Revolution!
sbg
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
The pursuit of knowledge
It's Christmas Eve and I'm sitting in the lobby of a certain Toronto library that would not grant me access to their stacks because I'm not a U of T student. Nor do I carry around my student card from York, since I graduated 6 years ago. Given the Pentagon-esque security they have here, we were quite certain the concern was not that I would steal books. I wondered, are they afraid I might leave here with some (gasp) knowledge? But no, the policy is not to take away from the other students who are here using the library. Um, did I mentions it's Christmas Eve? I think I just saw some tumbleweed roll by. I blame Christmas for this. My general theory right now is that everything that goes wrong is Christmas' fault. In other news, I'm writing this from my blackberry... How cool is this?
“Celebrity” “Look-a-like”
I had to put both of these words in quotations because a) I'm not sure these people can be considered celebrities, and b) I'm not sure I actually look like them. I figured I would open it up to public opinion (and potential ridicule).
A little back story is in order. You know how some people always get compared to a certain celebrity? Like my friend Sonia looks like Marisa Tomei, I think M.K. looks like Charlize Theron, and poor Kate has gotten Bette Midler on more than one occasion.
Sidebar: Writing this just reminded me that when I worked at Fuel, whenever someone was hired we would try to figure out what celebrity would play them in "Fuel: The Movie". Usually this was based on looks, except in The Bean's case, who felt her essence could only be captured by Parker Posey.
Anyway, the one person I would get compared to was Enuka Okumu (pictured below). In fact, the last person to mention I looked like her was my hairdresser, who turned out to have done Enuka's hair on occasion as well. Note – this girl has definitely come into her looks over the years. In the days that I was being compared to her, we were both hot messes.
Recently, the Smith family (M.K. and her parents) have compared me to Tre Armstrong (also pictured below). While this thrilled me to no end (please, take me to her makeup artist immediately), I don't actually think I look like her. And apparently neither does S, who looked at me like I was crazy when I mentioned it. And no, that look was not followed by "You're way prettier than her!"
So what do you think? I'm guessing that there are 5 people who read this blog. I expect to hear from all of you.
All I want for Christmas...
... is a one-way ticket to L.A. You know how people say what they would hate about being in a warm climate over the holidays is waking up on Christmas morning and not seeing snow? Yeah, I'm not one of those people. I think I used to like Christmas, but now when I think about Christmas I think about winter and when I think about winter I get the blues. Bah humbug. I can't remember what it means, but I feel like it's what you say instead of "meh" at Christmastime.
I made a Christmas wish list this week. These are my top 3 items:
1. Winter tires
2. Remote car starter
3. Insulated boots
The rest is just fluff.
The worst thing about Christmas is how everybody else is so into it. Yesterday, December 1, the Christmas carols began on the radio. I could just tell they were like counting down the days until they could start playing The Christmas Song by Hootie and the Blowfish. Then there's S and the tree. And the stockings. And the lights. He even went and bought a tree skirt today (um... how about you buy some groceries?) Even my tv has turned against me -- my shows are either Christmas-themed or on hiatus.
Between the gift buying (which I haven't started), the party planning, the card signing and the decorating, I'm already on Christmas overload and it's only December 2nd. Can someone talk me out of my snow-covered funk? Comments are encouraged.
All I want for Christmas is global warming,
sbg
I made a Christmas wish list this week. These are my top 3 items:
1. Winter tires
2. Remote car starter
3. Insulated boots
The rest is just fluff.
The worst thing about Christmas is how everybody else is so into it. Yesterday, December 1, the Christmas carols began on the radio. I could just tell they were like counting down the days until they could start playing The Christmas Song by Hootie and the Blowfish. Then there's S and the tree. And the stockings. And the lights. He even went and bought a tree skirt today (um... how about you buy some groceries?) Even my tv has turned against me -- my shows are either Christmas-themed or on hiatus.
Between the gift buying (which I haven't started), the party planning, the card signing and the decorating, I'm already on Christmas overload and it's only December 2nd. Can someone talk me out of my snow-covered funk? Comments are encouraged.
All I want for Christmas is global warming,
sbg
Liberated or Lazy?
I've always considered myself a liberated girl, duckin' and shunnin' domesticity whenever it reared its ugly head. But lately as the list of things I don't want to do gets longer and longer, I've started to wonder if the real issue is that I'm just really lazy. Check out the list and feel free to judge (me) for yourself:
1. Cooking
Like my mother, I hate cooking and am always looking for an excuse not to do it. While my mother prefers pretending she doesn't know how to do anything (Mum: I don't know how to make the pizza! Me: Do you know how to read? 'Cause it's all on the back of the box), I prefer inviting myself over to other people's houses. I do have one specialty – eggs – but unfortunately it is usually a morning food, and I also hate mornings.
2. Cleaning
While I get a modicum of satisfaction by seeing the toilet bowl gleam from my efforts, I generally hate cleaning and hate even more that it is an unavoidable task (we used to pay my aunt to clean when I lived in Toronto, something that horrified many of my friends). At my parents' house, I used to leave the cleaning until Sunday night. I would start at 8:00 pm with the bathroom, and then at 9:00 I would clean the living room during the commercials of Desperate Housewives. At 10:00 I would vacuum. Now that I'm in Stratford, S and I have divided the house so I clean the bedroom and bathroom, he cleans the kitchen and living room. Unfortunately, anyone who lives with a man can understand the true horror of having to clean up someone else's hair from shaving. Not even horror, really, but more the injustice of it all.
3. Walking the dog
It's like having a child – they're really cute when they're cuddling with you, but when you have to give up your leisure time to actually take care of them in some way, it's like *sigh*.
4. Going to the bathroom
Sometimes I'm lying down, snuggled in my robe and a blanket, drinks/snacks/cigarettes aligned in front of me – the perfect relaxation set-up. Then my bladder starts calling. And I think, "God, how annoying. Who wants to get up and go pee?" I had a doctor who once asked me if I hold off going to the bathroom (not sure why – I was there to get my ears checked) and for some reason I was honest and said yes and then he gave me a big lecture about ruining my bladder. It's a lasting guilt trip that usually gets me up (at the next commercial break).
5. Shaving my legs
I'm one of those people who leaves it for so long that I live in fear of my pant leg accidentally riding up. Of course, when you leave it that long, it's all the more annoying to shave because what could be a 5-minute routine becomes a 20-minute ritual that takes a pack of razors. And razors aren't cheap.
6. Creaming my body
Since I'm always late, having to spend an extra 5 minutes that I don't have creaming my body just feels like one more of life's little annoyances. Because I'm black, ashy-ness is a very real concern in my life. But I just hate being naked and cold and trying to put the cream on the tips of my fingertips to reach that ubiquitous space in the middle of my back.
I could add other things – grocery shopping, doing laundry, refilling the water jug – but I think you get the point. I've decided that I need to be rich so I can pay to get all of this stuff done. Except for creaming my body, I guess. But perhaps with all the time saved from getting the other tasks done, that one won't seem so daunting.
Lazy and lovin' it,
sbg
My weight loss "plan"
I was just about to write a very long message back to Cari from Ditch Diets (see comments on "How I got to my suicide weight" - I'm hoping it isn't spam and I will charm her into being a regular reader). My answer is long enough to be a post of its own and short enough to be written on my lunch so here it is.
The truth is Cari, I'm a bit of a superplanner. I come up with new life plans all the time. I love making plans. I'm just not so good at the execution.
But in answer to your question, every time I decide to lose weight I automatically start doing the South Beach Diet, because I did it once and it worked great. What I consistently fail to remember is that I don't know what lightning strike made me stick to it then, but it has never struck twice.
(sidebar: In case you're wondering, the one time that I stuck to South Beach was for an acquaintance's wedding where I was going to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in a long time. The motivation being that I didn't want them to talk about what a chub-a-roo I had become).
So back to the plan. Currently, I try to eat light breakfasts (yogurt with granola or eggs w/o bread) and light lunches (salad with chicken), try to only snack on fruit (a lot of people go apple-picking around here, so there's been a basket in the office for weeks), and try to work out 6 times a week (cardio x3, weight/strenth x3).
Note: Tere's been a lot more "trying" than "doing", so that's why I've lost a mere 9 pounds in 2 months.
The weight loss challenge at work is for money (every week you pay $1 for every pound you lose and $2 for every pound you gain) so I thought that would be really good motivation. Apparently it isn't as strong as what other people think of me. But I will be trying harder as the date approaches and I have less and less money. Being overweight and broke during the holidays is a recipe for you-know-what.
sbg
The truth is Cari, I'm a bit of a superplanner. I come up with new life plans all the time. I love making plans. I'm just not so good at the execution.
But in answer to your question, every time I decide to lose weight I automatically start doing the South Beach Diet, because I did it once and it worked great. What I consistently fail to remember is that I don't know what lightning strike made me stick to it then, but it has never struck twice.
(sidebar: In case you're wondering, the one time that I stuck to South Beach was for an acquaintance's wedding where I was going to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in a long time. The motivation being that I didn't want them to talk about what a chub-a-roo I had become).
So back to the plan. Currently, I try to eat light breakfasts (yogurt with granola or eggs w/o bread) and light lunches (salad with chicken), try to only snack on fruit (a lot of people go apple-picking around here, so there's been a basket in the office for weeks), and try to work out 6 times a week (cardio x3, weight/strenth x3).
Note: Tere's been a lot more "trying" than "doing", so that's why I've lost a mere 9 pounds in 2 months.
The weight loss challenge at work is for money (every week you pay $1 for every pound you lose and $2 for every pound you gain) so I thought that would be really good motivation. Apparently it isn't as strong as what other people think of me. But I will be trying harder as the date approaches and I have less and less money. Being overweight and broke during the holidays is a recipe for you-know-what.
sbg
An amendment to "The McJinx"
I just thought of something - maybe blogging every day is a bad idea. I mean, they'll only get less interesting (especially since my life is so g-d boring). Plus, I should keep 'em wanting more, right? Like if you can have pad thai every day, not so exciting. But once a week, maybe twice? That's like the best week ever.
So my amendment is that the post should have been called "The McFavour".
mclove sbg
So my amendment is that the post should have been called "The McFavour".
mclove sbg
The "McJinx"
Right before the end of the day, McKinley mentioned how much I've been blogging. Though I was nothing but pleased by the comment at the time, I'm convinced that she put a hex on me, which I have named the McJinx. The McJinx has devestating effects, such as:
I have nothing to write.
I'm at a loss for words.
I'm blank.
This is a testament to how powerful the McJinx is. I always have something to say. Seriously, try getting a word in edgewise -- it's not easy. Ask everyone I know.
But I refuse to break my streak, so I will soldier on. I warn you, it won't be my best work so feel free to stop reading now. Speaking of streaks, S had a streak of playing Xbox every day for over 400 days. While all the sane, non-hermit people in the world realize that being home every day to play Xbox for over a year is not so much an accomplishment as it is really, really sad, S had a hard time accepting it (he comforted himself by blaming me - see "The Streak is Over" on his blog, www.achievementpopped.blogspot.com). The good news is that later he said he felt like breaking the streak set him free. The bad news is sometime after that he mentioned we should go camping. Apparently he wants to be free in the woods. I prefer the hermit version of him now.
This is just one of the many, many things S and I do not have in common, all of which have become increasingly clear since we moved here. Rather than list everything we don't share, I'll list what we do:
1. Rock Band
2. Granny Smith apples
3. Gordon Ramsey
That's enough, right?
Keep hope alive,
sbg
I have nothing to write.
I'm at a loss for words.
I'm blank.
This is a testament to how powerful the McJinx is. I always have something to say. Seriously, try getting a word in edgewise -- it's not easy. Ask everyone I know.
But I refuse to break my streak, so I will soldier on. I warn you, it won't be my best work so feel free to stop reading now. Speaking of streaks, S had a streak of playing Xbox every day for over 400 days. While all the sane, non-hermit people in the world realize that being home every day to play Xbox for over a year is not so much an accomplishment as it is really, really sad, S had a hard time accepting it (he comforted himself by blaming me - see "The Streak is Over" on his blog, www.achievementpopped.blogspot.com). The good news is that later he said he felt like breaking the streak set him free. The bad news is sometime after that he mentioned we should go camping. Apparently he wants to be free in the woods. I prefer the hermit version of him now.
This is just one of the many, many things S and I do not have in common, all of which have become increasingly clear since we moved here. Rather than list everything we don't share, I'll list what we do:
1. Rock Band
2. Granny Smith apples
3. Gordon Ramsey
That's enough, right?
Keep hope alive,
sbg
How I got to my suicide weight
In the true spirit of blazé teenagers, my friends and I established "suicide weights" when we were in high school -- as in, "i would kill myself if I ever got to this weight." Of course at that age, filled with high metabolism and self-esteem, this seemed like a safe statement because it was a good 30-40 pounds away. I think you know where this is going.
In September, my coworkers and I decided to have a weight-loss challenge at work. Using the office scale, we all weighed ourselves for our first official entry in the OMG Fat Ass competition. I really didn't know what to expect, since I renounced my scale some time ago (see February 20, 2007 entry). As it turns out, I have not only reached, but actually SURPASSED my suicide weight. Since the other participants were not interested in a murder-murder-suicide pact, I decided instead to analyze how this happened. After much reflection, I've figured out the exact culprints. And oh yeah, I'm naming names.
1. York University: +15 pounds
The much-dreaded freshman 15. What is it exactly? The cafeteria food? Endless cups of double cream/double sugar coffee? I can't pinpoint it, but I know this is where it began. Talk about the price for higher education. I will likely finish paying my studen loans before I lose that original 15 pounds.
2. Fuel Advertising: +10 pounds
My coworkers (and so-called friends) regulary encouraged me to finish their lunches after I finished my own. They revelled in how many I could finish. Given how undervalued I was at that job, I could only delight in their praise. Oprah would have a field day with this one.
3. Joel "One Love" Regular: +5 pounds
For a good 3 months, Joel, Linda and I adopted what I call the "Regular routine" -- five days a week, we would walk to Joel's apartment after work and drink a big bottle of $7 red wine. I'm pretty sure I gained at least five pounds during this period of my life, but I can't be sure since I was sooo drunk.
3. The Bean, a.k.a. Rina Bang: +5 pounds
Oh Rina, with your delightful conversation and irresistable company. Many a day was spent with you, a big plate of pad thai and fried tofu. That's right, I found a way to make tofu unhealthy (and delicious). While it definitely added to the predicament I'm in now, this one was definitely worth every pound (and pound and pound).
4. Burrito Boyz, butter chicken, Marble Slab, cheese croissants: +5 pounds
Due to availability, some are more to blame than others.
Sorry to call you all out like that, but I think we all have to take responsibility for what could have been the death of me. Wish me luck in my weight loss challenge -- the winner is deemed OMG Skinny Bitch.
9 pounds and counting,
sbg
In September, my coworkers and I decided to have a weight-loss challenge at work. Using the office scale, we all weighed ourselves for our first official entry in the OMG Fat Ass competition. I really didn't know what to expect, since I renounced my scale some time ago (see February 20, 2007 entry). As it turns out, I have not only reached, but actually SURPASSED my suicide weight. Since the other participants were not interested in a murder-murder-suicide pact, I decided instead to analyze how this happened. After much reflection, I've figured out the exact culprints. And oh yeah, I'm naming names.
1. York University: +15 pounds
The much-dreaded freshman 15. What is it exactly? The cafeteria food? Endless cups of double cream/double sugar coffee? I can't pinpoint it, but I know this is where it began. Talk about the price for higher education. I will likely finish paying my studen loans before I lose that original 15 pounds.
2. Fuel Advertising: +10 pounds
My coworkers (and so-called friends) regulary encouraged me to finish their lunches after I finished my own. They revelled in how many I could finish. Given how undervalued I was at that job, I could only delight in their praise. Oprah would have a field day with this one.
3. Joel "One Love" Regular: +5 pounds
For a good 3 months, Joel, Linda and I adopted what I call the "Regular routine" -- five days a week, we would walk to Joel's apartment after work and drink a big bottle of $7 red wine. I'm pretty sure I gained at least five pounds during this period of my life, but I can't be sure since I was sooo drunk.
3. The Bean, a.k.a. Rina Bang: +5 pounds
Oh Rina, with your delightful conversation and irresistable company. Many a day was spent with you, a big plate of pad thai and fried tofu. That's right, I found a way to make tofu unhealthy (and delicious). While it definitely added to the predicament I'm in now, this one was definitely worth every pound (and pound and pound).
4. Burrito Boyz, butter chicken, Marble Slab, cheese croissants: +5 pounds
Due to availability, some are more to blame than others.
Sorry to call you all out like that, but I think we all have to take responsibility for what could have been the death of me. Wish me luck in my weight loss challenge -- the winner is deemed OMG Skinny Bitch.
9 pounds and counting,
sbg
A little insight into Stratvegas
Periodically, I like to search the web for job opportunities. Sometimes it's because I'm in a "Gonna leave it all behind and start anew" kinda mood; other times it's because I think, "If I work closeby I will never have to wake up 15 minutes early so I can scrape off my car in the morning". So as I was looking around today, I could think of no better audience for what I found than my blog readers, who are well aware of my amazing (insert John McCain air quotes) job karma. Here is a taste of the employment opportunities available in the city I now call home:
Hog farm worker
Pork Production Technician
Chicken Catcher
Wow... there's a whole world of new animals available to me now! I thought I would just have to write about cows for the rest of my life (working in the Dairy Capital and all), but no -- I have the opportunities to be among hogs and chickens too. Please don't be jealous, dear readers. You "big city" types can go to the park, eat a hot dog, and just wait for the pigeons to come to you.
e-i-e-i-o,
sbg
Hog farm worker
Pork Production Technician
Chicken Catcher
Wow... there's a whole world of new animals available to me now! I thought I would just have to write about cows for the rest of my life (working in the Dairy Capital and all), but no -- I have the opportunities to be among hogs and chickens too. Please don't be jealous, dear readers. You "big city" types can go to the park, eat a hot dog, and just wait for the pigeons to come to you.
e-i-e-i-o,
sbg
A Halloween Tale
I have always loved the idea of dressing up for Halloween. What I realized this year is that getting a good costume requires money, of which I have very little. In the past, I have one for low-budget costumes like my domino outfit:
But this year, I was going out in real public among grown-up, gainfully-employed people who I knew would spare no expense on their costumes. So I had to figure out how to get a costume on my limited budget. I searched the internet and settled on Storm from X-men (with no regard to the slightly lofty ambition of dressing up as the most beautiful woman in the world). I got a white wig from Value Village and a coworker offered to lend me a cape. I figured I would wear a black top and black pants and make an X for my belt out of the leftover felt from last year's domino costume. Done and done. Total cost: $6.99 (for the wig).
Fast forward to the night of October 30. I'm trying on the costume and I look like a hot mess. Never mind the fact that I'm not Halle Berry... I have a wig that is called "Surfer Boy" and a cape that could fit 3 people. I look like an Emo magician.
So it's Halloween morning and I'm frantically running around trying to get something (with about a million other people... what's their excuse for waiting until the last minute?). Every decent costume in the costume store is 90+ dollars -- I don't think so. I leave the store defeated and then... a stroke of genius... I have a white wig and I'm a black woman. That can only mean one thing -- Mary J Blige, bitches.
So I bought a few accessories, grabbed my faux fur jacket from about 10 years ago and wore a my black shirt, jeans and pointy boots. I was a little concerned that no one would understand my costume and I would have to answer questions about it all night, but I was pleasantly suprised that MJB is known even is waspy London. So the moral of my Halloween Tale is that with a little creativity, a recognizable Halloween costume can be achieved on a budget. It may be a little ghetto, but hey -- it's Mary J.
Total cost:
Wig: $6.99
Sunglasses: $5.00
Earrings: $5.00
love sbg
But this year, I was going out in real public among grown-up, gainfully-employed people who I knew would spare no expense on their costumes. So I had to figure out how to get a costume on my limited budget. I searched the internet and settled on Storm from X-men (with no regard to the slightly lofty ambition of dressing up as the most beautiful woman in the world). I got a white wig from Value Village and a coworker offered to lend me a cape. I figured I would wear a black top and black pants and make an X for my belt out of the leftover felt from last year's domino costume. Done and done. Total cost: $6.99 (for the wig).
Fast forward to the night of October 30. I'm trying on the costume and I look like a hot mess. Never mind the fact that I'm not Halle Berry... I have a wig that is called "Surfer Boy" and a cape that could fit 3 people. I look like an Emo magician.
So it's Halloween morning and I'm frantically running around trying to get something (with about a million other people... what's their excuse for waiting until the last minute?). Every decent costume in the costume store is 90+ dollars -- I don't think so. I leave the store defeated and then... a stroke of genius... I have a white wig and I'm a black woman. That can only mean one thing -- Mary J Blige, bitches.
So I bought a few accessories, grabbed my faux fur jacket from about 10 years ago and wore a my black shirt, jeans and pointy boots. I was a little concerned that no one would understand my costume and I would have to answer questions about it all night, but I was pleasantly suprised that MJB is known even is waspy London. So the moral of my Halloween Tale is that with a little creativity, a recognizable Halloween costume can be achieved on a budget. It may be a little ghetto, but hey -- it's Mary J.
Total cost:
Wig: $6.99
Sunglasses: $5.00
Earrings: $5.00
love sbg
M.K.
My Kathryn. Magnificent Kathryn. Meticulous Kathryn. My-hero Kathryn.
I'm not just writing this because I promised Kathryn I would. I'm writing this because while this blog is bound to be filled with my whining, complaining and general bitter rantings, there is one area of my life in which I have been ridiculously blessed: friendships. The people who (like it or not) have to talk me off the ledge on an almost daily basis. In fact, it was one of my many breakdowns that brought M.K. (a.k.a. My Kathryn) into my life.
As you know, I have developed many close friendships at work. Friendships so dear to me that I tend to stay at jobs longer than I should just so I can be with them (read: Fuel). So after my best OMG friend had the nerve to get pregnant (thus solidifying that she would be leaving me for a year), she further dared to go into labour early, so I was not amply prepared for her departure (sidebar: she let me name her baby, so we're all good).
Anyway, after B left, I lasted about a month before I had a total breakdown. It wasn't pretty, so I won't get into the details. The important thing is that I knew I wouldn't be able to survive without another person to help me through the days (and the workload). And that's how Kathryn came to work as an intern at OMG.
She couldn't be any better if I conjured her up myself. Almost from the beginning, she was "pickin' up what I was puttin' down." She not only gets me, but she actually participates in all my craziness. For example, we share a pen -- a beautiful blue pen with a built-in blue highlighter that can only be used on the days that we don't work together (so we are sharing something even when we're apart). It's like the sisterhood of the travelling pants, except it's a pen, it doesn't travel, and we're not 16 (although M.K. is depressingly closer to 16 than I am - her one and only flaw).
I could go on and on about how amazing/adorable/funny/smart she is, but it would only either bore you or make you jealous. If you really want to know just how wonderful she is, check out her brand new blog: thatswhatsmithsaid.blogspot.com (and by brand new I mean she started it today, so bear with her).
In closing, I figure that depite my whining, complaning and general bitter rantings, I must have done something right in a previous life to get the kind of friends I have. I love you all to bits and pieces. Feel free to post a comment and love me back.
love your friend-aholic sbg
I'm not just writing this because I promised Kathryn I would. I'm writing this because while this blog is bound to be filled with my whining, complaining and general bitter rantings, there is one area of my life in which I have been ridiculously blessed: friendships. The people who (like it or not) have to talk me off the ledge on an almost daily basis. In fact, it was one of my many breakdowns that brought M.K. (a.k.a. My Kathryn) into my life.
As you know, I have developed many close friendships at work. Friendships so dear to me that I tend to stay at jobs longer than I should just so I can be with them (read: Fuel). So after my best OMG friend had the nerve to get pregnant (thus solidifying that she would be leaving me for a year), she further dared to go into labour early, so I was not amply prepared for her departure (sidebar: she let me name her baby, so we're all good).
Anyway, after B left, I lasted about a month before I had a total breakdown. It wasn't pretty, so I won't get into the details. The important thing is that I knew I wouldn't be able to survive without another person to help me through the days (and the workload). And that's how Kathryn came to work as an intern at OMG.
She couldn't be any better if I conjured her up myself. Almost from the beginning, she was "pickin' up what I was puttin' down." She not only gets me, but she actually participates in all my craziness. For example, we share a pen -- a beautiful blue pen with a built-in blue highlighter that can only be used on the days that we don't work together (so we are sharing something even when we're apart). It's like the sisterhood of the travelling pants, except it's a pen, it doesn't travel, and we're not 16 (although M.K. is depressingly closer to 16 than I am - her one and only flaw).
I could go on and on about how amazing/adorable/funny/smart she is, but it would only either bore you or make you jealous. If you really want to know just how wonderful she is, check out her brand new blog: thatswhatsmithsaid.blogspot.com (and by brand new I mean she started it today, so bear with her).
In closing, I figure that depite my whining, complaning and general bitter rantings, I must have done something right in a previous life to get the kind of friends I have. I love you all to bits and pieces. Feel free to post a comment and love me back.
love your friend-aholic sbg
Goodbye couch, hello world
My life coach had a radical suggestion -- that I get away from the television and start writing. I didn't bother to explain my current love affair with the PVR; I knew she wouldn't understand like you, dear readers. You have seen me through the loss of my digital cable, the pain of being forced to watch the TV guide channel, then the joy of getting my father to install the digital box in my basement and process of becoming an insomniac from staying up all night to watch shows on time-shifting.
So I said I would except I didn't. Wouldn't you do the same if you were me? I had a reputation to maintain -- a self-professed tv addict who can tell you something good to watch every day of the week. Imagine my horror on a Tuesday morning when my coworkers asked, "Did you watch The Hills last night?" and I had to say - gasp - no?!
But then one day, I thought I would try a little experiment. I decided to only watch the shows that I truly loved. So every day I would assess how much I loved a show BEFORE I tuned in (since I correctly identified that I would probably keep watching something once I started it). And as it turns out, I don't actually LOVE that many shows. I think I was just caught up in the hype... in my own, sick, "give me TV or give me death" hype.
So as of late, the number of "my programs" has been radically reduced. I've actually become quite a critical viewer. Now I can see that nothing ever really happens on The Hills. That the "models" on ANTM just get lazier and more annoying. And Ugly Betty... well, I need to save something for the summer.
So look at me everybody...goodbye couch, hello world,
sbg
p.s. There is an unfortunate addition to my TV schedule: Judge Judy, courtesy of S. Don't even get me started.
So I said I would except I didn't. Wouldn't you do the same if you were me? I had a reputation to maintain -- a self-professed tv addict who can tell you something good to watch every day of the week. Imagine my horror on a Tuesday morning when my coworkers asked, "Did you watch The Hills last night?" and I had to say - gasp - no?!
But then one day, I thought I would try a little experiment. I decided to only watch the shows that I truly loved. So every day I would assess how much I loved a show BEFORE I tuned in (since I correctly identified that I would probably keep watching something once I started it). And as it turns out, I don't actually LOVE that many shows. I think I was just caught up in the hype... in my own, sick, "give me TV or give me death" hype.
So as of late, the number of "my programs" has been radically reduced. I've actually become quite a critical viewer. Now I can see that nothing ever really happens on The Hills. That the "models" on ANTM just get lazier and more annoying. And Ugly Betty... well, I need to save something for the summer.
So look at me everybody...goodbye couch, hello world,
sbg
p.s. There is an unfortunate addition to my TV schedule: Judge Judy, courtesy of S. Don't even get me started.
I blame Rock Band
I've decided that I blame Rock Band for my blog/writing absence. Since Rock Band is basically the only thing S and I have in common, I've spent a lot of time with a plastic guitar in my hand rather than a pen. But on the advice of my lifecoach (I'll get to that later), I'm going to start blogging again.
I believe when I started this blog many moons ago, I began with the hardest part of transitioning to life in the Forest City. Now that I've moved to Stratford, a.k.a. Stratvegas (it's supposed to be ironic), I will begin again:
1) I've somehow managed to make my world even smaller. London's population is approx. 350,000 (for you Torontonians, that's about the size of Brampton), while Stratford's population is approx. 30,000 (comparable to the amount of people in the Eaton Centre during the Christmas season).
2) I've left the lunacy of my mother (and the appliances with minds of their own) for a whole new brand of crazy (more to come on that later, I'm sure).
3) Apparently, I've entered a black-people-free zone (except for Roy, best known--by me--as the black guy who works in the factory in Tommy Boy).
This is not to say I haven't gained anything in the move. First and foremost, I get to be with the love of my live -- the PVR. Let's just stop for a moment and all hail the beloved PVR. Oh, how I love thee PVR.
Now before anyone judges me for not putting S at the top of the list, just remember that my beloved sister also ranked below the digital cable two years ago. So technically, you can (and probably should) judge me, but at least I'm consistent.
Of course being with S and the dog is anothe pro to my new life. We have our own little world going on here, almost 100% confined to the apartment (except when the dog forces me outside to walk her). If anyone out there is fearing that domesticity might ensue from my new living arrangement, fear not -- S recently compared me to Peg Bundy in the kitchen. Just pass me a smoke and some bonbons.
I don't want to overload you with the exciting details of my life all in one post, so I'll leave you wanting more. You want more... right?
love sbg
I believe when I started this blog many moons ago, I began with the hardest part of transitioning to life in the Forest City. Now that I've moved to Stratford, a.k.a. Stratvegas (it's supposed to be ironic), I will begin again:
1) I've somehow managed to make my world even smaller. London's population is approx. 350,000 (for you Torontonians, that's about the size of Brampton), while Stratford's population is approx. 30,000 (comparable to the amount of people in the Eaton Centre during the Christmas season).
2) I've left the lunacy of my mother (and the appliances with minds of their own) for a whole new brand of crazy (more to come on that later, I'm sure).
3) Apparently, I've entered a black-people-free zone (except for Roy, best known--by me--as the black guy who works in the factory in Tommy Boy).
This is not to say I haven't gained anything in the move. First and foremost, I get to be with the love of my live -- the PVR. Let's just stop for a moment and all hail the beloved PVR. Oh, how I love thee PVR.
Now before anyone judges me for not putting S at the top of the list, just remember that my beloved sister also ranked below the digital cable two years ago. So technically, you can (and probably should) judge me, but at least I'm consistent.
Of course being with S and the dog is anothe pro to my new life. We have our own little world going on here, almost 100% confined to the apartment (except when the dog forces me outside to walk her). If anyone out there is fearing that domesticity might ensue from my new living arrangement, fear not -- S recently compared me to Peg Bundy in the kitchen. Just pass me a smoke and some bonbons.
I don't want to overload you with the exciting details of my life all in one post, so I'll leave you wanting more. You want more... right?
love sbg
