Brat Camp

In all my years I've never been a real hardcore TV watcher. I mean there was Mr. Dressup and Sesame Street, Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters, but that was pretty much it considering we never got cable until I was in grade 9. Even after we got cable my TV habits didn't change too much. THEN we got sattelite TV. I thought it would be the end of all socializing, but in all honestly, I never use it unless I'm sick and can't move.

So what I'm trying to get to here is, is that there has been atleast one show on TV that I enjoy so much that I must see it on it's weekly basis. I've went through Survior, Law & Order, The Joe Schmo Show. This past year I was hooked to the 6 pilot episodes of Grey's Anatomy that were on Sunday nights. And when summer came, they came to a halt, leaving us to wait for September.

So with nothing to look forward to on television over the summer, countless episodes of Futurama and Family Guy have been watched. All until 3 weeks ago. When the greatest, most touching reality show began on Wednesday nights. Brat Camp. You see the commercials for it and it seems to be a behind-the-scenes of where Sally Jesse Rapheal sent her "Teen Terrors."

They took 9 troubled teens (labelling them such things as "angry punk", "compulsive liar", and "tried to stab his twin") and sent them unexpectedly to Sage Walk camp where they endure at least 40 days of living in the Oregon desert in extreme fall/winter conditions. There are counsellors there who are experts at outdoor survival, and all have "Earth names" like Fire Shaper and Mountain Wind. They are also highly trained in dealing with kids such as these. There's lots of crying, cussing, and hissy fits, but the program is set out to make these kids feel better and more secure about them selves and to work out their problems through encouraging tasks and sessions with therapists. For example, making fire, repelling down cliffs, hiking 8 miles in a snow blizzard. It honestly is such a great show with a great purpose. It doesn't result in winning money, a new husband, or becoming a Hilton, just making a positive difference in a kids life. Sappy I know....but's it's sooo friggin great! You really need to watch it and it will give the happiest gushy feeling in your belly and leaves you so anxious as to who will be the first to graduate from Sage Walk.

Wednesday Nights. 10pm.

I Want to Ride My Bicycle, I Want to Ride it Where I Like

Approximately one year ago this day, my gold GT Palomar bike got stolen right from my very own house in Stratford. It was a sad day. I just expected that some little shithead had taken it one night and I vowed if I had ever seen a gold GT riding around town I was going to chase after them, close-line them, and take off with the bike, giving them the finger as I ride off into the sunset. Only because I was almost sure that it was the only one of its kind on the island.

SO, I am informed yesterday, by my brother Ian, that my golden beauty is resting safely at his friends house. Ian has no idea how it got there, and they have no idea why it is there. But it is there! And it has TOTALLY made my summer.

As well, this past week, I got to check off one of the things on my "Things To Do While Alive" list. You know those sign that the letters have to be changed every so often? I think they are called marquee signs? Slangy segue, I've always wanted to put on a letter with one of those long-arm-suction-pad thingies. We walked past the Arts Guild Sunday am, and saw the guy changing the letters. We walked about half a block further and then I ran back asking if I could put on a letter. Done and done. I wanted to ask if I could finish the phrase, or even the word, but the guy seemed pretty weirded out by me so I decided to let him carry on.

News from the garden patch:
-Something dug up my spinach. I have 2 heads of spinach left. I caught a dove at the scene of the crime. Symbols of peace my ass. More like symbols of garden destruction.
-A mammal of some sort then pooped in my garden on the torn up spinach row. Honestly, who throws a shoe?
-It seems I have planted my radishes a little too close together. Most of them are VERY tiny and not worth eating. but there are some hopefuls. And I ate them already.
-The pea pods have risen from their little flowers and I can feel the peas within beginning to juice up. They are pretty much the only hopefuls left in my garden. Grow on little peas.

I'm gonna need a scarecrow fro next year.

Sky Rockets in Flight

Oy. What a weekend.

I attended my first stagette party on Saturday night. What a hoot! The bride-to-be is Jen Albrecht and the theme was 80's bridemaid gowns. The ladies had wonderful costumes and the party was planned fabulously by Jen's sister Lisa. The party was held at the Kirkwood Residence where it started off with a Fantasia Party, where a girl from Afternoon Delight comes with all these sex toys and products and describes and sells them. It was quite entertaining as everyone got more drunk and the stories and questions started coming out. Lisa had also been trying to get either her husband Kent, Breck or Paul to strip for Jen and with the sound of a motorcycle in the driveway and a guy coming to the door, Lisa ("YAY the stripper's here!") got excited thinking Breck had given in and come to dance around in his chaps. Haha...it was Breck's dad. If only he agreed. Damn.

The remainder of the evening involved games with hotdogs and mousetraps, pickles and a penis pinata, cherry-poppin', VERY potent jello shooters from a fishbowl and a large mess. I ended up taking a 1/2 hour mid-drunk nap before heading to the bars and continue drinking. I had my own little pub crawl which included some reggae dancing at Jake's, some cowboy grinding at the Big Gay Dance @ The Delta, and reuniting with the Stagette in a feather boa at Peake's. And the final memory, watching Lisa, at who-knows-what-hour, barely coherent, trying to set up a tent in the front yard.

So it was a great first experience at a REAL Stagette party (because I definitly have NOT been on a FAKE Stagette before where we pretend to know someone getting married and make men donate money to a fake bride so that we can buy pizza at the end of the night...I would never participate in anything like that) and I can't wait till the rest of you bitches get engaged so these kind of parties will happen again.

Shit Happens Yo.

8:30am. This morning. Freshly showered. Smellin' purty. On my way to work.

I step in the car and smell something AWFUL. So I'm looking and sniffing around, hoping to find the source of this heinous odor. Nothing. Continue driving. Stop at Timmy's for a muffin. The smell has followed me. IT'S SOMEWHERE ON MY BODY!

Get back in the car. Remembered that my window was open yesterday and a bird shit IN my car. On the inside of the door. Aaah. Perfect sense. The bird shit is smelling. And I set my arm in it. Napkin and water does the trick. Off I go to work.

Get to work. Getting comfy in my office chair. The smell comes back. ARGH! The shitty smell is still on me and I dont know where! I'm getting quite frusterated at this point. I wash my arm again with soap and it still doesn't go away. I give up.

Hours go by. I become accustomed to smelling like shit and don't even notice it anymore. I cross my legs to do a crossword puzzle. Hmm? What's this mysterious brown substance on my pant leg. Sniff. SICK! There is animal shit on my pants! HOW!? Look at the bottom of my shoes. FECES embedded into the crevices of my clog!

So somewhere between the house and the car I stepped in animal dung. Blech. Mystery explained. I took of my shoes and set them in the hall and rolled up my jeans.

Good Old Fashioned Values

Meg: I just want to kill myself !I'm gonna go upstairs and eat a whole bowl of peanuts.
(Lois and Peter stare in silence)
Meg: I'm allergic to peanuts.
(Peter and Lois keep staring)
Meg: You dont know anything about me!
(runs upstairs)

Peter: Who was that guy?

Viking Love on the Rocks

I know I shouldn't be one to judge...but Helga really should leave Hagar.

Garden update

A stupid fox (i'm assuming) helped themselves to my carrots. i know have about 4 blooming carrots left in my garden. I am quite disappointed as garden fresh carrots are my favorite. Frig saving the animals....save the vegetables.

It Goes Like This, The Fourth, The Fifth

So my new job is at the Target Call Center on Grafton Street. Yes. My brother is my supervisor. How hot is that? No, it's fine though. Good people work there and despite my hatred of the phone, it's not that bad. Yet. I got trained yesterday on booking ferry reservations for The Cat. It's fun talking to those crazy Americans and their accents.

Last weekend went by fast. Maybe because I was "celebrating" for most of it. Oh Canada...Maybe that's why our anthem is called that. Because that's the first thing you say the morning after Canada Day. We spent most of C-Day at Jake's. I'm sure the band hated me since I requested "Lay Down Sally" after every song, absent-mindedly forgetting they couldn't play it. Dancing really should be a daily requirment. The British have tea time, so why can't we have dance time?

There were a couple of outings to Blooming Point as well over the weekend. One trip where I found the HUGEST lobster ever while I was snorkelling. I wish everyone could have seen it. It would have made a hefty meal for someone if I had enough balls to catch it.

Well the week continues, with mystery work shifts here and there. The Tim Horton's Jazz and Blues Festival starts tomorrow I believe, so if anyone is up for some evening outings of myu-sak, let me know.

Yippee-Kiyay Mother Fuckers.

Good Bye Ruby Tuesday

It's over.

I have a full-time job starting Tuesday.

Good bye freedom.