A Camping We Will Go (Eventually)

Once again my ambition seems to have totally bottomed out. I just plain do not want to do stuff. I didn’t even bother buying plants this year so I could lose interest in them by July, I couldn’t even fake the initial interest. I don’t know what my damn problem is but I’m beginning to think I’m just straight up lazy. Everything just seems like such a waste of time that I just don’t bother doing it. And then what do I do instead of whatever it is I should be doing? I waste time.

We bought an adorable little holiday trailer last month. We had been looking for one without really looking for quite a while and a few months ago Nick put a wanted ad in the area bargain finder. At the time I told him it was stupid and no one would ever call but it was free so what the hell. Turns out it wasn’t stupid and someone did call. A very nice lady from a tiny little town a couple hours from here called and said she had a tiny little 1979 Trillium that she bought for her daughter and was willing to sell it. She said her daughter didn’t like it and preferred a tent (I’m assuming her daughter is retarded) so when she saw our ad she decided to give us a call. She sold it to us for what she paid for it, $1500, which was great considering these silly things go for two or three times that easily (and often even more). We drove out there on a Sunday to look at it and make sure it was in good shape and all that and then slapped a hitch on the Escape and went back on Monday to pick it up before she changed her mind. Proves the theory that you always find the best deals when you aren’t really looking.

While this thing doesn’t really look like much it is exactly what we wanted. The Escape is classified as a ‘compact SUV’ so as it only tows about 2000 lbs we were relegated to a ‘glass egg’ style trailer like a Boler or Trillium. That was fine with me because I didn’t want anything that could accommodate guests; just something with enough room for the two of us to sleep, possibly eat and have electricity. The one we bought was actually a little bigger than the Bolers I had been looking at but since it’s all fiberglass and ‘hi tech foam developed for the aerospace industry’ it weighs is at a whopping 975 lbs. The Escape pulls it fine; the only thing that suffers is the gas mileage. Plus we wanted to ‘renovate’ it and turn it into something cool so this is a great base.

So I suppose you would think we’d be spending every weekend camping but thus far we’ve only been out once. Camping, while very fun & enjoyable, is also extremely time consuming and a lot of damn work. Plus, Nick joined a soccer league and they play on Friday nights. Friday! Is that not the stupidest night of the week to play? So we really can’t head out on Friday night, having to leave Saturday means the whole weekend will be consumed by camping. While that’s fine in theory it kina sucks if you have any other projects that need to be done (not that I ever get around to doing them anyway). I just hope we can get into some sort of groove where we can get out of town without spending half the day getting ready.

Our one trip was pretty good. I think we all could have done without the bizarre and out of the blue admission by one of our friends that she had secretly been sleeping with another (former) friend for the last month and a half. That was pretty weird. But I think I’ll leave that (potentially long) story for another day.

They Make my Brain Ache

It’s been awhile since the last instalment of ‘I hate our neighbours’ so here’s a short one.

They have an almost entirely dead tree in the middle of their front yard; it’s been that way pretty much since we moved in. The stupid thing loses branches ranging in size from twig to trunk when it’s windy so aside from being an eyesore it essentially shits all over our yard. One side of the tree actually has three or four live branches but the rest of it, the side that faces the street, is totally dead and ugly.

Yesterday they cut off at least two of the three or four live branches. And that’s it. They left all the dead ones and cut off the only parts that had buds on them. And THEN they proceeded to burn those branches, the green wood out off all the dry, in their asinine fire pit.

I have never in my life seen people do things as back asswards as these people.

On Vegas

Well, Vegas was pretty cool. We actually didn’t drink as much as I thought we would for a few different reasons. My chief reason is that it seemed that all super cheap drinks were either Corona or tequila. I hate both. So 2 for $3 Corona and .99 margaritas unfortunately did nothing for me and as most regular bars or lounges charged around $7 for a “well drink” (us crazy Canucks call them high balls) I was a little put off. But the places with the novelty cups and “flair” bartending are a little better and Sunday night ended up being a bit of a runaway thanks to a half yard drink called ‘Smirnoff around the world and back’. One of those nights where I wished a little voice inside my head would have spoken up and said ‘settle the fuck down you idiot, it’s just a cover band’ so I didn’t have to spend the rest of the trip in need of a neck brace. Another reason I didn’t seem to over imbibe too much is that I do not feel comfortable allowing myself to lose control when I’m out of my element. Me, responsible – who knew? Plus no one ever seemed to be on the same page and there was a lot of ‘I dunno, whadda YOU wanna do?’ which seemed to cut into the drinking quite a bit.

The wedding was about three minutes long. I am just fine with that. And it’s pretty cool to be able to say we were married in the most famous (infamous?) wedding chapel in the world. In the end it didn’t turn out to be the drunk 3 a.m. affair that we had initially envisioned. I guess that was partly attributed to the hangovers from Sunday night and that ‘awesome’ cover band. We were uncomfortable standing up in front of the three friends we brought along; I can’t imagine doing it in front of hundreds. It was a ridiculously simple ceremony but actually very sweet and genuine, none of the ‘I now pronounce you man and wife, here’s fifty dollars in chips’ stuff. Not that there would have been anything wrong with that, it’s just not the way it happened. In was subdued and important; more so than we thought it would be. Even though the place is a virtual wedding factory and the minister called me Yessica throughout.

One thing I learned is that people – tourists, specifically – do not understand the principal of a fucking crosswalk. We saw at least a dozen people almost get run over because that bright red hand is just too subtle for them. If you watched the traffic patterns you can figure out why some of the DON’T WALKs seem erroneous (right turn only and stuff like that) and you can tell if it’s safe to jay walk but as soon as one person figures it out and quickly jaunts across two dozen people blindly (and slowly) follow, often with small children. Some places you can see for a long time if a car is coming in that ‘right turn only’ lane but others are incredibly deceptive and you really should just wait the extra minute instead of risking life and limb. It just amazed me how many people would herd into traffic without paying any attention. I was also amazed that no one seemed to know the ‘keep to the right’ rule when walking. Stairs and sidewalks were a total zoo.

Another thing I learned was that – surprise surprise – Vegas really is all about gambling. There are tons of other things to do and see but it really comes down to the casinos. They want you to be trapped in them and make it very difficult to escape or find what you’re looking for in the resorts. And if you are tired and just want to sit down for a minute they want you to sit down at a card table of a slot machine, benches are very few and far between. It’s also surprisingly difficult (and very expensive) to just sit in a bar and drink. I don’t really gamble, Nick even less than me, so that was definitely a negative for us. It’s not like I didn’t find out until we got off the plane that Vegas was gambling it’s just that I didn’t realize how extensive and all encompassing it was. Slot machines in the airport, in grocery store etc. Crazy! And by the end of our trip the sound of those one armed bandits was about to make me insane. I swear I never want to hear another slot machine again.

I also learned that Vegas is the douche bag capital of the world. It’s like a 24/7 365 douche convention. Douche bags to the right of you, douche bags to the left of you. I guess it’s just the type of place douche bags can go without people saying, ‘man, look at that douche bag’. Because behind him are seven more douche bags of equal or greater doucheyness.

All in all it was a good trip. Nothing went wrong and nothing bad happened which is our barometer of a good trip. We saw the stuff we wanted to see and did a lot of the things we wanted to do. But I am in no hurray to return. If you don’t gamble then there really isn’t much of a reason to keep going back, at least not for people like us. We saw the Hoover dam, we watched ‘Jubilee’ (amazing, BTW), gazed upon the spectacular Bellagio fountains, checked out the Flamingo flamingos, saw the MGM lions and we ate Cornish game hens with our hands at Tournament of Kings. As for getting trapped in dozens of casinos that all look eerily alike again in the near future, no thanks. I’m glad we saw it, I’m happy that we were married in The Little White Chapel, but in the end Vegas really isn’t my kind of place. Too many and too much of everything. Plus it is really fucking hot. A cabbie told us that tourism was down about 30% and convention attendance (a cab driver’s ‘bread and butter’ apparently) was down 50%. I can’t imagine what the place is like full force.

After 10 Years of Getting the Milk for Free...

... he finally bought the cow.

This isn't the best un-wedding picture but I think it's my favorite because it very clearly shows the adult book & video store in the background. Not captured (although I wish it had been) was the first undeniable hooker we saw in Vegas; she was stunning in spandex peppered with holes ranging in size from cigarette burn to foot-missed-the-leg-hole.

More on Vegas later as I'm still playing catch up at work.

Vegas, Baby

So one week from today I will cease to be Miss ______ and begin my existence as Mrs. ________. I have searched my little mind high and low for something meaningful, deep and/or insightful to say about these impending nuptials but I just can’t seem to firmly grasp anything. I think of little snippets of semi interesting ramble here and there but I have yet to form any semblance of a complete thought.

I’ve started to start an entry probably half a dozen times over the last few months and they have all gone absolutely nowhere. I am just not that worked up about getting married! I love Nick more than anything, I feel 100% sure about the commitment we are making and I am really, really, REALLY fucking excited about going to Vegas. That’s pretty much the long and short of it. We aren’t having what most would consider a ‘real’ wedding. Well, it’s real in the sense that we will be married by the end of it but not real in the weeping relatives, same as a funeral only in white sort of way (sorry, ‘real’ weddings and funerals are interchangeable to me). I’m blissfully happy to become Mrs. ________ and not at all nervous about the short process of doing so. The end.

Since weddings and marriage have been in the forefront of conversation I have learned two things – I hate the idea of that ‘real’ wedding and ‘real’ weddings are about absolutely everyone else but the bride and groom (particularly the groom). As it gets closer to that all important date and as no one at work has anything better to talk about the yadda yadda quite regularly steers towards our gettin’ hitched. I have been told by a few couples to do exactly what we’re doing and that given hindsight they would NOT have had their huge wedding. I have also been told by a few mothers that if their kid did what we’re doing they would be pissed indefinitely. And I have heard, “sooooo, are you nervous?!” more times than I care to count. No, I am not nervous. Why? Because we are not having the terrifying ‘real wedding’. That’s the only cause to be nervous about marriage that I can think of; if you’re nervous about being joined in (un)holy matrimony then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it.

Another thing that I already knew but have really been reassured of is that I hate (HATE) being the centre of attention. The idea of wearing the pretty dress and having 1000 eyes on me makes me want to vomit. I just flat out don’t think I could do it. And the thought of the potential embarrassment and subsequent waste of money that would come along with vomiting all over my pretty dress and/or passing out in front of everyone I know really makes the idea of a ‘real’ wedding cause me to break out in a cold sweat. I don’t like to be doted on or fawned over or really paid much attention to at all. No matter how important it is to everyone else I just couldn’t stomach doing it any other way and neither could Nick. Shouldn’t that be all that matters? Apparently not.

Our wedding is actually a half ass elopement. As terrible as it sounds we have yet to tell Nick’s family about it, or our trip for that matter. I don’t exactly feel good about that but the situation is what it is. The biggest thing is that no matter how much we emphasize what we want or why they won’t care. We could stress the all or nothing family policy until we are blue in the face but they would still either be brutally offended and angry or would actually magically appear in Vegas. I don’t like the idea of offending them but I actually hate the idea of them showing up more. Show up to what? Us and a few friends sipping yard long margaritas and wandering into a chapel whenever the mood strikes? Not really a family affair. I don’t like the idea of leaving the country without telling them but I have to leave this one up to Nick. It’s totally up to his discretion. My mom’s advice was to place a collect call from “Mr & Mrs ________” after the ‘ceremony’. That seems to be the winning solution thus far. I love you, awesome mommy!

My family is much easier. I told my mom right after we booked the trip and once it was too late for my dad to get his passport she was allowed to tell him. I don’t really think my dad would actually follow us down there but he does want to be there; my mom on the other hand only wants what we want (or at least does a great job of pretending). Why can’t all parents just be like that? In fact, after the sister’s wedding she requested that we elope. She’s just so easy. I love you, awesome mommy!

I guess that’s really all I’ve got to say about that. I am really excited about Vegas though. I’ve been looking at all the stuff I want to do there and already have the Hoover dam tour picked out and am getting ridiculously excited about the Tournament of Kings. I know it’s going to be a real party trip but there really is a ton of other stuff I want to do, like the Body Works exhibit. We have a handful of friends coming so we’ll be able to balance the full out drunk fest partying with the married folk alone time and the actual touristy sight seeing. If anyone has any Vegas tips, advice or suggestions I would love to hear them. We’re also going to be getting into town the night of the big boxing match which I’m sure will create a pretty cool atmosphere at a lot of places.

So, ya – Vegas, here we come!

Did you know...

That when you are travelling via motor carriage and something is in/enters your lane of travel you may not in fact swing your entire vehicle into oncoming traffic to avoid it? I know, crazy right? Who would’ve thought that you can’t just drive into opposing traffic because there’s a car parked on your side of the road?

People are so fucking stupid.

Fan Mail

Here’s an email I’m sure everyone would love to get from their mother:

I enjoyed your last blog but what the hell is orcastracted? Did you mean orchestrate? I looked up orcastracted in the urban dictionary and, if you spell it orcastrated, it means masturbating in a theatre or having your girlfriend do it for you if you're a guy. Who knew?

Yes, mother dear, clearly I meant orchestrated. In my blogging haste I did not hit spell check; it has now been corrected and thanks for the heads up.

The Edge of Seventeen... Really isn't That Big a Deal

I’ve decided that I want to be all angsty and dramatic and dark and moody. It seems like a lot of work but it certainly makes you an interesting specimen. For some reason I’ve been reading the blogs of local teenagers and man are those kids fucking s e r i o u s. Reading their words you can practically see them seething and writhing around in the agony caused by 18 year old love and parents who JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND! As silly as it is I must say it does make for interesting reading and, much like watching the O.C, I’m a little embarrassed I’m doing it but find myself hooked nonetheless. All I’ve got is my crazy sensitivity to traffic laws and the odd social observation. These girls have so much damn emotion. I do not. And all the blogs MUST have black backgrounds, MUST! Me and my beige & brown embarrassment just don’t fit in.

I remember being 18 quite clearly and there was very little writhing to speak of. I think I went through my angsty asshole stage in like the eighth grade and if my memory serves I wasn’t very good at being dark and depressed. By the time 18 rolled around I was graduated and had moved out of my parents’ house (I was born late in the year). I definitely wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity or anything like that but there sure wasn’t much of that dark & moody angst surrounding me. These blogs are full of the torment of losing their true loves, you would swear that these pimply faced boys are their first, last and only chance at True Happiness. Um, you’re 17, 18 on the outside, have yourself a good cry and then go out and find another horny 18 year old boy; there is no short supply of them.

I shouldn’t be so insensitive I guess. I broke up with my high school boyfriend a few times and he actually DID turn out to be my one true love (but honestly, how was I supposed to know that at the time?) so I really should be a little more understanding. The first time I cried alone in my bedroom at night for about a week and then had a fling with a (at the time) hot co-worker and called it a break up. The second time was a little worse, perhaps there was some begging to reconsider, but after one or two tumultuous evenings it was accepted that it was what it was. The third time was a little messy and dramatic but not on my part and I prefer not to think about it. Either of the three times there was no penning of seemingly endless letters to my former lover outlining intermittently how terrible they were and how sorry I was for behaving the way I did and how I would do anything to have him back at my side and how they took me for granted and treated me like shit. And even if there had been (there wasn’t) they certainly wouldn’t have gone on the interweb for all and the ex to see.

I guess when I was young(er) and stupid(er) there was a significant lack of internet. At least for me. Shit like Facebook with it’s double edged ‘statuses’ and all that garbage makes it easier to obsess over someone and follow them around, track their progress. Another reason why Facebook is evil. When I was ‘little’ there wasn’t any of that shit, or at least it wasn’t as widely used, so it was a lot easier to just shut someone out when you needed to. It’s human nature to peek into the lives of others, especially exes of ANY variety, so if the opportunity is there people usually can’t resist even if they know it’s in their best interest to just log off and forget about it. And it’s damn near impossible to get over someone when you spend hours analyzing what hidden meaning is in ‘soandso is excited about Saturday’. What’s happening on Saturday? Does soandso just get to sleep in, is his mom making waffles, or is he planning on a gang bang with three of your best friends and your younger sister that was all orchestrated just to put another dagger in your tender little heart? The possibilities really are endless.

In conclusion I would just like to say to the angst filled teenagers of Dodge – thank you for making my day a little less boring one emotion fuelled blog entry at a time. (And also stop taking life so seriously because while entertaining it’s actually pretty silly)

A Tuesday Morning Epiphany

There are times in your life where you wake up and think ‘what the hell am I doing?’ You come to the comprehension that your situation and your place in the world is all wrong. It’s not a nice epiphany but it is what it is. Something just makes you aware that your decisions and your commitments were not the right ones. You have ended up in a terrible, awful and totally wrong place. I awoke this morning to this sad realization that I’ve made a huge mistake. Why?








It’s 37 motherfornicating below. What the fuck am I doing still living in this crazy country?

I’m being facetious. But one does have to wonder why they would choose to live in a place where it’s -37 on March 10th. Where the hell is global warming? Shouldn’t it be making an appearance any time here?

Ya know if it wasn’t for the summers where it’s light out until 11 pm, the lack of almost all natural disasters and the fact that all the people I love are here I would totally move to Miami.

Pearls of Wisdom From the White Collar World

You know what is a totally underrated ‘tool’ in the receptionist world? That wonderful little button you push to disconnect a line. It has taken me almost exactly 8 years to learn that it’s perfectly fine to just go right ahead and hang up on certain callers. And if they call back you just plead ignorance – “oops, silly me, I must have pushed the wrong button! Tee hee!” Except they rarely call back, they just go on to the next number on their list.

This can be used on pretty much anyone who asks for ‘the manager’ or ‘the person responsible for advertising’ or really any caller who reeks of sales or donation harvesting. The Boss always used to give me shit for putting sales calls through to him. I never really felt I had an option if he was here; I tend to have really unpredictable and uncontrollable bouts of honesty when it comes to things like that. I have a hard time lying on the spot for some reason. But now I don’t have to lie, I just leave them on hold until the line rings back and then I hang up on them. Voila! No fibbing required!

So next time you pick up a call and you know in your heart of hearts that the person they’re looking for really doesn’t want or need to talk to them just go ahead and hang up on them. Everyone wins. Except for the poor guy from India trying to sell you pens with lights in them. He kinda gets douched.