Dec 28, 2009

Hey Nice P.J's...Do You Still Live With Your Parents?

Sorry I've been away for awhile. I have been yet again busy hating my life on many different levels. But it's getting better...the pharmaceuticals that I am taking are causing me not to feel dead inside. Although they come with the side effect of me wanting to make out and rip some random strangers clothes off. The problem with this is, I have no potential suitors at the moment and making out with my pillow is getting old.

Christmas was alright (besides the vicious hangover I had on Christmas day.) I got some great gifts...I was spoiled...well that was until I opened the box with my pajamas in it.( Also included were Granny panties but I don't want to touch that issue.) These are the pajamas that solidified my fear of living with my parents the rest of my life may actually be a reality. I think my parents have become aware that it is quite evident I will rot in their house until at least my 50th why not bundle this bitch up in some wacked out cotton pattern 'cause our daughter sure won't be getting any. 

Anyway, the new pajamas I just got are what I have named "The unfuckable spinster classics." They are cotton and blue and have tons and tons of flowers all over them. I would definitely equate them to an old wall paper pattern that our parents had in their kitchen in the 80's. Either that or something you would see on elderly woman in a nursing home. I asked if I could return them and get money for an iPod but that didn't go over so well. (I'm actually sitting in my room and writing this as I am wearing them...they are comfy.)

So the holidays became busy I just got back from a dinner party in London with my University girlfriends. 4:30am was bedtime and 12:43 was my train time. When I arrived at the train station I went to pay for my ticket. Ticket man was staring at my wrist intensly. I was thinking "what the fuck is this guy looking at." I have a tattoo on one of my wrists but this hand wasn't the one. So I looked down at my wrist as I was passing him my money only to realize that I had forgotten about  the giant penis and balls my friend drew on my arm after our drinking game. (Yes, my maturity level is not where any normal 28 year old's would be) I immediately tried to snatch my money up with my left hand (this hand goes a little spastic sometimes and it becomes hard to hold drinks or trays of food without throwing them on the floor) So as the line up builds I start sweating like a whore in church trying to get my money and ticket off the counter while hiding my penis hand behind my back. That was nice.

Well, I really don't feel like writing anymore and coming into a writers block or as my parents call it "just plain stupidity."

I will write again in the new year-until then folks....I'm just livin' the dream


Sep 30, 2009

How Was Your Summer?

I have been dreading running into people in my hometown in fear that they may ask "Hey Amanda, how was your summer?"

I have been avoiding local hotspots like the grocery store, in fear that the below response would fly out of my mouth:  *This is intentionally 1 sentence.*

"Well I didn't have a job which meant that I barely went out and when I did, I would be sweating so much that the front of my hair went curly while the back was straight and my skin was oily so no one talked to me  at the bar so I ended up drinking a lot because I felt so unattractive and the drinking caused me to have major heartburn the next day which mimmicked a heart attack and created a lot of anxiety which in turn made my road rage intolerable which increased my bitchiness so when I got home to my parents place which I just moved into at the age of 28 and where I will die, I would fight with them because I was dying of a hangover and lingering road rage which would cause me to eat my feelings and stay up all night watching documentaries on deadly bear attacks and repeats of extreme home makeover in between googling "celebrities with cellulite" and eventually I would fall asleep for maybe an hour or two and dream of what it would be like to have sex then I would wake up and think about the time I thought I was pregnant and immediately be turned off then remember I live with my parents so chances of me having sex are like the chances of me discovering the cure for cancer and then I would think about how much cellulite I have and want to stay in bed all day, but that wouldn't be possible because of the telemarketers that call our house 4 million times a day so I couldn't sleep so after I thought about it, I would get my fat scottish ass out of the bed to go down and stand in my parents fridge for oh... I don't know- about 30 minutes and then promptly complain that there was nothing to eat, squeeze in Law and Order at noon, sit on facebook for a couple hours, think about something witty to say in 140 characters or less to update my twitter page of which I mainly follow celebrities because their lives are far more interesting than mine only to update my status and have no one @tweet me, then I would try and catch a nap before Ellen started but that was impossible because I was continually thinking about not having a job while rubbing anti-wrinkle cream on my forehead wrinkle and then I would get a text from Meagan about her latest date and then think about how I am not dating then go on a dating website only to be verbally accosted by complete strangers whose tag line was "I would do anything for love." which really meant "I am fat, desperate, socially inept and super creepy and have a really small penis" so they would message me and ask me out which caused me to hide my profile and swear off online dating then my mom would come home see me in my pajamas and tell me that I needed to get a life and then I would say "with whose money...yours?" then she would tell me to "fuck off", at which point I would grab her car keys take off in her car in my pajamas and drive around the neighbourhood and scream sing "Billy Jean," while simutaneously crying and wishing that my summer was better. How was your summer?"

Sep 24, 2009

I Need A Muzzle

If you haven't noticed, I am awful at keeping this blog up to date. I wish I could say it's due to my chronic dating addiction and Maxim photo shoots but no such luck. (In reality it's more like I have been busy with my addiction to internet porn and Betty Crocker.)  I have however, been interviewing at a few companies and have been offered a job. I immediately took it and am very excited about it...looks like I won't be dying a spinster in my parents basement afterall. All my repenting for being a tad slutty in my younger years has finally paid off.

I am not quite sure how I managed to pull off my first interview. I know I can be charming but I actually sounded incredibly intelligent. I was so proud of myself. I didn't sweat, swear or mumble which in my books, is a good day.

However, in my second interview, I really felt the pressure to "bring it,"  because I knew it was a good sign they asked me to come back. Despite the fact that my ass had been eating my pants all morning and my wedgie was splitting me in half, I managed to pull off another great interview. I felt incredibly comfortable. So comfortable in fact that when my boss asked me what I was doing this weekend, I told him "pole dancing." Which wasn't a lie. I was going to learn how to be an exotic dancer at a bachelorette party I was going to.  It literally just flew out of my mouth. He stared at me with a blank look on his face. At this point the oxygen supply was limited to my brain. I felt my face turning purple and the awkwardness between us was unreal. He then followed it up with "Don't go moonlighting as a stripper, " and thankfully, began to laugh.

Holy fuck. Was I really having this conversation with my new boss who thinks I am smart and professional?

Wait, it gets worse.
I decided to take the spotlight off of me as he was walking me to the elevator so I asked him "What are you doing this weekend?" Now please keep in mind that I had been working on my positive attitude prior to this interview so my response to everything would be enthusiastic and it would appear to others that I am not an empty shell like I have felt for months.

"Well, one of my colleague's father passed away suddenly so I am going to the funeral home tonight..." before he could finish, I responded with great enthusiasm  "Nice!" I immediately had a flashback from the movie P.S I Love You when Harry Conick Jr. asks Hillary Swank "What did he die from?"
"A brain tumor."

Thankfully, my boss continued talking without the acknowledgement of my inappropriate conversation skills.

No doubt I will be back on the market in no time for another job.

Keep it real bitches.


Sep 14, 2009

The Littlest, Creepiest Librarian

I typically avoid going to the local library since my incident last summer and the fact that printing on the library's paper has now afforded me the option of only sending one of my future children to University. It's so effing expensive. Did Jesus touch this paper? Was it recycled from the menus of "The Last Supper?" Jesus.

Anyway, this post isn't about the cost of paper (BORING) it's about the creepy 4 foot tall woman that swears she knows me and eerily watches me from her desk everytime I go in there. Before I even go into the library, my heart starts to palpitate in fear that the elf they have employed there is going to touch me inappropriately behind the book shelves.

It was last summer when I was at the library quite a bit doing some research on doing my post-grad studies when I went to check out a movie (Win a Date With Tad Hamilton. Fuck he's hot.) that Tinkerbell struck up a conversation.

Her-"I know you from somewhere."
Me in my head-Tell me I didn't sleep with your husband.
Me for real-"Oh really? I grew up around here."
Her-"Your name is Susan."
Me in my head- Shouldn't you ask me if that's my name and not tell me?
Me for real-"Oh, I'm sorry it's not. You must have the wrong person." (Even then for some reason, I had a funny feeling that this could turn into a scene from Misery with me tied to a bed and her standing over me with a sledge hammer.)
Her-"Yes it is." She stared right through me. Ugh. Gives me shivers.
Me for real-"No. No it's not. My name isn't Susan-it's Amanda."

It went silent as her beady little eyes just looked up at me. I took my movie and ran.
A couple days later, I went back in hopes that she wouldn't be there. Sure enough she was and has been subsequently every time I have gone back. Each time I go back, I see her become slightly aroused that I am there. She gets this odd look on her face and this head tilt as she watches me. (I have exceptional side glancing abilities.)

Tonight, I just went in for a couple minutes to print some things and there she was. The devil-all wrapped up in a little, short weird package staring at me like I just ran over her favourite cat. Ew. Just writing this I am baby barfing in my mouth a little.

So OF COURSE, the computer that I am using isn't able to print my stuff and there are no other computers available.(I had to make this visit short as Intervention was coming on and I started to panic.) Anyway, I frantically looked around to find a librarian that wasn't busy but to my luck and instant horror I saw the anti-christ walking towards me. Game time decision-do I ask her for help and risk winding up dead in the forest by my house? Or do I wait patiently? Patience is not my virtue so out it came-
"Excuse me? Can you help me with my computer?"
She didn't say anything. Nothing. She just stared at me. What the fuck do you do in this situation? SO WEIRD. So I just turned around and walked away-she followed me.
I got back to my desk and sat down and she literally came up behind me and pretty much rested her head on my shoulder. I am talking like she was blowing in my ear.
"Give me the mouse." She whispered. Ahhhhhhh...She's so creepy.
I sat there and didn't move a muscle.

Her garlic breath wafted up my nasal cavity and into head triggering horrible memories of eating pizza after the bar. I thought to myself as her dirty nails gripped the mouse, "Is this going to be the last thing I remember before she jumps out of the glove compartment of my car and smothers me?" God help me.

Before long my pocket sized friend had my problem fixed and THREW my papers at me. I am really not sure what to make of this situation. Should I just tell her my name is Susan to avoid being a 48 Hours Mystery special?

You say it best, when you say nothing at all.

When in doubt, don't say anything. Which is what I told my father the day after the vagina monologue aired  in my parents house. (See below blog post for further explanation.)

I wasn't able to choke on the feathers in my duvet so I eventually went down stairs and faced my Dad. At first, I just stuck to speaking to my mom. My dad, feeling left out looks at me out of no where and says "I used to wipe your bum." For some reason he had to get yesterday's episode off his chest.

"C'mon. Fuck. Dad, " I yelled. "Is it necessary to bring this up? Jesus." I could feel my face turning as purple as his as my mom stood chopping onions and scream laughing in the kitchen.

Why say anything? Really? I understand that verbal diarreah runs in the family but it's kind of an event that you don't speak of. For instance, it's like the first time you have sex with someone and talk dirty and the other person looks at you and says "what?" You just don't bring it up. Ever. It's like it didn't happen.

Anyway, felt as though I needed to follow up and let you know that I survived.

Sep 1, 2009

Tiny Blog

Today a homeless man on the street told me he wants to "give it to me good." After stopping to contemplate his offer, I decided against it. Although looking back there have been no other offers on the table lately and technically I wouldn't ever have to tell anyone. It's not like I would tell my friends " I hooked up with a homeless dude yesterday behind a dumpster." Oh well, life is full of regrets.

This is off topic but is anyone else wildly sick of hearing about Michael Jackson? Don't get me wrong he is a legend, but let the man rest. Speaking of rest, his father looks like he hasn't slept in... oh I don't know, about 60 years. He looks a bit like this pimp I used to work for man I used to know.
Anyway, I will be going offline for a couple days until I get wireless access at my parents. Oh dear Jesus help me.


Aug 31, 2009

Thanks For Ruining My Day.

There's a giant man hole in the intersection where I am staying in Toronto and I briefly thought about jumping in it after the day I had. Terrible, terrible day. I don't think it helped much that I watched The Notebook before going to bed last night then subsequently saw a Jenny Craig commercial which reminded me that

a) I should probably swing by the pet store on my way home to my parents on Wednesday and pick up about 9 cats as I will die a spinster in their basement.
b) I should invest in a bunch of elastic waist pants as my ass is like a Chia pet. It just keeps growing. "Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia."(I know you all said that in your head)

This morning when I woke up and looked in the mirror I realized that I am a cross between Kirsty Ally and Courtney Love. Not feeling at my best, on my way to an interview, some douche bag yelled obscenities out of  his truck window at me and all I could do was yet again, burst into tears. I am so mad at myself for not telling him I hope his penis spontaneously combusts and that he gets herpes of the face.

Generally speaking, I can only express my opinion to douche bags and bitches out loud in public during the holiday season in mall parking lots. That's really the only time that I scream obscenities at strangers. In most seasons I just verbally assult people in my head (or via email) and smile at them.

Anyway, I am kinda glad that my parents didn't raise me to be an asshole. At least not publicly.

Must go. Into my second hour of Intervention.


Wow. A Blanket With Sleeves.

Last night while channel surfing I came across one of the most ridiculous inventions I have ever seen. I know it's be in out for a while but as the memory tends to block horrific memories, I had forgotten about this giant munk-like blanket with yes, if you can imagine...sleeves. Today I went to write a post about it and googled "Snuggie," and stumbled upon this video. I feel a post is uneccesary as the video hits the nail on the head. How incompentent does one have to be...Hilarious.

Aug 30, 2009

Womanly Banter

Quick post-I noticed today that most of my postings refer to urination and generally have the not- so- subtle hint of how desperate I am. So I decided to take the attention off my own bladder and my "no no special spot" for a minute. Instead, I have created a list of conversations that happen between women at the bar and the next day after the bar.

(These lists are not ordered. I am too tired to rank the importance of these rambles.)

The Night Out
1. "Do you think that I should still go home with him? But look he's making out with that girl in the corner. That girl has acne. I am prettier than her right?"
2. "Pinky swear that when we leave, that we can get hot dogs?"
3. "That girl is a whore."
4. "Don't go to the washroom without me. K? Promise? Swear?"
5. "I love you. I love you so much. It's like ridiculous. You are like totally my best friend. Where did you get your lipgloss?" (This person is a stranger)

The Morning After -typically spent with a "what the fuck?" look on your face as a friend reminds you "That was so funny when you...." But is too nice to give you the EXACT details.
1. "When's your next appointment with your shrink?"
2. "OMG. No one noticed that you took your shirt off in the bar. I swear."
3. "I totally didn't tell anyone you had unprotected sex with a stranger last night."
4. "Honestly, he will totally call you. He probably didn't hear you fart in bed."
5. "Maybe next time don't order doubles. Maybe just stick to beer."

This list was inspired by only conversations that I have heard other women have. Definitely not me. I am a lady. Not.


Aug 29, 2009

I Can't Catch a Break

I am continually impressed with my ability to make really poor choices in my life. For example, a poor choice would be drinking a litre of wine and 3 pitchers of beer like I did last night. (Not alone in case you were wondering.)

My decision to drink like a sailor leads to painstaking hangovers which induces self pity and laziness...but this morning of all mornings I was one bitch that couldn't be lazy. At 9 am I woke up and finished moving (with the help of a friend thank Christ) then I had to drive my fat ass back to Pickering with the last of my belongings. I probably shouldn't have been operating heavy machinery ie; my car, but I always enjoy driving as it's the only place I can scream sing comfortably.

I refused to stay in my hometown for the weekend so me and my pounding head and bad breath hopped on the train back to the city. After what seemed like a century I had to hop on the subway. Oh joy. We all know how I enjoy the fucking subway. My favourite part of today's subway ride was when there was a power outage and we were underground for oh ummmmm 20 very long minutes. During which time I was hoping those Jehovah's have a point and the world really is coming to an end. I would have been JUST fine with that in that moment.

(Please note that since 9am I have had a raging case of cotton mouth that became progressively worse the day has gone on.)

After coming to terms that the subway was not going to be my final resting place, I got off and went straight to the food court to get a fountain pop. A diet coke on the rocks always does the job. So as I was standing in line, I noticed an old woman struggling with her tray and her bags as she walked to her table. So me, being the good samaritan I am, left my place in line and carried her tray to her table. AS I WAS SETTING DOWN THE TRAY, HER GIANT CUP OF ICED TEA FELL OFF AND INTO HER PURSE. THIS IS ME SCREAM TALKING.

I felt sooooo bad that this elderly woman could very well be in her final days, and one of her last memories/burdens of life is ordering a new cheque book as I just soaked it in iced tea. On impact, I just burst into tears. The iced tea was absolutely everywhere. Her purse and the contents in it were soaked. She handled it much better than I did. She was sweet enough to tell me not to worry about it but I insisted on cleaning everything up.

Seriously. I can't catch a break people.

Finally I got back up to the apartment to sit down to write this while it was still as fresh and as horrifying as my breath...and you know what? If I never leave the apartment again, it would be too soon.

God, if you are reading this, I know I was a slut in University but I think its about time you cut me some slack.

Aug 27, 2009

Got no Game

Just a quick post...this just happened in real time. ***I need to preface it by mentioning that I am highly unstable today...I burst into tears in a dressing room in the mall and I can't stop swearing.***
I was lying on the couch up until about an hour ago feeling sorry for myself and thinking that I should probably grow my nails and then it occurred to me that I am moving this weekend from my own apartment in the city and I have done next to nothing...well I went there today only to throw things around my room. I left it like it had been ransacked by terrorists, but I had a really bad day so I had 2 options:
Option 1. Stay and throw all of my belongings out the window
Option 2. Leave...
I chose the latter.
Anyway, out of guilt and sheer panic I decided to go back to my apartment tonight and pick up some things and put them in my car so I could at least sleep for a little tonight. So I got there, stepped on some glass with my barefoot, bled a little, sweat and then felt a meltdown coming on so I left.
Why the meltdown Nanners? Oh, I don't know, I am moving back to my parents place after living on my own for 5 years in the's my own damn fault. I partied like I was on vacation in Vegas for pretty much the entire time.
Off topic again. Got back to the other condo and me and my sweaty upper lip got into a little bit of a tiff with the concierge because he wouldn't open the god damn garage door to the underground parking. So I started shaking. When I get really mad or nervous I get this twitch in my neck (it's not noticeable but I can feel it so I start acting; looking intently at the person to see if they can notice it.)
Finally parked the car, carried a bunch of into the door in the underground and forgot to lock the car. Back out to the fucking car. So on my way back, the Greek Adonis that God sent to me, came through the door at the same time. I got all tingly in my special spot.
So we are waiting for the elevator and I am totally side glancing him to see what he is doing and he is playing with his I started playing with mine...awkwardly as I held bags. (He didn't know I was just scrolling the ball of my BlackBerry up and down....looking at absolutely nothing.) C'mon, we all do it.
Out of no where, he turns to me and says..." Did you forget to lock your car earlier...don't you hate that?" He chuckled as angels around him sang and his pearly whites shone at me. Him asking that question means...he saw me struggling with my bags and probably heard me say "Holy motherfucker, I just can't catch a break." Undergrounds tend to echo. Awesome impression.
How do I respond? "Yeah, I hate that." (should have left it there Nanners) I continue, "Cars are really expensive and I would hate to wake up and it was missing." O.M.G. Just shut your mouth already. He just looked at me and nodded.
Finally, what felt like a bloody century, we hopped in the elevator (where I was hoping we would dry hump) but this is the point where I noticed my B.O.... not sure if he picked up on it but that would be just fab.
BUT WAIT. JUST WAIT. Somehow I guess he was listening to a message on his phone but he had it on speakerphone (weird) and I turn to him and say "what's that noise?"
He responds " um uh, a voice. "
At this point I am asking Jesus to make the elevator go lightning speed right up the shaft (haha) to the twelfth floor.
The story has a weak ending because nothing came of it, I just ran/limped out of the elevator hoping to leave behind the scent of a b.o.
Ladies, I ain't got no game.


Awww...You pissed yourself. That's so cute.

There are many people that partake in voyeurism -most of them are in jail or on probation but what I am about discuss is "low level" voyeurism. People watching. One of my favourite things to do is to watch people. Particularly children-now I am sounding creepy, but I mean it in the most innocent way. No need for hidden Dateline cameras.

Going back to children- they are the most fascinating little creatures and I am so envious. Why? For instance, this morning there was this kid in front of me at the train station, probably about 4 years old and all of a sudden he turns around to me and puts his arms and his head inside his shirt. I was jealous. Man, I wish that I could do that on the subway and not be put in shackles and a white jump suit. (If you haven't noticed from previous posts, I have a huge problem with public transportation and the people that are on it.) Anyway, to me, if I could put my hands and my head in my shirt on the subway it's kinda like putting up a little "fuck off" sign. Genius. I certainly wouldn't talk to someone who appeared headless and crazy.

While I am on the topic of kids, I didn't witness this event today but it's a very common occurrence for children-peeing your pants. My heart just breaks when I see a kid that has just pissed their pants in public. When in my adulthood, will it ever be socially acceptable for me to pee my pants in public and my friend's turn to me and say (with a sympathetic head tilt) "Oh honey it's okay, just next time try and get to the washroom." Yeah fucking right. I peed once on the floor during a ski trip in University and my friends have not let me live this down. I'll have you know there were funny cigarettes floating around and I suffered a significant loss at beer pong. Cut me some slack bitches.

Another thing that kids do is projectile vomit in public. It's all good. I mean, it's not cute...but its manageable. However, when I do it, no one thinks it's cute. For example, a couple months ago on my birthday, I thought the window was open in my cab because I felt wind in my hair (it was the A/C blowing) so I turned to lean out the window and smashed my head off of it and simultaneously vomited. My cab driver didn't think it was cute. I ended up walking home covered in barf. A kid could get away with it though. (Leave your "you should know better" comments to yourself.)

I guess the point I am trying to make is that I really wish that peeing and barfing, even in the boardroom wouldn't make me a social deviant.

***My maturity level and my ability to be rational are definitely the reason behind me being single.***

Aug 26, 2009

Dear Diary...

***This post must be read in a "Debbie Downer" tone and would be a real diary entry if I had one.***

Dear Diary,

What a day I had. I woke up with the extreme urge to pee, but still, I lay there in bed out of pure laziness thinking about all the dishes in the sink and how much better the sheets would feel if I actually shaved my legs this summer.

After peeing and counting the wrinkles on my neck in the mirror, I walked into the kitchen to look at the dishes in the sink then I slowly walked over to the couch and turned on Maury Povich. Most look at Maury as a trashy show, I look at it as a gift of sorts. It allows me to be thankful that I don't have a baby daddy, a terrible weave and the urge to wear a mesh off the shoulder shirt AND most importantly I don't have to worry about someone throwing a chair at me when they find out that they are my baby's father.

Diary, thank you for letting me vent today. I have been thinking a lot about how my vagina has been in a recession just about as long as the economy and I really need to do something about this. Prostitution is an avenue I have considered more than once when I saw my phone bill last month but I just can't go through with it. That's a good thing right?

I am thinking something that would help get me out of my funk while looking for a job and casual sex (just kidding mom) would be going to the gym. My inner thighs have been rubbing together since 2006 and I fear I will be featured in one of those obsesity clips you see on the six o'clock news only showing the unsuspecting person's lower body. You what I mean? When you only see their torso and their shorts riding straight up to their crotch to create a serious case of camel toe. Don't let me be a part of the obesity epidemic.

Diary, it seems like all my friends are getting married. I am thinking of immigrating to Russia so I can be featured in a male order bride magazine so some rich, hopeless American can purchase me and I can just live the sweet life. The only thing is, I fear that I will end up on 48 Hours Mystery as these types of courtships tend to end up with someone dead in a forest. Oh what to do!

Well I must get back to Twitter and Facebook, uhhh I mean Monster and Workopolis.

Good talking to you Diary.

Sing It Biatch

So as I was having a dance party last night in my friend's apartment which I am house sitting, and subsequently ruining her suede furniture with wine, I had an obscure, not that someone will one day fall in love with me and all that jiggles, but if I had to pick a theme song of my life just like a good movie or play, what would it be?

I couldn't narrow it down, I feel there are many songs that get to the core of how I feel, who I am and what I am thinking....

Here's my top ten that I narrowed down off the top of my head. I have put some reasons why I chose each song in particular so you can better understand my choices. They are as follows:

10. Beyonce-If I Were a Boy.-My life would be a fuck of a lot easier.

9. Beyonce-He's My Man- Ummm until I saw you kissing him and then shortly thereafter change your facebook status to "ENGAGED."

8. Ella Fitzgerald-Fever-Which is something many folks believe I have due to my raging case of Rosacea.

7. Gin Blossoms-Follow You Down-Yes, that's exactly what I did, I downed my Gin, I followed you down the stairs, out of the club and watched you walk away.

6.One Republic-Too Easy-This pretty much sums up my University career. Sorry Mom.

5.John Mayer-Gravity-Which at the ripe age of 28 seems to be pulling my tits and ass further towards the ground.

4.King's of Leon-I Say I Love You-And we sit there in an awkward silence...Of course followed by a "thanks."

3.Sir Mix-A-L0t-Baby's Got Back-I am pretty sure this speaks for itself. And in case I needed a reminder, a nice old gentleman reminded me in McDonald's yesterday that "Chu hav a preddy face but a beeg butt." Thanks asshole.

2. Tara Oram-Go to Bed Angry-Generally this is a common occurrence. This could be due to slight annoyances such as being unemployed, a stranger throwing bird seed at me, stepping in barf in flip flops or the fact that I have insomnia.

1. Janes Addiction-I Am Not An Addict-On more than one occasion I have been suspect to friends' invitations to make sure I am at a party-I fear Candy Finnigan from Intervention may be the host.

I hope this provides my readers with a better idea of who I am. Thanks for reading.


Aug 25, 2009

I'll Have the Panty Latte Please

So this morning I had finally had a reason to pull my ass out of bed...I had to rush to an employment workshop put on by the City of Toronto. There was no need to be fancy since most of the people in the workshop are from the streets, I felt comfortable in putting on my finest ghetto fabulous outfit to attend. (I specifically wore Capris since my legs are only half shaved because I am lazy and really? Please. What's the point? I got more action in kindergarten.

Not having time to make my own breakfeast mixed with the urgency for not rushing to the subway to be molested be fellow TTC creepsters, I decided to stop at Starbucks. Technically, unemployed people such as myself, cannot afford to spend 4 million bucks on a trendy beverage but I really like the frozen ones so I splurged.

As I arrived at Starbucks, I was immediately jammed at the back of the shop right underneath the air conditioner, at which time I chose to let the air blow dry the back of my head (which I hate doing) and eavesdrop on some dude's convo about how his baby's shit is green.

Still having an appetite and the feeling in my face from the amount of A/C blowing on it, I ordered my usual. Mocha Frappacino...those things put a hop in my step and tend to make me a little less angry during the morning rush.

As any Starbuck's frequenter would know, you generally have to wait around for your bevy as the robots behind the counter somehow scream your order and make it at the same time and tell you to have a nice day. All of a sudden my phone starts to ring...As it's 9am I know it's either my mother, my mother, possibly my mother or someone is dead. So in my jaunt out the door this morning I shoved my phone in the side of my gym bag (which is purely for looks, not for should see my ass.)

Anyway, as it's ringing I am searching every corner of the side pocket of my bag....FORGETTING, that 2 weeks ago on a visit home, my mother shoved a bunch of full back granny panties in that pocket that I, of course, forgot to take out.

FLYING up into the air by some mythical force and landing on the ground in front of the woman beside me lie my Granny panties. In the middle of rush hour at Starbucks. I froze. I just stared at her for 2 seconds until I realized that she was bending down to pick them up....

"Fuck no" which was the response that first came to mind (but didn't say), I lunged to the floor before her fingers could touch them I yelled "NO." The lady jolted upright and just looked at me...As I quickly picked them up and fumbled to put them back in my bag, she just stared at me like I was on a day pass.

I don't think she realized exactly what they were...they could have been god damn bed sheets judging by the size of them for all she knew. I just grabbed my drink and ran out of the store.

Even writing about this, my upper lip starts to sweat...word to the wise...lock up your panties bitches.


Aug 24, 2009

Bumpit or F***it.

If I haven't mentioned before, my mom enjoys buying me things out of pure guilt and I enjoy taking them. The most recent gift I received was a great handbag that can perfectly fit 3 bottles of wine in it...I tried. AND....Bumpits.

Some of you may have seen the commercials on t.v where you are sticking large clips at the crown of your head to give your hair extra volume. They come in 3 sizes-large, medium and small. Everyone looked super happy once their hair had volume so I thought this could be another endeavour to make me happy...The higher the hair, the closer to God...I have been trying to redeem myself with the "man upstairs" since University...maybe going through the top of my teased hair ins't the route I should be taking. I heard there are churches in the area.

Thinking my head was large enough (as mentioned in a previous blog about the size of my gigantic head) I decided to use it. So I stuck it in and started teasing. The trick is, you have to tease your hair up and over the clip so it's not noticable. Well, sweet merciful Jesus...if you didn't know me, you would say I was an act at the circus or the heading to the talent portion of the Miss Tennessee pageant.

What a nightmare. Plus, not to mention the fact that I would have to stear clear of any candles, matches or lighters as a result of the half can of hairspray I used. (most of which, ended up in my mouth. and unknown blonde facial hair that became apparent due to the stickyness located at the side of my face. (Just another thing I need to worry I am scared that in the sunlight, my new found facial hair makes me look like a moutain lion....that could be a post in itself.)

So I tried the other medium and small options in hoping this wasn't a complete waste of my mothers money...not too bad. Takes a lot of work, precsion and oh yeah giving a fuck whether your hair has volume.

I now like to refer to my bumpits as "fuckits."



Aug 23, 2009

You know, you would think that waking up with noodles in my hair on a Saturday morning accompanied by the indescribable taste in my mouth, would deter me from drinking, but yet, I find myself already planning the escapades for the following weekend.

As the typical single and sexless woman in the city, I tend to get my kicks from going to the bar in a shirt that makes my B cup breasts look like D's, uncomfortable shoes, cheap earrings that turn my ears green well before last call and the hope that I will meet "the one" that will be different from the rest of the douche bags I encounter.

Last night, I attended a friend's engagement party where I became magically so intoxicated I left the bar to grab some street meat and returned in just enough time to squeeze in about 4 double vodka/cranberries. Despite the fact that I wreaked of hot dogs and booze my relentless pursuit of finding a husband continued. Oddly takers.

However, I am way off topic (it's the wine) tonight's post does not pertain to my singledom. It pertains to peeing.

To all those gentlemen out there that can "whip it out" (so to speak) and pee on location, I have a message for you that is two words...and it ain't "happy birthday."

What men need to understand is, a woman and her bladder (while drinking) essentially become enemies. We would love to stick around and dance our faces off and continue our intellectual conversations about where our outfits came from but you know what? We are busy. Very busy. Spending most of the night waiting in line to use the washroom to piss like race horses so we can get out and dance like it's 1999.

If by chance, I come into some money in my lifetime, I will develop a chain of bars and restaurants that have approximately 50 female stalls and only one male stall. Just so all the men out there can feel what it feels like to have to pee so bad you can taste your urine. To the point that you cannot open your mouth or uncross your legs in fear of spontaneous urination. It's coming my gentleman's coming.

This intense emotion, most commonly known as anger, is something that I experienced tonight due to the fact that I fell out of the stall I was peeing in and ended up in a puddle of god knows what on the very tiny whole in the wall women's washroom. Despite the bottle of wine I consumed in the limo we took, I am unable to move my foot.

Aug 21, 2009

Excuse Me...You Need to Pay for That.

Ever have one of those mornings when you wake up, realize that you don't have anything to eat for breakfast but toothpaste, then you decide to go for a walk and step in vomit while wearing flip flops? Well I just had one of those mornings.

To add to my excitement, I realized that I lost my back-up sunglasses (and I am highly concerned about my squinting causing wrinkles) so I decided to run across the street (braless) to Winners to get another cheap pair. To my amusement as soon as I walk in, about 6 security guards are tackling a middle aged man in a fedora to the ground and detaining him for shoplifting. I stopped and stared long enough to see that it looked like a can of hairspray and to update my facebook status on my phone about this experience.

In case you are interested, I ended up getting a pair of cheap sunglasses after consulting 2 strangers if my head was too big for them. Most people have the problem that sunglasses look to big on them but in the words of my mother; "You had a big head at birth and it just kept growing.") Well I am sure she is pleased to see that the rest of me has grown into my giant head. Thanks for the complex Mom.

So me and my oversized head and now newly protected eyes took a walk down to Dundas square. I don't know why I venture into places like this as I know that insane people are naturally drawn to me (keep your comments to yourself) So I was standing outside H&M looking for the liquor store when a young gentleman approached me and quickly asked me in a very quiet voice "do you need some coke?" I politely replied "No thanks, but thanks anyway,"

and continued to search for the liquor store. BUT THEN. To my disbelief, just outside of H&M ANOTHER person, this time a woman, got busted by security guards for shoplifting.

I thought about it on the subway home, if I were going to shoplift, I wouldn't pick H&M or Winners...I would choose something more high scale like Gucci or Prada. I would rather go down in a blaze of glory for some quality shit.

It's like I was living in an episode of cops this morning.


Aug 20, 2009

The Double B Experiment

A new experiment that I have been partaking in this summer is one of my very own creations. No, its not some fad diet or a sleep study I call it the "Double B." What does that stand for you ask?

Well, I purposely run to the store or run erronds without brushing my hair and I do this all braless...hence the Double B. Why would someone ever do that?....ummmm the answer is pretty much this: I don't care. I understand my days are numbered that I can go braless in the city without them touching my belly button but I am taking advantage of the liberating experience.

I also figure the less I brush my hair, the more I will have. I flat iron and blow dry my hair when it is not curly on a daily basis and I would like to continue to do so when I am 40. (In which case I predict I will still be single so nice hair will be paramount in landing me a catch.)

I probably look rather funny while walking as I try and hold my bags up by my breasts in case my nipples are showing but again...I don't care.

***Please note I always wear a bra when I go out OUT like for a few hours and with friends.***

I was inspired to tell you this story as I just returned from a braless run to McDonalds for my liquid lunch...a chocolate milkshake. It was all I could afford from the change collected from the couch.


Aug 18, 2009

Sitting in a Condo

Currently, I am "condo-sitting" a friend's place while she gallivants and terrorizes the men in Europe. (I frequently tune into CNN and the BBC to see if I can see her in shackles, but no such luck.)

Anyway, her lovely landlord regretted to inform her that her place is for sale. So about 2 weeks ago as I was snug in bed just dreaming of employment and what it would be like to be touched by a man, I woke up to a Chinese woman standing over me. So as I jolted up in bed and felt the need to change the sheets as I feared I peed a little, I calmly asked "Who are you?" She proceeded to back out of the room (silently, which was super creepy) into the living room where an entire family and a real estate agent were. Here was our conversation.

Realtor-"Sorry we had an appointment."
Me in my head. "For a gang bang?"
Me for real in my pajamas "ummmmm appointment for what?
Realtor-"This place is for sale"
Me for real in my pajamas "Oh that's nice."

So they sauntered around the place just scream talking and opening doors and cupboards-invading any sense of privacy imaginable. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom with my legs crossed just praying they would get the hell out of there so I could pee. (Fearing my pea smelled of asparagus, I neglected to go while the family was there. )

Ever since this moment, I have had over 20 clients and their Realtors (who all have keys) come in and out of this bachelorette pad where I came to relax and essentially sit in peace. Instead, I find myself pissing like a race horse all day, taking showers only at night when I know no one will walk in with a camera to take measurements and photos of the bathroom...with me in it. It's quite stressful actually.

(That was just a random tid bit that I forgot to mention when it happened.)

Today I had a mildly amusing experience...while I was on my dating site being completely creeped out, (but I keep going back for more) a couple of old women came in with their realtor and made me test every channel on the T.V to make sure that it worked. (They found out cable was included and it was important that they knew that both CNN and BNN were included.) I just assumed they were really big Michael Jackson fans and wanted to stay up to date on any life altering Michael Jackson developments, since that's the only thing CNN likes to discuss.

Until today, I had not noticed that Michael Jackson had passed away...I can't believe the media hasn't covered this story.

Do you ever sit by trashy people and feel like you are from the trailer park too? Feel like you have sat by the campfire and crushed beer cans on your head?

For instance, yesterday I took the train to another special part of town which is know for its shiny mullets and meth labs and I had the pleasure of sitting beside a couple which I feel I need to physically describe.

The man-Short Cotton Ginny sweater-cut off at the sleeves and a bit of beer gut showing and he had a smoke hanging out of his mouth while we were waiting on the tracks which was continually burning but never burnt out. I am pretty sure there was more than tobacco in it. Sources tell me that weed smells like skunk? Interesting.

His lovely female companion had shit brown hair, a black t-shirt that had a faded impression left of those ever so popular t-shirts "I'm with stupid." I must give a shout out to her nasty tobacco stained fingers which must have taken years to tarnish...How did I notice her fingers? Well she continually flipped her male companion the bird when he would even open his mouth. I must say though somewhere out there, there is a man named "Jerry." Who according to this delicate lady is a "SON OF A BITCH AND I HOPE HE DIES. KARMAS A BITCH JERRY, KARMAS A BITCH."

Halfway through the trip, after locating the passenger assistance alarm and carefully reading the fine print of how to escape, I decided to put my earphones in as the entertainment was coming to a lull. Perhaps their cigarette had put them to sleep...I hear that can happen.

Anyway, all of a sudden an argument errupts. "GIVE ME THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH." (prompt removal of one earphone so I don't look like I am listening) What on earth could be of earth shattering urgency and fowl mouthed language...THEIR FLASK.

Ohhhhh, of course that makes sense. So what seems like the next logical option to get this woman to calm down?...To me,I would think giving her a swig of your booze would shut her up. NOPE. Captain mullet himself decided that he didn't want to share soooo badly that he would get off the train at the next stop....without her.

For about 3 of the 7 minutes that were left on our train ride, I listened to her call her gentleman friend every name in the book so I did what any good samaritan would do...offer her my flask.



Aug 15, 2009

The Truth About Love Online

So I just got off this online dating site and I am so tempted to write a new profile due to the high volume of douche bags that I have creeping on my can see who views you which would seem like fun to the average gal, but in no area of my life am I average.

As a sidebar-I was on another dating site recently and I only signed up because a friend asked me to do it with her. So I did-I didn't realize I put my profile in the "Intimate Encounters" section. So I would wake up every morning to an inbox full of emails that read "I love getting blow jobs in the morning more than anything." "Must like whipping." "Not into beastiality but willing to try anything." "I don't mind experimenting with vegetables if you are comfortable with that." After a week of recieving emails that verbally violated me (yes, I waited a week because I was intrigued) I called my friend and I asked if she was getting these super creeps. Well turns out it was just a setting issue. Word to future desperate daters...check your settings.

On this other site, typically a guy who views me is aged between 33 and 62. I am 28 so the 60 year old that has been viewing me everyday for 6 months makes me vomit in my mouth a little. I am dying to post the pictures of the fuckers that email me to go on dates, to have casual sex or to meet their children, or just sent me pictures of their cars. Different types of guys have different approaches on how they initially contact me. The below are some examples of what I have recieved recently.

Bachelor # 1. "Hi." This guy has a lot of substance and I picture us having long conversations on our porch.

Bachelor # 2 "Hey-your face looks like a party. What time can I pick u up. Happy Canada Day.-WHAT?

Bachelor #3 "Your profile made me laugh. Do you want to chat? Before we chat I think you should know that I have two kids and I am in the middle of a divorce. I hope that's not a problem. It has been in the past. Let's meet." -OMG. Sounds amazing. Please bring the little ones.

Bachelor #4. Hey, I'm Giovanni in between working out and volunteering I spend time with my family and friends."-This guy generally is standing in a picture shirtless beside his car covered in baby oil and is under 5"4- and a liar. Really-you don't volunteer. You hang out outside coffee shops with your friends and talk about your cars and how you wish you were taller.

I would like to believe that everyone is telling the truth in their profiles but to be honest if I was telling the COMPLETE truth at this point in my life mine would read.

"Hey there,
I'm Amanda. I am a little mentally unstable at the moment-well the past 2 years in particular. I am a diagnosed insomniac so I am full of energy. (Although I try not to keep my partner up by eating chips in bed since I have started eating my feelings as a full time job.)

I don't have a job, which means we will have lots of time together, and I have tons of bills that I could really use your help paying. To save me from moving home with my parents, if you want to just go ahead and open up your place and your bank account to me-that'd be great.

I should mention, that my pictures may be decieving as I am actually 50 lbs heavier and without makeup I have severe Rosacea which is a condition that causes my face to go insanely red so I typically look like a burn victim without make up.

Anyway, if this sounds at all interesting to you and you would like to stop me from becoming my own Dateline special, then send me a message! Can't wait to meet your parents!


May 17, 2009

My Return.

Normally, I spend my Sunday afternoon googling symptoms of STD's but I decided to do something different and write on here instead...

I have been away for awhile as some of you have noticed...let's just say that shit hit the fan in my personal life and I am covered in it which is why I haven't been writing.

I will be back soon, but for now I have a hectic tv schedule.


Apr 25, 2009

Just a little one

Just a couple things...I am sick which is why I am not avidly updating my blog with random nonsense. I believe it's the horse tranquilizers that my doctor prescribed me that leave me coherent for all of an hour. Nothing exciting happens to me except for today...two things...

1. Since I have severe hot flashes, I have all my windows and doors open and a fan on my face...and a bird briefly flew in my apartment and flew right back out. I peed a little on my couch.

2. I have learned that episodes of Cops filmed in New Jersey is way funnier than the Cops episodes filmed in the deep south. I think the east coasters are way more creative when it comes to lying. Southerners on the other hand, aren't actually lying about getting their clothes being stolen while looking for their cat and happened to find meth at the mini mart while trying to buy a pack of smokes and a DVD player all at the same time.

Hope you are enjoying your weekend. NOT.

Apr 22, 2009

Blog Postings

So, the girl that I pay to write this is in rehab for about a week. Therefore, there will be no updates until further notified.
I am so disappointed in this broad.

Apr 17, 2009

So as if I haven't exposed enough of my personal life, I am about to expose more....

Lately, I have been feeling more pissed off than usual-meaning Gordon Ramsey pissed off (but totally internally)....I would never walk into a room and call someone "A lazy fat fuck and tell them their grilled salmon is rubbish and belongs in the trash"...although I may think it.

I am not a chef, but I think you get my drift.

Anyway, so I went to my doctor to tell her about my insane tendencies and she gave me "anti-irritants." Who knew those existed? She said that "it will help take the edge off." Then of course I piped up and told her "I think booze does the same thing." That didn't go over very well.

So needless to say, I tried them...they made me feel high as a kite and no, I will not tell you what they are called as I am trying out selling them in China town...I may have found my calling.

So I stopped taking them but do carry them in my purse for parties. Just kidding.

This blog post is about just one litte thing that is currently getting right under my skin...You know when you are driving along (I have self diagnosed myself with clinical road rage if that even exists) Anyway, you are driving along and you are in a residential area and the person in front of you is turning into their driveway. WHY WHY WHY....does it take them an eternity to actually pull in? Dude, it's your own garage, if you run into it, just fix it, or if you are busy looking at your petunias, get out and look at fact eat them for all I care. Or if you are texting, text from your parked car. Better yet...get in your house. But take your foot off the break, stop looking at your lawn or whatever the hell you are looking at and pull your damn car in your damn driveway.

Thank you,

Apr 15, 2009

Excuse the car doesn't usually look like this...

You know when you are picking up a friend for the first time or they unexpectedly ask you for a ride home? Then you get to the car and shove aside the wrappers, c.d's, Tim Hortons coffee cups and random papers? Then you casually say as you are frantically cleaning off their seat..."Sorry, it doesn't normally look like this." YOU ARE LYING. YES. YES IT DOES.

(for the record this is not my car and I have no idea who that person is)

Just as a side note, in a convenience store parking lot, I rolled down my window and called a guy a douche bag and it felt very liberating today. "I normally never do that." YES. YES I DO.


Apr 12, 2009

This may explain a lot...

For my new readers, welcome. For my older readers, can you please post your comments on my blog instead of emailing them to me? I would look a lot more popular.

To welcome my new readers, I thought that by sharing a few quick facts about myself, you would feel more enticed to read my blog if you found me remotely amusing. And also if you are male and find me amusing maybe you could invite me out for an expensive steak dinner and a litre of wine.

I really enjoy lists, so here I go. (In no specific order)

1. My father sounds like Shrek and my mother is straight from Newfoundland...I am destined to be screwed up. Both are scream talkers and I am partly hearing impaired as my friends have told me. (I am still trying to figure out what they are talking about.)
2. Growing up, I was never into playing in the dirt, I was into watching soap operas, Dallas and Murder She Wrote with my mother.
3. When we finally got rid of our Atari computer in high school, I would invite friends over and go into chat rooms and say really dirty things and pretend my name was "Summer" and I was from Miami. (To my friends who know about this, keep your comments to yourself on this one.)
4. I was voted class clown at my high school prom. What was more of a joke was my dress and my hair. I looked like an escort.
5. My hair is naturally a nice shit brown colour.
6. I have an amazing brother who has taken me to get all two of my tattoos...
7. You will never meet someone who enjoys crime shows more than me. My roommate is convinced I would be able to commit the perfect murder.
8. I will publicly admit that I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to guys. Watching me pick up is like watching an episode of Blind Date. (Meaning you feel cheap and violated for even watching)
9. I am an insomniac...the only way I sleep is with a handful of pharmaceuticals or if I black out.
10. I picked up garbage at the Toronto zoo for 3 years during University and then 1 extra one after...that's what my degree got me. While others dry heave at the smell of garbage and gorilla shit, it brings back the sweet memories of summer and my heat rash.

Thanks for reading.

Apr 11, 2009

Typical Saturday morning....

This is what I looked like when woke up this morning. I only discovered this when I walked by the window at Hasty Market and caught a glimpse of myself. By that point it was too late to turn around as I had called in an order of pancakes at the Golden Griddle.

To be truthful, this girl actually looks a lot better than I do...I also have rosacea which means I look like a burn victim when I am not wearing makeup. I would love to explain what it is but in summation, my skin gets insanely red and strangers feel compelled to ask if I am alright or if I need sunblock. It's not recognized by spellcheck yet which really pisses me off.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend. Smooches, Nanners

Apr 10, 2009

Up Yours...

First off, this is going to be a short blog as I believe I pissed out my liver this morning.
(Speaking of for the second time in my life, I also peed a little when I sneezed. Pretty sure that I will be in diapers a lot sooner than my parents.)

Anyway, have you ever had one of those days when you walk down the street and people are smiling and laughing and you think to yourself "Up Yours" Well, it's one of those days for me.

Why you ask? Well, my credit card debt has sky rocketed through the roof as I shop when I am stressed, I am looking more and more like our large and in charge Canadian singing sensation Rita McNeil as I am eating my feelings, I found out I started a small fire in a potted plant at a party I was at last was only discovered AFTER we had gone out and my friends Megan and Laurie smelt smoke coming from the balcony, the taste in my mouth is not disappearing with toothpaste or mints, I have constant heart burn coupled with exhaustion, panic and sweatiness (maybe the ol' ticker is actually giving out.), I checked my phone this morning and was spitting angry at myself for all the messages that I felt were necessary to send to people and frankly, my inner thighs hurt as they have been touching since 1995.

That is all.

Apr 9, 2009

Freeze Mam, Put the Phone Down...

What is it about drinking that makes people want to type so badly? Speaking from personal experience, I know there are tons of things I feel necessary to text/pin past 12am. It is very important for people to know where I am, how much I love them, how drunk I am, and if I would like them to come over at 3am for a slice of pizza.

The cardinal rule of drinking is to return home with your phone. When I return home with my phone, I know that is one less thing I need to panic about. But the REAL panic sets in when I check my sent texts, sent emails, sent pins, dialed calls, and call duration.

Let's outline a morning after drinking for Nanners shall we?
1. Wake up and change into my pajamas as my clothes are still on.
2. Locate my purse...I usually just follow the trail of pizza sauce to it.
3. Reach inside and hope that I don't have a stock pile of taxi drivers phone numbers (which means I have been to multiple destinations of which I have no recollection.)
4. FIND MY PHONE. (Say a tiny prayer to our sweet Jesus that I have not sent hate or creepy love messages to people)
5. Start checking outboxes, in boxes, pins, emails, outbound calls, inbound calls and call duration. (Call duration is VERY important if you are black out drunk and have no idea what you could have possibly said at 3am for 4 minutes and 35 seconds.
6. Start the apologies. (The trick here is to either PRETEND that you remember talking to them or LAUGH it off in a text message...Examples below.

The two types of next day texts are as follows:
1. This is called the "HEY YOU!" text. At this point you recognize that you have made a call and can't remember what the f you were talking about. Here is what you text.

"Hey it was so great talking to you last night! We should do drinks soon!"
Response time is crucial here people...If you don't hear anything back within 8 hours, make a call.

2. This is called the "OMG!" text. This text is the one where you realize you sent an inappropriate message asking for sex or strange requests in the middle of the night. Here's what it will read.

"OMG!" I was so drunk last night. Sorry for the message."

Please feel free to use these tips as these are rules I live by.

Apr 2, 2009

So that's what it feels like to shave your legs...

As Oprah would say " It's an Aha moment."

I literally have not seen my legs since the summer of 2005 when I was picking up like mad...Then again I was about 100 lbs lighter. In other words, I have gained an 8th grader, which in turn makes it quite dificult to pick up these days. So I forfeited shaving my legs. My life is about crisis management so I figure, why run the risk of slipping and falling in the shower while being bent over shaving? If you know me. you will know that this is a possible scenario.

Since I no longer have the texture of a mountain lion, I look forward to putting on my pants for that warm fuzzy sensation of cloth against skin and not a brillo pad. I also look forward to getting into bed tonight to see what my sheets feel like.

I guess the next step is moisturizing?

Have a fantabulous day.

Mar 12, 2009

Top 10 fears continued...

we have a tie folks....getting eaten by a shark is tied with number one.
Also I am going to tie never getting married and dying a spinster alone in my apartment with parquet tiles with number 2.

Nanners top 10 fears

Inspired by David Letterman I sat here and thought of my top 10 fears.
Just in case you are wondering this is what runs through my head while watching t.v, waiting for the bus, peeing.

10. Burning my forehead with a curling iron or straightener.
9. Shitting my pants in public
8. Falling out of the door on the subway while its moving.
7. Being locked in an airplane bathroom...again.
6. Chopping off my eyelashes by using a broken lash curler...again
5. Having to take cotton out of a container of Tylenol. (I can't touch cotton balls)
4. Getting drunk and having unprotected sex with a homeless person on a dare and not remembering.
3. Being tricked into eating a cat or dog when someone told me it's chicken
2. Growing a giant zit on my forehead that looks like it's ready to pop but it never does and never goes's a part of me.
1. Getting on the bus and someone insisting I take their seat because they think I am pregnant but I am not.

Feb 18, 2009

Would you call a guy back that was heavy breathing in your phone? Not once, but twice I had the pleasure so far this evening....I don't think I can afford to be picky but c'mon.

After listening to my creepy voicemail, I had the pleasure of getting a text from the same guy asking why I am treating him like a "piece of meet." Perhaps I should send him a dictionary that he can wack off to instead of my picture.

Jan 12, 2009

No Bachelor update this week.

Jan 9, 2009

Say What?

Just a quick post.

I was walking down the street about an hour ago on my way back to my apartment from running erronds (getting booze) and I had my Blackberry in my bag with my headphones in my ears so I could talk and carry my bags at the same time.

As I was hanging up with my mother, I said "Take care and have a good night." So the gentleman walking by me on the sidewalk at the exact time I said that,looked at me and said "You too mam." For a second, I was midly confused but then I realized that he couldn't see my phone so I must have looked like I was out on a day pass.

Of course following this, I burst into laughter, throwing my head back and forth on the sidewalk and convinced the other pedestrians that I was clinically insane.

It was highly amusing....

Have a good weekend!

Jan 6, 2009

Let's get electronically awkward..

As I was on the smelly TTC on my way home from work tonight, I had a thought...Nothing life changing or profound ( you can trust me on that one) Anyway, I was thinking, when you start dating someone and you begin to get a little more serious, when is the right time that you change your status on facebook? Do you have an awkward conversation about it? What if the other person doesn't want to change their status? (you should probably dump him/her if they want to keep you a secret anyway.)

Dating comes with enough awkward moments as it is...for example, when you get naked in front of eachother and one of you laughs by accident, when you meet his/her friends for the first time and get absolutely shit faced and have to apologize the next day, when you are on a date and insist on paying and it comes up as "insufficient funds" on the debit machine. Get my drift? Now we have to worry about the right timing of changing our electronic status to "in a relationship."

So here is my thought. I say, when you are able to fart in front of the are now in a relationship.

(This thought was literally inspired by all the smelly subway goers of this beautiful city, that smelt like shit...hence the farting.)

That is all.


Jan 5, 2009

Who's your Daddy?

Just before I get started on tonight's blog post about the Bachelor, I need to let you all know that I would participate in unsafe sex with a homeless man for $10 if that meant spending the rest of my life with our yummy single daddy Jason from Seattle.

Quick recap for those who missed last season...basically Deanna Pappas broke Jason's heart...blah, blah, blah. Generally, it's the loser left standing the day of the proposal who gets majorly dissed on national T.V, that ends up getting their own show. Jesus. If that was real life and every time I got rejected I got a show, I would have had a show since the late 80's.

I have to say that my favourite part of the Bachelor is the very first night when they all get out of the limo and most seem like they have all their marbles...FALSE ALARM. The only reason why they seem quasi-normal is because they haven't had much of a chance to open their traps. Just wait until the cocktails get flowing...I would say about 19 out of the 25 women failed the pre-screening psychological testing. Let's use an example: Shannon, the dental hygenist who recited his MY SPACE page to his face and admitted she's a bit of a stalker. RED FLAG. Somehow she still made the cut. I think that's creepy.

The biggest twist of the evening was when the women thought that they were voting their least favourite person in the room before the rose ceremony. Please keep in mind that all 25 of these women are in fear that their ovaries are rotting since they all want to be a mother and a wife in the span of 6 weeks, so the bitches are vicious. Poor Megan, (who by the way left her 14 month old at home to go on the show) received the most votes. Ouch...that definitely tugged on her heart strings.This is the same girl that told Jason that "I like animals more than people." However, the plot thickens...Megan, the least liked transvestite looking contestant, actually ended up getting a rose instead of being voted, life can throw you curve balls. Her reaction was a mini-melt down in terms of melt downs in Bachelor history...just a few tears about how much people hate her.

If you are a religious Bachelor viewer, you will know that the "first impression rose" is the most important rose a girl can get. Tonight's recipient, Tits McGee...I mean Nikki, was more than happy to accept his rose.

The end of the night loser monologues are by far the best. For example, the drunk leopard print dress wearing contestant who had her own monologue with camera and admitted that she had her wedding to Jason planned "with about 40 to 50 guests on the beach." Or my favourite is the "vision board" freak. Okay, whatever helps you get through the day, but cutting a bunch of words out and pasting them on paper, does not mean that you are going to find the love of your life. If that were true then the collage I made of New Kids on the block when I was 12, would have me preggers and married to Donnie Whalberg by now. Keep dreamin' sister.

Well, all in all, not uber disastrous for episode number was pretty tame actually. But stay tuned folks...Deanna comes back to steal Jason away...