I Sorta Wish It Was Still the 80's...But That I Was Still in My Twenties

As the husband mentioned on his blog a couple days ago, we will be attending an 80's themed wedding this weekend. It's actually not the wedding that's themed (we will dress normal for that) but the reception.
And the bride is my best friend's (the Bahama Mama) sister.
So, tomorrow night we will heading back to our hometown for what is sure to be a fantastic time. There have been 400 people invited to this wedding, which is essentially half the town, but I will know nearly everyone there.
Over the past week or so I have been scouting the city thrift stores, looking for some great 80's garb to wear on Saturday night.
The husband is going to look so amazing...he's going looking like Don Johnson circa Miami Vice. Yep, I dug him up some white linen pants, some tan tasseled shoes (no socks of course) a pink t-shirt, and a cream colour sport coat - complete with rolled up sleeves. I laughed for 10 minutes when I finally got to see him in the whole outfit.
I'm going as a sort of Cyndi Lauper/Madonna-esque girl, because I just couldn't bring myself to buy a gold dress with rhinestones and shoulder pads - I looked too much like a 40 year old (not that that is a bad thing!). So, anyways, I'm wearing layered tank tops, that nasty scarf in my hair, tons of jewellery, a jean skirt, black tights, and I'm trying to get my hands on some converse high-tops. I'm also planning on teasing the life out of my hair and caking on the blue eyeshadow. Oh yeah, I will be hot!
Regardless of how ridiculous we will look - we are going to have a fabulous time. Many of our friends will be there, the bride's family is almost like my own, the Bahama Mama is down, drinks are only 2 bucks each, my parents house is within staggering distance of the reception, it's warm enough that I won't fall into a snowbank, my dad will be home the entire weekend (that means I get to waltz with him in all this 80's crap - too funny!) and we get to go to a wedding, which I love!
There will be many pictures when we get back - first of all because I'm a little surprised the husband is so willing to dress up, and second of all, with so many of my friends going to be there, it will be nice to have some photographic evidence (aka bribery techniques) of the evenings events.

My Nemesis

I'd like you all to meet the latest nemesis to my world. The satin dress of shame...aka my bridesmaid dress.

These dresses were ordered in the first week of February, when the bride decided to go from "you guys can just grab cute, short cocktail dresses for about $50" to "I've picked out these hot satin dresses from a bridal salon, they are so gorgeous and we have to have them - you don't mind that they cost almost $300 do you?"

Holy shnikees - yes I mind!

But am I going to be the bridesmaid to pitch a fit and say that I refuse to buy it? Actually, that does sound like something I would do...but, no - I figured it's her day, so whatever.

When I went to get measured for the dress the girl told me that the dress might be a little snug on me, but that it would look great. I remember balking a little when she pulled one out in red for me to check out - thinking "wow, that dress looks awfully low in the front...and wow! the back looks low enough to show some serious ass." But I pushed the thoughts aside thinking that I would deal with it when the time came.

Well, this week the time came.

Oh boy.

Turns out that the dress is actually a little loose, and I will have to have it taken in just a tiny bit. But, oh lord, there is some bare skin. Turns out that the back is completely open except for the two strips from the shoulders that twist their way down my back - and the fabric that covers my butt comes up about 3 inches above my butt. Three inches is not a lot of fabric when your entire back is out.

But...that's not the worst of it...oh no...it gets better.

The front section is so low that I'm concerned my dad may pass out when he sees me in this dress at the wedding - not to mention the priest. To give the ladies a better idea of what I mean, here goes - you know the bottom part of the front of your bra? Well that is where this dress is open to. In the picture, it looks like it would fit right around the lines of a bra - but when it gets put on, and there are "things" to fill it out, the opening is much lower.

I brought it in to work yesterday, changed in my office, and called the ladies in to tell me what I should do to have it altered to fit better. They were awesome. We decided where it would look best taken in, but then they both told me that there was just no way around the very significant cleavage - but assured me that it would look fantastic. One of the ladies actually started to cry, telling me that she was so proud of me because I looked so beautiful - how that made her proud I have no idea - but Krista and I giggled away about it while she teared up.

My husband's reaction was...appreciative. I'm not sure he's thinking about the fact that there will be a couple more people seeing me on the day of my friend's wedding. A couple...like about 250.

Of course, I can always reassure myself with the fact that the attention should be on the bride that day and not on us bridesmaids. But I've gotta tell you, if I was at a wedding where the bridesmaids were sporting this much cleavage, I'd be checking them out too!

How Am I Supposed To Be Miserable With Friends Like These?

I was looking forward to today in a "I'm so miserable that I can't wait to have a terrible day" kind of way. You know, where you just feel wretched and all you want everyone to do is leave you alone to wallow in your misery?

It was in my favour that the weather seemed to have been chosen to suit my mood - it has been grey and foggy and rainy and cold here for nearly two weeks - with the same conditions expected for the rest of the week. Needless to say I felt right at home trudging out to my car in the fog, muttering to myself and nursing a headache and swollen eyelids.
Yes, as a sidenote, I've discovered that as I get older, my eyelids will get puffy after I cry. So, as you can imagine, I bawled my fool head off yesterday and was treated to slits for eyes this morning. Lovely.
Anyways, back to my terrible day.
I did my best to maintain my crankiness, and made it known to Zig and Krista that I was not to be made to laugh or smile under any circumstances and should be left alone to wallow in misery. Much to my chagrin, neither of them are very good listeners, and within the first 10 minutes I was laughing anyways. Though, in my defense, once I realized what was going on I tried very hard to put a scowl back on my face.
So, the day progressed, me trying desperately to maintain my funk, and my co-workers doing all that they could to make me laugh. Though they were saying things like "Don't you smile Ali - we don't want you to be happy today" and stuff to that effect, which of course makes me smile even more.
Then Princess of the Universe emailed me and wanted us to meet her for lunch in the building where she works. We decided when and where to meet and that was that. Once we got there I let her know about my miserable day, and that she was not to help the other two make me happy. It just so happens that she is not a very good listener either! Laughter abounded despite my best efforts.
This afternoon we had a production meeting where I got into a little bit of trouble (not really, but surprise! things are behind schedule in production! who would have thought?) and managed to give myself back a tiny bit of my crankiness. Yay!
After the meeting I was pouting to myself in my office when in walked one of my-coworkers with some flowers...for me! I was so excited I pulled out the vase pictured above which contained Gerber daisies, my absolute favourite flower. And then I pulled out the card - it went along the lines of "Hope today is treating you much nicer than yesterday" but in much more eloquent, Ali-friendly terms, and it was signed Princess of the Universe! Can you believe it? This girl and I have been on 3 official "dates" as friends and she is sending me flowers because of my girly meltdown.
As soon as I read the card I instantly felt much happier, so I called and scolded her for forcing sunshine on my rainy day parade. Princess, thank you again for the flowers - you have no idea how happy they made me!
But then, with all that happiness, how was I supposed to be miserable anymore? Honestly - could you have done it? I think not.
Oh yeah, then to top it off...this afternoon I got an email from Reggie being sweet as per usual, supporting me in my meltdown. Then I came home, the husband walked in 3 minutes later and he made me supper while I surfed the net.
These people may have ruined my miserable day but I love them all and am so happy that they did!

Blah

Sometimes I hate being female.

Deep down, I'm glad that I'm emotional and have the ability to love and feel as deeply as I do. But some days, like today, I hate it. When someone walks into the room and my eyes well up with tears, when they ask me what's wrong and a tear or two escape my eyes. When they wrap their arms around me to let me know that it will be okay and I really lose it.

Without feeling so much, I would be a shell of a person - but right now I'd take that shell. I don't want anyone - I just want to go home, curl up in my bed and cry until there are no tears left. Then I will pick myself up, pull myself together, and carry on - like I always do.

This and That

1. Jealousy still pisses me off - I think it's time for another whupping.

2. The husband and I have been having some...passionate moments over the past few days. Both of our blogs on Wednesday should have given you all a clue. I'm happy to report that things are much better now...much, much better. ;)

3. I picked up my bridesmaid dress yesterday (insert, long low whistle here), I will be really surprised if they let us in the church - or for that matter, if the husband lets me out of the house.
Serious cleavage people. Se-ri-ous.

4. I am being such a procrastinator this week at work. I'm actually a little frightened about how much I'm letting things slide.

5. There is so much awesome music out right now. Amy Winehouse. The Fratellis. Silversun Pickups. And so much more.

6. The husband is going to be working nights all weekend - which means I'm alone at night and he's sleeping during the day. Oh joy. At least I have lots of dates this weekend...with girls.

7. I shaved my legs this morning and put on about 2 cups worth of lotion. Now my legs feel all smooth in my jeans - I love that feeling.

8. I've recently been given a remote connection for my computer at home to connect with my office computer. Essentially this will enable me to work at home as if I'm sitting at my desk at work. Like I need more encouragement to take work home...I'm trying to get away from that!

9. I had a guitar lesson last night. It didn't go as well as I would have hoped. I was a little frustrated and having to take some deep breaths - thank god my teacher is so level-headed and decided that we would learn something new. Now I am practicing scales - Yay!

10. My toes are cold right now - I think it's time to pull out my leopard print slippers.

MEN...BLECH!

Someone tell me...why are men so daft sometimes?

I mean, women give off perfectly clear signals, there is never any discrepancy about what they are thinking - so why is it that men have such a hard time understanding what a woman wants?

Actually, in a man's defense, I DO realize that women can be a little...um, mystifying sometimes - but come on! Do we really need to spell everything out all the time?

Men - do me a favour next time your wife or girlfriend is giving you that look - you know, the one where she's staring at you like you have 6 heads, her eyes are narrowed, her brow furrowed, and her mouth is slightly open in disgust? That look is usually being used because there is something she feels is quite obvious that you are just not getting.

So the favour is this: take a step back, clear your mind, and try to think logically about what the problem could be. I bet that at least 50% of the time you could figure out what the problem is and save yourself a fight.

The Bro, The Weekend, and The 'Stang

All in all I had a fairly un-eventful long weekend. Which, really, was just what I needed. The husband hit the highway early Friday afternoon for the 3 hour drive to our hometown and I followed suit when I got off at 4 that afternoon. There is a long, convoluted story about why we took two cars home, which I won't bore you with - but we ended up coming back together in Bruce.
Anyways, I may have mentioned before that I am somewhat of a lead-foot behind the wheel. On the open highway (and when my husband isn't in the car to scold me) I really let go. I crank my music to deafening levels, sing till my voice is hoarse, and wave as I pass everyone in front of me. I love it.
The thing is, the speed limit on the highway in Manitoba is 100km/hour, that translates into about 60m/hour to my American friends. I have a very hard time sticking to that speed limit. Most people set their cruise at about 10 over the speed limit. I set mine 20 over, and eventually just turn the cruise off because I don't seem to be moving fast enough.
Why do I feel such a need for speed? I seriously think it has something to do with the music, which is pumping through my body at such a fast pace, and also because I know that at that the end of that highway is peace and relaxation. My hometown is kind of like a haven for me, one of the only places I can go to truly relax.
My 14 year old brother Matthew called me earlier in the week to break some news. He had bought his first car! More accurately, my dad had bought my brother his first car, which he will pay back, though it will take him till he's about 45 years old.
I've been working on my dad to buy a car for he and I to fix up together for several years now. Something old and beat up, that we can take the time and effort to fix up and make beautiful. I'm slowly wearing him down, and I figure when he retires in two years he will eventually give in and I'll get my wish. The idea for me though, is to learn about restoring the car, while hanging out with my dad - and having a smokin' hot car at the end.
My brother, on the other hand, just has a thing about old cars and wanted one that was in fairly decent shape. They found it last week in Minnesota and picked it up on Tuesday. My brother is now the proud owner of a 1969 Ford Mustang. The great part about it for me is that since he can't drive it, I get to go home, pull the cover off, crank some tunes, and go cruising with him - which he thinks is so cool. Besides the fact that people stop to stare when you drive by, it's a lot of fun to cruise around with him - we're both laughing our heads off and singing away to AC/DC.

This weekend basically turned into me and my brother hanging out most of the time. The husband went fishing Saturday and Sunday - rolling in after 10 both days. My dad was in for part of the day Saturday, then ended up getting called to work that afternoon. My mom was home with us but was feeling pretty crappy most of the weekend and so was pretty quiet.
So, what do a brother and sister do when there really is nothing to do? They practice their guitar's together, they watch movies, they go for drives in the brother's new car, they tease each other, fight, wrestle, laugh hysterically, and drive each other crazy. Oh, and this sister teases her brother relentlessly about his loser hair - seriously, he looks so retarded.
The really bad part about that? His stupid hair actually grew on me over the weekend - not grew, like that blonde mop was coming from my head, but grew like I actually started to not completely hate it - just to clear that up for those of you that were wondering.
And really, who am I to talk? My hair looks pretty pathetic in these pictures too (and his curls are what my hair looks like if I let mine go - shudder).
It's ridiculous how much fun I have with my brother - half the time we're laughing so hard that we are the only ones that can understand each other. To the untrained ear our language is just a series of shrieks and laughs, interrupted by the occasional "you loser" and then some incoherent babbling.
Do other people like their siblings as much as I like mine?

More Stuff...

Since Terri got me on a roll babbling about weird things about myself, I decided to post a new list to my Idiosyncrasies page.
I have been neglecting that page and so felt that it deserved a new post...plus, I was totally procrastinating on the freelance I had due.

8 Random Things

Terri tagged me late last week - sorry it took so long, I've been out of town - but I'm wondering if there are 8 things about me that you guys don't already know...oh wait, I'm having a brain wave...

1. I worked as a gas jockey from the ages of 13 - 15 at a local Shell station. One day we were swamped and I accidentally filled up a brand new Dodge truck with gas instead of diesel. I let the guy drive away and never told a soul. I'm sure his truck was ruined.

2. When I was working retail in Calgary, my boss, one of my co-workers and I were sitting near the front of the store taking our afternoon break. I was facing the stock room and saw someone (a child I thought) run across towards where we kept our purses. I started running to the back of the store to freak the kid out, but as I came around the corner I saw this huge guy! About 6'3", shaved head, muscle shirt with tattoos all up his arms, and he was standing there holding my bosses purse in his hands. I started screaming "what the hell do you think you're doing!" and running towards him and he jumped back and ran around the stock shelves. I turned around and started running parallel to him screaming my head off and he kept running.
What exactly I thought I was going to do to this guy I have no idea, but I chased him right out of the building - yay for adrenalin!

3. Now this is going to sound stupid after the story above...but, I am incapable of running away from people that are chasing me. As soon as I hear footsteps moving towards me at a quick pace I immediately scream and begin to run in small circles, or press myself up against the nearest wall. I have absolutely no idea why I do this, it's annoying really. My husband and co-workers often take advantage of this for a laugh. I seriously hope that if I ever needed to run for my life I wouldn't be such a dipshit.

4. I used to be a chain-smoker. In college especially I would smoke all day. Every one of my classmates smoked, and most of my professors, and sometimes we would even have class outside just so that we could smoke. In the evenings when I was writing I would sit at my desk with one foot underneath me, the other up on my desk, an ashtray balanced on my knee and a cigarette hanging from my lips. Yuck.

5. The sound, feel, and sight of terracotta pots makes me want to throw up. (I'm gagging just thinking about it.) Something about the texture and the way they sound rubbing against each other or any other surface gives me chills down my spine and makes me feel nauseated.

6. For some reason I tend to think of myself as some kind of fist fighting champion. It's not that I've been in a lot of fights, but I'm pretty mouthy and apparently I have a hard punch (or so the wimpy boys keep telling me). Now really, I don't know if, push came to shove, I could really beat someone up - but dammit, the time that Chris had to carry me out of a social because I was trying to kill this girl who had just sent my friend to the hospital - that made me feel like I could take on anyone.

7. When I drive by my grandparent's house in Ontario I have to honk 5 times. It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is, or if they're home - I have to honk.

8. I'm wishing I never would have agreed to be a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding in June. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Now here we are, 3 weeks before the wedding and I'm finally remembering why I hate being a bridesmaid. A $300 dress that is cut so low (in the front and back!) that I'm wondering if they'll even let us in the church, a bride and mother-of-the-bride that are slowly but surely driving me crazy, showers, lingerie parties, makeup, shoes, hair, presents...like I said, stupid.

Wow, this kind of turned into 8 mini stories instead of 8 random things - sorry about that. And since I'm sure that most people have already been tagged, I'm going to tag the husband to see if he can come up with some stuff that even I don't know about him.

Hope No One Thinks I'm a Heathen For This...

This post will be a little more serious than what I usually write about, and maybe a little heavy for a Friday, but these thoughts have been rolling around in my mind now for a few days and are begging to be let out. So, here goes nuthin...

I was raised as a practicing Roman Catholic. Um, did I just hear a few sighs and people leaving the room already? I hope not, though this post is about religion, it won't be, shall we say...religious.
Okay, back on track here.
Yes, so I was raised a practicing catholic - went to a catholic grade school, church every Sunday, first communion, confirmation, an altar server for years, confessions, marriage classes - the whole shabang.
I used to argue with my mom when I was a teenager that I hated going to church, why did I have to go? I would always get the song and dance about believing in God, but more importantly, that my mom was the boss so I was going or else.
My best friend lived across the street and went to the same church - and we would often vent our frustrations to each other about the unfairness of being forced to go to church when we so obviously didn't get anything out of it. My dad was raised in the United church, but never practiced after he was about 10 years old - and therefore never came to church with my mom and I. Believe me, I tried using that as an excuse to get out of going too. If my dad didn't go then why did I have to?
When I left home for college at 18 I was a two day drive from my parents. Did I go to church every Sunday? Nope. Did I feel like I was going to burn in hell? Nope. And you know what? Because I wasn't being forced to go - I actually went sometimes. I would grab the other two catholic chicks that lived with me on the mornings that we weren't too hung over and we would bus it down to this beautiful cathedral in the city. And I would listen...and enjoy church. I never thought that would happen.
Once I moved in with Chris I very rarely went. That isn't a reflection on him - it was just the result of me not feeling the need to go. Chris wasn't raised with any religion whatsoever, and though I've asked him his thoughts on God and heaven and all that, he doesn't make it a big part of his life and I don't push him. To each his own.
Now I only go to church when I'm home in Ontario on the occasional weekend. My mom fully expects me to go while I'm there, so I do it to keep her happy. But you know what? I sit there in the pew, listen to the same readings that I've heard a hundred times before, stand up and kneel down 6 thousand times, say prayers as though I was programed for it, and leave without feeling any different. There have been maybe 5 or 6 times in my life when I've left church with a new outlook on something, or felt that listening to the homily made any kind of impact on me.
I think the problem is that the catholic church is stale. They are too set in their ways and aren't moving with the times. I realize that a religion has certain views and opinions that make them the faith they are. But you have to be willing to make alterations to keep with the changing times. Also, the fact that I was forced to go really made me want to rebel. And, the catholic faith has too many rules. For one, they don't believe in divorce. I realize that it shouldn't be encouraged - but come on! Are you telling me that a woman has to stay married to someone who is physically abusing her every day? The catholic solution to divorce is annulment - where you have to plead your case to a jury of sorts, who will decide if, in fact, your marriage can be annulled - ridiculous.
In order for Chris and I to get married we had to take marriage classes. A fabulous idea! You learn about religion of course, but also about married life, money, children, careers, etc. It's a great idea and everyone should do it.
However, in order for my marriage to be recognized by the church I had to agree in my vows to a number of things - but the one that really irks me is this: That we will both promise to raise our children in the catholic faith. What!?!?! How can I possibly promise that? What if Chris was a very devout Anglican or he was Jewish or anything else? How can I promise that my children will be catholic? Of course they would learn about it, as they would about my husband's religion - but the choice is theirs. Whatever religion, if any, they chose is fine with me - so long as it's not a cult.
It's not that I am completely un-religious. I pray, I speak to god on a fairly regular basis, and when I feel like I should go to church then I go. My best friend and I have quite in-depth conversations about religion, and I actually find it interesting.
What I don't like is having it shoved down my throat, and to be forced to spend time attending a church I just don't appreciate.
I guess when I feel that I need religion in my life I'll seek it out on my own...and it will be a religion that fits me and what I believe in.


*That's all for this week's sermon folks - stay tuned next week where I will tell you my views on heaven and hell. I kid you not, it recently came up at work and I feel it's blog worthy.

A Day (or two) In the Life of Moi

A while ago some of my peeps (oh man, I am soooo white) were posting about what a day is like in their life. I've decided to follow suit, but it's a two-day event because I have been ca-razy this week!

Tuesday:
6am - Woke up for the day.
6:05 - Showered.
6:20 - Checked email.
6:30 - Finished getting ready for work.
7:30 - Got to work, chatted with Zig and Krista for the first half hour or so (oh, who am I kidding - it was more like an hour).
8:30 to 11:30 - Ran around like a crazy woman - doing paginations, copyediting, answering emails.
11:30 - Left with Krista and Zig for lunch. We walked down to the underground and went to this delicious little deli we love. I had veggies and a lemon snapple for lunch.
12:00pm - Finished eating and ran around the underground with the other two - laughing and being rowdy.
12:30 - Went back to the office and attempted to work for the next hour or so.
1:30 - Went into the board room for a production meeting.
1:50 - Left the production meeting a couple minutes early and went downstairs to where the husband was waiting in the car. (Don't tell - but I kind of told my boss that I had a doctor's appointement...but I didn't - I'm very bad).
2:15 - The husband and I drove halfway across the city for me to do an interview for a freelance piece I was doing.
4:00 - We made it back to my office just as I was supposed to be getting off for the day.
4:30 - Grabbed my car and drove through rush hour traffic, while driving (bad Ali) I called the guy I was supposed to meet for the next interview to confirm - he changed the interview time to 7pm.
5:15 - Came in the house - made 4 perogies for supper, wrote a blog post, read everyone else's blog, then went and laid in bed to go over my notes from the earlier interview.
6:30 - Left for the next interview (which the husband also drove me to) that ended up lasting for an hour and a half, instead of the half hour it should have.
8:45 - Went to Shopper's Drugmart to get some medication for poor husband who is suffering from some nasty allergies.
9:30 to 10:30 - Came home, threw some laundry in, called my little bro, checked my email, tucked the husband into bed and sat down on the couch.
11:00 - Remembered that I had a guitar lesson on Wednesday, pulled out Ramona and practiced for 45 minutes.
12:00am - Finally hit the sack.

Wednesday:
6:00am - Woke up for the day.
6:05 - Showered.
6:20 - Checked email.
6:30 - Finished getting ready for work. Ready to go at 6:50, but dawdled and didn't actually leave till almost 7:30 (I start at 8 by the way).
7:55 - Got to work, spent 45 minutes chatting with Zig and Krista (is anyone noticing a pattern here?)
8:00 to 8:15 - helped pot the new office plants.
9:15 - Krista cranks some Jet in her office and we have a dance party (complete with hair shaking and arms flailing) to get us pumped for the day.
9:30 to 11:30 - Ran around like a crazy woman - emails again, tried to sort out some mistakes our Toronto office (idiots) made - ended up spending more time on their crap than on my own).
11ish - Zig and I decide we should take Krista and go to a music store at lunch to look at guitar stands - Krista quickly reminds us that we have to go to the underground today to get her shoe repaired.
11:30 - We head out for lunch - spend most of the hour being goofy. Krista and I run away and leave Zig in Starbucks - when we come out of our hiding spot he is halfway down the mall, but turns around to see us laughing and puts on a major pout to let us know he's not impressed.
12:30pm to 3:55 - The afternoon is spent doing more paginations, a lot of violent cursing and answering an insane amount of emails and phone calls - yet I still manage to get nothing done.
4:00 - I read Reggie's blog - attempt to post a comment - and as I'm typing I break into this huge laughing fit. In fact, I'm laughing so hard and for so long that I start to cry - and I can hear Zig and Jorge (another designer) down the hall laughing at me, and asking if I'm okay.
4:10 - Still laughing.
4:15 - Finally compose myself and start to pack up.
4:45 - Grab Ramona and Zig and head out to my car.
4:45 to 5:30ish - Drive with the windows down and sing my girly face off all the way to Zig's house - he seems unphased.
5:30 to 6:45ish - Have an awesome guitar lesson. I think this may be the first time I don't say "Agh! I can't do this!"
6:55 to 7:30 - Drive home with the windows open and sing (and dance wildly) all the way home. Have to stop at Domo halfway home when I realize my car is on "E" and have to pump my own gas...maybe they should change their slogan from "We jump to the pump" to "We are lazy inbreds who ask for coupons and forget to actually pump the gas."
7:30 - Walk in the door, grab Ramona, and practice till the husband gets home.
8:25 - The husband had a terrible day, so I pull him onto the couch beside me and do my best to cheer him up.
8:45 - He makes himself supper.
9:00 to 10:00 - I watch the season finale of CSI New York and practice Ramona at each commercial break.
9:30 - I remember that I need to eat supper so I can take my pills - we're out of milk for cereal so crackers and pickles it is!
10:00 - Throw more laundry in.
10:10 - Iron my shirt for tomorrow.
10:30 - Check my email (personal, blog and freelance accounts) then check out Facebook and read everyone else's blogs.
11:30 - Wash my face and get ready for bed.

Today will be much of the same, and I have to drive out of town after work for an interview for another freelance piece - then Friday evening it's off to Ontario for the long weekend.
Life has been incredibly busy lately and I'm looking forward to hanging out at home. Besides taking home my 3 freelance articles to actually write (which I don't consider work because I love it) I will take the rest of the 3 days to lay around, visit with family, eat proper meals and just relax. I can't wait.

"Someone" Left Me a Present

When me and someone go grocery shopping we always stock up on fruit. I am what you might refer to as a fruit-a-holic. I love me some fruit. And yes, I do molest and fondle each piece before I choose it.
Anyways, it's not that often that any fruit goes uneaten at our house. And usually it's bananas, just because they go too yellow too fast for me, and I just keep them till they're black then throw them in the freezer for future baking.
But I digress...boy do I digress. Ahem, yeah, so last time we went grocery shopping I got the usual plethora of fruit, and today - this is what remains in the fruit basket. One sad banana, 2 oranges that I plan on eating in the next couple of days, and one mango.
Fantastic, right? I've got a few pieces left over for the week before we head to Ontario for the long weekend...or do I?
The banana I won't eat, the oranges for sure...but did anyone take a good look at that sorry little mango? Here, look at the close up...
Mysteriously, this mango seems to have developed this spot overnight. It was fine when I glanced at it yesterday...yet here it is with a big, nasty rotten spot on it. Isn't that puzzling? I never knew fruit could go bad so quickly.
But, oh wait a second, perhaps yesterday when I looked, I only saw the other side of it. The side that was a lovely orangey red colour and still looked delicious. Perhaps someone rolled it over today, saw the rotten spot and thought "ewww, I'm not eating that!" Or, perhaps the basket got bumped and it rolled over to reveal the rotten spot.
Either way, the rotten mango was still sitting in the fruit basket just waiting for me when I got home. Nice.

Someone will probably be pretty irritated that I posted this entry. Though I encourage someone to write about what I do that bothers them, someone insists that they don't want to - someone is too nice.

So, just to even up the score for my mean-ness by posting about someone's incessant snoring and inability to throw rotten fruit away - I will leave you with some things I do that I know drive someone nuts.

(someone will now be referred to as "he" - although I am not implying that someone is, in fact, a he)

1. He hates that every night when he asks what I want for dinner I say "um, I'll just have cereal." He loves to cook and it kills him that I don't care enough about food to eat a good meal, or even eat at all, unless he pushes me.

2. He hates that I steal the blankets at night, then snarl at him when he tries to pull a little of them back because he's shivering under 6 inches of sheet.

3. He hates that I flirt - but hates it more that I admit I do it.

4. He hates that I never answer the phone at home. I will either outright ignore it, or, if he answers, I will whisper "I'm not home" so I don't have to talk to anyone.

5. He hates that when our bedroom is a disaster I will often decide at 11 at night that it has to be clean before we go to bed. He always asks "why do you decide this when I want to go to bed?" The answer is - I have no idea - but sometimes it just has to be done.

So Very, Very Tired

Sigh, here we are again...Monday.
I'm actually in a great mood but am feeling a little lethargic. It could be because I didn't crawl into bed until 1am. I got sidetracked by all the good movies on tv and then nearly fell off the couch when I dragged my eyes away from the tv long enough to look at the clock. That was too late, even by my standards!

It could also (and more likely) be because the husband was snoring. Again. He seems to be on a roll with it lately. I even had him pick up a box of Breathe Right Strips the other day because they've helped in the past - but this time around they only seem to bring him to a new height of annoyance.

For now he is not simply snoring - but making gurgles, and half words, and squeaks, and whistles, and sounds as though he's speaking some sort of language.

Usually when the snoring starts things go down like this: I sigh loudly to partially wake him up, hoping he'll move on his own and cease the snoring. Next I will shift around on my side, hoping again that it will be enough to stir him. Thirdly I will kick one foot down hard on the mattress, in a more aggressive approach to the "innocent" wake up. If that doesn't work I will mumble obscenities to myself then softly say "baby, roll over." If there is still no response my voice will go up a couple of octaves and I will half yell "Christopher, roll over!" And if that doesn't work I will grab his arm, or kick him (whichever happens first) and yell "Dammit Chris, roll over before I friggin' kill you!"

Now usually I get the job done by the softly calling him baby and asking him to roll over, but there have been occasions that have called for the most aggressive approach - and, if all else fails, either me banishing him to the spare bedroom or stomping out myself in the middle of the night.

But last night was scary. He was making all these gurgly sounds and then all of a sudden I wouldn't hear anything for like 10 seconds. Then he would be noisy again for a minute or two and then it would be dead silent. I tried to wake him up by talking to him, asking him if he was okay. No response except then the gurgling/snoring started again. I laid my head back down and waited and sure enough he was silent again so I grabbed his arm and shook him. No response for a few seconds and then more snoring. I started panicking and sat there listening for him. The next time he was quiet I turned on my lamp and sat up in bed and grabbed his face. He didn't even flinch when the light went on and I had to call him a couple times to get him to respond.

I asked him if he took anything before bed and he half mumbled that he did last night, which I still don't know meant Sunday night or Saturday night. His allergies have been acting up and he's been taking Benadryl so I was wondering if maybe he had taken one that was making him groggy.

By 4:30 this morning I had had enough and he was snoring consistently enough for me to believe he wasn't going to die - so I got up for the day. By 5:30 I was ready for work - never mind the fact that I don't start till 8.

Sheesh, three and a half hours of broken sleep just isn't enough for me...I wonder how long it will take before I crash for the day? And oh joy of joys, tonight is baseball - which means beer - which means more snoring.

Wish me luck.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles*

*Except this story involves no planes and no automobiles, but it does involve my daddy.

You guys all know how much I love my dad. If I didn't think it would make you all sick of hearing about him I would talk about him all the time.
Anyways, you might not know what he does. He is an engineer for CN Railway - has been since he was 19, and will retire on his 55th birthday in June of 2009. He works really hard, always has, and is a great role model in that respect.
When I started working as an editor I quickly noticed that there was a set of tracks that runs along behind our office. The tracks are up in the air as there are roads that run underneath them, and they are pretty much level with our third floor office.
The same week I started working here I called my dad and asked him if he is ever on that track - once he figured out where it was he told me that he only goes by about 4 or 5 times a year. Right then I made him promise that if he ever goes by during the day that he has to call me and let me know so I can wave at him.
As soon as my co-workers found out that he was an engineer they were excited, and at least once a day since then when a train goes by someone will yell "Hey Ali, is that your dad?" to which I have always had to reply no. Until this week.
Late in the afternoon a few days ago, we were all starting to wind down for the day, Krista had just left, Zig and I were packing up and my cell phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and the display reads "Daddy's Cell."
During the day this can mean one of two things. 1. Something terrible has happened and there is a family emergency or 2. My dad is in town and will be in the city for the evening and wants to go for dinner. Hoping it's the second option I flip open my phone and say "Hi Daddy."
I can hear the engine in the background and my dad is practically screaming so I can hear him. He says "guess where I am" and I said "on the train, but I have no idea where..." -and then my lightbulb dinged- and I screamed "You're coming down the tracks by my office!" And he laughed and said "yep, I'll be there in 10 minutes."
I started jumping up and down and yelled at Zig and James (and was very sad when I realized that Krista had already left for the day) that my dad was going by on the train. Zig was very excited too and he ran and got his camera and waited patiently in my office. I, on the other hand, was pressed up against the glass like a little kid at a candy store.
And soon enough, we heard the low roar of the train, and then we felt the vibration in our feet, and the train was coming around the corner.

I climbed up on my windowsill and watched very closely. Sure enough, as the train got closer the little door in the front of the engine opened and out walked my dad! He stood out there and waved at us and I waved and squealed and Zig snapped these pictures while James shied away behind us.
When the engine was passed by I called my dad's cell to tell him I love him and thanks for remembering to call me.

It was an exciting end to a busy day - and just one more reason why I love my dad.

Crazy...Like a Fox

So, here's the thing about me...I'm what you might call a wild person. Other adjectives often used to describe me and my personality are crazy, outrageous, eccentric, peculiar, and the like.

Now I'm not crazy like I'm going to put a booger in your sandwich, or run naked into traffic on the highway, or even set a building on fire. Nothing so severe as that.

I'm more likely to be the person you will find having a shrieking laughing fit in the middle of a crowded restaurant, or running and screaming down a concourse because a co-worker is chasing me, or flashing someone from my office window. And every "crazy" thing I do is purely in the name of fun, never to hurt anyone else or cause them discomfort.

I was raised to be vocal, and outspoken, and not shy in the least - by my dad that is. I've told you before about my mom and how she thinks I'm ridiculous - but my dad has always encouraged me to be myself. He always says "you just be yourself babe, don't worry what anyone else thinks." I can't tell you how grateful I am that he instilled that in me.

When I met Chris it was a match made in heaven. He was the wild one in his class at school too, and we went together like peas and carrots. Over the years he has calmed down quite a bit, but he still gets wound up once in a while and we almost die from laughing so hard. But most of the time it's me being wild and him laughing away.

Over my life I've only met a handful of people that can really handle me when I'm being my complete and honest self ; the husband, my best friend Monica (the Bahama Mama), my friend Rachel, my dad, and now a couple of co-workers. I know that the way I am makes some people uncomfortable, and most probably wish I was a little more mature - but this is the way I am. I probably have more fun in a day than 3 people put together.

Occasionally people do get to me. Snippy comments, shitty attitudes and snotty looks sometimes make me feel badly and that maybe I should try to be more subdued. But then, those fabulous people that support me (England James as of late) remind me that it's always better to be true to yourself, and I remember that they are right.

So, this is me, wild and crazy, take me or leave me.

Windblown Goddess or Knotty Haired Wannabe?

What is it about driving on summery days that offers up such sex appeal?

There is just something about driving through the city with the windows down, music blaring, sunglasses on, and the wind whipping through my hair that makes me feel like some sort of goddess.
At each red light I slow down and focus on the song that's on the radio or cd player and sing at the top of my lungs while I wait for the light to turn green.
Invariably I get looks from people in other vehicles - sometimes a disapproving glance from an elderly husband and wife, an "I'm way cooler than you" sneer from the 18 year old in the next car, the occasional appreciative glance from a truckful of construction workers, and sometimes a smile from the other 20 or 30 somethings who recognize the tune and are singing along as well.
As the light turns green I focus back on the road, but for some reason feel sexier because now my black hair is whipping around my face and stretching out the window, caught in the swirling wind.

The thing is - there is really nothing sexy about the whole scene. Every second car has got another girl in it doing the exact same thing, though usually they are true girls of summer because they have long golden locks and sun kissed skin. Half the time the music is something only I would enjoy, and some people are probably annoyed that I have it cranked so loud. And at the end of the day when I get home, my hair is such a mess, that it takes me 15 minutes just to work through all the knots.

Yet still, still I love the idea of getting up and driving to work every morning just so I can do it. And I love it even more in the evenings, with the hot afternoon sun shining and warming my arms and legs.

Oh summer, how I've missed you.

Peach Bellinis and Grape Walls

It has been a couple busy days for me. The husband left for Ontario bright and early Friday morning, and so I took Friday and Saturday to do some girly and work related stuff.

Friday was frantic - lots of stuff coming in and out and some deadlines I was trying to hit, which, for the most part, I did - yay! During our lunch hour (which turned into nearly 2 hours - but shhhhh) Krista, Zig and I headed to Home Depot for some supplies.

Supplies? For what?
Well, because there has been so much turmoil at work lately which is slowly but surely getting cleaned up, most people have been in a much better mood. And since we've all switched offices recently and all have our own now, we decided that it would be nice to get rid of our plain, white, scuffed and molested walls and to have some colour in there. We had to pick from a certain selection of colours that the "building" agrees with, but we were all happy and decided on what we would like.

Since we volunteered to do it on our own and come in on a weekend, our boss offered to pay for all our painting supplies and enough beer and pizza to get us through the day. To most people that still wouldn't be much of an incentive for the manual labour, but as many of you know, the three of us really love our jobs, plus we have lots of fun hanging out together. So the idea of beer, food, comfy clothes, loud music and "new" offices sounded like a great idea to us.

So, whoa, back on track here.

Friday we got all our supplies, and then at 5 o'clock I had a date with a Princess. For any of you that might be wondering - I'm meaning Princess of the Universe, whom I have recently met and have come to like a lot. She is fabulous - funny, sweet, silly, pretty...exactly what a good girlfriend should be.
So we met at a restaurant not far from where we both work - annoyed our waitress by never being ready to order because we were too busy gabbing to look at the menu's, and ate till I was almost ready to be sick. It was great.
I got to have my first...and second...white peach bellinis of the year (my mouth is watering just thinking about it) and we even ordered dessert, which I never do.

I couldn't finish my supper (though I did pretty good!) but I almost finished every last bite of this ice cream, caramel and toffee, diabetic coma on a plate. Oh man, sooooo good.
Poor Princess, it took me so long to eat because I was talking so much, she must have had a headache by the time we left.


Saturday morning I woke up bright and early, pulled on a pair of the husband's hospital scrubs and a bright red t-shirt, pulled my hair back and slipped on my flip-flops. Then loaded myself up with a step-ladder, coffee, garbage bags and rags, and made my way downtown.
When I got there Zig already had AC/DC so loud that the walls were shaking and we began unloading all my stuff. Krista came in a couple minutes later with fans and dropsheets and we got down to business.
My office is the corner office (not so glamourous as it sounds - believe me) and has three huge windows - so I opted to use the same dark grape/charcoal colour on all the walls. With that much natural light it stilll looks bright even with the dark colour.

Krista and Zig both decided to do that same dark colour on one wall, then use this yellowy, toffee sort of colour on their other three. Krista made the observation that it looked kind of like peanut butter and jelly, so I spent the rest of the day walking into both of their offices singing the "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" song.

Despite the physical labour, we spent a lot of the day laughing and singing along to AC/DC. We each ordered an extra large pizza for lunch, and had a Heineken or two, or three, or four, or five throughout the day. I knew it would be fun, but I didn't think it would be that much fun.

The last hour we were there Krista and Zig were being fabulous employees and moving all their furniture back into place, hanging up their frames, hooking up their computers. But me? I pushed my desk back, pulled my filing cabinet in from the hall, put my bulletin board up and went and sat in the kitchen for another beer and piece of pizza.
Zig came in and was telling me about how sore his feet were and I kind of laughed and told him that mine didn't - teasing him that he was getting old.
But holy crap - my body rebelled overnight and seized up on me. Today I am walking around in my pj's like an 85 year old woman - all bent over and going "Ah, my legs...ooh, my back...shit, my wrist" - apparently I am old too. But it will be worth the pain tomorrow - when I walk in to my grape office and feel a little shiver of happiness.

Oh, the husband just walked in the door - and since it's been 3 days since I've seen him - I should go and be wifey. Have a wonderful rest of the weekend!

Swirling Thoughts

This past week I can't seem to get enough to eat.
As someone who is generally not a big eater - this is a major switch. It's so ridiculous that yesterday I got home at 4:30, and ate right up until the time the husband got home at 8:15. Then I munched on stuff while he ate his disgusting farmer sausage.
My hunger is insatiable...but I am not alone, for Krista has been the same way this week.
I don't feel so bad when I can hear her down the hall at 9:30am asking if it's lunchtime yet.
The muffin in this picture? It was enormous, but I demolished it in about 3 minutes, and damn it was good.

Here is the husband just a little while ago. He was very intently playing college football on his Playstation and I decided to lay on the floor and take a picture of the lights on it. They were shining all blue and green and I thought they would make a cool picture. Turns out - not so cool.
But then once I got down on the floor I laid there for about 15 minutes because I was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. It must be because my 27th birthday is coming up next month.

I went for another guitar lesson tonight after work. It was a great lesson. I had missed last week and realized that I don't do so well in the practice department without a weekly lesson.
My teacher is great though - he is very patient, and when I'm acting like a brat, saying "Blah, I quit, this is too hard" he says "No you're not - now do it again." And then I do.
Nobody bosses me around, maybe that's why I respond well to it...

Remember how I was having such a shitty time last week? I said in an earlier post how everyone at work was so great about it and they all went out of their way to make me feel better?

Well this is the white board on my office door - James drew this to cheer me up. It worked.

A month or so ago I was complaining about work, and said that I had had enough and that I was going to demand my long-overdue raise.
Well I did.
And I got it.
I found out today.
I'm so happy I could scream.
Yay Ali!

As a result of the above news - the husband is heading to Ontario in the morning to spend the weekend with his parents. I have too much to do and will be staying in the city.
The husband will be dropping by our bank and turning in the paperwork about my raise. And then - well then the fun will really begin because we will begin the process of doing our mortgage paperwork. I'm scared but very excited.

Tomorrow night I am going out with Princess. We've met up a couple times via a group - but tomorrow will be the first time it's just us. She makes me laugh, and we are pretty similar so it should be a good time. Plus, as an added bonus - we will add in drinks and food and slutty waitresses we can make fun of - what's not great about that?

I think those are all the thoughts running through my mind at the moment, but before I bid you adieu I will leave you with a joke that I recently remembered and shared with a co-worker, who had a good laugh.


What did the snail say when it jumped on the turtle's back?


Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Hurry Up Brain

Why am I finding it so difficult to blog lately? It's sort of mind-boggling to me because if you and I were together for 10 minutes you would understand that I very rarely shut up. Or lack something to yak about. It just never happens - my mind moves too quickly and my mouth is like a speedboat, so it is never quiet when I'm around.

So, why then am I having so much trouble coming up with blog topics? It's almost as though my mouth is spewing word vomit but my brain has nothing to do with it. It's just kind of there holding all the random words in a big vomitous cesspool of blackness - with any coherent brain function nowhere to be found.

This afternoon as I was coming to grips with all this lack of brain power I decided that there was just no way I could come up with a blog topic, so I screamed - no, I mean whispered softly in delicate girly tones - down the hall at Zig and asked him to take me a couple pictures. He asked me of what and I told him that it didn't matter - just to take some and put them on our server so I could go pick one. And then I would write my blog about it. The photo above is the one I chose.

I do know what this photo is of - but I'm starting to think that I picked it subliminally because it sort of represents the way I just described my brain and it's lack of proper function.
Black, with little spots of light where some coherent thoughts are struggling to break through.

Well, I've been in a hell of a lot better mood this week than last - maybe my brain just needs a little more time to catch up with my attitude.

*Thanks Zig, for taking all the photos for me.