Wasabi Wars

Of course, we had to have sushi while in Toronto, so New Homeowner, Running Man, citrusboy and I went out to dinner one night.

We massacred a huge boat-load of sushi. Literally.

Then NH dared RM to eat a huge glob of wasabi. And all it took was $20.

The aftermath? Not so pleasant.

The next day, a whole pile of us went over to Christine and The Head's place. Christine and I decided we wanted sushi, so we ordered a monstrous party platter. The more sushi, the merrier. Don't look at me like that. Hey, I heard that.

So again, someone dared someone to eat some wasabi. And he was a willing participant for only $5. Aftermath? Even worse.
Obviously, we are an extremely mature bunch.

The Wonderful World of Toronto Broke-ness. I Mean Shopping.

So now that I've gotten my bitching out of the way, let me tell you about the rest of my trip: it was pure bliss when my mother wasn't around.

We somehow ended up at the Pearl Jam concert at the Air Canada Centre. I've never been to a PJ concert before. Let me tell you, it was awesome. They played Black so I was as happy as a girl back in Toronto from toiling away in the 'Peg can be (ie: as happy as a pig in shit). I was amused to see Eddie Vedder still totin' his bottle o' wine around. I was also amused to find that I was high by the end of the first song. And not because I was smoking the wacky-tobacky myself.

We also did a lot of shopping. Okay, okay, fine. I did a lot of shopping. But mostly for things that don't dare set up shop in Winnipeg for fear they'd go under in two seconds flat. Starting with my beloved Sephora, of course. Oh Philosophy, how do I love thee. Let me count the ways. Cinnabuns. Melon Daquari (that one's for citrusboy, so don't even look at me). Lavender Poundcake - it was love at first sniff. Unfortunately, Coconut Cream Pie was not to be had.

Then, off to L'Occitane where I finally, finally got my Lavender Face Cleanser and Lotion. And as a neat surprise, I noticed they had a new line. Which, of course, smelled fantabulous. Citrusboy LOVED it, so I got me some almond dry oil too! Score!

We also hit Banana Republic where citrusboy got some jeans and shirts and Lululemon, where, sadly, I could not decide what to get, so I got nothing. My rationale: There is actually a Lululemon in the 'Peg, so if desperate, I can go there.

Also went to my precious Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma, but wouldn't you know it? They had nothing I wanted. Weird. Empty handed from PB? What a travesty!

Spent a crap-load of time with friends, but that's another post. Complete with pictures.

Back from TO

I refuse to say T-dot. How gay is that? (The fact that some call it that, not the fact that I refuse to.)

So on the breeze of NH's latest entry, I'll kick off my own. The first thing my mother did when she saw me (after not seeing me for a whooooooooole year) was to say: Holy mother of GOD, you're still fucking fat. (Must be something in the fucking water in the GTA!)

Nice. Love you too, mom.

The second thing she said was: Where the hell are my grandchildren?

Uh... while I was still contemplating an answer to that, the third thing she said was: You already look pregnant. Get a move on.

What. The. Hell.

She would not let up. All day she was on me about my fatty ass. And arms. And stomach. And... well you get the picture. I told her I go to the gym. I told her how much I go to the gym. She was all: That's not possible. You should be skinny by now and you're still huge. You must stuff your face day and night. I told her what I eat, and I think she almost called me a liar.

Then she told me she doesn't eat anything. Ever. Great way to lose that extra 80 lbs, mom. I see it's really working for you.

We went to dinner at citrusboy's parent's place that night for a BBQ and she watched us like a hawk, she did.

All night, it was: How many did you have? (Citrusboy had two burgers before she started giving him the evil eye.) You can't eat that - you're not allowed to eat any sugar. (Just as I was taking my first bite of a cookie.) You have to eat only fruit in the morning because your stomach can only digest that. (She tells the nutrition major.) I decide to add that that is total bullshit and she wonders what crap they're teaching me in school.

Then she decides she's also a fitness expert, and tells me that aerobic exercise is crap, especially if you're trying to lose weight on your stomach. Apparently the only thing one needs to do to lose belly fat is sit ups. That's it. No running around necessary. And here I thought it was going to be hard or something. Silly me.

She almost, almost told me that I better watch it or my husband's going to leave my fat ass. I wonder how she restrained herself?

And to top off the evening, she sighed to the entire table about how she wished she had more children now that she looks back on her life. I guess she wishes some of them were somewhere in the vicinity of 50 lbs at the age of almost 30. And that's collectively, I'm sure.

And this all in one day folks. Can I tell you how cowtastic the other 6 days were?

By the way, can someone please tell me I'm not THAT fat or I think I might have a coronary right here, right now.

Fluffy pink clouds, calm blue ocean, fluffy pink clouds, calm blue ocean...

Plane, can you go further than Winnipeg? Nigeria sounds good, right about now.

One Cranky Leafs Fan...

Food? What Food?

Citrusboy and I decided to go to Superstore for our groceries the other day since they were having a $1 sale. And I like sales. Even if it is on food.

And wouldn't you know it? All, and I mean ALL, the frozen burritos and deli sub sandwiches were gone - not even the tattered remains of a wrapper were left - but all, and I mean ALL, the baby carrots, mushrooms, celery, and red peppers were still piled high. I guess "leave no veg behind" doesn't apply here. I certainly had my pick of those.

I fear for the future of this province. This does not bode well.

Oscar. Mike. Golf.

So. Citrusboy and I were at the gym last night, practicing our kata, when, horrifyingly, the largest and loudest belch ever in the history of belches erupted from my body. It reverberated throughout the entire gym, bouncing of the walls in echo form. Birds flew off the rafters in fear. The Ride of the Valkyries started playing. And not just in my head.

Oooops.

After everybody was done gawking at us, I fell to the floor laughing. It was all I could do. How mortifying.

The upshot? Everybody probably thought it was citrusboy that did it, anyhow.

I just got suckered into two extra hours of karate a week.

Where is the justice, people?

Running Idiocy

My husband, here on in known as One Crazy Loon, has decided that we should run a 5K this summer. And not just one, which I might (probably not, I mean who are we kidding here?) be able to deal with, but two: here and here.

So on top of Kickboxing, Karate, practicing for our orange belts, Ashtanga Yoga, and our regular workout of cardio and weights, OCL now thinks we need to start running training.

Did I mention how much I despise running? I hate it like ice cream hates hot pavement.

If I survive this summer, I'll send ya'll a postcard from Hawaii - which is where I'll be going as a treat to myself for still being alive.

I'm studying for exams.

Someone please, please do me a great big 'ole favour and burn the university down. To the ground. Make sure it's demolished, or I may still have to write.

On with the Scavenger Hunt!

Three new things to add to my scavenger hunt of laziness:

Almost Empty
Framed
Out of Place
(poor, poor pickle...)

Hold On To Your Panties, People!

Citrusboy opted not to get The Logan for now and instead went for the Chrome Dome, in an effort to raise some money for pediatric cancer.

The Hair, still intact, but quaking at its roots in silent desperation, praying for a last minute reprieve.
And it's off to keep someone else's head warm on those cold Winterpeg nights.
Let the shaving begin! Right down the middle! Excellent! They should have left it just like that... except I have to go home with him, so on second thought, maybe not.
For all his pains, citrusboy got a free steak dinner complete with beer,
some Manitoba Moose hockey tickets (too bad they weren't playing the Toronto Marlins, but I think we would have been booed right out of the stadium!),
and best of all, he got to help raise some money for cancer!


What? What was that? You actually want to see what he looks like now? Well, alrighty, you asked for it!



As for my hair (and who really cares about that now, anyway), it's still intact - just slightly shorter and more Rory-esque.
A great big thanks to those who supported us! You guys rock!

So How Do You Like Me Now?

Blog Scavenger?

I like this idea of a Blog Scavenger Hunt, so I'm stealing the idea from Better Safe Than Sorry who got it from here.

Also, it saves my lazy ass from actually typing something...

So, ladies and germs, without further ado:

Not Allowed
Leftovers
A Fridge

(our only fridge, by the way...)

Hair, Be Gone!

Citrusboy is turning 30 next week, so he's decided he can no longer respectably wear the long hair.
So on the 22nd, snippity-snip it goes.
He's going for The Logan (Echolls, not Huntzburger (perish the thought)):
Now, even though we've been here in the 'Peg for almost two years, we've never gotten a haircut here. We've always gone back to Toronto to get the deed done. (I hear ya'll screaming - SNOBS!!! Don't worry, my hearing is very good.)

So being a little leary of the hairdressers in this fair city, I've waited over a year to get another haircut:
I am truly freaked out about it, but have decided on a Rory:
I have actually found an Aveda salon and booked an appointment. *sob* No Civello for me this time around. I pray it turns out at least halfway decent.

Oy. Oy. Oy.

See that? Do you see that? Yes, it's snow. Lots of it. Snow in March. Snow nine days away from spring. NINE, people, NINE.

Sigh.

Random Poll

Well, not so much with the random, but a poll nonetheless.

To see INXS in concert or not to see INXS in concert. That is the... Well, you get the picture.

It's kind of a travesty to see JD Fortune up there instead of good ole Michael Hutchence, but JD is from Oakville and that kinda makes me proud, sad as that may be.

Decisions, decisions. What do you all think?

I just finished watching the newest episode of Gilmore Girls.

And the funniest thing I ever saw: Sebastian Bach singing Hollaback Girl.

And if that wasn't hilarious enough, he goes on to sing: Wooo oooo, this my shh, this my shh...

I fell to the floor, laughing until it hurt.

Props to you, Rebecca Rand Kirshner!

So I was waiting to go into my bio exam tonight, when I caught sight of a T-shirt that read:

If At First You Don't Succeed....

Go To The U of M.

Heh. You don't say?

Cold Enough For Ya?

Welcome to -40C, my friends. (That's also -40F for those of you not on the metric scale.)

It's so cold my lip gloss froze. And I was only outside for, oh, a grand total of five minutes.

Never thought I'd live to see the day where that happens.

Enjoy the snow, Winnipeg. And Toronto? I hate you.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Sephora: Now for Kitties

Sephora, the ultimate kitty playground:



Cow Kitty trying to get some Fatty tail.

I guess that's better than Sephora?

Rice Whosit?

Remember the marshmallow incident?

We ended up with this huge slab of marshmallow sitting in our fridge, when citrusboy got the bright (and when I say bright, I don't mean it laced with sarcasm) idea to make rice crispy squares.

So off he went with a pot, some butter, some Snap, Crackle, and Pop, and the marshmallow du slab.

And let me tell you: most awesome rice crispy squares (er, rice crispy slab) EVER. E-V-E-R. So, so good.
I think it was the homemade marshmallow that did the trick, so maybe, just maybe Carcin O'Genic is a genius in disguise.

Underwear Drama Mama

I'm at the gym yesterday, fresh from the shower, walking around in my skivvies, 'cause, well, I can and so I will.

The woman next to me looks at me and says "Cute underwear. Those are so fun. You really need to wear something fun once in a while, hey?"

Seriously? You're talking to me about my underwear while I'm standing around in my underwear. Really?

Oh My God, Winnipeg people. Get a grip! Don't talk to people about their underthings as they walk around half-nakid. I mean, really. You people just love to blah-dee-blah don't you? I'm in my underwear for crying out loud.

So I told her they glowed in the dark and moved the hell away from her.

And just for reference, these are the infamous pair:
Aren't they fun?

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!!!!

The Great Exploding Chapstick Debacle - Part Deux

So New Homeowner was in town and she happened upon the most excellent idea (cannot believe I didn't think of it myself...) ever for the fixing of THE GREAT EXPLODING CHAPSTICK DEBACLE.

Shoppers Drug Mart would get theirs, dammit!

NH suggested that I buy another Bonne Bell chapstick (same as the exploded one), get a receipt for it, and then RETURN THE EXPLODED ONE on the new receipt.

Pure genius I tell you.

So NH and I go to the brand-spanking new Shoppers and buy one Raspberry Vita Gloss tube. Get a receipt for it. The plan is working, mwahahhaha.

Then we go to another Shoppers and mozy up to the cosmetics counter.

Me: Here, take your crap and there's my receipt.
CC: Okay no problem. Oh, you got this at the brand-spanking new Shoppers? Damn that store! We're always having to take their shitty returns!!

Me to myself: Uh, okay. I'm pretty sure I originally bought it here, but okay, whatever you say.

CC: Would you like another one?
Me: No thanks. Just give me my money back, please.

And that is how I got my $5 back for The Great Exploding Chapstick.

Genius, I tell you!

Oh bus, why do you forsake me?

Before I get into all the Christmas joy that has occurred, I'd like to tell you a little story about what happens when I ride the bus (without my sister).

So after my last exam I get to the stop where my bus, well, stops. The only bus that stops at that particular stop. The. Only. One. Got that?

As I'm on the phone with New Homeowner ('cause she's visiting - squee), I don't really bother looking at the bus number, and really? Why would I anyway? I usually don't.

So I climb aboard and have myself a seat. The bus leaves. And goes up and behind the university - in the exact opposite direction that I want to go. Before I realize this (because the new iMoo is so fascinating) I have gone far enough that I no longer have the slightest clue as to where I am and it's now too far to walk back.

I scramble off the bus and stand at some god forsaken bus stop in the middle of god knows where - and call New Homeowner: Heeeelp meeeeeeee! I don't know where I am. I'm at the corner of Lost in Winnipeg and You'll Never Find Your Way Back Mwhahaha. Heeeelp Meeeee!

After all, she is the one with the map. (See, me not so stupid after all... maybe.)

We decide that I should take the next bus back (that's in half an hour, folks) to the university and she'll pick me up there.

So I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And, just to break up the monotony, a car packed with guys decides to try and get my attention. Lord. Dudes, I think I just might be old enough to be your mother. True, I 'd have to have been fairly young when knocked up, but dudes, get a grip.

Maybe I should have asked them for a ride? The good ideas always occur later. Sigh.

Finally get to the University (without incident, I feel compelled to add) and New Homeowner is there to pick me up.

And so ends another scintillating adventure in Crazy Town.

Next: The conclusion of The Great Exploding Chapstick Debacle as per popular request. Actually, one person only but who am I to argue with the fan(s).

Oy. Just oy.

Only in this city can I leave three hours early and STILL be half an hour late for my exam.

Oy.

Was it a Cello? Maybe a Violin? How about a Timpani?

Citrusboy teaches guitar at a music school here in this lovely city, so on Sunday we went to a Christmas Dinner hosted by the school.

Now, imagine an entire restaurant/comedy club that has been shut down just for you, filled with people saying things like: "You know, a drum room is just so different from a guitar room" and "Drums get really loud, don't they?" and "When you tune your guitar, how tight is your G-string?" Seriously. How. Tight. Is. Your. G-string. I'll just let that sink in for a couple of minutes.

Yes folks, that was my night. Even the comedian wanted to hang himself. Every time he swore, he got the 'ole stink eye and the audience let out a bunch of "ooooooooooooohs". Goddamn people, we're not in church! So, so weird.

This place (and by this place, I mean Winnipeg) just gets stranger by the minute.

Not to mention being stuck in a room with an abominable amount of G-strings.

Top 10 Christmas Traditions

Since we're on a Christmas roll around these here parts:

Top 10 Favourite Christmas Traditions or as many as you can think of”:

1. Christmas Eve Dinner. Yum.
2. Wrapping presents
3. Piling the presents under the tree
4. Decorating the tree and putting lights up everywhere. Lights. Fun.
5. Picking out presents
6. Polish Christmas Eve wafer. Love that wafer!
7. Marzipan. Love love LOVE marzipan. Marzipan and poo would probably taste good.
8. Opening presents
9. Spending a cozy day with family and friends
10. Peppermint Hot Chocolate

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I'm on my way to Polo Park, when I pass their billboard and do a double take. I can't be seeing what I'm really seeing, can I?

On the billboard it says: Lululemon now open.

What? What? Seriously? Squeeeeeee!!!

Winnipeg is certainly moving up in the world. Now just add a Pottery Barn and a Sephora and I'm good. And an IKEA, but then I'm definitely good.

So, of course, the first store I must must go into is Lululemon.

And I see it. My future is nigh. My dream gym bag, purse and school bag all rolled into one: Oh dear god, and it's pink too. I think I might cry.

Now, just to be a good girl, I will give it at least my customary 24 hour waiting period to make sure I have not gone temporarily insane at the simple thought that a Lululemon actually exists here before I buy. I might even wait until New Homeowner gets here and have her advise yay or nay on my sanity.

But dude, a Lululemon! *sigh*

Argh!

New Homeowner is coming for a visit.

Argh!

So excited. So, so excited!

ARGH!!!

That's all I can muster at the moment: AAAAAAAAARGH!!!!

Excuse me while I go sob in a corner with joy.

The Travails of the Godparent

Citrusboy and I are godparents to a cute almost-one year-old who lives in Ontario, while we live in you-know-where (hint: it starts with an H and ends with an LL). Baby Girl's birthday is mid-December and Christmas is late December, so we end up insane around, say, today.

We finally rounded up all the gifts we wanted to give her for both occasions and realized that we would have to send the humungo package today if it was going to make it in time for her birthday.

Little did I know:

1. Not enough Christmas wrapping paper in the house.
2. Can't find the gobs of packing tape that I know we have somewhere.
3. Only box I can find that's big enough almost doesn't close once we've stuffed it full of presents.

So...we now have to run to the mall, get the wrapping paper and packing tape, wrap the gifts up, stuff 'em in the box, tape up the box, and get to the post office - all before it closes in one hour.

So that's how I came to be wrapping presents at a coffee shop's table in the middle of the mall.

But, I am proud to say, I had enough time to buy an Italian Soda for citrusboy and a Peppermint Hot Chocolate for me when all was said and done.

Yay, pressure wrapping!

Christmas Top Five

As we're also planning on putting up the (miniscule) Christmas Tree tomorrow, I thought I would join in on New Homeowner's Top 5 List.

Top 5 Christmas Songs

5. So This is Christmas by John Lennon - Always makes a tear well up. Not a happy song, but what can I say?

4. Do They Know It's Christmas? by BandAid - The 80s original since I'm an old geezer.

3. Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano - I know, it's stupid so don't laugh, but I just love this song (except when Celine Dion is singing it).

2. All I Want for Christmas is You - The one off the Love Actually soundtrack by Olivia Olson works for me.

1. Last Christmas by Wham - LOVE IT!!!! I don't think it gets any better than this. Truly.

Hmm, really this is a list of pretty depressing songs. What does that mean?

Top 5 Christmas Movies

5. Sleepless In Seattle - I'm putting this one in 'cause it all starts on Christmas Eve - that counts, right?

4. Love Actually - So great. So sweet. So cozy.

3. A Charlie Brown Christmas - The original 1965 one, of course.

2. How the Grinch Stole Christmas! - Definitely the 1966 cartoon version.

1. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - Love this movie even when it's not Christmas. It's just...the best. Must watch it every year.

The Great Exploding Chapstick Debacle

So I bought one of those liquidy Bonne Bell Vita Gloss chapstick thingies in sheer raspberry from Shoppers, because, one, a girl can never have enough lip gloss and, two, it had extra Shoppers Points.

I open the package and the damn thing explodes everywhere. E-X-P-L-O-D-E-S. Sheer raspberry gloss all over the counter and my hands. Sheer, sticky-won't-come-off-with-soap-only turpentine raspberry gloss all over my hands. And me? I have to catch the bus in, like, one minute.

I stomp over to Shoppers and say: What the fuck is this shit you're selling me? And the stupid, prissy, smart-ass Shoppers Cosmetics Counter whore with her nose in the air has the gall, the nerve, the asshatness to ask me if I have my receipt.

Yeah, bitch. I have my receipt. And you know where I'm putting it next?

No, you dumbass, I don't have my receipt. Why the hell would I keep a receipt for a $5 lip gloss that I was assuming, quite rightly in my opinion, wasn't going to explode in my face when I tried to take it out of the package.

The SPSSCC whore just stares at me. Sorry, can't do anything for you.

Look crazy, why would I lie about a receipt and a lip gloss. She's all: Nope. I'm all: That's it? She's all: Yeah. That's it.

So I guess now I have to write an email to Shoppers. Let's see if they don't give a rat's bony ass about their customers either.