Tis the Season

So it's the 21st, 4 more days until Santa arrives and brings toys to all the little girls and boys (hey that rhymes!). This is the time of year where I find myself thinking back on how my life has changed...

I remember the days leading up to Christmas, the excitement, the Santa's, Reindeer, wish lists, cookies, turkey, and all the glitter and art work our teachers would have us create at school.

I miss cutting out Santa's head and using cotton balls as his beard, bringing it home as proud as can be and having it posted on the refrigerater door. I miss the days of getting out of class for an hour a day to sit on the gymnasium floor to sing Christmas songs. I miss dressing up in red and green for your last day of school before the holidays, or bringing in presents for your teacher (when home-made baked goods weren't frowned upon). Christmas concerts. Barbies. Tape players. The Grinch. Rudolph's Story. Home Alone. Hearing Santa on the radio on Christmas Eve. Leaving cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. Waking your parents up at 6 o'clock in the morning! Stockings. Presents and then a whole day of play... family... turkey... Boxing Day sales...

I think I miss those days more than anything else in this world. I miss the simplicity of the Holiday; where you didn't have to worry about travel, money, weather... where all you got to do is get excited for presents, and Santa.

Where you made a wish list of only three things on it and that was your hardest task of the season... One year I wanted "Shopping Fun Barbie", so clearly - I asked for her. I also asked for my first tape player (with radio - even though Point Clark didn't get any reception) and for my Gramma to get better (she's been a trooper since I was in grade 2).

That year, Gramma was released from the Hospital and she bought us pencil sharpeners... I got the tap player that was a DOUBLE tap player and I played Ace of Base like nobody's business... and I may or may not have seen my Shopping Fun Barbie in my Mum's closet one day while she was working. The night before Christmas - I didn't sleep, I was so excited for my Barbie. When I opened up the present and saw her in her bright red high-heeled shoes, I fell in love. But like any child at that age - I played with her non-stop for a good week, got tired of her... and moved on...

Things aren't so fun anymore... but better in different ways. You enjoy more things at this time of year that aren't so materialistic. You don't focus on new toys... but on friends and family that mean the most. You get to remenice at gatherings, laugh and enjoy a hot cup of coffee with bailey's; while you live thru the excitement of your own children (or for my case, my friends children).

There are moments where I think of the times when I was a kid, and would almost pee my pants from excitement. I miss those days. When you're a kid, you don't sit back and soak the moments in... you just live thru them and wait for the next Christmas to come around. Now, I wish, just once - I could live Christmas like I did when I was a kid. Leave all the turkey cooking, Christmas shopping, working until the 24th crap and be a kid for just one more Christmas. Make a stocking from scratch and paint snowmen on it, covered in sparkles that resembles moreso a turd that came out of Billie's ass, than an actual snowman...

....That's my wish this year... to be a kid again, just one more time...

Engagement Story

Okay, so I am finally at that stage in life where I don't care what people think of me. Okay, maybe I do a little bit - but I can live with it, sometimes. Rarely. Okay I seriously suck at not caring.

Whatever.

So much has happened since my last post. It's been like 8 months. The last few posts were about my insane roommate, Cory. And thankfully I can say that special person is long gone out of our house. So is Matty. So, thank god, it's just McD and me living together, for the first time in our entire relationship.

Talk about life! Relaxing with no slamming doors, dirty butt-smokers, etc. Since we lost our roommates, Darrin and I have done so well with our little relationship :) No stress left us with an engagement!

I suppose many people are wondering how it happened... here it goes:

It was a Friday, Darrin's work in the Summer gives their employees the afternoon off every other Friday. So this was one of them. Anyway, at lunch, McD treks home for the rest of the day; while I sit at my desk and stare out the window... and what I see outside is dark-ass clouds and what I could only explain as tourential downpours. I called up McD to ask if he wouldn't mind picking me up from work at 4pm as it's clearly insane outside and if I walk outside in it to get catch the bus, across campus, I won't have any make-up left on my face. And if anyone wears glasses on a daily basis, you will agree with me that the most annoying thing possible... is walking in the rain. Anyway... he said no. I was like "whatever, no worries". I figured at that point, since it was only noon - that the rain would die down enough for me to be able to walk to the bus without drowning. 2 o'clock came around, still pouring, so I called McD with the same request and he said "no". At this point, I can't deny how p*ssed I was. How rude!!! So I let him go and waited it out a bit. 3 o'clock comes around and now there's friggen lightening, lol. I call him up again and sure enough is answer still remains the same. At this point, I'm worried for my life and hang up on him (poor guy). I sit in my office for the remaining 45 minutes, staring out the window in dibelieve at how friggen insane this rain is.

It's now 3:50 and I look outside in astonishment... the rain is gone, completely and the sun is so raging that all the water is dried up, except a few puddles. At that point, I was relieved that I didn't have to trek thru the rain and also thankful that Darrin would still be alive once I got home...

I trek to the bus, wait a few minutes and then get on. My bus ride is a good 50 minutes. Ew. I take the worst route as well since we have to go thru downtown which is where all the coke-heads get on the bus, I'm not joking. Ask me how many times someone has tried to sell me this stuff... I need mace. Anyway, it's now 4:55 and Darrin calls me on my cellphone asking where I am. And my response is "since when do you care where I am?!" Darrin never calls me to find out where I am. He trusts me enough that I'm not out somewhere doing something he wouldn't approve of and knows that if I'm in the slightest bit of trouble - I would call him anyway (aka, all day with the phone calls requesting a ride home). I laughed in his face and said I am only two stops away from mine, said I would see him soon, said I love him and let him go.

I sat on the bus for the last 3 minutes wondering what the crap that just was... and how out of the ordinary it was for him to be like that.

I got off the bus and walked home in the bright shining sun. As I walked up towards the house, little Billie was outside on his leash awaiting my arrival. His tail wagging and a smile on his face (yes, our dog smiles). We greeted each other and we walked to the door. I opened it and the first thing I could hear was the worst jazz music playing. McD knows I like Jazz... but like... vintage jazz, lol... not what I could only discribe as porno music. Bow chick a wow wow, bow bow. Like, so bad I thought either a: Darrin was watching porn in the living room or b: someone was filming porn in the living room.

So I walk into the living room to see just the receiver on and the TV on a Radio station. I then walked around the living room laughing and wondering "wtf?" And that's when I saw the stairs... covered in pink rose peddles all the way up. Sometimes Darrin can be really romantic and buy me roses for whatever reason, so I got excited and ran, RAN, up the stairs where I found more rose peddles leading me into our bedroom. Once I ran there, I walked into the bedroom where there was a heart on the floor made out of more peddles, heart balloon's on the night table, a long-stemmed rose and a black box with the most beautiful ring on the planet. At this point I realized that I was staring at my engagement ring with no fiance to be in the room. I screamed his name and he popped out from behind me (he was waiting in the spare room across the hallway) and said "boo!"

I turned around and saw him... he walked towards me and took the ring and got on one knee and said "I've wanted to do this for a very long time, will you marry me?" Of course I said yes. He then handed me the ring and said "here you go". I burst out laughing and reminded him that he's suppose to put the ring on my finger, lol. So he did. It fit perfectly :)

We hugged it out for a while and both laughed at the fact that neither of us cried. I was relieved and so was he. It was perfect.

Later on we went for a swim in our pool and saw a double rainbow :) Then we went to Moxie's for a celebration.

It was perfect :)

So that's my story :)

Good Point

THIS GUY MAKES A GOOD POINT
This was written by a construction worker in Fort MacMurray...he sure
makes a lot of sense to me!
Read on...

I work, they pay me. I pay my taxes and the government distributes my
taxes as it sees fit.
In order to earn that pay cheque, I work on a rig site for a Fort Mac
construction project, I am required to pass a random urine test, with
which I have no problem.
What I do have a problem with is the distribution of my
taxes to people who don't have to pass a urine test.
Shouldn't one have to pass a urine test to get a welfare cheque because I
have to pass one to earn it for them ... ?
Please understand - I have no problem with helping people get back on
their feet.

I do on the other hand have a problem with helping someone sit on their
arse drinking beer and smoking dope.
Could you imagine how much money the provinces would save if people had to pass a urine test to get a public assistance cheque ... ?

Please pass this along if you agree or simply delete if you don't.
Hope you will pass it along though, because something has to change in
this country, and soon!

Pretty silly way for us to live as hard-working slaves.

The Bachelor

I am currently snuggled up on my big comfy chair, with Billie dreaming and kicking next to me while I watch the Monday night show, The Bachelor.

I understand why women watch this show... when it first came out I was all about it. The drama, the passion, the dates, the sexy men bulging with muscles who appear so perfect it seems unnatural... and seeing girls falling head-over-heels for these perfect males looks like a great show to watch!

But now, as it's what, the tenth season... I've come to the realization that this show is utterly retarded and demented.

Let's look at this show realistically...

How on EARTH do you find "love" when you have camera's with bright lights, producers, writers and make up artists dusting your nose between takes?? It seems hard enough to fall in love these days with economy issues, family issues and trust issues most women have from past relationships. How, HOW can a woman put herself on national television to find love? How many dates do these woman have before they would be proposed to?? THREE, FOUR? How can you know if you love someone, knowing that it's all for show for television and people's entertainment? Knowing that the man you're fighting for is seeing another woman, kissing her and falling for her every night he's not with you?

How can a true relationship's foundation be based on a reality tv show?

Yes, Kate and Ryan or whoever those people are got married and have two cute little kidlets... but lets face it - Ryan is quite the push over and probably is dominated by her and has no choice but to stick around for the purpose of media.

How can you sit in a bathtub, surrounded by candles and rose peddles (clearly created and prepared by the producers of the show), kiss and "fall in love" with the man in the bathtub with you? How can you listen to a woman say "it felt like it was just the two of us that night, I'm so falling in love with him." WHAT?! I can't even feel intimate with my boyfriend when my damn dog is in the room, let along making out in my bathing suit, in a bubble bath with cameras and North America watching me.

All these "dates" are set up, all the conversations are planned but the content depends on the character who's carrying on this conversation.

ALSO, who picks the Bachelor? Why does he have to be so "perfect"?? Why can't we choose a typical guy who's hairy and has an inner tube around his belly from drinking too much beer, who works in a sports store selling shoes and is trying to get by in an apartment paying off student loans? Why are the women so perfect? Clearly he is going to fall in love with any of these chicks, they're gorgeous, dressed in Gucci, perfect long hair and fake eye lashes. This isn't how people fall in love! This isn't how "God" intended it to be.

Why not have a show that have women with REAL problems, like SERIOUS PMS problems, or zits on their face and cellulite on their ass. Women who are afraid of water or swear on a regular occasion? Why have women and men with PERFECT teeth, why can't they carry on a conversation with lettuce in their teeth while the Bachelor can't stop laughing and won't tell her why when she asks. THAT'S what a real guy would do. Why have a guy who considers himself "perfect"... come on... guys fart, so do girls - but in this show... dear god, I'm sure it would be cut out and suddenly the girls leaves the show for career purposes... I bet that's why it happens... she pulls off a fart during dinner...

Why fill our heads with the idea that life can be THIS perfect WITHOUT camera's in our face. It's soooo fake!

Grr, I'm mad.

It worries me that teenagers can watch this and actually convince themselves that once they hit college that they will find a guy this perfect. Sorry ladies... such a guy doesn't exist... not unless in front of cameras.

Start preparing our children for the inevitable bingeing a beer just to let out the biggest burp you've ever heard and then expect a high five for their Olympic sizes belch. Life isn't like they show on TV and neither is love. Although we all wish it was, it isn't. Love is an unconditional thing; which is why couples manage to stay together even after smelling their partners stinky farts that literally leaving you gasping for air.

Right now, I'm watching to people eat face on the beach in bathing suits during a sun set. Sure this can happen... but seriously... how can you feel intimate enough to feel true feelings when you kiss someone knowing that your parents are going to see this when it finally airs on television.

Sorry, cough cough bullshit.

William John Campbell

Ok, so this is going to come off extremely weird and psycho to anyone who doesn't believe in the after life... trust me.

This is a long story:

In June, I was on kijiji.ca (the best site, ever) and found a beautiful Bible. Anyone who knows me knows that I do not come from a religious family - if anything, my father despised religion and churches, etc. I remember one Christmas we all sat at the dinner table in Point Clark and as a joke Laura and I held hands and attempted to thank the Lord for this beautiful day, for the food on the table and for our family. Before we could even finish saying "Dear Lord, thank you for..." my dad was snapping and telling us that we're nuts and to shut up.

Anyway...

I have never ever had a passion to read a bible, let alone buy one. If you go on kijiji and type in Bible, you'll come across a lot that are typical and just the regular bible you see in hotel rooms. I didn't even search for this bible, I wasn't out looking for one, I had no intentions of buying it. One day, I saw this Bible... it was beautiful. The family was asking $300 for it... that's a lot. So I emailed them and asked if they would take it for $150... they hummed and hawed about it for a few days and then admitted that they would take the Bible for $150 because they needed the money for health issues in the family.

The lady came by to our house to drop it off and she brought in this... 20 pound, beautiful leather 1883 Bible. Not something I was expecting. I was expecting it to be the size of a regular bible, just older. But this thing is HUGE.

We knew nothing about the Bible. I didn't ask the owners anything about it because I simply purchased it thinking I could see it for a lot more. When I was looking at the Bible and emailing back and forth with the current owners at the time, I looked on ebay to compare and there were bibles just like the one I was about to purchase going for up to $14,000. So I thought I struck a gold mine. McD and I both put in $75 each to make up for the $150 and both agreed that I would sell it for $500 or more and split the profit.

The lady was sitting on the chair as she handed us this beautiful piece of history... the first page is "Presented to my Wife: Isabella Campbell. Kincardine, ON".

Darrin and I were both blown away. The owner that was selling us the Bible had no idea where Kincardine was... and couldn't believe that Darrin and I both grew up there and somehow found this Bible to be in our home, ready to purchase.

Darrin and I took some time to get familiar with the book... we looked thru it and found a Births and Deaths page... documentation of the Campbell family history. William H. J. Campbell married Isabella and had numerous children:

Mary Bell Campbell, born Dec. 23, 1902

James Hunter Campbell, born Mar. 25, 1904

Jean Barckay Campbell, born Nov. 9, 1905

Annie Murchaison Campbell, born Sept. 17, 1910

John Linklater Campbell, born Sept. 18, 1916

William John Campbell, born July 17, 1875

Mary Fraser Hutton born, April 15, 1877

That very page has a drawing of two horses with math equations and William John Campbell's signature with the date of January 7, 1889.

Clearly this Bible was in a family for years to document all the births and deaths of one Campbell family.

The first week we had the Bible in our house, Darrin, Billie and myself were woken up on a weekday at 5 in the morning to loud voices. It was insane, the voices were so loud but you couldn't hear the words... it was muffled... but deep deep voices. The both of us sat up in bed trying to justify the sounds that we were hearing... Billie was growling. The voices weren't coming from the hallway, or Matty's room... but beneath us... in the floor. To this day, we still cannot justify those sounds... but we knew they were voices.

I grew a liking to this Bible... I became more intuitive with it and became attached.

I noticed weird things happening to me, and only me... things I can't explain. My name being called, to points where I would be laying in bed and respond thinking it was Darrin trying to get my attention... I felt things, like someone holding onto my arm to the point where it hurt... something sitting on my leg, etc. Insane things that could easily be considered something else... but what?

Since the main reason for purchasing this Bible was to sell it for profit... I posted it on kijiji for months and months, not getting a single inquiry about it until three weeks ago.

The kijiji ad was up for months with no takers, so I thought I would attempt to advertise it in a different light... I said it was haunted...

A man named Oliver contacted me asking about the Bible... he asked me if the hauntings that I was experiencing were bad or good. I assured him that the activity in my home does not scare me (which it hasn't) and that whatever it is doesn't mean any harm.

He asked me then in the email if he could come and see the Bible before he made the $500 purchase, of course I said yes. He said he was going to bring his wife and asked politely for me not to bring up that it was haunted - he didn't want her to know... I agreed. I initially thought it was because it might scare her and wouldn't want it in the house... and I'm thinking "keep your mouth shut, Charlie... this is a sweet $500!"

Two Friday's ago, he came over with his wife and 6 month old little girl - who was ADORABLE. He looked thru the Bible and said how beautiful it was and how great of shape it was in. He was so into it... he had the money in his hand in his jacket pocket and suddenly said "before I put money on the table, I'm going to talk to my wife about it and get back to you". Fine... go ahead, I totally understand.

The following Monday he calls me and said that his wife had no idea about it being haunted and instantly picked up on something... she said that there is something there but she's not intuitive enough to pick up what exactly it is. He asked if he could bring his mother-in-law by to come and take a look at the Bible as she isn't psychic but very intuitive with the afterlife. I became very intrigued... I became extremely excited and said "yes" to the very possibility of having someone come into my home and give me some answers.

40 minutes ago Oliver and his mother-in-law just left...

She was a beautiful and lovely woman... her name is Rose... she came in with smiles and was very happy to see me. She asked if it was okay to have a couple of minutes alone with the Bible to see if she could pick up on anything... I told her she and her son-in-law, Oliver, could go into the basement (this way I can see them leave if they left and can hear anything going on while I sit in the living room).

I sat on the couch in the living room watching tv, very uncomfortable... after all - there are two people in my house that I don't know... Suddenly, I hear crying, screaming and banging.

I turn the TV on mute and listen to this woman bawling her eyes out... I took Billie - who became extremely uncomfortable himself and stood by the stairs of the basement... At first I seriously thought they were ruining my basement, or having sex or something because she was breathing very hard and heavy... I stood at the stairs until I heard them come up the stairs.

Concerned as to what just happened in my house, Rose and Oliver came up the final steps from the basement and I asked if everything was okay. At that moment, Billie went psycho... like growling, barking and biting at the air. Oliver tried to calm him down by putting his hand out for Billie and Rose grabbed his hand and said "he knows, leave him b". HE KNOWS WHAT?!

She then told me that I cannot sell this Bible... she said there is a young boy... he's attached to this Bible and doesn't want it to be sold or go anywhere, that he's happy and feels safe with me...

Pardon?

Oliver then piped up and said, someone by the name of William was just talking to me thru Rose...

WHAT?!

William John Campbell... he apparently died from being very ill, Rose said she could feel the pain he suffered from which was why she was crying. Apparently William knew that his Bible was up for purchase and came thru to tell Oliver (the man who was prepared to buy the Bible) that if he bought it, he would bring hell to his life.

I'm standing there, in my kitchen, watching this woman hyperventilate while I suddenly become shaky... so shaky that I couldn't even get her ice for the glass of water she requested to help her calm down.

I started asking questions like:

"Does he mean harm to me?" No

"Are there others around here?" Some come and go, but William is here and likes it here

She told me that he took over her to tell Oliver not to buy this Bible... she had no control but to be him... THIS HAPPENED IN MY BASEMENT!!!!! FML

She then asks me "did you know you have a gift?"... I said I've been experiencing unexplained things since I was 5 years old... seeing dark-ass shadows walk into my bedroom in Point Clark, hearing footsteps run into my bedroom, men walking past the bottom of the stairs, doors slamming shut, phones going off, my name being called, boys hanging over bridges and then not being there... she told me that I was born with a gift... the same gift that she has... but she is able to control it... I have yet to learn how. She said that when I feel, see or hear something... its not my imagination or something else - its something/someone trying to connect with me. Apparently ghosts/spirits (whatever you want to call them) can pick and choose people to communicate with, and the reason why I've been dealing with such activity my entire life is because they know I have this gift...

Rose also told me that the Bible was taken, not stolen, but taken from someone... (which would explain what happened and how I got it in the first place... the family clearly wasn't ready to get rid of it but had to because of money issues... and I took it for half the price they were looking to get for it)... she picked up on that. She said that William will stay with me until I ask him to leave....

So... I'm not selling my Bible anymore. Oliver said that he thinks that it was a chain reaction to me trying to sell the Bible... he found me and had this happen in order to not have the bible sell at all, as it would apparently bring hell to the person who would purchase it from me.

Oliver stood in my kitchen and begged me not to sell the Bible to anyone, ever.

I'm not scared, and I never was... but its now been an hour and I'm still uncontrollably shaking.

Its been verified that there is something around here and that I am not nuts and I am so very grateful that someone was able to justify all the things that I have seen, heard and felt in my lifetime.

Yes, think I'm nuts... after all, it's completely understandable to not believe someone if you haven't seen a ghost yourself; which a lot of people haven't.

My entire life I had stories of seeing things, hearing things, feeling things... and people seriously thought I was begging for attention... I wasn't... and it was such a hurtful thing to experience when you're 10 years old and hearing moaning and running footsteps into you bedroom late at night. My whole life I felt rather alone because I see these things and can't tell anyone because I don't want to be considered nuts or an attention seeker.

Now that I know I'm not nuts and that someone was able to talk with an entity that is in my life and verify all of this for me... it makes me feel so much better.

To everyone who is reading this... the "gift" that I apparently have isn't fake, it isn't a cry for people to look at me... it isn't a drug induced situation (not that I do drugs)... but this is very real. So real it feels surreal... I cannot explain it... and I just hope that with this blog entry you are all able to open your minds to my life and how it's been this entire time.

It's official, the Bible I found for no reason... was basically looking for me and is happy here...

I can't comprehend how I'm suppose to feel about this... should I feel nuts? Scared? Controlled? What?! How do I realize that this isn't a bad movie that will soon end in credits, but it's my life... me...

I knew I wasn't crazy!!!!!

To My Sister

I'm such lucky person to have the best sister anyone could ask for. I know that, even if I wasn't able to speak... she would understand me in every way that she already does.

I don't have to ask questions or make statements - she already knows. Even if it's thru text in an email, she can hear my voice thru my typing. It's a connection that I have with her and only her. I cannot trade it in and I can't get rid of it, nor would I ever want to.

I feel bad for people who don't have a sister or brother... you would never experience the true delight of having another person, completely different from you - experience everything you have in your childhood.

Stories you never have to retell, feelings you don't have to explain and memories you never forget. A sister has always been there.

When Laura and I were little (5 & 10) we would watch TV in her room... this TV was hilarious. My Dad was a salvager of all electronics found at garage sales, even peoples garbages (this isn't something I'm proud of... but without this hidden treasure, I wouldn't have this hilarious memory).

I was a gullible child.. hell, I still am. Did you know that Gullible is in the dictionary?! Anyway, my sisters TV was the sweet mini wooden TVs with the two dials on the front for changing channels... way before the remote control was invented. The screen was a nice almost oval square that looked like a balloon coming out from the faux-wood box it sat in. We would watch our daily Saved By the Bell, Fresh Prince and on weekdays in the summer - Jerry Springer (I'm sorry but anyone who grew up in the 90's is guilty of this).

When the TV was on, there was a tiny green light at the bottom of the dial right above the brown material speaker on the right hand side... My sister convinced me that if you push this button (which I learned later wasn't even a button but a light that had no movement or importance other than indicating that the TV was "on"), the TV, the house, everything would explode. For years, I was terrified of this little green light and every once in a while would stop watching the television show and stare at this horrifying button that could end my life. I couldn't understand how she was so comfortable sleeping in the same room as this evil TV!

A few years later, I was sitting in my sisters room alone watching Bay Watch - yes I remember it this well... and looked at the little green button and feeling quite rebellious...

"It can't be that bad... it'll probably just make a bang or something"... so I pressed the button... I kept waiting and waiting for the TV to start making noises, shaking, becoming a ticking time-bomb. I got so scared that I couldn't handle the wait any longer and pressed the button again to reverse the explosion, killing me and my family. I never learned the hard way if that button would ever explode... I learned from my mother when I told her that Laura had an explosive inside her TV... one of the many things Laura fibbed about to get a rise out of me... including that I was adopted because of my straight hair and different shaped nose. I was never able to get her back because she wasn't as gullible as me.

The first time I ever thought my sister was bad-ass was when she came home from school with a tape, put it in her cassette player and pressed play. Alanis Morrisette comes on after waiting the inevitable 30 seconds before the tape starts playing. This song was hard-core. It even had the word "shit" in it. I knew at this moment, my sister was pretty sweet and could break the rules.

Siblings all have their ways of dealing with things... hitting, screaming, calling each other names. Though I did drop a rock on my sisters head then kicked her in the face for telling on me and then biting her until she bled for crying about it - my sister and I were not violent at all.

Instead, if I came into her room and she wanted to be left alone... her way of making sure I wouldn't bother her was by putting her foot in my face and screaming "lick or leave"... I'll tell you... it never failed to make me run faster than I ever had before. No wonder I have an immense hate for feet.

Laura, I love you... and though this is a hugely public and mushy posting on my blog... I don't want anything that happens in our lives to come between the bond you and I have had since the day I was born.

We both know where we come from... we both know what's happened. I'm tired of being broken apart from my family and I refuse to let this happen to us. You mean too much to me.

It's not easy to go thru the ups and downs of family drama... but the one person who always gets me thru everything, is you. I know I can count on you... and without your thoughts of wisdom... I wouldn't have the strength to put my foot down when I need to, and to put my wall down when I'm being too hard.

Though these are memories of good things... I will still always blame you for my fear of toilets... that olive green toilet will always haunt my dreams... considering I was face-to-face with it as you pushed me int and flushed.

xoxo

Toddlers in Tiaras

It's Saturday night and since my wonderful boyfriend (no sarcasm) is away at hockey every weekend, I look forward to having my alone time in front of the TV, snuggling on my big comfy couch, reading books and drinking wine.

At first I found it hard to cope with not having my boyfriend around every weekend, as this is the time to have fun and hang out without a bedtime/curfew to stick by for the following morning of work (weekdays). But I've come to realize that I will not spend time or energy trying to change the man I love... He clearly love this sport, he's been playing since he was 3 and I want him to have a hobby that he enjoys. I can't expect him to stay home every night and not get sick of it... so off he goes to hockey, I wish him luck every time with a hug and kiss.

No, I do not go anymore... the gossip and crazy-ass girlfriends have made me believe that there are some serious psycho's out there that have nothing better to do... so I just stay away from the drama and enjoy my time at home :)

Anyway, the whole reason to this post...

I'm watching TLC Toddlers in Tiaras... it's a show about families that put their young daughters into pageants to win money, crowns and sometimes even puppies.

This is the first time I've ever watched this show, and though there are many other channels to watch - I have decided to give it a try and give it the benefit of the doubt.

This is where my opinion runs thick. Who does this? Who teaches their 4 -10 year old children that it is okay to compete to be the prettiest girl in the room. I'm a firm believer that everyone is beautiful in their own way... it doesn't matter if you have a big nose, or thick eyebrows - it works for you, it makes up your face and to me, makes up the difference in everyone. I'm a strong believer that everyone has a beautiful smile regardless of teeth, bad breath or wrinkles... your smile tells a story of who you are and where you've been... and also where you're from.

How can these mothers, authority figures teach these girls that you HAVE to win to be the prettiest girl? These poor little girls shave their legs, wear high heels, have FAKE TEETH, wear lip gloss, foundation, mascara, hair spray and dance around in something so slutty - I wouldn't even wear it to the bar! Not joking either.

I think it's appalling. Unappealing that these girls look so damn fake you want to laugh at them. The fact that for months a year, these girls are ridiculed by their parents and JUDGES to be the most beautiful. I'm sorry, but what long-term effects will this have on these young girls... psychologically, a girl growing up constantly in costume, prancing around in bathing suites and being awarded the prettiest girl, or with the nicest smile, or with the best eyes... what happens when puberty hits and they grow out of this beauty? What happens if they lose?! This can and most likely will be a harsh reality when these girls grown up and learn that they aren't as perfect without their make up on.

I think it's sad that these poor little girls are bawling their little eyes out while their mum's yell at them to smarten up and get on with the show... CLEARLY these little ladies don't want to do this, why force them??

Yes, given, some of these girls have grown to enjoy getting dressed up and perform on stage for a grand here or there... but what long term effects will this make?

This isn't a sport, and unfortunately isn't teaching these girls a single thing but to be self centered.

I find what's more unreal is that its so forced... how do you force your child to do something so invasive (fake teeth, mascara, TANNING) and think it's ok?? It makes me mad. It's a fulfillment to the mothers who are putting their children through these pageants... which is sad in itself.

I feel guilty watching this show to be honest... I won't watch it again. I thought maybe when I turned it on that it isn't what people make it seem... that the kids actually do enjoy it... I was wrong and I can't understand the motivation of a parent to pull out a childs baby teeth and put a bridge in their mouth. My goodness, what's next?

When it rains... it pours

Today was one of those days you wish you just didn't show up to work.

I'm a hard worker and I get my job done well and on time; however, I'm also one of those people that rarely makes a mistake, but when I do... its baaaaaaaaad.

FML

Since I work in the School of Nursing department at the University of Western Ontario... I deal with professors and students all the time. Today we got two versions of a major exam that needed to be photo copied 55 times, each. The timeline... Monday morning at 8am.

So the story begins... I am delegated the task of photo copying version B 20 minutes before it's time to go home, thanks. So I go downstairs to the other office to use the photo copier as the other employee is using the one in our office to copy her share of the exam. Not only does the first machine get angry with me, it starts throwing out RANDOM sheets of the exam, but it's slow and clearly not functioning properly. As frustration starts to hit... I stop the machine, take the papers and go to the next photocopier down the hallway. Now... you'd think that this would do the trick... but no... the papers jam in the photocopier as it's plunging away at the 55 copies needed for Monday morning. With the frustration and anger towards technology and my small timeline... I try and pry the paper from the machine and burn myself (those things are damn hot).

As I run upstairs into our office to finish the job, my employee is just now finishing her 55 copies.... mixed up with all the papers... I throw out, what I thought to be, the messed up copies from the first misshap... boy... was that a mistake... I threw out the B version of the exam all together. Not only did I throw it out, but I threw it out into the paper shredder box which can only be opened by a key that we do not possess.

So... now I have to take the version A exam home, retype it and copy it first thing in the morning on Monday.

Now, if that's not enough... I'm told by my co-worker that as long as no one finds out... I won't lose my job.

I'll sleep just fine tonight...

That's my rant. Ciao for now.

One Year Anniversary

I can’t believe it’s been a year! I remember we were in the Royal LePage office with our real estate agent, Matt, signing the papers to our newly purchased home. I thought, for sure, the Darrin would be the nervous one... you know, the typical guy getting cold feet to a big commitment... boy was I wrong. Matt had to fetch me a glass of water to keep me from shaking and I was already sweating - sexy. It was the longest 3 hours of my life.

Thankfully, I pulled thru the insane hundreds of thousands dollar purchase with the thought “I could buy sooooo many shoes with this” in the back of my head. I’m so glad and proud of myself that I’ve done this. I pitty the fool who pays rent to someone else. I finally am paying rent into my own pocket that I will someday profit from. I’ll be debt and mortgage free faster and sooner than a lot of people my age, and for that, I’m thankful.

I don’t regret not doing the typical things of a teenager, or a young adult. It doesn’t bother me that I haven’t done those things... as a child and teenager, I always dated people older than me, hung out with people older than me, and acted older than my age, it’s who I am.

So many changes have taken place in our home already. No walls have been painted - though I do have some serious plans for that, but we have gained some nice pieces of furniture and antiques that I think, make our home one-of-a-kind.

I like to think that my taste in furnishings and home decor is different. I love the little additions I have added like my antique 1921 cherub lamps, my 1831 mantle clock, and my 1934 cedar hope chest, just to mention a few.

It’s amazing how much small things cost to make your home looking nice. Simple things like picture frames and blankets thrown over your couch cost money. When purchasing and decorating your first home, you learn a lot... like how much effort and how long it took for your parents to create the home you once lived in.

I’m proud of my home. It’s my pride and joy. I may be a neat-freak... but hey - it always looks good!

Oh all the commotion, such a day. Thankfully we had a great team help us out and had everything moved in by noon. Did I mention it was -19! Dear God that was dreadful. After everyone helped us move in, half the team went ice-fishing, lol.

I'm not going to mention all the crap McD and I have gone thru since we moved in... but we have made it thru and hopefully our home is stable now... hopefully our foundation doesn't slide another centimeter, lol

I shouldn't go into detail of the previous owners... but I'm mad at them. They clearly didn't know how to maintain a house. If I run into the dude, a swift kick in the face will be necessary for leaving us with the mess they left behind.

ANYWAY... this is my first blog posting.

Keep in mind, I'm very opinionated... so prepare, lol