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
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
