Swords and Offices

Yesterday I bought a huge box of paper for the office, but since I'm weak and can't carry a box of 5000 sheets of paper, I left it in my trunk.

SO THIS MORNING! --- My boss, Nav, asked for my keys so he could carry it up to our 3rd floor office, (a great feat,) and he goes down to the parking lot.

I turn to Darin and say "Man... I have so much shit in my car, I hope Nav doesn't think I'm crazy."
I mean I am, to a decent extent, crazy. Anyone who has ridden in my car has seen the kind of shenanigans that go on in there, such as:

1. At least 6 empty plastic bottles at one time. I always plan to recycle them
   and never do
2. A pair of running shoes, except one is up by the windshield.
3. Random socks
4. A tomahawk stick
5. A plastic sword
6. About 5 pairs of sunglasses, 2 of which are STRAIGHT OUTTA the 80s
7. Clothes and gloves of all kinds

So he comes back in with the paper, and hands me my keys, and says "Did you know there is a plastic sword in your car?"

(As an aside, I suppose I never put it in writing on this blog that I once hit a car due to playing with the sword at a stoplight. Always stay focused, kids!)

"Yes," says Larissa, and I giggle.
My boss calls out to Darin, and says "HEY DARIN, Guess what Larissa has in her car!"
But Darin already knows. He tells Nav I once shook the sword at him while we were driving down the street after work.

I considered mentioning the tomahawk stick, and how if you slide the sword through the slot where the ax blade is supposed to go, you get a TOMAHAWK-SWORDDDDD.
But I didn't.

I get a little more interesting every day.

Routines

The light on my alarm clock --- the one that's supposed to light up to let you know you've turned on your alarm --- its broken.

This would seem like a really trivial thing, considering it is but one small, dim, red LCD light that says "HEYYYYYYY your alarm is totally turned on," but it is causing a small, yet incredibly annoying distress in my life.

Every weeknight, I go to bed, and before I go to bed, I turn my alarm on, because I so totally love waking up at 6 AM.

And every time, after I turn my alarm on, I climb into bed, and I grab my lap top, SUCH AS I AM DOING RIGHT NOW, and I sit with my head propped up at a convenient, yet uncomfortable angle on my pillow.

And I lay there.

And I look at my alarm clock.

And I think.. did I turn it on?

I could just set my phone alarm clock... just to make sure.

But the light isn't on. Is that because its not turned on? Or is it turned on?

So then I get up,

get out of my bed (which, if I'm lucky, has been previously warmed by my dog's furry body)

and check.

And of course, its always turned on.

So I wonder why it is, that I can remember phone numbers from random drunk men at the bar, and file numbers of countless clients at work, and the street address to Maury Povich's god damn show at 15 Penn Plaza, Grand Ballroom, New York, NY, 10001, BUT NOT THAT MY ALARM HAS BEEN TURNED ON?

To brighten up this blog entry, here are FB chat gold moments:

Larissa talking to Brendan:
Every god damn time I type "part" my fingers instinctively add a "y" to the end of the word.
Is that bad?

Larissa talking to Becky:
"I'm going to keep saying "Vagina" to Patrick until he says "I don't get it" and then I'll say "AND YOU NEVER WILL."

Baby seals

I have nothing interesting to talk about today, except the weather, which is something Canadians freaking love talking about.

Instead, here is a photo of the world's cutest photo-bomb:

Back pain and jokes

Today I am in pain because:

1. I burned my tongue on late-night butter chicken on Saturday.
2. I apparently am incapable of getting more than 4 hours of sleep.
3. I somehow managed to throw my back out during lunch due to an ill-timed combo of eating chili and coughing. This may or may not have anything to do with my AWFUL posture and/or scoliosis. FTW!
   

Because of this, I have nothing exciting to write, so I will provide you with a Facebook Chat Gold Moment:

Larissa: Hey, did you hear that joke they don't tell gay people?

Ben: No

Larissa: ...

Ben: Dammit

Nope, not even an unrelated picture today.

Sobriety = Crime

This weekend, HB, Kylie and I decided to hit up our second Full Moon Party. Its about time I've been the DD, so I decided to shake ass and cover myself with paint all on my own free will.

The party itself was great until my purse decided to get stolen, because its a whore, or something.

HB and I had set our purses down on the stage in front of us to have more freedom to dance like white girls, and I'll have you know we were taking very good care keeping our eyes/hands on the purses.

But as luck would have it, you look away for a split second and it goes missing.

Rule number one: Don't carry your keys, credit cards, license, SIN number, cash, and cellphone all in the same place.

YEAH I KNOW.

After frantically looking for the purse for 20 minutes I give up, and manage to find Kylie and HB in the crowd, when we decide to position ourselves near the exit door to see if anyone walks by with the purse in tow.

I'll ruin the surprise now: Someone pocketed my cash and driver's license and ditched the purse, so I got it back from security the next day, despite having cancelled all my credit cards/phone. Lucky break, Larissa!

My dad later told me it was probably a good idea I did not catch a person with the purse, or I would have attacked them and gotten in more trouble with the police than the original culprit.

You know me so well, Father!

SCENE: WAITING AT THE EXIT DOORS:

I guess I was looking like a girl who's purse had just gotten stolen, as it prompted two guys to hassle me for "it wouldn't kill you to smile, you know."

OH EXCUUUUUUUSE ME, PRINCESS.

I end up being entertained by them while keeping an eye out for my purse, and in true Larissa fashion managed to throw out a few bodily harm threats along the way (YES, this happens when I haven't been drinking as well, turns out I'm just crazy!)

Mike, as I have know learned his name, decides that a good way to cheer me up is to put my pink sunglasses on and pin me up against the wall.

I know, I know, you'd think I'm totally into the sunglasses play, but I'm not.

"Let go of me," I say.

"No," says Mike.

I take a deep breathe:

"I will head butt you," - Larissa

"You'll break your glasses."

"I don't care, I will head butt you, now let me go."

"Why don't you just punch me, then?"

"Fine, let go."

And he does.

OH, ohhhhh, you thought I was joking?

I pride myself on following through on warnings and clocked him in the neck.

"OHHHH MAN, WHY THE NECK?"

"Because it hurts my knuckles to punch people in the jaw."

He offers me his number but then says "WELL I GUESS YOU DON'T HAVE A PHONE, LOL"

LOLOLOL.

He doesn't have one either, so I offer to just remember his number.

He doesn't believe me on this one either, though I figure he would have learned I'm serious after the neck punch.

Because I do have an amazing propensity to remember useless shit, I memory-bank it and Kylie, HB and I leave after bargaining with the coat check to get my jacket back sans-coat-check-ticket.

NEXT MORNING, I WRITE A TEXT MESSAGE TO HIM:

"Hey, this is Larissa, the girl who punched you in the throat last night. Add me to facebook if you forgive me."

Yeah, I got a friends request.

/THAT charming.

I require more supervision

We're gonna start this blog out with a Facebook-Gold moment:


HB knows this story already, and I'm pretty sure she's the only one that reads this blog anymore.

(HI KENNY?)

(KENNY?)

(K fuck you then, DENZIL?)

(DENZIL, HI?)

Anyway:

When I was 7 years old I took a trip to my parents' lake lot. I took trips there a lot.

Its about a 2.5 hour drive, and I usually brought toys to amuse myself, but y'know how I can get: ridiculous.

About halfway through the ride I guess it hits me that a good idea would be to take the suction cups off the window-shade-thing, and stick them to myself.

Sticking it to my legs, arms, and stomach doesn't work, but WAIT,

EPIPHANY: Forehead.

It works wonderfully.

The thing about being young is, you don't connect that the root word of "suction cup" is "suction."

I left that suction cup on my forehead for an hour.

Worst hickey ever.

Indie Females

AND NOW, A POST OF CONSEQUENCE!

I have been straying away from my indie roots these days. The last year I managed to completely abandon most of my favourite indie bands to enjoy my electro and rock roots.

(As an aside, I hate favourite songs that remind me of unfavourite people. Never share playlists!)

However, it seems that rocking out to my favourite angry tracks has been causing me to speed, and I've therefore decided to seek a life more zen.

Enter: Ellie Goulding. My new girl-crush, among many. I've seen her labeled as "folktronica" which pisses me off to no ends; sub-genres just GRIND MY GEARS and only give people a reason to feel "arts-ier than though."

Anyway, indie-electronica is my new favourite, and Ellie is spot on (not to mention the vast amount of remixes her songs seem to inspire.)

(I'm also not mentioning how freakin' cute she is.)

Coincidentally I just bought glasses like that, AND have a septum ring. Just call me Mitch!

Wait, not cute enough? REEEEEEMIX:

I KNOW!

Her first single just hit the market, Starry Eyed, and while it's no longer at number one on the charts in the UK, its still up there. I'm on a fit of listening her album, Lights, and following her gig locations on her Twitter waiting for her to come to Canada-land.

All Ellie-love (and HYPAHLINK PARTY) aside, I've also found myself another interesting female fronted band, known as Marina and the Diamonds

YEAHHH, COLOURS!

Marina and the Diamonds has a sound that I originally wasn't the biggest fan of, but the more I listen the more I appreciate the lack of a stereotypical vocalist, and I realized that I am sometimes a tasteless idiot.

Marina makes me want to dance in farmers fields and go on road trips.

She wrote a song about a robot. 'Nuff said.

St. Patrick's Day Pubcrawls

Lets start this one off with something unrelated!

Last night I went on a pubcrawl with Kylie for St. Patrick's Day.

I generally hate St. Patrick's Day due to the fact people used it as an excuse to get obliterated drunk during school back in the day, but I also like being festive, so I celebrated this time.

This blog entry is going to have the same theme's that most of my "LAST NIGHT I WENT OUT..." blogs, which is: Pickup-line-put-downs, and Getting-rowdy-when-I-drink, and the direct correlation between these two topics.

After the 2nd bar yesterday, everyone on the bus is feeling pretty buzzed and friendly. I end up sitting away from Kylie and our friends, and strike up a conversation with a fellow named Andrew.

Andrew seems nice enough, and we are talking about the pub crawl, when he accidentally(??????) punches my boob.

It happens.

Due to the fact I'm probably a 4/10 on the drunk scale at this point, I don't hassle him:

"Wow, you just punched me in the boob."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"You could have at least bought me dinner first."

LATER, we are arriving at the 3rd bar, and Andrew tries to patch things up with me I guess, despite having a few more OOPS BOOB PUNCH moments.

"Heyyyyyy so how's it going?" says Andrew

"Its not going; you punched me in the boob." - Larissa. I look at him sternly and look away.

Some of the alcohol has soaked in now, so I'm slightly more rude, we'll put me at a 6/10.

EVEN LATER, we are arriving at the 4th bar. I strategically do not sit beside Andrew this time, however, Kylie ends up stuck beside him.

They are getting into a conversation about how old we are, and what we do for work/school, etc etc.

Kylie is trying to convince Andrew that I am a lesbian and we are newfound lovers.

Andrew is unconvinced, and he yells at me, 3 seats down:

"So how long have you known your friend Kylie?"

I'm at least at a 7.5 or 8 at this point, and involved in lots of "woo!"ing and "yeah!"ing.

Andrew has interrupted my party flow.

I look at him, and go "WHAT?"

"How long have you known your frien---"

"HEY FUCK YOU BUDDY!"

I'm not your buddy, guy.

I'm just delightful.

Religious Insensitivity

A few months ago Darin returned from a trip to Kansas, and since he knows how much I support organized religion, he brought back a pamphlet he received from some religious kook from the Kansas University "Christians on Campus" group.

This pamphlet was one of the better religious ones I've seen, complete with flow charts and diagrams about what I'm like without god in my life (A white circle) and with god in my life (a circle containing diagonal lines.)

Ahhhh, now I get it!

Anyway, there was a e-mail address provided at the end of the pamphlet if I had any questions.

I couldn't resist:

To Whom it May Concern:
I have read your blue pamplet at KU about accepting God into my life. I am concerned with point #4, stating:
"Christ died on the cross to redeem man, thus taking away his sin."

Could you please provide verification on how these two events are connected? I am a faithless person, in need of guidance.
Why would God send his only son down to earth to act as a whipping boy in order to absolve humans who he created with the ability to sin in the first place?
One would think that God would stick to thousands of years of scripture stating that he who sins must be punished, yet God did not stick to his principles and allowed the sin of an entire world to be absolved in Christ's death.

Please provide related and succinct response.

- L

I don't expect a response, and almost a month and a half goes by before this gem pops up in my inbox:

Very good questions, Larissa. I would be very happy to answer your questions. Trading emails would be like trying to express deep or emotionally explosive concerns and thoughts by text messaging. According to my experience, it does not work very well for either party of the conversation. I will be on campus today in a public place and would be happy to visit with you. Kansas Union, 3rd floor food court. Call my cell at ***-***-****. Thank you for responding to a little publication that tries to describe such an important matter. Len Lawson, Christians on Campus.

Leonard

NOW CALL ME OLD FASHIONED, but when you're in the business of saving souls, you should probably be a little more prompt.

I am irked by his response time, and as sass runs through my veins since the day of my birth, send back another e-mail:

Leonard,
I thank you for your response to my e-mail. However, in the time it took for you to reply to my original e-mail, I have found Judaism. Have you prepared for the coming of the Messiah?

L

I don't expect a response AGAIN, but Lord Almighty...

Larissa, Jesus is "Jehovah the Savior" and the Messiah. Did you know that he was cut off (crucified) at the end of the 69th week of 70 weeks mentioned in the book of Daniel. In addition, he was crucified on the passover as the lamb without spot or blemish to atone for our sins and the sins of all mankind?

Len

I guess I've hit a nerve.
Okay fine, Len, I guess the conversation can come to a close.

Since this blog entry may only be a 5/10 for entertaining, here is an unrelated comic:

The curse of a secretary and Halloween Planning

Today I feel sick.
It may or may not be due to the fact I watched the movie Anti Christ last night. Have you heard of this movie? Its one of those artsy, metaphorical movies that may or may not be REALLY AWFUL, but hipsters and movie-fanatics rate it high on imdb.com to prove that they're cultured enough to get it.
Have you clicked the link to the synopsis yet?
I hope you read it.
I hope you read it and then feel bad for me for watching it.

Point being: I have felt achey and keep getting weird butterflies in my stomach (IS IT BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE?)

(no.)

I'm creditting the butterflies to awful subconscious flashbacks to the scenes from Anti Christ.
ANYWAY, last night I tell my mom I feel pretty gross and that I'm probably coming down with a cold again.

She tells me that I should not go to work tomorrow. I generally take maybe 2 sick days a year when I'm working, and that's when my boss sends me home. Call it work ethic, or being a COURAGEOUS WOLF, but I hate staying home sick.


My mother says "Don't feel bad about calling in sick, Larissa."
"Well I can't, mom."


I guess she thinks I'm being stubborn, as she says "Well why not?"
"Because no one will be there to answer the phone. :( "
WHAT TO DO when you're the only employee that picks up calls?

Coincidentally I came into work today, and ensured that Darin, the paralegal, read the entire synopsis to Anti Christ, despite his protests that he really, really, wasn't interested in reading it at all.
I suppose starting the conversation off with "OH MY GOD, I watched the most FUCKED UP MOVIE EVER last night" didn't help.



NUMBER TWO:

I have a penchant for wanting to cross-dress on halloween.
Why? I do not know. I guess it all went downhill after I dressed as Tom Cruise from Risky Business.
I love halloween more than any other holiday, and plan for it easily 6 months in advance. I generally drop a good 100 dollars on any given costume, so its serious business.

I've been mulling over ideas for a while now, including:

1. Where's Waldo
2. Jack Sparrow
3. The Kokanee Ranger
4. A Sex Offender (Which, now that I think about it, is just the Kokanee Ranger in different clothes)
5. MC Hammer

OR
OR
OR

A STORM TROOPER!
This would make my life.
I can probably get a mask online for about 50 dollars and fashion most of what I need out of fun foam.
YAYYYYYYY FUN FOAM.

I'm god damn pumped for this. Considering I rocked my rights as a woman and dressed as a "Sexy Nurse" last halloween, I think I am owed a gender neutral costume.









... with hot pants on, obviously.






MY KINDA WOLF!

Highschool Nostalgia

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was a good day filled with good friends and involves 3 stories.

NUMERO UN:

I met up with HD and Becky to visit our old highschool. We were very popular because we're older women now.

ANYWAY,

whilst walking down the halls, I see some guy wearing your classic Ed Hardy ANGRY TIGER backpack. I start yelling "EDHARRDDDDYYYYYY" because I am rude and annoying.

As we go to pass the guy and his friend, I hear them mumbling stuff, and assume they're bitching about me, so I just walk by. (Typical Larissa, start shit and don't finish it!)

Apparently the guy is saying how he thinks I'm "a babe" and yells at me "WHAT GRADE ARE YOU IN?"

"I'm not in highschool, kid."

"How old are you?"

"20."

"Well I'm almost graduated!"

"Oh, really? I'm into that! Lets meet up!"

Its a wonder high schools don't put up posters warning their students of my sexual harrassment.

NUMBER DEUX:

Becky, HD, and I go to the old "Pit," which is just a below grown stairwell where everyone used to smoke in highschool. They light up a cigar for old time's sake, as I bitch hypocritically about them smoking.

For some reason Becky picks me up at this point, and I employ the PINCHING KOALA technique and wrap my legs around her waist so she won't drop me.

She tries to shake me off by jumping and I finally let go. Since I love being picked up so much I'm giggling and I say PICK ME UP AGAIN.

Becky declines, probably due to the koala-pinching.

Becky says "No, but damn Larissa, you'd be fun to bang."

LOLOLOL.

Man walking down the street: definitely within earshot.

NEXT STORY:

As we're driving to drop HD off at work, I roll down all the windows and put on DON'T STOP ME NOW by Queen, pretty much the party anthem of our highschool days. Becky and I especially know how to do this theatrically, and have hand motions and head snaps at the proper times.

We're stopped at a stop light but most people have their windows closed, it seems, since it's still a little chilly outside. NO MATTER THEN, we keep singing our hearts out.

After about 30 seconds of waiting, I look to my left, where a car is waiting, all windows rolled down, 4 people packed in.

And they're looking at us.

And they're bobbing their heads.

Still singing, I turn my head back towards the front of the car, and without looking down, slowly roll all our windows up.

FIRST PERFORMANCE IS FREE; next ones you gotta pay for.

I also bought ridiculously painful blue high heeled shoes. For shame.

WORK TIME & MEMORIES

I think I am probably the most fun, and most annoying employee ever.

My boss left early today with a huge to-do list for me and Darin to complete.
He bought us coffee before he left though, to keep us motivated.
I ordered a large.

Darin comes to my desk and is complaining about all the work we have.
"UGHHHH, F my life" says Darin.
"You know what's going to be more FML?" - Larissa
"What? says Darin
"When this caffeinne hits me. ZZZZIIIIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGG."

I proceeded to play EVERYBODY'S WORKIN' FOR THE WEEKEND very loudly on the computer speakers.

:D


When I was younger, my brother and I used to plan elaborate army operations, involving 'trenches' made of books, and I would put empty margerine buckets on my teddy bears' heads, and throw them into battle, while he pelted them with rubber bouncy balls. Whenever a bear got killed, I would mourn their death, that is until my brother killed Captain Fuzzy, my favourite bear donning a Country Crock bucket, and I cried my eyes out as my brother held a funeral for him, laughing.

You did well, Captain Fuzzy.