Gag Me

Just went to Shoppers because I had some free time and decided that maybe I needed some new perfume.

So a-spraying I went. And now I'm paying for it. I reek to high heaven of:

Baby Phat. Which smells a lot better now that it has dried down. But still. Ugh.

Paris Hilton. I thought I liked this one, but now not so sure.

Brit-Brit's Fantasy. Nice and sweet. Kinda makes me want to vomit a cupcake. A pink, icing-laden cupcake.

I can't get this damned stuff off. It's so bad I can actually taste it.

Help. Me. Please.

4 Things.....

Stole this from Travel Bug Chronicles, who found this on Mez's blog.

As it really helps me out with not having to write an actual post, here are my 4 things:

4 Jobs You Have Had in Your Life (in Chronological Order):

4. Medical Secretary at a Walk-in Clinic
3. Sales associate in the crappiest retail store EVER
2. Research Assistant for Product Development for the Military
1. Pharmacy Assistant

4 Movies You Could Watch Over and Over:

4. Dirty Dancing
3. Breakfast Club
2. Grease
1. Bridget Jones

4 Places You Have Lived:

4. Krakow, Poland
3. Vienna, Austria
2. Toronto, Canada
1. Winnipeg, Canada. Uh huh.

4 TV Shows You Love to Watch:

4. Corner Gas
3. Lost
2. Veronica Mars
1. Gilmore Girls

4 Places You Have Been on Vacation:

4. Florida
3. Dominican Republic
2. Cuba
1. New York

4 Websites You Visit Daily:

4. eBay.ca
3. sephora.com
2. televisionwithoutpity.com
1. university website

4 of Your Favourite Foods:

4. Wings with Thai Chili sauce
3. Pad Thai
2. Pierogies
1. Sushi

4 Places You Would Rather Be Right Now:

4. on a beach in a warm country, like the Dominican Republic
3. touring Europe on a dime
2. in Yorkdale. *sob* Oh my god, sooooooooob...
1. home in Toronto for a visit, or better yet, a permanent stay

4 Bloggers You Are Tagging:

4. New Homeowner
3. Rinny
2. Better Safe Than Sorry
1. And the person who didn't bother reading this except for this last line

The iPod Oracle

Also stolen from Travel Bug and Mez.

I give you the same lame excuse while I force you to read this.

This is the iPod (or iTunes) Oracle Meme. You stick your iPod on shuffle, and let the songs answer the questions. The results are actually pretty funny!

Q. What do you think of me, iPod Mini?
A. Airbag (Radiohead)

How comforting. Even my iMoo thinks I'm a little iCuckoo.

Q. Will I have a happy life?
A. Fat Lip (Sum 41)

Is that like fat chance? And do I need to get a divorce?

Q. What do my friends really think of me?
A. A Little Respect (Erasure)

Do I need to get some, or do they have so very little?

Q. Do people secretly lust after me?
A. Hollaback Girl (Gwen Stefani)

I guess that's a no. Or I'm a whore and they do? Or I ain't gonna suffer no fools lightly? I dunno.

Q. What should I do with my life?
A. The Promise (When in Rome)

I must devote my life to citrusboy. Got it.

Q. Why must life be so full of pain?
A. My Perogative (Britney Spears)

What do you know? Either my own ass causes me pain or the fact that Brit-Brit is still singing does.

Q. How can I maximize pleasure during sex?
A. Let's Get Rocked (Def Leppard)

Nice. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I'm leaning towards bad.

Q. Will I die happy?
A. Make Up Your Mind (Theory of a Deadman)

That can't be a good sign.

Q. Can you give me some advice?
A. We Are Lost Together (Blue Rodeo)

Oy. This is getting worse by the minute. Isn't it?

Q. What do you think happiness is?
A. Don't Phunk with My Heart (Black Eyed Peas)

Happiness is wondering if you're going to get screwed over? Nice.

Q. What's my favourite fetish?
A. Hash Pipe (Weezer)

Ha! Good one.

~Life's Extra Questions~

Q. What song should be played at my funeral?
A. Alone in the Universe (David Usher)

Isn't that the kicker?

Q. Am I a good person?
A. Sellout (citrusboy)

So not a good sign.

Q. Is the universe never-ending?
A. Heaven (Live)

Is that a no?

Q. Am I an idiot for doing this?
A. Does Your Mother Know? (ABBA)

I think the iMoo concurs.

A Night of Debauchery - Winnipeg Style!

So Carsin O' Genic came over Saturday night, armed with the plan to make marshmallows from scratch.

Having taken refuge in the office (Veronica Mars being more sane than those two), I heard a scream emanating from the other room.

Oh My God. What have they done? To my kitchen?
I do believe Carcin O' Genic has had better ideas.

Maybe.

My Christmas Story

I guess it's about time I relegated y'all with my Christmas (mis)adventures.

I know, I know. A month too late. I'm the laziest person alive, so shoot me.

Well, for Christmas Eve dinner, I made the traditional Polish Wigilia feast. This included buying an entire fish (traditional Carp, to be exact), descaling it, gutting it, chopping its head off, and cutting it into steaks. Needless to say, I let citrusboy do the nasty bits, but I did manage to descale it, thank you very much.

I would just like to add, that if I was in Toronto, I could by-pass all the nasty bits plus descaling and just buy the carp already done up and ready to fry. But, alas, I am in Winnipeg....

So, anyhoo, we bread and etcetera the durned thing, which happens to look like this:
Tasty, eh?

Final result? Slightly better looking.
I also managed to make, from scratch I might emphasize here, uszka z zurem, which are mushroom-filled dumplings in a ryemeal soup.

The funnest part was the dough. No really, I LOVE struggling with dough that will not stay put. And to top it off, I discovered I did not actually posses a rolling pin. Empty wine bottle to the rescue, it is. Good thing we're guzzling alcoholics.

And do I really have to add that were I in Toronto, I could just buy the dumplings frozen and pop them into a pot, ready to boil? No, I don't think I need to add that. Hmm, seems I already did. Ah well. Thems the breaks.

End result? Very tastey, according to citrusboy.
So good, in fact, that he wants them again next year. I think not.

Next year: frozen salmon steaks and store-bought pierogies. I don't care, it's not worth the aggravation.

Stay tuned for the Kris Kringle fun. ( I know, I know, but I'm L-A-Z-Y. LAZY!)

Went to my first Kickboxing class yesterday.


Never thought I'd be so stupid as to actually pay someone to try and kill me.

Imagine, if you will, five consecutive non-weekend days of the week. Then, imagine four midterms and an essay. Then, combine those two images into one.

That is my life.

Oh Winnipeg, I am so grateful. No, really. You have given me yet another opportunity to HATE YOUR ASS.

Boo-Urns to Olives

There's a certain restaurant in Winnipeg that gives employees of citrusboy's work 40% off their final bill. This includes the booze.

Woohoo. Woohoo. Woohoo.

So several of us decided to tie one on last night and possibly squeeze in some food if the liquid diet in our tummies allowed for such things.

I'd been preped all day Saturday for the lovely, lovely Extra-Dirty Gin Martini about to come my way. But, of course, you're talking about yours truly and you're also talking about Winnipeg, so these things never come to fruition.

I order my martini. I get a pink martini. PINK, people. Why? Why is my dirty martini pink, I ask you?

I sniff it. Smells like gin. I taste it. Well, not bad I guess, even though it's pink. Did someone spill some grenadine in there?

But since the pink was a little unsettling, I decided that my next drink was going to be a damn-hot Caesar. Extra-large. The caesar was good. So good in fact that I thought my mouth was going to spontaneously combust. Hot Damn!

But then I realized, caesar is not what I wanted. Let's give the gin martini another try. Maybe the pink was some mixology experiment gone badly wrong.

I order an Extra-extra-extra Dirty Gin Martini. And wouldn't you know it? The waitress is all: We don't have any more olives. Oh, well does that mean you've run out of olive juice as well? She's all: Uhhh, no idea - I'll go check.

Turns out there is no olive juice either. At 8 in the evening, the bar has run out of olives and olive juice. Seriously? Really? Come ON, people!

So someone convinced me to try a vodka martini with those little pickled onions. The waitress is all: Pickled what? Apparently they don't have those EITHER.

What kind of a place is this? WHAT KIND? Grr. I hate you, Winnipeg! HATE!

But there was a redeeming highlight of the evening: My ass got groped by a gay man. Weehaw!

Um...

This morning I woke up spooning the cat. Not my husband. The cat.

There is something very very wrong with that.

The Pre-Christmas Visit

Well, I believe the time has come to recap the visit of the Terrible Two, namely New Homeowner and yours truly.

Yeah, yeah, I know it was three weeks ago. But I'm a busy girl, so gimme a break. I have exciting and important things to do. Like read. This. And this.

I also happen to be a very lazy girl and since they (I don't know who they are, but I'm taking their advice anyway) say a picture is worth a thousand words, I shall now submit an 11 000 word essay for your perusal. Enjoy, and don't forget the popcorn. (Speaking of popcorn, I have a great popcorn recipe, but anyhoo I'm off topic now. Another day, perhaps.)

The Night of the Living Martini

Parenthood DOES NOT Rock!

Note to self: Never have kids. Ever.

Because: I'm watching Fatty play in the hallway (which is completely empty) and all of a sudden she lets out a screech (which she's wont to do) that could curdle blood and curls her paw up and starts limping on it.

I clutch my hair in my fists, unable to move from the spot I have now put down roots in, screaming "OH MY GOD, what's wrong with her paw?!?! Her paw. LOOK AT HER PAW!!! What happened to her PAW?!?! MEDIC! MEEEDIIIIIIC!!!". The last ending in a high-pitched shriek only dogs could hear.

Citrusboy is all "Have you lost your mind woman? She has something stuck to her paw and can't get it off."

Like all cats, Fatty managed to get a piece of smutz stuck to her paw and didn't want to walk on it. And I, I managed to have a stroke in the meantime. Had to go lie down. Oy.

For my own sweet revenge, I think I'll put double stick tape on the bottom of all her paws and see how she likes that.

Happy 2006!!!!