Just Another Silly Girl

I pity the Chinese

2006-10-24T10:40:00.000-04:00

Saturday was a blur of walking the city and shopping. Em and I got our facials (a tradition now) in Chinatown. I found a super cute pair of shoes over at In & Out in chinatown and an even cuter winter jacket that I’m hoping will at least stay in one piece until the show falls. But we aborted ChinaTown pretty fast, it's not good for me to feel so tall, it goes to my head.

At 7 we headed for the Mr. T doll exhibit. Some guy from New York had his collection all on display. The dolls were cool, the people were hot but the $2 beer was the shit. We drank as much as we could while still looking like we were really interested in the art. A little drunk we decided we should probably grab some dinner. Sara was involved through work so couldn’t leave with us so we stole her boyfriend and headed for a nearby pub.

We ate, laughed and drank. There was a heated discussion about engagement rings in which we all learned that Sara’s boyfriend doesn’t want to have to buy her an engagement ring… yikes and another when I expressed my distaste for single moms who introduce their children to the men they’ve been dating for only 2 weeks. But it was lively and fun.

Ran into a good friend from Highschool after just having a conversation about how small the world is. She apparently has lots of single male friends and wants to hang out again. Twist… my…arm….

Everyone tired, full and tipsy we piled into a cab, and headed for my apartment where we all immediately passed out.

Sunday we hit a diner for breakfast and wandered the Market and the city for a bit. Before long Em and the crew were ready to hit the road. Hugs all around and they headed for home while I headed for bed.

Post nap I headed for Sara’s place to abuse here Video On Demand. I’m now officially caught up with Entourage. God I love Vinnie Chase.

Beer makes the floor softer

2006-10-23T00:44:00.000-04:00

This week has been a whirlwind of sleep deprivation, ‘strategic’ meetings and overtime. Between the new kitten that I swear has A.D.D. and my upcoming trip to Vancouver with work, my week felt more like 5 minutes then 5 days. I basically looked up from my screen, bleary eyed at 6 on Friday, swore and ran out the door to celebrate the weekend. I was ready to have some fun.

By 7 I’d hit the grocery, liquor and hair product stores and was home. I quickly cleaned the apartment, forced myself to eat half a bagel… we won’t get into what happened last Friday night when I forgot to eat dinner, but I think we can all agree that drinking on 1 cup of coffee, a Mr. noodles and a vitamin C isn’t the recipe for success. Had a quick shower and was just putting the finishing touches on myself when Jill rang to say she was downstairs in desperate need of a drink.

Drinks poured, she started to recount the horrid few days she’d had a work at the hands of her merciless boss. Another call, Jill’s boyfriend. Another drink poured and we all continue to chat and balk at how horrible she’s being treated at work. Anther call. The BGFF arrives. Another drink poured. Drinks, music, laughter… exactly what we all needed after our respective long days at work.

Finally at 8:30 Emma, the husband and the German arrive after a 4 hour drive in from the sticks. Hugs all around, more drinks poured, car unloaded and we’re off to the pub. Jill and the b/f head for the DJ Jazzy Jeff concert while the rest of us immediately take up position at the local pub and begin ordering. The BGFF of course manages to spot the only gay boy in the sports bar (needle in the haystack) and before long he and his friend have joined us and the BGFF is smitten.

Highlights for me included a lengthy discussion I had with Em and her hubby about a well placed finger during sex which made her husbands face go redder then a tomato, watching the BGFF pet a girls Red haired wig with a straight face and of course pigging out on buffalo chicken.

From there we stumbled down the street to a little swinger bar I know. The place had just the effect I thought it would on everyone. The BGFF went into high gear, Emma started to giggle, her hubby got nervous and the German got drunk. Between the secret curtained off ‘champagne room’, the naked bodies coming out of the walls and the live porn on the big screen I’d say everyone handled it all really well. One drink and one broken heart (I’m sorry but I do not give my number to men who look like they are over 40 and are hanging out in a swinger bar) later and we headed to the micro brewery up the street.

At this point we’re all wasted and all the funniest, smartest, hottest people in the room of course. Beers ordered. We became loud and obnoxious, drunk and disorderly. All memories of my workweek faded into a blurry, foggy mess as each sip hit my lips.

Bars closed, back at my apartment Em, the hubby and the German all head to bed. The BGFF and I begin to rummage for food. Before long we hear a loud groaning, followed my a scream and a ruckus. What was the ruckus you ask? Well it was Nate’s cat of course. For no reason it attacked the hubby’s neck, no stitches required but there was blood. In the morning we would find out that the attack also resulted in a hole to the air mattress he was sleeping on. Whoops. Luckily, beer makes the floor more comfy.

Everyone else now safely asleep with the cats locked out, the BGFF and I retired to my room to paint his nails, gossip about last weeks boy and gorge ourselves on the spicy chips.

Friday nights… brought to you by citrus vodka… JASG

A to-do list

2006-10-17T16:32:00.000-04:00

I know, I know. It’s been forever. If I get one more email from you or a stranger, I’m going to scream.

Here’s the thing… haven’t you ever found yourself ass-deep in something that you weren’t sure you wanted to admit to your friends? Well. Since you’re all reading and it was all a little complicated, I chose to keep things quiet for awhile. Not knowing how to spin it all, or what exactly to let leak. Savy?

A few things I’ve learned in the last 2 weeks though;

1. You don’t have to sleep with someone just because they bought you a burrito.
2. Men (specifically gay men named Nate) handle turning 26 with even less class than yours truly and most certainly dance worse.
3. I am Martha Stewart - Thanksgiving is the season of waxed leaves, amazing stuffing and aprons that match oven mitts to a T.
4. I may not actually be the cat-hater that I thought I was: She’s a kitten and her name is Zoe (Baby Z- shout out Brad and Angelina) and she’s melted my cold, cold heart.
5. I’m an alcoholic – I think I’ve been drinking straight for a few weeks now. How am I ever going to handle the holidays? I’m officially putting myself into detox.
6. I’m a short-est – Her shortness is an amazing person and I may need to come up with a nicer name for him. I love him. Suggestions?
7. I miss my little BGFF. He flew in from Vegas for 1 night only last Friday and it was one of the best nights in a long time. I barely remember it, but that’s beside the point. And the new leaf he’s turned over – no more sex – is keeping me entertained by the second. I give it until Sunday.
8. I have the absolute worst taste in boys. The WORST.

Ok, I’m not going to try and back track the whole last little while. If you have questions; Ask, I’ll answer. But let’s just move on.

I will tell you one little gossip highlight that I’ve become privy to. You’ll want to re-read my blog entitled ‘Tall, Dark and Handsome’ posted Tuesday August 29th if you plan to follow what I’m about to tell you. Ok kiddies; remember Boy A? Ahem… rumour aka the BGFF tells me that he is engaged to his girlfriend of 1 month!!! I don’t think I need to tell you that there is a shotgun involved in this ceremony. Perhaps another bride will waddle down the aisle sometime soon… wink wink…

Now, just think. The wedding was at the end of August. If I had in fact stayed at the wedding, it’s safe to say I would have gotten drunk (see- ‘Open Bar’). It’s also safe to say that due to my heightened self-esteem (see- ‘Open Bar’, ‘Gorgeous Dress’, ‘Sexy Hair’ and ‘Sluty Shoes’) I would have probably ended up hitting on Boy A. Obviously due to the above, I would have been successful in my seduction and would have most likely been thanking him for the burrito in the morning (wink wink). So, just think; If Boy A has what I can only assume is ‘Super-Sperm’, then if it weren’t for the BGFF’s need to catch that flight, I would probably be 2 months pregnant.

Mmmm hmmm

Ok and one last note. I was surfing around my favorite smutty sites catching up all of today’s dirt and I came across the following picture on The Bosh. Oh god, as Lainey would put it ‘pure loin quiveration’. I miss Swingers Vince. God wasn’t he gorgeous? People always bawk at me when I put him on my top 5 pick list. But this picture sums it up for me… pure sex. This guy would throw you against the wall so hard the neighbor would get to join in on the fun.

So in honour of VV’s return to the forefront of my smutty mind and no doubt to the starring role in my racy nighttime dreams… I’ve decided to post for you what I like to call my Celebrity ‘to-do’ list. I’m sure you’ve all seen the episode of friends that I’m referencing… Please keep in mind that my list changes constantly and is therefore NOT laminated.

Celebrity To-Do List

1. Johnny Knoxville
2. Owen Wilson
3. Dane Cook
4. Vince Vaughn
5. Prince Harry

Waking up in a fog

2006-10-04T23:02:00.000-04:00

There’s not a whole lot to say about Saturday (but if you glance down I’ve found quite a bit). We woke up early, and I drove Eddie home. We’re both the laugh at anything, sarcastic as hell morning people so it was a pretty fun drive. Bickering and loving every second of it.

I dropped him at his car, honking to make sure we woke Matt, we promised to try and reunite more than every 6 months and I headed for home… the pounding in my head started.

I walked in and immediately made a bee line for bed again. But this time the room was spinning and there was this moaning noise in my room that was driving me crazy. It was of course coming from me.

At 5pm I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Sara. She demanded that I report to the shower, dress myself and meet her at Trinity Bellwoods Park for Blanc Nuit. (At least I think that’s what it was called). Basically, there were artist exhibitions set up all over the city and they would be there until 7am Sunday (so what’s the rush!?).

I did as I was told, relishing in my shower and trying my best to dress appropriately. What does one wear to hang out on queen west, outside at night? I mean, I’d ask the hookers but… I’m not sure that’s the right look… I am trying to attract a boyfriend though…

The best thing about Sara is that she doesn’t give a fuck. I mean, I don’t think I care, but then when I’m around her I realize that I’m (to quote Ferris) wound so tight you could stick a piece of coal up my ass and 1 week later find a diamond. Not Sara, 5 years later and you’d have a blacker, harder piece of coal (gross, but you get the point).

Sara had warned me that this would be an extremely classy affair and that I should most definitely come with a Mickey of vodka and a traveling cup. Just what my hangover needed.

We met up at Vinny’s since it was raining and he lives across from the park. I arrived and was immediately in a good mood when I found that Kate was down for the weekend. She and I never see each other so 2 weekends in a row is cause for celebration. Sara arrived and Vinny fished our respective Mickey’s out of our purses and mixed us all martini’s. Vinny swore at Bell Canada on the phone (not sure how they get away with treating people so badly) while Sara, Kate and I chatted and gossiped over our drinks.

Eventually Sara was ready to go and we headed for the Blanc nuit (or whatever) sipping away.

We saw some really interesting stuff. At one point we actually hit up that café that Adam Egoyan owns. There was a director there showing a really interesting documentary about and women with substance abuse problems. (Exactly what you want to see after drinking for 3 days straight – literally gripping your traveler while watching it). Also, we saw this amazing Alice in wonderland type display where 2 people were sitting at either ends of a really long table that was lined with these wonderful cakes, in various states of disarray. They were so tired, and so sick looking. They were trying to eat all the cakes by 7am. I could have done it.

Around 1am we had walked from Trinity Bellwoods all the way up to U of T. Somewhere along the walk I realized 2 things;

I chose the wrong shoes. And
My hangover was threatening to kill me.

We arrived at the campus and began our walk down the man made fog trail. It was a pathway that wove around through a park that had been filled with fog. And not light fog like the kind you just but your low beams on and reduce your speed. This was like thick, ‘I can’t see the person in front of me, I’m in a really horrible horror movie’ fog.

It really was quite beautiful actually. They had lights hitting leafless trees in just such a way that it was as if you were looking at beautiful black and white photography full of various shades of grey. (the picture below is actually from the park that night)

5 minutes in, the path started to turn. The people in front of us kept stopping. I started to think about the fog and how thick it looked. As I waited for the people ahead of me to move and I shifted my weight back and forth on my aching feet I visualized the fog entering my lungs, in, out, in out. Suddenly I started to have trouble breathing. “Calm down’ I told myself as I pushed forward, yearning to get out of the fog. What once felt beautiful and magical now felt tense and smothering.

I broke into a light sweat. My feet were killing me. My stomach began to lurch remembering all the booze I’d put in it the last 2 days. My lungs screamed for oxygen and I struggled to get my bearings. The people in front of me still weren’t moving.

‘Breath’ I kept telling myself ‘Breath’. But each breath I took didn’t seem to fill my lungs. It barely raised my chest. I opened my mouth wider, gulping. Mentally screaming at the people ahead of me to move forward, to lead me somewhere where I could see my hand in front of my face.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I leapt into the mud and around all the people standing around on the path… I hurried ahead down the path and finally found myself emerging from the fog. All at once, my breathing seemed normal, the sweat disappeared from my brow and my stomach settled. Sara and the others wandered aimlessly out, silhouette’s first.

We said our goodbye’s and I hopped a cab home rubbing my feet and tossing my half drunk traveler out of the window while Sara dialed her boyfriend to meet her and continue until 7am.

So apparently I’m not only and alcoholic but I’m also Claustrophobic… This is going to completely affect my ever living out my sex in an airplane while drunk bathroom fantasy…

Reliving College Days

2006-10-04T21:46:00.000-04:00

I wish I had some super fantastic excuse for not writing. Unfortunately all I’ve got is a massive hangover to offer you… and some stories.

Managed to make it through the day Friday, briefly 'resting my eyes' over lunch in the last stall.

I was supposed to head straight to Daphne’s party. But the things is, I had been freezing cold all day as is usually the case when I've had far too much to drink the previous evening and so instead of heading for the bar I headed home. 'Just for a sec.' I told myself. I walked straight to my bedroom, crawled into bed and pulled my duvey up tight around my neck. Ahhh just what I'd been needing all day. It was 5:10 and I had never been happier. I closed my eyes trying to envision what I would wear to Daphne's party.

I met Daphne in college. She was fun, quirky and loved coconut rum. She was just like me aside from the rum; I liked everything. We hit it off instantly and by the time second year rolled around, there was no question we'd be roommates.

I'd never been friends with anyone with a trust fund before. First, it was the brand new Honda civic they bought her during the school year, next was the $550,000 home her parents bought her after school on Queen West. But tonight was going to take the cake, tonight was the night I was to attend her retirement party. The retirement party of a 26 year old, taking time to ‘find herself’ and ‘just hang out’ with her boyfriend.

My eyes opened at 7 and I have to admit I was slightly relieved to have side stepped the party and the inevitable quarter-life crises/ friend-envy that was likely to have ensued..

One party missed. One party to hit.

Dressed, drinks in hand, I headed for Matt’s. Every 6 months Matt, Eddie (Eduardo) and I get together to relive old college memories. We were all neighbors back in college who spent night after night in front of the TV, eating pizza and drinking beer.

When I had realized that these 2 parties landed on the same night it had seemed natural to combine them. After all, Daphne was my roommate when I was neighbors with the boys. But, both immediately responded that the party would only piss them off. Got to love the honesty. I prefer the ‘I fell asleep because I was super hung-over’ excuse.

I arrived at Matt’s and the three of us sat around, drinking, catching up, exchanging funny stories of one-night stands, dates gone wrong and ex’s we’d love to forget. Before long we were out of booze and heading to the pub. Many, tequila shots later and I was dealing with Matt who needed to be put to bed soon. Otherwise he was liable to put his head on the table and fall asleep. Eddie and I steered him out of the bar, and back to his apartment.

But Eddie and I weren’t done yet. We cabbed to my apartment, poured some drinks and played a few drinking games while making fun of Matt and calling him repetitively. That’s what good friends are for. At 1:30 we realized last call was sneaking up and we dashed around the corner to the local pub where we both ordered more shots for each other and continued to order mixed drinks.

We spilled back out onto the street just after 2 and danced our way back to my apartment where just like old times; we made a bee line straight for bed.

There’s just nothing like catching up with your old college friends…

No longer a virgin

2006-09-29T14:47:00.000-04:00

Got off work last night and hobbled to the subway station. I say hobbled because I’ve lost control of all the muscles in my legs. They are vibrating and seizing with great displeasure randomly. Apparently my thighs didn’t like all the squatting, rolling and running for dear life I put them through on Wednesday. And I don’t think I need to tell you how much my shins hated being shot at. Paint balling is officially not for girls like me who like to swing their hips when they walk. But, I’m not going to lie. I loved shooting people so much I am thinking about organizing another trip with some friends. But, this ‘day after’ crap is worse than a hangover, worse than the awkward ‘morning after’, worse than anything I’ve ever put myself through before.

So anyways, I hobbled to the subway and rode out to Coxwell last night. Cam met me with a big bear hug and a big smile and we headed for his place. But not before picking up a pack of cigarettes. I’ve learned that when I’m with Cameron I smoke. A lot. So we stocked up on cigarettes and headed for his place. He’s just moved out on his own (how very grown up) and his place is just too cute. It even has a loft that you get to by ladder. Very sheik.

The wine was poured and we started to catch up. Cameron listed as I dutifully broke down my sisters wedding, the boy from the Atlantic Ocean, the family drama that is on-going (my cousin is a retard) and the boy from last weekend and I sat transfixed as he recounted his own family drama (court cases and all), his travel plans and all about the new boy… Yummy, yummy… I’ll call him Ben & Jerry’s because of the whole 100 flavours thing. The boy has been to something like 200 countries. Very cool. Very perfect for Cameron… I smell a wienner.

One bottle of wine down, and we climbed the ladder up to his little media center and sat transfixed while watching the new show Ugly Betty. I loved it. Especially the boss… tooo hot. Oh and Cam picked out the greatest new expression… fabulously douchy!!

Show ended, as did the last bottle of wine.

“Martini Time’ Cameron cried as he effortlessly climbed down to the sitting room. I on the other hand wavered slightly. My legs were at a point where they didn’t want to listen to me because they were sore and they couldn’t listen to me because I was drunk. The ladder was going to be difficult. 20 minutes later, I made it down and we walked to the store for lemonade.

I was more interested in all the Halloween candy and toys then anything else when we got there. And had great fun dancing around Aisle 4 in my orange witch hat. And the reason I love Cam? He never gets embarrassed. Even when he farts at a stranger’s house and it smells so horrid that he clears the room (it happened- but that’s a whole other story). Instead he gets louder and offers encouragement. He pointed out the florescent yellow blowup devil horns to me and before long I was scanning my head at the cash register (the cashier looked utterly un-amused) and dancing out onto the street.

Back at the house, horns on, music on, Cameron mixed his new specialty; Lemon Rosehip Martini’s, Shaken not stirred, while exclaiming that everything was ‘fabulously douchy!!”. I’m told that if I had been born with the proper genitalia I would have had rose pedals floating on top. But alas, I have breasts and instead tossed a few sour skittles in.

It didn’t’ take long before I was on his computer checking my email (compulsive I know), nothing too exciting but then… a message popped up from a boy on Cam’s list. I don’t know where it all came from or what I was thinking. But before long I was having super sexy gay talk online with a stranger. I lost my internet sex virginity and all the while Cameron stood over my shoulder cheering me on and demanding that the guy turn his web cam on and jerk off. The guy even sent me naked pictures of himself! And buddy, whoever you are… that was NOT 8 itches.

It was getting to be a little much for me towards the end so I decided to wrap things up. I told him to come over and do it to me in person. Then I gave him my address and directions and logged off, giggling happily to myself and high-fiving Cam. At this point I was definitely drunk. I had just had online sex while pretending to be a gay man, then sent that man over to my ex-roommate (not on good terms) ‘s apartment. I would have loved to have been there when that door was opened… hehehe Douchy! I can’t wait to see or hear the fruits of my labour on that one.

Drunk, happy, spent… I chugged my last martini, smoked my last cigarette, made a quick call to Vinny to report my prank (he laughed his ass off) and Cameron put me in a cab and handed the driver a $20. We waved goodbye, both of us disappointed to end the evening but both glimpsing tomorrow’s hangover at our respective GUJ’s.

Arrived at work this morning, head pounding slightly. But had an instant smile on my face when I read an email from Vinny declaring that he’s nominating me for best prank of 2006.

Still got it… JASG

Long Time...

2006-09-27T23:39:00.000-04:00

I know, I know I haven’t written. I suck. But I am at an all out war with Rogers right now so I haven’t had the internet at home and the GUJ is getting insanely busy lately prepping for my month out west which is seriously taking away from my ‘sitting around rambling on about my life to all of you who read my blog’ time. Tell your friends about it and to tip the waiters... I'll have more time!

Where to start… Friday?

So Friday Nate, Her shortness and I finally got together and went for dinner. Very strange that they’ve now been dating for 4 months and I’ve yet to really have a conversation with him. So the 3 of us headed to the local pub (our pub) and ordered drinks and got to talking. Now let me first go on the record and tell you one thing; I really like him. I think he’s nice and treats Nate well and that’s all that matters. However, he is short. And what do I always say about the short?

Three words; Short Man Syndrome.

Short Man Syndrome. Symptoms of this syndrome include but are not limited to; overachieving, over use of the word ‘bro’, distinctive hairstyling, fondness of heavy metal, aggressive ‘2 hits. Me hitting you. You hitting the floor’ behavior, close talking, obsessive back slapping, the constant desire to experiment with facial hair and obsessive voice mail checking and cell phone talking. Please consider yourself officially diagnosed if you fall below 5’5 and at anytime have found yourself administering the extra hand pump while shaking someone’s hand.

That’s right. At first I was sitting there thinking. Wow, this guy is totally coming up short (bu-dum-bum) in the Short Man Syndrome department. He’s not doing any of the stereotypical things or displaying any of the tell-tale signs. But then I realized it. He’s a name dropper. Very unique. They should trap him (lord knows it would be easy, he probably finds himself tripping into puddles un-rescued for days this time of year) and make a case study of him. Surprisingly the name dropping, once you’ve noted it, diagnosed it for what it is and moved on isn’t that hard to take. It actually becomes interesting after awhile and I learned a lot about all the people who own bars in Toronto.

All and all the dinner went well, I liked him, he liked me. La de da.

We came back watched a movie and then they took off for Princess Shortness’s place to practice some non-procreational sex. Mmmm mud puddles.

Always Be Prepared

Saturday I was puppy sitting (yes, still) and spent most of the day playing and walking him. Which is surprisingly fun. Sometime in the afternoon Nate came home and we headed out to do laundry. I lied and told Nate that I was washing my lucky sheets because the puppy had gotten puppy prints on them while in reality I was washing them JIC (just in case) I ended up with a gentlemen caller that night. No I was not expecting anything or even hoping. But I did know that a certain past lova would be in town that night and that I would be out at the bar, drinking liquid aphrodisiac (vodka cranberry) and like the boy scouts say ‘Always be prepared’ and you know how I love me some boy scouts. So we returned, I made my bed, showered, skanked up and we headed for dinner with the boys.

Good to see everyone. No sense getting into names, heights or number of times I’ve slept with them all (Troy – 2, All but Troy -0) but I will note that everyone is becoming very grown up, very good looking and very successful. I sat there with my friends looking from each to the other, with just one thought on my mind, ‘holy crap, how have I been hanging out with these guys for so long?’.

Dinner ended and everyone wanted to head back to houses for showers and drinking. I needed to let the puppy out and get Nate home so he could head to work (bar backing on weekends). Troy jumped up to ‘come see the puppy’ (aka come stake out where he’d be sleeping tonight) as did Kate, my new favorite addition to the group. See, up until last year it was myself and the boys. No girls. And quite frankly, trying to discuss my bikini wax shocker surprise with the boys was getting a little tiresome. Ever since Kate came along I’ve been ecstatic and we try to steal a few women to women moments with each other whenever we can.

So the four of us headed to our place, opened a bottle of wine and talked for a bit. Kate and I took the puppy out and had a nice long chat about the wedding plans and how fun the night would be. Nate and Troy stayed behind to catch up. They were roommates when Nate came out back in college so they’ve stayed tight ever since. No, not that tight.

Before long, the puppy was back in the cage, and we were all enroute to meet everyone at the bar. The night went along as it usually does when we all get together for one of our impromptu reunions. Someone gets really drunk, someone else tries to pick up (unsuccessfully), someone reveals something really embarrassing, someone else tells a secret. Drama, drama, and nothing but laughs. I got caught up with all my boys and offered them all my pearls of wisdom on each of their individual problems through glazed eyes and cranberry flavored breath.

Drinks flowed, jokes flew and when his hand touched my ass, I didn’t flinch.

The next morning we got up and headed for our designated Breakfast local. They make the best eggs benny in town (or so I’m told - I don’t do eggs) and we all ate through our hangovers, recapped the nights events and laughed that Kate and Vinny had had to get up at 7am for marriage counseling classes at church. Yikes, remind me not to marry a catholic.

After sad goodbyes all around the boys headed for home and I headed for the couch where I spent the rest of the day.

The Stink Eye

Monday morning I woke up to ‘The stink eye’. No it’s not an STD. It’s something the Puppy gives you when for some reason he can’t open his right eye anymore than someone in a Cheech and Chong movie. Something is definitely wrong. I know it’s been like that for awhile (I thought he was getting a cold or was just tired) but it’s definitely worse now. Shit. I open the door to take him out and he immediately misjudges the stairs and starts falling down. Double shit. I pick him up, put him in the car and take him to the vet reliving the conversation I’d had with my boss before she left the whole way there; ‘why would I possibly need your vet information? What’s going to happen to him in 2 weeks!?’ I had asked incredulously. Idiot.

I raced around until I found a vets office, burst in and hurriedly explained my situation while trying to catch my breath; ‘Bosses dog. Just got a raise. Fell down the stairs. Going to get fired. Dog is blind.’

Sixty-Three dollars later and one tub of cream and we had a 7 month old pug diagnosed with a tear to his cornea. I’m sure you can just imagine how happy I was to hear I’d be rubbing a glob of eye cream directly onto his eye ball 3 times a day.

Oh and if you’re wondering how a puppy actually gets a hole in his cornea?

Just ask me to baby-sit. That’s how.

More tomorrow… I’m tired though, the boss just picked up the puppy and a bark, whine, bathroom break free night is just looking too good right now…. But here’s a teaser… I have a welt the size of a toonie on my ass… courtesy of work today… any guesses as to how it got there???

No I do not work in the porn industry….yet…. JASG

Who can stay naked the longest?

2006-09-22T09:13:00.000-04:00

I’m going to make an amazing wife. Maybe I won’t cook or clean or any of that stuff but damn! I can decorate.
Now that the apartment has been painted it has instantly been transformed into a home… it’s so cozy and homey. I love it. So when I got home I started moving Nate’s paintings around, trying to find the ultimate places for things.
As I was skipping around singing ‘Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down’ (not sure why) I came across these super cute shelves I had impulse bought a few weeks back. I knew at once that they were just what the room needed. Before I’d hung them I was racing around looking for fun things to put on them. And I found none.
Instantly I knew what needed to be done. Ding Ding Ding… Trip to Dollarama… I started to sweat instantly.
I don’t know if it’s the smell, or the sound or the way that everything is so wonderful but Dollarama is my crack.
I get a basket and I walk ever so slowly down every aisle. Making sure my eyes linger on every single little trinket for moments, dreaming what it would be like to have it in my home.
Picture frames, candles, jars with fun rocks, hooks, baskets, placemats, decorative pots and pillow covers. By the time I left I craved a post-coitul cigarette. A wandered home, carrying my 4 bags of fun, a lazy smile on my face.
I ran up the stairs and announced to the cat ‘Now we have some fun!’. Before long I had, hung photo’s and shelves, placed pillows, lit candles, arranged window sills. I’d even taken out the trash!
When Nate walked in at 7:15 I swear to god, he stepped back and ‘WOW it’s like a home!’. To which I shrieked with pride. He loved it all and I loved him for it!
He changed and we raced downstairs and into my baby to head for Oshawa. As I was unlocking my door, Nate threw his open and both our heads shot up and our eyes met across the hood. If you could have heard our thoughts at that moment it would have gone something like this;
Me: ‘He didn’t lock his door last night. I’m going to effing kill him.
Nate: OMG I didn’t lock my door last night. She’s going to murder me. Should I run? No she’d catch me and tackle me. I don’t want to get dirty.
I took a deep breath. Don’t let something silly ruin your Dollarama buzz. I climbed in and said nothing. That’s when I saw that the glove box was open, as was the center consol. Deep breath.
Nate, who’s been too terrified to speak yet, finally says ‘ok, is anything missing?’ I glanced around. No nothing was gone. Not that I really keep much in there other than chocolate bar wrappers and half drank bottles of water. ‘Nate, I think you’re in the clear. What would they steal?’.
So we started driving.
When we hit the highway, that’s when we realized how they had really gotten into the car. Nate didn’t leave the door unlocked at all. They (the robbers) had popped my window out. It was a windy drive and holy eff is that place far away. When we finally pulled off of the highway onto Park Drive in Oshawa Nate turned to me and said incredulously ‘I can’t believe they consider this the GTA, we’re in the sticks!’ to which I giggled.
We made it over to Em’s brother’s place and he signed my passport pictures as I regaled him with wonderful stories of Em’s projectile vomiting the weekend before. He laughed until I switched over to his sister wanting to skinny dip, that’s when he pushed us out the door and we laughed all the way home.
Before long we were curled up in our favorite positions watching the hilarity of Kenny vs. Spenny and their ‘Who can stay Naked the longest’ competition. Damn funny.
I could soooo win that competition in our house.

Dogs are the new lavalife

2006-09-21T09:55:00.000-04:00

Ok ok I suck at this whole Blog thing. But do you really want to read about my sitting in glued to the TV all night? Apparently Emma does.

So let me recap my swinging single week thus far for you… lean forward because you should be on the edge of your seat for this…

Monday night I was stuck at GUJ until 8 as per usual on Monday nights. The pooch and I immediately hit the park and played for awhile. Talked to lots of other owners, but still no sign of Hottie McHot-Hot with the well trained golden retriever. I must tell you; dogs are the new lava life. I meet and talk to more people walking this dog then I have since summer camp in the 7th grade. And back then Em and I were trapped on the opposite side, with trees and cabins separating our pheromones from the boys. Not at the dog park my friends, not at the dog park. By 9 we were curled up comfortably on the couch, he snoring contentedly and I glued to CSI.

Tuesday I worked all day like a real grown-up and after work headed for the video store. I really wanted to see Lucky Number Sleven when it was in the theatre’s but that was during my whole ‘I’m a student and a full time employee and don’t even have time to shower. Yes that smell is me’ phase. So the pup and I headed for the video store and picked it up as well as United 73 or whatever the number is. We hit the park, searching for Golden Boy. No luck. Played for a bit and then went back to my apartment. I cooked while he laid in the middle of the kitchen so that he could ALWAYS be in the way. I made chicken fajitas and was very proud of myself. Then we snuggled down and watched movies, with a few pee breaks in between. Still no sightings. Somewhere along the line Nate came home and joined us.

Wednesday started at 7am, as does every morning now that I have a puppy. We got up and ready and headed up the street. I walked into a print shop and asked did they shoot Passport Photo’s? The girl, young, slim with pink hair answered that yes they do. I asked ‘is it ok if I bring the puppy in to get them done?’ pointing at the ‘no dogs allowed sign’ and not bothering with my puppy dog eyes. Instead I hoisted him up so she could see his huge adorable face. She said ‘sure, bring him in’. So I’m in the corner getting him to lie down so I can take my jacket off when she comes over and says ‘I didn’t even know dogs needed passport pictures’. It took me a second to realize what she said. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw that she was dead serious. I started laughing my ass off, even falling down from my squat to one knee. I told her it was me that needed the photo not the dog. I remember thinking, ‘that is soooo something I would have said, we should be friends’. So she took the pictures, in which I come out looking like a member of a women’s correctional facility named Doris who has 4 bitches. But I take my pictures and we head to the post office. I pick up my passport application, swing by the park, no sign of GB and then head home. I fill out my application as best I can, pack everything up and we head back to work via the park. Again, no GB. As I walked by the furniture store where we’ve become chummy with the owners I noticed that he still had a bookcase out on the street and it was starting to rain. I hollered into the store and the manager came out. I told him, his furniture would be wet soon. He thanked me profusely and started to move it in. Then he stopped and said ‘is that your black car out there?’ To which I answered, ‘Yeah that’s lola, she’s my baby. A little dirty, a little rough around the edges…’ we laughed and then he said ‘it’s getting towed’. SHIT. We run around back and sure enough I’m met by the guy who recently bought the property near our house. There are 3 notes on my windshield from him, progressively meaner asking me to move so he can take a delivery. Whoops. I ask him to please call off the tow-trucks I’ll move it, again positioning the puppy for ultimate sympathy. It works and John, my new best friend let’s me go with a warning as he dials the tow company and cancels their order. Phew. Moved the car and walked to the GUJ where I got stuck yet again until 8 at which time I race home and meet Nate. We go and buy paint. We settled on a colour called ‘Stoney Creek’. It’s like blue grey. I don’t remember how we got to this colour exactly but it’s alright. We came home, ordered a pizza and started painting. I must say that we made a pretty good team. Like one of those couples that grunt and the other knows what they want. I quite enjoyed it. We finished up around 1am, put all the furniture back in place and just as I fell asleep I heard Nate’s lova creep in the front door (wouldn’t that have been soooo much funnier if we had a back door? Think about it) and into Ian’s bedroom. Hmmm when will I ever see His Shortness again?

This morning I woke up to Nate closed door which means I definitely heard His Shortness come in last night. The pup and I head to the park, I decide to stop making myself look cute. I’m never going to see GB again. And it’s pathetic that I’ve been cute-ifying myself pre-shower so many mornings in a row. So I head out with yesterdays mascara all smudged under my eyes, a messy ponytail and StonyCreek Paint on my face, hands and ankles. I think we all know where this is going…There he was, Golden Boy, across the park. AND HE WAVED AT ME. Ugh. I wanted to die. Normally, I would have nonchalantly let the puppy drag me over. But how could I, looking the way I did? And plus he looked like they were just leaving. So groaned, turned, and walked back home. Sigh… I’m destined to be single forever.

So as you can see, the life of a single girl living in the city is unadulterated fun. From stalking strangers at the park, to eating cheesys on the couch, JASG keeps it real.

Ok, so I'm getting a little serious but I promise it won't last...

2006-09-18T22:37:00.000-04:00

First off, I have no intention of this blog becoming some serious site where I bitch about politics and the like. But, I received an email that has gotten me so riled up that I feel like I have to share it with you guys. It's not so much the content of the email, although it's quite bothersome. It's that it was sent to a large group of people including myself and Nate, my roommate and one of my best friends. Nate is gay. He is out to everyone in his life, including his parents. And today we all received the following email from his father.

ACTION ALERT

Prime Minister Harper has promised a free vote on same-sex "marriage". Experts say this will happen in late Sept/early October. At this point, the vote does not yet involve restoring the heterosexual definition of marriage. Rather, it is only a first step toward that goal. The first vote will simply ask the question of whether or not Parliament should conduct a full, honest examination of homosexual marriage and its long-term implications on Canadian society. The second vote (aimed at restoring one man+one woman marriage) will not even occur unless we win the first one.

But we fear the vote will be too close for comfort. In fact, there are more votes confirmed for the pro-homosexual side. In order for the pro-family side to win, we must influence at least 15 of the 19 "undecided" Members of Parliament. These (19) MP's have stated that they're undecided or not willing to say how they'll vote.

Defend Traditional Marriage & Family has fought to protect future generations of innocent children from the increased family breakdown that will certainly occur as the institution of marriage becomes devalued in society. No longer will the central purpose of marriage be understood as the procreation and education of children. Instead, the law will teach that adult happiness is the only purpose of marriage.

Furthermore, activist judges will use same-sex marriage as a "moral justification" for trampling religious freedom. Eventually this will take the form of depriving churches of charitable tax status for refusing to perform gay "marriages". Next, we will see hate crime charges against those who preach or teach against homosexual conduct.

We are determined to restore the proper definition of marriage. By signing the petition below, your message will be sent to all (19) of the undecided MP's.

www.defendmarriagekw.org/petition.html

Please act now. Also - please forward this to many others so we can have a major impact.

I was so angry when I received this email that I immediately called Nate to prepare him for what his father was supporting and promoting and asked his permission to email him back. He thanked me and told me he would love it if I responded. And I did with the below;

Hello Mr. ********,

I would really appreciate it if you didn't send me things like this. I strongly support the rights of Gays to marry as I believe that they deserve to live their lives with the same rights that you and I do and take for granted. I do not believe that the definition of marriage should be restored. I am quite proud of our Country for their forward thinking, tolerance and acceptance of its citizens.

I understand that this change will have long-term implications on Canadian Society but I believe that for all citizens to feel accepted and a part of their community is more important.

As far as the comments in this item you've sent out go; to say that we need to protect future generations of innocent children from an increased family breakdown? I believe we need to educate our children about the things that make them as well as others unique and to feel that no matter who they turn out to be, we as their country, their parents will support and nurture them no matter what. I'm not interested in producing a generation of discriminatory, prejudiced children.

Marriage is not a matter of uniting a man and a women and turning the woman into a baby maker. It's not simply about procreation and the education of children. I believe it's about 2 people, no matter the sex who love each other and make a commitment to each other to be together for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. And if any couple should decide to have children, by whatever means necessary and they raise those children and educate those children, who are we to stand in their way and say that they don't meet 'our standards'? As you know, raising children is one of life's hardest tasks and it's not something you enter into without thinking it through. You have a huge effect on who they become and if any couple decides to take on that task, they should be commended, not meant to feel that their way of doing it is 'devaluing society' as your article says.

Finally, I do believe that your church, any church has the right to its own opinions. However, I believe that your god, any god is about acceptance. I think that it is HATE that a church is displaying if it closes its doors on someone simply based on his or her sexual preference. I believe that god created us all in his eye. And I do NOT believe he makes mistakes. Who are you or I for that matter to judge his creations?

I was very surprised to receive this email from you Mr. ******* as the father of a gay son. But, I understand that we all have our beliefs. I hope you'll take my reply not as an attack but as an expression of my beliefs as you have shared yours. I completely respect you and your rights to your own opinions; however I do not share them.

I will NOT sign your petition.

I do look forward to seeing you again soon and I was sorry to hear about the loss of your mother in law.

Please leave your comments. Did I do the right thing to express my opinions or did I act too fast? Part of me feels as if I should have just deleted it and ignored it. The other felt this maternal instinct kick that had to defend my friend. Maybe it wasn't my responsibility or place to get in the middle of things but I guess that's just me.... JASG

Saturday - The Reception

2006-09-18T14:56:00.000-04:00

Woke up to my mother who’s as light footed as an elephant, stomping around the kitchen, preparing breakfast at 7am. Ugh. Sometimes I swear if I had a gun, it would definitely get used prior to 10am. The puppy was going mad to get outside and chase frogs, so I let him out, encouraged mom to go outside and relax with a book and was back to the couch by 7:20.

At 7:25 it was like a comedy routine started. First, grandpa went by on his way to the bathroom, coughing loudly. Next was dad, looking for mom, asking me loudly where she was. Then my sister was up, rummaging for food. Then mom is yelling at her from outside that breakfast is in the oven and dad is shushing them because I’m sleeping. Which of course I’m not, I’m seething. Next the dog is barking and they’re all shouting to shut it up.

I got up.

Before long the Ya-ya’s are all back to help decorate and by 11am (surprisingly after breakfast) my mother has her first bottle of wine opened. We put the finishing touches on the tent area, I resist the urge to suck helium and sing songs from the wizard of oz and everyone gets into their fancy clothes. I of course haven’t even considered fancy clothes and am wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Figures. The porta potty (or the blue loo as it gets lovingly referred to for the rest of the night) gets delivered, the caterers arrive, and the bar is stocked. There is this buzz of excitement in the air that I can feel and my response to it is beer. Thank you Alexander Kieths.

People seemed to arrive all at once, I hugged, and smiled and gave the same answer to ‘what are you up to these days’? over and over again. It’s fun to actually have a decent GUJ for once that’s going somewhere, people seem impressed, of course they also have no idea what I’m talking about so it usually shuts down the conversation pretty quickly. Drinks and conversation flowed, I was able to sit at the ‘kids’ table occasionally. We’re hardly kids anymore though. All of us have grown up together at different points of our lives. When I was in high school I lived next to Jenn and we were inseparable, the sister I really wanted. Now she’s married, with a dog and has bought a house – a complete grownup. Em and her husband were there too, Em wearing dress pants that were TDF (to die for). She’d obviously received the fancy clothes memo that I hadn’t, even her hubby wore a tie. My ‘god sisters’ (the daughters of my godparents) who I’ve known since they were in diapers both in their early 20’s now and each guzzling beers like pro’s. The list went on, all the kids I grew up with, wore slouch socks and ate candy with, we all sat and drank and joked about the ‘old days’ together of wearing slouch socks, recreating NKOTB music video’s and causing trouble. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that they’d probably be more appropriately titled ‘the young days’ as we all slowly approach 30.

Dinner was served, I chatted with Jen’s parents, who had been my second parents in high school when I went through (hmm maybe am still going through) the ‘I hate my mother’ phase. Jen’s mom is by far the nicest, best mom I’ve ever met. A definite role model for me, and makes me really look forward to Jenn’s kids. She’s had a good example. Whereas I on the other hand will probably get locked up for making my kids sleep in a dog house or something. Drawers are ok right?

After dinner, the in-laws performed this ‘making you an official newfie’ ceremony, which was pretty funny. The funniest part though for me was that the yellow rain hat that they jokingly put on my sisters head, seemed to stay there all night. Like she thought it was the missing link to her wardrobe. Sadly, her wardrobe consists entirely of clothes from Tabi and my high school castoffs. How on earth did she marry before I did?

People started to head home around 6 but the ya-ya’s and family hung around. Em and I drank a lot of beer, Scott and I smoked cigarettes and discussed how much better our lives would be if we had been brother and sister. A bomb fire was lit curtusy of a cup of gasolie and a cigarette and lots of laughing on scott and my part, the music was cranked, the party kept on going.

More people left, Em and I kept drinking. Scott and I kept smoking.

And then it happened. I was on my zillionth trek from the bar to the bomb fire where we had been chatting with various parents, friends of family and relatives. It was pitch black but I instantly saw that Em was missing. As I walked up, I said ‘Where did Em go?’ terrified that she had gone to bed. I can’t party without her. Her mom replied ‘she’s puking over there’ and pointed in the direction of the Blue Loo. I looked over and sure enough, there she was, hunched over, in the driveway, barfing. I ran over, to hold her hair back and of course laugh with her a bit. It’s not too often she gets that sick. I ran to get her some water and inform the hubby that he may need to put her to bed. He laughed and shook his head in the way that only a loving husband can do, we giggled a bit and quicker than I could stop the puppy from eating her regurged corn on the cobb they were gone.

Scott and I realized that there was no longer a bartender but the bar was fully stocked. We pulled up 2 chairs, a cribbage board, 2 glasses and an ashtray. We played cards, drank, smoked and chatted until everyone was heading to bed. We’d drunk all the vodka and had started on the gin so it was a bit difficult to stand up when my uncle came back to get him to bed. We hugged our goodbyes and I hit the couch again in the wee hours of the night, the room slightly spinning as I closed my eyes. But a grin firmly planted on my face.

Friday

2006-09-18T12:52:00.000-04:00

I’m starting to forget what it feels like not to be hung-over.

Friday afternoon the puppy (I’m dog sitting) and I loaded into my car and headed for the cottage. The ride took a surprisingly long time. I believe it was the first time I’ve ever actually gone the speed limit on any of those roads but I had put my cheque for my speeding ticket in the mail that morning. So, I was inspired to take my time.

We arrived in time for dinner. Another one of my mothers chicken and rice casseroles on display at the center of the table. Sigh. I just didn’t realize you could do the same thing over and over again and have it always come out tasting the same way; bland.

So by the time I’d eaten and helped with the dishes her very own Ya-ya sisterhood showed up. Great ladies, I must admit. These women have been getting into trouble since before I was born. Loooonnnnggg before I was born. So it’s always fun to see them get together because inevitably someone slips up and tells you a story about your parents having sex, or your mom being so drunk she fell in a ditch or something equally embarrassing.

There had been a tent installed on the front lawn for the reception so we began to decorate it all up as the wine and stories flowed. As we put the finishing touches on everything, mom was drunk as per usual and she and her girlfriends were at a table drinking and chatting up a storm. Luckily, my best (girl) friend Emma showed up with her husband who I have a wonderful ‘brother I never wanted’ relationship with, as did my absolute favorite relative my cousin Scott who just moved down south. Em had also brought along a little German Boy who is staying with them to learn English. Long story. Once the five of us found the beer fridge we were the recipe for success.

We laughed and joked and threatened to throw each other of the end of the dock. Em and I occasionally stole away to whisper secrets like school girls and the German told us funny stories about his time working with Autistic Kids who wouldn’t stop masturbating. Long after all the adults had toddled off to bed, I couldn’t help sitting back and watching my friends together and thinking that some day we’d be the one’s with 40 years worth of stories, who toddled off to bed early while our kids sat out repeating history. I’m ok with that.

So before long, as always does happen when drinking in the late hours at the cottage someone (and no one will ever remember who it was) says we should all go swimming. And of course, we’re all happy to strip down to our bra’s and underwear and jump into the water, Emma more happy then the rest as she’s discovered the ladies briefs, and has been talking about them all night.

Swimming doesn’t last long, no amount of beer could have prepared any of us for the temperature of that water. We tried to continue drinking in the water, and that didn’t even help. I was out within 5 minutes and the rest followed suit.

As we sat, shivering, drunk, happy, soaking wet, my sister appeared. I’d forgotten what we’d all been waiting for, what the parent’s could stay awake long enough for. My sister, her husband, her mother in-law and sister in-law had finally arrived after a delayed plane ride. They were all quite tired, which was obvious, we offered them beer but no one wants to play. They are tired and ready to sleep.

Luckily for them, we’d drunk all the beer and Em’s husband was ready to chauffeur everyone to their rented cottages. Hugs all around and promises of a break of dawn boat ride, and everyone piled into Em’s new car and headed to bed. I hit the couch, just before 2am. Blissfully happy.

Saturday - The wedding

2006-09-13T20:01:00.000-04:00

Saturday:

Woke up, still wearing shoes, still wearing make-up. The only thing that had really changed was that instead of being insanely drunk I was now insanely hung-over. I stumbled down the stairs of my loft style cabin to find god mum face down on her bed and grandmother, sitting up in bed reading. I head for the bathroom and the shower. As I exit the shower I hear her knocking on the door. I knew it would happen like this, it always does. My sister. Up, dressed, happy, ready for her special day. Me. In a towel, hung-over, wanting to kill myself. I run up the stairs, dress and return for the ‘walkabout’ (east coast word for ‘take sister to be attacked by more bugs’). We head up to get mum. As we walk up to their cabin I have a brief feeling of returning to the scene of the crime but luckily remind myself that I did nothing wrong and happily enter. Mom will get me through this. Mom is in her pajama’s. Mom was too drunk to remember us having made plans to meet at this ungodly hour. I love her.
Skip the walk about, let’s get a greasy breakfast. And we do.

After breakfast, I head to the spa. I’m in desperate need of a pedicure and if I don’t get one soon I’m not going to have time to charge it to my parents room.

After the pedicure I’m attacked by every women in the family ‘you should be getting ready, with your sister, right now’. Right now? The wedding is in 3 hours. I like to get ready early. But come on? But dealing with my sister alone is better than dealing with the lot of them so I get my dress and head to the honeymoon suite.

I arrive and her hair is done, makeup is on. Sadly, she looks a bit like a trailer trash bride. She did her makeup herself and the colours are off and she did her hair herself and it doesn’t suit her. But being the nice sister I am I tell her she looks beautiful and head to the bathroom to get started on myself. An hour later and I look effing fab. The gay photographer shows up and I’m immediately in a better mood. The gays are my fan base and we hit it off instantly. We secretly had a discussion in the bathroom about photoshopping some volume into my sister hair and adjusting the makeup colours. Loved him.

Before long, the photo’s were over and the golf cart came to pick us up. We stood huddled in an empty room peaking out of blinds at the family who were all seated patiently. My sister was nervous. I have to say, that for such a mess of a wedding. It turned out gorgeous. Right on the water, very intimate, a harp player that wasn’t even cheesy). It was nice. And believe me, it takes a lot for me to say that.

So I walked out first, smiling as I thought about what The grooms sister had told me earlier about his having a testicle infection that wouldn’t allow him to have sex for 3 weeks. I made it to the front, smile on, near laughter. Next came my sister and dad. It was all very cute.

I missed most of the ceremony as I was focused completely on the bee that was attacking my bouquet (white roses). But when it was over, waitresses appeared as if from nowhere with champagne for all. Mmmm champagne. Next was pictures. Boring. But I must remind you, I looked hot.

Next came the reception…. Speeches, drinks, dinner, drinks, music, lots o drinks. And nothing makes you get drunker then when your only dance partners are related to you. Sigh. A fun group, but I never want to see my mom ‘shake her groove thing’ again. Or line dance… but that’s an entirely different story.

So one drink to many and my father was offering to walk me back to my cabin. I accepted and vaguely remember getting home….

I wish I had stayed home.

But Apparently I didn’t.

Apparently I heard a party at a bomb fire, on the beach, from my room and went to investigate. I don’t remember much but I do remember running into the Atlantic wearing some boys t-shirt. I do remember making out heavily in the water. And I do remember heading abck to his room for a hot shower.

It’s moment’s like these that make me proud to be JASG…

Friday... if you make it through this post... you get a gold star

2006-09-13T19:35:00.000-04:00

Ok, I’m finally ready to dish. That was one hell of a cold/flu/possible hangover. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything at all… but now… it’s on.

Friday:
Got up and headed for the airport. One flight, One 4 hour car ride, singing Gnarles Barkley at the top of my lungs and I arrived. Strangly enough I arrived at the exact moment that my god mother and aunt/uncle. We all tried to check in but only the aunt/uncle combo’s room was available/booked. The hotel people were completely disorganized. So we headed for the beer store, headed for their room and that’s the last thing I remember before my flight home. Just kidding… We drank and gossiped until all at once it seemed EVERYONE arrived. Granparents were being helped up the stairs, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, parents and children hugging, shaking hands, laughing and exclaiming. As everyone reviewed their travels ‘late planes, rental car problems, directions to the wrong province’ I stood back and started laughing. It was like watching my big fat greek wedding or like we were Italian. So the drinking really started now. My parents were all set to host a wine and cheese party at their ‘cabin’ – oh I’m sorry, did I not mention? The ‘resort’ was a bunch of cabins. So to get to other peoples rooms you had to skip down a forest trail. Like summer camp. No honestly, mosquito bites are SO instyle this season. Whatever, so wine comes out and we all start drinking and laughing. The grooms sisters come to meet me (to talk hair) and they seem alright. By 8 o’clock thought there has still been no rehersal and I’m getting pretty sick of being asked A LOT of questions I don’t know the answers to.

Before I can say anything to my sister I am tackled from behind. I turn to find a little girl of about 10 years old, wrapped around my jean clad legs, perched upon my beautiful new pink kitten heels (you know the ones). I want to scream at her to remove herself but am not entirely sure where she’s come from and the fact that she’s Down Syndrome makes my cold, black heart thaw momentarily. She demands to see my ‘black sparkly shoes’. Apparently my aunt, who had been cornered by her moments earlier, had (through lack of topics to discuss with a 10 year child) brought up my favorite pair of flats. Sigh. But I do enjoy showing off my most favorite pairs. So I took one hand and my god mother who at this point was completely wasted and needed a walk took the other and we all wandered to my cabin.

Twenty minutes later, black sparkly shoes having received the full appreciation they deserved from my new best friend we all marched (god mum stumbled) back up the hill towards the noticeably quieter cabin my parents were staying in. We walked in to find an empty cabin, half drunk wine glasses everywhere and all the lights on. It was as if they had gotten up and run away without us. I looked and my god mum who tried to look at me but her eyes swum as she poured herself a glass of wine. I looked to my new little best friend and said ‘where did everybody go?’ to which she answered matter-o-factly ‘Lobster’. Instantly I remembered overhearing someone mention lobster for dinner. So My New little best friend and I did our best to steer my god mother to the resort restaurant which I had noted when I tried to check in.

‘Sorry we don’t serve lobster and your family isn’t here’. The hostess said with a look of pure pity in her eye as she darted glances at my companions. My new little best friend was completely enamored with my shoes which she had forced me to wear, and was lying on the floor playing with them, while my god mother, was trying to ‘nonchalantly’ hold herself up with the door frame while fighting off the hiccups. ‘There is a lobster restaurant up the road though. That’s probably where they went’. Great. To the rental we all flew. We piled in and raced the restaurant where we found everyone seated. No one seemed concerned that we had been missing allt his time or offered an apology. So I sat down, famished and happy not to be babysitting either one of my friends anymore.

Immediately I was approached by a waitress. ‘She’s getting a big tip from me and big drink for me’ I thought to myself. But her question wasn’t about what drink I wanted it was ‘Have you paid?’. ‘Excuse me?’ I answered. ‘You have to pay at the front’. Embarrassed I got up and headed to the front. It was quickly explained to me that each person had paid individually in advance on their way in. Nothing buy class at this wedding. I asked to see a menu. But there wasn’t one. Shocker. Sadly, I don’t eat fish so I asked to have whatever wasn’t from the sea to which the cashier answered ‘That will be Twenty-Three dollars’. I paid and turned to walk away when she tells me ‘actually, you still owe for 5 lobsters’. The look I gave her must have spoken volumes because she quickly said ‘I may have miscounted, could you double check?’ So if you’re wondering how a girl ends up pointing and asking the question ‘did you order salmon or lobster?’ to complete strangers, that’s how. Sure enough 5 people hadn’t paid. I marched over to my mother and demanded that she handle it as I was under the impression that rehearsal dinners were purchased by the parents of someone and I wasn’t a parent of anyone.

After I ate my 2 pieces of cold ham and ice cream scoop of potato salad (yes, I said 23 dollars) we all headed back to the cabin for more wine.

I quickly sat down and beat some very drunk members of my family at some very cut-throat games of cribbage. When I took 2 american dollars off of my uncle he swore and walked out of the room. So, I grabbed my money and headed for the pub where I found the grooms brother in laws, drunk. We found a booth, ordered some beers (actually I handed my 2 American bucks to the bartender and asked him to write me a note that said that I had bought a beer with my uncles cribbage money so I could give it to my uncle later). We laughed and made a lot of fun of the groom as that was all we had in common. At one point I remembered getting teary eyed and saying ‘I’ve never had brothers before!’. It was pretty pathetic.

Next thing I knew, one of the grooms sisters turned up and we were being dared by the bar to kiss. Which we did. Now at first I remember thinking, ‘oh my god there are fireworks going off’ and assumed I was gay. But then I realized it was the flashbulbs on about 4 camera’s going off. So I found a boy, danced a little and then sent myself home to bed.

After all… Saturday was the big day…

Campbell’s Chicken Noodle + Bed + Kleenex = Me

2006-09-11T16:19:00.000-04:00

Can’t post too much today, I promise to fill you in on all the drama, the drinking and the boy (wink wink). But right now I’m fighting off a horrid cold/flu combo in bed, wrapped in my favorite flannel pj’s. I will tell you this though. If you’re going to get a horrid cold/flu combo?... get it from making out in the Atlantic Ocean with a cute boy.

Talk to you all soon… JASG

Back In TO

2006-09-11T16:17:00.000-04:00

The wedding is over. Sigh. Although it was a disorganized mess and at times I wanted to murder both my mother AND my sister, when she walked down the aisle; she was beautiful. And I looked pretty damn good myself.

raise

2006-09-06T15:16:00.000-04:00

I don’t know how it happened. I mean, I come to the GUJ everyday and spend all my time devouring gossip websites, going to yoga classes and playing with the office puppy. When I’m not doing that I’m coughing at all the right times and escaping to the bathroom to avoid work at my desk. And yet, they just gave me another raise! Plus a bonus for my RRSP. I’m starting to think that they are seeing something in me that I’m not seeing… imagine what I’d be making if I was trying… oh well… guess we’ll never know.
JASG

peanut butter goo

2006-09-06T11:07:00.000-04:00

Our very first dinner party. Sigh. I’ll remember it always.
I was so effing stressed out. I developed 3 pimples as the day progressed. Ok 2 but the other one lingered because of stress.
I basically flew out of the office at 5, grabbed a quick tan because I need to shed these tan lines and I’m carrying on a minor flirtation with the yummy yummy mimbo that works there. Mmm…. Mimbo…
Ok back to my night. So I come out, tanned and happy, and race to the grocery store clutching my grocery list like it’s the million dollar ticket. Spinach, check, whole-wheat un-cooked noodles, check, chicken stock cube? Wtf? Check.
I raced around grabbing items I’d never even considered before, throwing them into my cart like this was all normal and I whipped up fabulous meals every night using such ingredients as ‘basil’ - ? I’m in trouble. I run for the bulk food and start devouring reeses pieces straight from the bin. Normally I would casually fill a bag and then sneakily eat them as I pushed my cart around the market, then drop the empty bag half-hazardly on the ground on my way to check out. Not this time. I was shoveling them into my mouth like that Asian kid who eats the hotdogs dipped in water.
Then it happened, ‘excuse me miss’? I felt a tap on my shoulder and the 4 reeses pieces that were on their way to my mouth dropped to the floor. I’m so busted I thought. This is how I’m going to go down. Accused of stealing at a grocery store? I turned at it was another shopper. She asked where I had found the creaser salad kits, I pointed, my mouth full of peanut butter goo.
At this point I rushed to the check out. As I waited my turn I went into a nice sugary buzz. My jaw went slack, my eyes unfocused and I relaxed for the first time all day. After 5 minutes of standing in the same place, I shook my head and realized, ‘It’s been 5 minutes and I’m still in the same place’. I had managed to pick the absolute worst line possible. This kid who was running the cash register, was more concerned with spinning each item mid air before scanning the items, then actually scanning the items. I looked to the girl whose items he was twirling and saw the look of pain, frustration and fear on her face. Each time he reached for a jar of tomato sauce and tossed it in the air, slammed it into the bag, her face went a little whiter. This performance went on for another 10 minutes. He dropped things, double scanned them, couldn’t find codes (no doubt due to the fact that he was dancing while looking). It was the most painful shopping experience of my life. When it was finally my turn I fixed my gaze on my cell phone and pretended not to notice the shenanigans.
I ran from the grocery store, and started the quick walk home. I ran in and started cooking up a storm. I followed my recipe to a T. Cook meat, add various things I’ve never heard of, layer in pan, add cheese I’ve never heard of, repeat, spinach, more meat… blah blah blah.
Just as I placed my masterpiece in the oven Nate appeared wine in hand. He tackled the bathroom while I cleaned up the kitchen, set the table and ran to tidy my room (gotta hate the open concept when you’re having people over). We ran around like kids with Turrets until his brother and girlfriend showed up.
We chatted, drank 5 bottles of wine and ate like we had never eaten before. On the menu? Portuguese Lasagna, garlic bread and Caesar salad, with tiramisu for dessert.
Mmmm hmmmm
Martha Stewart has got nothing on me!
Of course she may not have gotten quite as drunk as I did. And she may not have had a centerpiece of condoms and lube on the table (don’t ask) while serving… but whatever. No one throws a dinner party like JASG…

K Fed Loses Control

2006-09-05T11:37:00.000-04:00

Oh god. this is even worse than I imagined it would be. Where do you think he got the money for this? I do think it's funny that he doesn't dance at all... perhaps somebody is trying to make us all forget that he's the back up dancer who slept his way to the 'top'.

Kids on TV

2006-09-04T19:58:00.000-04:00

5 minutes to destiny

2006-09-04T19:02:00.000-04:00

Friday I was trying to waste some time. It’s a long weekend here so I was trying to wait a while before I hit the highway so I wouldn’t get stuck in all the 5-7 traffic that inevitably floods the highways on the long weekends. So after work I was laying on my yoga mat in class pretending to be in a state of complete Zen so that all the older women wouldn’t talk to me. It’s as if they think I’m there to make friends not accidentally stumble onto the one position that’s going to give me instantaneous euphoria. So as I’m laying there I leaned my head back to look at the clock on the wall. I’d never noticed before but in place of numbers it had Chinese characters with English words below them, describing the characters. Nestled between Peace and Fortune was Destiny. According to the clock on the wall it was officially 5 minutes to destiny.

So the teacher came in and class began. An hour in and we were all on our backs, legs spread, knees bent, flexing various muscles I didn’t know we had and it happened. I found the position. I had to stop because I swear I was going to… um… yeah.

If that’s not destiny, I don’t know what is. If you need me, I’ll be on the floor in my bedroom…

Speedy Gonzalez

2006-09-04T18:55:00.000-04:00

Have you ever played something over and over in your head before? You know, to the point where you’re absolutely certain of what you will do when the situation finally arises? Well that’s what I had done. My father is a police officer (or at least was, until he retired) and he told me everything to do and say. He even gave me his business cards to have ‘accidentally’ fall out of my wallet when I go for my license.

Unfortunately, when I got pulled over this morning doing 118 in an 80 zone I went speechless for about the 3rd time in my entire life. I gave him everything silently and it wasn’t until I was sitting there waiting for the officer to come back, that I burst into tears (I’m not proud). So by the time that the officer returned and handed me my ticket, I could hardly speak through the snot and tears…

Things did not go as I had planned.

So, I’m out another $230 thanks to my car. That’s close to $600 all together this month. Ah, what would I do without her… JASG

exit only

2006-09-01T11:54:00.000-04:00

Today is a sad, sad day for me.

Today I booked my flight to my sisters wedding.

Sigh.

And I’m not sad for the reason you’re thinking. Not because I think my sister is making a heinous mistake that’s going to see her living in a trailer park in some inbred town on the east coast, raising 7 kids that all look like they’ve dropped their ice-cream cones in the sandbox. No.

It’s because it’s been almost a full year since I’ve paid for a flight. In the last year I’ve flown back and forth to BC close to 10 times, Calgary twice (once for the Calgary stampede – yee haw!), and my personal favorite; Hawaii. Each one of these flights has only cost me taxes. That’s it. Usually it’s about 7 dollars.

So to have to shell out $450 bucks to fly to Halifax today is making me want to throw up.

See the BGFF works for an airline and when you work for an airline you get to pick one extra special BFF to allow essentially free flights. And I was his BFF. It was amazing. And soooo cheap.

But recently he exchanged my name for another. His close personal friend from high school took my position as BFF. So sad. Like being demoted on someone’s speed dial from position 1 to 2.

I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he too is a gay male who has, on occasion performed a certain ‘job’ that I just couldn’t do. Ahem.

So, I’ve begun to consider the following… what if I went to the airport and started hitting on flight attendants? I mean, if I could get a flight attendant to date me, I could solve all my problems at once.

1. I’d have a boyfriend and people would stop looking at me like I’m crazy for being single for so long.
2. I’d get free flights again, thus allowing me to maintain all my cross country friends.
and
3. I’d be traveling again, this time with a boy whom I could have sex with on every beach across the continent. (Just like my BGFF)

Of course there’s a huge problem with my plan, I know. I don’t’ really believe that straight men are flight attendants so my quest could be comparable to the search for the Lock Ness Monster or Big foot…

Hmmm… but maybe it’s worth a shot, even if he is gay… I mean, I can’t stomach the idea of shelling this kind of money out for plane tickets on a normal basis.

Hmmm… I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad to have a gay boyfriend. I mean, believe me I could use the fashion advice and he’d probably be very romantic and buy me great thoughtful gifts…

Yikes. Wait. No. I don’t think I could handle all the expected backdoor action. Yikes. I still remember the first time a boy tip toed his finger back there. I clenched so hard I’m surprised he still has that finger.

I guess I’ll have to accept it and start paying. Please tip your waiters, your tips are not going towards the ‘exit only’ fund.

Still single and still JASG…

friendship built by dip

2006-08-30T18:13:00.000-04:00

Got stuck at the GUJ Monday night until nearly 8pm. And straight off, let me just tell you that I swear it has nothing to do with my new found respect for the audio book. ;)

So, I’m a total reader. But lately I’m realizing that I read about 80% chick lit (ok, 90). I love chick lit, it’s like the equivalent of a one night stand; quick, dirty if you’re lucky and no one has to know about it. (see-4 Friday nights ago, my apartment) But occasionally I bump into men who actually read for fun, like me and realize that boys who read, read real books, not the one’s with pink covers speckled with pretty shoes. So, In order to make my rampant fantasy sessions about Boy A feasible it’s time to expand my horizons. The most recent fantasy goes as follows; we sit out on the dock at my cottage, wrapped in wool blankets, post coital (obviously) discussing a book we’ve both just read, I’m saying very intellectual things and he stars at me completely floored that he’s found someone who’s so smart and beautiful. Cue cheesy 80’s romantic music and bring in the saxophone solo.

I told you I read too much chick lit. Ok, back to reality.

So in order to allow myself to continue to read chick lit at night, I’ve taken to listening to audio books while I’m working. Brilliant, I know. So I started with Margaret Atwood’s a handmaid’s tale mostly because she’s Canadian. But also because I figured that after all the trash I’ve filled my brain with lately maybe I should try balancing it out with a bit of feminist literature. It was definitely an interesting story. I liked the idea, but to be quite honest, the sex scenes left me wanting more. Lol…. And in the end I just couldn’t identify with the main character. She wasn’t bold enough.

So Monday I started Angels and Demon’s by Dan Brown. I’m proud to say that I read Divinci Code before it was a craze and in a mere 2 days. Loved it, but when the craziness of the book took over the world, I couldn’t bring myself to read Angels and Demon’s, out of spite I suppose. It’s the same reason that I haven’t read A million Little Pieces by James Frey. Personally I don’t care if it’s autobiographical or something he pulled out of a wet dream. I just couldn’t stand that everyone was talking about it. Anyways, I started A&D Monday and I’ve gotten nothing done. I catch myself staring off into space, mouth agape, completely lost in what I’m hearing. But I am LOVING this book. I’m on disk 2 of 6 and I don’t ever want it to end.

So anyways, for completely unrelated reasons (ahem) I didn’t get out of the office until 8ish on Monday night. I raced home where I met Nate who was tap, tap, tapping his foot at the door. We jumped in my car and headed for Yonge and Eglington to have dinner at his brothers house where he lives with his girlfriend. This dinner date, as it were, was cooked up while inebriated Sunday night at a fashion show. They invited us and we were just drunk enough and high on fashion that we accepted. Not to say that we don’t like them, or free food (please) but we don’t like pretending to be a couple. Which is exactly what we were doing when we showed up smiling with a bottle of wine and sat around a table making small talk all night. Sigh. I need a real boyfriend… Boy A better call soon. I promise to award him a name if he does.

Nate’s family is amazing. His mother passed when he was quite young back in the 80’s and his father remarried a women who had a child previously with a black Spanish man who pulled the old ‘dick and dash’. So, Nate and his sister have a black brother. Which I think is just about the coolest thing on the planet. And he is dating a girl from Poland who is the sweetest thing ever. Now this may be the homemade spinach and 4 cheese dip she made as an appetizer talking but if I wasn’t so apposed to female friendships I’d recruit her to be my new best friend.

So a few bottles of wine later and Nate and I are inviting them over to our place next Tuesday to return the favour. ‘I’ll cook lasagna!!’ I heard myself saying happily while inside I’m cringing . What an idiot. My mother is going to have to make sure she’s home and Rogers better be ready for my phone bill because the only way I’m getting my foot out of my mouth this time is with careful phone instructions. I mean, what is even in a lasagna?? I know there’s cottage cheese… or is it feta…?

No one gets herself into more sticky situations than… JASG

The carpet officially matches the drapes

2006-08-29T18:54:00.000-04:00

After much deliberation I finally made an appointment and went and did it. I am officially a brunette again. No blond streaks. No blond high or low lights. Nothing but brown. And I gotta say… I’m loving it. Is it just me or do we Brunette’s look so much more mysterious and intelligent??? Obviously I’m on the right track as the celebs seem to be starting to make a shift. Let's watch and see who follows suit…. We’ll see. JASG.

Tall, Dark and Handsome

2006-08-29T18:00:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning I woke up in the rigamortus position, fully clothed as I mentioned before, new lip-gloss smeared across my face. I looked at the clock and before I could take it in, my head screamed. I swear, I’ve never had a headache like the headache I woke up with. I quickly replayed Friday nights details over in my mind and realized that not only had I drunk way more than was necessary/humanly possible, I hadn’t eaten dinner. Huge mistake. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and glanced through my window/wall into Nate’s room. Good to see that he too, was passed out, clothes on, rigamortus having set in around 3am. I needed coffee and I needed it now. I had a lot to do if I was going to make it to this wedding in one piece. I removed last nights camouflage, jewelry, outfit, etc, threw on some yoga pants and a tank top and started to chew on a piece of bread. I walked/staggered to Starbucks (I have a gift card) where I grumbled my order and then cut across the street to the tanning salon. ‘That’s exactly what I need, a tan to go with my dress and to put me in a good mood’ I told myself. Without a doubt I always come out of the tanning bed dancing and smiling. God bless Vitamin A.
A quick nod to the hottie McHot-Hot behind the counter and I was in the stand-up bed smiling into the lamps. I came out in an instantly better mood, although the headache pounded harder. I said thanks, Mr. Hot Pants said ‘aww sweetie it sounds like you’re getting a cold’. I looked at him, smirked and replied ‘Actually I’m getting a hangover’ to which everyone laughed and my head pounded harder.
I returned home to find Nate up and bouncing around. Obviously the evening’s effects were being felt more severely by the lady of the house rather than the queen. Asshole.
I quickly showered and raced around the corner for my hair appointment. Uneventful. But I did come away quite fabulous if I do say so myself. I walked home and quickly put on the new dress, new accessories, and of course the new shoes (after wiping last nights spilt drinks off of them of course).
Jumped in the car and was ready to roll. Following the BGFF’s directions I figured I’d have no problems. Where this assumption came from I have no idea. Since, every time he gives me directions, they’re always ‘really easy’ and always end up ‘really wrong’. So I missed the wedding. I snuck into the back of the church as they were signing the license. When the wedding ended two minutes later, I met up with the BGFF outside and we laughed about his directions. I said hello to his sister who is 8 months pregnant (hello shotgun) and we quickly piled into our cars and headed for a beer. A few drinks later and we were laughing and joking and happy to have been reunited (he’s been away on his training for a month now) until suddenly the BGFF realized he was supposed to have reported for pictures. I swear, the boy can remember everything that Mariah Carey has ever written, worn or said but doesn’t remember that he’s supposed to be in his sisters wedding pictures!?
So we raced to the reception where I promptly ditched him in favour of his cousin and the open bar.
That’s when things got interesting. Three boys from my past.
Basically to recap my history with these boys; over a year ago I attended a house party in the country somewhere for BGFF’s sister. Beginning of the night I’m crushing big time on tall dark handsome shy boy A fending off advances and flirtation from somewhat attractive boy B who lives with his parents (kiss of death) and boy C who is Boy A’s younger (still in school) brother. As the night progresses the BGFF keeps medaling. He says at one point to Boy A, ‘just get wasted if you’re too shy to talk to her’ and at another to Boy B ‘She thinks Boy A is super hot, she’s not interested’. As the night goes on and Boy A has yet to speak to me and Boy B is starting to become offended I finally approach Boy A. He’s completely drunk and tries to make out with me. Then pukes. I end up putting him to bed and his brother Boy C tries to once again pick me up while we clean up the puke. Yuck. Boy B unbeknown to be has witnessed the drunken attempted kiss with Boy A and retreats to his corner. Party ends with me talking all night to Boy C about his college ambitions.
Ok, so back to the wedding. All three boys are there. Boy B walks straight up to and says ‘I remember you’. The evening comes flooding back to me so fast that I say nothing and he walks away. Later I walk out to use the ladies and run into all three standing together. I play it cool, again totally thrown by Boy A’s good, good looks. And is it just me or is he somehow more confident and less shy. The way he’s looking at me… mmmm… Boy A says ‘So do you remember us all now’. I say ‘how could I forget, I cleaned up puke that night. It’s a night to remember’. Everyone laughs. Boy A goes red. We all file in to eat. As I pretend to listen to the speech’s I catch winks from Boy B twice (he’s in the wedding party and so the BGFF tells me – still living with his parents) and nervous glances from Boy A. Yummy. The speech’s end and the dances start. Boring. I slip out a few times for cigarette’s and bathroom breaks hoping that Boy A will take the cue and follow me. But alas he is too shy.
The BGFF finds me, crying, it’s 9pm already and little miss Cinderella must race out to catch a flight back to flight attendant training and apparently I’m the fairy godmother that has to get him there. Son of a… I run to get the car as the BGFF races out with his bag, bawling. He gets in and tells me of his run in with Boy A who grabbed him inside to stop him from running and asked ‘where are you guys going?’ clearly disappointed that he’d missed his opportunity to talk to me again.
The BGFF has arranged an email swap… yummy… I knew I loved the new dress…
After a swing and drop at the airport, I was back at my apartment, cozy in my chaise, sipping wine and daydreaming of a boy with Boy A’s good looks and Boy B’s racy personality.
No one dreams like JASG…

Summer of '69

2006-08-29T15:42:00.000-04:00

Ok so apparently people are actually reading my posts and want me to continue to post. Cool.
Let’s recap the weekend.
The BGFF Is out of town on Flight Attendant Training. I mean do I even need to add the G into BGFF when describing a man in flight attendant training? Whatever. He’s away, and has been for about 3 weeks. Hence my boredom, hence my starting a blog.
So Friday I get an email with detailed instructions about my expected attendance to his sisters wedding. Sigh. All I need is another excuse to go shopping. I raced home from work, grabbed the visa and headed out. $250 later and I was so happy I could barely stand it. I got the most gorgeous dress on the planet, Black strapless with lace at the bottom. Heaven. And you can’t get a dress like that and then just match it with some costume jewelry you’ve had laying around the house since1999. No a dress like that called for new shoes (pink, kitten heels with pink ribbon bows) jewelry (2 rings, 8 bracelets, one necklace, and one pair of earrings) and lip gloss (Maybeline Shiny-licious). As I skipped home with my various goodies, I stopped to make a hair appointment for the next day and then burst through the door to host a (bringing it all together) fashion show for nate. He ooh’d and aww’d and poured me a drink.
We sat and chatted over wine. Much needed (the chat not the wine). We talked and talked and listened to the new Hidden Camera’s which (I’m sorry) is to Effing die for. Before long we were dressing up and dancing and joking around. By the time his friend called to have him go meet downstairs to head to a concert I was wearing jeans, a black tube top, my new shoes and all my new jewelry. All I had to do was swipe on some of my new lip gloss and I was ready to party.
We piled into Toni’s Beatle where Nate informed me that I had finished a bottle of wine myself ‘really?’ I said, ‘I don’t even feel drunk’. That’s when I should have gotten out of the car. So we raced to the concert which was in the Bacment of some seedy club that is of course the next best thing. Our friend who we’ve all known since college has a band who was playing. Now, his ‘album’ has been coming out ‘next month’ for about 2 years now, so I don’t feel guilty for only having caught the last song of the concert. Because a) this will not be the last ‘last concert before the cd drops’ b) I was able to sing along with the songs, whereas most others could not and c) JP was drunk out of his tree (to his credit-he still sounded decent).
So 2 vodka cranberries later and I suddenly felt that bottle of wine I had drank. It hit me when we were hanging out in the back room with the band and I grabbed JP’s face and said ‘Behave’ for no reason. We both laughed our asses off but inside I was thinking ‘what the eff was that’?! But that voice got quieter when I bought another vodka cranberry. Nate and I realized that we needed to get another drink but were both out of cash. The bouncer told us that next door had a bank machine.
Now when I tell you this place was small, I mean it. It was essentially a hallway with a table at the end and a bar lining one side. The bar back was as wide as the space allotted for patrons. It was crazy. And it was PACKED. Packed with hot boys. They were cranking John Mellencamp and everyone in the place was wasted. Nate and I somehow managed to snake our way through to the end where the bank machine was, get cash, order drinks and find a place to stand. Before long Bryan Adams ‘summer of 69’ was blasting and Nate and I had given in completely to our drunkenness, we were putting on a sexy dance show for everyone around us which we would occasionally stop and shout ‘it’s ok, he’s gay!!’ and burst into a fit of giggles as he grabbed my chest, or I grabbed his crotch. Needless to say, we made friends.
Finally, we ran out the door saying our goodbye’s (ahem ok I kissed the doorman goodbye while Nate pissed in the alley), jumped in a cab and headed for home.
Of course, I don’t remember getting home. But I did wake up in my clothes, new shoes and all my new jewelry. Nothing spells trash like… JASG

doing a rain dance at my desk right now

2006-08-24T10:16:00.000-04:00

So my boss is sending me to Iceland. So insane. I mean, really all I know about Iceland is that same story that everyone knows about it. I believe it goes like this; the same people who discovered Iceland, discovered Greenland. Iceland was so beautiful that they named it Iceland so that no one else would come and then called the other ice covered piece of land Greenland to trick people into going there. It reminds me of when people ask me where I got something like cute shoes or skirts and I lie and say I got it at goodwill or some store out of town so that they won’t buy the same one. Oh! I also know that there are hot springs everywhere in Iceland and that when you turn on the cold water in the bathroom it starts out hot and turns cold. I feel pretty prepared.

So I’m sure you can imagine the distress I experienced when I realized that I couldn’t’ find my passport. I mean the idea of missing out on 2 weeks full of warm toilet seats? Unimaginable! I emailed everyone I know, turned my apartment upside down. All to no avail. So, I finally broke down and called the government to find out how long it was going to take. ‘If it takes more than a month I’m screwed’ I kept telling myself. Luckily, 10 Days!!! Wahoo. All I need to do is come in with my birth certificate and driver’s license. A pain in the ass, yes. Something to complain about, sure. But by no means as big of a problem as I was expecting.

It’s a little slow at the GUJ this week so I’ve been surfing the internet a lot, checking out others blogs, but mainly compulsively checking all my celebrity gossip sites (see links). But I did stumble onto the cutest little shirt that I HAD to order online. I reached for my purse to fish out my all ready maxed out credit card. I just bought this beautiful huge brown leather sac and I’m having trouble getting used to the size. So, I wasn’t immediately alarmed when my arm kept coming back without my wallet at the other end. At one point I felt like Mary Poppins. Although there was no lamp I did pull out a sweater, a journal, a book, a can of soup, a cd (the hidden camera’s), a cell phone, a dvd (kiss, kiss, bang, bang), a bottle of water, a digital camera, a pack of cigarettes (3 weeks old so I don’t feel too guilty) sunglasses, driving glasses, my almay (never leave home without it) moisture stick, a compact and my lipgloss. Phew. But, no wallet. This is when I start to go crazy. I now have absolutely nothing that proves who I am. I started to picture myself as one of those homeless people living under the Gardiner that’s getting evicted. Having to pack my life into my stupid novelty sized purse/suitcase and go live in the woods with all the prostitutes. It was pretty scary. Actually, I was thinking most about my missed opportunity for a warm tush but whatever.

I raced to the coffee shop where I tutor, it wasn’t there, I ran to my car to see if it had fallen out, it wasn’t there, ran to my yoga studio and burst in on a hatha flow class, it wasn’t there.

I returned to work where everyone encouraged me to start cancelling my cards. I was so upset. I couldn’t do it. I checked online to make sure no one was using my credit cards and was forced to acknowledge my balances again (gulp). No activity.

I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park with the office dog. It was Riley’s birthday (6 Months) though so I tried to be in a good mood. He’s so cute. The cutest pug ever. He’s at our office everyday and I’m his second mom. I bought him a little raincoat for his birthday and am practically doing a rain dance at my desk right now. I can’t wait to take him out in it.

Back to my story. So I drag myself back to my desk around 4, finish out the day with some emails and then head for home.

I come in and sit down to check my email (even though it’s only been about 4 minutes since I left the office) and there’s my wallet. Right where I left it. I get so excited that I scream and start dancing along with Ellen on Tv. I scare Nate’s cat and he runs into the bathroom again. Thank god cats can’t talk.

An hour later I’m wearing my new cute red ballerina shoes, sitting at the pub with Nate and good friend Sara drinking and laughing at each other. God, I love getting together with those who know me best. There’s nothing better than being able to admit all the idiotic things you’ve done and have your friends love you even more for them.

We poured out of the bar a few hours later, drunk, happy and smoking my 3 week old cigarettes. We piled up the stairs back to our apartment where I put on a fashion show in my new bridesmaid dress. At one point I was bent over my leopard print chaise with my ass in the air. That’s the one I’m sending to my sister.

Sara left to clean her apartment (drunk). Nate headed to the gym (drunk). And I did the dishes, in my bridesmaid dress (drunk) while watching CSI Miami.

Tip your waiters… JASG

Thank god for open bars

2006-08-23T10:23:00.000-04:00

My sister is getting married.

I’ve been avoiding the topic. If it comes up in conversation, I pretend I need to use the restroom. Someone asks me via email about it, I delete the email, hum softly to myself and pretend it never came in. Someone calls and asks about it, I say I haven’t spoken to my sister lately, ‘I’m not sure’ and change the subject. I’ve been doing this for 6 months now. And it has worked fine. It’s been easy really. She’s on the west coast, I’m in Ontario. It makes sense not to include me in any planning.

Of course I’ve been assuming that if I kept pretending that it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t happen.

I was wrong.

It’s happening.

In 3 weeks.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that it’s so sweet that she doesn’t want to let her big sister go… awww. Well, that’s where you’re wrong. The problem is that I don’t want her to marry him. (No, I’ve never slept with him – you’ve been watching too much HBO). Let me give you my brief arguments against the wedding.

1. She is 29. He is 21.
2. This is her first boyfriend.
3. He has never graduated from high school. She is university educated and considered a genious (I beg to differ).
4. He has never been on his own. He went from living with his mother, to living with his fiancée, to living with my sister.
5. He has a child. (no that’s not the part that bothers me) that he left on the east coast (child 1year) to follow my sister to the west coast. (how could you ever just get up and leave your child?)
6. I think that’s enough.

So of course I’m convinced that one of many things will happen.
1. He’ll begin to feel guilty about ditching his child and they’ll move back to the boarded up fishing town he’s from, where everyone knows everyone. My sister will become restless, they’ll fight and divorce.
2. 15 years from now he’ll suddenly realize that he’s never had a childhood. That he went from high school to father to married overnight and become rebellious. He’ll have a midlife, and run off with some skank. Divorce.
3. They stay where they are; he develops no relationship with his son. When the son is a teenager he becomes rebellious and begins to blame his father. Who becomes upset and blames my sister.

Really, I have a million different scenarios worked out, each of which I’ve put a lot of thought into. All of which leave her alone, sometimes with a bunch of dirty faced children on her hip.

Did I mention that I’m the maid of honour?

So the day is looming. The wedding is on the east coast because no one in his family has the money to fly (they are all living off of the government in some way or another) while our family does. So our family is flying in from all over Canada and the US for this.

But, here’s the best part; Because 80% of his family is effed (drugs, alcohol,. Illegitimate children, etc.) only immediate family was invited. Not even cousins. My parents were so crushed that they organized a reception the following weekend at our cottage. So everyone is flying to the East Coast the first weekend and then to Ontario the next.

My face hurts just thinking of 2 full weekends of fake smiles.

Wish me luck.

Thank god for open bars. JASG

Big Tough Boyfriend

2006-08-22T13:51:00.000-04:00

I live in the sketchiest part of Toronto.

No seriously.

I am within blood splattering distance of Sherborne Street and it scares the crap out of me.

When Nate and I decided to live together I was out of town in Washington on Business and was losing my place. So it was a bit last minute. I flew in on a Friday and we both had to officially be into our new place on Monday. So we just started driving around looking for ‘For Rent’ signs. When we found a place where we could move in the next day, sign nothing and live for next to nothing a month. We took it.

Of course when we were shopping I was under the misguided impression that he would be home, I don’t know; once in a blue moon. But of course the life of a gay 20 something male who just leapt out of the closet doesn’t usually include movie nights, popcorn and body guard duty for his female roommate. Instead he chooses to spend his time with his boyfriend. And they tend to play at his place sans roommate rather than in the ghetto with me quietly listening with a cup against the wall. (I’m sorry but it’s hot).

I’ve actually only met the boyfriend twice (although I’ve heard him a few others-screamer). Once was during a night where I was having a minor breakdown after yet another failed romance and Nate ushered me off to the gay bar where said boyfriend bartends. I vaguely remember a Messy Mohawk, a look of pity and a heavy pouring hand. The second time was at a concert. Nate swore I would love the music. Ahem. In my vodka induced stupor that first night, I had failed to notice that the boyfriend was actually short. And by short I mean Dwarf-like. I’d put him at about 5’1 or 5’2. When he got up on stage, wearing see-through underwear and sang along with his laptop I had to leave. I felt like I was watching live action kiddie porn. Needless to say, I’m not surprised that Nate doesn’t bring him around.

So we just moved in a few months ago. At the time I was traveling a lot with the GUJ (grown-up job) and so didn’t really take in my surroundings. It wasn’t until I came back from my last trip to Indiana when I got into the limo (ahem-town car-whatever it sounds better) and gave the driver my cross street that I really understood what I’d done. His response was ‘ah bit of a bad area, you must have a big tough boyfriend’. I thought about responding that no in fact, my boyfriend was purple and made of latex and the only thing I had protecting me was a few locks on the door but decided to keep these facts to myself in case he was a potential stalker.

When we pulled up outside the door, it was like I was seeing the place for the first time, men walked by and leered at me, women walked by with relaxed looks on their faces that could have only come from a dirty needle and a man stopped across the street on his rusted bike and stared at my luggage like it was Christmas dinner. From that night on, I’ve arrived home each night a little more frightened than the night before and usually hurl myself inside and up the stairs, burst inside in a manor that sends Nate’s cat running for the bathroom. I slam the door and barricade myself inside.

Of course sometimes Nate is home and looks at me like I’m nuts but he usually just skakes his head and hands me a glass of wine… which are the really fun nights…
Don’t forget to tip your waiters… wink wink… JASG

the JBF walk to work

2006-08-22T10:15:00.000-04:00

So this is a first for me.

Every morning before I head to my grown-up job I spend an hour with this man. He’s 20 years older than I am and barely speaks English. He pays me by the hour and he always leaves with a smile on his face. I wish I could tell you that it’s completely sleazy and leaves me walking funny but unfortunately it’s been awhile since I’ve done the JBF walk to work. Instead, I’m actually his tutor. A little less exciting, I know.

Usually we just randomly talk about whatever is on our minds and I’ll correct all his mistakes and take notes. But today I must be honest; I didn’t take any notes. He started telling me about his blog. He told me about all the cash he was making by just copying dieting tips onto a site.

So, as he rambled on in broken English, changing from the future, to the past and back to the present tense freely, my mind started racing. People think I’m funny! People are always telling me how much they enjoy my writing! I could make millions!!! Ok, maybe not millions but like 10’s of 20’s of dollars...

So here I am. Please remember to tip your waiter – aka click on the ads.