My mother on the weekend


NEVER FEAR, this photo DOES have significance; my mother is NOT Vince for Slap Chop on the weekends. (I WISH!)

Aside from talking to me about bitTorrent this weekend (how ballin' is my mother? Very,) my mother has said the following two amusing things:

1. We're watching 8 Mile on TV. I changed to it on the TV right during the scene where a rap battle is happening, so I naturally start head-bobbin' and throwing my hands in the air at my mother on the couch next to me.
"ITS 8 MILE, MOM, remember when we watched this together years ago?"
"What?"
"8 Mile. We watched it together when I was 12. How awkward was that during the Brittany Murphy sex scene?"
"OHHHH right, 8 Mile, that's the movie with Sean Penn in it!"
"..."
"..."
"... No that's Eminem."
"OH RIGHT"
"JUST BECAUSE IT RHYMES, MOM..."

2. 8 Mile ends and I begin channel surfing. I turn to the Family Channel, where the Jonas Brothers are on. My mom says "OMG JONAS BROTHERS!!!"
I change to A&E, where CSI is on. My mom says "OMG, HORATIO!!!"
I change to some other channel, and the slap chop commercial is on. My mom says "OMG, VINCE!!!"

Watch this, you're gonna LOVE my nuts.
WHO COULD RESIST?

Wait a second..


Oh... wow.. yeah I'm gonna pass.


LETS GO STREAKINGGGGGG

This weekend I went off on one of my usual tangents while hanging out with Kylie and HB.
Due to the fact I don't keep an encyclopedia of my life (though if I did you can bet it would be the most comical encyclopedia EVER,) I sometimes stumble upon childhood memories suddenly that were previously forgotten.

CASE IN POINT: For some reason, when I was a wee lass of say, 2 or 3 years old, (so we're talking prime first memories here,) my favourite thing to do was run around naked in the back yard after a bath.

I still wonder whether this was my own 3-year-old idea, or if my mom set me loose one day.

NO MATTER,

So every evening after my bath, I would say to my mother CAN I RUN OUTSIDE? and she'd say "ALRIGHT FINE" and I'd go WEEEEEEE, burst out of the back door and shake my ass all over the yard.

I can't recollect exactly how long this tradition went on for, though presumably only for one summer season, as I distinctly remember post-bath-streaking coming to an end after I climbed up on top of the playhouse in our yard, and stark naked, 3 year old pot belly hangin' out, pudgy arms sticking up in the air, waved to my neighbour in the other yard and said "HIIIIIIIIII! :D"

Cue my mother grabbing me off the playhouse and carrying me inside.

What values are we instilling in our children?
God damn, those were some exhilarating times.

My lack of manners

What do you do when Princess Zelda is in trouble? SEND LINK TO THE RESCUE.




This passing Friday, HB and I decided to go out dancing at a new club night opening on whyte ave.

We amused ourselves watching some severely drunk 18 year old girls dance their asses off (and out of their skirts) on the dance floor, and its my turn to buy us some drinks.

As I'm waiting at the bar for my change, a guy next to me says that he's bought 4 shots, but only has 3 friends, and wants to know if I want the extra one.
HMM.

"What is it?" - Larissa.
"Jager." - Guy, lets call him... SPARTACUS to make this interesting.
"Ohh.. Jager always means bad nights."

I always say this, but apparently can never turn down a Jager shot.
Needless to say we all cheers and down them, but WAIT, one of the guys hasn't drank his.

This post-shot moment is awkward because now I'm wondering if I have to make mandatory small talk with Spartacus. Meanwhile, his friend is bitching about how he doesn't like Jager and refuses to drink it.
I look at Spartacus, waiting to see if he's going to make conversation, but he doesn't, so, ever classy, I say:

"Your friend's a sissy. --- WELL, thanks!"
And I salute.
He salutes back.
I leave.
If only life was always this simple.

We also ended up dancing awkwardly beside some young boy trying to obviously get up in our grill, when a much older man decides to strike up a conversation with us. "How are you?"s and "Been here before?"s are exchanged until the younger guy walks away, and the older guy shakes my hand.
"Well, I'm gonna go then, just wanted to save you from the creeper," he says.

SO GENTLEMANLY!
I offered him 5 dollars and said he should start a business as a cock block.

I'm going to not talk in length about yelling "NOT TO YOUR BED" to a guy who asked where we were going, and the brief argument/"SEE YOU IN HELL" moment with a severely drunk man at Black Dog.

Shenaniganly Yours,
L

Everything in life can be compared to Star Wars

Last friday HB, Kylie and I went to Chianti's for a delightfully romantic pasta dinner.

After dinner HB and I used the ridiculously cramped washroom, where us and another woman were waiting to wash our hands.

I was standing beside the other woman (SCANDALOUS) when I need to get some paper towels out of one of those automated sensor towel machines.
It has a small hand outline drawn on it, saying "wave here" in order to activate the sensor.

I know I shouldn't, but then I realize I have no care for the public's opinion of me:

I put out my hand, and in my best Obi Wan Kenobi impression, wave it in front of the sensor and say "These are not the droids you're looking for."

Paper towel: DISPENSED.
Woman to my right: Slightly off-put.




Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking: they let women into the military, too!

Choose your words carefully

Today's blog entry is on everyone's favourite topic: Father moments!

A few years ago my family and I were out at Earl's for a family dinner.
This probably happens only once a year so its a joyous occasion.

I'm under the impression my father needs prescription glasses, but he refuses to get a pair, and instead wears reading glasses that we buy in bulk and he routinely loses.

POINT BEING,
He forgot his glasses while we're out at dinner, and we're all trying to decide what to eat.
The waitress comes by, and my father asks her if she could tell him what a specific thing on the menu is.

He asks her what it is, and could she tell him the description, because he can't read.

The waitress gets a little sympathetic looking and goes "Ohhhh... Suuuuuuureeeeee..." and reads out the chicken alfreado description or whatever. My dad agrees it sounds good, and he'll get it.

This all seems moderately normal, until the waitress walks away, and I lean towards my Dad, and woefully inform him
"Dad, she thinks you're illiterate."
"What?! Why does she think that?"
"You told her you couldn't read."

Yeah, dinner was a little awkward when she came by to check on our food.
Can't read WITHOUT GLASSES, WITHOUT GLASSES****

Serious moment

“Religion is an insult to human dignity. With or without it, you'd have good people doing good things and evil people doing bad things, but for good people to do bad things, it takes religion.”

- Steven Weinberg


Most people who know me are well aware of my definitive atheism. I generally don't go on about it to anyone but fellow atheists (or those sitting on the fence,) but this is MY BLOG, DAMNIT.
I am completely capable of respecting religion. I have many religious friends and we don't push our beliefs on each other and we're all nice people. We get along!
My issue is with people who feel the need to preach.

The thing that really gets me about religion, is the blind eye it endorses.
I find most people who claim themselves as believing in God and Jesus are merely "convenience Christians," turning to a higher power only when they've lost their keys.

I remember sitting in the very last, very left desk during final exams in grade 12. And of course they have everyone pray to do well on their tests. Praying in general I find to be a little hypocritial, since really, its asking God to do something for you. Is that not the peak of arrogance, asking for favours from the highest of all beings? And if God already has a pre-determined plan for each and every one of us, why would we ask for it to be changed? Because he's wrong? Maybe God wants you to fail your Math 30P exam, he planned it that way.

Anyway, point being, I saw everyone in that gym pray, as far as I could see, including people who as far as I was concerned, were not religious at all.
Why?
Because "it couldn't hurt."
Really?

A true atheist can be defined as someone who will not accept their Last Rights while laying on their death bed. And I mean, you might as well, because it couldn't hurt, right? If you really were living your entire life as an atheist, but turns out HEY, there really IS a heaven, and you've accepted your Last Rights, then God will let you in just as easily as the people who devoted their entire lives to the crucifix.
Do you like apples? How do you like 'DEM APPLES?

The thing I don't get about most Christians, is that they are capable of knowing that everyone ELSE's religion is wrong, they just turn a blind eye to their own.
They are capable of persecuting everyone else's beliefs, but not their own.
So many Christians I talk to have the same outlook: They believe in God, they believe in Jesus, but they don't go to church because they don't really think that its required to be a good Christian.
They swear and get tattoos or piercings because.. that's just their interpretation of the bible.
But when I do something they see as unfit for their values, I get an earful about it.

As far as I'm concerned, you're in, or you're out.
The bible isn't a magic trick. You don't get to pick a few cards and hope God remembers which ones you chose. You don't decide which values to follow, and which to disregard. Its a package deal! David Blaine doesn't suddenly pull an 8 of spades out of your back pocket and say SURPRISE, you're going to heaven!

Since when did eternal salvation mean nothing more than shopping for rules that are convenient for you to live by?

I'll take my damnation. God gave me a choice, and I chose not to choose salvation. That's how it goes, right? And fair enough, because I was raised in a Christian household. But what about all the other cultures, that were never even introduced to a life with Jesus. How are they supposed to choose it?

Christianity is equvilent to Jesus saying "Well if you don't know what's wrong, then I'M NOT TELLING YOU."

Jesus is an angry, jealous girlfriend.
But hey, maybe I'm just too lazy to be a good person.

Workforce humour

I am a blogging machine today!

Today I needed change from my boss, but he only had 20s, so he told me to go buy some Tim Horton's to break it. (Cheese croissant: IN MY BELLY)

Anyway.

He told me to be careful crossing the street, since its icy, and over the holidays a relative of his actually hit and killed a woman while driving a bus in Vancouver.
(Because sometimes crazy women in the dirty parts of Vancouver throw themselves infront of busses.)

Anyway, Darin, the paralegal here, pipes up, and goes "Why does Larissa have to be careful?"
WHAT, DARIN, LIKE YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT MY SAFETY?

I tell Darin about the relative, saying he hit a guy down in Vancouver.
My boss corrects me, "It wasn't a man."

Pause for reflection by Larissa.
"Sorry, yeah, it was a woman. So like... who cares, right?"

Darin tells me I am not a feminist, I am just devoid of a soul.
BUT PEOPLE LAUGHED. :)

I have also been playing "Everybody's Working for the Weekend" throughout the day to pump people up.
Unfortunately its only been me getting pumped up. Dance party at my desk!

I look at Darin at 3:58 PM
"Hey Darin, do you know what's gonna happen now?"
"I don't think so."
"I think you do."
"...Yeah I think I do too."
"EVERYBODY'S WORKIN' FOR THE WEEEEEEEKEND!"


Passive aggressive

Dear diary:

On a typical day I spend 10 hours sitting at my desk. Probably for a good 4 of those hours, I am talking on the phone to clients. Lets keep in mind I am not an accredited legal professional. I am Larissa, wikipedia user extraordinaire. I really don't know shit about the law, but I try.

I AM BUT A MESSENGER.
This usually equates to clients being either:
a) Really nice to me, because I remind them of a wounded (yet friendly) young deer. I try to help people out as best I can (equating to warm fuzzy feelings inside of me, job well done, Larissa!) and usually people thank me for my time. And/or sometimes clients will bring me coffee for no reason, I'm everyone's favourite underqualified legal assistant.

OR

b) CLIENTS WILL BE REALLY FREAKING RUDE TO ME.
Its alright though. Because I'm not unemployeed, uneducated, have 3 kids and a failed commonlaw relationship that was based entirely on mutually using each other for financial security.
Wait, what?
Not that that's a specific case, really, but it sure seems to be a trend.

Point being:
I am not actually encouraged by my boss to be that friendly to people, but yes, I do have a heart, and I try to be as perky as possible. But to keep my head from exploding I will:

1. Highlight you in red on the phone log speadsheet. HAHA. Red means "DO NOT CALL BACK" and gives me mild satisfaction.

2. Say "Okay! :D Well have a good d---" and then hang up on you loudly. This works better than just hanging up, I feel, because interrupting myself mid-sentence means you definitely know that you just got hung up on.

3. In the case of people accusing me of being dumb, I will play dumb for you. I suddenly don't know anything, actually. I don't know. I don't know. I'll have to check and get back to you. Nope, I don't know when I can get back to you either. My head is full of poop!





And by popular demand (minus the popular. I've seen my page views, I'm writing to an empty audience,) here is a tidbit from my "Funny things my friends and I talk about" archive, because I love filing away my life into computer folders:

Kenneth - Apparently thats what cabbies do. My friend Misha told me he lost his phone and within a week had a $500 bill because of long distance calls to kenya. i'm an idiot haha

Larissa - Man, lesson learned though I guess. Hopefully the cell company doesn't fuck you.
I mean, unless you're lonely.



Tender lovin', tender lovin'.

New years findings!

Dear Diary:

Last night I attended a rip-roaring shindig for new years, YOU GOTTA PARTY.

I got there around 9pm with Kylie, Jenna, and Mike in tow, and poured myself a drink.

NOW, I'm sippin' on my drank, about half way through, so I can't say I'm exactly feeling it at this point. Meanwhile I'm speaking with a guy named Colton, who seems to either have a consistant case of the shakes, or is very frightened by me.

Okay, okay, maybe he's just a little shy. But we're talking about where he goes to school, his hometown, etc. Gotta love that small talk!

After about 10 minutes of conversation, I suppose I've managed to get him to loosen up a bit, but I must have said something offensive, as per usual.

He looks at me during a slight silence, and says "So you're already drunk, hey?"

Really?

I look back at him,
"No, I'm always this loud and rude."


And I bet he thought I was joking! No respect these days.