BEARDS ARE WEIRD - Kobicha

It’s true. I have been kidnapped by a bearded caper. Well. Sort of. I have to admit, this is the first time I have dated anyone with a beard. And let me tell you, what an adjustment it has been! There are certainly a lot of accommodations you have to make when your partnership is 1/3 beard. 

Beards are weird. Seriously, think about it. It’s like, your face has decided that it’s not cool for the world to see your cheeks or chin. Or that weird space above your eyes, you know.. between your forehead and your eyeballs? Yeah. Beards are weird. 

I have now become a keeper of a beard. He’s lovely, don’t get me wrong – my life, however has changed. I’m going to tell you in what ways – but first, I’m going to talk about beards and why they are more than just a new fashion statement. Maybe I have beard-envy? It's hard to say.. especially coming from a Ginger who would definitely have a ginger-beard.. the jury is still out on ginger-beards. 

Firstly, did you know that the current record for the longest beard is 6 ft? Yeah. That’s longer than the average Canadian is tall. If you weren’t self-conscious about your height before, I aim to make it so knowing you are shorter than someone’s beard. HA. (sorry.) In actual fact, the record for the longest beard is SEVENTEEN feet, which was set in 1927.. but that guy is dead. SO.. he can’t hold the record, I guess. I think the beard is somewhere on display.. I’m assuming having been detached from the grower.. cause.. he’s dead. Right, okay – moving along. 

Apparently, approximately 55% of the world’s men are sporting beards these days. That’s obviously more than half (good mathing, I know.) and so I suppose that makes the plight for women who don’t like beards all that much harder. HA. Just give in, beards aren’t the worst thing in the world. Beard Bugs. Beard Badgers. BEARDS. BEETS. BATTLESTAR GALACTICA. 

One study found that beards accomplish three things: they make you look older, appear to have a higher social status and also increase your aggressiveness. I mean, obviously they don’t make you more aggressive (that would be some weird biology) – but according to the women they polled or asked to fill out some sort of survey.. or have personal experiences with both bearded and non-bearded men have confirmed that men with beards who are angry.. are far scarier than men without beards who are angry. So.. I suppose if you want to buy beer underage, appear to be rich and/or famous while also being FIERCE as hell, you should probably have a beard. 

Beards protect you from sunburns. So, instead of having the uniform sun-fucked-tomato look all over your face, it's just in the weird bits that don’t have your beard on them. Sorry about that gentlemen.. I guess don't get a sunburn and then shave your beard. It’ll look weird. Unless you’ve committed crime. Then shave it.. cause other than your stupid sunburn look.. no one will recognise you!

Contrary to popular belief, you will not woo the ladies with your beard. I mean, I’m not saying that women out there don’t fawn over men with beards, because sometimes they do. But in this case, it’s true that the majority of compliments on your sweet dude-beard will actually come from other dudes.. probably without beards. Because they’re envious and want the name of the gypsy you stole the tears from so they can have a sweet beard too. 

                           This is Doug. (Hi Doug) He also has a Beard. Gypsy tear beard.

Rich-turd, (my mane man) does not appreciate his beard being touched. Firstly, it’s personal space.. of which you have to get in to actually reach it.. secondly.. it’s a lot like pregnant ladies and their bellies. They don’t want you to touch their baby.. so you shouldn’t touch Rich’s baby.. his beard (which coincidently is about the size of a normal sized human baby). In fact, during the middle ages anyone who touched a man’s beard was considered to be causing offence and could then be challenged to a duel because the beard was a sign of virility and honour. Of course, Rich isn’t super pleased this is no longer a time honoured tradition, as his ideal conflict resolution style is dueling. Especially for beard infractions. And only if fought with a battle axe. (Yes, some people plan for the apocalypse.. or the outbreak of the zombie virus. We plan for when they legalise dueling again. It’s a real skill. DON’T TELL ME HOW TO LIVE MY LIFE)

Some responses Scowlbeard has received regarding his beard are:

1.   - “Ew. Gross. No.”

2.    -   “Sweet beard, man.”

3.    -   “Is that real?”

4.    -   “Can I have some of that?” (Although, he was eating ice cream at the time and I suspect that it was more directed at the ice cream than at the beard..)

Of course, living with Scowlbeard has it’s challenges. Beards aren’t maintenance free you know. While some people think that beards are the absence of facial care and concern, it’s actually the opposite. Not only does it require regular trimming and oiling and combing and whatever else, but if you aren’t on top of cleaning the bathroom regularly, it appears as though you have a serious pube problem.. and try to deal with it on the bathroom counter or in the bathroom sink. It’s.. kind of weird. Especially when you find them on the couch or throw pillows. It’s a great way to get rid of houseguests you really don’t want there anymore. I mean, “Hey.. is that one of my giant-super-long-curly-wiry-thick pubes on that pillow? Wow. How embarrassing.” Suddenly, people aren’t just stopping over all willy-nilly trying to scope out how the bearded half live. 

                                   Bird is the word. They make nests with stolen beards.

                                           

Another interesting thing is that bearded mean aren’t necessarily gorillas from the neck down.  Surprisingly, you can grow a beard exclusively on your face, and not be burdened with a matching set of gorilla arms and legs and chest to go with it. Who knew?! 

Being in a bearded relationship means you, as the seeing eyes of the beard, are constantly on “beard duty”. It’s about as much fun as it sounds. Basically, at meal times, you are responsible for making sure there isn’t any leftover dinner, dessert or snacks stuck in the beard when you’re out and about. Often, food gets in there. Often, you pull that food out. Approximately 100% of the time you look like a smaller monkey pulling bugs from a bigger monkey. That shit just ain’t cute. BUT, clean beard is best beard.                        

                                                        (Duurty Beard -->>)

So, at the end of the day, would you say “yes” to the beard? Doesn’t matter what you say, the beard must say yes to you.

Sequel to the Sequel: Part 2 - Isabelline

Well, I guess it’s time for a sequel. I mean, we talked about a sequel. Well, I talked about it. With myself. At length.


Anyway, it’s not really like I have important things to say, and when I do, I doubt people are going to take me seriously when I associate a serious thing with an online word document whose title is associated with erotic literature. One day, I might be serious about something. Today is not that day.

So, readers – we’ve had long discussions about Un-Awesome things, and how they are minimal yet universal and can really set you up for a bad day (or a bad week, depending on how badly you burned the roof of your mouth).

I’m glad you could join me for this although admittedly it’s a little painful on my part. I mean, I don’t really know anything about writing or about writers, but I am sure that I’m crossing some sort of boundary or going into territory that I shouldn’t this early in my blogging adventures. I can’t even claim to be as awesome as the guys who wrote Fast: 6 (which we all know has been made 3 times too many), and despite any bad reviews, no one paid me to write ‘Sharknado’. But, at least one day, I can maybe show my grandkids this ridiculous thing I spent time on when I was a 20-something living in a town that closes at 5pm and still stamps out library books.

Anyway, Un-Awesome things: Sequel to a Sequel: part 2.

Zits: Yes, we’ve all had a least one. I must admit, that I am pretty lucky and have only had 1 or 2 really serious zits in my life and they have never appeared on significant days of my existence such as picture day, or my wedding. But, they serve no purpose except to say to you in the morning: ‘Hey, I know you didn’t wash your face last night because you stayed up too late watching Sharknado, so here are a couple of reminders that you can’t win the war against your own biology. On top of that, we’ll make them painful and red, and put them on a part of your face that is really hard to get at.’ Or stress zits? That’s a cyclical conundrum that I am glad I don’t find myself in: you zit because you stress, and you stress because you zit.

When it’s windy as shit: I can handle the rain, and I’m not too upset when it’s really cold or really hot. Those kinds of things I can deal with. What I can’t deal with is when it is windy outside. It really is impossible to have a nice day when it’s like a tornado outside and it impairs your ability to do anything. It’s impossible to have a good hair day, it gets ruined the minute you leave the house, you can’t sit outside and enjoy a meal, there’s dirt and leaves and crap blowing everywhere. You might think ‘Oh, well it’ll bring with it nice cool weather’ NO. Because when it’s sticky and hot as crap out, all that wind is just blowing more hot air around, and now you’re sticky and hot and you have terrible hair.

Mosquito Bites: In keeping with the skin irritation issues bites are seriously the most useless. Worse than zits because in addition to being painful, they are also itchy all to hell. They’re giant and red, and can strike at any moment. And often, no amount of scratching really relieves the itch, not even when they’re bloody and oozy. At this point, the general public might think you have the plague and they’ll avoid you. Now you’re left alone to scratch, and don’t even have anyone to complain to, or explain why you’re scratching like a Meth-Head and by the time the itch goes away – you’ll be scabbier than that time you had chicken pox. Gross.

Coffee Grinds: Don’t get me wrong, I think the sustenance to life is coffee (well, it’s water, but you need that to make coffee, so basically the same thing) but it’s the grinds that drive me insane. I mean, someone once discussed that glitter was the herpes of craft supplies, and I can follow that up with bobby-pins are the herpes of hair supplies and can now declare that coffee grinds are the herpes of kitchen supplies. You think you’ve taken care of them after spilling some, and the next morning the grinds have regrouped and multiplied and are currently electing their next leader on the kitchen counter. Then you clean them up again and they’re in the cloth, and then you rinse the cloth and they’re in the sink. Then you try to sweep them up off the floor to no avail. They get stuck in the coffeemaker or on the lip where the sink meets the counter. It’s really a never ending nightmare – spill those little fuckers and it’s over, you’ll never get them cleaned up. Might as well re-model and move.

Wet Bathing suits: there is really no purpose to a wet bathing suit. They are SO hard to put on if they’re still wet and you wanna hop back into the lake or pool. You can’t put them in the dryer, and no matter how dry you think they are, they aren’t. It’s just a fact. They’re not very absorbent so wiping things off when them is a loss, and not to mention it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been out in the sun drying, and how hot it is out – they’re not only wet, but cold. So, they take extra time to put on, you look weird trying to pull this elastic suit that’s sticking to every bit of you, and now you’ve got goose-pimples because it’s like putting on a suit of ice in addition to the awkward tugging and tying and sticking. Forget the suit – just chunky-dunk instead.

Lego Candy: I love Lego. I also love Lego candy. I don’t love eating Lego Candy. I think Lego is an amazing invention and I definitely spent a lot of time in my childhood building and re-building anything and everything out of Lego. We all know that the only thing worse than death, is stepping on a piece of Lego – that has to be the worse pain the in the world. If it wasn’t enough to add to this danger of permanently injuring yourself on such an innocent building block, they decided to make delicious, teeth shattering candy out of it. You can even build things out of your Lego candy, it’s a miracle! And they make it delicious so you’ll want to buy it, but with all that comes the fact that to enjoy it, you also have to eat it. Nothing that a few broken teeth and bleeding gums can’t handle right? What if you stepped on a Lego while eating Lego candy? Alanis should write a song about that.

Bad Hair Days: Okay, you’ve checked the forecast, and it’s not windy outside. You have sufficient time, and everything is going according to your hair plan logistically. You’re ready, ready to finish your look with your hair and you get through it – and that’s it. It’s done, and it looks terrible. It isn’t sitting right, it looks greasy, and some of it is sticking up in funny places. Nothing you do aside from re-showering and starting from the beginning is going to help you fix the hot mess on top of your head.

Turning your brain off: While I know that a lot of people have the opposite problem, nothing is worse than trying to sleep and having your brain going a mile a minute. It’s like, every thought you ever thought you could think, you are thinking at this exact moment. That moment you’re in bed, you’ve settled for the night and you’re ready to drift off into dream land and start anew on the morrow. Then, on top of the fact that you can’t turn your brain off, now you can’t stop thinking about turning your brain off, and now you’re stressing about sleeping, and you can’t sleep because you’re stressing and now you’re pretty sure you’re getting a zit.

Wrong length: Now, I know what you’re thinking (shame on you), but I have to say it annoys me to no end when the length of my pants are too long, or too short. I don’t see the point in pants that are too short (unless they’re capris, in which case: carry on.) and when they’re too long it’s hard to not wreck the bottoms, get them dirty, or step all over them like a hooligan. I know, get them hemmed, buy them in the right length (for those of you who fit in length standards) or buy them in skinny and roll them up. All valid suggestions, but the last thing I want to do when investing in a nice pair of pants, is invest in them some more to have them not make me look like a slob at work, because my damn pants are way too long. I guess heels would also be a fair solution.. tell me how that works out for you gentlemen.

Flat tires: It seems that since moving to the wonderful Manitoba, I have had 3 flat tires. That is more flats than ever before in my driving career! The problem with flat tires (aside from the fact the tires are flat) is that it’s seriously such a pain in the ass to move forward with getting them fixed. Like, you have to go out and put on the spare – but you’re in your work clothes and ready to head out in the morning, and now you’re delayed and you have to change (or wreck your new dress pants, that are too long anyway) and then make sure it’s all safe and on. Get the stupid thing into the trunk, drive to a place that can look at it, leave it there .. get to work late, covered in drive way and leaves, and now your hands hurt and on top of that. It’s -40 here all the time, so it really puts a damper in your day. Or, your other option is to get on the phone and have someone pump it up and take it to the shop. Or have it towed. Like, seriously. So much work for only 1/4th of the tires required!

Locking yourself out: I do this a lot in my office, I don’t know why – I get excited about getting out of the 4x4 space that slightly resembles a prison cell (but without the convenience of plumbing) and slam the door and usually my keys are sitting nicely on my desk. This isn’t a good thing, and it’s embarrassing to be like “Hey, yeah.. locked myself out again.. can you help..?” but especially when it happens at home, I don’t even know how to function. Like, you’re expecting to just get into the house and do what you need to do, sit on the couch, make dinner, change your long-ass dress pants and get into some jeans for your evening out and BAM. Stuck on the lawn like a creepy gnome. And I think we all react to being locked out the same. First, you panic (maybe swear) and search frantically for your keys. The thing about this search, is that deep down you know that you’ve left them in the house, and you’ve really known that all day. Then, you wander around the property as though there is some wormhole that will suddenly open up a human sized hole in the side of your house that will magically put you in your living room. Then you start to peer into your windows and wonder then try to pry them open.. which is dumb because you lock them down like a feudal castle effectively keeping you (and the Black Knight) at bay. Then depending on if you rent or own, who has a spare and that kind of thing determines how you solve your problem. Thank god I live alone and the only person who has a spare is the landlord who lives 40 minutes away, and doesn’t believe in cell phones. Yeesh!

Too much food, not enough leftovers: Yeah, I know this is a major problem for us singletons. The thing is: cooking for one is hard! Outside of like, a TV dinner – things don’t usually come in portions for one. Like, I know, cereal, and bagels and stuff like that – but I’m working on trying to actually good things and put them together on a plate, and try to at least get some of that pesky food pyramid thing in there. While I can eat a lot, which is not good for me (or my waistline), I also happen to have a fondness for leftovers. I don’t know what it is that makes them so great – maybe that they’re quick and convenient, they taste delicious, you can stick ‘em in the microwave .. I dunno, all of those things appeal to me. Sometimes though, there’s too much to eat, and not enough to save. And that is really un-awesome. Because it’s a waste, and you don’t have it to look forward to the next day! I know, I know. “Erin, just cook for two and you’ll always have enough for leftovers..” but, this isn’t really about being logical - now is it?

Chap Stick: Chap Stick itself is obviously not an un-awesome thing. In fact, I own about 10 sticks of it at all times – and always have a large supply with me. The issue is when you don’t have any chap stick, and it’s always when you don’t have it, that you need it (of course, damnitt Murphey.). I always need it after ice cream, at the movies, and after I brush my teeth. And of course at random intervals throughout the day, but these activities Chap Stick is definitely required. So what, you don’t have any, and you can’t borrow any – so now it’s like, you lick your lips once to try to dispel that nagging dryness and it works for about 14 seconds, and then that dry tightness is back (.. that’s what she said.) and then it becomes this vicious like, lick-lips-because-they-hurt-lips-hurt-because-you-lick-them. Ugh, this is a sure fire way to ruin a day, worse than wind and a bad hair day even.

Inappropriate footwear: I know, I spend a lot of time thinking about my own comfort. But for someone who has a pair of slippers in her car so I will always have them, I care a lot about the comfort and safety of my feet. It’s hard for me to really function when my feet are cold because it’s all I can think about, and that bothers me. So, I always come prepared to ensure that my feet are good to go. I have only run into this situation a few times (usually when I’m travelling) when I have brought the wrong type of footwear. Like, how do you even get around that? I guess buy some new ones, but that’s such a process in itself – and on top that you have to take them home and that’s more to pack or whatever. What a pain. (Literally and figuratively)

Song stuck in your head: This is pretty un-awesome. Especially if it’s something annoying, like Friday – Rebecca Black, Call me, maybe? – Carley Rae, and ‘This is the song that never ends’ (Thanks Lamb Chops) I don’t really know what the solution is to this. I guess too, that it’s 10x worse when you know the tune, but not a whole lot of the words? Like, you know 1 line, or just the chorus and it just doesn’t go beyond that. It’s worse than trying to shut your brain off because now you can’t shut your brain off, but it’s on a continuous loop and you can’t get the CD to stop skipping. Bleck, this drive me insane – for good reason too. The last song I had stuck in my head was ‘I’m an Asshole’ – Dennis Leary.

Buying Gas: That shit never goes on sale. And, I find it annoying that I’ve been trained to think “Oh, $1.10.. that’s not too bad.” No, that’s a terrible price for gas! I remember my Dad filling up when it was like, 50cents a litre, and now I’m a little excited when it’s $1.10? That’s annoying. They don’t even have a 30 day return either, like, if it goes down in price in the next 30 days, bring in your receipt and we’ll give you the difference kind of thing. I think that policy would help keep the stations a little more competitive. Well, we’re making progress with the phone contract BS, maybe the gas issue will be next on the list.

And last but not least:

Sequels: Yes, yes. I know. But, I think really that sequels can be pretty un-awesome. Not always, but more often than not. I think the most un-awesome thing about them is like, it’s not often they’re made because there’s more story to tell. They’re made because of money, or .. money. Like, I quite enjoyed some sequels, but there is the expectation that they’re going to be as good as the first, and you will get the same good feelings from the first one, the same people you want to see act in it again, and the same quality of writing or acting, or whatever it was that made you like the first one so much. And I just find, more often than not.. I am wicked disappointed. The writing is crap, the actors are different or annoyed at the fact they signed up for more of the same, or don’t even participate all together. Yeah, sequels are stupid.


I picked a shade of white today, because there's a shittonne of snow here, and I'm not exactly pleased about it.


So, that’s it for now. (I heard Sharknado 2 is on, and I don’t want to miss it.) I’m headed home for a visit, and won’t be writing for a bit, but I’ll pick it up again in the New Year. Happy Christmas and I’ll see some of you soon!

Fuck Bread: But not literally, that's weird - Cosmic Latte (yeah, that's a colour)

Fuck sliced bread. That’s right, I said it. Sliced bread is not that great, and I’m tired of people giving it credit when it really hasn’t done all that much to earn such respect. Sure, it made breakfast time more convenient since sliced bread became available commercially in 1928, but really – we can’t think of anything that’s been invented or implemented since 1928 that is better than sliced bread? 

According to my research (Thanks, Magic School Bus):

Canned Beer: The first canned beer was made in 1935. And while I’m hardly a big drinker, and I certainly don’t claim to know anything about beer (except when it was first canned.. in 1935) I would have to say that this to me is a much better use of inventing skills than a bread slicing machine. “The greatest thing since canned Beer!” Yes, I quite like that.

Ball point pens: It’s weird to think about your pen in more than a tool to jot stuff down, but we all have a favourite kind of pen. Gel, the ones with the grip, blue or black, the cheap ones, or the super expensive ones that bleed all over the place if you’re a little slow on the up-take. Well, I’ll have you know that they were invented by Ladislo Biro in 1938. For someone who writes a lot of letters, I can appreciate this invention immensely. And of course, I have a favourite pen – I like thick black ink, not gel and I’m not a huge fan of the rubber grip-bit on the end. What about you? Now you’re thinking about your favourite pen, aren’t you? Ha. (I have too much time on my hands, clearly).

Helicopters: Yeah, seriously. If you pick sliced bread as being the greatest thing ever, over a bloody helicopter – you deserve a swift kick in the pants. Igor Sikorsky invented these puppies in 1939 – seriously though. How would we have that amazing scene in Forrest Gump where he arrives in Vietnam, and there’s all of these Helicopters flying into the jungle while Credence Clearwater Revival is blaring in the background – that’s seriously an amazing scene. How could they have created such an amazing piece of cinematography without Helicopters? What if Forrest and Bubba flew to Vietnam on sliced bread? Yeah, totally a different movie.  

Dialysis: Yep, that’s right. It was invented in 1944, if you think that some sort of bread slicing machine is better than a mechanical kidney cleaning, urine machine (I admit, I don’t really know that much about dialysis) then you’ve got some strange priorities. Maybe the only reason you have kidney failure is because of all the sliced, white bread you’re eating. Yeah, who’s laughing now?! (Really.. who is that? It’s rude.) 

Atomic Bomb: Never mind, that’s not a very good example, even though it was invented in 1945 for obvious reasons. (Blowing things up.. specifically Japan, just if you missed that.)

Velcro: That’s right folks, Velcro was invented after sliced bread. And to think, I would have had to learn to tie my own shoes that much earlier had a not had those Pocahontas High-Tops with the sweet pink Velcro on them. Although, I can’t say that Velcro is always better – as an example: my Army uniform used to have a lot of Velcro on it. I don’t really understand the need to replace buttons with Velcro. I’m trying to hide in the wilderness, I’ve been there for days staking out a great claim, ready to fire on you and win the war (da dad dun dunn dunnn!) and I suddenly need something out of my pocket: RRRIIIPPPPPPP. Great, just gave away my position and gotten myself shot in the throat - all because I needed a stick of gum out of my damn Velcro pocket. Despite that oversight, it’s still better than sliced bread. 

Cake Mix: Actually invented in 1949, which I prefer over bread. It’s much easier to add some eggs and stick it in the oven, than it is to get all the stops and make it from scratch.. and we all know what a spectacular cook I am. 

The Pill: Yes, invented in 1954, we now have an oral contraceptive. Seriously though, what an amazing invention. If we had this prior to sliced bread, maybe we wouldn’t have so many damn kids to feed all these slices of bread to – and we could just stick with the conventional.. non-sliced version. Less acne, mood swings and babies for everyone! (I don’t hear those benefits coming from no damn pumpernickel.)

Barbie: Sure, she’s not an accurate representation of women, but He-Man isn’t really an accurate representation of any men I know either – I mean, who wears their hair like that? Yeah, no one. Even though I wore my brother’s clothes until I was 15 and couldn’t fathom that I was a girl and should be more graceful and into pink, I still owned a bunch of Barbie’s, and they were much more fun than bread.

Valium: Uhm, you’re going to try to tell me that sliced bread is better than Valium? Please. Pulease! As if.1961 never felt so good. 

ATM: I can’t think of a time when I would ever need quick access to sliced bread – like, out of a machine, placed in bars and casinos. “Oh, I’ve lost everything I own to a slot machine, I should go over to that ASBM (Automatic Sliced Bread Machine) and get me some nicely sliced bread, make me a sandwich or something.” NO! But, I do often need quick access to cash, and when I don’t have a bank nearby I can burgle, I enjoy the ease of access that an ATM offers me. So, thank you 1969 for being more useful to me than 1928. Also, I’m sorry that you likely contributed to the increase of suicides at casinos.. yeah.. next!

Hole in a drink can: I know that’s a terrible title, but it’s weird to think about that push-tab-hole process on a pop can. Which, leads me to waaay more questions – like, if we have started to can beer in 1935, I’m wondering how people got it out of the can. Is it like, apple juice cans where you pop the two triangle holes in the opposite sides of the can? Or, you used a can-opener like on green-beans and drink it like a cup. I’m more confused than ever. 

Push-tab-pop-can-hole-things > sliced bread.

Disposable Cameras: Yeah, it’s 1986 and suddenly taking and developing photographs is easier and less expensive than ever before. Your parents trusted them with you when you went on school trips, the anticipation of having them developed and then picking them up and leafing through the pictures – or finding one 10 years later, and wondering what the heck is on the film haha. I mean, seriously – sliced bread, over that wonderful feeling of getting those glossy, 4x6s of Grandma’s birthday party where you accidently took pictures of your brother with cheeze-its in his nose, and a couple of photos of your thumb? Yeah, sliced bread ain’t got nothin’ on them cameras!

Viagra: yep, it’s 1995 and suddenly the world seems to make a whole lot more sense. I mean, where would we be without those delightful blue pills? (not that I’m taking them, that’s weird) but I did quite enjoy those TV commercials they had for them with the very happy looking fellow singing that delightful tune. What a catchy jingle! I’m there are at least a few men who would agree that they are better than that silly sliced bread.

And last but not least: 

No-Contact Jacket: It’s actually a jacket that protects the wearer, by electrically shocking attackers or people who touch it. (Imagine Grandma comes in to give you a hug.. ‘Grandma, nooo!” BBZZZZ) Uhm, that’s terrible. Not that I necessarily think this is better than sliced bread, I actually think I have more use for sliced bread than I do for this jacket, but it was invented in 2003 and I have never heard of it. So, I guess based on its ‘useless-to-me-but-still-cool’ factor, it gets on the list. Wow, imagine being attacked while wearing this jacket, what a shock that would be! (Yeah..I went there. Sorry.)

And, that’s really all I have to say about sliced bread. I just can’t see why things are the greatest thing since 1928, when we’ve had these (and other wonderful) inventions since the time of commercially sliced bread. I mean seriously, a jacket that shocks people? Who wouldn’t want that?!

 

  

It's my Bedit! - Ivory

Well, it’s my birthday! 

So, as a thank-you for all your birthday wishes and excitement for my upcoming 23^rd year, I thought I would give back in the form of a blog post – but because it’s my birthday, I made it all about me! (which, they all are, but this one is specific I guess.)

Anyway, I thought I would recap my last 22 years of life in a short way, just to tide you over until our next meeting with a new post I’ve been working on for a while. Not because it’s better than the rest, I’ve just been busy doing other things, well, I’ve been distracted by other things to bother with it. I write a sentence and then find ten thousand other things I would rather do.. and then do them.

  

Also, yes, it’s true! I moved into a little house down the street from my old apartment. 2 bedrooms, very tiny, no closets but yes, it’s very warm! I have the heat cranked, and just in time as they don’t mess around with Autumn in Manitoba. So, I’ve been unpacking, going to town for dinners and celebrations, I had 2 crazy weeks at work, and of course, I left a big assignment to the last minute and it’s due today (on my dang Beeday!) and I haven’t finished it. Aside from that, I did find time to not really unpack, spend unnecessary time at Value Village, ignore the mountain of laundry, go to Walmart, watch a lot of Youtube, buy a 5 dollar movie (and watch it twice) and still haven’t been productive. Either I need more wine and less coffee, or more coffee and less wine. Or, actually, neither of those. More wine and more coffee. Yes, that’s it. 

Anyway, here we go, Erin in a nutshell:

Age 1-3: Eat, sleep and shit. Most babies do that, I was no exception, so, sorry for not being a very exciting newborn-baby-toddler but I’m sure you sucked at it too. 

Age 4: My Uncle Jim cut down a tree in my Grandparents’ backyard, and just as the tree came crashing to the ground I managed to scream “Holy Shit!” and have never seen my Grandma laugh so hard. 

Age 5: Told Christina Faiers that she was not allowed to play in the sandbox with me “because my Dad is in Africa.” Which as a 5 year old, makes complete sense. Don’t question my sandbox authority! 

Age 6: I tried to claim to my First Grade Teacher that my sister Emily, brother Paul and I were all triplets because we all looked the same and had the same Dad. I graduated from sandbox authority to genetic authority, or something like that.

Age 7: I first discovered I was evil.

Age 8: Chicken Pox: thanks Mary Leach, those hallucinations and daytime reruns of Full House were awesome. Next time, stay home you infectious wench!

Age 9: I fell and split my face open on some ice I had already been told I was not allowed to be sliding on in the school yard. After falling, a teacher noticed me wandering aimlessly around the playground, and sent me to the office. I thought I was in trouble, so naturally I didn’t go. After bleeding profusely from the head for a while, I finally wandered inside to the horror of the office staff. I didn’t even get stitches, only some glue and a black eye – what a waste.   

Age 10: Went away to camp with the school, and saw my first belly-button ring. Made it a goal of mine to get one. (Goal succeeded!)

Age 11: Entered the ‘Enrichment Program’ for “Gifted” students. Instead of being enriched I taught my computer to shut down when someone clicks on the Internet Explorer icon, and how to say ‘WASSSSUUUPPPPP’ with a voice command – evidently I wasn’t in the program very long because I wasn’t taking my enrichment “seriously enough”. 

Age 12: Fractured a finger on a classmate’s pants playing capture the flag. Worst. Gym Class. Ever.

Age 13: Got my first job working at Burger King! Ya’ll wanna Whopper?!

Age 14: Shoplifted from Chapters for the first (and only) time. I was so annoyed at not being caught I returned all of the books a week later and told them I found them in the bathroom. They weren’t even books I wanted to read! Being 14 isn’t good for your brain, it makes you do some weird things.

Age 15: Was fired for the first (and only) time – the infamous Zesty Sauce Showdown will go down in BK history. 

Age 16: my Grandpa took me to write my G2 driver’s license, even though Grandpa had been letting me drive him around for a couple of years. I managed to run a red light on the way to the test, and even though I passed with a perfect score, he wouldn’t let me drive home. 

Age 16.5: Joined the Army for about 15 minutes, managed to not shoot myself in the foot (or, anywhere else for that matter). 

Age 17: Second fast-food job at A&W, they hired me because I told them Root Beer was disgusting and I would never drink it. Guess they figured I wouldn’t steal from them or something. 

Age 18: I tried to vote for the first time, like a good, informed citizen. I was denied to vote by the oldest woman alive, and was then lectured about why it was important for women (such as myself) to vote as we fought for the right to do so. Great: THEN WHY NOT JUST LET ME VOTE, DAMNITT.  We went down the street and I successfully voted.

Age 19: Threw up Vodka and Pineapple in the Junction bathroom – pretended it didn’t happen and continued on with my celebration night. Lesson? Never eat Hawaiian Pizza and party hard. 

Age 20: Beat teen pregnancy.

Age 21: Was denied purchase of alcohol at an American liquor store because ‘Ontario doesn’t sound like a real place’.

Age 22: Graduated University successfully and still managed to fall off a treadmill and smash my face into a bloody pulp, likely knocking out a few of those brain cells I “enriched”.      

What’s in store for me in the next year? Well, if it’s anything like the last 22, I’m sure it will be an adventure that is filled with head wounds, vodka and embarrassing myself in public. Ahh, just the way I like it.

(Thanks again for the Happy Birthdays.. and wasting 4 minutes on my drivel !)