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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:
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.
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.
So, on that note, Happy Holidays ya’ll!
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.
So I’m supposed to list 10 things that nobody really knows about me. Tough job, considering I have no inner censorship.
- 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.
- 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.”
- 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.
- I’ve been having nightmares about t-rex since I was 9 years old, and it’s all the fault of Jurassic Park.
- I was a head bangin’, heavy-metal lovin’, hardcore goth wannabe in high school.
- I don’t fit in anywhere. I’m too artsy for the logical crowd, and too logical for the artsy crowd.
- 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.
- I’ve written several book series as a kid/teenager, including one titled Pen Friends and another titled The Adventures of Lady and Beauty.
- I can’t paint my own fingernails worth shit.
- 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.
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.
If you would like a summary of my St. Paddy’s Day weekend, please refer to the following googly-eye photo.
I wonder why I’m single? Honestly?
I had a blast though, what with the binge drinking and all. I went to Blondie’s birthday party on Friday night with a bunch of peeps and made some new friends. I ran into an old friend from home who proceeded to push cake in my face and then lick it off. In front of everyone. I overheard a guy talking to another one afterward, saying, “Dude, you should have seen it…that girl licked cake off of the other girl’s face.”
Then I was told that I’m actually a strawberry blonde instead of a redhead, which did not go over well let me tell you.
I love St. Paddy’s Day, it allows me to embrace my Irish roots. I just took a quiz on Facebook that told me I should live in Ireland. Clearly!
We went to The Dock that night, where the Navigators were playing. It was a fucking blast, I never realized how cool that pub is. I also never realized how much I freakin’ love Irish music, but I want to go there EVERY WEEKEND for the rest of my LIFE.
I ran into Greener, my cousin and some of their friends and headed back to Whiskey’s where I finally met the owner of the bar. We discussed the Heavenly Creatures fundraiser, and I may or may not have flirted with him. He may or may not have reciprocated. Anyway, I’m so professional. Totally got us a gig though. Stay tuned for detailz.
(I love how my friends and I have our own little spot now. We end up staying at Whiskey’s until 5 a.m. every evening, long after the bars are closed.)
Saturday, Chef and Hickman bought a ton of food and we all split the expenses to kick-start our Irish festivities. We went to see Greener perform at Big Ben’s, then headed back to our house for some drinks, then headed to a sketchy party, then headed to Republic, then headed to Whiskey’s. Wow, that’s a lot of heading. Nothing exceptional happened but I did have an awesome time with my super cool friends.
My skin is flaking big time from seven minutes of tanning, it’s pretty gross. I’m just a big flake. Flake flake flake. If I ever go missing, send out some search dogs and I’ll leave them a nice big trail.
How about some more cuteness for you there now the once ? This is Nay’s baby, and I adore her. I may have to take care of her over the summer, and then I may invest in my very own pet rat.
I woke up on Saturday morning and stumbled to the bathroom in a hungover haze. Halfway there, I kicked a blanket on my floor and the blanket kicked back because someone was wrapped up in it. I couldn’t see because I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I used the bathroom and stumbled back out, got back into bed, groped around for my glasses, and discovered Bob sleeping on my floor.
The funny thing is the fact that even though there was somebody unknown sleeping on my floor, it wasn’t strange to me. And also, I wasn’t alarmed. Apparently she came home around 5 and passed out on the floor because Lottie passed out on the futon, and I was so dead to the world that I never woke up. Such are the happenings of this household.
A few of us got plastered on Friday and roamed around downtown as per usual. Saturday night, a bunch of us watched movies in my room. In fact, that’s what I’ve been doing pretty much for the past two days, with the occasional break to eat or buy some groceries. I had every intention of going to the gym but the bus stops running early on Sundays.
We watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno, which was good besides the super shit sappy ending. I don’t know how anybody could turn such a ridiculously crude, sexual movie into a romance story, but somehow it happened. And they didn’t even release the porno in the end, so the whole problem of being in debt was never solved.
Then we watched Definitely Maybe, which I guess was supposed to be a love story but turned into the most frustrating piece of shit I have ever seen. Basically the main character goes through about twenty years of dating the same three women and getting his heart broken/breaking their hearts, and in the end finally makes the right decision. Like holy fuck buddy, how clueless are you? Even with the stupid happy ending I was so depressed about possibly having to go through another 20 years of that bullshit before finding “true love” that I wanted to throw bricks at the TV.
Being bitter is fucking exhausting.
I’m going to go pry myself into some awkward positions as an attempt to do yoga and then eat banana bread. My six weeks of gym time have been entirely erased by the garlic fingers I ate last night and the beer I consumed on Friday. BUT there was no vomiting this weekend, and I think that’s a good thing.
Fuck, now I remember why Molson Canadian is the devil and I should only ever drink light beer. Ever have one of those nights where you get completely blitzed but everyone else is not even marginally as drunk, and then the next day they tell you all this stupid shit you did and you can’t recall anything? Those suck.
I remember Greener dropping me off at my place after his show… apparently Lottie met me at the door, DirtySailor had to help me upstairs, and they lingered around in my bedroom until I told them to leave and “take that annoying dog with you.” What a bitch I am! I also danced obnoxiously in front of Beer’s and Jagerbomb’s parents, hit up a Texan man for a drink, and projectile vomited all over the place the following afternoon. Aren’t I the fucking picture of perfection?
Last night I went out for supper with the writer girls at Tangled Up in Blue. LOVE the style of that place, it’s beautiful. They had a “Recession Special” where I ordered a three course meal for $20. Not baaaad. Then we high-tailed it back to Ani’s place to watch some moviez. They drank wine, I drank tea. Seriously. The world is UPSIDE DOWN and I am dangling by a thread.
We watched a pretty interesting documentary called Religulous. It was hysterical. Basically the narrator travels to a bunch of places and quizzes everybody from average citizens to senior priests at the Vatican about religion… and not just Christians… Muslims, Scientologists, Jews, etc. His conclusion is that the world cannot function in peace until all religion ceases to exist.
Fine, whatever. I’m not a totally religious person. I was raised an Anglican, attended a Catholic school, and generally went to church about three times. But I’ve never met anybody corrupted by religion. In fact, all the religious people I know are extremely kind, warm, open-minded people.
And that’s my biggest beef with religion bashers. They criticize religion for its intolerance and narrow-minded views, but aren’t they being intolerant and narrow-minded themselves? If someone changes their life for the better because of religion, who’s to say that’s a bad thing? Holy hypocrisy.
Then there’s groups like God Hate Fag. If somebody nuked their little organization, I’d be okay with that.
What do I think? I don’t have a fucking clue. I believe in something. I just haven’t figured it all out yet. But the thought of death being just a black void is more terrifying than anything in the world to me, so if I need religion to ease the fear while I’m living, it doesn’t matter when I’m gone anyway.