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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.


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!


Oh blogosphere, how I’ve missed thee. The rest of the week has been significantly more eventful. Sorta.

I went to Kjax’s party on Saturday with the girls, which was pretty sweet since I haven’t been boozing with those ladies in awhile. Some girl brought jello shooters, and so I proceeded to eat the entire tray. So delicious, and filled with vitamins.


Then Ani and I went downtown because everybody else was super lame, and I just needed to get out in public after being confined to my house for the previous week. So we went to Dusk where we met up with Ani’s boyfriend and his buddies, and danced up a storm. Then Metro Guy popped in, and quickly weaselled his way into our dance group, thus interrupting my stellar rhythm.


I told Ani she could leave me alone with Metro Guy (I don’t know why), and we proceeded to dance a little. He claimed I did not call him, I insisted that he was supposed to call me, and so went our tango of love. Finally I tried to enter his phone number into my Instinct, but accidentally entered his digits as a text message, and ended up texting him his name. I giggled, he was appalled, and then he left.

I was then entirely stranded downtown. I remember scrolling down through my entire list of contacts on my phone in SHEER UTTER PANIC, realizing for the first time ever, I had nobody to tag along with. So I went to Whalen’s where Greener was playing, tried to stay awake at the bar, and then bummed a ride home with him.

Hot girl action

I’ve just now realized the most ridiculous thing: I forgot to mention my friend’s wedding. Yeah, I’m fucking serious. I went to a friend’s wedding on Saturday with Bob and her boyfriend. It was a small ceremony with mostly family, so the three of us stood awkwardly in church while others just stared at us like we were wedding crashers. Don’t worry, there was no one there worth climbing into bed with.


I was sceptical about the whole thing because a) SHE’S 23 and b) I never met her fiance until that day, but everything changed when I saw my beautiful buddy walking down the aisle. Did I mention the onslaught of emotion? Holy shit. I suddenly realized “Wow, I can get married now” and I felt the earth tip considerably towards the direction of HELL. I can’t even consider a wedding until five years from now, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. I mean, I do want Nate Gates to be my photographer…and I have my wedding dressed bookmarked in Firefox…and I know my colour theme will be blues…but other than that, I haven’t thought about it AT ALL.

Never mind the man in the background

In other news, Chef has returned from Morocco! My life is filled with the musk of men again! I came home last night to find three boys cooking me supper once again, and now order is restored in my life. We ate lamb tagine and rice with an apricot/prune sauce, it was incredible. Plus Chef brought me back a handcrafted teapot, and did I mention that I really missed him?


FINALLY, finally…today Jagerbomb and I had this awesome conversation about Raffi.


Candice says: did you know that the banana phone song was originally sung by raffi?

Jagerbomb says: who is raffi?

Candice says: you know, the guy who used to play guitar and sing in the woods and he’d crawl through that log

Jagerbomb says: fred penner?

Candice says: oh shit

Candice says: who the hell is Raffi

Candice says: Raffi does exist

Candice says: HE DOES

Candice says: GOOGLE HIM


Then we determined he sings “that baby beluga song.” Enjoy.


(I don’t know what the hell is up with the font in this post, but whatever, I’m spontaneous and you can’t handle it.)

I know I’m being ridiculously gushy, and I know you’re sick of hearing about how happy I am, but seriously, I’m really, really grateful for all the support. Like Sabina pointed out in a comment, the fact that I’m 23 years old and I have a position as associate editor at such a huge online magazine is incredible. Plus the warm welcome I’ve been receiving from everyone, including the team, is mind-blowing. I feel really, really good right now. And I love being on the inside, it’s almost like that high school feeling of inclusion I never had. Hah!


And then of course I received another award, from one of my new favourite bloggers, and I’m pretty sure this qualifies as the greatest week ever! Thanks Carissa. If you haven’t already, check out her blog. She’s hilarious, outgoing, and totally, brutally honest. If you don’t believe me, just read her TMI posts.

Honest Scrap

So I’m supposed to list 10 things that nobody really knows about me. Tough job, considering I have no inner censorship.


  1. I have seizures. I’ve been prone to seizure activity for years, but always minor ones that feel like insane bouts of deja vu with nausea and panic. Sometimes even intense feelings of relief. I was prescribed medication about two years ago, but stopped taking it once a rash broke out from head to toe, and never bothered going back to my doctor.
  2. I have no idea what intimacy is. Not joking. The longest relationship I’ve ever had with a person is 0 seconds. The only guy I can somewhat claim to have dated for a few months slept with one of my good friends, banged multiple hos, and may actually be gay. Why do I suspect this? He once told me “I think I’m a little gay.”
  3. I totally believe in ghosts. I’ve felt uneasy in a number of houses due to weird events, and have been later informed by other people that they’ve felt the same way. Just a “feeling.” In this 100 year old townhouse, I feel fine.
  4. I’ve been having nightmares about t-rex since I was 9 years old, and it’s all the fault of Jurassic Park.
  5. I was a head bangin’, heavy-metal lovin’, hardcore goth wannabe in high school.
  6. I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m too artsy for the logical crowd, and too logical for the artsy crowd.
  7. I keep a list of all the guys I’ve kissed in the back of my diary. Don’t ask what the stars besides some of the names mean.
  8. I’ve written several book series as a kid/teenager, including one titled Pen Friends and another titled The Adventures of Lady and Beauty.
  9. I can’t paint my own fingernails worth shit.
  10. I was really good at drawing and painting. Then I took an art class in my first year of university, and haven’t picked up a pencil since. Going against his lumberjack appearance, my father is an incredibly talented painter.


I’m also supposed to award this to ten bloggers, but I’m just going to pass it on to two people I’ve seriously neglected. The first, of course, is V of Uncorked. FINALLY! An award you don’t already have! V is a kickass, sexy lawyer who enjoys shots as much as I do. She’s charmingly intelligent, witty, and has excellent taste in books.


The other is Cammy of Classroom Confessions. She recently went through a bad break-up, and I admire her for being honest about it on her blog. Takes guts to spill the beans. She’s sweet, talented, and an all around role model.


Weekend was fab! I decided last night that I hadn’t gotten “happy drunk” in a very long time, so I made it my mission to get sloshed without getting sick. Unfortunately the majority of my friends have become severely lame (seriously you guys, when did everyone become Mormon?), so the girls came over and I went downtown with Lottie and Lil Sister.


We decided to hit up Lottie’s Pub (not to be confused with the friend) for some cheap White Russians and Blue-Eyed Blonde shots from the hunky bartender with the rippling muscles and bald head. Did I ever mention my affinity towards bald men? It’s a little disturbing.

Blue-eyed blondes

Devil shots

I knew I had reached the goal peak of drunkness when one of the girls commented on how young everyone at the bar was, but I hadn’t noticed due to being totally intoxicated. Then Lil Sis tried to make me hit on her friend who was apparently interested in me, but he didn’t make a move, and there’s nothing I find more attractive in a man than someone who has to express interest in me via a friend. Just sayin’.


When we left, me being significantly poorer, I had just chatted up a guy. We stood outside for a bit and him and his buddies tried to convince Sis and I to go to Trinity Pub. Then I pulled a random lollipop out of my purse and started sucking on it.


Here’s a tip: If you want to command the entire attention of a group of young men, stick a lollipop in your mouth. It doesn’t matter if you’re devouring the candy like a hungry wench, they will look on completely enraptured. Awkward.


I've missed partying with this babe



Oh Halloween, my most beloved time of year. The only occasion in which it is perfectly acceptable for young children to take candy from strangers, and for women to take any sort of profession in the world and turn it into something slutty. Sexy hamburger-flipper? Skanky gas attendant? You got it.


I defied the odds by dressing as Carmen Sandiego, appropriate attire for milling around downtown. Turns out it’s not really appropriate attire for a house party, as my hair ended up becoming plastered to my head with hat-sweat and my black gloves have given me a rash. Such is life.

Carmen Sandiego

Carmen Sandiego double fists, do you?

Anyway, I tagged along with Hevs to her friend’s party, which was super decked out in Halloween gear. Not only was the party killer, but St. John’s radio station K-Rock showed up to host live from the dinette, bringing tidings of free beer and pizza. If you think having a radio show hosted from a Halloween party is pretty kickass, you’re right. Especially when the hosts are all dressed as Billy Mays. I’ve often wondered if radio talk-show hosts ditch the radio voice when they’re engaging in casual conversation. The answer? They don’t .

K-Rock comes to town

K-Rock came to hang out


Oh dear

The holy trinity


TOR, Lottie and I ended up going to the Mardi Gras celebrations on George Street, but I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be there and I don’t remember the event EVER being so ridiculously chaotic. I couldn’t even call people on my cell phone because all the lines were blocked. FYI, Mardi Gras in St. John’s is a pretty momentous occasion, and one that involves huge cash prizes for best dressed, but it should never be confused with the REAL Mardi Gras. There are no beads, parades, or anything of that nature…just lots of naked people, and the opportunity to drag home a guy wearing a mask and then politely requesting that he not take it off lest your dreams be dashed.



Pumped that people knew who I was

I had a pretty good time, but this cold I’m wrestling with has zapped my will to live, and mostly I ended up being Ms. Cranky-Pants. I’m sorry, girls. I wasn’t feeling the general tiredness that accompanies ten bottles of beer and an early evening, it was more like my weary body screaming “Why are you doing this, you miserable fuck?”


On the upside, Halloween still rocks. What other time of year can you rock out with a Pimpin’ Jesus, a chimney sweeper, Lady Gaga, and the cast of The Price is Right?

And look, I finally got a sensible video!



This weekend was pretty rad, despite it being Valentine’s Day on Saturday. Yeah, I’m bitter. Yeah, it’s old. Suck it. This year embracing the holiday is the new “thing,” apparently.



K-Jax’s kegger was a blast and a half. Made some new friends, successfully seduced somebody, etc. Or I was seduced? I believe the pick-up line was “you have nice titties.” I do. I felt extremely out of place for a little while there, but then the crack-draught kicked in and I was happy happy happy. Totally in my element. There was this really cute guy there that I see on my bus EVERY morning and I wanted to introduce myself, but then I figured that would be creepy and there was absolutely no glimmer of recognition in his eye.



I went shopping the following morning and bought a bunch of stuff I didn’t need. My intention was to buy things for Mexico. I did buy two tanks though, and a whole slew of other stuff.



Our Anti-Valentine’s Day slumber party was quite the success. We had appetizers, chilli, cheese and crackers, chips, potato skins. Chocolately drinks, long island iced teas, fruity martinis, cans of beer. We were gluttonous and bloated and happy. And if that isn’t the best way to celebrate V-day, then I don’t know what is.







Cranium was a hit, although significantly harder while drinking booze. Actually, it was hard anyway but I had to pretend to be drunk to protect my pride at least. Then we had a topless pillow fight and all made out. I passed out in bed with Strickel around 2:30 though, which is a lot lamer than I would have expected. I have some pretty crude pictures of me humping Linus which I don’t care to share.



Linus took me bikini shopping the following day at Wal-Mart. I was so disheartened by the whole experience that I could barely bring myself to go to the gym today. Fuck bikini shopping. I left the store and ordered a DQ hamburger combo at the mall. I haven’t eaten a hamburger in more than two years.



Then, Jagerbomb, Bob and I went to see He’s Just Not That Into You. It’s entirely accurate and I agree that we have to stop making excuses to make ourselves feel better about guys rejecting us. On the other hand, it seems that all those fucking rules can actually turn into exceptions in the end, so whose really gonna stop making excuses?



Looking at an incredible house tomorrow that’s opening up in April. Three bedrooms, 1.5 baths with a JET-TUB, beautiful, located downtown, has a deck, DISHWASHER, etc. The landlord told me that they already had ten inquiries though, so competition is fierce. Better work that redheaded charm tomorrow boi. Or flash him my nice titties.

Logically, one would realize that going on a drinking bender the night before a Relay for Life event where one has to stay awake until 6 a.m. is probably a bad idea.

Logically, one would not wash down their measly grilled cheese sandwich supper with half a glass of straight Spiced Rum diluted with a bit of coffee and water (it was the only mix in the house).

But T-Nurse is leaving next week so we decided to celebrate her Birthday in advance. A few of us went to the Breezeway for some kinda beach party night, where I bought HUGE bottles of Corona (trying to build up some resistance before Mexico, eh). We were supposed to get lei’d, but didn’t. Fortunately there weren’t any 18 year old skanks running around in their bikinis as we were led to believe. I did feel about 40 years old though.

Then we went downtown to hit up Sundance and Dusk. REALLY enjoyed Dusk this time. I like purple lights. We got separated from DirtySailor and Chef, who went to Shamrock City where DirtySailor proceeded to pee on the front door in front of 20 other people because the bouncer wouldn’t let him in. We danced up a storm and I ran into an old classmate who twirled me around the floor and remarked several times on the “firmness” of my body and how fit I am. Well as if my swollen ego needed that! What a dear boy.

Anyway, Relay for Life is in three hours. We still have to pick up some decorations, junk food, sources of entertainment, etc. I think I’ll bring some board games. I’m actually pretty excited, it’s like a big sleepover with 100+ other people. The pool is going to be open and everything, unfortunately I have outgrown my bathing suit. Nice. Fun without booze – imagine that!

Some days I dream about my own apartment… a quiet space that I can decorate with pretty candles, my father’s paintings, and fluffy pillows. Sometimes I get mad at myself for being so materialistic, but when I was a little girl I cut out clippings of furniture from catalogues so I could arrange them on blank pieces of paper like I was decorating my own house.

And then there are weekends when the drama at my current household is so out of control that I cannot help but think it’d be damned good writing material for a blog. It’s like Big Brother, all the time. Not like… throat-slitting, stab-you-in-the-back drama…more like make-out-with-all-of-your-best-friends/get-really-drunk drama.

I joined my writer friends on Friday night for drinks and appetizers at Montana’s, and then we headed to Greener’s show at Whiskey’s, formerly a sketchy bar for e-tards. The venue is still a little sleazy, but once again I had a blast, danced up a storm, and got drunk. Unintentionally.

Saturday, Albertian came to visit so the roommates and I hosted a small celebration. However, DirtySailor had neglected to tell us that the following day would be his birthday , so we doubled the celebration and ended up having a party. Said party took place mostly in my loft. My awesome shag carpet now has another dozen beer stains in addition to the dog shit stains and vomit stains. Best. Carpet. Ever.

Our new roommate, whom I will aptly name “Chef,” cooked us all an amazing supper of some German dish called Snitzel. Schnitzel? Whatever. It was incredible. We then got really drunk, had the police called on us, went dancing downtown, and came home and passed out. The house was in complete disarray, there were random people sleeping around the house and yet…I was totally happy. My body was screaming at me to stop inflicting such torture upon it, but seriously, when will I ever live in such a ridiculous household with four awesome people again?

Finally, Mother Nature has dumped a big pile of snow on the city. I feel somewhat relieved. Considering blizzards should have been a regular occurrence months ago, the feeling of impending doom has finally came and passed.

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