Merry wishes from all of us here at the Redhead Next Door! And by all of us I mean...me.
May all your Christmas wishes come true even if you are on Santa's naughty list. Ok, especially if you are on Santa's naughty list ;)
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Hair Therapy
I've been in a bit of funk lately. And by funk I mean full blown depression complete with fashion sensibility meltdown. Case in point: today I was wearing a plum and pink top with dark gray stripped pants and...wait for it...beige socks. I know! It's reached critical levels. Code red! Or blue! Or something.
Thankfully this only happens to me about once a year [Usually in winter when I haven't been getting enough of my vitamin sun, have been gaining my share of the freshman 15 without the tuition bills and am stressed out with holiday "cheer" about all the Christmas/birthday/ thank-you/bar mitzvah presents I have to buy that I don't have the money for].
Undercover Mother even gave me her reserve-for-dire-striates "Mary Tyler Moore chat" to snap me out of it. Somehow I'm feeling more Murphy Brown-in-the-dumps than Mary Tyler Moore-enthusiasm.
To top it off, I was suffering from a bad case of "cartoon hair" - hair so out of control that it could only be seen on a cartoon like Yugioh. I tried to tame my mane with a headband and bobby pins and hair spray with the remaining bit tucked back into a mini pony tail and more hair spray. Alas it was in vain. Or wait, is that me?
My coworkers actually asked my boss if I could go home "hair sick" it was THAT bad. So, I took my last $50 until pay day and got my hair cut. There's nothing like getting your hair cut to cheer you up. All it took was one Charlie's Angels hair flip and I'm back in action.
It didn't completely cure my funk. I promptly called a bottle of wine "fucker" tonight when half the cork broke off inside the bottle. And I'm currently devouring my second piece of cheesecake in 12 hours. But somehow, I think I'll make it after all.
Thankfully this only happens to me about once a year [Usually in winter when I haven't been getting enough of my vitamin sun, have been gaining my share of the freshman 15 without the tuition bills and am stressed out with holiday "cheer" about all the Christmas/birthday/ thank-you/bar mitzvah presents I have to buy that I don't have the money for].
Undercover Mother even gave me her reserve-for-dire-striates "Mary Tyler Moore chat" to snap me out of it. Somehow I'm feeling more Murphy Brown-in-the-dumps than Mary Tyler Moore-enthusiasm.
To top it off, I was suffering from a bad case of "cartoon hair" - hair so out of control that it could only be seen on a cartoon like Yugioh. I tried to tame my mane with a headband and bobby pins and hair spray with the remaining bit tucked back into a mini pony tail and more hair spray. Alas it was in vain. Or wait, is that me?
My coworkers actually asked my boss if I could go home "hair sick" it was THAT bad. So, I took my last $50 until pay day and got my hair cut. There's nothing like getting your hair cut to cheer you up. All it took was one Charlie's Angels hair flip and I'm back in action.
It didn't completely cure my funk. I promptly called a bottle of wine "fucker" tonight when half the cork broke off inside the bottle. And I'm currently devouring my second piece of cheesecake in 12 hours. But somehow, I think I'll make it after all.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Ugg-ly
Ugg boots. Did you ever wonder if they got their name because "Ugg" is short for ugly? Um, yeah. Me neither [whistles].I know Uggs are so two years ago but trends take a while to work their way up North and to the East and then a bit more North.
It doesn't matter how many times I see them. I still laugh and think they're ugly ugly ugly. But I absolutely want a pair! Oooo - you marketing execs are good [narrows eyes].
Last year I bought a pair of non-Ugg boots because I refused to give in to the I-Love-Ugg-ness sweeping the nation.
So in protest, I bought a pair that looks like this...I thought I was being all cute. Did you see the cute as a button (but more 3-D-ish) pom poms? Ugg's don't have pom poms. And the cute wedge heel? Ugg's don't have that either. Ugg's are flat like Keira Knightly. And plain like vanilla ice cream, or even Vanilla Ice.
And you know what? People laughed at me when I wore them. They gave me the "who-the-hell-do-you-think-you" look? Which I followed up with the "a-girl-who-likes-her feet-to-stay-warm-at-minus-10" look. People can be so cruel when it comes to winter fashion. So cruel [shudders].
Perhaps it's boot-karma coming back to kick me in the butt after all the laughing I did at Ugg wearers. As if!*
* Much like the delay for fashion trends to work their way up North and to the East and a bit more North, it also takes phrases like "as if", "schwing" and "who's your daddy" a while to catch on.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Misunderstandings With Paul, #1
Ah...the joys of PMS. It's a different variation of the same torture for each woman. But I think it really helps if you have an attentive and understanding boyfriend.
Me: "My boobs feel like bricks."
Paul: "Your poop feels like bricks!?!?"
Me: "My boobs feel like bricks."
Paul: "Your poop feels like bricks!?!?"
Horror-scope
Today, my daily horoscope said:
"Wow! You are due for a sizzling couple of days, thanks to the smoldering Venus/Pluto, aspect today. Make sure that you’re looking your best, and if you can, indulge in a scented bath, or treat yourself to some sensuous scent to bring out your passionate and vibrant nature!"
What it should have said:
"Wow! You are in for a shitty day. Your alarm will not go off this morning making you cut out a few steps like shaving arms/legs while rushing to get ready for work. When you get to work, you'll eat a whole bag of Christmas jelly beans because you're PMS'ing and need to indulge in some emotional eating. You'll jump every time the phone rings, thinking it's the bank calling to say there isn't enough money in your account to cover both of the cheques you wrote. And your skin is "adjusting" to the cold weather so you'll unknowingly walk around half the day looking like you have a boogie hanging from your nose when really it's just a piece of skin. You're hairdresser is booked well into next week so don't even think about doing something about THAT [points to hair]. Treat yourself to some serious alcohol!"
"Wow! You are due for a sizzling couple of days, thanks to the smoldering Venus/Pluto, aspect today. Make sure that you’re looking your best, and if you can, indulge in a scented bath, or treat yourself to some sensuous scent to bring out your passionate and vibrant nature!"
What it should have said:
"Wow! You are in for a shitty day. Your alarm will not go off this morning making you cut out a few steps like shaving arms/legs while rushing to get ready for work. When you get to work, you'll eat a whole bag of Christmas jelly beans because you're PMS'ing and need to indulge in some emotional eating. You'll jump every time the phone rings, thinking it's the bank calling to say there isn't enough money in your account to cover both of the cheques you wrote. And your skin is "adjusting" to the cold weather so you'll unknowingly walk around half the day looking like you have a boogie hanging from your nose when really it's just a piece of skin. You're hairdresser is booked well into next week so don't even think about doing something about THAT [points to hair]. Treat yourself to some serious alcohol!"
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
The Most Important Meal of the Day
I'm at work, drinking my morning coffee. And eating chocolate. For breakfast. But it's "mint buds" so it's minty. And that's practically like brushing your teeth or using mouthwash. So, it's like I'm multitasking.
Today is going to be a good day.
Today is going to be a good day.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Overheard in the Ladies Room
Visiting Lady #1: "Every time I turn around I have to pee."
Visiting Lady #2: [No doubt almost stunned into silence] "Um, maybe you should see a doctor."
Visiting Lady #1: "Yeah. Sometimes I feel like I have a prostrate."
And she really emphasized the "r" too. Even though, well, there's no "r" in prostate. And, well, women don't have a prostate. They don't have a prostrate either.
And these ladies are supposed to be professionals. It's like when people say they're going down to "The Wal-Mart." Sometimes I swear it's like I live in a trailer park.
Visiting Lady #2: [No doubt almost stunned into silence] "Um, maybe you should see a doctor."
Visiting Lady #1: "Yeah. Sometimes I feel like I have a prostrate."
And she really emphasized the "r" too. Even though, well, there's no "r" in prostate. And, well, women don't have a prostate. They don't have a prostrate either.
And these ladies are supposed to be professionals. It's like when people say they're going down to "The Wal-Mart." Sometimes I swear it's like I live in a trailer park.
A Do-Run-Run-Run A Do-Run-Run...Part 2
At lunch I went shopping at the department store beside my office and picked up a new pair of pantyhose. While trying to don said pantyhose in the office ladies room I realized a few things:
- the toilets in the office ladies room are not equiped with a lid
- trying to balance upright on one leg while trying to corral the other leg into constrictive pantyhose within a 2x2" space with an open toilet taunting you to fall into it, is not easy and will most likely lead to fits of uncontrolable laughter making toe-into-pantyhose entry an olympic sized challenge
- the color "nude" is misleading and can come off looking whiter than a cadaver, thereby making even a redhead's so-white-it's-transparent-skin appear even paler than usual
- wearing a beige skirt with chocolate brown boots on white legs looks colorful, which is not the same as professional
- the toilets in the office ladies room are not equiped with a lid
- trying to balance upright on one leg while trying to corral the other leg into constrictive pantyhose within a 2x2" space with an open toilet taunting you to fall into it, is not easy and will most likely lead to fits of uncontrolable laughter making toe-into-pantyhose entry an olympic sized challenge
- the color "nude" is misleading and can come off looking whiter than a cadaver, thereby making even a redhead's so-white-it's-transparent-skin appear even paler than usual
- wearing a beige skirt with chocolate brown boots on white legs looks colorful, which is not the same as professional
A Do-Run-Run-Run A Do-Run-Run-Run
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.
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.
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.
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