Another Sexy Picture Of Me

It's okay, you can thank me after you change your undershorts.


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Unfortunately, you can't see the googly eye action in this still, but you can see my mischevious smile. Sorta.

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

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The Sexiest Bride Ever (Dinosaurs Not Included)

Always known for hideous posture that I like to call "the Raptor/T-Rex pose"... I invite you to feast your eyes upon the sexiest bride you've ever met.



I mean one sexy bridal b*tch.




ME.





This one's for my sister and for Paula.





Can you say SEX-AY???

Hott stuff. Or is that Hot Pockets? Shit, I don't know.  (Photo credit: The awesomely talented and wonderful K. J. - email me for her contact info unless you are creepy... I have to protect my family's innocence, hence my vagueness)

I thought so.

See?

Uncanny, isn't it? In all fairness, Rex's teeth are whiter.

[EDIT] 

Rather:

There we go. Apples to apples.

[2nd EDIT]

Forgot the shoes & flowers!:

Perfection!

;)

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Another Gay Teen Suicide - RMR

Couldn't say it any better than Rick Mercer.




So sad.

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You Know Your Dogs Are On Edge When...

1. You fart and they fly to the front door, barking their heads off.

2. You fart once more and they resume their determined defense against the flatulence-producing-danger within their hearing range.

3. A lady yells at her 15-year-old daughter on Party Mamas for inviting too many people to her quinceanera, and the dogs unleash their (shared?) fury on the front door in my house.

I can only imagine what my not-yet-conceived children are going to be like.

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Well now it *MUST* be official...

Just changed my status from engaged to married on Facebook, so now it HAS to be legitimate.

Right?

Quite sure this is more legal than that napkin we both signed...

You know your honeymoon must have started out well when the top of your "to-do" list when you arrive home includes writing six detailed complaint letters to the various travel-related companies that effed up royally.

And you can be sure I will post their replies here, when and if I get replies.

Just for the record? Lufthansa airlines believes it is perfectly acceptable to spend 80+ hours (you know, a short 4 days) to get to a destination that should take 25 hours, tops. And not tell you that they've changed the schedule accordingly.

Seriously, it's hard to pronounce. Don't judge me.

***DO YOU GALS/GUYS WANT A RUN DOWN OF THE TRAVEL FUN, or is that shizz boring?*** (I might write about it anyway, to rant.)

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That Last Post Was About Travel...

Just to clarify; the wedding speeches were awesome. Every single thing that everyone said evoked a laugh or a tear.

My friend, M, started her speech with that "box of chocolates" line, and she did a super-duper-uber-awesome-fantastic job.


I literally posted that last blog entry around the 45-hour mark of our 57 hour journey to get to our honeymoon destination. All international flights were cancelled or changed without our knowing. The airlines screwed us. The travel agency screwed us. Hotels.ca and hotels.com screwed us. Sri Lankan airways totally screwed us, all with a smile on their faces. Luggage was ruined.

Deodorant was forgotten.

Thank goodness for the only 4 uncomfortable hours of sleep in the Yotel single bed pod in London Heathrow airport, or we might have torn each other's head's off.

The Former Feyoncé™ happened to notice something was amiss around 5pm (we were supposed to leave around 11pm). Turns out our flight was gone.

Long story short, we had 10 minutes to pack.
For our honeymoon.
That we didn't pre-pack for.

While freaking out with the phone on speaker-phone mode while the guy at Air Canada tried to confirm whether or not we could even fly out... with an impending flight attendant strike looming that could further screw us if we were to leave a day later.

And had to get our asses to the airport right.then.

Not that I stress out much or anything. (Please note extreme sarcasm font).

We made it.

57.mother-effing.hours.later.

And we are still married, so that says somethin'.


More to come....


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Life is like a box of chocolates...

You seriously, REALLY, and I mean SERIOUSLY never know what you're going to get.

A friend of mine began her speech at the wedding with this line (which was awesome), but I tell ya.

Plan in advance. Double check, triple check, and have someone else do the same, and ultimately you may still end up with a tie-dyed pair of jeans, a crown made of twine and rabbit poop, and potato chips flavoured like "prawn cocktail" (that last one is real).

Anywho, I promise to post more narcissistic wedding photos shortly. Because you all care. I am sure of it.

Anyway, you never know what you're gonna get....


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Best.Comforter.EVAAAAR.

At least they think so:

And we foolishly wasted money on a new dog bed for him....

Gotta love it.

I think organza and lace suits Schultz. Ella would look stunning in those pearls.


Happy Canadian Thanksgiving everyone!! I`ve got lots to be thankful for obviously!

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Poop.

That is all.


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My Dog Is An Alcoholic

So, our Dane has post traumatic stress disorder from his horrific treatment before he came to us (No! Wait! The post gets funny, don't click away, I swear this is great).

So after many failed training attempts because of his fear and triggers, the vet agreed that a temporary medication could be helpful in minimizing his fear, while letting him learn with our new C.E.T. dog trainer.

We did it. (Go ahead, I'll wait while you judge me. S'ok.)

Yes, my dog is being treated for anxiety. He has clearly spent too much time around me.

We are now discovering that this is seriously going to curb Schultz' (not Schiltz) hard partying ways, and his weekend social pub crawls. Take a closer look:

Good thing they warned us!!!

Sorry my little (huge) furry buddy, looks like mommy won't be making you any more martinis any time soon.

It's for the best.

Damn, this tough love is so hard.

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He's a Simple Dog...

I just don't have the heart to tell him that he's lying on the PUPPY'S bed, which is approximately half the width, length and thickness of his dog bed.

Um, Schultzy? You're lying on... oh... never mind...

Oh well, I guess he seems comfortable. And in all fairness, they LOOK the same, not that he can see the colour.


Oh... it appears that this isn't his first confused experience:

Your legs are kind of.... oh, forget it.

He seemed to prefer my parents' dog's bed when they were dogsitting before.
(Also note the creative use of headboards and wooden furniture, acting as barricades to prevent his Great Dane butt from overtaking their lovely sofas).

*SIGH*


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