TMI Thursday: The Dumpster

You can thank Lilu for all the TMI Thursday vomit-in-your-mouth-a-bit stories. Why not join the fun and welcome the weekend with a little too much information?



I didn't post a story last Thursday, I'm sorry :(
But this week I aim to. Even as I write this sentence I'm not exactly sure if I have anything up my sleeve...
I mean, I announced today that I am pregnant, yay me... so I could talk about all the farting... but what is that really? Everyone knows that pregnant chicks fart. It's not even that funny. At least, right now I'm not very amused...

Oh! I know!

One time I was with this guy named Joel. He was a musician and he was in a band with his brother. They travelled around and played their unique brand of crap all across the province. Big woop, right? Well this one time, I went with them on a particularly long drive (4 hours, was it?) and on the way home I was drrrrrrrrrrrrrunk. Now, anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I don't fuck around when I drink. I am either going home bloody or screaming profanities at strangers. I disgust myself.
So on this drive home I was particularly shmammered and thus slunk back into the seat of the car and snored like a rhino until I woke up having to pee really, really badly. So I start yelling about having to pee, and the guys are like, yeah we kinda gotta piss too so we go searching for a gas station or something.
We get to a gas station after maybe 20 minutes of my incessant bitching and I run in and ask for the washroom key. The guy behind the counter can't find the key. Can't find it anywhere! So we can't use the washroom. Great. But the guys see a dumpster and they piss behind it. I am incredibly jealous of their ability to piss anywhere they like without shame, and I'm so drunk that I don't really give a fuck about appearances anymore; I'm pissing behind that dumpster too!

So I go behind the dumpster. I drop my drawers. I squat in their giant puddle of urine and I start to go. But what happens next, you ask? Well a car pulls into the gas station and shines his lights directly on my face as I'm pissing behind this dumpster and, remember, I'm drunk; So I react, and I react in a way that I may not have reacted had I been sober. I fell right on my ass into that huge puddle of everybody's piss, right there behind the dumpster at Petro Canada, and soak myself all over. Even my hair. All my clothes. I'm covered in piss. After Joel and his brother had gotten all the laughing out of their system they were not pleased with the fact that I had to sit in that car, covered in pee. But that's what I did. Until we got to a 7-11, where I got into their washroom and took a Mexican shower. The ride home would still take a couple of hours and we had to roll down all the windows because that smell. Oh, that smell.

The moral of the story? Girls really aren't supposed to pee outside the way boys do. We just don't have the equipment to pull it off. Secondly, maybe I should quit drinking. (breathing sigh of relief that I am pregnant and therefore cannot drink for another 8 or so months. phew!)

here goes...

Dear _____,

I know we haven't met yet, and we won't for a long time still. But I feel like I know you a little bit already. I know you're probably a little nervous about the fact that they put me in charge of you, but I am going to set a few things straight right now, and maybe then you'll feel a little better.

- I will always be there, whether you like it or not.
- You will have to listen to me, because I know best (or do I? Doesn't matter, you have to listen anyway)
- I will probably yell a lot, but don't worry, I also laugh a lot.
- I won't let you see me cry.
- I will always sing "no matter what" by badfinger to you.
- You will love all the things I plan on painting for you.
- I also plan on eating a lot better while you're with me, and after you're not.
- I will learn to cook for you. You'll get used to it eventually. And then you'll try my mother's food and beg to live with her. And then I will do that yelling thing.
- I promise I won't blame you for the irreversible damage that your passage will do to my body. At least not to your face, anyway.
- I will help you with your homework! Not math though. But your dad can help you with math because he can do it. I can not.
- I will make your stability and health the number one priority in my life, for the rest of my life.
- I WILL make you wear things that you hate, and I will make you get haircuts that make you look lame.
- Just so that we're clear, you will be taking cello lessons. Your refusal will result in indefinite allowance suspension.
- I will try my best to make sure you know that I love you more than anything, every day.
- I will try not to set my expectations ridiculously high.. but please take those cello lessons k?
- I won't kill you if you get a tattoo. But I will laugh if it looks stupid.
- I will be as patient as possible.
- I will always listen to you, and I will answer all of your questions.
- I will always be your mom, and I will always consider it an honour.

the eyeliner

So I am trying to pack some stuff for my 2 week long stay at my parents' house.
Its not going well. I have a bad way of trying to pack absolutely everything I own even when I'm just going somewhere for the night. 2 weeks?! I already know I will be making plenty of visits home because I have forgotten this or that...
What I'm most looking forward to is all the great t.v. and movies I can watch while I'm there. They have the movie network and stuff. Awesome. I'm feeling so sick these days that some days on the couch watching True Blood sound very good to me.

Mom and Dad are going on vacation again. They're going to Newfoundland. Aren't they lucky....
I'm just a little angry. And jealous. I am dying for a vacation, and my window of opportunity is closing rapidly.

So Tanya stole my eyeliner when she was here yesterday.
This upsets me so much, for so many reasons. I trust her with so much. So much. And I feel like an idiot for forgetting that I can't trust her. Why is she doing that to me? Not only did she steal my eyeliner, but she replaced it with her stupid broken used up eyeliner. As if that makes it okay for her to take mine, or maybe she's covering her tracks so that she can say "Oh I just got them mixed up". Whatever. I thought we were over this shit but I guess not. And considering all of the things that I have trusted her with, I hope she doesn't keep betraying that trust. I know it's just eyeliner but it really is just the tip of the iceberg.
Please Tanya, stop making me feel stupid for trusting you.

Must make my way over to Goodness Me to buy some wheatgrass juice.

planning for the future

I haven't been writing enough, I am so sorry.
There is just so much going on, and I know a bunch of people that I know personally, and who read my blog all the time, are probably wondering what the fuck I've been up to.
Well, I'm afraid you're just going to have to keep wondering for a little while longer. I will try to allude to it as little as possible.

So I have to find a new job. ASAP. I have never really had a real job before. I've tended bar and I have waited tables for years now and I've always been all like okay, when the time is right I will get a real job but I still don't even know what that real job could be and frankly, now I'm running a little short on time. I have to make changes. I can't stay at the lawyer for several reasons. For one, they will never take me seriously or promote me or even make me bartender. In that sense, I have bled the stone that is the honest lawyer. Secondly, I am going to be 23 in less than a month (feel free to e-mail me at lindsayoquinn@gmail.com for a complete list of items I would be overjoyed to receive as gifts) and it is high time I started behaving like an adult. It would be nice to have a day job. It would be nice to have benefits, not that that's at all likely, but I can dream. It would just be nice to be taken seriously, and not have to depend on tips, and not be looked down upon by snooty pieces of shit in suits who demand complimentary pretzels at their table - before they get there, no less - and never want you to approach the table; instead they insist that you just come up to them as soon as they beckon for you. I HATE SERVING!!! (Those gentlemen I affectionately refer to as the pretzel suits, and they are indeed real people, and I hope they die in a plane crash. All of them).
Phew.
Anyway, I also have to move. I can't stay here anymore. I'm not even sure if I can remain in this city. I am dying for a drastic change. Just dying. So I am putting in my 2 months notice to my superintendent and I am going to mosey.
You won't be hearing any stories about parties I've gone to or times when I have gotten so drunk I offered a bouncer a blow job or anything like that anymore because I am officially on the wagon. I mean it, I'm done. This ridiculousness has costed me too much dignity and too much, well, money. I will indulge in the finer things. Like literature and long walks. And lots of ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

Don't mind me, I'm just making some plans..

my konstantine, you spin around me like a dream

Forgive me if this post is a little cryptic, because it will be.
But I did the right thing tonight.
I hurt somebody who needed to be hurt, and it hurt me too.
But it was the right thing.

I love mike so much I think it might kill me sometimes.

so awesome..

praise for the 'if tom cruise were in charge i'd be dead by now' vitamin!

it bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad. -Emily Haines.

I read that quote today on someone's tumblr...
And I have to admit that there are fewer things I could agree with more.

Depression and I are likethis. I feel like we always have been. I have been dealing with my depression for as long as I can remember.
And at first it wasn't easy to admit to myself that something was wrong. I think it wasn't until I graduated high school that things started to get really bad for me. I dated a guy who hit me, I wrote someone a love letter in blood, I dropped out of university and I quit almost every job (and didn't quit the right way). And I went years without any help, without any medication, without really knowing what was wrong. I knew I was sad. Who really knows what depression is? Who is to say that any of us is or isn't in an unshakable funk. No, no it's more than an unshakable funk: it is being the walking dead. It is being unable to get up in the morning, it is being unable to face the world, it is being unable to go through a day without some mind-altering drug for fear you will break down and have a fit in front of everyone. Because you can't do that; because you can't be sad. People treat the depressed the way they treat anybody who is mentally ill. They treat them like freaks.
And it really is just an incredible, all-consuming sadness. I think we need to have more respect for those who suffer from it. I have met far too many people who claim the Tom Cruise theory: no one is depressed and no one needs medication.
Well I am going to tell you my experience with depression. I assure you, I did not want to be on medication. I assure you, I suffered for years without it, and I assure you that it only got worse until I faced it and treated it in whatever way I could in order to feel like a person once again. I can't remember ever feeling like one.

I think any chronically depressed person has an idea when it started and why. I was a very awkward little girl. I was so shy and I didn't make friends easily. My mother would probably disagree with that, but trust me. I wasn't a very popular little girl. I specifically remember recess being an absolute nightmare; I would spend it in the corner of the playground combing a troll doll's hair. I knew I was just a little bit different. I didn't get along with many girls because they made me uncomfortable, they made me shy (probably because I grew up with brothers?). And because of this, they thought I was just retarded. My social skills were always lacking, and sometimes they still do. At any rate, I remember the first time I ever felt lonely was when my best friend in second grade declared that she had gotten a new best friend. I begged her to reconsider and take me back, but she didn't. I offered her my entire sticker collection and she still broke my heart. And I sat alone at lunch that day. Eventually we were best friends again, but I was wise enough to realize that I obviously put much more stock in this friendship than it warranted and I felt cheated. I began to withdraw into a world where people had less chance to hurt me. And there I always stayed. I have always retreated into books, writing stories or poems, and I always played better by myself than with others. I had to be my own best friend. Nobody else really liked me.
This has largely always been my experience with the world. I was just awkward and I felt like nobody understood me at all. Nobody was like me. I have only had a few close friends in my lifetime because of this, and all of them eventually leave as well. It only gets more difficult as you grow up. For instance, I never made a single friend in my 2 years of university. Not one. That's probably why I dropped out; it was the loneliest period of my life. All I had was a toxic relationship with a guy who, as I mentioned, hit me. Luckily that only happened once.

In the last year things had gotten unbearable for me. Last July I began a relationship with someone. He was (is) a wonderful human being who inspired me to be better. But we were not right for each other at all and I always knew it. The thing that hurt the most was that he refused to understand the sadness. The pain I was always in, and he couldn't figure out why.
There were times when I would cry for hours, for no reason. There were times when I couldn't do my job, I simply couldn't. I could not get up and pretend that I could take care of myself. I just wanted to die. I felt like an empty shell. Nobody had the patience. I would get drunk and cry and cry, and it would just make everyone angry. But I drank. I took drugs. I didn't know how else to handle it.
One day it just got so bad that I knew I had to try something, because I would soon die if I kept up this denial. I was dying. Medication saved me. I would like to say that I clawed my way out of despair without any help, just with positive thinking and the right attitude. Anyone with depression will tell you that's a crock of shit. Of course to some degree you have to want to get better, and you have to decide to take ownership of your life once more. But that only gets you so far. At some point you have to accept help. You can't beat this alone. And the day eventually comes when you simply can't fight it alone anymore, because you're as low and beaten down as a person can be.

I have always let people hurt me. I have always given my entire heart and I have always been rejected in the end. My former best friend, for instance, always treated me like a child and I only recently grew a pair and decided she could just go fuck herself. C'est la vie! That is one example of the ways in which my life has changed since my depression has lifted. I am happy to say that I no longer cry for no reason. I don't do drugs and I don't get drunk and feel sorry for myself. I haven't called in sick at all, just so I could lay in bed and hate myself. I eat regularly, and I sleep pretty well. I don't fear the future because I know who I am. That's definitely a first. I am even slightly less awkward!

I guess this post is really just about patience. If you know someone in your life who is sad, be patient. Don't walk out on them. Don't tell them to just be happy. That is the worst advice ever. Don't bother reminding them of how precious life is and how lucky they are; they know. Just be there, and don't be judgmental. Be a friend. Have the patience.

waking up

I'm having trouble falling back to sleep. It is after 4:30 in the morning.
I think too much when I'm trying to sleep. I think too much all the time, but especially when I'm trying to fall asleep.
For some reason, I feel as if there is a really big change happening, and I'm not sure if I am ready for it or not.
Mike took me out for dinner tonight and bought me flowers, and he asked me if maybe I might want to move in with him?
Do I want to?
I have made myself promises in the past, when other relationships haven't worked out. I have promised myself I would not live with another man until I am engaged to marry him... (do I want to get married?) And I have considered my bit of a double life and I have trouble choosing sides. But I know what is right and I know who I want to be. Do I have to be the person I am becoming?

Life is just a bunch of choices and in order to be an adult, one must begin by making some decisions they may not want to make. For instance, whether it is a better idea to go out and party for 3 nights solid or if it may be smarter to save some money, rent some movies and spend time with family and friends. Friends who do not drink in excess.
I don't even have any of those.
Point is, I really feel like there is a magnificent change afoot. I can't really tell you what that is yet, because I don't even know. But I do know I only have a little window of time to correct everything I have done wrong, and I fully intend on doing so. For the change.

Now how am I going to fall back asleep?

crawling out of the drinking cave

Who do I think I am going so long without posting?

It is TMI Thursday and I will hopefully think of a real gem for you guys later on today. But right now, it's 2pm and I just woke up so I need to take it a little easy.
I feel so incredibly unhealthy right now. The last 2 days I have been doing nothing but drinking and I have been eating so much garbage. SO MUCH garbage. The other night, I ate 3 cans of chef boyardi ravioli in one sitting, plus a frozen meatloaf dinner, all in like, what? I'd say 45 minutes.
And then the next night we had a party at fran's where I ate over half a large pizza and proceeded to eat another can of chef boyardi ravioli, a big bag of sunchips, a couple hot rods, a 4-pack of reese cups, a big turk and a honeybun. You know me and those honeybuns.
And last night I just don't want to talk about. At all.
I have not been seeing enough of Mike. I haven't seen him since Sunday. It is now thursday and I haven't even spoken to him in 2 days. I don't really even miss him, actually.
But I think a little bit of distance can sometimes be healthy. I don't know if I am necessarily ready to have him consuming my life. I even feel, dare i say, awesome after my break of being around mike. It's not that I don't love him, but he is very very boring. Every day is so predictable and we sit there and watch hours of television and it's just getting really boring. So in order to avoid feeling miserable and resentful, I feel it was almost necessary to spend the last 3 days doing nothing but drinking myself into a stupor with other people that I love.

sidenote:
I bought a bunch of candy for the soccer game and didn't eat any of it there, and so right now I am eating a fun dip. Remember lik.m.aid's fun dip? With the candy lik-a-stiicks? It gives you a feeling of continuity with the past when you enjoy your favourite candy as an adult. It's a great feeling.

So tonight I am going to spend some time with mike. I am starting to miss him a little bit and I know the guy is feeling a little neglected after the last 3 or 4 days. Tanys is still here so perhaps we will all do something as a family. Maybe we'll have to go to Blockbuster. Maybe we'll have to grab a slice of pizza together. Whatever it is, I just need to spend a little more time with my mikey.

i'm going to be the next victoria beckham.

I know I complain about my job a lot...
But tonight I have no cause for complaints.
I mean, the Def Leppard concert was a super sweet perk, and then tonight I got some awesome news.
Apparently me and another server, James, sold a ton of Carlsberg in the last month. So as a prize, we get to go to the Toronto FC game on Wednesday! We get to sit in a VIP booth, we get to hang out witht he players, and we get to drink all the free Carlsberg our little livers can handle.
I'm super pumped because I never win shit, ever. So my time has come, and thats fabulous.

i love gorillas.

So we went to the zoo yesterday!

The only thing that's fun to see at the zoo is the gorillas. Every other animal is either sleeping, hiding, or just fucking sitting there.
So the gorillas are close to the entrance to "Africa", where they also have an African dude smearing expensive samples of shea butter on your hands and then you love it so you have to buy the $20 container.. Anyway. They barf in their hands and eat it again, the silverback runs menacingly around the other gorillas while they dodge his attacks and look petrified, the baby gorillas fish for flowers outside of their cages with a long stick, I just love those little buggers. And of course I did what I do every time I visit the zoo: sit there and watch the gorillas for hours and refuse to move. And give anybody who calls them monkeys the hook eye.
But when we finally did leave the gorillas the rest of the zoo sucked. There were a lot of hills, not that much to see, and my feet were killing me by the end of it. AND Mike bought me a stuffed gorilla at the "zootique". What a sweetheart. So now my gorilla sleeps in my bed with me and I cuddle with him all the time. It's love.

TMI Thursday: alicia and the wet spot.

This is yet another TMI tale that is not my own, but belongs to an old friend named Tash. She had a boyfriend named Ryan, and they had 2 children together. They were little girls, both around the age of 4 or 5. They had a great apartment, with a fireplace, and hardwood floors, and all the adorable old-fashioned elements that I love in an apartment. I hung out there quite a bit.

So this one time I'm just lounging on Tash and Ryan's couch, I had been there for maybe fifteen minutes. The girls are running around insanely, screaming and throwing pink plastic hairbrushes at each other. Super fun. Then Alicia just wipes out. Like she slipped, did a somersault in the air and landed on her back and it looked excrutiating. It also sounded it. So Tash comes rushing out and asks what happened and the girls tell her. Then I kind of see this look on Tash's face, like she is vaguely recollecting some sort of guilty, secret information.
Then she bursts into uncontrollable laughter.
Through her giggles she manages to kiss Alicia's boo-boos and she puts the girls to bed to watch a movie. Then she comes out and sits next to me on the couch, still giggling ridiculously.
So she says to me you know when you have sex without a condom on and a guy spunks inside you?
And I'm like okaaaaaaaay... yeah...
And she's like and when it's over do you get up and go to the washroom?
And I'm like yeah. To rinse off or shower, whatevskies..
she says yeah. Well. You know when some drips out on the way to the washroom?
And I nod slowly...
Tash then says Alicia just slipped and fell in last night's wet spot.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeew.

birds of a feather

I thought it might be fun to post tidbits from an IM conversation I had this morning with my bestie. So here it goes.

Lindsay: I'm failing miserably at being a vegetarian...
Fran: hahahahahaha, why the fuck would you want to be one of those? you love meat!
Lindsay: I do, its true. I don't know. to be cool?
Fran: I can see how you would think that makes you cool but it doesn't. being cool is being able to eat a nice big steak and not cry about it.
(talking about Fran's interview at the pretzel place...)
Lindsay: I would like to work at a pretzel place so hook it up. I'm over the lawyer. They don't appreciate me. They won't let me bartend and they will never promote me to manager.
Fran: Yeah man, fuck them. She told you she would make you bartender ASAP and she still hasn't? Screw them.
Lindsay: I want to make a scene and walk out on them out of the blue SO BADLY! But I can't. Adult responsibilities pfft...
Fran: Oh man we would have so much fun making pretzels together! That's what I'm gonna do to chris once i get a new job.
Lindsay: haha, we're birds of a feather..
Fran: I want him to come downstairs and be all like 'stop socializing with jesse' 'cause he always gets pissy when jesse and i talk for 2 seconds, and then i'm gonna be like SOCIALIZE THIS and do the suck it sign and storm out.
Lindsay: Oh yeah, the suck it sign. That'll show him That'll show him good.
(so on and so forth)

So anyway that besically sums up the morning for me. I am failing at vegetarianism (but still not given up!)... oh I didn't mention that I missed my pap smear appointment this morning because I set my alarm clock wrong and I don't have a phone so my mom couldn't call and yell at me, or pick me up, or anything.
Now I don't know if I have cervical cancer. Or chlamydia. hmm.. I think I'm safe though. Pap smears are just awful. Horrible. Nobody should have to go through that kind of ordeal. Especially with a doctor like mine, who insists on making idle chit chat about regular every day things while he points a lamp at your cha-cha and inserts metal clamps and climbs in up to his elbows.

So yesterday at work, as I was getting ready to leave for the day, Alex strolls on in. My 'sister' T has been kind of dating him for a couple weeks now, despite how opposed to the whole thing I am. So anyway, Alex strolls in and as soon as I see him my mouth drops to the floor and I smack him in the face.
Does he not have vicious bruises all over his neck? Bruises that resemble something a ware wolf might have inflicted on him? Bruises that say to me wow, tanya, you really do want to ruin my life don't you? And everyone else at work notices the bruises and then the taunting starts. Everyone knows she and Alex are screwing. Which is so not awesome, if you ask me. They all start in with all these variations of "mom fucking" jokes, but instead are "sister/cousin fucking" jokes and Alex is wearing these hickeys like a badge of honour. I'm disgusted with the both of them. T: If you're reading this: If you ever do that again I will tell Alex you have Syphilis and I will make sure he dumps you himself. Date him if you must, but for FUCKS SAKE! A little descretion would be nice. You friggin' idiot...

Today promises to be a terrible day, because Green Day is playing at the coliseum around the corner from work, which means the restaurant is going to be PACKED and I am going to hate my life for 4 or 5 hours solid. Not to mention this: does anyone like green day anymore? Does anyone like green day fans? I think people who still like green day are losers. There. I said it. Hate me if you must. But how long can they really ride this "americans who hate america but refuse to move to canada where things are, like, so much better' wave they've been on since I was 16?
Rant = over.

this isn't the apartment i moved into...

So I've lived in my apartment for a whole year now (A WHOLE YEAR!!!) and I still love my place. However, I feel like I don't love it quite as much as I did initially. My life has changed in drastic ways since I first moved in here.

When I first moved in here, I was coming out of a relationship with a guy I thought I was going to marry. But he had other plans and one day, he dumped me out of the blue by leaving a letter on our kitchen counter. I amazed myself by gaining extraordinary strength (stemming from extreme anger) and getting my ass in gear. I could've moved back home with my parents, but instead I went apartment hunting. I had decided to start a new life, all by myself. I didn't need that super-christian-so-totally-not-my-type-boyfriend-of-2-years. I found this place. I immediately fell in love with it. I was working at a new job making more money than I had ever made (those days are most certainly over) and I was having a purely sexual affair with a guy I later learned was schizophrenic. But I digress.
Anyway, the day I moved, I was helped by my parents and my brother. It was a fast move, and I stole almost all of my ex's belongings (those that weren't stolen were destroyed). And when everything was in my apartment and everyone was gone, and it was just me and my new home, I blared some Clash and started arranging.
I got everything where I wanted in that one night, and had pizza with my then-best-friend. I had never been happier.

A year later, my apartment is a fucking mess, I am in a new and improved relationship with a man that I hope to have babies with, and I have a new (and crappier) job. I long for the old days. The days when this place and I were just getting acquainted and I was a free woman for the first time of my life.
I have been trying to re-live those days in small but powerful ways.

When I first moved in here, I was washing my hair with mint shampoo and conditioner, which I have decided to start using again, not because it's particularly good stuff ('cause it isn't), but because it brings me back to the happiest days of my life. I also blare the Clash because it brings me back. I drink yellowtail chardonnay and it brings me back. I buy myself a bouquet of flowers from Botanika, I wear this particular dress with a pair of converse all star high tops and that brings me back. It's funny that these small things improve my day just because they remind me of how happy I was a year ago, when I first moved in.
And a year ago, I didn't really even think myself that happy. But I was. And I see that now. I guess it's true what they say; you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. Things have changed so much since my first day in this apartment. I've certainly grown up a lot, and I love the person that I've become over the last year. I've also started myself a little family (with Breakfast). I have quit smoking and I no longer do the abundance of drugs I used to. I owe it all to that stupid jerk's letter on the kitchen counter, and to my super - for taking a chance on an unknown kid. ;)

I guess what I'm trying to say is..
Apartment of mine, we've drifted apart. I'm so sorry for that. I will take better care to ensure the survival of our relationship, and I will not let Breakfast's poop sit around in the corner for days the way I have been. *MWAH!* I loves ya, baby. It's been a good year.

blep!

Today I called in sick for the first time.
It wasn't easy to call in sick without a phone. I had to walk three blocks to the pay phone. There was puke dried up in the corner of the booth, and when I saw it I made a second splatter of it in the corner adjacent.

A number of things could have brought this on. One, I had a hard time sleeping last night so I took 4 sleep eze (those things don't do shit). Two, I drank one smirnoff ice and one old milwaukee last night. three, I smoked hash (for the first time ever, yay me!). Four, I got crazy munchies last night and ate so much food that remembering it just made me heave. And five, I could just be plain old sick. I'm leaning towards a combination of one and four. But whatever, I'm sick. And super tired. And the idea of going to work today is about as appealing to me as that congealed puke in the phone booth.

So I'm going to do all the things that I do when I'm sick. A few little sicky rituals I've been practicing since I was a wee one. I am going to turn the couch into a bed. I am going to drink warm ginger ale, I am going to suck on jolly ranchers. I am going to wear my comfiest pajamas and watch court shows on syndicated television.

It's good that I'm not working today because Breakfast would have been in his cage for nearly 24 hours solid if I had. Because I worked yesterday, came home and couldn't sleep, finally fell asleep around 10 or so.. yadda yadda yadda. I'm home free!
I've never been one to abuse the calling-in-sick-privilege. How about you??

Maria Prince Golightly?

I was catching up with one of my favourite blogs the other day, and her post really intrigued me.
It got me thinking about the woman that I have always wished I could be. First of all, I think a Maria Elena/Polly Prince/Holly Golightly hybrid would make quite the gal.


Anyway, if I could re-invent myself, I would like to be:
- the kind of woman who can wear anything and oooooze confidence
- the kind of woman who wears red lipstick
- the kind of woman whose purse is always tidy
- the kind of woman with a lot of girl friends
- the kind of woman listens to classical music during the week and punk rock on the weekends
- the kind of woman who gardens
- the kind of woman who can walk in giant heels
- the kind of woman who never weighs more than 115 pounds.
- the kind of woman whose apartment is always spotless
- the kind of woman you have never seen crying
- the kind of woman who is unshakably content
- the kind of woman who wears chanel perfume
- the kind of woman who jogs every morning, even in the rain
- the kind of woman who isn't afraid to travel the world on her own
- the kind of woman who enjoys school, and doesn't drop out.
- the kind of woman who gets promoted
- the kind of woman who is mature and responsible
- the kind of woman who goes to yoga and eats kashi bars
- the kind of woman who can actually stick to a vegan diet.
- the kind of woman who can pull of sexy, long, unruly hair






But alas.

I am a woman who, when feeling insecure about her weight, just doesn't eat for a few days (and then gorges). I buy all kinds of lipstick and never wear any of it. I still smoke when I'm drunk, and I get drunk way too many times. I hate my job, I'm on anti-depressants and I cannot hide my feelings from the world. I'm the kind of woman who wears 3-year-old panties and washes her hair with cheap shampoo and conditioner. I hate cats, kill plants and can't pay my bills on time. I wear a lot of summer dresses and I only own a few pairs of shoes. I think about getting up and going for a jog but then disregard the idea and sleep in way too late. My apartment is always a mess and it smells like ferret poop at my front door. I let the things people say or do to me ruin my day, week, or year. I buy cute vintage outfits but am never confident enough to wear them out. I have a bad habit of running to mac's milk in the middle of the night for honey buns and jamaican patties. I come up with all kinds of great ideas but never follow through. I have been meaning to update my resume for weeks, but I've been too busy blogging. I can't save enough money to go to the art store so I can paint again (it's been moooonthsssss). I am the kind of woman who is still in her pajamas at 20 to 3 in the afternoon.

Sigh.

some of the things that are frustrating me right now.

I just woke up. It's 1 in the afternoon. I was going to have a bowl of fruity cheerios but Mike used up all the milk. ALL OF IT. And he failed to mention this. So all I'm looking forward to this morning is my fruity cheerios, and I can't have any. In fact, I grab the carton only to realize there is literally less than an ounce of milk left in it.
Of course, my phone is cut off so I can't even call him to give him the raging hell that I need to give him.
Stupid jerk. I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!!

UGH. Now I have to have rice pudding for breakfast. That would normally be okay if I didn't get myself out of bed for no other reason than a bowl of fruity cheerios.
Lindsay? Wake up. No? Well, if you get up I'l pour you a bowl of fruity cheerios. Wouldn't you like that? Yes, I know you would. Yeeeeeah, that's right...

I'm up at 1 in the afternoon because that insolent prick Insomnia had to crawl into bed and violate me again. I've been trying to dump him but so far that has only made matters worse.

I'm trying to write this post right now but Breakfast keeps getting up onto my desk and knocking shit over. He just spilled yesterday's cup of chai tea all over the carpet. My empty threats are having little effect. And when I pick him up and put him on the ground he bites my foot really really hard.

I've been watching the first season of Arrested Development on dvd. I never watch tv so I have never seen it, or heard of it. Now I'm done the first season and I can't seem to find any other seasons on dvd at blockbusters or anything.
I wish I had a netflix account.
But I don't. And I don't have a credit card so I can't buy other seasons off Amazon or anything..
Because I have horrendous credit.

Sigh. Breakfast just ran across the apartment with my umbrella. What a jerk.

Today I intend to clean this apartment and go to the bank. and buy some milk.

TMI Thursday: this story is about a friend and some poop.

I guess technically I wrote this on a Friday, but it's 4 in the morning and I haven't slept yet, so to me it is still Thursday.

So this story isn't my own (and thank God for that) but it is pretty distasteful, so I felt it appropriate for Thursday use.

I know this girl, let's call her Janie. Janie and I were probably around 17 or 18, and she got a boyfriend. He was older, more experienced, and he taught her everything she knows about sex. They were complete animals. Anyway! He convinced her to have anal sex this one time.
I won't go into the nasty details but suffice it to say they indeed did the deed.
When it was over they were in bed together, cuddling. Janie was coming to grips with her recent experience and she felt like she had to poop. As soon as the deed was over she was farting up a storm in front of her boyfriend, which was embarrassing enough. But it was nothing compared to what was to come.
Like I said, Janie had to poop. The bathroom being very close to her bedroom, she didn't want her boyfriend to hear her. So she tries for a long time but she just can't wait any longer; Janie has just got to poop.
So she goes. She feels immensely relieved when it's over and she almost feels human again.
She comes back into the washroom ready to move on with her life when she sees her boyfriend, standing in front of the door, holding up his t-shirt, looking utterly mortified.
Janie had been laying on her boyfriend's white t-shirt the entire time she was farting/trying to hold in her poop.
Janie had left a big poop stain on her boyfriend's white t-shirt. Janie's boyfriend didn't have any other clothes with him. Janie's boyfriend left her house in a smelly, poop-stained t-shirt which, as long as he would own it, would serve as a reminder why most women just don't do that.
As far as I know, Janie never let anyone take the dirt road again.

faaaaack

Okay, world. My phone got cut off today. Nice, eh? So you will not be able to reach me unless you use a) this blog, b) e-mail or msn or c) carrier pigeon.

Right now I am soooo regretting that I sent them $200 a couple of days ago. If I knew they were going to pull this sheisty move I wouldn't have sent them a dime.

You don't quite realize how essential a telephone is in your daily life until it's taken from you. I haven't heard mike's voice at all today. That makes me sad. Nobody can buzz me if they come over. Nobody can call me. NOBODY CAN CALL ME! and if I need to phone anybody, I have to either give Cogeco another 300 bucks, or I have to hike over to Mac's milk and use the pay phone, wasting valuable laundry coinage.

Life without a phone < Life with a phone.

keep my heart somewhere drugs don't go

One day, an 18 year old girl met a 25 year old boy outside of a tim hortons in downtown hamilton.
She was sipping a cafe mocha and he was sitting with a couple friends and he came up to her, and they talked for a little while. She gave him her phone number, and he said he would call the next day. They would go out some time.
The girl got home and her brother went ballistic. You're going on a date with Owen so and so?! And the girl was confused, but she said yes, I am going on a date with Owen so and so. And her brother said she had to break it off, and do it nicely. The girl said that she would but she really had no intention of doing so.
The boy (owen so and so) called the next day and they did go out. They met at a bus station and went for a walk that lasted for 6 hours. The boy told the girl that he knew her brother, and had asked him for permission to see the girl. The brother said his sister could do whatever she wanted, he didn't care. The girl's brother was a bit of a bad guy, so she wanted to know how this boy knew him. This boy had gotten out of prison a couple of weeks ago, and he was in there for 4 years, and he knew some of the same people as the girl's brother. The girl didn't really take this well. The boy also said he had a daughter, which kind of bummed out the girl even more. And he admitted that he used to do a lot of drugs, and this really really bothered the girl. But because she fell in love with him almost instantaneously, she promised herself she would have an open mind. He made her feel so good, and so special. They moved in together after only a couple of weeks.
Then one day the boy went away for 8 months and the girl was utterly heart broken. She didn't think she could make it without him. And it was hard, it was so hard she had the number 8 tattooed on her wrist, but she made it. And one day they were together again, and it was as if they were never apart.
Things were beautiful for a long time. The girl made the boy a better person and the boy made the girl feel like a princess, and they wanted to get married. The boy bought a diamond ring for the girl, and she agreed that one day she would marry him.
A lot of time passed, and a lot of things happened, and it felt to the girl as if the world did not want them to be happy. And one day the girl felt differently. She didn't want a life that scared her, she didn't want to live with the threat of losing the boy ever again, and she didn't like the drugs. There were always drugs.
So the girl spent a couple of days away from home, and away from the boy, and it was Christmas. The day after Christmas she came home and the boy was a wreck. And he was on drugs. And she didn't see him the way she did before, because he wasn't himself anymore. The girl's world collapsed. She promised herself that she would never be with a boy who did drugs the way this boy did. So she had to leave. And it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life, to that point.

And after all this time, the girl's heart breaks every day for this boy, and she hopes that he can one day find happiness again.

I'm just saying.

Okay, here's something you didn't know about me.
I really suck at relationships. I do. I am always in one, but I have never been very good at it and by now, I probably should've learned a thing or two on how to be a girlfriend. I am still a little too selfish, I think.
I have a team of advisors that helps me make sound, moral decisions and they have always been responsible for all of my mature choices.
And now Fran is chief advisor on this issue.

I am having a hard time not hanging out with dudes.
That is not to say that I would cheat on Mike, because no, that is just not what this is. I just love the dudes that I work with and I love hanging out with them because they're super fun! I wish I could say the same for the girls I work with, but besides Rebecca I really don't want to hang out with any of them. They're too different. Except for Rebecca, like I said, because Rebecca is the shit. So.
I guess it wouldn't be such a big deal to hang out with the guys at work, except that I know a couple of them have little crushes on me. Which sucks, because they're ruining everything.
So when I go home right after work instead of going to some awesome party or something, I call Fran and she straightens me out. Without her, I might be getting in a lot of fights with Mike regarding my plutonic co-worker relations.
And he wouldn't be wrong to get upset. I would get upset if he were hanging out with girls. Any girls, I wouldn't care. And he doesn't do that. Ever. So I owe him the same.
Which is something that my team of advisors remind me of and I am grateful to them for it.

But when will I ever be able to be my own moral compass? Will I ever be able to?
I know what the right thing to do is, I just struggle with accepting it.
So.
I am not hanging out with any dudes from work.
So relax.
I'm just saying.

I want one for each hand

I have the next 2 days off. Super excited. Too bad I'm not actually on a beach, my macbook just makes it look like I am. sigh.

I am beginning the 2 day off celebration with a virgin pina colada and the relieving news that I am getting off the hooch again.

That's right. No more drinking.

It worked so well the last time I quit, and I quit for a couple months, and I was super happy. I was much more productive, had more money, and felt healthier. And I didn't lose my phone! So what if 99% of all my relationships with other people revolve around the consumption of alcohol?
Okay. Maybe I won't give it up completely. I will probably still drink occasionally. But I will not be staying out all night with people from work, getting pished until sunrise and stumbling home at 7am. Those days are over. Dammit.

So. Virgin Pina Coladas it is. And I'm okay with that.

Today was very productive for me. I cleaned the place, did a whole shit load of laundry, did the dishes that were fermenting in the sink for, what, 8 days now? I feel great! Now I just have to go to work tonight for a few hours and then I am home free until Thursday. I might crash Tanya's date. Maybe I'll go out for dinner.

By the way, Rob, are you home yet? I miss you so much. Don't think I am only mentioning you because I was talking about my alcoholism in this post. That really has nothing to do with it. I don't think.

Update:

I found the phone in the closet under piles and piles of clothes, with the battery dead.

ring a ding

Riiiiight... so the concert was righteous. Didn't make the money I expected, but it was still righteous.
But that's not what we're going to write about.

I got so drunk last night that I woke up this morning with a pounding headache and no idea where my phone is (and it isn't even a cell phone).
I vaguely remember talking to Mike, but I don't remember what we talked about or anything. I also drunk dialed a few other people. So dumb. What did I say? What did I do?
Where is the phone?

There are only a few places a phone could have disappeared to. One of them is the fridge. You never know, right? Another place is behind beds, under beds, couches, behind other shit, in Breakfast's hiding spots. Nada. Where did I put the phone in my drunken stupor?

I checked the parking lot behind my building. I checked my shower. I checked the kitchen sink. This just makes zero sense to me! How could this have happened?!

So anyway, it looks like you won't be getting many calls from me, unless I hike the 3 blocks to the nearest payphone. Which I am unwilling to do. If anyone needs me, you can get me the old fashioned way. You can throw stones at my window. Not through it, though. I don't know if I got so drunk that I deserve that, necessarily. But maybe. You just never know.

Any idea where a drunken Lindsay may have put her phone??

insomniac

I am dead tired.

You know what I can't friggin stand? I hate not being able to sleep. I was so tired after work last night, I thought it would be so easy... I went to bed at 1130 and set my alarm for 930. I lay there. For so long. Nothing's happening. I feel like I'm getting close and then I twitch, I'm wide awake again. I have a stupid fucking song stuck in my head and it's just going over the same lines over and over and over.. "I want to love you, pretty young thing..." over and over and over. I have to get to sleep, I have to get up and go to work. Why can't I fall asleep? And then I start to panic.
Okay, just focus on a white wall. Nothing else. Picture a white wall.
But that fucking song is stuck in my head and why can't I fall asleep? Oh God please let me fall asleep I'm so goddamn tired... WHY CAN'T I FALL ASLEEP? I want to love you, pretty young thing...
So I get up and read 100 pages of The Grapes of Wrath. Try again. It's after 2 in the morning now.
Nothing happens.
It's 330 in the morning. I get up and let Breakfast out to run around and I listen to music. Sometimes that helps. Not this time. I lay down again around 5 and try to sleep. Nothing. So at 630 I say fuck it and have a shower. The birds have started chirp chirp chirping away and I basically want to jump off a cliff. After my shower I continue to lay in bed and hate my life. Until 10am when I just get up and get ready for work. Tired as fuck.
So I look like hell right off the bat, because I haven't slept a wink. I feel like Christian Bale in The Machinest.



Work was awful. I kept thinking people were talking to me when they weren't. I kept fucking up orders. I kept acting weird, bumping into people and things. Everyone could tell. I looked like shit and I hadn't slept. And of course the restaurant just had to get sa-lammed. I was running around like an idiot and I could hardly distinguish up from down I'm so fucking exhausted...
Nothing is worse than insomnia. Nothing. I'd rather have pneumonia any day of the week. I'd rather give birth. I'd rather eat something gross like on those game shows where people eat gross shit for money, only I'd do it for free if it meant I could sleep.
I'm going to pick up some sleeping pills now.
Bartending the Def Lepard concert tomorrow. I kind of have to be alert for that one. I'm not looking forward to it like I was yesterday...
I just want to go to sleep.

TMI Thursday: i can't believe i'm going to tell this story.

This is a secondary warning. This story is disgusting and really embarrassing, so you probably shouldn't read it. But if you're going to read it anyway, just don't say I didn't try and stop you. 'Cause this is me trying.

So there was this one time, k?
I was probably, like, 13 or something. I was surfing the crimson wave. I had to have been pretty young because I don't think I would make this mistake these days... ANYWAY
It was a pretty heavy flow and I was at school.
I was in math class and I thought I felt, you know, the thing you feel when it might be time to change your tampon.
So I raised my hand and requested I go to the bathroom.

... oh god.
So I stand up (I am cringing as I type this) and I ooze this nastiness, and it just kind of bursts out of me and through my khakis, emitting the most foul odour, you can't even imagine.
It even made a sound.

BUT. Because I'm thirteen and I still fart and pretend I didn't fart, as if no one heard it except me, I just run to the washroom in the hopes that no one noticed.
But they did. They all noticed. I will never forget the looks on some of the faces. The grossed out confused mumbles around the room.

So you're probably wondering what the fuck happened on that fateful afternoon.
Well. I guess at one point I forgot to take my tampon out before putting in a new one. So I was running around with 2 of them in me. I can't believe I am posting this...
Anyway, the first one was probably up in there for a couple of days before my body rejected it and it ruined my pants, and my middle school life, forever.

I have nothing more to say on this subject. Let this be a lesson to all of you.

kaput.

I got an e-mail from an ex the other day.
The ex that I said deserved to be fucked in the ass by a toaster. Yeah, that one.
Nice enough e-mail, you know, wanted to check up on me and stuff. All nice things. It sounds as if everything is just peachy for him, which is nice. I'm not sure though.
He suggested that we get together to make peace. Get together for coffee sometime.
I've done this before, with almost every ex I've ever had. And it's always an awful experience. So I don't like to do it. I'm the type of girl that would rather forget you ever existed than to stroll down memory lane with you. If we broke up, chances are most of those memories aren't very good anyway.
Take Joel, for instance. He broke up with me via letter left on our kitchen counter while I was at work. Didn't see him again for, like, 2 months, at which point it was suggested that we get together for coffee! It would've been fine, I'm sure, had I not found out at that point that he broke up with me to be with this girl that I knew deep down he would eventually break up with me for.
Needless to say, I could've done without news like that.

Which brings me to my point:
My relationship with "toaster ex" was toxic. It was so unstable. Sometimes I wonder if we ever even liked each other. We had some pretty intense fights. We have kicked holes in doors, thrown shit at each other, shoved each other, called the cops on each other, he trashed my place, I stole some of his computer stuff, he stole my phone, he packed his shit and left on like 4 different occasions, the list goes on. And the cherry on top of this relationship, the grand exit of it all, was a very uncomfortable visit to a clinic of sorts for me, and he calling my parents and telling them all kinds of things they didn't need to know. I did what I had to do and set to work on healing the gash in my cold, cold heart.
If nothing else, that relationship really thickened my skin, and taught me how to be a decent human being. 'Cause admittedly, I wasn't always a walk in the park, either.
And as usual, I went through some hard times for a while before I healed enough that I could carry on with everything. This required a complete lifestyle change. I abandoned my dog walking business, ditched almost all of my friends, quit smoking, quit drinking, and eventually started dating the toaster ex's polar opposite. And that's been going pretty well, wouldn't you agree?

I haven't responded to this e-mail requesting coffee and peace. I have made peace with the whole thing, without any help from him. He had never had any interest in being anything but a completely destructive force in my life. In the past, he has proven that he has no interest in doing anything besides try to ruin my life. He had even texted Mike once, about me fucking around on him or something. He put shit on the internet. I actually thought he had my apartment bugged. He made my parents think I was absolutely out of my mind. He fucking fucked with my life in every way he could think of! I can't even begin to explain it all. He hated me. Hates me. I don't even know. I don't want to.
I don't want him anywhere near me ever again.

you look like a monkey and you smell like one too.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CANADA

So this year I will be celebrating the same way I celebrate every Canada day. I'll be heading to Gage Park for that festival with all the different types of food from around the world and all the stands where hippies sell their awesome wares. I usually buy a pipe for my ganja and eat Roti's. Or Shawarmas. Last year I picked up Moochie, a weird looking mutant stuffed animal with giant lips.. and I also got a wooden skull with a mohawk of spikes. Super fucking rad. If this year I score even half as good, I'll be a happy girl. Tanya and Breakfast are going to come along. It's going to be ace.