The most glorious sports you will ever see.

Remember when I posted about this comedy gold? Well..

The man. The legend. The commentary. It’s back!

PS – My favourite part was the stretcher that said “Reserved for Sterling”. I’m dying.

It’s all Trumped up.

So the world is a crazy place right now. One of the things I hold dearest is a positive ideology. In general, I believe the world is a beautiful place and that people as a whole are good. The morning after the US election, those ideals took a bit of a hit.

Ok, a big hit.

I went back and forth on writing this because we’re inundated with news of the election. I also didn’t want to be divisive – the world is already divided enough right now. And we’re all really sick of it. Plus, there are people far more knowledgeable than me examining this from every angle.

But dammit, I have a few things to say.

I’m fairly liberal and when I was having conversations about this with some people – primarily strangers (remember when you were told not to talk to strangers? Oh the irony) – I was told one too many times that I watched too much CNN. Which grates my nerves to no end because it undermines me as an intelligent, educated, (and often even fact-checking) woman. It completely dismisses how I feel and think about something.

I’m heartbroken that Trump was elected. Take Hilary, and her flaws and un-likability out of it for a moment. Trump, to me, as not just the president-elect but even as a candidate is completely unacceptable. Who ran a campaign of hateful, misogynistic, racist, xenophobic rhetoric.  And I say that not because I’ve been taken in by propaganda – I say that because of things I’ve heard HIM say.

Real, recorded, on-the-record words that he has spoken.

And the reactions. I saw the people and the media treat this as if it were a cavalier thing. A minor transgression.

It’s not.

(Check out this article on false equivalency)

I’m heartbroken about the message this sends the world. I’m heartbroken about the message this sends my friends and neighbours, who are a variety of ethnicities and call a variety of countries home. I’m heartbroken for me, and my sisters, because of the message this sends us as women.

I’m personally heartbroken because this man is the embodiment of every man who thought he could talk over me. Every man who thought I didn’t know my place. Who thought my value was the measure of how I looked.

Who thought my body was public property.

I’m heartbroken to live in a world that would elevate a man like this to power – for any reason.

I’ve done a lot of drinking, and a bit of thinking, in the time since. I’ve come to some sort of a conclusion. All I can say is this: Hate can’t beat hate. Anger won’t cancel out anger. Fear only breeds more fear.

We have to love louder and harder and brighter than those who hate.

If you are saddened by what you see – go out and bring some love and kindness into the world to balance it out a little. Walk an old lady across the street. Rescue a cat from a tree. Hug an immigrant.

As someone brilliant once said, be the change you want to see in the world.

PS – This made me cry. One of the best things I’ve read since the election.

PPS – We have to have empathy for those whose opinions differ from our own. We won’t solve anything by ignoring them, or dismissing them as ‘backwards’, ‘outdated’, ‘redneck’, etc. The world is teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice and we must start talking. We can’t hope to make things better if we can’t understand the other side.

PPPS – You should always get someone’s permission before hugging them.

PPPPS – Or so I’ve been told.

An open letter to fortune cookies.

Dear Fortune Cookies,

Last week I got one of those cookies with the generic piece of advice fortune inside.

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The fortune says “It is quality rather than quantity that matters. Do a good job.” Firstly, you can’t tell me what to do, cookie. I do what I want.

Secondly, I would like to say this is not a fortune. A fortune is “You will have much luck in your future.”

Or “You’re going to win the lottery next week. Be careful not to blow it all on a life-size statue of Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump dueling to the death. Or tequila shots. You have a 50/50 chance of going broke again.”

Or “Don’t visit Louisiana. You will surely get eaten by alligators.”

My point is, there are a lot of fortune options. ‘Quality over quantity’ is not one of them. It’s a cliche dressed up as wisdom.

Thirdly, the ‘Do a good job’ part of the fortune really bugs me. As if I can’t simply deduce for myself that quality over quantity means ‘do a good job’. It’s condescending. In case you were frantically googling the definitions of quality and quantity, fret not, you have the cliff notes summary at the end to help you out.

Fourthly, sometimes it IS quantity over quality. Ironically, I’d like to point out that you yourself, cookie, are a prime example of this. I believe it’s the entire basis for your creation. I imagine people sitting around a table at your taste-test, and it went something like this:

Jim: “This is worst cookie I’ve ever eaten. It’s as dry as the Sahara. Does anybody have any water? That glass of water is not big enough Judy, did you not just hear me say the Sahara? That’s a desert in case you didn’t know. Get it together Judy.” (Editor’s note: I’m sorry, that Jim is a real asshole. I don’t know what’s up his butt. It’s probably the terrible cookie.)

Ted: “Well, we can send it back to product development, but that’ll be another $10,000.”

Don Draper: “Everybody calm down. It doesn’t matter what the cookie tastes like. People will eat it just because of the tacky piece of paper inside. Let’s move forward.”

Ted: “It’s comprised of 60% cardboard. Are you sure you want to move forward?”

Don Draper: “Will it kill people?”

Ted: “Just their taste buds.”

Don Draper: “I’d call that a success. Somebody light the cigars.”

And you know what? People do eat you. In fact, my mom told me as a child that if I didn’t eat the whole cookie before reading the fortune that it wouldn’t come true and to this day my OCD makes me eat the entire damn cookie first, and if you’re going to make me suffer through that I’d like the fortune inside to the worth the pain.

Sincerely,

Everybody.

Or probably just me.

One of those.

PS – I’d like to get into the fortune-cookie-writing game. I think I may have a knack for it.

PPS – If anyone wins the lottery with the numbers listed at the bottom of the fortune, I want half. This blog post is a contractual obligation to split your winnings with me.

PPPS – We’ll go into the fortune-cookie making business together. We’ll make obscene fortune cookies. They’ll sell like hotcakes.

PPPPS – We’re gonna be supes rich.

PPPPPS – What are hotcakes?

UPDATE: Also, if you do the whole ‘in bed’ bit the fortune reads: “It is quality over quantity that matters. Do a good job in bed.” I can’t disagree with that last part, but is it really quality over quantity? I think the quantity part is pretty important to a healthy sex life too. This is one of those situations where one shouldn’t be forced to choose between quantity and quality.

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I think I’m finally starting to understand this whole ‘sportsing’ thing…

Remember way back when I posted that this is how most sports talk sound to me? Well, I think I’m finally starting to understand the appeal. The man. The legend. The commentary. Pure gold people. Scott Sterling everyone!

PS – I do like hockey though.

PPS – During playoffs. None of that junior league shit.

PPPS – And Olympics. I like those.

PPPPS – But only if Canada wins. Otherwise I get stabby.

PPPPPS – Remind me to tell you about the time we watched the Canadian team play for the gold medal in the Olympics and we did shots for every goal the Canadian team got.

PPPPPPS – I felt like we were contributing members of the team.

PPPPPPPS – Yeah, we pretty much won that one for Canada.

PPPPPPPPS – You’re welcome, Canada.

Killing This

So I’ve been working four jobs and killing myself a little, so I don’t have a real post. I slept today after working 60 hours hours this week, instead of writing. But I’m bowling right now (a little – a lot – hammered) and I’m killing it.

Won the second game.

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Proof! (I’m S).

I’ll have a real post soon!!

I need more sleep.

So it’s 10:30pm on Thursday night and I’m three hours and 1,000+ words into an awesome post for you guys but I have to get up in 4 hours for work and I just have to call it quits and post it next week.

In the meantime, here’s a link to an awesome website that was recently brought to my attention called This is why I’m broke.  With Christmas coming up, I thought you might find it useful.

You’re welcome.

And also, I’m sorry.  Because you are going to spend way to much time there.  They have HILARIOUS things.  And useful things.  And mind-bending things.  All the things really.

I’ve been published!

UPDATE: The link to the G! webpage can be found here!  Don’t be afraid to leave comments so they keep me around longer.  😉

So my first article for G! Magazine has come out, and I’m still pretty excited and shocked that a magazine is brave enough to give me free reign to write about whatever I want!  Frankly, it probably took a lot of courage on their part.  The editor did read my blog so they probably knew what they were getting into.

For now, I’ve got a link to a ‘flipbook’, which is a digital copy of the physical magazine, but I’ll update this post with a website link as soon as it’s available!

To read my very first print article, titled “Coffee Cups and Corpse Poses” click here. You need to be on a computer to view the link.  I’m on page 10 (although in the physical magazine I was page 3 – isn’t that weird?  I know nothing about the online magazines transcription process though.)

There’s a lot going on with me at the moment, my contract with the music festival people just ended so I’m in panic mode trying to find my next job!  So my apologies for writing and running, but I’ve got a job I need to apply for this morning (send me good vibes!).

On a more fun note, this weekend I’m camping at a friend’s cottage for a ‘adult camp’-themed party.  I’ve been excited about this since there was still snow on the ground!  In the middle of winter I shared this link on Facebook for booze-filled adult summer camps, which re-create the summer-camp experience but for drunken adults.  My friend saw it, and since we’re broke people (who happen to live on a beautiful Island), we just decided to do our own version!

This weekend I’m either going to kick-ass at drunk dodge-ball, or more likely, fail spectacularly.  Either way, it’s going to be fun.  I’ll try to document the experience for you.

PS – I’ve been nominated for a blogger award!  Stay tuned, because I’m PUMPED and can’t wait to write more about that!

I’ve been away doing musical things!

So I missed last Friday’s post because I’ve been working crazy hours at super cool, super fun music festivals but I updated my Contact page and that’s kind of like a new post right? It’s funnier! Check it out here!

Toronto Trip – Part Two

Part two – The airplane.

If you missed out on part one you can find it here. Because I still didn’t feel like reading on the plane – I decided to do a complete stream-of-conscious post for you guys.  You’re welcome.  Or I’m sorry.  Definitely one of those things.

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Where’s my seat? What did I do with my ticket? Oh – it’s right here. An aisle? At least there’s room in the overhead for my bag.

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I wonder if the guy next to me with the window seat will switch with me? Should I ask? No, that’s weird.

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But I really wanna ask.  Maybe he doesn’t care if he sits in the window seat.  Maybe he prefers the aisle.

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Then he would have asked for an aisle. Duh. Don’t ask him.

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I am basically an overgrown child.

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There’s a completely empty row right there in first class. What’s the difference? Their seats look exactly the same as ours. They don’t even have a curtain.

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Worst. First. Class. Ever.

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“Excuse me miss? This plane seems kind of empty and I’m just wondering if there’s a window seat available, can I switch?”

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She was the sweetest thing and immediately went “I’m sure we can find you one! Just let me take a look.” Then she lead me to an empty emergency escape row so I had a window seat AND extra leg-room.  Then she proceed to explain the procedure for opening the hatch in an emergency and I probably look crazy because I’m all glassy-eyed from my earlier anxiety and lack of sleep the night before from late-night last-minute packing, AND couldn’t stop smiling wildly because I just kept thinking “You could not have picked a worse person to be responsible for this.  Wait, pay attention. Don’t laugh.  Ah well, I’ll probably figure it out if I need to.  There’s picture instructions on the door and everything.”

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Oh look, the flight attendants are doing their seat-belt and oxygen mask demonstrations.

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I heard all that does [the little oxygen thingy] is get you high – it has nothing to do with the air in the cabin.

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I wonder if I asked if she’d tell me.

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I mean, really, how high can oxygen even get you? Probably mostly urban myth.

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Plus, the people on those “I lived through it shows” NEVER mention getting high from oxygen.

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Plus – a bunch of high people kind of just increases the likelihood of death in an emergency situation. That doesn’t seem like it would be a wise move for the airplane industry.

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Then the announcer said if the flight attendants could do anything to make our plane ride more enjoyable or entertaining, we should just press the call button above our seats.  The entertaining part caught my attention, and luckily for me all the flight attendants took that moment to congregate by my seat:

“Excuse me miss?”

“Yes?”

“The pilot said if there was anything you could do to make my flight more entertaining I should just ask…”

“He was lying.” [She was quick on her feet and totally funnier than me]

“Well, I was just thinking that a stewardess acapella group would make my flight pretty entertaining.”

Then she started volunteering her coworkers for the job!  Which was pretty awesome.  Sadly, although not surprisingly, I did not get to witness a stewardess apacella group on this particular flight.  I do retain hope for the future however.

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Ok, take-off. Shit, I forgot gum. The guy across from me has gum. HE JUST MADE EYE-CONTACT! Big mistake buddy.

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“Excuse me, do you happen to have an extra piece? I forgot mine.” [He did.]

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I might be the neediest passenger ever.

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Ok, so the flight is playing the food network.  And I can’t change it.  And I missed supper. And the planes don’t take cash.  Who doesn’t take cash? It’s cash. I thought cash WAS the universal thing.

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But the food network? What the hell? It’s either super cruel or incredibly genius. Make the people buy the terrible airplane food! Muhahahahahaha! (that’s my evil laugh if you didn’t catch it).

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SERIOUSLY – WHERE ARE THE MOVIES?! What kind of cheap-ass plane is this?

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It’s a good thing I’m arriving to a dinner party.  Seriously, I am getting off the plane and catching a car right to the restaurant.  Like, I think I’m just gonna roll up on a fancy dinner party in my flip flops carrying all my luggage. Like a boss.

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Also, I got all the instructions for getting the car and the restaurant I’m supposed to go to yesterday when I was super brain-fried.  I had just worked a 12 hour day on 5 hours of sleep and my brain was just Done. With. It.

So I really hope things go well on that front.

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TURBULENCE! I’M GOING TO DIE!

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Oh no wait – it’s fine.

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I wonder if you can use those cigarette-vapor thingies on planes?

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OMG – I forgot they give you pretzels!!!!!!!!  Totes satisfied.  Also, the fact that I’m now looking at my iPad screen and not the food network is legit helping.

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I wonder if anyone would mind if I sang along to my music at the top of my lungs?

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Probably.

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I may or may not have just used my finger to lick the bottom of the pretzel bag for that salty crack-coating they put on those things.  I hope nobody saw.

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WHICH calls to my attention – why don’t they hand out the little packs of pretzels BEFORE take-off so completely unprepared people like me have something to chew on while their eardrums adjust to the change in pressure and don’t have to harass the other passengers?

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I wonder what it would feel like to suddenly just drop 10,000 feet? Probably like the sickest roller coaster ride ever.

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Please don’t let karma make that happen just because I thought it.

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UMMMMMMM  – just figured out how to change the channel.  Forget my whole earlier rant. It’s completely inconsequential.  Moot.

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I feel silly.

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So what’s YOUR funniest airport story? I know you’ve got ’em, so comment and share it with me!

Toronto Trip – Part One

I took a trip recently to visit a friend in Toronto and decided to spend my downtime in the airports and on the flight writing.  What follows is the jumble that went directly from my hyper, excited, travel brain to my iPad.

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Part 1 – The airport

Ok, so where I’m from we have this tiny little airport because we are a tiny little island.  I have been to this airport a zillion times and last year I made my sister miss a flight because I told her “oh ya – no worries, you can totally show up 20 minutes before your flight.  It’ll be fine.”

Well, apparently they grew up a bit since the last time I was there and started trying to be a real airport.  Frankly, I liked it better the other way.  But now they want you to be all respectable and show up hours before your flight like you have to at other airports.

So when I was flying today I thought I should be an hour and a half early.  That is not how my life goes however.  So it was looking like I might be more like an hour and 15 minutes (maybe only an hour) early for my flight.  So I called the airport.

“Hi! I’m flying today at 6:30 and I know they say you should show up ridiculously early but let’s be real for a minute and acknowledge that my gate is a two minute walk max from the front door, therefore really I only need to arrive an hour before my flight right?

“Ummm, no.  We have three different flights leaving at that time so checking in and getting through security is gonna be your main problem.  That makes it really hard to say.”

“So I guess I should try really hard to be there an hour and a half prior…?”

“Yup, that would be a really good idea.”

Shit.

Part of me suspected that he was just fucking with me – and trying to be a real airport – but I was like “FINE LIFE – HAVE IT YOUR WAY” then my anxiety kicked off for a really fun two hour road trip that lasted until I was sitting in front of my gate.

And you know what helps that anxiety? Almost getting into an accident on your way to the airport.  Seriously, there were screeching tires and swerving.  When both vehicles came to a stop, the front of his truck was an inch away from my passenger side door.  I was inspecting the bugs on his grill.  I looked at it and went “Nope.  This is fine.  I’m totally calm.  YOU WILL NOT WIN TODAY LIFE.”  And then I just continued my story about how I was going to check my small suitcase because one time they confiscated my nail clippers at airport security because they thought I was going to, I don’t know, take over the plane by threatening to give somebody a bad manicure or something.

So I arrive at the airport and there is literally NOBODY waiting to check and NOBODY at security.  Seriously, I had 6 airport employees just staring at me as I went through.  The guy on the phone was totally fucking with me.

To be fair – I’d probably fuck with people too if I worked at an airport (where 90% of the people are stressed-out travelers).  All’s well that ends well though. Or something profound like like that.

And then I immediately sent this text to my friend who drove me:

I'm practically a drug-smuggler.

I’m practically a drug-smuggler.

So here I was – way too early on time for my flight – and frankly a little bored.  I had brought a book but I didn’t much feel like reading.  Also, I believe in engaging with the people around you when you travel – it makes life more interesting.  So I struck up a conversation with the guy waiting next to me, which was fun.  He was a plumber and told me some crazy plumber stories and I told him about my hangover pipe bursting situation.  If you missed the tale about that time my radiator blew up, you can check it out here.

But then he had to go as his flight was much earlier than mine.  So I started texting all my friends again.  Then THIS GUY sat down (I’ll let the texts explain it):

And you know what?  He WAS sassy!

And you know what? He WAS sassy!

I think he was a little tipsy.  I eavesdropped on his conversation (but I think half the airport waiting room did) but he primarily talked about his nephew failing gym.  His (much less succinct) opinion was “Who fails gym? There much be some underlying issue.”

And while I understand his viewpoint, gym IS pretty easy, I almost failed gym.  Mainly because I skipped A LOT of school when I was in high school.  And I missed even more gym because it seemed even less important than the other completely irrelevant subjects they taught in school.  Except for dodgeball.  I always showed up for dodgeball.  That shit rocked.

And badminton.  I was kick-ass at badminton.

I actually only passed because the teacher said to me “Look – if you just show up for the last 12 classes [which was two weeks I think] I’ll pass you. You don’t even have to participate.  You can sit your punk ass on the bleachers and look sullen.  I don’t care.”

And I was a COMPLETE punk-ass teenager, so I took no offense and actually thought it was a pretty sweet deal (as I had never actually failed anything and didn’t relish the idea of starting with gym – what a stupid thing to fail).

ANYWAY – I considered telling him all this but then didn’t.  Which was probably wise. As I only had an opinion in the first place because I was eavesdropping .

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Coming soon! Part two – the flight! Which totally isn’t like that time I told you there was a part two of the New York road trip and then never posted it.  But there is actually a part two. That I will post someday. Shit, you should probably just stop reading my blog now.