Sometimes I just don't know what I am doing with my life. One minute I'm like, "maybe I'll do this thing", which lasts for all of 5 minutes, and then I'm like, "no, this thing is the thing I want to do", and then you have people telling you that you should do things A, B, and C, and it's all just so confusing and circuluar, that by the end of it, the only thing you want to do is sit on the couch, not wearing pants, and watching re-runs of Maury Povich (because watching the train wrecks that are other peoples lives makes it better, doesn't it?). Sometimes I feel so much pressure to be all, and do all the things for everyone and everything that I can't deal. Usually when this happens I get weird and intorverted and shut down and binge watch my favourite television shows instead of doing all the responsible adult things that I am supposed to be doing. This makes people like my lovely Gentleman worry about me and ask me if I'm fibbing when he asks if everything is fine. And technically it is fine, except for the fact that I can't seem to get my shit together. It's very counter-productive to being a functioning member of society. On the one hand, I'm afraid to miss out on anything and disappoint myself, and on the other I am afraid to disappoint the people around me. But then I think that all that matters is that I am happy doing the things that I do, and screw what everyone else thinks or expects me to do, and then I feel bad for thinking that. See, it really is just one giant, vicious cycle that you can't escape.
I have the day off today, and I honestly have no idea what to do. It's really throwing me off. Sure the sleeping till 8 am thing was great, but now what do I do? The possibilities are endless, and therein lies the problem. There are some many things that I can do today, and things that I need to do today, but I don't know where to start or how to start. Perhaps it's because I don't know how to relax, and I've just been so busy at work lately that I don't know what not being busy feels like. Either way, I don't like this, not one bit.
Being a grown up is hard enough, and we all I know that it is a daily struggle for me. Do I have something healthy for dinner, or do I eat cereal? Do I go out and buy gas, or that new really cute shirt from Anthropologie? Do I sit on my ass all day watching reruns of Downton Abbey and catching up on Game of Thrones? Or do I sit here railing about the crimes of Hollywood writers who decide to be amateur historians (which I actually do in this post)? These decisions plague me every single day. Functioning in the real world is hard enough, and now I'm expect to do the complete opposite?! What is this garbage? You mean to tell me that after weeks of trying to be a functioning member of society, that I am just supposed to throw it all out the window on a day off? Madness I tell you. Complete madness.
Speaking of madness, the little Historian inside of me is enraged at the moment. Apparently The CW network has released the list of their fall shows. Normally I wouldn't really care about this because I don't watch The CW network. However, I feel compelled to talk about why I all of a sudden do care. I care because they are coming out with a show this fall called Reign. "So what?!", you say. Well, I'll tell you what! It's about Mary, Queen of Scots at age 15. This is a travesty. A complete and utterly horrible thing. I really want to know who came up with this idea. Mostly so they can be publicly shamed and made to feel like the idiot(s) they are. This just has bad news written all over it. From preliminary research into the show, it appears that a 15 year old Mary is leaving Scotland for France and looks nervous and she is about to embark on her marriage to Francis, who would later become Francis II, King of France. This is just so wrong on so many levels, and it physically hurts my brain and soul. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about getting people, especially young people, interested in History. But I am not for outright lies and taking creative liberties with history. Kids who watch this show are going to get the wrong impression of the 16th century and what's worse, is that they are likely to take it at face value. At the end of the day we are going to have another historical tragedy on our hands, as the great work by many historians and aspiring historians, is unraveled by moronic Hollywood writers who think that they can turn history into a television without so much as consulting anyone remotely knowledgeable on the time period. Julian Goodare would be outraged I'm sure! If you're going to do period pieces, do your research. Use successful shows like Rome, The Tudors, Downton Abbey and The Borgias as examples of how to properly do history. I can tell just from watching the trailer that virtually no research was done into the costuming, or MQOS' life in general. It's time to dig into my vault of Early Modern Scottish knowledge to try and right these wrongs. I died a little on the inside.
I'll let you watch the trailer and decide for yourselves, but I am pretty sure that I am not going to be the only one who feels this way.
Anyway friends, I need to go and figure out how to be an adult who has a day off. I also need to work on a post about my recent St. Lucia vacation, which is proving to be more difficult than I imaged. I hope everyone has an amazing long weekend!
I have a feeling that this will be one of those stories that I'm still telling people when I'm so old that I'm basically being held together by a combination of Jesus and black magic and duct tape.
I don't think I've really shared my excitement at my wonderful vacation that my Gentleman and I planned. We researched forever and looked at reviews and went back and forth about where we wanted to go and then in early February, we settled on the lovely Caribbean island of St. Lucia. Needless to say, I was pumped. I've never been to he Caribbean before and neither has he. We were both excited but February was still a long way from the end of April.
Flash forward to now. This past week couldn't have gone fast enough and with the craziness of the Budget Estimates meetings ending and whatever else work decided to throw at me this week, I was more than ready for my vacation. I had basically packed (throwing all your clothes in a pile in your suitcase and then staring at is with disdain counts as packing right?!) and I was ready to go. I had even made sure that my passport was still valid, but that's mostly because on Wednesday morning as I was drying my hair, I had this horrific thought that it wasn't good anymore and that I wouldn't be able to go. Friday I tasted the sweet sense of freedom, left work early to finish my shit because functioning as a real adult during the week proved to be too much for me, and get ready to leave. We left the house and picked up my Gentleman to take the red eye to YYZ.. We got to the airport and said or goodbyes to my lovely father and went to check in. Everything was splendid. We were excited and happy and couldn't wait to spend a week int the sun and relaxing with each other. Life was grand. Until it wasn't.
We went to get our boarding passes and I was told that I wasn't allowed to fly. What do you mean I can't fly?! What kind of garbage is this?! Apparently, your passport needs to be valid for at least 6 months to the day of when you travel to St. Lucia. My passport was 12 days short of that 6 months. 12 fucking days. I was shocked. I cried. A lot. And I'm not one of those girls who are blessed with being pretty criers. So here I was with the Andre the ticketing agent who was so lovely and helpful, crying with snot running down my face, blubbering and asking what I should do.
I got on the phone, woke up my parents, got on the phone and was told that I needed a new passport. Well that's really fucking great. It's Friday at 11 pm. The passport office is closed and won't reopen until Monday. This only served to increase my level of hysteria. Then, magically my mum found an emergency passport number and called it. She was told that someone would call at 9 am. Se also decided to contact foreign affairs , so there's that. It's kind of hilarious.
The only thing to do was send my Gentleman on without me. He was not happy about that. I went home and waited for that call.
They called and somehow, by some stroke of luck and baby Jesus, told me to go to the passport office at 1pm with all my documentation. An hour and a half later I had a brand spanking new passport and am on my way. I'm actually writing this while siting at my gate.
I couldn't make this shit up if I tried!
I promise to share how St. Lucia was with everyone!
I experienced my very first Wrestlemania last Sunday. While my Gentleman shares my questionable taste in really bad television, I do not share his love of wrestling. It's more than a like for him. It's pure love. He knows the name of every wrestler, and all their signature moves and the words to their theme songs. I actually find it quite endearing and kind of cute. It's something that helps me know him better. A part of his childhood. He had wrestling, I had a massive collection of Ty Beanie Babies (we all had them, don't judge me). Apparently these two mutually exclusive obsessions make for a good relationship.
The whole art(?) of wrestling wasn't completely unknown to me as a child. All I knew was that Hulk Hogan was a monster of a man, with an ugly bleach blond mullet and incredibly creepy facial hair, who had a penchant for spandex pants and speedos. And I knew this only because my grandfather loved WWF as it was called in the '90's, and would always watch it with my male cousins. As a child, I scoffed at it. I just didn't understand the appeal of watching two grown men grab at each, locked in an epic fake battle to win some gaudy belt that looks like the contents of The Situation's stomach after a hard night of drinking and fist pumping. My ignorance was not lost on me when I discovered my Gentleman's love of the sport(?). One Monday (Monday is RAW night, much like how on Wednesday's we wear pink), we were hanging out and RAw came on. This was very early in our relationship and I tried my hardest not to scoff and openly mock this kind of awesome guy. But as I sat there, watching this spectacle with him, I couldn't help but get sucked in, and this was slightly disturbing, but not altogether surprising. Boiled down, wrestling is really just like any other trashy televsion show that we both watch. There are epic rivalries, friendships that span decades, evil villains with a mind on the bottom line, romance, fights, and last but not least, Donald Trump. Now, a year later, I watched (at least part of ) Wrestlemania 29. I still don't know most of the wrestlers, or their handlers or even their story lines, but I do know that if it involves The Rock or John Cena, I like it. Sure they still wrestle in tiny spandex pants, and yes, there are some very questionable fashion choices, but it's quite a spectacle and I couldn't help but enjoy it. I think me watching it was also probably both entertaining and mildly irritating at the same time. I also don't really know how to digest what I saw. I'm still thinking about it, and it's quite puzzling for me. I know for an absolute fact that this was not the last wrestling match I will ever watch, but I think that I'm okay with that.
It's more than just men with mullets in spandex. It's men with mullets and spandex and fireworks.
You have no idea how excited I was so excited for last week to end. I was thrilled for two two reasons: 1) because my work week had been nothing short of insane. I think I spent more time in my office and at Committee estimates meetings at the Legislature this past week than I did at home. Work is one of the reasons why I have been a terrible slacker here. It's just very hard to want to sit down at a computer at the end of the day to write a blog post when I have been staring at a computer screen all day, and running around to a million meetings. Being an adult is hard. 2) I was super pumped because this weekend was Bust a Move for Breast Health Edmonton! I was fortunate last year to have been a part of the executive committee that helped plan and pull off this event, and for some strange reason, the Alberta Cancer Foundation wanted me back for second year. Bust a Move for Breast Health is a 6 hour work out event, in which participants sweat and shimmy and shake their way to a cancer free future.
The event this year was even more amazing than last year. The only way that I can describe how awesome it was, is by saying that it was pink and sparkly and so much fun. I was also super happy to have my lovely mother and gentleman beside me. It was awesome to sweat and laugh and have a blast with two of my favourite people in the whole world. Even better yet, we raised a whopping $430,000 for the Cross Cancer Institute. I still find it hard to believe that I get to a part of such an incredible movement.
I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who supported me and donated to my team for this wonderful event. I couldn't have done it without your generosity!
If you want to see what Bust a Move really means to me, you can watch this promo video I did. Maybe it'll be what gets you to join this amazing movement!
Nothing gives me more joy than to point out when people are being idiots. I just love it. I mean, there are a lot of stupid people in this world, and I like to think that by telling they are being stupid and showing them how to correct their mistakes that I am actually doing the world a favour. However, nothing gives me more joy than ripping someone a new asshole when they deserve it.
A little over a year ago I wrote a post titled "Spirit Hoods: You Look Like an Asshat". I even included a handy flow chart to help you determine if you're a giant douche canoe. Now, this is just my opinion. You don't have to take it as gospel, and please feel free to disagree with me. But if you do decide to disagree with me and decide to articulate your feelings about it, at least have the decency to form a proper argument as to why do you don't like what I had to say. Case in point: someone who chose to remain anonymous decided to leave some rather disparaging comments about my personality on said post. In Dutch. Well one comment was in Dutch, but their second comment was in English, with spelling mistakes. I'll give them the spelling because there seems to be a language barrier. But with that being said, this piece was my opinion. I'm allowed to have an opinion about something, especially if I think that thing is ridiculous and a complete and utter waste of money and time. The beauty about an opinion is that anyone can have one, regardless of whether it's right or wrong. People may disagree with you, but that's okay. That's how meaningful discussions come about. I don't take offense to the fact that this person disagreed with me. On the contrary, I'm quite pleased that someone does. It isn't often that people will straight up tell you that they think you're blowing hot air out of your ass, so it's rather refreshing. However, if you disagree with my opinion, tell me why. Present me with evidence and counter arguments as to why you think I'm wrong. Don't throw around words like "stupid" and "ridiculous", and then proceed tell me that I am a "nobody" and that there is something "deeply wrong with me" and that I am a "sad person". I can assure that while I may do stupid things from time to time, I am not a stupid person. My GPA and the fact that I have been published several times can attest to that. I will also fully recognize that yes, I am in fact a ridiculous person, however, not in the context that you are referring to, and I take great offense to that. Also, I most certainly am a somebody, unlike you, and your cowardly choice to remain anonymous. You are the nobody, literally. If you're going to say all these things about me, at least have some proof to back it up, and as far as I can tell, you have zero evidence. God gave you a brain that has the ability to think. I suggest that you use whatever critical thinking faculties you possess to form a logical, rational argument, free from excessive emotion and name calling, and then we'll talk. I don't know who you are are, and I am fairly certain that we have never met, which means that you know nothing about who I am or what I do. Basically it seems to me that when you came across this particular post, you were in all likelihood, sitting at your computer wearing your favourite Spirit Hood, and realized by the end that you look completely moronic. Next time you decide to pick a fight, have the balls to show me who you are. Don't just hide behind anonymity. Coward.
Like I said before, I welcome feedback, and opinions. I appreciate them even. But, if you are going to pick a fight, make sure you don't bite off more than you can chew. Otherwise I will write a blog post about you to show the world what an idiot you are, and in the process, rip you to shreds. Don't try to pick a fight with me because I can guarantee that you will lose. Every. Single. Time. I hope this is exactly what you wanted.
It's bee a while. That's entirely my fault, or at least sort of my fault. I have been very busy pretending to be a real adult. But I think I'm going to take a break from that and regress to an age when it was perfectly acceptable to sit on your couch in sweat pants all day watching the Price is Right and Maury Povich.
Work is promising to become extra stupid busy in the coming months, so I will try to be better at posting things that I only find amusing, and hope that I haven't lost your affections forever. If I have, I'm not above bribery and/or extortion to get them back.
Today is the first day of March and that's kind of awesome for 3 reasons. Reason #1 is that I am Miss March in the Pink Ribbon Pin Up calendar. I think that's pretty rad. It could also be slightly awkward because I am wearing nothing but bubbles.
Reason #2 as to why March is spectacular is that Bust a Move is happening in both Calgary and Edmonton! I myself will be shimmying, shaking, and sweating to the oldies on March 23! It's going to be so much fun and I can't wait! This weekend is Bust a Move Calgary and I am so pumped that funds are being raised for the Tom Baker Cancer Centre! If you're in the Calgary area this weekend, you should totally go check it out!
And the third and final reason why March is the best, is because it means that I am one step closer to my Caribbean vacation with The Boy. We are heading to a lovely, tropical destination for a week of sitting by the pool, frolicking in the surf (at least he will. We all know that I think the ocean is basically a toilet for the whole world and won't actually go into the water), and just relaxing. Needless to say, I think I'm going to need this vacation after all the extra hours I will be putting in because of Session.
Anyway, I should probably get back to pretending to be a real adult and get some work done, sadface. I hope you all have a wonderful Friday filled with unicorns and rainbows!
