Waa-Waa Whaa-Whaa

Ever wonder what it would be like to talk like Charlie Brown's teacher for a day?

Me either.

Sadly, the fates have other plans for me.

Right about now it feels as though the thorny crown of Jesus (a la his crucifixition) has been shoved right into my mouth. Actually, more like a new-age thorny Jesus crown made of metal instead of wood. Same great gashes and tears, without the wooden aftertaste.

Perhaps the pain meds and booze are wearing off.

Perhaps this is the kind of pain men feel when they receive a quick sharp kick to the kajones. Except the pain is in my cheeks. Like a set of aching throbbing cheek kajones.

And the pain meds and booze are working again.

The Last Supper

Tomorrow morning I'm getting my braces on.

Tonight I wanted to go crazy for my "last supper" so I could enjoy all these foods I'm not going to be able to eat for a FEW YEARS! Like poutine...Mmmmm...

I was heading over to my Nan's to help her with some chores and told her not to make supper, as I was bringing something delicious. She'd already had a pork chop dinner in the works. "But Nan, I wanted something good," I said.

Oops. I didn't mean it like that.

So then I felt guilty and agreed to eat the pork chops. That was my last supper. Of great substance anyway.

What bothers me the most is how girls keep telling me how braces will be a great way to lose weight. Uh huh. I don't want to lose weight. Any thinner and I'd make Nicole Ritchie look fat.

But seriously...I'm super stressed right now about my impending dental fusion with metal. I'll be ok after that initial mirror reveal, but until then, pray for me :)

Things That Make You Go Hmmmmm... #3

A certain blogger friend of mine who shall remain nameless rhymes with Heater is into tracking people who visit his blog.

I thought it would be interesting to see who was reading obsessively fixating on mine [yes, you like me, you really really like me]. Anyhoo on rhymes with Heater's recommendation I signed up for the handy dandy randy services of "My Blog Log".

One of said services is what I like to call a "web crumb". Much like Robert Downey and Britney dropped rehab bread crumbs to find their way back to Oz - a web crumb shows how readers found stumbled upon your site by complete accident, whether from a google search or via site link from another equally well endowed scripted blog.

And since I can't make **** like this up, I decided it was definately list worthy.

Things People Are Searching For With Google & My Blog Showed Up in the Results:
- redhead sparkly signs
- sluty figure skaters
- wedgie techniques
- hot lady next door
- angry ferret photos
- cute redhead at the office
- medicinal use of ketchup
- what would brian boitano do
- men answering door in bra
- sexy msn addys
- top 10 things to look forward to after 50th birthday
- strip scrabble
- office cubicle decorating
- sluty redheads
- sexy laryngitis voice
- erika with a k
- hungrey joes wives, and my personal favorite...
- big boobs jello wrestling

And to think, I'm the one common denominator in all this.

I'm baaack

After a brief (ok much too much, long hiatus) I'm desperately trying to play catch-up with my favorite blogs. It's exausting really. You've all been very busy while I was on cloud 9...you've been getting jiggy-with-it, growing old gracefully, manhandling wood, bra shopping and drinking some really weird **** posing as pop.

That's pop. Not poop.

The humor, the swearing...It's all coming back to me.

I've missed you.

Single Girl On A Saturday Morning: The Warm Up

It's official, it has been one month (yesterday) since Liam and I went on our first date.

Tonight, he's planned a 60's themed date [and now you're all thinking about make love not war jokes]. I'm not sure what our 60's date entails but I do know he's tracked down my favorite Beatles movie (Help) and has been compiling music for the occasion, including dusting off his personal collection of Pink Floyd. Liam feels a certain responsibility to make things semi-authentic since he was actually born in the 60's.

He's so creative and knows how to plan. I'm not sure men fully understand how much women appreciate planning and creativity. Or perhaps it's just me.

To get ready for this evening, I'll go through my usual "ritual" of pre-date activities. I'm not sure guys fully understand how much women go through to get ready for a date. Or perhaps it's just me.

Showing up looking "naturally beautiful" is hard work. Observe...

Top 10 Pre-Date Get Ready Activities Done By Women:
- Some sort of physical activity to rid the body of any retaining fluid (level of activity varies from woman to woman, i.e. go to the gym, walk around the block, get out of bed)
- The 3 S's...****, shower and shave
- Pluck random hairs from face, chest, etc
- Condition skin
- Paint nails in pretty color like "Blushed" or "Sheer Innocence"
- Concoct effortless and sexy looking hair do via sheer torture with heated metal appliances like a curling iron
- Forage around dresser drawers for suitable bra and knickers
- Spritz subtle perfume in key areas
- Pick out "knock his socks, etc off" outfit
- Apply layer of natural looking makeup

Wow, I'm tired just writing about it. :)

Sha La La La La La La

There seems to be a rather nasty case of the "blog-blocked" going around, and I'm definately not immune.

When I'm finding it hard to come up with something to write, I look to my fellow bloggers for ideas to pirate, er...I mean to provide inspiration. I'm routinely "inspired" by Amy and Peter. Today, it's Sean's turn.

Sean threw down an invite to list "10 songs you HAVE to sing along to when they come on the radio/ipod/whatever. Those songs that you can't skip past, you can't turn the dial, you have to turn the volume up and sing along with." Sounds like just the thing I need to get inspired for more blogging :)

So...here's my list. Please keep in mind that I can't sing. I only sing when I'm alone (in the car, in the shower, in the photo booth at the carnival).

The Top 10 Songs I HAVE to Sing Along:

1. "Bootylicious" by Dentiny's Child
2. "Heterosexual Man" by Odds
3. "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" by Scissor Sisters
4. "Working For The Weekend" by Loverboy
5. "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top
6. "Love Fool" by the Cardigans
7. "Chotee" by Biff Naked
8. "Make Me Over" by Hole
9. "Love Will Keep Us Together" by the Captain and Tennile
10. "Addicted To Love" by Robert Palmer or "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer

It was quite hard to condense my list to only 10 - it's really missing some ABBA, Bee Gees and Bon Jovi. I make no apologies for my taste in music. Or my lack of singing talent :)

Thanks Sean, I'm feeling less blog-blocked already!

Memory Loss and The Joy of Dating

My current dating situation and "head up in the clouditis" is beginning to have a bit of an impact on... well, everything.

On Tuesday morning I was half way to work when I noticed that my son was still sitting in the back seat of the car. I'd completely forgotten to drop him off at school.

Well, it's not like I left him at home or anything...

Random Compliment, #4

Today I was at a "Crisis and Transition" seminar for work. During our morning break, a lady who works in my department and I were making idle chit chat. We see each other occasionally at the same meetings and training seminars but we don't work out of the same office.

She asked me whether I had any children. I replied yes, that I have one son. Naturally, her follow up question was, "how old is he?" I replied, "He's ten."

"Ten?" she asked (partly to me, partly to herself). I could see her trying to do the math in her head...

"I thought you were only 22," she said.

I was tempted to say, "Well, I was married very young." [Which is very true. Though I certainly wasn't 12]. But I didn't. I explained that I'm actually 30 (and 3/4's). She looked relieved.

And I thanked her for making my day.

But in actuality, it freaked me out. Because then I start to think about things like...he will be eligible to drive a motor vehicle in 6 years. And in 8 years he'll be off to university.

I will only be 38 when he goes to university. 38!

Hey, wait a minute...

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: Cloud #9

Will somebody please pinch me?

Ouch! What the hell did you do that for?

Oh right, I asked you to.

So, my Single Girl on A Saturday Night feature is a bit late. Ok, 3 days late. But it's so hard to write a blog post when your head is up in the clouds all swirly thoughts and stuff. And it's so hard to see to write a blog post when your eyes are all dreamy and stuff.

I went to Liam's on Saturday evening. We cooked supper (chicken curry stew). Yummy!

We drank white wine (Fish Eye). Intoxicating!

We watched the start of the lunar eclipse. Breathtaking! We forgot about the lunar eclipse. That's ok!

We played three rounds of Scrabble (with bets). Rewarding!

Toward the end of the evening he whispered something in my ear that was so sweet and sincere I almost cried. I've never experienced anything quite like this before; it's different. I'm not sure how. Just that it is.

If I am dreaming, I never want to wake up.

Except to pee. I can imagine urine soaked sheets are not a fun experience.

[Post Blog Note: We didn't actually get to eat dessert. But I left it at his house for him to enjoy. Solo ;) ]

The Quickest Way To A Man's Heart...

There's 6 days remaining until date #3 with the Englishman and it's hammer time. It's not close enough to panic over my end of the bargain, but this is a strategic move. One that must have some thought put into it. Like strategy in Battle Ship.

Only there'll be no maneuvering to launch a torpedo and take out a sub, or be boarded (well, ok maybe a bit of that). But really, I will find out if the old adage is correct...that the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

I sent an email to my coworkers Mary (aka Undercover Mother) and Rowan requesting their assistance with my dilemma. I asked Rowan to name the most delicious mouth watering sinful dessert he's ever tasted. I asked Mary to name the easiest dish she's ever made that yielded the greatest results, er, I mean compliments.

Rowan replied with a discription of a three layed cake his mum used to make (white, "pink" and chocolate with frosting on each layer). It sounded completely disgusting. And apparently she's never used a recipe in her life, she kept it all "up here". As I'm reading the email I can picture Rowan pointing to his head. I think he's trying to derail my dessert plans.

Mary, on the other hand, replied with four little words... "Sex In A Pan."

At first, I though she was just being funny - mostly about my [in]ability to cook, but more importantly that it doesn't matter what I make. It can be a simple dish, but tempting and as hot as hell.

As it turns out, Sex In A Pan is an actual dish. But Mary didn't know the recipe. Luckily, my coworker Mandy has it memorized (no, I didn't ask questions). So now I too have the recipe.

If only I knew what to wear...Pants? Skirt? Dress?

Hmmm...I might have to poll the men on this one.

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: A Whole Lot of This And That

List of things to do Saturday night:

- go to supper with dear friend Nan
- enjoy glass of wine
- clean very dirty house
- magically make piles (and piles) of laundry disappear
- watch movies (Marie Antionette and Running with Scissors)
- do taxes
- take down outside Christmas decorations

Apparently I'm less efficient than previously thought.

Especially after two glasses of wine.

The Arm Not Taken

The rain has stopped and here comes the sun. I've narrowed down my dating prospects from 3 to 1 in as many weeks. The last man standing is the charming Englishman, let's call him Liam.

Yesterday, we had our second date at a local cafe. Liam now refers to it as "our cafe". [sigh]

Part of the reason I like him is because he finds my awkward dating blunders endearing and not a sign to run for the nearest exit.

Example #1: During a bit of a lull in the conversation, I asked him "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" After a thoughtful pause, Liam explained he had once purchased a $150,000 car. Naturally, he threw the question back to me (I really should have my own answer prepared before asking that sort of thing). I inappropriately blurted out that I once played a game of strip poker. Curious, Liam asked if I still played. Again, I blurted, "No, I'm not very good a poker." He found this quite amusing. But I didn't stop there...I went on to say that perhaps I should stick to something I'd be better at, like strip Scrabble. He asked for clarification ofcourse about whether it was the stripping or the Scrabble I was good at while trying to keep a straight face. Then we just sat there for a moment. He admitted that he was still thinking about Scrabble and perhaps we should change the subject, so I proceeded to ask him about his favorite color. [It's blue].

Example #2: After our lunch we were enjoying our beverages, coffee (Liam) and tea (me). I asked the waitress for a glass of water, and then went on to explain that my facialist advised me to drink 2 glasses of water for every cup of tea or coffee I consumed. I hadn't realized I was so thristy and began really sipping the water back through my straw. I paused to take a breath and my straw flew up out of my glass, flinging water on my face and arm. I laughed, and then said that obviously, the water is absorbed much quicker into the body if you apply it directly to the skin instead of drinking it.

Example #3: Being the perfect gentleman, Liam walked me to my car after we left the cafe. He pointed out some ice off to right on the sidewalk (this was my cue to take his arm because I was wearing heels and he didn't want me to fall. He did the same thing on our first date and then informed me that any arm taking would have consequences, like a kiss on the cheek). I neglected to take his arm. When we reached my car, I being the graceful singelton that I am, muttered "So I assume somebody will be in touch?" Liam smiled and said that somebody would be in touch.

Back at work I was retelling my dating awkwardness for the benefit of my coworkers who are smug marrieds and have to "live vicariously through me". Within a half an hour there was an email in my inbox from Liam asking if he could cook me supper next weekend.

I offered to bring dessert and my Scrabble board (for a regular game ofcourse).

Undiscovered Dating Techniques #4: Ass-traction

Undercover Mother and I were chatting away at work yesterday, discussing her daughter Bridget's most recent object of malefection (i.e. male eye-candy). Let's call him Ted.

Bridget is using a rarely used but powerful technique to get Ted's attention...she's using the laws of ass-traction. Much like the laws of attraction, ass-traction specifically uses the hypnotic powers of the gluteus maximus, much like the effect of a tractor beam on Star Trek, men (and aliens alike) are defenseless.

This technique is especially useful during spinning class, as long as your bike is within ass-traction range.

Employed and enjoyed by men and women, the ass-traction should not be attempted by amateurs. You must be willing to put your money where your ass is (via a few trips to the gym to first make sure you're in prime ass-traction condition). Coordination and tight fitting shorts are a must.

Use at your own discretion.

An Open Letter to My Ex-Boyfriend

Dear [insert name here],

I've deleted your email address so I couldn't send a reply to your too-little-too-late email. Here's all the things I wanted to say about why we "didn't/ don't/ won't work" but held back...

#1: You don't know how to say what you really mean and mean what you really say. Unless it's about something no one cares about, like wind surfing.
#2: You make the worst coffee I've ever tasted (I never thought "ass" was a coffee flavour til I met you).
#3. Yes, that huge crack across the front windshield of your car is unsafe and does make you look like you are too cheap to replace it.

Ok, I'm having way too much fun now...

#4. I find it hard to date a man that wears the same waist-size pants as I do.
#5. I hate the person I become when I'm around only you (too sensitive and too accomodating).
#6. The bumbling fumbling stuttering almost-gentleman Hugh Grant routine is only endearing when done by Hugh Grant.
#7. Ok, so you're a good kisser. But that won't keep a girl warm at night.
#8. You've never actually been in love (your words). I guess you mean, with someone other than yourself...

There. I feel way better now that I got that off my fantastic chest.

Erika

PS - I probably should have told you all of this in the car that day you drove me home. But I knew you weren't being straight with me (I guess some things never change). It seems I've grown tired of being the only one telling the truth.

I really do wish you the best. With someone else.

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: The Ugly Sweater Party

As you know, I like to pirate ideas from fellow bloggers and today's post is no exception! The "Single Girl On A Saturday Night" is a regular feature on Amy's blog. And yes, I do realize it's Sunday already.

Last night my sister Kirsten and I went to an Ugly Sweater Party.

We spent a small chunk of time (quite possibly 60 minutes in total) at three different second-hand stores in a quest to find the ugliest of the ugly to wear.

We found a strong contender at our first stop - a flowered synthetic thingy. And best of all, there were 6 identical sweaters so Kirsten and I could do the "twin thing" which we haven't done since university (probably because we're not actually twins). Unfortunately, the sweaters were $12 each (a bit pricey for second-hand even if they were Tommy Hilfiger and still had the price tags on.) I tried my best to wheel-and-deal offering to take both for $10 total. The shop keeper disappeared out back for a minute and returned to announce that $7 each was as low as she could go and still make money. So we pulled the old "we'll think about it" routine.

Two shops later, we'd found something suitable (in ugliness and in price). My pick was a retina-burning blue and baby diarrhea green striped pullover with smaller lines of mustard yellow thrown in. My sister literally stumbled upon a low cut greenish blueish knit sweater that tied at the elbows, and resembled something a bar wench would have sported back in the 1700's...

We were able to take our time getting ready (a rarity with the kids). Kirsten assisted with my hair which she hasn't done since university (I didn't know it could defy gravity like that). And I didn't even get burned by the curling iron.

My sis even offered to do my makeup too but I'm still scared from when she did a practise run through of my makeup for my wedding 10 years ago - she wanted to achieve a "different" color and opted to add a touch of eyeshadow to the gloss. My lips ended up stained black and goopy. So, I maned the makeup brushes myself. Not that I'm completely hopeless and don't know what I'm doing or anything.

People put some great thought into their sweaters! One guy (who shall remain nameless) wore a black women's sweater, complete with beading and baubles and sequins on the front. Funny part is, he pulled it off, and looked radiant. I never thought I'd say that about a man. The host (a lanky 6"3+ guy) sported a women's cream cashmere belted cardian which made him look like a pimp, albeit, a very soft one.

It was a great time. And gave everyone a great opening line - "That's one ugly sweater!"

I ended up becoming quite attached to my sweater which I was alble to pull off with a sunny yellow collared polo shirt and jeans. In fact, I got lots of compliments.

I guess ugly really is in the eye of the beholder.

Dead On Arrival

See this guy? He's not a doctor but he plays one on TV.

In a moment, he's going to place those paddles on a patient.

I think I could use his services on the men I've been dating lately. They all seem to have had their heart stopped (or even worse, ripped out) by their ex-wives/ ex-girlfriends/ ex-housekeepers.

Much like a critical patient laying unconscious on an ER stretcher, these guys are in no condition to be out walking about with non-patients and going out on dates as if they're whole.

But they do.

And I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. I could manage a little mouth-to-mouth but that's about the extent of my medical training.

So we all know how this ends. Things are DOA before the entrees.

Which is a pitty. Because I was really looking forward to dessert.

I Think I Love You (And You, And You, And Ooooo Definately You)

Happy Valentine's Day to all you singletons and smug marrieds out there in Bloggerland!

Unlike most Valentine Days, I did not harbour any bitterness to the lovey dovey couples of the world who continue to shamelessly flaunt their commitment to love. Nor did I feel the urge to biff a hard biscuit at the heads of couples strolling hand in hand down the sidewalk. And not once did I feel the need to puke at the sight of ugly girls on the arms of their obliviously cute boyfriends. Perhaps I have turned over a new leaf. And perhaps I've realized that even ugly people deserve to be happy.

It's turning out to be a banner year.

But seriously, this is the first Valentine's Day that I'm not sulking about feeling sorry for myself because I'm single. I was actually happy today instead milling about at the pity party.

To celebrate my lessons learned and personal growth, I bought myself some top notch flowers - after all, I deserve it. Personal growth is hard work! I also picked up a bottle of wine (which I'm already 3/4 of a glass into and becoming rather silly) and some portabello mushrooms so I can cook up my piece de la resistence - stuffed mushrooms! Yummy.

I guess I've learned to love the one you're with, even if you're the only one in the room. Because if you don't love yourself, who will.

Ok, that sounds way too philosophical this far into a glass of wine. Enjoy your awesomeness!

XOXO, Erika

Sweet Dreams, Third Edition

Last night I had QUITE the dream.

But I can't write about that. So, I'll tell you about another dream I had...

I was at a record store, searching for some CD I really wanted. But was having a hard time finding it. Probably because I was browsing in the LP section. As I was flipping through the album covers, I kept saying "No...no...no...no..." to each one I glanced at. [I know, I know - already you can see how this is going to go down in the "analysis section"].

[Sidebar: When I was a "newbie" in the world of student journalism I had the pleasure of working with a cool-as-shit Editor-in-Chief, let's call him Josh. He was effortlessly cool with his rumpled brown hair, like a modern day James Dean, but not gay. I mean, this guy even made cigarettes look cool. This one time at the pub he picked me up and swung me around on his shoulders like he was a figure skater or something. Sigh.]

Anyway back at the CD store in the LP section...

Josh (see sidebar) runs up to me, takes a hold of my shoulders with his big strong hands and says "I've been looking everywhere for you. I've been looking for six years but I've finally found you!" Ok, this is where it goes off the rails...

Josh gets down on one knee and proposes!

I say yes. Naturally.

What kind of crazy **** is that?

The "can't find the CD" part probably relates to my search for the right guy. But since I'm looking in the "LP section", I'm looking in the wrong place for the kind of guy I want.

Either that or, I really am looking for a CD. Or maybe I should quit eating salsa before bed.

V Is For...

Houston, we have a problem.

On Friday, I got lucky! A co-worker was selling tickets on a romantic weekend getaway package at a local chalet, and a gift certificate at a fancy restaurant. I was feeling lucky and purchased two tickets. One of which was the winning ticket. Two thumbs up.

My co-worker Rowan teased that now I just had to find someone to take. Uh huh. Without missing a beat, I told him it wouldn't be a problem and winked.

Except that it is a problem. Well, not a "problem"...there's no expirary date (on me or the getaway/ gift certificate). But there isn't anyone right now that I would take.

Which reminds me, things have been grounded with the Pilot. This is actually a good thing. He didn't make me want to throw up. This is actually a bad thing.

So, if you're keeping track, feeling like you're going to throw up when with a guy = good, not wanting to throw up when with a guy = bad. Everyone wants to feel those butterflies and not an empty void.

Also, in case you're keeping track - Valentine's Day is three days away. This year, I want to receive flowers from a secret admirer (or maybe a not-so-secret admirer). Not roses mind you, they're so overrated and cliche. Maybe a nice bouquet of daisies or something. Like he put some thought and personality into it.

Can you believe that some single women actually send flowers to themselves on Valentine's Day and pretend it's from a potential suitor? I could never imagine doing that [*cough cough*].

I've been reminded over the years on Valentine's Day how truely sweet and thoughtful guys can be. I think one of the best gifts I ever received was from my coworkers at the university radio station where I used to have a morning show. The guys chipped in and bought me chocolates and the sweetest card. I ended up finding out later that while they all adored me (naturally), they were actually from the station manager who secretly had a crush on me.

Sigh. Is it possible to get lucky twice in one week?

5 Things You May Not Know About Me

Today's post was pirated from fellow blogger Peter DeWolf who, let's be honest, inspires most of us with his all kinds of awesomeness.

5 Things You May Not Know About Me (Or perhaps more aptly named, 5 Things You Wish You Never Knew About Me):

- I am currently afflicted with a "touch" of laryngitis.
Cons: Am on the verge of cancelling plans for this weekend unless I brush up on my charades skills
Pros: Sexy gravelly Kathleen Turner-esque voice (or voice of a 20-year pack-a-day smoker). May finally have a legitimate reason to use finger puppets on a date.

- I have a mole on my right nipple.
Cons: Cindy Crawford made the upper lip mole sexy but to my knowledge there has not been a campaign to increase awareness and acceptance of moles on breasts.
Pros: Showing random people my breast...er, mole.

- I think this season of the OC sucks ***!
Cons: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie brood while wearing his trademark wife beater.
Pros: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie beat someone's *** while wearing his trademark wife beater.

- I drive a Toyota that's 10 years old.
Cons: Possibly hitch hiking to work.
Pros: Being able to say I drive a "classic." Plus, it has a sunroof that gives me that sexy wind blown look in the summer, and a "sunroof" tan.

- I make a mean plate of stuffed mushrooms
Cons: Being able to cook little else.
Pros: Appearing somewhat competent in the kitchen, especially when mushrooms are accompanied by wine (lots and lots of wine).

This wasn't as easy as it looks - so what don't I know about you?