Hennie passed is his Citizenship test!! With absolutely no help from me. One night his friend was over and a few of us were in the living room drinking beer. We decided now was a great time to start quizzing Hennie on his knowledge. What’s the capital of Saskatchewan? It’s Saskatoon I yelled. My roommate tells us it’s Regina. What’s the capital of BC? Vancouver I yelled! His friend says Victoria. Capital of Alberta? Someone yells Calgary. Turns out it’s Edmonton. Who is our Governor General? His friend says, it’s a woman and I say, please tell me you are not talking about Adrienne Clarkson. He says no the Haitian lady, oh yes Michaelle Jean. Nope not her. No one in the room knew. It’s David Johnston in case you were wondering. So we decided we were in no way qualified to help Hennie study for his test, that night or ever. Even last week, Hennie would ask me, as I walked past his studying nook, Do you know who Laura Secord is? Dr. Penfield? Bombardier? I, with confidence, would impart my Canadian knowledge graciously…Laura Secord=ice cream, chocolate, take me to Fitzgibbons, she had some info or something. Dr. Penfield? I smell burnt toast!! Something, something brain something. Bombarder, snowmobiles – is that really on the test? Despite my failure as a Canadian citizen, my husband aced his test.

We went to see Gone Girl. And honestly, how does that movie become marketed as a date movie?! It’s stressful. I had read the book and knew what was coming but apparently no one else did. I will NEVER go see a psychological thriller, if you can even call it that, in a theatre ever again. I was surrounded by people that weren’t sure what was going on in the movie and needed to talk it out with their neighbours. In a theatre! I kept passive aggressively turning around at the ladies behind me who had to have a meeting every time the movie took a turn. The old couple beside me probably couldn’t hear anything and therefore kept asking each other if possibly the other person had heard the line. And the lady a few rows up from me got bored somewhere in the middle, takes out her phone and starts texting everyone she knows that she is watching a movie. Good God. At the end of the movie I grabbed my purse, stood up and said rather loudly that I couldn’t believe all the fucktards in that theatre that had to discuss the movie out loud. Had no one read the book?? Does no one read anymore?? It was a bestseller for like ever!! And if you are so stressed by movies like this, you should have never come! No one needs the loud comments by the Housewives of Nepean sitting behind me “This is intense!” “Do you think he knew that this was happening” or “This is crazy, I can’t believe this.” How about, shut the fuck up this is a movie and you are killing the theatre buzz for me. I guess I’m the opposite of my Dad in this way. He yells out whatever he feels like during a movie, whenever he feels like it. Possibly, having gone to many movies with him, I have now turned into a silence nazi because of it.

Karaoke! So much fun. First time, I believe, I have ever done karaoke. Can you believe it? We walked into the upstairs of a dodgy Korean Bar where there were many numbered doors, leading to private karaoke rooms. As soon as I saw all the numbered rooms I told Rob that I felt like this bar had definitely been a sex club at some point. He agreed. We shuffled into the numbered door reserved for us and made ourselves comfortable. What a difference it made to have everyone comfortably sitting and facing the screen with the words on it while you sang. Everyone sang every song. Or yelled it depending on how awesome it was. We picked a lot of amazing songs and some shitty ones. Here are some of my favourite songs that did not translate well into a karaoke atmosphere. Born Slippy by Underworld. One of my favourite songs of all time. Rachelle and I were massively excited to see it on the list of mainly Korean and other obscure English songs. So we chose it. Any of you that know this song will think, we should have known better. But we tried it anyways. It was terrible. It’s mainly just one guy saying as many words as monotonously as possible as fast as he could in a row. We were quickly kicked off. Songs that were a hit were anything by Oasis, Queen, Spice Girls, I can’t remember any other songs but we were there for hours and I was drinking steadily. Another favourite song of mine that was fucking terrible in karaoke was Sound of Music. Nothing says Buzz Kill like operatic Julie Andrews attempts in the middle of a swinging party. We tried, we failed, they skipped the song and moved along. We also ran into someone from Almonte in the same karaoke bar which was hilarious. I have very little memory of how amazing the rest of the night was until we sat down at 3 am in a diner and ate a poutine. The Canadian way to end any evening of drinking and celebrating. Happy 30th Rob!!! xo

Someone the recently told me that I was funny and I should have a comedy blog!! What a weirdly accurate thing to say! I winked and gave them this web address;)

My Mom the other day was showing me these really nice leggings she got at Costco. I told her I never buy clothes there because I have to try everything on because I have no idea what my size is. So when I was over at her house today I asked her if maybe I could try the pair on that she got so I could at least get an idea of what size I am. Unless of course she was wearing them, then never mind. She told me she would go get them. She looked and looked and looked and I told her it was not important and to forget it. Don’t worry about it. She kept looking but I insisted she would find them. When we got home my phone was ringing. I answered it. My Mom says, funny story, I was wearing those damned pants from Costco the whole time.

My roommate and I decided today was the day. It was the day we decided to do something about our lawn or how I’m sure others refer to it, the neighborhood eyesore. During the summer we managed to keep up with the grass cutting but since the decline of the temperature and no one else volunteering for the job, it became a wasteland. We decided to take matters into our own hands. My friend, who had actually grew up in the country, had never used a lawn mower and was too scared to try it. I, on the other hand, grew up seriously back woods so I had no issue starting it and rocking it around. Cars were starting to slow down as they were rounding the bend in front of our house. I started to wonder what we must look like to the people who live across the street, with their perfectly manicured lawn and gardens. Our lawn had not been cut in over a month and a weed that looked like small trees had infested itself almost everywhere. We were literally living in a weeded forest in the middle of suburbia. It wasn’t just that our lawn looked like though, I realized people might have been looking at us too. Two girls doing yard work from the house that seems like a potential middle aged frat house with cats and a shed, full to the brim, with beer empties. But on top of that, I was cold so I had put on a skull/biker sweater hoodie, with a toque and couldn’t find mittens so I had put bright blue thermal socks on my hands. My roommate was wearing a leather jacket and leopard print pants. At point we took a break from yard work to try and put up a Sons of Anarchy flag but the wind got the better of us. We gave the neighborhood a good show I think. We even did a running high five when I actually figured out how to start the lawn mower, but that involved me letting go of the handle which turned it off immediately but whatever. We give the neighbours something to talk about…

Nothing is more hilarious then nervously going to a Nurse Practioner for a full lady physical only to find out there is a student there doing their placement and will be there for the whole exam! I congratulated her on getting to learn on my lady parts. I wish it had been twice the fun but there were some pretty hilarious hiccups I will not go into detail about but boy, is it a funny story…

Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened. I was sitting at home in my living room playing on my phone when some lads from Arnprior came to pick up my roommate Rachelle to watch my other roommate in a fighting competition in Gatineau. We were chatting and making small talk as they waited and then all of a sudden as they were leaving we put together that there was an extra ticket. I finished my drink, put on eyeliner and bolted into the car full of people I had just met and went to the fight! What a crazy riot. I haven’t been out of the Valley that long but it’s hilarious how you slip back into the accent being surrounded by people who say “perk the cer, fer sure. Giver!” I also forget how serious a sport drinking is for Valley boys. Trying to keep up with Arnprior lads who had a trunk full of coolers full of beer was a mistake on my part. After shot gunning (more chugging then shot gunning) a couple beers before the fight started I had to explain to them that I was too bloated to partake in the next drink. Nothing says party Debbie Downer like me complaining about bloated belly and munching on antacids for my heartburn. After some ridiculing (and belching) I decided to have another beer. Spontaneously throughout the night we would go back to the car to crack a few more. I tried my best to keep up I really did. The night was so much fun. We watched a whole lot of fighting, we screamed a lot of profanities, they made a million crude jokes that I eye rolled at, I threatened to fight one of them multiple times and I because I could not remember their names I gave them names. So while we watched my roommate fight I sat with my other roomie Rachelle, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and “that guy” at the end. I also kept referencing Fubar because I felt, for most of the evening, that I was a character in that movie. I felt like Terry and Deaner could have absolutely have been from the ‘Prior. At one point, “that guy” tried to use the pick up line “Do you want to touch my mullet,” as he twirled the part of his hair cut that was the party at the back. (Mullet-business in the front, party in the back). He was dead serious and I laughed so hard. When we got back to the car, Ben Affleck was asleep in the car with the car alarm going off. Fun times were had by all.

Oh I am just traveling on business, no big deal… weeee, when I say that, I feel like I have a real job, hazaa! But there are, as always, a few downsides to traveling…

Firstly, I suffer from bathroom anxiety. There is next to no way in hell I will use a toilet on a bus. As if the walk of shame to the toilet isn’t enough, as you have just admitted your bladder is less useful then the rest of the travelers who can all somehow hold their pee until the one stop. But then the actual bathroom itself is just a stall of horrendous smelling satan toxic cleaner that I can smell from the front of the bus mixed with piss and herpes. So needless to say I anxiety peed about 4 times at the bus station before getting on the bus which seemed to have the opposite effect and turned my bladder into overdrive because as soon as I sat down on the bus I needed to pee. Damn you pee anxiety and peanut sized bladder! But because I am such a special, anxiety ridden, non-bus peeing person I TOTALLY WAITED THE 2.5 HOURS UNTIL THE STOP to go. I’m ridiculous and crazy all at the same time.

But this trip was much better than the last. When I left Toronto after my first week I had got to the bus station with plenty of time and waited diligently (asking random people in the station to watch my luggage as I ran back and forth to the bathroom a million times to pee) so I could try and ensure myself a window seat and hopefully two seats to myself. I got on, grabbed a seat and as they announced we would be leaving I congratulated myself on getting two seats together by taking out my books and phone and spreading out a little, relaxing. When all of a sudden this semi hippie looking couple run onto the bus. I looked up in a panic and thought, well there’s no fucking way, out of this whole bus, that they will sit next to me. I should look as maniacal and disturbed as I possibly can to avoid this. But nope, they walk up to me and one sits next to me and the other right across the aisle in another seat, I think, no freaking way! Oh well it could have been worse I guess. Then the girl across the aisle catches my eye and I take off my headphones and she says, would you mind moving as we would really like to sit together. My first thought was, fuck right off, you are sitting next to him, there is just an aisle between you. And why exactly do you need to be so close for a bus ride? Aren’t you just going to read and listen to music anyways? Hennie and I were once on a 7 hour flight back from England (with matching disgusting colds and booger faces) that we somehow didn’t get seats together on, but it didn’t bloody matter as we just watched a million movies anyways, blew our noses and then pretended to sleep! Like get a grip couple that feels like they need to touch for a whole 5 hour bus ride, get a grip. But instead of saying that I say, uhhhh ok? Like a question. Like are you serious? Are you really asking me to leave my cozy window to sit next to the girl with a thousand bags at her feet? Really? And as I get up putting by best annoyed face on I smash my head into the light ceiling thing above where one sits. The girl makes an empathetic yelp for me and I just scowl. So I finally move all my shit to the other side, THE AISLE seat. I am terribly annoyed and then I turn to see the girl I am sitting next to is now talking on her cell phone incredibly loudly like she did many times during the trip. So I turn to the couple and scowl going yup, look, look what I am dealing with. Then her bags start falling onto my feet and I hope the couple is feeling bad. Then the girl puts her bare feet onto the seat, sitting cross legged and one is touching me and they smell. I decide that the couple next to me should be cursed forever. I look over and they are kissing and I think, fuck off. This is how crazy things happen on Greyhound buses, I swear. Then I look over a bit later to scowl at them again as the girl sitting next to me has turned on her side to sleep and her bum is crossing our seat separation barrier.  Across the aisle the guy is giving the girl a massage. I nearly hurled. Anyways, I was obviously tired to be such a sac of crap for literally the whole 5 hours bus ride but I kid you not, I was absolutely a scowly faced curmudgeon the whole damned time! F U Greyhound couple, fo realz.

Here are things I have learned about Toronto…

-Every cab driver will warn you about the other cab drivers ripping you off. The one that does not do this is blatantly ripping you off. I have taken a cab from the bus station to Mississauga three times now and the price has ranged extortionately.

-Strangers have a lot of balls here, like too many. I now critique my hair in the mirror every time I catch a reflection of myself at work because of the guy who told me I needed a hair cut. It was just so weird! We had been chatting in the cafe for like twenty minutes about what there is to do in Mississauga (nothing btw) and then all of a sudden he points to a lady and says that I should get my hair cut like that. I turn to see the short in the back long at the front cut I had for years. I said I had already had that and it was too much maintenance. He insists I should get that cut or perhaps more like a bob. Then he tells me some places to get my hair cut down by the water because I absolutely need more style. If this guy himself had been stylish and perhaps a gay stylist I would have appreciated the friendly advice but this guy was extremely plain looking wearing a plain business suit. So I decided he must have a weird hair fetish and I excused myself immediately after.

-The other ballsy stranger was one of the cab drivers. He was a Lebanese guy who scolded me immediately when I responded to his question of which way do you want to go downtown with “I dunno, the shortest way?”. He freaked out telling me that’s how I would get ripped off by other drivers but not him etc. etc. Then he started bragging about his kids. They were both engineers, working for amazing companies like Bombardier and places like that. He asks what I do. He asks what I went to school for – Political Science. He explains to me all the jobs that I could have had with that and I tune him out because he is obviously drunk. Then he asks how old I am – thirty. What? You only have two more years to have kids! That’s it! After that, no way, too old! So I was already feeling bad about my job, my education and now we was telling me that my baby making parts were going to self destruct in t-minus 2 years. Well wtf buddy. Wtf.

-The kindness of strangers in Toronto. Today someone told me I looked like Mary Louise Parker. Was she implying I looked like a drug dealing soccer Mom? Possibly. But I will take that as a compliment anyways!

I arrived home to Ottawa on Friday only to realize it’s fall! Apparently the leaves have been changing and I had no idea because I was living in the cement playground that is Mississauga. I got out of my hotel every morning, walked through the mall, through a Wal-Mart (which is a terrible way to start your day btw) and then through a parking lot to WF. Did not see trees except in my Zen Garden I found and none of those leaves had changed. I felt like I had been living in a weird scene from Futurama, staying in a bland, generic hotel room next to the Marilyn Munro buildings, being surrounded my condos and malls and seeing no nature whatsoever. At one point in my stay my air conditioner broke so they moved me two floor down to the exact same room. I felt like I was in a scary sci-fi movie. I did, at one point, eventually find the waterfront which was nice, but it seemed like a weird anomaly as compared to the rest of it.