We're done! And we are at your mercy .. have been for a long time now. We apologize for whatever it was that made you punish us this way - most harshly. Whatever it takes for you to stop, we will do it. I speak for all Calgarians when I beg you to please stop making it snow. I am on my knees, and not in the good way. Almost to the verge of praying. We forgot and forgave when it snowed at the end of April, but this isn't funny anymore. Please. For the love of all things good and warm, make it stop snowing.
Sad, cold, wet, Stacy
I have no energy to write anymore letters, the weather has sent me into a great depression. The only thing that can take me out of it now is sexy time. And chips. I have almost lost the will to live. The little miserable letter was brought to you for Julie's blog. Click on the picture below to read more. They probably have a little more life to them ... I'm sorry, I can't go on ....
I was just reading over at A Southern Belle Trying Not to Rust, where she talks about being reunited with Sex and the City in just a mere day. I am as thrilled as she is. Seriously. I got hooked on SATC a few episodes before it ended. It was me and my friend Red M. Over the next few months, I sporadically rented the DVD's, starting back at Season 1. Within months, I was hooked. Renting them wasn't enough. I bought as many as I could as they were released, and each birthday and christmas that passed, a Sex and the City season was at the top of my list. Finally, I had watched and owned the entire series. Beginning to end. And I absofuckinglutely loved it. So I watched it again. And again. And probably again. Not religiously or OCD-like, but an episode or two or three here n there when I have an hour or so to myself. And it helps like nothing else helps when I have a case of insomnia. My couch and Sex and the City. It's not an insult to SATC, like it's so boring that I fall asleep ... it just relaxes me. I watch it over and over because it never bores me. I find that I relate to it differently each time I watch it because I'm at different times in my life, different levels of my relationships. It's a fabulous show. It was a fabulous movie. I can't wait to see 'the second'.
“Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, and those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the-you-you love, well, that’s just fabulous.”
Well, I am officially IN my 30's, compared to a few days back when I was just 30. And it's not too bad. BUT I do go back n forth with that opinion because sometimes it really fucking sucks. Take last Friday for example ... it was my birthday party. To understand in entirety why I was so damn tired that day, I'll go back to about 3am ... when my baby-daddy called. Given that I was up until after midnight and had to wake up at 5:30, I was none too happy. I didn't answer the phone and tried to go back to sleep. I really have to change my phone number ... Friday morning at the office was a bit of a struggle, but by 2pm, I had a great new haircut and was on my way to pick Sydnerella up to take her for my birthday lunch. Just her and I. She wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her old fart mom .... Yes, to all children, their parents are old as dirt, even the one's who are mistook for being about 26 ... serious, that happens! Sydnerella once replied with shock and disbelief "they had McDonalds when you were a kid????" .... Anyway, I was impressed that she wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her mom at Red Lobster, but she changed her mind a little when I went out of my way to park beside a car in the lot that was smashed up so our car would look a little better with it's half-bumper .... and to further mortify her, I named a lobster in the tank at the front door and told her I was going to just tell the waitress to bring me Bob. I changed my mind when I saw how much Bob would end up costing and Sydnerella was relieved. We ordered a little lunch and she gave me a card. That she, for the very first time, bought by herself. She walked to the grocery store with her friends a few days before and picked out the nicest card she could find ... and it was beautiful. And stuffed in it? .... 31 American 1-dollar bills. American money has become a common gift from people on my birthdays because I got to Texas every July and it's always nice to have some extra spending cash to hang with my girls in Texas. I don't know if Sydnerella gave me the cash though to bring her something back, but either way, it was thoughtful and I was very happy to have spent the afternoon with her. And much as I love my moody little almost teenager, I got rid of her shortly after that and went to my birthday party. Exhausted. But lookin damn good I must say for an old fart, with my new haircut and favorite jeans that I outgrew a while back .... good job Slimfast! After the comedy club (where my first drink of the night was a pitcher of long island iced-tea), I brought the party back to my place. About 14 people .... all drinking and all having fun. Before midnight, I took a friend up to my computer room for her to show me a new song on youtube, which I can't for the life of me remember, and the next thing I knew I was waking up with the sun in my eyes. still in the computer room. still in my clothes from the night before ..... I had missed my birthday party! Well the last 2 hours anyway. I had a great time up to the point I passed out fell asleep, but I was done. Finito! And although I was pretty disappointed in my light-weight performance (and ever-so disappointed that I missed my birthday sex), I was not hungover! And not being hungover rocks! So 31 years old has proved to be too old to drink this long kidless weekend because the next day, waking up with all the left-over liquor (which is always the best reason to host a party), I was unable to get down more than 5 drinks for T-Bone's birthday ... and I tried I tell ya, I tried.
It comes with great happiness that my birthday lands on a Friday. Not just because Friday is the best freaking day of the week, but because it gives me a great excuse to link it up over at Foursons for Letters of Intent ....
My letter is short and to the point today ...
Dear ME
HAPPY 31st BIRTHDAY!
Love ME
Now, if you're against using other peoples' McKlinky's for your own agenda (like to get people to read my blog on my birthday), then stop reading because my letter is done. Or .... better yet, keep going and enjoy my pics. Like the one at the top of the page ..... It was my 28th birthday weekend ... always around May Long Weekend, and that's rocks like nothing else rocks because my birthday usually turns into my birthweekend (good job mom & dad) ... back to the picture. I don't own that t-shirt, though I really wish I did now, not that it would fit, but whatever. Me & Silly Sally took a cab off the Las Vagas strip to a mall in the Las Vegas suburbs where I found that shirt. And because it was 300 degrees out and I was hungover to shit, I wasn't thinking clearly enough to buy the shirt, but just clearly enough to put it on and get Silly Sally to snap a picture. wtf? Anyway, I love the picture and change my facebook profile to it every year for my birthday, because if you didn't already know ... it's MY birthday bitch .... I woke up the morning of my 28th birthday looking like this .... (please excuse my chinssss ....)
Don't let the picture deceive you, I wasn't hungover. I was still drunk! And what better way to spend your 28th birthday when you wake up in fucking Vegas drunk and your sister, the only other person you came with is anti-gambling but to hit the outlet mall. Drunk birthday shopping?! Sure! In the hotter-than-hell temps, the lack of nutrients, sleep, and water in my NOW hungover body made that shopping trip quite short. The cab driver stopped at Jack in the Box for some desperately needed grease and we went back to the hotel for a desperately needed nap. After getting all refreshed, this is how my birthday in Vegas pretty much ended ...
Pretty tame ... don't judge! We went to Vegas two nights before my actual birthday so the damage to our livers and bank accounts had already been done and we were partied out .... see .....
That was my favorite birthday yet, but I've had pretty great birthdays ...
and more than a few May Long Weekends where a majority of them were spent nursing hangovers. Happy Birthday again to me. Enjoy Yuk Yuks. And tomorrow .... Happy Birthday T-Bone.
The sun came out yesterday and I figured I'd blog about it since sometimes I feel a darkness to my writing, bitterness? No bitterness here today ladies and gentleman (even though I did just call Sydnerella who talked very bitchy to me because she's 12 and has no fucking patience for her mother and how dare I think that I can call her and tell her to have a good day .....) Ok, now no bitterness .... I had a great day yesterday and still feel great. I've been car shopping, or browsing, since my transmission started to go ... and o mi gawd .... it's painful to drive. Embarrassing to say the least. It's not just the half front bumper hanging on for dear life, it's the time it takes to pull away when a light changes green, or how many times I have to pull over on a highway and turn it off, then on because it wont shift into a higher gear preventing me from going my usual mach 10 speeds. It's a mystery how I ended up with speeding ticket a few weeks back .. and let me add that the picture I received in the mail of my speedy lil shit-box sure made it look purdy .... It's not that I'm being picky with the car that I want to buy, I'm being cheap. Like I told the last pushy sales lady, I can afford the $320 a month for the next seven years of my life it will take to drive away with a brand new Mazda 3 with tinted windows and blue tooth in the steering wheel, I just don't know if I want to. I've grown accustomed to my lifestyle and I don't want to sacrifice anything. I paid daycare fees upwards of $420 every single month of my life since 1997 and since that stopped almost a year ago, I like having that extra cash laying around. I like paying someone to clean my house. I like being able to go to Texas every year without it sending me into debt. I like my expensive brand of cigarettes. And I like just having my hard earned cash to do with it what I want. I'm currently working Mazda and Toyota against each other and the one who can give me my air conditioning, alloy wheels, blue tooth, tinted windows, spoiler, zero kilometers, and everything else I want for the least amount of money is the winner! Toyota is ahead right now with free oil changes for the life of the car, but then again, the Mazda does have black interior ... ahhh decisions, decisions. But it felt good yesterday knowing that after all my past struggles, I'm living in a house that I own and have the means to purchase a brand new car off the lot. And I only owe $16 in taxes this year compared to the eleventy-billion I usually owe. Go Stacy Go. I was almost in such a state of euphoria yesterday that I decided enough time has passed and my beloved lady-bits had healed and since forgave me for the punishment I inflicted on it almost a month ago (read here if you need to be reminded ... ) It was starting to get a little outta control down there again so I took the advice of a friend from work, my bcwf, and went to place called frilly lilly, and no, I didn't get the Canadian wax, eh! I trust my bcwf who had the best interest of my angry beaver at heart and promised me that I would have a good experience at frilly lilly, and she was right. It was like a trip to a tropical resort, walking on white sandy beaches, all you can drink .... compared to my last trip to a war-torn third world country barefoot walking on molten lava. I love frilly lilly and I love my bcwf for sending me there. They had doors that closed, trained estheticians, didn't use waxing strips that pulled three layers of my special skin off causing me to bleed and scream and pass out, they just left me with an over-all good experience of having that ridiculous useless hair ripped out from it's roots. So long suckas .... I felt some discomfort, but no pain, and most certainly no desire to smash the lady hard at work down there in the face with my knee. Can't wait for T-Bone to see it in all it's glory ..... So fast forward to today, because I'm at work and should be working for my cash, the very last day that I will ever be 30 years old again. Unless of course sometime down the road, if me & T-Bone ever break up and I'm trying to score with a young stud, then I'll be 30 again .... But for today, I really am just 30 years young. And I'm celebrating by having the house cleaners come, then going for a 1 hour relaxation massage. Sweeeet! And tomorrow is when the party starts ... Me and T-Bone's birthdays a day apart? May-long weekend? ... hello rehab!
I'm doing this all wrong - this parenting slash living thing. I've been a single working mom pretty much since I was a teenager and I've had enough time to get the hang of this, or so I think. And I should really be playing the role. Picture Miranda in Sex and the City .. only a bigger booty and longer hair. I should be living closer to downtown in a condo that requires only HOA fees to have a nice yard, not my time and energy, with a shared pool (with a pool boy?) and weight room , under-ground parking, and a nanny / house keeper. Hell, this is my blog ... let's throw a cook and a personal trainer in there too. But that's not my life. I'm living two blocks from a Sikh temple, on a street where toddlers run amuck screaming outside my door. Where I have a beautiful house on a large yard that I have to mow, complete with tulips, dandelions, and ant hills. In a nicely renovated 10 year old house that I'm trying to give my personal touch to since it's my quarter of a million dollars plus that I agreed to pay the bank over the rest of my ever-lovin life to live in. And I sit in the middle of my living room, on my favorite item in the whole wide world - my couch - watching my second favorite item in the world - my TV - thinking about all the things I'd like to change, staring at the easter baskets in the middle of the floor, at my elliptical trainer in the bay window, with my little shit box car that I can't fix sitting in my garage with the molding walls wishing that I either had a useful and handy husband that I liked enough to have a few more kids with to justify this lifestyle that I've been trying to integrate myself into or enough money (or motivation I guess) to find comfort in what I am. A single mom. A working mom. And yes, even a soccer mom. Almost 31 years old with an almost teenage girl. Living in the suburbs. Completely out of my element and in way over my head. Circumstance led me to where I am today, and although it's not a bad place by any means, sometimes I just feel like it's not my place. If I knew then what I knew now ... let me tell ya ... things would be a whole lot different. Maybe not better, probably not worse, just different.
12:30pm Friday's are my favorite time of the week. 12 if I make it in to work by 7. There is no greater feeling than leaving work for the day early on a Friday and there is no snow on the ground (well, there IS, but we're not talking about sex time right now .... as a matter of fact, now I am thinking about sexy time, but that'll be taken care of in T minus 3 hours ... damn it's been a long 10 days .... ) Soooo ... our snow has melted and we're expecting a high of 18 today ... capri and t-shirt weather for sure. 25C tomorrow. Hallelujah, thank the lord .... I don't know how much more of winter I could have endured. I've been on the verge of a breakdown from this miserable weather that we can barely function in. Phew ....
Part 1 of today's blog post is to take part in Letters of Intent over at Foursons. Click on the button to read more or add your own.
Dear Sonic,
I am writing to blow smoke up your butt Sonic! I love you. And I live in your nemesis city south of you. About two hours my speed actually. Seriously .... the drive took me two hours last time, without getting a speeding ticket. I've taken my daughter up to the mall a few times over the last few years while driving through to Edson to visit family. I have enjoyed all of my visits to your city ... however .... I did not appreciate all the Calgary-bashing. I will admit though, that I have never heard Calgary-bashing on this station and I thank you for that. We don't Edmonton-bash down here, maybe a few ribs here and there, we've moved on ... We Vancouver-bash now. Anyway, to the point of my letter ... on my last visit to Edmonton, my daughter and I were at the movies when an advertisement came on for this station. Sonic. I loved what I saw on the ad and since Calgary just scrapped my fave station (similar to Sonic) I was on the hunt for a new station. BAD Calgary, we're not ALL rednecks ya know .... Since finding this station and streaming it through my pc all day while I work, I am a much happier little worker. And I have an increased respect for Edmonton and it's taste in music. Good job guys, love the music. And thanks for not Calgary-bashing.
Sincerely,
A faithful listener and non-redneck Calgarian (I think?)
********************
Dear Silly Sally,
You're fucking HI-larious. I am still laughing to myself over you riding up the Centre Street bridge on your new bike. The new bike with the white fenders and the big basket on the front. Wearing a pink dress. Classy. And still oh so funny that I just happened to facing that way on the bus at that right moment so I got to see it.
Your sister, who is not laughing AT you, but with you
********************
Dear HR lady that has been on this floor twice to let people go,
Keep on walkin. Or better yet, don't bother coming back over here. Not that I am worried about MY job because I rock and know it, but you're still an uncomfortable presence. Nobody likes to see the HR lady doing rounds when we know someone was let go the day before. We are not fools, we know everything happens in three's.
From,
A faithful employee who would not go quietly or easy in the unfortunate event that I was stabbed in the back
********************
Dear piece of shit car,
You are skating on thin ice my friend. I am officially ashamed of you. I feel guilt for saying it out loud and I see you trying. But this just isn't going to work. You are missing part of your bumper, so I can't even pretend that everything is ok on the inside. Everyone can see you falling apart and I am losing faith in you. I appreciate what you have done for me so far, but it's time to part ways.
From,
Back on the Market
Part 2 of todays blog post is to take part in my very first ever Friday Follow and I am ever so excited.
I don't know if I'm supposed to do tricks or dance for my prize, but I've linked up and have a little homework to do .... reading through some blogs on the list of 5,000,000 .... consider it done.
I was reunited with an old buddy last night. What I used to call my coat rack but is actually this ....
I bought this several years back when my company started giving us fitness allowances. Jeeze, nothing like telling a group of people they are too fat work here .... Anyway, I had a nice little corner in the living room of my last rental that just so happened to be at the front door. Because the only three times I ever got on the damn thing, the fucker tried to kill me, I decided it worked really well as a coat rack. And I am sooo not kidding about that. I'm scouring all my photo files to find a pic in the living room to attach. About two years ago, I was a little hard up for cash on Silly Sally's birthday, so I gave her my elliptical trainer. Not because she's a fat-ass and I was trying to tell her something (really, she's about 100 pounds soaking wet), but she's really into staying fit and I knew she'd use the machine for more than a coat rack. Well she didn't. Shortly after I gave it to her, she moved into an apartment where it wouldn't fit and it's been sitting in her storage room ever since. All lonely and shit. And I've fallen off the chubby busting wagon a-fucking-gain - eating chips, and wings, and chips, and fries, and carbs, and wings, and McDonalds, and feeling all disgusting. And am now on an all out panic because I HAVE to lose weight before summer but I've lost all motivation to work as hard as I know I can. I don't want to go to the gym 5 days a week and I don't want to give up the second serving of foods that I love. But I also don't want to be this dumpy anymore either. It's not me ... I supposed I'll have to come to terms with never being under 1?0lbs again. And if I can get to 1?0, I'll try to be happy. But I can't sit here, pushing 1?0lbs anymore. Not on my 5 foot, 3 inch tall frame. I can touch my pinky to my thumb around my wrists and can almost put my hand around my ankles for krissakes. My bras are 34" around, I am a tiny person up top and am supposed to be tiny all over. It does not look good that I carry 100+ pounds directly around my mid-section. My ass ok because seriously, I dig my own ass, but not my big fat fucking belly. If I didn't have such a fear of shitting at work, I'd sooo be on those weight loss pills that give you the runs and you poop grease. I'm trying this again ... 30 minutes a night on the elliptical trainer. And I wont even try to fool myself again by putting the damn thing in the basement thinking I'll use it everyday down there. I wont. There's no TV or anything in the basement and I fucking love my TV. My big-ass flat screen TV with 150 channels. So, the elliptical is back in a corner of my new living room. Right at the front door again. But this time, it's facing away from the door where I know I wont be so inclined to walk around it to hang my jackets on the handles.
Let me pour you a glass of whine and serve you some cheese, how 'bout havarti? Not a fan of whine and cheese? Then go back, no need for you to read any further ....
I'm not a fan of Mothers Day. And I feel guilt deep down for thinking this way. And I feel shame when I say it out loud. As if I'm trying to collect pity. I don't think I'm trying to collect pity, but I know how it comes across. Mothers Day isn't the same for a single mother as it is for a mother who has a good husband, at the very least. It's the day of the year when all my rotten past decisions come running back and swirling around my head. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely enjoy the time I spend with my daughter, my sisters, my mom, and the rest of my family on Mothers Day. And I am ever-so-grateful that my sister, Silly Sally, stepped in all those years ago as my stand-in baby-daddy. She's always made sure I, at the very least, don't end up empty handed on this day that I feel so fucking lonely. I picked the wrong guy to be my baby's daddy and even though I think I kicked ass raising his kid even when we were together, he never thought I was worth shit to make sure I had a good Mothers Day. Or any other day really. One contributing memory to my loathing of the day, I stood in the corner of the grocery store with my daughter and her dad. The corner where all the flowers are displayed. It was filled with men picking out flowers for their wives, children picking out flowers for their moms. I stood far enough away from them so that IF they were going to pick something out for me, it would almost be a surprise ... I can't say I was really surprised. I was furious and hurt by the look of sadness on my then 5 years olds face when she excitedly asked her dad to pick something out for me and he said told her "not now". What he really meant was "not ever". I still get flowers on mothers day, but they are from my sister and my daughter. Not that I don't appreciate them. But I still can't help but wonder every single year this day, what it would've been like to have picked that right man to be my childs father. What it would be like to have a husband that cared about us. Would I wake up every Mothers Day to a fresh pot of coffee, or a large double double? Would they make me breakfast in bed, or take me to brunch? Would we have done the Mothers Day Run & Walk yesterday as a family? Would I be left at a spa or on the couch to relax while they cleaned and cooked and did the laundry? Maybe I wouldn't be so inclined to chose the couch lately ... who knows.
What I do know is that I have to get off the pity-pot and I tell myself that every year. I do try. But always end up taking this day to be miserable on the inside ... this time was much fun because it was in pair with some lingering pms that left me bawling at the end Juno while Sydnerella laughed and tried to tell me it wasn't that sad. No, I guess it wasn't. And being a single mom isn't that sad either. So I ended the day watching Erin Brockovich. On an uncensored station. And with every fuck I heard, I felt a little bit better. All joking aside, what I do have is good. What I had before was bad. And that's all I can really say about that .... until next year ...
A friend asked me the other day if I wanted to get drunk with her on Saturday because she needed to blow off some steam. She didn't ask if I wanted to meet her for a drink or two, or hit a dance club for some shooters and cardio. She was looking to drink to get drunk. Period. And because I'm usually looking to blow off some steam and am that great of a friend, I said OK! Saturday afternoon, I hit the liquor store with T-Bone and went one step further with our preparations by stopping at the drug store for the "after-drinking" crap ... ya know - advil, gatorade, lube, the usual .... and we headed back to his place to have dinner and get the condo ready for company. My friend really hit the jackpot Saturday because not only was I on board with T-Bone and her husband to tie one on, but we snagged another three people lookin to get shit-faced. And That. We. Did. The sheer mess and number of bottles left the next morning looked like it was a party of at least 12 .. including an empty bottle of jager. And the empty bottle of lube.
Not really ... but I got a kick outta saying it ....
Anyway ..... Sunday went on, and bits of the night before were coming back ... actually still coming back for some ... I asked another friend today what she ended up buying when we took that cab to the store at 4am (because I found it humourous that I bought coffee cream and a turkey sandwhich wtf?) and her reply was, "we went to the store??!?" Atta girl ..... Now I'm not saying I was on an all-out black out (and probably wouldn't admit it if I was) but some things just needed a bit of coaxing if you will to get them from my memory bank. Like when I opened the browser on my blackberry yesterday afternoon and it was sitting on a google page that said "what is tossing the salad?" Um, scuse me? If I could get a screen shot of what my blackberry history page looks like, I'd show you so you'd know I'm not bullshitting ... but my google history goes a little something like this:
*image results for Zac Efron
*can you orgasm from your ass
*eiffel towering
*adam lambert fever
*tossing the salad
Holy mother of god, what the fuck did we do? I then vaguely remembered a friend asking if any of us had been smacked on the forehead by a penis and that's when all hell broke loose. I bet you're wondering if the night had turned into a 7-person orgy ... well, sorry to disappoint, but I don't think it did. Then again, that would explain how we went through a full 150ml bottle of lube .... again, did not happen, still getting a kick out joking about it though.
So to make a long story short, here's a recap of what I learned on Saturday night / Sunday morning while consuming large amounts of liquor:
~I get fuzzyheaded quicker when drinking than when I was younger
~I am really good at the dvd part of Trivial Pursuit Pop Culture
~I have a lowered tolerance to alcohol than when I was younger
~T-Bones condo board lady turns into a bitch when called late at night for a parking pass by someone who's slurring their words and giving her a piece of their mind about their stupid visitor parking hours
~Only red wine leaves a dark brown spot on light carpet, Boons leaves no spots at all
~I can not smoke tha wacky-tabaccy
~Tossing the salad is prison lingo and involves the back door and salad dressing
~6 potato chips on the floor will cover the entire living room if there are enough drunken people walking over them for 5 hours
~Advil and gatorade and greasy buffet breakfast cures ALL
~Eiffel towering involves three people doin the nasty and a high-five
~the amount of redbull in the glass should be higher than the shooter glass full of jager
and
~Zac Effron is hawt ... see ....
And for your listening pleasure, Adam Lamberts version of Fever ... so it's being sang by a dude to a dude ... what-the-hell-ever ...
