creative ingenuity

In highschool I used to write long winded phrases on post it notes and stick them to my friend Denzil's back.

Right between his shoulder blades, so he couldn't reach it no matter what reaching technique he used.

When that happens to me, I rub my back against the corner of my desk at work. SHOULDA THOUGHT OF THAT, DENZIL.

Well, I mean, when my back is itchy, no one stick post-its to my back at work. I ASSUME.

1. "I'm really uncreative so I named my scottish terrier Scott, and my jack russell terrier Jack."

2. "I'm really rich and I'm always tanned but my girlfriend left me so I hate myself."

"Kick me" just lots its charm.

2 things that make me uncomfortable:

1. When some candy/food that I absolutely loved to eat on a regular basis gets discontinued. Presumably this is due to bad business decisions and lack of capital on the producer's part, but I alllllways wonder, if its because this shit I've been eating is actually very harmful, toxic, or cancer causing.

CASE AND POINT: Orbits drinks. Who didn't love those?

Gone forever :(

NUMBER TWO:

When I buy an item of clothing from a store at full price, and think its very cute, and then a month later, find a whole bunch of said items marked down to about 30% of what I paid.

And all "Shit, I could have spent so much less on this!" aside,

I wonder why the store has has so much trouble selling the item,

and then I wonder

Whats wrong with MY fashion sense?

AND SINCE THIS BLOG ENTRY ISN'T ENTERTAINING AT ALL:

(Click to view larger version)

Here is a tidbit I found when I stumbled upon a website devoted entirely to really screwed up pornography.

And when I say stumbled, I mean stumbled, I really just have seen the entire internet.

AND I HAVE SNEEZED 6 times since starting this blog entry. Colds for the loss.

Mama always said not to talk to strangers.

Dear diary:

Yesterday I hit a car stopped at a stop light.

THE SLOWEST HIT EVER. I just rollllllled into him at a good 5 km/h. No damage but he wanted to exhange information at the next residential turn-off. I agreed.

What I should have done, was just DRIVE AWAY.

Moral fibre: USELESS.

I'm hoping nothing comes of it, because not a scratch was left on either car.

BUT THATS NOT THE POINT of this blog entry:

DEAR DIARY (For real):

Yesterday Heather and I dressed up to the 9s and decided to go out for O'byrnes customer appreciation night.

We consumed many hot wings, and stable amounts of alcohol. All in all: a good night!

We decide to leave O'byrnes and head to the Billiard Club, and as we're crossing the street, a car drives by and "WOOOOOO"s at us.

Yeah, women in short dresses in winter, I know.

Anyway, he drives past us as he yells "YEAH LADIES! You're lucky I'm driving!"

Lucky because... if he wasn't driving he'd sexually assault us?

He keeps driving, and I yell "DON'T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME!"

This is a pretty staple line in my humour roster.

I figure this quick exchange is done with, and we keep crossing the street, when SUDDENLY

the car stops driving!

The driver must have pulled the e-brake, because he whips the car back around and starts driving towards us again!

Heather tells me not to yell at strange cars.

I say "RUN"

and promptly lose one of my heels in the snow.

Seriously? Ugh.

ALSO: Today my mother and I went to the Italian market for cheese and olives (my favourite!)

They have a bunch of other imported things there, like russian bottled water and lithuanian bread.

They also have an apparently popular candy from Germany: marzipan potatoes.

These things taste amazing, but it still strikes me as interesting that the Germans would think of making potato shaped candy. The kids go crazy for it!

Here is a communist russian joke: What did one potato say to the other?

Answer: Premise ridiculous, why have two potatoes?

Seriously, the realism of these potatoes is astounding. Go technology.

Family Dynamics

Family moments:

My dad and my mom are in a heated discussion about where the jar of cashews have gone.

They don't know where it is, and my mom is yelling to my dad, who is in the kitchen, yelling to my mom.

I finally clue into their conversation and say that I saw the cashews in the fridge.

"OHHH RIGHT, I put them in there!" - Mother

"Tina, I think you're nuts!" - Father.

CUE LARISSA FROM THE TV ROOM DOWN THE HALL:

"AAAAHHH HAHAHA, that was a pun!"

Silence.

"We all heard what I said, I think we should laugh in acknowledgement."

Silence.

"It was funny!"

And my dad says, "No one got it, Larissa."

Well why not!

This was almost as bad as the time my dad and mom were bickering, and a smartie fell out of his pocket, and after questioning why there would be a smartie in his pocket at all, I yelled BECAUSE HE'S A SMARTIE PANTS.

Nooooo respect for good humour in this house.

Red flags make me angry.

Last night, Kylie, Heather, and I went out to a "Fire and Ice" party, where we had to dress up in red and yellow (fire), and men dressed up in blue and white (ice.)

One of the characters from MTV's Peak Season, Dre, was DJing, and while he was a little tool-ish with all the women grabbing onto him, he was actually a super good DJ.

BUT THAT'S NOT MY POINT.

Point is, I have apparently found a new way to freak out men at the bar.

Why do I do this?

Obsoive:

"Hey, I really like your nose ring!"

"Oh really? Thanks! Most people think I'm a lesbian, but I'm not."

"What are you then?"

[Author's note: I guess he wants me to say 'bi-sexual' or something.]

"A Spanish Bull." - Larissa.

He looks at me.

I kick at the ground with my right foot.

Later his friend and him say they're going to be right back, but COME ON, we know they won't.

I am almost saddened by my craziness.

As well, I went off on a rant to Kylie and Heather about HEY LOOK AT THAT GUY, HE'S WEARING YELLOW, IS HE GAY OR SOMETHING? GIRLS ARE SUPPOSED TO WEAR YELLOW, NOT GUYS.

Kylie and Heather look at the man I'm pointing at.

"No, Larissa, he's security."

Mandatory yellow uniform. Bah.

+ A photo depicting why math geeks have trouble with successful relationships:

Life's little mysteries

1. Yesterday I put on glitter eyeliner. This excited me to no ends because I am addicted to glitter.
Glitter knows what's up.

Anyway, point being,
I thought it looked really great, in a non-10-year-old-in-the-crafts-department-of-zellers way, until I looked into the sun, and the thin layer of glitter on my upper eyelid BURST INTO A THOUSAND RAYS OF SUNSHINE.

The only solution was pink plastic aviators, which I did decide to take off whilst visiting the Law Courts Building, unfortunately, gotta keep up appearances.

And SPEAKING OF WHICH, they put your belongings through an x-ray security check before you enter, did you know that?
Apparently I have a penchant for carrying copious amounts of forks and spoons in my purse. I did NOT know that,
but now I do,
since the security woman pointed out this fact, slightly wary.
I don't plan to jab anyone to death!

"You have lots of forks in there."
"Yes, well.. I don't do the dishes too often?"

So THAT'S where all the cuttlery went!


2. Why is it, that when I open up a tin of yogurt, in that suspsenseful moment where I'm peeling back the foil lid of it; when I grasp the corner and slowly pull the tab away from me, my yogurt always PEW PEWs me?

I realize I should learn to just open up my yogurt towards me so that I am not in its line of fire, but why does it spit yogurt at me?

In my fantasy world where every inanimate object has fangs and wants to be my friend, I am severely irked by this issue.

3. Yesterday my boss asked me why most of my friends are guys.
"Because girls are dumb." - Larissa.

Well?
I MEAN, WELL...?
Pause for reflection.
My boss just laughs.
Darin says, "I thought you were a feminist?"

I thought so too. :(
Maybe I'm just a bitch.

From the vault

Sometimes, when I'm talking to my mother about my childhood, I realize that I was always an interesting kid.

I mean, all issues of playing the "Inner City Drug Dealing" game with the neighbour kids aside..

and when I would set up a fake psychologist's office in our living room, and try to cure my mother of ridiculous phobias I told her she had..

My mother was telling me a story about those indoor playground fun groups they had for little kids.

Like there would be lots of toys, pedal cars and stuff, and all the stay at home moms would bring their toddlers there to play.

I didn't go often. I wasn't the most social kid when I was young, and generally kept to myself.

Apparently one day I really didn't want to deal with anyone, because my mother brought me to the play group, set me free, and I promptly found myself one of those plastic turtle sandboxes.

Y'know, round and green, and the turtle shell was the lid?

Scene:

Young Larissa, 2 years old, with 20 of her toddler comrads playing in a room filled with deightful toys!

Larissa steps away from her mother,

she looks around, take in the surroundings.. and... A SAND BOX.

But there's no sand in it, its just a beautiful empty turtle sandbox!

What on earth could I do with this? Perhaps innitiate a game of hide and seek? Maybe pretend its a boat? A car?

Nein.

I open the lid, climb inside, close the lid, and stay there.

For 2 hours.

And when my mother tried to get me out, Larissa, do you want to play with the other kids?

No thanks ma'am, I'm just going to scream a little, and close the lid to my sandbox again, IF YOU DON'T MIND.

TWO HOURS?

Report card: Does not play well with others.

SLM Reunion Night!

Tonight everyone's favourite mafia went out for dinner and a movie!

Kylie, HB and I hit up our regular spot, Famoso's, for consuming of the pizza, and harassing of the manager.

We do this every time we go, so now the manager knows us and always comes to our table to joke around.

As per usual, I of course hassled the shit out of him. I don't mean to! Its instinct; its my way of being friendly!

We are talking about how Heather is Italian, and the manager says how his sister is married to an Italian.

"Oh, you're Italian by blood then," says Heather, "OH WAIT, I mean, by association."

"Yeah," says the Manager, "I mean, I haven't had sex with him or anything"

CUE LARISSA: "HEY MAN, don't rule it out!"

Annnnnd the manager goes "OHHHHhhhKayyyy.." and slowly backs away.

Ugh!

Later, at the till, we're paying and talking about how far away our friend Cassie lives.

She lives really far away.

Both Kylie and I agree she lives, approximately, out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

"Yeah," says Larissa, "So you KNOW theres going to be bum fucking going on."

These things seem intelligent to say at the time.

And both the manager at the till, AND the man standing behind us seem to cringe.

I'm a charmer!

Heather also gave a delightful speech during dinner about when its okay to hit a girl, sparked by this amazing animation from Jersey Shore.

She says "Yeah, It wasn't like it was just a shut up punch, he put all of his strength behind it."

"What are you, Rihanna? Its always a real punch." - Larissa

"NOOOO no no, I mean, like a shut up SLAP." - Heather

"No, Heather, I think you're just digging yourself a hole, here." -Kylie and Larissa COMBO

I mean, every once in a while...

Today I also bought a shirt that said "Bitch is the new black" on it, hooray!

I was going to buy one that said "Does it look like I give a fuck?" on it, but I apparently gave too much of a fuck about how unflattering it looked on me.

I guess I love obnoxious t-shirts. Next stop: Ed Hardy!

UNRELATED BLOG TITLES

Today my furnace is broken.

This is inconvenient because it is BLOODY COLD outside.

Another half hour passes by, another sweater goes on.

All this furnace fun has reminded me of a father moment, which are surely my favourite type of moments.

SCENE: Speaking with Heather about my day

Larissa: "Today my dad put holy water on me."

Heather: "Hahaha what the hell, why?"

"He got it from some highschool leadership conference. I was sitting in the kitchen and he was talking about what he should do with it: take it out to the lake, or leave it at home. I encouraged him to take it to the lake lot."

"Naturally."

"... and then next thing I know my back is WET and its COLD so I scream."

"Hahah."

"...and then I yelled 'IT BURNS, It burns!!'

I don't know if he got the joke."

Becky says I have a hard time recognizing what is funny to everyone, and what is only funny to me.

ONWARD:

Today my car wouldn't start. I was supposed to meet with a client at 8 AM sharp today, so naturally it doesn't start, when I wake up early to specifically ensure I get to work on time.

I didn't succeed.

And the client spent an hour telling me to never get married, anyway.

Well, first he asked me if I was already married. I scoffed and quickly told him no;

How old do I look? Me, married? Yeah, maybe to the Man Tracker, but that's it.

He looks at me,

"Is there something wrong with your neck? Why are you wearing a scarf?"

What?

I tell him nothing's wrong, I'm just cold.

Pause.

He giggles!

I bet he thinks I have hickies. >:(

I bet he thinks I am an un-married, hickied, young HOOLIGAN.

And the furnace blows once again! I must cuddle with the heat register.

A tale of moderate consequence.

Today at work I was talking about a female client we had who was really shy.

I was saying while I was talking to her about her divorce, she barely spoke a word.

"Wow, an untalkative woman? THOSE EXIST?" - says Darin from the other room.

Ha ha, Darin!

"Well, Darin, if you're looking for a quiet date, she's back on the market!"

Divorce Law; the best place to find a new girlfriend.

Today's random image is.. related!

And since I should address the fact that "Geekologie Writer" is written at the top right hand of this graph, I might as well mention: its a delightful blog where I find interesting things to post.

Best Queen Tribute of.. THE MONTH.

This weekend Kylie and I went to Banff to go to the hot springs and visit Kylie's favourite candy store.

Conveniently the hot springs were closed and so was the candy store!

Good weekend that involved the regular shenanigans like me woof-ing while walking down the street.

OHHH Wait, you were expecting an entertaining story?

Not today, little one.

Memorable things Larissa says

Now, I'm gonna just preface this all with saying: I really am a smart girl. I ain't gonna go tootin' horns, but I'm not dumb.

Unfortunately, I say the dumbest things

ever

sometimes.

Here is a selection of one not-so-dumb and 2 stupid things I said yesterday

1. I was visiting Becky who's working at the Body Shop right now. Its her job to tell people passing the shop about the sale they had on, (a thankless job) so I was waiting with her to bring up the mood.

2 fourteen year old girls walk past, one in this massive poofy Ed Hardy jacket (What, did her parents pay 300 bucks for it?)

Becky says: "Hey have you heard about our sale going on today?"

The girls keep walking, and Ed Hardy turns her head, and in the most sassy pink-lipglossed way possible says UM, WE'RE GOOD THANKS.

EXCUSE ME, MADAM.

Becky and I stand there for a second thinking what the hell her problem is.

Considering I love yelling at strangers, I don't skip more than a beat

"WELL JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE WEARING ED HARDY DOESN'T MAKE YOU COOOOOOOOL"

Which I realize is just as immature, but LARISSA: 1. WORLD: <1 div="">

2. I managed to mess up the front wheel on my car, which I have previously mentioned is a gorgeous 1997 ford escort; seafoam green, cracked headlight. Hell yes.

I think trying to skid out of my cul de sac this evening might have done it. (In hindsight, yeah, escorts can't really skid, drift, or anything remotely fun.)

So Becky, Heather, Elyse and I are at a local pub for kareoke last night, and I say, louder than I intend, as per usual, "So I fucked up my escort tonight"

Pause for though.

"Well, the one with wheels."

I MEAN, if there was any confusion, bar patrons; you know I don't beat my whores!

3. I bought nice new white high heeled boots yesterday. I wore them out, and as Elyse and I are playing pool, Becky and Heather are commenting on my boots from their table. They've been telling me they aren't very becoming boots all evening.

"Larissa, those are "fuck me" boots." - Becky

Not missing an opportunity for an inappropriate joke, I say back:

"Good, let 'em at me," or something along those lines.

We all laugh a little and I continue my game.

A few minutes later, the guys playing at the other pool table decide to leave, and as one passes me, he says "Hey, I like your boots"

"THANKS :D" says Larissa. See, they aren't awful boots at all! This guy just complimented them.

I mention this to the girls.

UNANIMOUS OPINION:

"Larissa, he said that because he heard what you said about the boots."

"WHAT? I thought he just liked them!" - Larissa

"God you are so dumb sometimes, for a really smart girl" - Becky

"I thought I said it quietly :(" - L

"No. No you are very loud."

Its a curse.

Coincidentally I did NOT sing "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" last night at kareoke.

Tales from the land of a designated driver.

Last night I went out to Lucky 13 (FOR THE FIRST TIME!) with a bunch of friends.

Naturally I pulled my usual antics of introducing myself to guys as THE HAMMER.

"Wait, what?"

"The Hammer."

"Err..."

"Yeah, Hammer, my parents were crazy hippies, what can I say."

The night involved a few shenanigans that I seem to encounter a lot.

Lets go over things I do not like:

1. When dancing with another girl on the dancefloor (NOT GRINDING) such as Heather, we are minding our own business.

SCENE: Heather and I facing each other, she said "Larissa, there's a guy behind you trying to grind on you."

UGHHH.

I move closer to heather, but I look past her shoulder and, what is this?

"Heather, there's a guy behind you trying to grind on YOU!"

Double team!

We move closer, and closer, until our foreheads are sammiched together, but these guys don't take a hint!

SUDDENLY, a hole opens up in the crowd! We make a break for it!

Safe for the time being, despite the fact they followed us later.

In any other situation it would be rude NOT to give a girl a prior warning of "Excuse me madam, but may I rub my crotch against your ass in time to the beat?"

If you and your buddy have deduced that the only way to dance with women is to forcefully corral them between yours and your friend's pelvises, perhaps you need to rework your game.

2. Waiting in line to get my coat from the coat check, when two guys walk into the bar.

They stop near where we are standing, and THUG 1 says to THUG 2 "Hey, lets find some drunk sluts!"

Power to you! I saw quite a few!

Then THUG 1 comes up to me, taps me on the shoulder, and says

"Hey, are you drunk?"

"Not at all."

"Fuck," he says under his breath, and walks away.

Wow. Does that actually work?

Probably.

I yelled after him about being a pig, but twas too late, he was gone.

3. SPEAKING OF DRUNK SLUTS, two girls are dancing on one of the raised platforms on the dancefloor.

This is one of those moments where you think about how the girls should have realized their dresses are NOT in fact dresses, but shirts, and thus, barely cover their asses.

Now, if you plan on standing all night, maybe you can get away with a dress that short.

But grinding on your best friend, WHILE elevated, WHILE crouching down and lifting your legs, non monsieur.

These girls are obviously drunk and I'm getting a good view of their undergarments from my lowly position on the floor.

But the best part about this whole scene, is the old man standing beside them,

severely

and

silently

staring.

And the dance goes on!

3 Completely unrelated stories

Lack of continuity; everyone's favourite!

1. Last night I had another disturbing, yet quite standard, dream. I dreamt that Tamara and I were trying to find my car in a parking lot at night, but it was so dark we couldn't see anything. We had to hold hands (AWWW) to not lose each other, but we just couldn't find my car. I decided that we should turn back, and when I turned around I bumped into something.

OMG.

Its a man!

With a mangled face, illuminated by the dim red light of his video camera. (WHY IS HE FILMING US?)

Terrified, I throw my hands out and scream.

Unfortunately, my aim is off, and one of my hands gets stuck in this crazy guy's mouth.

And I mean, where can you really go after you'd got your fingers in someone's mouth, right?

So I just stuff my hand down his throat and choke him to death.

The end!

Seriously?

I tell this dream to a guy at my work, Darin, and he looks at me, paused for thought, and says:

"You're really messed up, hey?"

2. Today at work I was dealing with some pretty irate clients, who came with their kids. They were not friendly with me, and did that whole "talking about Larissa as if she isn't there" thing.

THAT THING. I hate that thing.

Whatever, I can be fake cheerful, I was born for this shit!

The bitching never stops, and finally they decide to leave. I'm glad to see them go, and as the mother leaves after complaining about how I don't know anything, her 8 year old daughter turns around, throws her hand in the air, and goes "BYEEEEEE :D"

HA.

"See you later! :D" I says.

Take THAT, angry lady. Your child tottttally ruined the mood.

3. You know what I do not generally love?

Stepping on pieces of broken glass with bare feet.

I mean, time and place for everything though, right?

I also don't like being played for a fool, but I mean, since when did I write about personal ish on here?

Today's random image is THE ANGRIEST PUPPY IN THE WORLD!

A tale of horrible consequence

Dear diary:

Friday night I ended up hanging out with my friend Anton. We had a lovely time playing Call of Duty and drinking beer, because I am, in fact, a man.

(WHO KNEW?)

We also went to a party at The Polish Hall, where we were both razzed considerably by the large population of polish people in attendance, because apparently Polish people don't like Russians.

At all.

(Who knew? No.. I guess I knew)

Good thing I didn't wear my soviet scarf!

Anyway, after the party we headed to McDonalds, where I ate only fries due to my great distaste for McDonalds.

While we're waiting for the food to arrive, we're sitting at a table by the front windows, and a white unmarked van pulls up to the front doors.

The driver rustles around in the front seat for a bit, and then grabs a white bag of what looks like garbage, and whips it at the front doors to the building.

LARISSA: OUTRAGED.

IS HE LITTERING?

I'm a major eco-nazi. I have never littered and frequently will make out-of-the-way trips to find recycle bins for my recyclables, and other people's recyclables. I can't stand when people throw their garbage on the ground.

Its like kicking a puppy!

Mother nature can't defend herself!

I stare at the driver of this van, and give him the finger.

Then..

another finger!

Then..

Wave my hands around!

("I call this one AROUND THE WORLD.")

I'm feeling quite irate, and I tell Anton how pissed off I am in a long-rant format. I stare down the driver as he leaves, and we get our food and leave as well.

Before we get back in the car, I decide to check the garbage bag to see what it was this guy needed to get rid of so bad he'd just throw it out the window.

I walk up to the bag, there's paper in it.

Like what, old road maps or something?

I get closer,

and...

its newspaper.

It was the newspaper guy.

Dropping off Saturday morning's paper at McDonalds.

Just a guy trying to make an honest living!

Fast forward to the end of his shift:

"Honey, I'm home!"

"Hi dear, how was work?"

"Good, except this pretentious bitch hates the media so much, she gave me TWO middle fingers just for delivering the paper!"

Guilt definitely ensues.

Dancing and getting beat down by the law.

I haven't posted in a while because MY LIFE IS REALLY BORING!

(WELL ACTUALLY It isn't, but I increasingly fail to believe people care about my day-to-day, and only write about things of consequence now.)
((WAIT, doesn't that break the rules of the title of this blog?)



1. I've written before how I enjoy partaking in the Edmonton rave scene. I've been partaking for quite some time now, give or take 3 years, so I'm aware of the process and how things go. The thing that really gets me is when people try to give me advice on how to act, dress, get ready for, wait in line for, etc. I stopped going to raves around the time everyone started going it seems, so now I guess people figure I'm some scared girl new this is all, who needs guidance.
I don't.
That makes me sound like a pretentious bitch, but according to recent polling, I am one!
(KIDDING, do I look like I have time to poll people about that crap? PUH-LEEEEASE.)

For the last year I've been on that "I'm too cool for raves anymore" tip, but apparently its all an act because I end up dishing the cash out to go to these things the day of. Its an expensive habit.

Point being: I finally up and went to a Tiesto show, something I vowed I would never do due to Tiesto's questionable original material, and how every TECHNO LOVIN' kid in the city knows who Tiesto is.
Though I had quite a decent time, aside from the floor covered in spilled water and beer.

Cassie and I kept a tally of the amount of times we were hit on. Larissa: 8, Cassie: 6.
In hindsight, most of my comments were about my nose ring, and most of Cassie's were on her lime green leggings. Is this what men want? I better hit up American Apparel. CASSIE, YOU GO GET A BULL RING THROUGH YOUR NOSE.



Objections, men?
SAVE 'EM, I'VE DONE MY RESEARCH.
In hindsight though, my shirt was low and Cassie is just super cute. (Hi Cassie.)



2. I finally lost my no-speeding-ticket virginity.
It was not enjoyable and I was left feeling a little ashamed.

This was bound to happen, though.
I think I angered Mistress Karma for talking about my lack of tickets too often.

I'm damn good at knowing when and how much to speed, and I keep a good eye out for cops. My brain is its own radar detector, hoes!
(Just kidding, readers, you are not hoes.)

So what got me?
A damn photo-radar camera at an intersection in Fort Saskatchewan.
FORT SASKACHEWAN? WHO EVEN GOES THERE.
ME. Apparently. AND I AM NEVER GOING BACK. >:(
Angry face and all.
I don't even know how fast I was going.

LOOK OKAY if I knew the speed limit was 50 maybe I wouldn't have been going 80, it was a highway! A ... residential highway? IT DOESN'T MATTER.

Unimpressed.



3. Here is a picture of a child dressed as Hitler, in a completely disrespectful-of-the-recent-remembrance-day sort of way, but I was meaning to post it earlier, honestly:

Tales from the dating scene

Last night my friend Tamara and I went out to whyte ave to have a few drinks and catch up.
Sometimes I just wanna talk with mah single ladies.

Anyway, we're sitting at a booth at a lovely australian bar, when a man named Steve comes and sits down with us.
He asks us how old we are (HOW RUDE) and says he's 19.

Really?

I wouldn't have guessed. I tell him his facial hair is workin' for him, makes him look older.

He says "I actually shaved my moustache this morning."

"Yeah, me too." - Larissa.

I generally like to make jokes about me being a man and/or transvestite to guys at the bar.

I don't know why I do this!

It doesn't seem to deter men. I find this unsettling.

"Uhhh... are you joking?" - Steve

"No." - Says Larissa. Straight face.

Steve looks at Tamara.

"Is she joking?" he asks her.

Tamara looks at him and slowly shakes her head,

"Nope."

There's an awkward silence.

And then he continues to hit on me; Larissa minus the Moustache.

Tylenol aside, though

LAST NIGHT WAS HALLOWEEN FUN-TIME NIGHT!

The most magical night of the year.

I decided to finally uphold my debt to society as a woman and dress up as a nurse.

(Possibly sexy-nurse, but definitely not slutty-nurse, THANKS.)

I guess I should have been prepared for the nurse-inspired comments I got at the bar, though delightfully, I didn't get too many at all.

The obligatory "Nurse, I think I'm sick, I need a check-up" ensued.

"Sorry, I'm off-duty." seemed to suffice as a response.

I told my mother about this the next day, and she laughed. I have fun sharing my shenanigan-moments with her.

She laughs and says "You should have said 'Sure, turn your head and cough!'"

I look at her.

What does she think that's supposed to mean? Is this a good put-down line?

"Mom, that proceedure usually involves cupping the patient's balls."

"OH RIGHT. NEVERMIND."

Last night also involved:

Getting angry at a guy wearing an Oilers jersey with no name and number one the back. WHAT A PHONEY.

I don't even know anything about hockey but this seemed like a viable conversation/argument topic.

Just in case he takes a peek that the dashing ladies behind me, I shook his hand and introduced myself to him, Hi, I'm your cockblock.

WHY AM I SO RUDE?

"Just kidding, I'm Larissa. So uhh.. we're cool, right?"

Friends are so hard to make sometimes!

I also saw a guy dressed as Jesus, and asked him to forgive my sins, but he said NOT A CHANCE.

Whatever.

He's no Raptor.

Father logic

This blog entry is about as shocking as a roller coaster filled with shocked looking people!

Today I took 2 Advils because I have a headache, and I don't want it to get worse by the time I go out for halloween tonight.

I prepare myself to get razzed by my father, as the Advil is in his bathroom, and I took some 2 days ago because my legs were sore from Kylie and I's dance class on Tuesdays.

I have not taken any pain killer for anything in easily over a month, but because I've done this twice in a week, I have a problem, apparently.

"You're taking a lot of pain killer lately." - Father

I have a headache, I'm taking some Advil.

"You're supposed to take Tylenol for headaches." - Father

We ran out of Tylenol, so I'm taking Advil.

"I buy Tylenol in bulk and its always getting used up!" - Father

That's because I use Tylenol to get high.

"And all the Dristan is missing too!" - Father

That's because Lucas [my brother] has a Dristan problem.

He keeps watching TV.

The great thing about talking to my dad is, we don't really have conversations, I just say completely untrue things in response to his statements, and he doesn't notice, and keeps on talking at me.

How to market to a woman

Being a woman who enjoys spending her time doing obvious womanly things such as:

1. Accessorizing!
2. Watching The Hills!
3. Being duped by commercials! (Vibrating mascara? PASS.)

I have learned a thing or two about what makes me really want to buy something. Unfortunately, when its pink.. yeah, I want to buy it more, and marketting execs have obviously figured out the female kryptonite.

Which brings me to this: the Nissan Micra. (Aka the Nissan March.)

Think VW Beetle, but on.. ANTI-STEROIDS.

This car is so freaking cute. That's all I can really say. At just 3.7m long, the name is appropriate. They're currently only released in Japan and Australia I believe, but I had the chance to see a few in person while vacationing DOWN UNDAH this summer.

I sometimes judge male drivers when I see them driving a Smart car, but they can still juuuust get away with it. The Micra, no.

The marketing for this car almost blows my mind. While a lot of eco-car makers are resorting to flashy colours to promote their product (vis a vis: Suzuki Swift in LIME GREEN. Yeah.. I almost bought one last year.) none turn to bubble-gum pink like Nissan. A stroll around their website has delightful extras like The Girls' Guide to Buying a Car, which hey, is actually a nice sentiment, but I'm feeling a little patronized. The photos in the gallery have some fashionista looking girl in 50% of them, hawking her clear glowing skin more than the willy wonka fashion of the car. There's a delightful link to take a quiz to find out which Micra colour suits your personality, each of which is named after a popular international city; London Rose, New York Blue, or L.A. Lilac, anyone?

Bottom Line: Would I drive one of these? Yes, definitely, though I'd be a little warey having to merge onto a freeway with one, these suckas are made for INNER CITY DRIVING (+/- the "inner" I suppose, ain't seeing one of these in the BRONX.) If the extensive "ACCESSORIES [!!!!!]" section of the website doesn't sell you, then I have only one question:

Where else are you going to store your red flats?!

Observations

1. I am an assistant for a lawyer. When I answer the phones, I always say he's busy, as if they called him directly, they would be billed for his time.
Nobody ever wants to talk to the receptionist.
I'm very friendly! You should want to talk to me!

People ask me all the time if I'm a lawyer, that I'm not qualified to give them information.
People always say

"He's always busy! Why can't I talk to him directly?"
and I say
Yes, he is always busy. Hence why... he hired a receptionist. Sdfsdfsjdf

AND DID I MENTION that we're taking a firm field trip next week to watch the new Michael Jackson movie for lunch?
YEAH, BEST LAWFIRM EVER.



2. When people get all freaked out about 2012, thinking the world is going to end..
They think, well the Mayan calendar ended December 21, 2012, so that's when the world is going to end too, right?
Or
Maybe?

They just got sick of writing the calendar. I mean, the same 4 seasons over and over for a thousand years, I think we can predict this patterns well past 2012.


3. Now I've mentioned it on facebook, but I think its worth mentioning again:
Last week my boss was trying to find a file that apparently went missing. He didn't know what happened to it, and in a moment of exasperation said "This is madness!"

Larissa, the ever mindful movie quote-er, couldn't resist the chance to yell "THIS IS SPARTAAAAA"

Pause for silence.
Has he not seen that film?
He doesn't say anything, just turns around and walks away from my desk as I quickly look back at my computer screen and look busy.

We must never speak of this again.

This is a picture of a sad pug:

UPDATEZ

So apparently my life is just too damn exciting to bother blogging anymore, but I will share a few details I deem OF ACTUAL CONSEQUENCE (Again with breaking the status quo of this blog.)

1. I think I've mentioned my dislike of philosophy majors before. When people ask me what I have against people who make this their main area of study, I merely reply "I don't like talking about nothing for 6 hours."

I used to, but this old gal's been put out to pasture on the philosophy front.

Accordingly, when I got into an argument with some random on the internet about completely useless shit I thought to myself --- well actually said out loud as I love speaking to no one --- "Who is this guy, a philosophy major?"

A check of his profile proved my theory.

Anyway, about a week ago KKRAZY and I went down to whyte ave, and ran into some friends of his. I stood back while they talked to each other, and Friend 1 began to introduce Kenny to Friend 2:

"Me and Kenny took Philosophy 101 last year together."

I stare at Kenny meaningfully.

Philosophy? I mouth, We're done.

As I slowly trace my finger across my neck threateningly.

(DO YOU REMEMBER THAT, KENNY?)

2. I went out to dinner this weekend with THE MAFIA (aka: Heather, Kylie and I) at Kai, where a friend was spinning for the night. After dinner we made the obligatory females-migrating-to-the-washroom move, where some crazy woman, quite possibly on coke, with 5 foot long platinum extensions pulled back in the tightest headband known to man, huge fake breasts, quite possibly no eyebrows, and heavy, heavy makeup causing a very shiny face, was monopolizing the sinks with her friend.

She had some choice things to say, one of which being "I feel so restricted when I wear pants" (Warning sign #50000000 to any guy considering taking this girl home to Mama) and her friend somehow misconstrued our discussion of the fine-quality paper towels, as she yelled after us as we left "They're just staring at you because they're jealous YOU'RE SO HOTTTTTT"

Apparently we couldn't take our eyes off her.

Considering she looked something like a female Mr. Clean, I guess we couldn't.

3. I went to see Paranormal Activity with Heather this weekend. I'm a freaking suck when it comes to horror movies, so not only did I jump at all the appropriate parts, I also jumped at: When a character pulled back the curtains and the reflection of his hand was in the window!!!! and when the camera was on a female character, and when she moved out of the scene, a reporter on the tv behind her came into view!!!!

The eerie glow of a TV screen is quite similar to that of a ghost, I'll have you know.

4. While cuddling with my dog last night to ward off any possible bad dreams from the movie (Though considering it dealt with demon possession, I just rationalized all those thoughts away with atheism) I was subsequently face-palmed, doggy style (HA) by my canine companion. Just as I was about to doze off, he decided to have one of those satisfying looking dog stretches, that entails sticking his paws straight out from his body, and straight into my face.

5. While out for coffee with my NEW FRIEND BRENDEN, I began discussing the ever popular topic of "More cushion for the pushin'" (Which can inevitably be responded to with "If I wanted cushion, I'd fuck a couch.")

Brenden knocks on the wooden chair sitting next to him.

"Knock on wood that you never end up with a couch?" I ask.

"No, its just, in the realm of couch pushin', you're kind of like this wooden chair." - Brenden

And he jiggles it a bit, its rickety, just like my bone structure!

6. Kenny's blog's tagline used to be "Who's Watching the Watchers?"

I think this image illustrates it perfectly.

Well if it ain't RaptorJesus, its just a plain old Raptor! No one is safe.

Aston Martin One-77

I'm starting to feel like I should make an effort to blog about something more exciting than my less-than-exciting life.

So fortunately, I'm channelling my automobile love to make this happen.

Considering only two people actually follow my blog, who presumably don't give a crap about cars (Hi Kenny, Hi Heather) I feel a little bad, but Aston Martins are one of my true loves:

ASTON MARTIN One-77

I can't decide if I prefer the styling of the One-77 over the v12, but if anyone has $2-million dollars laying around, then HAVE AT 'ER.

They're only releasing 77 of these puppies worldwide (should I find the correlation to the car's name cute, or intelligently justified?) and only 6 in America.
I'm just quoting facts.

"6 in America" probably means none in Canada, but I'll still have my 2 Aston Martins that occasionally roll down Whyte Avenue.

POINT BEING: Each of these is tailor made to the buyer, which apparently equates to a good $1.7-million more than you'd pay for say, a DB9, but we're talking customization here!

What they plan to customize, I don't exactly know. Perhaps some people really need an extra inch of elbow room in the drivers seat, or a delightful built-in vase to put a flower, a la the VW Beetle.
(Really?)

POINT STILL BEING: I'm an Aston Martin fan, but the $2-mil price tag.. you're paying to have one of the 77, not the customization. Kind of like buying a $15,000 Chanel tank top (And I just brought the demographic for this blog full circle!)

Either way, lowly Edmontontonians will never see one of these here.
But for the sake of context:

I want PURPLE POLKA DOTTED seat inserts for my $2-million, please.

Appendix A

While looking for a photo of an angry dwarf to accompany my previous entry about jumping on/slapping the fellow who punched me in the nose, I found something most delightful..

Not that I'm a fan of finding the likenesses of disney characters in tragic events, BUT THIS was just too startling to not point out.

And people think 9/11 was a conspiracy of the government taking down their own citizens, but really, it was Disney's fault all along.

Lesson Learned

I've mentioned before that I sometimes try to start fights with people when I'm drinking.

I don't mean I actually want to fight people, I must just think its cute to say "C'mon, lets go!" or something.

Although, I've realized something very important when trying to start a fight with your drunken friends:

They are drunk.

This means their depth perception is probably less than stellar.

Last night I was hanging out with Brendan and his roommates. We went back to his place after going to everyone's favourite irish pub, O'Byrnes!

His roommate Ben, Brendan, and I decide to play some Rock Band, when Ben and I start getting into an altercation.

"Lets go, Ben!"

"Alright fine!"

And I hold up my fists like I'm getting ready to go into a boxing match.

Its at this point Ben punches me in the nose.

(Older posts have provided evidence that when you have a septum ring, this really, really hurts.)

AND I MEAN

He probably didn't mean to punch me in the nose, right?

I got all WHAT THE HELL, BEN but he didn't seem apologetic.

Whatever, Brendan and I go to the basement to play Rock Band without him.

LATER:

We come upstairs when I'm about to go home to find Ben passed out on a couch in the living room.

Naturally I jumped on him and slapped his legs and arms furiously, yelling "YOU PUNCHED ME IN THE NOSE."

Not the greatest way to wake up, I'm sure.

I mean, unless you're into that. There's a market for everything.

Reasons to not let me in your car

I like to start shit with other drivers when you don't realize I'm doing it. I yell "WHAT UP BALLER" at cars with bad rims, and "DON'T BE AN IDIOT" at cars going too slow. If the weather is nice, I will roll down my window. I don't even realize I'm doing this, its animal instinct.

Generally I keep my shit-startin' to a more moderate degree. My favourite pass time is staring at other drivers while we're stopped at a stop light. Usually I'll stare until they look at me, and then I'll shift my gaze just enough so I'm looking past their shoulder and not at them.

This causes severe awkwardness for people who are NOT IMMUNE TO AWKWARDNESS, until I casually look back out the front windshield.

Last night Kylie and I were driving to Fimoso's (BEST PIZZA EVER*) and when we were waiting to turn en route, a honda civic stopped beside us.

"I'M GONNA STARE AT HIM" - Larissa

"Go right ahead." - Kylie

So I do, but he's not noticing. Defeated, I turn away, and then dramatically whip my head back towards his direction, just for a laugh.

BUT WAIT.

HE'S LOOKING AT ME NOW!

And this all happens so quickly that my head whip turned into throwing myself down in Kylie's car so he couldn't see me. ONE SWIFT MOTION.

Now cleverly concealed, the Honda's driver just looks at Kylie with a strange expression on his face, to which she looks back, mildly apologetic.

I imagine their silent interplay as follows:

"What the hell is wrong with the girl in your passenger seat?"

"And who are you to judge on the quality of my passengers?"

"I'm just saying, I can't tell if she was looking at me or hit her head on the window and passed out."

"Oh no, she just throws her head down like that."

"Ah I see, well green light now, cheerio."

"Cheerio."

*Fimoso's has the best pizza ever because Kylie gets angry about her pizza being late, and then she gets free pizza the next time she goes in, as well as Gelato samplin' and lengthy conversation with the cute manager about Australia.

I made sure to remember not to stare.

Its NEVER LUPUS

The stereo in my car is broken. The right side speakers are definitely not operating at optimum capacity, but I'll take what I can get, sound wise.

Every morning I crank my iPod on the car stereo, carefully selecting "MORNING PUMP UP" music to make the fact I'm driving to work at 7:12AM a little more exciting. But I've come to enjoy one of the simple pleasures in life, and that is: When my right-side speakers kick in.

Its like the universe is saying "You know what Larissa, we're gonna give you a full-on musical experience this morning! If at first it seemed like half the world was against you, well you were wrong, we're all singin' for you this time!"

And for a moment.. I am zen.

Until it cuts out again, and I drive the traffic circle half-heartedly.

ALSO: Last night I had a dream. I have these a lot, and yeah I know, Imma let you finish but, Martin Luther King had the best dream of all time.

I dreamed that I went to a costume party with all my friends, and George Clooney decided to attend. Someone must have drugged me (Or drugged old George!) because suddenly I was making out with him. And while I was thinking "Sweet, celebrity!" I was also thinking "Too old!" The bar tender working the party must have thought so too, because she made fun of me, so of course I had to start shit. I pull her over the bar, pulled her shirt over her head, and punched her in the face!

Then I wandered down a lonely dirt road out of shame, but Elyse found me, gave me my nurse costume, and said "Its okay, lets go party"

Thanks Elyse.

I told her all about this dream, to which she says:

"ho man, i'll bet that's an example of a fairly tame and non-bizarre dream for you."

Good call E, my dreams are usually 5x more messed up.

+ Words of wisdom before the close of this blog entry:

"Having a webcam chat with a guy, whether you know him or not, is always gonna lead to SURPRISE, HERE'S MY PENIS."

Bad Morning

I regret a lot of things in my life, unfortunately.

This morning I realized one of the more recent ones is buying a tamagotchi.

A few months ago Elyse and I visited the "WAREHOUSE SALE" section of the mall, where Winners used to be, but it is now gutted and filled with boxes of out-of-season cosmetics and "urban cowgirl bras."

True story.

So naturally I check out the toys section and find OMG TAMAGOTCHI for only $6.99!

When I paid for it the cashier looked me up and down and said "Is this for you?"

"Yes, I am reliving my childhood."

"Okay..."

WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE?

Anyway, I played with it for a good few days before I realized all tamagotchis ever do is shit and complain (ie: beep at you) until they die from living in their own poo.

So I threw it in with a bunch of electronics stuff and forgot about it.

Until this morning.

Turns out when you leave a tamagotchi dead too long (or possibly when the batteries die, to warn you that YOUR TAMAGOTCHI IS DEAD) it beeps. Well, not so much beeps, but screams. It is a nonstop highpitched beep, that's not loud enough to wake you, but apparently enough to make you go crazy while you're sleeping.

Regret #2: Putting my tamagotchi in an unspecified, random place.

Its hard to find the source of an ominious noise when you're groggy, confused, and have a (severely) messy room.

NOT COOL.

I eventually found it, found a screwdriver, and aborted that battery.

Not before apparently pocket dialing kenny at 6:15 in the morning, and almost hitting a brand new lancer on my way to work.

I'd like to expirimentally work on my theory that semi-loud, nonstop noises during sleep eff with your sanity.

I felt drunk this morning.

Not that that had anything to do with almost hitting a car this morning.

Welcome to winter!

On a serious note

"19 year old dies, possibly drug related, at West Edmonton Rave party"

Alright, I know I'm working on this "of little consequence" theme with this blog, but this really GRINDS MY GEARS.

As someone who's frequented the rave scene for a good 3 years now, I'm seen my fair share of drugged up kandi kids and sketched out partyers. I don't do E, myself, but I understand its obviously part of the culture.

When I first started going to raves, I took it upon myself to look up as much as I could about the drug,

(Well, because I'm a RESEARCH MACHINE)

and because if I'm gonna be around it, I might as well know what's up.

People may recall last year when a 14 year old girl died after taking 6 Triple-Stacked Ecstasy Pills at the west ed Rock n' Ride party. I mean hey, that sucks, a young life lost, but don't be so fucking stupid.

If you're going to engage in dangerous activities, know what you're getting into, at least.

Even a heroin addict knows if they shoot up their arm with 6 hits of heroin on their first trip, they're not looking at a good time.

I know, I know, one tab of E could potentially kill you, we don't know what it's cut with, it reacts with everyone's body chemistry differently, but one tab.. you're playing with fire, not a forest fire.

I have never drank 30 beers in an hour, but I can extrapolate, using my knowledge of mind altering substances, that 30 beers will probably give me alcohol poisoning. What is it about E that makes people overlook simple logic? I can guarantee if that 14 year old girl was taking tylenol at home, she'd read the dosage of "1 to 2 pills every 4 hours" and follow it. But E, fuck it, I need 6 of these mutha fuckas.

Last night I went to the Frost party at Edmonton Events Center. I had a great time hopped up on nothing but red bull, but I'm considerate of people who wanna kick it up a notch. I give gum to people grinding their teeth, I talk with people about beeferoni, (true story,) whatever.

I was completely aware of paramedics working on someone last night. It happens every time I go to a show, someone's going to take too much, get dehydrated, overheat, I didn't bat an eye.

What's sad is this kid died when he completely didn't have to. I'd like to be sympathetic but I'm not. I'm going out on a limb here and assuming this wasn't a freak accident where one pill caused him to vomit and convulse, and subsequently die.

He was being an idiot.

Be smart if you're going to be dumb.

Know the risks, and maybe, if you've never done E before, don't take 6 pills, just guessin'.

To be completely selfish: one of my favourite venues, The Polish Hall, stopped hosting raves because someone got stabbed there at a 2006 rave. I'm willing to place money on Edmonton Events Center having severe trouble getting insured for another rave after this death. And people continually blame "the rave scene" for this business, rather than the idiots who attend, and persecute accordingly. Promoters better start looking for another venue.

I give my condolences, but to be fair, no one pities the man who gets attacked by a tiger, when he willingly jumped into the tiger's cage.

Why I push people away

Dear Diary:

Today I got certified in CPR! Yay!

Tonight Heather, Kylie, (Also known as Single Ladies Mafia) and I went out for Becky's birthday. I gave her her card and she loved it because it had profanity. Kids are so easy to please.

Later we went to O'Byrnes, our new stomping grounds because it has cute bartenders who gives us free shots (being a girl is so tough some times.)

Now, I'm not saying that people of the opposite sex flock to me by any means, but throughout the course of a night, I will have random conversation struck up with me a few times.

Usually I'm friendly and like to throw in a few jabs, such as

"Hey ladies, wanna join us for sociables? We need some women to make this bachelor party more acceptable, because some of the sociables cards are kind of suggestive."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, man."

"I never said I was gay!"

"There's nothing wrong with it!"

Of course, going back to the theory that when I drink I:

1. Yell about having more shots.

2. Punch myself in the nose

3. Start fights

I tend to start shit with those unfortunate enough to strike up a conversation.

Case and point:

Kylie, HB and I are standing at the bar. A young man comes up and starts talking to us about beer, birthdays, what we're drinking, etc.

This is all fine and dandy.

He asks us for our names.

"I'm Kylie," says Kylie

"I'm Heather," says Heather.

The man puts goes to shake my hand, and I grasp it firmly, looking into his eyes and say

"Hi, I'm The Hammer."

Don't mess.

Soon after, as this guy was still talking uncomfortably to Kylie, I stuck my arm between then and said "Excuse me sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

Hi, I'm The Cockblock.

And my mother thinks I'll never get married, WHAT IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?

Later I started an uproarious game of MOOSE KIIIINGGGG with everyone at our table, a bouncer, and a few randoms throughout the bar.

Yeah, so I guess I've been drinking pretty regularely (vis a vis: once everyone 1 - 2 weeks, not every night, in my defense please), but I bring fun and good times wherever I go!

Fortune teller

Weekly nosebleed update: NO BETTER.

Today I was watching "Say Yes to the Dress" with my mother while drinking wine, (Mother daughter bonding time)

(Look, it rhymes!)

(x2!)

Anyway: My nose is itchy. I generally push down on the tip of my nose when this happens to avoid nose-picking incidents, but I can't do that anymore because of my piercing.

So I push down on my nose a little higher up, and SUDDENLY.

OW.

I feel something.. hurt.

And I pull my hand away and turn to my mom and say

"Oh. That's gonna be a bleeder.."

Pause.

1..2...3...

"Yepppppppp."

I'm so used to this I can predict the future!

I need to get my nose cauterized.

Like for realz. And I know writing about my nose bleeds is kind of gross and extremely informal, but I AM GETTING PRETTY DAMN CONCERNED.

Also, today, I bought a black vinyl nurse costume for halloween.

UGH, SO OVER-DONE.

This will be the first costume I've ever bought from a store, and not made/put together on my own.

Times they are a changin'.

That will be one uncomfortable nurse's uniform.

ALSO????!!!!

Today I went shopping for a card for Becky's 20th birthday.

I generally try to make birthday gifts/cards pretty personal, but I couldn't find anything worthwhile at Hallmark.

(If you could say it like hallmark... well you'd probably work for hallmark.)

I finally decided to just bite the bullet and buy a 50th B-day card and fix it up, Larissa style.

[click for larger image]

Because I don't post anything of consequence..

A SPECIAL ENTRY FOR THANKSGIVING: A Rambling OF SOME AMOUNT OF CONSEQUENCE



Nothing exciting has happened to me this week aside from totally changing the layout of this stupid blog and fighting off death threats. (WHAT?)

So, since my workweek officially ends Thursdays at 6 o'clock, here are some consequential points:



1. Last night my.. amusing aunt called our house. Now, she's a wonderful, caring old woman, but she always seems to have interesting points to throw out there. She called wanting to discuss the new H1N1 vaccine with my mother. Somehow the conversation turns into conspiracy theory talk (Like H1N1 is being hyped up to outrageous degrees in order to help out large pharmaceutical companies?)

NO.

Like maybe... H1N1 was created by the government to whipe out large masses of the population because humans: 1. Breathe, and 2. Therefore create carbon dioxide, and 3. Are contributing to the greenhouse effect and need to be exterminated.

Suck on that.



NEXT POINT:

2. It has come to my attention that Honda will be discontinuing the manufacture of their S2000 sports car as of this year. Yeah, I know, and Pontiac is going out of business, whatever. Lets all have a moment of silence for what the Mazda Miata should have been, but didn't have enough guts or testosterone to become.

3. Lastly, it snowed today. I was completely unaware of this fact, despite being outside this morning and looking out the windows all day. So it was great to be updated by everyone's facebook statuses that there is infact snow on the ground, thanks guys.

I really hate the Mazda Miata.

Breaking news!

Yesterday was Kylie's birthday.

This means lots of shenanigans were guaranteed to happen, because Heather, Kylie and I are tanks.

There were many memorable quotes from last night, but I choose to share my personal favourite, during an uproarious conversation at Denny's in the wee hours of the morning:

Brent, a friend of Kylies (SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) is talking about a conspiracy theory involving Hitler's remains.

He is saying how some doctors did DNA testing on the apparent skull of Hitler, and found that it was actually the skull of a 13 year old girl.

I suppose what he's trying to say is, since "Hitler's remains" were actually that of a 13 year old girl, Hitler never actually died, and was probably off partying somewhere in south america while we all assumed he was DEAD AND GONEEE, DEEEEAAAD AND GONNNNNEEEEEE. (Thank you, T.I.)

But I'm known for not catching onto the real point of conversations, so when he throws out the "AND IT WAS A 13 YEAR OLD GIRL'S SKULL," I dutifully GASP:

"SO HITLER WAS A TRANSVESTITE?!"

Coincidentally, as a young child, when I'd ask stupid questions and people would say "Is the pope catholic?" I assumed no one really knew for sure, and that this was quite the issue in the religious community.

LATE NIGHT BLOGGING

In keeping up with my "Things Google Auto-Suggest Suggests" theme..

I do have some slightly more amusing things to write about, but lets face, I'M SPENT.

On second thought

A while ago I went to my doctor about this ridiculous nosebleed matter.

I suppose all my talk about nosebleeds isn't making me seem like a particularly classy woman

(it is probably making me seem like a sissy, gross kind of woman)

BUT YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND, FRIENDS.

Nosebleeds are very inconvenient.

I understand there is a vampire craze right now, but people actually DO NOT appreciate copious amounts of blood!

Its embarrassing if you're kissing someone and your nose begins to bleed.

It takes precision and cat-like reflexes to keep that kind of situation at minimal awkward levels!

TRUE STORY.

Anyway, I went to my doctor a few months ago.

She said, put antibiotic ointment (Otherwise known as POLYSPORIN YOU BRAND NAME WHORES.) in my nose with a Q-tip (Sorry, cotton swab.)

I did this the last time nosebleeds attacked and it worked.

So after my 6th nosebleed this week, I wake up and decide to try it out.

Polysporin, Q-Tip, Nose..

and the q-tip

made my nose bleed.

Naturally I tell KKRAZY about how crap this is, and I couldn't have said it better myself:

"God was all like, ohh ya think so? You think you have a techno-fix for DIS!? nahhhhhhhh."

Must have been my raptorjesus photo.

I really have no pride.

RAPTORJESUS

Ever since I started working I started thinking about:

1. How much I miss dicking around with everyone at school

2. How much I miss people at school

3. How much I don't like working in an office with only one other person

I AM A SOCIAL BUTTERFLY.

Needless to say I've been rather introspective lately and I am glummer than usual.

However I'm excited that the weather is getting slightly colder, as I can soon break out my Where's Waldo toque.

I considered dressing up as where's waldo for halloween, but I think I'm just gonna dress up like him for no reason and go hang out at the mall. Now accepting applications for people who wanna accompany a WALDO CROSS-DRESSER to the mall!

AND SERIOUSLY my nose has bled 6 times in the last 3 days, for those of you concerned with the daily nosebleed update.

Anyway, since none of the shit above was entertaining, here's a list of interesting subject lines to penis enlargement e-mails I've received:

- "Arousolution!"

- "Make your shlong shlonger."

- "Hey are you the guy who cannot make love."

- "I'm Batman, I demand reply."

Don't you just love how there is NO CONTINUITY TO ANY of these blog entries?

New Scientific Findings

For lack of anything better to write today ---

(aside from the fact I definitely am a longboarding prodigy,)

(Wait, what?)

(Okay I still need some practise.)

Oh and the fact I am:

Sick.

But employed!

--- I found a very scientifically accurate graph that is close to my heart:

HOW EMBARRASSING

Today I was doing my hair in the bathroom, and my mother was watching "Are you smarter than a 5th grader" on the TV down the hall.

I don't know what the question is, but she's yelling "BIKE. ITS BIKE YOU IDIOT" at the TV.
I mean, I do a lot of trivia-tv-yelling too, so I'm not complaining,
but I guess I was in a bitchy mood today
because after hearing her yell "BIKE. ITS BIKE,"
(JAKAL. ITS A JAKAL.)
a few too many times
(Seriously, how long can it take for the guy on the TV to just answer the question?)
I yell down the hall
"BUT MOTHER, WHAT IF IT IS NOT BIKE?"

(Philosophy, ugh.)

There is a silence.

Pause.

Pause.

My mother yells "SERIOUSLY? HOW IS IT 'GARAGE'?"

I guess it wasn't bike.

But she was so sure!

Did I jynx it?

Now I know she had the wrong answer.

This kind of situation ranks second on the Unfortunate Scale, beaten only by the Non-Mutual-Lingering-High-Five incident.

Tell 'em, Bill.

Take a punch.

Today I was talking to my friend Sheldon about getting a job at a liquor store.*

*I REALLY NEED A JOB :(

He told me that I could hit on all the freshly legal young men that come in to buy their 26s of captain morgan's.

"Oh that's too old for me, I like 'em young" - Quote Larissa.

He calls me out on this, as I think everyone knows I have a clear affinity for old celebrity men, ie: Edward Norton and Daniel Craig.

"No, I've changed my mind, I need a young teenage boy whom I can control." I says

"Oh, well in that case, I'll pass your number on to every teenage boy I meet." - Sheldon

"As long as they're ready to take a few backhands and refer to me as THE ENFORCER."

"..."

"I don't just date, I INTIMI-DATE."

I should probably trademark that phrase.

COOOOOUUUUUGARRRRR.

But srsly, if any 16 year old boys are reading this: No.

Nothing rhymes with "Orange"

You know what I like doing sometimes?

Typing in the beginning of a question into Google, and seeing what the auto suggest function... suggests.

I've gotten the regulars,

an astounding number of "How can I tell if I'm pregnant," "How to know if your pregnant" (WRONG YOUR, PERHAPS this has something to do with high pregnancy rates among bad gammer-ators.)

Anyway, I type in "What" and get the same stuff, and when I press the space bar to continue typing, this delightful gem pops up:

"what are these strawberries doing on my

nipples i need them for the fruit salad"

7,340 results.

I ask myself this question most weekends.

MOTHS

I feel like I don't really need to give an introduction about how much I hate moths, but to anyone who doesn't understand: I DO NOT LIKE MOTHS. AT ALL. They make me scream and run.

SO, UH?

Today I went with Becky to the mall. After a bit of shopping we get back to my car and put all our things in the backseat.

(I know, this story is absolutely electrifying right now.)

ANYWAY, we get to Becky's house, park, and I go to the passenger's side back door to get my stuff out of the car.

I open the door, and.. sitting on the seat is..

What is that?

ITS A BIG FUCKING MOTH.

And I

SCREAM.

And hop back a few times going "WHAT IS THAT?"

Becky looks, and says "WHAT IS THAT?"

I take a big step forward (ie: I LUNGED) and look again, but IT IS IT IS

"ITS A FUCKING MOTH."

and I jump back again onto the sidewalk.

I throw my hands on my head and go "OH MY GOD I HATE MOTHS."

I hop up and down and go "BECKY WE WERE DRIVING WITH THAT IN THE CAR!!!"

Becky laughs at me, she wonders why this is a big deal.

"It could have flown into my face while I was driving and we would have died!!"

(This is a big fear of mine, I don't trust myself not to flip out should this happen.)

As I'm calming myself down, a young man walks past us.

He has clearly been watching this entire exchange.

He looks at me, looks forward, and keeps walking.

DON'T JUDGE ME, YOUNG MAN.

"Oh. Hey." I say. SOOOOOO NONCHALANT.

He keeps walking.

Friends are tough to make.