Baby Work Out

No matter what time of year, I find that I always have something to bitch about; human nature or human habit, I think I've developed quite the skill. Although this may be perceived as a negative attitude; like I tell my husband, my voiced opinions are actually a critical analysis of all the annoying shit in this world. My topic today? The Gym.

Now I guess you could say that I am an avid go-er of the gym, and after years of running, I realized that if I were ever going to be able to lift a watermelon, I would need to invest some time into those things called "muscles." At first I found the whole experience intimidating to say the least; all those fit people sweating, with the heart rate monitors on their arms, and water bottles filled with mysterious liquid that makes you good looking. But after a few weeks, I realized that these were people like myself; slightly crazy, trying to forget horrible life mistakes, and understanding that last night's indulgence of a large oreo blizzard would require at least 2 hours of their time on weights and cardio. After spending a few years at the gym I have immigrated my thoughts from idolizing these jacked up juice heads to absolutely despising them. After watching some "dude" stroke his muscles in the mirror at the gym today, I came to the conclusion that I could not harbour these feelings any more. Here are my top complaints:

1. Grunting: Now when I hear grunting I expect to either be; watching people do physical labor on a farm, playing with pigs, or experiencing child birth. NONE of these happen to take place at a gym; therefor, anyone grunting at the gym can fully expect to experience my "stink eye". I no longer have any restraint and immediately contort my face to make it unmistakable to you that your behavior is not only inappropriate, but also warranted of my general dislike for you and your noises. Get it together.

2. Women who look like men/or who don't look like women: I'm sorry, I can appreciate a beautifully sculpted female body, but when it begins to look like something from the "Aliens" Movie, something ain't right. When you have to get fake titties as a result of over-working your chest, there is an apparent issue. These women you can guarantee are shitting pure bricks. There is not an ounce of fat on them, let alone any recognizable feature that distinguishes them from the male race. I'm sure if penises could be acquired at the gym, they would flock to that machine like a pig  (grunting) on shit. Christ. At first I thought I was jealous, but after thinking about it I'm down right disturbed that the physical attributes that make us female are completely disregarded.....and for what? I don't get it.

3. Cardio Machines: Number one: Calorie counting. Now thankfully, I understand how overestimated these so-called calorie counters are; but for the average person, they are a goddamn facade of what you're actually achieving; they fail to factor in body mass, muscle mass, etc. Just like self-help books (another blog issue). Honey I'm sorry, but 45 minutes on the treadmill isn't as awesome as it appeared to be.
Number two: "Enjoy your workout;" I don't know about you, but it takes everything in me to not lose my shit on the cheerful little message that appears after inputting you weight and time limit into a cardio machine before starting; and not to mention, what is probably going to be, an unenjoyable experience. "Enjoy your workout" flashes across in horrible text before, what you have deemed to be, the workout that will kill you. NO, I will not enjoy this, and how fucking cynical of you machine to even assume that this process of health will be in the least pleasurable. You know what I will goddamn enjoy? The three glasses of wine I'll be having after this self-determined death sentence.

I digress.

I Want To Live In A Wigwam

Well I hope everyone made it through January without the typical, and often media fueled, “Christmas withdrawals.” I find it funny sometimes how there is always an explanation for something, we find some way to pigeon hole feelings and emotions into something that we can all understand. “Oh, that person is depressed;” which generally means that we have some stereotypical assumption of what they may be going through…..and how to fix it. Maybe that person just doesn't give a shit? Reasons aside, “we” appear to not let people be, instead we need to fit them into some mold of understanding that makes it easier, for one, to get on with our own lives; and two, so that we can feel good that our certain circumstances aren't as shitty as theirs. You know, sometimes I just want to do this:

So after sorting Tupperware I began thinking of what small milestone I might accomplish this year; although I'm completely against resolutions, I am 100% for supporting goals - they are the only thing keeping me from eating frozen cookie dough and spending the next day in last year's Christmas pajamas and complaining that I'm breaking out in a dairy-related body hive. With that being said, I think some goals are inconceivable; such as my goal to marry Elton John at the age of 12. Moving on. I'm going to go a little off track here, mostly because this is my own goddamn blog and I can do whatever the hell I want; I feel that Cat Stevens is the reason why I have unrealistic goals of what my future might entail. I remember sitting upstairs in my attic room as a teenager and playing his records on my deceased granddad`s record player; I will share a few lyrics from his song, I want to live in a wigwam, which pretty much explains all of my child-teenage dreams:

I'd like to live in a wigwamYes, I'd like to live in a wigwamI'd like to live in a wigwamAnd dance round the totem pole

I'd like to live in an iglooYes, I'd like to live in an iglooI'd like to live in an iglooAnd fish from an ice hole

Oh, I'd like to ride on a caravanI'd like to take a ride on a caravanYes, I'd like to ride on a caravanAnd sing with the gypsies

I'd like to live on a communeYes, I'd like to live on a communeI'd like to live on a communeAnd people can call me a hippie

I don't want to live in a palaceNo, I don't want to live in no palaceOh, I don't want to live in no palaceThere's too many empty rooms

I don't want to live in the barracksDon't want to live in the barracksOh, I don't want to live in the barracksAnd wake up to the bugle tune

I'd just like to live in a tree hutYes, I'd like to live on the tree hutYes, I'd like to live on a tree hutAnd listen to the sound of the birds

And I don't want to live in a jail houseDon't wanna bide my time in no jail houseNo, I don't want to live in no jail houseAnd be fed bread through the bars

I must digress that living in a palace, igloo, or wigwam would be awesome, I would in no way sign up to live in barracks or any sort of jailhouse. For one, I would probably severely end the life of the bugle player, and secondly, I don't eat a lot of bread, and when I do, I like it toasted with jam; and a side of eggs. I really feel like I have reduced my living needs substantially in the past year, mostly because living just "slightly" above the poverty line is quite humbling and awakening. So back to goals.....

As some of you might know, I was a previous smoker in earlier times, since then, and thanks to the government, I was able to quit. Also thanks to "anti-smoking" programs I am no longer smoking but am now addicted to nicotine gum. Effing con artists is what they are. To be honest, I quite enjoyed smoking; it was the routine to "cover up" the smoking afterwards that exhausted me to the point of quitting; finding out the government would pay for it peaked my Scottish blood even more. There's nothing quite like free.

Now since then, I have been chewing my weight in nicotine gum; I have finally gotten to the point of realizing that this is not a life-long sustainable thing. So, like any unknowing citizen, I went online for the most ACCURATE and INFORMATIONAL (please detect the sarcasm in my voice) way of kicking this habit. After seconds of searching, I came across the official site of CHAMPIX. Now, we all know the detrimental health consequences of smoking, short and long term, but please pay attention to the warnings given by this product:

• changes in behaviour
• changes in mood
• depression
• thinking about harming self or others
• abdominal pain
• appetite changes
• changes in taste
• constipation
• dizziness
• drowsiness
• dry mouth
• flatulence (passing gas)
• gingivitis
• headache
• heartburn
• nausea
• rash
• sleep disturbance (difficulty sleeping or abnormal dreams)
• unusual tiredness or weakness
• vomiting

- worsening cardiovascular-related symptoms, such as new or worsening chest pain, new or worse pain in legs when walking, shortness of breath, or trouble breathing

I'm sorry, I was just looking for a way to enable me to fully give up nicotine, NOT buy a ticket straight to HELL. Shit, I get three quarters of these symptoms by sitting on the couch on a Tuesday night, let alone cognitively and full-heartily signing up for it!Are we talking about the better of two evils here or what? You know, I don't really see the benefit between wanting to harm others while experiencing drowsiness, heartburn, nausea, weakness, and vomiting - not to mention trying not to shit yourself while you're depressed and hungry; compared to inhaling something full of tar and chemicals - no one getting hurt and you've still got your shit together.

Now obviously I know that not all symptoms would be experienced, but knowing my luck, I'd be playing tupperware origami shit-capades upon consumption.

I'll take my chances with the gum thank-you very much.

New Year, New You??

Well the day has come (and gone); you know the day that ends every single year? Maybe it was even your birthday or perhaps you celebrated the birth of a child, or maybe, just maybe, you just got totally shit faced and forgot your own name and where your pants were? Regardless, a new year has begun and what a better time to set yourself up for failure and upset than creating some bullshit list of how you've failed in the past year as a human being and how you're "going to do better" this year. Yes, I'm going to get my lucky pen out (because using a pen means it's permanent), reach way back into the cupboard from hell to find the note pad that last year's resolutions were written on, and bullshit my way into convincing myself that 2013 will be the year that I will get my shit together. Christ, looking back upon the year, I'm goddamn thankful that I wasn't knocked up and that I didn't contract some deadly airborne disease, now those are accomplishments if you ask me. I'd also like to give myself a well-deserved pat on the back for being such a goddamn fantastic person, not to mention offering a solid handshake to the amazing people in my life that put up with my incessant banter and what may be perceived, at times, as genuine "asshole-ness." All that aside I truly think that 2013 is going to be a great year, not because I know this, but because I bloody well hope it will be. Don't get me wrong, 2012 had some amazing and life changing events, but I'm a firm believer in if you're not moving up and on, there where the hell are you going???

I have a lot to look forward to in 2013; my niece turns one!! My sister will be having the first McCaffery-Taylor grandchild, I will be celebrating my first year of marriage, and, if the stars align, I will be graduating! Well the first three things are true regardless; I can see myself in 15 years celebrating my long awaited school graduation at a Johnny Reid concert flinging my tummy tuck panties on stage and trying not to wet myself. Christ.

I really wanted to boycott the whole "New Years Resolution" thing this year, and as mentioned previously, I think it is an efficient way to self-sabotage any hopes of accomplishing anything positive in the up and coming months. Is a list of goals going to drag my ass to the gym? Is a piece of paper with promises going to stop me from eating my own weight in chocolate? Can it stop me from thinking ungodly things about 99% of the population? We put soo much effort, incentive, and energy into something that really is, when we break it down, nothing but words on a page. If you ask me, if that thing aint going to clean my floors, wipe my ass, or take out the garbage then it can get the hell out of my house. And why do we do this? Every year it is the same old thing, why not try and do something different everyday, or once a week? Why does a new year change any of this? It's like clean sheets, once you clean them, they're just going to get dirty again. - ok maybe I'm getting off topic a little on the sheets, but I know full well that the majority of people lie horrifically about the rate at which they wash their sheets (myself included).  Some like the filth, some don't, some lie about it even, but it's always coming back. I think what it comes down to is accepting who we are, tweaking the things that need a little attention (ask your family and loved ones for input, they're always good at telling you exactly how much of a dick you've been in the past year), and put your energy into where it is needed. Better yet, stand in front of the mirror and truly look at who you are, who you have become, and where you are going. Give YOURSELF a pat of the back and say thank-you for doing your best; then take two steps back, remove the spanx and tummy tucker underwear, and get your ass to the gym - You and the rest of your city's population will be fighting for the treadmill and you gotta get yo' ass in line.

 And hell, if it's any conciliation, the world still justifies paying athletes millions of dollars while the rest of the population still struggles with poverty, homelessness, and hunger......I think you can sit a few out.

Merry Fucking Christmas!!!!

Well I truly hope that all of you took my advice in regards to the holiday season; eating, drinking, and saying inappropriate things all to excess that will no doubt take until NEXT Christmas for your family members to excuse your foul and inappropriate behavior. I am a little upset that I was not able to provide you all with greater words of wisdom but there is always next year. I also give advice for weddings, christenings, birthdays, Bat-Mitzvah's, break-up's, and walk-of-shame's.

The Christmas shit-show started early, 4 am to be exact. I thought it would be a GREAT idea to leave Penticton early in order to catch connecting ferries to the island and Hornby. After a constipating and anxiety filled drive along highway 3, mother nature decided to crap all over what was to be my perfectly planned trip. After five and a half hours in a ferry line up, Fraser and I finally made the ferry. The following day we rolled onto Hornby and proceeded to slip into the the comfortable state that I like to call, "Hornby Island Time." Now I know this is not a well known phrase, but it bloody well should be. I mean people on this island have names like "Honeybee" and "Storm," not to mention the goddamn reverend rides a horse - BARE BACK - and has a firm handshake with the bottle - if you know what I mean. On Hornby you can buy your groceries, smoke a joint, and purchase alcohol all within the same location - same store for that matter. You can also drive without insurance (in winter months) and use your mother's inherited land to grow copious amounts of dope. There are also the "Eco Hippies" as I like to call them, you know, the people who drive hybrid vehicles and wear organic hemp clothing, but you know full well they go home to their million dollar mansions and drink tea (organically grown of course) from a gold plated cup whilst sitting on their 100% buffalo skin sofa -christ. My mother on the other hand does not have a phone, uses a wood stove for heat, doesn't own a t.v., hasn't had a regular paycheck since 1980, does not drive a vehicle (this is actually a godsend as her previous vehicles were roadside hazards), and  does not own a washer or dryer- which most likely adds to her "Hornby Island Artist Look" - and wardrobe. But you know what? Miraculously ( and I say this with true sarcasm) she is HAPPY. I think, especially during the Christmas season, we either are searching for THAT happiness or have somehow lost it in all the festive chaos. Not to mention, throughout the year we are always grasping at finding that balance between having an absolute mental breakdown and finding 2 minutes in the day to appreciate what we really have. Now, I'm just as guilty as everyone else in this, it's not like I sit practicing yoga and meditating my way through life - but with my current unemployed self, this may be an option? I guess what I'm saying is, seek out something, someone, or some feeling that makes you reflect upon the life you have been given, and continue to live. Find a time to appreciate what you have, be that your health, your family, or the people you choose to surround yourself with. Our lives are filled with accumulating pressure and influence, take a step back, breathe in deep, and have a look around. Christ, the world can't even leave gay penguins alone (see link below):
Gay Penguins 

When the holiday is all said and done, I am happy to report that my Christmas back at home was everything that I imagined it would be - and more. Some of the highlights you ask??

1. My mother-in-law's new rendition of the song, "Deck the halls with BALLS of holly"
2. Another close family friend serenading a Christmas party with, "I saw mommy fucking Santa Clause"
3. Acquiring a deep love and passion for Disaronno and cranberry - trust me, it is amazing
4.Singing drunken karaoke at the Queen's 4 hours before heading home
5. Receiving a CAT blanket for a present
6. Having to explain to all of my family members, on multiple occasions, that I am no longer employed
7. Realizing that I couldn't have asked to be in the company of some of the most amazing people I have ever met and had the opportunity to get to know

Merry Christmas All!!!!! Stay tuned for my New Years post, bound to be full of cynical analysis of the human race...oh! and also my New Years Resolutions (there are many)

Ho Ho Ho, Your Love Handles Show

Oh boy! It's that time again for another useless tid bit of holiday advice! This post I would like to title;


 "Ho Ho Ho, Your Love Handles Show"

Now for those of you who know me, I take my health seriously, you could even say I'm the shining mecca of health.....right..... However, though my past was littered with copious amounts of smoking and drinking with minor installments of exercise;  I can happily say that I've given up the "fags" (except on nights out when I don't even know my own name) and have happily welcomed exercise and fitness into my life. I think I am actually able to do a solid 5 push ups and have something the size of a small squirrel protruding from my upper arms. I am refraining from talking about the lower half of my body which continues to be the bain of my existence since I donned the nickname "porkchop" at the age of 10 - Thanks mom, I'm sure psychologically that did me a world of good.

 Now in previous years, I used to dread the holiday season; the copious amounts of food, alcohol, and treats - before I knew it I was tits deep in my step-moms festive baking even before Aunt Ethel could bust out the first verse of, "Oh come holy faithful." I remember some years being physically sore from eating too much, and let me tell you ladies and gentleman, there is nothing sexy about gluttony - nothing sexy at all. I really don't know where the excessive need to cook for an entire army was invented, but it can go straight back to the hell it came from. Don't get me wrong, nothing quite beats the smell of holiday food cooking and the comfort in knowing you're surrounded by friends, family, and delicious treats, but one glass or two glasses of eggnog in and you've pretty much bought your train ticket straight to Thunder Thigh City. Christ, you're the goddamn conductor. Not to mention, your jeggings have now restricted your ability to reproduce.

Before writing this post I thought about all the articles out there on how to "stay slim" over the holidays, and "low fat" options for Christmas. If you ask me, they're all a crock of bullshit, YOU chose to put that mint melty in your mouth, and all of it's sixteen cousins too. I guess the point of this post is to just embrace the holidays; sure, maybe a few pounds gained here or there, but come January, your Visa bill will take care of that; you'll be too stressed out to eat and you can't afford food either! No but seriously, I think people get too wrapped up in "health" over the holidays and staying slim; if gaining 5 pounds is your biggest goddamn concern, then you shouldn't be invited to anything over the holidays - you and your slimfast bar can stay home and watch Bridgette Jones' Diary on Netflix.

Just think, you'll be the first one on Facebook to boast about how much weight you have GAINED over the holidays.

With that being said, here are a couple helpful pointers on successfully accepting happiness, love handles or not, over the holidays:

1. Like my mother-in-law has taught me, you can always replace meals with alcohol. For instance, a "Caesar" is pretty much a well balanced meal in itself - throw in a piece of cheese and meat on the side and you've got yourself ....half cut before lunch.

2. Allow yourself to be a gluttonous mess; really it's the one time of year that you can morally indulge without having it "count"

3. As my husband, and also the author of the novel titled; "How to not give a shit - one man's experience in life," says; "stop caring so much about pointless shit that doesn't matter."

And that my friends tops off this week's helpful hints to the holidays!

We've Got The Dreamer's Disease

I never thought that the start to my holidays would involve getting fired from my job; surprisingly enough I actually feel like I have won a mini lottery! Santa, how did you know?? Unfortunately I wish I could say I was actually "FIRED" but I'll just have to settle for a mutual agreement to terminate employment. At least I'm still eligible for E.I., because nothing looks better than being unemployed at the age of 26 and milking the system. Oh did I mention I am also a student and still take hand-outs from my parents? I'm surprised I'm not still breast feeding for christ sakes.

Ok enough with the "pity me" statements. As mentioned before, I am quite relieved to be no longer working for THAT company. To make a long story short, and due to the fact that pretty much anyone can read this thanks to the internet, I will remain diplomatic and leave it at this; I felt the moral and ethical obligation to make note of the fact of unequal pay scales at my work; my voiced opinions led to the deterioration of my employment; accompanied by the fact that my manager was a complete effing dragon and didn`t even have the decency to leave her cave to wave off my departure. Don`t worry, I made sure to wish them all a VERY merry Christmas on my way out; hopefully Santa makes an extra effort to remove the lump of coal from her nether regions this year.

So what will I do now you ask?? Well, thanks to my Scottish habits, I have managed to put away enough to sit comfortably for awhile. While most people might find it frightening to be unemployed, I'm more concerned about being left to my own devices thanks to my now "open" schedule. Believe it or not, I actually like working.....ok that's a lie, I like having structure in my daily routine as a well as a paycheck, and since prostitution would not be tolerated in my family, I have to find alternative avenues. Anyway, I thought I would get to the point of this post, and as promised, here is the first installment of successfully surviving the holidays. This I have chosen to title; Holiday Hosting

Now some of us enjoy entertaining more than others, so if you are someone who absolutely despises hosting a get together at your place, then get up right now and go pour yourself another drink. Now, for those of you that find some sort of sick enjoyment in providing food, beverages, and endless comedic entertainment for people you don't really like, such as family, then I suggest you tune in to my step-by-step (ooooh baby) guide to making yourself look and feel better than your invited guests.

 Step 1: Although it may seem like a good idea to cook some elaborate meal for your company; don't do it. Not only will you waste money on organic, free range, imported foods, but the chances of your guests actually appreciating it in the end is minimal. Let's be honest, if it's anything like my previous attempts at entertaining, they'll probably throw it up in your ornamental tree on their way to their vehicle at 2 am. Also, at around 3 glasses of booze in, you'll seriously regret having to spend useless time in the kitchen stirring, whisking, and slicing, while your guests are boozing it up in your living room. On that note, don't go and buy pre-made bullshit; that shit blatantly say's to your guests, "I don't fucking like you and you're not even worth this Oriental variety pack I picked up at M and M meats."

Step 2: Plan ahead; if you know that your extensions take 40 minutes to blow dry and you'll have to apply at least two layers of make-up to your face (thanks to last night's game of "zit picker") then start getting ready early. DO NOT get ready right before your guests arrive; no doubt you've been pre-drinking (step 4) beforehand and trust me when I say, making any decision with the inclusion of alcohol is a sure way to guarantee you'll be looking like a festive street walker upon greeting your guests.

Step 3: Don't stress out about how clean your house is, if they're your friends, they already know how much of a dirty slob you are. If you are trying to impress some future potential friends, then I suggest picking your shit up off the floor, running the vacuum over the carpet, and shoving all the rest of your shit in whatever cupboard you can guarantee your guests won't look in. If all else fails, dim the lights; you won't be able to see the months worth of dust accumulating on your television stand OR the crumbs from last week when you thought it would be a good idea to eat half a bag of Humpty Party mix and three quarters of your advent calendar.

Step 4: My last and final suggestion in regards to throwing a successful dinner party; DRINK. Honestly, before you start any of the above mentioned steps, pour yourself a healthy glass of alcohol and take a few minutes to enjoy the fact that you won't give a shit when it's all said and done. Hair looks like shit?? Don't care. My guests are boring as hell?? Not a problem. My husband just spilled half a plate of Pad Thai on my newly washed carpet? Oh well. My nylons have turned into a frontal thong? you get the point....

Well I hope this has given you some truly helpful advice in regards to your holiday celebrations. Stay tuned for the next Festively Themed Installment!

Deck My Halls

Well there is something about the Christmas season that turns me into those really happy people you see in holiday magazines; decorating their tree with their 6 children dancing around, a handsome husband in a striped sweater vest, and a yellow lab sleeping by the fire......woah, maybe not quite like that but you get the point. I don't know why I love the holidays soo much, I honestly think it was my mother's goal in life to distort my happy ideals of what Christmas should be by tainting them with "alternative" ways of ringing in the season, see examples below:

1. One year for Halloween my grade.3 class put on a scary play; my mother of course volunteered to make a 5 foot tall "haunted tree." Guess what our presents were place under that year?

2. Another year she came in contact with (to this day I'm still not sure how) a lower torso of a male mannequin; upon returning home from school my sister and I walked into the living room to find "him" stuffed with Christmas lights.

3. After years of not having a Christmas tree, my mom finally convinced my sister and I that we were getting a REAL one; lights included. From a SIX INCH box she pulls out a fake plastic tree with barely visible lights on it; I remember being sooo pissed off watching her plug it into the wall... she of course was no doubt happier than a pig in shit that she fooled us for another year.

Don't get me wrong, looking back now I really don't understand what the importance of a "normal" tree was, but at the age of 7 try explaining that Christmas morning present opening will be spent under the plastic balls of a male torso.

Another confusing Christmas event was the fact that, during the time I believed STRONGLY in Santa Clause, my Scottish Nana played Mrs.Clause at the mall - you know the place where you drag your kids to every year for their picture with Santa and they have some really cheesy set up and all you get is a goddamn candy cane that usually breaks before you even get home and to make matters worse the picture usually turns out ugly and Santa isn't even looking at the camera? Woah back on track. Anyway, I must have been a really fucking gullible child, or my parents did a fantastic job at altering my understanding of reality because for one; how could my Nana also be Mrs.Clause, and secondly, why did it never occur to me that in all the Christmas stories I read as a child, never, in ANY of them, did Mrs.Clause have a goddamn Scottish accent.


You know, come to think of it, I'm surprised I don't spend the holiday season drunk at the bar singing karaoke alone. But why do that when I can do those things in the comfort of my in-laws. And THAT ladies and gentleman is what the Christmas season is all about; creating embarrassing and morally questionable memories with your family that will be talked about for years to come. Like that time I spilled an alcoholic beverage on my mother-in-law's carpet.

So in the spirit of the season, I have decided to dedicate a few of my posts to my own helpful tips for ringing in the holidays; sarcastic versions of course. Stay tuned for the first installment of "Oh Crap it's Christmas - a useless guide to achieving holiday success" Chapter one: Holiday Entertaining