All reflective and shit.

At the end of 2009, the only thing I can think about is my relationships. Sadly, few were romantic, although cute boys played their parts, it was the platonics - in all shapes - that left the biggest impact on me.

From the complicated to the simple, from blood relatives to chosen family, from business to bizarro, the people in my life taught me the importance of friendship.

How they'll keep you afloat, when you're pretty sure you'd sink. And keep you sane, when you're in the middle of re-election for Mayor of Crazytown.

They taught me a million times over, that there is nothing better in the world than being loved, regardless of the type.

Apparently, not everyone in Vancouver sucks, thus my friend count grew. Considerably. So much so that I have a life here, and well, it is a nice life. Although I still occasionally ache for Edmonton. And that's ok.

This lesson was learned from loss as well. This year, the first boy I loved, decided that though we were long over romantically, our friendship wasn't working either. Our lives stopped intersecting and I realized how fragile some relationships are. And how temporary. So. Very. Temporary. I lost not only him, but my favorite thing about Vancouver.

I got the scare of my life when I thought I was going to lose my best friend. The one person I could trust, beyond a shadow of a doubt, taught me in a big way how to appreciate her, and wish we weren't so far apart. Sometimes.

Oh these friends of mine. From giving me a trip home for my birthday, to getting into endless amounts of trouble with me and well, making me feel like the luckiest chick in the world, these people are the best pieces of me, only to the nth degree.

And despite not finding romantic love this year, these relationships ensure I am never lacking for real love.

The tale of two lives

I live in Vancouver. I miss Edmonton all the time. Sometimes, like now, I miss it more than others.

You see, magically, I have been blessed with two really awesome lives. Two lives that I can live fairly regularly thanks to the magic of flight.

Vancouver and Edmonton served very different purposes when I first moved. The two didn't overlap, and I was ok with that.

But they are starting to overlap. Vancouver is starting to become a 'home' to me. A place that I don't hate and one that is gaining in the friend department. But it's still no Edmonton.

This week here has been fucking awesome. I have had enough time to see almost everyone and spend some time with them. And good god do I miss these people and this city.

I honestly feel so lucky - I didn't go out searching for the most awesome friends in the world, but somehow, I got them. No seriously, try to out friend me. I'll win. I promise.

I come to Edmo and these people not only want to see me, but they make my trip and my time here so freaking great. And they make me wonder, would my life be better in Edmonton?

But then there's The Couve. I really do have the best job in the world. One that fits me and I fit it. I don't discredit how rare it is to want to go to work everyday. I look forward to seeing my co-workers and whatever challenges the days may bring - and they are always different - believe me, I fully appreciate how lucky I am.

Like I said, Vancouver is definitely gaining in the friends department. For the first time, I am thinking about having an actual birthday party in Vancouver. Mainly because I have more than two people to hang out with.

I just kinda wish my job was in Edmo. Like a lot. Unlike others, I don't love Vancouver enough to wish everyone moved out there. But I do love Edmo enough to wish I could find as awesome a job here as I have in Van.

That would make life pretty freaking great.

Jussayin'

What the what?

My life is riddled with confusion - mainly centering around boys, but confusion nonetheless.

This latest confusion comes from across an ocean and several time zones away.

After Vegas, the one boy that was worth remembering and I became online buddies. We chatted, flirted, exchanged German pleasantries, it was nice.

Until I woke up one morning and he had disappeared.

DISAPPEARED.

The things is, all in all, I thought we had developed, at a minimum, a friendship that warranted more than a disappearing act. A 'Hey, that picture you have up is gross, I don't want to talk to you anymore." or a "Because we don't live in the same country, I am going to become a priest."

Anything really.

But that is the thing about random people - you have no idea about their real life. He may have been married or had a girlfriend or a murderer or so many other things.

And of course, while I know there is a rational explanation to it all, the first thing that popped into my head was, thoughts of his death. I had fears of being Miranda and losing a cute boy to death.

Ugh.

Yes, that is right. My name is Iris and I am perpetually perplexed by people with penises.

Reality Check

I like to think of myself as a fairly grounded person. Yes, I'm flighty and flaky and totally spastic, but underneath all of that, I try not to get genuinely excited for much. I kinda like balance, and have come to expect excitement to be followed by disappointment.

It's just the way it goes.

Today I got my hopes up. Today, I thought there was something that would ... alleviate most of my worries.

Today, I was sorely disappointed.

Reminder to self: Stay grounded in reality - for stability's sake.

I've been found out, so now I'll never explore

A couple of months ago I heard about The XX through Miss Parlour and, well, I kinda thought they kicked ass.

When I bought their cd, I knew, they did kick ass. That cd is seriously, easily, one of the best I have heard this year, and, in case you haven't noticed, I have been listening to a lot of good music lately.

Sarin and I got tickets to their show the moment we found out they were coming - and this was months ago.

A few weeks ago, Lis bought a ticket and a flight to come out for the show.

This is how excited we all were for it. Seriously, the cd is ridic and if you don't love it, well, I think you might be stupid.

Anyways.

The show was tonight, and well ... it was lackluster.

First, the sound licked elephant balls.

Second, with an album as good as theirs, you forget that they are a relatively new band. That their shit isn't as tight as say, well, The YYYs shouldn't surprise us. I mean, he actually warned us about that.

But, as Miss Sarin stated, 'It felt like we were watching my buddy's band in high school."

They just weren't as ... perfect as I had hoped.

This doesn't mean their cd isn't brilliant or that they aren't headed for greatness, just that their first show in Vancouver left something to be desired.

I still heart The XX

Law of Inertia

I have always been the youngest in my family and amongst most of my friends, not to mention the eternal single girl. And I've always loved it - both positions allow for a certain degree of irresponsibility, which I bask in.

While I love being the youngest and love my single life, they are currently causing me to move away from my friends.

You see, most of my friends are all grown-up.

They have houses, and significant others, and children, and real grown-up worries.

I, on the other hand, am amassing frequent flyer miles, a lot of random stories, and pretty much standing still.

These people that have helped me grow are now grown. They have their own lives to worry about and comparatively, mine feels somewhat insignificant.

Not that they would ever make me feel like that. Never. They are too classy for that - and smarter because I would raise some serious hell.

But here I am, wandering through an insignificant existence. With nothing to show other than some fabulous shoes and a pretty decent wardrobe, there is actually nothing significant about my life - right now. God do I hope that this is a right now thing.

My biggest worry - this blog will be my only legacy. No kids. No great love. Nothing beyond a few unimportant words on the internet.

sigh.

As Sir Isaac Newton stated: A body persists in a state of rest or of uniform motion unless acted upon by an external force.

I need an external force. Something fierce.

Howdy Pardner!

Ok, so the second edition of baby bump is happening this week and I realized, I haven't really told you about baby bump or about my business partner, Lis.

Lis and I worked at the Crowne Plaza together. We were friends, mainly because her parents paid me and she wanted to be just like me.

So, Lis and I go WAY back.

Last winter I was in Edmo to visit my ma. Chunk and I went to Lis' for dinner, where we came up with the idea of a maternity consignment sale, over dinner and wine. Cool right?

Why am I involved in a maternity clothing consignment sale?

Well, because I think it's a really smart idea. Why the hell would you spend a ton of money on maternity clothes - you're only going to wear them for 8 months MAYBE. And then seriously, do you want to be reminded of how big you were when you're not prego anymore? I don't understand!

Anyways, I also kinda wanted to see an idea from idea to execution. You know, to see if a couple of trouble makers could make something useful.

Before I go any further, you gotta know how awesome Lis has been as a business partner. There have been very few bumps, the only one I can think of being when I was being cheap about a tagging gun. Yes, I'm retarded leotarded. Whatevs.

But Lis has been kick-ass awesome. She has let me run wild with the stuff I want to run wild with. I mean, I built a website in a weekend. Yes, I'm badass.

And here's another thing I dig about Lis:

Tonight, while we were prepping for a TV spot tomorrow, we spent a good chunk of the time laughing at ourselves and having fun. We get our shit done, but we get to have a gay old time while doing it - me likey.

She has been understanding of when my life is crazy and I can't concentrate on baby bump stuff, and pushes me when she knows I SHOULD be concentrating on it. We have been each other's reality checks, and a lovely support system.

After the last sale was over and we realized that we didn't bomb, we took our exhausted asses to the park by the condo and drank publicly. It was awesome.

It's kinda cool - she's a partner in crime AND in business.

Awesome right?

Picky. So what?

I have been single for a while now. And I'm totally ok with it. In fact, I think I'm better as a single - it's the only child in me. When P3 and I started dating, I said to a friend "this relationship stuff is hard, having to think of your life in relation to another human being."

It is. And to be willing to make that sacrifice, you have to really care about the other person.

Yes, sometimes I complain about being single - mainly because I miss falling asleep with someone or having standing weekend date - but it seems like every time I complain to one of my friends about my relationship status, they respond with "Well, you're too picky."

Are you ready for the rant, because here it comes.

When it comes to dating and relationships, there is no such thing as too picky.

I am picky about almost everything in my life. I am picky about what shoes I wear, my work, my friends, so why shouldn't I be picky about the men I date?

And I would understand if this pickiness problem was purely superficial. But it isn't.

In fact, while I sometimes quote a really superficial reason - zit on the back of a neck, lazy eye, bad shoes - they are not the real reason I'm not with the dude.

The real reason is that the chemistry wasn't there. They weren't funny enough, they weren't smart enough, they weren't ... something enough.

Yes, I am shallow, but I'm not that shallow - give me a little credit.

The thing that pisses me off about the 'picky' comment, is the people that are saying it to me.

They were picky. They were just lucky enough to find love early on. They didn't have to stumble through dating the way I have. They have no fucking clue how painful most of these dates actually are.

Don't I deserve to find the person that gives me butterflies, that makes me forget about their imperfections and focus how they are perfect ... for me.

And as my friend, why are you suggesting that I settle? Is it because you think there is fault in my single-state? Is it because you are hoping that if I'm dating someone, you won't get as many phone calls from me? Or is it because you just want me to shut the fuck up?

Whatever the reason, please stop. This is not a reason for me being single. If anything, it is an insult - I too deserve the sort of happiness you have found. I too deserve to find someone that makes me laugh, think and smile - the same as you.

And if you had been on some of the shitty dates I have, you would be picky too.

So, if you know a single person out there, give them a break. Picky is not a reason for their single state. The sucky state of dating probably is.

Rant o' the day

Let me preface this by saying: this has nothing to do with children. Or choosing to have children. Most of my family and friends have kids - most of which I love. In fact, I quite like kids.

This rant is for the assholes that bring their 8 month old to a packed movie theatre on a Tuesday night.

Kids are an inevitable part of life. I have to deal with them all the time, and I am able to smile and coo with the best of them. Like I mentioned, I quite like kids.

Children should not be a part of my movie-going experience. If you are bringing your children to the theatre, they should understand "SHHHH".

At the very least, they should be able to sit in a chair by themselves.

Because when they are too young, you are likely to ruin the movie for someone else.

Like me. Tonight.

First, you let your cute little girl play on the stairs.

Yes, the stairs. You were only three rows from the top and she was far enough away from you that a tumble was conceivable.

Second, while your cute little girl is playing on those stairs, please keep her away from my feet. Not only is it totally distracting, it is also a little scary - the last thing I need is a mother blaming me for their kid flying down the stairs.

Third, when your cute little girl crying, please remove her and you from my movie. There are matinees that cater to families. Please, go to those.

Thanks to this mom, and her crying baby, at a theater on a Tuesday night, I missed a seemingly important scene, was irritated and had to scold a mother - yes people, if you're child is bothering me, I will inform you.

And now, to top it all off, I am going to pay another $12 to see the movie because of this all.

Ugh.

Although, now, Tuesday movies are super cheap - $11.45 for a movie, popcorn and a drink.

What the what?!

Anyways, did I mention I actually like kids?

Niceties Ahead

This summer, The Peak (a local radio station) put on The Peak Performance Project. And while this would have probably gone unnoticed by me, Josh's band, The Painted Birds, were selected to participate in the contest. Therefore, I became very familiar with the whole thing.

The gist of it: 20 BC bands went for a week-long 'bootcamp' to sharpen their music-industry knowledge and skills. After the bootcamp, the bands perform and complete little tasks and are judged and rated. The public gets to vote for their favorite band, and the winner gets some ridiculous prize.

Tangent: Can we please stop using 'bootcamp' to describe every thing? Why is this the new buzz-word? Seriously?

Sorry.

Ok, first I want to say - I love this idea. That a radio station is interested in not only promoting, but actually cultivating locally grown talent is very cool. I don't know if this is a first, but it is the first time I have heard of something like this, and well, I think it is pretty fucking impressive.

So, where is all of this coming from?

Tonight, my friend Nikki and I went for some cheap, really cheap, Mexican and then to see The Painted Birds' perform for The Project. Bonus - it was free!

There was a difference in the band's performance. I had seen them perform last year, and they have improved. It was almost as if they were ... tighter or something. I don't know if this is because of the "bootcamp", or if they have just grown over the past year or if I was just sober this time.

I am crediting it mainly to the first, with a sprinkling of the second.

So, yay to The Peak. Yay to supporting local music. And yay to giving it to the public for free.

But boo to the word 'bootcamp'.

Folking Monsters

Tonight, I went to The Monsters of Folk.

I have to say, it was pretty freaking awesome.

I had listened to them before, but I was not expecting that show. They were a surprise like Wolf Parade and The Constantines were.

First - it was almost three hours of music. THREE HOURS OF MUSIC! No opening band, just these actual, monsters of folk making music.

If you don't know, Monsters of Folk is considered a 'super group' - if there wasn't a lamer term for it. The band consists of Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis of Bright Eyes and M. Ward.

All of the musicians in the group are great artists in their own right, and you can see it. The thing I loved though is that when they got on stage, there was little pretense, only music.

And really good music at that.

The tickets were a little more expensive than I am used to - but I still bought a concert tee, which shows you how good they really were.

And here is why I will never work for Rolling Stone: I loved the show, but I can't remember why. All I remember is having a smile on my face for most of it, and what can more can you ask for?

I do remember the song Dear God. The transition from Jim James to M. Ward was ... well, it was impressive.

And hello M. Ward. I wasn't sure who he really was when I went, but he blew me away. His voice, well, his voice is impressive - to say the least. In fact, in general, he was quite impressive.

As for Conor Oberst, well, there are few words. Bright Eyes is the creator of one of my favorite songs - First Day of My Life. I had hoped, after hearing the show was three hours, that Conor would make me pee my pants and perform the song. While he didn't, he did show me why my co-worker is taken with him.

So there you have it.

If you are lucky enough to have them show up in your city, do yourself a favour and pay the money to see them.

I promise, you won't be disappointed.

I and Love and You

Normally, I would find this pretentious or something ... a mission statement for an album. But not this time.

From The Avett Brothers album I and Love and You, as written by Seth Avett:


"The words 'I' and 'Love' and 'You' are the watermark of humanity. Strung together, they convey our deepest sense of humility, of power, of truth. It is our most common sentiment, even as the feeling of it is so infinitely uncommon: each to proclaim these three words with his or her own heart and mindset of reason (or lack thereof); a proclamation completely and perfectly new each time it is offered. Uttered daily and nightly by millions, the words are said in an unending array of circumstances: whispered to the newborn in a new mother's arms; shared between best friends on the playground; in the form of symptathy - said by a girl to a boy as the respect continues but the relationship does not. It is said too loudly by parents to embarrassed children in the company of their friends, and by grown children - to their fading parents in hospital beds. The words are thought in the company of the photograph and said in the company of the gravestone. It is how we end our phone calls and letters ... the words at the bottom of the page that trump all those above it, a way to gracefully finish a message, however important or trivial, with the most meaningful gift of all: the communication of love. And yet the words themselves have been the victims of triviality, a ready replacement for lesser salutations among near strangers, burst forth casually as 'love ya'. Truly? To what degree? Why, how much and for how long? These are questions befitting the stature of love, though not the everyday banter of vague acquaintance. The words have also been twisted by the dark nature of deceit; to 'I love you' with a dramatic measure of sythetic emotion; a snare set by those who prey upon fellow humanity, driven to whatever selfish end, to gain access to another's body, or their money, or their opportunity. In this realm, the proclamation is disgraced by one seeking to gain rather than give. In any case, and by whatever inspiration, these words are woven deeply into the fibers of our existence. Our longing to hear them from the right place is maddeningly and simultaneously our finest strength and our most gentle weakness. ...

We are powerful, yet weak, capable yet temporary. Inevitably, an attempt to place honesty within an artistic avenue will follow suit. This is a piece which shows us as we are: products of love surrounded by struggle. ...

Perhaps the inabilty to say these heaviest of words is as much a part of life as the lighthearted candor of those who say them without any difficulty at all. And so it ends with the phrase whispered to and by those of us most defeated and most elated ... I and love and you ..."

PS - the cd is pretty freaking good.

Wanderlust

The problem with vacations, even short ones, is that they get me all ... distracted.

I come home and well, it is the last place I want to be. I would rather be on the beach somewhere, or exploring some fantastic city, with some fantastic person.

But instead, I am here, typing away, wishing I was anywhere but here.

ANYWHERE.

This week, when I returned to work, for the first time in a while, I wished I was retired.

Tangent - why is retirement wasted on the old? I mean, I would have WAY more fun retired right now than any old person. Give me my CPP now, and I will start working again at 35 and slave away for the rest of my days. I don't care.

So, where am I wanderlusting to?

Paris.

There's a side-story you need for some context.

When I was 14, my dad took me to the UK with his family. His family and I have had, let's say a rocky relationship.

While we were there, we took the Chunnel to Calais, France. As he was in the cafe buying lunch, he realized that Paris was only a 45-minute train ride.

He came out of the cafe excited - and he never gets excited.

"Iris! Paris is only 45-minutes away. Let's go. You and me and Paris!"

I had never been more excited for anything - PARIS?! For reals?

Well, this idea was quickly shot down by his sister. Apparently this was a family trip, and a visit to Paris with just he and I did not qualify as a family trip.

Fuck that.

Paris was so close ... like Westlock close, and I didn't get to go.

*sob*

Recently, after many glasses of wine, my dad confessed one of his biggest regrets to me - not saying screw you to his family and taking me to Paris anyways.

This made me want the city even more. This city that was so close ... in my grasp almost, but so far away.

I haven't been back to Europe since and when I go again, it will be very different.

That is why I am thinking about skipping a family Christmas, because, well, they never go well, and heading to Europe.

What could be more lovely than spending a week in gay Paris in solitude? The city, me and who knows what.

sigh.

I think it might just be a pipe-dream though. My mother would kick my ass if I missed a holiday with her.

Although she did just have heart surgery - that might have slowed her down a little. I'm sure she doesn't pack the same punch she used to.

Vegas' Y Chromosomes

There are a lot of guys in Vegas.

A lot.

Not all of them were ... quality men. In fact, while most provided good stories, only one name was worth remembering. The rest just made for good blog fodder. I think Andi got the brunt of the creepers - she is super hot and well, I just look kinda angry most of the time. meh.

So here, because I know you have all be waiting to hear about the escapades of Andi and Iris - who, might I add, are a bit like a girl buffet, something for every taste. Now, to the boys of Las Vegas.

XS

While we are walking into the club, some guy just tells us to come with him, so we do and we end up getting in for free - we'll totally take the $20 savings each - however, we won't hangout with you another night. We're just not that into you.

Just because you do something nice, we are not obligated to spend more time with you. Your generosity is appreciated, but that is all.

As we are sitting down, a dude sits on the other side of Andi and starts to create a conversation - being polite, Andi obliges, until he asks "How tall are you?" When she answered, his response: "Cool! We're the same height - let's dance!!"

Seriously, has this worked before? Is it a turn-on to be the same height? Odd.

There was the cute Swiss boy - he was tall, European and well, very cute.And get this - he wasn't creepy! Also, yay for accents!

Boys - being cute and having an accent will always work in your favor. Always. Although, Nein sprechen sie Deutsch.

To the guy on the dancefloor that wouldn't leave Andi alone - yes, I pushed you and yes, I would do it again. Asshole.

Here's the thing - if a girl is unresponsive the first time you try to dance with her, it is likely that SHE DOESN'T WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU. Don't try three more times, just move on. Idiot.

Pure

Um, Pure was BAAAD. The club was pretty, but the boys were a critical fail. No seriously.

Upon arrival, Andi gets stopped by an Aussie who wanted to 'mate' her. As he was holding us both hostage with inane conversation, he starts to talk about his search for juice in Las Vegas.

huh? I'm still confused. JUST GO TO 7-11 and stop talking about it with random people.

After we had broken free from the small Aussie, Andi gets stopped again, but this time by an older dude. This guy wanted to 'guess' which province and city we were from.

Again, huh? Is this a game that works boys? This guessing game? Because it shouldn't and if it has, you have been LUCKY.

Lavo

Lavo was our last stop of Tuesday night and thank goodness. The music was good, the boys weren't as bad and well, we just wanted to dance.

When we sat down, Andi was approached by some random. This time, his topic of conversation was her job. When she mentioned that she works in an accounting office, he asked for two two-digit numbers and proceeded to try and multiply them .. IN HIS HEAD.

You get that she works in an accounting office and isn't actually Rain Man right? Ugh.

There was the old man that invited us to his table for champagne. Seriously, he was there by himself, with a couple of bottles and half naked woman flanking him - the girls weren't actually with him, but were at the club and he invited them over for company and free champagne.

Gross.

Vancouver

After all the Vegas cheesiness, we were happy to be back in Canada where the men are slightly frightened of women.

That was until we were leaving Josh's apartment and two dudes get into the elevator with us. The conversation went like this:

Dude 1: Where did you ladies come from tonight?
Us: Um, just a friend's apartment
Dude 2: Of course they were in the building - where did you think they were, the sky?
Dude 1: Well, angels sometimes fall from heaven.

WHEN HAS THIS WORKED?! I mean, I am a fan of cheesy lines - if you are playing them as cheesy. These dudes were serious.

So, boys, the moral of the story:

Don't be a douchebag. If you want to chat with a girl, make sure she's actually interested in the conversation. No one's asking for deep conversation or anything, but give her something she can work with.

Above all else, remember: NO ED HARDY.

Tangent: What is it with Ed Hardy - why is this brand around? Who is wearing this shit? Who thinks it looks good? Please, stop buying Ed Hardy and buy a shirt with only a couple of colours and no bedazzled accessories. Even if you are from New Jersey - this is unacceptable. If you are from LA, well, it is just expected.

Ugh.

Sorry. So yes, the boys of Vegas were a'plenty, but the quality of Vegas was lacking.

Badly.

Black 17!

I love gambling. I know it is a total waste of money, but I really really love it. The thrill of winning, and in Vegas, the free booze.

Wednesday Andi and I dragged our hungover selves out of bed and across the street for some grease. Then the pool was calling our names.

Can we just talk about The Wynn for a second? I freaking love this hotel - two sinks in the bathrooms, automatic curtains, great buffet, huge rooms, and fresh fruit by the pool. I didn't want to leave, and if I didn't have to work, I may not have.

Post-sunning, Andi went upstairs, but I went to wander ... over to the roulette table! Yeah!!

After five hours, countless drinks and many chips I thought it was a good idea to get back to the room and get ready for the evening - after all, it was 7PM!

As I stumbled my way through the hotel, looking for a way out, I realized something ...

I was drunkity drunk drunk.

After a shower, and a change of clothes, we headed out for the evening, however, the best thing about this night was going to be the food and the conversation.

We were told to go to LAX at the Luxor. It was the worst ever. Seriously.

Although my favorite conversation of the night occurred at LAX:

Iris: I give this place 20 minutes and then we should leave
Andi: I give it 10
Andi: (25 seconds later)Let's just go now.

Good. Life. Choice.

Gluttons

We got up late on Tuesday. It was awesome.

When we woke up, we knew one thing - we were hitting the hotel's buffet. And we were excited.

If you haven't been, Vegas buffets are a thing of beauty - samplings from around the world, decadent desserts, and sometimes, champagne.

The Wynn's was truly magical. The room we ate in looked like something out of Alice and Wonderland and holy fuck were there desserts. Shot-sized tiramisu and rice pudding, ice cream, various cakes and tortes and good god nearly everything. I had 7 items from the dessert section and I have mentioned, I am not a huge dessert fan.

We sat, we gorged, and then we slept.

It was awesome.

That night, we went to Pure. You will read more about it soon enough. We promptly left there, and went to Lavo at the Venetian. The music was good, the boys were more up our alley and we danced.

We were even home early - 4:30.

See, we can be good too.

Yet another reason

While I was searching for the David Letterman extortion video, I stumbled upon this gem.

The Avett Brothers are a personal fave, and a little alt-country band that isn't say, the biggest band in the world. Steve and I were lucky enough to see them perform last year and they really impressed us. They are incredibly talented, and because Dave is brilliant, he had them on his show in September.



Have I mentioned that I heart Dave? Also, if anyone has a working link to the extortion video, I would love to see it.

Sinners and the City

Before you get Vegas, you get context.

My friend Andi and I worked at the hotel together. She is a couple years younger than I am, single and hot. We were planning on going to Amsterdam and Oktoberfest, but the months flew by and we forgot to save money. So, we went to Vegas because, well, you couldn't beat the deals.

Seriously, we actually were able to stay at the Wynn! I thought the only way I'd ever get to stay in a property like that was if someone else was paying for it.

Ok, so now you know.

As soon as we got there, we oohed and aahed at how lovely the property was. We dashed to the roomed and were blown away by it. So big! And everything was just perfectly appointed. We changed, darted to get some food and lazed by the pool. It was 37 degrees that first day.

Yes, you read that right.

After the pool, we napped, slept till midnight accidentally and got up to get ready. By the time we got to the club, it was 1AM and a pretty big sausage party. But we're troopers and tried to make the best of it. heh. It wasn't hard.

We drank, we danced, we chatted with boys, we almost got into a fight with one, we made new friends, oh and we got into the club for free.

We were awesome.

A Bachelor's Life

Smelly Paul pointed out a few days ago that I am living a bachelor's life.

Going out on weekdays, doing random ridiculous things, basically, living a very selfish life. And not being one little bit apologetic for it.

And I unapologetically admit that is a perfect description.

As of late, Sarin have been living like we're older and smarter 22 year olds. Saying yes to random things and trying to be open to time being spent outside of our respective apartments. And, well, it's awesome, exhausting, but awesome.

Since September long weekend I have been: to Seattle for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, seen Franz Ferdinand in Malkin Bowl, been to a magazine launch party, went to The Pet Shop Boys with my boyfriends, seen The Monotonix, Holy Fuck, and I just got back from Las Vegas with my friend Andi.

Holy shit, I had no idea how ... busy September was until I wrote about it.

You'll get semi-full details of my trip to Vegas soon enough.

Tell me you love me

I love my job. I have talked about it a lot, but I really do. When I walked in for my interview two years ago, I had no idea that this job, with these crazy people, would be such a great fit.

After my first Friday cocktails I came home and bragged about how we had cocktails in the office! P3 said 'You feel like you're home don't you?' And I kinda did.

My job pushes me, stresses me out and kicks my ass most weeks, but it's fucking awesome.

But, one thing about my job is that it's a tough environment. Compliments and niceties aren't doled out willy nilly.

In fact, it has been compared, somewhat appropriately, to a boyfriend that doesn't say 'I love you'. Sure, you know he loves you and that's why you stick with him, but sometimes, you just want to hear those words.

Well, yesterday, after two years, my job told me that it loves me too. My job, said, 'Iris, we think you are pretty AND smart.'

And I couldn't be happier than if it were a real-life boy was saying it.

Although it feels oddly similar - the relief that you didn't make all those things up in your head or that he was just an ass or, well, you get my drift. And the warm fuzzy feeling you get, well it's pretty nice. Plus, it's always nice to know the feelings are mutual.

My first real-life, big-girl promotion, new title and all. YAY ME!

But, is it normal that my palms have started to sweat just thinking about what this ACTUALLY means?

Oye vay.

Let's play catch up!

Edmonton last weekend:

I love my visits home. They are busy as hell, but I love my visits home.

Friday night I got to pseudo-win Catan - it was a pseudo-win only because the game was called-off due to distraction. But I would have won. It was inevitable.

Saturday I met one of my oldest friend's new, fucking adorable, baby boy. His name is Luca. He lives in Slave Lake. He is adorable. I also got to see her being a mom, and a really good mom. She's glowing and it's weird, but awesome. And well, Luca's eyes are this crazy blue colour I didn't know existed.

Saturday night I got to see why Smelly has been busy all the time. His renovations are done - and they look amazing. It doesn't even look like the same house. I can't believe that he, in all his nerdy glory, was able to execute what he did. He is surprisingly competent, although I can only imagine what his wife had to go through to get it there.

After Smelly's we went to a backyard bbq my friends were hosting. Those girls throw good parties. How good? So good, it got a group of thirty-somethings (and me) to stay out until 5am. What is that?! The first thing my ma said when I woke up: "5AM. That's when you come home?"

Apparently.

Sunday was brunch with Chunk, Lis & Jarod. Chunk is about to pop. Seriously, that is one big Korean. After, we checked out her new, huge, digs.

It's weird to see your friends moving into different life phases. New homes, renovations, new babies, pregnancy. It is weird mainly because I am living the same life I was at 22. Other than my job and a new city, nothing has really changed. Still single. Still renting. Still doing ridiculous things. *sigh*

Sorry, tangent.

So, That was last weekend. I need a nap just thinking about it. I didn't get really any time to spend with my parents. I did get some good girl time with mom on the drive to and from Slave Lake and I did see my pa's new place of employment.

Ok, so I did get to hangout with them. Nevermind. This is why I write about it. Because otherwise, I would forget about it.

The Big Finish

After the awesome-sauce that was the YYYs, Sarin and I drove like mad to make it home for Franz Ferdinand.

Well, I drove, but she was a great co-pilot.

SHAMELESS BOAST: We made it from Seattle to Vancouver in under 3 hours. We were in Surrey at 2.5 hours. I drove the shit out of that car bitches!

We pulled into Vancouver, with plenty of time for show #2 in country #2. Franz Ferdinand at the Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park.

Have I mentioned how cool Sarin and I are? Because we are. Really fucking cool.

All of my concert-cohorts had been to Malkin Bowl before and told me how great it was, but seriously, that shit is amazing. An outside concert venue in the forest.

Say what?!

The show was super good. Only the second best show I had seen that day, but the competition was unbeatable.

It was a very fun little dance party - made kinda magical by the rain.

After the show, we got lost in Stanley Park, and then I went to the Cambie with Josh and some of his friends. We drank, we laughed, good times all around.

The really strange part of the night comes after we leave and are heading home.

I have seen a live porn before, in Coquitlam on a pubcrawl. And last night, I saw another one.

There, on the sidewalk, in front of the whole world to see, a girl was laying down, spread eagle (pants still on) as her considerably larger boy / girl (we couldn't really tell which) partner layed on her, thrusting (pants on).
Then larger one apparently decided it was time to go home and proceeds to stop traffic to hail a cab. And the poof, they were gone.

Weirdest shit ever!

I got dropped off at home, in safe Kits, and as I am walking to my building, some dude starts making random conversation. As we're walking, I turn to go to my building and he makes the same turn.We live in the same building, and on the same floor. So we had a smoke in front of the building and talked about yoga.

Random.

And that is the second part of my Sunday.

holy fuck, that was a good weekend.

yes yes yes!

I mentioned previously how I had been THISCLOSE to seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs twice before.

As someone who has no patience, or tolerance for not getting my way, the fact that Karen, Nick and Brian had eluded me this long was torture.

My over-active imagination had built their shows up to something ... almost religious.

Through the interweb and the vastness of YouTube, their performances were, in my mind, legendary. As Sarin and I were driving to SEA, I said: "I worry they won't live up to my expectations."

Um, yeah, I'm retarded leotarded. They totally blew me away.

I have never seen a performer command a stage and control an audience like that. Karen O., my longtime girl crush, was incomparable. She was theatrical, but unpretentious. Engaging, but effortless. Grateful, but authentic.

After Maps, she said "I love you guys - and I don't say that to every crowd." And you believed her, because she's Karen O and well, she wouldn't lie.

She would drink water, then spit it in the air and on herself. She put the mike in her mouth and held it there. She fucking rocked Maps semi-acoustically.

One of the things I was most excited for were her costumes. Karen is legendary for dramatic and over-the-top costumes. Again, she didn't disappoint. Her opening outfit was this crazy string-like thing. From there out she added and subtracted elements, making her costumes part of the show.

Officially, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were ... perfect. And lived up to every expectation I had put on them.

It was shorter than I would have wanted, although no length of time would have satisfied me. Regardless, I was glued to the stage. Even those big inflatable eyeballs couldn't distract me. I was angry when I was pushed, out of sheer irritation that my attention was being diverted. It was needed elsewhere - straight ahead.

In summary - best. show. ever.

I took a few pics. Here they are. *Note: I am not a photog, nor do I claim to be.

Seattle Saturday

So, Sarin and I came up with the BRILLIANT idea of driving to Seattle, spending the night, going out, seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and coming home for Franz Ferdinand.

We are the fucking coolest chicks alive.

Saturday, we drove to Seattle - which is, in our minds, bizarro Vancouver. We did a bit of shopping, went to the Experience Music Project and went out.

This was our night out:

Walk outside to smoke. A boy talks to us and asks us where we're going. He tells us of a different place, we go, and continue to get ridiculously intoxicated.

Sarin was a pimp and totally got us drinks all night. It was pretty sweet, I'm not going to lie.

As the bar is closing, some hot dude starts chatting with us, and from there on, the details are fuzzy.

What we know:

We got home ok.

So, really, all the fuzzy doesn't matter. We didn't lose each other. Yes, some questionable life choices were made, but in the end, all is well.

Sunday morning, however, was ridiculously painful.

Art Star

This weekend, something I never thought would happen, is happening.

Sarin and I are heading to Seattle. And we are going for a very specific reason:

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are playing the Bumbershoot Music Festival.

I have loved the YYYs since Big Daddy downloaded Fever To Tell on my computer. It was the first full album I had liked in a really long time. I put it on heavy rotation and kept it there. I became infatuated with Karen O. There is no other way to say it. She is the fucking coolest chick alive - easily.

This weekend is all the more sweet because seeing them perform has been in my grasp twice before, tickets in hand and everything. sigh.

My first solo trip to NYC I bought tickets for the second of two sold-out shows they were doing at the Bowery Ballroom. Unfortunately, a few days before the show, I realized that the show was on the evening I was leaving. I couldn't go and my heart was sad. I even made an attempt to buy tickets from scalpers, but alas, there were none.

The next time was the summer I interned in New York. I had tickets for a show they were doing at the McCarren Park Pool. Turns out, after working my ass off, impressing enough people and being offered a job there, I had to move the week of their show. I thought at the time, no worries, I am getting my dream, I can give up my tickets.

How naive was I?

Well, all that 'close but no cigar' business is over this weekend. This Sunday, I will be getting to finally see them.

I honestly don't think I have ever been this excited for a show before.

Other than Jarod's shumka dancing of course.

Stereotypes Galore!

Tonight, my evening consisted of meeting some friends, walking around the West End, going to yoga and then for cheap Thai food.

Plus, I'm a visible minority.

I think Vancouver is seeping in, and I am not so sure that I like it.

Seriously? Yoga? What the fuck?

I don't know what has happened to me. First climbing, now this.

If anyone knows where 'normal' Iris is, please let me know.

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

Well I am. So I will write.

This week has been busy. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I am a busy bee, with people to see and things to do.

Ok, well, more just sitting around with Sarin, hanging out.

First, let me properly introduce you all to Sarin. She is, like so many of my favorite people, from Edmonton. And to best sum it up, she is my bizarro. We share many of the same thoughts and interests and well, kinda everything. She has her own versions of Smelly, Priscilla and confusing boys, that she makes my life feel less alone.

Anyways, my social weekend consisted of two houseparties and one amazing concert.

Friday night, Sarin and I went to a houseparty I was invited to by a friend, with the promise of boys.

And boys there were. Ladies, if you have been wondering (like I have been) where all the single straight men are, well, there was a house in Kits the all apparently lived.

The boy-to-girl ratio was ridiculous, but alas, none of them struck my fancy - well, to be fair, between the dancing to Jizz in My Pants to building a torch, they didn't have time to do much else. After watching one stand on a car, with no shirt and said torch in the middle of the street, we were confident the police would be arriving and darted out of there.

We grabbed some latenight (gasp) healthy eats at The Naam and headed home.

Saturday I met a friend for lunch at a Mexican joint by my place, hit the beach with another friend and then headed to the show with Ash and Sarin.

Phew, I'm tired just thinking about it.

After the show, Sarin and I went to another houseparty. I stayed for a little while, but then headed home.

The lesson from this weekend is that I am not a houseparty person. I have to be incredibly drunk to find any sort of pleasure from random, non-coherent interactions with strangers. I don't know how people find this enjoyable.

HOW?

Most people are stupid. Most drunk people are intolerable. So why, as a semi-sober person, do I want to interact with them en masse?

Sorry, that went a little ranty. My apologies.

Sidenote - the real issue with sleep problems is that I am now ready for a nap, but instead, I have to jump in the shower and head to work, where I am expected to be bright, and creative and presentable.

This is going to be a really long day.

sigh

On the Verge

Tonight, I saw Dan Mangan at the Eastside Cultural Centre.

If you haven't heard of Dan, well, I am confident you will soon.

He has been the week's media darling, being everywhere from CBC Radio 3 to the cover of the Georgia Straight. His new cd - Nice Nice, Very Nice - is fucking awesome, and has been on heavy rotation since Josh gave me the cd a few weeks ago (which I promptly went out and bought because it is so good).

It has also gone into heavy rotation on the computers of my cubicle-mate, another co-worker and Sarin.

There is something just totally likable about this dude - he seems like a genuinely nice guy and well, who doesn't want to root for the nice guy.

But back to the show - holy moly was it good. Two encores (well, one was mini, but still), like an 8 piece band backing him at times and all in this really lovely location.

Now, this may be all glow because it was HELL getting the tickets to go to the show. I forgot to buy them, my friend Ash came through, we drove to Aldergrove to get the tickets. Josh came through at the last minute, like the rockstar he is, and Sarin was able to come too.

Fucking brilliant and I really think, this dude is going to do some really cool shit. I just don't see how else it would work out.

Seriously - this video is from two years ago - he has only gotten better.

Totally worth it

How do you put into words your worth?

How do you articulate all the intangible qualities that make you you?

And when someone doesn't recognize your worth, how long do you stay? How long do you sit around and let this person or situation take advantage of you, solely for their benefit?

I have mentioned I am very loyal - to a fault in fact a lot of times - and I struggle with cutting ties and ending relationships. What if I have more to learn / gain / enjoy out of it?

So my question to my 10 readers - how do you know when enough is enough and to just walk away? How do you know when a situation is toxic enough that the best option for you is to remove yourself from it?

How?!

Because I am not really sure I know that point. When I have broken up with friends before, it was long after the relationship had turned toxic. Boyfriends, well, rarely am I the breaker-upper. And jobs, up until this one, I have only had jobs that were 'replaceable'.

*sigh*

Sometimes, I wish there was just a magic button you could push to get all the answers. How fucking lovely would that be?

Wake-up Call

I used to set them all the time. But I always hated receiving them.

I hate waking up. But today, I kinda got an unexpected wake-up call.

Today, something happened (I won't go into the details here) that made me think about my life and my immediate future.

Not in a deep, reflective sorta way, but thinking nonetheless.

I was thinking about Vancouver. Whether or not this is the place for me. Whether or not I would be willing to leave it tomorrow, if the situation warranted. Whether or not I would be willing to apply and take the job for $60k a year - despite that being considerably more money than I will see for years. Whether or not I am ok with losing the ties I have here, however loose they may be.

And when I was done thinking, I realized I am not really ready to leave Vancouver. That I am starting to have a little life here - with people I generally quite like, things I enjoy doing, and routines I have gotten used to.

For so long, Vancouver was tied to P3 - and that isn't the case anymore. No longer does every god-damn-thing remind me of him.

Thank fucking god.


Oh, on a lighter note, I was outside for my afternoon ciggie today and received a you-can-be-saved type pamphlet.

heh.

Know your target audience.

I had no idea

That Wes Anderson, creator of some of my favorite movies of all time (Royal Tenenbaums, Steve Zissou, Bottle Rocket) is behind the Fantastic Mr. Fox.



I know it's been a while. I have been writing on other blogs and neglecting this one. I apologize.

I promise to be better. Seriously.

So Lame!

I was just 3 hours away from completing my Blogathon task of a new post every half an hour.

So close.

And then I woke up this morning with no recollection of how I got to bed or when my last post had been.

sigh

I undertook Blogathon as a writing challenge - pushing out that many posts was not difficult, and I am sure the final couple would have been dribble, but whatevs.

No, I shouldn't have been drinking all of those beers during the day, but it was sooo hot.

So, I put my best foot forward and didn't succeed.

I suck. I know.

Heaven on Earth

The heavenly cloud that is my bed

I may have the greatest bed in the world. It is like a cloud, fluffy and big and just so great. It sorta sucks you in and doesn’t let go.

Amazing.

You never want to leave it. I never do. Sometimes I actually don’t leave it.

The first time I realized HOW much I love my bed was when I got back from NYC. After two months of sleeping on a freaking twin-sized dorm bed for two months, I dove into my bed and went to heaven. I can’t imagine how I survived without it.

Eve loves my bed. She used to sleep over in university just because of my bed.

I wish I was in my bed right now.

No seriously. I am fucking tired.

Hermit

Sometimes, I don't leave my house for a while.

I am talking a weekend at most, but still, it is amazing.

Sitting around, being on the computer, ignoring phone calls and texts you just don't care to see ... well, I wouldn't give it up for anything.

I come off as being social, but I am definitely not.

In reality, I am a loner nerd that would rather be alone than talk to people.

After all, people are stupid. Well, the majority of them are.

Sorry, happy thoughts.

There are times when I talk to no one other than my mom and interact with no one beyond my place of work and the bus.

To sit, for a little while, with no noise, well, I think I covered that in an earlier post.

I dunno, there is something about going all .. off the grid for a weekend - even though it's not really off the grid.

Whatever.

Shiny

At one point, I was very focused.

There was nothing that could distract me from the task at hand - other than TV

Now, thanks to the interwebs, I have adult onset ADD. And it is kinda awesome.

I sit at a computer everyday and I get to find things, random things that have no relevance to the task at hand.

It is awesome.

I mean, I sit there, working, and wham-o, I get a thought, I Google it and my thought has turned into 20 minutes of useless information.

I can't lie, sometimes I hate it - not being able to focus. It hurts my professional life, that's for sure.

But the thing is, I know just so much random shit, it's silly.

So is this post.

Is anyone out there? I would rather be sleeping right now.

Also, I'm a wee bit tipsy.

Yay.

Um, hello case in point.

Not fully baked

Let me just say, I am not a big dessert fan.

In reality, I don't really care for it. I am more a savoury girl than a sweet one.

But holy fuck is Ben & Jerry's Half Baked good!

With an amazing combination of brownie and cookie dough chunks. Chocolate mixes with vanilla and everything seems right in the ice cream world.

Seriously, how could anything be better?

I highly doubt it. And I am not baked at all.

Come and knock on my door

I love having visitors. It makes Vancouver worthwhile to know that it is close enough for people to visit.

Next up, Harp and BD. VERY excited. I have already been arranging their trip. I am lame. I know.

So far, almost everyone has come out for a visit.

Smelly, the dude I thought would never show, has come a few times now. Thank goodness for OH&S conferences in Vancouver!

See, these people that visit, they can make any place home. Transform my sad little apartment into a place I want to be, rather than a place I have to be.

I get to play tourist with them and see what Vancouver has to offer - beyond the water taxi.

This is probably a bit weird, but one of the big reasons I took my apartment was because it is so close to the beach. I thought ... this would be lovely for visitors.

And it is. No doubt about it.

So, who's up next? September is looking might lonely.

Vacations

I didn't really get the whole vacation thing until recently.

Before then, I would take vacations whenever. Couple days here, couple days there. Whatevs.

But now, with a slight two weeks vacation days a year, I save and anticipate vacation days like a fat kid waits for cookies.

They are a necessary part of working - escaping and such.

I wish I had more ... hint hint ... but will survive until I get the three week bump.

fuck am I excited for that!

China opened my eyes to the excitement vacations can cause. Vegas made is very clear, that China was not the exception, but the rule. Even one day off can get a girl soooo excited.

Seriously.

I can't wait for my October trip. I have yet to book my flight, but already, I am eagerly anticipating two weeks away from my cube.

What month are we in?

Sun & Sand

I was never really a big fan of beaches.

That was until this summer.

Thanks to Josh, I made it to a Beach Club on a random Sunday and thought, "What the fuck am I doing living in Vancouver if I am not enjoying the fucking beaches!?"

So, since then, I have become a beach addict.

Almost every day after work, I am there. If it is sunny on a Saturday, I am there. I have a really great base tan now and am totally ready for what the rest of summer may bring.

Seriously, people who live in Vancouver - if you don't go to the beach on the regular, move to Regina!

The beach is easily the best part of this city. I don't go in the water, because that is kinda gross, but I do lay there, smoke and enjoy the heat.

Sometimes, I also drink in public.

That makes everything better.

Seriously.

From mountains to the ocean

Ok, have you been on the Sea to Sky Highway?

If you haven't get your ass down to Vancouver and I will take you.

It is easily my favorite drive ever.

The first time I was on it, P3 and I were heading to Whistler. I mentioned to him that I would have liked Vancouver a lot more the first time had he brought me down that highway.

Imagine going from mountain tops to sea level! There are mountains on one side, and then ocean on the other.

WHAT!?

No, for reals. It is so freaking great. Easily my favorite drive of all time. Better than the one from Edmo to Calgary or the drive from anywhere to anywhere.

I say that with 100% confidence.

Just sooo Indian

I am pretty white-washed. I mean, I have been called the whitest brown girl ever.

It's true, I am not particularly cultural. In my defense, neither are my parents. It's not like I was all ... I reject my culture, blah blah blah.

Rather, I just followed suit.

They didn't run around the house wearing saris or constantly cooking Indian food. Mom's best meals are the always the ones she asks her white friends for.

But, the one thing my mom does, soooo well, is Indian breads. Namely chapatis.

They are also called rotis for some people - I don't know why they have different names, but they do. Harp, can you explain?

They used to be regular occurences in my life. Mom would make them and I would devour them.

Now, they are few and far between.

I can make them too - they are one of the few items I can cook that actually comes out tasting the same as when she does them - but for me, they still taste better when she makes them.

Plain, with cheese, with a saucy goodness, I swear, chapatis could solve the world's problems.

Well, at least mine.

Settling now

I have mentioned Settlers of Catan on here several times.

Greatest game ever.

Jarod and Steve first introduced me to it. Then I put it in front of Craig and P3.

Then the summer of 2007 was set.

I would come home from work and these two nerds would be sitting there with Catan set-up ready to go.

Talk about awesome-sauce.

I get really competitive, although some people think I am all talk and no action.

See the thing about Catan, is that my trash talk and smart mouth are actually natural by-products of the game.

What is the point of the game, you wonder? There are rules that can explain that to you, but for me, the point of the game is to stop everyone else from winning until you have a shot at winning.

Fucking brilliant.

The game changes with every new set-up and it is so good.

I only wish I knew anyone in Vancouver that would be happy coming over on a Friday night, spending some time withe some friends and playing Catan until the wee hours.

That would be so perfect.

And I would probably marry them.

Drive where?

I know this is going to get all the ecos irritated, but I love driving.

I could drive for hours, with no real destination. There is something about it that is both calming and enjoyable.

After a break-up with a boyfriend, I drove from Edmonton to Calgary with no real point of it.

It helps me soothe my head, and helps me move past the problem I was facing to a place that I am just singing and smoking in my car.

I have always had really fuel-efficient cars, so at least I'm not driving an Escalade everywhere.

The thing about driving is that it is you against the road.

I know its fucked up, but I quite like driving in inclement weather. There is something about getting through a storm that makes you feel so ... solid as a driver.

Yes, I am a dirty polluting driving loving hick.

Sue me.

Edmonton

This might be lengthy, I am just going to warn you.

I get it, I live in Vancouver. I don't hate it anymore, so whatever.

But, regardless of where I live, Edmonton will always be my home.

For me, there is nothing like landing in Edmonton. I just feel like I am home.

Regardless of where I stay or who I see or if I even get to see anyone, Edmonton is and always will be, home.

The thing about this city that I love is the small town vibe of it.

Sure Edmonton has its drawbacks - the urban sprawl and reliance on cars comes to mind - but all-in-all, I think it is the best city in the freaking province.

I will never understand why Calgary gets all the love. Just because they are almost close to the mountains?

Proximity to beauty does not inherently make you beautiful - FYI.

I don't think I could explain what I love about the city, and granted, so much of it is tied to the people that are still here (see nickname post, most of those nicknames have Edmonton addresses)

One of the things is that Edmonton has the friendliest people ever. I will never understand why it is so hard for Vancouverites to smile at other human beings.

I loved Edmo even when I was in NYC. And we all know how much I loved NYC - if that couldn't get me to stop missing my Northern Alberta outpost, nothing will.

Short shorts

I used to be incredibly embarassed by my legs. People would make fun of my 'chicken legs' and I would wear pants to not show them.

There were some skirts or capris, but they were few and far between.

But now, thanks to climbing, I am actually proud of my legs.

Seriously.

They aren't the best legs, but I think they are pretty fucking good. They go on for days and finally have a little definition between the calf and the knee - it's awesome!

So, to commemorate my new found self-esteem, I am living this summer in short shorts. Sometimes, I wear them with high heels, but only if I'm feeling especially saucy.

Like in Vegas.

Names that nick

I have a thing for nicknames. I really like the idea of them, regardless of what the person thinks about them.

For example:

Smelly Paul
Ro Ro
Cookie Monster
Chunk
P3

P3 hated his more than anything I think. He would comment on how mean I was for making up these nicknames and never consulting the person about them.

He would ask: "Did Paul ask to be called Smelly?"

No, but it stuck, so now he has to accept it. I mean, my mom even calls him Smelly.

None of the nicknames I use have a mean connotation to them - they all come from love, I promise.

Yes, even Chunk.

I don't come up with names for everyone - I mean, that would just be excessive, but if I can think of something easier to call you, I will.

I think it all boils down to laziness.

Little Boats

The best thing about Vancouver is my summer walks home, sitting on the beach at English Bay and taking the water taxi over to Kits.

So fucking awesome.

Imagine it. I would walk to the beach, about 20 minutes from work, sitting on the beach, smoking and catching a little boat ride home.

amazing

I once saw a sea otter as I was waiting for the water taxi - how cute are those? I try to pressure people to take the water taxi, because it is just so much better than the bus or a taxi, or even a full walk.

So great.

Vancouver, that is one thing that you have that Edmonton never will. Water taxis.

Although a little water taxi ride across the North Saskatchewan would be lovely - and so much better than walking across the High Level.

Sleep

I have sleep issues, which makes sleep, for me, one of the most valuable things in the world.

I get a busy head, don't sleep for a couple of days, and its fucked up.

So, when I do get sleep, I treasure it.

I hate that I have sleep issues. I hate that I am able to function on very little sleep. I hate that people can't really tell when I am on zero sleep, other than me telling them.

I wish that 8 hours of sleep was the standard for me, but it isn't.

When I get a weekend to sleep in, nothing pisses me off more than being woken-up. NOTHING.

My mother continues to think that calls on a Saturday before 9AM are acceptable. Eve the same.

At no time, I repeat no time, are calls before 9AM on a weekend acceptable.

They are actually quite rude.

Unless I'm already awake, then I have probably already called you.

My *swoon* men

Ok, I am 28 years old and I get all teenager-girl when I see, hear or think of any of the boys on my list.

They are just so fucking cute!

Everything about them - I see JT and I get all giggly, I see George and I melt, Chuck gets me all ... hot and bothered, and no man will be as funny as Dave.

I love those boys, they give me hope that through all the losers I meet, one of them may have enough similar qualities to the boys on that list.

Talk about a lost cause.

They are all just so cute. And perfect in my head. If only these things would actually happen.

I don't think they will. sigh.

Well, maybe one day I will meet a boy with the soul of Justin, the smile of George, the humour of Dave, the swagger of Chuck and the all-American nature of Ben.

If you know anyone, you know where to find me.

Music is my boyfriend

Well, it's kinda true. I don't claim to know music as well as some people, but I do love music.

I especially love live music. There are few ways to spend money better. You often get a great set, incredible energy and well, a bit of awesomeness.

Thankfully, I have found people in Vancouver that like music as much as I do. It's easy to drag them out and bop along with me.

I worry that I won't stay hip with my music, that when I am 35 I am going to still be listening to the same music I am today.

I want to grow. I don't want to be like my parents thinking, what the fuck are you listening to? I want to be in the know of great music.

Like Lis' parents. She takes her parents to Coldplay, and Beck and interesting music.

My parents on the other hand listen to talk radio and have no idea who Beck or Coldplay are.

Please let me stay cool. PLEASE

Half Way Through

It's 6PM (ish) now.

Half way through.

Um, this is fucking hard. To come up with words that aren't repetitive or boring or anything.

And is anyone even reading these shitty posts?

oye

Cookie Monster

I am in Edmonton right now for one reason.

Ally's 30th birthday.

I wasn't going to write about individual friends, because, well, that would take a really long time, and these posts kinda have to be about efficiency a little.

But, I didn't get her a present, so here it is.

For my Cookie Monster.

Ally and I met when I was 13 years old. We weren't friends instantly, she was really cool and I was 13 and in grade 10 - hello nerd.

We became acquintances in grade 11. We had crushes on boys that were friends, so there was a common bond.

The second half of grade 11 was tough for both of us, for different reasons, and we became even closer.

In grade 12 we became the best of friends. Or in some ways frenemies. We loved each other dearly, but would torment each other endlessly. She is a lot smaller than I am, so I would use my intimidating (to her) stature and abuse it.

I still kinda do.

We had a bit of a break just before she went and while she was in Taiwan.

Then, while I was at work one day, I was Googling people from my past, and Googled her.

There I found a lengthy article about her jewelery designs and a recent fashion show she hosted in Taipei.

An email was sent to find out that Ally had returned. She was in Edmonton at this very moment and would love to go for drinks tonight.

I manically started calling Smelly - to act as a parachute. We all went to high school together and well, that is enough in common to keep three people form being bored.

It wasn't as bad as I had expected.

Then, it was like our break had never happened and that life was as it was supposed to be. Ally and I were together.

We haven't had another break since. Thank fucking god. I couldn't deal with it now. Fuck. It would kill me.

I credit Ally (and my mom)with giving me any of the warm, mushiness I have in me.

We can do nothing and everything together and it is totally comfortable.

After knowing Ally for 15 years, she is more like my family than anything else.

I feel really bad for not getting her a gift, so she gets a post. And right now, a lengthy post is worth a lot. I don't think I have many more words in me.

I'm lovin' it.

I love love love McDonald's. I don't care how unhealthy it is. Or what that Supersize Me movie said about McDonald's, I freaking love it.

Best hangover food.

Best roadtrip food.

Best, I'm feeling blue and need a quick pick-me up food.

Best late-night drunk food.

Just so good.

Josh referred to his drunk, latenight McDonald's run as 'pulling an Iris'. For a while in his relationship, Jarod blamed me for him eating McDonald's - when he was always the one who suggested it.

I don't necessarily love eating it with other people, for fear that they will judge me. But I do love eating it nonetheless.

Whatever. Judgers.

Menthol Ciggies

I fucking love menthol ciggies.

They are awesome.

Terry Cloth, Not Silk

I love bathrobes. I didn't always, but after a Vegas vacation with my family, I was hooked.

I have been known to spend full days in my bathrobe - obviously not when I leave the house - but I have done it, many times, happily.

You see, I have a whole thing around showers. I like them hot. I like them long. I just really like them. The doors have to be closed the entire time, so that when I step out of the shower, the bathroom retains heat of my overly hot shower.

They have to be terry cloth and full-length. None of those Devon Banks-type

For me, the bathrobe is a staple - kinda like shampoo or soap. It's contagious too. Apparently Harp uses them now too.

Maybe there is a whole revolution coming because of bathrobes.

Or not.

Is there a length limit for these? Because if there is, I may not make it on all the posts. FYI.

Dancing Machine

I will preface this with the fact that I do not think I am a good dancer.

But dancing fucking rocks.

You burn off energy, you get to move your body and you get to just forget that other people are around.

There is nothing like good music and some shaking the ass. But totally not in a sexy way. I can't dance in a sexy way. I just sorta Elaine-it through the dancefloor and kick people out of my way.

But whatever - it is just so much fun.

When I get super busy at work, and I go go go for a while, my treat, always, is to get silly drunk and dance my ass off.

It's the perfect little treat.

Call me!

I live very far from most of the people that matter to me.

Well, not very far, but far enough so that they are in a different area code. I would say at least 85% of my inner circle, lives away from me.

Woe is me.

When I got my long distance plan, the biggest thing was that I needed was early evenings and unlimited long distance.

Everyone told me that I didn't need the early evenings. Yeah right.

The second I am done work, I am on the phone doing something. I need early evenings.

But the unlimited long distance, well, it makes life so easy. I never have to worry about where I'm calling or how long I am chatting with the person on the other end.

Hearing that person's voice on the other end and knowing that, in reality, they aren't that far away, well, it is very comforting.

Oh, I also love love love talking on the phone while smoking. It makes smoking the way I like it - social.

Boozey

I have never claimed to be a clean-living gal. I drink, I smoke, I live my life.

I quite like alcoholic beverages.

One of my favorite things about my office is that we do Friday cocktails. We all sit around and have cocktails and it is just a lovely way to end the week.

Beer is one of my favorite things in the world. On a hot summer day, after work, in the dead of winter, it doesn't matter - beer is great.

I'm not an alcoholic, not even close. I don't really drink to get drunk that often anymore - maybe I'm growing up? - and I never really have booze in my house.

That doesn't mean that I don't enjoy it.

Favorite beers: Whistler Export Lager, Red Stripe and Czechvar
Hard Alcohol: Vodka (preferably Belvedere and Gin (preferably Bombay)

Do you think any of the above alcohol companies would be interested in sending me samples of their yummy beverages?

Please.

sigh. Booze is expensive

Curses!

Swearing has become a part of my every day vocabulary.

I actually curse like a sailor - much to my mother's dismay.

I get that it isn't ladylike or whatever, but cursing helps release a little bit of frustration.

And the thing is, these are just words people.

This may be the most ridiculous post - yet - but I really like swearing. I love that my office tolerates me swearing, that my friends swear just as much as I do, and that if you don't like the swearing, you don't have to hang out with me or hear it - and I am kinda ok with that.

I have a few things that I am very open about when I start dating a boy - swearing and smoking - because I understand how offensive both things can be to people. But swearing is one of those things I don't ever see changing about me.

It's just been too long. Swearing is a part of who I am.

Sarcasm

I consider it a bit of an art - the perfect pitch, the best phrasing, the delivery - everything has to work for good sarcasm.

If not, you come off rude. Which I often do.

Whatever.

I was on a date with a law student once and he said to me, 'Your sarcasm isn't very good. You can't even tell that you're being sarcastic.'

Um, isn't that the point?!

I knew then that I thought this guy was an idiot.

How can sarcasm not make you happy? It has that je ne sais quoi that is difficult to put into words. Obviously.

I once read this lame joke t-shirt that said "I'm not mean, you're just stupid."

I feel like in a lot of ways that sums up my being.

Holy, this one was a little ... scattered.

This shit is hard. 48 posts. What am I on and already I am rambling?

Fuck. This is going to be a long day.

Shhhh ...

I am an only child, who is a little high-strung.

No seriously, ask anyone who knows me, they'll tell you.

There are few things I like more than quiet. Turning off my phone and sitting alone and not talking for a day or two.

This often leads to me being a big loner for a while. Which I am ok with.

I feel like I don't get quiet often enough - not even just verbal quiet but quieting my thoughts and the busy-head that I suffer from.

And I mean suffer.

I have gone days without talking to anyone - except my mom, because she doesn't really count. She would freak out if I didn't talk to her for a couple of days. I know she would.

The days I go without talking to people are just lovely. I feel rejuvenated and relaxed, ready to face my world again.

My desire for quiet is also one of the reasons I doubt I will ever find a mate - when I want quiet, I seriously just want no-one around me.

You see, these quiet moments have become a requirement for my mental health. They force me to slow down a little and chill the-fuck-out.

I feel like I could use a little quiet time right now, but that isn't going to happen for a while.

But I shall persevere. Don't worry about me!

Old New York

My love affair, subsequent depression and continued pining for New York have been documented quite well here. So I won't go into painful detail, yet again, about how much I love love love NYC.

Because I do.

Everything about that time of my life made me happy. And the memories still do.

But I am a little ... scared of NYC now.

Not, like scared but, something.

You see, I worry that if I ever visit NYC again, I will never leave. The energy would be too much and I will succumb.

I just know it.

I would end up quitting my job, moving there on a whim and becoming a life-long waitress. (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just I'm a little too ... obsessive to be a waitress. I also really hate people)

But still, NYC makes me soo fucking happy. Even just knowing it is there, should I ever wish to visit or anything, comforts me.

Like a toxic ex-boyfriend though, I know, it would not be a good thing for me to visit him right now. Or for a little while.

I have things I need to finish before I can trade my life in for my fantasy life.

Work work work

I am one of those annoying people that actually loves my job.

Sure there are days I want to kill myself because of my job, but day in and day out, I am happy to go to work.

There are certain ... things about my job that make me love it so. Here is a list and brief description of them (could that sound any more formal!?). These are in no particular order:

• Because we are a small office, I get the chance to work on things someone at my level wouldn't touch at a big agency. I would be relegated to media lists and event grunt work. But at my job, I get to help write strategies, and give my input and have them actually be incorporated in things. It's pretty fucking cool.

• I have been really fortunate to be able to carve out my own little niche for myself. During my review I told my boss I had an interest in social media and bam! I get to do social media. I have been able to push myself - sometimes further than I thought I could handle - and see what I am made of.

• It is a sink or swim environment. If you're dumb, you won't make it. As much as I love my bosses, they are intolerant of stupidity and inefficiency. But so am I, so whatevs.

• Sooo flexible. When my mom went in for her surgery, I was able to take some time off and then work from home for the rest of the week, and home being Edmonton. So many other companies would give you the minimum and tell you to suck it up.

• My coworkers fucking rock. And for the most part, they always have. There have been some rough patches, one instance comes to mind, but she didn't last with us for very long. But all-in-all, my coworkers have been amazing.

Ok, so I'll shut up now. I am not trying to be a kiss ass or anything, but my job actually does make me really happy and well, I get how annoying that is for people.

Suckers!

Long walks to ...

Anywhere really.

I love walking - it gives you a wee bit of exercise, but also gives you some quiet time to collect your thoughts and move through them efficiently.

Walking became a part of my routine in Edmonton. I would enjoy a little time with some friends, and walk walk walk.

When I was in NYC, walking, well, it was an adventure. Something new every day - a new building, a new park, a new pizza place, a new everything. I really think - the best way to see a city is to walk it. You'll get a whole new perspective.

Tangent: Which is one of the reasons I couldn't do LA. So not a walking city. Ew.

I returned from NYC without a car and was forced to walk - I love Edmonton, but Edmonton transit leaves a lot to be desired. So long as it was -5 or warmer, a walkin' I would go.

Then, I couldn't really walk anymore. It was difficult and embarrassing and I didn't want to leave my house. Sia dragged me out and walking was back.

I now appreciate walking so much more though.

And now my walks include a little beach time, a water taxi ride and still, some friends.

Write Way

FYI - I have to run to the store, and might not make it back in time - hence the early post. I hope this doesn't disqualify me, but I need some food, and not pizza. I will continue the regular blogging schedule when I return.

My apologies.

I had no idea I liked writing. I remember applying for the PR program at MacEwan and wondering - why do I have to be a good writer?

I get now, why I had to be. All I do most of the time is write - press releases, strats, media plans, yada yada yada.

But that isn't the reason I love writing. I love writing here and for my personal benefit. Sitting down, at a computer and putting your thoughts down is cathartic and so much cheaper than therapy!

I don't think I am the best writer in the world, and I kinda don't care. I just really like writing.

And I am so thankful for it. My memory isn't the best, so writing has provided me with vivid recollections of things I would normally forget. It has helped me express thoughts that I cannot do verbally.

Yes, I am emotionally fucked up. Shut it.

I grew up not really understanding that there was this kind of outlet, but here it is. Thank goodness. My friends would get really annoyed with me otherwise.

Boys boys boys

I complain about them all the time. How stupid they are. How I can’t tell what the fuck is going on in their heads. How I wish I was a lesbian.

But I’m not.

sigh

So I am forced to deal with the drama that boys cause.

But they are so cute!

I don’t date a lot, which is depressing at times, but a god-sent at others. These boys, they take up a lot of energy.

Is he going to call? Did he get that joke at dinner? Why didn’t he try to kiss me? Is he going to hate the fact that I smoke? What if I really like this guy?

Oye.

But those butterflies you get when you see them or talk to them or touch them. Those butterflies make everything worth it.

All of the fucking drama and obsessing and wanting to become a lesbian is all made worthwhile when a boy you like, likes you too.

Sofa king awesome.

Interweb

I remember my dad first showing me discussion forums and ICQ. I totally didn’t get it.

But I sure do now.

I freaking love the internet. I wonder all the time, what did we do before it. Everything else would be so inefficient. Anything you want to know, at the tip of your fingers, instantaneously. Like magic.

You meet someone, you Google them and you can find out so much about them. It makes pseudo-stalking so freaking easy it hurts – and don’t get me started on Facebook.

I remember being on the internet one night when I was 17 and my connection was obviously dial-up and a boy rang me. He left me a message and then stopped by to drop off something. When get got to my house he asked me – your phone was busy, don’t you have call-waiting? I told him that I was on the internet and he asked, “what’s the internet?”

Can you imagine a time when someone didn't know what the internet was?!

The internet has kept me close to people I would be lost without. It has given me an outlet for my insanity. It has kept me entertained and informed.

I do, however, blame the internet for my adult-onset ADD.

I’m amazed it has kept my attention this long.