Just Out On My Usual Stroll

Alice (in a text msg): Just bought dill pickle chips and beef jerky...chick at the store looked directly at my stomach to check if I was pregnant

Blondie: hahaha I'm laughing so hard right now...Wow. Only you

Alice:No fucking kidding...and I just discovered a huge wooden staircase and have no clue where I am now

Blondie: maybe you should take your beef jerky and pickle chips and have a picnic in the woods

Alice: I totally would, but the fear of homeless people is stopping me

Blondie: Share the love, they are probably hungry

Alice: Maybe I'll meet the love of my life over beef jerky and pocket change

Blondie: Ha ha, crazier things happen

Alice: Well there's a house down here with a pool and tennis court. Some girl just saw me snooping...let me meet the owner of that & I'll share my jerky

Blondie: Stop, I'm going to pee my pants

My neighborhood is a pretty nice one. In the last three years they've redeveloped a lot of it adding new condo buildings with all kinds of stores in the bottom. There's also a lot of Italian stores around here - 2 restaurants, a bakery, the bistro. Some people call it Little Italy.

We have three parks and a toboggan run. Yup, that's right it's made specifically for tobogganing. Or maybe also to get people in wheelchairs around. Either way.

The problem lies in it's close proximity to downtown. As you can see in this artistic rendering, its simply a hop, skip and a jump across the river into downtown. And directly across that river? The largest homeless shelter in Calgary.

However, upon discovery of this pool/tennis court house, I think I need to go for another walk today. You know, just to be healthy and get exercise.

Plus I'm craving some peanut butter ice cream.


I Still Didn't Get The Plant

The interview went well the other day (I wore the red) so I had a second interview Friday - where I wore the blue. I met three of the Vice-Presidents who work there and one of them is gorgeous and young - making the interview slightly awkward for me. I had to try to explain what exactly a Unicef Global Parent does - which is give money. I made up some charity event crap so it didn't sound like I just stuck it on my resume for no reason. Apparently giving money is not volunteering.

Anyway, I'm waiting to hear back from the temp agency as to whether I got it or not.

This weekend a bunch of my girlfriends and I got together for a Sex & The City party. Hiker made us all dinner, we drank copious amounts of red wine while watching the movie then decided to go out.

Well Hiker was pretty drunk by the time we got to the bar and nearly fell over several times. Blondie was getting more and more upset that the guy she's been seeing (but assured us she doesn't "like") hadn't called her yet, Curly was playing catch-up since she doesn't really drink but will do shooters, and I was just drinking and dancing away.

At the second place we went Hiker decided she was too drunk and had to go. She went to the bathroom with her roommate and promptly got kicked out of the bar. I'm not really sure what happened there, all I know is she was there then she was gone.

I got a phone call from Blondie saying they were outside so out I go - to find no one. Sitting on a bench outside I finally see Blondie and Curly holding each other up walking towards me. We decide Thai Tai Vietnamese subs are the way to go after a full night of drinking.

Standing in line, Curly mentions she likes the plant so I decide to hide it under my shawl. Ya, nice one Alice.

I hear my name so I turn to see ex-Pseudo's two best friends. Well, goody for me. Then one of them says not to worry and give it a few months Pseudo will be back with me and he's not really in love with this new girl. Right, like I care. No really I don't.

Except then I went back to Blondie's (after she hailed us a ride with a bunch of Russians. We gave them fake numbers (I swear 613 is a Calgary number - yup!) and went inside to eat our subs. By this time Blondie was livid at the dude she's seeing, for not calling so she called him and they ended up getting in a huge fight.

Meanwhile Pseudo's friend sends me a text saying: "Looking good buddy" so I of course decide it's a great idea to email Pseudo (at 3 in the morning, drunk). Thank gawd I was too lazy to remember his real email address and thank gawd I took him off my friends list on Facebook because I tried to send the following message about thirty times before realizing that it just wasn't going to work and I should stop trying:

I know I screwed up, but I will always love you

Note to self: Maybe next time, don't watch a LOVE movie and then get hammered and also try to avoid ex-Pseudo's friends at all costs.

Holy hell what a month I'm having.


What Not To Wear

I'm in the midst of dying my hair at this moment. I decided on blonde again since I can do it myself and I'm cheap (also, unemployed). I guess that explains why I spent over $400 on new clothes yesterday.

Alice = impractical

I'm getting ready for my job interview, which is this afternoon (in T minus 2.5 hours). I had decided on wearing a dark gray skirt with a red pinstripe sort of thing (not like plaid but more then a stripe, you know? I dunno whatever, it's fucking red and gray ok?) with a nice red sweater.

Then I looked up "What to Wear to An Interview" on anal-retentive.com and apparently red is too aggressive. Change of plans - blue and gray skirt, blue sweater. Then I see: "it is never acceptable to wear a collarless shirt". Is that for men or for women?

The sweater I'd wear is brand spanking new, not too tight but not baggy, not too low-cut but flattering. I have no clue. I haven't interviewed in ages. My last job I didn't interview for, I went on a day assignment and they asked me to stay permanently. The job before that was 4 years ago now!

Oh and apparently no bare legs? Who the hell wears pantyhose anymore? That means I have to go to the store and buy the stupid things because I sure don't own them.

I wouldn't actually be giving this so much damn thought but it's a female interviewing me. Men are easy, women judge.

I better go rinse my hair out before it turns green and matches my third choice of outfit.

This is why phone interviews are the way to go.


Just One of Those Random Things

During my little self-makeover/midlife crisis grocery shopping spree, I bought some Crest Whitestrips. My teeth are relatively white but I figure I can use a shade or two whiter and see how these things work in the meantime.

Today is day two of the process. Yesterday I left the things on for half an hour, when I peeled them off it was like I'd stuck my teeth in a vat of silicone - and I don't mean like the time I accidentally bit Boobie McGee's tit.

The strips are slimy and taste like a mixture of unclean draft-line sludge and iodine. Another thing I noticed - my teeth hurt. They feel like after you leave the dentist and they've taken that drilling apparatus to your sensitive gums and scraped for three hours. Well, I guess that's why my hair dye says DO NOT SWALLOW. Apparently peroxide hurts the teeth.

Peroxide, silicone - if you didn't know any better you'd think I was talking about Malibu Barbie.


I spent most of the day today in Staffing Agency telephone interviews - wearing my PJs and slippers. Now that's the way to do a job interview. You feel more relaxed, they can't see the panic on your face when they ask why you left your last job and if your nose is itchy then by God you get to scratch it.

Too bad you couldn't do a first date over the phone. The guy asks you a retarded question, you simply hang up. Date's over.


I'm debating whether to dye my hair blond again or go dark. I wore a wig to my friends party on Saturday night (it was a "P" party - you had to dress up as something that started with a "P", Blondie and I went as Private Investigators). Almost everyone told me it looked great - but then again, they didn't know it was a wig so perhaps they were trying to not hurt my feelings.

I've been dark before but I'm starting to really love the blonde. Maybe I'll go blonde once more before the cold weather comes and then go dark.

That's right, like a rabbit...actually, I think they're the other way around. Whatever.

As you can see I didn't even have to Black Stripe my eyes due to the stealth black sunglasses. Private Investigator indeed.

Me Time

Alright, alright, I know you're all probably dying to know where I've been this last week*

See, everyone talks about these "quarter-life" crisis' and all that jazz. I've always been a pretty "together" person. Sure, I have my dramatic side and when I'm around the family I can throw a pretty good freak-out but in general, over the years, I've become quite calm.

People tend to think I'm older then I am and the majority of my friends are 3 to 9 years older then me. So I've never really given this crisis a lot of thought. Most of my friends have been through it long ago.

Two Friday's ago, I was let go at my job. Most of it had to do with the Dragon-Lady who was condescending and belittling to me. She is the Pres' assistant and the only one who'd deal with being called at all hours of the day and night so they couldn't exactly fire her.

She also got one of the other ladies in on it and according to New Girl, those two are bestest buds now.

I was given a decent severance and my Boss sent around an email that made it sound like I'd quit. I was shocked, he was upset, and apparently everyone wondered "What the hell happened?!" In a small company though, not much you can do.

After this happened I immediately went to the library and got out half a dozen Working Girl books: How To Succeed in the Workplace, You're Hired, How to Get A Life, Don't Be A Dumbass, etc.

So I'm getting myself together - I went grocery shopping and bought $350 worth of food, household stuff and Gladware; I did the dishes and vacuumed; I even went for a couple walks over the week.

Tuesday I get a call that a friend of mine from High School has died in a car accident while he was in Australia. Of course, at the funeral there were a lot of people I haven't seen in a while. Even the people I was closest to in High School I only see a few times a year.

It's really hard when you don't see people (even for a few months - the last time I saw this group of friends was in May) and then you see them at something like a funeral.

What can you really say about a funeral? The service was nice, the reception was good and if he was here he would have loved it.

Needless to say, I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week. Thinking about what sort of job I'd really like to do, thinking about moving - maybe Vancouver, maybe the East, thinking about friends, thinking about what is important in life.

I broke down Sunday morning and cried to Blondie. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried (other then the funeral). I didn't cry when Pseudo and I ended things, or I found out he had a new gf, I didn't cry when my house flooded and I had to go live with my parents for four months, I didn't even cry when I got fired.

That's how I know I need a change and a big one. I think they call this the quarter life crisis. I'm not sure what I'll do yet, and for now the staffing agency is on the lookout to find me another position but I told them it may not be too permanent.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

*Who am I kidding


I Was Tired...Ok!?!

I just did something so absolutely alarming, I can't even believe I'm sharing it with you. It was my first time - I wanted to try it out, see if I was cut out for it. It's so shameful, I have to take a deep breath here...

I wore my pyjamas to the store.

I know, right?

I'm not talking about cute little Lululemon yoga pants or fancy pants little shorty shorts, I mean I wore baby blue sweatpants in public.

I just know the girl at the store was judging me too. Oh I saw the way she gave me the once over. From my flip-flops that showcase my chipped red toenail polish (I have a pedicure scheduled tomorrow - swearsies!) up my AE clad legs, to my white hoodie, disheveled ponytail and the box of KD I sheepishly put on the counter.

I may as well have bought kitty litter, ice cream and twinkies and stamped a giant "Single Girl!" stamp on my forehead.

We all know it's only downhill from here. Next thing you know I'll be at the welfare office in a ketchup stained wife-beater waiting in line to collect stamps for free toilet paper and icing sugar.

Then again, who doesn't like a little free TP?



I have a slight situation here in that I think my work may have found my blog (a la Miss. Martini). What is going on in Bloggyland?

Anyway, just for right now I've made it private until I can get a better idea of what exactly is going on...

If you know anyone who reads my drivel tell them to send me an email: aliceinaverageland @ gmail dot com with their email address and I'll send an invite.

Hopefully I can relax very, very soon

Edit: Ok, I THINK the situation is okay, no one has mentioned anything or given me weird looks so I think I can re-open this up to the general public.

I'm very, very sorry to everyone that I suddenly disappeared and looked like a huge asshole in the process.

I love you guys*. No really, I fucking love you guys, all of you. The regulars, the lurkers, the haters, the newbies.

Love. You.

*No, I'm not on E

Morning Torture

"Make yourself at home" she says. As if this is a relaxing visit to Great Aunt Bertha and at any moment the old dear herself will appear with bundt cake and tea. Instead, you've spent the last half an hour reading several out-of-date gardening and parenting magazines, after which, the receptionist lead you to the high-backed, plastic coated chair upon which you sit now.

After deliberating where to place your purse and bags (are one of those chairs ok? Does she use both of those? Is the floor clean? What about this counter?) the smiling dental hygenist enters the room. She clicks her tongue at you after hearing your response to the dreaded floss question:

"Well, I floss sometimes...I guess. Maybe once a week?"

Meanwhile in your head you mentally search for the last time you ate steak, corn or celery, knowing that that was probably the last time a ribbon of minty fresh plastic coated string saw the inside of your mouth.

The thought of steak reminds you that you haven't even eaten breakfast for fear of a wayward Cheerio getting caught in your molars, causing the dentist to think that you are incapable of even a simple task like brushing your teeth.

As your stomach growls, the hygenist ties a grown-up bib around your neck and pats it down approvingly. The tray of hooked instruments glints in the sun. Probes, picks and other periodontal punishment tools just waiting to be jabbed into your vulnerable mouth.

Thankfully there's a television in the ceiling and while worrying about your mouth hurting may seem trivial compared to wondering just who exactly installed that television and whether or not they knew what they were doing, it is a welcome distraction from the scraping of layers off your teeth.

That is, until you realize they're showing the food network. Thanks geniuses, now I'm even more starving. Wishing you were as cheerful as Rachel Ray looks, talking about her olive and chickpea salad and chirizo sausage rice, you realize the hygenist has finally finished with her incessant scraping.

The polishing is almost worse, the gritty blue paste getting caught between your newly cleaned spaces, although you're hungry enough to consider swallowing it. What is it about the dentist that causes you to feel as though you haven't eaten in days?

Fluoride is next on the docket. At least you have the choice between bubblegum or mint. The former tastes so sweet you wonder if maybe the dentist is really just trying to drum up a little extra business, while the latter burns every last millimeter of your mouth that you thought was free of pain.

Next you're shuffled off to another room to wait for the Doctor. He enters in a flurry papers and running shoes, his tie thrown over his shoulder and shirt sleeves rolled up as though he's about to operate.

You wonder how he remembers every detail about you ("why yes Dr. I did get that promotion six months ago, it's going well and yes, my sisters are great. No, I haven't yet enrolled in those Villanella dance classes...) and rack your brain to remember something, anything, personal about him (...is he married?)

Luckily your teeth are fine, so you sign your name on the insurance papers, book another appointement for six months from now and think about what you're going to have for lunch. As you stroll out the doors into the fresh morning air you hear the hygenist call after you:

"Remember not to eat for at least half an hour! Have a great day!"

At least you got a new toothbrush out of the deal.


...With Friends Like These (Part Two)

After Blondie, Curly and I met for dinner (and drinks) Saturday night, Blondie and I headed to the concert around 8:30. I get free tickets through work to lots of concerts and events - mostly because a lot of the people I work with are older and don't really like NIN or Oasis.

These tickets I got were for Simple Plan - an emo Canadian band. I was on the fence about going (especially since it was highly unlikely that any of the Executives would be there meaning no free booze) but as Blondie said, "what the hell, let's check it out".

As we walked through the stadium doors we realized that we were the wrong age group (14 year olds anyone?), no big deal - at least we had the private box right?


Turns out someone in my company knows a herd of 14 year old girls and gave 8 of them tickets so they could scream in our ears and wave flashing plastic lights on strings around. The up-side? The Pres and his new girlfriend were there - let's crack some wine, shall we?

A few bottles of wine and a decent opening band (Metro Station) later, we called our friend Hiker to work out a plan for the evening. She picked us up a few songs later and off we were to drink martinis and make bad decisions at her house.

Actually, the bad decisions came later, the only decisions we made were what to wear, and what to drink. The BPBBoys called us and wanted us to meet them at The Whiskey (a dance club: usually packed, expensive, lame and sweaty - in other words, exactly what we were in the mood for). One of their friends was moving the next day and another friend was back from the rigs for a week.

These guys are great to us girls. Blondie and I hang out with them a lot and they treat us very well - pay for our cover charge, buy us drinks all night etc. They just want to make sure we're having fun. I think they like having girl friends but no dating pressure.

Anyway, an hour or so (and lots of shots) later, we're on the dance floor having a great time when the guy who's moving says: "Here, open your mouth" so stupid, naive me, thinking it's a shot or something, open my mouth and close my eyes.

He pops it in there and I swallow: "What was that?" "E!"...um, I'm sorry, what?!

I've never done E, in fact, I've never tried any hard drugs. I smoke weed very occasionally (maybe once every six months) and I've had mushrooms a few times in my life. I'm a naturally hyper person. I naturally like to dance until 4 in the morning, then break out the Rockband and keep going (uh, see: Last Weekend). I'm usually the last one awake and run off very little sleep.

Maybe that's why he assumed I'd done it before. Maybe that's why he thought it was ok to put it in a drunk girls mouth while dancing to house music. Maybe that's why he looked so surprised when I told him I've never done it. Maybe he thought I knew.

Either way, I started to feel weird a little bit later - tingly, unattached to my own body, and hyper. We were all dancing and having a generally good time (although I did feel really weird) and Hiker took it upon herself to take Blondie and I out of there.

She tore a strip off of Dealer-dude and even one of the BPBBoys for letting him give it to us (he'd done the same thing to Blondie, although she got half of one) and then we climbed in a cab and headed to Blondie's apartment.

I sat outside telling the girls I loved them and chain-smoking for about an hour. I kept thanking them for taking care of me and looking at my hands like they were magical. Hiker took off after she was sure we were ok.

Once inside, we had to be quiet because Curly's mom happened to be visiting. I literally stood at the end of Blondie's bed, holding myself up with the bedpost, semi-dancing, telling her how much I loved her and drinking water for about two more hours while she laid in bed eating chips and laughing at me.

We met some of the boys for lunch the next day. BPBB1 explained to us that his buddy was sure we'd done it and felt bad once he found out we hadn't ever done it before.

I don't hold grudges, I wasn't mad at anyone - shit happens, people assume things they shouldn't. I had fun, I didn't die and it was all good.

However, I definitely won't be falling for that trick again.


Who Needs Enemies...Part One

I was going to delay writing about my weekend because it was such a shit show and I can't believe I drank so much and partied so much but here it is. Yes, I like to drink, usually I can control myself and not be an absolute AH while I'm drinking and normally I'll have one "party night" and one semi-casual Lounge or bottle(s) of wine night on the weekend.

This weekend however, I decided that Friday night was karaoke time. I drunkenly dragged 8 people from work that I hardly knew out to a karaoke place I'd never been. To get to this place (recommended by a friend) you had to go into the back alley behind a row of bars, through a sketchy parking lot and down a flight of stairs.

Once we got to the bottom we realized that we were the only white people in the whole place. All the private rooms were booked already and the main room didn't have any tunage happening. We decided to leave and somehow were left with only four of us. We proceeded to venture over to a dance bar close by.

Well, the bartender took a bit of a liking to me and was feeding me gin and tonics. Not single ones either, they were doubles or quite possibly triples. He wasn't charging me for any of it, even when I got a drink for a male friend of mine.

We danced, drank shots then decided it was a good idea to go to an after-party. I text messaged one of the BPBBoys telling him to meet us at U and Me (this awesome super late night Chinese restaurant). However, my phone died and I never ended up going to the restaurant.

I remember I started crying to one of my guy friends about something ridiculous and basically had a meltdown. Gin and Alice? Friends off. So he dragged me to a party at another friend of ours house. Really, I should have been sent home in a cab with my address taped to my forehead so I got home safely.

Of course, I vom'd my guts out at our friends house, and passed out. Luckily one of my friends had to work early so I got a ride home and was able to fall asleep in my own comfy bed.

Saturday I planned to lay around, eat bad food and maybe go to this concert I had box seats for. I was still debating but when Blondie called to tell me she was so excited to go drinking, I knew I had to go... I probably should have stayed at home...

Teacher, Teacher

So, I've mentioned my ex-douche a few times but never really elaborated on who he is. In light of school starting again this week, I thought I'd share a little story about him. First, some background: the short story is that we used to work together and were good friends, I had a boyfriend who I lived with, Ex-D serial dated and always had funny stories about it.

For example, one date he went on was a blind date - he decided to have a drink before meeting her to calm his nerves. Well, he ended up getting hammered before meeting her at the bar, entering himself in a wet T-shirt contest and proceeding to make a complete ass of himself (and baring his ass in the process). It was entertaining to hear about to say the least and he was so unlike any guy I'd ever dated.

I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend (there's another long story, completely unrelated) and moving in with a girl-friend. A few months later ex-douche invited me and a friend to the Chili Peppers concert and him and I ended up hooking up that night. Suddenly we were dating and then we were moving in together - 3 months after we first hooked up. That's the short version.

Ex-D used to be a teacher. He taught special needs students for a while though he didn't like working with them because he thought a lot of the parents were too soft with their kids. For example, one boy asked Ex-D to tie his shoelaces for him. Ex-D told the boy to tie his own shoelaces, he was perfectly capable. The boy was shocked that he wouldn't do it for him, but guess what? He tied them himself.

A lot of the parents wanted Ex-D to spend extra time after school with their children, but were too busy to sit with their kids themselves for an hour to help with homework. He said it was frustrating and eventually quit teaching altogether.

When Ex-D first started teaching, he was teaching grade 8 students. After the first semester, the school board sent an evaluator around to each classroom to sit in on the class, make sure that progress was being made and to evaluate the teaching style.

It just so happened that Ex-D got his evaluator on "Dress As Your Favorite Teacher" day. So as the class settled in, the evaluator sat at the back of the classroom, pencil and notebook at the ready. Ex-D decided to ask the students which teacher they had dressed up as and why.

The first girl he asked, wearing a long skirt, glasses and a blouse replied:

"I'm Miss Barry, because she always helps me with my math."

"And you, Todd, who are you dressed as?" he asked a boy with running shorts and a t-shirt on.

"I'm Mr. Chase, because he bikes to work everyday"

Ex-D turned to a boy wearing crooked glasses, a shirt buttoned up improperly, tie half undone, messy hair and wrinkled pants.

"Jimmy...who are you supposed to be?"

"Well, I'm you Mr. Ex, when you come to school hungover!"


A Post About Money

Reading a post on Caz' blog about money kind of got me thinking about my finances. I realized that I have a pretty good grip on it. Sure, I live paycheque to paycheque; I spend inordinate amounts of money on clothes and shoes (especially shoes), I party at least once every weekend, go to dinner at least three times a week and buy my lunches almost every day.

I splurge on Starbucks every once in a while, I take cabs a couple times a week - usually only late at night or on the weekends, I buy makeup and hair products at an alarming rate, I even go to the hair salon just to get my hair washed and blow-dried every couple of weeks.

On the other hand, I have almost no credit card debt (I'm down to $600), no student loans to pay off, and no car payments. I have a savings account with my rainy day fund and an RRSP with enough for a very small down payment on a house.

Therefore I think I'm in an okay position to talk finance.

Don't get me wrong, life isn't all peachy keen. I don't wander around throwing money to the wind while singing a little ditty about my Monolos or diamond-encrusted Diva Vodka (neither of which I have ever owned) .

I've been so poor that I grocery shopped on my Bay (department store) credit card, the only card of 4 that wasn't maxed out. My phone has been disconnected and I went without cable for a long time (partial laziness, partial brokeness, partial not caring enough to watch TV).

I had moved out of Douche-ex' place where I paid $250 a month for rent and into my own apartment where I paid $900 a month plus all my own groceries, nights out and entertainment. That's what I call a huge adjustment. I slept on a semi-futon chair for a month before I got a bed and ate more then any sane persons share of macaroni and ramen noodles.

Eventually I got adjusted, luckily I knew that rent came first and was never late with any payments, I started paying down my credit cards after cutting three of them up and acquired furniture - slowly.

I got my new job a year and a half ago. Better pay, normal hours, nicer people. I also moved to a different apartment (because my rent went up to $2100 a month - damn you "no rent control"! Obviously I moved before that rent came into effect) last year that is cheaper but still spacious.

Luckily my dad made me start an RRSP when I was 19. My work takes ten percent of my paycheque, matches it and puts it in my RRSP as well so I'm doing well on that front. It's strange getting a letter every four months about the amount in there when I don't even notice it missing from my cheque because I've never had it in the first place. It's the best way to save.

I opened an ING account a year ago. I put ten percent of my income automatically into it off each cheque for my rainy day fund. With that money I've gone to Cuba and PEI, I've gotten many a pair of shoes, I've bought Christmas and birthday presents, I'm planning on flying to Victoria for Thanksgiving and possibly Hawaii in the spring.

If I didn't automatically save money I would have spent that all on food, booze, and gawd knows what else. Instead I get to enjoy it. My dad wishes I would save it all and use it for something bigger (like buying my house) but you only live this life once and I'm going to enjoy the freedom I have to travel and have fun while I'm still young and single enough to enjoy it.



While Getting Lunch:

Business Woman #1: This girl at work today didn't know that Benedict wasn't the pope's real name. So I told her that John-Paul II wasn't the late pope's name either, that it was Karol and that all popes need to choose a new name by which they wish to be inspired or wish to inspire themselves.

Business Woman #2: Kind of like strippers

At The Movies:

Teenage Girl #1: Like, what's a millennium?

Teenage Girl #2: I think it's like, when the time changes or something

At The Bus Stop:

Tired Guy: Once, I didn't sleep for 7 days straight.

Girl: I had no idea that was even possible.

Tired Guy: Yeah! After 3 days you start hallucinating and stuff. Not like usual crawling stuff, real hardcore shit!

On The Street Corner:

A seemingly homeless man is sitting on the sidewalk with his two dogs. The two dogs are fighting playfully.

Agitated homeless man: "Hey, (inaudible dog name)! Don't bug your sister or I'll bite your fuckin' head off!"

At The Restaurant:

Blonde Server: I'm thinking of getting glasses

Bartender: For reading or distance?

Server: Neither, just to make me look intelligent

Bartender: They're glasses...not a magic wand


Anyone Have a Spare Room?!

I may have mentioned that my house flooded before, last January. I'm not talking a little inch or two of water on the ground when I say that, I'm talking Noah and the Ark, my kitten was teetering precariously on a make-shift life raft, the house has to be gutted type flood.

A pipe burst upstairs and flooded the top floor. The room where the pipe is located leads directly down the stairs to the basement. Of course, the front of the basement was soaked in no time. Then, once the water had caused enough damage upstairs, it started coming through the floor, down the walls and into the rest of the basement.

The pipe was gushing for about 3 or 4 hours before anyone came home from work. I rent the basement suite and my landlord, who is a single woman in her early thirties lives upstairs. We both work two jobs and are home less then the amount of time Britney spends with her kids.

I was in a cab on my way home from the Restaurant, checking my six phone messages which became progressively worse, from:

"Hi...Alice, there was a pipe here that burst so the basement is a little bit wet...I got some stuff off the ground for you..."


"So...I don't think you'll be able to sleep here tonight...There's a lot more damage then we um, originally thought. Call me when you get this!"

At which point I was already pulling up to the house. I walked downstairs in my 4 inch stilettos and was instantly soaked. Every room in my house was drenched. I had been doing laundry and had half my clothes on the floor in the laundry room - all of them were water-logged practically beyond repair.

My walls were literally buckling inwards and bubbling with water. I couldn't turn the lights on because there was a large chance of starting a fire or electrocuting myself. The furnace was no longer working because it was filled with fluid so the basement was freezing, dark and damp; perfect - if you're a vampire.

I did what any sane girl would do; grabbed work clothes for the next day, my footie-PJs, a book, 3 pairs of shoes (just in case) and slept elsewhere.

I came home from work at noon the next day to find 5 people in my house packing my belongings. Turns out they were from the insurance company and had to get everything out so the house didn't collapse like a Jenga game with one too many sticks missing.

"Do you need any of these" one of them asked me, pointing to one of my full shoe racks with one hand and holding my BCBG shoes in his other.

That did it, I burst into tears. I am not a cryer but telling me you're going to store my shoes away for gawd knows how long will reduce me to a blithering idiot. Turned out to be 4 months until my place was liveable again, so it's a good thing I didn't let that cretin take them away.

This is all a distant (yet still traumatizing) memory, as I moved back to my place in May. I found out a few things in the meantime; I absolutely can never live with my parents again; the suburbs are way too far away from civilization; my younger sisters are actually fun; peace and quiet are so not over-rated; never leave a box of jackets with the movers; and liquid eyeshadow is a completely unnecessary purchase.

Why am I bringing up this tragic tale of misery and woe? Well, this morning I got up, went to have a shower and stepped in a giant puddle. I could hear a whooshing sound like the slow release of air out of a raft punctured by the carelessness of a smoker. Yes, one of my pipes was leaking.

I grabbed 4 towels to sop up the water, threw them in the washer where they will remain, sopping, disgusting and stinky until I come home from work this evening to wash them. I called my landlord to break the bad news. I wrapped a dishtowel around the culprit spot and set a bucket under the leak.

Since I thought I had it all covered, I got ready for work as quickly as I possibly could. I ran to the front entrance way to grab my shoes so I could run out the door, sprint like Bolt to the bus and still be on time for work. As I strapped on my bright pink shoes, I stepped in another huge puddle. The pipe had leaked all the way from my laundry room, through the furnace room and into my front hallway.

If I get home and find strange men packing my shit up, there's going to be hell to pay.


Shit Gets Weird

My weekend was ridiculously random. My plans of sitting at home in my PJs watching ANTM reruns while eating popcorn and chocolate were completely thwarted.

I had a craptastic night at work on Friday - mostly because I had a table of moms that left me ten dollars on a $300 tab and were rude to me the whole time they were in. Thanks for letting me pay tipout to serve you and your bratty children. Bitches.

Anyhow, my manager sent me home first because I was whining about these idiots plus we were slow and he needed to cut someone. I ended up going to Bamboo with a couple of girl friends to have a few drinks and "relax".

Well, PartyGirl was out in full force, dancing with randoms and buying everyone jagerbombs. A group of people we met were super awesome fun and invited us to their place to play Rockband after the bar. Since Partygirl lived right by them we decided that we may as well head over.

There were three guys and two girls in this group that we met, all of them hilarious. PartyGirls friend fell asleep right away when we got to their house but the rest of us stayed up playing Rockband and Neggling (a form of a drinking game commonly known as Stump - in this version you hit your own nail though and the last one out has to shotgun a beer).

PartyGirl left around 5 am to crash at her place, I stuck around playing Rockband before finally falling asleep on the couch. At 8 am I was woken by a flurry of activity. Apparently my new friends were heading out camping and leaving very soon.

I was planning on calling a cab but the two girls insisted on driving me home. They are both from Edmonton so the only concern was them not getting lost on the way back.

Well, we get to my place and the girls (let's call them Caz and Zing) are like: "Fuck that, you're coming with us. We're kidnapping you!" I had planned to go to a going away party that night but wasn't too concerned about it as long as I was back for the football game on Monday. After a few minutes they convinced me that camping was a really good plan. I ran in, packed a bag and hopped back in the car.

The drive out there was hilarious. Us three girls went in one car and the 4 boys in another. While we were waiting for the boys to get ready (seriously what the hell? Guys take WAY longer then girls to get organized!) we played a drinking game. I was assigned black cars and Caz was assigned white. Zing was the driver so she got orange cars (of which we luckily saw only one). Everytime that color car passed, you had to take a drink. Keep in mind we were waiting for the guys by a major highway through town.

By the time we rolled out of town, Caz and I were feeling pretty tipsy. 11 am drunks - Klassy. We only got lost about 6 times trying to find this friend of theirs property. It was gorgeous once we found it though. He had a huge land overlooking the lake out by Radium in BC. So gorgeous. Even the outhouse was built on a hill facing the lake, with only half a door. Room with a view indeed.

We set up the tents and air mattresses and moseyed on down to the BBQ pit where they were roasting a giant pig. I'm sorry but any animal that I see cooking with a tail still intact is NOT going in my mouth. I am a city girl. The sight of blood running down a carcass makes me want to vom hard-core.

I don't care how delicious it supposedly is.

So basically the afternoon and evening was spent hanging out with 40 random people (most of them didn't know each other either so I actually wasn't left out at all), playing Neggling and horseshoes, eating a huge buffet, drinking beer and singing by the campfire.

I also played bocci ball for my first time ever. My teammate wasn't good either so we got beaten pretty badly but it was still so much fun. Playing bocci on a mountain with trees, hills, tents and logs is a challenge to say the least.

As we were standing around the campfire I started talking to one of the guys there, he asked who I knew and I sort of laughed:

"Well I met this group yesterday"
"So...who here have you known for more than 30 hours?"
"Uh, well, no one"
"That's awesome"

Yeah, it was pretty awesome.

If it hadn't poured rain starting at 2 am and continuing all throughout the next morning, we probably would have stayed. As it turned we drove back to town Sunday after a bad, expensive meal in Radium. Gotta love tourist hubs. I exchanged numbers with their guy friend who was flirty and cute (my bocci-ball teacher) and with the girls. I guess next time I'm in Edmonton I have a place to stay.

Monday morning, Blondie and I were up at the crack of dawn to go for brunch at the Brown Paper Bag Boys' house (the group of guys we always go to the football games with). Even though we were almost 3 hours late we still managed to get a solid couple of hours of drinking and eating in before we had to leave to meet Boobie McGee and Blondie's roommate, Curly, and go to the football game.

The game was so cold and boring (lets just say the Stamps lost by a lot) that one of the BPBBs and I decided to leave to go tailgating. We met an awesome group of people and drank beers while cheersing the cops until the game was over.

By this point we were all exhausted so Blondie, Curly, Boobie McGee and I rented a couple of movies, made some stuffed chicken, rice and salad and parked on their couches for a few hours with glasses of wine.

It was a perfectly random, perfect weekend.