Short blog entry about 90s throwbacks

On Thursday night Brendan's roommate Ben drove me home.

Brendan, HB and I had been to the U of A bar RATT before, and I had had a few beers (GASP) so I wasn't drunk, per se, but I was enjoying my night.

On the way home, Ben played LEN's "If you steal my sunshine" in the car.

THE BEST car ride I've had in years, easily, I was rockin' the shit outta life in the backseat.

This song could make world peace a possibility.

Ebay, hobos, and dreams

Today's blog entry goes out to DENZIL! HIIIII!!!!!


The worst part about ordering things on eBay is waiting for them to come in the mail.
What's that, you think the suspense is half the fun?
I DISAGREE, REGINALD.

I hate it, because I realize I've already paid for these things. These things are MY crappy eBay things, and yet I don't own them yet.
But then by the time I get them in the mail, I forget I've paid for them, and it feels like random strangers are sending me gifts.
(WHOEVER bought me this cheap looking Hello Kitty necklace and sent it to my house?)

When I'm bored I search for things that cost me 5 dollars or less and buy them just for the joy of receiving it in the mail.
Coincidentally I totally bought a cheap silver and cubic zirconium fake wedding ring. And you thought your grandma's jewelry was tacky!

TOPIC NUMBER 2:
Yesterday I was visiting the courthouse so I could get sent all over the god damn building by public servants that apparently aren't trained to do anything but redirect you.
OH?

ANYWAY.
On the way there I see someone riding their bike on the street. This is annoying enough because everyone hates people who ride their bikes on the street (so watch out for K.Kerr when the weather gets nicer, drivers.)
I figure its a fat woman who's bicycle seat looks far too small for her outrageously large bum.
Here is a list of reasons why I think its a fat woman:
1. Long hair
2. Large bum
3. Skin-tight pink velour leggings.

As I pass by the cyclist I look to the right to discern the situation.
And when they looked, they looked at me. With a mustache.
UGHHHH, MAN IN PINK LEGGINGS.

3. I had a dream last night that involved no instances of blood or gore.
I had a dream that I was going to the birthday party of Princess Fergie and Prince Andrew.
I had a dream that, to this birthday party, I wore a dress and knee-high socks, but to my horror, when I arrived at the party, I was wearing ARGYL PRINT socks AND an ARGYL PRINT SWEATER.
Everyone knows that's tacky!
I was horribly alarmed in my dream and thoroughly upset. One of the worse dreams I've had in a while.

Poop jokes

Dear diary,

Today, in keeping with my newly-made tradition of writing one-liner jokes on the online courier request forms at work, I consulted with Darin, the paralegal there, which joke to use.

I mean, one of my personal favourites is "What's brown and sticky? A STICK" because everyone thinks poop first, right? AM I RIGHT?

Darin says not to use that one, and suggests "What's brown and rhymes with Snoop? DR. DRE!" OHHHH!

I decide poop is just no way to go, and write "What happens when you double park your frog? It gets toad!" instead.

*send*

I wait.

About an hour later the usual bike courier comes in, who's name might be either Thad, Brad, Lad, or DISTURBINGLY, Chad. I have never asked, and everytime he calls to correct or confirm a deliver, I can't hear him.

Anyway

ANYWAY

He comes in, looking a little more chipper than usual, and he points at me and says "WHAT'S BROWN AND STICKY?"

"A STICK!!!!!" - Larissa

"YES!" - Courier

"I WAS TOTALLY GOING TO USE THAT JOKE but decided poop references were unprofessional."

"Really?"

"Yes really."

REALLY?

I didn't know anyone else liked that joke.

It was a moment.

With art from yours truly.

Today I wrote one-liner jokes in the "special instructions" section on the form I use to book couriers at work.

And people say there's no good deeds. I sincerely like doing little things to brighten up people's days.

And with this blog entry started all optimistically, I provide you with some good old cynical Larissa viewpoints:

Valentines day comes and goes for me. Its never been a big issue, and I don't bat an eye at it. I love the way facebook statuses fill up with "I hate Valentines day!" and "Valentines day is so useless!" Yet these people seem to disregard the fact they're still focusing on it.

I don't think one should be in a relationship until they are completely comfortable being alone.

Otherwise, you stick with it out of fear, not happiness.

Otherwise, you rely on someone else to define yourself.

Otherwise, when you break up, you cry for yourself, and not for losing them.

I do not require a relationship to be happy; but i am completely capable of being happy in a relationship. I think there's a definite disconnect these days. I do occasionally listen to romantic songs on my iPod on my way to work, but when I do, my mind doesn't wander towards the thought of someone, or something; I merely sing along to half the song and lose interest the click to the next one.

Love is nice and all, but love is just a word, it is no longer an action or a thing of meaning. Love is just something people say instead of "sorry," as an excuse for poor behavior.

When you ask someone why they insist on staying in their failing, degrading, detrimental relationship, they'll say "because I love him."

If you ask someone why they insist on staying in their failing relationship, without using the word "love" they'll say "______________________"

Because there's no valid justification.

Coincidentally my life is zen. :) Who did you bicker with this Valentines Day?

HEY, what do you call a woodpecker with no beak?

A headbanger!

Facebook Chat Gold Moments

If I didn't have higher goals than being a legal secretary, god damn I could perfect my craft. I incessantly schedule, chart, and log everything, including when people say funny things on facebook-chat/on the phone.

Oh faithful friends-of-Larissa, you thought you were safe!

I have nothing too exciting to talk about, aside from going to my 4th Frequency rave last night, and naturally dealing with the regular E-ed out folk, including one man who apparently never moves, and always pet my arm when I walked past him.

Blank stares ensued.

CHILLING.

Anyway:

NUMBER ONE:

Larissa talking to Becky about other conversations on facebook chat:

"I'm going to keep saying "Vagina" to patrick until he says "I don't get it" and I'll say "AND YOU NEVER WILL."

NUMBER TWO:

Talking to Steve about my lack of ever seeing The Godfather, or The Godfather Part II:

Steve - why have you never seen godfather?

Larissa - Because I don't wanna see Tony Montana's nipples

Almost as chilling as blank-stare-arm-pet-man.

NUMBER THREE:

Talking to Paul about how much I wanna go on Mantracker, plus inspirational children's stories:

Paul - the little engine that could would take mantracker

Larissa - Errr, no man, its easy to track a train. You follow the tracks.

Little Engine that Could can do a lot of stuff, but bitch still can't outrun a man in a hat!

NUMBER FOUR:

Talking to Kenny about why he should get Honesty Box/Why I have it:

Larissa: Actually, get honesty box so I can write stupid shit it in.

I like writing "I HAVE A BIG LESBIAN CRUSH ON YOU" on girl's boxes.

All "box" jokes aside, of course.

Oops, secrets out; I just light brightening lives and bringing smiles to faces, its a joke, ladies!

Some things...

Some times I feel,

as if some things that happen

only ever happen in the life of Larissa.

Some things...

only I think of.

Tonight was a low-key night. After visiting NAIT with Brendan last night and having THE most amazing late-night dinner at New Asian Village (indian food buffet, YES) I decided that I didn't really need to go out again tonight, an epiphany I don't usually reach.

Heather D and Kylie came over to play board games tonight. We played a rip-roaring game of Clue (read: Not rip-roaring) and Heather suggested monopoly.

Now I don't know about y'all, but I much prefer Monopoly Junior; its CARNIVAL THEMED.

No one seems too excited about the next anti-climactic board game, so I decide we're going to play on the french side of the board.

I insist that we only refer to everything by the french title.

I insist that we wear mustaches drawn on scotch tape with black sharpie marker.

I insist that we only speak in french accents.

This is just how things roll when you have wholesome fun with me. >:(

Unrelatedly, Kylie wanted me to leave a strange voicemail for a specific man she is not a fan of. Not wanting to be too rude, but while feeling his confusion levels at a maximum I chose to leave the following for him:

Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty to make thy riches pleasant.

In a British accent, of course.

I always say, if you need something said, I'm your girl.

Pass the mustache!

Bad manners

Today I came to work late as I went down to NAIT early in the morning to figure out what to do with my life.

When I came back I found someone had taken my reserved stall. THE worst stall in the entire parking lot, even, as its right beside a brick wall and takes manouvering to be able to park straight.
WHY?

I have major rage when people take my stall, so I wrote a note that says "This spot is RESERVED" and underline it 4 times to make my point clear, and placed it under their windshield wiper.
With no where else to park now, I cut my losses and park next to my stall, as the person that is usually parked there isn't there anymore, and are never there when I'm done work, so I assume they leave early every day.
I felt pretty bad about leaving an UNDERLINEDDDDD note on the windshield, and went on about it all day, but by the time I decided to go remove it, the car had moved.

Yes well,

The spot I took... it wasn't un-used.
They left a note under MY windshield wiper saying "This spot is reserved, please move your car, thank you."

It took 5 minutes of Darin, the paralegal here, convincing me that YES, they did in fact leave a note on my windshield, before I threw my head onto the desk.
THEY SAID "THANK YOU"? What kind of note writer am I? A RUDE ONE.
Uggggh, guilt complex kicking in.
I have to park beside them tomorrow.
My car is getting karma keyed. Both by the person who's spot I took, and the person who I left the rude note for.

I like lists

15 things I think are delightful:

1. Systematically popping bubble wrap one bubble at a time and dragging it out for days.

2. Blasting Queen in the car, putting it in park at a stop light, and dancing crazy for the enjoyment of all the drivers around me.

3. Taking off my shoes in public places and walking on the cold tile floor with my socks on.

4. My disturbingly gorey dreams.

5. Throwing song lyrics, movie quotes, and lines from Maury episodes into everyday conversation when people don't realize it and think I'm just being profound.

6. Yelling. At people I don't know. All the time.

7. Writing limmericks for people when they're feelin' down.

8. Giving everyone nicknames, Waitress Suit, Peanut Head, Gulpy Guy included.

9. Using acronyms. DNW DNW DNW DNW!

10. Meowing in the movie theatre during previews.

11. Photocopying my face when no one is looking.

12. Dancing to the Pussycat Dolls infront of the mirror in the morning.

13. Denny's breakfast, 'nuff said.

14. When my dog doesn't step on my throat in the morning when he jumps on my bed.

15. Whacky inflatable arm flailing tube man dancing in public.

Photo unrelated.

This is a short blog entry:

It is no surprise to most people that know me, that my idea of "casual" generally still involves copious amounts of colour coordination, accessorizing, and probably wearing heels.

I am not high maintenance!

(Well, perhaps I am, but I maintain myself, surely.)

Point being, despite owning a decent amount of running shoes, I almost never wear any because I feel under dressed.

On friday, Brendan and I went to visit the new art gallery, which made me miss being an art student a little, although seeing pretentious, over-art-ed people there made me feel slightly better about my decision.

At least I have friends who go to the art gallery with me! :D

ANYWAY, while walking there, I'm discussing with Brendan how I feel weird wearing running shoes, so I wore cowboy boots to the art gallery instead.

I say "I mean, if I'm not wearing something with heels, I feel like such a bum!"

Pause.

Pause.

There is a homeless person walking right behind us.

Yeah.. wearing running shoes.

I walked faster after that; poorly placed humour, I'M SORRY!

A tale of terrible consequence

DEAR DIARY:

In the month of January I managed to successfully forget to bring a fork to eat my lunch with 5 times.
5 TIMES.

How ridiculous is that?
Usually I would just walk to the Tim Hortons across the street to get one, but last week I decided it was simply too cold to warrant the effort.
Because I'm crafty, I figured I would make a scoop-fork-thing out of the cardboard lid to my Michellinas pasta. (Ugh @ Michellina's, so awful, but cheap and filling.)

So I make this rounded spork-like thing, and I'm feeling pretty freakin' crafty about having made this.
I dig in, because I'm hungry and distressed at my lack of fork, at this point.

The first 5 bites go off without a hitch, but on my 6th bite: PAIN.

Cardboard spoon = cardboard paper cuts on your mouth. Thanks, ingenuity.


+ OKAY, IT HAS TO BE MENTIONED, what is the deal (WITH AIRPLANE FOOD???) male divorce clients at our lawfirm hitting on me?
I READ YOUR FILE.
I know all your dirty secrets!
"Hey babe, I don't know if you heard, but I'm back on the market, a heh-heh-heh."

Okay that line actually didn't happen,
but its still awkward.
Royally.