Thursday

How To Alienate The Majority of Your Readers

I worked at my part time job tonight (serving). Usually we get busy around 7 and close at around ten but tonight we got busy around 9 with a sudden influx of tourists. Needless to say, I had to have a drink after work.

As I'm sitting in the bar enjoying my ice-cold beer (beer is 6% up here just so ya know - none of this 2.2% or whatever it is in the US of A, probably why Canada breeds alcoholics...) the fire alarm goes off but it's the slow "maybe this isn't really a fire just stay here and drink your beer" alarm.

Side note: it was to the exact beat of the song playing at the time. I may or may not have loudly sung a remix:

"May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please, ain't sayin' she a gold digger, this is an alarm, but she ain't hanging with no broke...no broke...may I have your attention please"

Well, once the alarm picked up speed so did my drinking. No way was I leaving that bar without finishing my hard earned beer. The fire trucks showed up and naturally we got kicked out. I guess people burning to death isn't really covered on their insurance policy. Cheapskates.

Since my mix-master music career had been abruptly halted I decided to hop in a cab and go home. I realized that I had misplaced my little change holder in all the commotion about halfway home so I decided to strike a deal with the cab driver. I had more then enough bills to cover the fare but I needed change for the bus in the AM.

I tried to give him an American dollar bill for a loonie and he refused. When I explained my predicament he gave me a bus ticket and the American bill back.

C'mon guy, that's gotta be worth at least 50 cents!*


* Please send all hate mail to aliceinaverageland at gmail dot com

Case(s) of the Missing Jacket

I have really bad luck with jackets. Not as in I can never find one I like, or that they don't fit or anything but in that I lose them. All the freaking time.

I can think of several stories off the top of my head.

A few years ago I had this wicked mid-length jean jacket (you know the ones with the faux-fur trim - so in at the time). I loved that jacket. It was dressy enough to go with, well, dresses and casual enough to go with jeans. Anyway, New Years Eve we're all on a pub crawl, boozing it up, flirting with random strangers and dancing on the tables (naturally if it's a table-dancing story, I'm with PartyGirl/TitBags).

The party-bus driver told me my jacket would be safe resting on the bus and I drunkenly believed him. As I stumbled my way into bar three of the evening, I carelessly tossed that jacket on a seat. It would be the last time I saw it.

For a long time I refused to buy a winter coat. Maybe this is because I don't believe in winter and if you don't believe in something it probably doesn't exist. Am I right? Apparently not.

Winter still comes, that bastard. So I bought a long white, down filled winter coat. It had a hood and was like being wrapped in a fire. Only without the unpleasant burning sensation and 2nd degree burns.

Super Bowl Sunday I was playing football with a huge group of people before going to a pub to watch the game. Naturally after exercising like that you're hot and have no need for down-filled jackets so I left it in my friends car.

Well, I ended up leaving before him. Without my jacket. He soon moved to Vancouver and the white coat has never been heard from or seen since.

I have a laundry-list of poor innocent coats left behind at bars: cute little black blazer (RIP), short gray 3-buttoned wool pea-coat, brown plaid jacket, long black wool coat, jean jackets (times two), and beige corduroy blazer (I miss you).

I thought everything had gotten better. I bought a few new trench coats (including an adorable red one), a couple of blazers, 2 leather jackets, a few fleeces, a nice HH snowboarder coat from my parents - things were looking up.

I had gone months without losing anything. I was being responsible!

Then my home flooded. I packed away most of the jackets (as it was the middle of winter, I had no need for a short sleeved cape-style jacket). The rest I took with me to my parents house where I ended up staying for 4 months while they gutted my home and rebuilt it.

As I unpacked my boxes after moving back into my place I realized that a few important things were missing.

All of my jackets that I had stashed away for spring/summer/fall.

Every. Single. One.

I think maybe the movers stole them for their wives. Then again, maybe jackets just don't like me.

Not Even I Can Keep Track

So, I realize that occasionally I'll mention a friend of mine here on this blog o' mine. Sometimes it doesn't really matter if you have a clue who I'm talking about or not. Sometimes it makes it funnier if you DO know who the hell I'm rambling on about.

To make matters less complicated, here is my very own cast and crew:

The Women:

Blondie: The name basically speaks for itself - she's blonde. She's hilarious. She's one of my best friends. We've been to Cuba, PEI, Halifax, Shuswaps, the Badlands and Kananaskis together, we figured out that since we got our passports the same day that means we are destined to be travel-buddies. Also, she thinks I'm psychic and smart so having her around is good for the ego.

PartyGirl (nickname given to her by some of my less crazy friends): I've known her since Elementary although we only really became good friends after High School when we randomly ran into each other while each working our respective downtown office jobs. She has a new boyfriend that she now lives with but she's still awesome fun to party with.

Boobie McGee: (kinda self-explanatory) she's younger then the rest of us, kind of crazy, gets angry when drunk, but is always amusing. Prime example: she broke her wrist before houseboating and cut off her own cast with a jigsaw so she could go in the water.

Frenchie: I know her because my crazy ex and her husband worked together. Then I worked with them (the boys), then they introduced us (the girls). Frenchie was sure she was going to hate me but miraculously we got along just peachy. We're still friends even though douche ex and I broke up and her hubby PA isn't friends with him anymore. Ha ha I win.

Hiker: She is my manager at The Restaurant, and a really big sweetheart. She likes to go out of town to Banff, Kananaskis, Drumheller etc. to go hiking (hence the name) and usually Blondie and I tag along. She is our 'responsible' friend.

The Men:

(Ex)
Pseudo-bf: Not my boyfriend, never was my boyfriend for the 2 years we 'hung out'. Complicated story, I wrote about it here. Sometimes I mention him, or possibly his new ex(!) girlfriend T-Bone.

O/N: So called because he was my Old/New guy. I used to date him in High School and ran into him at the bar one night last year. We had a brief fling where we'd hang out, go for drinks, all that fun stuff. I haven't talked to him in a while but every now and then...

Brown Paper Bag Boys (BPBBs): Blondie and I work with one of these guys, who she is now dating (that would be Hyper). They are wicked fun although sometimes do stupid things. There are about 5 main guys in this group. In the spirit of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs I'll call them: Hyper, Grumpy, Shy, Cocky, and Sleepy


The Co-workers:

This section needs some major updating...someday


The Fam:

Dizzy: Writes a great blog about attachment parenting, and lives too far away from me. Her husband is great and helps me with technologically advanced things so I'll call him Techie. They have an adorable 2 year old daughter (who calls herself MeMe so that will be her pseudonym) and another bun in the oven! Dizzy reads my blog so...

Must. Always. Say. Nice. Things...

Just kidding. She's great, I wish they lived closer though.

SK & SL : My younger twin sisters - get the lowdown here. People seem to think we're triplets a lot which is funny because they are ten times skinnier then me and 4 years younger (victory is mine!!) well, either that or I just look like the slightly chunky oldest triplet.

So, there you have it - I'm sure the list will grow so if you're ever confused, pop on by.

Wednesday

Tweets - (sidenote: WTF is a Tweet?)

First of all, if I used Twitter wouldn't that technically make me a Twitterer(er?) and each of my entries known as Twits? I guess being a Twit isn't as fun as being a Tweet though and the derogatoryness* of the word kinda brings down the whole party. No one likes a party-pooper. Well, except maybe This Guy. Then again, he's a little mentally unstable at the best of times.

On with the show!

So my understanding of Twitter is that people send Tweets to other people, kind of like text messages (please correct me if I'm wrong - I am clueless here people). What I'm wondering is where these messages show up? On your phone? On a blog? Somewhere else entirely?

Do you use this tool to tell others everything you are up to or only the most important random, perhaps hilarious updates?

Well, if I were a Twittereraneser here is what my Tweets would look like**:

Friday
9:46 pm Can't decide whether to go karaokeing with TitBags or have red wine with Frenchie
11 pm Drinking moonshine with Anthony Keidis while deciding
12:07 pm Karaoke it is (AK's so selfish)

Saturday
10:04 am Where are my pants? Where am I?
3:17 pm Blondie on her way to pick me up for skydiving lessons
9:20 pm Broken legs heal pretty fast, right?

I'm not so sure about this - can my mom subscribe? She already added me on Facebook (along with my aunts, my great-uncle in England, my Nana and my cousins pet dog - not even kidding)Honestly though, I think people would get super bored with me after one normal day.

Take today for example:

6:30 am - Woke up to Fleetwood Mac - again (must be Fleetwood time on radio?)
7:29 am - Rushed out door to see bus driving by
8:07 am - Drank third coffee of the morning. Cutting back is working well.
10:00 am - Daydreamed about winning the lottery, frolicking in fields of daisies and red wine lakes
Noon - Went to Thai Express for delicious spicy curry soup
12:41 - Bought Tide-To-Go to clean aforementioned soup off my white shirt

For now I think I'll just stick to blogging. All this newfangled technology you kids use has me flabbergasted.


*I'm all about the made up words today
** You can totally lie while Twittering, right?

See? Some People Love Me

Okay, okay so she's my sister and therefore HAS to love me (I can't make you un-my sister*)

But still, I got my very first award from the lovely Attach
edmama (aka Dizzy) over at Living in Harmony where she writes about her adorable little daughter, parenting and all that fun stuff. (Un?)luckily for me it's not a severed goats head but instead a very sincere little token of love (I may have added my own personal touch to it).


The rules are easy (so even you can follow along):
1. The winner can put the logo on their blog
2. Link the person you received the award from
3. Nominate 7 other blogs
4. Put links of those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message on the blogs nominated

Now who to pass this gem onto? Well, by process of randomly, drunkenly twirling my monitor around and seeing where my finger lands (or is that how I decide where to vacation next - I can never remember) - I've decided on the following bloggers (in no particular order):

Falwless - She is, as her name indicates, pretty falwless. Plus her blog is Lots Better Than Your Blog. No but really, she's hilarious, witty, sarcastic, rude and probably drunk 72% of the time. Her blog makes me pee my pants a little - at entries like this about McCain's old age, and causes me to spit coffee on the monitor at least once a day. Plus apparently she has a pet monkey and an eyepatch. How could you go wrong?

Dr. Zibbs - Wins for most random, politically-incorrect, self-serving blog ever. Take the time he forced his loyal readers into slave labor. He also likes to make fun of others**, which is always good for a laugh. Plus his comments are always inappropriate and therefore awesome.

Ben - Ben likes nuts! And Ribs! Wait, he's a vegetarian so scratch that last one. Ben has dogs and hilarious stories about said dogs. He also has hilarious stories about life in general. The other great thing is that since Ben is 4 hours ahead of me, I get to read his blogs first thing in the morning when I get to work. Who doesn't like a good unicycle story first thing in the morning?

The Mean Girls - I can't pick just one of these girls, they're all freakin hilarious. If you combined the glamour of Marilyn with the outrageousness of the Kardashians you'd have an idea of how fab these girls are. 4 inch Stiletto gives great travel advice and knows how to throw a party, the Alleged Ringleader always knows where the party is, and how to secure a man and Lilo loves sex talk (and talking sex).

Blood Red Roses - my first commenter EVER and luckily for me she happens to be witty, charming and real. She writes in a perfectly self-deprecating style while managing to be sarcastic and lovable.

Pistols at Dawn - Constantly writing about his FAILures (you know it's bad when the homeless get more action than you) and changing the world - one crappy TV show at a time. Pistols may be creepy and unbathed but at least he knows how to get out of awkward situations.

Lyla-Lou - This gal has been with me since my blogging beginning. She has an ex-bf who lives with her (I know, right?) and a newly acquired little friend. She writes about alternate uses for meat cleavers and serious things like relationships. Lyla is the kind of girl I would sit on a balcony with and we'd drink oodles of wine, bitch about men and then go find some hotties to take away the misery.

Just remember, I heart a million of you but could only pass the cheer on to 7.

Now since these 14 billion links will keep you busy all morning, go check them out but make sure you have a change of underwear because you'll be laughing your ass off***



*Bonus points if you get that reference...anyone?
** Falwless
*** Not a 100% guarantee. If you have no sense of humor don't bother clicking

Tuesday

Not Quite Day One

I should have known that the whole trip was going to be a gong show after the first experience Blondie and I had. Namely, getting ourselves to the airport on time, in one piece for our 10:25 pm flight.

The day started out well enough - me wrapping up loose ends at work and making sure that things were in order, Blondie picking up the car from the rental place. I had spent a few hours the night before doing all my laundry and packing my (ridiculously over-sized) suitcase. I despise coming home to a messy house so I cleaned everything up and was ready to go.

Blondie picked me up and we were on our way to Edmonton. The flights out of Edmonton were $99 each way, out of Calgary it was almost $300 each way. I think it's just a trick to get people to actually go up there.

Anyway, we made it and did some shopping at West Edmonton Mall. At 8 pm we decided we were hungry and it was a good idea to grab dinner at a restaurant. By 9 after eating our appetizer and still waiting for the salads to show up we started to panic a little. We were supposed to check in at 9:20.

We ate so fast I don't think the waitress even realized we had gotten our meals yet but we threw money down and bolted. With no road map and no sense of direction, we ended up a tad lost
finding the road to the airport (which is actually 20 minutes outside of Edmonton). We finally pulled up to the airport at 9:45 at which point we were freaking out.

Blondie called the car rental place since we couldn't find them anywhere. Maybe because they weren't actually located at the airport.

FAIL.

We drove towards the rental place, me on the phone with the rental guy giving us directions, Blondie practically hysterical beside me. Luckily we ended up behind an Enterprise van and followed him into the rental place. We ran inside, threw the paper work on the desk.

"Did you girls need a receipt?"

Yeah, let's just wait the 15 minutes while you check the car over, refill the gas tank, go over the paperwork and print out that reciept. Or you know, we could try to still catch our plane

We ran back outside into the shuttle van where our driver made small talk and drove fairly fast back to the airport. Very nice guy (thanks again Terry) but he didn't really have the sense of urgency we needed.

Time? 10:10 pm, 15 minutes until take-off. So Blondie and I run to the front desk, throw our bags on the scales (mine teetering dangerously between 49.5 and 49.9 lbs) and grab our boarding passes. Blondie reaches in her purse for her passport and sitting there are the keys for the rental car.

EPIC FAIL

After debating pretending we didn't notice or calling the car rental place we decided that 10 minutes was plenty of time to return the keys, especially since the other set was all the way back in Calgary.

"Um, hi...this is one of the girls who was just in an uber hurry...? So we um, still have the uh...car keys..."

"Oh golly"

Luckily Terry wasn't too far away. We ran the keys out to him at which point he told us we would have been charged for the entire week we were away if we hadn't returned them.

Blondie and I ran through the airport (of course our gate was the very last one in the whole freaking airport) and panting and gasping collapsed into the airport chaise-lounges just as they called pre-boarding.

Wait, pre-boarding?

After checking our boarding passes we realized that boarding time was 10:25 - our flight didn't actually take off until 10:50.

We're nothing if not blondes.

Monday

PEI - A Pictorial Essay

I'm back!! I'm a bit sad because now I don't have awesome guest bloggers taking over. Just little old me. Thanks again guys!

Anywho, the East coast was awesome - I have lots of great stories but first:

A pictorial essay of the trip



We may or may not have almost missed our plane on the way out there. Not because we were drinking but because we couldn't find the car rental place. More on that later.


At least the airplane food
wasn't so bad:



Blondie and I wore our infamous John Deere shirts and ended up meeting the John Deere rep for all of the East Coast. His name was John (seriously).



I got to see a real lighthouse and go up in it - this is a big deal for me since I'm from Calgary. There isn't exactly the chance of boats running into the shore here (although we did have one of the best Naval academies in the country - go figure). The lighthouses on the West coast are different or maybe I just don't know where to look to find a real red and white lighthouse.

We had awesome fake Chinese food a few nights after the bar - Blondie told me she's never had Chinese in Calgary because she's afraid it's "real" Chinese (I'm assuming she meant chicken claws and tripe balls). When I told her that we have just as many fake Chinese places as real ones she got pretty excited. Note to self: take Blondie for Chinese. Maybe even dim sum...although she may not be able to handle that just yet.


We went to dinner theater and drank a liter of wine.


Each.





We saw an 80s hairband, Haywire:

We drank our faces off; danced with hot guys; partied at the spot where all the Alexander Keith's commercials are filmed; ate tons of lobster, scallops and mussels; and laid out on the beach for hours. We had an interesting ride home one night when we couldn't find a cab:


I met a farmer who said (and I quote) "I'm some glad I met you" when I told him I was from Calgary. Turns out he's coming here for 6 months in January to transport cows or milk pigs or something (chickens maybe?) so he needs some friends. Should be interesting taking the small town Vernon River boy around the big city.

However, we just got back and I'm exhausted, hungry and bitchy. Time for bed for this girl!

Buckle up, Alice

Bahaha. I'm so awesome. I plug an awesome blogger on the same day that I take over for her while she's on vacation. I'm SHAMELESS.

Ahem.

Hi everyone. If you didn't guess by the blatant guest-postery, it's Ben from No Ordinary Rollercoaster, taking over yet another unsuspecting blog with my propaganda of wiener dogs, suburbs, common-law marriage and other genuinely un-20-something characteristics. Would it help to know that I'm listening to Girlicious as I write this?

By the way, who exactly is it that wants to be like them? I think that's a crucial missing detail in their shiteous song. I think it would be more accurate if it was the Pussycat Dolls singing the song to Girlicious. And even then, I think I'd be embarrassed for everyone involved.

Back to business.

It just so happens that Alice is visiting my neck of the woods this week. For that reason, I think there's no better time than the present to describe the dream date that I would have taken her on. Why aren't we doing said date? Because the lure of the swimming pool has left me hungover with a taste of heatstroke. I suck. However, one day our paths will cross and at least we'll have a plan. So without further ado...

10:30am - Meet for brunch. This is important because I don't do meal-skipping. I needs my breakfast and Alice does too. I've decided that. We will eat many things covered in Hollandaise sauce.

12:00pm - What's that? It's now socially appropriate to drink? OKAY! We'll grab a quick beer on a nice patio before strolling the shops. Spending is better when a little looped.

1:30pm - My credit card craves abuse because he has low self esteem and it makes him feel validated. Therefore, we will go and buy clothes that are part slutty and flashy, part old time class. During this activity, we will make blatant passes at each other by commenting on each other's assets and maybe flashing some boob. Depends how the beer went down.

4:00pm - Beer makes us sleepy so we put on an awesome show like this and fall asleep for a bit. Growing drunks need their rest in order to make it through the sort of night that we deserve.

7:00pm - Time to run out and grab a light dinner and about 18 martinis each before heading home to get ready for the late shift.

9:00pm - Drink copious amounts of alcohol while showering and getting our hurr did. In Halifax, it's not cool to get to the bars before midnight since they're open until four. Must. Get. Soused. Beforehand.

12:30am - Stumble to a bar. Any bar. Or restaurant. Or video store. Whatever establishment that we can make it to without getting turned away.

1:00am - 4:00am - This time slot is appropriately foggy. We will do what we please, we will make poor choices and we will pay for them in the morning

9:00am - Wake up. Realize we are still drunk. Realize that we (hopefully) did not sleep together. Vomit. Never want to see each other again.

10:00am - Blog about it.

Thursday

The Conch Soup Wasn't That Bad....

Hi everybody! Nope, still not Alice. She's still off having ridiculous amounts of fun that she will probably brag all about when she gets back. So today you are all stuck with me, Lyla. I usually bitch and moan about my ex boyfriend over here. Just kidding... he's not the only thing I bitch and moan about.


I want to apologize to everyone in advance. This post might not make much sense because I plan on downing a bottle of wine while I type. Guest blogging makes me a little nervous, especially after reading all the awesome ones that have been up the last few days. Pretty intimidating.


Before she left us all to go have tons of fun I asked Alice if she had any ideas of topics I could use as motivation. Her suggestion was "I'm taking a trip somewhere....maybe you could write about a trip you've been on?"

I must confess that I do not travel well. I cry every time I take off and land in a plane. My stomach never agrees with the food. Any trip longer than 4 days and I'm upset and home sick. I'm a wimp like that.

But despite all those set backs I have managed to see some really wonderful places. I've been all over the US. From New York to California, Florida to Washington and everywhere in between. I've managed to make it up to Canada a few times and absolutely loved Vancouver and Victoria.

But..my most memorable vacation was, by a landslide, my trip to Nassau in the Bahamas. Most memorable not because of the beauty of the islands. Or the great food. Or the fabulous fun times getting drunk in the sun.

Nope. It was very pretty, and the sun was shiny and stuff, but it's the most memorable for me because I was miserable the entire time. My mother(the greatest woman in the universe) planned the whole trip. 7 days of fun in the sun, completely paid for by her, for myself and my boyfriend.

Well, I'm sure you can probably guess what happened. 3 weeks before we were scheduled to leave, Skinny(the ex) dumped me.

Everything was already planned and paid for so we had no choice but to still go. Together. As EX-boyfriend and Ex-girlfriend. Were were trying to maintain a friendship so it didn't seem like it would be that difficult to get along for a week. What should have been a relaxing week on the beach turned into us getting drunk everyday and discussing what went wrong with our relationship. An entire week of blaming the other person for everything that went wrong.

It's a good thing we were able to switch our king bed for two doubles because one of us might have smothered the other in their sleep. Every night we'd stumble back to our room drunk and spend the next hour or so arguing from our separate beds before we fell asleep.

The last night we were there, I remember laying in my bed, the breeze from the open balcony door had that perfect salty beach smell. I could hear the waves from the ocean and the moonlight was just perfect. It was possibly the most romantic beach setting I'd ever been in but I was laying there crying because I felt so lonely. Over in his bed, Skinny was snoring.

At the time I was pissed. What a waste. But looking back on it....there really is no better way to find closure than to be forced to spend a week, sharing a room together, in a strange country where you have no one else to talk to.

So my advice to everyone that may be planning a trip with a bf or gf.....always have a back-up plan. You never know when you may get dumped.

Canadian From The Waist Down. What?



Hey everyone it's me Alice. Look I'm back, right here. Alice, right here. Writing to you guys.

Not.

This is RS27 from the world's country's state's Los Angeles' my house's favourite blog, Your Beard is Good ,where we discuss such things as the crisis in Darfur, Miley Cyrus' new haircut, What the Hell is wrong with Bono, and my campaign for the 2016 Presidential Election. My running mate? One of the Jonas Brothers. Anyways, since this is my first guest blog on a Canadian blog I should tell everyone how much I love Canada. In honour of this being a Canadian based blog I should do my best to make this post as Canadian as can be. See above for how I spelled, "favorite."

EH?!?!

I've always had a fondness for Canada. I love Canadian rock bands. Even Nickelback. Sure they're annoying and whiny sometimes, but if you're from Canada you are ok by me. Bryan Adams, you too. You are a cool cat.

You guys have a kick ass national anthem (True Patriot Love in all they Son's Commmand!) which I know every word to. Is it weird that I know all the words to another country's anthem? I say hell no. What's the motto for the Olympics this year? One World, One Dream? (Aside: That barely beat out China's other motto: Say anything bad about us and we'll blow your ass up. Close second, I know. Oh, Olympic humour (Canadian spelling! more parenthesis!), you slay me.) My dream is that one day we will all know the national anthems to every country and sing them loudly!

Sorry Dr. Martin Luther King. I plagiarized your speech.

I've visited Canada about 5 times and love the place. The people are so nice, the girls are pretty and Molson is everywhere. The first time I went was for my friend's 19th birthday. Drinking is legal at 19 in Canada? Screw the free health care, give me the legal drinking. My first run in with Canadian women was walking down the streets in Toronto to a club when we ran into a group of 4 pretty girls. They stopped us right away due to my effervescent good looks and the fact that I was picking my nose. It itched.

Girl #1 - Hey.
Me- Hey
Friend #1 - Hey
Friend #2 - Hey
Girl #2 - Hey
Girl #3 - Hey
Girl #4 - *shrugs*

Damn, we are so smooth with the ladies. Pass the courvasier indeed.

Girl #1 - Where are you guys going?

What? This is great. Girls just come up to you in the middle of the street and want to go out with you? It's aboot time. I have found my utopia. I shall call it Canada.

RUN WITH ME TO FREEDOM!

Friend #1 - We're just headed over to that bar over there. *points to an empty store*
Girl #2- That's not a bar. It's a store
Friend #2- We're going to make it a bar
Girl #2- You guys are so funny. We should all hang out.

Sweet love of god, we are so going to do it tonight. I love Canada. Ok, if we do it who gets the extra girl? That would be great because I've never....

Friend #1 - Definitely you guys should come with us. It's going to be a lot of fun.
Me- And awesome. Don't forget awesome
Friend #2 - *nudges me* (whispers) dude don't be stupid.
Me- Stupid awesome. Got it.
Girl #3 - I don't think we are going to go out drinking though
Friend #2 - Why not?
Girl #2 - We're going to the coffee shop, you guys should come.
Friend #1 - We're going out for our friend's birthday, why don't you come?
Girl #1 - We're 16.

GOD DAMMIT!

WHY MUST YOU TAKE AWAY EVERYTHING FROM ME THAT IS SO EASY!

Needless to say, not knowing the rules of relations in a foreign country we left our 16 year old friends to go sip on a latte at the local Black Brew Crew Coffee Shop or whatever. We headed on our way to a club where I had 32 Long Island Iced Teas and ended up ska dancing to the house band.

Canada, you're such a tease.

But the sexy tease that I can't get enough of.

From Far and Wide, O Canada, We Stand On Guard For Thee!

Wednesday

Calgarians are not your average folk.

While little miss Alice is off gallivanting across the East Coast with Blondie, I’m stuck in corporate Vancouver crunching numbers.

Who am I you ask? The Well-Intentioned Heartbreaker of course. And even though I’ve been avoiding my own blog for nearly a week, as Alice’s best blogger friend* I’ll still hold down the fort for her.

As I moseyed my way over here this morning, I tried to think of what to write that wouldn’t disappoint after Falwless’ post yesterday on Ridiculous Google Sponsored Ads. I mean really, what can top that?

My first thought was to post on Ridiculous Yahoo Sponsored Ads, but bloggers usually aren’t too happy with the whole “plagiarism” thing. And I’m not really out to make enemies. Or too many of them at least.

Then it struck me that Alice lives in Calgary. And, wait for it, I used to live in Calgary. I mean, I got out of there as fast as I could, but I did do a quick stint in the wonderful world of the cows. Though, I shouldn’t lie, I don’t remember seeing a single cow while I lived in Calgary. This may be because cows in Calgary are simply a myth, or because I was too drunk at all times to notice my surroundings.

Alice is 100% correct when she says Calgarians drink. They drink when they're happy, they drink when they're sad. And they especially drink when they are mad. They drink before school, during work, and once they've retired. Anytime is a good time to drink in Calgary. Happy Hour is more like Happy 24 Hours. I worked at a bar while I lived there, which was a blast, but if you plan on doing this, don't plan on getting anything productive done. You will go to work, get off at 3am and then party with your coworkers until 7am. You will likely crash at one of their houses, and wake up around 3pm and go shopping. You will go home, get ready for work, and press repeat. For months on end. Just letting you know..

Another thing I noticed when I lived in Alice's hometown is that Calgarians are immune to the cold. I nearly died every single time I stepped outside in the winter. Inhaling air below freezing nearly made my lungs collapse. I dressed in parkas and snowboots and everyone else was still rockin' their flipflops. Everyday I was all "These people must be part fucking Eskimo."

Also? Calgarians think that plugging their cars in at night so the engine doesn't freeze is normal. It isn't. It's totally weird and I always forgot. Oh, and they go "warm up their cars" before leaving places like restaurants and stuff? I never did. Now that I think about it, Calgary is probably the reason my car is currently on it's last leg.

I do give Calgarians props for being totally, insanely friendly as I made a bazillion friends there pretty much overnight.. (though now that I think about it, this is probably related to the drinking).. But I'm totally with Dizzy who thinks Alice should pack up and settle down in Vancity.**


*I don't think Alice wanted me to say that. She's worried you'd all be jealous.
**Alice, if you're worried about moving to Vancouver because we don't drink as much as Calgarians, I'll totally pick up my old Calgary habits and make you feel right at home.

Tuesday

Ridiculous Google Sponsored Ads (book report by Falwless)

Hi there, dummies! It's me, Falwless, from over there at Lots Better Then Your Blog, filling in for Alice today. I probably don't know most of you readers, which really is a shame. I mean, for you, mostly.

When Alice invited me to* do a guest post on this here little web diary of hers, she didn't tell me I'd actually have to come up with the post on my own. I mean, I'm new to this guest post crap. I thought, you know, since she invited me, she'd, like, leave me some material and I'd just type it out or edit it or whatever. I dunno. I was all, pshaa, bring it on! Easy peazy, beezy!

But then I got here and nothing. There's nothing to greet me but wilting plants and strange-looking people. I effing hate you, Alice. You and this dumb mediocre town.

So, I guess I have to pull from my magical box I lovingly call "Oh Shit What The Hell Is There To Write About Today?" Yeah, I know what you're thinking--this is gonna be good. Strap in, monkeys.

About a month ago I was searching The Google for something I can't even recall now, and a really strange sponsored ad popped up on the right side that had nothing to do with what I searched for. So, because I am made mostly of things like "awesome" and "more awesome" and "no godforsaken life whatsoever," I started punching in random search queries to see if The Google could make me laugh.

Well, my wishes came true. Enjoy this little Average-Land foray into Ridiculous Google Sponsored Ads.

Search term: fetish smelly feet

As expected, really. Niiice.


Search term: cows

What questions could this survey possibly ask?


Search term: grey hair

Yes, calm the eff down, google searcher. Jesus, get a grip, would you?


Search term: ham radio

Don't we all aspire to be hams?


Search term: I hate you

Interesting sales tactic. Reminds me of my blog, actually.


Search term: dry cleaning

This wouldn't be funny except for the word "extreme." HOLY SHIT! SOME CRAZY ASS DRY CLEANIN' START UP TIPS, PARTY PEOPLE!


Search term: puke

Shop around, people. Don't pay too much.


Search term: senior citizen

I don't know if you can find one in particular (Grandma?), or if you just have to take the next one available...


Search term: look young

The shittiest sponsored ad ever. FAIL. (Is that even a real website? powerWIGHT? WTF?)


Search term: sucks

The best sponsored ad ever. WIN.


Search term: toilet paper

I'm most interested in the reviews.


Search term: advertise website

Hmmm. Maybe the owner of that top ad should rethink things.


and, last but not least:

Search term: weight loss

Way to motivate, google ad. Way to motivate. Nice work.


All right, that's all, ladies and gentlescrotums. If you enjoyed this, then you will surely** enjoy the other daily nonsense I type on my blog, so maybe it's time you stopped reading Alice's stupid little diary here and read mine instead! SHHHH! Don't tell her I said that!

Seriously, though, don't tell her or I will hunt you down, I swear to god. Don't even try me, loser!


* demanded that I
** most likely not

Monday

Big Sister is Watching

AttachedMama here to guest blog for Alice today. To introduce myself, I am Alice's big sister, Dizzy. Alice and I are opposites in many ways. Growing up, she was always known as the "pretty one", while I was the "smart one".

Really, you could just as easily have called us the "one who cares enough to spend more than five minutes on her appearance in the morning" and the "one who knows how to lie to teachers and do a decent job on projects at 5 in the morning the day they're due so she can skip school and no one will care". The ironic part is that now I'm the one who is married and she is the one with the high-paying corporate job. So much for labels.

I like to think I was a good big sister. I tried to be helpful and answer Alice's many questions patiently, if not always honestly. For instance, the time she asked me why two of the knobs in the middle of the stove elements were blue, and two were red. I told her the blue ones were cold and the red ones were hot.

Alice was a good little sister too. When we were in the ER later waiting for Alice to be treated for the second-degree burns on her hand, she neglected to mention that she had been touching the burner to find out if it was really cold.

Though we sometimes fought like cats and dogs growing up (quite literally, I have a scar on my arm still), we were friends too. We shared a room for a long time, and our father gave us a ridiculously early bedtime (my cousins still tease him about sending us to bed at 9pm while on vacation and we were both teenagers). So early, that many nights we could sit and read long after lights out, simply because the sun was still out.

In the winter when it was too dark to read, but we weren't tired yet, we would crawl into bed together and whisper and giggle. We would watch for the light in the hall that told us we'd been too loud and Dad was coming, and jump into our own beds to pretend we were sleeping. We even made up our own Morse code, thinking that tapping it out on the dresser in between our beds would be quieter than the whispering. (It wasn't, though it did take Dad some time to figure out where the tapping was coming from.)

We both went to a French Immersion school and could speak French fluently. We used this to our advantage when meeting new people in order to talk right in front of them without their understanding what we were saying. I remember some vacations when we would meet new kids and start talking French to each other while playing. We weren't always saying bad things (though it was always fun to make fun of others when they had no clue what you were saying), so we didn't understand why it bothered the other kids so much. E-way ere-way also-hay uent-flay in-hay ig-Pay atin-Lay. What can I say, we're a multi-talented family.

I was thrilled when she shared her blog with me. I moved to BC eight years ago, but we still keep in touch via MSN and e-mail. Lately, many of our conversations center around me trying to convince her that Vancouver or Victoria are infinitely better places to live than Calgary. I'm not sure if I will ever convince her (though seriously, who would choose that over this), but if I can't make fun of her in person, at least I can do it through the comments on her blog.

Friday

Blondie Says: Which Way is East?

Well this is it, I'm off to the East Coast - I can't wait, apparently it's beautiful. I'll take lots of pictures! While I'm away I have lined up 6 fabulous guest bloggers that I'm very excited about...

Since I'll be traveling with Blondie for this vacation, I will leave you with some of my favorite Blondie-isms:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the Lilac Festival:

Alice and Blondie are strolling along in the crowds, checking out the booths:
Blondie: ohmygawd look! A baby cow!
Alice: Uh, that's a dalmation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At Our Restaurant:
Blondie is serving a lady some tea:
Lady: Excuse me miss, who makes your tea?
Blondie: I do!! I take the tea bag, put it in the teapot and add hot water!
Lady: I meant what brand is your tea

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Her First Trip to Banff:

Blondie: "Alice, are there any mountains that are taller than buildings?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


At Taste of Calgary:

Alice: "Hm, I'm not sure I feel like lamb"
Blondie: "What animal is lamb?"
Alice: "Seriously?...? It's a baby sheep"
Blondie: "Really??"
Alice: "Really?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking About Sex:

Blondie's Roommate: "blabla something about the G-Spot"
Blondie: "The G-spot...? That's the clit right?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blondie: "What's an aeriola?
Alice: "It's your nipple"

Later that day:
Blondie: "My aioli's are hard!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking About Birthdays:

Blondie: "I'm almost 27...that's like, halfway to 30!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have a feeling there'll be lots more where those came from after this trip. Hope you all have a great week!

Thursday

He Sure Got A Wet One

I'm still sick, which causes me to be bitter, cranky and generally pissed off at the world. So pretty much like myself, but more nasally. When I feel this way I have to be a little more creative with ways to avoid work since my brain feels like mush.

It sort of reminds me of the time we were playing poker but had no chips. We decided that anything in the living room was fair game, each threw in 5 dollars and had at 'er. The best thing about this method is that when you run out of chips (hair pins, couch cushions, packets of ketchup) you just finish the beer you're drinking, throw it in the pot and presto! Back in the game.

I never thought I would see the day when I could say "I see your trashy boxer-shorts and raise you 15 screws" without going to jail.

Anyhow, at work this morning, drinking my peppermint tea and thinking about the fact that I have one hundred million and seven things that I need to do before I leave (tomorrow!) I decided to go for a walk. Sick people are allowed to leave work for things like decongestant medicine, soup, eye drops, really just think of anything that your mom would have fed you when you were sick, if she had actually cared.

I forget where I was going with this story. Oh right (sorry foggy head), so I'm at Shoppers getting my medicine. The guy in front of me walks out and sets off those alarms. Generally when they go off people just keep walking or turn to the cashier who waves them through but this time a huge security guard went traipsing (ok traipsing may be the wrong word. Picturing a huge, muscley, black guy traipsing - doesn't really seem to fit) so he went storming up to the guy and asked to look in his bags.

Now the skinny little dude he asked looked like he was going to crap himself but really had nothing to worry about and Security Dude waved him on his way. The whole thing reminded me of a story I read about an 70 year old guy shoplifting.

Apparently the old man was trying to steal a shirt from a clothing store in Germany when a policeman grabbed his arm. The man turned around and went to bite the officer but had forgotten to put in his false teeth.

No idea what my point is here folks. Just be sure to put in your teeth next time you want a new shirt.

Wednesday

When Being The Worst is The Best

So Falwless reminded me of something important with her last blog post.

I sell Mary Kay.

Yes that's right, I'm that annoying person who tries to get you to buy makeup, lotions and other stuff so I can make a few bucks.

Oh, wait - no I'm not because I've never sold a damn thing.

I was the worst Mary Kay representative ever. They should give me an award for that or something. Seriously. I had just one party the whole time, where I invited 8 of my friends over. I had 3 bottles of apple vodka and 3 bottles of red wine.

You can see where this is going.

Basically I did all my friends makeup, we drank all the booze and went back to the liquor store (twice) then headed out to the bar - Hey-Oh!! What? I'm supposed to get them to BUY things? Whoops. Well I still have my starter kits (tons of sample makeup) and get a 50% discount if I ever actually order anything so I guess it wasn't a total loss*.

On another note, this morning I woke up, dragged my creaky 90-year-old woman body out of bed and practically fell over. Wait, when did I turn 90? I should have known something was wrong when I went to bed at 10 last night. 10? Really? That's about the time I usually eat dinner.

Well as it turns out, I'm sick. My head aches, my body hurts, I'm all stuffy and sneezing and congested. My hands are cold, my body is hot (then cold) and I'm whiney.

Ok so maybe it's just a cold** but it's a bad one. I need some soup. I need my bed. I need a manservant to serve me soup, read me a bedtime story and press a cold compress to my face while gently massaging my forehead. I need a pile of blankets made out of goose down and bear fleece or whatever the hell that soft material is. I need Echinacea, Vitamin C and Cold Fx administered intravenously.


But here I am at work. Damn you Corporate America, damn you and your "Responsibility" and "Accountability" and "Taking Credit for Projects That Other People Did". Damn you to hell.***

* It actually was a total loss
** or maybe it's the Avian virus? Norwolk? Mumps? Polo? Black Plague? SARS???
(No, I've never been called a hypochondriac)
*** I totally stole
that concept with the linkage to hell from Poobomber

Tuesday

99 Bottles of Beer on The Wall

Just kidding. Actually 99 comments about me - ha tricked you. These memes spread around the internet like a bad case of herpes. After seeing this one several times, with variations, I've decided to suck it up and get it done. Partially because I have no witty thoughts today and partially because hey, it's all about me here.

1. I don't like using Decimal Tabs in Word because I don't get it
2. I'm outgoing but somehow still shy, especially in business settings. Maybe this is because I feel out of place.
3. I keep diet pills on my desk to remind myself not to eat junk food
4. I never take the pills, I just look at them
5. I was an aspiring anorexic in Junior High and jealous of the girls in magazines who weighed 90 pounds
6. I like golfing 3/4 because I'm decent at it and 1/4 because guys like it that I play
7. I've called in sick with a bad hair day
8. If I could throw out all the papers on my desk and start over, I would
9. I'm a firm believer that ranch dressing tastes good on everything
10. I use the handicap button on doors, partially because I'm too lazy to hold it for the next person but don't want to let it go in their face and partially just because it's there

11. Sometimes I think that I never want children but part of me knows that's probably not true
12. I actually like rain. It's refreshing, peaceful and smells good
13. I hate loud-breathers, low-talkers and whistle-nosers
14. I get random bruises super easily. If someone touches my arm I just might bruise
15. For some reason I kind of like that people assume I'm dumb on first appearances
16. It's sort of satisfying to prove them wrong
17. I'm blonde now but my natural hair color is a dark red-brown
18. I've dyed my hair every hair color possible since I was in Grade six
19. I'm fully fluent in French, pretty rusty at Spanish and trying to get better at Sign Language
20. I've had a poem published but now I hate it

21. I'm the only daughter (out of 4) that loved to cook growing up. My older sister is learning now. Next time I visit I'm making her cook me dinner
22. I hate corn, water chesnuts and milk
23. The thought of drinking a glass of milk makes me want to Vom - I've hated it since I was 12.
24. I was a pseudo-vegetarian for a stretch in my teens
25. I didn't eat a hamburger again until last year, now I eat them all the time.
26. Post Secrets make me cry
27. I've lived with two boyfriends. Both times I felt like I was playing house.
28. I had mono when I was 16 and didn't get out of bed for over a month. I woke up one day and it was a week later then when I'd fallen asleep. My mother had changed my sheets and bathed me in the meantime and I remember nothing.
29. I failed CALM (Career and Life Management) 4 times in High School yet was the only one of my friends to move out at 18, get a job and start real life.
30. I think I could have been on the honor roll if I'd gone to class.

31. I have better than 20/20 vision
32. I spend more than I can afford, and live paycheck to paycheck but have still managed to save up a good amount of money somehow.
33. I have no credit card debt, I cut up 4 credit cards over a year ago when I realized I was getting stupid with them.
34. The only time I like smoking weed is when I'm meticulously cleaning my house - I get super detailed and end up cleaning window sills with toothpicks.
35. I'm very stubborn. When I think my way is right, it is.
36. I hate wearing a wet bikini. My friends joke around when we're on vacation about how often I change into new bikinis but the feeling of wet lycra drives me nuts.
37. I've been in 7 car accidents. Only one was my fault and I was in my driving instructors car when it happened so it wasn't even technically my fault. He got fired, I still feel bad.
38. I have over 70 pairs of shoes and still have trouble deciding which to wear
39. I believe in astrology, but mostly only the ones that you put in your actual birth time, not just the 12 signs.
40. I saw a psychic once - it creeped me out and made me want to learn more at the same time. He predicted a lot but I sometimes wonder if those things happened because I knew they were supposed to or if they were supposed to and he just knew.

41. My parents were going to name me Courtney Dawn but changed thier minds when I was born
42. My real name isn't Alice either
43. I have a scar in my eyebrow from falling on a brick fireplace when I was 8.
44. I have another scar above my eyebrow from falling on the same fireplace when I was 4.
45. I suffer from middle-child syndrome
46. I love poker and have a secret dream that I enter a tournament in Vegas and win.
47. I went from $15,000 in fake money to $485,000 in a few months.
48.I usually win in live games with friends
49. I think it's because I can read people scarily accurately
50. My least favorite chore is vaccuming

51. I had no idea what Craigslist was until this year
52. Sometimes I develop an English accent when I drink
53. I hope I never become my mother
54. My sense of smell is terrible.
55. I miss my dog Hank more then I ever thought it was possible to miss a dog
56. My first job was when I was 15
57. I was a cook who became a trainer by 16
58. The longest I've been away from home is just over two weeks
59. I've traveled to England, Scotland and Cuba
60. I've been to 7 States

61. Once I go on my trip next week I'll have been to every Province in Canada
62. Except Manitoba
63. I was on the Dance Team (cheerleading) in High School
64. I dated the quarterback
65. I'm not making that up
66. My best friend in Grades 3-6 was a kid named Prince
67. In my earliest memory I'm in a stroller by water, I remember what my mom was wearing
68. We went to Niagara falls when I was one year old
69. I'm not sure if this is a memory or a dream
70. My nexy memory is sitting on my dad's shoulders at the Olympic Games tourch lighting ceremony. I was barely 4.

71. I've served Mila Kunis before, and made fun of her for trying to go out the wrong door
72. She laughed at herself and for that I love her
73. I have two kittens
74. Sometimes I'm scared that makes me a crazy cat-lady
75. My first (and only) car was a 1987 Jetta with 395,000 km on her
76. I paid $1100 and sold it to my sisters for $550 after two years
77. She ran for two more years after that
78. I would walk to work but there's a huge homeless shelter by the bridge where I would cross into downtown.
79. I was in Color Guard (flag twirling) for three years and sometimes miss it
80. I will never own a minivan

81. My first name is one of the most common names in the English language
82. My last name is the second most common last name in America
83. I don't think this makes me common
84. My eyes change colors - they are usually green or blue, but can be grey
85. I have one whole closet for dresses and another for skirts
86. Clowns scare the shit out of me
87. Same with sharks
88. My porn name would be Chelsea Beddington (first pet, street I grew up on)
89. My signature is awful
90. So is my writing - it's chicken scratch

91. I can't imagine ever calling someone my Husband
92. I over-ennunciate double t's (button, kitten - they sound like but-ton, kit-tin)
93. I saw a guy almost get curb stomped when I was 17. I went outside to help him, was locked out of my work and they fired me for walking out on shift.
94. I have insomnia
95. I hate smart cars but love mini-Coopers
96. My ex-boyfriend had a church picked out for us to get married in
97. I knew we were never getting married so I just played along
98. I can write with my left hand just as bad as I can write with my right
99. I can't believe how long this took

Monday

Karma Hates Me

Well here we are, Monday morning yet again. Why does Monday get 1/7th of my time? I'd way rather give Saturday half of Monday's time. Can we start a petition for that? Or else just eradicate Mondays all together (although that leaves the problem of Tuesdays - they'll start being the evil day and then we'll have to deal with that. Soon the week will comprise of Friday, Saturday and Sunday but we'll hate every other Friday because it will technically be a Monday).

Moving on, I guess I could tell you about how Saturday I went to Taste of Calgary and flirted shamelessly with one of the guys handing out beers. He was hot so I'm forgiven. Turns out he is friends with Blondie's friend, Trainer. He used to be a trainer too so he's got muscles and height which are a good combination in my eyes. I hate being set up but if we all happen to go out sometime I won't complain. Meaning, we better all go out sometime or I will complain.

Saturday night I had my mother over for dinner. I made portobello mushroom chicken and roasted peppers with a salad. At least the food was pretty good. My mother is very hard to explain so I won't bother trying. I'll just say that after dinner we drank a bottle of wine, a bottle of mojitos, and some coolers.

Frenchie and her sister showed up, because the three of us were going to this housewarming party together. For the first half an hour all was good, my mom was well-behaved although super drunk and trying a little too hard to be funny. When she tries to be funny she ends up being mean.

For example, Frenchie and her sis Pouts, look very young. They are 28 and 30 but look about 18 or 20. My mother started on about them being so cute but then she started talking about how flat-chested Pouts is. I think it was something like Pouts is flat-chested but Frenchie makes up for it in her ass (which is a lovely ass - very J-Lo-esque).

So Frenchie says "I think it's time to go". This was either before or after my mother asked if she could reverse time and have an abortion 24 years ago (that's when I was born). Yes, my mother the comedian. All night the girls were like "hm ya ok, we get it why you get upset about her".

I'm used to it, but it's strange for someone else's mother to be insulting you I would guess.

The housewarming party was good although the cops showed up twice (I had a flashback to High School) and Blondie and I decided cartwheels were fun to do down the street. I have sore arms, neck, legs and back today. Who knew cartwheels hurt so much.

Sunday was spent in the fetal position on the couch with popcorn and water. I did manage to get myself up to go to a movie at the most crowded theatre on earth. Why is it that when you look your worst you run into the people you definitely don't want to see?

I ran into a high school girlfriend, who was all perfectly groomed and dressed. Meanwhile I'm wearing ripped jeans (from the days when that was trendy - circa 2005) and an old Guess sweater with my hair up in a messy bun. Then I ran into HottieMcDoMeNow who I know from the private club I used to work at.

Why oh why wasn't I wearing my new dress? Why didn't I have on some fake eyelashes? Why didn't I brush my hair before leaving the house?

I guess some things we'll just never know.

Sunday

I Lose

I'm sort of freaking out right now. My boss gets back from vacation tomorrow and I need to have two weeks worth of stuff to tell him that I did, when in reality my days went something like this:

8 am - Get coffee
8:14 - Check email, facebook and sign into MSN
8:49 - Read some blogs
11:10 - Refill coffee
11:13 - chat with sister on MSN
11:54 - Write blog entry
12:23 - Lunch
1:09 - Check mail, sign invoices
1:27 - Read some blogs
1:58 - Check on New Girl, make sure she's working and understands stuff
2:14 - Type letter for Land department, fax and send hard copy
3:27 - Check dating website for daily laugh
4:01 - Move papers around on desk to look like progress is being made
4:06 - Chat with sister some more
5:00 - Home time

I have our company golf tournament in three weeks. I have yet to send out the invitations although I'm thinking this might work:

Saturday

Mid-Weekend Correspondence

Dear Homeless Man,

I hope your tap-dancing lessons are going well! I found out today that you have a twin brother, who looks exactly like you. Does he have the same Nike Shox as you? If so, I think I may always think you are the same person. Sorry for the confusion, no wonder you looked at me like I was the crazy one when I asked you if you ever got a new oar.

I saw you and your brother fighting today. It saddened me deeply - family are the most important people in your life. Perhaps you were fighting over a female? Trust me, that blond woman who yells at people on patios and tries to grab their food is not worth a family feud.

Sure, if she stopped doing the crack and brushed her hair a little she could be pretty. If she ate something she could even be quite lovely but I'm sure there are more ladies for you two to deal with?

I thought I'd let you know that that new wave you are doing with your hair? Very Donald-Trumpesque! Dress for success they say! Kudos

Alice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear 50 People From Spain Who Walked Into the Restaurant at MIDNIGHT Last Night,

Hi again, I know you speak 2 words of English (and with the 14 Spanish words I speak it was quite the conversation we had!) but when I say the restaurant is closed at eleven, that generally means that we don't serve 50 people after midnight. Good thing you were very nice and promised to tip me for 50 meals even if not everyone ate.

I understand that your flight was delayed from Spain, however, 9pm is quite a bit earlier then 12pm. Did you know Denny's is open 24 hours? Same with McDonalds! Crazy Canadians and their 24 hour restaurants, I know.

Good thing I made an extra $250 from you, otherwise I'd be pretty pissed that I stayed until 3 am using sign language and broken Spanish. Have a great time here, but promise me; no more midnight rendezvous.

I'm just not that kind of girl.

Alice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Hot Guy Giving Me Free Beer at Taste of Calgary,

What are you doing later?

Alice

Thursday

Of Men and Mice


Okay so really just of men, but hey, semantics right?

So I figured out the perfect places to meet men. I haven't actually tried any of these out but figure in theory they should be fabulous:

1. The Drycleaners

· Pros:

Any man who goes to the drycleaners will probably be bathed and we know he has clean clothes.
He also most likely has a job as dry-cleaning is not cheap. That’s already twice as good as my last boyfriend.

· The problem:
His wife/girlfriend probably sent him.


2. The Farmers Market

· Pros:
Enjoys healthy food
Perhaps a masterful chef
Likes the environment
Cares about quality
May use more than one kind of lettuce when preparing a homemade salad

· Cons:

Frequently says things like “dude…that’s awesome”
Grooming is infrequent at best
Insists on keeping the compost right beside your $650 Prada shoes


3. A Football Game or Other Sporting Event

· Pros:
A man who doesn’t stand for something (even if it’s gro
wn men running around in tights touching each others butts) is a man who will fall for anything.
Men need instant replays in their lives; it helps them remember other important stuff.
Society dictates that men who like sports are hot and masculine. I listen to society dammit.
Also, you get to wear tight fun colored clothing and pretend to care. Men love this, even if you root for the other team:


· Cons:
Men can take their sports very seriously, if you meet an avid fan, be prepared to deal with the consequences. I like watching sports so this is not such a con for me but for some: beware.
Often smell like beer
Will feed you romantic lines such as “Hey, grab me two more”, and “Let’s get huddled before I touchdown”

I’m prepared to test my theories out for the good of all woman-kind. I’ll let you know how it goes.

A Few Observations

While outside yesterday, picketing for the fair treatment of the Goji berry, I realized a few things about my fine city.

1. People in Calgary really like to drink

It doesn't matter if it's Monday or Thursday, if it's nice outside there are a lot of people sitting on the patios, drinking beer and eating dry ribs, nachos or some other deep-fried goodness that goes with beer. I don't just mean the young 20-something trendy crowd, I'm talking about the business men, the retirees and the underagers. They all come together in the spirit of comraderie and getting wasted on a weeknight.

2. Construction workers aren't just looking at your boobs

Ok, Ben - remember how we were saying people don't compliment shoes enough? I swear this happened to me yesterday: I was walking along, minding my business when I passed 4 young construction/landscaper type guys. As I get closer one says: "Hey! Those are hot shoes!" another guy with him is all "Whew, those are sexy!" I'm not kidding. Of course, as I walk away they yell: "Not as sexy as your ass!" Some things never change.

3. Bums don't want money, they just want love (or possibly beer)

There's this one bum (is that PC?) that hangs out around my work. He's the scruffiest looking guy: tall, unshaven, unkempt, wears 50 layers of clothing in the summer and somehow it's all clothing that you'd either find on a young skater-boy or your Grandma, always seems drunk and/or high, looks about 62 but may actually be 26 - you know the type.

Anyway, he has these stories about why he needs money. Yesterday he told me his Porsche ran out of gas and he needed some change to go get a jerrycan. Last week he told me he was saving up money for tap-dancing lessons. Before that it was that his canoe oar snapped and he needed to buy some new wood.

Here's the thing though, I really think he just wants to talk to people. I mean sure, change is great and all but he seems a bit lonely and sad, even though he laughs as he asks you. Yesterday I spent 7 minutes exchanging jokes with him. I know this because I had given myself 10 minutes to get to work and ended up being there 7 minutes late.

After I left, I could hear him laughing to himself down the street. Whether it was the jokes or the voices in his head I couldn't tell you.

Wednesday

A Post About Fruit...Really.

I tried a new fruit this weekend, since I'm always on the lookout for fruits that aren't a huge pain in my ass to prepare*. As I sprint out the door at 7:32 to catch my 7:34 bus I need something efficient and easy - an orange just won't cut it.

This fruit I tried hails from the Himalayan region of Tibet, apparently (although that part of Tibet is dry, cold at night and has basically all the ingredients you don't want when growing fruit - but hey, I believe anything the nice Health Food Store Hippy tells me).

Behold the Tibetan Goji-berry!

Ok, now I just Wiki-pedia'd that to give you all a nice little link and got something about a Wolfberry...what the hell is going on here? Time to get Google involved.

I just uncovered a scandal in the fruit patch! Turns
out those Wolfberry guys are selling their product as Goji berries - and Wikipedia is endorsing this! These poor Tibetan monks spend days blessing the little berries, rumored to make people happy for days (natural Viagra anyone?), and those Wolfberry growers just swarm into the US markets, labeling everything they can get their grubby little hands on as Goji berries.

I am shocked and appalled** but mostly disappointed.

Wasn't that the worst when your parents said that to you? "I'm not mad, just disappointed".
"Sooo...am I allowed to continue smoking pot and drinking your rye on our garage roof, or not?"

Where was I? Oh yes, Goji Berry "Scandal of the Century". That's it I'm starting a not-for-profit group benefiting the Rights of the Goji-Berry. That's right, this is a war on Berry-imitation and I won't stop until all perpetrators are dealt with accordingly, by being forced to eat Wolfberries by the handful. Anti-oxidant? I think not! How do like them Berries?

And to think, this was going to be a post about the nutritional benefits of a fruit. I've found my meaning in life.

*If it involves a knife - it's too much work.
** mainly because I have nothing better to do with my time than look into a scandal involving mostly unheard of berries and some greedy fruit dudes.

Tuesday

Me, Myself and I

I think in total I had 9 hours of sleep this weekend. It was even a long weekend so I had three days to rest and relax, clean my house and get organised for my upcoming trip to the East Coast. Of course, I ended up not getting anything done at all and will now have to come home after working both jobs and clean my house top to bottom since the furnace guys are coming tomorrow (goody).

I won't be home to enjoy the furnace men although I can imagine they are named Larry and Ted, wear pants that are slightly too tight for them and would not be found in any porn movie involving home repairs. At least that's what he sounded like on the phone. Y'all.

This morning, bored and tired at work, I googled myself and found out that I am apparently a photographer, a model, a folk singer, a Doctor (natural health practitioner actually), a video game tester, a news anchor, a member of a womens lacrosse team, a contestant on a popular reality TV show, author/artist, and a nanny. I'm a very busy woman. The good news is that my name is so common that future employers will have a hard time finding any dirt on me via Google.

Either because I'm intrepid and resourceful or sort of a creepy stalker, sometimes I look up the name of the guy(s) I'm interested in on Google. Most times it generates either their Facebook profile or the time it took them to run a marathon and that they came in 357th out of 400. Guess I need to pick some more interesting men.

In other news, I hate when people talk to me in the elevator. Unless you are complimenting my shoes, I don't care about small talk. What the weather is like or how fast the elevator is or what your son is going to name his dog is not a detail I care to discuss with you. I talk to enough strangers every day, I don't need random dude in an elevator to be my new friend. Unless you are gorgeous and on your way to check-in on your multi-million dollar company that you preside over from your home in the Carribbean, feel free to chat. Otherwise just please don't talk to me. It's awkward.

Oh yes, it's my adorable niece's birthday today and she's one year old
Happy birthday Meredith!




Friday

Almost as Bad as Falwless' Blue Post*

Good lord I can't believe I'm admitting this. Ok, I signed up on a dating website - yes I know sad right? It seems to be the thing to do lately, so after several friends signed up they convinced me that it was a "fun!" and "interesting!" thing to do. So I did.

I am sort of seeing O/N but I've learned to never put all your eggs in one basket (or is it counts your chickens before they hatch? One of the cliched, overused terms fits here I'm sure).

So far I've had Great Success (like Borat). If great success means a bunch of douche bags email with such witty repartee as: "Hey babe wanna msg me?" and "your hot lets met". There was also this gem in my mail box this morning: "hey lookin for a little love just somethin on the side summer fun" from a married fellow with a picture of his 6 pack looking slightly deteriorated.

I don't know about you but I love being the little somethin on the side for summer love. I'm sure his wife approves too.

The reason I joined was to avoid douche-baggery and cheesy pickup lines at the bar - is that too much to ask? Also, to have a good laugh at all the stupid idiots out there who really think emailing a girl three words (hottie lets chat) is going to render her quivery with desire and immediately she'll respond with a "your place or mine?". Obviously it must work for some guys or they wouldn't all still be doing it.

I don't think the whole internet dating thing is for me. I guess I'll stick to meeting guys at the bar, drooling on their sleeves while trying to shove a drink in my hands and incoherently mumbling sweet-nothings at my cleavage. Isn't that how everyone found the man of their dreams?

*Laugh at
Falwless' Blue Post Here