What Are You Wearing?

2270Some of my best ideas come from watching…er…observing people at Starbucks. For handy tips on how to do this stealthily, click here. You’re welcome. Most recently, the young and trendy folks purchasing their pumpkin lattes got me thinking about confusing beauty trends.

Why must all beauty trends be taken to the extreme? The most recent culprit: Magic Marker Eyebrows. You know what I’m talking about. When girls crazy thicken up their eyebrows in an attempt to make them look more natural. Why not just stop shaving them down to pencil-thin lines? You know, actually natural brows.

Faux Fur Vests. Okay, I understand that you’re against animal cruelty. I think that’s great. Take a stand! However, doesn’t wearing something that simulates fur kind of send the message that you wished that real fur wasn’t taken from a once-living animal so you can enjoy the crazy soft warmth? Think about it.

Suede Boots. Why would you make boots out of the one thing that can’t get wet? Aren’t warm boots essentially created for those cold days, usually accompanied by snow? There’s only so much protective spray can do. And I’ve seen what salt does to them. It’s not pretty. This argument can also be made for boots that look like sweaters.

My Car Is Sick (a poem)

My car is sick
I have to stick
To buses and trains
Like I have no brains
For expensive repair
I’m in despair
Bring back my baby to me

My car is sick
Please fix it quick
Please make it better
Or I’ll need a sweater
For warmth

My car is sick
Maybe I’ll trick
The man next door
Into taking me to the store
For groceries.

My car is sick
Like a candle’s wick
That’s been snuffed out
And stepped on.

My car is sick
No more rhyming tricks
I think I’ll end it right here

Victoria Day: A Belated Tribute

IMG_2433I realize it’s been some time since the Victoria Day long weekend (for you Americans, it happened May 18), however, since another fireworks holiday is fast approaching and I forgot I wrote this blog, I thought I would go ahead and post it for your reading pleasure (or not).

Like most North American families, my family loves fireworks. The thought of a holiday that lets you throw explosives  into the sky brings out all the feels. Give me a lawn chair, a blanket, a bowl of chips, and a spectacular display of fire in the sky and I’m in heaven.

Then came the discovery of the US fireworks superstore. It’s basically a Walmart, but all fireworks, every aisle. I no longer had to wait for a special holiday and an abandoned convenience store to suddenly transform into a”FIREWORKS FIREWORKS FIREWORKS” store. Let the stockpiling begin!

Don’t get carried away, though. There are still only three or four firework-appropriate holidays in the year. Don’t try to set off fireworks outside of those approved dates. Suddenly your neighbours will feel like they’re “under attack”. Wimps…

I’m not sure what fireworks have to do with the late queen’s birthday anyways. Although, aside from the name,  Victoria Day has very little to do with the queen. It’s not like we all gather around and say a few words about why we’re thankful for England and the queen. Streets aren’t filled with balloons with the queen’s face on them. Most people (I assume) don’t even know who Queen Victoria is. Full disclosure, I Googled her as I wrote this post. I had no idea she died so long ago.

To conclude this post, here are some random out of context quotes from Victoria Day with my family. Enjoy.

“Never underestimate the power of ‘this side up.'”

“It’s starting to rain. Just light the whole box on fire.”

“Lets try not to light anyone on fire this year.”

“There’s bucket pieces all over the lawn!”

I Got Me A Sports Injury

dodgeball_2I’m no stranger to sports. I mean, I usually watch more on TV than I actually participate in, but I’m still no stranger. I’ve dabbled in sports. I’m in a fantasy football league. I do go to the gym regularly. Although, that’s not really a team sport. When a friend suggested we play dodgeball, I thought sure, what’s the harm? Dodgeball is no big deal. Kids play it in gym class. I was wrong.

Let me paint a picture for you. You’re in an arena playing one of the most intense games of dodgeball. Dodgeballs are flying in the air at rapid speeds. Oh right, and you’re on a trampoline, actually, many trampolines all attached to make a sort of super trampoline. I know what you’re thinking. How could playing dodgeball on a trampoline be anything but safe?

You’re finally getting the hang of it and BAM!!!! A dodgeball comes out of nowhere and smacks you so hard in the eye that you go down. Someone has to help you off the trampolines because you can’t see out of you’re right eye anymore. Actually, you’re not sure, but you can’t open it, which is basically the same thing. You’re eye’s all red and the right side of your face is starting to swell. Luckily, the employees are quite used to this and fetch you a bag of ice.

You then spend the rest of the evening with a bag of ice on your face and people stopping as they walk past you to offer their, “Ah! What happened?!”

But don’t worry, there’s free pizza. So it all works out in the end.

And five days later, you can finally open and close your right eye again, virtually pain-free.

Choosing What Not To Write Is Half The Battle

writers-block-2Every blogger has a different writing process. Some bloggers know exactly what they want to share with the world. Others (like me) go through a list of possible ideas before they land on one worthy of publishing. Through that process, I usually come up with a list of topics that are far too ridiculous or passive aggressive to post. However, I’ve decided to share a snippet of my random thoughts and ideas with you.

  • How to know if you’re crazy or just super cool
  • Passive Aggression: How to publicly shame people who don’t respond to your letters without actually calling them out (you know who you are)
  • Penpalling: It’s not for everyone (You know who you are)
  • Why I should Have Been an Abstract Artist (Apparently, anyone can do it)
  • People I’d Like to Hit in the Face With a Frying Pan
  • What to watch on Netflix when you’ve watched all of the good movies (and TV shows)

What are some of the most ridiculous things you’ve never written about? Feel free to share in the comments below.

Physically Waiting Is Still A Thing (Apparently)

modern_family_lineYou might think that with all of our technological advancements, that waiting in a physical line is a thing of the past. Well, you would be wrong. Turns out, if people want something bad enough, or they think they’re getting a deal (no matter the size), they’ll wait in line as long as they have to. They’ll survive on power naps and cookie crumbs if they have to.

The other weekend, I was able to observe these individuals in their natural habitat. Apparently, if you’re looking to buy a home in a coveted neighborhood, a house that hasn’t been built yet, you’re required to camp out in a parking lot. Generally one night should do it, but if you’re competing against a rather feisty group of would-be homeowners, you might want to go ahead and take the day off work. It seems that they only want strong people living in this neighborhood. Do you need a lot of sleep? Not willing to punch anyone in the face? This neighborhood may not be for you. Maybe you should get used to a lengthy commute.

One of the benefits of this barbaric practice is you get to know a ragtag group of crazy people that might be neighbors. Let me introduce you.

The Self-Policer

The one that’s been camped out for three days and will be damned if you think you’re going to get in front of them. You need to take a lengthy washroom break? You better hope they don’t take attendance while you’re gone. If you’re not there when they call your name, you get scratched off the list. The rules clearly state if you leave the property, you could lose your spot. And they should know. They wrote them.

The Math Guy

The guy who has calculated what’s available and who on the waiting list is actually going to leave happy. This guy will get your hopes up, convincing you that the last house is totally yours. He doesn’t include room for error.

The Hoverer

The one that didn’t get there early enough, but they decide to stick around to see if you’re going to change your mind. This person is really annoying. Plus side, they probably won’t make the cut.

Eyepatch Guy

There’s really nothing significant about him other than that he wears an eye-patch and I have to refrain from using pirate slang around him. I have to use everything in my power to refrain from greeting him with a “How arrrrgh you?” He doesn’t look like he’d appreciate it.

The Late-Comer

This person has no idea what they’re doing. They have done no research and think that they can just show up 10 minutes before the houses go on sale and walk away with exactly what they’re looking for. Come on lady. There are already 50 people on a list waiting for 22 homes. Do the math. Go home and come back next week with a sleeping bag.

The Moral Supporter (Me)

The crazy one who’s not buying a house, but got up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday for moral support and research.

It’s hard not to get caught up in the hype. I just about bought a house. That is until I reminded myself that it wasn’t in a position to impulse-purchase a house.

I’m Not Old. I’m Cinderella.

barney-stinson-im-too-old-for-this_2Not long ago, I took a highly revered internet test letting me know my true age. After a grilling list of questions, it revealed that I am 62. Seeing as I was only born 26 years ago, this should have offended me; however, since the description following my “real age” was pretty accurate, it was hard to argue.

I’ve recently noticed that I’m having a hard time keeping up with what the “kids” are into. Actually, it’s not so much that I can’t keep up as I don’t care. I’m not interested in the latest acronym or abbreviation. I don’t need to stay up until the wee hours of the morning in order to call the night a success. When the clock strikes midnight, I’m out. If you can’t manage to fit in a good time before that, you must not be very fun. I’m basically Cinderella, and you wouldn’t call Cinderella old, would you? Exactly.

I’m not quite ready to jump straight to matinee shows and early bird dinners…well, at least not every night. Even if I could skip working for the next 30-some odd years and retire now, I wouldn’t…probably. I want to enjoy living the rest of my days, working full-time and all. I just want to do it my way, the slightly older way. I’m young. I’m full of life and possibility, but I also want to go to bed at a reasonable hour and wake up in a familiar place. If that makes me old, then embroider me an afghan and call me Deloris.