Chicagooooooooo!! Again no Oprah…wtf?! Miracles happened in order for me to go this year. The day before we were supposed to go, at around 4pm, while maniacally running around work trying to get shit in order before leaving, I felt my whole body start to hurt. By 6 pm I was at the boyfriend’s place (YES! Will tell that story later) unable to drink a beer (ALERT HEALTH CANADA) and under a blanket starting to get the shivers. By the time I got home I felt so horrible I pounded back every supplement I thought could help (oil of oregano, garlic, Reishi mushroom spray, olive leave extract, propolis and probiotics). I put on my fleece onesie, also known as my polka doted flu exorcism outfit, wrapped my self in my 2 Sons of Anarchy Blankets, also known as my Jax will fix everything blankies and tucked myself under a duvet and two blankets. I woke up many times throughout the night in pain, shivering and sweating (obviously). I kept visualizing myself stepping onto the plane totally healthy. I even texted my co-worker to say I wasn’t going, I was for sure dying. Then something miraculous happened. I woke up in the morning in a cesspool of sweat and satan and realized I felt only mildly felt like a sack of shit. I was going to pump my body full of more supps and get on the god damn plane. And I did. Chicago!!!!

Chicago is very different from Ottawa. The extreme politeness and political correctness of the Ottawa airport was replaced by some serious sass and sarcasm at the Chicago airport. Even our flight attendant was telling us how it was, honey. She get’s paid the same on a big flight then a little flight so she don’t mind the little ones because she can tell eager tourists like us where the good shopping is and how to get there for free. The rudeness and eye rolling from the airport security was unparalleled. It was fantastic. I dreamed of working my job where I could openly look bored and annoyed. It was as if them taking my passport from me was rude of me to interrupt them.

Anyhoo, we were there for our department’s holiday show and annual meeting. I had had 2 consecutive nights of dreams where I performed a comedy routine for the room (all team leaders and assistant team leaders, coordinators etc. from all over the Mid West). I had even recited a few things in my head until I remembered I have paralytic stage fright and would also probably offend someone. I was going to prepare a wonderful slideshow entitled “Why I hate children” and then go through a series of photos showcasing how my department had been destroyed on many occasions by wee vermin. Anyways, I had some good material. In my head, it would have been killer.

My co-worker was unaware of how truly sick I was until it was completely confirmed when I had refused a drink all day and then when relaxing in our hotel room I was unable to finish a beer. This was followed by a call to room service to bring me 3 blankets so I could cocoon myself, round 2, to keep sweating out my illness. We then continued our evening by watching every exciting Chicago tv show that could possibly have ever existed…Chicago P.D, Chicago Med, Chicago Fire, Chicago Code…how many tv dramas can one city produce?!

I had been doing alright at hiding my sickness until the next morning, when while going over our calendar order, I was sweating so menopausal woman profusely that droplets of sweat were splashing onto the order. I couldn’t stop perspiring. I was holding my hair in my hand and wiping my forehead with the other. It was hilarious. I went back to the room, changed my outfit, put my hair up and pulled my shit together (ingested a thousand supplements). By noon I was fine.

Last year we were a cool and casual 12 hours late for our flight, this year we almost missed it because we were frantically trying to finish our drinks before getting onto the flight. I wasn’t as loaded as last year but I had had a couple. Our plane was tiny! Like tiny tin can being hurled through the sky tiny and as soon as we got on we were hit with an intense smell of sweat and polyester. It was like being punched in the face by a sweaty change room. As we kept walking, situated right in the middle of the plane, was an AustralianTaekwando team, all in matching unwashed polyester green track suits. They apparently had just come directly from a match or whatever they call it and forgot about the idea of showering. The ladies seated in front of us were so disgusted they demanded to be moved to first class. You couldn’t even tell where first class was, it was like the four seats at the front so I wasn’t sure how it would make a huge difference. They don’t get different air circulated up there?! It just reminded me of playing soccer on a hot day but every time I put my head near the window about to fall asleep, I would get a massive whiff of mouldy polyester and body stink that I would have to return to upright position.

While going through security back in Ottawa I forgot I had claimed that I bought $50 in goods (hmmm rough estimate). The border services guy who called me to his booth was so hot I became distracted. He asked what I spend the $50 on and I pulled the leopard print shall out of my purse, wrapping it around my neck while swaying and singing a little jingle. Then I grabbed the candle I had bought and showed it to him like the models would on the Price is Right. I’m pretty sure these guys don’t get treated to fashion shows everyday. He had a good laugh. To conclude, trip was good, pulled my shit together. The end.

I was going out for drinks for a co-workers birthday and decided to run over to Winner’s to buy a fat shirt because I felt uncomfortable sausaged into my current t-shirt. I grabbed a bunch and went into the change room. I wish someone could record the dialogue in my head as I try on clothes. It’s self deprecating, sad and hilarious. I tried on the first one. I was like ok, this shirt says to me, I wish I was a hippie but instead I am fat and buying clothes at Winners. I like it. The next one was table cloth meets free spirit, but the free spirit part made my hips look giant. The third was a cross body tank top sack. It was sooo comfortable and as I looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself comfortable in this grey, dull sack tank I heard a voice in my head yell, do not give up on life!! Do not buy comfortable sack clothes! I ripped it off my back and went with Winner’s fat hippie.

I’ve become obsessed with watching 3 minute DIY hairdo and DIY craft videos on Facebook. I become so aggressively angry while watching them it is comical. The hair ones make me lose my shit because some model flips her hair like three times and then looks stunning. I once isolated one little clip that looked do-able. I spend about 45 minutes trying to flip a ponytail inside itself before having to resorting to a homeless ponytail before being late for work. And the DIY craft videos are soooo ridiculous!! They are these elaborate, multiple stepped, crazy crafts with the most stupid outcomes you are like, who are these people that spend that long making an elaborately decorated tin can pencil holder?! With jewels on it?! Who are these people?! Every time I watch one I get excited that it may be something I would be interested in doing and then by the end I am angry that I have spent 3 minutes of my life on it that I will never, ever get back.