We're Coming to a Television Screen Near You

(I couldn't find a picture of two girls and a guy at a sleepover. Probably because that never seems to happen without...well, you know. Well it DOES, Google Images.)

The following conversation occurred between SM, Rio, and me after a night of drinking. We had a full out sleepover, with the three of us lying on different makeshift beds on my living room floor.

SM: “We could have our own sitcom, we’re so funny.”

Me: “We totally could. Let’s make it happen. We have to know who would play us, though.”

SM: “Paul Rudd would be him, obviously.”

Me: “Obviously.”

Rio: “I’m okay with that.”

*Begin talking about something unrelated as we apparently got bored with the situation*

Rio: “Okay, but who would play you guys?”

*Thinking about it lasts two seconds before we get on something else*

Rio: “No! Guys! Listen! We have to decide this.”

SM: “Wow, okay. Who would I be? Can I be Zooey Deschanel?”

Rio: “Does her personality work?”

Me: “It’s not about personality – it’ll be OUR personalities, we just need people to look like us. Zooey would totally work.”

Rio: “I think Paul Rudd’s personality would work really well for me.”

Me: “IT’S NOT…okay, who would be me?”

Rio: “I want to say who I think but I think you might get mad.”

Me: “This isn’t a good start, but you have to say it now.”

Rio: “Meryl Streep.”

He was right. I got mad.

Love,

Bella

My Parents, The Comedians

Everyone has people in their life that make them laugh just by being them. Sometimes it’s friends, siblings, or co-workers. For me, those people are my parents.

As they arrived home, they were sitting in the car in the driveway with the windows open, chirping at each other about something before they got out of the car. My mom then exited the car rolling her eyes and my Dad greeted me with “thank God you’re here”.

The following conversation occurred yesterday on their porch as my Dad was icing his aching knee and my Mom and I were relaxing after moving furniture (because we are amazing). We were chatting about things unrelated to tomatoes.

Dad: Did you know we have a whole jar of sun dried tomatoes in the cupboard?

Mom [to me]: Your father just comes out with things and expects me to be able to follow his thought process. The other day he told someone that he “has a hip”.

Dad: You have to put it in context. If I were saying that to a chiropractor, they would know that I meant a bum hip.

Mom: You were talking to an airline.

Dad: They know about these things for people they have to accommodate! [To me] Your mother always gives me a hard time.

Mom: I will punch you in the knee.

Mom [to me]: Dad booked our flights on Friday when he was tanked. I have no idea where we’re going.

Dad: The grass is growing.

My parents are awesome.

Love,

Bella

Irish Eyes are Smiling

It's St Paddy's Day people! The day for those who aren't Irish to pretend they are, and those who are to be even prouder of it than usual (like me, even though M says we aren't. He has no idea. He thinks he's Matthew McConaghey).

So go out, drink the drinks, and be proud to be part of the potato eating, whiskey drinking, brogue talking folk from the Emerald Isle.

Bottoms up!

Love,

Bella

Parenthood

(This is how I would be if I were ever to become some child's mother. Also, how I would be at work if they would let me.)

It has come to my attention that, if I choose to enter into the terrifyingly sticky world of parenthood, I will be either the worst mother ever, or the best. Probably both.

Why I Will Be the Worst Mother Ever

1. I’m not a huge fan of most children. I’m assuming that, to be a parent, one would have to have a certain appreciation for tiny people that are always dirty, make your house smell weird (seriously, a home with kids has the smell of dried milk), and grow up to be inconsiderate jerks.

I can say this because I was a child and I did grow up to be inconsiderate and moody for a certain amount of time. More moody than inconsiderate, but I was still pretty self-centred. I think I’d probably like my own kids, though, because I would raise them to be awesome and I wouldn’t let them be dirty and have toys.

2. I won’t let them have toys. See above. Toys get in the way and mess with the décor of a house.

3. I can’t understand a word children say. This would probably make me mad and cause me to stop listening to them altogether. Which I’m pretty sure isn’t a good thing to do.

4. I don’t like loud noises. Kids are always loud. They scream and they can be obnoxious little buggers. I don’t want that around me. That’s just annoying.

5. They’re small. I’d be afraid of stepping on them and/or running them over.

Why I Will Be the Best Mother Ever

1. I would let them do whatever they want because I'd be doing my own thing. To adults, this would place me in the “Worst” category. To me, children, and my patients, it places me in the “Best”.

I get really mad when people don’t let me do what I want. Thus, I would not want to tell children what they can and cannot do. How do I know what’s right? They would just have to be quiet while they do it and not cause disruptions either at home or in public places, because I hate when kids do that.

Further, when I ask my patients why they do some things they aren’t allowed to do, they respond with, “Because I like it.” Fair enough. I move on. When I ask them to stop playing poker and they say no, I say, “Okay.”

This is why they love me and I’m pretty sure staff hates me.

2. I’m funny. Yes, I am. Maybe not to you, but kids find me hilarious. So I’m pretty sure my kid(s) would just be laughing and having fun and eating cupcakes (I love cupcakes) all the time. And who doesn’t want that? As long as they weren't in my way while doing it.

3. In my head, my kid and I (which I have via sperm donor because I’m not sure any man in his right mind would voluntarily have a child with me) are best friends and we go on trips and shopping and are super close and they think I’m awesome. And I really like when people think I am awesome. I don’t know how this makes me a good mother…

So, essentially, I would have a kid if I could pick when I wanted it around me and when I didn't, and only if it was well-behaved, smart, funny, and clean. Without me having to do any of the things needed for that to happen.

This list clearly conveys that to outsiders, I would be a terrible mother. But to children, I would be an awesome mother because I am fun. Until I don’t let them have toys and make them wear a car air freshener around their necks to avoid the weird milk smell.

Also, let me stress that I do not have children, so please don't contact Children's Aid on me. Thank you.

Love,

Bella

I Don't Know What I'm Doing

Like I said.

So my job currently is a result of my past issues with depression. Yay me! Basically, because I suffered from a mental health issue and have since recovered, I work with clients with mental health challenges to provide them with hope and encouragement on their own journey to recovery.

Aw. Heart warming, right?

In theory. In reality, I have no freaking clue what I’m doing. People ask for my advice (many times…sometimes…okay, one time) and I literally have no idea what to say. So I just copy what I’ve heard other people say. Usually I just sit in meetings and nod my head (when I’m not falling asleep) and say “I agree with [insert name here]” when they ask me something (a little trick I picked up in University when I didn’t read any of the assigned texts). The saving grace is my patients, but even they expect more from me than I can give. It’s actually very eye-opening – what I went through is actually very common. You know what’s not common? Thinking you’re God. Nope.

Everyone knows I had to have gone through something to have my job, but my patients don’t actually take me aside to ask me about it. No, they yell, “SO YOU HAVE A MENTAL ILLNESS?” in the middle of the main building where allll the executives reside. Including my future husband. And it’s quite interesting when someone comes up and says, “So, what are you? Schizophrenic? Manic? Depressive?”. My personal favourite was getting asked, “Do you have schizophrenia?” My response: “No, I have – wait, do I seem like I do?!”

Anyway, I was in a group the other day talking to clients about dealing with things day to day and how I got through bad days. And all I could think of that day was that I was, in fact, having quite a bad day and I had no idea how to get through it. I just stared at them. I’m not even sure what I said, though I think it was something along the lines of “the past is the past and the future can be terrifying.” Which I am FAIRLY sure is not very comforting to those with severe mental illnesses.

I’m so good at what I do. Please don't tell anyone.

Love,

Bella

An Ode to a Friend

There is a saying in the world, and it is something like “people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” And then it goes on to explain what each of these mean, but to be honest I don’t really care enough to go into that much detail (which is kind of my life’s outlook in a nutshell…but anyway…)

So there are friendships that you have and then fade, and despite the reason they fade, they still mean something. But it’s the friendships that faded for a while and then rekindle that are the shit. Yes, the shit.

I have this friend. Her name is SM. Well, okay, those are her initials. But whatever. So anyway, she was mad at me because she hadn’t been in the blog for a while and other people had (haha, sorry babes, but that in and of itself was funny!). So this post is dedicated to her.

SM and I go way back. And I don’t mean school age. I mean I was 3 and she was 4 when we met. That kind of “way back”. I was a very bossy child and never let her sing Sandy’s part to “Summer Lovin” (we were obsessed with “Grease” and probably watched it every day during our summer vacations). I always told her what to do. I was actually kind of mean. I think she’s forgiven me now. And I even offer to take Danny’s part when we sing “Summer Lovin” now, but due to my insistence that she always had to be Danny, she doesn’t know the words to Sandy’s part. :(

We took dance classes and horseback riding lessons together, jinxed each other so that we had to get our elderly neighbour to say our names 3 times to unjinx us (we were adorable and not at all annoying), had lemonade sales that no one bought from except our parents, had imaginary kids (but never husbands – even then we knew they were useless), rode imaginary horses, and even had her dad make us a wooden horse (we named him Copper and yes, we DID try to ride him down the street).

We drifted apart for about 8 years or so, and reconnected about 3 years ago. And it felt like no time had passed. We are so similar it’s uncanny, right now to our resistance to marriage and kids and everything those things mean. She wholeheartedly supports my theory that I could be totally happy with relationships that stayed in the “not live in” boyfriend status. Own house, own rules, and a person to hang with, do stuff with, and have fun with. I don’t see why that isn’t the best thing ever…

Anyway, the point is, SM – this post is for you. I’m so glad we’ve reconnected, and I know that we’ll be friends forever from now on. And I know you wanted me to write a song about our friendship but that…didn’t happen. But I thought this might make up for it:



Love,

Bella