Hello Fall

I am one pair of crotch-wrenching pantyhose away from becoming a 1960's housewife. Although some aspects of that lifestyle would not be that bad...such as; not having to work......I can't think of any others.

I have cooked, cleaned, washed laundry, and am currently sitting on my couch with no pants on and curlers in my hair. It is Saturday night and I've spent the past hour trying to convince myself that this is perfectly acceptable behaviour for a 25 year old married woman.

Fast forward to Sunday.

I find it quite amazing the amount of work I put into cooking dinner; especially after having a few drinks. Though I do not condone drinking to excess, I fully support its use in becoming a happier and more productive member of society (within reason). Personally, I use alcohol to just not give a shit; dishes? No problem. Paying bills? Absolutely! Talking to people you definitely wouldn't carry on conversations with sober? Of course! This is when alcohol can become such a great companion; on the flip side, it can leave you in tears crying in your 1994 Mazda Protege to your husband about your "issues". Not the finest of moments.

Saturday night did not turn into much, my hair ended up looking like a post-sex follicle romp and my PMS (which has worsened each year??) took the better of me. I ended up watching Lord of the Rings on teletoon and eating half a bag of crispy mini's dill flavour; carbicide.
 I woke up this morning with yesterday's makeup on and some sort of  blonde animal growing at the back of my head (my hair). Note to those wanting extensions, get a weave. Saying "my weave is tangled" is much more badass than explaining why your "clamp extensions have dried out." Just sayin.

Though I am a full time student and work full time, my "google search list" begs to contradict that statement. Throughout my life I have come to accept that I am eccentric, often OCD, a mental terrorist, and quite stubborn the majority of the time, I never thought that my life could be summed up by simply looking at my Google search history.  I thought I would share what I came across; keep in mind, these searches are only one week old:


Canada post Penticton
Side effects of dairy allergy
Unique Baby Names
What is a group of deer called?
Tegan and Sara new album
Diplomat cake recipe
Jessica Simpson's baby (I was trying to convince Fraser that this could quite possible be the ugliest child)
Trichotillomania
Deena plastic surgery
French Bulldog
Cesar millan's dogs names
Cesar millan Mr.President
Cesar millan's dogs
Cesar

FUCK.

This is Mr.President, not sure why I needed to search four times.

No better time than the present??

So I've been toying with the idea of starting a blog for awhile now....to be honest I used to have one in high school filled with teenage angst and stories of how much I couldn't stand my parents and life at the time..... if I could go back now I would definitely give myself a straight slap to the face. I guess the real reason behind this whole thing is to kind of have a way to document my life; what I have learned, what I have been forced to accept, and the crazy randomness that falls in between. Don't get me wrong, my life is by no means a hollywood drama or action movie; you'd probably get more excitement in the dog food aisle at Pet Smart most nights of the week. For example; it is Saturday night and my evening plans have resulted in eating half a jar of pickled beets (tasty), watching a re-run of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, and procrastinating doing my homework; you better red-neckognize.

After re-reading that paragraph I have concluded that the true reasons behind this blog are driven by my extreme determination to procrastinate my final year of school AND my underlying fear of developing alzheimers and forgetting everything. Although forgetting some things wouldn't be that bad; such as my age.

Speaking of age I would like to make mention that this has become an issue for me, mostly because the number keeps increasing. I was staring at myself in the mirror at work the other day (there are mirrors everywhere, I'm not that vain) and realized that my "smile lines" have become smile "crevasses" on my face. It took everything in me to refrain from resorting to google to find the nearest botox center. (This is another issue that I'm sure will surface itself again throughout this blog). I probably would never go through with botox, actually that is a lie, I will never go through with botox in my 20's. I think I'm secretly hoping that the world of anti-aging will make great leaps and bounds by the time I truly do need some "help" and then injecting your face with pureed organic crap will be available. I've also realized that I will have to be a closet botox-er, my family would never let me live it down, just like that time I got stuck knee-deep in fish sperm and eggs and had to spend the rest of the day "airing off" while my family took part in their happy outing; bastards.

Believe it or not, there IS a part of me that enjoys my age, staying home on weekends, and being employed. For starters, I would take being 25 over reliving the years between 18 and 22, I greatly appreciate (though not while the drinking is actually happening) waking up Sunday mornings knowing EXACTLY what I did the night before and not having my eyelash stuck to my upper lip, and finally, though I have convinced myself that I "shouldn't have to work," I have concluded that I could not do the things I do now OR be able to buy SKY VODKA at any given day of the week if I didn't have a pay cheque. As a result of all of this I have started playing the lotto; this would solve everything.