Thursday, April 21, 2011

Acceptance Speech

The amazing Lady Antimony recently gave me an award. Not just any award, but "One Lovely Blog Award"!! AND to top it all off, it's my FIRST EVER BLOG AWARD! I was tres excited. Awards make me happy and bashful and humbled and all that jazz. And then I brag. This is why you give your kid gold stars when they do something right. Then they become over-achievers and competitive and yearn for awards and recognition. Right? I'm right, right? Can you tell I got gold stars as a kid? We put them on my headboard.

So anyway, this week was not a blogging week for me. My creative juices were, well, in sludge form. Heck, I was in sludge form. (Also, I wish that the word "I" was longer so that people would know when I was emphasizing it.)

So, to make up for my lack of presence this week, I have an absolutely embarrassing admission to make. I'm kind of excited to see Fast and Furious Five. WAIT! Let me finish. Not that I expect it to be a stellar movie, but you know there will be sick action scenes and 3 half naked bodies that really should not be missed. Vin Diesel, Paul Walker and Dwayne Johnson... oh my. Rawr.

Oh, I guess it's my turn to pass this on to some lovely bloggers. There are some seriously talented writers out there, and I thoroughly enjoy reading these:

Happy Easter my pretties. I'm looking forward to quality time with friends, family and ham. (Hint to parentals: Get a ham if you haven't already planned on it.. and I'd like some scalloped potatoes too.)

Thursday, April 14, 2011

I forgot to name this one.. my bad

In case I haven't over shared with some of you yet... here is me from A to Z! (And if you're Canadian, that rhymed). I stole this from Jen O. from My Tornado Alley. She is also Canadian. And ridiculously awesome.

A. Age: 25 and 3/4
B. Bed size: Double. If a queen could fit in my bedroom, and I could afford it, I'd get one. Because I think even then I could take up the entire bed.
C. Chore you dislike: Dishes. Actually, I dislike most chores. But especially dishes.
D. Dogs: I love them. I've had a couple of big dogs and would love to get a small-medium size dog. Nothing that could fit in my pocket or that I could roll over and kill though. (It's a deal breaker for me)
E. Essential start to your day: Coffee coffee coffee. It's all I think about until I get one.
F. Favorite color: I think it's teal, but maybe I just think that because I used to like it. More likely, it's grey. Ohh, I think that maybe it could be a bluey grey.
G. Gold or silver: Silver, but I wear some gold, and also love brass.
H. Height: 5'5". I seem taller though don't I?
I. Instruments you play(ED): You will love this: Keyboard, recorder, ukelele and hand bells (yes, really). I think I still have the uke.
J. Job title: Brand manager. Baby wrangler on occasion.
K. Kids: I'd like to think that I'm not a kid anymore, but I do revert back to when I was 10 sometimes. Oh, do I have any? No.
L. Live: Toronto. If you couldn't already tell by my blog image.
M. Mom’s name: So many mom jokes, so little time.
N. Nicknames: Alex, fow, LF, Lex, Lexington, Lex Luther, Lexi, Zandra, Sweets. To name a few.
O. Overnight hospital stays: Less than 5 I think. I was in the hospital a few times as a kid, but haven't stayed overnight since then.
P. Pet peeves: Read post below.
Q. Quote from a movie: "Who wants a mustache ride?"
R. Righty or Lefty: Lefty! What whaat.
S. Siblings: A younger brother. I can't say little brother because he's been taller than me for more than half my life. I also have friends/family that are like sisters to me. But he is the only one that came out of the same va-jay-jay. :)

Look how tall and handsome my brother is!

T. Time you wake up: 9am. Bitches. I would prefer an 11 am wake up though. I don't do mornings.
U. Underwear: Thank you for not using the "P" word. Yes, I wear them. Every day.
V. Vegetables you don’t like: Zucchini. Or is that a "fruit"? Brussel sprouts.
W. What makes you run late: I do. My lack of organization.. And my mom.
X. X-rays you’ve had: Chest, skull, back - that I can remember.
Y. Yummy food you make: 5 layer nacho dip. And oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. That's it.
Z. Zoo Animal Favourites: The lions. RAWR. Pretty much anything furry actually. Especially polar bears. I did a project on one named Snowball one time. He died. I was sad.


Monday, April 11, 2011

What Really Grinds MY Gears

I go through different phases of "hate-ons". If I were you, I wouldn't want to be hated-on by me. My family can attest to that.

The past couple of months there have been a couple of things that have developed into full pet peeves. I loathe thee. Steam comes out of my ears. My eyes bulge. Veins pop. And if I could, I would Hulk smash. (Oh man, I really wish I could Hulk smash..)

1. Dog shit. Hey guess what? DOGS SHIT. Every day. Shocker, I know. It's too bad there wasn't some way of picking up after your dog. Sorry, hold on a second, I'm getting some news from headquarters. You can use BAGS? No fucking way. This, folks, is a game changer.

Except it isn't. Not only will any old bag do, but they even have dog shit bags. And special dog shit bag holders to attach to your leash. So that you don't forget them when you take your dog out. What, you don't like picking up shit? Then why did you get a dog? It's like buying a plant and not watering it. Or having kids but not taking them out for walks.

I have walked by pile after pile of shit every single day. And when the snow melted I saw even more. Did ya think that the snow would hide it douchebags?

Here is what I hope. I hope that you step in it. I hope that you step in a dog's shit, and not only that, that the dog is bigger than yours. Maybe you'll be wearing white sneakers or new heels. I hope it ruins them. You, asshole, are an asshole.

2. Taxis that honk at you. I'm talking about as a pedestrian. Unless I know you, you have no reason to honk at me. Or maybe if I'm about to walk into traffic, then you can honk at me. But otherwise? You get grouped with all the other scumbags who honk at passersby. There's nothing more irksome than walking down the street and having some slime ball honk at you and cat call.

Sooo why are you taxi drivers honking at me? Oh, you think I didn't notice you? Maybe I need a cab? If I needed a cab, you would know. In case you're new to this, someone who would like a cab will do the following: raise arm, either all the way up in the air, or out at about a 45 degree angle; make eye contact with cab; whistle if one is so talented as to be able to loudly do so.

So, next time you honk at me, don't be shocked if you see a bird. (No, not THAT bird you perverts, the one that you flip!)

3. Actually, that's all I have for now. These 2 things really piss me off. So if you partake in either. Watch yo back. And your step.

Otherwise, carry on. I probably like you. And if you see someone leave their dog shit behind. Yell at them. Fling dog poo like the monkeys do.

Yes this post is full of broken sentences. Deal. With. It.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

I'm basically like Ariel

So, we've all been there right? You find something you love and suddenly you have 100 of it. So you call it a collection. My nan collects spoons and owls. It just so happens that my favourite utensil is the spoon, and I also love owls. If she ever tired of her collections, she'd be screwed, because every year she is bound to get more owl paraphernalia and spoons from family members.

Then there's me. I like collecting things just to have collections. Seriously. The idea of having a collection really excites me. It's like I'm in my own little club and I have a cool collection. I also love clubs. Sure, the dancy bar kind, but more so the kind that you join membership to. Like a craft club (note: I am not yet part of a craft club, but I have a name for myself if I ever join one.. Crafty Cat*), or a book club (which I am a part of and LOVE).. or a cool kids club. Those exist, right? If someone ever wants me to sign up for anything, just call it a club, and HECK YES I will join. Can we take attendance?

Whoa. Anyway, sorry for getting all excited there. Back to collections. More specifically, my collections.

I've had many, many collections over the past couple decades.

1. Rocks. I still collect rocks. I have some rocks from France on my bookshelf right now. How cool is that? Way cooler than when I used to steal rocks from other people's front gardens. Also, I wish rocks would stay the same pretty colour as when they are wet. For a child there is nothing more disappointing than taking her rock collection from the stream out and realizing that they are all dull grey. Not shiny and pretty. However, I did have a real rock collection. With amethyst, fool's gold, tiger's eye, quartz, marble, amber and so many others. I loved it. And I still have it. I used to love going to this one store when I was a kid and picking out my next rock.

2. Tabs from cans. What? Why? I don't remember. But I collected them. Maybe they used them to make wheelchairs? I had a shit ton of them and then threw them out when I was tired of them. But I'm pretty sure I held on to them dearly for longer than I should have.. and I didn't make wheelchairs out of them. I also spent a summer collecting beer bottle caps. We won't talk about how many I collected, or what possessed me to collect them. They smell bad.

3. Nail polish. First off, when I was a kid I loved garage sales. Others' junk was my JACKPOT. Much to my parents' chagrin. So, after I bought a bike at a garage sale ($15 bitches) I started going to even more garage sales. Mind you, my memory from my childhood is skewed (I blame it on competitions my brother and I would have to see who could hit their head on the wall harder.....) so I could have only gone to like, 3 garage sales. But I doubt it. So, nail polish. I bought 49 bottles and 2 things of nail polish remover from one lady. Forty nine bottles. And I kept them. And I bought more over the years. I went through a mini phase where I bought mini bottles of nail polish. I still like to collect nail polish, but I also throw old colours away. Maybe some kid can buy my collection some day. And the cycle shall continue.

4. Shit from White Rose. Anybody else remember this place? It was like Michael's on crack. It was this massive crafty type of store and I was in heaven. There was always something I wanted. Like boxes, any type of box - wooden, glass, woven, paper. Or old school candle holders with wicks and oil. Or candles, or even beeswax to make candles. What didn't I need from that place? I wanted everything!

5. Stuffed animals. There's a picture of me as a baby surrounded by a collection of stuffed animals. It was like Where's Waldo. And that's where my teddy collection began. My dad would occasionally bring me back a teddy bear from his business trips too. And then those damn Beanie Babies came around and I was all gaga over those. But there was one condition to this phase - the stuffed animal could have clothing, as long as it was removable. Because duh, bears don't really have tee shirts. They also don't have tags, so those came off too. I still have a couple of stuffed animals in my cupboard: AJ the green bear, Stitch (my old roomie gave him to me), and a tiny dog that my mom got me after I begged for a dog one year.

6. Keys. This started when I was a kid, and I still collect keys. I have always been fascinated by them. Big, small, old, new. I love them all. I recently bought some jailer's keys and adore them!

You thought that was it? No, here are more of my collections: lip gloss (I even made my own), clown faces (not my best moment), stickers (who didn't collect stickers!), photos, denim, perfume and starburst wrappers (what?!).

* When you say Crafty Cat, you have to say it like a Cool Cat that plays jazz. Get it? And do a little head bob and wave your hands.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Men.. Can't Ever Win Anymore

To the men, I'm sure they're all throwing their arms up in the air right now and shouting "I KNOW!" Sorry boys, but this whole equality thing means lose-lose for you.

There are moments when I get really frustrated with the lack of chivalry in today's society. More often than not, doors are not opened for me. I can count the number of times on one hand that my chair has been pulled out for me. My last foot rub?  High school.

I was once seeing a guy who was very chivalrous. I was so shocked and blown away that I didn't know how to handle it. He insisted on opening doors for me, went to my side of the car first to open the car door, and shut it. (No, mom, you never met him. I'm sorry, yes, he was very nice, but you have to know I would have scared him off eventually.) Had we ever gone out to dinner, I'm sure he would have pulled out my chair for me. I thought it was an act at first, but then realized that it was genuine. Clearly he had a good mama that raised him right! Then he said that I didn't act very lady-like, and that I had a trucker mouth, and could I please not use such foul language? And that was the end of that.

So clearly, having a guy who is eager to please, always at your beck and call, the type of guy you'd love to bring home to the parents.. well we're just not into him either.

Then there's the other side of things. I can build my own furniture, shovel the driveway, kill spiders, do the heavy lifting, and even take myself out for dinner. And I know that it's partly the "tough guy" in me. For example, I'm not one to ask for help when carrying something heavy. In fact, I love carrying heavy items just to show off my muscles ([mus][kles]). They're huge... I never outgrew the "I can do it myself!" phase. And I'm sure you know where I stand on sex. Sorry parentals if you're reading.

I don't need a man to support me financially, I was raised to be independent. I was brought up to shatter glass ceilings. But does that mean that I should pay for all meals out? Or not get spoiled? (Hypothetically of course..) Just because women are now making as much money as men, doesn't mean that they don't want to be wined and dined. I feel as if in the process of women gaining more power, more control over their own lives, and being able to have a say in society, we forgot to demand respect as well. Or maybe that's the problem, we demanded. Apparently men aren't huge fans of "being told". Clearly while training them we need to be more discreet about it.

So, men, you can't:
  • Be too nice
  • Be an asshole
  • Offer your help
  • Not offer your help
  • Be the little spoon
  • Not spoon at all
  • Offer to carry her purse
  • Not offer to carry her groceries
  • Be her bitch
  • Call her a bitch
  • Call all the time
  • Not call at all
  • And the list goes on..

For more sage advice, you can always email this single gal who hasn't been in a relationship in.. well a really long time.