So a weird thing happened at a shop I worked at the other day. A guy asked me if peanut butter was gluten free and as with most questions, I counted to three to suppress my snarky comment and create an appropriate answer instead. I replied that, in general, pb was gf and that I considered myself a celiac and I definitely ate peanut butter. At the moment I cold him I was celiac he turned on his heal to look at me with this giant grin on his face. He walked over and tried to make some flirty small talk about gluten. And I thought, what’s going on here. Is he…? Omg I have heard of a lot of creepy fetishes but I think this guy gets off on celiacs?! What. The. Fuck. Nothing says sexy small talk like discussing gluten induced bloating, cramping and diarrhea. I pictured, instead of Christian Mingle, J Date and Dharma Match there would soon be Veggie Match, Lactose Intolerant Lovers and Celiac Singles (because apparently in my head religion is the same as diet?). Celiac singles, where the most annoying restaurant goers can come together, accidentally eat a cracker, bloat, fart and then eventually violently eliminate with a partner! Celiac singles, find your gluten intolerant mate who understands how stressful the subject of oats truly can be. Anyways, the whole thing stressed me out that the guy found my sad and angry gut a turn on. Move along creeper, I won’t even tell you my dairy issues, it might push you over the edge.

Well I just realized that this year it’s the last season of Mad Men, Californication and above all, Sons of Anarchy. I told Hennie there was no reason to live past this year. All the fun in the world will have stopped. A life without Don Draper, Hank Moodie and Jax?! And no JOAN & JEMMA? My female tv heroes?? Fuck it. My enjoyment in life was coming to an abrupt and stressful halt. What’s the point. Hennie shook his head and left the room. Thank you for the support in my time of need.

There is a guy at the gym that wears those weird muscle shirts that look more like pinnies (those stupid disgusting plastic vests you had to wear in gym classes). Where the whole side of the body is exposed and when standing sideways, nipples can be seen. I don’t know why it stressed me out so much to see man nipple but I nearly fell off my treadmill. I wanted to tell the guy his choice of shirt had offended me and unless he was planning on doing some breastfeeding at the gym, I wasn’t sure why I needed to see his nips at all.

We had a date day again, sushi again, beer again. The server was not very happy to be working on Good Friday it seemed. Hennie and I tried to kill her with kindness to lighten her mood. At one point when she delivered another order of yam tempura rolls to us, Hennie was so excited that he sang thank you with a long extended note at the end. She left and he looked at me and said, I sing to her and still no smiles? Yikes. I mentioned to Hennie that I was annoyed with all the Buzzfeed quizzes that were coming out but still felt compelled to take some of them. I took which SNL character I was and got Will Ferrell which is not what I expected. I always saw myself much more as a Tina Fey or Mike Myers sort. Hennie said they were all stupid. Soon they would have what kind of fart are you? Silent a deadly? Tily-a-whirl? Wet? At this point I choked and told him maybe he should lower his voice slightly. People were eating. As we were driving home, the David Guetta/Usher song called Without You came on. Hennie turned it up and said that this song reminded him of me, sweetly. I looked at him and said this song reminded me of Usher and he was super hot.

I decided to buy my first ever “Women’s Health” magazine. What a waste of $5.99, seriously. I thought maybe there would be some motivating articles and some new killer exercises I would get excited about. But no. There were reader questions like “I’m sleeping with a guy who is vocal about his fantasies, but when we get into bed, he never follows through. What gives?” When I read that I was pretty sure that was not an actual question sent in by an actual reader but a stupid question that the writer put in so he could talk about indulging his own fantasies. On another page there were diagrams for which sex positions are best for the penis size you were dealing with. I was like what? That’s a thing? Wow, I just learned something. The “Sex Secret” pages were just filled with hilarity. How many erections do men get a day? The uncut truth about circumcision. Which states sell the biggest condoms and which ones sell the smallest. (Spoiler-apparently all my single friends should be traveling to North Dakota, South Dakota and Rhode Island). And my fave, how many drinks does it take before your penis stops working? It was so golden! And I thought, I will never ever buy this fucking magazine again. What a shitty, shitty rag. But my favourite article was this, in big letters it said GET OUSTIDE!! The letters were against a beautiful backdrop of blue sky and mountains. And then right underneath it said #GetOutside on Twitter! And there we go. Way to kill the message. Go outside but tweet about it while you do it. Argh! I usually don’t believe in regrets but I wish I had not bought this magazine and had instead bought the Star that was a tell all about how fucked up Angelina Jolie’s family was…and how she apparently does underwater screaming therapy. That would have been WAY BETTER then this shit.

Thanks to sodahead.com for the image;)

The Chapters in Kanata has become a pretty intense place to go these days. It used to be a fun place to wander around, check out the books, over priced mugs, ridiculous pillows, magnets, pencils and other shit-I-don’t-need. And it used to be fun. But I noticed recently they have switched to a high pressure sales tactic which is most annoying. The first time I noticed I had three people ask me how I was doing and excitedly tell me that the throws and pillows were 20% off!! I don’t know what a throw is and judging by the fact I am homeless, I doubt I need one, even if it is on sale. So the next time I went I felt like I was playing Pacman or Frogger trying to get the the back bathrooms without being accosted by a terribly friendly sales person. Head down, no eye contact, SPOTTED ON THE LEFT, make a quick right, through the kids section and hazaaa bathroom!

So I’m sure only my family finds emergency phone calls about things at the Hub totally normal. I was at work the other day and on my break I popped onto Facebook. I noticed they were having an auction and one item immediately caught my eye. I had to have it. I wasn’t going home without it. The auction ended in a few hours and I was stuck at work so I called my Mom in a panic. “Are you coming into town? Maybe? Well can you come into town? It’s an emergency. There is a pipe stand with three pipes in it and a tobacco jar up for auction at the Hub. The auction closes at three, please hurry!!” My Mother replied, “Is this to use for drugs?” No Mom, god. I don’t think I would send my happily Christian Mother to the local second hand shop because I was running low on crack pipes or maybe I had just broke my bong. Noooo! It’s for when I have a place, if anyone wants to have a serious conversation with me it is imperative that we both are holding pipes. That is all. I picture Rob and I discussing things over fake pipes every day! I NEED THEM! Mom PLEASE!!! Needless to say my Mom didn’t quite get it but it is never too hard to convince her to go to the Hub. So in the end…I am the proud owner or a pipe rack with pipes in it, weeeee!! My life is practically complete!

Hennie and I, for the first time ever in the history of a long time, both had a day off together last Sunday. When we realized such an auspicious occasion had presented itself to us we planned to have a Date Day! Hennie was immediately worried about how it would all play out when on the morning of DATE DAY 2014 I kept singing “We are on a date day, No, we’re on a date day!” to Twisted Sister’s We’re Not Gonna Take It over and over until he begged me to stop. We went up there to the Union Hall like every other person in a 10 mile radius and ate an uncomfortable amount of pancakes, with full sticks of butter and local maple syrup. We sat amongst our neighbours, our friends and people who wore overalls with a giant wooden necklace around their neck that read Glen. It was so much fucking fun. Plus I hadn’t imbibed in pancakes for months but today, on DATE DAY, I would allow myself to eat whatever the hell I wanted! If Farmer Glen could, so could I! We then shopped around some health food stores in Ottawa, another one of our favourite things to do together, followed by going to an action flick that once again, turned out to be terrible. It was doomed from the beginning when I said we should go to the Coliseum because it’s cheaper and when we got there we realized it was 3D and twice as expensive. And I totally hate 3D! The glasses don’t fit over my actual glasses and I can’t focus properly and always by the end I have a headache because for the past 2 hours my eyes have been going, what the fuck is with the second pair of fucking glasses? We don’t get it? Anyways, Need For Speed, not good, some nice cars, but not good, like at all. Like don’t bother. Anyways, we finished up our DATE DAY by eating a ton of sushi and drinking Sapporo beer. I had no idea Hennie had a sushi addiction until this day. I think he ordered about 4 servings of sweet potato tempura rolls and wanted to order another million. I had to have an intervention with him at the table in order to leave. But yay DATE DAY, what a success!! I don’t have any days off until maybe Easter so this may never, ever happen again.

So I just saw the Conservatives commercial that is an attack ad on Justin Trudeau and I swear, I was by no means a fan, but the more people point out this dudes flaws the more he is growing on me. He apparently dropped the f-bomb recently (we are already best friends) and then in the attack ad they show him doing a striptease. I was like ya Justin is a douchebag…oh wait a second, wow, is he stripping, yup got my attention, he is pretty hot. And he swears you say? Well, I think I have some serious political thinking to do.

Doesn’t it feel weird to walk outside, take a big whiff or fresh air and get really excited that it smells like garbage and shit? I smelled poo the other day while walking to the car and I almost started crying! Weee shit equals spring! Bring on the sweet fecal scent that is Spring!!!