my cyber house rules

Life Lesson One-Oh-One

2012-01-24T11:02:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing this trip is doing to me, is that its making me realize just how utterly and depressingly fucked up and messed up I am as an individual.

I can't hide from myself. I can't hide my truths. I can't hide my weaknesses and I certainly can't hide my ugliness. It's like life is holding a magnifying mirror in my face, and is forcing me to keep my eyes open. Yelling "take a good look, this is you, this is who you've always been!" Now to figure out how to change, and make sure reality won't chime in and add "...and who you'll always be!"

Finding myself on a 40-foot boat with nowhere to go unless I'm taken there by the waves - and my husband who's always there, by my side, at bed time, breakfast, afternoon naps, heck we can't even poop in total privacy! Am I going crazy? Or has the craziness simply been on hold, waiting to be awakened by the harsh water hitting upon us from each side?

Are people really meant to be together? Is it normal to choose a mate and join for life? Why can't people join, for periods of time, when its most convenient or when both partners happen to be on the same path? And then as things progress, opportunities arise and change comes to life, partnerships move on - naturally - to new horizons. Would that not be the norm? Should that not be the norm?

I'm now filled with doubt and confusion. Is this it? Is this what I should be doing? Is this my destiny? Am I making a mistake? Or if I leave this cool adventure and opt for a more sedentary life grounding myself into work and rent - would THAT be the mistake?

And then... and then you realize that as perfect as other lives may appear to be, and how they make yours look sour in comparison you suddenly realize how it ain't so! Because you see, in reality everybody is just as fucked up as the next. Some show it more, and others have great cover ups. But in reality they are looking at you trying to impress you because they feel a mess, and wish they could be you.

Everything Takes Time... and Patience!

2012-01-08T08:18:00.000-08:00


Broom Hilda? Come se dice en espanol?

Which we have plenty of (time), but the patience part? A whole n'other ball game! At least where I'm concerned that is! Not very patient at all... *sigh* (Just ask the Captain in regards to the ongoing torture I've put him through these past few days because of my internet connection issues!)

La Paz has stores on every street corner. Some stores are "tiendas" like small general stores and hold everything from parts to build your own propane BBQ, to awesome terra cotta dishes and brooms. (Oh yeah, most stores have buckets of brooms right out the door, it appears as though these are always in need, especially when people sweep the sidewalks!) You can always find the unexpected...

The problem is finding what you're actually looking for!

And it's cool how some stores are almost organized per district. If you see a "everything-you-need-for-making-a-piñata" store chances are you'll find another right around the corner, and another one across the street. And yes Virginia, there is a piñata store!

See? I told ya!

But back (hee hee, I just said "but back", ya get it?) to finding what you're specifically looking for... Here's the simple stuff what we've been struggling with:

Markers. Regular old Crayola Super Tips Markers that WalMart sells at $5 for 40 markers of all colors! Kids are forced to color with crayons (wax kind) or pencils (wooden kind). Isn't that a sad thought for Mexican kids?
Pie dough. No dough! Here if you want pie you gotta make it yourself! And that means that I now also need a pie plate!
Half & Half Cream. Yeah they drink coffee here, but I guess they use milk or drink it black. If you ask for "crema para cafe" in a store they'll show you a can of cream that once opened has the consistency of sour cream. WTH?
Sunscreen. Oddly enough the sun shines here. Plenty. You would think this item would be a given. Actually I found some today, but it was total block. I don't want to block the sun I just don't want to be scorched by it!
Mushrooms. Am I hallucinating or are they simply not there? Again, today I finally found some mushrooms after searching and searching numerous stores, markets, etc. But still no baby bellas (my all-time fave) or portabellas. Sigh.
Caps. More specifically caps for gas cans. We have 2 diesel fuel jugs to hold extra fuel for the long distance runs and for some reason the caps broke! They just simply snapped off the top from being over-tightened. Our jugs are fine (at least I know my jugs are okey-dokey) but the caps are now useless. I've used up my shoes walking this town looking for caps. Nada. (See how at least I put good use to the Spanish I'm learning?)
12-Pack of Coke. Forget about it. At least the regular Diet Coke with no added flavors of vanilla, or cherry, or other weird stuff. Can't do it. I guess Mexicans aren't about stocking up like their Northern neighbors - and simply purchase soda one can at a time.

Now THAT'S what I call a tall one! Mmmm.... beer...

p.s. with everything coming in the quantity of "some of this" and "some of that" and "can't find some" you'd think the word "some" would be something I wouldn't struggle with when it comes to translating to Spanish!

A Job Interviewwwwww!

2012-01-06T07:09:00.000-08:00

I got an email yesterday.

*happy dance*

Inviting me to a job interview.

*happy dance*

For a job I applied to at the San Diego Zoo.

*happy dance*

Told them I was currently in La Paz, Mexico. They asked me if I had Skype. Told them yes. They said, "well it's no problem then!"

*happy dance*

They told me as part of the interview there was a small audition where they give a zebra puppet to the interviewee and ask them to perform a short skit. I told them I didn't have a zebra puppet, but that I had a lion puppet. (Sidenote: Remember when I talked about getting a puppet for vlogging? Got the puppet, never vlogged with it. Bummer) They said "GREAT!"

*happy dance*

I have a week to prepare my skit where, and I quote, I need to show "my personality, my sense of humor and my voice" the Captain even told me I happen to have all three so I'm good to go!

*happy dance*

Then this morning I re-read the job posting. It's in Escondido. Not the MAIN zoo park which is centrally located. Escondido is a Northern suburb. Way Northern. Like almost Canada Northern.

*droopy shoulders*

But heck. It's still a really cool job with one of THE best zoos in the whole wild world! And it would feed all my natural desires to be funny, play with technical toys (I'd be the main character of a digital puppet - how cool is that?) and interact (kinda) with kids! Yeah. I'm still going for it.

X-Mas at Mimi's

2011-12-25T11:20:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas.

So what.

This once was my most favorite time of the year. I started humming Christmas music by December 15. I shopped for my nieces, sisters, parents, friends, co-workers and for the main squeeze in my life. I always ended up buying way more than what I'd planned on. I kept lists in my pocket and kept adding stuff to the lists I checked way more than twice.

I was happy and thrilled for the entire period even if it did require some extensive diplomatic negotiations between my mom, my dad, and my boyfriend's family. But one thing always remained untouchable - Christmas Eve at my mother's. That was the golden rule. We ALL gathered at Mimi's in our childhood house with its memories and creepy basement. We started mixing drinks as soon we we walked in.

It was a big event. Eating and drinking by 2 pm non stop until around 2 am. A 12-hour marathon I tell ya! Thrown into this fiesta was a 1-hour visit to the church (stealing the good spots from the regulars who looked down on our giggling drunkenness - oh well it only happens once a year!) The opening (or should I say shredding-tearing-mess-mucking of the wrapping paper) was like a hurricane in the living room.

We shared stories, jokes and teased each other and then mixed another shaker full of Cosmos. Me and my family? We're tight.

I think i was the one who instilled this golden rule: Christmas Eve at Mimi's. And I think I was the first to break the rule. And the first to keep breaking it repeatedly. Every year I skip out on X-Mas at Mimi's is as simple as this: No X-Mas at Mimi's = No X-Mas at all. Now the tradition has changed. Our family Christmas now takes place at my sister's cabin. Which sounds much better since it's up in the ski hills, 2 hours away from town. Everybody HAS to sleep over. My sister's cabin is the shits.

And I'm envious of their new tradition. But, what overpowers that feeling of envy is the fact that I cannot wait until next year when I will most definitely join them in what will become OUR new tradition...

Merry Christmas - or should I say "Merry best time of the year"

p.s. When my mom became a grandmother, she decided to rename herself Mimi - rather than being called Grandma. So now we pretty much all call her Mimi!

Smoke On The Water

2011-12-20T10:49:00.000-08:00

Source: boston.com Not us. Could have been us.

After 2 glorious days at Isla Los Islotes diving, playing and interacting with the seals we reluctantly headed back towards town. It was a must - we were out of tortillas and getting dangerously low on Capt Morgan.

After 2 hours of motoring (because, of course once again the winds were working against us) the motor started spinning madly out of control. And the smoke! Oh, the smoke coming out from under the boat! Lucky for us, the Captain was an engine builder. His instinct was immediate as he quickly turned the key and ordered me to pull on the kill engine plug.

Unluckily for us, that was useless. The smoke was increasing. The motor's screams were blaring and it sounded like something was going to blow. Or as we say in racing "the thing kicked a rod" We did not want THAT to happen.

He pulled off the cover to unveil even more screams since the walls were no longer acting as muffler to the motor's complaints. Everything he pulled, shoved, and attempted had zero results. It kept screaming and spinning wildly out of control. And the smoke! Have I mentioned the smoke?

Sidenote: the Captain has taken up the habit of sailing naked. No clothes. Nada. Zip. Full commando. In the wild. His new objective: to be sans tan lines. He's squatting on the floor, butt naked, with his Johnson oh so perilously close to a motor on the fringe of blowing up. Normally he ignores everything when he's working in a climatic situation where an engine is concerned. But this time he took a pause to run and grab a pair of shorts.

I was getting constant commands "Keep an eye out for rocks and other boats!" as we were drifting out of control and "Pull the kill engine switch again!"

Then the light came on and he remembered on old Volkswagen he once owned that needed to be stalled. The situation was very reminiscent of this one. Only problem is - how do you stall a boat without jumping underneath it to stop the prop without it chopping your head off? Or worse yet, your johnson? He grabbed a rag and shoved it in the air intake, and finally part of the nightmare was over. SIlence. Smoke and nasty burned motor smell, but silence.

He dumped quarts and quarts of oil in the motor and it fired up. Normally. But that thing puked up so much oil as it was trying to destroy itself and it all ended up in our bilge pump on the verge of being pumped out in the sea. I had images of my beloved Squeaky (our adopted seal pup) and could not let that happened.

I scavenged the boat for any empty container I could find (sacrificed myself in finishing off whatever was nearly empty: orange juice, water, wine I drank everything and anything!) and filled every container I had. I gathered as much as 3 gallons of oil mixed with diesel mixed with water! Some traces were left, but very little oil remained.

Squeaky can live happily ever after...

We Knew It!

2011-12-11T15:27:00.001-08:00

By 7:30 am it was obvious the skies we were headed towards showed darkness. I pointed it out to the Captain "It'll all blow away by 11:30 this morning" so we kept going. Ain't hind sight grand? (Mistake #1)

Our fuel gauge was below the quarter mark, and we'd already dumped our 2 fuel jugs into the tank. If the headwinds kept up, we would never make it to our first anchorage destination: Cedros Island. Our friends who were sailing with us had an extra jug of fuel we could borrow, but they were much further behind. The 2 Captains talked on the radio and decided to keep motoring straight towards the island in case the wind picked up as it got warmer. Winds often do that.

But about an hour later, my Captain made a snappy decision: we were to sail where the wind took us even if it took longer to get to the Island and zigzag our way leaving our friends behind us as they stuck to the initial plan. (Mistake #2)

With the wind in our 2 sails, we stopped the motor to save what precious fuel was left. This lasted a good part of the day. But the wind was not on our side, and we got further and further away from the path leading us towards our anchorage spot. This put us literally in the middle of the ocean. Not always a comforting thought...

And then the storm from hell hit us. Or should I say it smacked us in the face. Harshly. It became obvious as the sun set we needed to change our strategy so the Captain rolled in the head sail, started the motor and kept the main sail up... Motoring full speed ahead we both took shelter in the cabin. I buried my head in the bed and he stayed close to the stairs so he could keep an eye on the radar. Luck would have it that we had just enough fuel to make it out of the eye of the storm, but once we ran out there wasn't all that much wind taking us towards the island.

We radioed our friends. They'd safely reached the island by 8 pm. We asked them their GPS coordinates so we could program it as our destination in our auto-helm. "You'll see us miles away, with all our lights on we're like a beacon at the Northern part of the island!!!" (Mistake #3)

By the time we saw them, it was 4 am, we had finally totally run our motor dry, the winds had died, and we were no further than 1 mile East of them. Had they given us their coordinates we coulda shoulda woulda made a direct bee-line for them hours earlier! But no. Now we're in plain view of them yet can't make it towards them because our friennemy the wind is fucking with us. (Key theme behind the entire journey).

"Hey, you know when you dumped the fuel in the tanks, I noticed there was about a cup left in both jugs... I know diesel goes a long way, do you think that..." The Captain's face lit up. "I think you're on to something! Worth a try..." We salvaged whatever was left behind, poured it in the tank, and turned the key. It sputtered. We had to try again and again and finally it rumbled to life! We motored to where our friends were, anchored and got a few hours of the soundest deepest sleep we'd ever had!

All in all our little adventure cost us 8 hours of wasted time. Oh man, but when I think of all that could have gone wrong! *Shivers*

The Perfect Storm!

2011-12-08T05:55:00.001-08:00

This is an artist's rendering of what happened. Notice the clothes in the front window?

They say when you go South down the Baja it's downhill, but heading northbound is like going uphill. The current, the wind and mankind's basic natural instinct all take you towards the South and warmer climates!

Going North? You've got a headwind and find yourself slamming against the current. Waves hit the front of your boat nonstop - this is what they call the Baja Bash!

Leave it to US to go uphill even if we're headed South. It's now our own little inside joke that if we want the wind to change direction all we need to do is go sailing with it on our side, it won't be long before it changes direction!

Our boat holds 55 gallons of diesel, plus we always carry two 5-gallon fuel jugs just in case... Diesel fuel goes a long way in a sailboat when the sail's natural fuel is on your side!

Almost halfway between San Diego and Cabo San Lucas is Cedros Island. The Northern crossing to Cedros is Baja's own little Bermuda triangle. If anything is to go wrong on the Baja journey - THAT is where you can expect it to happen. And happen it did, indeed! But that's not all that happened in this portion...

- Broken fan belt... check!
- 30-mile hour winds... check!
- In our faces of course... check!
- Waves over 6 feet high... check!
- Hitting us from all sides... check!
- Fuel: empty... check!
- Vomit... of course!

At one point, I'm down below lying on the bed trying to control my fears (yes, fearS as in multiple amount of fears) and suddenly the Captain decides to jib or tack or whatever its called and turns into the wind, or tries to do some kind of a turn and Mr Thirty-Mile-An-Hour-Wind is pissed off at us for our utter lack of respect. The boat tilts. A lot. Like "wholly-fuck-my-cabinets-are-throwing-all-my-clothes-out" kinda tilt.

Yeah. I was in the middle of a scene taken directly out of a horror movie when some unknown and invisible beast decides to throw all contents from the interior cabinets into the air to freak the occupants way the fuck out! Lying on the bed I suddenly found myself kinda standing upright. I immediately grabbed my iPod and turned on my funky little level app to see what kind of angle our jangle was taking.

The iPod was slammed against the ceiling in a "landscape" format and suddenly it changed its degree to "portrait". That's how far we were leaning. And this was after the mega tilt!

Editor's note: In case you, the reader, don't know what I'm talking about, it's when the apparatus believes you want to look at it upright rather than on its side. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!

And then, the Captain announces he needs me up above to help him reef the sail so less of it is exposed to the elements from hell. I avoided looking at the waves at all cost. This was some serious freaky scary shit man! Once we secured the sail, we climbed back down. Soaking wet the only thing we wanted to do was make our way towards the toilets. Some serious deposits were needed pronto!

Are you jealous of me now?

A 3-Week Pictorial

2011-12-04T13:51:00.001-08:00

Please enjoy the first leg of my journey.

Its getting cold and windy in La Paz. We're thinking of heading towards warmer climates yet. Apparently the low 70s is now deemed unacceptable to mi esposo. Harumph! Last night I woke to a wet bed. How sweet - hot flashes! Love this getting older trend I'm in. Yeah. Just loving it!

When In Rome...

2011-12-04T13:10:00.001-08:00

Wear a toga and eat too much?

But when in Mexico - hang out with other gringos? Not for me - no gracias, no es para mi. What is it with the average American that fears the sense of being disoriented that they need buoyancy with their Hard Rock Cafés, Hooters and McDonalds in any country they dare visit?

I want to be lost, confused, thrown into a new culture with a whole new unknown world. That brings such a sense of adventure and keeps my eyes rolling constantly. That and the treacherous sidewalks where a fraction of a second in lack of attention can cost you an ankle! I'd hate to be in a wheelchair in Mexico - I'll tell you that much! Cracks, sudden drops beyond 2 feet, holes, or a pile of junk are what keep you alert on every stroll.

But to get back to my fellow Americans. I often hear someone jokingly yelling out "Luck of the Irish" with a heavily rolled R, yet when it comes to saying "Gracias" gringos mysteriously lose their sense of using the same technique of a rolled R. Why is that?

Last night we hung out in the popular spot for gringos. The Shack. The owners are uber cool. A young mixed couple (Americo-Mexican with a mixed breed of beautiful offsprings) hosted us with some freakishly yummy chow. This is the weird thing: the TV was on, but silenced as the diswasher was also providing live entertainment being a Jimi Hendrix buff. This one lady was captivated by the tv. Not the discussion with her esposo sitting in front of her, not the social buzz of the place, not the yummy food which she told her waiter to return since she needed her filet mignon charred (aka ruined) but the silent TV and The Next Top Model had all her attention. So much so that she kept yelling at people who dared stand between her and her beloved screen.

People. The more I get to know them, the more I love my dog I wished I had.

Cool Little Story

2011-12-03T15:06:00.001-08:00

We left San Diego on November 10. Our "marina neighbors" Sam and Dave left the marina over 1 month before we did. We knew they were heading out, knew they were going Southbound, but that's all we knew.

Two days ago, we anchored in a random small bay near La Paz. We loaded our bikes onto our dinghy, motored out to the beach where we knew a road could take us to a nearby beach (Tecolote) and eat tacos. Fried fish tacos are the local delicacy here! Yum!

Of course even after filling our tires with air, as soon as we got to the beach one tire was flat! But have no fear, Benjamin (who is responsible for the Playa Balandra) had on hand an old bike pump. That worked! He let us borrow it for the afternoon so we could at least go out for a bike ride...

When we finally got back to our anchored boat, the bay was no longer empty but had other boats. After checking one of them out with our binoculars - lo and behold - one of those boats happened to be our MARINA NEIGHBORS! Is that freaky cool or what?

We jumped back on the dinghy, zapped out their way and... where THEY ever happy to see us! Their food supply was down to the bare minimum as they planned on eating any canned goods they had. Of course we invited them over for supper and had a great evening.

But what are the odds? Anchoring in an empty middle of nowhere bay to find yourself smack dab next to your neighbors from like 800 miles away from home??? Just thought you may want to know about that. Because if I think its a cool story, then it must be a cool story!

p.s. I have occasional internet connection. Yes. I am going loca without my instant internet access!

I Need Your Help!

2011-11-09T09:31:00.000-08:00

I NEVER ever thought I would be doing a before and after pic. Trust me. This is totally a new one for me!

I just completed the DerbaLife for Life challenge. Its a 6-week program towards physical fitness. I dove into this program head on. I crunched, squated, lunged, skated, walked, ran towards my goal. Every single day for 6 weeks I kept tabs on my caloric intake and metered my exercises to be fully aware of what I was burning. I reduced my coffee drinking to 2 days a week instead of every day. I reduced my alcoholic beverages to 1 or 2 drinks a day rather than... more than that.

And I'm pretty happy with the results. But I'm still working on it. I still have some of that nasty ass back fat nobody likes. yes, we'd all rather eat a muffintop than have to look at one on a chick. I was a muffintop queen!

And this is where you come in... If you're on Facebook, friend Derbalife For Life and find my profile as pictured above. Then hit the like button - this will earn me points and hopefully will help me win a new pair of much needed skates. They can cost well over $400 once you're done choosing your trucks and wheels!

These are my skates now...

The toe guards are used up and no longer protecting my toes, the toe-stop is wore out, and the boots are made of manmade plastickinda stuff. They are a great "1st" pair, and last only 1 year. I know, gut wrenching isn't it? I even had to hand-paint them myself just because... I felt they needed to speed stripes!

So here's the steps:

Friend Derbalife For Life (they are pretty quick at accepting requests)
Be on the look-out for voting announcements (next week)
Find my profile on their wall and Vote! ツ
If you feel up to it, get your friends and their family and everybody's brother to vote too!
After the whole voting process - feel free to unfriend them if you so choose to.

During this process I will be somewhere on the coast of Baja California hoping to not hit any kind of wicked storm - yes, you can also pray for my safety!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Halfassed Weekender Edition!

2011-11-06T12:30:00.000-08:00

Doncha wish I made YOU a birthday cake?

It was HIS birthday Friday! I made him a cake too! Kinda like a Pink Panther cake. You remember that one? Where he's so hungry, but his fridge is empty and so are his pockets to he has no food nor does he have access to food so he cuts out an image of a fish in a magazine and fries it up in a pan. Places the fried up image in a plate, ties a napkin around his neck, grabs a knife and fork and eats the image...

Hey Pink Panther! You're a panther! Go out and hunt dood!

*******

Ever watch somebody wipe down the counter? Ever watch their idle hand? This is what the hand is thinking:

"Hey! You! What about me? What should I be doing? Can you at least let me hang on to the spray bottle? Give me a bone here, I look stupid just dangling! Hellllooooo! Didja hear me? I'm talking to you! I'm the laughing stock of all the other hands, have you no pity?"

Let The Adventure Begin!

2011-11-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

Next Thursday. That's when my new adventure will begin. We are goin' cruisin! When we were installing our dinghy davit (tee hee, that expression will always make me giggle) everybody on our dock kept asking "Goin cruising?" which I later found out was boater talk for "Are you leaving for a lengthy sailing trip?"

And yes, we are.

For now the plan is to cruise all the way down the Baja coast then slightly back up the Sea of Cortez towards La Paz.

Baja is pronounced BAHA and La Paz has the sweet insinuations of LA PAUSE, like time to take a pause in La Paz. How can one not enjoy themselves in a place that signifies taking it easy and living like you were in a Corona commercial?

:D

The actual sailing time from San Diego to La Paz (still sounds sweet to me) is about one week. We have friends who also own a boat and will be sailing with us. Copycats. They bought their boat way after we got ours. Jealous peeps. And of course, their boat had to be 4' bigger than ours. Buggers.

I'm thrilled and excited, but a bit antsy. Will I see pirates? I hope he'll look like Johnny Depp. ~~And please don't remind the Johnny lookalike pirate he can't rape the willing~~. No wait. I didn't say that. See how it's scratched out? My dignity is saved. The downsides to this trip are:

No roller derby for an unknown period of time.
No phones or internet for an unknown period of time.

We're not sure how long we'll be gone. For now we're counting on a minimum of 2 months. I'll have my skates and gear so I can at least do some outdoor skating, and practice my skills. But so far the whole phone & internet deal is up in the air. I NEEEEED the internet like I need air to breathe, beer to drink and carne asada to feast upon.

The upsides to this trip are:

It's FREAKIN La Paz!
Who hasn't dreamed of just dropping everything and taking off?
Scuba diving without a 7 mm suit!
The best mole, carne asada, carnitas, tortillas (made with yummy LARD)
The simple thrill of an adventure...

I'll do my best to keep you posted on this journey, and if I do see a pirate I will totally be taking pictures of him... heh heh heh.

I Love Getting Mail Like This

2011-10-28T11:43:00.000-07:00

Thanks Diva in Demand!

Diva in Demand hosted a giveaway a while back. And I won! Me! 3 gift certificates to try out Pillsbury's new frozen breakfast. We tried this one this morning. And be "we" I mean Booby ate this! He toasted it in our toaster oven rather than the recommended microwave. Yum - crispy IS a major food group you know!

While they are good, they're a tad bit pricey. $3.50 for a package with 2 sandwiches. And heavy on the calories (surprise 140 calories from the fat alone!) And the cool part is that Pillsbury sent me 3 coupons to try out all their new breakfasts! But wait, there's more, in the same package they sent me was a little Pillsbury dough boy keychain AND a little stuffed toy! Which, of course I traded it off for a duo set of surfing rubber duckies before taking pics of the added bonus toys! Sorry. But the trade was a must. Rubber duckies! Holding surfboards!

As a kid, my sister and I would roll out the Pillsbury Crescent rolls, bake an entire batch and eat them all while watching Richard Simmons jump and wiggle! And we laughed as we sloshed more butter on those crescent rolls. Ah the fond memories! Seems like every Pillsbury product comes out with the same taste and smell - and anytime I eat it I'm instantly brought back to my childhood.

But that's not all USPS delivered to my little box! Wait, there's more:

Thanks Mynx!

I also got one of Mynx's cool painting! And as promised I put it where I can see it first thing in the morning when I wake up. Right by my little puppy. So cool. So happy. And inspiring too.

After painting the pole I've moved on to other products - salt & pepper shakers, a pair of shoes, details on my roller skates... Paint has taken over my life! Thanks Mynx, I needed those outbursts of creativity!

Random Confessions

2011-10-26T10:22:00.000-07:00

The Beach Cruiser: would be cooler if it was rare.

Every time I glance at a digital clock and see repeated digits (11:11 - 1:11 - 2:22 - 3:33 and so on...) I quickly look away from the time, make a wish and make sure I don't look at the time again for at least a minute because I'm somehow convinced if I do look and it's still the same time, my wish won't come true.
I fold my underwear: lay them flat, fold up the bottom flap, then fold that row in three and store them in a stuff sack. I've been doing this since living on the road, and it seemed appropriate to maintain this crazy habit on the boat.
Sometimes as I'm walking down the dock I close my eyes, and challenge myself to walk 20 steps before opening my eyes, sometimes I cheat and take a quick glance and still congratulate myself for doing the full 20 steps.
I am obsessed with tweezing my eyebrows. I have a magnifying mirror suction cuped to my bathroom mirror and will daily glance to tweeze away unwanted hairs. Sometimes I do this more than once a day.
25 days ago I started tracking ALL my food intake. And my exercises, but I already told you about that. Last night at derby I burned 392 calories with 55% fat burn (but I don't know what that means). Taking the trash out burns 21 calories. Walking to the shower burns 19. But my eyes were open the whole time.
I don't care where I'm at, I always sit on the toilet seat when I "go". I always look at the seat, inspect it, wipe it down then sit on it. I leave the convenient seat cover for others. I read toilet seats are a thousand times cleaner than any doorknob, handrail or cash for that matter. Yet people touch that stuff with their bare hands all the time, then eat without washing their hands. Ick! I figure I'm not eating with my butt so I'm safe to sit on that surface.
I am fanatic about my recycling. I'll even remove stuff my husband throws in the trash to place it in our recycle bin. I'm convinced its the little things that accumulate to a positive karma.
Yes. I believe in the law of natural justice and karma. As much as I believe in making wishes and not telling anybody what they are so they come true.
I am insecure about 98% of the time. I'm always certain people see me as a spaz.
I never butter my toasts. And I'm always insulted when the Red Lobster spills melted butter in my plate even if I always insist on the no butter rule. And don't even get me going on buckets of unwanted butter on my pancakes or french toast at the restaurant!
I have a sick habit of quoting movies, zany movies at any given time, like at derby practice I'll suddenly yell out "Because it's your dog, you get it? It's YOUR dog!!!"
When I was a kid I stole religions medallions from my aunts and uncles at the family cabin, then asked my priest uncle to bless them. I'm sure he knew I stole them. He never said anything. I'm so afraid I'll burn in hell for stealing religions medallions. I still have all of them in a little mesh bag in my jewelry box. Every time I look at them I look up knowing my uncle is shaking his head.
Every day I do more and more stuff that only people who kick ass do, that way maybe my self perception will change. I'm getting there.
As much as I love beach cruiser bikes, everybody in San Diego rides one of them. In my eyes an object is no longer cool when it's the absolute fad. So I ride my beat up old mountain bike (it's actually a really kick ass bike I bought to make myself feel better) and convince myself I'm the one with the rad looking bike. Because its so normal its different.
I never grew out of wanting to ask people I meet "Will you be my friend?"

Things I've Done

2011-10-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

www.socialnetworking.procon.org

Oh, what have you done? Sunday I posted a list of what I've never done. I've managed to pair up every thing I haven't done to its equivalent of what I have done. And this is a true exercise in humility. Things listed here are taboo, shameful, but harshly honest with myself. And by doing these things I have built the person I am today.

I am pretty awesome, so I cannot deny my past. None of it. Even the bad parts.

I'm 45 and so far I have:

Had two miscarriages. they're hard to forget. So hard you actually never do forget them and regularly sit there and figure how old they would have been, only if... (17 and 19)
Forgiven everybody who has hurt me deeply.
Been to Africa (kind of), Australia (3 times), New Zealand, Europe (4 or 5 times? I should know this.)
Parachuted off a mountain in the South of France (way cool).
Had an abortion, I was still in school and my boyfriend was struggling with too many demons to add another turmoil to the list.
Been a total daddy's little girl, chose him when they got divorced and stoically stood by him when he quit smoking (he was a total monster) and supported him when he stopped drinking (much less of a monster, plus I was so proud of him).
Moved to an entire new location and started over professionally and personally from scratch more than 5 times, and counting.
Been around the world in beer with 2 friends and suffered sorely the next day.
Traveled alone to the South of France to work with a wine company during the harvesting season for 5 weeks. Then another time again for 2 weeks years later.
Told my mother I love her with every email, phone conversation, letter, card and of course every time I visited her.
Played: roller derby, Diplomacy and all the fairies in Sleeping Beauty (a play presented to 50+ grade schools in Alberta).
Shhhh, don't tell anyone but I have had sex with a black woman. It was fun! But I may deny this if you ever bring it up face to face. And college truly is for shaping youth by a variety of experiences.
Been to every Northern territory in North America: Alaska, NorthWest Territory, Nunavut, and Labarador: I've even been on a dog sled ride in the midst of an ice blizzard in Nunavut!
Used my sense of humor to liven up boring banquets, even accepted an award at a racing banquet by speaking nothing but French, rapidly, and slipping every name of our sponsors, team mates and owner. Even if the names were English, nobody had a clue as to what I was saying! But people still talk about it, even if it was in 2004...
Controlled any urges to yell back - I most usually keep potential confrontations under control by keeping my mouth shut (of course it's shut, I don't know what to say!)
Peed my pants once, when I was drunk and giggly and nervous and un-experienced, or something like that (I was 14 years old).
Been to Greece where the letters are totally different, the language is absolutely foreign and you can't easily figure things out like other languages such as German or Spanish.
Loved my husband so much he has lost almost all his anger.
Driven an 18-wheeler a number of times for a total of 7 hours. It's scary. It's not fun.
Buried a father, a roommate and my niece's hamster.
Maintained a positive relationship with my ex's kids.
Donated to Goodwill a match of everything I bought (i.e. one new shirt means one used shirt donated.)

Thanks Mama Kat for providing me an opportunity to follow up, which I was planning on doing anyways!

Things I've Never Done

2011-10-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

I'm 45 and I've never:

Had children.
Not said sorry when I needed to.
Was going to say "been to Africa" but just remembered I have - Morocco. But I find it hard to count that as being in Africa.
Jumped out of an airplane (when it was in the air...)
Killed a person (thank god for that one!)
Said a proper goodbye to my dad before he died.
Maintained a substantial friendship since high school.
Drank a Guiness with pure enjoyment.
Conquered certain fears.
Gotten over the fact my mother was the kind of mother she was.
Played Risk to the actual end of the game.
I've never had sex with a black man. Always wanted to...
Been to South America.
Controlled my poor sense timing for trying to be funny. Sometimes its best to just shut up.
Know what to say when I'm being yelled at. Especially when its un-deserving.
Pooped my pants. Aren't you glad to know this one?
Visited any country that ends with "slavia".
Cheated on my husband.
Successfully shifted gears on a motorcycle.
Buried a child.
Told my ex-husband's children just what kind of man their father really was.
Spent an entire week without buying something I don't really need.

This has been a Mama Kat's writing prompt, but I'm too late to sign up. Also, I read a really cool version of this on Kir's Corner. She did a cool twist to the prompt with a list of things she has done. I think I will follow up with what I have done, because not to brag but I'm pretty darn proud of what I've done!

It's Official!

2011-10-21T09:09:00.000-07:00

I showed him this ad this morning.

Me: "Hey we can save up to 89% in laser hair removal in LaJolla!"
Him: "I'm already losing all my hair for free!"

He's balding. It is official. And a sad thing. Well, sad because he's totally unaware of how bad the situation is. All he sees is the front where his forehead is increasing in size and growing upwards towards the top of his head. He doesn't see the back side. Of course I never point it out, why would I ever do such a thing?

While I was waiting on the government's decision on my Green card renewal, I would frantically log into the USCIS website to look for updates and "touches" as they call it. Hoping to see the APPROVED decision confirming I can happily go on with my little existence. And by frantically I mean I'd log on 2-3-4-5 times a day. There were times when I expected to see this message:

BITCH! STOP BUGGING US.

WHEN OUR DECISION IS MADE

YOU WILL HEAR FROM US!

Yeah. It was that bad. So the 2nd announcement I have to make is: It's official, I have OCD. After receiving the great news that I was approved I found myself staring at my laptop wondering "What am I going to ~~obsess over~~ do now?"

I was lost.

So I accepted this health and fitness challenge from roller derby where we set fitness goals... For this challenge I was also expected to keep tabs on ALL my calorie intake, changes in my weight, my measurements, etc. And of course, I dove into it like any OCD chick out there! I downloaded the My Fitness Pal app into my phone, and dutifully wrote down every single bite I took!

But that, as you may guess, was not enough. I wrote down all my exercises and physical activities also. With estimates on calorie burn from those. And I went out and bought a scale. Ever try weighing yourself on a boat? My weight, depending on where I stood with the scale had a full 15 pound shift! I don't even know why I bought the scale, my goals had nothing to do with weight since I honestly don't need to lose weight but core area flab. And increase my strength on the track. But, I am OCD so I'm now waiting on Amazon to deliver my heart rate monitor so I can accurately measure my calorie burn from physical activity.

p.s. I cannot WAIT to try that monitor and see for real how many calories "bedroom" activities can burn
p.p.s. on second thought, my lazy approach to "bedroom" activities may result in too humiliating a number in calorie burn...

30 Shameless Days: SWEAT!

2011-10-19T09:32:00.000-07:00

www.sweatblock.com

This I do quite well.

I sweat. So much so that I keep a bar of deodorant in my glove compartment. I sweat. And 2-3 times a week at roller derby? I produce more salt water than the salt flats of Utah.

Three months into my new derby life, a girl next to me was smelling her gear (that makes her sound like a puppy after her tail, her gear - knee pads, elbow pads... gear!).

(I will segue into the next topic of 30 Shameless Days - Expose Something Messy You Normally Hide)

I grabbed my elbow pad, brought it to my nose and took a big sniff. It actually smelled... nice'ish! A more experienced girl looked at us smelling our gear and said "You know - you CAN wash those pads, right?" My jaw dropped. Wash my gear? I can do that? Everybody around me was ~~grossed out~~ awed I never washed my gear. Then my pads were being thrown all around "It DOES smell nice!"

I was off the hook, but still - 3 months of hard core practicing, sweating, grunting and wearing the same gear over and over sans visits to the laundromat... when 2 days later it happened - my junk got some bad funk. Was it jinxed by the shocking news my experienced pal brought on? During practice my hand came close to my face and there is was: bad odor. Quick to blame shift I looked around me to see who the stinky piglet was. But I was nowhere near anybody else. I was alone in my fog of B.O.

*****

Other bloggers who are doing this 30 days of shame thing have exposed pictures of their messy desk, or a messy linen closet... I can't do that because you would not believe how I keep my stuff! I'm so ~~anal~~ tidy about how I put my stuff away! I ripped my entire DVD collection! Of course my spice rack and underwear are impeccably orderly!

Paint My Pole!

2011-10-07T17:19:00.000-07:00

I posted this "doodle" on Sunday for a giveaway Mynx is hosting. When I initially posted it here, it was still a work-in-progress.

I think it's done! Of course you're missing the above water details, but that part hasn't changed. I kinda made a photo-montage trying to give a better view, so this is what the pole looks like all around...

Watch out Picasso, Renoir, DaVinci and Van Gogh - here I come!

Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-05T17:28:00.001-07:00

How Rude Of Me!

2011-10-05T09:12:00.000-07:00

Vinny C gave me an award.

I accepted the award.

I did the prompted post about the award.

I talked about all the posts I was supposed to talk about.

Then nothing.

I left it at that.

I did not re-gift the award.

How rude!

And now... I would like to offer this lovely award to some great writers:

Zoe Rights. She's a quiet little blogger who sticks to her ideas, shares really cool stuff, write remarkably well. And is just all round interesting. She deserves lots of loving.
Diva in Demand. Her blog is beautiful. Its honest. Its sometimes very gut-wrenching. She shares yummy recipes, talks about her downfalls, and you just want to be there with her to cheer her on. Plus I won her recent giveaway!
Katsidhe. She's another gifted writer... Recently BON'ed, and totally deserves it. From fiction to cool real life stories - you'll want to follow and read her. And fall in love with her.

Trapped In Little Saigon!

2011-10-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

This isn't MY picture, its from Yelp! As in "Yelp me I'm trapped!"

I had my first ever pedicure 2 weeks ago. Cute little Ashley did a wonderful job. When I discovered she happened to be Vietnamese I asked her what her fave Viet restaurant was. And this is how I ended up being trapped!

(Cue the suspense jingle with dramatic overtones)

I LOVE Vietnamese food! I was a regular at Nu Mee Fung in the Chinese district in Ottawa. I go goo-goo for the rice paper roll-ups (an asian version of the fajita) and have become very addicted to this meal. Whenever I happen to be in Ottawa, I always make a special trip down memory lane...

(Cue the "get with it" screams!)

I convinced Booby to go with me. The TV was blaring some Viet style Telemundo channel with an obviously translated soap-opera. (Sidenote: even if I don't speak this particular language I can tell its dubbed when the actor is jumping up and down and frantically and madly waving his arms when his speech is as flat as the narration of a How-to-watch-paint-dry documentary.) Booby and I are the only clients, it's 2 in the afternoon. Lunch hour is long over, and the supper crowd isn't about to show up.

We eat. They had NO rice paper roll-ups fajita style, so I got a bowl of yummy msg to have a fun buzz. After eating, I tell him "Gotta go pee..." and ask the waiter as I pantomime the international sign of "gotta pee". (Sidenote #2: important information to add is the fact that the knowledge of English in this place is limited to "Hello" and "Please pay".)

As I walk to the restroom I cross the kitchen (must try to remove visual imagery of this sight if I ever want to return to Pho Little Saigon ever again) and make my way to the restroom/storage/closet space. Space. Yes, this is the correct term. The door is hard to close, I kinda had to yank it shut. As I did this I thought to myself "This'll be fun later, but beats being walked in on mid-stream".

I get the deed done, wash my hands and use the paper towel to grab the doorknob. The knob turns, but the door doesn't budge.

(Cue the suspense jingle with dramatic overtones, same as the first jingle but louder.)

I toss the towel in the trash bin and try the door again. Lock, unlock, turn pull, unlock again, turn the knob, pull, pull, yank, yank, pull. I walk away from the door, shake my head and become amazed by the magic of msg's. They should sell that stuff because it's strong enough to hallucinate jammed doors.

Then, as I am staring at the door wondering how I'll get out of there - the knob turns. It just turns. So I knock on the door and without trying to sound panicked yell out "Heeeelp! I'm trapped! The door won't open!!!" Then nothing.

Nothing!

I call my husband (aka Booby, but the seriousness of the situation warrants the term "husband" when telling the tale of being trapped in Little Saigon it just doesn't sound right to say "I called Booby to save me") and the call goes straight to voice mail. Well, as straight as 5 rings... But voice mail nonetheless. I'm trapped. Will die alone in a restroom/storage/closet space before ever getting a chance to eat rice paper roll-ups one more time! So I call again silently begging him to answer this time. "Can't believe I forgot my phone in the truck" is how he answers.

"Help me! I'm trapped! I can't get out of this bathroom!!!" And we both crack up laughing. I'm banging on the door. He's talking incessantly and I want him to stop so I can hang up and tweet about it. To be honest, I debated over tweeting before calling for help, but I wanted to sound responsible by omitting that part. Dammit, and now it's out there, can't undo it!

He gets to the door but I hear him all the way down the hall as he's barking orders at the staff. He pulls on the door and nothing happens. Being helpful I calmly say "Turntheknobandpull!!!"

"I know how to open doors!" More yelling to the kitchen for help. Now we're both banging on the door. He leaves and goes to the "censored" kitchen and he's being very bossy. I try the door again and it simply opens.

Just like that. And of course I did tweet from the midst of my near-death experience!

Sunday Doodle - For Mynx!

2011-10-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

You know its true love when he wants you to paint his pole! Mynx challenged us to doodle and show it off. Show off your goods no matter who says its art or its fart. That's what I say.

When I proudly told (pro) painter friend of mine Booby asked me to paint his pole (mast pole inside the boat) he looked at him and said "You want HER to paint that?" His shocked reaction told me very clearly he did not see me as an artist. I laughed it off.

The Canadian Council of the Arts says that if other professional artists perceive you as an artist then you are an artist, thus eligible for grants. If my (pro) painter friend was Canadian I would never have access to government grants. It's ok. I'm not living in Canada or looking for a grant. I just like to doodle. Normally my medium is Crayola markers. (Haha, I used the pro artist term for what you use to create your work of art) This time I went with acrylics. I have zero experience with acrylics. So of course, my canvas for my first piece is the pole smack dab in the middle of our boat!

Its a work in progress, even the Sistine Chapel wasn't created in a day. I started this over a month ago!

Half-Assed for a Jackass

2011-10-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

Enter "santorum" in a Google search box and the very first result you get it is a definition:

My Shame: I Am Not A Leader

2011-09-30T12:15:00.000-07:00

This falls under 30 Days of Shamelessness, Post #7: Share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.

And I am not a leader. I have many leadership skills, traits, abilities, bla bla bla. But people just do not follow me. They don't. And to lead, you must be followed. I have dedicated a major part of my life in honing my leadership capacities, from college to most of my professional career... And I still am not followed.

In high school, when the school principal wanted to inspire us to run for class president, he talked about leadership skills and how to know you have them "When you get up and decide to go to the restaurants, do your friends go with you or just stay put?" My friend looked at me and said "That's me!" I asked her if it was me too. She laughed. She's probably still laughing.

"People don't follow you, silly! I don't know why, they just don't!"

Then my teacher felt the compelling need to finger ME out in class. And this lasted during the entire hour where she droned on and on about my lack of leadership skills. I wanted to run out of the class crying, but instead I chose to sit there and stare at her hoping to make her feel as badly as she deserved to feel.

Later, I chose "Recreation Leadership" for my college degree. After completing a month long intensive program on (duh) leadership, where we were taught that leadership in essence was the influence one has on a group of people. We were asked questions such as who influences:

your decision making;
what you do in your spare time;
where on campus you spend your lunch break;
what you wear;
who you hang out with; etc.

And the last question asked was who influences you the most overall in your life. And every single student in the class wrote down MY name. Yet, when I planned outings and invited classmates, only 1 or 2 would agree to go. They didn't trust me enough to follow me on a night out on the town, but they sure relaxed when it came time to putting their life in my hands.

I wanted to have my professor put the results down in writing so I could plaster it in my high school teacher's office AND my ex-best-friend's apartment. The entire time I was running on high speed trying to prove 2 people they were wrong.

Only thing is: they were right. I am still not being chosen to follow... Oddly enough I am an influential person but people don't realize when they make life changing decisions just where the influence came from. Am I arrogant to make such claims? And what's wrong with not being the leader, but one of the followers? In this society where we spend huge amount of money on building leaders, isn't it time we invest in the followers?

Winning!

2011-09-30T10:52:00.000-07:00

My great blog pal, Vinny C, re-gifted an award for me! Most of you (among the 5 readers of mine) already read him, but in case you've never discovered his Picasso'ish talent please do go and visit! And you'll love having him reading your blog simply because his comments are to-die for.

Another award with baggage! Lot's of work behind this one. I had to walk down memory lane and produce THIS list:

Most Beautiful:
I wrote a piece inspired by a simple picture of red leaves. It was a Magpie inspiration. The poem had bits of lyrics and how they intertwined with my parents love story. And how it ended in their hate story. I read this out loud to my husband and he had tears in his eyes. So for this, I need to call it my most beautiful. LINK

Most Helpful:
Do's and Dont's. My guide to what NOT to wear or do. I'm not usually helpful, and this is as close at it gets! LINK

Most Controversial:
I think its where I said the R word and got slashed by a reader. Then I wrote a "Dear Anonymous" post expressing my anger. I hate that society has corrected what we say but does little to change people's attitudes and actions. It's not my words that cause harm and havoc, it's people's tolerance and openness... I guess I was angry that:
a- this person hid behind the screen of anonymity
b- getting slashed for using a word when the reader does not even know who I really am... LINK

Most Surprisingly Successful:
How do I judge this one? According to Blogger Stats this post has the most hits and I really don't know why! LINK

But... this post has the most comments. I think the amount of comments proves more success than the amount of hits. I don't know... But this post talked about my fears and how I try to face them. LINK

Most Underrated:
A writing prompt poem with a template that talks about where I'm from. I loved this piece! I put so much time and effort into it. Normally for my posts, I just sit in front of my computer, right to the new post page and hit publish immediately. I have an average of 5 minutes work in every post. Give or take 20 minutes or so. Ok, so it's more than 5 minutes, but that's how it feels. So when I write a post over a period of 2 days, that feels like a lot of work. According to blogger this post has 6 page views. 6!!! For the love of Allah! I worked hard on this one and very few have seen it or read it! LINK

Most Prideworthy:
I am most proud of... another Magpie prompt. It was based on an image: a picture frame. I ran with the frame notion and wrote a short fictional piece on a woman framed for the murder of her husband. Again, I worked pretty hard on this piece and got very positive reviews. When I published it I had every intention of writing a follow up... LINK

AND I called this post WINNING because also...

I received my 10-yr Green Card in the mail this week!
I won a giveaway from Diva in Demand
As I write this I am ripping my very LAST dvd: 123 movies; 2 full seasons of Squibillies; 127 episodes of Seinfeld; 1 full season of Robot Chicken; 42 episodes of Family Guy; 6 episodes of Eastbound & Down; and only 5 movies did not rip correctly!

My Shameless Days: Act "Girly" or "Manly"

2011-09-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

Me. As I'm making my rounds of inspection looking for flaws.

Ugh.

Last night on my promo Twitter account I noticed I was now being followed by some cosmetics company. Cosmetics. Make-up.

When I met my husband and told him I didn't wear make-up he silently thought "Yeah, yeah, yeah, girls ALL say that and have a shitload of foundation, blush, shadow, lipstick... I'll believe it when I see it!" Then one day he looked at me and claimed "Hey, you DON'T wear make-up!"

He was shocked. Shocked that I didn't lie about something like that.

I'm a tomboy. The real deal. But even if I'm a tomboy, I still don't do mannish things. Except for when he convinced me to be his mechanic. He taught me how to hold a wrench and the difference between an impact wrench and a drill. He taught me that to tighten we turn right, and to loosen we turn left. The tool. If you are the one turning then YOU are the tool.

For 5 years I was a sprint car mechanic with The World of Outlaws. Yes. I am outing myself. I have mentioned before I worked on race cars, but never specified what kind and with whom. So this was not ANY kind of racing, it was sprint cars on dirt. Dirt and grease a wonderful mélange... The messiest level of racing there is. Not only is it messy, but its by far THE most death defying and skill testing kind of racing.

A sprint car has the biggest weight to power ratio out there. 850 HP - 1,200 pounds. There was a day when that meant nothing to me. Nothing. But now, it kinda means a little more than it did back then.

THIS is as manly as you can go. Touring and racing, 100 races per year covering close to 70,000 miles from February to November. The schedule is a killer. Sorry to be anti-feminist: but its not something you can handle on those monthly cramps and monster visits. It's no wonder women don't do it.

Today I take great pride in knowing I was among the very very few who toughed it out and lasted so long. Probably the only woman ever to do it for as long as I did. But I am also glad that when I look down at my hands I see clean fingernails.

Where I'm From

2011-09-20T07:59:00.000-07:00

This is taken from this week's writing prompts by MamaKat or this template here.

Of course I had to change it up a little bit... but I tried to follow the rules as best as I could. I am after all a hard headed misfit and I know you would expect no less of me.

I am from

I am from metal clip-on roller skates but mostly Barbie dolls, from Kraft, CCM bikes and peanut butter toasts in front of Bugs Bunny cartoons and always having to get up to change the channel.

I am from red bricks, white aluminum, and split leveled blandness with a never ending insecure desire to please.

I am from the rosebush stuck behind the backdoor, neglected, slammed upon but always blooming with beautiful red flowers.

I am from the annual roasted pig we lovingly called Arnold and drunken laughter, from the Lebel's and the Grenon's to the Lapointe's and the Bigras.

I am from the city we call the moon for its lack of trees and rocky roughness and a nation's Capital where sidewalks are rolled up after business hours. But will always call home the city that gave birth to the Habs.

From do-as-your-told, eat-your-brussel-sprouts, go-ask-your-mother and clean-up-your-room...

I am from organ rehearsals every Saturday morning at the Catholic church and stolen cookies from the nuns' kitchen.

I'm from a confusing world where uttering something as simple as "Bonjour" could land a teacher behind bars. From "Fais dodo" and toe stomping songs with the ruine-babines inviting you to join in unison.

From the meat pies, cretons, maple syrup, pâté de foie, and card games where my aunts and uncles stuck them on their foreheads laughing wildly as they grabbed another 50.

I am from summers with cousins spent at French River, dreams of city lights, fitting in and community pools where we mold young leaders to take on the world.

Her Life Is In Your Hands Dude

2011-09-17T12:48:00.000-07:00

That bad boy to the left is what's currently holding my life in its hands.

Oh by the way, like my Lebowski quote? One of my all time FAVORITE movies. Ever. But then again, my list of all time favorite movies ever is a bit long. Kinda.

I've taken on the task of ripping my movie collection and storing them on this new shiny piece of equipment.

Just in case you were wondering what us unemployed people living on boats do during the day while you sit idly by your computer catching up on Facebook and Twitter pretending to work.

Didn't think I knew what you were up to didja? I had an office job once. A long time ago. A very long long time ago.

So, yeah, the reason why this thing has MY life in ITS hands (and please don't ask me where its hands are, they're internal. Somewhere.) Is because I own approx 170 movies. At a ratio of approx 30 minutes to rip one movie, I'm talking like 85 hours (yeah, I did use the calculator for that small piece of mathematics calculation, I just did 5 miles on my bike - to return rented DVDs I ripped - so I guess the bike ride in theory could be added to the 85 hours of ripping activity. Yes, that would then make it more than 85 hours. Give or take.)

Where the heck am I going with this post?

If that little shiny piece of equipment were to get blanked out for some reason, I may want to commit suicide. Or jab a hammer through my eyeball. Not the ball ping kind, but the other one. The carpenter's hammer. Didn't think I knew the difference between the two of em right?

I was a mechanic for 5 years, remember?

I just hope that thing holds out. I don't want a hammer through my eyeball. If I did do that though, I'd use my right eye. Since my left one is my shooters eye. I learned that years ago when I was working in Summer camps teaching archery. Don't worry, I don't play with guns. I do however run with scissors.

Because that's just the way I roll baby!

p.s. 70 movies have been ripped up to date
p.p.s. just thought you wanted to know...

30 Shameless Days - Love For An Uncool Movie

2011-09-16T11:35:00.000-07:00

I'm stumped by this. An uncool movie? Isn't that kinda like the uncool TV show? For my husband, any chick flick or musical is uncool. For me it's any horror movie. Grrrrr..... Horror flicks keep me up at night and I do get very frightened by them.

But does that make them uncool? I've found awesome stuff at garage sales. That last-chance-to-make-cash-out-of-your-trash deal? Basically, what people sell out of their garage is to them uncool, right?

What's cool? I know I'm not cool. I'm a spaz. A geek. An annoying person who is always stressing over what people really think about her. Not that what people think of me will affect what I do or say, but I just want to know what's going on in people's heads when they look at me.

At derby I yell a lot. "Jammer coming up!" "Coming on your inside!" "Watch out! Old lady coming through!" Coaches tell us its good to be in constant communication and giving info is key in becoming a good derby athlete.

So words fly out my mouth constantly. And I don't really yell-yell per say. I know, I mentioned "yell" but that's only because the word says more than if I were to claim "I project a lot at derby". Projection allows you throw your voice further without strain on your throat and stuff. You push from the gut. I can actually whisper and an auditorium full of 500 will hear me.

So. Where does that put us in terms of uncool movies? Since I defined it by horror flicks, I must then talk about one of those frightening movies that keep you up at night with horrible visions in your brain.

The Changeling. That's my pick.

It came out in 1979 or 1980. My dad took me to see this telling me it was about classical music.

I was 14.

And I was frightened. A movie about classical music? I trusted my dad and believed his every words. Other than when he told me my mom was a lesbian, but that's beside the point and just angry divorce talk.

But this movie was NOT about classical music. Yes it's got a good soundtrack if that's your thing. But, needless to say I LOVED this movie even if it scared the bejeezus outta me.

I was 14. And my dad was taking me out to the movie theater. This is back when going to the movies was a big thing. Same goes as going out to a restaurant. Nowadays, movies are as disposable as a Seinfeld rerun episode.

p.s. also among unpopular movies I also love:

The Mask and most Jim Carrey movies out there... (including Cable Guy)
Amelie
Borat
Freddy Got Fingered
Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
O Brother Where Art Thou?

Random Stuff

2011-09-12T09:46:00.000-07:00

Have I ever mentioned that I can't walk and fart at the same time? I can't. Just physically cannot do it. I need to stop and allow air passage for the evacuation to happen.

Right now I feel like throwing up. I'm so nauseous. I have a killer headache that won't relent. It's been hurting me for a few days now. But the nausea, where does that come from? Ugh.

I'm in the process of ripping my entire DVD collection, storing the files on an external hard drive to make them more accessible to watch. It also reduces my stuff here on the boat. Crazy how to minimize your junk you actually need to purchase stuff. Like my iPod reduced the need to carry a buttload of CDs, the Kindle reduces books, and now the media player/external hard drive will help me get rid of all those DVDs. The only downside so far is the fact that the movies we watch the most won't rip. The disk is so overused, its scratches are keeping it from ripping completely. Bummer. If they're my fave then I really want them on file!

I filed my application to renew my Green Card in mid May. The process is painfully long. Basically when you get your first Green Card by marriage, then you are conditionally approved for 2 years. You need to apply to remove those conditions and then obtain a 10-yr card. I've been waiting for about 4 months now. Trying to avoid thinking about it. What they want to see, apparently, is co-mingling of finances and lots and lots of bills from the 2-yr conditional period. We have no bills. Having gone from our employment that paid for everything to living on a boat, there are simply no living expenses. Help me out by crossing your fingers with me ok?

Its always sunny in San Diego. Trust me. It rained on the 4 days we were in Seattle. The time we spent there? Where it normally always rains? It was sunny, in Seattle, while it rained in San Diego. How ironic. I'm an east-coaster. I miss the rain. I need rain...

30 Days of Shamelessness: Waste Time

2011-09-11T14:04:00.000-07:00

What a coincidence. I just happen to be in the perfect mood for THIS particular day.

Although its September 11 and I'd love to share my story of what I was doing and where I was, I'm writing about wasting time. Talking about a waste of time - my 1st marriage.

It took Osama Ben Douchebagden to pull a fast one for me to realize something really important. I married the wrong guy. My boss asked me to drive him out to this little shop across the street from the Parliament. This is Ottawa. Canada's Capital. We worked about 2 miles from the Parliament. The big government building where all the dudes make the wrong decisions on the country's future? Follow me?

So. Our company had a HUGE mega conference in Paris. We were scheduled to fly out on September 12. SCHEDULED. Keyword here guys. My boss needed me to run him out to this small shop where he had his suitcase fixed. Mr. Frequent-Flyer-I-got-so-many-airmiles-I-take-my-family-to-Hawaii-yearly pretty much lived out of his suitcase. Of course it needed repair. And on September 11 it was ready for pick-up. Across the street from the Parliament.

Across the street from the Parliament, there is literally no parking. Trust me on this one. I was to drop him off and circle around the block until he came back out. I made my way in front of the Parliament about 8 times. Each time I passed it, the situation got worse. At first it was a bunch of police cars closing access to "The Hill" (this is what us Canucks refer to the slightly indented lawn in front of the parliament). Then the barricades came out. Then more police cars. Then more barricades. Then the entire military showed up with tanks and oozies and goozies and the whole sha-bang. Frightening. And I had NO idea what the heck was going on. None.

Finally my boss is standing on the corner, the streets are empty. Other than the military, the police and us. "What the ???" is all he can say. Bush is on the radio. Bush IS the radio. I don't care what station I tuned to, even on my tape deck - we heard Bush claiming revenge.

Silently we made our way back to the office. By then our staff was on conference call with our Washington Rep. We had a Washington rep! Already the stores were emptied out downtown DC and WE were still pretty much clueless as to what was going on. Clueless. Denial. Its all the same.

Our flight to Paris, scheduled for the next day was leaving out of Montreal. A 1.5 hour drive from Ottawa (if I drove, 2 hours for your average driver). We had meetings and sessions in Montreal with our reps from there prior to our departure. The plan was to leave for Montreal during lunchtime, meet with our department heads, our reps and whatnot, spend the night with a few good bottles of red then all meet at the airport.

All flights were canceled, but we stuck to our plan. My mom screamed at me: "You are NOT getting on any plane! You will be bombed and killed!!!" I called my husband, told him all was going according to our plan - drive out to Montreal, etc. He warned me my flight would most likely be canceled the next day, but since we still had all those other meetings I still had to go.

The world was coming to an end, and I did not feel the need to be with my husband. No. I preferred being with a roomful of near strangers. And that's when it dawned on me. I married the wrong guy.

After it was CLEAR my flight to Paris was canceled I drove back home to Ottawa. Along the way I stopped so many times. I couldn't control my tears. And trust me. I could have stopped in the middle of the highway. I was a lonesome traveler. I leaned on the shoulder of a highway when there was no other shoulder to cry on... (I should write for Hallmark).

I cried the loss of what I could not put a finger on. The American Way? I was Canadian. Yet, I sensed that loss. And I cried over my marriage. I cried because on this day, when any normal person runs to loved ones, calling my husband was merely an afterthought after seeing all my colleagues on the phone or leaving to go home. I cried and cried. I did not want to leave that shoulder. I did not want the unknown change that was to come.

After all I guess I did write about 9-11... And maybe I haven't wasted my time after all.

30 Days of Shamelessness - Eat Whatever You Want

2011-08-31T18:40:00.000-07:00

Find out more!

I had 2 cookies for breakfast. Not any kind of cookies mind you.

Chocolate. Dark chocolate. On a buttery crunchy dry cookie. They're called "Petit écolier" which means small school child. Or something like that. Two cookies for breakfast, and by 11:30 am I was dying of hunger. DYING. We were out running errands so I had to grab a quick lunch on the go.

In-N-Out burger and fries. With a chocolate shake. But it's ok, I shared the shake with my sweety. A diet of a champion. But those cookies. Mamamia they are SO friggin good! Trust me on this one. If you happen to spot them in your grocery store, and if you happen to enjoy dark chocolate (once you go dark...) you will so love these!

Which makes me wonder, what's your favorite kind of cookie? I'd love to know... especially if it will make me discover a new cookie that needs my love!

p.s. what do you think of the new Blogger interface?

30 Days of Shamelessness - Dia Dos!

2011-08-27T17:05:00.000-07:00

Day 2 - Look a Fool

"Hey look! A fool!" Can you guess which one is me?

What can I say...

There are two types of girls in derby. The jocky type who is all about the athletic aspect of it and the other one who cares about how she looks - and look good she always does.

I must admit I don't know where I fit in this distinction.

I'm a goofball. We did the pride parade, and of course I had to go out and buy fairy wings. But that wasn't enough, I added wings to my helmet. And that wasn't enough either - I needed the clown nose.

Don't ask why. I haven't got an answer. I look back at this and think I look silly. Foolish. So yes, this is very fitting for this specific post.

Honey, I Shrunk My Mom!

2011-08-24T19:58:00.000-07:00

Editor's note: this story is best read in a Morgan Freeman narrative. Don't ask. Just trust that as you read this, it's best if you do it with his voice.

*****

My mother has always been the tallest. My entire life I was shorter, of course when I was younger this was rather obvious, but even as I became an adult I never reached her height. Not any more. She turns 75 in November, and she has already lost nearly 2 inches. I think those inches have found their way around her ankles.

My mother is the proud owner of the saying "Be the woman" (or as SHE put it fais une femme de toi, which is kinda the same.) She's also told me more than once to "put some hair on your chest". She's always been such a strong tough woman. Director of Nursing in a major Montreal hospital, she's had to stand strong before hoards of men (the doctors) as she defended her staff (the mainly female nurses).

She turns 75 soon and she is no longer strong. Physically that is. Mentally... I'd love to claim she still is the best story teller. Sadly she no longer is that either. Our family dinners traditionally ended with her telling us stories. Even as we got older and started sharing the wine. we looked forward to opening another bottle as she made us laugh with her crazy stories. She had a way of making a regular old joke her own. We'd believe she was telling us something that actually happened to her until the punch line. She got us every time. Endless hours sitting on the edge of our seats wondering where her new tale would take us.

Before Seinfeld introduced me to the woman with "manhands" I looked at my mother's hands in awe. When she graduated from McGill and ordered the graduates ring, she chose one from the men's catalog. They better fit her big fingers. And trust me, she was not fat in the least bit. She was a slender sexy woman, the kind that made heads turn, even from my friends. She was most likely a milf in the pre-texting days when words were words and not shortened condensed sentences.

Now her stories go around in circles, jumping from one topic to the next, and mostly repeated anecdotes we'd already heard more than once if not a dozen times.

My mother turns 75 in November and I'm not ready to witness the decline of a once strong woman.

30 Days of Shamelessness - Declare a Love for an Uncool TV Show

2011-08-12T07:53:00.000-07:00

This is a tough one. How do I define "uncool tv show"? Like a yard sale, one man's junk is another one's treasure.

ABC After School specials made me who I am today. In part... well kinda... If I knew an After School Special was on, I raced home right away... not staying to hang out with any extra curricular activies. I was a sap for these emotionally packed mini-movies. The plot was easy to figure from the get go, but I didn't care.

I sat on the couch riveted to the tv screen with a box of tissues on stand-by. Oh, I cried every time. I was an easy target on the emotional side. And I knew I would cry me a river every episode, but that to me was the draw. The emotions. The drama. The family crisis and then the happy sappy ending.

At the end I'd be drained but satisfied. And until the next special program I'd be living by my newly acquired moral (morale?). ABC dished out and I swallowed. I was just what they hoped for. A teenager struggling with divorced parents, an alcoholic father, a new town, new school: I was a living, breathing and mostly crying ABC After School Special creators' wet dream. The sponge that would soak it all up in a gooey teary mess!

Most people avoided tear jerkers, where me, I sought them out. They were MY tornados.

I don't get many opportunities to watch TV these days. For starters I don't have access to television. I own one, but I don't have cable or satellite, and the antenna is buried under a seat trapped behind the autopilot. What can I say, sailing tools must have priority on a boat! Everything I watch is streamed via my phone from Netflix or Hulu. Unless my 1st Mate is out of town on business everything I watch is shared with him. We give each other the right to refuse anything. And that means no sappy programming and no chick flicks.

But every evening spent alone on the boat is accompanied by the likes of movies like Precious, international sub-titles and tissues (I'm sure he needs tissues when HE watches stuff without me, but his gooey mess is so different than mine. Sorry. Is that crossing the line?).

I've also promised myself an Ally McBeal retro-marathon. This show had it all: quick and snappy arguments, quirkiness, and love. Until then I watch nothing but "cool" TV shows: Rescue Me, Dexter, True Blood, Breaking Bad, Weeds...

I need a Kleenex sponsorship!

p.s. the part 2 to yesterday's story should follow tonight... fun times!

Made It By That Much!

2011-08-11T11:00:00.000-07:00

www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net

Traveling by plane post 9-11 just isn't what it used to be. Ain't THAT an understatement!

I tried to get to the Continental counter 1 hour before my flight. Tried. Keyword. This story may have a few more keywords to come...

San Diego is making improvements. Continental is hidden waaaayyyyyy at the end. After all the shuttles wedging their way in and out, cars slowing down to pick people up or drop others off, and this is my excuse for being 15 minutes late on my desired 1-hour before thing (that and every single light on the way there was RED).

Our airport is usually chill and relaxed, but thanks to all the improvements, it was BONKERS! As I make my way to the Continental counter, I notice everybody and their brother decided to take an early flight out of town. Sweet. I take my spot last in line behind hundreds of others. Silently begging an attendant to yell out for those on MY flight to move forward. A quick scan of the room tells me this place is full of frustrated travelers and lacks employees. Staff patiently standing by waiting to assist ME in getting ME comfortably sitting in MY seat are nowhere to be seen...

Finally, 5 minutes later it happens "Everybody on the 6:15 flight stay in THIS line, everybody else, come here!" Yes. Sweet mother of grace, my good karma is still in check. Only thing is I'm not the only one with good karma - evidently the majority of people ahead of me are on the 6:15 flight. Bummer.

After finally checking in, giving my suitcase away I'm instructed to head to the far end of the airport for security. At the entrance to security I'm told if I'm not on the 6:15 flight I'll have to wait aside. I show my ticket he let's me make my way to the end of the lovely line. Once there I realize I'm light. Lighter than I should be. Odd. I look down at my hands and realize they're empty. Odd. Shouldn't I have something in my hands? Shouldn't I? What did I have in my hands? Oh crap! I left my laptop on the friggin floor at the Continental check-in, of course the LAST counter furthest away from me!

I run back yelling "Excuse me! Excuse me! Coming through!" praying and hoping my laptop will still be there as I'm scanning every single person looking for my slim little black skin carrying my beloved laptop... "I FORGOT MY LAPTOOOOOP!" I yell at the ladies behind the counter. And of course it was necessary for them to explain to me the importance of tagging my bags. Nope. I have no name on my laptop bag. Why would I? I NEVER leave it behind anywhere! Never!

Back at security "Yes sir, I'm on the 6:15, here's my ticket!" And now the long ass line. Again a wonderful staffer yells at us "If you're on the 6:15 come here and stay here!" What is it with everybody on the 6:15 flight? Collectively arriving at the last minute? By then it's 6 am. I'm far behind the line. But being surrounded by hoards of 6:15'ers I reassure everybody around me it'll be ok, there's too many of us, the plane will wait.

And I know this because?

And what is up with people and their luggage on the plane? It's only $25 people. Take your shit and check it in! This guy in front of me is alone, he's got 2 suitcases and a "carry-on". TWO suitcases. And he looks angry, but then again we all do. Being yelled at over and over will do that. Finally I make it to the slick counter and the plastic crates. I start taking my boots off (they're sweet boots, if I'm going to Montreal I am so wearing my sweet sweet boots!" and in follows my belt, my purse, and all the other metal stuff I'm wearing. What can I say I love to accessorize!

I notice the angry dude has a crate full of stuff. Big shampoo bottles. Old bottles, not new ones. Cans of some drink I've never seen in my life. OK, so he's got like close to a gallon of liquids. Being the calm cool collected person that I am I look at the security guy with eyes popping out and ask if they've changed their liquid limits? "Nope, we're just scanning this stuff to make sure it is what he says it is, but it's NOT getting on the plane!" Now the angry dude who's on my plane who's carrying enough liquids to hydrate a camel has noticed me.

Great.

To be continued!

30 Days of Shamelessness

2011-08-09T09:52:00.000-07:00

Here is the challenge...

declare your love for an uncool TV show.
look a fool.
eat. Whatever you feel like eating.
waste time.
declare your love for an uncool movie.
act “girly” or “manly” in a way you’d normally avoid.
share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.
sweat.
expose something messy or dirty you’d usually hide.
declare your love for an uncool band.
dress to show some skin.
share about a health struggle.
speak up about something crap that was done to you.
hold yourself accountable — not guilty — for something crappy you did to someone else.
dress, walk, and act like you know you’re all that.
spend money on a non-necessity or share a financial struggle.
discuss the reality of your work situation.
brag.
share details about a bodily function or fluid.
talk about sex
express a strong feeling.
set a boundary.
air one of your secrets.
share a struggle you have yet to “just get over.”
ask for help.
make a mistake.
express a dissenting opinion.
discuss a failure.
look a fool.
name 3 more ways you can live shamelessly and commit to doing them…

I got this from Jen O at My Tornado Alley who got it from Chibi Jeebs who got it from Miss Mary Max

You're more than welcome to join me for the ride or to read up all about it on my Wall of NoShame!

Only Quitters Quit.

2011-08-09T08:52:00.000-07:00

www.jordanschultz.com

Just as I was seriously beginning to think (yes, once again) about quitting. No more blogging ad nauseum, something happened to make me re-consider. I'm no quitter!

Today I read Jen O's post at My Tornado Alley about a fun idea: 30 Days of Shamelessness.

Shamelessness you say? Oh my... isn't that my middle name? I have no shame. It comes from my Mother's side of the family. My Dad's side was the one who had all that weird catholic guilt. Not based on the good traits of do-good-unto-others kind, but the sneaky talking behind other people's back pointing out THEIR faults kind so you can feel better about your nice traits. Or something like that.

My sisters take on my dad's side for this shame thing. I've put them to shame so often... Starting with my oldest sister's wedding. I was 15 years old. Drunk like a true professional. Falling over. Hanging onto my mother for the family pictures. Wonderful green tint on my face. Wonderfully shamelessly blasting my drunkeness all over my sister's wedding album! And now I will begin blasting it out here!

Yippee!

The Fine Line Between WANT and NEED

2011-08-07T10:47:00.000-07:00

I need to eat, but I want a ribeye steak. Or... is it that I NEED a ribeye steak so much that I now WANT to eat?

See the dilemma I face daily?

I need to exercise, yet I want to remain lazy. I need to get around town, so I want a Mini Cooper. Yum. A Mini Cooper. I need it so much, I want us to have a 2nd car!

Need VS Want. The never-ending battle. And the delusion I can easily create to convince myself the silly wanting is simply there because a need, well - needs fulfillment. Back to the need for exercise. It's healthy right? My heart and health depends on regular exercise. So in comes roller derby and scuba diving.

Both wonderful activities. Both requiring gear. Expensive gear. Updated gear.

The better the gear the better the experience? Most of my scuba gear was purchased used or at extreme store discounts. Other than my mask (thank you myopia and dang what's that other word for sight troubles? Uhm, seeing double caused by a weirdly shaped eyeball? See what I was saying yesterday about forgetting words???) What was I saying? Oh yeah, other than my overly priced prescription mask my diving gear was reasonably priced. Ditto on the derby gear. I bought the cheapest skates, spoiled myself with a wheel upgrade so I could skate both indoors and outdoors without having to change them.

I need to exercise so...

I WANT a new dive computer that gives me water temperatures, digital safety stop info and of course a backlight so I can read it in the dark (I don't do night diving, but this last part seemed important)
I WANT all leather skates so they can... (do what exactly that my current skates don't do?) nevertheless, I want better skates!
I WANT new wheels on my bike (which I hardly ever ride at all because I've got myself convinced if I had less rugged threads I'd use it more on the roads)
I WANT a fancy belt to hold small water bottles so when I skate outdoors and run (haha, ok I only go running about once a month) I don't need to carry a water bottle, thus making the experience more enjoyable, I need to stay hydrated right?

Need. Want. Want. Need. I want to need less. I need to want less. But then again... Dive computer. Cool fancy big bold wristwatch. Mmmm. Digital digits. Buttons. Controls. USB connection. I want more. More is more.

I know I won't buy one. I think. Yet, I'm constantly checking out online deals. Please, I beg you: feel free to check up on me to make sure I stay in check!

Focus on the Journey... and all that Jazz

2011-08-06T22:37:00.000-07:00

www.ryanscottlum.tumblr.com

For 4 years I worked in the career management industry in Canada. Oh those were the days... I gots to travel alls over the country meeting nice ladies and gentlemans even going aaaaaallll the ways up to Inuit Nirvana aka Nunavut (pronounced: So Friggin Cold) and hads me a doggy sled ride in the snowy blizzardy desert... yes them was the days indeed!

And during these glorious days I repeated clichés such as:

Follow Your Heart
Focus on the Journey
If You Build it They Will Come

OK, so the last one is from a movie, only because this sweet life is so far away I can't remember all the wunderbar stuff I told people repeatedly. That and a new thing I've developed recently called "forgetting". Joys. Of. Aging.

Even if focus on the journey was a principle I believed in, practicing it was a whole nuther matter. Do as I say, not as I do. But recently I've come to the realization that (cue bright lights and angelic voices coming from the heavens, yes HEAVENS in plural one heaven for each religion) for once in my life I've engaged myself in something that is really about the journey.

I know you're all expecting me to reveal something deep such as re-kindling with religion, or taking on a new career, or whatever... but it isn't. What has finally made me shift into this new paradigm is roller derby.

I know. I'm sounding like a cheap late night infomercial as I'm dangling on some weird new exercise machine screaming "YOU CAN DO IT!" And I apologize for that.

But roller derby is what did it for me. Lot's of ladies join derby hoping to rush through bootcamp and quickly become league members competing in bouts. Not this little freshmeat bootcamper. I'm enjoying the challenges as I go through them one by one. OK, well, as I repeat them over and over and over until I kinda meet them is how I should put it. But still.

Whether it takes me 6 months, a year or if I never even graduate from bootcamp: just being there, doing the drills, meeting the challenges, and facing new ones regularly is my thrill. My new nirvana. Its the here and now no matter where it takes me simply because where I'm at is beyond my wildest imagination.

This is my journey...

Be The Bigger Person

2011-07-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

I'm the type of person who was told to suck it up, take it, recognize when people are rude that they are just going through something and to simply forget about it. I am that person who has turned the other cheek so often I have chronic whiplash. I never talk back, never impose apologies from others, and basically have the words "welcome mat" stamped on my forehead.

That's my role in society. And I know it, and have come to accept and let it be.

This blog is my universe where I allow myself to be me, and without censorship - let it rip. I say it like it is here. And lashing out to that anonymous poster may have appeared as crossing the line, but it felt damn good. Although I may have sat back and reveled in how good it felt I immediately wanted to delete the post.

It was just a stupid anonymous comment from somebody who most likely doesn't even read my blog. And I unleashed to a stranger who probably has never even been back and is oblivious of my rant.

The logical thing to do would have been to ignore the comment, chuckle about it and move on. Shit, I'm hardly ever here anyways so why in the world should I care? Because, this is my little world and I don't want a stranger to spit in my face and walk away. I do that in my real life. "Be the bigger person" blah blah blah... Why is it that I have to accept and recognize and forgive when I don't ever get to be the one who is forgiven?

If by this rant I've turned some of my readers off - I'm sorry. I just needed to be the irrational bitch for 10 minutes. To the others who applauded me for it, thanks I appreciate your support and appreciate the fact that for once I was the one others said "she's just going through something, let it slide..."

Dear Anonymous... Sigh

2011-07-23T10:33:00.000-07:00

"I think you need to shut the fuck up about people you dont know about....its a blog dumb bitch. Get a real life."

What? Wait a minute... what?

Have I spewed shit about people I know nothing about? Is that what this stupid blog has been all about and I never realized it? And "dumb bitch"? Really? Bitch? Now who needs to shut the fuck up about people THEY don't know about? And by the way, dont does need an apostrophe last time I checked, now who's the DUMB bitch douche bag?

Oh, but I do want to thank you about the "Get a real life" comment. Have you even noticed the dates on my posts? Each and every single one of my posts are fewer and further apart. Why is that? Because I HAVE A LIFE ASSHOLE! A life that does NOT give me time to run from blog to blog calling the writers dumb bitches and telling them to get a life! A life filled with a loving family, sports, friends, traveling, community involvement and the occasional blogging about it! Yes, keyword: OCCASIONAL.

But you? What the fuck is up your ass?

Oh and by the way, as I sit here on Catalina Island planning out my next dive and bike ride, look at that image up there and... read between the lines. I'm in paradise and needed a break from the sun and the fun to come and re-connect with my cyber pals and thought I'd take the TRASH out while I was sitting here!

Pimped Out!

2011-07-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

Our little buddy, the Simple Dude in a Complex World wrote a book! An ebook, but it's still a book no less! And if you want to grow your readership, trust me - you can take the word from this dude who in less than six months grew his readership to nearly 2,000 followers!

Click here for the link to find his book!

It's an easy read (would you expect anything different from a guy who calls himself Simple Dude?) but also very catching. It certainly provides wonderful tips on how to make your blog more interesting, how to market yourself as a blogger and how to reach success. If you've been blogging for a while you'll most likely wish you'd read this in the earlier stages of your blogging... I know, right?

So... yeah, check it out and it's worth the investment! I've read it already, but I'm thinking of reading it again (yeah, just checking up on the ol'Dudester to see if he ignored my feedback and recommendations or not - haha). But go ahead, splurge you won't regret it!

Cheers!

Fly Away

2011-06-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

www.declubz.com

Stupid fly. Smashing itself over and over again against the window. I love staring at it. Obsessed by its obsession. The sound is hypnotizing zzzz-thwap-zzzzzzz-thwap-zzzzzzzzzzzzzz-thwap-thwap-thwap!

I open the window to let it out, but it doesn't go out. Instead it follows the window pane as I pop it open. This is a game. The fly wants me to believe it wants out but it doesn't. No the fly loves smashing its head over and over into the shiny window - freedom just a lick away. It wants to stay with me. It wants my company and knows the sound has some soothing feeling. Providing me with such desired company blocking out this void. It just sticks to the window. Maybe it will find the magical hole, a magical passageway leading it to the other side...

I gently try to guide it to the opening. But it shies away. It. I've been observing and obsessing over this fly for over 15 minutes now. Tried to rescue it. Give it freedom. I've developed a relationship with this fly. I feel I can no longer call the fly "it".

Betsy. I decide the fly is female and her name is Betsy. Like a cow, only the fly that usually hangs out by it ("it" now refers to the unknown cow) in the sunshine hoping to pick up scraps of food off its hot leathery skin.

Betsy - hello there and welcome to my home.

Do you have a family Betsy? Where are you from? Have you been with us since our visit to the Coronados Islands? Is that why you want to stay with us? You want a ride home?

I always wonder if flies have families. As a kid when we left for a long road trip to visit our relatives I fantasized about this. While most kids fantasized about Disneyland or a racecar shaped bed, I fantasized about insects and their lives... They entered our car and hours later they flew back out. Lost. Needing to find their way back home to their waiting loved ones.

As I am now sitting here waiting for my loved one to come back home.

p.s. I've labeled this a Magpie, only it isn't. A Magpie that is. I miss the writing prompts where I dive into fiction just for the love of writing. But this piece isn't really fiction. Or is it?

Best 6 Minutes You'll Spend Today!

2011-06-17T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'm struggling to keep up with this blog now. I guess it's just simply becoming a once-in-a-while thing. Which is ok. A lot has been happening with me. All good though, it's all good. Last night I helped a friend create a blog. I'm satisfied with the design I put together for her since it totally fits her. To a "T".

Feel free to go over and say hi to her, here's her link! This woman is connected to ALL that is San Diego arts and culture. An amazing woman, I can't wait to start reading her blog...

Today I stumbled upon THIS little gem of a video. I know - Bohemian Rhapsody is the poster child of over-done songs, just like Paris Hilton is the overdone of rich-girl-gone-famous-over-nothing or Brittney is the poster child of repeated self-destruction. BUT this version - trust me - so deserves to be viewed. And it gets better and better as you keep watching. I laughed to hard tears wanted to come out. Those tears are probably pent up from all that's been happening... all good, all good.

And about that friend who wrote the Confessions of a Manic-Depressive? He helped me out with my bio. He did such a good job, now I want to hang out with the cool chick he wrote about. If that's not narcissism at its best, please tell me how YOU would define it?

See you on the flip side...

Are You Happy Now?

2011-06-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

According to a study published by the NY Times, in what makes people happy: children are on the bottom of the totem pole.

“Yet contrary to previous research on daily moods, the study found that the women rated TV-watching high on the list, ahead of shopping and talking on the phone, and ranked taking care of children low, below cooking and not far above housework.”

Is this a scary thought?

It’s one thing to judge a sense of instant gratification and an entirely different thing to assess a lifelong sense of personal accomplishment. In retort to CNN and even the NY Times study, I ask: Is this the right question? Shouldn’t the question be: Does having children make you a complete and well rounded person?

In all honesty, this is the question that’s been mulling over and over in my head since the finality of my decision to not have kids: Will I ever be a real complete woman if I don’t have children? Or will I always have the sense that… something is missing?

Read more here!

Oddly Enough...

2011-05-27T11:20:00.000-07:00

The coolest thing about Cake Betch is she doesn't know she's marvelous.

You find yourself in bed by your pretty little wife, and you may ask yourself "This isn't my pretty little wife?".

The last time I posted, many many moons ago, was to accept an award I'd received from superstar Cake Betch. And today I'm back, and guess what? The Cake'ster has ME over in her Hot Mess Chronicles featuring my shower story with her amazing drawr-ings! And it's AMAZING! I'm so thrilled!

And you may ask yourself... where have I been? What have I been up to? And I may ask myself the same thing...

I started a job, worked my ass off and never got paid. After a full month's work the dude tells me its normal to start off as an intern until the wheels start running correctly. Sure. Only problem with that is:

I'm not at the FUCKIN intern level!
I saved HIS ass at 2 events!
I did ALL the friggin work!
The agreement was I'd get an hourly rate plus percentage!
And now I feel guilty because I want to stop helping him out.

So, I've been busy being robbed of my time. But I've been having a blast... I know without a doubt: I was born for making magic happen with loads of people having fun.

Sigh.

And I've been writing at my derby blog. Also been writing at SDMomfia. I've even been published by an international news website about derby! I'm still not certified for scuba (major sigh) but that's on its way. Oh, and I now get to start my Intermediate Spanish class! Yay!

What am I going to do about the work thing? The easy answer is tell the dude to fuck off and move on. But for some odd reason I cannot even begin to understand myself I can't pull myself away. I keep telling him until I see some amount of moolah (at lease he could pay my fuel and my extra cell phone minutes) I won't be helping him out. And then I go and agree to do stuff because,

BECAUSE??? Why is there no because? And you may ask yourself why am I still helping this bugger?

Guess Who Lurves Me?

2011-05-02T17:35:00.000-07:00

Cake Betch is hurting... help make her feel better!

Cake Betch is a cool blogger. I found her through Pat Tillett when she featured a story of his in her drawings. I know we all love Allie Brosh and her Hyperbole and a Half... Cake is Ohio's Version of Oregon's Allie. Yeah. She's THAT good. I love her cartoons and her stories. I think I may have recently read on Twitter that she bought a backpack and hadn't had one in so many years! Really? I don't ever remember a time where I didn't have one.

I always have oodles of backpacks and try as much as I can to fight the urge from buying more.

Anyways, as usual - I'm totally not focusing.

Cake Betch needs some bloggy lovin'. She's going through some icky turmoils. Shit she doesn't deserve... So go check her out you'll enjoy her stories... I hate it when people I admire go through sadness. Don't they know they're freakin' awesome?

Oh, and she gave me an awaaaaaaard! Something about being an inspiration... She actually dedicated it to me as a roller derby biotch. So I don't know if it should go to Marr*Bulls or to me. That personality disorder of mine is in full swing! I'll gladly accept it here, maybe put the award up on my other blog...

I am supposed to give it to 10 other bloggers. Ugh. If I read you then I love you, then you deserve the award... right? RIGHT? I love getting awards because I'm messed up that way and need the recognition, but choosing a limited group of people is SO HARD!

Way too hard. But this time I'm giving it to only one person. And it's a dude I find very inspiring. It goes to Micael Chadwick. Yes. He is inspiring. And has inspired me to create more art and leave behind me more beauty - as he does daily. Micael, you are a true inspiration. I know... I know... You don't give a rat's ass about these awards, and you're no longer "blogging" per say, but you still have a blog and still post regularly on it.

And because I think you are so deserving of this award, I'm not diluting it by making you share it with 9 others. This goes out to you. And only you. Don't ever stop making this planet a better place mon ami, your art is sheer beauty and anybody who gets to see it becomes a better person.

The Takers - Part 2

2011-04-27T17:06:00.000-07:00

In my previous post I ranted about how I'm struggling to get certified as a diver. Ghaaa! It makes me mad.

At the end of my 2nd open water swims, I literally had to DRAG this girl 300 yards because her hips were hurting *wimper-wimper* and she was soooo tired *wimper-wimper* and she just couldn't kick anymore *wimper-wimper*. She got her certification.

Ghaaa! It's so frustrating.

And then we throw out this invitation via a Yahoo Scuba Diving group to all announcing we were planning a boat dive into the kelp beds. Of course I couldn't dive because a- my ears were in turmoil and b- I wasn't certified (but the chick I towed to shore was fully certified - wtf?). So my plan was to chill and hang out on the boat while Booby and our new diver friends explored the bottom of the sea. Sans moi, *wimper-wimper*.

This girl we did not know accepted the invitation, plus 2 other divers we did know. With Booby that made a perfect 4. (Perfect because of the buddy system). Yay for them (notice my sarcasm?).

This unknown chick shows up and graciously lets Booby load all her equipment into a dock cart and roll is out to our boat. Then she graciously stands by while he unloads it and sits all pretty in her Victoria Secrets swimsuit twirling her blond braid.

Again, notice the sarcasm?

She goes on and on about Belize and other chartered dives she'd been on. We kinda nod and say the occasional "uh-hun" but honestly, we're so not listening. Then we anchor and they prepare for their dive. And she graciously squeezes herself into her suit while Booby gets her tank strapped into her BCD and regulator. She makes more Belize-related comments as Booby makes sure her air and everything pans out. Then she graciously comments on how hot it is so sit in her wetsuit as Booby now gets to slide into his suit (after prepping his AND her gear).

Booby has everybody's gear sitting in the dinghy (hee hee, "dinghy") and has everybody jump into the water as he sits in the *giggle* dinghy handing out the gear. She jumps out and one of her fin comes off. Now she is lost. Cannot fix her fin. So once Booby gets everybody settled into their gear he has to fix her fin. WTF? One hour later (after anchoring) they are all good to go. The plan is to swim around the boat to the front, and descend holding on to the anchor chain.

Easy right? Off they go. And off she goes, swimming away from the boat head in the water.

WTF? She is certified?

Finally she makes her way to the front of the boat and obviously does not have enough weight. So I have to run back and forth getting her extra lead. So they do the dive, blah blah blah, constantly having to drag her back to the group and she decides to sit out the second dive.

Booby again has to take care of her gear before going back down with the other divers. She lays down and realizes it's chilly when you're wet. Duh. She goes down to change into dry clothes and it takes forever.

And forever later I realized why it took her forever. She was SICK and PUKED and made a MESS. Which she graciously omitted in telling us. And graciously allowed Booby to reload all her gear after rinsing it in clear water and waltzed away.

And I was stuck cleaning up after her. WTF! AND the first thing we told everybody coming on the boat was "If you're going to be sick, do it outside and off the side of the boat!"

So yeah. I am bitter. She cannot swim, cannot set-up her gear, but got certified.

p.s. and did I mention she puked on my boat?

Half-Assed Weekender: The Takers Edition - Part 1

2011-04-24T11:50:00.000-07:00

Haven't posted one of these in a long time. Flagging off bloggy buddy The Simple Dude as the initiator of these little half-assed weekend posts.

I've been working on getting my PADI Certification. The term "working" is not to use lightly... My ears are causing an issue since I have a definite congestion problem. After 3 attempts to correct the deviated ~~and corrupt person that I am~~ septum, I gave up on ever even being able to breathe freely from my nose. My mouth is open all the time, yeah I look like I should be the star of Dumb and Dumber. Oh well!

So... this diving thing. To get certified you have to complete a list of ~~sometimes almost impossible and freakishly scary~~ skills. Like removing your mask under water, putting it back on and clearing it, navigating under water, removing your BCD and putting it back on, and other greatly fun stuff. I breezed through ever skill. I grew up in a pool. I literally grew up in a pool! Water beckons me non stop.

It was decided to accomplish all 4 mandatory open water dives in one weekend. Two dives on each day. We had to walk through a 6' crushing wave with 80 lbs of equipment strapped to our backs. But I think I've talked about this before, I need to fast-forward... Long story short because of my ears I had to cancel day 2. Thankfully (for me) the group had to cancel the 2nd dive on day 2 because of a huge amount of jellyfish! Yay me! That put me 1 dive behind the group.

We re-scheduled for the next Tuesday. The group would get their final dive, I'd get my 3rd one in. This was April 12. My left ear has been blocked from that night until Friday night. My dive master wanted to get me done for my final dive as quick as possible. So we agreed to return yesterday (the 23rd).

But. BUT. BUT... My ears. Oh my ears. I was ok swimming around in 15' of water. But as we swam deeper and deeper towards 30' all was no longer okey-dokey. I could not equalize my stupid left ear!

Shit, this is no longer a half-assed post. Oh well!

I signal to the dive master and we swim back to the surface. On the way up she indicates to to a 3 minute safety stop. This is not a mandatory skill, but since she knows I'll be diving off the boat, she decided it was necessary to impose it. I failed the 3 minute stop...

On the surface she indicates she cannot certify me because of that blasted stop. I suggest we go back down and try it again. "Your nose is bleeding, you tore some capillary tissues. You can't go back down, you could cause more damage." Fcuk. The fukkity fcuk! I have to go again! But before doing so I have to see a doctor.

And the worst thing is that THIS was not the purpose of my post. I WANTED to write about yesterday afternoon and our boat diving excursion (which I went for the excursion, but couldn't do the dive - of course) but I'm cutting off now. This post is long enough.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Where Am I Going? Oh, to WORK!

2011-04-20T09:56:00.000-07:00

sorry cartoonstock.com but this was just too perfect!

Looks like I may be bringing home the bacon.

Mmmmmm... bacon!

Some dude wants to make me part of his company. This could lead to some interesting stuff. I'm also a bit afraid of jinxing the whole situation, but I'll go ahead and ~~brag about it~~ share the goodies with my blog peeps. In January I got involved with a local festival. And during this time I met this dude who runs an event company here in San Diego.

I ran into him at the post festival party and he mentioned he may have something for me. (*giddy-giddy*) Then he called me inviting me to a meeting to brainstorm about one of his upcoming event. I could not for the life of me stop myself from talking and throwing ideas, and just bla bla bla'ing myself during the meeting.

Surprised? I know right? Ghaaa!

Then I sent him a follow-up email with MORE ideas and networking suggestions to help promote the event. Yesterday he had me come out to his office (bonus it's a 5 minute drive from IKEA) and today I'm going back!

Bacon store - here I come!

What will come of this? I don't know. All I know is with the price of fuel skyrocketing in SoCal, I hope I'll be able to afford going to work...

I'm Part Of The Momfia: And I'm Not A MOM!

2011-04-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

I'm over there today! Yayyyyy! Come on over and read me at the San Diego MOMfia website. Click here for the link!

Update

2011-04-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

Thanks for your input about my deep question: should I stay underground or out myself? I will remain Nikki Rules and as underground as possible. This will allow me the freedom to continue on with my free speech.

But. And it's a big butt (oh yeah... booty!) I will clean up my act a little bit. Don't worry, the quirky me will remain. That is inevitable. Can I tell you a story of what I was talking about this weekend as I was wiggling into my bodysuit in front of 20 other near strangers from my scuba class?

The topic of death comes up, as it may naturally come up when you're facing 6' waves and prepping to walk through these 6' waves carrying 60-80 pounds of gear strapped to your back and about to sink down to 60 feet. Oh boy I have a way with words!

So, I add my two cents and mention how I want to die: right after sex. One second you're all wide eyed moaning "aaah - aaah" then nothing. Heart stops. You float up to heaven where a party of people who loved you are awaiting your arrival. You look at them, take a bow and say "Yes. Thank you. Perfect exit!" and bow again. Then you say "You know what else is amazing about THIS death?" Now this group of near strangers are standing there, watching me with a body suit half way up, my arms are both stuck midway down the sleeves, I look like a seal trying to peal away his skin and say:

"The guy gets to brag about this event for the rest of his life. Surrounded by pals at the pub, beer in hand he gets to gloat 'I'm so good in bed, a chick once orgasmed so hard her heart stopped immediately!"

We're all laughing. Mainly nerves from what is waiting for us beyond the waves when finally one hand pops out the wrist hole and I add "So... what do YOU think about while you're squeezing into your body suit in front of a bunch of strangers?" I pause to fight against the next stupidly tight hole and add "Why sex, death and heaven, of course!"

All this to say, I will keep writing under my chosen pseudonym. But I will maintain my small little social media activities even if I'm slowly transferring this aspect towards Marr Bulls. If my weak safe breaks down and my new professional network finds me, and frowns upon me because of it - then so be it.

p.s. Remember that nasty bruise I had on my thumb? After sitting in the bottom of the pool for over 1 hour straight, the pressure had sucked all that blood right out, no more bruise. Instant heal of pressure!

HEEEEELP!

2011-04-11T09:13:00.000-07:00

www.linguisticsmassey.wordpress.com

Whenever ANYBODY asks me if they should blog anonymously with a pseudonym or under their real name, I always tell them: "Blogging anonymously is better, having the freedom to write openly you will have, no need to censor yourself you will enjoy!" And yes, in a creepy cracky little voice of a thousand year old hairy little dude I explain this as providing more information I am doing...

Talking like Yoda never gets old. Probably because the metaphor itself (Yoda) is older than the planet!

Focus. I need to focus. Scuba diving warbles your focus it does. (Did you hear my creepy cracky voice?)

I'm at the point where I am beginning to "out" myself. As a blogger. Because a true Yoda I am not, although convincing I am at being a Yoda... But yeaaaaahhhhh. Friday I have a post being published at San Diego MOMfia. I am thrilled about this! Big time thrilled! This will help me network in MY area! With real live people! Doing something I love: writing about myself! Bwahahaha! Plus it's like a totally professional blog with an editor! And glitter! (OK, so there is no glitter, but I felt it appropriate to throw it out there.)

But I have a dilemma... Do I link this to my cyber house rules? My first choice was to link it to my derby blog since it's me, but under my derby name. Ghhhaaaaa! But linking it to the derby doesn't have much je ne sais quoi, like flair or weight like Nikki Rules does. Plus my tweets are all under Nikki.

What do I do? Is there a blog Yoda out there who can help me? And then, as I am applying for jobs and they ask for writing samples... what do I do? Chose some of my favorite posts and send those in?

I've already started tweeting for "real" stuff: getting the word out there for oh say derby bouts; or festivals; and now this next event I'm helping out on. But people will find me (the Nikki me) since my twitter is also all about my cyber house rules. I've developed multiple personality disorder... Like the Mini-Wheat asking his audience if he's healthy or a tasty treat because of his sugary side. I too have a sugary side, yet can be healthy (minus the personality issues).

Did he ever get his limo? The Mini-Wheat dude, not Yoda. Stick with me.

The story doesn't say if he gets it. The limo. Gosh, focus guys focus!

The Challenge of Organized Women's Sports

2011-04-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

www.cowshell.com

DISCLAIMER: I am a very open and cool person. I am. I truly am.

When I start getting involved in any team, oops, make that a woman's team of any sort, the hardest challenge I face is knowing if each new woman I meet is straight or lesbian.

Why is this important? If you know anything about me, you probably understand immediately why it has any importance. But let's say you've never actually met me (which pretty much sums up 99.9% of my readers) or that this is your first time here (hey, thanks for stopping by!). One of my motivations for joining any league is networking and making new friends.

And I don't give a rat's ass what you eat for pleasure. But... some do, and my over-friendliness can be off putting for some of my new "friends". I am always wondering "does she think I'm hitting on her?" or "hmmm... does she want me to hit on her?" See my challenge?

Now meet my new sport: roller derby.

Chicks who are badass is the most common denominator in this sport. And, yes, I will be doing a sexual orientation profiling: this is also pretty common among my les-be-friends. You know what I'm saying? Well, ok, not ALL lesbians are badass in-your-face-hard-core-slamming-other-peeps-to-the-ground type. You should meet my Montreal friend. Total opposite. But that's besides the point.

Last practice we all went out for taco Tuesday. Tacos: making Tuesdays 100% better around the universe! Disclaimer: I am not being paid by Taco Corp to make this claim. It's just my straight up belief.

Booby came along, because he's that kind of guy. Always open for fun, and girls drinking $2 Margaritas dressed in hot Derby clothes? Oh yeah... He'd be insulted if I didn't invite him. But at one point, one of the girls pointed at him and said "Who's THAT guy?" and one of my peeps said "Oh, that's Marr's husband!" (We all call ourselves by our derby names btw).

Oooof. I need to breath now (sorry, I've been totally struggling with breathing as a side effect from scuba diving this week-end). Where was I... Oh yeah, SO then the girl who asked who Booby was looked at me and something clicked. I saw her registering "Oooohhh, so she WASN'T hitting on me, she was just being friendly!" And I knew she was in the same place as I was.

I wish I had some kind of beeper telling me who eats what. It would avoid a lot of potential embarrassment. Ya know what I'm saying? I don't need to know so I can avoid you... I need to know because I just need to know! And although *I prefer sausage to taco, I do like my share of tacos (carne asada, that is!)

* if you've never seen 50 First Dates: watch it now, or you'll never understand this comment.

Rule of Thumb: Don't Fall On Thumb!

2011-04-01T15:24:00.000-07:00

THAT is MY thumb. No trick photography was used...

My thumb looks like crap! It also hurts too. *Mwah* Last night when I fell, I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I was tough. I'm totally badass like that!

I'm loving roller derby so much that I went ahead and created a new blog just for Marr Bulls. That's my derby name by the way. Cool hunh? Yeah, I thought so. In case you're curious, I put a link in the sidebar for the derby blog. I'm doing a one-way thing though. I'm keeping my cyber house rules as a safe haven for me, my venting and basically saying the real shizz fo' shure. Ya hear me?

Whereas "be the doll" is shared among the derby world, and anybody who knows who Marr Bulls is will know who I am, get it? In other words, if you know Nikki Rules it's ok if you know Marr Bulls. But if all you know is Marr Bulls, then you don't really need to know Nikki.

I should probably go find some ice for my cocktail and I'll stick my thumb in it. That's practical thinking right there! Have a great weekend peeps... I'm going scuba diving!

A New Milestone

2011-03-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

www.zazzle.com

I turned 45 this month.

If you've been reading me lately you already know this mid-life crisis I'm going through is driving me insane. 45. Forty. Five. Google 45 and then hit the "images" option. It's a bunch of guns. Subliminally telling me what I need to do?

My nieces texted me with good wishes reminding me of how rockin cool I was. They're so sweet. Probably doing what their moms, my sisters, were forcing them to do.

But I also made a decision to stop freaking out about my age. And my wrinkles. And my droopy cheeks. And my knobby knees. That's it. Total acceptance of my pain in my bones when I wake up. And the fact that by 9 pm I'm struggling to stay awake. And the fact that when teenagers talk I just want to scream "STOP MUMBLING!!!!" then re-collect myself before adding "AND PULL UP YOUR PANTS!!!".

Yes. I am going to be zen about this mid-life thing. So totally zen when I'm jumping over obstacles in my roller skates hoping that if I fall I won't ~~come crashing down~~ land on my already sore butt. Totally zen as I'm strapping myself into the regulators and vest and oxy tanks... Very zen when I'm praying the sail boat doesn't tip over.

Zen. Welcome to my life as I patiently check off every item on my bucket list.

p.s. Do you realize some people don't even know what that thing is up there?

Cool Gang But Can I Qualify?

2011-03-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

I just found out there's a whole San Diego gang called the Momfia. You know, like a mafia for moms. Well, I'm all gangstah - check! I live in San Diego - check! Kids? None - uncheck!

But this gang looks cool. And I'm cool. And I'm a professional aunt, my nieces LOVE me to shreds and think I'm the coolest aunt in the world. I hope I can qualify... Because there's a cool cause I want to join:

Hello San Diego Bloggers!! KidsCause of San Diego is offering a challenge you can’t refuse. Starting Friday, March 25th and lasting until midnight on Sunday April 3rd, KidsCause challenges you to drive subscribers to KidsCause.com through your website. We will track where our new subscribers come from and if your site brings us the most subscribers during contest week, we will award you with a $50 gift card of your choice. Blog, Facebook, Tweet, fly an airplane across the sky, just get your family, friends and readers to subscribe (with zero risk) to KidsCause from YOUR blog.

Being a KidsCause subscriber means you are now privvy to some fantastic local deals. And who doesn’t love a deal, right? Even better? KidsCause’s main goal is to enrich and support the lives of our local kids. A whopping 50% of KidsCause revenues from each and every deal goes to our youth based non-profit of the week. These non-profits include, but are not limited to: schools, sporting leagues, charities that feed and care for our under privileged kids, etc. This is a Daily Deal with a Purpose, folks.

So, now that you have gotten your socks in a bunch about a $50 gift card of your choice, please remember you are now a crucial component in fundraising for the kids in our beautiful San Diego County. That deserves a big pat on the back, Bloggers. It also deserves a gift card for $50 if you bring in the most subscribers.

The Fine Print:
Please use: http://www.kidscause.com/san-diego and refer your readers to the top right corner that reads ‘Get Daily Deal Email.’ You may also need to let them know that after they subscribe an email will be sent to confirm the validity of the supplied email address. This contest will run from 12:00am Friday, March 25 through 11:59pm Sunday April 3rd . You will only be given credit for the traffic that comes from your site and subscribes with KidsCause.com’s site. While our main target is San Diego, this contest is open to all Bloggers everywhere.

My Favorite Topic: Poop!

2011-03-25T09:39:00.000-07:00

www.nataliedee.com

I have a friend who owns a Roto Rooter franchise. And you thought your job was shitty? And yes, I have friends in mighty high places! His happy hour stories are usually quite amusing.

This one day... he tells us how he gets called in to unplug a seriously plugged up toilet. he fishes all the crap out of it and up comes a bunch of condoms. A bunch of them. He tells the guy he should consider throwing those out in the trash, not the toilet. The guy tells him he needs to talk to his wife, since he doesn't use condoms.

***

Another friend of mine was a pharmacist. He quickly learned the necessity to provide extra details about prescriptions, even details he thought could go without saying. When a client came back asking "How the heck am I supposed to swallow THIS pill?" when he was waving a suppository, he thought he was going to faint. "Sir, do you know what a suppository is?" When all he got was a blank stare followed by "Am I supposed to know all the medical terms for various pills? I imagined it stood for horse-size pill!"

***

You know what I hate? The toilet brush. Ugh, how the heck do you get your's all clean after a quick scrub around the bowl? There's always poop crumbs that cling to the bristles. It doesn't matter how harsh I swoosh it around the bowl, poop crumbs just cling for dear life. And when I use it in the boat toilet it's even worse. Why do they call boat toilets heads? And does that make the brush a head brush? And to scrub it, am I actually giving head?

Where am I going with this post?

And trust me, don't ever bring up the poop topic during an interview. No matter the job, no matter how "lax" the interviewer may appear - NO POOP TALK.

When The Heck Did THAT Happen???

2011-03-22T10:41:00.000-07:00

It has happened. Don't know when exactly but I know it's happened. Kind of like watching Robert Redford, do you remember when the switch occurred where he went from one of the most handsome man on the face of the earth to be a grizzly old guy with a leather face? When did THAT happen?

It's happened to me. Not that I was once the most handsome man on the face of the earth, because well, I'm not a man, and let's face it - I've never been extremely handsome (can we even say "handsome" for women?). But what I do know is I've switched from being asked for my ID when I order drinks to:

being called Ma'am from younger chicks;
having people not flinch when I tell them my age (trust me, my entire life people have not believed me when I told them how old I was always thinking I was YEARS younger);
having all over body pain after working for 17 straight hours at the IndieFest.

OK, so I get bonus points for the roller derby, and the scuba diving... and I do happen to be in pretty good shape, but still.

I AM OLD.

And it breaks my heart.

In other news: can I tell you a secret? Get closer, I need to whisper this... Ssshhhhh! Don't tell anyone but, I secretly wish mermaids really existed. I do. I honestly do. There, it's out. And if mermaids existed, I'd be their spokesperson. I'd create a sister Greenpeace league for the protection of mermaids. I would speak their language and represent them outside the water. And my desire to get PADI certification? You got me. I want to explore the seas and see for myself if there is some kind of hybrid existence living underwater.

I hope mermaids aren't ageists. If so, they would most likely fire me as their rep and hire a younger and fresher spokesperson. That would suck. Maybe I would need to create an age sensitivity awareness program. I couldn't bear being fired from my beloved mermaids.

Diary of a Middle-Aged Teenager

2011-03-18T10:06:00.000-07:00

I started reading Anne Frank's diary last night. Wow. Why have I waited so long to read this book? She starts off by saying how she has no friends. Then explains she's got tons of friends to play with, talk and laugh with. And she is surrounded by a wonderful loving family but she has nobody to really talk with. Nobody to confide in. Nobody with whom she can share her true secrets. And since this person is non-existant, she decides to call her diary Kitty, and write as if she is confiding to her true best friend.

THIS turned all the lights on in my head. For many reasons... This short paragraph that had already been highlighted by numerous previous Kindle readers explained why I blog! I need true friends that I see regularly and with whom I can truly confide. Other than Booby, this person does not exist.

But what else this told me was how I started blogging out of an obvious need. But recently my blogging routine has slowed way down. Rather than posting every day, I'm now posting about 2 or 3 times a week. And now I am fighting back tears.

Tears of joy - yes: J-O-Y!

Just like depression creeps up on you without you really realizing it, you suddenly find yourself swamped in a Grey cloud. This same nasty ass depression leaves you as silently as it found you to where you wake up one morning, look above in the sky and stare at nothing but Blue skies. Blue skies shining above, nothing but Blue sky do I see... (please do sing along with me).

I am happy. It just happened. I'm doing fun things, I'm potentially risking breaking my butt bone (crashing down on your ass with the extra weight from the derby gear friggin hurts galore), and I'm getting involved in my new community. I worked my ass off for the IndieFest. But man was that ever FUN! And it totally confirmed that I was born for that kind of stuff - special events, festivals and *festivus for the rest of us!

So for now, I am happy. As I delve deeper and deeper into my new friend's life (Anne Frank) this may change a tad bit, I've been warned by a friend - the book is harsh. You'll be the first to know of any emotional change! ツ

* If you've never heard this saying before, dude, you seriously need to watch some Seinfeld!

Roller Derby: A Vlog!

2011-03-15T14:11:00.000-07:00

Man do I EVER talk fast. I'm still trying to figure out the whole iMovie editing and stuff. So bare with me as I learn. But in the meantime, please do watch this short little vid I made just for you! And this also confirms I am getting old. Times are sad man, times are sad...

I'm Either Delirious From Cold Meds, Or In Early Stages of Alzeimer's, or Maybe I'm Just Begging for Attention

2011-03-11T14:20:00.000-08:00

www.gapinvoid.com

I'm hoping you're not thinking "All of the above". Wait, I'm hoping I'm not thinking all of the above. Of course you all know I'm still as unemployed as the rock from which I just crawled under. But I am involved with the San Diego IndieFest, as a volunteer. My volunteer title is 'Queen of something' as you see, I don't care much for titles, I know I'm a queen and it's all that matters. That and the festival is tomorrow. And today is setup day.

Setup days are always one of my favorites in festivals. It's exciting. Everything is being delivered. You get to watch the stages rise up, and the light bridges over them. It's exhilarating. All this is happening right now as I'm clicking away on my keyboard backing up every 3 character to correct a weird typo (I actually wrote homping 3 times before I got it right, shut-up Freud). I am being rocked away in my boat in the backlashes of the Japanese tsunami.

I watched images of these ferocious waves on TV and then went online to see more of them.

Chilling.

I'm currently too delusional to be fun and fearless. It's so bad in my head I actually googled "early signs of Alzheimer's" and checked off all 10 signs. Checked them off in a negative "yup, that's me" way. My delusions almost cost us a sponsorship I managed to finagle at the last minute from a local restaurant giving us $1,000 in meals for the artists.

And it (silly delusion) totally botched up my recent sale on eBay. Thank god for the option to cancel a sale after it's been paid. Sigh, bye-bye easy $300!

Going back to bed now, good night and please tell Mother Earth to calm the fuck down!

Fun & Fearless Female

2011-03-06T08:30:00.000-08:00

Years ago I'd occasionally pick up a copy of a pretty cheesy magazine: Cosmopolitan. The surveys were fun ditto on the tips on how to please your man... But I would also love to read a series of profiles they labeled Fun Fearless Female. I'd read with envy the lives of such fantastic women remembering when I had dreams of building a career such as those featured in this raunchy magazine.

Recently to fight the fear of sailing and the over tilting of the boat I've adapted a new mantra: I'm a fun and fearless female.

As soon as my heart starts to cringe I immediately repeat my new mantra over and over hoping it'll have a soothing effect. Either that or I'll simply brainwash myself into self-improvement.

I'm a fun and fearless female.

The other day I picked up my packet of birth control pills. I stared at the little day stickers asking Booby what day it was. That kinda shit happens when you're unemployed, you never really know what day of the week it is. "Tuesday, why?" Uh oh. "Nothing, just wondering..." I swallowed 2 pills. Monday we had some little pillow fun, if you know what I mean. Wink-wink-nodge-nodge "Bow-chica-wow-woooow" Tuesday I was ovulating. Sometimes we just know these things as I'm sure you'll appreciate the lack of detail sharing. Sooooo, pillow play, ovulating and a skipped pill.

I'm a fun and fearless female.

Twitter has a cool feature where you know how your followers group you. And when you appear under a new list you can go and see what category you fall into. One follower labeled me "Most likely not a zombie" How nice of him. I thought it was so cool, I used it to label my resume on the online hosting thingy. I'm sure my future employer is looking for a candidate who is most likely not a zombie. I mean, who in their right mind would want to hire a zombie? Right?

I'm a fuckin' fun and fearless fuckin' female!

p.s. Expecting an update on the roller derby shit? Coming, dear peeps, coming... ツ

That's Concrete To Me

2011-03-03T10:34:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I assumed everything around me had always been there, and would always remain there. I simply didn't question anything.

The city's confusing interchanges: always existed.
The stinky lake we swam in: always been there, always smelled bad.
My mom, my dad, my sisters: forever and ever.

I believed every single word uttered by the nuns. Mary was a saint and holy virgin. Joseph accepted, as I did, she had received a gift from God, and from that gift came Jesus. Joseph didn't accuse her of sleeping around, why would I? Adam was bored, god created Eve to entertain him. Amazing.

I'm far from being a religious person, but believing is easy and natural. And when I watch a movie or read a book, I fall under the same comfort of going with the story and allowing it to come true to life. This is probably why I struggle with horror movies.

When my dad died I came face to face with the knowledge he wasn't going to be there forever and ever. But being the naive person that I am, I allowed him to call me in my dreams. The phone would ring and as usual I was greeted with "C'est ton pèèèèère!" (with a strong emphasis on the accented e). Even if I answered "hi dad" he felt the need to establish decorum and introduce himself. This always made me smile, so it was only natural he'd introduce himself in my dreams as well.

Along my beliefs, of course, there is life after death. Again, remembering what the nuns taught me, when I die there will be a big party in the sky with all the people who love(d) me and will welcome me with their angelic wings surrounded by fluffy cottony clouds à-la Philadelphia Cream Cheese.

Although I know those messed up interchanges haven't always existed, and knowing most of them are about to crumble (Montreal is on the verge of some messy traffic situations) and the lake I swam in was once clean enough to drink from, there is still a part of me that hangs on to their permanence. And that's ok.

Because if I lose these views, then other things will crumble as well. And dealing with major losses would become overwhelming. My dad was one of the nicest, sweetest person I knew. To think he is forever and ever gone from my existence is unbearable.

With everything being fake, superficial, fluttering and temporary - it's comforting to surround ourselves with (illusions) of solidity. Sometimes you just need solid concrete ground to walk on as buildings topple and fall over.

p.s. This is the very 1st writing prompt from Studio 30+: CONCRETE. I couldn't resist the urge...

Is My Blog The New Exercise Machine?

2011-03-02T09:47:00.000-08:00

www.cartoonstock.com

You know THAT exercise machine that quietly sits in your basement acting as a clothes hanger? Or the handy one that folds flat and remains hidden under your bed? Or that stationary bike in the garage buried under clutter and more clutter and boxes of old clothing (the clothes you've outgrown but was hoping to fit into again after using that stationary bike)...

Yeah. That machine. The "I will dedicate my life to this machine and use it to make myself a better person" toy. Which eventually becomes the "Tomorrow I will use it" machine. And ultimately ends up as the "Just hang that shit on that handle bar there" thing.

I go through phases. And when I'm in a phase I plunge head first and enjoy every single aspect of the new phase. The new love. The new thing. I've dabbled with watercolors, ceramics, drawing, drumming (haha, THAT was funny), surfing, kayaking, cycling, ad nauseum'ing... I've purchased so many toys, equipment and uniforms that I wonder how I've managed to set money aside and build a little cushion!

And now what? I haven't posted since last Tuesday. And I'm not falling apart, I'm not going all psycho about checking my stats, my numbers or my comments. Is my blog like an unused exercise machine I just may try to sell on CraigsList? Oooh, can I do that?

Every single time I fell in love I had to pull back and wonder if the new love was another "thing" or phase. I held back from telling guys I loved them simply because I totally didn't trust myself. I hate breaking hearts. And I would find out if it was a phase once it was too late and the dude was totally hooked and showing me rings. Oops. Have I ever mentioned my lesbian phase? Oh yeah. Oops. (Again).

Soooooooo... I'll be back. I know it. And I do apologize to my new followers/readers. Oops. In the meantime I'm obsessing over roller-derby, learning Spanish and scuba diving. Oh and dolphins. I fucking love the dolphins! If I can figure out how to hang clothes on a dolphin I just may buy one!

Cheers!

What Does It Take?

2011-02-22T09:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you realize you are having a perfect day. And it's so cool when in the midst of it you can notice it. What does it take to have a perfect day? Does it have to be exclusively great things or can you still have regular shit happen because let's face it, life is full of ups and downs. And I'm so busy I don't even have time for a job! How could I fit in some silly bullshit when I have days like yesterday? How?

Here's my day in a nutshell:

I'm sitting at my computer with my bowl of coffee, and Booby tells me he wants to watch the previous night's Californication episode online. So I push my stuff away and get ready to enjoy the oh-so-sexy Hank Moody. Starting the day with Hank is like spray-painting yourself with Teflon - any shit coming your way will just slide right off.
After the show Booby leaves (finally) for the hardware store, so I rush out and get all my shit lined up to record my first vlog! My cat mask has a useless elastic, so I have to re-do it, thank god I had some black elastic...
I recorded my thingydoo and start messing around with the fonts and title thing when boom Booby walks in and expects me to put the computer away and assist him in fixing the holding tank. Can any job be more grosstastic than THAT?
We motor out to the service dock to suck off the pooper tank. Again. Grosstastic. If you've never seen a suck-it-off, it's a giant vacuum cleaner with a clear hose you push into your waste hole so you can see the sh!t literally being sucked out. Since our holding tank needed repair, and we didn't want to work on a shitfested tank, we filled it up with water then sucked the murky agua outta there. Fun.
We headed back to our dock (swooshing around another boat who'd been waiting for us to vacate the single spot). Booby decides we HAVE to go for a ride so that means running around getting the boat ready for a rockin ride. Meanwhile, I have my vlog just sitting there, waiting to be published. But life is beckoning me.
We back out of our dock spot. Backing up the shifter breaks. The shifter fucking takes a crap on us! Our boat is locked into reverse in the middle of a turn. Backing up out of our dock spot. (Yeah, I know I'm repeating myself but it was cool. Cool meaning we totally expected to pinball our way between all the other docked boats!)
Luckily we had some horse shoes up our asses because we managed to simply keep backing up all the way into an open dock spot! I'm yelling at Booby to turn the motor off so we can just slowly glide in... He's in full panic mode, but since he isn't here to defend himself I get to pretend like I took control of the situation. Booyah.
I get an email in reply to a job I actually DID apply for (and not one of those annoying life insurance sales' things that make me want to pull my hair out one sliver at a time) inviting me for an interview! Eeeks! Somebody wants me! Somebody I want, wants me back! Oh it's going to be a good-good day!
I married a mechanic. Perfect! He tells me I can go and do whatever I want while he finds out what he needs to do to fix the shifter. Of course I run downstairs to finalize my vlog and share it with the world! Hahaha, yes, life is perfect in my denial loaded head!
He runs down the steps to proudly tell me he's done! He's done! Already? "Are you sure you don't need to run out for parts or anything???" I was hoping I'd be off the hook and get to enjoy a day with my computer...
We ~~reluctantly for me~~ finally head back out. We pull out the sails and head south. Check THIS out: there's a shitload of dolphins all around us. They're all over the place. Dolphins! Have I ever mentioned how much I LOOOOOVE dolphins? At one point we've got 8-10 dolphins swimming right by the front of our boat, I can almost touch them. Booby and I are just sitting there watching them. The autopilot is in control, the cockpit is empty... Fuck directing the boat, we've got dolphins to observe. They're jumping and diving over each other, sneaking glances at us, swimming on their backs. I was so caught up, I didn't even go grab my camera, I didn't want to miss a single moment!
By 3:30 we decide to start heading back (against the wind, against the 4-foot swells) since I have a 6 pm engagement with my ~~accidents waiting to happen~~ future calling.
The moment I've been waiting for FINALLY appears and Booby drives me out to the super secret roller derby training compound!
I'm smiling right now as I think back of that whole night. I am so hooked. Immagonnabeafuckinrollerderbychick. I've even found my derby name. I can't share it yet because you have to register your name and if something comes close to it then you can't have it! So you'll have to wait.
Booby picks me up after the training slash basic test session and we do what you should always do after a work out: go out for beer and pizza as I excitedly talk non stop about my newfound friends!

And today? Bring it on life... Bring it fuckin on!

Nikki's FIRST Vlog!

2011-02-21T10:57:00.000-08:00

I got this from Seriously? Reeeeeally? ... Seriously? As I was watching it, I was amazed by how her accent was (to me) quite similar to mine. Of course we don't hear ourselves do we? And then I found out SHE was Canadian too, and that explained a lot. To me at least.

Here is the table of words I to pronounce:

I think I may have skipped a few words, not sure. That's just the way I roll baby! And golly, why the hell was I so stinkin' nervous??? You'd think I was performing LIVE on an open mic night! Oh, you should see that! Smile-smile, wink-wink...

And now the questions:

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

I must say: this was fun! I hope it was as good for you as it was for me... This just may become a new thing for me, we'll see. I still need to figure out all the kinks for editing the video and shit. This was not only my first vlog but also my 1st attempt to work with iMovie. It's a bit different from the PC movie maker. I still haven't figured out how to insert sub-titles. You know, make it look more professional. Because, of course with my raw talent such a professional editing is required.

Go easy on me... ツ

p.s. what the hell happened to my upper lip? it looks like it's not even there? wtf??? is that how people see me when I talk... muah!

Mucho Gusto - Don't Eat Me!

2011-02-17T09:36:00.000-08:00

www.mexicanfoodie.com

Last year we spent 3 weeks in Punta Mita, Mexico. This is a small fishing village NorthWest of Puerto Vallarta. Small fishing village is key here. It's a quaint little spot for when you don't want to be bothered by all the touristic crap. Oh I think you know what I'm talking about...

I carried my spanglish dictionary everywhere I went. These peeps-itos did not speak much English, nor French. I was visiting THEM in THEIR pueblo. When in Rome, wear a toga and add a slice of lime to that cerveza...

I had just finished eating what I thought was the best carne asada ever! (Note to readers: when tour books warn you of the street stands selling tacos, they're just trying to keep a well kept secret hidden to avoid long lines.) And searching my dictionary for something that could mean "good" I came upon the term "gusto". And I knew "mucho" meant a lot.

So I told the man who served me "Mucho Gusto!" He looked at me all weird. Booby and I assumed he thought I told him I wanted to eat him...

Last night was my first class of Spanish 101. Maria, my teacher looked at me and pronounced (oh you guessed it) Mucho Gusto!

Me: "Do I look that tasty?"
Maria: ??? "What? No I am pleased to meet you"

And to you reading me mucho gusto I am happy to MEAT you!

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (again)

2011-02-15T08:24:00.000-08:00

I have a super power.

I smell things regular people seem to ignore. For example I can smell fear and anger. Do you know dogs detect this odor to find people buried alive after earthquakes and explosions? It's such a nasty smell, I can't believe others have never noticed it. It's a bitter smell. Rancid. As if the stress is literally eating you from the inside and your body is decaying. Or something like that.

I like to boom boom pow.

I'm thinking of vlogging. There's this meme running around where you pronounce certain words so we can all see different accents and ways of calling stuff. But since I'm concerned with my privacy, I'm looking for a mask I could use. A mask that is half-faced with only the upper part so I can talk freely. This has to be a mask that I feel represents me... It's hard to find since I'm so hard to define as a person...

I like to boom boom pow.

Last week the competition "Live to Dance" came to an end. I loved that show! I was so rooting for that little solo girl. She was absolutely fabulous. I voted for a TV competition for the first time ever. Ha! I guess you could call this show a guilty pleasure of mine. And the shocker was that Booby was totally into it too! By the finale, when it came down to 3 contestants (a ballet couple, a young duo, and a little girl) he yelled that if the ballet dancers won he'd go on a killing rampage!

I like to boom boom pow.

If you knew him you'd totally be doing a double-take right now. He's not the kind to watch a show like this and he's certainly NOT the kind to care about who wins.

The other night I dreamed that the Black Eyed Peas were extra terrestials. In the dream I thought that explained a lot. I like to boom-boom-pow. Then the next night I dreamed I was hanging out with Ted Danson. Ted fuckinghugeforehead Danson! And he was hilarious. Reading a bunch of stuff silly liberal people do. Man I was laughing my face off. Which is odd because I can't remember a single thing Ted was saying. And I consider myself a liberal so why would I laugh at us?

Then in this dream it dawned on me how my dreams were star packed. And then I thought "wait a minute, are the Black Eyes and T Danson really stars?" And then I thought about how none of these guys would go on Dancing With the Stars. And then I thought "yes, they are true stars..."

And then?

No more "and then's".

I like to boom boom pow.

But even in my dreams I know that real stars don't go on Dancing with the Stars. Real stars don't even go to the award ceremonies. They send in videos of themselves graciously accepting the award from the comfort of their own homes.

I wonder what Aretha Franklin smelled like with her flowing white dress thing she wore from her home for her Grammy's recording?

Tagged by a Wannabe Stripper

2011-02-14T09:31:00.000-08:00

Chrissy from I Shoulda Been a Stripper tagged me. Years and years ago when I heard the word "blogger" out of curiosity I googled the term because I had no idea what a blogger was and what it ate for breakfast. Trying to figure out what a blog was, google took me mainly to "specialized" blogs. This is how I found the Sartorialist and Stuff White People Like.

Confused, I decided there must be more to this world of blogging. So I dug deeper and found Chrissy. And fell in love with Chrissy. She made it look possible, yet she made it look easy. That's how good she is. She made me laugh. She made me think. And she made me want to share and blog my life away. I knew that when I'd never grow up, I wanted to be a cool blogger like Chrissy. And now she tagged me! *Shivers down my spine*

This is a Q&A type of tag. And here are my answers...

1. If you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?
My dream dog (which exists in my heart and my dreams only) is a total part of my family. And I love him to shreds, I only wish he'd come true soon.

2. If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?
Uhm, to have a dog? I just dream of a simple little happy life. You know like the visuals I created on the right hand corner of my blog? Yeah. I dream of that.

3. What is the one thing most hated by you?
I stress out too much. Way-way-way too much. I keep myself up at night for everything and anything. All the "what if's" that usually never end up happening. I wish I could just chill and not stress out so much.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
For starters I'd buy a Mini Cooper convertible. That car is the shits. Then I'd buy a beach house so I'd have a place to go when 50% of the people in my marriage want to take off sailing. And I'd donate more than half of it to various charities. Buy more Apple stock. Give a million to each of my nieces/nephew. And blog about it.

5. What helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
Washing dishes. Music. The smell of bubble gum (old school type like you found in hockey cards)

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
Loving. Usually when you love you get love back. The more you give in love the more you receive. Maybe not from the same person, but I believe in natural laws of balance, what goes around comes around.

7. What is your bedtime routine?
First thing is I floss. Then I brush my teeth. Then I pee (brushing my teeth ALWAYS makes me want to pee immediately like a Pavlovian effect). Then I put on my pj's. I plug my phone in and turn it off (ugh, wish that were true, I turn the ringer off). Then I pee again in case my bladder did not fully empty itself the previous time (joys of aging). Then I grab my book, get my iPod ready and settle into bed. After five minutes of reading I go back to the toilet. What can I say. I'm sick like that.

8. If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
I met him at a festival in Iowa (of all places) where I happened to be upon invitation from a colleague and he was there because of a local race. The world came to a sudden halt when I saw him.

9. If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
A painter. The Louvres museum in Paris is amazing for this. People set up their easels and reproduce works of art. Some of them are purely amazing. Also I love to watch a carver in action.To witness the sculpture slowly being exposed from a block is bewildering.

10. What kinds of books do you read?
I just got done with The Hunger Games trilogy. I've never finished growing up, the teenie-bopper books (Harry Potter, Twilight, etc. hook me in). I love being told a good story. So anything goes for me other than those cheap romance or cowboy stories...

11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?
How would I do that? With a time machine.

12. What’s your fear?
Being forgotten. When I'd get lost at the mall, as a kid my first reaction was ALWAYS to run out to the parking lot and make sure my mom's car was still there. For some reason I always thought she'd forget me and go home and never notice I was missing. This fear is still hanging around. That's why I love getting mail even if it's bills. Mail confirms I haven't been forgotten.

13. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?
Where do I sign up? I prefer munching on raw cucumbers any day of the week. Besides, define "junk". Is a carne asada taco junk when it's well done?

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married, but poor?
That one is easy. Being that I'm currently married and poor I'll stick with that.

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?
Duh! Go to the toilet.

16. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?
Make him less stubborn. And and better dental hygiene. Flossing goes a loooong way!

17. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?
Chrissy Starr. haha! I don't know! I'd give myself Alex for a first name. It's strong. And it works in both of my languages.

18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
Yes. I always forgive. Sometimes THAT is the problem. My forgiveness comes too easy.

19. If you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?
Carne Asada tacos.

And now I get to do the tagging and send the blog love towards 4 cybernetic pals:

One of my most faithful readers becca from My Life
Little Miss SubWow from The Absence of Alternative
Nari from narislife
umseti from Stupid America

Now get to work my lovely peeps!

I'm A Star!

2011-02-11T15:43:00.000-08:00

What are you waiting for? It's almost Oscar time, so grab a bag of popcorn, a pair of glasses and I'll see you there! Roger Ebert even (unknowingly) gave me 2 thumbs up!

I'm Over There Now!

2011-02-11T09:52:00.000-08:00

Sorry I can't come to the phone, but I'm elsewhere right now. Oh and please do come over and visit with me because I just may not be checking my messages here as I'll be over there, waiting with a bowl of chips. And salsa. I never forget the salsa, America's number one condiment!

P.S. WE WILL RETURN TO OUR REGULAR SASSY PROGRAMMING MANANA! ツ

Look Who's Stylin' Now!

2011-02-10T10:24:00.000-08:00

Thanks Minute Man's Wife!

Between meditations this minute man's wife is trying to deal with a sudden changes in her life as she becomes a step-mom. After further reflection here's how I want to introduce her: this wild and crazy party animal struggles through sudden changes as she becomes a step-mom and uses meditation in order to avoid kill innocent bystanders.

Yes. That is better. Wanna know how she described me? And I quote:

"has been one of the most enjoyable rides (that's what she said, no really she actually did) I’ve taken in a while. Her writing will leave you wishing ("I'll have what she had", heh heh) your desk chair came with a seat belt. She will rock your world and send you into uncontrollable fits of giggles"

Thanks mysterious Minute Man's Wife (why mysterious, to this day she still refuses to tell me WHY she calls herself this. All we know (thank godfully) is it has nothing to do with his (sexual) endurance)!

I want to give this award to bloggers to whom I've NEVER given awards:

And now back to me. I have to list 5 of my favorite things (other than typical things like kittens, puppies and rainbows, otherwise it would be boring)

I LOVE how every single day Booby (my husband) wakes up and the first thing he does is he smiles at me. I'll never get tired of this. And trust me when I say he smiles, its such a sincere smile like how a dog greets you when you open the door and jumps all over you as if he's repeating over and over "ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod she's back, she's back, i'm so happy she's back, it felt like a lifetime, but she's back, i wonder if she brought me some bacon, but i don't care because she's back-she's back-she's back and i hope she never ever leaves again" this is the dog's thinking process when you re-open the door after getting your newspaper that was thrown 3 feet from the door...
I love the smell of freshly opened old school bubble gum. I'm talking about that little stick of gum that came with hockey cards (or baseball cards which I never collected) or those wacky stickers which I don't know if you remember those little delights from the 70s. But THAT gum, that smell is bewildering. I wish I could have sex in a bubble gum storage room. I wonder if the Wish Foundation ever received such a request. I'll have to check into that.
I love bacon and dark chocolate. The darker the better. That's for the chocolate. Dark bacon? Never heard of it. What's wrong with you?
I love how when we watch TV we are always holding hands. We do this thing where we lock our nails into each other, I guess you could call it fingernail-69'ing. Trust me, it's addictive and feels so good. You should try it. Just pick the right partner for this, like when you're at a business meeting and you're being introduced to people, this may not be a good time to try out the fingernail-69'ing. But then again, it could bring out interesting chit-chat during a job interview. A good ice breaker and topic starter maybe? I'll let you know how it goes after my next interview.
I love smiling. I don't care if it makes me look demented or totally stupid like if I should wear a hockey helmet: smiling makes me feel good. And people usually always smile back. Which is my way of making the world a better place. Plus when you smile to strangers you never know what may come of it, they may offer you their spot in line at the grocery store, they may spontaneously give you chocolate but if the smile was extra warm this may come with bacon. Mmmm, baconnnnn.

Denial: It's The New Black

2011-02-09T10:45:00.000-08:00

www.learnwordlist.com

This was written initially for the Studio 30+ Magazine. But I wrote something else for it instead. And I decided the timing was appropriate to post it here. For some reason... Hmm. Take it any way you want, but here goes:

Denial is my best friend.

A therapist tried and tried to get me to quit on it. But you never drop a best friend. Denial has gotten me through some really tough times. And yes, denial may have put me through the worst of those times, but it still dragged me out when I thought all I had left to do was drown.

Oddly enough I started writing this post when Eddie B Kuhl started what appears to be a series. She calls it "Sometimes". I'm not as creative as Edie and call it straight out for what it is, I mean, a cat is a cat right?

How can denial be good?

When I look at a mountain of dirty dishes, I use denial as an ally to attack this mountain. I love a bubble bath, so for me doing the dishes is like a teeny tiny bubble bath exclusively for my hands.

I know flossing may be a burden, and I am most likely one of the rare people (other than dental hygienists and sociopaths) who floss daily. I actually love flossing. Or I should change that to I love the benefits of flossing. When I run my tongue against my teeth its like having a miniature silk factory working for me, those teeth are so silky smooth! When I brush my teeth at night with the flossing I allow myself to pretend my mouth is at the Spa. A Spa for mouthes... Who doesn't LOVE a Spa?

Paying bills? Now this is FUN. I pretend I'm some hot sexy secretary in an office and I control everything. Who gets paid when and how... Every bill I open up I sit there playing a little character in my head as I write out the check, add a little something-something on the note section, giggle and make sure all the correct account info is also written down. This secretary knows her boss may punish her for doing something incorrectly and she's all about pleasing her boss. (I know, this part sounds sick, but it's my game, MY game, and it works!)

When I craved going to foreign countries but didn't have the means to pay for it, I'd sit behind this building in our city. It looked like a castle from some old country. Behind it there was this canal with locks they kept in it's original state. I'd sit there. Close my eyes for a few minutes and picked a country, any country, like say Germany and allow my brain to focus on sounds that could convince me I was there, and also imagine smells and when I'd open my eyes I was there! Totally Oktoberfesting on the sights! And what had it cost me? Nothing. Did I crash afterward? No, not at all, I knew I was doing what Edie calls "sometimes" and it gave me moments of escape.

It's not like I'm using denial to avoid my responsibilities. I use it as a tool to give me strength when I come face to face with them. I mean, if I were to let my bills pile up until the bank comes in to take my possessions as I pretend they are movers helping me move into a nicer home it would be different. Or if I looked away from the sink and pretend flies weren't buzzing around as you grab a dirty plate and shake off the green fuzzy mushroom that's growing on it and use it (the plate not the fuzzy mushroom). Then what have you got? A bad case of salmonella and a swollen face.

Sadly enough my ex-therapist never agreed with the benefits of denial. I guess you can say she denied everything I tried to tell her in order to convince her of these numerous benefits. I fired her. As a therapist I mean. My happiness bubble may rely on something as weak as all these multiple illusions I create in my little world, but every time my bubble pops I throw myself in my dirty dishes where the bubbles are endless.

How about you? Do you ever use denial as a tool to face the world and conquer it? Or do you agree with the therapist and think all forms of denial are destructive?

p.s. The Minute Man's Wife has given me award and I've been tagged by Chrissy at I Shoulda Been a Stripper. Two delightful blogs by the way... I will get to these soon. I promise!

So, I've Been Thinking...

2011-02-08T13:31:00.000-08:00

This is how I started yesterday. Then he froze. Stopped what he was doing, swallowed and replied: "Uh oh, I don't know if I like the sound of that."

Of course he's been witnessing me with puffy eyes and leaving a trail of used up tissues behind me. So the opening line can be scary. Have I ever mentioned he told me recently he has nightmares where I tell him I'm leaving? Kind of like Peeta in The Hunger Games, only we're not hungry nor in total survival mode. (Great book by the way, thanks Rachel!)

Of course I start crying again. But I'm trying to concentrate on the dishes I'm washing. I find it very soothing to soak my hands in hot bubbly water. And that's when I tell him "Of course if you want to go to Mexico, I'll go with you!" And cry some more (again with the conjunction as a sentence starter, if Stephen King can do it, so can I - thanks MinuteMan's Wife). Then he looks at me all weird.

Evidently he's even more of a mess than I am because he had come to the conclusion that going to Mexico now would most likely be a mistake. For a lot of reasons, not just because of me. And then he tells me he'd never go without me anyways!

I know. I wanted to strangle him too for what he'd put me through. But to be honest he wasn't as aware as everybody who's read yesterday's post of the turmoil I was going through.

But anyways. All this to say, I've been thinking and I realized I have THE BEST blog friends any whacked out lady could EVER hope for! You guys are the best. You really are.

I've been working on a post for the Studio 30+ Magazine that is due to be published this coming Friday. After 3 attempts, I think I've got it. It's pretty much a tribute to you - the readers. Or my friends. My friends. I like the sound of that.

I'm smiling now. I know I have a few kinks to iron out, but still the smile is strong.

Thanks.

Damned if You Do, Damned if You Do (Because You Said No)

2011-02-07T08:37:00.000-08:00

www.iconator.com

In a turmoil

After years of running non stop with a crazy racing schedule, never staying put in the same city for very long (spending 2 consecutive nights in the same hotel became sheer luxury) I was now well overdue for normalcy.

I crave boredom. I crave a mundane life where I come home bitching about what Suzy dared say at the water cooler. I crave staying put in the same city for long enough to build friendships.

Friendships. I struggle to even remember what 2 girls chat about while sipping a cup of coffee. Do people still do that? Hook up for a cup of java?

See how out of the loop I am? And now I was hoping I could do that. Feed my cravings of normalcy. Take the trash out. Wash dishes. Get parking tickets and contest them in court. You know, regular stuff. The stuff most people complain about and end up hating: I want or need!

I crave it. I know, it's weird, but it just is! When you live on the road for years hopping from hotel to hotel, never knowing what city or state you're in when you wake up in the middle of the night as you bump into walls looking for the toilet: you crave NOR-fucking-MAL!

Evidently 50% of the people in my relationship seek the opposite.

50% of the people in my marriage want to go south. Spend a month in Mexico. Maybe more. Maybe less. Maybe just head out as soon as possible and see where the breeze takes us. Oh what the heck, take a year meandering around. A YEAR??? More uncertainties leading me to further isolation...

Let's face it. The only good thing I've got going for me right now is that other 50% of the people in my relationship.

Jobs? None.
Friends? None.
Home? None (other than the boat I live on)

But I've got him. And if he goes south then I lose him. And the boat I'm living on.

I am so lost. And confused. And a total utter mess. And totally ignoring all rules of grammar by starting all these sentences with a conjunction. Remember that way old TV commercial that aired during kids programming trying to educate the peeps? That funky little tune "conjunction junction oooh, what's your function?" And now I'm aging myself. And I did it again, started a sentence with a conjunction? Can't you see I'm a mess?

I already told him I needed to stay put. Crying and hikkuping I explained how I needed balance and stability. This is a fork in my road. People need to follow their heart, do what they think is right for them. I've sensed this fork coming, and I've been a mess because of it.

Finally!

2011-02-06T09:28:00.000-08:00

Oh great, look at that: today is Superbowl Sunday! Guess what I'm doing? Yup, going whale watching. Not the proverbial whales as in big dudes crashed on couches watching football and talking the "we" talk as if they were actually part of the team...

But real whales swimming and coming up for air and jumping and crashing on the waves. Yay for Superbowl Sunday!

Who Is This Person In The Mirror???

2011-02-04T09:16:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning and glanced in the mirror. This is what was looking back at me:

Source

Problem is all he said was "Going down" Shouldn't he ask me if I want to go up or down? Stupid elevator dog... What is sad is that inside I feel like this:

Yes. I feel like a little girl in a cartoon. I know I'm sounding like a typical aging person. And this makes me want to cry. Because how I feel confirms I am getting old. "Getting". See any traces of denial there? Droopy cheeks. That's the new me. A sad sad looking cartoon character with droopy cheeks.

Going down.

Now. If a dog WAS to look back at me in the mirror, why can't it be this dog?

Source

Super Underdog! Watching over you to rescue you! What the heck am I doing? Ever meet any woman WANTING to be compared to a dog?

****

A black lab ran up to me the other day. I cuddled him and immediately starting cooing "Oh look at you, yeah, you're a nice boy, yeah. Good boy, good-good boy!" And a woman yelled out "It's a SHE!" Really? You think your dog cares if I call him a boy? Run home and cry? "Look at me! I'm a PAT! Nobody can tell I'm a girl! I'm a hideous monster! Waaaaannnhhhh!"

****

For those of you with a regular job: HAPPY FRIDAY! I remember when Fridays meant something meaningful. Fridays always meant something wonderful. The final arrival of a 2-day vacation. I'm not that old that I forgot what this day meant... And I care enough about you to be happy for you...

Going up?

Sex as Part of Your Workout Routine

2011-02-02T15:44:00.000-08:00

www.sodahead.com

You all know I am undertaking a very serious intensive work-out program as I get ready for roller-derbying. This is serious shit. I may actually be ready for some Olympic event from all this working out.

This morning as I was debating over doing it sideways, climbing on top or having him roll over me, it dawned on me: sex as part of my workout regimen. Of course I googled on some very serious workout sites what kind of calories I was burning. Please, as you read this do not attempt to do this at home without the supervision of a professional. If you do this, GOOGLE AFTER INTERCOURSE. I cannot make it more clear, if you google during intercourse some unfortunate liquid may splatter onto your computer rendering it rather useless. And gooey. Don't forget the gooey part. And sticky. Not a very good mix for your keyboard.

I stumbled (heh heh) upon this website explaining all the various calorie burning actions following sexual intercourse. I myself this morning have burned up a total of 429 calories. This is about the calorie count of 2 candy bars. Or 3 beers. So... I think this means that if I drink only 1 beer today I'm totally ahead in my regimen. But if I drink 2 beers, then I'm still ahead as long as I don't grab a third one.

The moral of the story is: have sex daily, drink 2 beers and still end up ahead (with a head, hee hee).

Roller Derby Training Camp

2011-01-31T13:42:00.000-08:00

Here's what I've done since I made the life changing decision of trying out for the roller derby. And since I'm taking this very seriously because I'm now obsessed with this potential outcome, I'm pulling all the strings to get my lazy ass in gear...

Jan 26 received an email from the roller derby recruiter asking if I was seriously considering this
Jan 26 I replied as long as they don't brake my bones intentionally that yes, I am interested. I asked if I could get special treatment being that I'm a big nobody and skip out on waiting until the boot camp on Feb 21 since I change my mind constantly. She replied "that's fantastic! see you on the 26"
I drove out to the nearby TJ Maxx hoping to find a cheap pair of work-out shorts. Remember my small ass? A medium is too big, and that was the smallest size... So I bought a cool little hoody that will fit perfectly my uhm... ok, I really need work-out clothes.
Drove to the BevMo (a cool concept in alcoholic beverage, kinda like the Wal-Mart of beverages) a roller derby chick needs plenty of liquids!
Drove home. Totally exhausted. Plan to work out the next day. Drink 2 cosmos. Fall asleep watching the Olympics on TV. But mentally I'm totally there!
Promise to self to totally work out. Total promise. I stick my head outside. Look at my bike waiting for me. Hoping to be taken out on a ride. I wink at the bike. Crawl back down stairs. I feel like a groundhog.
Drive out to Target. They have great cheap work-out clothes. I walk by a cute couple. He tells me he digs my hat. I reply by telling him his dog is kick-ass. Seemed normal enough for a reply.
Find a pair of shorts. They fit. They're a tad bit baggy, but I'll need space to put all those bulging muscles from all my working out. Which will start tomorrow. I promise. The cute couple (hmm, I'm now realizing they are homeless and I'm hoping they haven't emptied out my truck) walk towards me and ask for spare change. I pull out a dollar bill hoping they'll feel guilty enough to give me back my shit they took from my truck.
I drive home and open up a beer as I munch on chips and salsa. Salsa provides me with at least 2 veggie portions for the day. And beer? I need plenty of hydration/carbs before tomorrow's work-out.
Friday I wake up smiling. I immediately grab my new shorts, pull on some work-out socks and my running shoes after I squeeze into my sport bra. Yes. I start to stretch and smell coffee. Of course hydration is key, as I've mentioned before. So I make myself a cup. A nice warm latte as I stretch my soon to be bulging muscles. And I run! Yes, I run. I run for at least 9-10 minutes. At which point I decide I better not overdo it and turn around to go back home. Also, any trainer will tell you the best thing for your heart is to change paces. So I walk a bit. But oddly enough I feel the timing is right to increase my pace when I cross old(er) people. Of course when I pass them I turn around and yell out "Booyah!". I think it's just common sense to let people know you're going by them. I think I got at least 2 miles...
I get home, stretch out again and show my stomach to Booby. He tells me it has shrunk since I started working out! God I love him. So I open up a beer. Hydration remember? I slowly walk out to the showers hoping to meet up with the squat lady so I can stretch my legs in her face. Sadly she is not there... Back home I do some internet research and email Peachy's friend about the best way to be prepared for boot camp.
She replies to find the biggest person I know and have him/her slam me down onto concrete pavement. I tell Booby we have to have sex, it'll get me ready for boot camp. You know "do it for the team".
Saturday I am sore. Too much body slamming? The daily work out consists of harshly shaking my shoes overboard to get rid of the grass and dirt. I make pancakes. Carbs are essential to training.
Sunday, well you all know I am a highly devoted catholic and, since I still haven't found a good french catholic church in my neighborhood I decide to pray for a job, pray for my next work-out session and eat bacon. My little ass obviously needs it. I visit the swap meat, eat 2 carne asade tacos and carry my purchases everywhere. I'm conscious of my biceps as I carry my 3 oranges and 3 kiwi fruits. I growl at Booby who asks me to carry his new needle nose pliers in my bag. But I take it for the team... And carry everything. It's part of my training I tell myself. Go home and pour myself a healthy glass of grape juice, I think the fermentation makes the grape calorie free. Not sure, but the French ARE on to something...
And that brings us to today! So far I've replied to an offer for an interview, I've walked to the shower (walked there AND back), and I've taken 2 advils (I'm sure it's good for my blood flow or eventual swelling).

Tomorrow is a new day and more running waits for me! The roller derby girls you will never know what hit them when I come sloshing in... I'm thinking I should be sponsored by Capt Morgan. Any takers?

Half-Assed Weekender Edition

2011-01-29T16:34:00.000-08:00

I can't write this post without shouting out to the Simple Dude. This is, after all, a Simple Dude idea to write a half-assed post on the the weekends... And he did call me Queen of the the half-assed's. I'll take THAT as a compliment!

Recently Booby and I went back to the race shop. We really had to since when we left in November we were simply off on a nowhere trip. All we took was 2 week's worth of stuff. But never went back. "Had a wife and kids in Baltimore Jack, went out for a ride but I never went back" Thanks Bruce, those really are words to live by. Especially when the wife goes with you, and there aren't any kids being left behind.

A really really cool thing was waiting for us in the mail: a GIFT CARD! Racing had it's benefits. All the hotels giving us a shitload of free nights via the points programs and fans with money. Hmm. Fans with money to spare. Fans who love their racers. Fans who want to share their money to spare with their favorite racers. And a female mechanic does kinda stick out so I got to be favored by some of these fans. Yessssss!

One in particular got a hold of our address (maybe when I gave it to him because he asked where could he send us the occasional little token of appreciation). And sends us restaurant gift cards. Yessssssss!

Last week Booby and I headed out on our "date" to the Red Lobster, gift card in hand. The waitress greeted us by asking if there was a special occasion. Booby and I both giggled. It's a fuckin Red Lobster! One step above Long John Silvers! Ok, maybe a few steps above with a pricey menu... But still, Red Lobster?

He told her it was our anniversary. Haha, I guess it's always an anniversary of "something" right? Exactly one year ago today it was: one year ago today! Yippee, let's celebrate! All night we kept wishing each other happy anniversary clinking our free wine glasses.

Thanks super fan, and yes I will forward you my new address!

I wonder if roller derby girls have super fans? (*fingers crossed behind back*)

Can Being A Little OCD Be A Good Thing?

2011-01-27T14:23:00.000-08:00

Thanks AbsolutelyPrimed!

Is it even possible to be just a little OCD? Doesn't being obsessive compulsive about anything kinda goes totally against anything that could be quote-unquote little?

AbsolutelyPrimed gave me this gaga cool award. Thanks APrimed! And of course there are rules...

Rule #1 - Pimp out the giver.

Who does a pimp pimp out? His bitches right? And what is the definition of a bitch? (Stay with me here, I'm going somewhere with this...).

Thanks Merriam. Very good definition. Female dog. I'll stick with that. Absolutely Primed eats milkbones. Those are dog biscuits. DOG biscuits. So because she eats dog food I get to call her my bitch. So I get to pimp her out. You don't believe me? Read her blog, you'll see!

I'll even slap in another link here for you! Thanks a lot, I needed another award. I always need them to be honest... And this one had perfect timing. And now back to the rules...

Rule #2 Give this award to other bloggers and just like if it were a STD you gotta let them know they have it. (or something like that, you know how I love to ad-lib) I must admit I always hate this part. Not that I don't like to give what I receive (I know you all want my STD's) but I always struggle with choosing WHO to give it to. This time I'll try to pick bloggers to whom I've never given any (STDs):

Oilfield Trash from Make Daddy a Sammich.
Minute Man's Wife
Patty Punker
Peter from Triton Cove

Rule #3 Share 7 things about you people do not know... Unless you're my BFF (Best Facebook Friend) you will NOT know that:

On February 21st I will be attending Roller Derby Boot Camp. Whoa a minute here... I need to repeat that: roller ... derby ... boot ... camp ... holy crap! What am I insane? And is it just me or should it be called the "roller derby SKATE camp"??? Please don't let these chicks break any of my bones!

You all know about my rubber duckie poofer thing because of this story but what you may not know is the fact that I still have this thing may scientifically prove I have a certain level of OCD. I bought this little guy during my first marriage (which ended in 2003). I know it's not 2011. And NO that poofer is NOT 8 years old, that would totally go against my OCD tendencies. I love my little duckie so much that I bought a roll of string so I can replace the poofer when it needs to be replaced. And every time I move and make sure to pack the duckie and the roll of string. And yes, the roll of string is here on my boat! Look at him! Isn't he the best thing you've ever seen???

I like to draw fairies. I also love to draw fishies and life underwater as I picture it in my brain. But I have a whole series of fairies. I like to believe in magic and that by drawing these little creatures cool things will happen to me. I know. Sick. But true. Word.

I made 2 quilts. They're actually quilts that are sewn onto throw blankets. But I made them and gave them away. The first one I gave to my (ex) boss's mom because she was wonderful. The second one I gave to my (ex) driver's wife. I wanted she and I to become great friends. We kinda did, but that totally went down the toilet at the end of the racing season when she got drunk and started saying stuff to Booby. Stuff that a wife cannot forget or forgive. I no longer own a sewing machine. But my mom was so proud of me when I told her about the first quilt. She sent pictures of it to all her friends.

My legs wont tan. At all. And I'm so self-conscious of those WHITEY MCWHITE legs that I spray them. Not as much as that Snookie chick on Jersey Shore (a show I've never watched btw) but just enough to not be laughed at in public. Which happened. A lot. Remember this story? It was a huge issue for me. And I hate being laughed at. Big time. I only spray the legs though. The rest of me tans fine. Thanks for your concern!

Ever since moving on a boat, all we get for TV service is via a trusty little own antenny. That's it. Nothing else. No cable. No satellite. Nothing. I miss some of my favorite shows that run strictly on the cool cable channels like Breaking Bad, Californication, True Blood, Dexter, etc. I know, most of those shows aren't running right now. But still. I know that when their season starts I'll be sitting there with my little TV and it's bunny ears watching reruns of The Office and When I Met Your Mother... Didja know there is a channel dedicated to old Olympics? And they mainly run Winter Games? Like the Biathlon and stuff like that. Weird.

I've contested every single traffic and parking violation I've ever got. Every single one of them. I've also won every single won of my cases. Except for one. One parking ticket that the judge (I think he was on to me, since I always asked for a French court and he was the only judge in town) gave me a 50% discount from the last time I got fined and contested. It's much easier than you think. And it's actually a lot of fun. Of course, that is IF your work allows you to skip out for court appearances.

Wow. Seven things. A lot harder than you'd think to come up with! A lot harder...

My Homies Wear Depends And Smell Like Mothballs.

2011-01-26T12:27:00.000-08:00

Living at a marina is totally like living in a retirement home. All the homies are like... well - old. Older than I am anyways.

I take my daily shower at the pool since showering in the boat is a pain in the old buttocks (maybe I am older than I want to admit, yeah, sure...). Yesterday as I was skipping my way to the showers, I came to a slow crawl as some lady got to the door before me. So I had to slowly very slowly follow her in. She stopped when she sensed me "you are being followed" I chanted behind her. With a smile. But the smile was wasted on her behind.

She finally makes her way to the shower corridor. Finally. I'm dying behind her! And she opens the first stall and stands behind it. Okaaaaay... I start putting my stuff on the counter. And slowly wonder what it could possibly mean if she opens the door and stands behind it. Is she "reserving" that stall for herself? Am I supposed to walk around the door to one of the next stalls?

I'm new here, and I've never seen anything like this before! So, I do what any uncertain person would do: "Are using the first stall?". She shutters, or stutters, or whatever it was. "No I just want privacy!". Okaaaaaaay... I take my clothes off, pile it up on the counter because the bench is now off limits being blocked by the door to the 1st stall. I hang up my towel by my door and enter the shower. Close the door. Wonder if it's ok to close it since now she is exposed to whatever it was she wanted privacy from.

Whatever.

I'm in my shower taking my sweet ass time because that's what I do. I love long hot showers. It dawns on me that I still haven't heard my neighbor start her shower yet. But... whatever. Then IT happens: her hand is clutching my door. (oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm freaked out, what do I do???)

I stand frozen not knowing what the hell is happening. The shower door is one of those glazed over glass doors. Maybe it's Plexiglas, not important. What IS important is what she does next. She is still fully clothed and she is doing squats. Using my door for balance.

What the fuck? Where am I again?

Now I start taking even more time. Rinse. Apply again. Rinse. Condition. Leave in hair for 3-5 minutes. Pull out my cute little soap fuzzer thing (you should see it, it's a rubber ducky with a swim mask tied to a pooffer, I love it!) and pour some yummy smelling pink bubble gum soap on it (I know, this detail is not needed to the story, but if you ever do find some bubble gum smelling soap let me know, I want more of it and mine was a hotel sample).

By the time I am finally done she is still clutching and squatting. Up - down - up - down with her banana yellow t-shirt. What am I supposed to do? Yell out "watch your fingers" and slam the door open as I jump out and stand naked in front of her clamoring how privacy is so important to me too?

Really! WHAT is the public shower etiquette for old lady hanging on to your shower door as she does her morning exercises? Oh where is Martha Stewart when I need her? I slowly open the door, grab my towel and wrap it around me. (Sorry, no drawing for you... maybe next time) Take all my stuff out of the shower, and close the door. She huffs. Looks at me like I'm a total moron and a very rude one at that. And opens the door again. "My privacy! Remember?" And huffs again.

Not sure about the etiquette, but giggling in these situations? Totally unavoidable. Totally. Sorry Martha, you'd be astounded by my rudeness after you were done laughing at her too! Oh, and let me tell you I took even more time after that! By now this is fun as she is OBVIOUSLY waiting for me to leave before she unveils her spectacular self. Privacy-shmivacy! You know how long it takes to puff-daddy comb my hair? As I stand there with nothing but my towel and my day dreams? FOR-EV-FUCKIN-VER!

Now she is standing behind her glazed over glass or plexiglas door waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. As I crawl around. Heh heh heh. See? I can be totally devilish... I never did find out though if she took her shower or not. I got bored and left while totally repeating over and over in my head: " I will so blog about this tomorrow."

Immaturity Is My Middle Name

2011-01-25T09:32:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Laura from Fetch My Flying Monkeys started this trend. And although Immaturity is my middle name, I have a 2nd middle name and it's Follower. What monkey see, monkey do. And these ransom notes are fun! Not as much fun as Jiffy Pop Popcorn, but pretty friggin close.

Ever wonder where our true beauty lies? They (who the fuck are "they" anyways?) say it lies within. My cyber friend, who should be forever enshrined at the Humor Museum (there is such a thing you know) has shared with me her beautiful innards, which I am now sharing with you. And this is what I found:

When an alien makes a threat, it is best to not laugh. Laughing at alien's world domination threats is the last thing you want. Trust me, they can do stuff we've only dreamed of or seen in cheesy B movies with cardboard red and blue glasses. You know what I'm talking about...

Laser eyes? Eeeeks! Will they cut through clothes? Will they break skin? Cut my body in half? What do laser eyes do? If Mini-Me sees THESE lasers will he hump them? "Mini-Me, stop humping the lllay-zzzer!" OK alien monster, I'm already feeling my fingers go numb and I know your lasers will turn me into a zombie. WHAT DO YOU WANT?

You want me to take you to my leader? Which leader is that? What do they mean when they say that? Who the fuck is our leader anyways? Go see Laura, she's kinda my leader as I stated above, I'm just following anyways. Go, leave me alone! Help meeeee I don't want to be turned into a zombiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!

Of course the alien wants to kiss me. Take a number alien dude! Look at those lips all puckered up... OK alien, I'll kiss you but that's where I draw the line. Nothing beyond that not even 1st base. You can't breed through me. I'm not doing it, I'm not. No means no!

****

Back to serious matters. Sorry about yesterday. Sometimes I kick myself for stuff that should stay in the past. Bipolar you say? PMS maybe? I'll get over it. Thanks Minute Man's Wife, you are wonderful.

****

This morning I woke up to yet another email from the "ghost". Apparently I am a wonderful soul. He obviously doesn't read my blog.

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This is what you get when you become my friend by the way. Have any pics you want to send me? Some scans? MRI's? Ultrasounds you need me to see and analyze?

****

Ever notice all the new self proclaimed Doctors? Dr Phil. Dr Drew. Dr Laura. In a time when everybody is self-diagnosing their diseases it's only fitting everybody should call themselves Doctor. I only wish I'd thought of it before they did. My hands are already full copying a favorite blogger of mine...

I'm Struggling

2011-01-24T10:35:00.000-08:00

www.imageshack.us

I don't know what I'm going through.

I think I may have some type of multiple personality disorder. At times I may be:

Artsy and all creative with my markers and words writing poetry and drawing stuff that pops in my mind
Funny, witty and snide, all for the benefit of a good laugh
Deep and thoughtful like a Deepak Chopra wannabe
All goody-goody saying the right thing, doing the right helpful gesture like a Mother Theresa wannaba
Mean and laugh when it's most inappropriate mainly because I'm uncomfortable...

I jump from one personality to the other usually forgetting who I was last. Today a ghost from my past reminded me of yet another personality I'd forgotten and left behind. Does a snake ever slither back to his old skin and reminisce?

I've done stuff. Stuff that could not evoke worst feelings about myself. What's the opposite of proud? Shameful. Full of loathing shame...

You'll know when I shake out of it, but til then I may take a break.

Half-Assed Weekender Edition!

2011-01-22T09:42:00.000-08:00

simpledude.blogspot.com

Remember these half-assed things? They're fun! Just like jiffy popcorn, as much fun to make as it is to eat! Ah, Jiffy Pop. Where have you been? I miss you... I love me some half-assed weekend postings. Thanks Simple Dude for coming up with the notion!

Remember the "Reader's Choice" where I slapped up 5 story ideas and asked you to select the next post? I know, not very many people read that post, so don't feel bad that you missed it. These were the hot topic choices and votes they got (by the way, those who said write all of them I've simply put in a vote on each story, yeah I am regular old statistician like that):

The time a walkman almost got me killed - 3 votes
The time I escaped a psychopath - 4 votes
The time an unknown biker saved me - 2 votes
The time I played a game I called "I'm in jail"- 4 votes
The time a salesman told me to tan and shave my legs - 5 (five, five aw, aw, awwww votes) (OK, so I'm not only a total geeky statistician but I'm also the Count from Sesame Street, I've got my reasons!)

Now I don't have the faintest idea why the hell I would have put that last topic in there. It may not be that great of a story after all but here goes: The time a salesman told me to tan and shave my legs was...

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

High School was finally over. Finally.

It was the summer of freedom. (Can you just hear Steppenwolf and see the breeze blowing in my free flowing uncombed hair?) The summer that was to define me as my own self individual person. That zone between when you go through the motions of what life dictates and when you start choosing to do what you want even if life will STILL be dictating what you do, at least get the feeling you're controlling the reigns. I was accepted in college, a Recreation degree was awaiting me. A life of fun was to follow! (Bwahahahaha, yeah me too I'm still laughing at myself and my hopes and my wonderful capacity at maintaining a high level of lucid denial!)

And to celebrate my successful career as a Recreationologist I had been hired as a Summer Camp Counselor.

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

My friend, the sophisticated Drama student of Ottawa U, told me about her older cool brother opening up a über cool clothing store in Ottawa's funky Market district. It was called (no translation needed I'm sure) Bleu en ville. And the logo, which I've masterfully recreated here just for you is what drew me in:

A full moon, a city scape, and the name in blue. Oh so cool... The image itself promised just what this newly freed from high school chick needed. Some cool threads to be the coolest camp counselor at lake Teety Kaka Ooompah. Ding a ling, ding a ling, I opened the door and was greeted by Ray. My friend's cool older brother. Proud owner, or Clothier (pronounced clotheeyay) of Ottawa's newest funky store. Nothing screams "jazz-me-up-fucker" like piles and piles of brand new Levi's and their red tabs.

And then I see them. Dark blue cotton pants with side pockets, suspenders, baggy, and it's own belt. Ray follows my gaze: "I see you like the clam diggers! Yeah, they'd be totally your style... Wanna try them on?" Clam diggers. My eyes popped out of my head. The name itself, the fuckin' pants were called clam diggers, I had no idea clams were dug, but I totally digged the pants, the name, and I couldn't get to the dressing room fast enough! The pants were pre hip-hop baggy style and they barely hung on my scrawny frame. And I LOVED them!

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

"Well, are you going to let me see them?" I open the door and waltz out. They're huge on me, but being that they're the smallest size in the store I struggle to not trip over the length of the pants. Giggling, I ask him if all his customers are giraffes.

Standing in front of the 3-way mirror he bends down to roll the pants up. Inside my stupid little head I picture him being turned on by me, and already try to find ways out of the date he's about to ask me out on. He's too old. And too much of my friend's brother... Oh how wrong I can be at times. "Clam diggers always roll their pants as they wade in the ocean. They're meant to be that way!" And then it happens. He stands up faster than Elle Woods doing the bend and snap in Legally Blond! "Are you ok? Did you hurt your back?" Oh my god, my friend will kill me if I broke her brother's back.

He backs up. Stares at me. Blinks his eyes over and over. "I know my kid sister is a freak, but..." Whoa. Whoa. Whooooooaaaaaa. First of all my friend is a sophisticated drama student. At the university. And what's all this? He's looking at ME like I've got sea monkeys dropping out of my ears (when everybody knows sea monkeys only exist in the back of Archie comic books). "Your legs!" Now he's pointing at my feet. Or around my feet. I'm numb. I've got this nagging feeling that for some reason I should be ashamed of myself but don't know what I did wrong.

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

DISCLAIMER: Click here to get an idea... Only MY version had less muscle, more whiteness and dare I say more hair. If legs were let alone, and never shaved: they'd be fine. But once you start to shave a leg, you must continue to shave the leg. All the time. Yes, all the fucking time. Now back to the story.

"Go outside. Get a tan. Let the sun see those legs AFTER you shave them! That's disgusting!" That nagging feeling was right. I was so ashamed. I apologized! I told him I was sorry. I felt bad to shock him!

Sigh... If that were to happen today? I'd tell him to fuck off while feeling ashamed and wanting to say I'm sorry I horrify you... I ~~want~~ need to eat, Jiffy Pop anybody? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?

Michel Gratton

2011-01-19T18:21:00.000-08:00

R.I.P.

A leader. A writer. A man of action. A friend.

At first glance you may want to yell for help, run for your life or beg him for mercy. He had "that" look about him. But once you got beyond his exterior appearance you realized this tough crust hid layers and layers of goodness. And brilliance.

Ever heard of Brian Mulroney? He was Canada's Prime Minister (during the Reagan days? Or was it Bush Sr?). And Michel was his aid, his press secretary.

I had the honor and the pleasure of working with Michel.

The government threatened to close down this little neighborhood hospital in Ottawa, Canada's capital. A group of us jumped in to save this hospital. We decided there was NO way anybody was going to shut down OUR hospital. It was ours because of a small detail: it staffed mainly French speaking professionals. Being the only hospital of it's kind outside of Quebec, we just couldn't idly sit by and let them do this. To us.

When you're sick you want to be able to say or shout "Merde j'ai mal!" without having to search or think twice about your words. To our small group it was a matter of life.

We called ourselves S.O.S. Montfort. We had a chosen spokesperson: Gisèle Lalonde. And we had a chosen mastermind behind our operation: Michel Gratton. To see this ex Prime Minister's Press Secretary talk to Gisèle and call her "ma tante" (he was after all her nephew) was priceless and revealed what very few ever witnessed - a vulnerable side.

For starters you've got a dude who looks like a biker and potentially a killer. Second, this tough dude was once a big wig on Parliament Hill. And he called this sweet little old lady (ex Maire) "ma tante". MA TANTE!

A brilliant guy I'm telling you. He's authored more books than most of my (racing) friends have read! He was found dead in his apartment this week-end. Found dead. What a sad tragic end to a fucking amazing existence...

Bye mon ami, tu vas tellement me manquer. Tu as été une source d'inspiration et sans le savoir, tu m'as changé. Merci. Tu ne seras jamais oublié...

p.s. I know I promised a "reader's choice" for my next post, but this took precedence. I will come back with said promise...

Readers' Choice!

2011-01-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

I'm undecided as to what write next. I'll give you 4 options to choose from and then I'll write the TRUE story about it in my next post. Here are your choices, and please use the comment field to tell me your preference:

The time a walkman almost got me killed;
The time I escaped a psychopath;
The time an unknown biker saved me;
The time I played a game I called "I'm in jail"; (or, make that 5 options)
The time a salesman told me to tan and shave my legs.

Hey! And it's Wednesday. Hump Day. You know what THAT means? I need to pimp out a sexy bitch and pretend like I'm humping her right now. Have you ever read The Pits of Being Peachy? This is ONE fuckin' funny writer. But don't just take my word for it, take her words. Take em and read em and laugh and then come back here and vote for the Readers' Choice!

This Peach Fuzz chick has already won 2 awards here. One of them being her snappy commenting skills. If you start reading her blog and commenting, chances are she'll spread her Peach fuzz'ness all over your blog and tickle your funny bone with her witty comments. Trust me. You'll wonder how you've ever done without. It's like cell phones, internet and hot dogs: what did we do before they were invented?

6:01 am - Missed Call from Maman

2011-01-17T09:35:00.000-08:00

My mother, god bless her soul, cannot remember if the West is earlier or later when it comes to time zone changes.

I tell Booby she tried to call me at 6 am. Then we reminisce about the time when...

Me: So anyways...
Mom: Sorry, can we talk about this later? The Packers are coming on.
Me: ??? Packers? You watch the Packers? Why? Since when?
Mom: Well, of course I watch the Packers for your sister. I need to know how they're doing so I can be informed if she talks to me about them. That's what mothers do...
Me: Oh, ok, well we won a race this week-end.
Mom: What? I told you, I have to go.
Me: Ok, bye mom, I love you
Mom: Click - uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh (that last part is the sound of a dead phone line)

My sister is not part of the Green Bay Packers.
My sister is not married to anybody who plays any active role with the Green Bay Packers team, corporation or any of its subsidiaries.
My sister lives in Green Bay, her husband is simply a fan of the Packers.
My sister does not even receive text messages from Brett Favre! (Or so she says)

Whereas, ME:

At the time I was an active key member of a racecar team.
My husband was the crew chief of this team.
This team was a top 10 competitor in its field.
Our level of racing could be compared to a team with the NFL.
My mom never followed my races. Nor did she ever realize what a victory meant to us.
My mom never asked about said races.
When I asked her if she followed us too she would say she never knew when we raced. To which I reminded her of the numerous times I'd sent her our schedule. And links to our website with the schedule. And links to my (old) blog which talked about the racing. Ugh.

When I told Booby about that conversation his reply was "that is wrong in so many ways". And we were reminiscing about that conversation when I told him about the missed call from my mom. After which my mother and I finally did get to talk. Guess how the conversation ended?

Mom: We're about to find out if it will be Chicago or Green Bay in the Superbowl.
Me: And?
Mom: I've been watching all the games leading to this and there's been some really exciting games.
Me: I love you mom
Mom: REALLY exciting games
Me: Gotta go. Bye
Mom: Have you watched any of them?
Me: Click - uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh (that last part is the sound of a dead phone line)

Half-Ass Weekend Post

2011-01-15T16:18:00.000-08:00

Simple Dude in a Complex World started this trend...

This is another edition of a half-assed weekend post. The Simple Dude started this, and I'm such a follower!

As a kid, I loved opening presents. A lot. When we were due for a new package of Q-tips I'd rush in to the job and pretend it was a gift. It didn't matter if it was clear cellophane, as I'd hold it in my hands I'd shake it and play pretend it was my birthday asking over and over "I wonder what it is? As I'd unwrap it and expose the Q-tips I'd be thrilled: "I love these! Just what I needed!"

I think my 1 gift limit per birthday and Christmas must have been a bit of a letdown, kind of like the Pink Panther cutting out an image of a fried fish in a magazine and slapping it on his grill. But admit, I was a pretty creative kid with a vivid imagination!

www.ohwhatfunevents.com

And if that wasn't enough, I'd sit my teddy bears and my dolls around my little table and pretend it was one of their birthdays. The ideal accessory for such a grand occasion was an empty little raspberry plastic crate. You know those little basket type things that're about 3" X 3"? I'd stick a kleenex on it covering it up (again, kind of like a birthday present) and decorate it. Place it upside down on the table surrounded by my teddy bears and dolls and voila: a beautiful little birthday cake!

I'd clap my hands and randomly pick who's birthday it was then sing happy birthday perfectly out of tune. To finish it off I'd cut the birthday boy's hair. It took me a long time to figure out the fact that it never grew out. All my dolls had crooked hair.

Let's not talk about the teddy bears... *sigh* they were a sad sight! But I loved them unconditionally.

Is THIS not the perfect picture of a really cute and happy (and desperately lonely, now that I think of it) little kid?

******

On another note (because now I'm depressed and need to change my line of thought) those full body scanners at the airports do have the perfect name: Rapiscan. It IS pronounced RAPEY-scan. It scans you, violates you and ultimately rapes you. Don't you think they should have focus group'ed that name?

And yes, I was scanned and violated no less than one week ago. And yes, I did suck my tummy in, thanks for asking. I do want my violators satisfied. I'm fucked up. Anybody got an empty raspberry crate I can borrow?

New Address - New Award!

2011-01-14T13:35:00.000-08:00

Yayyyyy! (As I write this, I am picturing myself as one of the Sesame Street puppets that jumps up and down while madly flailing his arms in the air, not sure if it was Ernie or not...)

Have you noticed I've moved? Look around, see anything different? My url is now directed straight out to www.mycyberhouserules.com no more dot blogspot, or that old noreallyitsnotme silly stuff. I really think there's way to many blogs out there, when you try to get your blogspot url everything is already taken. Hence that goofy name I had... *sigh*

So! What's this post about really?

I have the joy of reading some of your comments that are just so funny, I think I need to tell the world about it! Some of you guys... deserve an award for that goofiness, and since your work place is most likely not going to compensate you for it, and your families are probably not appreciating your shifty style of commenting, I figure who better than ME to yell it on the roof tops, or blab about it here at my cyber house...

This "I count on you to make me laugh award" goes out to those who've made me laugh via their comments:

Holly, you were the original one, the first to technically discover and stick with me, and the first to actually say such great stuff I'd have to go back and edit my posts to include your wit.
Nari, you're always there, with some great stuff and my life would lose all it's sunshine if you stopped commenting...
ThePeachy1 I will hold up to my promise of pimping you out, but til then, these awards I'm giving you will have to do the trick!
Vinny, I don't know what part of the world you're living in, but you still manage to rock mine!
Kevin, although I think you've left me a comment only once, it was indeed worthy of an award! Whoo boy, yeah it was THAT good!
Doctor Cynicism, it's been a while, but yet I still remember and crave and wish you'd come back again and again, your wit is bewildering!

That's it for now. Now a lot of you leave me regular comments, not that I don't appreciate them as much, actually I do, I really do, but these guys above here? Insanely funny shit man!

What are the rules? They are more flexible than my legs, trust me. If you accept the award, please thank me (the person who gave it to); please re-gift it and offer it to those who make you laugh on your blog and answer this simple question: do your witty answers pop instantly in your head when you read the post with an immediate urge to hit the comment button or do you have to sit and ponder?

The one thing I hate about offering awards is leaving out others who may deserve it, so this award has a never ending shelf life. I get to pull it out every time I get a piss in my pants comment, ditto goes out to the people I've given this award to, you get to give it out again and again (like herpes, only better because it's from me.)

Oilfield Trash is the Shizz Fo'Shure!

2011-01-13T16:53:00.000-08:00

This award is so pretty! Look at it, isn't it lovely? Thanks Oilfield! If any of my peeps still hasn't discovered this blogger, please I urge you go now! Here's his link. Poor guy, he's been stuck at 98 followers, and you know what? There's nothing worse than being right there, just about to reach the 3 digits then suddenly stalllllllll. I'm telling you, Oilfield is the best kept secret. It's like I'm watching him grow right before my eyes, his posts and stories just keep getting better and better!

And of course there's rules. I just covered the first one, which is to thank the giver. And I'll say it again: Thanks Oilfield! My day has been made. ツ

This award also has a fun side (for me at least, because I get to talk about ME!) and answer these questions:

1. If you blog anonymously, are you happy doing this? If you aren't anonymous, do you wish you started out anonymously, so that you could be anonymous now?

I ran my first blog openly. My family, friends, co-workers and mainly race fans read it. In a way it was cool, just about every race a fan would approach me telling me he'd been reading my blog daily for years and I think it even made my husband proud to see people asking me for my autograph because of it. But also, because of it I had to censor myself to a total and utter point of boredom.

After 4 years of blogging as me, my real me - I put an end to it and created Miss Nikki. And she's bad ass! Much more loud and outgoing than I'd ever be! I would highly recommend to anybody starting a blog to do so anonymously! All the way!

2. Describe an incident that shows your inner stubborn side.

When I was in high school (I won't tell you the year, because well some of my readers are actually born about the time I graduated (oh my bones) yeah, that bad) I switched province half way. My parents were going through a divorce and I picked my dad. Against all odds. My mom put up quite the battle. None of my sisters followed be, I became outcast. But I stood my ground.

Also, changing schools, and provinces was sweet. I never should have graduated! I'd failed major courses such as physics and history. I told them I'd lost ALL my files, not only did they believed me they made me skip a grade! All I had to do for the last 2 years of high school was pass 1 of each per year math, French and English plus any 4 other class of my choosing! I have a high school diploma with zero credits in: physics, chemistry, history, algebra, etc. If that is not being stubborn I don't know what is!

What do you see when you really look at yourself in the mirror?

Spots. Every time I take a good look at myself I'm convinced I have skin cancer. I try to avoid looking too much in the mirror and trust my husband that I look great!

What is your favourite summer cold drink?

I love a good cold beer. I'm Canadian, it's in my DNA. I also love a very chilled glass of Pinot Grigio... Oh ok, and water. Plain old tap water on ice, nothing beats agua!

When you take time for yourself, what do you do?

Jump on my computer, read blogs, write stories... I also love to just chill with a good book, some tunes in the background and a glass of Pinot! (Shit, why save the good stuff for just a few months of the year, right?)

Is there something that you still want to accomplish in your life?

I want to learn to speak Spanish fluently. I want to learn to love my man. I want to enjoy being, just simply being and not always chasing adventures and experiences, you know be more fuckin' zen. I want to get to the point with my mother where she'll finally accept me, and forgive me since she still to this day does not accept the fact I chose my dad over her.

When you attended school, were you the class clown, the class overachiever, the shy person, or always ditching?

I was the class clown who was always over-achieving and joining every club and committee to compensate the fact that I was so totally shy... Shit, I even ditched school for a whole week so I could accept my first paying job as a clown for our Winter carnival. That was the shits!

If you close your eyes and want to visualize a very poignant moment in your life, what would you see?

The moment I met Booby (that's my husband, only I hate the term husband since it makes me feel too old and responsible). It was one of those earth shattering moments. Where he walked out of a crowd just as I was walking towards it and we spotted each other and then time stood still. We walked towards each other and I felt drawn like if I knew I was there to meet up with him. We held on to each other for 2 hours as we introduced ourselves to each other. He told me he loved me. Told his friends he'd finally met the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Is it easy for you to share your true self in your blog, or are you more comfortable writing posts about other people and events?

My blog is mainly about me. I find when I write about other people and events I become too nagging, or soap-boxish. Like if I know what's best and those posts don't come out as interesting as how others do it. Unless I give it a total twist like my previous post. I had fun doing that one and it came out of nowhere!

If you had the choice to sit down and read a book or talk on the phone, which would you do and why?

Read a book. I hate talking on the phone. I'm a mega phone spaz. I really am. I'm like a social clutz and never know what to say... Whereas a book? I love a good story. I totally allow myself to get wrapped up in them and usually need over a week before I start a new one.

AND NOW THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR:

I want to share this award with... (drum roll)

Come back tomorrow... I have another award to give out!!! Can't dish out all the good in one day!

p.s. My blog has moved, but you may not have noticed it. I'm now at mycyberhouserules.com

Single White Female

2011-01-13T01:34:00.000-08:00

Every time a eHarmony.com commercial runs, my guy sighs, looks at me and says "I wish I had somebody who loved me like that!" Me too, me too...

Know where to go to find the ideal mate? Check out these ads:

"I am a very sweet girl who enjoys car rides, giving people kisses and receiving any affection I can from you (AKA - SLUT!)! I am quite energetic (A.D.D.) and would like a home with an active owner (NYMPHO). I may jump up in excitement when first meeting people (PSYCHO), but in a friendly way (YEAH... RIIIIGHT). I sometimes may chew when I am left unsupervised (SHE EATS A LOT, KEEP YOUR KIDS AWAY FROM HER), so give me lots of exercise and toys to keep me busy (NEEDS TO LOSE WEIGHT)."

OR

"Hi my name is Joker (I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO LAUGHS AT MY JOKES)! I was brought back to the shelter because (I'M HOMELESS) I like to escape and travel to neighbors who are not to fond of me (ESPECIALLY WHEN I'M DOING THE NEIGHBOR'S WIFE). I am a very sweet boy! I love to play (OH YEAH, GIGGIDY), and of course the more attention the better (ATTENTION WHORE)! I love being around kids as they are fun playmates (DON'T TELL MY PAROLE OFFICER). I need someone who will be patient with me and work with me so I do not escape anymore. (I LOVE TO BE TIED DOWN, I HAVE MY OWN HANDCUFFS)"

OR

"I am a very loving and affectionate girl and I really like attention (ANOTHER ATTENTION WHORE), I would also do great in a home with kids of all ages."

OR

"I love treats and will take in gently (WITH A LITTLE KY). I am very people oriented, and I like to be next to my owners as much as possible (I AM VERY SUBMISSIVE, WILL YOU BE MY MASTER?). Oh and I also was used to being around a chihuahua and I was the submissive one (TOLD YA). I like car rides, and I tolerate baths but it's not my favorite (THE WATER CAUSES FRICTION). I need lots of running space in my next home because of my energy level, and because I was used to it (WAS? WHAT DO YOU MEAN "WAS"?). I love to fetch. I also retrieve (I'VE BEEN CAUGHT STEALING). I have not hunted (I'M ALWAYS THE HUNTED). Thunderstorms and gun shots did not seem to bother me (AS LONG AS THE SHOOTER CAN'T AIM). When strangers came over I barked if I was outside but would not hurt anyone. I got along great with the cats as well (JUST LOVE THE FEEL OF THAT SANDPAPER TONGUE). I just like everyone (I'M EASY!)"

OR

"Hi there I'm Jake! Don't let my age fool you, I'm a big playful boy with a lot of energy (AKA I'M OLD BUT WILL LAST MORE THAN 8 MINUTES). I'm very social and friendly with strangers (I LOVE EVERYTHING THAT'S STRANGE TO MOST PEOPLE). I like to give hugs, I do well in car rides, I like baths (WASH ME, I'M DIRTY), and I love to cuddle (OH YEAH, AND SPOON, AND OH YEAH...)"

OR

"Hi, my name is Buddy! My original owner abandoned me (YUP, ANOTHER DIVORCÉ) and so I was kept by another family for 3 months (REBOUND EFFECT). I love chew toys and pigs ears (AND BACON, LOVE BACON) and I lived with older children. I can be a little vocal (I'LL YELL WHEN YOU DON'T DO WHAT I WANT) when I don't get enough attention or on car rides (AGAIN WITH THE CAR RIDES). I like to chase cats and probably should not go in a home were they are present (CRAZY CAT LADIES: BEWARE). I was kept outside all times (I KINDA STINK, EVER SINCE I DID IT WITH A QUESTIONABLE PERSON). I would love a home where someone has time for me and where they have time to train me and teach me new things. (I SOMETIMES PEE IN BED)."

Something tells me the fine people who work at the Humane Society have spent too much time searching for their soul mates online.

DISCLAIMER: No animals were harmed in the making of this post.

Half-Ass?

2011-01-09T08:59:00.000-08:00


http://simpledudecomplexworld.blogspot.com/

The Simple Dude started this "movement". Nobody reads blogs in the week-ends, they're too busy with fun stuff, reading blogs is for when you're bored and got nothing to do (like when you're at work and the boss isn't looking).

And since this is a half-assed post anyways, what better topic than...

Once in a while you stumble something that's like gold, only better. Oh yeah, I'm talking about a fab pair of jeans that make your butt look oh so delicious. Hang on to those jeans for dear life, you may never find another pair like it! See this picture? I should call this post "full ass" rather than half-ass. I know... Do these jeans make my butt look great? Or what?

And, am I mad that Verizon is about to announce the iPhone is coming? Am I mad I've been waiting for this for at least 28 years now? Me? MAD? Why would I be mad I just bought an imitation iPhone that does not play well with my Mac, and because of this I must to hang on to my iPod Touch for my music... And for which when I bought it I convinced myself it was a good move because the Droid has hotspot so I can cancel my Verizon mifi card and hence save money? And that this hotspot is so worthless I stopped it anyways. Why would I be mad? (I am frantically screaming in a high pitch annoying nagging tone in my head right now, giving myself internal headaches)

And do I want to strangle myself because Verizon gives you 30 days to change your mind on a purchase and I bought this mother fuckin phone on Dec. 6? 3 days past the "oops bad purchase" allowance?

I need a drink. With a pill. Now. Where's that little zen spot when I need it? Think positive. Think "element" jeans. In with the good, out with the bad... Muah!

Feel Like Pimping!

2011-01-07T16:46:00.000-08:00

www.parkhowell.com

Our very own Amber LaShell has a published article on the Examiner.com. Help her out by reading her post... Cheers, it's Friday!

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

2011-01-07T10:04:00.000-08:00

I polished an 8-foot pole today.

This morning I walked into the auto parts store and went straight to this hot black guy behind the counter and asked "Are you Randy?" I giggled. I totally wanted to follow with a "Do I make you rrrrrandy???" because I was actually looking for a dude called Randy I'd talked to previously on the phone.

It wasn't (sadly) the hot black guy, but an older fellow. He smelled awesome. I wanted to climb over the counter and snuggle into his neck and just breath in. Long and slow. And tell him "Now guess WHO'S Randy?"

I'm enjoying a good cold beer. A Pacifico. The "i" is pronounced like "ee". I love pronouncing Spanish properly. And when I have no clue, I just speak with a smile and a certain melody. The melody helps convince people I totally know what I'm doing. Hola! (Did you hear my melody? Yeah it totally rocks doesn't it?)

I decided to not go crazy hunting and looking for jobs. But I am on 2 different job search sites that send me regular emails with job openings per my criteria. Yesterday I received a really cool job opening. And it's a 2-minute walk from my marina. I applied. They haven't called yet. What are they waiting for?

Why do they only have tri-tip in California? Have you ever had tri-tip? It's the shits!

Talking about the shits (in the good way, not running to the loo way (I used that expression for my Aussie readers, a loo is a cool way of saying toilet)) have you heard any Mumford & Sons? They're a pretty good band. Seriously. It's good music. Check it out! Yeah, you're welcome.

Although I try and try and keep trying again and again without giving up: I still don't get UGG Boots. When I first saw them I told myself "Self, how appropriate is it to have the ugliest boot on the face of the earth called UGG for UGLY!" Only people who also look good in potato sacks can pull those off, because THEY can pull anything off.

Why DOES Dave Letterman wear white socks with his suits? Am I the only one who finds it an eyesore?