I Slayed The Butterfinger!

Oh yeah. Corn, dairy, gluten, wheat, and nuts be damned.

Nobody better lay a finger on my Butterfinger(s).

I tried one of these when was in the U.S.A. many years ago in my youth, (because who could resist Bart Simpson's marketing tactics? And skateboard?) and I fell in love. Hard. Not with him, with the mighty Butterfinger.

Well, I learned last year that my deeply detested, self-loathing-inducer beloved Walmart carries these bad boys in "mini" size at Halloween. Oooooooh Baby. I bought three bags. (Okay, and one bag BEFORE Halloween).

Aaaaah Butterfinger........ *shudder*

Okay, side note, I totally googled "orgasm face" and found this picture immediately. This girl LOOKS like me, appears to have a mark where a nose ring would be (where mine USED to be) and has similar ear piercings in the same spots (but my third lower one is now defunct). If I didn't know any better, I would seriously think this was me. But it is not. Seriously, really, seriously. I even have two yellow towels like that. Day-um.

That also reminds me - I found this naked-artsy picture once and told a friend it was me. It LOOKS like it could have been me. But again, it is not. If I find it, I will post it for you. Because I am sure that would interest you. You pervs.

The partial aftermath (this was bag #2 remnants). (No, this is not the artsy nude photo in my likeness. Though I see how you might confuse a that and a pretty pink trash bag).

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I force fed BF perhaps 10 at best. I gave my dad one at a hockey game. I also gave my niece one. I bought three bags of 30 count. That means that approximately 78 of these bastards are making their way (albeit painfully) through my digestive tract, with a direct endgoal of my ass/saddlebaggage.

Stupid lack of self-control + 50% off candy + Bart Simpson + Mmmmmmm chocolate.

I am finally (supposedly) going back to blond(er) tomorrow. Wish me luck because we all know how well salon and spa experiences tend to work out for me.

I hope these babies don't decide to revolt or make some sort of statement while I am sitting in a salon chair with crazy ass foils all over the place at the mall. (Why ARE mall bathrooms always so far away, no matter where you are in the mall??!)

I digress. And by digress I mean "publish, go to bed, and don't look back."



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Hey Everyone! Halloween Sucked.

How's it going? Did you miss me? No? Okay.


So I kind of exposed myself in my last post. I hoped it would be a bit freeing. I think it was.
A Director from Ryerson's School of Journalism asked me if I would be interviewed regarding the IT GETS BETTER content. I was immensely flattered and really wish I could have contributed, but they wanted to interview me the next day in Toronto.


Anyway, whenever I get the chance to defend something like this, or speak up for the "little guy" I am all over it, so I would have loved to have done it if the timing worked out better.

So, I've felt immensely uncreative lately and have been putting more hours in at work, leaving me really tired and kind of comatose afterwards (well, along with the nausea and all THAT bizznazz).

I thought I would share about how I felt like an utter douchebag at a Halloween party I recently attended. Last year I went all out (the day AFTER Halloween, people, I'm no fool, I buy my shit on sale).

My devilish items included:

• Sub-par polyester red she-devil dress that wasn't revealing
• Black pantyhose with red and gold flames up the side
• Red elbow-length lace-up vinyl gloves (WHAT?!? Every devil has them!)
• A red polyester tail
• A headband with red "devil horns" (or potentially red cat ears, if you were a red cat)
• A full-on, real deal, red wig complete with affixed rubber devil horns
• Crayon make-up to complete the crazy-ass devil look (I was clearly not going for sexy).

So this year I was determined to dress up and not mope around the house (BF was away and hates Halloween anyway). Last I had dressed up was about 5 years ago as an (unsexy) cop. Like with pants. (It was a guy's costume).

So I got dressed up. I even googled YouTube she-devil make-up videos.
(I owned few of the colours and even less of the application knowledge).
I attempted my make-up, and my friend told me I looked like a man trying to look like a woman.

*DEFLATED*

I forged ahead. My company to the party's outfits consisted of:

• Flattering tank top, tight-fitting spandex pants, and accessories to complete the costume
• Flattering tank top, tight-fitting spandex pants, and two accessories to complete her costume
• Dude wore jeans, a plaid shirt, and a hat (promptly removed) as a lumberjack? Hunter? There may have been a tree branch involved.

Okay, no biggie, they went for simplicity. I felt over the top and a little obvious/EXTREMELY RED/dude-like and self-conscious. But alas, not to worry, we were going to a FREAKIN' COSTUME PARTY! Surely I would blend in, in all my hideous red glory? I mean, IT IS HALLOWEEN! You get to basically hide behind a costume, pretend to be something else, that means my day HAD to get better, right?

Wrong.

Hostess greeted us. She was tiny and cute and wearing a short green satin dress with angel? bug? fairy? wings. There was a group photo, but I teeter in my heels, I appear to weigh approximately 150 lbs. more than my companions, and the red is blinding.

Click to make larger. Not that you need to see me any larger.... but, ya know, to read the text.

Well, how about the others? The host? He was dressed as a warrior-type dude like in that 300 movie. He did say something not complimentary about my outfit. In front of everyone. I then felt like a douche to the power of 3.

I was then critiqued and insulted at least three more times (before the wine caused memory-retention issues).

Other costumes included:

• Sexy cop in short dress and fishnet stockings
• Sexy duck in short dress with feathery edge and visor-like-head-beak accessory
• Second sexy cop in short dress
• Duck hunter dude (also in jeans, a plaid shirt and a hat. Also some pond-like plant-life accessory)
• Sexy navy girl? in short dress
• Male thief (in form fitting clothing)
• Glen Quagmire from Family Guy (awesome when mask was affixed, indeed)
• Bob Barker (in a more form fitting suit than my own)
• Other things much more flattering, form-fitting, and attractive than a larger-than-life she devil (ME).

I removed the wig. I was told my shoes did not match my outfit (I don't own red shoes, and really didn't need more red anyway). I drank. Then drank a little more.

I met a lovely girl who was dressed as an electrical outlet. She was the only person there who was wearing something less form fitting than I. I think the host's sister arrived at some point in paper bags (paper bag princess?) but I was really unwell by then so I can't say for sure (and we all know this blog is, if nothing else, HONEST AT ALL TIMES... *snicker*).

In order to maintain anonymity, electrical outfit girl was super sweet and friendly and I hope to chat with her again.... when I am not flaming red and consuming wine on an empty stomach.

SO.... in order to remain cool, remain calm, not feel like a dork-face in a room full of strangers without BF, I did what any level-headed, mature 30 year old woman would do.

I've borrowed these wicked illustrations by Pierre A Lamielle (waiting for his reply if it's cool, if it isn't, I will remove it) from his awesome blog here: http://kitchenscraps.ca/

I drank wine when already feeling ill. Felt more ill. HAD TO LAY DOWN IN SOMEONE's BEDROOM at the house, may have visited the porcelain king a time or two, then got in the car to go home.

Approximation (add more red in your head).

This is why I need THE MOTHER or BF to supervise me at all times. Even when shopping. We implement that daycare rope thing, just so I don't get lost/lose my shit/get abducted.

See? I'm safe this way!   Image Credit (except for my head, I did that)

So yeah, fantastic.

Also? I didn't learn learned from this mistake and bought a pirate wench/gypsy rose costume on Nov. 1 at 50% off. I plan on getting some fishnet stockings and thigh high boots and feeling moderately nasty and attractive next year (if I actually decide to go somewhere). With a push-up bra and a hope, I might pass as decent-looking.

I was   this.close  to getting the sexy, short, Wonder Woman costume, but it was size small and I assume this horrendous health stuff will be at least a little bit better by next year and I will have gained weight back to healthy for me (A.K.A. not gonna fit a small). Either that, or I'll be dead.  AIM HIGH!!!! Pin It Now!

Happy 6 Years

No, no, not six years of blogging. If I had 40 followers after 6 years I would cry.

Oh, who am I kidding, these days I would cry over spilled non-dairy milk, or a video about a service dog that a friend posted on FB that was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once... that also reminded me of how much I miss my Scooby. Hell, a strong wind in the eye could bring on the waterworks.

But no, this post is a shout out to BF. He's not here with me now, but I wanted to send him all my love over the interwebs and share it with my many strangers new online friends.

I blog about the everyday things in my life, the fails, the happies, the sads, the expletive-rage-filled moments. But at the end of the day, I wouldn't be able to deal with any of it in the poor fashion that I do without his love and support.

Since I need to maintain his dignity respect his privacy, I won't go on too much about his details, but let me say this:

1. I love Lavalife because without it, I never would have met the man of my dreams (yes, I mean BF).
2. My heart wants to explode when I can make him do his louder, really-thinks-it-is-funny laugh, and I get to see his smile. (Those of you with weak stomachs or easily tripped gag reflexes may wish to navigate away from this post now...).
3. Even when he has a crappy day, he's ready to greet me with open arms at the door and a smile. (Well, we already know my days are consistently crappy as of late...)
4. I never knew I could love like this. I thought I had loved in the past, but BF "gets" me, is honest with me, and still loves me (crazy included at no additional cost). He is no bullshit, and I love it. No games, never ever a douchebag. EVER.
5. He supports me in sickness and health, with a rational mind and a considerate heart.
6. He's warm and snuggly at night time. I hate the empty bed when he is gone (unless I call Sven over, his fill in, but that is secret, so shhhhh).
7. He has the most beautiful blue eyes and I know our children are gunna be puuuurty.
8. I can't imagine a life without him and would never want it. He means the world to me, and I love him with all my heart.
9. He is so smart, he knows the volume of a cylinder? sphere? off the top of his head! (That was what sealed the deal, during one of the many times when I was perplexed in college and he rattled off the formula over the phone - no Googling!)
10. He's a fine piece of ass. (HA! I had to say that just to embarrass him totally. Even though it's true.)

I LOVE YOU!!!

Photographic evidence of my happiness whilst snuggling in his arms. See? I didn't lie there.

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