Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Woolly Mammoth Much?

18 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
So, have you ever accidentally skipped a Saturday's worth of brow plucking... only to realize in your tacky mirrored closet doors in the bright sunlight (as you let the dogs outside) that you have somehow morphed into a woolly mammoth?

If you said no, you're a fucking liar.

Or a dude.

Approximation. Slightly less tusk-y.

Also? The person who invented the 5-times or 10-times magnification mirror is one sadistic motherfucker.

Have you ever had a day where you kicked some ass at work and felt great? Did a workshop and felt like you accomplished a lot? Had fun being a social butterfly, gettin' out there, feeling good? Then looked in one of those goddamn mirrors?


Some things are just not meant to be seen that close up. Or in high definition.

Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck. Just IMAGINE his EAR HAIR!

Moments like this make me wish that:

A) I had a home waxing kit
B) I had the balls to actually use the wax and personally, painfully tear it off of my face without losing flesh
C) Spend my life savings on total body laser hair removal. Give or take a few regions.

I'm pretty sure that I need that dude that drives the blade-sharpening truck around the neighbourhood (with creepy music) to help restore what once was back to my tweezers. They are currently shuddering in the bathroom drawer.

You know the guy... he preys on suckers like me and Feyoncé™ who are all green 'n shit and use a push blade mower. You'd recognize our house by the uneven, patchy grass and general inability to cut down that wheat grass weedy-shizz.

Anyway, gonna have to set "tweeze" as a recurrent event in the ol' Google calendar. With reminders. Reminders, people.

Next thing I know, my nose hair is going to stake it's own country on my face. Fuck.

But with more flag... (image)

Whatever. It makes it more of a challenge to see my real beauty.

Just bring your machetes, bitches.



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Saturday, June 25, 2011

Hot & Sweaty

16 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
Awwwww yeeeeeeah, boooooyeeeeeeeeee.

I went clubbin' tonight. And though I am Canadian, I don't mean baby seals.

OH! HAI! I iz layin' around, bein' Canadian and adorable. What's that long club-like thing in yer hand? *innocent eyes... tearing up...*

I went to the good ole local dance bar. I didn't want to go, because it often caters to the "older" crowd... then I sort of realized that I AM that demographic.

Though, admittedly, better than a bunch of 19 year olds grinding up on each other.

The DJ had the nerve to play "Saturday Night" by Whigfield... and mention that shit was on the charts in 1995. Which, if you were wondering, was over half my lifetime ago. FUCK. Thanks DJ.

I DO remember being at an "all ages" club dancing to that song. Feyoncé™ bragged that it wasn't half HIS lifetime ago. I just concluded it means he is REALLY old.

So, as much as I joke about the crowd, I did indeed feel pretty good that I wasn't the oldest by a decade.

I shook my booty. I incorporated moves from my Zumba class. I sweat and realized I don't have the endurance I once did as a desperate single girl in my twenties.

A polyester shirt (What, don't hate, that shit is CLUB GOLD), 2 feet of smothering hair, new metallic earring that stuck to my neck sweat, and boots over jeans because I left my funky sandals somewhere else over the weekend: All things conducive to cooking yourself from the inside out.

I was a sweat factory. I'd like to think it was a stunning "dewy" look, but in truth, my eyelids were even sweating. MY EYELIDS, people. Feyoncé™ joked that next time he would have to wear a toque and scarf to experience the same effect. Pffff. Men.

Not to be confused with C & C Music Factory, or their song "Gonna Make You Sweat" which I ALSO remember dancing to in or around 1992. I had that TAPE... word to your mother.

I realized that a lot of my old favourites are fucking RETRO now. Dear Gawd.

I requested my new favourite song - the explicit version of Enrique Iglesias' "Tonight I'm 'LOVING' You", and they played the clean version. Feyoncé™ requested "More" by Usher, but it was not meant to be. Probably for the best in the end, because I probably would have overheated... much like a 31 year old car.

It WAS good to get out there and shake my ass again. It's been a long, long time.

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Sunday, June 19, 2011

Now Flavoured With Bacon!

8 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
My aunt-in-law sent me this video and *I* think it is adorable... not sure if Feyoncé™ felt the same about it, but my parents got a kick out of it.

Anyway, here goes:


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Thursday, June 16, 2011

I'm not dead... sort of...

11 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
Hi everyone!

I know, you've probably all assumed that I have left the blogosphere and collective interwebz, on a quest to find the golden chalice, instead running into car trouble in Albuquerque, becoming stranded, dehydrated, living off of a raven carcass, all the while drinking my own urine to stay alive.

Well... you would be partly right.

Anyway, life has been very interesting for the past six weeks. I have no abandoned the blog, just had to focus on things like carcasses, urine and gold.

I'm sure you understand.

You know, all two of you that still bother to come back and read. Okay, okay, sorry mom. All three of you.

I promise to be back, with tales from afar. Dogs with PTSD. Learning how to grow... into a larger-sized Diva cup.

(Only some of this is true).

(Okay, maybe all of it).

I don't have the ability to include a self-portrait with Fergus (the dead raven) on the side of the road, so you'll just have to trust me for now.

And no, I am not tapping my fingertips together like Mr. Burns, eerily whispering the word "EXCELLENT..."

(Okay, it's true, I am).

I shall return... sooner than we all think.

I can see a very burly, terrifying man approaching in a tow truck now. Wish me luck!

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Sunday, June 5, 2011

Blonde Jokes

8 COOOOOOMMENTS! Now you speak up!
Compliments of my niece....

What do you call a blonde who dyes her hair brown?

Artificial Intelligence.

What do you call a blonde with two brain cells?


How do you get a one-armed blonde out of a tree?

Wave to her.

What does a blonde owl say?

What, what?

Why did the blonde scale the chain-link fence?

To see what was on the other side.

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