PYT

It's my favorite MJ tune. Just so good, and under-played.

Last night, my friend Sarin and I went to a good old-fashioned dance party. The dance party was in tribute of the King of Pop, and his untimely passing.

I am not going to go into the whole boo-hoo thing here. Yes, it is sad, a person died. However, I am totally unaffected by it. Nothing about his death is going to affect my real-life. Nothing.

I saw a girl on the news crying because she didn't get to tell him how much she loved him.

What? I don't understand this out-pouring of emotion for a person you never met.

Don't get me wrong, I loved MJ as much as the next person, but people, there is no need to go off the deep-end like that. If you can't handle the death of a celebrity, what the fuck are you going to do when someone you actually know dies?

Holy tangent.

Anyways, this here dance-party was held at this venue I have been itching to go to for a while - Dollhouse Studios.

Take a look - it looks hella cool, and it was hella cool. They put together a busy party in two days. So fun.

Anyways, that was my way of saying goodbye to MJ. Far better than crying in public or looking like a drama queen on national television.

Yes, I am judging. Sue me.

Asshole

Ok, so after a day which saw Steve do something amazing for me, I was happily going down to my car to drive home.

Yes, sometimes I like to laze a bit too much in the morning and end up driving to work.

Shut up.

Well, I get to my car and notice it is a mess, a much bigger mess than normal.

And then I see it. My window is broken.

Some asshole took a big fucking rock and threw it into my passenger-side window.

So, I survey the damage and realize the only thing they took was my backpack. With my climbing stuff in it.

Fuckers!

Those shoes were already broken in perfectly. It was like they were molded for my feet, most days. I was hoping to always have those climbing shoes. They were my first pair and they felt so special to me.

And my harness, beaner and belay device were all there too.

And what the hell are they going to do with my climbing gear? Get like $30 bucks for it.

Ugh.

I know I am retarded leotarded for leaving it in my car, but I always do. I am just so annoyed that in a parking garage, in downtown Vancouver, during the day, on a Thursday, these random acts of violence can occur.

Shouldn't petty thieves be relegated to night-time activities? Shouldn't they at least have a little fear of getting caught?

Fuckers.

Well, at the very least my stuff is in the hands of someone with some balls.

Boo-urns.

Maybe Vancouver doesn't suck

This week has been brilliant here in Vancouver.

Here's why.

1) As I mentioned before, May was super busy at work. We were down a couple of key people and while the rest of us couldn't pick-up all the slack, we did a pretty fucking good job. So, as a 'Thanks for working your asses off in May' my boss took us on his 98-year old wooden boat.

Fuck is it pretty.

We went along the harbour and lunched by Lonsdale Quay. We saw a yacht with a helicopter wrapped up, and well, it was awesome.

Best. Lunch. Ever.

2) I have been at the beach three times in the past week, or at the very least been by the beach. My walk home and subsequent water taxi ride are still in effect and rocking my world, but I have started to bring a sarong and just sit in the sun for a bit.

So fucking lovely and relaxing. You can't be stressed out about your day after you sit for twenty minutes and just chill out.

3) Friday rocked!

My mission on Friday night was an early evening drunk. I am talking public drinking, with friends, right after work. Now, while the 'right after work' part didn't happen that way, the early evening drunk did.

I met Josh at Kits beach, he had awesomely brought some beer for us, and we sat, drank, chit-chatted, and gawked at the scenery surrounding us. Priscilla soon joined with some friends, and then Sarin met-up with us.

Sitting there, drinking, chatting with friends, I said it out-loud:

Vancouver doesn't suck.

At least right now.

But this week, this glorious week, Vancouver didn't suck.

It's about fucking time.

Also, I have friends, did you notice? I met up with three, yes three people at the beach! And they don't suck. That is pretty fucking cool.

Vegas University

So, I think I learned something in Vegas.

I think it was something I knew at one point, but had totally forgotten in the past few years, since the whole New York debacle.

I had forgotten to live my life.

MY LIFE

The life that had me talking to strangers, and going where I want to go, when I want to go. The life that is worthy of a blog and something to write about.

I mean, I loved my entire weekend there. There isn't a second of it that I regret, because I was fully living the life I had planned on living.

From our late night / early morning friend, to Zumanity, to the 12 Brits in the limo, (one of whom is apparently a semi-famous soccer player) everything was fucking brilliant.

Also, I went on the supermodel diet of Diet Coke and ciggies for most of May, so I was super skinny, and nothing helps a girl feel more like living life than looking skinny.

I don't know what in particular it was, I mean, I didn't feel different there, but I sure did feel different when I got back. I have a spring in my step. And well, I feel like something clicked.

It also helps that I got some boy attention. I hadn't received any boy attention in a while, between working my ass off and being depressed about P3, boys were not flocking to me.

But in Vegas, I had boy attention. One in particular. This adorable Brit plumped up my ego like a mofo, and while I can't remember his name, I am soooo happy that he stepped into my life.

I am kinda glad I can't remember his name though, because then I would be stalking online. And that would be bad.

Very bad.

So yes, through all the debauchery and dead brain cells, I came back from my weekend rejuvenated ... imagine how I would feel if I had slept.

You do crazy things on no sleep

Well, Saturday was an adventure. After getting back to the hotel around 7AM, Lis and I stayed up and giggled an appropriate amount, waking up the other girls and finally headed to bed around 9 or 10.

I was up again at 12:30 when Chunk and Autumn were getting ready. So I decided to go for lunch with them and see what the day would bring.

We went to a nice little French resto at the Paris. I had been there once before with my aunt. Food was still great, and our waiter was super fantastic.

Then we went shopping.

Then I wanted to die.

My hangover finally started at around 6pm. Yup, you read that right, 6 PM. What the fuck is that?!

We bought tickets to Zumanity. Holy shit was it good.

We were all blown away by it. It was funny, interactive and totally provocative. Great. I totally recommend it to the non-prudes out there.

After Zumanity, we hit up the casino at New York New York. We won some money. It was awesome.

Then off to ghostbar at the Palms.

A dancefloor outside, on the 55th floor - the breeze was incredibly conducive to dancing.

So we did. And we drank. And we danced. And we talked with boys. And fuck was it fun.

After the club closed we went to hang out with some new friends, and again, didn't get home till very early in the morning.

Debaucherous tales of Las Vegas

I hadn't been to Vegas in years. It had been so long, in fact, that I had forgotten what a ridiculously good time it can be.

This will be the first of several posts, as one would be too long and well, you deserve to know everything in the greatest of details.

What happens in Vegas no longer stays in Vegas. At least not when you have a blog.

Friday
I was so freaking excited for this trip. I had planned my outfits weeks before, prepped what I had hoped to do, and started to talk about it non-stop to anyone that would listen.

Fuck was I excited. Work had been hella busy, and while this couldn't have been a worse time, it also couldn't have been a better time. A full weekend with no work, no emails, no interweb.

Who was an excited lady?

I was, that's who.

So, Friday morning, I of course slept in a bit, made a mad dash for the border, with several panic attacks in between and boarded what could only be considered the ultimate party plane.

I swear every person on there, except for me, was hammered. (I had no American cash on me, hence the sobriety)

2.5 hours later, I landed in Vegas, ready for what promised to be a fucking gong show.

I hadn't seen the girls since March, so it was super exciting to see them all. Chunk was so pregnant it was shocking! I just had no idea her little body could carry that bump.

So Friday, we shopped, we explored a bit and then we went for dinner. PF Changs. Yeah, it was marginal, at best.

After dinner, Lis & I went for our first little adventure.

First off to Tryst. Yes, the club was beautiful - we are talking going from inside to outside, with a waterfall beautiful - but the music was meh and the boys were meh.

Oh well, as the club was closing, we decided - We need to dance! (At 4 in the morning).

At our request, the cabbie took us to an after-hours.

But it wasn't JUST an after-hours. Oh no, this my friends, was a stripclub.

SAY WHAT!? I don't want nipples with my gin & tonic. We promptly finished our drinks and headed out the door.

It was morning already and time for this night ... morning ... whenever to come to an end. But not before a stop at the Paris Hotel & Casino and the best McD's run ever. Not to mention the funniest.

Good life choices all around. Well except for the stripclub. And the normal club. And the resto.

Ok, so maybe the company compensated for the marginal-nature of the other things.

But still, good life choices.

Next ... Saturday.