Thriving on the Dramatic

As a viewer, I would pick Aidan (also, hello Hotness). But in real life? I know I would pick Big.

I recently joined the Sex and the City bandwagon - which I realize was really more popular, like, ten years ago, but I'm a late bloomer, okay? - and obviously the girls unearth some very thought provoking issues in each of the epsiodes. Naturally, Carrie uses her and the girls' experiences to write the column that women everywhere relate to. I know I do, which is why I decided to write my own column about one of the issues that really resonated with me. Except this is just a blog. That I don't get paid for. So it's not the same at all.

Anyway. Carrie is dating Aidan. Sweet, lovely, sexy Aidan. Loves her, and isn't afraid to tell/show her. Carrie, in usual woman fashion, is still hung up on Big. Asshole, arrogant, hurtful Big. You would think that Carrie would be so relieved to find someone as wonderful as Aidan after Big's drama that she wouldn't give Big another thought. But she does. Aidan isn't dramatic. He's easy. Big is confusing, infuriating, and frustrating - but intoxicating. Carrie was burned bad by him, but she still wants him, which leads her to the question that I ask myself daily - when it comes to men, do we thrive on drama?

More often than not, I hear my girlfriends talk about the "chase" - oh, he's not interested? Challenge accepted. Do we like the chase of getting a man's interest, and grow more interested when he doesn't show interest in us? When a man is easy and doesn't make us guess, wonder, and guess again, do we lose interest? That thought is terrifying.

Big would never let Carrie meet his mother, keeping her away like "some kind of leper" and it infuriated her. Aidan wants her to meet his parents. And she automatically retreats into her shell and thinks it's too fast (which, okay, if it was the second date, then it would be too fast. Been there. We also have to use logic in order to decipher what men are just apeshit crazy and clingy). But the issue that Carrie focuses on is the fact that Aidan gives her exactly what Big won't, and suddenly she starts acting like Big. What is that?

It's like the drama keeps it exciting. Eventually, Carrie and Big get it together, but it's still dramatic. There's still hurt, anger, and emotional ups and downs. But what really makes me wonder about my own sanity is that I get it. I get that she would rather have the drama than the ease. Which, you know, makes me feel pretty good about my future.

I could really use a Cosmo.

Love,

M

Topics I Will Never Blog About

This is me.

I have to apologize to my readers - all 3 of you (kisses!). I haven't been writing much lately, and I will tell you why:

Because I have nothing to say.

No, seriously. I mean, I could write about my daily adventures to the mall (aka my place of work) and the work that I do, but that would just be boring. Also, I'm not entirely sure what I do.

So, knowing I needed to get my shit together and start writing more frequently or risk losing the minimal interest that people have in this blog, I decided to ask Google for some blog ideas. My thought was to use the ideas suggested to write a humourous and thought provoking post that would tug at heart strings while simultaneously entertaining and engaging my readers.

What I found were, like, 101 of the gayest ideas I've ever heard. So, naturally, I picked the dumbest ones and decided to criticize them in this post. So I guess it gave me something to write about, after all. Google, you're so awesome like that.

Run a contest. I'm pretty sure contests are supposed to have prizes. Which...no. And also, what would I do a contest for? The most awkward and embarrassing sex story? Actually...

Giveaway. Much like the whole contest prize thing, I'm not really on board with that. I could probably give away like...something from Dollarama. And then that would involve shipping to the winner of the giveaway and that's just too much work. But hey, don't get me wrong - I get that people love free stuff. I'm one of them. Once, I signed up for a credit card because I liked the t-shirt they were giving away. No, for reals. I did. I still have the t-shirt, too. It was from my University. Cha gheill!

Criticize a blog or person. Oh, hey, I'm doing that now! That's fun. Let's just continue, shall we? The suggestions under this topic are to make sure that your arguments are well thought out and firmly based in fact, and to avoid random ranting as it is pointless. HowEVER, I'm firmly dedicated to random ranting and going off about things that I have little - if any - solid information about. So I don't think this works for me.

Tell a personal secret. Yeah the fuck right. I like to keep my actual personal life relatively private. Sure, I'll make jokes and tell about things that happen to me with the people in my life, but like HELL am I going to start telling secrets on here. That's for when I'm rip roaring drunk and feeling extra lovey and share-y. Duh.

Write an inspirational or motivational post with famous quotes. I don't want people to hate me because I'm being all happy and inspirational and all "life is beauty-ful, yay!" I say that because those people bug me. You know, the happy and optimistic ones. Gross. (Unless of course you guys want some happy and inspirational posts, in which case I will Google those quotes SO fast).

Write down all the thoughts you had in your mind today. Umm, that's for Twitter, y'all.

Write down your monthly budget and personal expenses. This one makes me laugh. I don't have a personal budget. Because I don't have any money. Because I don't know how to budget. You see where I'm going with this? I COULD write a blog about how much money I spend on things that I don't need and/or already have - makeup, shoes, purses, candy - but then my parents might read it and I would get in trouble. Sad face. (Yes, I am an adult. Yes, I make my own money. And yes, sometimes I have to answer to my parents about my money because when I run out, they need to bail me out. Daughter of the YEAR. Also I love my parents).

Alright, I should probably do some work now. Kisses, hugs, and rainbows to all.

Love,

M

Gambling with Grandma

Sometimes my heart hurts from how much I love them

I need to preface this post with this tidbit of information: my Grandma is the coolest Grandma ever. And okay, maybe I’m biased. But she is. Just like my Grandpa is probably the unintentionally funniest guy I will ever meet. So instead of Grandma knitting sweaters on a Saturday night, she goes to the casino.

Yes, I was the DD. No, I didn’t have anything else planned on a Saturday night after taking Benny down to the lake for our weekly date. I never said that *I* was cool.

Another thing I should mention: Grandma is a seasoned slot machine player. Seriously. She has the casino card and the plastic springy thing to attach to her purse so that she doesn’t lose it. The woman does not fool around.

Grandma got settled on one of her favourite machines and, after watching her play for a few minutes, I decided to wander around the casino. The thing about wandering around a new place is that sometimes you wander into places that aren’t really meant for you. Like, for example, when I was little and video stores were still around, I ended up in the adult section of the store. My Dad didn’t realize it until I disappeared – I’m not sure if he was more afraid of what I would see or of my Mom finding out that I had got in there under his watch…probably equally both.

It happened again at the casino (except I didn’t end up in the adult section – I don’t know what kind of casino would have that…) when I wandered into the Chinese section. No, seriously. There’s a Chinese section. And guess what? They’re all Chinese people there.

I didn’t realize where I was until I was in the middle of the room and realized that there weren’t anymore fellow round eyes in my vicinity and Chinese characters everywhere (the words, not the people…although them, too). And I was clearly not welcome. They all seemed to stop playing and just look (albeit squintily…too far?). I backed away slowly and paid more attention to my surroundings after that.

Next I decided to try my hand at Roulette. After trying to put half my chips on black and half on red (not allowed, incidentally), one of the casino monitor guys had to assist me in whatever the hell I was trying to do. I did win $20, and that was enough for me (shout out to TF, who told me what to bet on since I was useless).

That was about enough time on my own at this point, so I went in search of Grandma who was doing her thing on the slots. We had decided to leave at 11:30pm, and it was nearing that time. As I approached, I was met with, “How about another half hour…?”

Badass, Grandma. Badass.

Love,

M

Slumdog Millionaires

“I’m going to Google a list of things that we should take camping … This list is fantastic! And reminding me why I never go camping…”

This should have been our first clue.

JT and I were discussing the items we would need to bring on our big weekend at the Boots and Hearts country music festival. We had decided to camp, eager to experience everything the event had to offer. There was just one problem: neither of us knew the first thing about camping; the outdoors; or how to survive without plumbing, showers, and real food.

Let’s paint a picture, shall we? JT is a Toronto born, Jewish lawyer. The least pretentious person you will ever meet, but also not one who is very accustomed to outdoorsy activities. I was raised in suburbia and dislike nature, bugs, dirt, and sleeping outside. A princess, one might call me (no, seriously, I’ve been called that a lot).

We were excited. Country music and an obviously hilarious experience trying to camp? Some quality time with one of my most favourite people in the world? What’s not to love?!

 

Adorable. And very excited. This was very early on.

Oh, that’s right. We had to sleep in a fucking tent for 4 nights. In a field. With a million other people.

 

In a TENT?!

We arrived at our campsite. Basically a square of field that held enough room for the van we took and our tent. Spirits were still high!

We pitched the tent with assistance from our much more seasoned neighbours, and after we realized we had no idea what the hell to do with the second part of the tent. Great, done! Let’s get ready! Still happy! Still excited!

 

I tried to take photos and videos but he caught on to my plan and then I had to help.

I took a bathroom break. That’s when things went downhill for me. I literally almost cried as I sat squatted precariously over the toilet. The thing about being a woman and using the bathroom is that squatting sort of…pitches your head forward. So not only are you avoiding the seat, you’re also trying to avoid head butting the door of the port-a-potty or, alternatively, turning your head so you’re fucking nose-to-“nose” with the urinal. I basically got my ass out of those damn things at a dead run as soon as I was done. Think I scared all the people waiting.

"This is like a slum." - JT

The concert itself that first night was great, albeit terrifying. For the whole weekend, I think I was turned into JT in a sort of protective stance from all the rowdiness. (I do hate how this whole post makes me sound, but it was just…it was MADNESS). We lasted 5 minutes at the dance party and were in the tent ready for bed at about 12:30am.

And that was when JT broke. The tent was on a hill and, as he exclaimed that “all my blood is rushing to my feet”, he had an epiphany: “I totally did not know this was camping.” As we took in our surroundings – and JT gripped the flashlight for dear life – we went into hysterics at what we were doing. We tentatively decided to screw the camping idea and stay at my parents’ house for the remainder of the weekend. The night was a mess of people running by our tent, partiers at 3am, and car alarms going off right outside our tent. Oh, by the way, we are 50 years old.

I was worried that JT may have a change of heart in the morning and want to stay, and I was determined to do so with a smile on my face if that was the case. And more alcohol than I would have ever consumed in my 26 years.

Miserable.

He woke up, and once he figured out the zipper on the door to the tent, looked at me and said, “Ok, first, we need coffee. And then we need to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.”

I had never heard sweeter words. We were gone within the hour.

We are never, ever, ever doing that again.

 

I could not have experienced that with anyone else. So lucky to have this guy in my life.

Love,

M                                                                                                                                                                    

Customer Service

(I apologize for the lacklustre title. It was supposed to be longer and then I ran out of witty things to say).

For someone who willingly went into Human Resources – the people part of business – I really do hate people. Okay, customers. But those are the people that I have the most contact with, on account of avoiding public places and interactions with strangers when I’m not on work time.

 

Their stupidity, their rudeness, and their overall sense of entitlement are shocking to me. For some reason, standing behind a counter means that I’m not human and that these people can say whatever the fuck they want to me, regardless of how it will make me feel. Whatever the hell happened to “treat people the way you want to be treated”? Golden rule, assholes. Let’s try it some time.

 

I get that the customer is always right. I do. Retail depends on consumerism – if people didn’t buy the products, the company would go under. But we’re still in society. We’re all still people that have to communicate with each other. The people behind the desk are no better or worse than those handing over the money. So why do others feel the need to take their frustrations out on someone who is just trying to give you what you want so you can move the fuck on? I honestly don’t get it.

 

Don’t get me wrong – when the cashier is super rude, I totally understand that the customer is rude back. I would do that, too. But I KNOW I’m not rude. How do I know this? Because I’m absolutely exhausted from acting like my purpose in life is to make that customer happy. My voice raises two octaves when speaking to customers, and I’m the sweetest God damned person you will ever meet. I annoy myself constantly.

 

But when I get the rude people who have had a bad day and take it out on me, the people that won’t leave the store when it’s closed because it’s “not a big deal”, the fucking wackos that think retail is all a big conspiracy and I’m taking their information so I can either stalk them or track all of their purchases and send them to the government, or the incredibly stupid ones that ask me something ridiculous and it takes every ounce of strength not to ask “is that a serious question?”, it makes me question society. And worry for the future of humanity (that’s mostly the stupid ones).

 

Obviously I’m not perfect. I’m sure I’ve asked my fair share of stupid questions, gotten exasperated with a cashier over a miscommunication, and stayed later than I should have in a store. But sometimes, I just need to vent. And it’s my blog, so I can say what I want.

 

I hope this doesn’t get me fired.

 

Love,

 

M

 

 

Public Pools Are Not for the Socially Awkward

Sometimes I just get a need to be submerged in water.

Wait. Let me start that again.

Sometimes I just really want to go swimming. 

That’s better.

I’m a self-proclaimed (based in Astrological fact, might I add) water baby. Sometimes I just need to chill out, take an hour, and sit by the lake and reflect. It’s very dramatic of me.

The other day was a day where I wanted to actually be IN the water (tehe, so many innuendos can come from this, but I will refrain. I’m trying to be mature, you know). Because our pool is basically dead – with, I’m assuming, very much alive bacteria – and I didn’t feel like contracting some weird disease, my only other option was the public pool at the local Community Complex (I guess I could have gone to the lake, but I live near Lake Ontario. Which…no).

My first mistake in this endeavour was wearing a bathing suit that was more suitable for the privacy of my backyard, and not at all appropriate for an afternoon of public swimming. The top is a little, ahem…small, so there were a few times I narrowly avoided a wardrobe malfunction (and maybe a few times where I didn’t and just didn’t realize it).

In my defence, I was expecting the pool to be relatively empty. It was a hot summer day – shouldn’t people be outside in pools? NOPE. (Which I guess is why I was there, too…shut up). Children. Everywhere. Just all kinds of children swimming in every part of the pool everywhere. I tried to ignore it. I did. I walked over to the 17 year old lifeguard (who I’m pretty sure couldn’t even save me if he wanted to) and asked, “Do I need to do some sort of test before I can swim in the deep end?”

“How old are you?”

“26.”

“No, you’re good.”

…I knew that. I was trying to be funny.

So off I wade into the pool, my posture extremely rigid as I tried to create some semblance of a flat, not beer bloated from a weekend binge, stomach. Head way up – chin protruding. Shoulders way back and down. Stomach sucked in abnormally. Nailed it!

Also – I have to admit this: I tried to be sexy. Like for the 17 year old lifeguards. In my mind, I looked like this:

Until I realized that I’m not a very sexy person and the whole swim-up-from-under-the-water-and-surface-with-a-sexy-look ended up more like this:



Suffice it to say that I lasted about 2 minutes until it got too weird in there. Even for me. So I went to the hot tub where I was alone (yay!) and tried to swim in there (which basically entailed paddling back and forth rapidly and in little circles because, let’s be honest, hot tubs aren’t really meant for swimming). Eventually I grossed myself out enough with the thought of all the people that go in this hot tub and how many potential germs there were, and I got out.

My public swimming adventure lasted a total of about 10 minutes. But my reputation as the weird girl who flirts with teenaged lifeguards and swims alone in a pool of children will last forever.

Love,

M

Just Another Day with Some Creepers

This photo has nothing to do with the topic of the post. But a photo of the...topic...is too weird to post. Even for me.

Sometimes I meet people that really stick out in my mind, you know? Some are really influential, some are really funny, some just have that personality that is so crazy and fun that I can't help but remember them.

And some are just really fucking creepy. Obviously, we're talking about the latter here.

I invite you to read the conversation that took place between me and one of those sneakily creepy men - you know the ones I'm talking about. They don't look all that creepy, they don't say a lot of creepy things - but when they pull out the creepiness, it almost knocks you over.

Creepy Man: I'm moving here to be with my girlfriend.

Me: That's great. I'm sure you guys will be very happy.

CM: She's as into this stuff as I am *gestures to book in hand*

Me: *Thinking it's anime or some weird comic that I don't understand and don't care to* Well that's even better!

CM: Yeah. She does the tying, I do the reading.

Me: Oh, cool! (I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation at this point, obviously).

CM: You should come out some time.

Me: Wait...what? Come out to what? What are we talking about?

CM: I guess you could say it's a sort of...sensual bondage.

Me: OH WOW REALLY EH THAT'S AWESOME! *High pitched and yelling*

CM: I guess it depends on what you're into, though...

Me: Uh. Well. You know what, as long as you found someone who's as into it as you are then that's all that matters, right? Hahahaha! (This is me trying to act like I wasn't completely fucking terrified).

CM: Oh, there's more than just us. It's a whole community!

Me: Alright sir you have a great day okay?! Hahahahahaha ok bye bye then! Bye!

So. That happened. I obviously handled it exceptionally well. Because I'm very mature, you see.

Oh, and the book? I glanced at it a bit more thoroughly. It was a cartoon woman on her knees with her arms tied behind her back.

Love,

M