And I Wanna Be Everywhere Twice This Machine Is So Mature It's So Much Your Type

I am 27 years old and I have to close my eyes while having blood drawn. It's not enough to avert my eyes; no, I have to squeeze them shut and turn my head and count to 100 - out loud - and remind myself to breathe.

I am 27 years old and I cry when the old lady in the next room openly mocks me for being such a baby about having blood drawn. I think hateful things about her and then later come to the realization that yes, being old does give you free reign to be an asshole, a privilege I intend to take full advantage of once I am shriveled enough.

I am 27 years old and I still take my mom with me to the scary doctors appointments. I say it's only because she insisted that she drive me and it means that I won't miss as much work because I don't have to use public transit, but that's a lie. My mother's fretting allows me to be calm, something I am incapable of when I'm alone.

I am 27 years old and I still get an Easter basket full of chocolate treats (from the Easter Bunny, of course); I still cover my ears and shut my eyes during the scary parts; I still laugh when one of the pups humps the other pup; I still worry about what other people think of me; I still call my dad when things get rough; I still eat a disgraceful amount of mac & cheese; I still look up to my older sister; I still dream about what I want to be when I grow up.

This week has been a bit grim, peeps, but your stories of your own terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days are making me smile (not that I'm laughing at your misfortune ... promise!) Keep them coming - the winner of the mooooosetash cupcake toppers will be announced on Friday.

And Somehow In All The Madness I Thought That I was Seeing Straight It Ain't Always Pretty But It Seemed There Was No Other Way

I am having a spectacularly rotten day today. I keep thinking that things can only improve; Monday keeps proving me wrong. So far I have cried in my doctor's office (because instead of the mean doctor I got the kind doctor and she was so lovely and nice to me and I was feeling so horrid that I cried), at the lab after my blood test (because the technician was a bit evil and I bled for five minutes after she mangled my vein), and three times in the bathroom at work (because I just want to be at home in bed.) I'm not usually a crier. I'm more of a get mad and rant and rave and swear til I'm blue in the face-er. Today I am a weepy, snuffly mess. It is ridiculous.

At some point it will get better. I know this. It's just ... right now I'm alternating between feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry at myself for being such a whiny mess. Fun times, right?

This is where you come in, peeps. Tell me about your own terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day to remind me that I've actually got it pretty good. Everyone who comments is entered to win these silly mustache cupcake toppers from my etsy shop.


Winner will be announced on Friday (and will likely be chosen by random.org because picking a winner makes me anxious.)

Be Patient Oh The Past Is Just A Memory And Heal Heal Your Vines You'll Heal Inside Eventually

Oh peeps, I am so glad I have you to remind me to smarten up when I get unnecessarily shouty. I emailed the etsy seller again and she emailed me back the same day. I am an impatient bastard sometimes. It's something that I struggle with - the patience and the breathing and the thinking the best of people. It's not an attractive quality by any stretch of the imagination.

The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get You're Wasting Your Time

On Monday I contacted a seller on etsy to ask a question about colour options. The listing said that other colours were available but I wanted to confirm that the specific colour I wanted was available and also to know approximately how long it would take to prepare the item if I wanted the optional colour. (Sorry to be all vague; I'm not interested in calling out this particular seller, I just want to know what you would do in my situation.) So. On Monday I sent the email (through etsy.) I haven't heard back from the seller. I know it's only been two days but the seller updated her shop yesterday with a whole slew of new items so I know that she has signed into her account and has likely seen my email. My question is this: Do I re-send my email or do I give up trying to contact her? I really like the item she is selling and I haven't been able to find something similar. I could look for a different item from a different seller that could serve the purpose but this particular item really makes my heart happy. However, I have a hard time supporting people who appear to not give a shit. Maybe I'm being harsh but I feel like etsy is a place to support artists and buy handmade and if this lady can't be bothered to reply to a simple email, maybe I should spend my money elsewhere. What would you do in this situation?

The Band Is Back Together Allergic And In The News

This is what Stella looks like today:

This is what Stella looked like at 10pm on Friday night:

(Please excuse the crappy picture quality; I took the picture with my phone to text to Shawn to convince him that I wasn't exaggerating, Stella really was swollen like a mothereffer.)

Friday evening I took Stella to get her annual vaccinations. We had plans to go out afterwards but I decided to stay home because Stel was acting a bit lethargic. I was hanging out with the pups when Stella started acting really strangely - madly scratching her face and dragging herself along the carpet on her back and groaning. In the matter of a few minutes, her face swelled up to the point where she could barely open one of her eyes.

I called Shawn and he was frustratingly calm. He told me to wait it out (!) or give Stella one of his allergy pills. Then I did some swearing and texted him the photo of Stella's poor swollen face. He got the phone number of the 24-hour vet from his mom and told me to meet him there. Because I am a grownup, I called my Dad and asked him to drive me to the vet so I didn't crash the car.

I snapped this photo right before the (awesome! lovely!) emergency vet gave Stel the antihistamine shots. She couldn't get her eyes open and she was gasping when she breathed.

One hour and two hundred dollars later, we were home.

I know that Stella is just a dog but she's my dog. I don't have babies or anyone relying on me for survival. Stella is my responsibility and I felt like I fucked it up. It was a horrible, helpless feeling, one that I hope to never feel again. I'm fairly certain that Stella is trying to send me to an early grave and I'm pretty sure that she is going to succeed.

I Once Thought That Time Accentuates Despair But Now I Don't Actually Care

For the last week or so I have felt blue. I have been grumpy and snide and sad and just ... blah. Blah describes very well how I have been feeling. Vancouver can be a difficult place to live when your mood is strongly affected by the weather. Endless rain and grey skies make me want to curl up in bed with the puppies and refuse to face the world until I see a glimmer of sunshine peeking around the curtain.

The sun is shining today. Blue skies and sunshine, Doodle Jump, animal crackers and string cheese for lunch (because apparently I am five years old), the Threadless $10 tee sale, playing with my mustache keychains and having a mustache epiphany (details to come once my shop has been updated), finding the perfect shade of grey-ish / beige-ish nail polish, and the new Athlete album, are all putting a smile on my face. The sun is shining today and I am happy.

I've decided to stop grumbling about the $300 insurance deductible we have to pay to get the car fixed because $300 doesn't matter as long as Shawn is okay. I'm not going to complain about the mother-effing cherry blossoms and the nosebleeds and itchy eyes they cause. I won't even rant about how Wolfgang gets all riled up playing with Stella and then drinks a bunch of water too quickly and then barfs (always on non-wipeable surfaces) at least once a week. No grumbling, no ranting, only sunshine and blue skies today. Unless Wolfgang vomits on my bed again tonight like he did last night. And the night before.

You Got A Fast Car But Is It Fast Enough So We Can Fly Away

He tells me he's lucky; the piece of metal that flew off the truck hit the vehicle in front of him first, shredding the tyre and sending it flying into the bridge wall.

He says it's a good thing that he was paying attention; if he had not swerved, the metal might have come through the windshield instead of glancing off the side of the car.


He wonders what would have happened if he had been riding his motorcycle instead of driving the car.

I explain that we have to stop talking about it or I will never sleep again. And then I don't sleep.

So I Hid My Soiled Hands Behind My Back Somewhere Along The line I Must've Gone Off Track With You

In the last few days I have been an inconsiderate ass both on and off the internet. It makes my heart ache to know that I have caused hurt feelings or bruised egos or frustration. Knowing that someone I care about is vexed because of me makes me want to shrivel up and hide in a dark hole. It doesn't matter that my intent was in no way malicious, I am still angry at myself for my thoughtless blunders. It's silly; I carry around the guilt and negativity long after I've apologized and been forgiven. It's neither healthy nor productive yet here I am, feeling sad and blue and worthless.

* * *

This morning Shawn was driving on the highway behind a garbage truck when a large piece of metal flew out of the back of the truck and hit our car. Shawn is okay (which is all that matters in this situation) but our car is not. Literally last night we had a discussion about how money is a bit tight this month due to vet bills and our upcoming property tax bill.

* * *

Today is not a good day but I can't help but smile when I watch this video. I don't know much about Chatroulette and I'm not interested in finding out more (I feel like there is probably a lot of naked man junk floating around) but it makes me happy that there are people like Merton out there making the world a funnier place.

I Know It Ain't Easy But These Are The Roads That We Choose

I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of catch up (not to be confused with a sea of ketchup, though really that sounds kind of yummy) after doing nothing but die of the flu for a week. I'm using this as my excuse for why my March resolution post is being written a third of the way through the month. My blog, my rules, peeps. I did make my March resolution at the beginning of the month, though, and I've been doing my best to follow it.

First, a little review: January was my no spendy month. I was fairly successful. February I resolved to post a photo every day. I managed to post a picture on 25 of 28 days, which in my books is a win.

I think it's safe to say that I like challenges that can be measured. I like to line them up and tick them off my list and in the end I either win or lose.

This month I am forcing myself outside of my comfort zone and making a vague, non-measurable resolution. My March resolution is to make better choices. I could not be more vague, right? Ugh, just thinking about it makes me itchy. Basically I'm tired of this lazy routine I've fallen into and I want to start making conscious decisions to make my life better. Tonight, for example, I will (hopefully) choose to go to karate instead of choosing to sit on my arse and watch the hockey game.

A lot of this month's resolution will revolve around my food choices. The insanity and instability of February killed any good eating habits I'd been enforcing. This month is about meal planning so I don't resort to fast food when I'm hungry and don't know what to make; continuing to shop at the green grocer as well as the regular supermarket so I have lots of fresh produce on hand to make salads; trying new, healthy recipes so I don't get bored; and hopefully starting to feel better about myself.

This month's resolution is not about weight loss or numbers on the scale or deprivation. Last night I was craving pizza so I ate pizza but I chose to make homemade pizza with lots of veggie toppings instead of ordering greasy pepperoni pizza. It wasn't as satisfying as a dirty sausage pizza would have been but it felt good to know that I wasn't mindlessly following my instinct (for grease and salt), I was making the better choice. March is the month to abolish apathy. Who's with me?

When I See The Apple In Disguise Oh My Love I Can Recognize

My new iPhone was activated yesterday and I am already smitten. It does so much! I am overwhelmed by the possibilities. I'm still unsure about my ability to use the iPhone (she remains nameless until I determine her personality) without dropping it into a mug of coffee, though, so my first priority is to get a protective case to (hopefully) negate any damage I may inflict. There are so many cases out there; I need help choosing the best one. What case do you use? Do you love it / hate it for any particular reason? Did you purchase the Apple Protection Plan? Would you recommend that I buy it? (Please keep in mind that I had my blackberry for a year and I managed to drop it in a mug of coffee, drench it in alfredo sauce, drop it down a flight of concrete stairs, etc.)

As for the fun stuff, what apps do you suggest?

I am an iPhone rookie, peeps. I need all the help I can get.

Your Ex-Girlfriend Had A Boyfriend Who Kissed My Girlfriend

The most energy I have expended in the last week is the energy it takes to walk from my bed to the kitchen and back. I have been sick. Disgustingly sick. I-want-to-die-a-little sick. Today was the first day that I felt almost human. Not human enough to shower but human enough to drive to the giant, soulless megastore (which I hate but bathroom cleaner, breakfast cereal, gum, hair dye, and feminine hygiene products are at least 50% cheaper there than at our grocery store.)

It's Saturday night. I haven't showered since ... yesterday? Maybe? My hair was gross so I pulled it back into a ponytail. I grabbed whatever clothes were in the pile beside my bed and got dressed. My outfit consisted of jeans that I had to roll up because they dragged on the floor because I usually wear them with 3-inch heels. Canvas flats that are covered in cartoonish owls (they sound cute. They aren't. But they are comfortable.) A tank top that I've been wearing as a pyjama top for a shameful amount of days (with no bra on underneath, obviously) and a bright orange hoodie. I think it goes without saying that I was not wearing makeup.

So I head to the feminine hygiene product aisle where I have a bit of a crisis. My brand is massively on sale so of course it's sold out. I don't have a backup brand so I decide to buy a variety of brands to pick a reliable backup so I will never again have a feminine hygiene product crisis. I load up on three boxes of assorted ladybits products and head towards the cereal aisle.

Where I run into one of my ex-boyfriends ... or his identical twin brother. I honestly don't know which guy it was (which, yes, I know, makes me look a bit bad but in my defense, when I dated the guy I could always tell which one was which AND I dated him a million years ago so let's not get too judgey, okay?)

So we're awkwardly making small talk and he asks what I'm doing in the giant, soulless megastore on a Saturday night and I make a comment about how I'm sick and just stocking up on the essentials. At which point he looks in my basket. My basket of assorted lady products AND NOTHING ELSE.

It was awesome.

Even more awesome was when he craned his neck to look around me and into my basket again as he told me about this vapour mask thingy that his mom is using because she's really sick right now and the mask really works and I should pick one up. At which point I may have become really shrill as I told him it was really nice running into him and I had to go and take care and byeeeee as I ran into the nearest aisle. Which just happened to be the cat food aisle. Because nothing says "I've grown since dating you (or your brother) and I'm a mature adult with an enviable life" like buying tampons and cat food on a Saturday night.

An Old Piece Of Bacon Never Eaten By Elvis

If Rudy is reason enough to give up eating bacon, surely the mothereffing swine flu is an acceptable reason to resume eating bacon, yes?

Speaking of bacon, last night Shawn was telling me about a sex dream he had about one of our good friends (stick with me peeps, I've been in bed all week and have literally nothing to write about unless you're interested in hearing about daytime tv.) He thinks it's weird that he's had multiple (by multiple I don't mean nightly dreams, I mean he's had about 4 dreams in the 6 years he's known her) sex dreams about this woman even though he's not attracted to her. My argument is that if he's had multiple sex dreams about her, he must be attracted to her on some level.

Let me clarify something. When I say "my argument" I don't mean that we were arguing about the sex dream. The lady who starred in Shawn's dream is lovely and a good friend to me and gives me no reason to be insecure about her friendship with Shawn (and - despite the multiple sex dreams - Shawn gives me no reason to be insecure about his friendship with her.)

So I'm making my case about how his subconscious mind is obviously attracted to her and Shawn cuts me off with this gem:

"Hillary. You're bacon. I like bacon with other things, yes, but I also like bacon all by itself. Our friend is a tomato. I don't want just a tomato but put it with bacon and you've got a tasty sandwich."

I freaking love this guy.

Our Watchword Evermore Shall Be The Maple Leaf Forever

I had a low-key weekend planned.

And then Friday evening I got an email from Robin, inviting me to go to the closing ceremonies with her on Sunday. And then Saturday I started getting sick. And then I spent early Sunday morning in the emergency room because I couldn't breathe. And then I went to the pub to watch the gold medal hockey game.

And then I fought my way through the sea of hockey-crazed fans to BC Place to meet up with Robin.

Being at the closing ceremonies is something I'll never forget. The atmosphere, the energy, the performances - they all contributed to an amazing night. I even appreciated the Nickelback performance, if only for a much-needed bathroom break.

And now I'm stuck in bed with the black lung. I can't remember ever being this sick. I should have stayed home on Sunday instead of going to the pub and the closing ceremonies but they both seemed like once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. I had an amazing weekend; I don't really have the words to describe it. Or the energy. So ... pictures!