Carry-on Luggage BLOWS MY MIND.

I was a cheap bastard one time when I was flying with Delta. Okay, the only time I ever flew with Delta.

Why? Because those buggers charge $25 USD for every checked bag.

And a worrier like me ALWAYS overpacks, thereby immediately costing herself $50 USD for a round trip.

And also ALWAYS visits a Marshalls or T.J. Maxx, thereby requiring even MORE luggage space that doesn't exist.

Well, with some finagling I was able to switch my luggage with Feyoncé™'s. No, I didn't pack his bag without knowing, (I hear those terrifying airport security warnings, c'mon people, some credit here!) we just switched, and he had to carry back a bunch of my crap with his. (Okay, so maybe that meant I did pack part of his bag. Shhhhh). In my BIG suitcase. On Air Canada, before those buggers started charging for checked bags. *cough* Bastards! *cough*.

I would just like to say that standard-size carry-on luggage with that little expandable zipper BLEW MY MIND.

This is all the shizz I fit into it. Into the CARRY-ON only:

That's right - 5 pairs of pants, 2 pairs of workout bottoms, 6 bras, 2 workout bras, 8 shirts, 3 dresses, 3 sweaters, 2 pairs of heels, 1 pair of casual shoes and a bunch of toiletry-crap.

I still can't believe it.

That shit is MAGICAL.



Yeah, shitty blog post, but so what?? I'm putting off doing important things.


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Cocks. And Gay Marriage.

Now that I have your attention, a photo of cocks:

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What?

Let me tell you, I would advise against doing that Google search unless you want to see a lot of skin and veins.

Anyway, in my quest for an image that would be appropriate for this blog (you know, because I am NOTHING, if not always appropriate *stifles laughter*), I came across an amazing Canadian blog, whose author's tagline is:

"Combatting bigotry the gayest way I know how".

I thought it was quite awesome. I hope you will pop over and check it out.

Here I am: whining about trying to sort my shit out regarding all our wedding details. Simple things, but necessary things like seating charts and guest counts. Trying to get in touch with the caterer and signing really large cheques for really silly things. You know, meaningful stuff like that.

He has given me an entirely new perspective. For an interesting, yet hilarious, read, check out The Author's article on his own quest for marriage.

Awesome.

Also? A fantastic link to a cock picture..

Go ahead, I'll wait.


See? Get your mind out of the gutter!


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Dear Person... & Cyclists Terrify Me

Dear Person who walked their dog to the top of my driveway, allowing said dog to poop in between my car and the garage door,

Congratulations on an incredible level of passive-aggressiveness.

Very bold, and very baffling. My front door is literally steps away.

You are a fucktard. We clean up our dogs' crap without fail, and the one time Feyoncé™ ran out of bags (after 3 consecutive dog poops), he walked the dogs home quickly, grabbed a bag, and LITERALLY SPRINTED BACK to scoop the mess.

So go fuck yourself.

I clean up enough dog poop on my own.


Piss-off-ed-ly,
Me

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Dear Hypothetical Old Man on a bicycle who I possibly didn't see this morning as I backed out of my driveway going 4 km/hr,

I swear to mother-effing-Jebus I checked both sides of the road, my mirrors, my rear view. I constantly remind myself that although the street I live on is not busy, there are always people/kids/cyclists/dogs out and about, so to be very aware.

Your hypothetical white hair and blue shirt somehow manifested into the stealthiest camouflage I have ever seen. My windows were even open and I never saw or heard anything, except my own completely startled hypothetical voice, apologizing wholeheartedly and calling you sir.

I looked and I have no idea how I didn't hypothetically see you. I am very sorry. Very, very sorry. I still feel awful and probably more afraid than you were of my meep-meep sedan. The fear is increased by the fact I still understand how I hypothetically didn't see you. I vow to be EVEN MORE terrified of driving now than I was before.

I swear I looked everywhere I needed to, yet failed.

Apologetically (hypothetically),


Me


p.s. Did you come back with a small dog and poop in my driveway? You or the dog? Just curious...


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Dear Cyclists,


I was going to write you a letter a few days ago and didn't. This morning's hypothetical cyclist incident got me thinking.


YOU TERRIFY ME when you are on the road. I know you are supposed to be, you are allowed to be, I know you have every right to be, and I honestly try my best to watch out for you, give wide leeway around you, and basically stay the fuck away from you as much as I can, because... well,

YOU TERRIFY ME.

I DO NOT WISH TO HURT YOU.

Also? If you are going to ride on the road, then you should be ADHERING TO TRAFFIC RULES, and be wearing a MOTHERLOVING HELMET for Chrissakes. (I saw a man with his skull cracked open, who surely died, from a bicycle accident. I don't blame the man and didn't see the actual accident, but I would like to think that his chances would have improved with a helmet). That being said, drivers can't be DERP DERP and not be aware.

Don't run stop signs or stop lights. It's MOTHERLOVING dangerous. And it makes you less predictable, increasing the danger factor.

Ride on, cyclists! Hey... where's your... helmet? (Image Source)

I am also afraid when I am walking and see a cyclist with headphones in. I understand the desire for and enjoyment of music, but if you are riding in traffic and are not following traffic rules, then at least leave one motherloving earhole free to hear the sounds around you! Please!!!

Mutual respect folks. Even though you TERRIFY me.

Curled up in the fetal position,


Me

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Dear Google.ca Image Search,

Thank you for showing me that the number one search following the word "RIDICULOUS" is....

"pictures of Céline Dion".

My very own Canadian. How I beam with pride.

And on that note, a ridiculous photo of Céline Dion:

In all fairness, there are A LOT of ridiculous photos of Céline Dion on the interwebz. (Image Source)

Ridiculously,


Me


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