Alice's Top Ten Excuses

Apparently Eden is giving a prize to the blogger with the best lie excuse for why they've missed a day (or twelve) in the NaBloPoMo writing challenge. Without further ado, here is:

Alice's Top Ten Excuses
(or: Why She Didn't Post 30 Times)

10. She locked herself out of her house for the weekend and stayed at a friends who is apparently against technology and doesn't own a computer

9. Momma's gotta pay the bills and with this economic crisis that could mean up to fourteen hours a day on that street corner

8. A pack of wild ex-suburban animals were on the loose and chased her into a tree where she was forced to exist solely off fruit and bark for days

7. Had to decide if her shoe racks looked better organized by color or by style. Organized and reorganized until satisfied with overall appearance of said racks

6. Hills Marathon. Need I say more?

5. Every package of chicken noodle soup in the house suddenly looked extremely appealing. She tested the theory by cooking and eating every last one

4. Her special friend got home from a business trip and they had some "special business" to take care of

3. Decided it was time to do laundry after realizing she had been sleeping three feet over from where her bed actually stands

2. She set half the clocks in her house ahead an hour and the other half back an hour for Daylight Savings and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum loop, reliving Sunday. She was able to exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly e*log(pi) clocks in the house. Accordingly, her post was too late, or early.

1. Her cat ate her mouse

Sicky

I've been a very bad blogger this week, I know. The truth is, I've been really sick (loving the strep throat feeling in my throat) and still going to work because otherwise I can't afford rent. Damn this not-on-salary job. Therefore, when I get home I am entirely too exhausted to be creative.

Chicken noodle soup has never tasted so good my friends.

Here's a roundup of the latest goings-on in Average-Land:

Blondie got a boyfriend - her and one of the BPBBs hooked up and are now dating "exclusively" though I've yet to see her wearing his letter jacket. He's an awesome guy but he gets really jealous and I'm not liking that aspect of it. For example, after work there's a little pub we all hang out at for a drink to de-stress. Now her boy, Hyper, started a new job recently and has been training and stuff for it so he isn't out partying as much as he was a month or two ago.

When she calls him from this pub he acts mad that she's out. He knows everyone we work with so he should know there's no worries there but anyway, he even made her cry the other day because he said she obviously still wanted to go out partying all the time and didn't want a boyfriend.

We literally go to this pub for one or two drinks almost every night after work. No one is swinging from chandeliers, no one is having sex on the pool tables - it's pretty tame. It's relaxing, we hang out, everyone heads home.

We'll see how this works out. Maybe I kinda feel that way too because I hardly see her anymore. We work opposite schedules now (which is strange) and when she has a night off, she's usually with Hyper. Oh well, the honeymoon phase, right?

Also, I did it, I took the plunge and dyed my hair brown. My hairdresser was very excited, because it's different for me to have normal hair. She said "I love how you're getting so adventurous!" to which I laughed and replied: "funny that for me brunette is adventurous. Never mind all the shades of red, blonde and combinations I've had".

It's called Mediterranean or something and I think I like it. Not sure yet, but as soon as I have a picture (camera still not back from the shop, wtf?) I'll post it. It's something different anyway, right?

Alright, back to the couch to load up on soup and Vitamin C before heading off to work, at least I have tomorrow off

All Aboard the Sunshine Express

Well that about wraps up emo-week in Average-Land, hope you enjoyed your stay! That's right kids, turn off that Moss Icon, put down the knife and crawl out of bed; we're back on the happy-train.

So since I've been having such great luck over on one dating site, I signed up for another. They emailed me about 6 times telling me I could have a free trial for the weekend (I guess I smell like desperation even through the internets). So I filled out the survey and jumped on in.

With the free trial I can review other peoples profiles but until I pay money I can't see their pictures. I can also start a "Guided Communication" with someone or answer questions that they've asked "potential matches".

So now, instead of being able to be judgmental and weed guys out based on if their picture is just their stomach taken by themselves in a mirror (WHY do guys feel like that's a good profile picture?) I have to actually go through the profile. And we all know how honest people are on those.

Why yes, in my spare time I enjoy dissecting Weber, or listening to Vivaldi while organizing my spice-rack alphabetically, maybe traveling around the world in a week and painting Dali-inspired masterpieces. Did I mention my love of children and small animals? Can I tell you how beautiful your eyes are?

Wait let me just grab my vom bucket.

So I've been filling out "communication surveys" for the last hour. It's actually kind of addicting in some sort of weird narcissistic way.

There does seem to be a lot more to go through when you pay to use a site but I can't wrap my head around paying a couple hundred bucks to get more "hey baby" emails. I'll just have to see how this free trial goes...



Sorry about all the snarky quotation marks. I can't seem to help myself.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...

It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Post Secrets

In the darkened room I could feel his breath, so close it made me shiver. I was already cold enough. I had come in here looking for a sweater. I sat at the very edge of the bed. Naively waiting for him to find me a sweater. Instead he found me.

He had been trying to kiss me all night. I had been pushing him away. It's hard to push a man that is ten years older, and a good hundred pounds heavier then you but I tried. My boyfriend was at home. Studying.

I tried to tell my friends I didn't want to come here, didn't care about impressing the older guys. I had snuck out, my parents don't know where I was or that I was even gone. We had gone to the bar, my friend had run into these guys her sister knew and now here we were at their house.

My friends conveniently disappeared with two guys, leaving me with the ex-bouncer. We played pool, I tried to be standoffish. I tried to tell him about my boyfriend. He didn't care, he thought it was all a game.

Now here I am in his room. I feebly ask if he's found me a sweater. The lights go out. I remember the bay window, the wooden slats letting in the faintest light. I remember wondering how it had ended up like this. I stood up. I tried to walk away.

He was too fast, he was too strong. I was nothing against him. Trying to pull my jeans up, trying to fend him off, tears rolling down my face but I couldn't bring myself to yell, to scream and hit him. He could have killed me with one hand.

Finally a knock at the door. I grabbed my clothes and wiped my eyes. I calmly went to the living room. I didn't say a word. I hated him. I hated them. I hated myself.

I was seventeen years old.

Reading is Sexy

I got tagged in a meme by the wonderful PJ over at It is What it is, Sometimes and since November seems to ironically be "The Month of No Thoughts" I hereby present to you: Reading is Sexy



Rules: Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 46. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The closest book, not the coolest, or the one you think will sound the best. THE CLOSEST.

Luckily I keep a hefty novel next to my computer at all times*

"I tell you what," I said. "Do you give him all the books"
"Yes, all of them."
"As my own gift?"
"Yes, as your own gift?"
"As my gift alone?"
"Yes, as your gift alone."
Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to understand me.

From Fyodor Dostoevsky's Poor Folk


So I'm going to pass this on to:

Attached Mama
Lydia
Tova Darling
Essentially Me
Carmen


*since being nominated

More FAILures

I locked myself out of my house this weekend. The door handle has a lock on it and if you hit it the wrong way it locks. Neither my landlord nor I have a key to this particular lock, I only use my deadbolt.

Luckily she can get to the back door from inside her place.

Unluckily she was out of town for the weekend.

FAIL

Needless to say, I had an interesting day Saturday killing time before heading to a friends birthday that night. I ate lunch at one restaurant, got coffee and sat for two hours, ate supper at a different restaurant, went downtown and had a few drinks with some friends who happened to be at the pub and finally hopped the train down to my friends house.

My friend who does not have a computer at home. There went my NaBloPoMo dreams.

FAIL

I stayed at her house last night and we all went for brunch this morning. We declared today as "slit-your-wrist Sunday" because every single song on the radio was emo-inspired. That and we were hung over from the piss water "champagne" graciously provided to us by the bar. The bar that is called Snatch.

They may as well just call the bar Vagina and stop with the clever euphemisms.

This is the type of place that when you're standing in line to use the ATM, some guy starts talking to you and when you reply, he says (verbatim) "sorry I uh...wasn't listening. I got distracted," while staring at your boobs. "So uh, can I buy you a drink?"

Oh gosh, really? So I can perpetuate every guys ideas of girls at bars? You know why don't I just take my dress off right now?

Ya, no thanks, I'll pass.

Pickup line FAIL

Anyway, this morning at brunch I ordered a Bailey's and coffee (a little hair of the dog). Blondie turns to the waitress and says:

"Ummm, I'll get a Baileys and coffee too...but can you hold the Baileys?"

Drivers Ed

I feel like today is going to be the bane of my NaNoWriMo days. I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. I guess I'll settle for an entertaining little story about me learning to drive.

In Calgary you can get your learners at 14 years old. I decided I didn't care about driving so I didn't take lessons or anything. I didn't even have my learners until I was 16 or maybe even 17. Finally in grade twelve I decided I should probably get a license. My parents enrolled me in AMA Drivers Ed and off I went to the classroom sessions.

Everything was all fine and good, I made a new friend from California who only ate dried seaweed and sesame seed crackers (true). I forget her name but we had an awesome time drawing posters and diagrams in class.

Then it was time to start the car training. The doorbell rings and I'm expecting this old guy with a mullet or something. Turns out it's this young, really cute guy. My dad called him the Backstreet Boy, as in:

"When's the Backstreet Boy coming for your lessons?"

"What can the Backstreet Boy possibly know about driving? He's barely 18 himself"

Turns out he was 19. His dad was high up in AMA and therefore he got the job (nepotism anyone?) I didn't mind, I thought he was cute. Plus he let me drink coffee in my training. Apparently you aren't supposed to do anything else but drive...boring!

Mostly my lessons were good, he was really random with the driving - for instance one day he said he forgot something at home so we drove to his place to grab whatever it was (I'll never know).

One day as we were just starting our lesson for the day, he had picked me up at school and I was turning left out of the parking lot.

** BAM **

Yup, I hit another car. A minivan to be exact, with a family of Chinese people who spoke absolutely no English whatsoever.

The police were called, the witnesses (my whole school - awesome) gave statements and the damage was eventually tallied.

$8,000 worth of damages to the Driver's Ed car and the van, one unsafe left turn ticket and 2 demerit points later...well seeing as how I had no license to put the points on and no insurance to charge the damage to, AMA had to pay the cost of the whole incident - ticket and everything. This is the only documented accident in all of AMA history for a Drivers Ed course.

I've been in one accident that was my fault in my life and apparently since the Backstreet Boy had his own brake it was technically his fault.

He was fired. I got my license three weeks later.

Rush Hour

First of all why the hell is it called Rush Hour when there are so many damn cars that you can't move at a snails pace, let alone rush?

I got off work and decided taking a stupid cab home was a good idea since it's cold and I'm lazy. Normally a cab costs me $10 including a $2 tip, from anywhere downtown. I take cabs maybe 3 times a week - if I work late, if I go out or if I'm really lazy.

In my mind this is equivalent to owning a car, probably even a lot cheaper. Once you factor in gas, insurance and the price of parking downtown Calgary ($475 a month if you're lucky or $20-$30 a day in most parkades) I'm actually saving money.

I haven't taken a cab during rush hour before and now I know why:



Please note the road closure, buses, pedestrians and fucking cranes in the detour we had to take and the extra $7 not even including tip yet that I had to fork over today.

Okay so it's not a large amount of money but it's almost twice what I normally pay and it took an extra 20 minutes to get home! For three blocks detour! When it normally takes 5 minutes and you're sitting in a cab almost fifteen minutes later, three blocks from your departure point, I can tell you, you are kicking your own ass for being so stupid.

I think I'd rip my hair out if I lived in LA.

Or Not

So on second thought posting pictures of other people is risky to the max when you don't want to become non-anon. Even if they are headless and shirtless someone might recognize them and be all like "Hey I saw you on Alice's Blog!?" and they'll be all like "What blog?" and then it'll go down the shitter from there.

I'm supposed to go out for some beverages tonight and I can't decide if I'm too lazy. I just told my friend I would come meet her though, like 4 seconds ago, so my decision is made I guess.

Random Convo Change (RCC): I got this package in the mail from Lula Dahl

These slippers are so amazingly adorable. They fit perfectly and I love them so thanks a million! Check her stuff out, I want to get an apron for my niece - seriously cute stuff.

Okay, off to drink away my sorrows...this quarter-life crisis shit is tough

My Memory Eludes Me

Last weekend Blondie and I headed to Hiker's place for dinner and wine. This seems to be a usual occurrence lately. For some reason I decided to drink white wine (probably because someone had left it in my fridge the week before and I was too lazy to walk to the liquor store for something else).

We ended up drinking three bottles between the three of us as well as a bottle (or two) of Smirnoff Mojitos. This is when we decided heading to the lounge where our old manager works would be a great idea. Blondie used to work at this particular place and as frequent visitors we know half the staff. I had been to a staff party in the summer and met a bouncer, we'll call him B, who was charming and sweet in that really shy way and as a bouncer he has great arms. I'm a total sucker for nice arms.

Not sure what's with me and the shy guys lately (speaking of which, Shy is back up North on the rigs so I won't be seeing him for a while) but anyway, we chatted a bit at this hot tub party and that was it. He added me on Facebook afterward and sent me an email which I never replied to because I was working two jobs and was a stressed out basket-case.

Maybe it was the booze or because I'm such a dork, but I wore my wig out. It is pretty realistic (which it should be - it was expensive!) so I wasn't really worried about people knowing it was fake. Sure enough I got a few "Wow! Great hair!" comments from some of the staff.

So we're sitting at a table when this really cute guy walks up to me and says: "Hey Alice! Long time no see, how are you?" and I'm basically stunned that he recognized me; in my wig, with different friends, in winter(ish) clothing when I had met him before for literally half an hour, four months ago.

Well, B wanted to chat so we went outside for a cigarette (me) and conversation (him) while I tried to apologize for being drunk as I stepped on his toes. Classy broad, party of one? Your table is ready.

Anyway I vaguely remember setting a date to go for coffee. Sure enough today he messaged me on Facebook asking how the rest of my night was. Thank god he didn't see how the rest of my night was because it involved me lighting a cigarette in the bar in one of those long beatnik cigarette holders and getting told off by a bouncer, singing a song to Blondie which she is still making fun of me for and sloppily eating Thai Tai at the end of the night.

Come to think of it, maybe a guy with a great memory isn't such a good thing? I guess I'll find out, if only I could remember when I'm supposed to meet him for coffee.

The Coffee Shop

I take a sip of my cinnamon flavored latte. The sickly sweetness of the syrup offset by the rich bitterness of the dark espresso. Luckily my favorite chair, by the fireplace, is vacant. The ultra-suede still slightly imprinted with the shape of it's last occupant. As I remove my gloves and toss my jacket carelessly across one of the arms, I catch the eye of one of the girls at the next table over. She gives me the quick smile of one stranger acknowledging another and continues chatting with her friend.

I tuck my feet up under myself and open my book. The guy beside me is engrossed in a copy of Orwell's 1984. He casually sips his Styrofoam-encased coffee while idly turning a page. With a gust of cold air the door opens and a young girl joins him at his table. Her enthusiasm is a deep contrast to his relaxed demeanor. She tells him of her band practice for church, her plans for her next years education including a semester abroad and maybe a mission in the summer, if she can find an internship first, to pay for all the incidentals. Her speech is peppered with interjections (such as "like"), making it hard to concentrate on the meaning of her sentences.

I smile and think of a recent conversation with a good friend, worrying about her vocabulary. "I need to work on my vernacular," she laughed, "I mean, I still say "like" and I'm doing my masters in Sociology. Maybe I should enroll in English 0130."

There's a man typing away on his laptop, barely audible over the coffee house music, a pacifying blend of piano chords and string instruments. His glasses are neatly folded and placed on a book beside him. Every so often he gets up for a cigarette, for a refill, for a bathroom break. The intensity with which he is concentrating on his screen reminds me of my boss filling his financial reports and I imagine this man is doing the same.

A girl heaves into a chair across the room, sighing loudly as she places her text book down. I recognize her as the girl who made my latte. She works here a few days a week while she's in University studying chemistry, economics or perhaps philosophy. The free coffee and quiet place to study almost make up for the endless parade of odd people she deals with on a daily basis.

I pull my gloves and jacket on, in preparation for the chill that awaits me outside. It's not yet snowing though there's the feeling of snow in the air. The quiet, crisp cold and lack of clouds almost guarantee the morning will bring the brightness of a new snow. I adjust my jacket and step outside, the soft chords following me as I make my way up the street, back home.

My New Show

After seeing previews for both CSI:Miami and CSI:New York and also CSI:Your House oh and can't forget the newest member: NCSI, I decided that I'm also starting a show that deals with criminals, murderers, detectives with swagger and uber-smart yet still ultra sexy lab technicians.

Yup, it'll be a carbon copy

I'm calling it [SIC]

Random Thought

If men can run the world, why can't they stop wearing neckties? How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck?

Why Blog?

I was at The Restaurant today and realized I hadn't yet posted for the day which would equal a giant FAIL in the daily posting challenge.

Firstly thanks to everyone who commented yesterday. It actually makes me feel a hundred times better about everything. I can't believe I only recently discovered blogging, it's such a great outlet and it really is a way to get everything you're feeling out, have people non-judgmentally comment on it and relate to what you're saying. Thank you, I love you all!

I was thinking today about the reasons I started blogging. I've always liked writing but keeping a journal isn't really satisfactory. Don't get me wrong, I still have one, but it's more for the small things I think about, those times when you're having a quasi-emotional breakdown and need to just write and write even if later on it makes no sense.

I discovered how big blogs are when I was idly searching the internet for something to do with being an assistant (which I no longer am) and stumbled across this post. Before that I didn't really even realize that it was a whole huge community or that people read and commented like they do.

Obviously now I see that it's so much bigger then that, but that day in my office I literally sat and read from beginning to end. After clinking on links like crazy I realized that it was something I really wanted to try, and now I'm so glad I have!

I always wonder how everyone else got started...

Ups and Downs

Yesterday I had the strangest day ever. I woke up around 8:30 am and after laying in bed for ten minutes debating getting out of bed or knocking back some more cold medicine, my phone rang.

It was my mother who was calling to discuss our dinner plans for the evening and also to inform me that she's filing for divorce from my dad. They've been married for 27 years. Now, we all have seen this coming for a long time.

Knowing somethings going to probably happen (for ten years) and it actually happening are different though. I actually wish they'd done it long ago so they could have both moved on by now. Word to the wise: there's no point staying in a loveless marriage for the sake of your kids. They can tell that's what you're doing.

Anyway, I got off the phone and headed to work. I went to get breakfast at this little store and realized I didn't have my cash on me and my debit card is being a little bitch (it'll only work in ATMs) so I told the guy I'd be right back for my BLT Bagel and Latte.

I ran to the Restaurant to grab cash but when I headed back over to the breakfast place, the guy told me someone had already paid for it for me. I guess someone felt the need to up their Karma and chose me to do it for.

Whoever you are, thank-you! I really needed that.

Photographic Smorgasborg

A picture says a thousand words so this post is worth like 8,000

The One In Which I'm Alice

Okay folks, so trying to do both NaNoWriMo (writing 50,000 words in one month - as in: a novel) and also doing NaBloPoMo (one post per day for the entire month) is a fucking challenge. What the hell are these people thinking making both things in the same month?!

I started writing one story but then my characters started fighting, I got frustrated and ripped it up so I started again today and so far I have just under 1,000 words. Therefore I have 26 days to write 49,000 more. Good Lord.

I am plodding through, though I must apologize if the quality of my posts takes a drastic downward plunge for the month. Forgive me in advance (or I'll have to come after you).

Without further ado, here are some pictures of my Saturday night Halloween party - the girls I was with Friday night haven't uploaded any yet, when they finally do I'll have pictures of Blondie, Curly, Hiker and I.

















So here's Frenchie and I. I was Alice in Wonderland (I'm so clever) and her and PA went as MarkAntony and Cleopatra. PA made their costumes and they were great. I have 8 layers of crinoline on so I was telling people I was Alice as she's falling down the rabbit hole.



Here's PA and I. He used an old suede jacket for the skirt and shin-pads. Those gold medallions are actually a gold plastic plate that he cut and glued and his helmet is a construction hat with the end of a broom attached. He's crafty like that.



We had a hula hooping contest (which I couldn't participate in due to the aforementioned layers of crinoline) but the lovely hostess was pretty amazing at it:






















All in all the party was a ton of fun and exactly what I needed after the crazy Friday we had.

Clockwise from Alice: Safty [sic] Stud Earl, Pirate, Construction Girl, Mark Antony, Cleopatra, Safty Inspectir [sic] Cleatus

Drastically Dysfunctional

You know how people jokingly say that they're such a dysfunctional couple? I met the most dysfunctional couple on earth on Saturday night.

See, Frenchie, her husband PA, and I went to a Halloween party at a friends house who I haven't seen in over a year. She's this fabulous artsy girl who takes lessons in things like Hula Hooping and Salsa Dancing. She made her own costume, a unicorn, which consisted of a skintight leotard, a tail, horn etc. it was super cute.

We were having a good time once the initial awkwardness that you inevitably feel at a social gathering where you know exactly 4 people wore off. Everyone was really friendly and lots of people didn't know each other so it was nice.

One girl (she was dressed as a school girl so that's her name now) came and sat by Frenchie and I, chatting for about ten minutes. When she left Frenchie turned to me and said: "That chick had her boob pressed up against me that whole time," we giggled a little and forgot about it.

Later on, school-girl was sitting on James Bond's lap, holding his hand and everything so we figured they were a couple. That was until two seconds later she jumped up and grabbed the Mormon's hand and started slow dancing all sexy with him.

We were very confused but thought "maybe she's just friendly"

Outside Frenchie and PA were giving each other a hard time because PA is the one who cares about details - for their wedding he took care of figuring out decorations and food while she basically rolled her eyes at him. Someone called them dysfunctional and that's when it came out.

Bond says: "well, my wife is in there making out with the Mormon!"




Wait, what?

Then the clincher: later on James Bond tells us he's gay. Okay guys, you win.

Warranty = Waste

Apparently it's NaBloPoMoDoSoCoBro month or something so I'm supposed to post every day. I WAS going to post a Halloween picture today but my friends are lazy and haven't uploaded them to the Facebooks for me to steal yet. C'mon people, everything loses relevancy in under 3 days in the land of the innernets.

My camera is broken. It broke right before Blondie and I headed to PEI (of course) which was months ago now. I brought it into the store and they sent it into the shop after informing me it would be $75 even though I bought the stupid warranty.

Apparently it doesn't cover scratched lenses. What it does cover? It seems they aren't sure.

Anyway, my camera has mysteriously never returned from the "shop". I'll be calling tomorrow to give them a piece of my mind. If they aren't supremely helpful and apologetic I'll be writing a very stern letter and sharing it with the innernets in hopes of them sending me free stuff. Like a camera.

Happy 100th & A Ghost Story

Apparently I've posted 99 times on this here blog of mine, making this my 100th post. I feel like I should break out the diapers and Metamucil, but instead I'll raise my prune juice in a toast to the whole blogging world. Seriously, I just found out about this shit like 4 or 5 months ago and here I am celebrating 100 posts. It's enough to bring a tear to my eye.

So in honor of my birthday (?) I'll post links to my favorite 100 posts



Just kidding, I'm far too lazy for that. I do have a ghost story though (yeah I know, Halloween is so yesterday - whatever).


My dad's dad died when my dad was only 19 years old. He was a train engineer and was involved in a crash when all the lights of the train went out and two trains collided. My parents met when my dad was 28 so obviously my mom never met his dad. My sister Dizzy was born June 2nd 1982. This is all relevant, swearsies.

My mom and dad had brought Dizzy home from the hospital and were soundly sleeping a few days later when the baby began crying. My mother threw on her robe and padded down the hall to soothe her. She decided to head downstairs and sit in the rocking chair while she nursed Dizzy.

Suddenly she heard a knock on the door. It was 2 in the morning in the middle of June but when she opened the door there was a man standing there dressed all in white and a blizzard raged on behind him. My mother said he looked like the Glad man. He told her he had come to see his grandaughter so she let him in.

She made them tea, let him hold the baby, all the while thinking she was in the middle of a very strange dream. Eventually she went back upstairs to bed.

In the morning she went downstairs to find the half empty teapot, two teacups in the sink and a layer of snow on the ground.*



* contrary to popular belief it is NOT normal for it to snow in June here. If you look at weather records however, there was a snowstorm in June 1982. When my mother described the man to my father, he said: "that's my dad!".