It is winter. Officially. Well, really, it has technically been winter for a while.... but it was not until this week that I really acknowledged that it was here. It is at this time that I dig out the winter gear, and begin to warm up my car for 20 minutes every morning. It is also the time of year that my morning grouchy-ness increases about 10 fold.
Few people have witnessed the true nature of grouchy that I am when I wake up in the morning. My mom and sisters have gotten the worst of it in the past... and since my dad is usually gone to work before I trudge downstairs... he didn't really ever see me at my worst. Basically, there are 4 rules for the morning when dealing with me:
1) DO NOT steal my shower time, then act surprised when I am irritated and waiting outside with my towel. I shower at the SAME TIME EVERY WEEKDAY MORNING. And if I need it at a different time, I announce it the night before. DO NOT SCREW WITH THE SCHEDULE.
2) DO NOT dry your hair in the master bathroom AT THE SAME TIME THAT I AM DRYING MY HAIR in my room. We are on the same circuit and if there are 2 dryers going at the same time, we blow a fuse. EVERY TIME. And you know what? I DRY MY HAIR AT THE SAME TIME EVERY MORNING.
3) DO NOT ask me questions.
4) If you break rule 3, DO NOT say 'what?' when I mumble something that I am fully aware is incomprehensible.
ANYWAY, yesterday morning, I woke up to the ending of some Avril Lavigne song playing in the background and our local radio personality says 'It's a cold one out there today folks.... -40C, so dress warm!!!!'
[For those of you who don't know, or who are American and use the Fahrenheit system, -40C=-40F. This is the point on the temperature scale(s) that Celsius and Fahrenheit meet. Also known as: the point at which living things will freeze in 4.2 seconds. Okay, the second part of that is not true... and honestly, I've experienced -53C before.... but -40 is no joke.]
And do you know what I did when I heard that it was -40 outside? I pulled the blankets over my head, fell back asleep (with the radio on) for 2 hours. I refused to get up. I refused to get ready. I refused to go outside. All day. I spent the day working at home (on the little work that I could do) and drank tea and hot chocolate.
I have always liked winter, and never really had a problem with living in a place that is famous for being ridiculously cold...but this year it is different. I have lost my cold tolerance. Last year I would have laughed at -40. I would have shaken my fist in the air and said 'is that all you've got? HAHAHAHAHA'. This year, I retreat into my house and execute a hole-up plan with my little dog, muttering about how the only living thing that should live in this place is an 800lbs buffalo. I think I need to consider either a) becoming a full-on hermit through winter (not unlike hibernation), or b) spend the winter months somewhere else. Both, require serious re-arrangement of my life.
#18. My favorite TV show is How I Met Your Mother. It is hilarious. The kind of hilarious that makes people think you are completely insane when you giggle hysterically when you are alone in your room.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Friday, October 05, 2007
The evils of swimwear
I am not going to apologize for not posting. It is lame.
Moving on, you may remember that my friend ‘E’ is getting married in Vegas… in 2 weeks. So, as I am mentally checking off the clothes/hair and makeup/shoes/booze that I will need while in Sin City, and I came across bathing suit. Shit. I don’t have one. I actually haven’t gone swimming in quite some time (I do not live somewhere that warrants the use of a swimsuit more than maybe twice a year- unless you have a hot tub and I don’t).
Upon realizing this, I immediately went out shopping for one (Hi, it is October). Luckily, there is a store specifically for swimsuits in my city (who knew?), and I was sure there would be something for me there. In a store devoted to swimwear, how can there NOT be something that would work? So in I go. Looking…. Looking…. Looking.
Soon, I realize that there are 5 types of swim suits for women:
1) The old lady/morbidly obese swimsuit- This one basically looks like a mu mu… except tight. It is pretty sexy.
2) The sports/speed racing swimsuit- Clearly the only people who buy these ones are also the people who shave every inch of their body to increase their speed. I doubt the patrons of Caesars would take well to me doing a breaststroke across the pool (because you basically have to prove yourself as a strong swimmer to wear this one).
3) The Middle aged swimsuit- Basically, if you are under 60 but over 45… this one is for you. Flowery, not ‘showy’, and has tummy control.
4) The small bikini. For women with little girls bodies. When the ‘bra’ (I use quotations here because it is NOT a bra in any way…) is smaller than the palm of your hand, it will not work for anyone who has either past puberty or weighs more than 100lbs. Seriously, not only will this bikini not fit you, but it won’t look good. It is not okay for someone to wear a bikini that is too small for them… even if they have an amazing body, wearing a too small bikini looks awkward/weird/gross.
5) The suit for everyone else- This one is almost like the ‘one size fits all’ clothing that you see in grocery stores/cheap ass stores. Usually, the ‘everyone else’ suit is a two piece (either a bikini or tankini) and comes in a variety of sizes/colours/fits. HOWEVER, as with the ‘one size fits all’ clothing, there are always those certain people who can’t wear this type of suit. I, for instance, am one of them.
The biggest problem? My breasts. Yup. I have large breasts. I won’t lie. I tried convincing my friends last weekend that my boobs were not as big as they thought, and really not much bigger than theirs. This lead to them trying on my bra and giggling while discussing how if they combined the size of their boobs, it would still be too big OR (my favourite) that they could STUFF IT WITH AN ENTIRE SHEET and it would still be too big. While I do think this a gross exaggeration (and probably had something to do with the 5 bottles of wine we consumed), I can not deny that I do have large breasts. Maybe in another post I will write about why having large breasts is only good for two things: attracting the very wrong kind of guy; or attracting the wrath of the women whose boyfriends are looking at them. But I digress.
Upon realizing that no swimsuit is sold in mainstream stores that would fit my criteria I went shopping online. I found one I kind of liked and decided to give it a try. This is code for ‘I found a website that does not charge extra for shipping exchanges/returns of product, so I ordered 10 and returned 9’. However, I spent the majority of last night sewing in a bra to the top of the suit…. Which is problematic in so many ways.
1) I am not a good seamstress. Clearly, sewing a bra into something that is basically Lycra is difficult, if not impossible.
2) The bra might hold more water than I am estimating it will, thus falling off completely. Yikes.
3) The bra might poke out at one point (although this is nearly impossible. Either it is all coming off or none of it is). Nonetheless, imagine me frolicking through the water with my breasts held in check, and OOPS the bra slips out. ‘Hey Maryanne!’ says the hot groomsman ‘What is going on with your top?’. And I would have to reply ‘Well, I had to sew a bra into my top because it wasn’t supportive enough for my gigantic breasts!’
Classy.
Moving on, you may remember that my friend ‘E’ is getting married in Vegas… in 2 weeks. So, as I am mentally checking off the clothes/hair and makeup/shoes/booze that I will need while in Sin City, and I came across bathing suit. Shit. I don’t have one. I actually haven’t gone swimming in quite some time (I do not live somewhere that warrants the use of a swimsuit more than maybe twice a year- unless you have a hot tub and I don’t).
Upon realizing this, I immediately went out shopping for one (Hi, it is October). Luckily, there is a store specifically for swimsuits in my city (who knew?), and I was sure there would be something for me there. In a store devoted to swimwear, how can there NOT be something that would work? So in I go. Looking…. Looking…. Looking.
Soon, I realize that there are 5 types of swim suits for women:
1) The old lady/morbidly obese swimsuit- This one basically looks like a mu mu… except tight. It is pretty sexy.
2) The sports/speed racing swimsuit- Clearly the only people who buy these ones are also the people who shave every inch of their body to increase their speed. I doubt the patrons of Caesars would take well to me doing a breaststroke across the pool (because you basically have to prove yourself as a strong swimmer to wear this one).
3) The Middle aged swimsuit- Basically, if you are under 60 but over 45… this one is for you. Flowery, not ‘showy’, and has tummy control.
4) The small bikini. For women with little girls bodies. When the ‘bra’ (I use quotations here because it is NOT a bra in any way…) is smaller than the palm of your hand, it will not work for anyone who has either past puberty or weighs more than 100lbs. Seriously, not only will this bikini not fit you, but it won’t look good. It is not okay for someone to wear a bikini that is too small for them… even if they have an amazing body, wearing a too small bikini looks awkward/weird/gross.
5) The suit for everyone else- This one is almost like the ‘one size fits all’ clothing that you see in grocery stores/cheap ass stores. Usually, the ‘everyone else’ suit is a two piece (either a bikini or tankini) and comes in a variety of sizes/colours/fits. HOWEVER, as with the ‘one size fits all’ clothing, there are always those certain people who can’t wear this type of suit. I, for instance, am one of them.
The biggest problem? My breasts. Yup. I have large breasts. I won’t lie. I tried convincing my friends last weekend that my boobs were not as big as they thought, and really not much bigger than theirs. This lead to them trying on my bra and giggling while discussing how if they combined the size of their boobs, it would still be too big OR (my favourite) that they could STUFF IT WITH AN ENTIRE SHEET and it would still be too big. While I do think this a gross exaggeration (and probably had something to do with the 5 bottles of wine we consumed), I can not deny that I do have large breasts. Maybe in another post I will write about why having large breasts is only good for two things: attracting the very wrong kind of guy; or attracting the wrath of the women whose boyfriends are looking at them. But I digress.
Upon realizing that no swimsuit is sold in mainstream stores that would fit my criteria I went shopping online. I found one I kind of liked and decided to give it a try. This is code for ‘I found a website that does not charge extra for shipping exchanges/returns of product, so I ordered 10 and returned 9’. However, I spent the majority of last night sewing in a bra to the top of the suit…. Which is problematic in so many ways.
1) I am not a good seamstress. Clearly, sewing a bra into something that is basically Lycra is difficult, if not impossible.
2) The bra might hold more water than I am estimating it will, thus falling off completely. Yikes.
3) The bra might poke out at one point (although this is nearly impossible. Either it is all coming off or none of it is). Nonetheless, imagine me frolicking through the water with my breasts held in check, and OOPS the bra slips out. ‘Hey Maryanne!’ says the hot groomsman ‘What is going on with your top?’. And I would have to reply ‘Well, I had to sew a bra into my top because it wasn’t supportive enough for my gigantic breasts!’
Classy.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Sometimes I hate everyone.
After yet another conversation with my sister and her douche of a boyfriend, I find myself bored, frustrated and incredibly irritated. Yesterday, they decided it would be best if she moved out to give them both space (ie. he freaked out again and she is really confused). Being the amazing sister that I am, I left work, navigated myself through the labyrinth of construction to pick her up, took her out to lunch, and listened to her for 2 hours about their relationship.
Hearing about their relationship creeps me out. I don’t know why, but it does, so the fact that I listened to her talk about it for TWO effing hours is pretty impressive. Eventually, she asked me what I would have done. I hate this question. She wants me to say that I would have done exactly what she did. She wants me to reaffirm that giving him space was the right thing to do. I CAN NOT SAY IT. I tried. I really did. I think I eventually said something along the lines of ‘well, I’m not emotionally involved, so I can’t really answer that’. However, there is no question in my mind that even if I was in love with this guy, I would have dumped him. NO QUESTION.
Then she asks me what kind of guy I am looking for. She has never asked me this before, so I am caught a little off guard (but mostly I am thankful to be talking about something other than her boyfriend). I listed off a few qualities and shrugged. I am pretty sure that this guy doesn’t exist, but I am young and still naïve enough to believe that he does, so I have no problem describing him to her. Then, she says ‘Well, you know who you are describing???? My boyfriend’. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I almost fell out of my chair. I tried to make myself say ‘oh, ha ha, okay’ but all I managed to do was suppress a cough of disbelief and become incredibly interested in my drink. What I wanted to say was:
‘Actually, I think your boyfriend is an inconsiderate, money hungry, uninteresting, boring douche bag with absolutely NONE of the qualities that I look for’.
I wanted to throw up. If he is my 'dream guy' I think I might start buying cats and settle in for a long 40 years of alone time.
#16. Sometimes I don't realize that I am talking unnecessarily loud. It doesn't usually become a problem unless I am talking about someone when they are, in fact, standing relatively close to me.
This reminds me of a little story about a young, red-headed girl (about 16) playing sociables at a party and getting harassed by another girl who kept saying 'Maryanne is cheating!!!!' (I wasn't), so the redhead whispered into the ear of the boy sitting next to her 'Jessica is so annoying!!!!!!!!!!!' Then he whispered back 'I know. And now everyone else does too because you didn't whisper that to me'. At this point the young, seemingly oblivious redhead looked up to see 10 people casting nervous looks between herself and Jessica. Thinking she could play this off, the young redhead laughed and said 'oh I'm just kidding Jessica!!!! hahhahah'. She didn't seem to think so and thus began a 3 year slander campaign against the redhead. Although, it wasn't too successful because most people did think that Jessica was annoying.
Also note that alcohol significantly increases the likelihood of inappropriately loud talking.
Hearing about their relationship creeps me out. I don’t know why, but it does, so the fact that I listened to her talk about it for TWO effing hours is pretty impressive. Eventually, she asked me what I would have done. I hate this question. She wants me to say that I would have done exactly what she did. She wants me to reaffirm that giving him space was the right thing to do. I CAN NOT SAY IT. I tried. I really did. I think I eventually said something along the lines of ‘well, I’m not emotionally involved, so I can’t really answer that’. However, there is no question in my mind that even if I was in love with this guy, I would have dumped him. NO QUESTION.
Then she asks me what kind of guy I am looking for. She has never asked me this before, so I am caught a little off guard (but mostly I am thankful to be talking about something other than her boyfriend). I listed off a few qualities and shrugged. I am pretty sure that this guy doesn’t exist, but I am young and still naïve enough to believe that he does, so I have no problem describing him to her. Then, she says ‘Well, you know who you are describing???? My boyfriend’. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I almost fell out of my chair. I tried to make myself say ‘oh, ha ha, okay’ but all I managed to do was suppress a cough of disbelief and become incredibly interested in my drink. What I wanted to say was:
‘Actually, I think your boyfriend is an inconsiderate, money hungry, uninteresting, boring douche bag with absolutely NONE of the qualities that I look for’.
I wanted to throw up. If he is my 'dream guy' I think I might start buying cats and settle in for a long 40 years of alone time.
#16. Sometimes I don't realize that I am talking unnecessarily loud. It doesn't usually become a problem unless I am talking about someone when they are, in fact, standing relatively close to me.
This reminds me of a little story about a young, red-headed girl (about 16) playing sociables at a party and getting harassed by another girl who kept saying 'Maryanne is cheating!!!!' (I wasn't), so the redhead whispered into the ear of the boy sitting next to her 'Jessica is so annoying!!!!!!!!!!!' Then he whispered back 'I know. And now everyone else does too because you didn't whisper that to me'. At this point the young, seemingly oblivious redhead looked up to see 10 people casting nervous looks between herself and Jessica. Thinking she could play this off, the young redhead laughed and said 'oh I'm just kidding Jessica!!!! hahhahah'. She didn't seem to think so and thus began a 3 year slander campaign against the redhead. Although, it wasn't too successful because most people did think that Jessica was annoying.
Also note that alcohol significantly increases the likelihood of inappropriately loud talking.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Monday...
I am sitting in my very empty office, munching on an apple and listening to music (without my headphones on). All three of these seemingly normal things are very uncommon on a Monday in my office. Usually, there are three or more people in here, I only can eat an apple (or something equally crunchy) in the lounge, and I ALWAYS have to listen to music with earphones in.
I woke up at 6 am feeling slightly anxious due to some seriously weird/disturbing dreams last night, then convinced myself to sleep for another hour or so. I woke up 2 and a half hours later because my alarm clock likes to fuck with me. I rush in the shower, and haphazardly put on my make-up and dry my hair (both of which are already looking a little disheveled), and then rush out to my car.
It is at this very moment that I remember that I am completely out of gas.... so much so, that I didn't think I would make it into my driveway last night. Dammit. I coax my car to the gas station 3 km away and hop out. A 'Please Pay Inside Before Pumping' sign is plastered over the display of pie charts on the pump illustrating that 49% of the cost of gas is due to government taxes. I walk inside (a little annoyed) and stand in line for nearly 15 minutes while the cashier chats with another employee who is NOT DOING ANYTHING. When I finally get the the front, I say 'I'd like $50 gas'. The cashier gives me a look and says 'well did you already pump it?' and I reply 'No... there is a sign out there saying to pay first!!!'. She then tries to convince me that the sign also says 'only after 11pm'. It doesn't. I know it doesn't. So I say 'okay, well, I'd still like $50 gas', thinking that she can just charge me now, so I don't have to wait in line again. She sighs, and says alright... I suppose we could do that for you. It took everything in me not to throw all the Kit Kats at her sitting beside me on the counter.
Annoyed, I finish pumping exactly $50 gas and drive off. I then sit in traffic for 20 minutes (on my 7 minute commute to work) because there is construction on every single route to work in this city. I debate with myself of what is worse. Sitting in construction in the summer, or driving 10 km/hr in the winter because it is icy. I decide that winter driving is worse and force myself to get into a better mood. 10:00 rolls around and I finally walk into my very empty building, wondering where everyone is. The coffee shop is closed, all the doors to offices are closed, nobody is in the building. I think it is a holiday or something. Either that, or they are fumigating the building and I am about to be gassed out of my office. At this point, I am not sure which one would be worse.
I woke up at 6 am feeling slightly anxious due to some seriously weird/disturbing dreams last night, then convinced myself to sleep for another hour or so. I woke up 2 and a half hours later because my alarm clock likes to fuck with me. I rush in the shower, and haphazardly put on my make-up and dry my hair (both of which are already looking a little disheveled), and then rush out to my car.
It is at this very moment that I remember that I am completely out of gas.... so much so, that I didn't think I would make it into my driveway last night. Dammit. I coax my car to the gas station 3 km away and hop out. A 'Please Pay Inside Before Pumping' sign is plastered over the display of pie charts on the pump illustrating that 49% of the cost of gas is due to government taxes. I walk inside (a little annoyed) and stand in line for nearly 15 minutes while the cashier chats with another employee who is NOT DOING ANYTHING. When I finally get the the front, I say 'I'd like $50 gas'. The cashier gives me a look and says 'well did you already pump it?' and I reply 'No... there is a sign out there saying to pay first!!!'. She then tries to convince me that the sign also says 'only after 11pm'. It doesn't. I know it doesn't. So I say 'okay, well, I'd still like $50 gas', thinking that she can just charge me now, so I don't have to wait in line again. She sighs, and says alright... I suppose we could do that for you. It took everything in me not to throw all the Kit Kats at her sitting beside me on the counter.
Annoyed, I finish pumping exactly $50 gas and drive off. I then sit in traffic for 20 minutes (on my 7 minute commute to work) because there is construction on every single route to work in this city. I debate with myself of what is worse. Sitting in construction in the summer, or driving 10 km/hr in the winter because it is icy. I decide that winter driving is worse and force myself to get into a better mood. 10:00 rolls around and I finally walk into my very empty building, wondering where everyone is. The coffee shop is closed, all the doors to offices are closed, nobody is in the building. I think it is a holiday or something. Either that, or they are fumigating the building and I am about to be gassed out of my office. At this point, I am not sure which one would be worse.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Do it again.
I haven’t blogged in a really long time. Obviously the promise of increased blogging frequency that I made a few weeks back was empty (sorry).
Updates:
School- 10 months until my funding runs out. Jesus.
I don’t know how much I can elaborate on this. I don’t know where the last 14 months went. I am pretty sure I fell asleep one night and woke up 2 months later.
Wedding- As expected, the Vegas aspect of my friends wedding has made my job quite a bit easier. Thus far, I’ve only been given the job of making sure things run smoothly once we get there. Obviously, since I’ve never been to Vegas, and have no idea of who is coming or when they might be arriving, and whether or not I am supposed to be planning any bridal events, it should be super simple. Also, the best man is a kind of a douche. Lucky me.
I know I should be happy for her but really, I am just nervous about the whole getting married thing. I am extremely tired of people telling me ‘when you know, you know’, so I should stop worrying about it. While I let it go, I feel like standing on a chair and announcing that I am sure that 95% of divorced couples thought that they ‘knew’ too. I swear to God…if one more person I know tells me they are getting married, I am moving.
Reading- I love it. I stopped reading through my undergrad because it ends up taking up quite a bit of time, and had I read anything other than text books, I would have failed half of my classes. Now, however, I find myself with evenings and weekends free. I love it. I just finished reading The Time Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I fully recommend it.
# 15 At this very moment, I want to go to the airport and buy a ticket to anywhere out of North America. Mongolia? Bring it on. Brazil? Where do I sign? Can a country make you feel claustrophobic?
Updates:
School- 10 months until my funding runs out. Jesus.
I don’t know how much I can elaborate on this. I don’t know where the last 14 months went. I am pretty sure I fell asleep one night and woke up 2 months later.
Wedding- As expected, the Vegas aspect of my friends wedding has made my job quite a bit easier. Thus far, I’ve only been given the job of making sure things run smoothly once we get there. Obviously, since I’ve never been to Vegas, and have no idea of who is coming or when they might be arriving, and whether or not I am supposed to be planning any bridal events, it should be super simple. Also, the best man is a kind of a douche. Lucky me.
I know I should be happy for her but really, I am just nervous about the whole getting married thing. I am extremely tired of people telling me ‘when you know, you know’, so I should stop worrying about it. While I let it go, I feel like standing on a chair and announcing that I am sure that 95% of divorced couples thought that they ‘knew’ too. I swear to God…if one more person I know tells me they are getting married, I am moving.
Reading- I love it. I stopped reading through my undergrad because it ends up taking up quite a bit of time, and had I read anything other than text books, I would have failed half of my classes. Now, however, I find myself with evenings and weekends free. I love it. I just finished reading The Time Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I fully recommend it.
# 15 At this very moment, I want to go to the airport and buy a ticket to anywhere out of North America. Mongolia? Bring it on. Brazil? Where do I sign? Can a country make you feel claustrophobic?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Cold Hearted Bitch
My sister has been having some troubles with her boyfriend. About 3 months after they started dating, he was pressuring her to move in with him, and for the past 8 months she has 'unofficially' been living there (basically living there, only not paying rent... SCORE!). Anyway, from the beginning he has been smitten with her... except, I am not entirely sure he liked her... just the idea of her.
Regardless, after a year of 'I love you' and 'You would make an amazing wife and mother', it has turned into 'I am confused', and 'I need some time'. Basically all the douchey things guys say when they know they want to break up, but don't have the balls to say it, so they drag it out for a month while the girl is left in limbo, wondering if the last year of her life was wasted on this jackass.
As always, everything comes back to me (because this is my blog)... and I am left picking up the pieces and having the same conversation with her, which basically consists of me reassuring her she did nothing wrong and he is just an idiot. Anyway, this has been going on for about 2 months and I've had enough. I can not listen to another word about this guy. I just don't care anymore. As soon as she says his name, I stop listening. I am pretty sure this is super rude and insensitive but I can't bring myself to pretend like I am interested anymore.
It also doesn't help that I can't stand the guy. I want to punch him in the neck when he talks. He thinks he is so much smarter than anyone around him (which he probably is, in most cases), and he has gotten used to basically making shit up. I think that he has gone for so long without anyone calling bullshit on his 'stories' that he doesn't even think twice about COMPLETELY making them up. The first time I met him, he casually told me the most ridiculous story about 'knowing' that Tim Horton's puts an addictive ingredient in their coffee to 'hook' their customers (it's called caffeine idiot). He spoke like he was reading the bible or something, and as if he whole-heartedly believed every single word. Anyway, I called bullshit... and explained the 12 reasons why this was the most stupid thing I'd ever heard. I don't think he likes me too much, but really...I am not going to nod vigorously and say 'ohhhhh! I didn't know that!' when he obviously made up some sort of story to excuse his drinking 5 double doubles' a day. What a douche.
#14 I love snow. LOVE it. I can't imagine living somewhere where it is sunny everyday. I mean, it is nice to vacation in paradise, but no one wants to live there.
Regardless, after a year of 'I love you' and 'You would make an amazing wife and mother', it has turned into 'I am confused', and 'I need some time'. Basically all the douchey things guys say when they know they want to break up, but don't have the balls to say it, so they drag it out for a month while the girl is left in limbo, wondering if the last year of her life was wasted on this jackass.
As always, everything comes back to me (because this is my blog)... and I am left picking up the pieces and having the same conversation with her, which basically consists of me reassuring her she did nothing wrong and he is just an idiot. Anyway, this has been going on for about 2 months and I've had enough. I can not listen to another word about this guy. I just don't care anymore. As soon as she says his name, I stop listening. I am pretty sure this is super rude and insensitive but I can't bring myself to pretend like I am interested anymore.
It also doesn't help that I can't stand the guy. I want to punch him in the neck when he talks. He thinks he is so much smarter than anyone around him (which he probably is, in most cases), and he has gotten used to basically making shit up. I think that he has gone for so long without anyone calling bullshit on his 'stories' that he doesn't even think twice about COMPLETELY making them up. The first time I met him, he casually told me the most ridiculous story about 'knowing' that Tim Horton's puts an addictive ingredient in their coffee to 'hook' their customers (it's called caffeine idiot). He spoke like he was reading the bible or something, and as if he whole-heartedly believed every single word. Anyway, I called bullshit... and explained the 12 reasons why this was the most stupid thing I'd ever heard. I don't think he likes me too much, but really...I am not going to nod vigorously and say 'ohhhhh! I didn't know that!' when he obviously made up some sort of story to excuse his drinking 5 double doubles' a day. What a douche.
#14 I love snow. LOVE it. I can't imagine living somewhere where it is sunny everyday. I mean, it is nice to vacation in paradise, but no one wants to live there.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Growing up... blah blah blah.
My best friend just got engaged. I knew it was coming. I've known for about 3 months that he bought her a ring and was planning to propose this summer. Even with ample warning, I am still kind of in denial. I am super happy for them, and considering that her fiance is pretty much the male version of me, I totally approved of him. However, I am finding it totally bizarre.
It is not like I don't want them to get married... or that I think they shouldn't get married...
It is more like I am thinking about how this will affect ME.
I am having visions of the next 10 years, and I am a little concerned about it. I know they don't plan on living in the city we are in after they get married. Actually, I am pretty sure they are planning a pretty big move, far, far away from here (like an 8 hour plane ride). I don't like this. I fully support them starting a new life and you know... having kids *shudder*, but the fact that she is SO excited about it makes me feel weird.
I still have panic attacks when I think of being responsible for anyone other than myself.... or even committing myself to someone else. I am totally going to be that 'aunt' that flies through their house every 6 months talking about the fire ritual I experienced in Fiji, or who backpacked around the world for 2 years.
I have no problem being this person, but it terrifies me to think that maybe E and I will not be as close as we've been. I hate growing up.
#13 If I could choose a super power, it would be to stop time at will. I would love it.
It is not like I don't want them to get married... or that I think they shouldn't get married...
It is more like I am thinking about how this will affect ME.
I am having visions of the next 10 years, and I am a little concerned about it. I know they don't plan on living in the city we are in after they get married. Actually, I am pretty sure they are planning a pretty big move, far, far away from here (like an 8 hour plane ride). I don't like this. I fully support them starting a new life and you know... having kids *shudder*, but the fact that she is SO excited about it makes me feel weird.
I still have panic attacks when I think of being responsible for anyone other than myself.... or even committing myself to someone else. I am totally going to be that 'aunt' that flies through their house every 6 months talking about the fire ritual I experienced in Fiji, or who backpacked around the world for 2 years.
I have no problem being this person, but it terrifies me to think that maybe E and I will not be as close as we've been. I hate growing up.
#13 If I could choose a super power, it would be to stop time at will. I would love it.
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