Wednesday, January 31, 2007

A New Low

Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tonight, my friends, I plummeted to a new low, a low that was previously non-existent on the Meganscale. A low so dark, so depressing, so pathetic, that I am left with no choice but to share it with you.

I went.

To Dairy Queen.

In my Bathrobe.

Okay. First. It was the drive-thru and I never left the car. Second. I wore my winter coat over it. Third. I wasn't meganude plus bathrobe, I had sweats and a tshirt on, too. Lastly. I did not go alone, nor did I eat my sundae in the car.

I ate it in front of the TV watching Beauty and the Geek with Lauren.

God, it's really no wonder I have so many boyfriends that I just can't keep up with them all. I am just so frickin' irresistable.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Sweet! The Dream! It's starting to congeal!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Tomorrow is my mom's last day of teaching. Then she's retired.

What I struggled to understand until, well, Sunday, actually; was what the heck do my parents plan to do with the next 30 or 40 years (god willing) of their lives?! What could one possibly do to occupy the hours of the day when no longer held to a regimented schedule? When one is free to live their life as it ebbs and flows?

And then it hit me.

Whatever the hell they want.

Mom and Dad, I wish you all the best, and I plan to live vicariously through your adventures, be it travelling, music, writing, gardening, home improvement, scrapbooking, weird-lamp-making (out of styrofoam chicken buckets, beads, and beer cans?), golfing, lawn bowling, ice climbing, mastering the art of the wok, advanced yogalates, ballroom dancing, prairie chicken wrangling, or big game hunting.

Do with your time what you will- and I'll just keep biding my time for the next 43 years, or until I go on "maternity" leave. I've got big plans for that maternity leave, and let me tell you...

they don't include childrens.

Monday, January 29, 2007

burninating what's left of my romantic optimism

Monday, January 29, 2007

I love XKCD with every fibre and every beat of my pulsating, fibrous heart.

But man, this one stung. I know, it's not ME they are referring to, but geez, man.



This morning my alarm went off, I hit snooze.

This morning my alarm went off, I hit snooze again.

This morning my alarm went off, I hit snooze and yelled "NO!" to its blinking red face, hoping that would shut the damn thing up and rewind time and it could be Sunday again.


It's going to be a long week, dudes.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Random Acts of Street Children

Sunday, January 28, 2007
I was loitering downtown this afternoon inbetween interviews with BravoTV and a dress rehearsal, yakking on my cellphone about what a shitty week it was and how I just want to move to the Maldives and maybe live off coconut milk and sea cucumbers in a grass shack, and wandering the streets in search of enlightenment; or at least entertainment. Btiching and Gabbing away, I walked into McNally Robinson Booksellers, one of my favourite places within 2 blocks of work, pausing on my way in to notice the weird people on the street. Sometimes, it's an extremely loud man, extremely loudly praising the Gospel with his videographer in tow; other times it might be a Greenpeace Squad, wanting my money and guerrilla support (sorry, guys, too busy this year to harpoon a whaling boat and drag it to harbour; maybe next year?).

Today, it was a group of people with large signs offering "Free Hugs!"

Now, if you know me, and most of you do, you should know that I don't do hugs. I don't do needless touching, I don't like physical affection, and the concept of someone invading my personal space really freaks me out. "The last thing I need is a Free Hug from a stranger", I told the person on the other end of my cellphone blabbering, as I walked inside the store.

Time passes. I browse the political ideas section, oogle the Moleskine journals, check out a few books in the bargain bin, and flip through a British Fashion Rag or two. Nothing strikes me fancy, so I head out to the street, on to the next stop in my afternoon lollygag.

The sound of little footsteps stops me. I am ambushed by a knee-high tot in a snowsuit, candy in his beak, and a big "Free Hugs!" sign. He flings himself at my legs and holds on for dear life, then runs back to the sound of adult laughter from the rest of the Free Hug Army.

You know what?

I really needed that hug. Thanks, little guy.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Two Posts in One Afternoon!

Friday, January 26, 2007
I am going to see this movie.

I am going to line up, days in advance, to see this movie.

I am going to maybe even wear a spandex unitard that has been hit, heavily, by a bedazzler when I see this movie.

And I'm taking you all with me.


H'okay. Breanne and I were out and about on the town at lunch, and viewed the most atrocious crime of fashion, ever. Shorts and slouch boots, no stockings, in January, in Canada. 'Tis not Chinooking that much, sweetheart.

We checked out the menu at this new restaurant called Blink on Stephen Avenue, which looked not so bad and kind of like somewhere I might want to go in the near future. I checked out their website.

Now, I know that they haven't officially opened yet, and today is the first time I've ever seen people in the building, but really. I'm so sick of advertisements, psa's, press releases, websites, and direct mail campagins that promise a "unique atmosphere" or an "exciting and different dining experience" without explaining what is unique about it. Not that I'm a PR Guru or anything, but c'mon! Tell me WHY I want to go there, not just that I should because it's some bland and overused adjective.

That said, I probably will go to that restaurant, in the name of researching grilled cheese sandies city-wide, because after all- someone's got to do it.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

The Missing Cycle

Thursday, January 25, 2007
It's funny.

When you miss someone -or something, or somewhere, I suppose- it seems like you can't go for a moment without thinking about them. From the final moments of the day, after you've turned off the lights and the radio has been turned off; the heat clicks on and you're almost asleep and you miss them; to the very first moment of lucid morning longing, but if you're lucky the alarm hasn't gone off yet and you can go back to sleep and try to forget. Squash soup reminds you of them, the news reminds you of them, you pick up a sweater off the floor that you may not have worn in a while and it reminds you of the last time you wore it- with them.

And then, one day, you make it through a two or even three hour period without thinking about them. You realize that you didn't miss them for the entire time you were occupied with something else, and finally, mercifully, there is hope.

Hope that someday soon, you'll miss them and remember them fondly when you choose to, but not when you can't help it, when you can't even force yourself to forget.

Then you get to start missing someone/thing/where else.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Is what I just hollered at my roommate. You see, the cupcakes just came out of the oven; I burnt my fingers transfering them to the cooling rack. They need to cool off and then I can ice them, and then we can enjoy their cupcakey goodness. Until then, the sweet scent of cupcake wafts through the Fortress of Smoothitude, mixing with the smell of Febreeze and maybe some Mr. Clean. Oh, delight.

Again, don't get yourselves too excited- they're from a mix, but I did add lemon zest for interest.

Why am I cooking so much lately? Because I'm damn obsessed with this woman's blog. The photos, the food, the recipes...oh god, I want to BE her. Or at least live in her home, where she could cook for me.

That's a little creepy, but c'mon- who DOESN'T want to live with someone who doesn't screw up homemade mac and cheese?

Monday, January 22, 2007

How Illuminating

Monday, January 22, 2007
I got a new lamp. This is how dull my life has become; formerly, this blog featured a few posts about my bright and glowing life, and now I blog about the new lamp I bought.

Le sigh.

In other boring news that you probably don't care about, I made chicken with leeks and a white wine sauce for dinner, served with couscous (that had raisins in it!). It was pretty good, except for one minor quirk: I've never actually had leeks before, nevermind cooked with them, so I'm not sure if I did it right.

Eh. If I'm dead tomorrow, we'll know that I definitely screwed something up.

And speaking of screws, points to cheap wine with a screw top. Nothing says "I'm a classy lady" like running into the Liquor Barn on a Monday night to buy cheap, screw-top white wine. Next thing you know, I'll be drinking it out of a box. Or a tetra-pack.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Couch Island

Sunday, January 21, 2007
Sometimes, a girl just needs to spend an afternoon curled up on her couch in her bathrobe, reading crappy books and eating gummi worms. Sometimes, a girl just needs to spend the evening that follows curled up on her friends' couch in her bathrobe, watching even crappier movies and eating gummi worms (and ripple chips).

That is essentially the rundown of my 3 Day Weekend. I spent a lot of time not wearing clothing that can and should be seen outside of the house. I read a lot of trash, but I also read some not trash. I ate a decent grilled cheese and ham sandy at the Galaxie Diner, I thought about going to Ikea, I went to the Chapmaneronioupolouses, in my bathrobe, because I'm a hoser, and ate more junkfood than one should in one sitting. We watched a good movie sandwich on bad movie bread (Pizza, a reaaaaally low budget film, with no plot, annoying, one-dimensional characters, and lots of pizza; Sin City, and Employee of the Month with Dane Cook and that Simpson girl with the "fish" lips and reaaaallly long previews before the actual feature presentation began), waited for the heat to come back on, and came to the realisation that we had all actually seen Employee of the Month before, but with different characters and different actors and a slightly different setting.

That, my friends, was a spectacular way to spend the last weekend I may potentially have free until mid-March. Huzzah!

Edited to add: Oh, and I made molten chocolate cake. Don't get excited- what that really means is that I made little cakes of which the inside is raw cake. Kind of a let down.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Well Played, Bailey (but the complete opposite)

Thursday, January 18, 2007
Note to future:

When fancy local glossy monthly magazine comes to one's office to do a high class, four-page spread on one's boss' personal sense of style, perhaps the publicist should not show up for work in hiking boots, old gap jeans with fraying hems and seams, a black tshirt she bought at Superstore, and hair lookin' all kattywhompus.

Just, y'know, maybe keep that in mind for future reference.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

No, I do NOT know who Peter O'Toole is.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007
So shoot me.

I'm sure all of you blog readers are well versed in films made eons before my birth (when my mother was 5, to be exact), but I am sadly not.

This is what irks me at this very moment in time: I, as a pop culture fiend/young person, am expected to know all the goods on everything that has happened from the dawn of time until about thirteen seconds ago. However, after a certain point, it is acceptable to shut down the new music/lit/film/fads part of your brain and pretend that it's still 2001/1997/1988, depending on who you are and what era you most closely identify with.

At what point is that? I feel it's already starting to happen...I don't like 'new music', seeking out 'new bands' can be exhausting, I sort of just want to rock out to Led Zep or BNL with some ripple chips like I'm used to and comfortable with, I don't understand the wasted, jaded youth with their skinny jeans and bad hair dye jobs and existential angst...

Oh god. I'm growing up again.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

I Can Freeze or Natter, Your Choice.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007
So here's my question:

Am I ever going to grow out of my dysfunctional behaviour around and with attractive individuals? When faced with someone I find aesthetically appealing or intellectually appealing or what-have-you, I will do one of two things, guaranteed- I will turn bright red and freeze completely, inable to produce even the slightest noise other than the Xena-Warrior-Princess Battle Cry/Turkey Gobble...or...I will babble on senslessly about the stoopidest things, not an ounce of wit or charm to be found. (Not that there is much wit or charm anyway, but dudes. I'm from Saskatchewan, give a girl a break)

Is this something I'm just going to have to accept? Will I grow out of this? Should I surround myself with extremely Goodlookings and hope that I'm just shocked out of it? I hear that works with other fears, like heights, and legless reptilian creatures that make me hyperventillate.

Or is it best to blind myself with some Lye or something, so I can continue on my life's path of not reproducing with someone who has awesome genetics, thus depriving the world of our super-spawn?

Monday, January 15, 2007

Mac and Cheesaster

Monday, January 15, 2007
Perhaps I was getting ahead of myself when I said 'mad kitchen skills'. I decided that tonight I would make homemade macaroni and cheese- simple enough, right? Pasta, cheese, milk, breadcrumbs, no sweat.

Instead, what I discovered was that simple does not equal easy.

Making a white sauce (the base for the cheese sauce) is hard, dude. It's all about timing. First, you make a roux, which is melted butter thickened with flour, then you add milk, but it can't be cold, or it won't thicken properly. Add nutmeg and cayenne (of the latter, we had none). Then, you have to watch that bastard- or it burns to the bottom of the pot much like what I imagine happens in the sixth or seventh circle of hell. Ew. Then, you simmer it until it's the proper thickness- so it covers the back of a spoon (WTF?!). Then you add the cheese- cheddar and parm, but I had all this leftover romano, so I used that too.

Then, you toss the breadcrumbs with melted butter, combine the pasta (undercooked, so it doesn't get soggy and yech) and sauce, sprinkle crumbs on top, and bake until bubbly and golden.

Bubbly and golden it was- delicious it was not. Bland, off-textured, weird crumbly gak on top...

I think I'll stick to Kraft Dinner.

p.s. Should you find that you have burned the damn roux to the bottom of the saucepan, to easily remove the crusty remains, fill the pot with water and 2 tbs of dishsoap. Bring to a boil. Cover, simmer for 10 minutes, scrap the yak off with a wooden spoon. Works like a charm.

Today in the Papers...

It came to my newspaper-reading attention this morning that Calgary's children are facing a severe ice shortage. With the booming population, there just isn't enough ice time to go around at the local hockey rinks. Our national identity so closely linked to our non-national sport, I wouldn't be surprised if Calgary does get its "10 Rinks Required" to support the need for ice.

Okay, don't get me wrong- kids need to play, and it's Canada, and I'd be even worse off slagging hockey than when I lay into how much I hate the Tragically Hip. But what do you think the odds are that when it comes down to priorities, that a new homeless shelter (we have over 3,000 homeless in this city) or low-income housing or education funding or any number of other worthwhile causes that need money will come in second to 10 new hockey rinks?

My money's on the Hockey Rinks. Which is really too bad, because if I had my money would go elsewhere.

Sunday, January 14, 2007


Sunday, January 14, 2007
Would anyone like any hamburger soup, as I seem to have enough to feed a small nation?

C'mon, it's really good....

Let's Get Wallbangered!

Further proof that I am actually becoming my mom:

Friday night, friends and I got a smidge hosed off of a drink that, without Mama B's influence, wisdom and guidance, I would not know existed. I think I've crossed a line into offensive poseur, but I think we should bring back the Harvey Wallbanger. I've got nothing against OJ, Galliano, and Vodka. Spread the love, blogosphere...the Wallbanger is back!

And because my life is excessively stale when I'm not making fish lips at Original Joe's after musical theatre productions, I'm back on my Sunday Slowcooker Kick. In today's pot: Hamburger Soup, with barley. On the cooling rack: Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Seriously, people, I'm starting to develop some seriously mad kitchen skills.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Train PDA

Friday, January 12, 2007
Okay. I think this is the earliest in the day that I've ever blogged, but sometimes, something is so urgent that it just can't wait for the post-starbucks-run hour.

This morning on the C-train, I was subjected to the gross makeout session of two extremely unfortunate emo kids. Ugh. It's 8:48 in the morning, for godssake! No one needs to see two androgynous under-eighteens swapping bodily fluids before noon.

Perhaps this is why I'm unable to hold down a relationship- I loathe the concept of the public transporation makeout. I don't wanna be train makeout girl. If I find myself in such a situation, I've always found that a quick dose of the Look (taught to me by Mama B)is a good way out. If that fails, a swift kick to the shin, or a "What the hell do you think you're doing!? Stop touching me!" will suffice.

Maybe that makes me a frigid commuter, but you know what? Maybe some commutes are best made alone. Without getting all kissy-face.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Beauty and the Geek

Thursday, January 11, 2007
There's this show on what used to be the WB, and is now inexplicably (I'm sure I could find out why- I'm sure it has something to do with a merger, hostile takeover, or buyout) called the CW. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm now a regular viewer of Beauty and the Geek, a crap reality tv show. Oh, but the geeks! And the airheads! Oh, the mayhem!

I am even further ashamed of the fact that at the end of every show, in order to decide which geek/airhead team will be booted out of the house that awkward built, they have a trivia challenge. Last night, while I answered all the pop-culture/beauty/fashion questions designed to stump the geeks, I did not know any of the answers to the questions designed to confuse the beauties. No, I don't know the name of the plane Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic. No, I don't know what NASA stands for.

Damn. I'm screwed, my reputation is screwed, and I have come to the crushing realisation that I can no longer bank on my geek reputation to explain the days that I choose to mix plaids and stripes and talk about pi- but that wearing plaid and stripes also disqualifies my application for the 'beauty' side of the spectrum.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Things I Find In My Inbox

Wednesday, January 10, 2007
So this is really quite cool. And I feel it might solve my issues re: the death of the Intrepid.

This is slightly less cool. Like I need to advertise my single status with a tacky ikea-chic (I like all those hard C sounds!) turquoise acryllic ring. Couldn't I advertise it with a chic banana republic handbag?

Monday, January 08, 2007

Sudden Panic

Monday, January 08, 2007
I'm sitting at home, minding my own business, trying to craft the plot for my aforementioned Great Canadian Novel (as too busy is no longer a valid excuse), when it hit me.

Like a drag-queen slap to the face. I need to know.

Does the Den at the U of C still play "Yeah" by Usher? "Livin' on a Prayer" followed by "I Love Rock and Roll"? What about that "gimme that nut" song? I need to know! Is the Den of my fuzzy vodka candy apple saturated memories, the Den I loved so desperately and feverently 4 years ago but haven't been in to after 6 pm for about 3 years the same bar today?

I don't know why I need to know this, but I do. Somewhere in time out there, there's a Megan who's about to slap on more eye glitter than is appropriate to go have a crazy fun time. She doesn't know it yet, but in a few months, she won't party like that anymore, and one sad Monday night in January, she'll get struck with a bizarre longing to shake what her mama gave her. Where is that girl? If you see her, can you tell her to wear more comfortable shoes?

Surplus Income

Is something I obviously don't have a problem with, but if there is someone out there reading this blog, and has an extra $300cdn kicking around, and want to buy me something, I suggest this.

I mean, or a flight to somewhere exciting and exotic, perhaps in time for easter-weekend.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Urban Villager

Sunday, January 07, 2007
I really like living in a part of the city that doesn't require vehicular transportation. Sure, I miss the intrepid (bless you, portable living room, you served me well), but I think I'll be able to get around sans car without any major glitches. Plus, living in such a convenient neighbourhood (Kensington) makes getting to work, to the grocery store, and to the pub uber easy.

Besides, if I did have a car, I would have spent today running around town, maybe at Ikea, maybe at Superstore, buying stupid crap I don't need. Instead, I took a walk over to the Starbukus, where I had hoped to chow down a few chapters of the novel I'm working on at the moment. Alas and Alack, everyone and their loud childrens had the same idea, so I wandered the streets, stopping to look at beautiful furniture I can't afford. Lo and behold, I ran into a couple I had gone to school with, and had a really nice catch-up.

See? I don't need a car. If I was out at Ikea, oogling furniture I can actually afford, I wouldn't have ran into my prom date, enjoyed a lovely latte, and achieved that wind-touseled hair look that is so difficult to duplicate on one's own.

On the menu for tonight? Chicken thighs with a sweet-spicy cherry sauce, and couscous. Go Me.

Friday, January 05, 2007

But I'm just so biiiizzzzy.

Friday, January 05, 2007
You know what really irks me? When people say that they’re just “too busy” to do something. Alright, I admit, that there are indeed times when one is actually and legitimately too busy to get around to things, and that’s fine. I’m frequently too busy to do a lot of things, including writing the Great Canadian Novel, too busy to practice my Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, and too busy to feed orphaned baby eagles. However, when someone tells me that they’re too busy to accomplish the simplest of tasks, that don’t require any real labour, what I really want to hear is the truth.

“Sorry, I’ve just been too busy sitting on my ass eating chips and watching reruns on the Life network/sports games that have no relevance or importance whatsoever/chatting to babes on the internet. I’ll get around to what you’re asking me to do…someday, but by then it will probably be too late. Sorry.”

That’s not too busy. That’s “I don’t wanna”. Let’s call a spade a spade and move on. If you told me the truth, I would no longer expect you to actually accomplish the task at hand, and probably just do it myself. Capiche?

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Kitchen Idol

Thursday, January 04, 2007
The most common thing I hear about my mom, other than "wow, you look/sound alike!" is "your mom is an amazing cook". And it's true. She is. I don't know why I had the genetic misfortune to not inherit her mad skills, but somehow (probably because if she's so darn good at it, why would I have done it?!) I missed out. A few months ago, I told mom that I wanted to make dinner for the dude I was seeing, and she told me,

"uh...maybe you should practice."

So I did. I bought enough ingredients to make that dinner twice, but most of you know that I never got to use my trial-run-acquired skills, and the supplies to make "Never Be Single Again Vodka Cream Penne" (oh, the irony...) sat in my fridge until about 3 days ago.

After spending most of a week eating mom's cooking, I decided that perhaps I should start learning how to work my way around a kitchen. Tonight, I bust out the faux-gourmet, and made pasta with Romano cheese and pepper, and nutmeg and garlic seasoned spinach with white beans. I managed not to completely wreck anything, it was pretty good, and I haven't died of food poisoning yet.

Woohoo, me.

Spinning Office Chairs

Oh, the fun I have during the daylight hours. Right now, I'm blogging, but very dizzily, as moments ago I was spinning around, kneeling on my desk chair, puncuating the play titles Breanne read off with "Of Death" at the end of each. Yes, busy days, here at Un-named Theatre Company. On the upside, my craziness and angst over writing this press kit is only a fraction of the craziness experienced by she who does the program (in pink and orange text, for editing purposes).

Last night, I was attempting to have a hot bath and drink hot cocoa and read a sad book, but our hot water heater crapped out, so I had a chilled bath, and drank hot cocoa and read a sad book. I've already read this particular book, The Time Traveler's Wife, so I know how it ends. I wonder, does knowing how something ends amplify the emotional effect? We all know that Romeo and Juliet are gonna die, so does that knowledge make it more tragic? What about happy endings?

If we knew how our lives were going to turn out, would that make living them a more enjoyable experience, because we no longer had to worry about the unknown...or is it the surprise that makes things worthwhile?

Just pensive, on this, the day before Friday.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

And Now, For Something Truly Horrifying

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Oooh yeah. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I particularly like(?) the highly inappropriate cover of a band named for a girl-on-girl sexual position.

You'll Poke Your Eye Out...

I'm just not a functioning member of society in the mornings, at least until I get my coffee. This morning I was hobbling around half dressed, trying to scarf down some yogurt and listen to the perky voice of Dave Kelly on Breakfast Television, when I somehow managed to jab myself in the eye with something. Could have been a spoon, or my flat iron, or hairbrush, or any number of things that have no business near my eyes, but likely it was my finger. It hurt.

I took my contacts out, put on my (broken) glasses and headed off in search of caffeine and work. I was early, so I actually got to sit down on the train (the 8:37 train is surprisingly empty), and tried to get my eyes to water enough to soothe the pain. I thought about how getting up earlier rocks, but now I won't ever see the extremely intruiging and attractive guy that takes the late train (at 8:48). As I sat there, squinting, makeup half done, eye red and watery, I looked up, and sure enough, there he was.

Damn him for running on time. Damn me for not being able to make eye contact due to my own epic human stupidity in the early morning hours.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Mundane, but Posting Regardless

Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Went to the Barley Mill with Sir Hein for beer after work today. One really needs to ease out of the holidays, y'know? I haven't worn socks (or pants, for that matter) or sat upright for 8 hours in days. I came home, tried a new recipe, and confirmed that I cannot, to save my life, make rice. Even minute rice. Can't do it.

But the apricot chicken turned out nicely.

Now I'm going back to watching Ugly Betty on the internet, scheming about ways to meet guys that don't involve ambushing them while shopping for ties or the internet, and listening to music, on the internet.

Oh, interwebs, I would be lost without thee.

You want to charge me WHAT?

Okay. So when I was lounging back at Mom and Dad's, I saw this really cute business card organizer binder in the Chatelaine Gift Guide. I spent about half an hour tracking it down this morning on the internet, and it's only ten bucks! Lucky me! So I decide that I'll order the little beauty, only to discover that for two-week ground shipping from California, they want to charge me THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS. Outraged! It's Canada, people, not the far reaches of the Gulag, and I'm not asking you to personally drive it up here. If I decide to go for the Express (3 day mail) service, it's NINETY FIVE DOLLARS.

So, forget it. Unless I email them back and demand that they consider charging me less than the actual product I wish to purchase...I will continue to use the pen tray in my desk drawer to house the mass of business cards I have acquired.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Always Make New Mistakes

Monday, January 01, 2007
And that, my blog reading friends, is the plan for 2007.

Last night's parties (yes! deux!) were a lot of fun. The first had sort of a Casino Royale theme, with hired casino staff and games (blackjack is rather addictive...), fancy guests in costume, and flashy LED glasses that almost caused seizures. Oh, and other, mostly obnoxious guests that arrived just slightly before we made the stellar choice of hopping on to the next party.

Party 2 was fun, but different. I think it's funny how the hot spots at any party are the couch, and the kitchen. Sitting and eating- two of my favourite things! Anyway, it was also fun.

I told Amanda that I wasn't making resolutions, so instead I shall list my 'goals' for the next year.

1. Find a dentist. And a doctor. And an optometrist.
2. Keep blogging. I wouldn't want to let the 7 of you that read this down.
3. Make meal plans in advance so I don't end up forraging for something to go with half a can of chickpeas and seasoning salt.
4. Persue the 'side gig' I've been thinking about for a few months. More on that later (maybe) if I ever work up the courage to talk about it to someone other than my mom.
5. Visit the inside of the gym at some point.
6. Join a professional organization- IABC or CPRS?

So that's about it. Today I spent my last day of holidays lounging on the couch, watching Ugly Betty on the internet (my gawd, I'm suddenly addicted...), and eating the deelish Apricot-and-Cheese Stuffed French Toast I made for brunch. Life, as I know it, is good.