Sunday, April 30, 2006

In less than 24 hours we've. . .

1. Climbed into the mouth of a t-rex and called Sasha to say Happy Birthday
2. Picked up a hitch-hiker
3. Ignored the threats of a $50,000 fine and played in the hoodoos
4. Driven from the prairies into the desert and then into semi-forest region
5. Played a rousing game of Get Off That Thing ("Get Off That Hoodoo" and "Get Off That Dinosaur")
6. Looked over the edge of a canyon
7. Searched for dinosaur bones, but they all cost $2000
8. Listened to music circa 1995
9. Saw a bison farm (not to mention hawks, bison, llamas and donkeys!)
10.Eaten a dinner Mike made us, which was delicious (Mike has his Blue Seals Chefs whateveryoucallit)
11. De-stressed
12. Taken over 70 pictures
13. Driven over 400 km
14. Gotten sunburned in the +26 degree weather
14. And most importantly, Mike and I took Brie and Court to their first non-LCBO liquor store. ("Is there a liquor store close to here?" they asked. "Only about 6," Mike answered, "in a 1-block radius." I love Jasper Avenue.)

. . .and now we're all sitting around with semi-hairy pants and sweatpants (except for Mike, who allegedly has "super-hairy legs") and drinking.

Friday, April 28, 2006

In less than 48 hours we've. . .

1. Drank straight vodka in a limo
2. Watched a hockey game and male strippers* at the same time in the same bar
3. Sat in the hot springs in the sun on the side of a mountain
4. Gone shopping in Banff
5. Driven over 250 km
6. Gone to an acreage and petted horses
7. Ate grilled french toast cinnamon buns
8. Slept very little
9. Embarassed ourselves with our sleep-deprived laughter in an airport
10. Watched a movie
11. Danced until my straightened hair turned curly
12. Not gotten lost (yet)
13. Went to a bar that didn't serve pitchers of beer
14. Attempted to two-step

*I hate male strippers. Even more than I hate celery and cold sandwiches and snokerlling. One had the nerve to come and put his hand up the back of my shirt and run his fingers along my spine. Let's just say that after I verbally responded to this, he immediatlly removed his hand and glared at me as he walked away.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Ain't had no lovin', since you've been gone. . .*

1:26 AM

It's day one of the yet-un-aptly named Alberta roadtrip. Except, we're still in Toronto.

Brie is packing, Mark is making us mix CDs (with the daunting task of trying to not overlap with music that I already put on the 7 CDs I made today) and I'm about to jump in the shower. Courtney is presumably still at Mat's, hunched over a sewing machine, ripping out stitches, and probably using language not fit for a proper lady in an effort to get her outfits done for the Toronto Wildlife Fashion Show before we leave.

When Brie and I booked our flights 6 weeks ago, we did so with the idea in mind that getting into Calgary at 9 a.m. Mountain Standard Time would allow us the entire day of fun-filled Western Canadian activities. "The early flight? You're brave," the friendly WestJet agent commented when I booked the flights. It didn't occur to me what she was talking about until we did the math (which, as most of your know, isn't my strong suit) and realized that we have to catch a cab to the airport around 4:30 a.m. in order to make our flight.

Needless to say, once we get to Calgary, the only fun-filled activity we'll be doing tomorrow will involve a mid-day nap.

2:12 AM

I feel like I'm going to pass out. I'm not going to make it until 4:30. Does it count as a nap if it happens in the middle of the night?

4:09 AM

It turns out that it doesn't count as a nap if you don't manage to fall asleep at all and instead you just toss and turn for two hours straight. Awesome.

Brie just crawled out of bed looking well rested after her solid hour of sleep, and Court's not here yet. I have a feeling this will be an interesting sleep-deprived trip.

T minus 30 minutes until go time.**

*Oh, c'mon now. This is just obvious. And kind of embodies my usual Alberta vs. Toronto experience. But that's another story.
**I'll be updating sporadically from the home front when I get the chance. And of course, I'll probably have the largest photo post in this blog's history when I get back to Toronto.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Bittersweet Numbers

A lot of people don't seem to understand when I say I'm nervous to come home. Here's one of the reasons:

Do you know that feeling of dread you get in the pit of your stomach when you think about encountering your ex-lover, ex-boyfriend, ex-boss, or ex-best friend? You know that feeling that engulfs you when you are literally faced with something or someone you dread?

Okay, well, in the city the size of Toronto, running into one of these people/problems is still a possibility, but a greatly diffused one. While there is always the constant chance that it might happen, you can generally speaking breathe a sigh of relief that it's highly unlikely, and even if you manage to spot someone on the TTC, you can pretend that you didn't see them.

Toronto's also about 4.5 million people, including the GTA. Cold Lake, including the surrounding area is roughly 12, 000 people. Therefore, if my mathematical corrections are correct, in Cold Lake it is 375 times more likely that you will run into someone or a situation that you'd rather avoid.

Now, if we want to throw more numbers into the mix, multiple the number of people I know in Toronto by roughly 19 (because I lived in Cold Lake for a considerably longer period of time), which ups the variable of how many people and situations I possibly want to avoid. Also, keep in mind that right now I'm approximately 3100 km away from everything I want to possibly want to forget.

Add it all up, and I've got avoidance issues.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

We won't be needing the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, thanks.*

I spent this past Saturday in bed, grumpy because I was sick with a swollen throat. Sasha and I also rented C.R.A.Z.Y, which was thoroughly enjoyable, and I highly recommend it (although cuddling with Sasha on the couch may have had to do with the enjoyment factor.)

Today my mood improved considerably when Sasha and I went to Bloor & Dufferin to visit Pierre at his pet store.

I'm a sucker for animals, what can I say? Pierre also let me hold a couple of snakes, but they started constricting around my arm before I got a chance to take any gratitutous pictures.

So, here's another one of Sasha with the puppies.

We trekked back home to China in the pouring rain. . .

. . .but not alone! (Look at how excited Brie is! Haha, that's awesome!)

This is my yet un-named bunny. Right now I'm toying with naming mine Sadaam, but only if Sasha names hers George. (For some reason I have the insatiable desire to name my rabbit after a dictator.)

The bunnies are indistinguishable, except that mine is a tiny bit smaller in size. Otherwise, they are identical in colour, appearance, and markings. I guess we'll have to wait for their personalities to develop before we can really tell them apart. I suspect mine will have the dominating personality, though.

I already know it's smarter than Sasha's bunny, which is evident through its clear love of newspapers.

The rabbit doesn't know it yet, but it's going to be possibly the most blogged about animal in history.**

*I'm sure the first response to this post will be some eager over-achiever sourcing that title. Ah, it's pretty obvious, so it wouldn't surprise me.

**Don't worry, I'm not going to be one of those people who dresses their animals up in stupid outfits or anything. It's just pretty likely that I'm going to take lots of gratitutous pictures of me holding the rabbit.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

just another friday

Alice, Sasha and I walked to the Chloe and Adam's house for pre-going out wine, last night.

Chloe, Adam, Chloe's mom (who is visiting), Denise and Scott. When Chloe's mom met Sasha and I, she excitedly said, "Oh, you're Canadians!"

Adam and Targa.

Sasha and I left early to go to a keg party, and jumped on the Queen St. car to head down to Dufferin.

Unfortunatly, I wasn't paying much attention, and made Sasha get off the streetcar prematurely at Ossington.

We ended up at Stag Nation's keg party, which I was invited to by Jason. (Apparently they forgot to send out invitations to any other females. The few guys I talked to about this matter were sorely dissapointed.)

You might remember that a couple of months back, I abused craigslist once again in search of an adequately bearded man. I got dozens of pictures, words of love, and near-marriage proposals, but Jason's cleverly worded response was the only one that I replied to.

So, yes, when it comes down to it, Jason is another Internet friend. However, I think he moved past the levels of being a mere cyber-friend when he made me a mix CD for my road trip and came to my Kegger for a Cause. (Honestly, the power of the bearded man hasn't once yet dissapointed me. Best New Year's Resolution, ever.)

We talked to these kids for a bit, but I couldn't stop staring at the guy on the right's "Improv Camp" t-shirt. As a former "drama nerd" myself, I knew I shouldn't be questioning the fact that he was wearing the said t-shirt. After all, we were at a fundraiser kegger for a comedy troupe. Yet, for some reason, I still found myself biting my tongue. (I'm a bad person.) "How did you guys end up here?" I asked them, after finding out that they also didn't know anyone at the party. "Actually, our drama teacher e-mailed us about it."

Wow, makes me wish I went to York. Since when do profs e-mail their students about keggers?

We became friends with this guy, who just walked up to us and handed us jello shooters (I'm always friends with people who immediatly give me shots as a friendship offering.) I sympathized with him about the lack of girls.

He was still excited to be there.

This is the only picture Sasha and I took together all night that we could agree on. I had to delete the rest due to difference of opinion.

"Hi, I'm going to take your picture and then post it on the Internet because I'm bored right now, okay?"

(It's strange how many people are willing to cooperate when you walk up to them and simply state this fact.)

Waiting in line for the bathroom was also kind of boring.

(Disclaimer: my pose was clearly mocking something or other, although at this point in time I can't recall what, exactly.)

Have you ever waited forever in line to use a bathroom at a party, and wondered what was taking the person ahead of you so long? I really liked the colour of the bathroom, okay? (I would like to note that there wasn't actually a line for the bathroom. I'm not that inconsiderate.)

Thanks for inviting us, Jason.

Then we met these cute gay boys at Domino's. They live just down the street from us.

Just another Friday night.

Things I Hate #1

Celery is a pointless vegetable. It has next to no nutritional value, is tasteless (and the little taste it has isn't pleasing), it's difficult to eat, and likely to get stuck in your teeth. The only thing celery has going for it is a unique shape allowing for peanut butter or cheese whiz to be spread in its crevice, but this hardly makes up for its other overly glaring flaws.

And that's how I feel about celery.

Missing Persons Report

Have You Seen This Girl?

Brianne “Brie” H.
Age: 21
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5’4” without heels
Other: monroe piercing on upper lip

Brie was last seen Tuesday afternoon wearing turquoise tights, a frayed denim skirt, and dancing around to Bob Marley after drinking possibly one too many beers in the middle of the afternoon. If you have any information regarding her whereabouts, please let her know we gave away her room to someone else.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Casting Call

Courtney’s moving out of China.

But don’t worry, it won’t be like the time the original actress who played Vivian Banks on Fresh Prince of Bel Air changed, and we were all expected not to notice and just to accept that she was the same person. Even her own children didn't seem to notice she was an entirely different woman.

It will be more like the time when Oz left Buffy, and new characters (namely Willow’s lesbian love interest) were introduced instead. And Seth Green still managed to fill our werewolf expectations by occassionally guest-starring* on the show.

. . .yah, it will be more like that.

*I hope Court turns into one of those characters who is around frequently enough that instead of introducing her name in the opening credits with the subtitle "guest-star", she'll be on the show often enough to just have her name included in the closing credits. Although, when it comes down to it, I'd love for her face to be there when the theme song plays at the start of the show.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

It's April 20th. (A list of another sort)

And then began the nights thick with the smell of lilacs, when the sound of pianos echoed clearly down the street.

You nailed boards into the trees, not once letting them know you were a girl. You faltered only once, offering to make juice for their parched lips, before grasping a hammer again. (They were never fooled, though.)

You didn’t have words then, you only had verbs and vowels and sounds and some nouns in between. You had a ladybug made of metal sitting on your windowsill. You’d raise your arms above your head and feel your body stretch into the air above you, not because it felt good, but because it was what characters on television would do when they awoke in the morning.

You’d play basketball every day after school, and forget to call home amidst the squealing and the flirting. Your mom would scold you when you arrived for dinner, “I was worried that those girls followed you home from school and beat you up. You could have been in a ditch someplace. Don’t think they won’t jump you Jessica. They’re not above that.” It was a rare moment of sincere concern. You’d never forget to call home again.

You’d wear lipstick for the first time, something that came in a sample from a magazine and tasted like grapes and stained your lips purple. You’d coast on your bike down the hill past the park, and would be catcalled at for the first time by boys in a jeep headed to the beach. You were allowed to stay up all night to read books, with only the whirring of a floor fan to keep you company.

You’d sit around a campfire while your roommate played guitar and your Dad sang improvised limericks to the group, with a cousin resting on your knee. You'd wondered when you'd gain control again.

You’d lazily make love in a tent in the middle of the afternoon, too hot to do anything except reach outside the tent to get more ice. You’d swim in the lake, and press your wet body against his.

It’s all detached. It's "You" because it’s someone else now, it seems.

And then you. . .no. . .

. . .and then I would write words that were completely superficial in nature and hate every forced syllable.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Monopoly on religion

Free Admission!*

*Apparently they had to reduce their prices in order to compete with the guy with the goiter at the corner of Dundas & Yonge who chants in Latin under his breath and hands out religious phamplets.

Monday, April 17, 2006

And for good measure. . .

. . .here's proof that I didn't spend my entire Easter weekend drinking:

You give me fever!

On Friday night, after spending all day in a bus with Sasha, Monique and I headed out to Absolute Comedy to meet Melissa.

And when I say "meet" Melissa, I mean that in the most literal sense possible. Melissa and I are Internet friends.

We had never met each other before, much less even spoken to one another before. In fact, Melissa and I don't even e-mail or IM one another.

We know each other purely through the blogosphere.

In preparation for an awkward first date, we both seemed to be referencing a back issue of YM magazine, and brought friends as buffers (Monique and Amanda.) I also brought along a handwritten list of "Things to Talk About", y'know, just in case. (It's a shame I can't get away with this sort of behaviour on regular "first dates." Actually, now that I think about it, what's stopping me from bringing a handwritten list of things to talk about on actual dates?)

Regardless, it turns out that I didn't need the list.

(Although I did reference it throughout the night.)

Amanda and Melissa brought us to some basement to sing karoke. I'm not sure who was braver: Monique and I for going into the depths of some mystery basement with strangers we met off the Internet, or Amanda and Melissa for exposing themselves to our horrible singing voices?

Things started out pretty tame.

Actually, that was a lie, they didn't start out tame. They started out something more like this.

Oh, did I mention that my new Internet girlfriend brought me to a gay karoke bar?

Let's just think about this for a second: Two Albertans walk into an Ottawa gay karoke bar with two Islanders that they met on the Internet. . .

It sounds like the start of a really bad joke.

This kid barely appeared old enough to be in the bar. I needed to include this purely for the fresh hickey on his neck, though.

I tried to teach Melissa how to two-step, despite the fact that I two-step about as well as I sing.

Favourite picture of the night, hands-down.

Somehow, I get this feeling that we would be friends in real life.

Jason* (who was responsible for the three shots I took at the end of the night, which led to my ultimate, and most literal downfall), Monique and I.

What's this guy holding? Oh, yah, it's my foot.


(Three words: Out. Of. Control.)

And then. . .we sang Spice Girls. Which really is a shame, because I can't sing. (And just to clarify, I don't suffer from false modesty. When I say I can't sing, I can't sing. I wish I could offer an apology to everyone who was there to witness this.)

If you want to see more pictures, check out Melissa's blog. (Which by the way, is awesome all the time, not just when I'm feature on it. Hell, it made me want to meet her! Also, thanks to Adrian for technically** introducing us.)

* Word on the street is that Jason also literally carried me out of the bar. So, uh, I guess I can't be too upset about the shots. Thanks, Jason!

**Have I ever mentioned that I love puns?