Saturday, February 27, 2010

It's still February, right?

Saturday, February 27, 2010
Dear Old Navy,

Hey, thanks team, for matching the US sale price on your jeans this weekend! I scored me a pair of (shoddily made) denims for $19 today! I truly appreciate it :)

Now, just one...comment, if you will. Um, Naves - can I call you Naves? I know that you're probably headquartered out of somewhere warm, and sunny, and not in the frozen armpit of Canada, but duudes. It's still February. Could you hold off on stocking your shelves with shorts, short-shorts, flip flops and sundresses until, say, April? That would be rad.

However, I must say, I did dig the early preview of this season's rompers.

Hugs and Kisses,

Meg


PS - ZOMP! Digging around on your website a second ago, I found this!




You heard my cries! A winter-appropriate romper! You rock, Naves. I'll just throw a little cardigan on top of this number and be set for the rest of this "shoulder season"...and until I can build up enough coats of self-tanner to bare my whitey white legs in public!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Hobby'd

Friday, February 26, 2010
I don't go out a lot during the week.
 
This is in stark contrast to 3 years ago when I went out almost every night of the week. "Going out" could mean to a club, to a pub, to a coffee house or a play - but honestly, I'll even just refer to any instance where I find myself leaving our apartment after coming home from work at 4:30.
 
(sidenote: working from 8:30 - 4:30 is infinitely more superior than working from 9:00 - 5:00!)
 
Anyway, my brain was starting to melt from a solid 18 months of spending week nights sitting on the couch poking around on Facebook every.single.night. I needed to find something else to do with my life, something to make myself feel better about my leisure time and yet, not something so taxing that I might actually have to *gasp* leave the house.
 
So I started knitting again.
 
Several fo's (finished objects) later, I've signed up for a few e-newsletters that share knitting news and new, free patterns. (And bought a really cool toy off ebay, but that's coming later)

Today one arrived promising 4 new patterns for spring and I shook my head in disbelief. No matter how trendy or cool needlework becomes, and no matter what kind of swanky yarn you use, there is very little that one can do to actually make an afghan "sophisticated".
 
Afghans, in my mind, will forever be the hideously charming granny square concoctions of the 1970s, no matter what. Function over form. How very Canadian of me.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Reason #56 I Fail being at Hausfrau of the Year

Thursday, February 25, 2010
A few weeks after I moved in with Gary, I was going about my usual routine, folding towels and sorting through the linen closet.

Tucked between some towels his dad lifted from the Four Seasons sometime in the late 80s (awesome towels, btw) was a neon pink and orange bikini.

When you were growing up, did you know anyone who had a cabin/cottage at the lake, or their own pool or hot tub? If you did, you were lucky! But did those people have the 'guest swimsuits'? I understand the generosity of those hosts and hostesses. Nothing sucks more than showing up for a weekend with Uncle Hank and Aunt Myrtle and realizing you forgot your swimmin' togs. But surprise! They have one you can use!

But guest swimsuits. Those creep me out. Number one, don't tell me about the sanitizing effects of chlorine, or how they are always washed with extra-duty Tide. You're still basically wearing public underwear.

Now, maybe I'm a bitter shrew, but we have a swimming pool and not once have I considered stocking up on a variety of sizes of trunks and tankinis.

So imagine my surprise when I found a bonus swimsuit in the linen closet. And imagine my disappointment in myself when my initial thought was "Gee. That colour combo wouldn't really flatter Gary at all."

To sum it up, people, do like Gary's friend Ashley does - and feel free to BRING your own swimsuit over and leave it here, if you can't be bothered to remember it every time you come visit. Just write your name on the label to avoid future mental breakdowns about whether or not I've found myself YET AGAIN dating a man who likes to wear ladies' swimsuits.

And yes, consider that an open invitation to come use the pool.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Repent!

Thursday, February 18, 2010
I generally try to avoid conversations about strong personal beliefs on this here blog, because I have my head in the sand about how if I don't talk about it we'll all play nice and avoid big pink elephants in the room. This is basically how I approach everything slightly awkward or uncomfortable in my life - 100% avoidance.
 
I realize that this isn't healthy. But that isn't what this post is about.
 
I was raised Catholic. What this really meant in the context of the Bailey Household was that we went to Mass at Easter and Christmas and when there was food involved. You know, a St. Patrick's Day stew dinner, a pancake breakfast, a church social.
 
There was a period of time in my life, around the same time I went through puberty, when I was an intense follower of the Church, and prayed with fervror every night to the Lord, the saints, the angels and the Virgin Mary just in case I should die and spend the rest of eternity in purgatory (or limbo, whatever your pleasure). I believe this fear-based religious intensity was the result of a certain mean-spiritied Chatechism teacher telling me that I was probably going to burn in hell because I wasn't baptised until I was 8, and boy was I lucky that I didn't die an unfortunate and premature death before that baptism, because then for sure I'd be roasting.

Can you imagine telling a child that? In later years, that same lady forbid her daughter from being my friend because I was too wild. Yeah. Wild. I spent most of my time in the LIBRARY. That girl has gone on to bigger and trampier and short-short-skirt wearing things. Oh, the irony.
 
But I digress.
 
Lent started yesterday. For years and years after I started questioning the strict rules of the Catholic church and gave up wanting to be a saint for wanting to be a Dolphin-Saving, Women's Rights Advocating Journalist - slash - Foreign Ambassador and Best-Selling Novelist who was permitted to take preventative measures to avoid getting inadvertently knocked up, I still observed Lent.
 
I gave up something every year, and it was always something that I had to really hurt for. Chocolate, junk food, diet soda, buying shoes, alcohol. Those are the five things I love the most, it's true.
 
I'm not sure I ever actually made the connection between my suffering with that of Jesus, but I still did it. And as a result, I made those years that I worked in a chocolate shop really more difficult on myself than they needed to be.
 
But here it is. One day in. And I'm about to eat a Cadbury Creme Egg.
 
Do you know how long it's been since I ate a Creme Egg? I've missed out on Creme Egg season for more than half of my life! I can't even remember how they taste. Or how to eat one without getting sticky.
 
I think the guilt actually might make it taste *better*.
 
 

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Photocopier Rock-Out

Tuesday, February 16, 2010
So I started my new job half-way through last week. In a desperate attempt to make the transition as easy as possible for everyone but me, I finished Old Job on Wednesday at 5:30 PM and started New Job on Thursday at 8:30 AM. Lesson One: Never do this. I beseech you. You'll regret it. Even if there is a long weekend but two short days ahead.
 
Starting a new job is exhausting!
 
At any rate, I spent two days last week roaming the Museum. The Giant, Blows-Your-Mind, "But it doesn't look that big from the outside" Museum. I have never walked so far in such high heels in my life.
 
Lesson Two: On your first day, when chosing between Adorable Shoes and Functional Shoes, pick the Functional Ones. People can be wowed by your awesome patent red peep-toe pumps at a later date.
 
Owch.
 
But seriously. This place is HUGE. The exhibition floors are pretty big, but there are only three of them. If you look at a map of the building, it doesn't seem that large. But boy-howdy. There is a lot going on backstage.
 
There are 8 floors in this building. About half of the three aforementioned floors are for public exhibitions, and the other half of that space is used for behind the scenes stuff. Like conservation labs. And archives. And collections of priceless art. And production shops. And paint spray booths. And pest control systems. And Administrative Desk Jockeys. And Military History Collections.
 
It is HUGE.
 
I am so excited, and so thrilled, and so totally lost every time I have to even get up and go to the printer. I've spent most of the day hiding in my cozy little office, with my cozy little lamp and my cozy little ceramic hippo, at the risk of wandering into the archives stacks and never returning.
 
Seriously. You'd never see nor hear from me again!
 
I like it here :)

Sunday, February 14, 2010

MY BLOG IS NOT DEAD!

Sunday, February 14, 2010
Friday night I attended the opening of one of the plays in ATP's playRites festival with a few friends who are regular blog readers (but strangely, they never comment...) and was called out on the fact that I haven't been blogging as regularly as I used to.

I'm sorry. I've been a bit busy transitioning jobs and attempting to scrape together some sanity.

At any rate, I hit the ground running in the new gig with a media preview on my first day of work and the opening of two exhibits. Last night I hit up the Launch Party for these two shows and enjoyed listening to the reactions of the first 600-odd people through the exhibits.

And today I am going to the new giant mall on the outskirts of Calgary to celebrate. Huzzah! Retail therapy! New Job, New Shoes!

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Peeeeeves

Thursday, February 04, 2010
There is an automatic, motion-sensor air freshener device in the bathroom at my office.

It's a great idea in theory. I appreciate always walking in to a fresh loo, and with 10-15 of us using one biffy all day long, it makes a difference in the quality of life at work.

But the unfortunate side of this is that every single time I open the bathroom door, I get hit with a fresh burst of aerosol scent. This means that I spend most of the day smelling like 'clean laundry' or 'spring rain', or what is essentially the smell everyone associates with covering up poo odors.

I try so hard to be a grown up lady. Seriously. I do. Why, Universe, must you make it so difficult for me?

Monday, February 01, 2010

Frustration. In bulk.

Monday, February 01, 2010
Dear nice man standing behind me in line at Costco,

I'm just trying to buy my netbook, giant container of kraft parm cheese dust, multipack of yoga pants and case of pineapple. Why must you continue whistling Que Sera, Sera over and over and OVER again?

I compliment your ability to whistle in perfect pitch, but FORTHELOVEOFGOD, it took all my willpower not to turn around and smack you.

Gary was already embarrassed enough with all the crazy eyes I was tossing out in your direction.

Do me a favour and don't make me shove my 1.99 all-beef hot dog of deliciousness somewhere unpleasant. I'll show YOU a whistle!

Hugs and Kisses,

Megan