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.