I've officially been at work for all of 15 minutes. Not even long enough to drink half of the Starbucks coffee in my travel mug. But apparently long enough to get two large holes in my pantyhose.
I have no idea how it happened. I remember when my pantyhose used to rip for a reason [like when carrying a bushel of apples in a wooden basket, during an energetic make-out session, or trying to grab the last Donna Karen sweater at a Black Friday sale].
But for no reason...my life is becoming too ordinary.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Bringing Sexy Back
Tonight I was multitasking on my PC simultaneously writing a cover letter for a job opportunity closer to Paul and searching for a pair of sexy peep toes shoes.
One particular pair of shoes was being worn by a particularly leggy model. Which got me thinking about exotic dancers and how I really need to get practicing my Carmen Electra lap dance video for my romantic three-month-aversary weekend away with Paul. Which got me thinking I'm working out less since Paul and I started dating. Which got me thinking, I'm not feeling as sexy as I used to. And also that I need to pick up maple syrup at the grocery store because I'm down to the last drop. Yes, the inner-workings into the mind of a woman is both a weird and wonderful thing.
There's no question Paul thinks I'm sexy. All it takes is that "look" and his clothes seem to instantaneously drop to the floor. I'm sure it's all in my head. But I haven't felt this sexy-challenged since my pre-hair-gel days in junior high.
This calls for drastic action.
It's time to dust off my Billy Blanks Tae Bo [VHS] tapes. We're talking Billy Blanks in spandex. And leg warmers. Now that's hard core. If anyone can bring sexy back, it's Billy.
One particular pair of shoes was being worn by a particularly leggy model. Which got me thinking about exotic dancers and how I really need to get practicing my Carmen Electra lap dance video for my romantic three-month-aversary weekend away with Paul. Which got me thinking I'm working out less since Paul and I started dating. Which got me thinking, I'm not feeling as sexy as I used to. And also that I need to pick up maple syrup at the grocery store because I'm down to the last drop. Yes, the inner-workings into the mind of a woman is both a weird and wonderful thing.
There's no question Paul thinks I'm sexy. All it takes is that "look" and his clothes seem to instantaneously drop to the floor. I'm sure it's all in my head. But I haven't felt this sexy-challenged since my pre-hair-gel days in junior high.
This calls for drastic action.
It's time to dust off my Billy Blanks Tae Bo [VHS] tapes. We're talking Billy Blanks in spandex. And leg warmers. Now that's hard core. If anyone can bring sexy back, it's Billy.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Top 10 Things to "Fix" This Week
Hello change! Meet Erika.
Sometimes things just seem to be going way too good. So good in fact you're wondering what could go wrong because things just seem a little too perfect.
Ok, so there's a few things I'd like to "fix". Things that aren't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And by "grand scheme of things" I mean my life. Because after all, that's what I'm here to write about. And just as importantly that's what you're here to read about.
Top 10 Things To Fix This Week (in order from most "critical" to "meh")
1. Correct newly dyed hair color from don't-you-could-work-for-the-circus red to something less...freakish. Poopy brown perhaps.
2. New car smell of new car. I've tried a strawberry air fresher which somehow has made it worse because now my new car smells like a new car with a half-strawberry half-nail polish remover sort-of smell.
3. My resume. Trans-provincial love is proving most challenging and I've agreed to begin job searching in Paul's metropolitan sphere.
4. My bank account. I haven't seen that many negative signs since grade one math class.
5. My front step. It's off balance and sinking like the Titanic. Except my step is made of wood. And come to think of it, my step is sinking into the muddy ground in front of my house and not the freezing Atlantic ocean. And no one will die. Although I could lose my balance and tear another perfectly good pair of panty hose. How many innocent pairs of panty hose have to be sacrificed?
Ok, I know that's only 5. But what can I say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Sometimes things just seem to be going way too good. So good in fact you're wondering what could go wrong because things just seem a little too perfect.
Ok, so there's a few things I'd like to "fix". Things that aren't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And by "grand scheme of things" I mean my life. Because after all, that's what I'm here to write about. And just as importantly that's what you're here to read about.
Top 10 Things To Fix This Week (in order from most "critical" to "meh")
1. Correct newly dyed hair color from don't-you-could-work-for-the-circus red to something less...freakish. Poopy brown perhaps.
2. New car smell of new car. I've tried a strawberry air fresher which somehow has made it worse because now my new car smells like a new car with a half-strawberry half-nail polish remover sort-of smell.
3. My resume. Trans-provincial love is proving most challenging and I've agreed to begin job searching in Paul's metropolitan sphere.
4. My bank account. I haven't seen that many negative signs since grade one math class.
5. My front step. It's off balance and sinking like the Titanic. Except my step is made of wood. And come to think of it, my step is sinking into the muddy ground in front of my house and not the freezing Atlantic ocean. And no one will die. Although I could lose my balance and tear another perfectly good pair of panty hose. How many innocent pairs of panty hose have to be sacrificed?
Ok, I know that's only 5. But what can I say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Q and A with Paul
I thought it would be fun to "interview" Paul with some Q and A about yours truly for a blog post (oh hindsight you are sooooo 20/20). Lines that appear within this [ and ] are my inner thoughts to Paul's answers and were in no way uttered aloud during this Q and A exercise.
Via phone...
Me: What shoes was I wearing on our first date?
Paul: The black high heeled ones. I had to carry you up the hill pretending I wasn’t out of breath. It gave me a chance to check out your butt!
Me: [gives a "look" and then remembers we're chatting over the phone and "looks" don't work over the phone].
Me: What surprised you the most about me?
Paul: Your dirty mind.
Me: What’s your favorite Erika-undies?
Paul: The ones on the side of the bed.
Me: Wa-wa-waaaaa
Paul: The purple with black flowers or leaves or something that you bought at LaSenza.
Me: [Hmmm...quite the "safe answer" because he's just described about 5 pairs I have].
Me: Most awkward date moment?
Paul: Meeting your parents while sick.
Me: What Erika-ism-esque phrase do I say the most?
Paul: [laughs] [whistles] [laughs more] [coughs] I plead the 5th.
Me: When I say I'm doing "self-maintenance" what do you think that means?
Paul: [laughs] Plucking your eyebrow.
Me: Eyebrow!
Paul: Eyebrows. Eyebrows! Except you don't have any. Probably your nails. And probably some things I shouldn't know about because you're always so mysterious about self-maintenance.
Me: How many times have I beaten your ass at Scrabble?
Paul: Crap. I don’t know...25-30% of the time.
Me: [Thinking....it's way higher but I'll stay quiet to preserve your manhood/ego].
Me: What do you really think about my blog?
Paul: I’ve never really read it.
Me: [This is actually untrue. I have "allowed" Paul to read a few select posts. Very select as you can imagine].
Me: Name a crazy thing you’ve done for my love?
Paul: Called you from Europe on a cell phone. Spent 7 hours looking for the perfect present for you in Italy. Drove an hour and a half home in the pouring rain after our first date and called you at 3:30 in the morning to say I arrived home ok and had an amazing time.
Me: [Good answer].
Me: Name 3 things you wish I had in my kitchen?
Paul: A good set of knives, a good sized cutting board.
Me [Interrupting]: I just got a new cutting board.
Paul: Yes, you got a bit bigger cutting board. I mean an even bigger cutting board. And a good set of pots.
Me: I have a set of pots.
Paul: Yes, but I mean a good set. Yours are thin and things are always burning to the bottom.
Me: Moving on. Describe my decorating style?
Paul: Bright.
Me: What?
Paul: [mumbles and stammers and tries to explain what he meant]
Me: Do I make a good cup of coffee?
Paul: It's a little weak. But it's ok.
Me: I thought that's how you liked it?
Paul: No. I like strong coffee.
Me: We haven't had our first fight yet. What do you think it will be about?
Paul: Your jealousy.
Me: What? [Just because I'm annoyed that Paul's still friends with a crazy ex-girlfriend who calls him all hours with her drama is not the same thing as being jealous].
And then we preceded to get in our first fight. Irony, how you bitch-slap thee.
Via phone...
Me: What shoes was I wearing on our first date?
Paul: The black high heeled ones. I had to carry you up the hill pretending I wasn’t out of breath. It gave me a chance to check out your butt!
Me: [gives a "look" and then remembers we're chatting over the phone and "looks" don't work over the phone].
Me: What surprised you the most about me?
Paul: Your dirty mind.
Me: What’s your favorite Erika-undies?
Paul: The ones on the side of the bed.
Me: Wa-wa-waaaaa
Paul: The purple with black flowers or leaves or something that you bought at LaSenza.
Me: [Hmmm...quite the "safe answer" because he's just described about 5 pairs I have].
Me: Most awkward date moment?
Paul: Meeting your parents while sick.
Me: What Erika-ism-esque phrase do I say the most?
Paul: [laughs] [whistles] [laughs more] [coughs] I plead the 5th.
Me: When I say I'm doing "self-maintenance" what do you think that means?
Paul: [laughs] Plucking your eyebrow.
Me: Eyebrow!
Paul: Eyebrows. Eyebrows! Except you don't have any. Probably your nails. And probably some things I shouldn't know about because you're always so mysterious about self-maintenance.
Me: How many times have I beaten your ass at Scrabble?
Paul: Crap. I don’t know...25-30% of the time.
Me: [Thinking....it's way higher but I'll stay quiet to preserve your manhood/ego].
Me: What do you really think about my blog?
Paul: I’ve never really read it.
Me: [This is actually untrue. I have "allowed" Paul to read a few select posts. Very select as you can imagine].
Me: Name a crazy thing you’ve done for my love?
Paul: Called you from Europe on a cell phone. Spent 7 hours looking for the perfect present for you in Italy. Drove an hour and a half home in the pouring rain after our first date and called you at 3:30 in the morning to say I arrived home ok and had an amazing time.
Me: [Good answer].
Me: Name 3 things you wish I had in my kitchen?
Paul: A good set of knives, a good sized cutting board.
Me [Interrupting]: I just got a new cutting board.
Paul: Yes, you got a bit bigger cutting board. I mean an even bigger cutting board. And a good set of pots.
Me: I have a set of pots.
Paul: Yes, but I mean a good set. Yours are thin and things are always burning to the bottom.
Me: Moving on. Describe my decorating style?
Paul: Bright.
Me: What?
Paul: [mumbles and stammers and tries to explain what he meant]
Me: Do I make a good cup of coffee?
Paul: It's a little weak. But it's ok.
Me: I thought that's how you liked it?
Paul: No. I like strong coffee.
Me: We haven't had our first fight yet. What do you think it will be about?
Paul: Your jealousy.
Me: What? [Just because I'm annoyed that Paul's still friends with a crazy ex-girlfriend who calls him all hours with her drama is not the same thing as being jealous].
And then we preceded to get in our first fight. Irony, how you bitch-slap thee.
So Saucy
This week I traveled to the "big city" for training. This also happens to be the city where Paul lives. You know, purely coincidental.
We went out to eat at my favorite Chinese restaurant. I ordered my usual Combo A - chicken fried rice, egg roll and the piece de la resistance...sweet n' sour chicken balls (I also take pride that I've converted Paul into a Combo A devotee).
For the second time in two months my chicken balls were not smothered in sweet n' sour sauce. I like 'em saucy...like if the balls were the Titanic and the sauce was the ocean....you get where I'm going with this bad parallel? Good.
I looked at Paul and said in my best deadpan, "Honey, my balls are dry. I can't have dry balls. I like saucy balls."
After he finished laughing, Paul motioned for the waiter to come over. I was quickly trying to decide how to careful word my request. But perhaps I didn't have enough time.
Me: "Can I have some more sauce please, my balls are dry."
Our waiter got a nice tip.
We went out to eat at my favorite Chinese restaurant. I ordered my usual Combo A - chicken fried rice, egg roll and the piece de la resistance...sweet n' sour chicken balls (I also take pride that I've converted Paul into a Combo A devotee).
For the second time in two months my chicken balls were not smothered in sweet n' sour sauce. I like 'em saucy...like if the balls were the Titanic and the sauce was the ocean....you get where I'm going with this bad parallel? Good.
I looked at Paul and said in my best deadpan, "Honey, my balls are dry. I can't have dry balls. I like saucy balls."
After he finished laughing, Paul motioned for the waiter to come over. I was quickly trying to decide how to careful word my request. But perhaps I didn't have enough time.
Me: "Can I have some more sauce please, my balls are dry."
Our waiter got a nice tip.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
You Give Me Fever
Picture it....
Afternoon staff meeting. Setting, interior office. Coffee and birthday cake have just been served.
While staffers are enjoying said cake, Boss (with a capital B) begins telling employees about month long bout with illness, including such side effects as month long vomitting and month long diarrhea. Wait a minute...this isn't on the agenda. It turns out Boss has been infected with Giardia (aka water born parasite) and is currently taking antibiotics.
Innocent Staffer: "Oooo - You got the Beaver Fever?"
30+ people all picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.
Same Innocent Staffer: "My sister had that."
Again, 30+ people picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.
Weird but True: Giardia is known as the "Beaver Fever" but not for the naughty reasons you or I think (ok, mostly me). Somehow I was picturing a sex-hungry animal.
Weird but True: It is recommended that when camping do not relieve yourself within 100 feet of a water source, wash your hands after touching animals, and avoid contact with feces during sexual activity.
Weird but True: I managed to eat my entire piece of cake despite obvious TMI.
Afternoon staff meeting. Setting, interior office. Coffee and birthday cake have just been served.
While staffers are enjoying said cake, Boss (with a capital B) begins telling employees about month long bout with illness, including such side effects as month long vomitting and month long diarrhea. Wait a minute...this isn't on the agenda. It turns out Boss has been infected with Giardia (aka water born parasite) and is currently taking antibiotics.
Innocent Staffer: "Oooo - You got the Beaver Fever?"
30+ people all picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.
Same Innocent Staffer: "My sister had that."
Again, 30+ people picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.
Weird but True: Giardia is known as the "Beaver Fever" but not for the naughty reasons you or I think (ok, mostly me). Somehow I was picturing a sex-hungry animal.
Weird but True: It is recommended that when camping do not relieve yourself within 100 feet of a water source, wash your hands after touching animals, and avoid contact with feces during sexual activity.
Weird but True: I managed to eat my entire piece of cake despite obvious TMI.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Kids Say the Darndest Things
My 10-year-old son Aidan and I were routing through the multitude of women's clothing racks at a big box store which shall remain nameless but sounds like Mal-Cart.
I was on the hunt for a pink t-shirt to wear for the office "Get in the Pink" fund raiser in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Society.
Aidan was "helping" me look by picking out other t-shirts he thought were cool/funny/interesting that I should get. None of which were pink.
Aidan: "Hey mum, you should get this one!"
I turned around, and do you know what I saw? This...
Me [in a pretending to be shocked voice and trying not to laugh]: "What?!?"
Aidan [laughing]: "Or this one."
Me: "Ha. Ha." Ok this isn't funny anymore.
Aidan: "Maybe they have a "Little Miss Beautiful" t-shirt you could get."
Awwww. Now that's more like it.
I was on the hunt for a pink t-shirt to wear for the office "Get in the Pink" fund raiser in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Society.
Aidan was "helping" me look by picking out other t-shirts he thought were cool/funny/interesting that I should get. None of which were pink.
Aidan: "Hey mum, you should get this one!"
I turned around, and do you know what I saw? This...
Me [in a pretending to be shocked voice and trying not to laugh]: "What?!?"
Aidan [laughing]: "Or this one."
Me: "Ha. Ha." Ok this isn't funny anymore.
Aidan: "Maybe they have a "Little Miss Beautiful" t-shirt you could get."
Awwww. Now that's more like it.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Putting the "T" in Drive-Thru
Paul and I were driving back to my house following "Meet the Parents" (as in the actual meeting of my parents and not watching the movie "Meet the Parents" although I'm sure my story much like "Meet the Parents" but unlike "Meet the Fockers" could be parlayed into a blockbuster plot*) we decided to get a little pick-me-up at the local coffee shop drive-thru which "sounds like Jim Norton's".
Both of us were feeling a bit under the weather, and neither of us were in the mood for coffee (I know, weird eh?), so we opted for tea.
"Sounds like Jim Nortons" Drive-Thru Girl: Welcome to "sounds like Jim Nortons", can I take your order?
Paul: I'll have a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: A large coffee with milk?
Paul: No, a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: Aaaaaaaa...we have English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green Tea, (pause) Honey Lemon, Apple Cinnamon...
Paul (interrupting): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: Chamomile, Orange Pekoe, Peppermint (pause)
Paul (getting impatient): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: And we also have Chai Tea.
At this point, I'm laughing my ass off in the passenger seat. Paul repeats the Apple Cinnamon again, and we drive up to the window to pay.
After the regulatory 15 minutes cool down period (for the tea, not Paul) we open our respective cups, ready for the warming tea-ness to slowly invade our bodies.
Paul: Ew...that Apple Cinnamon is not as sweet as I thought it was going to be.
Me: WTF! This is coffee!
* Coming soon to a blog near you!
Both of us were feeling a bit under the weather, and neither of us were in the mood for coffee (I know, weird eh?), so we opted for tea.
"Sounds like Jim Nortons" Drive-Thru Girl: Welcome to "sounds like Jim Nortons", can I take your order?
Paul: I'll have a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: A large coffee with milk?
Paul: No, a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: Aaaaaaaa...we have English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green Tea, (pause) Honey Lemon, Apple Cinnamon...
Paul (interrupting): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: Chamomile, Orange Pekoe, Peppermint (pause)
Paul (getting impatient): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: And we also have Chai Tea.
At this point, I'm laughing my ass off in the passenger seat. Paul repeats the Apple Cinnamon again, and we drive up to the window to pay.
After the regulatory 15 minutes cool down period (for the tea, not Paul) we open our respective cups, ready for the warming tea-ness to slowly invade our bodies.
Paul: Ew...that Apple Cinnamon is not as sweet as I thought it was going to be.
Me: WTF! This is coffee!
* Coming soon to a blog near you!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Do You Want Ice With That?
It's been a busy weekend.
[audience] How busy was it?
[audience] How busy was it?
Well, let's see...
I asked my doctor to burn off an unsightly wart off my left hand which then grew into this huge red and purple boil-esque thingy that hurt like...that throbbed like...it was bad and probably deserves it's own postal code (or zip code for you Americans). And has since been covered up by many many band aids.
I hit my ass on the shower facet leaving a bruise the size of a grapefruit and making it difficult to sit at the best of times. And forget about wearing a thong - it makes me look like a crack-whore whose been booty shooting heroin.
I wiped out on my kitchen floor on a slippery unknown liquid-y substance, bruising both of my knees while racing to answer the door. Was horrified that the sound of my body crashing could make such a loud sound. Am starting diet this week.
I contracted the flu and just like Vegas, it ain't pretty.
And then I forgot to wash the conditioner out of my hair while debating whether or not to call in sick to work. Realized why my hair was flat, and my scalp was itching and casting off flakes into the stratosphere.
Yes, it's going to be another one of "those" weeks.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Fantasty With An "S"
Today one of my male coworkers [who shall remain nameless but if I was going to "call him out" I would say his name rhymes with Calvin] was going around the office, trying to sign up some people for this year's fantasy football league dealie.Oddly enough, rhymes with Calvin was only approaching the has a penis and balls variety of staffers to see if they were interested. Hmmm...smells like sexism.
But what really got me was when a coworker of the penis and balls variety told rhymes with Calvin that he doesn't actually follow football (as in AT ALL). And rhymes with Calvin said, "That's ok. It's just for fun."
Oh r-r-r-r-r-r-really? Tomorrow, I'm gonna get me some of that kind of action. After all, if it's just for fun then they won't mind if a girl plays and then kicks their asses. Then I'll humiliate them by making them eat dirt and pee in their pants and say "Erika, you are the ever powerful ruler of fantasy sport games". Or something. That was just off the top of my head. It's not like I put much thought into that part or anything.
Failing that, I'll just start my own fantasy league. Just for girls. But without the sports part because let's face it, unless you're playing them, sports are so b-o-r-i-n-g.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Shrinking Violet
I always took great pride in the fact that I am 5"6 and 3/4's [I always stressed the "3/4's" part too]. I took solace being "tall for a girl". In my heels (which I ALWAYS have on my size 7 and 1/2 feet) I knew I towered to 5"10. Easily.
Yesterday I was filling out my passport application, and the answers to their very rude questions. I mean come on - asking a girl about her age AND weight...it’s dangerous territory. Not to mention the whole "what’s your hair color" question. What if you’re a color chameleon like me? Red usually but with occasional stints as a brunette.
I was literally sweating. One wrong answer and my passport could be denied. I decided I’d better double check on my eye color, so I asked my coworker Camey. She answered with a confident "Gray." Ok, good. That’s what I thought. Better double check on the height. Again, I asked Camey. She stood up, saying "You’re about the same height as me [with a hand measuring motion], so about 5"4."
WTF.
Horrified, I forced my coworker Evan to measure me. The proof was in the measuring tape. I am 5"4 and 1/2! I’ve been lying to myself for 10 years. All those times I told dates I was 5"6 and 3/4 - wrong! How is this possible? I mean, I was off by 2 and 1/4 inches. That’s more than a little bit. That’s quite a bit. My whole "kinda tall for a girl" identity is shattered. I’m a short little thing. Vertically challenged. Petite.
Today I couldn’t even bring myself to wear heels to work. I felt like an impostor. I decided to wear flats and embrace my shortness.
Perhaps I should weigh myself while I’m at it. Maybe I only weigh 115, and all these years I’ve been thinking I weighed 135.
Yesterday I was filling out my passport application, and the answers to their very rude questions. I mean come on - asking a girl about her age AND weight...it’s dangerous territory. Not to mention the whole "what’s your hair color" question. What if you’re a color chameleon like me? Red usually but with occasional stints as a brunette.
I was literally sweating. One wrong answer and my passport could be denied. I decided I’d better double check on my eye color, so I asked my coworker Camey. She answered with a confident "Gray." Ok, good. That’s what I thought. Better double check on the height. Again, I asked Camey. She stood up, saying "You’re about the same height as me [with a hand measuring motion], so about 5"4."
WTF.
Horrified, I forced my coworker Evan to measure me. The proof was in the measuring tape. I am 5"4 and 1/2! I’ve been lying to myself for 10 years. All those times I told dates I was 5"6 and 3/4 - wrong! How is this possible? I mean, I was off by 2 and 1/4 inches. That’s more than a little bit. That’s quite a bit. My whole "kinda tall for a girl" identity is shattered. I’m a short little thing. Vertically challenged. Petite.
Today I couldn’t even bring myself to wear heels to work. I felt like an impostor. I decided to wear flats and embrace my shortness.
Perhaps I should weigh myself while I’m at it. Maybe I only weigh 115, and all these years I’ve been thinking I weighed 135.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
G's Please
Today I was missing Paul like crazy. He was traveling from Norway to Italy and was incommunicado. When he did manage to email me, it was a one liner saying he missed me like crazy, he was going out to supper and would write later. I was [slightly] disappointed. I mean eating could wait, right?
So I went for a consultation/reality check with my coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother). I asked if I was expecting too much from Paul (to delay eating etc). Mary responded with a resounding "Yes! You're being a Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts." And then she bitch-air-slapped me back to reality.
We now refer to this term as the "G Quad". It's our code signal that someone (ok, ok, me) is out of control with her expectations. As Mary put it, "If I was away in Italy, you wouldn't hear from me at all." My argument, "But you're not my girlfriend." And then our took-a-turn-for-the-weird convo ended.
But really, is it my fault that Paul has created such high expectations in me by being the best boyfriend ever? Hmmm...are you sure? Right then.
I excitedly checked my email when I got home, only to find my inbox was empty. With "Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts" echoing in my head, I tried to be an understanding girlfriend. I was about to log off my computer when Paul signed in to MSN. He had stayed up to 1am (there's a 5 hour time difference) hoping I would be online and we could chat in real time instead of via email.
Where's Mary when you need another bitch-air-slap?
So I went for a consultation/reality check with my coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother). I asked if I was expecting too much from Paul (to delay eating etc). Mary responded with a resounding "Yes! You're being a Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts." And then she bitch-air-slapped me back to reality.
We now refer to this term as the "G Quad". It's our code signal that someone (ok, ok, me) is out of control with her expectations. As Mary put it, "If I was away in Italy, you wouldn't hear from me at all." My argument, "But you're not my girlfriend." And then our took-a-turn-for-the-weird convo ended.
But really, is it my fault that Paul has created such high expectations in me by being the best boyfriend ever? Hmmm...are you sure? Right then.
I excitedly checked my email when I got home, only to find my inbox was empty. With "Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts" echoing in my head, I tried to be an understanding girlfriend. I was about to log off my computer when Paul signed in to MSN. He had stayed up to 1am (there's a 5 hour time difference) hoping I would be online and we could chat in real time instead of via email.
Where's Mary when you need another bitch-air-slap?
Monday, October 01, 2007
Up-Selling the Coffee Chain Way
This morning I stopped into my local Canadian coffee chain [which shall remain nameless...let's call it "ryhmes with Jim Nortons"].
The "host" as their male employees are called (which reminds me more of a parasite that's sucking its victim dry, much like Jim Nortons is sucking my wallet dry because I'm addicted to their coffee) repeated my order twice (large 3 cream, 2 sugar) in his best monotone voice before proceeding to mix up my caffine fix.
Host: [goraning] "Is that everything?"
Me: "Yes."
Host: "Would you like to try our muffin of the month with that."
Me: "Uhhhhh...what's the muffin this month?"
Host: [Looks around for visual reminders because he's not sure what kind of muffin it is and groans] "It's a pumpkin seed and cinnamon spice sorta muffin thingy I guess."
Me: [Keeping a straight face] "Wow. It's tempting since you made it sounds so appealing. But no."
It amazes me the volume of people who are able to hold down jobs in the customer service industry.
The "host" as their male employees are called (which reminds me more of a parasite that's sucking its victim dry, much like Jim Nortons is sucking my wallet dry because I'm addicted to their coffee) repeated my order twice (large 3 cream, 2 sugar) in his best monotone voice before proceeding to mix up my caffine fix.
Host: [goraning] "Is that everything?"
Me: "Yes."
Host: "Would you like to try our muffin of the month with that."
Me: "Uhhhhh...what's the muffin this month?"
Host: [Looks around for visual reminders because he's not sure what kind of muffin it is and groans] "It's a pumpkin seed and cinnamon spice sorta muffin thingy I guess."
Me: [Keeping a straight face] "Wow. It's tempting since you made it sounds so appealing. But no."
It amazes me the volume of people who are able to hold down jobs in the customer service industry.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
10 Things I'm Missing This Week
On Wednesday evening Paul boarded a plane for Norway. And this very minute he's running a half-marathon in Oslo. Did I mention lately how much my boyfriend kicks ass?
On the down side, I'm missing him. So I decided what better way to make time fly than do a Top 10 [warning: this top 10 is chalked full of lovey-dovey goodness].
10 Things I'm Missing This Week:
- A passport (if I had one, I could travel, on a plane, like to Norway)
- Money (if I had some, I could travel, on a plane, like to Norway)
- A fear of flying (no wait, that's still there)
- Cheering while holding signs that say "Get 'Er Done" and "Looking good babe" during Paul's run
- Seeing Paul cross the finish line
- Talking to Paul every night before I go to sleep
- Falling asleep in Paul's strong arms
- Playing with Paul's chest hair
- Sweet and passionate kisses
- [censored]
On the plus side, I am keeping busy so the time flies until I pick up Paul at the airport (wearing only a trench coat and heels).
10 Things I'm Doing To Stay Busy This Week:
- Enjoying some/ a lot of emotional eating
- Getting a passport
- Hair cut, brow/lash tint
- Dyed hair
- Purged various household items collected over the years via yard sale
- Bought various new household items during "nesting" frenzy
- Went to doctor for annual exam
- Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that despite the fact there is an inch of dust on everything)
- Blogging (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that either - with all this non-Paul free time I thought I'd be cranking out the posts but...nope)
- Spending quality time with Billy Blanks (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that either but I really need to be so I'm in tip top R-N-D condition when picking Paul up at the airport)
Will this week/next week ever end?
On the down side, I'm missing him. So I decided what better way to make time fly than do a Top 10 [warning: this top 10 is chalked full of lovey-dovey goodness].
10 Things I'm Missing This Week:
- A passport (if I had one, I could travel, on a plane, like to Norway)
- Money (if I had some, I could travel, on a plane, like to Norway)
- A fear of flying (no wait, that's still there)
- Cheering while holding signs that say "Get 'Er Done" and "Looking good babe" during Paul's run
- Seeing Paul cross the finish line
- Talking to Paul every night before I go to sleep
- Falling asleep in Paul's strong arms
- Playing with Paul's chest hair
- Sweet and passionate kisses
- [censored]
On the plus side, I am keeping busy so the time flies until I pick up Paul at the airport (wearing only a trench coat and heels).
10 Things I'm Doing To Stay Busy This Week:
- Enjoying some/ a lot of emotional eating
- Getting a passport
- Hair cut, brow/lash tint
- Dyed hair
- Purged various household items collected over the years via yard sale
- Bought various new household items during "nesting" frenzy
- Went to doctor for annual exam
- Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that despite the fact there is an inch of dust on everything)
- Blogging (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that either - with all this non-Paul free time I thought I'd be cranking out the posts but...nope)
- Spending quality time with Billy Blanks (ok, I'm not really doing a whole lot of that either but I really need to be so I'm in tip top R-N-D condition when picking Paul up at the airport)
Will this week/next week ever end?
Monday, September 24, 2007
Today's Post Is Brought To You By the Letter F
If you're a divorced parent who's dating, there's very few moments that will make you hold your breath and pray like the introduction of your date to your child/ren (except perhaps for said child/ren waking up through the night, and quietly sneaking into your room at a therapy-causing moment).
Paul came over last Friday evening for some pizza and Game Cube to meet my 10-year-old son Aidan. Paul brought some books he thought Aidan would like (in Paul's words, he's not above bribing).
They bonded. Talked about Gladius. I pretended to know what they were talking about. Aidan explained game rules and strategy. I said, "Hey, how come you never told me any of that!" Aidan just laughed. This is going really good I thought. And then...
It's hard to put into vowels and consonants the sound of a "boy fart." Naturally, that is the only kind of farting sound because as we've already discussed, girls do not fart.
Ofcourse I shot Aidan "the mommy look" as in "Oh my god I can't believe you just did that" look. To his credit, he did say excuse me. So I figured, ok...that's that. Moving on. Back to the game. And then...
He did it again! Only this time he laughed after saying "excuse me." Time to take action.
Me: "Aidan, if you're going to do that, please leave the room and then come back."
Aidan: "You don't make me do that any other time."
At this point I'm trying to see if I'm small enough to roll under his twin sized bed and hide.
Each time, Aidan thought it was funnier than the last. I think I stopped counting at this point. It was almost as if Aidan was trying to impress Paul in some only-boys-understand way.
Paul, to his credit, was very understanding. And said, "Wait until you meet [name of his daughter]. " Eep.
After our game we drove Aidan to meet my ex-husband in a near-by "drop off point" city. I made it a point to talk to Aidan when I picked him up on Sunday. We discussed the importance of manners. And we discussed the possibility of sending him to military school if he doesn't learn some.
Paul came over last Friday evening for some pizza and Game Cube to meet my 10-year-old son Aidan. Paul brought some books he thought Aidan would like (in Paul's words, he's not above bribing).
They bonded. Talked about Gladius. I pretended to know what they were talking about. Aidan explained game rules and strategy. I said, "Hey, how come you never told me any of that!" Aidan just laughed. This is going really good I thought. And then...
It's hard to put into vowels and consonants the sound of a "boy fart." Naturally, that is the only kind of farting sound because as we've already discussed, girls do not fart.
Ofcourse I shot Aidan "the mommy look" as in "Oh my god I can't believe you just did that" look. To his credit, he did say excuse me. So I figured, ok...that's that. Moving on. Back to the game. And then...He did it again! Only this time he laughed after saying "excuse me." Time to take action.
Me: "Aidan, if you're going to do that, please leave the room and then come back."
Aidan: "You don't make me do that any other time."
At this point I'm trying to see if I'm small enough to roll under his twin sized bed and hide.
Each time, Aidan thought it was funnier than the last. I think I stopped counting at this point. It was almost as if Aidan was trying to impress Paul in some only-boys-understand way.
Paul, to his credit, was very understanding. And said, "Wait until you meet [name of his daughter]. " Eep.
After our game we drove Aidan to meet my ex-husband in a near-by "drop off point" city. I made it a point to talk to Aidan when I picked him up on Sunday. We discussed the importance of manners. And we discussed the possibility of sending him to military school if he doesn't learn some.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Nuts and Bolting
Mary (aka Undercover Mother) and I were chatting about her impending trip to the eye doctor this week. As it turns out, we go to the same one. We'll call him, Dr. Evans** I've been going to Dr. Evans for eye exams since I was a wee little redhead.Mary confessed that for this week's appointment, she's opted to go with Dr. Evan's daughter who is a newly minted eye doctor. "Instead of going to see the nut rubber."
"The who what now?" I asked.
She said it again, without trying to laugh. "The nut rubber."
Picture it: You're sitting in the eye examination chair thingy. Dr. Evans is seated (legs open) in his wheely chair, and comes toward you to begin the exam. Granted, we're dealing with eyes here so a doctor does need to get close. And before you know it, his nuts rub against your knee. And I don't mean bag of peanuts...
At first, you think, did that JUST happen? A drive-by scrotum sack swish? You try to put it out of your mind. Clearly you imagined it. But then you come to the realization that you've had less bodily contact with lap dancers.
Mary has even attempted to out smart the good doctor. She's tried to cross her legs (he asked her to uncross them), and tried to use her purse as a knee/nut guard (he put her purse on the floor). And per usual, she was groin grazed.
And here I thought it was just me. Turns out Dr. Evans doesn't discriminate between the sexes, he's an equal opportunity nut nuzzler. He's given Mary's son, Brad, the ball brush, in addition to her daughter Bridget. The more Mary and I talked (and laughed because the whole sorted scrotum scenario is as funny as it is bizarre) we discovered it's also happened to our coworker Aaron (who was oblivious to Dr. Evans' beat with his south of the border bongos).
And here's the quandary. My next eye appointment is in January. Should I go to Dr. Evans and blow the whistle on his testicle two-step? Or should I let sleeping dogs lie, and just switch to his lack-of-sack daughter?
Hmmm...
**Definitely not his real name, what am I crazy?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Meep Meep
Paul and I were chatting about a girl he used to date who was as vocal in the bedroom as Charlie Chaplin was on screen. Paul found it frustrating because he never knew whether he was doing something good, bad, or whether she was asleep.I offered, "Wouldn't it have been funny if you could have made little signs with phrases stuck to popsicle sticks like Wile E. Coyote does when he's chasing the Road Runner. Except the signs would say things like "Oooo baby" or "A bit to the left" and "Bob's Your Uncle".
Perhaps this could become a full scale marketing thingamajig. The signs could come in packs of 5. Keep 'em or trade 'em with your friends - collect all 20! Hmmm, no?
Perhaps this is why I don't work in marketing...
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Ass-Hole
Remember what happened to my last [and by last I mean only] pair of pants?
Score! I was unpacking my winter clothes [it's getting a bit frosty north of the border] and found my light brown cords. I thought I'd given them away last winter because they are a bit big. And by a bit big I mean I could pull them down over my hips when zippered and buttoned at the waist.
But that doesn't matter because I was back to being the proud owner of one pair of pants. One pair of pants that must be worn with a belt.
Wore them to take my son to school for his first day of grade 5. Ran into former hunky high school classmate. Was told I looked amazing.
Wore them to work. Was told pants really highlight best asset (the super booty).
Washed them. Ironed them. Put them on for another redhead-next-door adventure. And that's when I saw it...a hole in the ass of my pants. To be more specific, another frey in the ass of my pants. I mean, how is this possible? Am I THAT hard on the ass of my pants that I'm wearing out the material?
So I was late for work because I had to concock a new outfit dejours.
Consulted with coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother) about said ass-hole. As weird as it sounds, I quizzed her whether she has noticed me wiggling about in my chair during meetings which could account for freying. Mary advised that was probably something she would notice. Considering the frey location (about half-way up the butt cheek along the crack) I would have to slouch down before commencing any chair wiggling which I'm guessing would be quite noticeable.
She did suggest that maybe shirt-less lawn mowing neighbour Chip was breaking into my house and rubbing the bum of my pants [the rest of this sentence is censored] and did elicit a response of "Ew" from yours truly. In unrelated news, Mary is missing her pork chop broiler pan. We suspect it's the undetectable work of Chip.
Perhaps instead of throwing out pants, I should invest in some sturdy yet fashionable pant patches for the cords and the countless ass-worn pants that will undoubtedly follow.
[Post Post Update: I bought 3 brand spanking new pairs of pants. And I'll be keeping my eye(s) on them].
Score! I was unpacking my winter clothes [it's getting a bit frosty north of the border] and found my light brown cords. I thought I'd given them away last winter because they are a bit big. And by a bit big I mean I could pull them down over my hips when zippered and buttoned at the waist.
But that doesn't matter because I was back to being the proud owner of one pair of pants. One pair of pants that must be worn with a belt.
Wore them to take my son to school for his first day of grade 5. Ran into former hunky high school classmate. Was told I looked amazing.
Wore them to work. Was told pants really highlight best asset (the super booty).
Washed them. Ironed them. Put them on for another redhead-next-door adventure. And that's when I saw it...a hole in the ass of my pants. To be more specific, another frey in the ass of my pants. I mean, how is this possible? Am I THAT hard on the ass of my pants that I'm wearing out the material?
So I was late for work because I had to concock a new outfit dejours.
Consulted with coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother) about said ass-hole. As weird as it sounds, I quizzed her whether she has noticed me wiggling about in my chair during meetings which could account for freying. Mary advised that was probably something she would notice. Considering the frey location (about half-way up the butt cheek along the crack) I would have to slouch down before commencing any chair wiggling which I'm guessing would be quite noticeable.
She did suggest that maybe shirt-less lawn mowing neighbour Chip was breaking into my house and rubbing the bum of my pants [the rest of this sentence is censored] and did elicit a response of "Ew" from yours truly. In unrelated news, Mary is missing her pork chop broiler pan. We suspect it's the undetectable work of Chip.
Perhaps instead of throwing out pants, I should invest in some sturdy yet fashionable pant patches for the cords and the countless ass-worn pants that will undoubtedly follow.
[Post Post Update: I bought 3 brand spanking new pairs of pants. And I'll be keeping my eye(s) on them].
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
A Picture's Worth 3 Words
Paul and I braved the heat to tackle some wilderness hiking at a place called Devil's Bend [note: it's not just a name and in fact should be renamed "Feels Like The Devil's Bent You Over" by the time your done].The hike took us hundreds of feet/meters/felt like miles...up. And then down. And back up. Etc etc etc. 6 whole kilometers worth.
We did pack: 2 liters of water (which had to be rationed) because the hike was actually 6km to the waterfall and 6km back, and 12 condoms.
We didn't pack: batteries (keep reading), bug spray (probably have west nile now), sun screen, a change of clothes (sweated our own body weight worth), and food (save for one banana and strawberry runner's gel pack which had similar consistency to ejaculation with the same salty after taste).
As all newly minted couples do, we took many photos during our trek (see above, which we will refer to as, exhibit A). The scenery was breathtaking [and I mean more than just my décolletage].
Unfortunately the camera batteries died as we reached the waterfall. So now we have vowed to one day go back just to get pictures of us by the cascading water. Or perhaps a cardboard cut out will do.
Paul downloaded the pics today and sent them to me. And that's when I discovered a picture can be worth three words...I look pregnant.
Ugh. (See exhibit B, above)Nothing like seeing yourself looking as though your 3-4 months pregnant to spurn you into a major workout fest.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
10 (+2) Things I Did This Week
1. Officially went back to being a redhead
2. Officially got a boyfriend (aka Paul)
3. Renewed membership at LaSenza
4. Spent half of funds in bank account at LaSenza using renewed membership on purple/lilac/fuchsia items which will yield a higher return than interest bearing savings account
5. Sorted through knicker drawer, and tossed out unsightly unmentionables to make room for new purple-y purchases
6. Helped sister ring in her 29th birthday
7. Attempted to take trunk load of bottles (1 and a half years worth) to bottle exchange in another province to avoid looking like alcoholic only to discover said bottle exchange was closed. Left bottles for brother-in-law to take to said bottle exchange possibly looking like an alcoholic.
8. Enjoyed black-tie pizza date with said official boyfriend which lead to...
9. Enjoyed bottle of white wine with said official boyfriend which lead to...
10. Enjoyed modeling LaSenza purchases which lead to...
11. Enjoyed "return on investment" (multiple times)
12. Came up with brilliant and plausible excuses as to why I'm walking funny like "pulled a hamstring playing ball" which is...true. Sheesh! What were you thinking?
2. Officially got a boyfriend (aka Paul)
3. Renewed membership at LaSenza
4. Spent half of funds in bank account at LaSenza using renewed membership on purple/lilac/fuchsia items which will yield a higher return than interest bearing savings account
5. Sorted through knicker drawer, and tossed out unsightly unmentionables to make room for new purple-y purchases
6. Helped sister ring in her 29th birthday
7. Attempted to take trunk load of bottles (1 and a half years worth) to bottle exchange in another province to avoid looking like alcoholic only to discover said bottle exchange was closed. Left bottles for brother-in-law to take to said bottle exchange possibly looking like an alcoholic.
8. Enjoyed black-tie pizza date with said official boyfriend which lead to...
9. Enjoyed bottle of white wine with said official boyfriend which lead to...
10. Enjoyed modeling LaSenza purchases which lead to...
11. Enjoyed "return on investment" (multiple times)
12. Came up with brilliant and plausible excuses as to why I'm walking funny like "pulled a hamstring playing ball" which is...true. Sheesh! What were you thinking?
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