Christmas round-up - the Grande Finale

We are finally home from our hectic Christmas week. I am totally exhausted, as usual, and am looking forward to relaxing all weekend with Sexy Boyfriend. And doing laundry. Lots of laundry.

We spent the last few days trying to get all of our visiting in. I spent the morning of the 27th shopping with my sisters, which was fun and we all bought stuff, mostly clothing. Then I went out for dinner with SB and his friends. Yesterday was Grandparents Day. We hit my Papa's house for a visit and lunch, then my step-grandparents' house to see their tree, then dinner at SB's grandparents' house with the rest of his family.

This morning I got up at 6:30 to get packed and ready to go. I got all my stuff together and then me and my sisters cuddled into bed to watch TV until Sexy Boyfriend came to get me. When he got there he took most of my stuff out to the car, but I decided to help him. I picked up a large paper shopper bag full of gifts in one hand, and three bottles of wine in the other hand. I stepped onto the front step, took the first stair, and my feet barely hit before they slipped out from under me because of the 4 inch sheet of ice coating the step. My legs flung straight out and I bounced off the middle step (via my shoulder blades) and landed on the cement, ice-coated walkway on my ass. It knocked the air right out of my lungs, and I couldn't catch my breath. Sexy Boyfriend was too scared to touch me as I rolled to my knees and kept heaving and weezing, so he started swearing and kicking the ice off the step.

After almost passing out twice, I got inside and laid on the sofa. My sister told me to take some Advil, but then we called my mom at work and she told me to search in the bathroom for her prescription of Tylenol 3 with codeine. Actually, she told my sister to go look, but she didn't, so I went and found it, and had to sit with my head between my legs on the toilet to avoid passing out.

Needless to say, the ten hour drive was excruciating, when I wasn't zonked out on codeine. I felt really bad cause Sexy Boyfriend had already driven the entire trip home, and then today he had no choice but to drive the whole trip back. Plus I was sleeping over half of the time, so it was pretty boring for him.

I'm sure tomorrow I will barely be able to move. So far there is no bruising, but I can't see avoiding that considering how hard I hit, twice. The good news is, I didn't break even one of the three bottles of wine.

Christmas round-up (up to now, anyway)

The drive was not so bad. The added space of the SUV really made a difference - the dogs were able to spread out, and we made a nice little bed area for Simon on top of the suitcases in the back. He did not stay on that bed for the whole trip - he kept sneaking up to the front to lounge in my lap. But even that was not so cramped as it usually is in our tiny Jetta.

We have been thinking of buying an SUV, specifically a Ford Escape, and as luck would have it, that's the rental that we got. It's pretty awesome. Sexy Boyfriend has been testing the 4WD on it by randomly driving over snowbanks in front of our homes. So far it hasn't gotten stuck once, which speaks well to how it will perform on uncleared Montreal streets when you end up parked in a snowbank.

Christmas has been fantastic - lots of yummy turkey and a lobster-roll lunch at Sexy Boyfriend's house. We opened our gifts last night, and everyone was really happy, my little sister especially. She had asked my mom for an iPod mini, and in October my mom called me asking my advice. I told her that if that's what she really wanted, she should buy it right away because they were being replaced by the Nano. In November, when my sister reiterated that she was pining for a mini, my mom told her that they were sold out everywhere and she couldn't get her hands on one. My sister then did some research online to find out that my mom was telling the truth. So, when my sister opened her last gift to find a pretty blue iPod mini, she freaked. She actually broke down crying, which made the rest of us cry. It was so cute.

Other than that, things were normal and uneventful. Presents, food, laughing, drinking, it was super fun. Oh, and our Christmas tree randomly fell over while we were snacking on spinach dip. We were sitting around our kitchen/dining table, and the tree is in the living room which is open to the dining area. I forget what we were talking about, but I was looking directly at my sister, when I could see the tree leaning and falling directly behind her head. Not only did a few ornaments get smashed (surprisingly few, actually), but my mom had just watered the tree that afternoon and the water poured onto all the gifts. Luckily no one had any books or anything paper that got washed away. My sister got an ugly scarf, though, and we're going to tell everyone it got ruined in the flood.

Doesn't it just make you feel all warm and fuzzy?

It's that special time of year when we pile Sexy Boyfriend, myself, gifts for our two families, suitcases, two dogs, a cat, plus all their gear into our Jetta and drive for ten hours to spend about five days of eating, drinking, shopping, laughing, but mostly schlepping from house to house to house trying to make sure that no one gets their feelings hurt that we are not part of their holiday celebration.

It's generally a stressful undertaking, and usually leaves me feeling drained. I love seeing my family, and I love the holidays, but cramming all the holiday goodness that two families have to offer into a limited amount of time can be quite taxing.

At least this year we have rented an SUV for the drive, so we'll have a little more room and hopefully at least that part of the trip will be a bit more relaxing. I'll be sure to let you know. If I haven't taken a gun to my head because I can't take the endless meowing anymore.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life

After several months of blogging, and hoping against all odds that It will happen (seeing as how we had a falling out last month regarding "unauthorized clicks"), It has finally happened. What is It?

I am a Google search result.

I can now be Googled.

Google me right now if you want.

Well, finish reading this post, then Google me.

I found me on Google by typing: "ebb and flow" "sexy boyfriend" and I was the first result.

Try it.

Sexy Boyfriend found me on Google by typing: ebb and flow sexy blog, and I was the first result.

Try it.

I'm so excited. I feel like randomly putting in stuff and seeing how far I am down the list. I could probably spend a whole day doing that.

This almost makes up for my whole falling out with the Google AdSense people. Actually, a week after I sent them a strongly worded letter about how silly they are, they sent me an email back welcoming me to re-submit for AdSense, that maybe they were a bit harsh, maybe they over-reacted a bit, and that if I could attest that I did not, in good faith, contribute to any shady clicking activity, that they may re-open my account. I didn't reply, and I think that actually listing me in Google searches is AdSense's way of trying to make up with me. AdSense had a meeting, and it was like,
"Jules is really ticked at us, she didn't even answer our email. We should do something really great for her for Christmas."
"That's a great idea. We could send her on a free trip."
"We could send her some gift cards so she can go shopping."
"We could send her the money she actually earned during her time on AdSense."
"Hey, I know, how about we just crawl her site so she can be Googled?"

It's almost the best Christmas gift ever.

Christmas comes a little early.

Yesterday was the first big Snow Day of the year. I'm talking like three feet of snow. Drifts that are taller than me. We headed out at like quarter to eight in the morning, in a futile attempt to get me to work. Usually it takes me about 2 minutes to get on the highway. Yesterday we couldn't even get on the highway. There was like six inches of snow on the roads, even though traffic was pretty heavy. We actually got up the on ramp, but were unable to merge in because the traffic wasn't actually moving. So, we just drove right back down the off ramp and came home. I estimate that my time of arrival at work would have been about 2pm - my shift was 9-6. So, I stayed home with Sexy Boyfriend and we had a lazy Snow Day.

This morning, we woke up and looked outside. Most cars on the street were plowed into the snowbanks, which sucks and usually takes at least an hour to dig out. It's one of the things I hate the most about living in the city. However, this morning, something magical happened. Someone had dug our car out for us. The front and the side of the car were clear enough so that we could drive out, and they had written a message in the snow on our windows. The driver's side window said "Les Lutins" which means "The Elves" and the windshield had "Joyeux Noel", or "Merry Christmas". It was the nicest thing to wake up to ever! The only thing that could possibly made it better would have been if it was Monday morning and we were running late to work. But nonetheless, thanks Lutins, we are very grateful!

I have five more shifts left at work, and have lost a bit of my enthusiasm. I feel less tired and stressed when I go there, though, cause I really care less and less about what they think. I'm generally spending a lot of time helping customers and communicating with the associates, the two things I love best about the job, because I know I'll miss these aspects when I leave. And I'm also shopping a lot, cause I'm definitely going to miss the discount.

My mom thinks she works for the CIA

The surprise is ruined.

I called to speak with my mother the other night, and got my sister first. We have been conspiring ever since I decided to take the other job to surprise my mother - we wouldn't tell her that I will actually be home for the Holidays. As soon as we said our hellos she said "Did you tell Mom you were coming home for Christmas?" I said no. "She asked me if you were coming home, since you are finished work on the 22nd and the only reason you were staying in Montreal was for work." How did she know I was finishing on the 22nd? I hadn't spoken with anyone from home after giving my two weeks' notice, so hadn't told anyone the precise date. "I didn't say anything, I don't know how she knows. Maybe she's just a super-suspicious person."

When I got my mom on the phone, I finally officially spilled the beans - partly because if she's already suspicious, chances are she'd figure it out by next week, and partly cause I knew that if she took the time and spent the money to send our presents here and then we hauled them all the way back she would be alternately ashamed of my inefficiency and ticked that we made her go to the trouble of sending them.

Me: "How did you know I was finished working on the 22nd?"

Her: "I read it on your blog."

She has NEVER mentioned reading my blog before. It's like she's some kind of blog spy, like she thinks my opinions on the blog differ from my real-life opinions and that she will find out something really juicy if she just bides her time and silently gathers reconnaissance. She must be disappointed that I write pretty much exactly how I speak, and that I don't really keep a lot of secrets.

Well, now she's learned. She's ruined her own Christmas surprise. And blown her cover.

The neverending dinner party

Saturday night we went to a dinner party at Sexy Boyfriend's boss's house. In attendence: Me and Sexy Boyfriend, SB's brother R (who also works with SB) and his girlfriend D, SB's boss and his wife, and their son.

I was working until 6, and we rushed home so I could do a quick change. They live about twenty minutes from our house in an area not serviced by the bus or metro, so we gave a lift to R and D. We arrived there around twenty after 7. The food started coming out around 8. It didn't stop until 2am. I had to work at 9 on Sunday.

The company was good - there were lots of laughs, and lots of stories. The wife doesn't speak a lot of English, she mostly speaks French so it was nice to practice French in a familiar setting instead of just at work, and I think she enjoyed practicing her English as well.

The food was okay. She tried really hard, and the dishes were pretty elaborate. However, they mostly ended up too salty, too sweet, too sour, etc. It was a five course meal, so props to her for making it all look so great, but...

By the main course, I couldn't stop yawning. It was around ten thirty, which is almost my bedtime. I calculated that with dessert and coffee, we could be out of there by twelve. I tried to avoid slumping into my potato and stayed away from wine and I smiled and nodded and kept my eye on the clock.

And then came the cheese course.

And then came a rousing game of Scattergories.

And then came dessert.

I thought it was never going to end, and I just wanted to fold my arms on the table and lay my head down. I could barely keep my eyes open, and was dreading Sunday morning. We finally left around two, and I got to bed around two thirty. A nice five hours of sleep. For me, who usually requires at least eight to function minimally. Ugh.

So, yesterday was excruciating, and I came home, flopped on the sofa, fell asleep watching the Survivor finale (!), was forced awake by Sexy Boyfriend because he knew I would kick myself if I missed it, and went to bed at my normal time of 11 pm.

From now on, no more dinner parties when I have to work the next day. Unless everyone else has to work too. Otherwise, restaurants only. At least they'll kick you out at a decent hour.

I have a confession to make.....

I am a closet knitter. I love knitting. I love the repetitiveness. I love the patterns. I love the little knubby I get on my middle finger from working the needles, kinda like when you use a pen too much. I love surfing the internet trying to find the perfect pattern for the perfect project and then throwing myself into said project non-stop for like a week.

I am just not so great at actually finishing projects.

In my knitting basket, I currently have:

1 - finished mitten, blue scratchy wool. This was a test mitten that didn't turn out.
2 - one ball blue scratchy wool. Leftover from the test mitten. Maybe one day I will be unlazy enough to unravel the test mitten and knit two good mittens.
3 - one finished red mitten for a toddler - looks great.
4 - one needle holding the ribbed cuff of a red mitten for a toddler - the unfinished mate of #3
5 - one needle holding a blue, cream and striped ribbed scarf, unfinished. This scarf is made up of wools from two mitten projects I actually did finish
6 -one ball of neon green wool and one ball electric blue wool - leftover from a scarf I made for my sister. I will probably never use these colors ever again.
7 - two giant balls of cotton yarn in a really weird shade of blue. I bought it like six years ago to make an aran throw. Never happened. I started, but got fed up and I'm not sure where the unfinished product went.
8 - about twenty random balls of yarn in all different colors from a sweater I started when I first learned to knit like seven years ago. Again, not sure what happened to the unfinished sweater.
9 - random needles (knitting needles, not drug paraphenalia)
10 - one nearly finished slipper, which I'm currently working on, with way not enough yarn left.
This means :
a) I will finish this slipper with another color of yarn, just to make sure it works out, then never knit an actual usable pair of slippers
b) I will finish the slipper with another color of yarn, then knit another slipper in random colors and wear them anyway cause who cares, I'm just in my house
c) I will get pissed off when I run out of the correct color of yarn and leave the unfinished slipper in the basket
d) I will finish the slipper to make sure it works out, then buy yarn that I like, and enough of it, and knit myself the BEST SLIPPERS EVER.

I really hope this has a happy ending, or Sexy Boyfriend may just throw the whole thing out and tell me he had to cause the dog peed on it.

Another hour of my life freed up each week

Well, my two weeks notice has been issued, and everything came out okay. My boss was really understanding and made me feel a lot better about leaving when I am. Most of the sales associates seem genuinely sad that I'm leaving, which is nice. They're all really interested in hearing about where I'm going next and how the dog-walking job will work. A lot of them seem almost jealous that I'm leaving for such a fun job.

I'm very disappointed with the performance of the show "Alias". I have been a loyal Alias watcher since the show started. I couldn't get enough of the twists and backstabbing and double crossing and I followed closely and faithfully. But ever since the whole Bennifer fiasco started between Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, the show has sucked. I'm not sure there is a direct correlation, or if it is just a coincidence, but it's really terrible this season. It doesn't help that they cut out Michael Vartan's character, who has been my TV boyfriend since the show started. If your plotlines are going to be boring, at least provide me with some eye candy, please.

Anyway, so after changing nights several times (a sure sign a show is going down the toilet), it has been announced that they are cancelling the show. I'm kind of glad, because that means I don't have to feel guilty for not watching (when you have like five years invested in a show, it's hard to stop watching), but I'm also sad because it's ending on such a crappy note. I think that J.J. Abrams is putting all of his efforts into LOST, and unfortunately we Alias fans are left to suffer.

I think it's sad that I have such strong opinions about TV.

For when you need to go tobogganning and get a great tan

Tomorrow I am giving my two week's notice. I got a better than expected offer from the dog walking company, and I am super excited about it. I will start with them the first week of January, and they are perfectly fine with me taking my trip to Cuba two weeks later. They rock.

But I'm stressed about giving my notice tomorrow. My last day will be December 22nd, three days before Christmas, technically the busiest period in retail. I feel bad about leaving them before Christmas, I feel guilty, and I feel stressed. Unfortunately, my family does not live close to me, and having the opportunity to spend Christmas with them is worth more to me than whatever resentment my fellow management team may feel towards me. But, I'm still stressed about telling them, and my stomach is in knots and I can't sleep. Remember how I mentioned before that my boss has a mean streak? Ya, I'm a little worried she's going to turn on me. My friend Syl says I care too much. Maybe I do, but being cognizant of that does not make the stomach cramps go away.

In better news, Sexy Boyfriend spoke with our travel company today and our trip is not in jeopardy. The resort we are visiting was removed from their website because they are sold out of spots. I am very excited. I really want to buy a new bathing suit. I will probably shop for the new suit whilst shopping for new long johns and winter boots for my new job. That's going to be a bit surreal.

Girl Talk gets deep - and not in a dirty way this time

On Friday night I had dinner with two of my very best friends, and one of their best friends, who by extension is someone that I like quite a lot. We went to a pub that we all like quite a bit and had some yummy burgers while we chatted and gossiped and had a few laughs. The dynamics were really fun because two of us are in long-term relationships while two are single gals.

We had a conversation about those moments. The ones that you will always look back on and wonder "What if I had done something differently? What would have happened?" One story was about a night out where the person wound up in her car with a boy that she really liked a lot, and they talked and talked and she really was feeling a connection. Then, in the wee hours of the morning, as the conversation began to dwindle a bit, she leaned back in her car seat and said "Wow, I could just fall asleep right now". She said it killed the mood, that he suddenly sat straight up and left soon after. Things were never the same from that point on. When they saw each other, which was on quite a regular basis, he was distant and awkward. She's been regretting the moment ever since, because he may have been "The One".

My moment came before I was dating Sexy Boyfriend, but while I was dating my last boyfriend. I had had a crush on another boy for quite some time, but he had always had a girlfriend, and I had always been happy in my relationship and it just didn't seem worth it. But The Moment happened right before I broke up with the boy I was seeing. I had come home for Christmas in my first year of university, and snuck into a bar with some friends. At the end of the night, as we made our way to the coat check, I ran into The Boy. He told me he was leaving in a few days for Australia for an indefinite amount of time. We kissed, the first time ever, and I left, and didn't look back. A few months later is when I started dating Sexy Boyfriend and the rest is history. The questions I have about my Moment are not "Was he The One?" because I have Sexy Boyfriend, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is my One, but I wonder what if we had gotten together? Stayed in touch while he was away, and he came back and we started dating? I would never have gotten together with Sexy Boyfriend, I would have missed out on my One. Or, even if the Moment had never happened at all, maybe I wouldn't have realized I needed to break it off with the guy I was seeing at the time, and then I wouldn't have started seeing Sexy Boyfriend.

I am thankful for my Moment, and for all the moments like them. It makes me realize that things happen for a reason. Or at the very least that good things can shake out from things that seem to have passed us by.

A significantly smaller Christmas list

Today we did our Christmas shopping, which actually turned out pretty great. Usually we spend the whole time fighting or arguing or just not wanting to make decisions, which we both hate, but neither of us ever wants to decide. But for some reason this year it's all fallen into place, and in one short afternoon we had finished most of our shopping and made a list of the little odds and ends we still need to pick up. It was actually relaxing. So weird.

From the look of the parking lot when we arrived at the mall I thought we were in for it. I don't do well when the mall is crowded - I like to have space when I shop, especially when I'm buying lots of stuff and carrying lots of bags. I need to be able to move freely, and get to the items I want to examine, and my absolute pet peeve is when you are walking through the hallways of the mall and people randomly stop short in front of you and you basically rear-end them. Or people who are stopped in a big group and clogging up the hallways while you are trying to get from point A to point B. So annoying. But today was not like that. I didn't have one moment of annoyance or "Fuck, get the hell out of my way already". Everything was eerily smooth sailing.

I also have some pretty big news for everybody, but have a few decisions to make before I announce anything. No I'm not pregnant, and no we haven't set a date, and no we haven't bought a house. But it's still pretty big news, and I'm really excited about it.

I'm getting really excited about our vacation in January, however I'm having a bit of anxiety as well. We booked our trip through the same company we used last year because we had such a great experience. This year, we decided to go to the same place, Varadero Cuba, but to a different resort. We booked the trip quite a while ago and paid the deposit, however now, when I go to their website, the resort we chose is no longer there. So now, Sexy Boyfriend has to call (cause the booking is in his name and stuff) and make sure that when we land in Varadero we will actually be going to our 4 1/2 star resort and not to some crappy replacement place for the same price.

Noel Noel

This weekend is my last weekend to get "Christmas Ready". After this weekend, I'm pretty sure I will have to work all the weekends until Christmas, and Sexy Boyfriend and I usually only have time to do stuff like Holiday Preparation on the weekends we have off together.

I have only bought one present so far, and have many more to buy, and can't leave it to the last minute because most of the gifts have to be sent by mail. I am usually very into Christmas - I love the shopping, I love the eating, I love the drinking. However, this year I am not into Christmas at all. Maybe it's because we won't be traveling home.

I am not looking forward to the shopping - mostly because most of the people on my list will be getting gift cards this year. So boring. For some people I have very specific gifts in mind, but some people I'm just not sure and I'd rather spend less money to send them a gift card so they can buy something they really love then spend a bunch on shipping for something they only kinda like. But gift cards are so boring to buy.

I'm not looking forward to the decorating - Sexy Boyfriend wants to get the tree and put it up this weekend. All I can think is that the needles will be falling out by the middle of the month. And the cat will climb it at least ten times. And the dog will pee on the floor and it will pool under the tree and it will be a nightmare to clean up.

I'm kinda still looking forward to the food, although I'm not too happy that we will be the ones preparing it all - usually we travel home and our Mummies cook everything for us. Don't get me wrong, I make a mean turkey, but there is just something about having your Mummy make a meal for you that makes it even better. Plus, I can't really eat anything lately, so food is not so exciting. Food's actually kind of depressing these days.

I'm still looking forward to drinking, though.

Hangin' Tough - minus five cute boys from Boston

I'm having a tough day today. Tough for two reasons, unrelated except for their essential toughness.

I had to work this morning at 7am. That meant I had to leave my house by six in order to deposit Sexy Boyfriend downtown and make it to work on time. What with it being winter, the sun rose at approximately 7:15am, so I missed the sun in the morning. Then I finished work at 4, and the sun was practically set by the time I left the mall. I did not see the light of day today. So depressing.

I can't really talk about the second element of toughness. It involves someone in my life who found out some very scary news yesterday, which may be nothing, but is potentially devastating. I can't talk about specifics because this person hasn't really told anyone else, namely people who visit my site regularly. Now the waiting game begins, waiting to find out whether everything is okay or something is wrong, and I feel helpless and I know this person feels the same, and we are both uncannily similar in the fact that we NEED to control situations from the very cores of our being, and situations like this are extremely detrimental to our respective mental healths and to the sanity of those around us.

I am also a bit sad that I arrived home to a puddle of dog pee in my bedroom. I do not understand why Charlie is randomly peeing on the floor, but it is seriously starting to piss me off. Don't ask me how I can tell it's his pee and not Gabby's, because it's gross, but, oh, I know it was him. And he knows it was him. And I can tell he's sitting here mocking me because there isn't really much I can do about it.

Weekend roundup

This was my weekend to work, and as usual it was hectic and exhausting.

Friday night was our Keg dinner - it was really nice to see SB's brother and his girlfriend since we haven't really seen them for like a year. The Keg food was of course amazing - however due to my lack of appetite I was only able to eat half of my salad, my steak, half my potato and my veggies. It's one thing to be on a diet and to be intentionally limiting you food intake and being careful what you eat and allowing yourself cheats every once in a while - however it is a completely different and frustrating thing to just not be able to eat. To want to eat what's in front of you so badly, but to soundly believe that if you stuff one more biteful into your stomach that the sum of the entire meal will end up all over the table.

Last night we were able to have a quiet evening in and watch Love Actually, which I've seen bits and pieces of in the break room at work, but have never watched in its entirety. It's really charming and funny and romantic, but in a bittersweet kinda way. I liked it a lot, and so did Sexy Boyfriend.

Work was fine this weekend, but exhausting. The Crazy People are starting to come out en masse, and by The Crazy People I mean the people who think the definition of "good service" is "I get what I want no matter what I ask for". No, I will not babysit your children while you try on clothing. No, you cannot set your tiny dog on top of my merchandise. No, your children cannot randomly climb on our stools so that they may topple over and crack their skulls open. No, I will not refund you for this sweater you bought three months ago that looks like your dog chewed the armpit out of it. I understand that these people exist, and that in turn I will always have to deal with them. However, I wish that they wouldn't all show up on the same day. Randomly the same day, though. Sometimes it's Sunday, sometimes it's Tuesday. I think they must all arrange to come on a shuttle bus or something.

I called the dog walking company on Friday to arrange a meeting, but it was late and I haven't heard from them since. Hopefully they'll be in touch tomorrow so we can set something up.

I have tomorrow off, so I am hoping to come up with something more interesting to post. For now, whatever you're eating, please think of me and be thankful your appetite is healthy.

I never thought it could happen to me

I mentioned previously that my new medication has produced several side-effects that were less than fantastic. Luckily, most of them have passed. However, one thing that has changed that is of some concern is the fact that I no longer have an appetite. I get hungry, but then can only eat about half of my food. Or I'll get hungry for a very specific thing, and thoughts of all other foods will turn my stomach. This is quite problematic when I'm craving noodle soup for lunch but have packed myself a sandwich.

All of this would normally make me ecstatic - I've lost about 8 pounds in the past week and a half. However, Sexy Boyfriend's brother and his girlfriend are coming to visit this weekend, and we are getting together and visiting The Keg, our favorite restaurant. Aside from having the best steak ever, they also have great Caesar salads, tons of yummy appetizers, and my favorite dessert, a mocha ice cream pie.

HOW CAN I GO TO THE KEG WITH NO APPETITE?

This could be a serious issue. What if I can't finish my steak? You can't have steak as leftovers! You can't take a steak and Caesar salad doggie bag. That's just wrong. I mentioned my concerns to Sexy Boyfriend, and he replied "I've supported you through a lot of stuff, you should know by now that if you have problems finishing your steak, I won't let you down."

I'm thinking I might skip lunch.

In other news, I spoke with the dog-walking company this morning, and they want to set up a meeting next week. I can't wait to see their offices and learn more about how they work and schedule their visits and stuff. I feel really good about this. We'll see how it goes.

It's winter, and you know what that means!

Tomorrow is my day off and I am SO glad. I am going to stay in my pyjamas all day and drink hot chocolate and watch movies and nap and read and snuggle with my doggies and my kitty. It's supposed to snow a lot, which will make staying in and being cozy extra fun. I wish that Sexy Boyfriend could take the day off with me.

I can't really say that I'm excited that it is going to snow tomorrow. Aside from the general crumminess of cold weather and snow and such, parking and driving become a chore instead of my relaxation time. Even on a bad summer day, when people are driving like spectacularly moronic pinheads, I can usually do quite a bit of unwinding between work and home. Even though I can't really trust the drivers around me, I can trust the road. However, in the winter, several other fun variables are thrown into the mix.

First of all, for some reason, when the Holiday Season is upon us, people randomly lose their minds when they are operating motor vehicles. Their bad driving quotient increases by like 400%. It's terrible. Then, of course, there is more traffic because people are travelling for Holidays, or preparing for Holidays, or driving to bars because of bad Holiday experiences.

I also hate the parking situation in the city during the wintertime. For those of you who have never experienced winter parking in the city, here's the lowdown. You can only park on one side on Tuesday and Thursdays, and the other side is Monday Wednesday and Friday. And they plow your car right into the snowbank, and it takes forever to dig your way out in the morning. And if there are cars parked on the wrong side on the wrong day, and they need to plow, this truck comes around the neighborhood with a really loud horn that goes "WHOO ooo WHOO ooo WHOO ooo". Really it should say "Get up Bitches and move your cars".

Also, inclimate weather contributes to about 99% of my driving stress during winter. I vividly remember my Nanny telling me horror stories about cars getting caught on black ice. About spinning out of control and bashing into guardrails, or going into the ditch. Jaws of life and ambulances were invariably involved. Usually along with several deaths. Why she was telling these stories to a five year old is beyond me, but I remember them, and they put the fear in me.

Nothing's really going on - so here's this

I came home last night to find a surprising message on my answering machine. I had applied a few weeks ago to a company that does dog-walking. I know it sounds unglamorous, but I love dogs, and cats and most furry animals, so what could be better than working with them all day long? Anyway, when I originally sent my application, I got an email back saying they had already filled the position, but that they would keep my information on file, blah blah blah.

Yesterday they called saying another position had opened up and they would like to talk to me.
It's kind of exciting and scary at the same time. The pay is less than I make now, but the hours are regular, which is one thing I hate about my job now. I would have every weekend off. And be done work by five. Every day. Be still my heart.

Some of the drawbacks: Yucky winter weather, and having to go out in it instead of hiding inside or in my car. Less money. More dog poop than I would know what to do with, probably.

Anyway, I will give them a call and see what they have to say. I wouldn't be able to start with them until January, because no matter how unhappy I am in my work right now, I just wouldn't be able to leave them in a lurch over the holidays.

I was supposed to go for some blood tests this morning, but I chickened out. The last time I had blood taken I was in high school. My mom thought I might have mono, so she (being a nurse) brought home a kit and took my blood to test. I almost passed out at the kitchen table, and since then I have not had any blood taken. I know I have to go and have these tests done, but I also know that I am the queen of procrastination and will put it off as long as I can.

Weekend off!

I recently started taking a new medication which makes my head feel dizzy and spinny when I stand up, which consequently makes me want to heave. My tongue also feels quite numb. The pharmacist and the doctor both told me that I may experience these side effects, but that they will go away. It's been over a week and I still feel foggy-headed. Sexy Boyfriend laughed at me on Thursday morning - I called in sick, and he asked me why, and I told him my head felt empty.

Anyway, so after a week of barely dragging myself through each day, it is finally my weekend off. We spent a blissful Saturday on the sofa - ALL DAY. TOGETHER. We watched movies and read the Saturday Gazette, and Sexy Boyfriend did some work and I read a whole book and it was awesome. One day maybe I will have every weekend off.

I am very sad that I have to go in to work this evening for our holiday kick-off meeting. Very sad.

The book that I read yesterday was A Million Little Pieces, by James Frey. It was Oprah's bookclub choice last month, and I happened to catch that episode and people were raving and crying and saying how it deeply affected their lives. Then Costco had the book for $12, so I picked it up. I can't say that the book deeply affected my life. It didn't make me cry, it didn't really move me that much, actually. I think this owes a bit to Frey's writing style, which is pretty sparse and journalistic, so there were parts that could have been meatier for effect, but weren't. I can appreciate what he was going for, but I felt like some parts were missing something for me.

That being said, I couldn't put the book down. It was engaging and it was thoughtful, and it was beautiful and it was ugly.

Now I'm off to enjoy the last four hours of my weekend, which is being rudely cut short by this stupid meeting tonight. I'm so bitter.

Let It Snow - sort of

I'm not exactly what you would call a "Winter Person". I hate snow. I hate the cold. I love early fall and late spring, and usually get on well in the summer, even when it's sticky hot. But I HATE winter.

That being said, there are certain moments throughout the wintertime when I can be found succumbing to the more romantic aspects of the season. For example, I'm a sucker for snow on Christmas and Christmas Eve. I love when I have a day off and we can play "Snow Day" and just stay on the couch and cuddle all day long. And usually, I love the first snow of the year. When you wake up and look out the window, and the whole neighborhood is blanketed with white velvet and no little monkey children have wrecked it yet, and no dogs have peed in it yet and the plows haven't passed yet, churning up all the dirty city dirtiness.

I have been known to be a fan of the purity of the first snowy day.

This year however, I have been majorly ripped off. The first snow came and went and if you blinked you may have missed it. It only lightly dusted the ground with snow, and when I say lightly dusted, I mean that by the time I got up to walk the dogs, it had all blown itself into corners and under cars. And then the next day it snowed again, but I can still see grass. Car windows weren't even covered. I'm so disappointed.

However, you can rest assured that the guy our landlady pays to clear the walk and the stairs came by today and pushed all the snow aside. There wasn't even half a centimetre. I think he must be paid for everytime he shows up, rather than by the season.

The Sexiest Man Alive

People Magazine announced their Sexiest Man Alive today. I find it kinda hilarious that the Sexiest Man Alive changes every year, even if last year's Sexiest Man Alive is still actually alive, and sometimes a previous year's Sexiest Man Alive will become Sexy again years later.

This begs the question: What qualities determine who becomes the Sexiest Man Alive?

They say it is a combination of hotness, charisma, staying power, and current relevance. If a guy hasn't made a movie in ten years, chances are he's not going to go from D-list to Sexiest Man Alive overnight just cause People says so. If he's uber-delicious looking but is rarely seen in public, never interviewed, and leads a rather tedious life, he's also not going ot be on the list. The Sexiest Man Alive is sought after, professionally and fanatically, is in the news, both legit and tabloid, and people just want to know and see more about him.

This begs the question: Why the hell did People magazine choose Matthew McConaughey as their Sexiest Man Alive for 2005?

Sure, he has hotness (kind of a dirty hotness, but hot nonetheless), and charisma (shady car-salesmanish at times, but whatever, he's good for a laugh), and semi-staying power (he's been around since "Dazed and Confused" and has made quite a few good movies since). But current relevance? Wasn't the last movie he made "Sahara"? And I don't remember that making such a huge splash.

Some of the other people I think would have been better choices:
Clive Owen - pretty hot, and even if "Closer" was a movie from last year, at least it swung through the awards season and kept the buzz going.
Vince Vaughn - pretty hot and was in two big movies this summer.
Patrick Dempsey - pretty hot and on one of the hottest shows on TV.
George Clooney - pretty hot, a previous winner, and has two big movies coming out now.

I know I'm just an amateur gossipist, but it seems pretty suspect to me. What do you think?

The dreaded work Christmas party: The Aftermath

The work Christmas party was not really very fun at all. Some funny things happened, I laughed quite a bit, but as I expected, I was so drained from working all day that it was impossible to really enjoy myself. All I could think about was my new comfy pyjamas and my bed. Plus I'm the type of person who prefers a nice dinner out with nice conversation and max 10 people. This was 45 people at like five different long tables screaming across the room at each other in a drunken stupor. Here are some things that I learned that may increase my chances of having a good time next year:

1. Don't sit across the table from the two biggest gossips - they will spend the entire evening whispering back and forth, but you will never actually get in on the conversation.
2. When your fun, witty friends ask you to save them seats, it is best just to arrange to arrive together in the first place, as saving three seats is practically impossible at these things.
3. Don't sit next to your boss when she's drinking. You learn that she has a mean streak (not directed at you, but you're sitting right beside her, so maybe...) and you also learn she is very loud with this mean streak. If we actually had an HR person at our work they would have had a very busy Monday.
4. Try to sit on the same side of the table as the fifty-ish lady who drank too much and is wearing a low-cut shirt. I saw way more wrinkly cleave than I would have liked to see.

We had a gift exchange, which was really fun, and everybody got really great gifts. I got a very nice journal and pen to use for my writing endeavors - very sweet and thoughtful, and definitely more than I expected given that no one really knows me that well.

The only thing that happened that had everyone talking on Monday: one of the other managers, known for being strict and a neat freak was given a gag gift of Mr. Clean and a whip. Most people got quite a laugh out of it, but she did not find it funny at all. She says that if he had taken the time to give a real gift along with the gag gift, then she wouldn't be so insulted. I'm really not sure it would have made a difference.

So, nobody went topless, and no one danced on tables, no one got into any fights and no one got caught making out in the bathroom. These people need to be schooled on how to throw a party.

The dreaded work Christmas party

Tomorrow night is my work's Christmas party.

Because we are in retail, we need to do all of our celebrating before all the other people in the world, so that we can then service the never-ending need of the public to consume during the crazy holiday season.

I kinda don't want to go to this party. First of all, there is a Secret Santa thing going on, and of course I couldn't get someone easy, or at least a female, (who, let's face it, are easier to buy for than most guys - gift certificate for a manicure, bath gel, candles, the list could go on forever). Not only do I get a boy, but I get a boy who works like three hours a week, so it's kinda hard to get to know him.

The second reason I kinda don't want to go to this party is that I get limited amount of time with Sexy Boyfriend, and I particularly enjoy Sunday nights. It's a great TV night, we usually make a pretty decent dinner together, which is fun, Sexy Boyfriend is usually nice and rested from the weekend and thinking less about work than normal, which is cool, and for my part, even if I work on Sunday, I finish at 6 at the latest so we still have a pretty nice evening together.

The third reason that I kinda don't want to go to this party is that I don't really know people at my work that well yet. There are a lot of cool people that I like a lot, but I'm not really friends with anyone. I don't feel comfortable yet to get drunk in front of them yet, for fear that they actually will make fun of me, although, unlike my friends, they will make fun of me behind my back rather than to my face.

But, I'm seeing this as an opportunity to form some bonds with my co-workers, which may make my time at work a little more fun. I'm hoping that someone will drop their pants or at least take their top off - usually stuff like that really breaks the ice.

Another World

I just want to say a big thank you to my CPR/First Aid instructor, Jean, and to my partner, Sarah who spent the entire two day course coughing all over the place, and who were kind enough to pass on those lovely germs to me.

I'm sick again.

And it's my day off, which makes me super mad about it, cause now I don't feel like doing any of the things I planned on doing. Plus I have a dinner tonight for my friend Bry's birthday, and I will feel self-conscious about spreading the disease to more unsuspecting victims.

I just saw a preview for a talk show that is going to be featuring a spot with Linda Dano. She used to be on a soap opera called Another World, and she played a character named Felicia Gallant. I have vivid memories of sitting in the living room watching that show with my grandmother, when I was three or four (so my grandmother would have been in her early forties at the time), and I remember how much she loved that character. She loved the way she did her hair (garish short early eighties cut), she loved the clothing she wore (garish, draping, early eighties outfits), and she loved her irreverant personality.

I watched that soap opera until the day it was cancelled - nine years after my grandmother passed away. Linda Dano was on the show til the very end, and I think part of me felt like I was watching my grandmother on the screen. Part of me just likes a good soap opera.

It's Over

I am mad at Google.

I have always been a lover of all things Google. My dream in life is to finally turn up on a Google search. But then Google was mean to me, and now we are fighting.

Google closed my AdSense account due to "invalid clicks."

I must admit, I am guilty of occasionally clicking on my own ads, which is illegal, but I only click on the ones that actually interest me - like yesterday with the whole "Mind like a Steel Trap" thing. And I don't encourage people to click on my ads - nowhere on my site did it say "Click Here" or any of the other illegal statements. I had never even mentioned having AdSense until yesterday, and I only mentioned it cause it was hilarious that they actually had an ad called "Mind Like a Steel Trap".

And not only did they turn off my account (although they continued to broadcast ads there all day long, so now I have deleted their code from my template), but "The earnings on your account will be properly returned to the affected advertisers." First of all, I seriously doubt the advertisers were affected in any way other than a positive one seeing as how half of the stuff I ever took the time to click on genuinely interested me and I ended up signing up for something. Second of all, I hope the 100 or so advertisers that were clicked on during my time with AdSense enjoy their respective shares of the 20 bucks or so that was accrued. What's that, like five cents each?

So what can I do? I have sent them a strongly worded letter about how annoying they are, which I don't expect to result in anything cause if they can't even register me for a search through their search engine, they definitely can't respond to an email with anything but a computer generated response.

For now I will start researching alternatives to AdSense - I've seen a few other programs on other sites, and I may sign up for "Donate" on Amazon.com, although I feel better making money publishing ads rather then having readers contribute their own money to the cause.

Just a Tease

I just went to my blog page and one of the ads was titled "Memory like a Steel Trap". This was one of the things in my 100 things post. I got really excited cause I thought it might have some explanation as to why minds are being compared to steel traps all the time, but it didn't.

I'm sure I could Google it, but I'm too lazy. I thought that AdSense was subliminally sending me the answers to all of life's big questions. Maybe AdSense will find me a job I like too.

Resuscitating plastic dummies is exhausting

I just finished my yummy supper of Camp Macaroni leftovers - YUM!

Today was Day 1 of my First Aid/CPR class, paid for by work. The class is being held downtown, and driving in this morning with Sexy Boyfriend, I realized how nice it would be to work a regular 9-5 downtown, and do this everyday.

Anyway, I don't do well in classroom situations, especially when there are no notes to take (they give you this little book and everything is in there). I generally tend to nod off, especially when the room is warm, and I haven't had any coffee. I made it through today, but I have one more day tomorrow. I will try to get my coffee on the way in.

Taking the course makes me think of a story my friend S told me. Last year, the day before her birthday, S's sister T took the First Aid class as well. On the morning of her birthday, S woke up to T sitting on her, clapping her hand and pinching her saying "Are you okay? My name is T. Do you need First Aid? Can I help you?" I thought about that story all day, and how friggin' hilarious it would be if when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning I jump on Sexy Boyfriend and start clapping and pinching him. He'd probably think I was trying to get fresh.

Sexy Boyfriend is at BU today - he was asked to speak to a Finance class there (he's too smart for his own good, I think). I am very sad that he's there cause we could have spent a nice evening together, but I am secretly hoping he will bring home some Village Grec poutine.

Comfort food can make your day

Today, I got a hankerin' for something from my childhood. While walking through Costco (yes, we went to Costco again), it struck me, and I just couldn't shake it.

When I was little, my grandparents used to make this macaroni. I remember having it most at our camp, but my Nanny made it at our house too. It consists of: macaroni, fried hamburger meat (loose), and diced tomatoes. That's it. Once it is cooked and on your plate, you then season with salt and pepper, usually with lots of pepper. It might sound ghetto, and it is. My family didn't have a ton of money when I was growing up, so we had tons of simple meals like this. But this one, it tastes SO GOOD.

When it popped into my head at Costco, I mentioned it to Sexy Boyfriend. He said that he used to have this macaroni when he was little too. We left Costco, and stopped immediately at IGA to get the ingredients, all the while I interrogated him to make sure we were talking about the same thing.

"You don't add any spices."
"Nope."
"And you can't put too much of the juice from the tomatoes in there either, it has to be just the pieces of the tomato."
"Yep."
"And the meat gets drained, but not completely drained."
"Yeah, and we used to put some cheese on it."
"Blasphemy!!!"

Anyway, once it was ready, I was a little nervous that it wouldn't be as good as I remembered it. Especially since I made a HUGE ass pot of it, and I really had my hopes up that it would be my yummy lunch all week. But it tasted just as good as when I was small. We both ate our whole platefuls non-stop. At one point Sexy Boyfriend (who did not put cheese on it, by the way, I think in deference to my trip down memory lane) turned to me and said "I wish I had a spoon so I could shovel it in faster."

We have named this macaroni "Camp Macaroni". I can't wait for lunch tomorrow.

Would you like some spicy tuna with your lasagna?

We went to see Jarhead tonight, which Sexy Boyfriend found a little disappointing, but which I didn't mind so much. I generally like most war movies - I think the only one I didn't like was The Thin Red Line, which put me to sleep. Just don't expect a lot of killing from Jarhead.

We then picked up some sushi from a really nice Japanese restaurant up the street - it was so yummy! When they first opened up, we thought it was kinda weird that they put such a nice sushi restaurant in such a low-budget, Italian neighborhood. (And by Italian, I mean people yell at each other in Italian, and that when they came to fix our front steps this summer, I'm pretty sure at least half of the "workers" were mobbed up). Anyway, the restaurant is a nice revelation cause it's really close, and the atmosphere is really nice. For once we won't have to drive for half an hour to have a decent night out.

Overall, I felt really low today. I'm struggling with some issues about the future, and figuring things out, and am starting to have these little panic attacks. I get so overcome and overwhelmed that I feel desperate for a solution, and then when something sounds good, I just want to do it, right then, so I can feel better as soon as possible. I got teary in Costco today. Costco, for Christ's sake, with the giant packages of SOS pads and pies the size of my dog. For now I'm doing some research into a few changes I can make, and we'll see how things go.

Melancholy in my sole

I have been struggling with some work stuff lately in that I seemingly hate my job, but am not sure I have the right to hate my job, since my job is really not that bad, and until I realized I hate my job I was actually having fun when I went there. While trying to figure out why I could be hating my job, I made a mental list of things I dislike about the job, and one thing stuck out. This is probably not the reason I am hating my job (I have that figured out already), but I'm absolutely positive it is contributing to my job melancholy.

I miss wearing pretty shoes.

I love wearing heels, especially boots with heels. With jeans, or even better, with dress pants. The dress pants at my store are the perfect length for me to wear with the boots that I like. So, I can't buy any of them to wear to work because the boots that I like will KILL my feet. And I will not have them hemmed, cause then when I go out (okay, so this is like a once a year occurence, but whatever), then I can't wear them with the boots I like.

PLUS this season there are SO MANY cute shoes and boots, so many that I am almost drooling by the time I leave Brown's.

Meanwhile, for work I am alternately wearing an old beat-up pair of black loafer-type shoes that are all scuffed and ugly, and also a pair of Puma trainers that are all scuffed and beat up and ugly. They were nice once, but now they are old and ugly. And I can't bring myself to spend money on a pair of comfortable, ugly shoes when there are SO MANY GORGEOUS shoes that I could be spending money on.

So sad.

Mysteries of The Cycle, and other oddities

I would like to take a moment to talk about the bane of my existence. I need to talk about my period.

My period and I go back a long way. You would think we would be at least on civil terms by now, but no. Each month she rips her way through my body, bloating me and cramping me and ripping out my insides until I want to shovel my eyes out with spoons from the floor of a dirty Mexican restaurant.

Now, every girl out there knows what I'm talking about, and every guy out there wishes he didn't know what I was talking about. But I don't want to rant about those things we cannot change. I want to ponder the Mysteries of The Cycle. Mainly, the Mystery of the Synchronized Cycle.

Women in groups will generally end up having their periods in the same week. It just happens. At my last job, we all shared pretty much the same week. Now, at my new job, I'm all off their cycle, and everyone gets it a week ahead of me. What I would like to know, is how in the world does this happen when so many people are on birth control? I take my pills so that my cycle is exactly 28 days, almost down to the minute. (I also take them so I don't end up with any unexpected little monkeys running around, but that's beside the point.) How, then, with so many people on the pill, do we still manage to end up on the same cycle as the women around us? It blows my mind.

In other news, Entertainment Tonight just did a piece about a made for TV movie based on Charles and Camilla's love affair. They didn't exactly keep it true to reality as Camilla's character is not played by a horse. And the Diana character doesn't look like a princess. And Charles doesn't look like an inbred monkey.

Today was my day off and I actually acted like a normal person, which means I had breakfast with a friend, then ran some errands OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE, NOT ON THE INTERNET, AND NOT IN THE MALL WHERE I WORK, then did some laundry and watched some TV and generally relaxed. It's almost like I'm a completely well-adjusted human or something. Nonetheless, now I feel exhausted. I will probably fall asleep watching Law and Order. It better not be a re-run.

The only thing I've ever loved about Halloween

I've never really been a fan of Halloween. Even as a child I felt it was a whole lot of hoohah for some tiny chocolates and chips you never ate anyway. The only time in my life I ever loved Halloween was during my years at BU.

Halloween at BU is like nothing else on Earth. Yeah, you get dressed up, and yeah everyone goes out and parties, but Bishop's likes to keep a little tradition that makes Halloween a little more interesting.

This is the part where I find out if my mother actually visits my blog.

At Bishop's, on Halloween night, everyone does shrooms. I mean everybody. The only people who might not are the people who had a terrible trip the year before, and they usual come around again by Halloween anyway. I don't even like smoking pot, but I still took part in Halloween.

My first year I made the mistake of not really dressing up. My friend AnnaBanana was a vampire, so I dressed up as her victim, aka painted my face slightly white and put two blood-dripping puncture wounds on my neck. We ate our shrooms with pizza. I felt really mellow that year, and spent most of the night dancing with my friends from residence. We ran into another friend, who had been adventuring in the woods, and refused to part with his "Magic Stick", a giant log that he claimed had magical powers. I'm surprised they let him bring it into the bar.

In my second year, I dressed up like a honey bee. I wore all black and had a little yellow and black striped tummy, and big wings that were basically nylon stretched over wire, and I wore my hair two high braided ponytails with pipecleaner antennae sticking out. We ate our shrooms with peanut butter sandwiches, and I spent the entire time at our apartment before the bar laughing my ass off. I just couldn't stop laughing. Everything was hilarious. I even pretended to be a dog at one point, trying to make somebody, anybody, laugh as much as me. At the bar, I mingled around. I got kissed by a guy dressed as a nun, and was told by a British viking that I was "absolutely lovely". Then I got gut-rot and had to leave early. On my way home, some strange guy walking by randomly bit one of my wings, making a big hole in the nylon. It made me mad and I pushed him down the hill in front of the school.

In my third year, I dressed as an angel with a bright red wig. We ate our shrooms with Oreo cookies. I didn't make it out to the bar with everyone else - the costumes scared my dog half to death, and I got caught up lying down in the dark with her listening to Daft Punk. For what felt like forever. That is by far the best album to listen to on shrooms. Ever. Eventually, I hauled my ass out of bed, to find that everyone had left my apartment. I wandered to the building next door, and found some random people partying, so joined them, then I actually ran into Sexy Boyfriend, which was convenient, and we walked to the bar together. But then the line at the bar was way too long, so we went back home.

So, even though I dislike children (for the most part) and am not really into sweets (most of the time) and can't stand dressing up (unless I'm on drugs), I'm glad that I can still take part in the holiday in some way, in that I have at least some fond memories of Halloween.

We were meant to be together

I think I mentioned that last weekend Sexy Boyfriend and I went to dinner with his brother, R, and his girlfriend D. I also mentioned that I had a veal stuffed pasta thing that was not so great.

But, D got the dish that I usually order, a spinach fettucini in a tomato and mushroom sauce (with big chunks of cherry tomatoes and portobello mushrooms), with a big slab of brie cheese and a big slab of goat cheese on top. I sat through the whole meal with my icky veal-stuffed pasta, with a tasteless sauce, while she twirled the yummy, gooey, semi-spicy noodles around her fork. I was so sad.

At the end of the dinner, Sexy Boyfriend, D, and I all got leftovers for take-home, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't eat mine. I put it in the fridge on Saturday, along with Sexy Boyfriend's leftovers, and went about my weekly business. On Wednesday, Sexy Boyfriend took his portion of Veal Scarolies (veal stuffed with cheese in a gravy sauce, with spaghetti) to work for lunch. It just so happened that R also brought D's leftovers for his lunch.

I got a phone call.

"Open the fridge, look at your leftovers."

Score!! The stupid waiter, (or maybe the ingenius waiter who saw my displeasure, or my lack of enthusiasm, or whatever) mixed up the packages, and I got D's leftovers, which would have been my leftovers anyway if I hadn't stupidly ordered something new to try.

I can't remember if I've ever enjoyed leftovers quite so much.

The Extraction

In the winter of 2004, Sexy Boyfriend and I both found out we had to get our wisdom teeth taken out. As I was still in school and had Spring Break coming up, I volunteered to go first.

I already have serious anxiety about going to the dentist. Not so much that I break down or cry when I have to go there, but enough that all of my muscles tense up from the moment I sit in the chair until I walk out the front door. I have also never seen the needle they use to inject the freezing cause I keep my eyes cemented shut.

My dentist doesn't seem to believe in making The Extraction as easy as possible. He got me to show up half an hour early for pre-medication, which was Ativan, and which I didn't find that relaxing. When he came out a half hour later to ask if I was relaxed, I said "No, not really" with every muscle in my body contracted, tapping my feet to non-existent music. He gave me another Ativan, and brought me into the room to get ready for The Extraction.

He said I would feel sleepy, but I never did. He said I wouldn't remember anything, but I do. He's such a mean big liar. A lot of people I know say their dentists actually put them to sleep for The Extraction. That they woke up and it was over, and all was wonderful in the world. But not my dentist. He just makes sure you are "relaxed", which I wasn't, then he goes about his freezing and drilling and cracking and pulling. It's not like there was any pain, or discomfort even, but just the anxiety of the whole situation was SO unpleasant.

After all four teeth were thoroughly extracted, I went out to the waiting room and waited while they called Sexy Boyfriend to come pick me up. I was very thirsty, so I went into the little bathroom to take a cup of water. Suddenly, standing there, my mouth felt like it was full of cotton, which is wasn't, but I just couldn't get enough water. I took a few careful sips, but I just felt more thirsty. So I tipped the little cup back. Then I practically choked to death. Because of all the freezing, I couldn't judge how much water was in my mouth. I had thought that the fact I was getting any water in my mouth at all instead of dribbling it down my chest was pretty good, but I forgot about how much water I was actually getting in there. I started to cough, tried to hold it in, but you know when you get that little tickle in your throat, and it just won't go away, and your cough becomes uncontrollable? That was the problem. So I coughed, and all that water in my mouth sprayed all over that tiny little bathroom sink, and it was mixed with blood from The Extraction. I know, gross, gross, but even in the moment I saw that it was one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me.

I managed to sop it all up, or at least my drug altered brain saw it as sopped up, maybe I left huge splotches everywhere, hell if I know. Then they knocked on the door to tell me Sexy Boyfriend was there.

On the way home we chatted about how it went - more like he asked one question then I rambled on and on cause I find it funny how your voice sounds when your mouth is frozen. At one point a song I knew came on the radio, and I started to sing. To this day Sexy Boyfriend thinks I was singing cause of my altered state, but really it's because I find the Frozen Mouth Voice absolutely hilarious.

My Masochist Dentist also decided to let me leave the office without a pain prescription. He said that Advil would be enough. He lied. I have never experienced pain like this. Just a constant, dull, throbbing pain that wouldn't let me sleep, wouldn't let me concentrate, wouldn't let me get off the sofa. I have never taken so much Advil in my life. But the worst part was the stitches. He had hooked the stitches around my back molars, and they began to pull and tighten. So not pleasant.

I spent a good week on the sofa, writhing in pain. I had them out on Monday, and only went back to work on Saturday, still eating partially or fully softened foods like oatmeal, french fries, milkshakes, etc.

All of this to say that Sexy Boyfriend still has not gotten his out yet. It has been almost two years, and my chipmunk-cheeked episode seems to have disuaded him from having The Extraction. Even when he gets little bouts of pain so bad he can't eat, he still puts it off. My mission is to get him to the dentist in the month of November.

We will not be leaving the office without a pain meds prescription.

Irony is a bitch

Usually, when I am working, I have the car. As I explained in my last post, public transportation to my work is pretty friggin' excruciating. Sexy Boyfriend, however, works downtown, so although he still has to deal with the stinky, drunk, scary people who take the bus, the trip only takes about 45 minutes compared to a half our car ride. When we are working at close to the same time in the morning, I will drive him to work, then come back and pick him up after.

Yesterday, we were running a little late getting out the door, and after work I had an appointment so I said "Hey, Sexy Boyfriend, how about you drive me to work, so that I am not late since I am opening and it would look pretty friggin' bad if I was late and all my associates were there waiting for me, and then you can come and pick me up after my appointment, since it is close and I will be able to just walk there."

"Okay, that would be great to have the car for the day for once"

So, he dropped me off at work. However, traffic from the West Island to Downtown in the morning can be pretty crazy, and it took him over an hour to get in. Then, at around 4 o'clock, his friend called him.

"Dude, a client gave me his tickets to the hockey game tonight with free food and drinks - I'll pick you up at 6:30"

And my Sexy Boyfriend, because he is sweet and good, said no thanks.

Actually, I think he was more scared that the chances of him getting any in the next little while would go from their present practically non-existant state to nil. But nonetheless, he said no. He could have told me to take a cab again. He could have sent his brother to get me, then I would have to go drop his brother off, and then drive all the way home from downtown, but he didn't do that. He said no. And he picked me up after my appointment, and was even there early.

Sometimes it's the little things that make us happiest.

I didn't really feel bad about it until later, when we were watching TV and he flicked over to check how the game finished and we found out it went into overtime. And when we watched some guy go on a breakaway or something and score with like two minutes left in overtime. And when he practically jumped off the couch. Then I kinda felt bad. But, he always talks about how he hates to take the bus, and how it sucks that I always have the car, and I really thought I was doing a nice thing by getting him to drop me off then come get me.

And that kinda makes me find the whole thing pretty funny in the sick "I'm going straight to hell for laughing at my boyfriend's misery" kinda way.

Taxi!

I got a visit at work today from one of my ex-colleagues at The Job From Hell. It was so nice to see her, since we worked very closely for a long time, and when I started my new job, she brought flowers on my first day to say congratulations. I haven't seen her since, which is very sad. Every time we try to get together, the bunch of us that worked together, someone can't make it, or no one can make it, and it doesn't work out. She looks great!

Sexy Boyfriend has a business dinner tonight, so I am all alone. So sad. We also have zero food supplies, so I brought sushi home which was fun. Since he has the car, I had to take a cab, and $45 later, thank goodness it was paid for by his company.

When I used to work in St. Laurent, which is a 10-15 minute car ride when there's no traffic, and about 45 minutes with traffic, I did several public transport test runs. Each time I took public transportation to get to the old job, it took me no less than one hour and forty five minutes, and in one case I had been travelling for over two hours when I finally gave up and took a cab.

So, since my new job is even further west, there is no way in hell I will be taking the bus to or from work anytime soon. Hence, my cab ride this evening. No matter how boring it seems to ride for 35 minutes with a guy who barely speaks English and doesn't play the radio, it's a whole world away from 3 hours on the bus with smelly people who talk to themselves and play their iPods too loud and don't give up their seats for old ladies.

Give me back my crossword!!!

Yesterday we decided to venture out for a shopping day, with a fresh dose of DayQuil in me - it made me dizzy, but I made it through. We walked all along Ste. Catherine, and I didn't even buy one thing - I must be sicker than I thought! Actually, the only thing I tried on was a Columbia parka, which was kind of tight, and it made me sad about my chubby state of being, so I didn't feel like trying on anything else. Sexy Boyfriend tried on a bunch of jeans and cords and stuff, but couldn't find anything that fit right, or was the right color, or didn't look too worn in.... so picky. Everyone knows when cords are $40, plus a 30% employee discount, you buy them. Nuf said.

After shopping, we went for dinner with Sexy Boyfriend's brother, R, and his girlfriend, D. Had yummy Scarolie's, which was pretty good, although I got a veal-stuffed pasta that wasn't as good as the dish I usually get. That'll teach me for trying new things. We then went to their apartment and had a rabble-rousing game of Scrabble, which was fun, although I am suspect of R's ability to keep score, since the boys beat us, but Sexy Boyfriend and I are both unsure how that could have happened what with mine and D's multitude of 20-30 point words. It was still really fun.

Today is rainy and gross outside, so I got up at 10, picked up breakfast, and some movies. I love spending the whole day inside when it's yucky out, cuddled on the sofa with the duvet, especially when I have even the slightest hint of sniffles. I am a bit ticked off though since several sections of yesterday's newspaper have gone missing including: Homefront, the section with all the real estate info for the week, which is particularly interesting lately, and also section F, which I'm not sure what section it is, but I know the front page says the Crossword is in Section F and I love the big fat Saturday crossword more than any of the other crosswords for the whole week and I wait all week for the Saturday crossword and when it goes missing, I get really really angry. Saturday has the big fat Tribune Crossword puzzle that takes at least an hour to work through, and usually I have to set it down and come back to it later so I can allow my brain to refresh. I'm not sure if someone tampered with our newspaper, or if Sexy Boyfriend accidentally threw these sections out, but I'm ticked. I doubt he would EVER throw these sections out because he is so paranoid about throwing out my favorite sections of the newspaper he will often leave the paper lingering for weeks until I throw it out. So, to whomever messed with my Saturday paper this week:

I will find out who you are, and when I do, oh you had better watch out. You have never seen the likes of my wrath when Saturday's crossword is missing, and if you know I'm talking about you, then I suggest you do one of two things: Run. Run far far away and never look back. If your family is at all important, than you should definitely take them with you because I will use them against you. Or, please return Section F of the Gazette from Saturday, October 22, 2005 to my doorstep post-haste. Thank you.

10 Steps to Sick Day Success

I love sick days. Besides the whole being sick part, which if you are an expert in over-the-counter drugs, as I happen to be, doesn't really affect the whole sick day experience. Here is my step-by-step guide to making the most out of your sick day:

1. The night before, tape lots of TV shows or rent some movies. Daytime TV SUCKS for the most part, unless you are into soap operas, or are a three year old. There is nothing worse than being bored on a sick day, and books are just too much effort. I, for example, taped ER, Alias, and CSI last night.

2. Also the night before, it's important to take some NyQuil. This will knock you out and give you a good night's sleep, and chances are you won't wake up stuffy-headed. This morning I woke up with a bit of a sore throat, and a sinus headache, but my nose was not runny. Nothing ruins a day of laying around like a stuffy nose - that means you have to switch positions pretty often when one side of your nose gets plugged from laying on that side.

3. The first time you really wake up in the morning, you should get up, use the washroom, walk the dogs, and re-medicate. Whether you choose NyQuil, which will put you in a stupor for most of the rest of the day, or DayQuil, which does everything NyQuil does except knock you out, it's up to you. I find that DayQuil still makes me pretty whoozy, so if I have the opportunity, I usually take NyQuil when I'm off.

4. Drink lots of fluids. I find that any kind of medicine for colds leaves me dehydrated and pasty-mouthed. I like drinking orange juice, and sometimes gingerale (I know it's for upset stomachs, but it makes me think of being sick when I was little). If you have a sore throat, it's especially important to drink lots.

5. Unless you have to, try not to get out of bed. This is not possible for me, since my VCR is in the living room, so if I want to watch my taped shows, I have to move out there. Lying around on the sofa can sometimes give you cramped legs, or twisted back, especially when you have to share the sofa with one or more 65 lbs+ dogs.

6. Keep all remote controls and telephones as close as possible. For obvious reasons.

7. Try to watch any taped shows with the time-stamp display on. For example, I started watching CSI today, and the show started at 2:47 hours into the tape. Within the first five minutes, I fell asleep, but since I remembered when the show started, I was able to stop and rewind, instead of rewinding while watching the show, which could ruin things cause then you can see everything you missed, but in reverse. When I fell asleep again, like ten minutes later, and then every ten to 15 minutes, it came in handy.

8. Eat noodle soup. Not canned chicken noodle soup, or Chunky chicken noodle, the Lipton Chicken Noodle Soup that comes in packets and has those tiny noodles. You need to eat that soup when you are sick! It is best to scoop all the broth first, or scoop and dip bread in it, and then when it's all dried up, eat the noodles.

9. When you find yourself with another headache, re-medicate.

10. Make sure you have a duvet to snuggle into. I have a duvet on each bed (ours and the spare bed) and one for the sofa. None of those wimpy "throws" - a real-live king size down duvet. Anything else and you are cheating yourself.

My kitty is a chatty cathy.

It's that time of year again - I thought I was going to escape, but it seems I have been struck by my first cold of the winter. I've been feeling a little drained this week, and had a little bit of a cough, and when I woke up this morning it had hit me full-on - stuffy nose, big bad cough, achy, fevery, yuck yuck yuck. People at work have been dropping like flies, but I thought I was going to make it through.

I had an appointment this morning out by my work, so I got up, took some medication, and went to my appointment. By the time I got there, I knew I was too sick to work, so I called them and told them I wouldn't be coming in. But, I'm closing, and they are only two managers today, so I have to go in at 6:30 to cover. I came home after my appointment and went to bed, slept for two hours. I still feel groggy and now I have a headache. Ugh.

My kitty cat has been very chatty lately. As I've been writing this, he was walking around the kitchen going "Meow! Meow? meow. meOw." All different tones of meow, like he's having a whole conversation by himself. It makes me want to cuddle him all day long. I think tomorrow I will stay home all day and do just that.

I really just want to buy a hot new parka

I have been thinking about taking up snowboarding this winter. I have had very limited experience on skis in my life (I've skied maybe five times ever), and I heard that if you don't ski it's easier to learn how to snowboard. Also, Sexy Boyfriend used to be quite an avid snowboarder, but since I don't snowboard, and we spend most of our free time together, he hasn't gone snowboarding in quite a while. When we were at Bishop's, he would go once or twice a year with some buddies, but that's it.

I have tried snowboarding a few times - once it was actually quite fun cause I went with some friends who also had no clue what they were doing, and we spent most of the time laughing our asses off, when we weren't actually on our asses from falling.

The first time I tried to snowboard, I went with Sexy Boyfriend. He tried to be patient with me, I know that he did, and he meant well too, I know. But after a few tentative runs down the bunny hill, he decided it was time we go try a real run. So we got on the chair lift. This was the first issue. I have a CRIPPLING fear of heights. Like, I got severe vertigo once from hiking up a hill and fell - I would have tumbled all the way to the bottom if it hadn't been for the joint efforts of my friend Shawn and a very nice, large, spiny tree, which scraped my shoulder and left a scar that I still have.

On the chairlift, I'm gripping the bar and squeezing my eyes shut and trying to remember to breathe, and Sexy Boyfriend is twisting all around like some three year old on crack saying "Wow, look how great the view is. Turn around Babe and see the view. The view is spectacular. I can't believe how HIGH UP WE ARE." And I'm gripping and sweating and hyperventilating. When we finally reached the top, I of course did the whole arms pinwheeling thing trying not to fall flat on my face in front of all the other people trying not to ram right into me who are being shot off the chairlift behind us. I made it pretty far out of the way, but of course still fell. Whatever.

Then Sexy Boyfriend said: "Let's go down this run. I went down this one this morning while you were (peeing, having hot chocolate, waiting in line for my rental, etc - all the things I did to avoid actually snowboarding) - it's not so bad."

Me: "Is it steep, because I don't feel comfortable with steep. I don't like when you can't see the path in front of you." (you know, when it feels like you are about to fall off the face of the Earth cause you can't see the bottom of the hill)

Him: "No problem, you'll be fine on this one."

I was so not fine. Not even a little bit fine. I was wobbly and bobbly, and it was really cold up there, and the hill was so steep - I couldn't see the path in front of me, not even a bit. I could have hit a tree. Or a person. Or I could have gone tumbling all the way down the hill. So, after I started crying and shaking and inched forward about ten feet down the hill, then fell, I unstrapped that snowboard and started walking. Sexy Boyfriend kept on snowboarding, (show-off) and took big huge slow curves. He would come close and try to talk me into getting back on the board, saying that it didn't get any worse than this, and that I could do it. But I didn't budge, and when we finally got to the bottom I turned in my equipment and had some hot chocolate.

So, after this wonderful experience, I didn't go riding again for a while, and then went with my friends, and we had a lot of fun. Now I'm thinking that I would like to really try to learn, with an actual instructor who will probably have more effective methods of talking me down. We'll see when the snow comes.

On a more important note, I really hate it when my dog throws up, but I especially hate it when he throws up near the sofa/coffee table area. I have cleaned the floor and sprayed Febreeze like eight times, and I can still smell it. And we have hardwood floor. I don't understand!!! Yuck!

The news is serious business

I love to watch CTV news. I don't find it particularly informative, or useful, because usually I'm not listening to the news because I find it depressing and I have my own issues that make me depressed enough, I don't need to subject myself to someone else's issues. However, I do find the CTV news extremely entertaining.

I'm pretty sure Lloyd Robertson is a puppet. I love him to death, but that man is either 200 years old, or he's not human. He has been the anchor of the news since I can remember, and some days he just doesn't look like a real person. I don't know who does his make-up, but they are not very good. Sometimes he has too much rouge, sometime his eyebrows seem invisible. His hair alternates between silver, white and a yellowish color. Sometimes he looks like he's made of wax. When he does "Ask Us", and they have him standing in front of a giant screen, we ponder whether they have propped him up with something or whether he is supported by strings that we just can't see.

Then there is Craig Oliver, the Ottawa political correspondent. We call him the Bird Man, cause he looks like a bird, and after he makes his comments, it never fails that one of us will make a squawking sound and then we both laugh like idiots. It just never gets old.

Lisa LaFlamme is also fun to make fun of. She seems like a pretty normal person, and is a pretty good reporter and stuff. But god, I wish they would cover that woman's neck. I don't know if it's cause she's pretty tanned and has white non-tanned lines in her neck, or if her neck is exceptionally wrinkly for a woman her age, but it looks like it's saggy and made of leather. I feel like writing a strongly worded letter to CTV telling them that if they don't either force her to wear buttoned-up collars, or turtlenecks, that I am going to have to quit watching CTV news.

Sometimes I feel bad for making fun of the news people, because they're just hard-working schmos trying to enlighten the masses and distribute information in timely, efficient ways. But then I remember that watching the news makes me depressed, and making fun of them is fun, and that they pay professionals a whole lot of money to make up and dress these people, and if they can't make them look good, or at least less funny, then it's not my fault at all.

What the hell is a District anyway?

Wow, so I just realized that I have had over 1000 visitors to my little Bloggo! How exciting! One day, I will find myself on Google. So far, no luck with that, but one day.... A girl can dream, can't she?

It was my weekend to work, and I am exhausted as usual. Tomorrow I'm only working at noon, so I finally get a little sleep-in action. Lots of great TV on tonight, so I'll cuddle in and watch that, then go to bed at a decent hour.

I spoke with Mummy yesterday, who told me some stories about my sister's roomate at university - apparently she is extremely spoiled and not very self-sufficient. I had a roomate like this once, too, but at least we didn't share an actually physical room, we just lived in the same house. Her parents had shipped her to Canada to do her degree cause her dad worked for the World Bank, and they apparently pay part of the tuition (or all or whatever I don't even know) if their employees' kids study abroad. She was from Washington DC, and her parents were divorced and so each of them spoiled her rotten in different ways.

Her mom used to call several times a day, and when I say several, I mean like a minimum of once every hour. For the first week we all tried sharing a phoneline (there were four of us total in the house) but her mom freaked out cause sometimes she couldn't get through (cause other people use the phone, you know) so they paid to get a second line installed. She also had a cell phone, so her mom could reach her when she wasn't at home. And they installed internet for her, so they could email.

Her dad paid all of her expenses, and gave her a Visa for groceries etc. She used to try to say "I'll pay for (booze, food, booze, pizza, booze, taxi, booze, poutine, booze) with the Visa and you guys can just pay me back." Basically trying to double her money, cause her dad was paying whatever was on the Visa, regardless of what it was. I should have told her I would mail the check to him.

Anyway, one time we were filling out forms or something like that, and had the following conversation:
Her: "What is the abbreviation for the state of Washington"

"WA, why?"

"Cause it's asking for my state, but I usually just write it out." (Totally serious look on her face)

"But you're not from Washington State." (chuckling on the inside)

"Then what state am I from?" (totally puzzled look on her face)

"DC - Washington DC, you know, the District of Columbia. Washington state is on the West coast. Seattle is in Washington."

"Don't tell anybody about this conversation, okay?"

"Ya, whatever." (laughing hysterically on the inside)

Nothing like a shot of the red stuff.

The dinner did not go so badly - I only wanted to cry like two or three times, but I didn't cry at all, so that's something. My outfit turned out great, but I am very tired today from all the shopping and then all the eating and drinking, and then I had to get up this morning for an appointment.

I have to work this weekend, and it is supposed to rain, so I'm sure it will be crazy busy. Yuck. I don't mind when it is steady, but when it is super busy I get really overwhelmed cause I'm still learning. Tonight was my first close by myself, and it actually went okay, but now I'm paranoid that something went wrong that I didn't even think to check and that I'm going to get in big trouble tomorrow. We'll see.

After mentioning our Cuba trip in the last post, and realizing that it is only three months away, I am SOOOO excited now! We went to Cuba last January as well, and had a really great time. For those of you who didn't see the photos, you can find them here. I felt so relaxed while we were there, and would have felt relaxed afterward as well if I hadn't contracted SARS and if Sexy Boyfriend hadn't caught the Bird Flu.

Actually, Sexy Boyfriend got a cold on the Tuesday, and was full of boogers and coughing a little, but it passed by Thursday, and he was still able to lounge on the beach and drink, so it was all good. On Wednesday, I started to feel a little down, Thursday I was coughing a bit, and by Friday I was snotting everywhere (I actually had to blow my nose in public, constantly. I hate blowing my nose in public.) By Saturday I was really dragging my ass around, but was still able to lounge and drink. I was only concerned about travelling while sick, cause I used to work for a travel insurance company and people are getting their eardrums busted all the time.

I have over the counter drug issues, in that at the slight sign of a sniffle I am all over NyQuil like white on rice. If my toe hurts sometimes I take NyQuil. NyQuil is my friend and cures everything. But for some reason, on this trip to Cuba, on this trip which I brought with me: Benadryl, antidiarrheal, tums, aspirin, advil, and probably like five other drugs, I did not bring even one dose of my good friend NyQuil. Not even a liqui-cap (which I don't find work as well, but maybe it's all psychological).

So, I got progressively worse, but still travelled home coughing like a horse and periodically clearing my ears so they wouldn't explode and deafen me. The day after we landed I went to the doctor and found out I had bronchitis, which I've never had before but apparently once you get it you are more susceptible. Great.

The payoff was I got an extra week off from my crappy job. But this year, we will NOT forget the NyQuil.

You know the bouncy-ball head who doesn't feel quite like himself?

The guy from the Zoloft commercials? Ya, that's me right now.

I'm having another really low day today - everything was going great until I went shopping for something to wear to a business dinner hosted by Sexy Boyfriend's company tomorrow night. I thought I had a handle on this dinner, that I had found something to wear that would be fine, and that we would have fun. But then while we were shopping I was stricken by this anxiety that when we go to this dinner not only should I look half presentable, but that people might ask me questions about what I've been up to, and I'm not altogether happy with what I've been up to. And, if I don't look presentable, or if I feel like I stand out, I'll feel like people are scrutinizing me, which will maybe make me burst into tears in public, which has previously been known to happen in large chain pharmacies and also in my car.

I found a nice outfit, but cannot find shoes or boots to wear with this outfit, and this makes me upset. More upset than it should make me. Shopping for boots makes me realize how chubbed up my calves are (as they are proportioned to the rest of chubby old me) which makes me even more depressed, which then makes me think not only will people be scrutinizing my accomplishments (or lack thereof), what I say, how I dress, but they will also pay very much attention to how much I am eating in comparison to the other, non-chubbed out ladies at the table.

I don't think I want to go to this dinner anymore.

Meanwhile, earlier in the day, I started my campaign to lose some weight. How timely, huh? We are going on vacation to Cuba in January, and from now it is about three months until we leave. I would like to shed about thirty pounds in this timeframe. I think this is altogether possible and realistic, so today I started to get back into my running routine. Of course, for the first couple of weeks it's combo run/walk. It felt really great to get back to it, but I do feel a bit of tightness in my legs tonight.

Too bad that my mini-anxiety attack drove me to the freezer and a big bowl of maple walnut ice cream.

There's something in the water

Our dogs used to share a regular water bowl that held maybe a liter and a half of water. Usually it was fine, and they had enough water for the day, but sometimes we would come home to an empty water bowl. So, Sexy Boyfriend decided to buy the dogs a water-cooler type device. It uses a water bottle that is about half the size of water-cooler sized bottles, and it sits upside down on a little bowl, so as they drink, it fills.

Gabby is used to this type of apparatus, since my mom had one at her house when Gabby lived there. Charlie, on the other hand, has had no experience with this device, and is also the resident scaredy-cat. When he goes to drink, we listen. He lap lap laps, and everything is going great, but when the bowl empties to the filling hole area, it sends a giant air bubble into the tank, which makes a big "glug glug" sound. This sound causes Charlie to almost shit his pants, which I'm sure he would if he ever actually wore pants.

He has resorted to hoisting himself up to drink from the toilet with his tiny little Bassett Hound legs. I'm not opposed to dogs drinking from toilets, I know it's not the best thing for them, but hey, they lick their own asses, so if they want a cool drink from the can, more power to them. However, Charlie is a slobbery dog, and I am opposed to the remnants he leaves on the toilet seat.

Sexy Boyfriend is paranoid that Charlie is too thirsty, that he isn't drinking enough cause he's so scared. So, we have resorted to diligently putting the lid down, and praising him for drinking water out of the water cooler. I bet he thinks he's a friggin' genius now with all the praise he's getting.

Some things I am thankful for.

1. My health - though mentally rather unstable, my body itself is healthy and strong. Well, relatively healthy and strong.
2. Sexy Boyfriend - when I see him, he is what keeps me going more often than not.
3. My family - when I don't see them, I cherish them more than life.
4. My pups and kittycat - when they're not crapping and puking all over the place, they put joy in my heart.
5. My friends - give me laughter, support, and don't make fun of me too bad when I've had too much to drink.
6. The roof over my head - but not the people who live over my head cause they are heavy and sound like elephants up there.
7. The food in my belly - mmm turkey mmm pie
8. The clothes on my back - especially my new silk sweater from Banana Republic
9. Red red wine - self explanatory.

Gobble Gobble Gobble

Tomorrow, I will spend the afternoon peeling, boiling, basting, mashing, basting, seasoning, and more basting. Yes, folks, Thanksgiving has arrived.

We were going to do Thanksgiving today, with Sexy Boyfriend's brother and his brother's girlfriend, but when he extended the invite, they already had plans. So, instead we went shopping (sigh!) and had takeout for dinner. This evening I have been planning my extensive menu and making sure I won't have to run out for anything. We bought an obscenely large turkey for a two-person feast, so chances are the doggies and Simon will be partaking in the festivities as well.

I have to say, I am quite proud of my turkey-roasting abilities. I have roasted several turkeys in my day, with the help of Martha. Her Perfect Roast Turkey and Perfect Turkey Gravy recipes are the secrets to my ability to throw a perfect holiday dinner for two to ten people. I even did Christmas dinner for my mother and sisters one year cause she had to work, and I was quite a hit. Or at least I think I was. Maybe they just didn't want to hurt my feelings.

Probably my favorite part about holiday dinners is the leftovers. This year could be record-breaking, so I've been pulling some recipes I can do with 8 tons of leftover turkey. We are also huge fans of the MoistMaker sandwich, as seen on Friends. It is a sandwich made of leftover turkey, and bread of course. But the secret is, you soak an extra slice of bread (preferably without the crusts) in gravy, and put that in the middle of the sandwich, so you have regular bread-turkey-gravy bread-turkey-regular bread. They are to die for, but you have to be careful not to soak too much gravy, or they become extremely messy. It's also especially good if your gravy is very flavorful, so Martha's gravy is perfect.

I will also be making mashed potatoes, East Coast style potato dressing (or at least I think it's East Coast style - I don't know anyone who doesn't come from the East Coast who makes it this way), sweet potato, squash, a sweet potato/squash combo puree, and we bought a pumpkin pie (hey, if I had to make everything from scratch, I'd have to get up at like 5 in the morning!)

I can't wait!!!