Top 10 Things I Can Stop Worrying About, Post-Wedding

Besides the crippling anxiety, endless list of to do's, and second-guessing every decision ever made, here is a list of the Top 10 Things I Can Stop Worrying About, now that the wedding is over:

1. Backne/clogged pores anywhere/not showering fast enough after hot yoga, thereby compromising my ability to stay clogged-pore-free as my body mutates to destroy my complexion.
2. Moisturizing the SHIT out of my face.
3. Doing hot yoga to the point of so-exhausted-I-can-barely-turn-the-car-key-in-the-ignition-and-will-be-too-exhausted-to-shower-when-I-get-home. (See #1).
4. Tooth whitening. All that damn tooth whitening.
5. The weather. (It turned out to be a gorgeous, hot, sunny day. The New Husband's luck is wearing off on me! Wooot Woooot!)
6. Vomiting during the ceremony/photos/reception (no, seriously, I have major nausea issues all the time, non-pregnancy related).
7. Registering for stuff without feedback from The New Husband. (I should have recognized back then that the only two items he really cared about were the toaster and the luggage. Who knew. Well... I guess he did. Suppose I should have asked him....)
8. If the seamstress was going to f_ck up my dress alterations again, and ruin the only lace I had to be sewn on the front of the dress.
9. When to write my speech and what to say. Since I left it until 3:30am the morning of the wedding, now I just get to regret all that I forgot to include and wish I could say so much more to The New Husband. Well played, Stephanie. Well played.
10. Worrying if I would sound like a drunken sailor, when I surprised The New Husband by singing to him. Did I? Doesn't matter now, too late, it's been done. (James Morrison would possibly be rolling in his grave, you know, if he were dead).

LAaaaaaaaaaaaaa la laaaaaaaaaaaa laaaa la la...



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My Message To The World, via Cee Lo

NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK OR IN FRONT OF KIDS.

Well, I suppose it is fine for kids that have gutter mouths.

This pretty much sums up how I feel right now, for a multitude of reason. I'm lookin' at you Air Canada, Sri Lankan Air, Hotels.com, and Lufthansa.



SO CHIPPER, yet so bitter.

Like November.

Happy Tuesday, Y'all.


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Black Friday In Canada...

Figured you all needed a break from my honeymoon travel exploits.

Just wanted to share with my American readers the kind of shit we get for Black Friday in Canada. The sales here are just mind boggling.

You can get an iPad2 in the U.S. for $12.78 if you are first in line, cut a bitch, and stalk the store like a maniac.

Here in chilly Canada, we just sit back at our computers and await our wicked tech deals from stores like Futureshop.ca at the stroke of midnight (or 4am if you awake due to horrific nightmares and decide that a glass of cranberry juice and some internet surfing will make it all better, like me).


 I found this, early this morning. Instead of sleeping, I started searching the live sales.

Try to control your jealousy:

Sweet.Ass.Deal

The best part?

The damn thing was sold out!! For real.

*sigh*


Back to more honeymoon chaos in the next post...


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Honeymoon Travel From Hell - Part 2

Continued from Part One...


So, we arrived at Pearson airport with just enough time for me to find the parking lot washroom. Thank the gods that we got a spot so close or the honeymoon would have started out really shitty. I mean... like, REALLY SHITTY.

We ran through the airport trying to find our check in location. The New Husband had Air Canada "Elite" status, which allowed us into the slightly faster line-up, but behind other "Elite" people. Then, if a "Super Elite" person comes along, they jump the entire line. And they kept coming.

I couldn't hold back the silent tears any more and started to sob in the airport, against my better judgement.

The guy in front of us asked if we were in a hurry, and he let us pass. Thank you Nice Guy.

We then spent another 15-20 minutes trying to check in at the desk, unsure if we were really ON the flight or on stand-by... The Toronto Air Canada employee knew something was amiss in our file, but said we would have to sort it out once we arrived in London.

She somehow cancelled something and then had to place us BACK on the outbound flight. A very stressful 5 minute period of potentially losing seats to other people with higher status on stand-by. (She could have saved us SO MUCH HEADACHE, had she just told us that our new flights didn't connect, but she evidently couldn't be bothered  to take the time to help us...)

We made it through security, with tears streaming down my face (probably looking guilty of something, simply because my anxiety level was so high).

We cleared security and ran towards the gate.

But, we stopped in briefly to the Air Canada Lounge (The New Husband always has access with his Air Canada Elite status), to see if THOSE employees could tell us what our ticket showed, if we still had connecting flights, and what flight we were booked on for the way home, in case that was changed and no one bothered to tell us.

The employees at the desk all made strange faces and pointed to the monitor (that we couldn't see), yet wouldn't take a minute to tell us that part of our flight HAD INDEED been cancelled, and that our connecting flights were scheduled in such a way that they NEVER F_CKING connected.

Thanks Air Canada.

The guy's advice at the desk? "Just try checking in online for your Sri Lankan air flights" with a smirk.

The New Husband tried quickly in the business centre there, but alas, our reservation was not found.

Just fan-f_cking-tastic.

At least we were on the flight to London, right? Yes, that part was good.
Before boarding, I called my mom in tears, not sure if we had connecting flights once we arrived in London.

Extra-super-awesome bonus? Because we were slapped onto this flight last minute, I was screwed for my special meal requirements, AKA, I had nothing to eat. The Air Canada flight attendant said, and I quote:

"I can't afford to just give you it, but you can buy the bean salad I brought with me."

Ummm. No thanks. (I also wondered if she accepted a credit card swipe down her butt for said salad... or if she knew my mom's old saying to "never take bean salad from a stranger??!?").

And longer flights like these don't offer food for sale, so I was royally screwed. And not in the fun honeymoon kind of way. Screwed, stressed and hungry.

So off we went in the skies, not knowing what would await us at Heathrow Airport...



More to follow...

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Honeymoon SNAFU FUBAR Travel From Hell

In April, I purchased two tickets for a round trip from YYZ (Toronto, ON) to Male, Maldives (MLE) for our honeymoon in October.

The first leg of the flight was scheduled on Lufthansa (LH5337) which was a codeshare actually operated by Air Canada (AC858).

The round trip flight booked was:

• YYZ to London LHR on Tuesday (LH5337 / AC858) Departing 11:20pm, arriving Wednesday morning.
• LHR to Colombo, Sri Lanka CMB on Wednesday (UL512) Departing 6:15pm & Arriving 9:30am Thursday.
• CMB to Male, Maldives Thursday (UL509) Departing 11:20am & Arriving 12:15pm Thursday.
• Seaplane transfer by Maldivian Air Taxi on Thursday afternoon (departing no later than 4:30pm due to daylight/safety reasons).

I called Air Canada in mid-July to confirm that there were no issues with our booking, and everything was confirmed.

On the day of departure, The New Husband checked the online status of AC858, which showed it was delayed. No biggie.

We went about our errands, picked up some wedding gift stuff from the Bay, and made dinner. We knew my parents were coming to take us to the airport for around 8:30pm.

Around 5:00pm, as we started to scarf down dinner, The New Husband re-checked the flight.

He got this strange look on his face, and said the following words:

"I think we might be f_cked."

Please note, he hardly EVER swears, and he knows I go from "my normal" to
ohmygodfreakingoutpanic13onascaleof1to10
in about 5 seconds, so I knew this was, to quote a sheep, "baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"d.

The flight disappeared, and he asked me to get on the horn with Lufthansa, while he called Air Canada on his cell.

We needed to find out what the f_ck had happened, because the airport stops flying out at a certain time, and if we lost a day and had to catch the same flight the next night, not only would it screw up all our connecting flights, BUT, there was an impending Air Canada flight attendant strike set to begin 40 minutes after the departure time the next night.

If that flight was even 40 minutes late, we could potentially be ROYALLY F_CKED and lose our entire honeymoon.

Lufthansa said they had no idea why the flight was cancelled, and to call Air Canada. Thanks, Lufthansa. Not sure how to say "screw you" in German, but wish I could.

Air Canada had a MAJORhuge call wait time (due to their impending flight attendant strike). The Air Canada employee couldn't figure out why AC858 had seemingly disappeared. (Hmm, I wondered, had they accidentally crossed into the Bermuda triangle?... Oh who am I kidding... I was so upset at that point I was in no position to be joking and/or have a sense of humour and/or maintain control of my bowels and/or... you get the idea. I was barely holding back tears as I started to thrash about the closet in desperate search of a bathing suit.)

The Air Canada employee eventually discovered that AC858 had been removed from the schedule some time ago for that day. However, we were never informed of this and never booked on another Air Canada flight to London.

Ours was to be the last flight of the day, so we couldn't get a later flight, as taking a flight the next day would mean missing our UL512 connection. The only option was to get on AC848,
which left at 8:40pm.

At this point, after the clusterf_ck of all things Lufthansa and Air Canada, and waiting on hold,
it was about 6:00pm.

Now... factor in:
- Packing
- Driving to the airport (no time for my parents to get to our house in time, obviously)
- Finding parking
- Getting through Pearson airport security (which had intentionally "slowed down", I believe, to show support to the impending Air Canada flight attendant strike.)

Cue:
- Stephanie's tears
- Stephanie's irritable bowels
- Oh, shit... um... packing a suitcase in 15 minutes or less. (Good luck with that)

We had not packed yet, and had a 40 minute drive to the airport ahead of us, basically giving 15 minutes to pack for our honeymoon in order to get to the airport in time.

And so our honeymoon began... and this was only the beginning.

It.Got.Worse.

57.5 hours worse.



To Be Continued...



*SNAFU = situation normal all fucked up.
*FUBAR = fucked up beyond all recognition.

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I Just Ironically Ripped Off Content Unrelated

So...



Yeah.

I just ironically ripped off Jeff at Content Unrelated with COMPLETELY RELATED (read: near identical, odd) CONTENT.

Back Story:
I have been less active because my computer crashed on me after some updates, and I have been maniacally trying to save my data from the dead computer.

I`ve been using the New Husband`s Molasses 1.0 speed computer to keep getting my hits of internet (so as not to go into complete shock from withdrawal).

Anyway, I found that stupid picture below of my melted chocolate bar (from JUNE) when I was recovering data, and forgot about how much I wanted to bitch about it... so I did.

NOW:
I went over to Content Unrelated tonight to read his most recent post about contaminated lolly pops. Then read his older post below... about chocolate... with bubbles... and what a rip off it is (or brilliant marketing??).

Seriously? I mean who thinks of that at the same fucking time and blogs about it?
Really? And then I write a post?

How often does that happen?
If I were Jeff, I would think I was a lying bitch (with a much less witty post). Damn you once again, Aero bar.

I did this once before with Inspiration strikes. In the Kneecaps... a related post only discovered after I had posted my own. It may have been Tragically Hip related, I can`t remember. (Oh don`t judge... I also can`t remember my sister`s birthday or my middle name).

What a douche.

Me, I mean.

Who does that? Seriously?

Also? My stupid apostrophies are not working correctly, and I have to copy and paste my question marks. I also think I pluralized that incorrectly. I think I should just give this shit up all together.


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Aero is BULLSHIZZ!

I had the recent pleasure of buying a... wait for it... KING-SIZED Aero chocolate bar (you know, "candy bar" for my American friends).

I then had the displeasure of having said Aero chocolate bar melt in my car.

Not to be deterred by a little melty-ness, I tried to open the package, but the high quality  pure milk chocolate    pure chocolate   chocolate-like-chocolate   modified milk ingredients had deteriorated into a tube of liquid poo-like contents, reminiscent of the soggy-poop-yard-waste-clean-up of days past.

So I refrigerated that shit as fast as I could, planning to  healthfully  obviously eat the "chocolate" bar for dinner.

Once solidified, I intended to eat it as fast as I could, with no witnesses, so the calories wouldn't count as much. (That's how it works, right?)

Fresh out of the fridge, utter disappointment = half a chocolate bar.

Anyway, Aero is bullshit. There's a reason there are air bubbles inside. Check the grams (or ounces) on the bar, peoples! You are eating AIR!

You pay the same as you do for other types of bars, but you're a sucker because you're paying for nothingness!!

Once it melts you are left with half a freakin' chocolate bar. All air and little chocolate bar makes Stephanie a dull boy. No wait. REDRUM, REDRUM, REDRUM.

Oh, forget it.



At least it explains all that flatulence....


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An Open Letter To Canadian Tire:

Dear Canadian Tire,

I realize that you are a Canadian company. Based on my 30+ years of experience in Ontario, my frequent trips to your rubber-scented store with my father over the years, and the implications of your name, I assumed that you would be a wise choice for me to purchase tires from.

I was wrong.

I am not quite sure how a store named CANADIAN mothereffing TIRE could suck so damn much at the entire process of selecting, purchasing, receiving and installing tires, explaining warranty, and recording info like my odometer reading.

My personal experience was PAINFUL when purchasing tires at Canadian Tire. I called to ask what the best option would be for my wee car. I had it narrowed to 3 choices (What?! The New Husband refused me to research this shit for weeks on end like I normally do, so I had to act fast), all of which your tire rep insisted were "fine tah-ers".

Could he comment on the all season-ness? No. Would any be better in wet conditions? Not sure.

Okay, fine, I'll take the Michelins.

You have 4 in the store? Perfect, can you please hold them and I'll bring my car in?

No, you won't hold them? Ok. What if I give you my credit card info? No?
Can I just come into the store now? No? Because you are busy?
WTF?

So I called back later to schedule an appointment. The new gent explained that the system wasn't working right and that he didn't know what to do, but I "could just come in when we open tomorrow first thing, and if you get here first you hopefully shouldn't have a problem".

Reassuring.

Gee, sounds swell. I really hope I can get up early, head to your shop, HOPE you have the 4 tires I want, and ASSUME you will install them then for me.

Screw it. If in-store wasn't reliable, I'd order online.

Despite the name, they suck when it comes to tire purchases.

Dear God. If any store has ABSOLUTELY no communication between online tire transactions and the store, Canadian Tire takes the prize when ordering tires online.

Be advised, dear Canadian Tire customer, that your online confirmation is NOT a receipt, but that you will get a receipt in store. HOWEVER, once you get to the store, the store will tell you there is no record of purchase and no receipt to give you, because "you didn't buy the tires from us. You bought them online."

Uhh... but...?

Canadian Tire online emailed me at least three times to tell me to CALL MY MOTHEREFFING SELECTED STORE to schedule my installation.

Said local store had no record of my tires.
For days.
And days.
And a few more days, while assuring they would call me once my tires were delivered to the store.

They did not call. Ever.

Online emailed me AGAIN.

So, dear Canadian Tire customer, after you walk in to the store with your online confirmation and wait 15 minutes for them to locate the tires that they do, in fact, have in store with your name on...

- You will get to hear the guys at the desk takes bets on what one employee decides to "sell" someone that day (Niiiiiice).
- You will be temporarily talked into an additional $7/tire warranty to replace your tire because (and I quote) "the included warranty isn't really a warranty and you're screwed if damage happens near your sidewall."
- Your husband will tell you the extra warranty is bullshit and you will save yourself $60.
- You will have to call the store 3 more times, and make another return trip because they have 'accidentally' recorded your odometer reading 8,000 km LOWER than your odometer reading, which impacts your not-very-comprehensive "comprehensive" warranty. (Be sure they correct this in their system with a new work order, even if they protest, tell you there is nothing they can do if you've already "cashed out", and offer to correct it in pen, in their own hand writing).

- Don't give them the business or the satisfaction of forcing you into an overpriced alignment "check" for $50, or an alignment for $90. Take your shit elsewhere. It will NOT void your warranty if you don't get it done then and there. I'm going to get it done at Active Green & Ross.

Even your main customer service line wouldn't confirm if not getting an alignment would void my warranty.

In truth, it would seem that uneven wear due to misalignment is not covered in your warranty, but by the sounds of it, not much is covered in your warranty... so... as a Canadian Tire customer, why would you want to spend another $100 at Crappy Tire?

Anyway Canadian Tire, if you are truly looking to get back to being a leader in tire sales once more, you have a hell of a lot of work to do. PATHETIC, after spending nearly $1,000 in goods and services, along with much too long on the phone and in store.

Apathetically furiously yours,
Stephanie

p.s. The more I hear that damn whistle on your commercials, the more rage-y I get. Just sayin'.

p.p.s. I look forward to your cease and desist letter.

[Edit:] p.p.p.s. Yandie had it right... I forgot that my father has referred to your company as Crappy Tire for as long as I can remember. How... relevant.
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I Am Mutant... Hear Me Roar!

Or rather, smell me coming.

What? Huh?

I am mutant. I believe this for many reasons, one of which I will share with you here.

I don't have extra toes, extra nipples, or extra Halloween candy stored above the stove which I dip into every morning before breakfast. (One of those may be a lie).

I don't turn green when I become enraged, although lately I have been very ragey/stabby, but I just mostly get sad. It's like the SADDEST Hulk-A-Stephanie you ever did see.

But I digress.

No, my mutant-status has been achieved through one thing: My Armpits. (Okay, fine, TWO THINGS, shaddap).

I have discovered that typically before I get to the end of my deodorant of choice, my armpits and sweat gland-y system have adapted and mutated to no longer respond to the anti-perspirant properties.

It's like how upper respiratory infections spread through animal shelters because the infection mutates faster than the antibiotics/antibodies. But with less cats and slightly less mucous.

If I am ever so lucky as to have SUCCESS WITH A DEODORANT! for a full container's worth, I swear-to-mother-effing-Jebus that it is, without a doubt, unquestionably and mysteriously a  flavour  smell  blend  perfume-y.thing  formulation that has been DISCONTINUED by the manufacturer.

With less enthusiasm & facial hair, but definitely more muffin top.  Via

It's like my pits and Secret are out to get me. Orange jasmine? Check. Baby powder coconut caffeine? Check. Ylang ylang lavender concrete rose blossom? Tea tree antibiotic lemon zest candy cane-infused menthol? Check. Every fucking time.

I go to Walmart, Shopper's Drug Mart, the grocery store. NOTHING. I ask the clerks who give me a side glance and tell me to keep moving, that they never carried the deodorant in the first place.

Swear.To.Gahd.

Anyway, I have officially run out of new brands to try, so if you know me offline, you've been given fair warning.

Married and smelly.

That is all...


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How To Turn Your Neighbours On While Raking Leaves

It's a sunny November morning.

You're feeling feisty, and looking for trouble.

What now?

Sexy leaf raking.

Directions:

STEP 1: Go braless. It's 1:00pm on a Saturday, so it's not like you would have a bra on anyway.

STEP 2: Always, ALWAYS be sure to be sporting black socks. As you put on your white dollar-store flip flops.

STEP 3: Pants! Don't forget pants. You don't want to get arrested or anything crazy. My recommendation? A nice, faded navy blue pair of men's Scooby-Doo branded pajama pants. Only you will know that a peep through the men's button crotch holds a Sultry leaf-raking Saturday surprise.

Scooby caught a glimpse. Didn't think he was the pervy type.

STEP 4: Cover yourself up with a dirty burgundy hoody. Great Dane drool on the sleeves is optional. (Depends if you can rock it or not, and only you, dear friend, can make that call).

STEP 5: Grunt. A lot. I really mean A LOT.

STEP 6: Wheeze a bit, and brace yourself on your Scooby-covered knees.

STEP 7: Play with your messy, bedraggled hair. Belch if you so desire.

                   Almost done.

STEP 8: Get out the rake and begin raking. Quit part way through to come inside and eat Halloween candy that you never handed out to the neighbourhood kids.

Grr, Baby. Grr.

DONE.

Also?

You're welcome. Just wait for the date requests and restraining orders to start rollin' on in.


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Throw Cushions... What The Hell?

If you have:

A) Kids
B) Pets
C) A Lazy Streak
D) Inability to redo the same futile thing over and over and over

Then please meet  my  your nemesis.

Throw cushions.

Dear readers, you know what I am talking about. Those decorative little square pillow things that only EVER get placed on your sometimes-made-bed when you think there is a chance your house will be toured, or some Nosy Nelly might open your bathroom en-suite door and get a full view of your bedroom.

You know, the sometimes bedazzled, sometimes fuzzy, sometimes glitter/sequin covered pillows that just SCREAM "chew the shit outta me!" to your dogs/cats/mousal uprising (for you, gotjack28!).

Because every home needs more shit like this.

I hate those things. They can't be washed. They get in the way when you want to snuggle with your significant other. (Unless your significant other happens to BE said pillow, in which case, that null and voids the last comment).

They are so... I don't know... grown up? And you have to have a certain level of sophistication to match them to your stuff.

My house is pretty much a mish mash of college-dorm-meets-furnish-the-house-quickly-and-nicely. The nicely part was contributed to by The New Husband. The rest of the shit is just mine.

But I have no time for cushions. I need to blog. And dilly dally.

Dilly dallying = no time for throw cushions.

Our new bed-in-a-bag set came with throw cushions. They've been placed on the bed twice, methinks.

It's true.

Throw cushions are for suckers!

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Christmas Now? No. Just... No.

So...

I was shopping for teddy bears as wedding gifts at the start of October, and damned if the next aisle over wasn't Christmas wrapping paper and decorations.

Just... no.

I'm pretty sure that Christmas is relegated to December. De-mother-effing-cember. That means the stores are allowing 20% of the year to be Christmas. Just... no.

There were Christmas commercials on at the local drug store today. And, in fact, I heard some in a department store on the weekend. It was October. Halloween hadn't even happened yet.

Another piss off - why are so many Halloween costumes just a pretense to dress provocatively? Seriously? There is so much T & A, it's hard to compete!

Admittedly, Christmas is not my favourite holiday, for a multitude of reasons. But I STILL think that shit is overkill (the music and decorations, not the costume).

Where's the specialness of Christmas carols when it's drilled into your head for TWO to THREE ENTIRE MONTHS before the actual day? For that reason alone, I don't think I could survive a career in retail, unless I was stocking shelves and allowed to wear an MP3 player.

Just... damn. No.

Let there be snow! Let it be closer to the holidays, when it will feel special! Don't buy into the commercialism bullshit. There is no perfect gift, the kids will always want more, and your Dad will NEVER give you gift ideas, but will instead buy car parts before Christmas, thereby allowing you to contribute to the car fund, less inundate him with even MORE Swiss Chalet restaurant gift cards.

But I digress.

via

Let Christmas start in December. Hell, December 10th. (The new Husband stated that date, and I like it.)

All this early holiday aural/visual assault just jades me more and turns my lip  farther  up in a sneer.

Bah Humbug.

I think I am in love with Mark Lawrence, of the UK. He's my hero. This is his brilliance.  Check out his website here.

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