Thursday, September 28, 2006

Thsssexy Like Cindy Brady

Yessterday was D day. No, not THAT D day. The other one...the day I went to the dentisth. And, no that was not a sspelling error. Neither wass that.

My brand sspanking new sshiney plastic and wire oral applicancess has given me a lisp. Yess folks, I'm the proud owner of my very own sspeech impediment. Ssuper.

It's alsso made people not want to ssthand in front of me when I sspeak, probably due to the exsthreme amount of ssalvia I'm creating and ssubssequently projecting.

I desided to write thiss blog exsactly as I would ssay it. Which is quite hard come to think of it so I'll stop now.

In addition to my new hardware, I'm also consuming a bevy of vitamins and muscle relaxers. So at least now I'm somewhat calm about my lisp. In fact, I'm so relaxed it's slowing down my typing quite a bit. See how slow that was?

It's not just the drugs that are affecting me though. People are treating me differently. My coworkers think my new way of speaking is "cute" and "adorable" like Cindy Brady. Sure, Cindy might have been cute till she opened her mouth, then she was just plain ****ing annoying. I'm not a snitcher, I just tell it like it is!

Strangers just stare at me with this look. You know the one...big sympathic eyes, tilted head to the right. Yeah, like that one you're doing right now. It's given me a new appreciation for speech imperfections. My dentist assures me it will go away. When it does, and I meet someone who still has their speech impediment, I won't point and laugh at the dorks like I used to. No, I'll give them a hug and say, "Some day, some one will love you, you dork."

For me, it's not just about the variation of speech in my effort to realign my jaw. I can't eat anything hard. Actually, even soft things are challenging. It took me 60 minutes to eat 3/4 of a biscuit because you can't chew, but just mush things with your tongue. Possible side-effect: unplanned weight loss.

I guess I'll have to add "Realign Jaw" to my list. Unless ofcourse, I missed the episode where Cindy Brady gets asked out on a date. Then again, she was only ten on the show. But still. In the words of Cindy, "I'm cool but no boy ever calls me for a soda." You said it Cindy, you said it.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Sweet Dreams

Marsha Norman once said "Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you."

Here's an illustration my soul passed along. I think it's trying to tell me something.

Perhaps that I should stick to writing and not drawing...

Or maybe that I look good in the color purple!

No, must be that I should take up carpentry ;)

Literally, it may mean that the last man on Earth may not have any hands. Which would be a shame. How else is he going to help tear down those walls I've built?

What kind of illustrations is your soul drawing?

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Bye Bye Miss Canadian Pie

On Thursday, one of my dearest coworkers, "Aunt Margie", retired. We held a proper high tea, complete with silver serving tea set and real china cups and saucers to commemorate the occasion (we're also having dinner and drinks at a [formerly fancy] local hotel at the end of October so this was to hold us over until then).

Any time there is a special event, a sign up sheet is posted in the kitchen, for staffers to commit to what yummy things they're going to bring. The unwritten rule: bonus points if it's homemade.

I always manage to rustle up something from my recipe box. And Thursday was no exception. In between helping Aidan with his class project on mosquitos, doing 3 loads of laundry, and tidying up the house, I made an apple pie. Nothing says yummy sweetness like homemade apple pie. And just to be a bit fancy, I cut a star in the centre of the top layer of crust, worked my crust pattern making magic on the outter rim of the pie and sprinkled sugar on top. You know, for that extra bit of sparkle.

Rowan, is usually the first to sample my wares, and always seems somewhat surprised and amused that I made something so perfect. He always asks, "Who made this?" in between mouthfuls when he knows full well it was me. Rowan then tells me it's "Not bad" before having another piece. I've become good at reading between the lines.

After the tea, I was picking up my mail at reception, when my coworker Debbie said that she only attempted to make a pie once and it was a complete and utter disaster. Then she turned and asked, "Erika, is there anything you're not good at?" Without missing a beat, I said, "Yes, marriage." She laughed.

But think about it. Apple pie, even if it's freshly out of the oven, doesn't keep you warm in bed at night. It just gets really mushy. Apple pie doesn't comfort you. It doesn't listen to you when you need to vent (Actually, pie might listen but it doesn't answer back. And if it does, you've got bigger problems my friend).

For now, I'll stick to what I'm good at. But maybe one day, I'll be good at everything. ;)

I guess practice makes perfect.

Random Compliment, #3

On Wednesday, I went to work as per usual (yes, there's nothing wrong with my work ethic).

I was dressed very smartly, as per usual; wearing my black short-sleeved fitted cropped blazer, buttoned, with a pink lace cami underneath and my light lemon yellow 1950's era-esque flared skirt. To top off my outfit, the piece de la fav pair of black stiletto boots. I looked quite smashing.

My coworker, Rowan, was on his way to an important meeting on the other side of the province. But he made a point of telling me how great I looked before he left.

Ok, he didn't actually say I looked great. But he did say, and I quote, "If there ever was a Lady Zorro, you would be it." And his eyes went kind of sparkly when he said it too.

Not exactly the look I was going for (I didn't even have my sword with me!) but I took it as a compliment.

I could never lay claim to being the original "Lady Zorro", that's Catherine Zeta Jones' territory. Perhaps Rowan didn't see The Mask of Zorro. I can't blame him for not seeing The Legend of Zorro (Antonio what were you thinking?).
But Ms. Zeta Jones is sexy. And I guess that's where Rowan was going with his compliment. Not about Catherine Zeta Jones. About me.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Career Theory: Providing Answers to Life's Awkward Social Questions

This week I travelled to the Hub city. And that can only mean one thing [Ok, maybe two]: I wanted to put my LaSenza discount membership card to good use, or for some training for work. It might not be an either/or situation, or it might. I'll exercise my right to maintain a bit of mystery. And perhaps a bit of dignity.

I'm an employment counsellor. Which is much like being a regular sort of counsellor in that you hear people complain, er..."share" a lot but you don't get paid quite as well. Not by the hour at least. Which is much like being a street walker. But I digress...

Sometimes the sharing is about their careers, or lack thereof. Other times you're privy to TMI, like the warts they got "down there" because their husband's extra-martial conquest gave him a burning, itching, festering parting gift. Often, you're the only one this person has to talk to. Probably for good reason. I can imagine it is hard to maintain composure for a non-professional, much less keep down what you ate for breakfast, while hearing about such things. And the mental images. Oh my *** the mental images. Hold me tight Bruno.

This week's session was a refresher course on basic career theory. I won't bore you with the in's and outs, unless ofcourse you are on the edge of your seats in anticipation (in which case, email me and I'll divulge all my worldly knowledge. Or at least the part I took notes on).

Blah blah blah. I wasn't paying attention when it hit me; the server who was refilling our water pitcher gave me a knock on the back of the head "accidentally" with her tray. Ok, now I was awake. And bleeding. Which is good (well not the bleeding part, but the awake part). Because what was about to happen, was big. Monumental. We're talking Superman versus Batman monumental.

Our faciliatator reminded us, it's all in how you frame something. No, not that way. This way. For someone who is unemployed, they feel better if they say they are "between jobs". And there it was. So simple. The key to handling life's awkward social questions.
The answer to the question I get asked over and over, and over.

Question (usually from insensitive smug marrieds): "Why are you single?"
Answer (usually from me, unless I feel like using Ed the no-nonsense sock puppet to speak on my behalf): "I'm between husbands right now."

Absolutely. Bloody. Brilliant!

And applicable to other "don't deserve a decent answer to that question" questions.

Question: "Why does that dog always **** on my leg?"
Answer: "I'm between dog trainers right now."

Question: "What's that smell?"
Answer: "I'm between showers right now."

[Note: These are only examples. I do not have a dog. And I do shower. Twice daily.]

The beauty of this framing is, there's no way the questioner can come back from that. End of questions.

Question askers = 0
Erika = 1

[Note: linen napkins are very absorbent and can assist with superficial head wounds.]

Monday, September 18, 2006

The Amazing Race Eh

Season 10 of the ultimate (ULTIMATE) top notch show has begun - the Amazing Race. And I can't help but plead my case to cutie pie Phil Keoghan to allow Canadians to enter the throws of non-stop action adventure. I'd consider "settling" and be a contestant on Fear Factor but lost-in-your-eyes Joe Rogan doesn't permit North of the Borders. Come to think of it, sweet cheeks Jeff Probst doesn't want to cosy up to a Canuck during a friendly game of Survivor either.

What's with the Hoser ban? I'm sensing a conspiracy amongst American networks. And there can only be one reason for keeping Canadians out in the reality TV cold...because we'd win. Every time.

Sure, the game wouldn't be the same if the country that coined the loonie and toonie were given all-access passes. But think of what we would bring to the show! Just think...[I feel a list coming on]

Top Reasons Why Canadians Should be Contestants on The Amazing Race:
- Endearing Canadian accent
- Ability to convert from metric to imperial (or SI) system and then back to metric again
- Great sense of direction and map reading. Bonus: can point out location of America on an unmarked map
- Possible sponsors would include Tim Hortons - free Timbits for everyone!
- Drag a** because of gained weight from free Timbits
- Renowned for politeness. Examples include: "I'm sorry" (even when we know it's not our fault!), "no - you go first to the pitstop", "don't highjack our plane please" etc.
- Ability to speak many languages: English, Acadian French, Quebec French, and Newfoundlander which will come in handy when travelling, Canada.
- Supply of Canadian flag patches for backpacks
- Unique storeytelling ability, "This one time at Rubber Band Camp..."

And if that wasn't enough to convince you Phil, perhaps you could make an exception just for me? If you say "I'm Erika" really fast, it sounds like you're saying America.

Coincidence? Not bloody likely. I take size small in a t-shirt btw ;)

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Sorry Ma'am, We Don't Sell That

This has got to be some sort of record. It's been an exhausting two+ weeks of online dating and I have decided to delete my profile.

Hmmm, why you ask? Well could it be that...
a) I've met someone absolutely delightful
b) A computer virus has been unleased destroying hard drives of online daters, so I'm taking evasive action ASAP
c) Have quickly realized there are no fish worth catching in the online sea
d) Am accepted into the seminary

Yes, it's "c". In the words of Undercover Mother's daughter Bridget, it's like looking for Filet Mingnon at the corner store. They just don't sell it.

Besides, it was just for fun. And it was becoming quite the opposite of perhaps? I have no problem attending functions by myself but thought how nice it would be to have someone spin me around the dance floor. Have you ever tried to spin yourself? It's quite tricky really.

Pity party, table for one?

First up is my end-of-the-softball-season dance at the end of the month. Cost = $5 per couple. Coach said to make sure to bring our husbands/boyfriends.

Me: "What if you don't have a boyfriend?"
Coach: "You don't have a boyfriend? You don't have a boyfriend?" [No, there was no echo, he really asked me twice]
Me: "No."
Coach: "What's wrong with you that you don't have a boyfriend?"
Me: "Er, if I knew that I'd have a boyfriend."
Coach: "You don't have a boyfriend? Well, if you don't have a boyfriend, $2 for you."

I have a feeling that single men do not have to go through this type of humiliation.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Random Compliment, #2

Yesterday morning, I spent an hour in my dentist's chair only to find out my brand spanking new oral appliances (one for day, one for night) didn't fit properly. In fact, my daytime appliance got stuck on my lower teeth. And since I am sporting a pair of french tip fake nails, I couldn't be of any assistance. In fact, this is one of many times during this week I needed assistance because of my nails (starting a new roll of tape for my dispenser, folding socks, and zipping up my pants to name a few). But they look fabulous.

My dentist is part of some cutting edge stuff when it comes to minimizing the effects of TMJ. If this doesn't work, I'll have to get braces. It's my teenage nightmare coming true, 15 years later. Only worse. Braces in high school are common; a fair share of nerds, geeks and uber band geeks get them. But women, single women at that, single sexy women at the age of 30... name one. Ok, possibly me.

Apparently, it isn't bad enough that my current night appliance slightly resembles the plastic mouth guard worn by sports participants like boxers and hockey players. It makes it quite difficult to talk providing a slight lisp, and ups the drool factor when sleeping. Painting a pretty picture eh? Needless to say, I've only ever had one boyfriend I felt comfortable enough wearing it around. And, he was usually asleep when I put it in. Strangely enough my last boyfriend had the exact same mouth guard; at first I thought it was a sign that he might be "the one". [Note to self: plastic mouth accessories are not relationship indicators].

Back in my dentist's chair...

My dentist is telling me they'll have to take another mold of my upper jaw, when in walks an old man. He's completely starting at me (in his defence I did have on my very flatering pink v-neck long-sleeve clingy cotton t-shirt).

Old Man: "Wow, you are beautiful! I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. "
Me: [blushing] "Why thank you" [I smile]
Old Man: "Are you married?"
Me: "No, I'm divorced."
Old Man: "What the hell was wrong with your husband? You're beautiful. If I was 90 years younger, I'd be on you. You're so beautiful."
Me: "Um, thanks, you're sweet." [and slightly perverted]
Dentist: "Now [Old Man's Name] you've been married for 64 years, you don't want to start getting into trouble now."
Old Man: "Are you kidding, look at her. Why do you get all the pretty ones Doctor? Must be your sex appeal." [chuckles]

If you knew my dentist, you would also chuckle. Sex appeal = zero. I think it's partly due to the the large wooly-esque caterpillars, er....eyebrows he sports.

The old man proceeded to ask me questions about where I was from and left after giving me a Worthens candy; I saved it (you know, in case it had love potion #9 in it or something). Then I thanked him as he'd made my day. Because truthfully, old man or not, he did. It had less to do with what he said, and more to do with his intention, trying to bring a smile to someone's face.

Wait a minute, am I getting philosophical here? Must have been that glass of rum ;)

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Do You Smell That?

Ah, yes. The smell of fall is in the air. Either it's fall or...nevermind. It's crisp, it's fresh. There's just somethin' about it. Fall is my favorite time of year (apart from New Year's, my birthday, summer rain, Johnny Miles Marathon Weekend, the first snow fall and when Justin Timberlake releases his next album *ahem*).

For me, fall means many things, like back to school (horray!). Just kidding. Ok, I'm slightly serious. Fall is an exciting time, a switching of gears. The camis, capris, sun dresses and sexy sling-backs are packed away (at least they are when you live in Canada). And out comes the wool sweaters, corduroy jumpers, tweed mini-skirts, leather platform boots and ever-so-sexy long johns.

Despite the fact that during fall us Candians bundle up, I find it the most enticing time of year. Summer's too sluty. Everything's "out there". But fall, ah, now there's when the imagination has to get you going. You have to wonder just what's under that camel skin-cotton-cashmere blend sweater.

Personally, I think there's nothing sexier than a guy in a wool sweater. Ok, maybe not a wool sweater because I'm allergic to wool. But a thick cable-knit sweater, or turtleneck. Mmmmmm...turtleneck. Um, not sure what my point was here. Ah yes, it's that leaving something to the imagination is good. You may never know what's under there. Or, you might. You tease.

And don't even get me started on hot chocolate by a roaring fire.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Save A Cowboy, Ride a Horse

#4. Go horseback riding (Note: something my married sister always wanted to do...and thought it could go on my list. She has forgotten all too soon about what the dating world is really like and is having way too much fun thinking of items to add to my list). COMPLETED

It's official...I am a cowgirl. Well not "official" in a got-a-diploma-from-cowgirl-college kind of way, but pretty damn close. Yee-haw! [See, can speak in cowgirl-isms] and I really know how to show off a great pair, boots. Yes, that's it. Boots.

While on mini-vacation in New Brunswick, had the opportunity to saddle up at the dude ranch. [Note: dude ranch is NOT a literal term, there were no dudes there.] Studs (of the equestrian variety) yes, but no dudes (except that one guy who was there with his girlfriend but he was kind of whimpy). Alas, I polished my pair, boots for nothing. Yes, that's it. Boots.

I even met a celebrity at the dude ranch. Well, not an actual celebrity per say, but there were some parallels between my horse and a certain Mr. Tom Cruise. But I'm putting the cart before the horse here (brewhaha).

To start off, we completed a short form/ questionaire. Blah blah blah no libility, ride at own risk, helmets available, have you ever rode before (keep a straight face), how long since your last ride (stop frowning), what would assist with choosing the right horse for you? Hmmm...answer: a horse that likes to go s-l-o-w. I even spelled it just like that "s-l-o-w."

The horse lady didn't even look at our forms. She just chucked them in a pile on a shelf in the stable. And that's how I ended up with [Tom] Cruise.
Well, that and the fact that I'm 5"6 and 3/4's and that's how they pick your horse, by height. The similarities between the two were definately list worthly so...

The Parallels Between My Horse Cruise and Tom Cruise:
- Both have brown hair (I know! It's like they're freaking twins or something!)
- Bud, the oldest and slowest horse of the group was ahead of us and I had to keep pulling on the reins to stop Cruise the horse from riding into Bud's a**. Please people, don't make me spell the parallel out for you here
- I am a redhead, Nicole Kidman is [sometimes] a redhead
- When I tried to direct Cruise the horse with the reins, he just tossed his head and then rode headlong into the bushes (no doubt to teach me who's boss). Much like Tom Cruise has to have control over everything. Katie, I mean, Kate are you reading this?
- Tom Cruise has been known to jump on yellow couches, Cruise the horse stepped on a yellow dandelion

[Note: This list is very funny when you're drinking white wine].

My time with Cruise lasted 60 minutes (longer than most Cruise encounters I'm told). And, it was kind of boring to be truthful (again, parallels). I know I said I wanted a slow horse, but the couple of times we trotted was the best part. Turns out, I'm a cowgirl who likes to go fast.

The ride left me refreshed and sore as hell. The picture of the cowgirl (above) was obviously taken pre-ride. But nothing beats having the breeze in your hair, riding horseback through the open field. Now I remember why I wanted a pony when I was younger. Ok, who are we kidding, "pony" was on my wish list last Christmas. I guess there's always this year.