Diet Coke And A Pizza Please

My thoughts are all over the place. Consider yourself warned.

Friday Randomness:

Stella graduated last night. She has now completed Puppy Kindergarten and Puppy School Level 1 Obedience. We're taking a bit of a break from puppy school for now. Stella spends most of the class running around with the other puppies and she can do that for free at the dog park. Also, we're trying to cut back on all of our "luxury items" right now and I'm totally willing to give up Stella's schooling before I give up colouring my hair. Momma needs new highlights.

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Somehow The Over-Thinker has convinced me to post every day in November. Get ready for a whole lot of babble.

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Shawn and I are boycotting Hallowe'en this year. Last year we went all out - medieval-themed costumes, drunken pumpkin carving, raging house party, packed club. This year we feel old and grinchy. Last year we still lived downtown. This year we would either have to head home when the last train leaves at 1am or pay $40 for a cab ride to the 'burbs. It's a cold, rainy day in Vancouver today and the thought of slogging through hoards of people and trying to stay warm in my Wonder Woman costume is not appealing to me at all. Shawn doesn't even have a costume. Instead, we are planning to make home-made pizza (from scratch! even the crust! hold me) and watch the Canucks game. I still want to carve a pumpkin but that would entail going to the store and buying a pumpkin and I just might be too lazy to do attempt it.

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When people leave questions in your comments, or leave a comment that you want to comment on, what do you do? Do you answer them in your comments? Do you email them directly? I am not the most computer-literate person. I know that you enter your email address when you leave a comment, but sometimes I will go to reply and the email address is listed as "noreply@blogger" or whatever. Sometimes I can reply by email with no issue. This has been nagging at me lately; I leave questions on other blogs - sometimes I get an email reply and sometimes I have to remember to keep checking back to see if the blogger has answered back in their own comments section. My brain is a little melty. What do you do?

Answers to the questions from the comment section of my last post:

Georgia, no I have not seen Spaced. The reason I asked is that I love British television. My favourite show is Green Wing (even though it's not on anymore. So sad.) Whenever I hear someone refer to their favourite British tv show, I secretly hope they are talking about Green Wing.

Qtilla, The Mentalist is really good. I've watched every episode so far and am really enjoying it. It helps that Simon Baker is gorgeous and his voice is like butter. After watching the first episode I was a bit undecided. I thought the last scene was creeeepy. I don't want to give the story away to people who haven't watched it yet but are planning to, so I'll just say that the storyline they introduced in the first episode (the lame-o back-story about Simon Baker's character) hasn't made an appearance in any episode since. Give it another shot!

Doahleigh, a drum clinic is when a drummer explains his technique, his gear, his preferences, etc. Shawn played bass to his buddy's drumming so that it was more like a show and less like a guy just going nuts on his drums.

Cory, a multi-card reader is on my Christmas wish-list. I'm grounded from shopping for myself until after Christmas. And I know that the cable is in the house somewhere. I'm just messy.

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Westy is in town with his hockey team this weekend. They lost their game last night but hopefully they will win on Saturday and Sunday. When they win their coach lets them go out for meals with their families. When they lose the coach banishes them to their hotel rooms and they aren't allowed contact with anyone other than teammates. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they win - Stella loves her Uncle Westy and wants to hang out with him. And by "hang out" I mean "bite him."

Happy Hallowe'en!!

Wasted Like You're Losing Your Job You're So Fired

I work in an industry that is directly affected by the financial situation in the States. Over the last three weeks, 90% of our current projects were frozen. When my boss started calling individuals into the boardroom for closed-door chats yesterday, dread set in. When it was my turn, I was told that I'm safe "for now" - whatever that means. Our office of fourteen will be an office of ten as of this Friday. Of those ten, seven are partners. If things continue to worsen, the other two non-partners and I will be out the door.

So, uh, stressful times ahead?

After my horrible day yesterday, all I wanted to do was curl up with my puppy and watch Tuesday night tv (um, the Mentalist? Best new show. Hands down.) Shawn was playing in his buddy's drum clinic though, so after running home to feed Stel, I jumped on the train and headed back downtown. Shawn's portion of the show only ran for about half an hour but we ended up staying for his buddy's metal band show as well. It was my first metal show. It was strangely therapeutic, after a craptastic day, to listen to angry thrasher music. I couldn't stop giggling at the singer - his combo of shouting/yelling/barking/singing was hilarious to watch. I don't mean to sound condescending - the band was obviously talented (I have never been to a live show and seen playing that was so tight and precise) but I found the whole experience so comical.

My camera is holding my photos hostage. At some point I will find the missing cable and post pictures of the drum clinic and the ladies' night from last weekend and Stella in her birthday sweater. Until then, you will just have to picture the cuteness. I tried to get her into her Hallowe'en costume last night but she was having none of it. As soon as she sees a Stella-sized garment, she hides under the bed. I'm going to have to bribe her with liver to get her into it long enough to snap a few pics. It's a good thing she's a liver-whore, otherwise I'd never be able to get her to do anything.

How Longs It Take To Validate Your Wages

The topics I choose to write about on my blog are generally pretty light and fluffy. I write about how my puppy is the cutest! puppy! ever! I write about being a newlywed. I post recipes and pictures of my adventures. I read other blogs, blogs that are emotional and honest and deep, and I am in awe. My family is big on denial. It has been a hard journey to get to a place where I can identify my feelings; I haven't yet reached the place where I can write about them. At least not coherently.

But then sometimes I can't help but write. Last week I felt tremendous stress at the thought of going back to my doctor. I wrote about it here on my blog and the response I got was amazing. The support means more to me than I can express. Though nothing is resolved - I still have to go see a doctor to get a prescription renewed (here in BC you cannot phone in refills - you have to physically go to a doctor to get a new prescription) and I still haven't found a new doctor - a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Your comments made me feel validated. Thank you for being such rockstars.

Hope I've Lost Enough To Win You Back Your Prize

Hey, so remember when I was all "Wish me a happy birthday! I'll give you a present!" and then, uh, never chose a winner?

Situation = rectified.

Aine Caitriona, you are random.org's chosen one.

In other birthday news, today is Stella's first birthday. When I find the stupid brand-specific usb cable for my camera, I will post a picture of her wearing the birthday sweater that Shawn's mom made for her. She loves it (and by "love" I mean "hates like she has never hated before.")

Damn! I Lost My Number And I Lost My Head

I've been tagged by Mermanda. Mermanda is funny and pretty and lovely so I can't not do her meme. Even though I do these things all the time. And hate them.

Here are the Rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Right-o.

1. I was four years old when my little sister was born. I wanted my parents to name her Tulip. I told them that the name they chose for her was too "dusty" - I have no idea what this means.

2. I can't fall asleep at night until I've checked my alarm clock at least 5 times. I can't just look at it to make sure it's set - I have to actually touch it to make sure the toggle is in the right position. I don't know why it bothers me so much - it's not like I actually get up when the alarm goes off.

3. Both of my sisters are vegetarians but I'm pretty sure I could never become one. I don't have the will power to give up cheeseburgers. I eat a lot of vegetarian foods and I dislike a lot of meat but I could never give up cheeseburgers. I've tried vegetarian patties but they're crap. Soy patties, tvp patties, mushroom and oat patties = ALL CRAP. Give me beef.

4. I have a horrible sense of direction. Whichever direction I'm facing feels like North. I have no idea how to fix this.

5. I met Shawn in a bar. I was drunk. He was drunk. Maybe one day I'll write a post about it but most likely I won't. It would be a short post, consisting of "I met Shawn in a bar. I was drunk. He was drunk. And we lived happily ever after. The End."

6. I hate blue cheese. I'm disappointed in myself because I would like to love all cheese equally but I cannot bring myself to even slightly like blue cheese. It tastes like feet.

I am refusing to tag people in the hopes that karma will prevent anyone from tagging me in the future. Mermanda, this means you.

I Know He Won A Mercury Award And Brought It Back To The Estate

There has been a lot of bloggy love floating around lately - some of it was bound to stick to me. The lovely Marie, Lauren and Mermanda have recently honoured my blog with Fabulous! Blog! Awards! which I have been very negligent in passing along.

First off, Marie gave me this:


You should read Marie's blog because she watches The Office and has fabulous taste in shoes.

I'm going to send this one out to:

See Hear Speak No Evil for being three ladies who can share a blog without fighting over it.

Maxie because she drinks vodka from plastic bottles and acknowledges it's a bad idea, she makes me think deep thoughts with her Would You Rather Wednesday questions, and she is a very good liar.

The Over-Thinker because she hasn't blogged in so long and I am trying to entice her to come back.

Lemon Gloria because she just got married, isn't afraid to write posts about poop, and is vengeful in an extremely entertaining way.

Miss Milk for reminding me what it's like to be 17 years old.

Next up is the award Lauren gave to me:


Lauren used to be in the circus, she's voting for Obama, and she organised a fabulous blog series called Testaments.

I would like to give this award to:

MLE at Pantalones Del Fuego for her fabulous recipes, gorgeous photos, and hilarious post titles.

The Over-Thinker for her mad paint skills. And because she hasn't posted in so long and I am trying to entice her to come back.

Angella because she spells her name with 2 L's and has a fabulous photography site.

Doahleigh for working her way through a broken heart with grace and honesty.

Katelin for her awesome Tuesday Hollywood posts.

Finally, Mermanda awarded me with this guy:


Mermanda and I were oblivious to each other's existence until recently but happily we managed to find each other. I'm pretty sure we're meant to be bloggy best friends. Mermanda thinks that she has stupider hair than I do, but clearly she is mistaken.


This award is going to:

The Over-Thinker for making the weathergirl picture possible. And because she hasn't posted in so long and I am trying to entice her to come back.

Who's Your Dachshund for being so shamelessly a Dog Blog.

Oh! How lovely! Shops for featuring an abundance of etsy talent.

Take Me Back To Manhattan for her 10 Days in Burma series.

Jessica Maria because she has the most adorable little kittens and she has great taste in music.

I Told 'Em It Was My Birthday Just To Hear The Waiters Sing Off-key

There's something about my birthday that makes me blue. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm another year closer to thirty or if it's the buildup to the Festival of Hillary and consequent letdown. Or maybe it's the fact that the pitch-black mornings and non-stop rain have made the end of summer undeniable. Whatever it is, it makes me want to stay in bed all day and forgo showering and eating and you know, living. I want to melt into my sheets and become one with my flannel pyjamas. If it wasn't for good friends and pumpkin pie and a husband who gave me a macbook(!), I probably would have shriveled up into a ball of self-pity. Actually, I kind of did throw a pity party for myself (oh, and PS to Ben: that song is one of my favourites too. I can't figure out how to listen to it without first listening to the track it's hidden behind - have you?)

I had a fabulous birthday. Shawn surprised me with a macbook (her name is Ambrosia and she is lovely.) My family celebrated Thanksgiving and my birthday together like we do every year (I get pumpkin pie instead of birthday cake, which works out well because I would like to marry pumpkin pie.) Bow put chocolate eyeballs behind her glasses to cheer me up. She's thoughtful like that. We made her stay that way while we took about 30 photos. The chocolates melted. I laughed so hard that I cried.


My mom tried to get Stella to cuddle her, to no avail.

I love this photo because a: Stella looks like she is about to lose her shit and b: it looks like Stella is wearing giant slippers

Stella is a one-lady kind of pup.

The next night, Robin made a fabulous spread of munchies and we watched the Canucks beat Calgary.

my hair, not being weather-girl flippy! but not being as cute as Robin's hair

Cat couldn't make it out last weekend so we celebrated our birthdays (hers is the day after mine) this past weekend. We started off on a party bus.

The party bus had a pole. It should be noted that I was shit-faced drunk before I actually touched the pole. It was slimy. The interior of the party bus was "very hoseable" as someone so aptly put it.

not inebriated at all, no siree

After drinking cheap vodka from plastic bottles (which wasn't the brightest idea, Maxie you know what I'm talking about) we headed to Section(3) for drinks. I ordered my drink based solely on its name "The Donkey." I don't even know what it tasted like (taste buds burnt off due to cheap vodka.)

birthday girls!

From there we headed to the Hamilton Street Grill. I hadn't been before but I will definitely go back. The service was fabulous and the food was amazing.

crispy beef tenderloin salad

sablefish and wild mushroom risotto

lemon creme brule (my new boyfriend)

So Festival of Hillary is officially over, eight days after my actual birthday. I was going to try to stretch the celebrations out until the end of the month but I can tell that Shawn is getting pretty sick of hearing "but it's my birthday!" whenever he tells me it's my turn to wash the dishes. He threatened to kidnap Ambrosia if he hears it one more time so I guess I'll stop, if only to save my macbook from his evil clutches.

I've Looked At You With The Focus I Gave To My Birthday Candles

Today is my birthday! I tend to be a bit demanding on my birthday (ha, Shawn will agree) so forgive me as I ask that all lurkers (and non-lurkers) comment today. Say hi! Everyone tell me when your birthday is. Tell me what blogs I should be reading. Do all this and you will be entered into the running for a sweet prize. I don't know what the sweet prize is yet but I'm guessing it will contain a copy of the Soundtrack to Festival of Hillary 2008. Don't even try to pretend that you're not excited.

A Final War A Steel-eyed Dinosaur

What makes this even more pathetic is the fact that I exaggerated my abilities when answering the questions.

I could survive for 38 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

Created by Bunk Beds Pedia

With Such Confusion Don't It Make You Wanna Scream

This morning I needed to be at work half an hour earlier than usual. I got out of bed twenty minutes later than I usually do. This is why math is not my friend.

The train was full. The woman jammed up next to me kept coughing on me. Each time she did it I would have an inner meltdown as I screamed at her (in my head) to cover her damn mouth. And then she spat on me. It wasn't an intentional spit, it was mid-cough. But there was definite bodily fluids involved - more than a spray - and it landed on my face. ON MY FACE.

I got to work late. I took a pile of work home with me last night to do and, umm, watched America's Next Top Model instead (but wow, am I ever glad I didn't miss last night's episode. When they announced who was leaving, I actually shouted, "FINALLY!" at my tv.) So not only was I late this morning, I was unprepared.

Stella has puppy school tonight. I hate puppy school. Stella hates puppy school. Last week a snarky little fluffball bit Stella - hard. The fluffball has serious aggression issues. I think it stems from the fact that she's named Mirage.

None of this matters. Nothing can bring me down today. Today is the Canucks Season Opener. After puppy school, I will join my friends at our skanky neighbourhood pub (the one with the jungle mural on one wall and the fake bamboo decor) and watch the Calgary Flames lose miserably. Hells. Yes.

There's No Art In A Broken Head All The Kids Are Staying Fat

We went to Montreal a month ago and I'm just getting around to posting about it now. I'm really efficient, can't you tell?

Our flight left Vancouver at 11pm and got to Montreal at 7:30am. It was horrible. Neither of us slept much during the flight so we were pretty wrecked when we arrived. Shawn's dad picked us up from the airport and took us straight to his house. His gorgeous house.


His gorgeous house that has a pond (and an Inukshuk!) in the back yard.


When we woke up, we spent some time with Shawn's dad's sweet pup, Angel.


Shawn's cousin picked us up and took us into Montreal for a night of mayhem. We started drinking around 7pm. We started off at his cousin's house as more cousins joined the mix. We then headed to the Irish Embassy for more beverages. After sitting for far too long, we decided to head to a club to do some dancing. I can't remember what the club was called but they played awesome music all night. It helped that Shawn's cousin went to school with the manager so we spent the night drinking in the VIP area. We left the club at 3 and began our quest for poutine.


Victory was ours.



We felt a bit rough the next day but there was no time to recuperate. Shawn's cousin drove us through old Montreal so we could take in the sights.




We made our way back to Shawn's dad's house by noon, ready for a much-needed nap. Except that Shawn's dad had invited his family over for a bbq. I was exhausted but I had such a good time. It was sunny and warm but not too humid. The neighbour manned the bbq all day and we had a steady stream of burgers and hotdogs and grillades, oh the grillades. I had never heard of grillades before. To be honest, I couldn't even tell you what it is now. It was some form of meat, cut in long strips, seasoned and cooked on the bbq. It was bacon-esque but not crispy. It kind of melted in your mouth.

The boys took a tour of the property while the ladies lounged in the sun. You couldn't tear me away from the grillades.



Before we left on Monday, Shawn's dad took us out for poutine.


Please note the look of bliss on Shawn's face.


I'm glad we went to Montreal to see Shawn's family but I'm glad we didn't stay for longer than 3 days. I ate so much while we were there that if we'd stayed for longer, I would have gained 30 lbs.

Carbon's Anniversary The Parting Of The Sensory - 2

Dear Shawn,

Happy 2 Monthiversary. Life is finally returning to normal (whatever that is) at home. The wedding feels like it was ages ago. People keep asking us how married life is. I feel like such a failure when I tell them it's the same. I feel like I'm supposed to say it's fabulous or it's amazing or it's better than I ever thought it could be. Don't get me wrong - being married to you is awesome. It's also the same. There are good things and bad things and at the end of the day the good outweighs the bad and I'm happy. Being married is challenging but (so far) no more challenging that just being in a relationship with you was. I'm happy that I found out about the majority of your quirks before we got married. The sock thing would have been a shock to my system if I was just finding out about it now. I honestly don't understand why you can't put your socks in the laundry basket every night but you don't understand why I love bands like the Arctic Monkeys and the Kooks so hey, we're even. I guess that's a big part of choosing to be together - not understanding wtf the other person is doing but loving them despite it.

We made our first grown-up purchase a few weeks ago. Ok, our condo was our first grown-up purchase but this was a close second. We bought a new kitchen table and couch. When we first started looking, we were looking at temporary-quality furniture. I'm glad we decided to go with the higher quality stuff. It makes me happy to think that we own furniture that will come with us when we move. If we can ever afford to move again. We don't actually have our kitchen table yet but I'm hoping it will show up before Thanksgiving.

This last month has been a bit tense for us. Purchasing the table made us both a bit cranky (talk about a lesson in compromise - our taste in furniture could not be further apart. Everything you liked was metal and glass and everything I liked was wooden and too "old looking.") We're also having a bit of difficulty planning our honeymoon (I still want to go to Ireland, you want to combine our honeymoon with your friend's wedding in Mexico. Seriously. Am I the only one who thinks that it's not a honeymoon if it includes family members?) Life is good though, even though you've made my head melt multiples times. You've also made my heart melt multiple times so I'd say we're coming out on top.


Love you, dude.

PS: Ireland is so much better than Mexico for a multitude of reasons, including - but not limited to - the beer and leprechauns. Think about it.

I Guess I'm A Toy That Is Broken

Last week I posted about how we had disposed of our old furniture in anticipation of getting our new furniture. Our couch showed up soon after but our table was a no-show. Apparently the table was broken in the delivery truck. This made my head melt for 2 reasons:

1 - Isn't the whole point of paying for delivery that you don't have to strap your new furniture onto the roof of your car with bungee cords, thereby ensuring you receive your goods unbroken?

and

2 - We had the salesman check the stock before buying the table. We were told it was in stock and we would have it within the week.

I wasn't home when the delivery was made, but Shawn said that the delivery guys brought up the couch, told him the table was broken and didn't both bringing up the chairs. Shawn never saw the table. This feels shady to me because it's logical (at least to me it is) to leave the chairs so that you don't have to cart them back to the warehouse. Shawn never saw the broken table so he couldn't confirm that there was a table at all.

I know I sound paranoid, but it's only because of what happened next.

The delivery guys told Shawn that he needed to call the salesman to order a new table as they couldn't just go pick one up for us. So Shawn calls the guy and he tells Shawn that our table, our broken table, was the last one they had in stock. Uh huh. Not only that, the table is back-ordered. We can put ourselves on the list but it will be 4 - 6 weeks before we receive a new table.

Maybe I am being paranoid but I feel like the situation is sketchy. I feel manipulated by the salesman, who only made the sale based on the availability of the stock. I feel like he lied, and made up the broken table story to cover his lie. I'm pissed off because we bought the couch because we had already decided to buy the table and chairs and the store's delivery policy is that you pay one fee and you can have as much delivered as possible. We knew we were going to replace our couch within the year so we figured to just do it now and not have to pay another delivery fee a few months down the line.

Our options were limited because we accepted delivery of the couch. We could cancel our order and then have to go through the pain of furniture shopping again (and pay a delivery fee somewhere else.) We could return the couch but forfeit our delivery fee because the couch was delivered and signed for. We could put ourselves on the list for the table and hope to receive it before Christmas. Or we could call the salesman and bitch. We chose to bitch. This resulted in our chairs being delivered the following day (our counter has a large overhang for the purpose of sitting at it so we bought a counter-height table and chairs.) We have allegedly been moved to the top of the list for getting the table but I have my doubts.

Update it, Name it, Rate it

Erm, my week of updates seems to be a bit lacking.

In that I haven't done any updates.

There's a slight possibility I will remedy the situation this evening.

To Clarify, You Make My Senses Naked

I need to clarify something. I do not hate bacon. In fact, I feel the opposite of hate. I love bacon. Looooove it. I would marry bacon if I could. When I said that I hate pork, I meant that I hate pork that tastes like pork. Dude, how many more times can I say pork? Hello nasty google searches.

My post titles are song lyrics. Every post title. I love music and have an uncanny ability to remember song lyrics. Most of the time I have a song in mind when I'm writing a post. If I can't think of a lyric (like when I'm writing about something like pork,) I go to A-Z Lyrics and do a search. Yesterday's post title is courtesy of Nat King Cole. Maybe Nat King Cole does not love bacon, I don't know.

So, in summary, my post titles do not necessarily reflect my feelings. Sometimes they are chosen randomly based on a single word (ie. pork.) In closing, I do love bacon. I would like some bacon now, please.

Also, I cannot post a picture of the pulled pork (and peach cobbler - yeah, bitches!) that I had for dinner last night. My camera is in surgery right now, getting a new optical unit. Ha ha, I said "unit" and "pork" in the same post. The story of why my camera needs a new optical unit will follow sometime this week. It's a sad story.

I will, however, post the recipe. Because Jess told me to and she scares me (kisses, Jess!)

Pulled Pork

3 large pork chops - no bone (I've made this with other porky cuts and it worked - it did not work with pork loin though)
1 large onion
about 20 garlic cloves
1 large can of chicken broth - I used the reduced sodium kind
1 can coke
1 bottle bbq sauce

Slice the onion and put in the bottom of the slow cooker. Peel and smash the garlic cloves; put on top of the onions. Place pork on onions and garlic, cover with broth. If the broth doesn't fully cover the meat, top-up with water. Cook on low for 10 - 12 hours.

Take meat out of slowcooker and put in shallow baking dish; discard cooking broth, onions & garlic.

Using 2 forks, shred meat.

Pour coke & bbq sauce over pork. I never use the whole can of coke or bottle of bbq sauce. Just use enough so that it's sloppy, not soupy. Bake in 400 degree oven for roughly an hour.

Serve on crusty rolls.

Peach Cobbler

(I had never made peach cobbler before. I wasn't sure if I should peel the peaches but everyone told me I should. I had never blanched anything before; I thought it would be a hassle. It was really easy though, and so worth it.)

4 large peaches - skins removed and cut into chunks
1/2 cup sugar
juice of one lemon

1 cup flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons cold butter (it's worth it to use butter instead of margarine in this recipe)
2/3 cup buttermilk

1 tablespoon sugar

Mix together peaches, sugar and lemon juice. Place in 2-quart baking dish.

Mix together flour, 3 tablespoons flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Cut in butter. Mix in buttermilk until dough forms.

Drop spoonfuls onto peaches. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of sugar over dough.

Bake at 350 for 40 minutes, until fruit is bubbly and top is browned.

This was the first time I've made this recipe. I think the next time I make it (uh, tonight - don't judge me!) I will add some cinnamon or nutmeg. Not a lot, just enough to give it a bit of a zing. Maybe I'll add some lemon zest.