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!