You won’t believe what happened…

Today a bird shit on me.  Almost a year ago to the day a bird shit on me.  I am not sure what I did to attract that action, but most of the time the stuff I attract is at least funny, almost always good and very seldom is it shitty.  It always amazes me when random things happen.  Of all the places for my feet to be, of all the moments in the day and all the places my eyes could have been looking…

Now that the weather is nice I’ve changed my morning routine around.   I used to take the dog over to a green space near my place, throw the ball for a half hour, return home, get ready and then walk up Citadel Hill on my way to the office.  Now, I get ready for work and leave in time to go for at least an hours walk before hitting my paid duties.  I’ve been walking the waterfront before climbing back up the hills of Halifax to eventually end up at my office.  As I was following this route something so incredibly funny happened the other day.  I don’t normally listen to music when I am walking as I like to be engaged in my surroundings and when I have headphones in I am not. Since it is early and there are really not many people around, I’ve been listening to music as I walk.  Well, sometimes I listen and I sometimes (often) sing along.  So as I was belting out the words to Meatloaf, Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad when I came to an area where there are two large office towers.  Due to a set of stairs which come down from a pedway above you can only take one route – which is maybe about 10 feet wide.  As I came closer to this little area I could see a woman doing exercises with a tension band on the stairway posts.  As I got closer I realized it was my ex-boyfriends-ex-wife.  As I got even closer (and the stairs were not obscuring my view) I realized that my ex-boyfriends-ex-wife was being working worked out by his current and much younger than her girlfriend.  So, in this 10 foot wide area there was: an ex-girlfriend, ex-wife, current girlfriend, and just for drama sake, an ex-dog..  My best guess is that they have no idea who each other is.  The ex-wife knows who I am.  The current girlfriend knows who I am.  I know who they both are and Millie is clueless.  Take that for a multi generation smash up.  This was a real Hollywood like moment.  It gave me something to chuckle about the rest of the way to work.  Of all the places for my feet to be, of all the moments in the day and all the places my eyes could have been looking…

There is this man who I’ve ‘known of’ for quite sometime. I’ve never met him, but I know a lot about him.  I’ve seen his picture, seen him on TV and read things he writes.  I think if I ever met him we would like each other (I also think Oprah and I would love each other if we met).  Last week one of my best friends and I did a tandem work trip to Prince Edward Island (where this guy lives).   On the way there I told her about this man (he is a man not a guy).  Imagine, the next morning I was sitting in a coffee shop working when he walked in.  He was standing about 2 feet from me.  I fervently texted Kristen as I choked on my morning glory.  She said ‘Oh my god – go talk to him.  If anyone can do this you can.’  He sat down and started doing some work as I was sitting by myself concealing laughter. Again in this situation – he has no idea who I am but I know who he is.  It seemed too awkward and the conversation would have been overheard by at least 7 other espresso drinking coffee shop dwellers.  I did inspect him in real life.  He had on nice socks which says a lot.

I am a big believer in energy and attraction.  My family and friends can attest that they hear me saying on a regular basis – you won’t believe what happened! Sometimes you have no idea who is around you.  You have no idea what they are thinking about.  You have no idea how they are connected to people you know.  You have no idea how much they know about you.  Although I was glad to be wearing earphones the day I walked through the Exes and Ins Club on the waterfront… I normally would say take them off and engage in the world around you.  I bet you are missing out on a few great stories.

 

 

Up, up and away!

I am in St. John’s  Newfoundland for work and due to a cancelled meeting I came to the airport earlier than expected.  I thought I might be able to get on an earlier flight, but due to delays and fees it didn’t make sense.  Instead, I am sitting here beavering away on work bits and of course watching and listening to people around me.  A father travelling with 3 (of his 6 kids) just told one who is misbehaving that ‘a knuckle sandwich was coming his way if he didn’t start listening.’   At airports I see many emotions and behaviours: love, impatientness, crankiness, sadness, anxiousness and totally bizarre bits too (just to name a few).

The last time I was in St Johns I was sitting in the exact same seat I am sitting in right now when quite a raucous broke out.  A guy came barrelling out of the bar making these insane animal like noises.  In just saying ‘guy’ I do no justice in aiding you to understand the situation.  This ‘guy’ was similar in size to John Goodman or John Candy.   A very large guy.  So he comes barrelling out, making said noises and falls flat on his face.  Some airport people came along and called 911.  As people started to take notice a few locals who knew him came by. ‘Ahhh, now see that’s Jamie and he’s been having a rough time lately.”  Rough time lately?  He is at an airport (so for the sake of this story I am going to assume he was waiting to get on a plane).  Jamie drank enough at that bar to put his 300 pound self flat on his face (and someone served him the booze which induced this state). It was highly likely that he was meant to be on my flight. To understand why I was so glad that he was not going to be on my flight I must give you some background info.  A few months prior to this incident I visited my oldest brother in Grande Prairie, Alberta. There are a lot of oil rig workers that come and go through that airport.  A group of guys fresh off a month of work arrived drunk for our 11 am (yes) flight.  I am not sure why they were allowed to get on the flight in the first place, but it happened.  Shortly after take off my worst nightmare happened.  The biggest guy in the group projectile barfed all over the place.  A few times.  It was awful.  Like I am gagging right now thinking of it. One poor old lady who has the unlucky recipient of being hit with his Stand By Me Lard Ass spray was brought to the front of the plane to get cleaned up.  The stewardess said to the lady ‘Do you have a change of clothes in your carry on?’  to which she replied ‘No dear I don’t.  I mean, I wasn’t planning on being vomited on.’ I literally had to teleport myself out of that plane for the rest of the flight. I looked autistic with my nose plugged, eyes closed and head turned toward the window.   I was rather thankful that Jamie was face down on the floor rather than getting on my flight and inducing my ‘in-flight-barfer-PTSD’.

Gosh, Grande Prairie flights have really caused me some trauma come to think of it.  Another flight I took there I was seated in the front row of the plane.  It ended up that a guy who had been airlifted to Edmonton because his barbeque had blown up in his face was coming home and was going to be my seatmate.  Alright.  So he comes on the plane with a full face of dressings and his arms were also bandaged up big time.  It was kind of like being seated next to E.T.  Because we were seated in the front row and it is a small commuter plane we were very close to the washroom.  So he gets settled in beside me and just then an older man made a very anxious and quick beeline for the washroom.  He was in there for quite sometime.  When he came out the worst smell I have ever in my life been exposed to hit me.  I was wishing I was the guy beside me as his nose was all bandaged up so his smell was likely blocked.  My father has been known to make some vicious smells, but this guy trumped them all.   People in the front rows couldn’t contain themselves.  In  unison I heard people say ‘Oh my God’.  Just before the flight was going to take off he made another trip.  Honestly, I don’t know what meal or road kill that man ate to cause that vile assault on my nostrils.  I know there are tickets for violating noise bylaws… this guy should have been given one for breaking a smell bylaw and creating a massive disturbance.

It is close to boarding time now, so I sit here with my fingers crossed for no bodily function dramas on my flight.  If anything happens I will let you know…

Welcome back to the jungle baby…

I’ve been rocking the ‘Single’ title for about 6 months now.  Although my grandmother probably thinks  a) I am going to be a Spintress or b) that there is something wrong with me.  I have to say I have been thoroughly enjoying myself.  Do what I want – when I want.  Eat what I want – when I want.   See who I want, solo sleep is sound and dating is a tonne of fun.  Of course, there have been a few good stories and they are worth sharing.

About 1.5 months ago I went to dinner with a guy I had met.  I suggested a restaurant which is close to my place and so I trotted down the hill to meet him.  I could see the back of his head in the front window when I walked in so I knew where he was sitting.  There is a small wall when you walk in which blocks the view of where he was and the table beside him.  So I walked past that little wall and made a sharp right hand turn.  I saw him.  He saw me. And unfortunately, I also saw my ex-boyfriend.  As luck would have it they were sitting right beside each other.  Like, an arms length apart.  The feeling I had was similar to walking in on your parents having sex.  I said ‘Hello’ to both parties and turned on my pink heels to find the waitress.  Fortunately I knew her.  I said ‘Listen we’ve got a 911 situation in the front… ex boyfriend and date are sitting beside each other.’  She said ‘Walk to the back.  Walk to the back.  I will get you a drink and fetch your date.’  So I slammed back a dark and stormy and settled in.  Now, the other weird thing about the situation was that he was having dinner with a, hmm, how do I say it, a very young girl who I’ve met before.  There was a 17 year difference between him and I, but there must be at least 25 between them.  He wasn’t in his right after work clothes.  Nope.  He had gone home and changed which made me think it was a date.  Maybe he was helping her figure out how to put her tuition towards her tax return.  Or maybe she was teaching him how to use Snapchat.  I digress.  One way or the other it felt incredibly awkward.  Alas, the guy I was on the date with was kind of already dead in the water for a few reasons – he likes Star Wars and playing video games.

I since signed up for an online site as that is the way of the world now, but feel kind of wary about it so I hid my profile.  This is a good thing in that you don’t get buckets of emails from greasers who say ‘hey sexy’ or ‘Hi’,  ‘Mmmm’, or ‘Ur hot’, but it also limits normal guys seeing you too.  Based on info that the website collects from you it creates a list of potential matches.  One day I had what they call a ‘Ultra Match’.  When I looked at the profile I thought I recognized him.  It was a guy who I go to the dog park with every morning.    Because my profile is hidden he can’t see me, so he isn’t aware of this info.   I read his profile where he said he is funny, has a great job, lots of hobbies, smart, etc.  I went to the park in the morning with a new purpose – I was going to sniff my ultra match out.  Honestly, it took nearly a month to hear him say anything even kind of funny.  It was like pulling teeth talking to him at first. The thing with online dating is people hide behind their computers. It is a whole lot harder to be funny and interesting in person than it is typing on a computer.  I’ve somewhat broken him down at this point.  I don’t think he is my ‘Ultra Match’.  He wears bad track pants, but his dog is fabulous.

On a flight to NYC a few weeks back a silver fox was sitting beside me.  My girlfriends were sitting behind me so I was kind of turned around chatting with them.  I said something about having a goat when I was a kid and how much of an asshole he was.  The silver fox who was seated across from me found that funny and started to laugh.  After that he got wrapped into our conversation.  After we explained that we were going to NYC to get a wedding dress for one of the girls he said to me ‘So you are engaged?’.  I said ‘No, Katie is.’  He said ‘Oh, are you married?’  To which I said ‘No. Are you?’.  He replied ‘I was married for a long time, but I’m not now.’   He also in the course of conversation told us about his personal airplane, Ferrari and other macho shit that men like to share and think they are impressing you with.  He showed us a picture of his ski chalet across from The Ritz in Colorado and Katie showed him a video of her riding a GT Racer down her driveway going over homemade ramps. Just to bring him back down to earth.  I would have been far more impressed if he didn’t say anything at all about his financial prowess.  Anyhow, I checked my email a few days later and lo and behold I had a message from him saying how much he enjoyed meeting me and that he is coming back to Halifax in a month and would love to see me.   I guess I had given him enough information that with a little ‘google’ he tracked me down.  He had snow on the roof, but a fire in the oven.  If he gets back in touch I will go on a date with him… if for no other reason than to just to have a good story to write about here.

The most recent escapade includes being set up with a guy who’s last name involves the word ‘fart’.  My most recent boyfriend had the same last name as me.  If it was something typical that would just be boring, wouldn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall…

I realized today that tomorrow is one month until my next birthday.  36!  I will be in the higher end of my mid 30’s (I think 37 is officially ‘late 30’s’).  So I got thinking about age.

My elementary music teachers name was Miss Hickey (no man ever dared to claim her).  She was an anomaly to say the least.  She wore a wig, cleaned her dentures in front of the class after she ate tapioca pudding with rotten bananas in it, wore polyester pants pulled up as high as they could go with a white blouse tucked into them, had big pointy boobs and put too light powder on her face that made her look mime like.  She also had bad bunions, loved classical music and drove a powder blue Tempo Topaz which had sheet music/records piled up to the windows.  I have no idea how Helen Hickey became who she was.  Apparently, her age was classified information.  Back as far as I can remember age was such a taboo topic (as was talking about finances, sex, religion, health – all the good stuff) and it always seemed like it was something negative.  Getting older.  Not getting more interesting, more confidant, more beautiful, more content, or more sexy. I’ve always loved the saying ‘Age is mind over matter… it only matters if you mind.’  I actually quite like getting older (really it is better than the alternative, right?).

I really try (emphasis on try) to make laughter and having connections with others  be part of my daily life.  Like tonight, I met a man who lives on my street for the first time.  After chatting he wanted to give Millie a treat (which were in his apartment).  He is an older man and likely lonely.  Say the word treat and Millie is in without hesitation.  I just saw the movie Room so I felt a bit hesitant to go in.   I stayed out on the street laughing as my dog was in someone’s apartment getting a treat.  They both ended up quite happy and Millie has not died from poisoning yet.  As I get older I’ve noticed more heavy topics floating around on the regular – relationship issues, health, fertility, finances, careers, retirement, wrinkles, terrorism, economy, lack of sleep, what next, worry. Stress!  Why does adult life  have to be so damn serious?  Whatever you focus on appears.  If you are reading this my wish is for you to shake it off sometime in the near future.  There is a hashtag I use often.  #letitgo.  Have some fun.  Connect with people around you.  It will make you feel fresh and lighter. On Saturday I did an egg beater, helicopter, bootie shake, handstand dance compilation for my 7 and 6 year old nieces.  It was Beyonce like and they were very impressed.   I am the young woman in the picture, not the old hag.

Kiss Me I’m Irish – Kind of

St Patrick’s day has always been one that represents utter foolishness for me.  I really do have a soft spot for the Irish.  My grandfather was a McCarron or as my ‘likely autistic but never diagnosed Grand Uncle Eddie’ says ‘I am Eddie McCarrrrrroooonn’.   One time another Grand Uncle, Leonard (brother of Eddie and Grandpa), decided to scoot into the bathroom at a family St Patty’s day party and literally poured a bottle of green food dye in his hair.  Leonard’s hair was usually a wild mound of white locks so his new ‘do’ was crazy.  I remember he had green dye coming down his forehead and all over his hands. I don’t think I understood what being drunk was at that time.

I’ve been to Ireland 3 times and had some of the biggest laughs I’ve ever had while visiting there.  I don’t know what it is about the men.  They can literally be a 7/10, but when they start to talk and joke – all of a sudden they are a 9.   One of the trips was with my friend Alexis at a time when we were both single. The below picture was taken outside of the Guinness Brewery.  This close talking fella had snow on the roof but a fire in the oven.  His large Clydesdale horse is standing outside of the picture.  He was a foolish flirt.  He asked me ‘Do you talk in your sleep?’  to which I replied ‘I don’t think so’ to which he said ‘Want to prove it?’.  Thus the large laugh taking place.

When I lived in Toronto I worked as a sales rep for a wine and spirits company.  I had some big Irish brands in my portfolio.  I would often have brewers from the various distilleries come to town and because I covered downtown/had large stores I would scoop them at the airport and show them the market.  The Master Distiller from Jamieson’s Irish Whiskey was in town for St Patty’s Day once and we got along quite well.  He invited me an event which he was the guest of honor.  That night I found myself sitting at the head table listening to people speak Irish and sipping whiskey. They literally played happy birthday on a flute and sang happy birthday individually to every person who celebrated since the last meeting. I started committing mortal sins by adding ice, orange juice, whatever I could to  dilute my drinks.  I hate whiskey.  Before I knew it I was pie-eyed drunk.  It seems the old guy can handle a lot more than me as he seemed sober.  I had planned to go meet my girlfriends but ended up in bed by 9.

The next year we partnered with Diageo (company which represented Guinness) to have a big old St Patrick’s Day Party.  I had been allotted a certain number of tickets – rather than being strategic and give them to customers I gave them to my girlfriends.  As people started pouring in it became very apparent that this was going to be a fun night.  Texts/calls started flying and in the matter of minutes I had about 20 people coming to the event and only 5 had tickets to give out.  I decided to rip out my country girl charm and chat up the head of security before he got too busy.  I asked him lots of questions, made him laugh, told him my role, brought him water, etc.  Over the course of the night I asked him to let in at least 15 extra people.   He obliged and I remember him saying ‘People usually ask for 1 or 2, what the hell Nova Scotia?’  I think we even had a cousin picture taken with him.  I was on professional duty until lets say 8 pm.  After that I jumped into the foolishness.  There are two specific memories which come to mind.  One involves a very large Australian rugby player and the other a police officer who was in and out of uniform.   My friend Sue (who is somewhere around 5’9) and I were hoisted into the air by this said Aussie.  At one point this beast of a man had the both of us on his shoulders running the length of the hall.  Now, if I recall correctly (and my memory usually does not fail me) he was almost 7 feet tall and if we were sitting we are half our height so we were over 10 feet in the air and he had already consumed copious amounts of beer.  At this point a police officer saw what was happening and decided that he needed to intervene.  It happens this officer was rather attractive.  Once we were back on the ground the said officer became the victim of our antics.  It seems we must have impressed as once off duty he and his partner came back in plain clothes to have some pints with us.   I think we may have even gotten driven home by police officers that night.

March 18th over the years has involved having some of the worst headaches I’ve ever had and even naps under my desk. Oh you Irish.  You have a way of getting me into trouble. Tonight I am doing something far more Canadian than Irish – going to a hockey game.  Alas, I will still have some beer in honor.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Emilie

I did some organizing about a month ago and found some of my old journals from when I was between the ages of 10 and 13. I’ve been home sick for 3 days so I have some extra time on my hands; I’ve been reading my entries and dying laughing.  As an adult I am not one for flowery emotions and drama – I am pretty practical and nonchalant.  It seems I was that way as a kid too. One of my favorite books growing up was ‘Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret’: a book that details the thoughts and emotions of a 6th grade girl.  Boys, bras, periods, family disputes and everyday emotions. I wasn’t so much like Margaret as I didn’t really ‘journal’ so much,  I more ‘documented’ the daily going ons in our house.

Below is one of the entries from my journal.  To give you a better understanding here a few additional details:

I grew up on a hobby farm.  We had a few horses, a few cows, pigs and some chickens.  We only had female cows.  If Dad wanted one of the heifers to get pregnant he would need to call Joe Van De Valk and ask him to come over when she was in heat. Joe Van De Valk is not a bull from a local farm, he is an Artificial Inseminator. Joe was somewhat deaf so he spoke in a not typical manner (which was great as I love to do impersonations of people and I can do a humdinger impersonation of Joe).  Once we got older we had a great nickname for him ‘The County Cow F*&cker’

Saturday, October 5th, 1991 (I was 11)

“Joe Van de Valk came over today. I woke Dad up because he was taking a nap when I saw his van pull in the driveway.  Dad and I went up to the barn.  When we got there Joe pulled out a catalogue with pictures of bulls in it.  He said ‘Jesus Christ Leonel I got some real nice stuff today.  That fella there (pointing at a picture of a bull from Ontario) he has some beauty calves.  Throws big ones.’  (insert – just like a modern day sperm bank Dad would choose the sperm from the most suitable bull).  Joe then put on a glove that went up to his arm pit.  After that he pulled a long rod from what looked like a bucket with dry ice in it.  He then took his arm with the rod in his hand and put it up the cows bum.  Ginger bawled.  After some poking and prodding he took his arm out.  The glove was full of hot steamy manure.  After Joe left Dad and I went into town and picked David up at basketball. When we got back it was lunchtime and Dad made us cream peas on toast (like he always does when Mom is working).’

End of entry.

I Like Big Underwear and I Cannot Lie

I grew up in a small town where there was a store called the 5 cent to a $1.  An old fashioned department store where you can get anything from film and baby gifts to material for sewing.  You can also buy great big underwear there.  When we were kids we would sneak into that section and put the biggest pair over our heads or pretend to wear them – my mother was likely mortified by our behavior.  Now these underwear weren’t just big in style they were big in size.  Like, really big.  In fact, I always wondered who could fill those puppies out in Antigonish.  The Sears catalog was also a terrific source of laughter.  Pointing out the most pointy bra or the biggest undies.  Well folks, I am going to tell you – I like big underwear.  Not the big in size variety, but the big in shape style.  One of my best friends says one of her favorite things to do is pull on a brand new pair of white athletic socks.  I am chuckling thinking of the day she confessed her secret love for tube socks.   One of my favorite things these days is pulling on a big old pair of undies that aren’t going to ride up, fall down or lose the elastic in the band.

In the past I purchased every type of underwear – thong, boy short, full back – low front and for quite sometime I boycotted wearing any at all.   Ever since I was a kid I hated things being low around my waist.  I remember having a full blown freak out in grade 2 about having to wear a pair of green pants with an elastic waist band that I could feel (I also hated the fact that Mom hemmed them too short – not only were they green but they were flood like and I always have been particular about what I want to wear).  When it comes down to it I love the big, cover it all, come up to at least my belly button variety.   I remember the only time I ever got spanked was because I was doing cartwheels in a nightgown in front of my brothers friends… I wasn’t wearing any undies.  Mom said “You knew what you were doing”.  Over the years I have spent hundreds of dollars on pretty bras that part of my boob didn’t fit into and my boobs fell out of  when I leaned over (cart wheels were difficult in this type). Oh no, I am all done with that folks!  I have embraced what my boobies need – a full cup, a wide strap and at least 3 buckles on the back.   So there you have it… under my leopard print dress I am wearing big undies and a substantial bra.

Spanx – I love them. They trick you into thinking you are skinnier than you actually are, however, they come with some challenges.  In order to avoid having lines the best ones are shorts.  If you are wearing a short dress your dirty little secret often gets exposed when you cross your legs.  On the red carpet this week Jennifer Garners purse pulled up her wrap dress and exposed her big old Spanxs to the world.  I am sure she wasn’t proud of that moment considering 100 photographers snapped her unmentionables.   And they are hot as they cover about 50% of your body and are made of thick spandex!  So, recently I saw a pair of thong Spanxs – they still suck you in,  but they have a thong to limit lines.  What a novel idea!  Let me tell you the utter discomfort I felt far exceeded the lack of lines on my butt.  I could barely focus in conversation as these underwear ride up and slide forward as they do so.   Since they are tight they ride up in a very unique way.  If anyone paid attention to my movements that night they either thought I had a bad case of the trots or had been diagnosed with A.D.D. – I was distracted and went to the bathroom about 5 times to adjust.

My grandma always told me I was crazy when I was younger… well look at me just getting practical.  I am still doing all the same things I did when she accused me of being wild, the only difference is I am wearing big undies and a lock ’em in bra while doing cartwheels.

 

Mile High Club Failure

I am usually a very positive person. It takes quite a lot to ruffle my feathers. I usually wake up feeling happy, motivated, and ready to take on the day. This winter has positively gotten the positive side of me.  I have tried everything to be optimistic about this winter – took a trip thinking it would be close to being done when we got back.  Nope.  I have terrific winter apparel (North Face parka, Sorel winter boots, hats, gloves) but even that can’t help me any more. Every morning I look at getting dressed with the same enthusiasm as going for a root canal. I spent $32 on tights the other day; on wear one both ripped. My boots are salt stained. Last night ‘Steady Eddie Maurice’ lost his cool. He came home to find our garage drain had decided to back up and in turn filled the garage floor with water.  The water soaked boxes which were on the floor and their collapse caused all of the boxes on top of them to fall over and spill, resulting in sopping wet papers.  I shed my ‘Debbie Downer Winter Attitude’ and talked him off the “I AM DONE WITH WINTER” ledge.

This morning I woke up and read something that made me feel much better.  A few months ago there was a story in the Chronicle Herald about a man and woman (not a couple) who engaged in sexual acts while on a flight from Toronto.  Upon arriving in Halifax the pair were arrested and charged with plane sex charges, mischief and causing a disturbance. The police would not confirm whether or not the man and women previously knew each other, but they did confirm that the “act” was not intercourse. RCMP stated that “the people involved were not naked though the clothing was partially open.”  In an interview he broke his stone cold face when he said this with a smirk on his face  “Others around the area knew what was happening.”   I have always wondered about The Mile High Club and the impracticality of it, but this story really got me thinking.  The flight from Toronto is only 2 hour and this flight landed at 5 pm which means it wasn’t night time. Now, I don’t know about you but in the MANY flights I have taken out of or arriving in Halifax, the most I have ever wanted to do with a seatmate is talk as it is typically someone from NFLD who is afraid of flying or an oil rig worker heading west.  There are TV screens on most Air Canada planes which cause people to be completely disengaged with their seatmates.  This mornings article had another piece of information which wasn’t in the previous writings: the wife of the man involved in this “situation” was waiting for him at the gate!  How is that for a “Honey I’m home surprise”?!  I am sure he said “I was just watching a movie and all of the sudden this chick started on me” or “I was asleep, woke up and the woman in 4D was undoing my pants” or “I took medication before flying and I blacked out. I don’t remember anything.”  The length of this flight is what really has me baffled. So, let’s say they met on the flight and by the time the captain turned off the seat belt sign things were happening.  Maybe turbulence caused his zipper to come down?  All the bumping might have done it.

So, when I think about how cruddy the weather is I think about these two airplane lovers – they need to deal with the weather, criminal charges and an enraged wife. Later today I am boarding a flight bound for Toronto… hopefully I won’t get escorted out by RCMP.

Shame Shame Double Shame

We live in an age where shame isn’t felt as much because many things can be done electronically now rather than in person.  Texts, banking, dating, Dr. Google, cell phones, voting, etc.  Growing up we had one phone in our house and it was mounted on the wall in the middle of the dining/kitchen/living room.  If any of us wanted to call someone you had to do it in the middle of all the action and you likely had a parent answer the phone on the other end.  Our phone cord would get stretched so badly that it needed to be replaced often.  Now, every one has a phone of their own no matter what the age really.  So there is no shame involved as you no longer have to call a guy/girl with your entire family listening and then having to ask their mother/father to speak to them.  We even had a party line for quite a few years which meant our old cranky neighbor with one leg would often interrupt your call telling you to “get the hell off the phone”.  Communication has changed for all ages.

Internet dating has caused huge changes in the world of meeting and greeting.  No longer do you have to blow-dry your hair, rub 5 smelly creams all over you, put on lipstick, heels, get a cab, pay cover, to scour a bar full of creeps for someone you find attractive.  No, now you can wear your big flannel pj’s while you scope out potential mates online without going through the discomfort of approaching, breaking the ice and giving a number.  I know online dating has worked for some and I myself have tried it.  It didn’t work for me for a few reasons:  too many losers, too much energy, too much time, too much expectation and of course too many people dating multiples.  This is where the point of my post comes from.

My co-worker is fun, kind, very attractive, smart, financially independent single woman.  Sadly, she lost her husband and is back in the arena of finding a man. She has tried all the dating methods: bars, set ups, and of course online dating.  I love hearing all of the dating chronicles.  She is a bit older than me, but it seems that dating issues are the same no matter what age you are.  So here is the point of this post.  Michelle met a guy online: good looking, entrepreneur, fun, sporty, etc.  So, they were going on some dates and “poof” he falls off the face of the earth without any warning.  He pulled a Houdini.  She put on her big girl panties and kept trucking.  A few months later she heard from him out of the blue. Of course, he laid out a series of excuses for why he pulled the magic disappearing act – kids, work, he had a cold.  He asked her out again and she decided to go meet up with him.  Now, some would say ‘no, she should have said no’.  Well, most of the people that say that are in relationships.  When you are single and haven’t had a date in a few months your decisions making process is different.  Well they end up seeing each other and things actually went really well.  They started dating – met his mom, his kids, he met her son, she went to his cabin, concerts… until yet again he goes ‘poof’!  Arsehole.  She got over it.  Fast forward about a month when her best friend is at a party chatting with a friend of a friend.  In conversation one of the gals starts talking about her friend who was dating a guy she met online – good looking, entrepreneur, fun, sporty (sound familiar???) when suddenly he went “poof”.  It sounded oddly familiar so her friend asked “what kind of a company did he own?” – match.  “what was his name” – match.  Well, well, well it seems he was dating the both of them at the same time.  After some fact checking it is indeed the same guy.  The two women decided to meet.  He was in fact in “committed relationships” with the both of them and even went on dates with both of them on the same days!  Uh-oh.  Here he thinks he got away with dating the two of them (and maybe others) and he also jaded the both of them by falling off the face of the earth.  These two ladies decided to get the better of him.  They hatched a plan to hit a pub where they know he always goes.  They perched themselves at the bar and waited for him to walk in. Sure enough – he did. A very funny encounter followed.  Lucky for him his insurance broker arrived to meet him for dinner before they could embarrass him much further.  The pic at the top is what they sent to him after he went and sat at his table.

I love it.  I love that they took the bull by the horns, hatched a plan and made him squirm.  There is no shame anymore because we live in big urban environments where you will likely never see the person again.  He certainly didn’t think he was going to… at least not the two of them together. Boom!

Idea: Better Beach Attire Revolution

I always marvel at what I see when I hit the beach.  I am a huge believer in the fact that any body type/size can look great… with the right clothes.  I am also a believer in the fact that you don’t need deep pockets to get clothing that emphasizes your good bits instead of your not-so-good bits.  Our society is all about liberation, but liberation doesn’t mean you need to look trashy while doing so.   Fashion don’ts seem to be more prevalent at the beach. I love people watching; the beach is a breeding ground for sights that just sink my battle ship.

Yesterday, we hit the beach and within minutes I was amazed at what I saw.  Right off the bat there is a guy that is so tanned his skin looked like  a leather jacket I had in high school wearing tightie short shorts and a rocking a metal detector and giant headphones. I guess he was seeking his fortune on the shores of Poipu.  Not even a minute later I saw something that amazed me.  There was a woman who was (hmmmm what is the best way to describe her) “VERY rotund” wearing a bikini bent over with legs spread apart trying to put on flippers. Poor Maurice was stunned and shocked.  It literally stopped me in my tracks. I am still scarred by that one.  Around the bend there was a woman on the rocks wearing a hat that was literally the size of an umbrella. I have no idea where she got this hat.  The only thing I could figure it is good at is keeping people away because it had a 4 foot circumference.   It was quite a windy day yesterday so it kind of looked like Dumbo trying to take flight – she was holding onto it trying to not fly away.

A few years ago I hit Spain with 2 of my girlfriends where there are nude beaches.  In an effort to get away from the all the solicitors (massages, beer, coconuts, etc) at the “non nude” beaches we hit the nude beach… clothed.  There we were 3 non tanned conservative (in comparison) Canadian girls wearing bathing suits on a nude beach.  We couldn’t have stood out anymore.  I honestly thought we were going to die laughing.  Lara inconspicously zoomed in on body parts of others on the beach and snapped some doozies.  Saggy asses, saggy boobs, huge fake boobs, saggy man parts… you get the picture. There was a short portly woman who didn’t have a top on who was wearing a thong bikini bottom… backwards.  Oddly the nude beach was better because there is no “style” to being naked. There is no “bad fit” when you are naked.  

As much as I would love to start a “better beach attire revolution” I kind of don’t want  things to change because it gives me great material.  Once I post this I am going to go put on my bathing suit as I am going to hit the beach… a nice one piecer that covers up my not-so-good bits and holds my not-so-small boobs in place.