devil cat, Jetson. He doesn't mind the snow frosting because his soul is consumed by fiery hell.

My mother sent me this picture she took titled "Your Christmas cake." This entirely sums up her awesomely hilarious nature.

This picture is stolen from my lovely Lil Sis. Apparently this weird puppet dude was sitting in her neighbour's car. WTF?

I’ve attended at least a million Christmas parties over the past two weeks. Great fun. My REAL office work party was on Thursday, which meant I could only get a little drunk as I had to work at 9 a.m. I crawled home at 2 a.m. after dancing an epic jig with Susie-Q at Bridie Molloy’s. We were the only two left standing. TROOPERS!

Some of my coworkers and I did go to this little hole in the wall called “The Fiddler’s Pub.” Weirdest. Thing. Ever. The place was a perfect example of an ancient bay man’s pub where old alcoholic sailors come to find prostitutes. IT WAS AWESOME.

The entire place was covered in tacky 80s Christmas decorations and the walls were adorned with weird artifacts, i.e. a  bed pan, WOOD SAWS, and really old photographs. One lady was there with her German Shepherd. I started bopping to a song and one of the dirty sailors called out, “YEEEEEAHHH, SHAKE IT!” He then proceeded to do the limbo with another guy.

Last night, I attended Chef’s faculty’s Christmas party at the GeoCentre. I tried SO hard to find a giant globe to mount for Candice Does the World, but all to no avail. We had a blast though. Chef started cranking out Outkast and a bunch of other oldies, and me and my entourage basically just took over the dance floor and scared everyone off. Seriously. We were all over the place, huddled in a circle and kicking our heels up, and the next time we looked up the entire floor had cleared. So much fun.

Wearing a dress in the winter is cold. True story.

It’s been a crazy week between dealing with a massive workload, juggling a social life and coping with the worst insomnia I’ve ever encountered. Dirty Sailor is also staying with us again for a while, which generally results in us having heated Scrabble games over a Texas Mickey of Crown Royal.

I won!

So, on that note, Happy Holidays ya’ll!

I don’t have time to paint my fingernails anymore, and somehow I managed to put together this letter. I amaze even myself.

*Shit, I just realized my blog doesn’t support such large images, so you have to click the image itself and zoom in. It’s worth it, I promise.

Did I mention that I’ve been watering the humungous fake tree at work? Yep, it’s happened. Cubemate was transferred to the IOT for a few months, so she’s reminded me twice to water the plants. The second time around, I was watering the giant tree when I realized it looked kinda…well, rubbery. I bolted before anyone could see me and messaged CM, asking her if the tree was fake.

It is.

I then messaged my coworker who sits directly beside the tree and told him what had happened. The loud laughter of all the engineers was all I heard for about ten minutes.

Fortunately, I’ve redeemed myself at last week’s Christmas party. My lord, what a bunch! CM invited us all to her house, and her fiance invited his coworkers as well. My coworkers and I overtook the kitchen, shot jello shooters, made a giant bowl of pink punch, and proceeded to get hammered. My belt, cleverly stuck together with SCOTCH TAPE quickly became my second downfall.

At one point, someone smashed a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the floor. The boys got down on their knees and soaked everything up, and then wrung it out into a glass.

Someone drank it. There’s no surprise why they hired me anymore.

BOXHEAD is not impressed!

So I’ve discovered the downfall of living in downtown St. John’s. Holy fuckery. It’s taken two days for the city to “clean up” winter’s epic dump all over the place. I use the phrase “clean up” loosely, as the sidewalks are still unploughed and the roads are still sloppy. Walking to work yesterday was intense…I literally have to navigate sideways down THREE HILLS, and not just gentle slopes either…nope, these are badass 90-degree slopes, people. Any steeper and I’d be free-falling.

These “minor” inconveniences would be okay if drivers in St. John’s weren’t such fucking assholes. I’m actually getting angrier by the minute as I write this, I’m so fed up. I have absolutely NO CHOICE but to walk in the middle of the main road at times, because the sidewalks aren’t cleared and I need to get to the other side. However, drivers think us lowly pedestrians are just trying to piss them off, and so they speed up on icy roads, splash us, and generally just don’t give a fuck.

Yesterday, when I was making the last stretch uphill, I was walking in the middle because it was the only place I could find some traction. I heard a car coming behind me, bass blaring and all, and I assumed I had time to move aside. That motherfucker sped up, tires squealing, and forced me to jump into a snowbank.

RAGE.

Thank you all for checking out my new site, by the way. I’m so in love with it, I can’t wait for this one to go live. So many new people to add to my blogroll. I like how Candice Does the World reaches out to a new audience as well…daily, I’m finding new people commenting on my site, or leaving messages on Twitter saying how much they enjoy my blog. Feels absolutely amazing.

When I win the lottery, I’m flying ya’ll up here for one big party!

St. John’s got dumped on by 35 cm of snow today, so the roommates and I stayed inside, lit up the fireplace, made pea soup and dumplings, drank minty tea, and decorated the household.
Then we decided we had to share our holiday fun with our loved ones!! If you guys would like me to mail one of these family photos to you, please email with your name, address, desired photo size and a cheque for $20/photo.

Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You have no friggen idea how hard it was not to laugh through this. I couldn’t stop doubling over with tears streaming down my face, it was just so ridiculous. The best part? People are totally taking this seriously on Facebook.

Ridiculous weekend. Updates later.

After much tears, laughter, smiles and heartache…Candice Does the World is finally live!

(That’s a total lie, my incredibly talented friend Shaun set the whole thing up in a matter of days and I just sat back and gave directions. The result? Pure fucking awesomeness.)

Really excited about this, I had the most insane case of the butterflies before I made the announcement. I really hope I can set up something unique, and I realy hope I can keep cranking out content as I’m not exactly travelling right now. But I think it’ll be cool to follow me as I plot my RTW trip for a few years. Sigh.
So check it out, give me some feedback, and set up some subscriptions will ya? I’m hoping to monetize this one. Now all that’s left is That’s Tangly to officially launch! Yis!

In other news, I completely forgot to mention that Meg at Lost in Thought honoured me with this award:

Thanks, Meg! I meant to mention this earlier, but was swept up in the mass confusion of my life. Check out her blog, I’m a big fan. I find reading online very difficult at times, but Meg has somehow perfected the flow of online writing so that I’m always immediately swept up in her posts. Does that make sense? She’s an all around great person with some pretty awesome travel stories too.

TOR and I are currently camped out on the futon watching the Victoria’s Secret Runway Competition thingy. If there is ANYTHING to make me want to stick a finger down my throat, this is it. Damn. I’d do all these girls. Twice.

I spent last night assembling gingerbread houses, baking cookies and making crafts with the Rangers. We totally bit off more than we could chew…by the time we left, my leader’s dinette was entirely coated in flour and candy. I don’t know where this woman gets her energy. Anyway, it did a lot to revive some Christmas spirit, as did coming downstairs tonight to find TOR surrounded by pretty wrapping paper and colourful ribbon. I have this weird fascination with wrapping presents. I’m a pro. I’d wrap my entire office space if I could. And I did. Last year.

I’m opening bets on how much sleep I’ll get tonight. I’m guessing five hours.

…Robin laid an egg?

Well you guys are just the greatest support network a gal like me could ask for. I’m recovering quite well from the giant holes in my face, and now I just seem to be suffering from severe lethargy. The thought of getting up in 6 hours for work is enough to make me want to tear out my stitches. I just want sleep.

I attempted Christmas shopping yesterday. I tend to do these things alone, because I’m bit of a gloomy shopper. As soon as I step foot in a mall I feel depressed, utterly dejected, and damned near impoverished. If it’s not on sale, I can’t buy it (although I’ll never understand the reasoning behind buying a plain t-shirt for fucking $50 just because it’s a label brand). With the CRAZED INSANITY PSYCHOTICNESS of Christmas shopping upon us, this awful mood just intensifies x100.

I grumble, and groan, and break out in nervous sweats. I have to sweep the ENTIRE MALL first, comparing deals and pricetags and merch, before I can even CONSIDER buying anything. I wanted to buy the Planet Earth series for my father yesterday, but it was $99. I discovered it later on Amazon for $36. See what I mean?

Anyway, I picked up a few small things. Nothing for mom or dad. No wrapping paper. No Christmas cards. I have to go back there, to that miserable hole. To that soul-eating sonofabitch building. Dammit.

I had an extremely quiet weekend. Girls night at JagerBomb where I looked on sadly as everyone devoured nachos and it was forbidden to me (need I describe my agony?). Everyone drank casually and I drank water. Lil Sis stayed over and we cuddled and caught up on things. She’s going to Thailand for a freaking month to visit her brother, and I am eaten up with jealousy.

Last night, some lady friends came over and we attempted watching a movie but mostly just sat around chatting. Hevs made me some wicked-awesome chicken soup. Damn I’ve been so cranky lately with all these swirly life hormones but I have amazing friends, they take such great care of me.

Then my roomies and some of their friends were getting ready to check-out the skeet pub known as Peter Easton. As they were leaving, I was upstairs in my room but I could hear them talking. Someone asked why I was staying at home.
“She just had her wisdom teeth out,” Chef said. I swear I could hear the pride in his voice. “Otherwise she’d be out, she’s a bigger alcoholic than the both of us put together.”

Damn, such a reputation to live up to.

Also did the whole Christmas parade thing today, complete with banana-hot-chocolate and Hevs. It was pretty sweet, but I wish companies would stop slapping signs onto a moving vehicle and calling it a “parade float”, and perhaps the dancers should crack a smile. It scares me how bitter I am.

So here’s a pretty perfect example of a skeet. His name is Donnie Dunphy, and chances are you won’t find him all that funny because there’s so many Newfoundland references, but you’ll get the imagery/speech. This is what I refer to as a “Newfie” accent, except mine generally isn’t all that bad unless you toss me in with a bunch of people from da bay. But that’s a different story.

Also, a delivery guy came to the house tonight with a big stack of pizzas for “Walsh.” ?! Who the HELL ordered pizza for me?

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