So it’s that time of year again. Birthday. I can’t remember what I wrote about it last year. Something about probably having a nervous breakdown at turning thirty. Well I have decided I am definitely in the midst of a mid life crisis turning 31. Doing things out of the norm, making weird spontaneous decisions, buying a fake leather jacket and a Vitamix. I am now, on a whim, thinking of trading my car in for less of a clown like car. I have never had a problem with my clown orange car until last weekend when I was the third car down in a funeral procession and I thought, this is the first time I have regretted this ostentatiously coloured car. Nothing says I’m in mourning like a bright orange Yaris. And I was chaufferring the widow-ish. Ah geez. But my roommate got a car the other day, it’s a sweet ride and it’s a standard. I have been missing driving a standard for a long time, but after driving hers, I officially want it back. I swear I am not a stuff person, I tend not to give a shit about cars and houses and material things that make you feel like an adult, but I want a new speedy thing. I want a little, standard car that doesn’t have a 6 cd changer but a thingie I can plug my ipod into. A car that I can rev at stop lights, not casually listen to the sound of my manifold crumbling at every stop. Ok I guess I am into stuff. Ugh I suck.

For my birthday my friend got me tickets to see Jamie Cullum at the Jazzfest. We had seen Jamie Cullum the last time he was in Ottawa and he puts on an amazing show and I love him to bits. Side note- he is super short. Ok so we went to the show, I was a little buzzed as it was my birthday. I think my friend forgot what Jazz was all about because her face seemed confused when it started and I asked her if she felt like she was in an elevator she should be lightly dancing in. The crowd was all in chairs which felt odd. Jamie (first name basis of course) made a comment about how the next day was Canada Day so people did not have to work and my friend, Rachelle, yells out that everyone there was obviously retired, so that statement was redundant. She kept bringing me white wine, the only thing I could drink from the bar, which made me fit right into the old people crowd. Then Jamie asked everyone to get up and jump and they lasted about a third of the song and then sat down and Rachelle yelled that their arthritis had kicked in. It was totally brilliant. Rachelle was killing the witty comments all night! After the show I texted the boys to meet up with us and as I texted we are at Woody’s on Elgin it autocorrected to at woodstove on Elphin. What?

I hadn’t been back to Almonte in awhile. Before my appointment at the hospital I ran into Macs to grab a big water because I tend to spend my whole day there drinking Equator coffee and return home feeling dehydrated and dead. So a man with a giant beard, went out of his way to open the door for me and it felt weird because obviously I have been in the city for too long. When I come out of Macs he was taking his shirt off to drive his truck home which also was a solid reminder, I was back in the valley.
So I went to my first gyno appointment. I guess this is the beginning of your thirties? Your vagina starts falling apart? Dunno. Reading ear muffs for those who can’t handle vagina nonsense. I was a little nervous as I wasn’t sure what to expect and when they put a bracelet on me I immediately felt like a patient, like the mental patient I’ve always felt I truly was. I actually thought I was fine but then the nerves hit and when nerves hit me my stomach and bowels tend to lose all control and I thought this could be the worst day ever…mainly for the doctor about to see me. I had a wonderful nurse that I shot the shit with as I got into that sexy, figure forming gown. I bitched about certain doctors because, living with a nurse, I know they love that. We chatted about supplements and celiac and I decided this nurse was my new best friend. Then the doctor came in and asked me a load of personal questions that made me feel bad about myself and forced me to make some extremely inappropriate jokes. When the nurse whispered to me to lie back and put my legs up I almost felt soothed until I realized I could not understand how one’s feet fit into the stir-ups. Therefore I spent the next 10 minutes discussing the wrong ergonomics of it, how we needed to re-engineer them, perhaps with foot massaging pads attached to sooth the pain of a long metal rod being shoved up your lady parts. I was a champ though. My favourite part was just after I had spread eagled, I was looking around the OR trying to picture all the cast of ER. George Clooney was there, Noah Wylie, the bald guy, Juliana Margulies. But thank god someone like George Clooney wasn’t there because we may have had a totally different vagina issue if he was. Anyways, as I am trying to create a tv produced out of body experience for myself the doctor’s phone rings and he answers it. He is booking a flight for Monday to go on holiday. He is booking flights while I lay there casually exposed. It was the greatest thing he could have done. If he can answer a fucking phone while I lay here completely vagina vulnerable then I longer needed to be nervous. This was practically his office. An exposed lady part didn’t even phase him, I could have been a desk. I thought about asking him to re-enact my favourite family guy sketch of all time when the discount gynocologist calls Meg’s vag a bergina but I wasn’t sure if maybe that was something I should have called ahead to request, like that and maybe balloons. When the doctor was done he left. I looked at the nurse and said, so do you prescribe that I just eat advil like candy for the rest of the day? She laughed and said I was funny. Then she handed me the most giant pad I had ever seen. I thanked her for the small adult diaper. I got dressed and walked bow legged out of the back room telling her that I would be walking like John Wayne all day because of the giant vagina pillow she had given me. She laughed the whole way out to the waiting room. I hope I made her day a bit because scraping lady vaginas all day must kind of suck.

I drove by a sign on the highway in between Almonte and Carleton Place that read “Help Wanted – Professional Internet Person” all written in sharpie on a piece of coloured cardboard. I wondered if I could be considered a professional internet person, because what the fuck did that actually mean? That I could use the internet? Like I could open a browser in a professional manner? Sure I can google just about anything! Or did the want website stuff? I don’t know but I was extremely curious to the cailber of people that replied to the cardboard sign ad for professional internet people. I wanted to be a fly on the wall for those interviews. How do you even keep a straight face in an interview for a job that has a title that someone has obviously just created out of thin air? God that would be fun to watch.

I went out a few nights ago and after a few glasses of wine, decided it would be a good idea to own a Redblacks shirt because I work in the same complex as where the games are held. My friend who I was with actually bought it for me which was extremely generous. I texted my staff, whose husband is a Redblack, that I had bought a shirt so I would like tickets to the game the next day. She wrote back to say she had got me some. I was like what? She said she was considering it my birthday present. Amazing! So the next night two of my friends and I went to the game, only to discover our seats were 2 rows up from the field, right behind the players!! Which sounds amazing but actually means you can’t see any of the game but you can always see player’s bums so I was thrilled. We were sitting behind one of the player’s wives too and that was fun. The one things about that stadium though is if you are sitting on that South side at 6 pm you are getting absolutely fried. I practically have a ginger complexion so after 20 minutes and one beer I needed to leave my seat because I was burned and felt like dying. Nothing some water and fries couldn’t fix. I wandered around in a people watching haze until the sun went down then returned to the seat to watch the last quarter and Redblacks win! The player tat looks exactly like Thor is my favourite and I will now stalk him every time he comes into Whole Foods.

So I Saw it!!!! Magic Mike XXL!!!! (Sorry Lady T I couldn’t wait but I promise to re-see it with you whenever you are available;). My sister and I went on kind of a whim one night. I just decided I could not go one more night without seeing Channing Tatum gyrate so I called up my sister and she was totally up for it! We found seats in the theatre that was pretty full. When I sat down I realized I was sitting next to a couple in their sixties and I thought, for sure, I had the best seats in the house. About an hour into the movie I looked at Maggie and said, very loudly, not enough cock. And too much dialogue and plot. Like who gives a fuck?! TOO MUCH PLOT! I wish I had written it. Anyways, the couple did talk things out a bit which was adorable. Like he would tell her the lines she missed because she was old and a bit hard of hearing maybe? And then she would dance a little to the music. Adorable. At the end Maggie asked how I enjoyed sitting next to Mom and Dad, I laughed, it could have been them totally. So basically the movie is too long, not enough stripping, gyrating or anything. Then the last 10 minutes are worth your price of admission. The fucking hot guy from that vampire show rips it up to NIN’s Closer which made me race home and download it and reminisce. I think it was maybe less cheesy than the first but just so obviously not enough pelvic thrusting motions. Like ladies are going there in droves just to see that. Cut the shitty dialogue and bring on the dyyyeeecckkkk!!! Ha ha!

This is what Happy Birthday drunk looks like 😉