Things I know

- All relationships are finite and invaluable.

- Sometimes good people do bad things.

- If you pick at it, it will scar.

- If there are dirty dishes in your sink and you leave them there, and no one except for you ever enters or leaves your apartment, those dirty dishes are just going to stay dirty.

- Happiness cannot be found at the bottom of a carton of ice cream. Temporary contentment can be, but it often leads to indigestion and cottage cheese thighs.

- Lying is not for lazy people. It takes too much thought and organization to be good at. Trust me, it is just not worth it.

- There is no cool way to choke on your own spit.

- At some point in time in your life, a dog is going to lick you directly after licking its own anus.

- There is no need to be embarrassed if you slip and fall in mud. Mud is slippery. It is not your fault.

- Adding chocolate chips to chocolate pudding does not make the chocolate pudding more awesome. You will just end up disappointed and feel bloated.

- Wearing white clothes allows you to fully realize just how dirty you truly are.

- At any given moment, you are exactly where you are supposed to be. Unless you are running late or are lost, in which case you should really have a map and learn to plan better.

- Breakdance cannot be learned through osmosis. You're going to have to practice that shit.

- It is best not to make bacon while naked. Especially if you do not even eat bacon and are just trying to be extra sweet. It is in your best interest to put an apron on.

- Even when the little man is lit up and, as a pedestrian, it is your turn to cross the street, it is important to look both ways. Some motorists are assholes and will run you down.

- Frequently, men seem to be unfamiliar with the concept of trimming their toenails.

- Saying, "Why me?" when something bad happens to you just makes you sound like a whiner. Why not you? Why not anyone?

- Being embarrassed about pooping is a waste of time. Everybody poops. You should be proud that you have regular bowel movements.

- Although they may claim otherwise, most people would eat a bug if you gave them enough money or if they were really hungry. Besides, most people have probably already eaten bugs in their sleep.

- If you get pink eye and you have not been around another person who has pink eye, you probably do not wash your hands well enough after you go to the bathroom.

- Eating fourteen hash browns in one sitting: better in theory than it is in practice.

- If you are somewhere that is foreign to you (specifically a country) and what you are eating tastes good, don't ask what is in it. It is sometimes better not to know.

In honour of my cousin's wedding

"I'm going to tell you a secret," I half whispered, "I am a little drunk."

It wasn't really a secret though. It was actually fairly obvious to most anyone within a 100 miles of me that evening. One whiskey sour, four gin and tonics, two glasses of wine, one glass of champagne and three screwdrivers will do that to you though.

"I am drinking on behalf of my sister and in honour of my dead grandparents," I told anyone who would listen - or at least anyone who looked like they may be judging me.

At the end of the night, I pulled my father aside and had a frank discussion with him. "Here is the deal," I said, "I need you to go get me pizza because if I do not eat something now I am going to throw up tomorrow in the car when we are driving home." I was anticipating a 'no,' so when he promptly agreed, I celebrated by having one last drink.

When I returned home a few days later, everyone asked how my trip had been. "Was it windy there? Is Chicago really the windy city?"

No, Chicago had not been windy.

The only "wind" I had experienced came in the form of an unexpected burst of air through a grate above a subway line. Accidentally showing strangers your underwear, while walking down the street, is a good way to make friends. Remember that.

Adjusting to being employed

As I sat there, in my skirt, I realized that, between my floor-to-ceiling window to the hall and my open office door, anyone who passed by could easily take a gander at my whoo haw if I forgot to carefully sit like a lady all day long. Sure, I was wearing panties, but the idea of my whoo haw was out there.

These are the kinds of problems I have been having at work - unintentionally potentially exposing my whoo haw to coworkers.

But I will be back with Starbucks

The mental health ward was not what I expected, although, admittedly, I hadn't really expected much of anything.

Our first several minutes of visiting seemed awkward. I admit that it was probably my fault when I opened the conversation by saying, "So, do you come here often?" I asked her if she'd made any friends or met any cute guys. We quickly decided that developing any type of relationship, friendship or otherwise, while under an involuntary hold was likely to result in more complications than it was ultimately worth.

We talked about many things in the two hours I was there. I vowed to bring her slippers and a bouncy ball ("Be careful not to hit that thing," I said, pointing to some sort of fancy looking device on her ceiling. "We had something like that in residence, and, if you hit it, it caused an alarm to go off in the whole building," I explained). We discussed what other entertaining items were permitted on the premises. Glass and cords are forbidden, as is anything that can easily be used to self-harm. It sounds simple enough to avoid these items but causes a lot of second guessing when you really think about it. If a person is intent enough, anything can be used to self-harm.

We talked about the arts and crafts patients are requested to participate in each day. We talked briefly about her therapy sessions and the other inhabitants of the ward. But what I really wanted to tell her was that she had nothing to be ashamed of. There will be people who judge her for the time she has spent in this place. There will be people who will see her in a different light when (or if) they learn that her brain isn't quite right, chemically speaking. But those people are not worth more than a passing thought. While it is technically true that there is something wrong with her, her value is no less than any other person around her. She should never let her self-worth be determined by the opinion of anyone but herself.

It takes courage to admit you need help. It takes strength to keep moving forward when you are so paralyzed with fear that you can hardly breathe. It takes bravery to remove yourself from your comfort zone to go to a place where you know you will be scrutinized by professionals who have the ability to turn your voluntary three day stay into an involuntary two week long admittance.

There is nothing to be ashamed of, but there is a whole lot to be proud of.

"I will see you tomorrow?" she asked just before I left.

"No, not tomorrow, but you will see me Monday. You will also see me Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.. Well, you get the idea. I will see about having chocolate bars delivered to you each day at noon as well."

And then, with a heavy heart, I left.

Spiderman stickers are pretty awesome

"Megan," he whispered, "at night, the cat jumps into my bed and sleeps on my pillow. And my tongue tries to eat him."
"What?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
"My tongue tries to eat the cat," he replied, as if I was daft for my lack of understanding.
"Why would your tongue do that?" I asked.
"I do not know," he said, pausing thoughtfully to consider the question. "I think my tongue must be hungry," he decided.
"That is awfully silly of your tongue," I told him, and he proceeded to giggle.

Little boys can be endlessly adorable. They can also be endlessly frustrating, especially when they decide that "fooled" is a bad word, rip up the picture they had previously been colouring for you and then, filled with remorse over ruining said picture, begin crying with such despair that you would think someone had died.

In the end, most every problem can be solved with a cookie, a spiderman sticker and a hug.

I do not think that adults and children are that different after all.

Happy Statutory Holiday

I grabbed an olive from the dish and popped it into my mouth. When I bit down, I realized I had made a mistake. Blue cheese. The olive had been stuffed with blue cheese.

If I were to create a list of people and things I consider to be my nemeses, blue cheese would fall somewhere around number fifty.

But it was Christmas day eve. Dinner was late to the table, and I was hungry. So the blue cheese ultimately won this round with its surprise presence and my need to consume something in order to silence the rumbling thunder that was emanating from my stomach region.

Christmas, as a whole, had been enjoyable but relatively uneventful.

During the Christmas eve service, my brother and I whispered back and forth to each other.

The minister called all of the young children to the front of the church to explain to them the significance of Christmas presents. "We give gifts as a reminder of the gifts of the three magi. They are in celebration of Jesus's birthday," she said.

I leaned into my brother and said, "Actually, that is only partially true. Yes, the gifts are meant as a reference to the magi, but they are not in celebration of Christ's birthday. They are in celebration of Christ's birth in general. He would have been well over a year old by the time the magi reached him. Evidence suggests that Christ was born in the summer or early fall, so handing out birthday presents for Jesus in December and calling it 'Christmas' is a misnomer."

"You should stop the minister right now and correct her," my brother said.

"Don't worry, I will," I said.

I didn't though.

I know where my bread is buttered, and I suspect correcting the minister in the middle of the Christmas eve service is probably a good way to cause the church to rethink the pay raise I am getting in the new year. Plus, I do realize that the minister was probably just trying to explain Christmas to the children in a relatively simple way.

My sister refused to attend the Christmas eve service. In fact, she refused to follow through with many long established Christmas traditions held by my family - my favourite being the one where she sleeps with one of the neighbour's sons on Christmas eve and my father has to use all of his problem solving skills to determine which house on our street he should call on Christmas day in order to summon her home to open presents around the tree. So she is in a relationship. Big deal. That is no reason to end what we all consider to be, arguably, the most entertaining aspect of the holiday.

And now, with the holidays over, it is time to dress my dog up in the Santa suit my father purchased. Sure, he cannot wear the pants (they are much too large), but I am sure he will look handsome in the coat, beard and hat. Humiliated... but handsome.

Fitting

Google Webmaster Tools tells me that the 97th most common keyword on my site is "transvaginal."

It shows I care

I received a message on facebook today, from one of my friends from University, informing me that the card I had sent her had arrived safely.

In so many words, she told me how thankful she was for such a thoughtful gesture.


But that is the kind of friend that I am. An idea will come to me - a beautifully scrapbooked card featuring Michael Jackson, perhaps - and I will then spend the next several days bringing said idea to fruition before sending it out into the world. 

Can I help it if that idea turns out to be creepy? No. No, I cannot. 

Dentist Approved

Yesterday, I smoked marijuana and then brushed my teeth for two hours. 

“Two minutes!” I told myself right before I had an epiphany. “Two minutes, three times a day is six minutes. If I brush my teeth for two hours, I will not have to do it again for another 20 days!” 

It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, and my electric toothbrush made it relatively easy to accomplish, or at least it did during the first hour. It turns out that electric toothbrushes do not have a particularly long battery life and were probably not intended for brushing marathons. 

Regardless, my teeth have probably never been cleaner than they were yesterday. 

Upon returning home, I have developed a new respect for double-ply toilet paper

I just returned from my annual week-long foray into the woods (read: Algonquin Park) with a group of teenagers. 

As per usual, it was chocked full of dirty words and talk of bodily functions. I am not going to lie, the talk of bodily functions was primarily me talking to myself aloud about the indigestion I was experiencing. Every so often, I would corner one of the teenagers and over share, telling them how many trips to the outhouse I had made that hour alone. 

On one of my many trips to the outhouse, one poor camper (whom I had briefly left unattended at the site in order to take care of "business") was terrorized by a moose who came charging through our site. I heard the feral animal galloping past my kybo of choice and, had I not already been pooping, probably would have soiled myself. 

Being a Good Sister

In order to better bond as a family, and perhaps better prepare him for University, I became insistent upon fabricating a beer funnel for my little brother. He is going to be somewhat far away from home this coming fall, and I wanted to ensure he had a surefire way to bond with his peers. 

Thus, we made a trip to the Home Depot on a Thursday afternoon and purchased 10 feet of tubing, one ball valve and two hose clamps. Later on, I  made a solo trip to Canadian Tire to purchase an over-sized funnel. The individuals working in the Auto Department looked at me curiously when I asked them if they had a funnel large enough to fit two beers in. 

After a few false starts, Project Funnel was complete. "I will stand on the stairs here, and you will sit there on that bench," I told my brother. "I will pour the beer into the funnel, and then, when you are ready, you will open the valve and ingest the beer at a rate that is faster than you usually would. You should probably wait until most of the foam has dissipated, otherwise you will probably be very gassy."

My brother looked at me and nodded, but the truth is that I have only observed funneling in the past and never actually partook in it myself. After all, I am a lady, and I do not particularly care for beer.   

How I spend my Saturday mornings

I hate running. 

Hate it.

So it made perfect sense that I would pay approximately $120 to join a running group that meets every Saturday morning at 7:30 a.m. Did I mention that the running group meets half an hour away from my house? I am mentioning it now. The running group meets at a location that is half an hour away from my house. This means that, in order to roll out of bed and be ready for running group, I need to wake up by 6:30 a.m. at the latest. 

Did I mention that I was instructed to eat something before running group and drink some water? I am mentioning it now. I was told to eat something before running group and drink at least one cup of water no less than one hour before I run. 

One hour before I run. 

This means that, if I am going to eat something, I need to eat it by 6:30 a.m. This in turn means that in order to have something prepared to eat by 6:30 a.m., I have to get up prior to 6:30 a.m. On a Saturday. 

So far I hate my running group. Each Saturday, I arrive at our meeting place and silently curse everyone in the group. I am smiling on the outside, but on the inside I am giving foul-mouthed sailors a run for their money. Each week we run further and further. First it was one kilometer, then three. Now it is five kilometers and soon it will be six. By the end of August, we will be up to ten kilometers, although we do have a twelve kilometer run to complete one day. 

I must secretly hate myself. Why else would I be doing this?

Tall Tales

"I am going to stop you for a second," I said to the little boy who had previously been speaking. His name was James, and he was telling an elaborate tale of an encounter he "had" with the local authorities.

"I am going to go out on a limb here and say that the police never shot at you."

"They did," he insisted.

"Tell me, James, why would the police shoot at an unarmed nine-year-old?" I asked him.

"I am native," he declared, "I had a bow and arrow. I was shooting at them." 

While there was no denying that he was indeed native, I still found his story less than credible.

"I once went to Tim Hortons and saw a van get hit in the window with a paintball," another little boy piped up.

"Now that I believe," I told him.

The discussion that takes place during Sunday School is much different than I remember it being when I was young enough to attend. 

It isn't alcoholism because I was drinking in a room full of people

Drinking before, during and after an oral presentation will help ease your nerves I have found. 

Today, upon recounting the tales of my involvement with a relatively prestigious festival, I sipped from a glass of wine rather than a bottle of water. 

Sure, I may have slurred my words some, but I was calm. 

I'm just saying....

"We don't celebrate Valentine's day because it is too commercial and common for us," she said. "Instead we do something special a month or two later."

"What I am hearing is that you just celebrate Valentine's day late," I said.

"No, we don't celebrate Valentine's day," she repeated.

"Yes, you do. You just do it late and call it something different so that you can tell yourselves that you are individuals," I clarified. "It is still the very same premise. You are still going out and buying the cards and chocolates, and having a fancy dinner."

"It's not the same," she insisted, sounding slightly less sure of herself. 

"Oh, it's the same. It's not your anniversary. It is not in celebration of some other sort of special occasion. It is Valentine's day, only it's late."

I find Valentine's day to be ridiculous and not merely because I am single.  I have never felt the need to celebrate the day. In fact, I have never celebrated the occasion in any special way other than going out of my way to ensure there was time for extra sex that day. In the morning? Don't mind if I do. A nooner? Sure, why not? On the kitchen table, waiting for dinner to cook? How can I resist? Did you hear that? The television program we are watching is on a commercial break. Quick, we must figure out something to do to help pass the time. 

But I digress. Valentine's day is a sham. We should all insist on being more loving on a regular basis instead of saving it all up for one day.