Dead Celebrity Regrets

Can you imagine what it would be like to be a celebrity?
I know you've probably thought about it, we all have.

You probably picture having your own personal chef, a personal trainer and a personal assistant.
Basically its like everyone has one purpose in life....to be your "personal" whatever.
You can travel the world at the drop of  a hat...you never have to wake up early.
You can choose to wear nothing but sweatpants or have a "nip and tuck" whenever you have a bad day.

You are on top of the trends and you have all the best stuff and friends.
You know all the hip new stuff and party with people like Ed Norton or The Black Keys.
It's awesome right?
I can see you nodding now.

I don't know if you've ever paid attention to celebrity gossip blogs...
I must admit I have..but my intentions were good; I wanted to see pictures of dresses and shit.

Those poor girls. They literally berate them for having a misshapen bodice on a dress they had no part in the making of.
If they happen to be smiling too much or not enough, or if they have on clashy lipstick they begin to claim in the press that they are anorexic or self harming or whatever.

Why is that? wtf is wrong with all of us? Why is this obsession with celebs the new politics or the modern version of "staying up on current events" Why do more people know that Kim Kardashian is dating Kanye West than know about the recent freak tornado outbreak in Japan?

I clutch my pearls I tell you what.

The next time you read a celeb blogpost or see a check out counter magazine claiming someone fucked a hobo I dare you to pretend the story is about you.
Mentally superimpose your face onto that " bad beach body" and try to imagine what it would be like to piss in a gas station bathroom with a bunch of photographers screaming only feet away.

You may think twice about judging someone on their attire if anything.
You may even decide to start reading real news.

Balloon knot.

I realized the other day that I'm sick of being an asshole.
I'm sick of everyone being an asshole. I think we all need to pull the sticks out of our asses and man up.
Start working for number two. Start trying to make other people happy rather than ourselves.
It's really easy to only care about yourself, in fact it's instinctual.
Before this modern day and age, we would have fought with a dinosaur for a piece of flesh, but these days people will run over an old lady in some parking lot so they can pull into the car wash before someone else.
Seriously a fucking car wash. I will never understand why there are so many of them.
It's a car, not your cock; get over it.

I'm also pretty sick of people never taking responsibility for their actions.
I work at a job where I handle lots of billing issues. More specifically I handle complaints from grown damn adults who all of a sudden feel they don't have to pay their bills. They will ask me to waive their fees, and when I refuse they will say things like " I'm gonna go on the internet later and tell everyone about this" little do they know I'm on the fucking internet right now talking about it. Schmucks.
They threaten to file BBB complaints as if that will change the fact that they owe us money.
It's bat-shit crazy, and p.s just because I'm in the customer service industry does not mean you can intimidate me into doing whatever you want me to. You are no longer a paying customer, YOU defaulted on your contract NOT me, and I do actually care, I will help when I can; but has anyone ever told you that "you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar' ?

*sigh*

That felt good.

Anyways it's christmas and if you don't celebrate CHRISTmas no worries, but you can't deny how special this time of year is.
If anything just remember Christmas can be a mind-fuck if you let it, you can either be the Grinch or Buddy the Elf.
This year I choose to be buddy, at least when I'm not at work.

12 hours is a long time eh?

Have you ever sat in the same spot for 12 hours?
Drinking copious amounts of coffee, staring intently at two computer screens?
Searching for things to distract you on the internet until your left eye begins to twitch and you start talking with a fake british accent?

Obviously you can probably tell that I have done all those things. I have, in fact done all the aforementioned things today.
I am happy to say that I survived the ordeal and I am richer for it.
That should come in handy during this corporate sponsored holiday season. Don't get me wrong I love Christmas and all, but have you been to the mall lately? Zombies I tell you...all of them!
It's like watching a gigantic swarm of sardines scattering from a shark only instead of swimming away the swarm is rushing toward the blue god, whose pointy teeth hide behind his freakishly yellow faced smile.

"Hey kids, wanna apply for a high interest rate credit card"?
"How about some GMO food"? "Try it I just know you'll love it".


Can you tell I have deep rooted loathing for a specific big box store?
I feel as though their prices are ridiculously low. Why would anyone expect to be able to get fist sized strawberries in Ontario in the middle of December? I don't really need that ya know? I especially don't need to eat food that was blasted with chemicals and handled by 10-15 underfed, underpaid workers. Shipped across a shit-ton of water and sold to me for a meagre $3.50 CAD.

I don't think I will ever fully understand how that whole system of "mine, now, cheap, plenty, consume now think later" actually works, but it has proven quite successful until  recently....more and more people are actually beginning to taste their food, because they have genetically modified the flavour out of life. I used to be clueless and trustworthy....and cheap. I have since realized that although I support the effort of Guatemalan 'Snuggie' manufacturer's. I think they should sell their stuff in a regulated market and be paid properly and I can go buy a Canadian made 'snuggie' at my local retailer.

Last Christmas I wrote a poem about Wal-Mart, it was pretty lame-o; as are most of the things I put up here. Someone is reading it though...I think....
Anybody out there? Can anybody feel me?


People actually behaved like this:

Facebook is so over

I'm going to post my pics here.....no one on Facebook cares anymore anyways.

 Just another lazy sunday in the basement, turning into reptile shapeshifters.

 That was way scary...now I'm bored.

Watch out for this guy here. He knows whats up.

The face says it all

Just another sunny sunday morning.

Kissy face.

Nothing compares to the feeling of a good heavy wool coat.

That moment where you remember why you married him.

It's Pyjama time

It turns out I can't spell pajama, my computer thinks it's pyjama. Whatev's.

I decided to come on here tonight because I can't find anything to entertain me.
I've come to the conclusion that I must entertain myself.
In this day and age where I have the world at my fingertips, where I am able to Google absolutely anything, I seem to have run out of things to look at.
What's up with that?
I often wonder if the Internet is too efficient, with every ad catered to my personal taste I will never be able to break out of the strangle hold the internet has on me.
I have practically seen it all to the point where I almost never LOL anymore.
Once you've seen one 'De-motivational' poster you've seen them all.
I continue to search though, I wan't to find the edge of the internet, that obscure place where giga-bytes go to die. The closet in the basement of the internet if you will.
I hope my Blog is that place. Full of wonder and dust.
I know people look at it, but I don't know what they read, or what they think when they read it.
Unfortunately my "readers" never leave comments. It feels like a stranger walked into your unlocked house, touched all your things and stole nothing.


Today everything that anyone besides me has said or done has made me go "Phsshhh" and roll my eyes.
I should probably work on that.
I wish I had time to draw a cartoon of myself doing something charming like when I fell off an exercise ball at work today but I have to go to bed soon.
It's F-F-F-Friday finally.
This Blog post has killed approximately 22 minutes.

Fashion is the best!

This evening I'm prepping for a Halloween party,  it's only two days away; it's a work related Halloween party, which could go one of two ways.
In scenario#1- I go to the work party-drink all the Stella's , and proceed to tell my co-workers all the tales of my wild youth, in a lame attempt to "put myself out there" with work people.
In scenario #2  I go - feel on edge the whole time , don't drink anything all night fidget with my costume and make-up and finish off the night by saying something incredibly bitchy without thinking.

Don't get me wrong I pretty much dig everyone I work with, but when I think about who I wan't to see me dressed in a slutty 1920's Flapper costume, swilling beers with the boys and so forth....I don't immediately think the people who I spend 40+hrs a week with.

Once they know my weakness....they will have the upper hand.
If I screw something up they will think I'm hung-over or if I empty my pockets on my desk and turn up 4 lighters and 6 beer caps they will think I'm drunk at work.  

You can probably understand how these things could cause problems.
My job is uber new, and I really like it, I want to keep this job.
I am job.

I have finally decided exactly what I will wear and how to style my hair.
I'm trying pin-curls now,  wanna see?

I'm not smiling which sucks, but I was trying to imagine what It felt like during Prohibition. The curls are still wet and need to set, and Im not really sure what will happen when I remove the bobby-pins. Hopefully it works out because it seems like it would be really fun to rock that look.

It's takes a really long time to set these whores...FYI.

Like a blur of dance

I look like a sweater.

Excelsior!!1

This is how I was greeted by my husband tonight, needless to say he's excited about the weekend.

I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, so I of course Googled that shit and I found this:

excelsior (uncountable)

1. An originally trademarked name for stuffing material (as for furniture and mattresses) made of slender, curled wood shavings, as a substitute for hair.  [quotations ▼]

and I was like, "so Chad.....how was work?" 

"meh" he replied storming around the kitchen his fist in the air: "EXCEEEELLSIOR"

I still wasn't satisfied, and I was too scared to ask him what he meant, so I Googled that search engine called Bing

and then I Bing 'd Excelsior and I got this:

Excelsior is a Latin and archaic English word meaning "ever higher".  Loftier, yet higher; ever upward.

I don't know what I would do without the Internet.

or husband's for that matter,

You know what they say, 

Husbands, can't live with them-

can't understand what they're saying half the Goddamn time.

Have a happy turkey day everybody

Lets talk about personal space, baby!

Let's talk about you and me, and how I would prefer if you don't touch me....

I really hope you read that in the tune of Salt & Peppa's big hit.

I hope you know what I meant as well.

I have a new job (yay) I love it, I am once again a functional, valuable member of society.
So functional in fact-that I haven't had time or energy to come on here and give ya' a piece of my mind!
Well, I'm back! I am FINALLY adjusting to my new schedule, and I have come to love my early mornings, up before the sun, I still have time to be lazy like before. I just lounge for shorter periods and less frequently .Overall it's been rather nice.

I do of course have some beef. Why else would I be blogging? I would like to take this opportunity to impart some wisdom on the people in my city (and others) that I have gleaned from being so reclusive and such for the last few months.

Being alone is great, we all love it.
When you're alone you can toot, scratch the inside of your nostril with a pen, or pick your ear and smell it with no objections. It has taken me some getting used to; being out in this big blue world again. I have had to remind myself that it's ok to talk to strangers, and after about a week I had to remind myself that it's ok to pretend to not speak english and bow your head to avoid eye-contact with those crazy bastards.
I feel sometimes like I'm living in a post-zombie apocalypse world.
It's a fucking zoo out there people.
I think most people have gotten so distracted by their hand-held computer worlds, that they have down right forgotten how to act.

Privacy means nothing anymore!
People have no shame bringing their cell-phones into the bathroom at work, tooting and tinkling away while they speak to their kids teachers about their painfully dull children.
On monday I was sitting next to a young man on the bus who actually lifted a butt-cheek (away from me) to squeeze out a toot! It gets worse, he was on his cell phone talking about a girl he fucked (loudly) while he did this.

Seriously.....I have no words.

It's bad enough that these types of people will constantly walk into you on the street, because they can't be bothered to observe their surroundings, but toots? On the bus? Honestly?
I understand sometimes they just fall out, and thats embarrassing, but to PUSH out a toot? On purpose?
For shame!  

I've also started to go to the gym a few times a week (yay) I usually attend group exercise classes.
I love the way I can just go there, do what they tell me to do, and get fit.
It takes the guess work out of exercise.
On the other hand, when I leave a group exercise class I always feel as though I should be tested for an STD or the bubonic plague.
Stop sweating on everything!
WTF?
In yoga class this week I actually saw a woman spread apart her....curtains, to scratch an obviously persistent itch. That is the shit you do on the couch. You don't do it on the bus, you don't do it at the gym, and you especially don't do it at your desk.
I would have thought that being constantly glued to a little camera would make people more aware of their actions.

I like to pretend Im about to have my picture taken at all times when Im out in public.
I learned this behaviour from having a Facebook.
It may seem shallow to some , but when was the last time anyone ever said to you,
"OMG did you see Trish the other night?, I think she has roids"

A little food for thought.
Or a little shit to go with your giggles.






and just for fun.....

Job Hunting Should Actually Include A Gun

Looking for a job  is the most degrading discouraging thing.
I have answered 700 questionares so far in the last week.
The job market around here is so competetive that they actually include trick questions

on job applications for a cashier job at a hardware store. Trick Questions!

Im pretty sure you just have to slide the bar code past the blinky light until the computer

tells you how much money it wants. I know their may be some challenges in the position of cashier,

I may forget to ask the customers for the money, but luckily most of them will have their wallets out already which will act as a visual clue for me to request payment for goods. Im pretty sure no one will ever ask me to answer a flipping riddle! Last time I checked service with a smile and a basic understanding of math was all it required to be a cashier. I will never understand these multiple choice questions for menial jobs. Do you really think Im going to answer the question : " I am often late" with strongly agree? How about " I will tell someone if they make me angry"? Who do they think they are? Therapists? Is this a Facebook personality test? When I've finished the questionare am I going to be a "Charlotte" or something?

The whole thing is outta hand.  Oh, and how about calling a cashier....well a cashier; not "customer experience executive" Tricksters I tell ya.

I guess I don't feel so bad for lying on my Resume.

 

 

Maybe In Another Life

I wish I was better at stuff, I really do.  More specifically, I wish I was better at  Laundry. Every now and again I will go for long periods of time without doing laundry. It sucks. I feel it may be the origin of my only shame. I have clothes in 3 different rooms in my house right now. It's chaos. Some of my clothes are in drawers, some are in hampers, some are on top of tables and dressers, and some are on the floor. It isn't only clothes either; I also have no clean towels. Luckily I only keep towels in one place, the Laundry-room.

My Laundry-room is pretty nice, I have a 2 yr old washer with a digital screen, and it plays a song when the load is done. I have no real reason to not do Laundry; my appliances work great, I have good soap, and yet I can't bring myself to progress past Level 2 of laundry day. For those that aren't familiar, Level 2 of laundry day is loading and turning on the dryer. I make it to this step with no roadblocks. The singsongy chime of my washing machine reminds me of clean clothes and I end up happily loading the dryer up with clothes and a hefty amount of dryer sheets. 

The problem lies within the wait time required to dry clothes. I end up doing something else, like writing profanities on T-shirts, drawing Groucho Marx eyebrows on my face , or sometimes if Im feeling extra industrious; other housework! My stupid dryer is pretty old. When Level 2 is complete I don't get a bright chirpy robot tune. I am instead alerted out of whatever daze Im in with a sharp harsh BZZZZZZZZZZZ.

If I make it into the Laundry-room, which is unlikely. I will load everything into a hamper and throw on some tunes to fold to. Tunes to fold to usually consist of hip swaying tunes. Think; 'The Supremes' or 50's Rock and Roll, or some Reggae even, I love listening to Miscellaneous Reggae from Internet Radio; when you don't know the songs it will all blend together as one song, and it feels as though you've found a way to stop time.

It is at this crucial time of Level 2 where I usually fail. I will neatly fold all the Laundry, place it gently back into the hamper, carry it back into the laundry room , set it atop the dryer, and there it will stay until all the things are ready to be washed again.  I spend my whole week getting dressed at the bottom of the stairs, peeling dryer sheets off my bare feet. It's pathetic. I have 2 Fucking closets in my bedroom!

I hope to one day Make it past Level 2 of laundry day. The elusive level 3 calls to me, makes me yearn for a simpler time, a time when someone else did all that stupid shit for me.

I don't know how I will overcome this deficiency in my character. I may recruit my husband to cheer me on during Level 2. He could throw out a few "hells yeah its laundry day baybee"'s. I may even try throwing away all my hampers so I have to carry all my clothes one by one upstairs to my bedroom closet. 

Perhaps I will outgrow my self diagnosed attention deficit disorder, maybe I will learn to love doing boring things someday. I can't be sure, but I have hope, and really isn't that all that matters?

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