Sears, why do you suck so much? You have shitty, overpriced stuff. Your clearance prices, return policies, and catalogue ordering all suck donkey balls.
Grandma, why a gift card to Sears? (see above) (just kidding Grandma, you got Winners, that rocks... but I mean it! Next year please just donate to the SPCA!)
Why is it that it doesn't matter how many times I check to make sure I turned on the correct stovetop burner before walking away from the stove, I manage to damage something/use the wrong burner/melt the cordless phone? Seriously!?
Why is sitting in a salon chair for hours SO BLOODY awkward? I guess that is why people tell their hairdresser their life story. What the hell else do you do for four-freakin'-hours?
Why do people with the nicest homes have the cheapest, easiest-to-tear, sandpaper-to-butt toilet paper?
Why is it that Shopper's Drug Mart always makes you wait a minimum of 30 minutes for a single prescription? I know you want store sales, but dude, can't you see I'M SICK?!?
Why does it feel somehow wrong to "poke" someone on Facebook? I reciprocate because it seems like the right thing to do... but I feel so dirty afterwards...
Pokity poke-poke. Either could result in blinding.
[EDIT: To clairfy - we WERE on the water for 8 hours due to the weather conditions... I'm not just really bad at adding 3.5 + 3.5!]
So... for our trip we decided to do something romantical-ish and touristy, so Feyoncé suggested a trip to Catalina Island, in California. We'd take a ferry from the Balboa Island/Newport Landing area, and see Catalina Island for a few hours.
My understanding was that this was a LARGE FERRY.
Cue "I'm on a boat y'all":
(Be warned - heeee-larious, but explicit, NSFW lyrics) (p.s. Are you living under a rock if you haven't seen this before?!? Andy Samberg cracks me up)
So, yeah. (I love this song for it's ridiculouness and the voice modifier thingie, just FYI).
There was definite risk involved, as you may know I experience debilitating nausea for at least some part of my day, typically every day.
I thought that with some extra nausea medicine, a large stable-ish boat, and the distraction of adorable water creatures (you know, dolphins, whales, T-Pain, the Little Mermaid, Sebastian, Flounder, etc.) that I might make it out okay, as I typically don't experience sea-sickness (ironic, in a way).
Ariel & crew. I assumed we would probably spot them while whale watchingdolphin watching looking at the water inevitably not see them because we are curled up in the fetal position on a metal bench trying to desperately retain body heat.
The description on the website is as follows:
3.5 hours on a boat y'all. One way. To Catalina Island. *crickets*. Inside tourist tip: The sundeck is only sunny if the sun is out.
But I only briefly looked at it. I thought Feyoncé said 2 to 2.5 hours each way. I totally wasn't paying attention, because he did indeed tell me 3.5 hours. It's right there on the website. I think I got it mixed up in my head with a different speedboat option that was shorter. Who the fuck hell knows with me, anyhow.
Well, along with Oilfield Trash's 10% rule, anyone who knows me knows that randomly odd/weird/bad/awkward shit happens to me all the time.
This place keeps count of how many dolphins and whales are spotted on the tour. The board had big claims for the previous days:
Me and my motherffing shitty luck.... Hmm, no dolphin count for our Catalina Island nightmare "journey".
Yay! I thought. The sun is out! I smiled. "It's turned out to be a gorgeous day!" I told Feyoncé.
This all held true. For approximately 20 minutes.
Oh HAI dock! Lovely day! Surely the clouds will burn off like they always do, says Feyoncé! Yay! Um... clouds? CLOUDS?
Then it turned cold. The sun disappeared. The 20° C weather dropped. The wind picked-up as the boat chugged along. At a snail's pace. To allow us to see the dolphins and whales.
I had bare feet and flats on. I lost feeling in my toes. I had on a t-shirt, a wool sweater, a wool cardigan, and a gore-tex windbreaker with a hood. I was still cold.
Oh wait! A dolphin! Yay! Look guys! Here is the best photo I got of ALL of the hundredsthousandsdozenstens 8 dolphins we spotted!
The best part?
I captured the whale we got to see in the same shot!
This was actually really awesome...
Please don't steal and re-use this photo, I know it is neat, but it is mine.
Okay.
Here goes.
Ready?
You may or may not notice that there are no dolphins on this Catalina Boat Tour photo. I have also included all of the zero whales we saw. Gorgeous, yes?
Yup.
But, I did get this:
And that summarizes what turned out to be 8 HOURS ON A MOTHER-EFFING BOAT Y'ALL.
We were so cold on the way back that I was literally curled into a human-turtle on the metal seat I had (backless, of course). My guy did his best to try to shield the wind and help me keep warm. He even gave me his socks on the way back, so my feet wouldn't be as icy.
The dock and Express boat at Catalina Island.
Interesting aside - I didn't feel great throughout (that's standard for me), but once I went into the enclosed bathroom area, it was like total vertigo. I was so violently nauseous and ill I had to keep staring at the skyline, and I couldn't let anything touch me or I knew I would start intensely heaving.
Pretty water... once feet were firmly planted on Catalina Island.
On the plus side:
Got to spend time with my guy
The water looked pretty, once we were firmly on land.
The boat left late, leaving us with just over an hour to see Catalina Island. (p.s. There is nothing to see there, and the restaurant smells like a bouquet of mould).
One spot on the hill did have a lovely view.
It made for a... story, I suppose.
The sun was mostly out for the time on the island, and part of the boat ride. (A small, cold part).
Neither of us puked.
Neither of us had to stand the entire time like some people did (there aren't enough seats on the boat).
I had a Charleston Chew chocolate/candy bar and a banana for lunch so I wouldn't puke anything heavy. The cashier at the local store at the beach had no idea what I was asking her until I stopped saying "chocolate bar" and corrected myself to say "candy bar".
Catalina Island boat ride from hell?
So, don't go to Catalina Island, man.
They claim to have seen hundreds and thousands of dolphins and a few whales almost every other voyage. They gave us a free 2.5 hour whale watching card once we docked. Safe to say I will not be redeeming that.
So what can only be the wisest decision for my digestive system included not only the primary and secondary gluten assaults as provided by Pizza Hut pizza (mmmmm... blech), then a wonderful dinner at Kit Kat restaurant in Toronto...
I also figured it would only be in my most sincere and heartfelt best interests to go gung ho in the Air Canada fancy schmancy pants lounge prior to our flight to LAX (Los Angeles, California, for all you non-travellers or knowers of airport coding).
I can't help it. They have ever-flowing, always re-stocked tiers of cookie plates for any and all to devour.
Oatmeal raisin anyone? What's that? Oh, there's chocolate chip as well? Well fuck me and call me Uncle Charlie Sheen, full of winning tiger blood.
Well, not really. Don't do that. Feyoncé probably wouldn't appreciate it (and hell, I have no idea where you have been, what if you are a carrier of some horrendous STD or something?)
I digress.
So yeah. I was all excited for the gluten-free chick pea/cherry tomato/spices/olive oil salad. Had two bowlfuls. One of the employees looked at me bug-eyed, in awe of my (bravery? stupidity?) for consuming such a large amount of fibrous beans in a single ten-minute sitting.
What can I say, I aim to impress.
Speaking of which, WTF. I usually travel with comfort, and ONLY COMFORT, in mind. Feyoncé even commented with those EXACT WORDS.
As I have mentioned previously, I particularly despise the once-over twice-over I typically get from the Air Canada Lounge staff when I accompany my guy into their superior and fantastical territory (in my pajama pants).
SO this time... THIS TIME, I actually wore somewhat fitted jeans with BOOTS over my jeans. I know, fucking crazy. Feyoncé thinks the look is ridiculous, but I did it anyway to be STYLISH.
FUCKINGSTYLISH, bitches.
I was totally hot like this, all shadowy and mysterious. Sort of. Jeans over boots Babies, jeans over boots.
I say that now, with swollen calves, blisters, and sweaty feet. No one gives a solitary shit about what I look like at the airport, or anywhere else, for that matter.
But I decided, "Hey! I am going to mother-effing California, y'all! They are all wealthy and fashion-savvy, and every single woman has breast implants and no grey hair! I better step up my freakin' game!"
So yeah. Um, I don't do stylish well. Nevermind stylish + travelling + cranky + gluten-filled-bloaty.
Also? The entire time I am typing this, I am fighting the fucking moron in front of me who is attempting to push their seat back with their entire strength. It's amazing what an upright laptop, strong wrists, and perseverance can do.
Fucker.
I'm pretty sure the small Asian lady in front of me will only be comfortable if her seat is pushed back into our departure port of Toronto.
Okay, that's not fair. I have no idea if she is Asian.
But I do know she is one of those assholes with no concern for others' personal space.
If I ever become the I-fully-recline-my-seat-and-don't-give-a-flying-fuck types promise me that you will shoot me or send a computer virus to me stat to smack some sense into me. Anyway, have I mentioned how much I fucking HATE flying?
My wrists are sore from sitting in crouching-passenger-hidden-carpal-tunnel form, to keep her from crushing my laptop. It's the only force from stopping me from full on claustrophobia.
The next post will let you know how much fun the transition was from friendly (not really) Pearson Airport into that shifty, terrifying area known as U.S. Customs.
*I should preface the next post with a disclaimer that I am the hugest wuss ever, especially when travelling. Like, 5 year old mentality and calm, cool, collected-ness. (Read: none).
Yes, in the end I checked, she was a 4'-0" tall Asian lady. Who apparently feels like that little car that FEELS really big inside.
I am writing to you in the most upright position I have been in, in 13 hours. I have severe stomach pain and all kinds of other GI and feverish symptoms... not sure if it is a flu bug, or if death is upon me.
(It could really go either way at this point).
Here's a post for y'all:
Things that I suck at:
- Not obsessing over things
- Travelling
- Going through airport security. No, really.
- Sports in general
- Cleaning the house
- Boggle, as of late
Things that I kick ass at:
- Finding a good deal, even if I drive myself crazy doing so
- Finding a wedding dress for a good price (which is really just repetition of point #1)
Okay..
Um.
Things that I suck at:
- Compiling lists of things that I kick ass at, that do not involve finding good deals
- Assessing my true self worth
- Finding non-food-poisoning-inducing restaurants to eat at
- Avoiding wheat and the subsequent discomfort/nausea/bloating/pain
- Avoiding sugar
Ooooh, so actually...
Things that I kick ass at:
- Eating forbidden and detrimental foods such as wheat
- Eating sugar (in any, and all, available forms)
- Eating
- Stress eating
- Drinking
- Drinking alcohol
Which reminds me....
Things that I suck at:
- Recovering from drinking in general
- Recovering from a hangover
- Recovering from an injury
- Recovery
- Keeping track of my boarding pass and passport at any given time while inside an airport
- Being patient with assholes who recline their seats fully while on an airplane. (p.s., if you do it, you are an asshole too. Sorry, I love you. But really. Really??)
Things that I kick ass at:
- Using the elipsis
- Over-using commas everywhere, all the time, inappropriately and incorrectly (and loving every minute of it)
- Critiquing Feyoncé's haircuts
- Occupying myself while on an airplane (fucking terrible... thank goodness for my laptop. I thought we were almost there and realized there was still 2.5 hours to go. Who does that? Really? Seriously? Way to go, Me.)
Things that I suck at:
- Sticking to exercising regiments
- Timing eating so I don't throw up/feel like I am going to throw up and/or pass out while exercising
- Going to bed early
- Getting up early
- Picking a great/good/mediocre/watch-able movie, with any company, at any point in time.
