If this blog was a child, the Child Protection Services people would be all over my ass like white on rice. Thank gawd it's not and the only thing I have to answer to is the guilt, sadness and feelings of inadequacy in my own heart.
I lose.
I do however have a new goal for myself (new as in I've been thinking about it for over six months now, and finally have a plan of action). I'm going to teach English overseas. After months of researching and (FAILing) at trying to save money for the CELTA course I have decided I'm going to move back in with my mother (cue death march music).
My lease expires at the end of this year and the course starts mid-February so I figure that gives me enough time to save the money necessary for the course. It will also give me ample time to remember why I moved out 7 years ago in the first place.
I'm really hoping the course is worth the $2500 price tag. Oh, and the emotional scarring I'll be sure to endure.*
There are some really important unresolved issues that I'll have to deal with in the upcoming months. Things such as: Where do I want to go teach? Will I survive 6 months to a year in a strange country? What am I going to do with all my shoes while I'm gone? I guess I'll just have to tackle these as they come.
I wonder if I can work: "How to Make the Perfect Dirty Martini" into a lesson plan...
*I'm mostly kidding. My mum can be fabulous - when she isn't stark raving mad
Monday
Tuesday
Lesson Learned: Don't Be A Drunktard
I seem to have been having "one of those days" for the last few days. For example; I left my wallet in a cab on Thursday, the day before I was supposed to go do some important banking. I figured I would just use my passport as ID at the bank, but my passport seems to have taken a long trip somewhere without me.
Saturday I was resigned to the fact that I had lost my drivers license, my bank card, my passport, and more importantly my Shoe-aholic Spending card. That's a free pair of shoes right there bitches!
I got home from work to find a taxi drivers card and a note telling me if I ever wanted to see my wallet intact again, bring $500 G's in unmarked bills to the top of the Calgary Tower at midnight. Actually, it may have only said to call him, but it could read either way really.
They ended up calling me the next day with directions to their headquarters to pick the wallet up. Thank the sweet baby Jebus. That wallet is my life.
Yesterday I finally had a chance to head up to the place to grab my wallet with the intention of going to see my financial adviser and get that banking done afterward. Of course when I get there they can't find my wallet anywhere and they insist that the driver must still have it.
Finally after fifteen painful minutes (my cab's meter was still running outside!) they managed to track it down and finally I could say I win at life.
Until I got to the bank and realized I was 10 minutes too late for their 4 o'clock closing, only to walk to the next branch to get there 5 minutes after they closed at 4:30.
Banking FAIL
Here's another example of the kind of week I'm having:
Saturday I was resigned to the fact that I had lost my drivers license, my bank card, my passport, and more importantly my Shoe-aholic Spending card. That's a free pair of shoes right there bitches!
I got home from work to find a taxi drivers card and a note telling me if I ever wanted to see my wallet intact again, bring $500 G's in unmarked bills to the top of the Calgary Tower at midnight. Actually, it may have only said to call him, but it could read either way really.
They ended up calling me the next day with directions to their headquarters to pick the wallet up. Thank the sweet baby Jebus. That wallet is my life.
Yesterday I finally had a chance to head up to the place to grab my wallet with the intention of going to see my financial adviser and get that banking done afterward. Of course when I get there they can't find my wallet anywhere and they insist that the driver must still have it.
Finally after fifteen painful minutes (my cab's meter was still running outside!) they managed to track it down and finally I could say I win at life.
Until I got to the bank and realized I was 10 minutes too late for their 4 o'clock closing, only to walk to the next branch to get there 5 minutes after they closed at 4:30.
Banking FAIL
Here's another example of the kind of week I'm having:
This video is pretty self-explanatory
Party Dress FAIL
Saturday
The "L" Word
The last few weeks have been tumultuous to say the least, hence the blog-slackery. I'll start with the men (of which there seem to be many - my psychic told me I surround myself with men as a sort of protection. Living, breathing emergency hand rails).
The guy who was all needy (before I went to Vegas)? Well he came into my work last week and now he's been texting me saying how good it was to see me and that we should do lunch or grab a drink. Remember how I told you you were needy?? Ya, you're not helping yourself here.
Then there's a guy I'll call Tiger (he's a golfer) we've been out several times and he finally kissed me a few weeks ago (after I lost a game of pool). He's really sweet and I've actually known him since I was 15 or 16. We used to work together as cooks (I flashed him some bra one time for extra chicken fingers), and he'd drive me home from work but we were always just friends.
Anyway, it's been almost two months that we've been "dating" and he still hasn't tried anything. It makes me wonder - is it because he had a religious upbringing? (His parents are Jehovah's Witness' but he's pulled away from that and deems himself "unsure religiously". Still you have to wonder what he retained from that), so is he maybe unsure how to proceed? Is he just a gentleman? Do those exist?
Then there's Pseudo. I saw him again last week. We went for a walk and then back to my place and while we were doing stuff that doesn't involve sleeping* he said "I love you, Alice" just like that.
So I obviously ignored him, since I suck at life. Well and he'd had a few drinks and I was stone-cold sober so it really wouldn't be fair for me to take advantage of a weak moment.
Needless to say I've been thinking about it all week. I'm visiting my sister and her family in Victoria until next Tuesday which has been a welcome and much needed vacation. I have no idea what I'll do when I get back, but I'll worry about that when the time comes...
*Thanks D for the right way to word that eloquently
The guy who was all needy (before I went to Vegas)? Well he came into my work last week and now he's been texting me saying how good it was to see me and that we should do lunch or grab a drink. Remember how I told you you were needy?? Ya, you're not helping yourself here.
Then there's a guy I'll call Tiger (he's a golfer) we've been out several times and he finally kissed me a few weeks ago (after I lost a game of pool). He's really sweet and I've actually known him since I was 15 or 16. We used to work together as cooks (I flashed him some bra one time for extra chicken fingers), and he'd drive me home from work but we were always just friends.
Anyway, it's been almost two months that we've been "dating" and he still hasn't tried anything. It makes me wonder - is it because he had a religious upbringing? (His parents are Jehovah's Witness' but he's pulled away from that and deems himself "unsure religiously". Still you have to wonder what he retained from that), so is he maybe unsure how to proceed? Is he just a gentleman? Do those exist?
Then there's Pseudo. I saw him again last week. We went for a walk and then back to my place and while we were doing stuff that doesn't involve sleeping* he said "I love you, Alice" just like that.
So I obviously ignored him, since I suck at life. Well and he'd had a few drinks and I was stone-cold sober so it really wouldn't be fair for me to take advantage of a weak moment.
Needless to say I've been thinking about it all week. I'm visiting my sister and her family in Victoria until next Tuesday which has been a welcome and much needed vacation. I have no idea what I'll do when I get back, but I'll worry about that when the time comes...
*Thanks D for the right way to word that eloquently
Thursday
There's A Snake in Ma Boot!
So Stampede is half over and it's been quite an interesting week so far.
Somehow even though I've been working for ten days straight (my next day off is Sunday - thank the sweet baby Jebus), I've still managed to get myself in a fair amount of trouble. So far, from what I remember, here's a summary of the week:
Saturday:
Somehow even though I've been working for ten days straight (my next day off is Sunday - thank the sweet baby Jebus), I've still managed to get myself in a fair amount of trouble. So far, from what I remember, here's a summary of the week:
Saturday:
- After work went to my "Cheers" and ended up at Pseudo's
- Worked all day, went to Blondie's boyfriends birthday BBQ (try saying that 5 times fast) where we ate a fabulous spread that included flat-bread appetizers, grilled steak that had been marinated for 12 hours (yum!), an incredible reduced balsamic dip and tons of other delicious food
- We then proceeded to have a flippy cup tournament. There were 13 of us so we had a 3 team Round Robin - best of 7. We obviously got drunk.
- The limo showed up, we all piled in and drank copious amounts of champagne...and beer (Klassy)
- We went to the first bar where the ten guys bought each of us 3 girls at least 3 shots
- Next stop? Our "Cheers" - obviously more shots followed
- Last stop on the Limo train was the bar affectionately nicknamed "The WhoreHouse". Obviously we had more shots. I don't think I bought a single drink - it was a shooter night
- I lost my purse with everything in it - phone, camera, money, wallet, keys
- Found said purse sitting casually on the dance floor an hour later. With everything still in it.
- Lost all of my friends except for one. We eventually found one other friend who had jumped over an overpass to the street below trying to chase after half of our group. Giant FAIL as he was now limping.
- Took jumper to friends house and put a bag of peas on his foot. Woke up in the morning to him puking from the pain. His foot was black and blue and swollen like a football. Um ya turns out he broke it...
- Frenchie came and met me after I was done work, we consumed at least a bottle of wine and headed to "Cheers" (where else?) where we played drunken darts and drank a lot of vodka
- Two dumb guys were running their mouths, trying to act like they were a really big deal (RBD). After last call they bet me $20 I couldn't get another beer. Have I mentioned that this is the bar I frequent and always tip really well? They didn't stand a chance. I even warned them that they were being idiots. I told the bartender I'd give him $20 for a Kokanee and he looked at me like I was nuts. He would have given it to me for free but whatever. I went back up to the guys, beer in hand.
- The guy who bet me handed over the $20 and said: "whatever, bottled beer is easy. There's no way he'd pour you a draft beer..." I just laughed. RBD says: "I'll bet you $50 you couldn't get a draft beer"
- I went back to the bar and told Bartender I'd give him $25 for a draft beer. Again he thought I was nuts but handed me a Keith's.
- As soon as I went back upstairs with the beer the 2 guys just shook their heads and handed me the $50 bucks. Don't make stupid bets with me boys. I'm kind of a big deal.
Sometimes I just love Stampede.
Sunday
The One In Which I'm Emotional
(For the full Pseudo story - click here and scroll down)
Ex-Pseudo called me last night. I was at my "Cheers" playing Buck Hunter after work. The phone rang and everything else ceased to matter. My heart stopped, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I haven't spoken with him in months, I haven't seen him in over a year and yet the same old feelings came crashing down around me. Last time he called in October, I didn't answer the phone - this time I did.
As soon as I saw it was him calling I knew it was over for me. I didn't think about the great guy I've been on two dates with recently and who sends me sweet random texts; I didn't think about what was going to happen when I saw Pseudo; I didn't think logically or take the time to think about the ramifications of what may or may not happen. I answered and I knew I would see him.
"B saved you some pizza, come to B's house," as if we had spoken an hour ago. I laughed and told him I wasn't sure, knowing full well I'd be over there shortly.
When I got there he said: "I guess you know me and T-Bone broke up?" to which I replied (honestly) "umm...no actually I didn't".
I couldn't believe I was there. I berated myself but yet felt happy. I can't begin to explain, I don't even understand it myself.
I woke up in his arms
And now I'm lost again
Ex-Pseudo called me last night. I was at my "Cheers" playing Buck Hunter after work. The phone rang and everything else ceased to matter. My heart stopped, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I haven't spoken with him in months, I haven't seen him in over a year and yet the same old feelings came crashing down around me. Last time he called in October, I didn't answer the phone - this time I did.
As soon as I saw it was him calling I knew it was over for me. I didn't think about the great guy I've been on two dates with recently and who sends me sweet random texts; I didn't think about what was going to happen when I saw Pseudo; I didn't think logically or take the time to think about the ramifications of what may or may not happen. I answered and I knew I would see him.
"B saved you some pizza, come to B's house," as if we had spoken an hour ago. I laughed and told him I wasn't sure, knowing full well I'd be over there shortly.
When I got there he said: "I guess you know me and T-Bone broke up?" to which I replied (honestly) "umm...no actually I didn't".
I couldn't believe I was there. I berated myself but yet felt happy. I can't begin to explain, I don't even understand it myself.
I woke up in his arms
And now I'm lost again
Thursday
Calgary Blogger Meet-Up
Ok kids, time to do something a little crazy - meet each other.
Mich at Who is Mich is organizing a Calgary area blogger meet-up so anyone in the area who wants to come out of their hypothetical closet...wait, I mean shell...? (That's Nutshell to you Carmen) should come down for some drinks and all that good stuff.
Here are the details:
Sunday June 21st at 12:30
Earls on Stephen Avenue
Drinks and Appies
(Erm...Circa 1912)
Mich at Who is Mich is organizing a Calgary area blogger meet-up so anyone in the area who wants to come out of their hypothetical closet...wait, I mean shell...? (That's Nutshell to you Carmen) should come down for some drinks and all that good stuff.
Here are the details:
Sunday June 21st at 12:30
Earls on Stephen Avenue
Drinks and Appies
Pretty sure Earls is somewhere around here...
(Erm...Circa 1912)For you Calgary peeps, I have long hair that's not really blonde or red or brown and wear high heels. Look for me there.
Seriously what color would you call it?
I'm not making any promises to be showered though. It's Sunday morning for gawdssakes
Wednesday
Does Running Late Count As Excercise?
I've never been what you would call "athletic". My older sister won various metals for High School wrestling and I'm pretty sure she played soccer for a while too.
My younger sisters were both on their High School Rugby team, which went on to win the City Championship the year they graduated, thanks in large part to the two of them (they are tiny girls - but tough). They are both still on a soccer team and play Ultimate Frisbee and Dodgeball a few times a week.
The closest to sports in High School I got, on the other hand, was taking Sports Medicine so I could flirt with the football players. Oh and I was a cheerleader (although we called it a Dance Squad).
Don't judge me.
My first foray into real sports was when I was 5 - I was put on a soccer team where I could consistently be found picking flowers on the sidelines while I was supposed to be defending the goal.
Or kicking the ball.
Or something.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a huge klutz or super lazy - I took dance for 16 years and was a pro-star bowler when I was 8 (ya, I'm awesome, I know). You can also laugh at my first foray into having a Personal Trainer here.
I have no brothers so my poor father, with 4 daughters, taught us all how to throw a mean spiral, made sure we know how hockey works and took us to all kinds of games. I just never got into the strict structure of actually playing a competitive team sport.
This summer I've decided I'm going to get my shit together and be more active. I played soccer with my sisters (and I actually wasn't bad if I do say so myself), I played tennis with some friends last weekend, I started boot camp this morning and I'm about to strap on my roller blades so I can practice not looking like an idiot.
My younger sisters were both on their High School Rugby team, which went on to win the City Championship the year they graduated, thanks in large part to the two of them (they are tiny girls - but tough). They are both still on a soccer team and play Ultimate Frisbee and Dodgeball a few times a week.
The closest to sports in High School I got, on the other hand, was taking Sports Medicine so I could flirt with the football players. Oh and I was a cheerleader (although we called it a Dance Squad).
Don't judge me.
My first foray into real sports was when I was 5 - I was put on a soccer team where I could consistently be found picking flowers on the sidelines while I was supposed to be defending the goal.
Or kicking the ball.
Or something.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a huge klutz or super lazy - I took dance for 16 years and was a pro-star bowler when I was 8 (ya, I'm awesome, I know). You can also laugh at my first foray into having a Personal Trainer here.
I have no brothers so my poor father, with 4 daughters, taught us all how to throw a mean spiral, made sure we know how hockey works and took us to all kinds of games. I just never got into the strict structure of actually playing a competitive team sport.
This summer I've decided I'm going to get my shit together and be more active. I played soccer with my sisters (and I actually wasn't bad if I do say so myself), I played tennis with some friends last weekend, I started boot camp this morning and I'm about to strap on my roller blades so I can practice not looking like an idiot.
As of right now my stopping consists of flailing my arms, stepping on the grass and hoping there is a pole/tree/fence that I can grab onto or just falling on my ass.
If anybody knows a fail-proof method for stopping - Please for the love of all that is good let me in on your secret
Hopefully my new found enthusiasm for "being active" and "eating less shitty food" can last all summer.
After all summer is only, like, 2 months long here.
After all summer is only, like, 2 months long here.
Thursday
Marry This
The sweet sounds of summer are in the air; BBQ's grilling, neighbors mowing their lawns (finally), birds chirping, the shrill shrieks of Bride-to-be's yelling at their wedding planners...
Yes, summer means that wedding season is fast approaching. That's right, don your party gown and say a little prayer that your friends groom has at least some hot single friends/relatives/ex-jail-cell-roomies that you can bat your pretty little eyelashes at because this night is going to be long. I should know - I went to seven weddings last year.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for all you marrieds/about-to-be-marrieds (mostly because now I don't have to listen to you whining about how that guy from last night never called you today - hello, give it a few days*) but weddings do come with their own set of problems for us single folk.
Firstly, I have a name and a "plus one". Most of the time I choose to forgo the date and just go as my fabulous single self but when all your friends are bringing their boyfriends, it changes things a bit.
See, now I have to scramble to figure out which of my single guy friends will fit in best with each crowd. I have to make sure said Plus One is attractive, witty and charming and mostly that he will be attentive to me so as not to embarrass me and/or the bride. I have to choose wisely because if the aforementioned hot single friends/relatives/ex-jail-cell-roomies actually exist, my Plus One better not stand in my way.
There's also a problem with going at it alone. As much as I like the bride's Uncle Jimbo trying to feel me up on the dance floor and then tell me he thought I was his wife (oh you mean the chick with dark hair that is 4 inches shorter than me and 20 years older? Ya I'd totally get us confused too), I've had my share of it. And your share too for that matter.
Then there's the barrage of "Grandma-means-well" questions about our own marital history and future, or lack thereof. Why is it your business (worse when it's a complete stranger), to ask me WHY I'm not married? Why are you married? What if I told you it was because I prefer emotionless, meaningless sex with no strings, huh Grandma - happy now?
You asked.
Also: I'm not allowed to wear white, I'm not allowed to wear black, I'm not allowed to wear anything sexy, I'm not allowed to wear too much makeup, I'm not allowed to wear anything too short and my shoes aren't allowed to be too high.
Good thing I don't follow directions well, we just eliminated the majority of my wardrobe.
All I'm really saying here is if I ever get married I'll make sure to stock the bar with hot single people so my friends have someone todrool at talk to.
Ya, I'm generous like that
* kidding - well maybe not really
Yes, summer means that wedding season is fast approaching. That's right, don your party gown and say a little prayer that your friends groom has at least some hot single friends/relatives/ex-jail-cell-roomies that you can bat your pretty little eyelashes at because this night is going to be long. I should know - I went to seven weddings last year.
Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for all you marrieds/about-to-be-marrieds (mostly because now I don't have to listen to you whining about how that guy from last night never called you today - hello, give it a few days*) but weddings do come with their own set of problems for us single folk.
Firstly, I have a name and a "plus one". Most of the time I choose to forgo the date and just go as my fabulous single self but when all your friends are bringing their boyfriends, it changes things a bit.
See, now I have to scramble to figure out which of my single guy friends will fit in best with each crowd. I have to make sure said Plus One is attractive, witty and charming and mostly that he will be attentive to me so as not to embarrass me and/or the bride. I have to choose wisely because if the aforementioned hot single friends/relatives/ex-jail-cell-roomies actually exist, my Plus One better not stand in my way.
There's also a problem with going at it alone. As much as I like the bride's Uncle Jimbo trying to feel me up on the dance floor and then tell me he thought I was his wife (oh you mean the chick with dark hair that is 4 inches shorter than me and 20 years older? Ya I'd totally get us confused too), I've had my share of it. And your share too for that matter.
Then there's the barrage of "Grandma-means-well" questions about our own marital history and future, or lack thereof. Why is it your business (worse when it's a complete stranger), to ask me WHY I'm not married? Why are you married? What if I told you it was because I prefer emotionless, meaningless sex with no strings, huh Grandma - happy now?
You asked.
Also: I'm not allowed to wear white, I'm not allowed to wear black, I'm not allowed to wear anything sexy, I'm not allowed to wear too much makeup, I'm not allowed to wear anything too short and my shoes aren't allowed to be too high.
Good thing I don't follow directions well, we just eliminated the majority of my wardrobe.
All I'm really saying here is if I ever get married I'll make sure to stock the bar with hot single people so my friends have someone to
Ya, I'm generous like that
* kidding - well maybe not really
Monday
Las Vegas - I Love You
We got back from Las Vegas late last night and I have a golf tournament early tomorrow morning so this will be a brief pictorial essay of the trip only - more to come!
Can I first just say that I freaking adore Vegas: bottle-service, free champagne, open bars, stretch Escalade Limousines, hot NYC Firefighters (um AND cops), New York and New Jersey accents ("Ya he's my cuz! Fuggedaboudit!"), delicious food, Vodka and the beach at Mandalay Bay?
Can I first just say that I freaking adore Vegas: bottle-service, free champagne, open bars, stretch Escalade Limousines, hot NYC Firefighters (um AND cops), New York and New Jersey accents ("Ya he's my cuz! Fuggedaboudit!"), delicious food, Vodka and the beach at Mandalay Bay?
Alright, now for some pictures:
Our view of the "beach";
so-called because they trucked in 14 acres of sand
Beach + Hot Lifeguards + Beer + Sunshine
= Alice in Heaven
Delicious Pannacotta at Wolfgang Puck's Restaurant
Trattoria de Lupo
Self Portrait
Our view of the "beach";
so-called because they trucked in 14 acres of sand
Beach + Hot Lifeguards + Beer + Sunshine
= Alice in Heaven
Delicious Pannacotta at Wolfgang Puck's Restaurant
Trattoria de Lupo
Self Portrait
Our ride to Rain at the Palms
No big deal
I have lots of stories to tell and about a mess-zillion (see what I did there?) pictures were taken but for now I'm heading to my own bed for the first time since surviving a week in Vegas
Wednesday
Still (not) Kissing Frogs
I think it's about that time for me to make fun of people again. I miss it.
The best place to start is the jungle they call Online Dating. Here are a few of my latest emails received. Oh how I love seeing the English language being slaughtered. Le Sigh.
Bachelor #1: YOU SEEM NICE GET BACK IF YOUR INTERERSTED
A quick glance at his profile reveals that as a career: "I work about 60 hours about in concrete. im happy with my life". That's all he says and the only answer to the typical "About Me" stuff he gave was his salary.
First of all I'd like to know how I seem nice when you've never spoken to me. You can't really judge niceness based on a written profile, especially not one that's to the point, like mine is. That would be like me telling him that he seems loud. Which he does, what with all the yelling and such.
Also what the hell does "about 60 hours about in concrete" mean? You work close to 60 hours kind of with a material resembling concrete? You work 60 hours a week? A month? A pay-period? Who the hell cares how many hours you work?
NEXT!
The best place to start is the jungle they call Online Dating. Here are a few of my latest emails received. Oh how I love seeing the English language being slaughtered. Le Sigh.
Bachelor #1: YOU SEEM NICE GET BACK IF YOUR INTERERSTED
A quick glance at his profile reveals that as a career: "I work about 60 hours about in concrete. im happy with my life". That's all he says and the only answer to the typical "About Me" stuff he gave was his salary.
First of all I'd like to know how I seem nice when you've never spoken to me. You can't really judge niceness based on a written profile, especially not one that's to the point, like mine is. That would be like me telling him that he seems loud. Which he does, what with all the yelling and such.
Also what the hell does "about 60 hours about in concrete" mean? You work close to 60 hours kind of with a material resembling concrete? You work 60 hours a week? A month? A pay-period? Who the hell cares how many hours you work?
NEXT!
Bachelor #2: do u have msn?
While I'm at it, can I just give you my address? We haven't exchanged 5 words and you want me to give you my msn? What kind of girl sees this message and thinks; "gosh he sure did put in a lot of effort to obtain a personal bit of information from me, I should definitely give him a chance."
So, giving him a chance, I look at his profile and find these tantalizing tidbits:
I am sexxy, energetic, and easy going. I am 33 male 5'9 well built and looking for friends and more. i am adventurious and always lookingto try new things.
Good thing you're sexxy and not just sexy because I never date guys who are "only one x" sexy.
Moving on!
Bachelor #3: HI! I am nice good looking east indian guy who is looking for some fun.
If you're so good-looking why don't you have a picture up? Also, telling a normal girl you're looking for some fun = telling a whore you just want to talk. Or something along those lines.
My backwards analogies make sense in my mind.
On the positive side of life, I met a very nice, good-looking guy at a party last weekend. We hung out all night, dancing and chatting. Unfortunately at the end of the night a guy I knew got into a fight (I know, right? How old are we boys?) with some other guy and I was dragged out of the party before getting the chance to exchange numbers with my hot guy.
I should have left a shoe like Cinderella...
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