Saturday, 31 December 2011

New Years Resoultions, Or, I Am Yet Again Lying to Myself

New Years is always an interesting time for me. I know I am not alone in that I reflect on everything that has happened to me or that I have done over the past year. I don't generally like this though because when I get reflective, I end up crying. To me New Years is just an excuse to party and celebrate the fact that you are going to be dealing with the same shit as the year before. It all just carries over and there is nothing you can do about it. It would be wonderful if you could just wipe the slate clean and start fresh, but more often than not, life doesn't work like that. You still have the same broken heart/loans/job/life/whatever problems that you did the year before. The only difference is that the numbers at the end of 2011 changed to 2012.

I don't do New Years Resolutions. I quite personally think they are stupid. It's like lying to yourself for 365 days, until you make the same or new resolutions and start the vicious cycle of failure all over again. I just think they are an exercise in futility. People always promise themselves or other people that they are going to do something or really change, and it always ends in disappointment. Sure you could promise yourself that you are going to go to the gym at least 3 times a week, but at the end of the day, you don't. Life gets in the way, and those 10 lbs that you wanted to lose end up sticking around, forcing you to go buy new clothes. Or you could resolve to be a nicer, better person. I've done this one countless times, and each and every year, I look back and decide that I failed because I am still the same sarcastic asshole I was the year before. The only change I have made is to become more cynical than I was the year before. I think what all comes down to is change. People don't like change. I don't like change. It throws my nice controlled world upside down. I think that's why New Years resolutions always fail. It's because people are unwilling to change. Sure it sounds like a great idea, being a nicer, thinner, smarter, whatever person, but at the end of the day, people lack the motivation and are too afraid of changing to really do anything about it. I myself am guilty of this. It really takes a lot for me to sit back and think about changing, and even then, I resist it at ever turn. That's why New Years resolutions are dumb. They set people up for failure, and just make people feel bad about themselves. That's why I say screw it, and carry on as I always have, being the same sort of cynical, slightly sarcastic, outspoken person I have been since 1985 (or at least until I started talking).

However, if I was forced at gunpoint, or by a ninja with nunchucks, to make some kind of resolution, or promise to myself that I will inevitably end up breaking, it would be to say no. I will/would try to say no to more people, and do things for myself, rather than worrying that I am going to disappoint people. I won't be so quick to make promises that end up with me being exhausted because there aren't enough hours in the day to get done everything I have set out to do. I am going to take more time for me and say screw it to everyone else. At the end of the day, I am all I have. It may sound selfish, but I am sure that anyone else out there who tries to be everything for everyone, you understand. I am an 'all or nothing' kind of girl. There is no in between. I give 100% of myself, or none. So I am going to start giving less of myself to other people and more of myself to me. It's the best I can do in terms of a 'resolution'.

Now that the melancholy has passed here are some of my favourite things/moments of 2011:

Best Albums:
1. Seeds by Hey Rosetta!
2. Oh Fortune by Dan Mangan
3.Mylo Xyloto by Coldplay
4. Paris or India by The Midway State
5.Moonfire by Boy & Bear

Best Books:
1) The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
2) Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler
3) Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (and Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling

Top Moments for Me:
1) Being told I was cancer free
2) Writing the LSAT and trying to figure out my, albeit uncertain, future
3) Getting published not only in an academic journal, but also for work
4) One moment on Maui, watching the sunset and the turtles, with someone very special
5) Sunset over LA from the Getty Museum after walking through a 17th century Paris exhibit

I don't know what 2012 holds for me or for anyone really. The best I can do is remain cautiously optimistic (which is quite a change from cynical realism). Despite the fact that I have mixed feelings about New Years, I wish everyone an incredibly memorable and awesome New Years. I also really hope that the world doesn't end. That would totally suck.

Happy New Years friends!


Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Muesday: Do Not Feed the Wildlife

I sit here writing this looking out the front windows of the cabin, at the frozen lake and the mountains that shadow it. I am in Jasper! I haven't been in a very long time and I had forgotten how truly beautiful and magnificent the Rocky Mountains are. It's a nice little getaway, albeit, a short one. This is the scene I hope to set for you all as I explain why staying at the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge is actually like camping for me.

I have never been camping before. The closest I have ever come to camping was this one time when I was like 11 when we stayed in a condo in Panorama and we had to cook for ourselves. I have never had the, ahem, pleasure(?) of sleeping in a tent, or bathing in some kind of lake. I do own a sleeping bag, but mostly for necessity when I was younger and attended slumber parties of sorts. Mostly I keep it around for when I venture out to a friends cabin, or for when the Zombie apocalypse hits and because I think that when this happens that I will need it. Now, because I have no life skills, and also because I am allergic to life, staying at the Jasper Park Lodge and pretending that it is the same thing as camping works just fine for me. I can be outside and enjoy the beauty of one of Canada's most beautiful national parks, and at the same time, have someone bring me a nice steaming latte while I listen to a pianist play "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" on the baby grand piano in the lobby while I sit in front of the fire and read (I just finished "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern, and holy crap, everyone needs to go out and buy and read it! It's amazing! I haven't come across a book that good in a really long time!). In my personal opinion it's a win-win situation. But I will admit, that sometimes I wonder what I am missing. I remember when my friends would go camping with their families when we were younger, and how much fun they would have and all the stories they would tell when they got back. Sometimes I have delusions of grandeur and I think "hey, I think I am going to try this whole camping thing out, one time at least". Then I start thinking about how leaving my house in the morning usually results in some kind of allergy attack, and then I think about how things in nature give me hives, and also about how I have no sense of direction, or life skills, meaning that I have no business being in the wilderness and that I would probably set fire to it due to the fact that I wouldn't know how to work a camp stove. No joke. Picture it: me, covered in red welts, sneezing like a mad person, trying to get a fire started in some remote corner of god only knows because I am horribly lost, and then I would probably set fire to some pristine environment, and the only way I would be saved would be because a helicopter mistook a raging brush fire for smoke signals. I think I am doomed/blessed to live the life of a city girl. Doomed because I will never know the potential joy of camping. By blessed I mean that mother nature would be blessed because she wouldn't have to worry about me being unleashed upon unsuspecting flora and fauna populations.

I know for a fact that if none of the above happened, I would probably cause nature harm by feeding the wildlife. They take that shit seriously in a national park. Apparently it's "unlawful". Whatever that means. Go figure.

Because I am feeling particularly patriotic at the moment (which never happens, and by patriotic, I mean because I am in a Canadian national park) I am going to continue to share Canadian music. Today I give to you "A Little Bit of Red" by Serena Ryder, who is from Toronto. I really dig her sound. She has that raspy, rocker sound that reminds me of music from a time when auto-tune didn't exist (I seriously think it's the bane of the music world). So, enjoy "A Little Bit of Red", from her album Is It O.K.

This is the last Muesday of 2011. Maybe 2012 will feature something new. Who knows. Until then...


Saturday, 24 December 2011

Let it Snow Baby, Let it Reindeer

Merry Christmas everyone! I think I will keep this brief, or as brief as humanly possible for me. We all know I have a problem being concise. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy Hanukkah/Merry Kwanza, or simply Merry Whatever Doesn't Offend You. I hope everyone enjoys Christmas and everything that comes with it. The food, family (which can also make people crazy), the gifts, the love and the joy. So from me to you, Merry Holidays.

Love Always,

Thursday, 22 December 2011

The Big C Part VII: Bigger Scars Make for Better Stories

I long for the days when I didn't spend substantial amounts of time in hospitals. Those days were awesome. I got to spend time at the hospital again today. Because you know, all I wanted for Christmas was for my surgeon to cut into my back with a scalpel. Gee thanks Santa! How did you know that I needed that syringe full of local anesthetic?! You shouldn't have!? I don't know what's shittier, the fact that I was up at an ungodly hour to go to the hospital, the fact that I am used to being cut into, or the fact that I am being cut into 3 days before Christmas. Pretty sure that the shitastic combination of the three makes for a whole boatload of holiday cheer, and by holiday cheer I mean, puts me in a right foul mood. On the plus side, I did get to yell at people, and that always cheers me up. Nothing drives me crazier than bitchy nurses who are condescending and patronizing. I'm sorry, I know I may look like a child, but I'm not. Don't tell me that I need to calm down because I am upset. I wasn't upset until you decided to be a giant bitch...with bad hair and really hideous Christmas sweater. You can take your ward and shove it lady. I hope me being an asshole today doesn't put me on any kind of metaphorical or literal naughty list. The one thing I know I can count on though, that no matter how much of an asshole I can be, cancer will always be a bigger one. Bigger scars make for better stories...


Tuesday, 20 December 2011

Muesday: Being a Little Adult has Ruined Me

So, where did December go? I mean really? I am starting to think that my mother is right. When I was 20 she gave me a piece of advice. First she said you're halfway to 40 and then she said after 25 you slowly start to die. Jems, I know. Also, hilarious, especially if you know my mother. I have been 26 for 72 hours, and I think senility has started to set in. I mean, I don't have any recollection of where the time has gone. One minute I am having a complete and utter meltdown over the entire month of September, and the next thing I know it's freaking Christmas?! What. The. Hell. It's like I'm that chick from the song "Baby It's Cold Outside". One minute I am in complete control of my life, and the next thing you know I have no recollection of how I got here, the only exception is that I still have all of my major internal organs. You mean to tell me that I have been so wrapped up in all the things I do that I completely missed the past 2 and half months of my life? I don't like this, not one freaking bit. It only now occurs to me that Christmas is in, oh I don't know, 5 days. I haven't even wrapped presents yet, and I am not entirely sure if I have actually finished my Christmas shopping or not (you'd think it would be easy to figure out...not the case)! No, I have been too busy with papers and finals, and stress, and law school applications, that I seem to have completely missed my favourtie time of the year! This is truly sad. It also sounds a lot like whining, but whatever. 'Tis the season? Right? All I can say is that I am glad that I finally get a break. Maybe now I can actually sit back and enjoy the magic of Christmas, and do what I have been wanting to do all along: watch all those Christmas specials from when I was a kid.

Those Christmas specials will always have a special place in my heart, but I realized something, that kind of crushed my inner six year old. They aren't as good as I thought they were, and there are some pretty serious inconsistencies in several of the plot lines. Not necessarily something you worry about as a small child, but as a small adult, I can assure you that I noticed, and let me tell you, it saddens me. Mostly because I now realize how incredibly gullible I was a child, but also because I see those productions as a disservice to children everywhere! Case in point: instead of studying the Convention of Westminster in 1756 (basically England and Prussia screwed everyone over, and France and Austria became besties, and Russia was like "what the hell, why aren't I included in this mad party, and by mad party I mean convention?!" and then they all went to war for 7 years), I decided to watch A Flintstones Christmas, a classic in my opinion. But I noticed something. First of all, Santa would a) have to be like a bajillion years old, and b) I highly doubt neanderthals had the mental capacity to fully comprehend the notion of a jolly fat man in a red suit. Also, just going to throw this out there, but if you look at the cartoon, instead of being dressed like Fred, and Barney, and Wilma and Betty in what I can only assume are types of animal skins, Santa's suit is modern, like the kind you would see on a mall Santa, although probably with less sweat stains. I feel kind of robbed. What happened to consistency? Perhaps I am just a little too picky. It's entirely possible. But all I know is that adulthood has ruined it for me. This makes me sad.

Also, because it's Christmas, this muesday will be Christmas themed. I know this is everyone's favourite (and yes, that is sarcasm). I know a lot of people who have issues with Christmas music, which is one of the reasons as to why I haven't shared any Christmas music on my blog yet. But, seeing as how Christmas crept up on me, I figured what the hell. Not only am I going to share Christmas music with you, but I am going to share one of my all time FAVOURITE Christmas songs with you, from one of my all time FAVOURITE Christmas albums. Wait for it, wait for it...Hanson's Merry Christmas Baby, from (what is my favourite Christmas album of all time in the history of ever) Snowed In. Ya, I went there. Deal with it. Seriously. I remember being like 12 and getting this album for my birthday from my bestie and actually dying a little from happiness. No joke. I was that kid who loved Hanson. And I am not ashamed to admit that I still do. Best. Album. Ever. I welcome your judgment. You're just jealous of my awesome arsenal of music. Maybe.

Merry almost Christmas everyone!


Sunday, 18 December 2011

The Extension of My Existential Crisis: It's My Birthday

This is me 26 years ago. Despite popular opinion, I wasn't adopted, nor am I actually Asian. Although, come to think of it, this picture doesn't really help my case...Also, I was kind of adorable. Just saying...

So, today is my birthday. I am 26. That's fun...sort of. I don't really know how I feel about this. All I know, is that there better be cake...or at least a cupcake with pink icing.


Friday, 16 December 2011

My Continued War On Technology: Damn You Auto-Correct

I have awesome friends, and by awesome I mean sometimes I picture myself doing violence with golf clubs to them. Before I get to my explanation of why I sometimes picture myself doing this, let me tell you all a little story. It goes something like this:

We all know that I have issues with technology. I am not a fan seeing as how most of the time I have no idea how anything works, or why it does what it does. I use Apple products because they are basically idiot proof. This is why I was so stoked to change from my Blackberry to an iPhone, as it just does everything for me. Now, there are certain parts about technology that I do like, or at least have a love-hate relationship with. One of them just so happens to be auto-correct. I love auto-correct because it spells things right when I am texting way too quickly and missing letters, but I hate it when it corrects words that I know for an absolute fact to be right, and to actually exist, example, sumptuary. It's a word. I start to hate it when it does things that I don't want it to. Case in point: recently, the auto-correct on my phone started changing "love" to "fuck". Interesting, I know. I don't even know how this would happen, considering neither words contains similar letters, nor are the letters on the keyboard anywhere near each other. I mean, I do tend to swear...a lot, so it did cross my mind that perhaps I had sworn one too many times. It is an auto-correct nightmare. I didn't even realize that it was happening until I went to text my dad (yes, I text my dad) "I love you" and it changed to "I fuck you". That would have been an interesting one to explain. It was driving me crazy! I had no idea why or how it happened, and it got to the point where I actually considered throwing my phone against my office wall. Then I realized that I could just call the Apple Store and they could tell me how to fix it. So here I was, sitting at my disaster of a desk at work, talking to the guy at Apple:

Me: Hi, I have a question about auto-correct on iPhone, would you be able to help me?

Guy: You bet. What's the issue?

Me: My auto-correct changes "love" to "fuck"

Guy: ... (silence. I could actually picture crickets chirping)

Me: Hello?

Guy: Um, I'm still here. Why is it doing that?

Me: I don't know, that's why I'm calling you.

Guy: Well sometimes when letters are similar auto-correct changes the words

(I am not simple, I had already figured that one out. Thanks Einstein)

Me: Ya, I know, but what I don't understand is why it would start doing this. The letters aren't similar at all. Also, I do swear a lot, but not so much to make my auto-correct think I mean "fuck" when I say love.

Guy: Um, well, have you created any keyboard shortcuts?

Me: I don't know what that is, so probably not.

He then proceeded to walk me through getting to the keyboard shortcuts, step by step, while I assured him that I hadn't set any such short cuts. You can imagine my surprise when I saw that I did in fact have a shortcut that changed "love" to "fuck", making me look like a giant asshole for not knowing that I had one. The guy was really polite, and really nice, and seemed really uncomfortable by the conversation, which I of course thought was awesome. So to make an already long story less long, I managed to fix it. But then I started pondering why and how it changed and then I had an epiphany.

Flash back to last Saturday. Remember that Christmas party I went too? Most of my favourite people were there, and a good time was had by all. I remembered sitting at the table beside my good friend Jeff, and he wanted to see the games on my phone. Like an idiot, I punched in the password to unlock the keyboard and let him see. I then got up and left the table, for what was probably 2 seconds, and came back to find my phone sitting nicely on the table. I thought nothing of it until today. He changed it. Jeff was the one who made that shortcut and made me feel like an idiot all week. It's a good thing he's my friend, or I would have actually hit him with a golf club. It's also a good thing that I find it mostly amusing to actually be mad about this, and really, it's my fault for leaving him with my phone without adult supervision.

So kids, the moral(s) of the story:

1) Don't leave your phone unattended with a group of people who think changing things around is a genius idea.

2) Make sure you don't have a keyboard shortcut before you make an ass of yourself to the Apple people.

3) Always double check your text messages before sending them.


Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Muesday: Basically It's a Song About Getting Roofied

Now, as anyone who doesn't live under a rock knows, or unless you don't celebrate Christmas for various reasons, but then really, you would at least have a working knowledge about what Christmas entails, and you should thus know that it's Christmas time. What this means is that I have been listening to Christmas music non-stop since, oh I don't know, November 1. I love Christmas and basically everything about it, minus the hoards of unwashed masses doing their shopping, and general stupidity, which I really think afflicts humanity year round, and basically makes me allergic to people. Anyway, I was listening to the classic "Baby It's Cold Outside" (the original, not that musical monstrosity sang by Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey), and I came to the conclusion that basically it's a song about getting roofied. No joke. Think about it. She's all like "No I can't stay otherwise people will think I'm a giant whore", and he's like "No you should totally stay because it's cold and that means that we can cuddle etc, and also because I have ulterior motives...let me get you a drink", to which she responds "I really shouldn't. It's a bad life choice...but I think you have a point and I have no will power whatsoever and the ability to say no escapes me right now". So he's all excited and whatnot and pours her a drink to which she's like "hey what's in this?!", and then, he's taking her coat and scarf, and the next thing you know, in all likelihood, she wakes up in a bathtub full of ice missing 3/4 of her liver and a kidney, while he makes away with a cooler full of organ goodies to sell on the Russian/Chinese black market. It's just a creepy creepy song. Either that, or my twisted little mind has taken a Christmas classic/favourite and made it inappropriate, which is entirely possible...

Enough of my rambling about bad life choices, and on to legit Muesday!

Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere else. Sometimes all I can think about is getting away from this place and never looking back. And then I see things that remind me that there are some truly beautiful and wonderful aspects of where I live. As much as I complain about being from Alberta, and about Edmonton, and how it's basically Dante's forgotten frozen circle of hell, I think I forget about how lovely Alberta really can be. I was at a Christmas party this past weekend, that was thrown by a good friend of mine. She showed me the following video, and not only is it gorgeous, but it also features an Albertan artist, and makes me appreciate where I live a little more. Not everyone can drive to the mountains on a whim. Like I said, I only just discovered the following artist this past weekend, which is quite the shame because he is amazing, and I have my friend to thank for that (Thanks Nina!). I have actually been listening to him on repeat since Sunday. W.i.L., is an artist from Calgary, and I am so excited to now have a new Canadian artist to love! I really hope you all enjoy Roam by W.i.L., and that you are just a little jealous that I get to live in such a beautiful place.


Monday, 12 December 2011

Don't Think of It as Yelling, Think of It as Really Loud, Loving Correction

I feel really bad for anyone who had to be around me today. Sorry that I was possibly probably a little overly hostile, and most likely an asshole. Don't think of it as yelling, think of it as really loud, loving correction...or yelling...whatever works for you...

Sunday, 11 December 2011

Oh, I'm Sorry, I Didn't Realize We Were Working Out With Snookie...

I feel like this is why THOSE girls come to the gym...

You know what really bothers me? Those girls who go to the gym, dressed like they're going out to the bar...

Sunday nights I have soccer practice, at an indoor field, that has a track above the fields where people can run, walk and generally try to keep in shape. Now normally, when one goes to the gym, it's to legitimately work out. You get sweaty and gross, but you know that going in. You know that actually putting some effort in will make you sweat. But then you get THOSE girls. The ones who show up, with their itty bitty spandex shorts, that basically look like underwear, and their hair in that stupid Snookie poof, with layers upon layers of makeup on, and ginormous hoop earrings, who run around the track, at what actually looks like walking speed. Heaven forbid they actually work up a sweat. Really, who do you think you are? Here I am, on the soccer field, running my ass off, doing something good for myself, and the last time I checked, I wasn't doing it to get hit on. Seriously, half the time I look like a real dream come true, and by dream come true, I mean hot mess. I don't go with the hopes that some juice monkey will maybe try to impress me with his hulking, steroid muscles, and that he will try to dazzle me with what I can only imagine would qualify as witty repartee. No. I go because I like soccer and I could honestly give two shits about what I look like. But those girls drive me crazy. Why bother? Why bother coming and working out if you are going to put zero effort into your workout? They put more effort into the way they look before the work out than they do the actual workout which if you think about it, would actually make them look good. It's a vicious cycle that I just don't understand. One of my favourite things to do with my friends on my team is to make fun of those girls, because guess what, they look like slutty assholes. I mean they might as well be working out in high heels instead of running shoes. I'm sorry, I was completely unaware that the cast of the Jersey Shore was working out with us today...

I continue to lose faith in humanity


Thursday, 8 December 2011

I'm Finished, and I Want Cake

Guess who can now taste sweet sweet freedom?! Oh wait, that would be me. As of 2 am today (which is right this very moment) I finished my last paper of the semester. It's giant, and I am pretty sure that I over-thought the whole thing, but whatever. It's done. This is probably what it's really like:

Which probably doesn't bode well, but whatever. I am delirious from lack of sleep and all I want is cake...and a pony...and to watch The Big Bang Theory. And to sleep. That's kind of important too. But mostly I want cake. I'm blaming Jeff for sending me that picture. I am also blaming my sister for not only getting Justin Bieber's Baby stuck in my head, but for also getting Michael Jackson's Man in the Mirror stuck in my head as well. You try writing a paper with the current prince of pop, and the former, now deceased prince of pop's music stuck in your head like some horrible, twisted Glee mashup. No joke. If I mistakenly wrote out song lyrics instead of something kind of scholarly and intelligible it's her fault...I need to stop talking.


Tuesday, 6 December 2011

Muesday: N/A OK, Or the Pathetic Ramblings of an Unhinged Mind...or a Genius. The Jury is Still Out.

I preemptively apologize for what follows. I am exhausted and I have one paper left to finish, which was supposed to be due today, but because it's some kind of religious festival we got an extension. Thank you baby Jesus! But, what this means is that instead of being able to sit back and relax until my finals, I get to stress for at least two more days. Maybe it's my type-A perfectionist, obsessive compulsive personality, but I think I may be over-thinking everything. Maybe.

Anyway, today was the last day of classes for the semester. It's glorious and not at the exact same time. Mostly because of that paper I have left, and I also feel bad because this post is kind of late in the day/evening. I have a really bad guilty conscience. Instead of coming straight home after class, I went out to celebrate with two wonderful ladies. It was great, except now I have this intense feeling of guilt. Not that I didn't enjoy myself, because I did, but because I have so much left to do and not enough time to do it. On the plus side, I now have a pretty kick ass paper title. And I have now realized exactly how narrow of focus I have in my study of history.

Also, I am adding to 'Leah's List of Grievences':

5. When you have that one jackass in the class who feels the need to raise his hand every single freaking second and challenge the prof: Okay. I am all for asking questions, as long as they are good questions. I always maintain that there are such things as stupid questions and they are usually always asked by stupid people. I was taking (it's done as of 330pm this afternoon) a history class that was all about the Transformation of the European State System 1740-1815, and there was this guy in the class who raised his hand and challenged the prof on everything. And half the time it was just to hear the sound of his own voice. I'm sorry. I paid upwards of $700 for this class, and you mean to tell me that I have to sit here and listen to how you took one, ONE intro level history course, which of course now makes you an expert over the man who is standing up in front of the class who is one of the WORLDS most preeminent Austrian and Habsburg historians? Really? You really want to go there? You really want to argue with him over the actual reason for 500, 000 men losing their lives during Napoleon's invasion of Russia being disease rather than wounded in battle? Can't we just say a lot of people effing died?! WHY THE HELL DOES IT MATTER HOW!!! It's not going to be on the final! I can only remember one other time when a classmate made me imagine doing them bodily harm. I called her 'Purple Coat', mostly because she always, without fail, wore this hideous purple coat, and would never show up to class. She had the audacity to show up one day, the day that she was supposed to present, and then tell everyone that she didn't read her document, and then tell me I was clearly wrong in my interpretation of the document. What followed was an intense verbal battle, that devolved into petty name calling (on her part) and me wanting to launch myself across the table to punch her in the mouth. If it hadn't been for the prof settling things down, I might have actually done it. I just can't stand stupid, ignorant people!

I think it's fairly obvious that I don't suffer fools very well.

Today I am bringing a current favourite of mine. It's called N/A OK by USS (Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker). They are a great little duo out of Toronto and their music always has a really great beat to it. I would write more, but my thoughts are currently filled with a) how angry the annoying guy makes me, b) how ridiculous medieval legislators were (seriously, they legislated against the price of chicken), and c) medieval prostitutes and how I still have to finish my paper (yay for prescriptive dress!). Anyway, enjoy!


Saturday, 3 December 2011

Obviously, It's Because I'm a Masochist

It's sad because it's so true...

So, I wrote the LSAT (again) today. And you know what, I wasn't the only person I know who was writing it for the second time. It was nice to know, and slightly more comforting. What's not so nice to know, is the fact that after said mental gauntlet was run this morning, I now get to come home and work on my very last paper for the semester. Oh joy. I would so much rather be doing something else this evening, which I am sure is evident based on the simple fact that I am sitting here typing this while staring at that my bookshelf full of books, and at my desk which is a veritable disaster of papers and articles. It's so bad that I got a papercut...on my elbow. Don't ask me how that happened. It just did. But to my point, I don't want to write it. I want it to write itself. I somehow don't think that's going to happen. Oh well. Anyway, after the LSAT I decided to just have some me time, so I went to the mall, amidst the Christmas shopping hoards, and had the following conversation:

Let me set the scene. It's Christmas time, at the mall, and there are scads of the unwashed masses everywhere, being idiots. Parking is an absolute disaster, and there are assholes who feel the need to take up 2.5 stalls for their giant "I am compensating for body parts that seem to be lacking" trucks. I go into Fossil, and am looking around at the pretty bags (I want the matching one to my wallet), and the next thing I know, this guy, who looks like he's a baby taps me on the shoulder..

Guy: Hey, don't I know you?

Me: Nope. Sorry.

Guy: No, I'm pretty sure I know you. Weren't you like, in my Physics 30 class?

Me: Again, pretty sure you have the wrong person.

Guy: You look so familiar though! I could swear it was you! I'd remember a face like yours.

At this point, it was really hard for not to burst out laughing. It was hilarious. And it doesn't stop there. Oh no...

Me: I honestly think you have the wrong person.

Guy: Maybe I met you at party then. Did you go to O'Leary?

Me: No.

Guy: Well then what school do you go to? You must be a grade younger than me then.

He said this with a such a smug look on his face, like I was some poor underclassman who should be honoured that he would deign to speak with me.

Me: I've graduated already

Guy: From where?

Me: From University. I have a degree and I am working towards my second one, so I can say with utmost certainty that you most definitely don't remember me from school, or some high school party

Guy: Oh, sorry (he looked really embarrassed and it was awesome). Why would you want a second degree? School is like, so lame!?

Me: Obviously it's because I'm a masochist...

At this point he looked really confused. The poor dear probably had no idea what masochist means. So he awkwardly took his leave, and I proceeded to laugh. A lot.

Just because I look like I could be 17, I'm not, as flattering as that is. Next time you try to hit on someone, you might want to try to double check that. But at the end of the day, I want to thank this young man (who again, looked like a baby) for making my day with what I can only describe as a valiant attempt to try and pick me up (not literally though, I would have kicked him in the scrotum if he tried to do that). It was hilarious.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend folks! Also, don't forget to follow me on the twitter @LopsidedLeah...basically, it's like talking to me in person, only I don't actually have to see you! I think that's pretty much a win-win for everyone.


Thursday, 1 December 2011

Procrastination is a B*tch

You know how you can tell when my life is falling apart/I am having a mental breakdown? You can tell by the frequency of my blog posts. The more frequent, the more likely it is that I am about to become a tiny, angry, raving lunatic, or at least more of a tiny, angry, raving lunatic.

It's that time of year again. The only time of the year when I become an unwashed, stressed out, over caffeinated, under slept mess (actually I am most of those things all the time, but I am almost always clean...mostly). Also known as the end of the semester. For some strange reason I have been super unmotivated. All I really want to do is lay in my giant ruffle bed, and watch bad television, or my favourite movies, blog and tweet. Sidenote, I am blaming the Alberta Cancer Foundation for my new found love of twitter. Holy hell it's addicting. Now I know why people have twitter. It's like drugs, only better because you don't end up disfiguring yourself, or putting holes through your septum. Maybe Charlie Sheen should have gotten himself addicted to Twitter instead of hookers and blow #badlifechoice. Just saying.

Also this is the time of year when I have this incredible urge to clean everything I own. Why is it that people have the uncanny ability to clean instead of doing what they are supposed to be doing? Seriously. I normally live in varying degrees of organized chaos. On any given day it looks like my closet has vomited all of my clothes onto my bed, and the floor is strewn with shoes, and books and papers, and basically anything else you can think of. I only clean up my shit when it gets to the point that it bothers me. But the minute that I have a paper to do, or a giant test, like this Saturday's upcoming LSAT, all I want to do is clean. I want do laundry and iron, and dust and vacuum, activities that I don't normally do (mostly because we have this great housekeeper who come twice a month and does it all for me). 'Clean all the things' becomes my mantra, and the internet is my besty. I bet my mother wishes that this urge to clean was with me all the time because that way she could save money on a housekeeper and use her legal slave (that's why people have children, so they can get free housecleaning and entertainment, and all they have to say is "because I said so") aka Me, to clean instead. But here's the thing: procrastination is a bitch. I know this to be an absolute fact, and yet, I still do it. Every. Single. Freaking. Day.

I have honestly been putting everything off, much to my own detriment. I put off my papers and now I am exhausted. I have a pile of books for the LSAT that are just begging me to study them, but instead, I sit here at my kitchen table, writing this post. There are logic games that want to be played, and reading passages that want to be read. What the hell is wrong with me. It's like I expect the admissions committees to let me on the simple fact that I think I'm a genius, that I think I'm kind of awesome, and I can be kind of cute sometimes. Really Leah, do you honestly think that looking up at them with big doe eyes, like a sad puppy, is going to get you into law school? Ya, I didn't think so. And now I am having a conversation with myself, over my own blog. I think I have reached certifiable insanity.

I think I will end this here. Let's pretend this never happened. Mmkay thanks.


Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Leah's List of Grievences, Part I: Do This and I'll Cut You

Those of you who know me on a personal level, as in, you have met me at least once, and I haven't scared you away yet (I blame my height for my quirks, it just happens), you know that I have a tendency to be very outspoken about the little things that bother me. And let's be serious, there are quite a few. Call it a result of my obsessive compulsive personality, but the little things bother me more than most people, and seeing people do these things on an almost constant basis makes me want to do violence with golf clubs. Because it's that time of the year when I am extra irritable, also known as the end of the semester when all my shit is due, these things bother me more than usual. And now I am going to share what some of those things are so you can all be sure to avoid committing these atrocities in my presence, and to prevent me from having to cut you thug style.

1. People who have no clue what they are doing in an exercise class: these people drive me crazy. I will say kudos to you for getting out there and trying to be healthy, but don't 'drop in' to my class, and proceed to fall all over the place. I do Pilates. I have been doing it for years, and as a result I am in a fairly advanced level class. One of my biggest pet peeves are people who just want to 'drop in' and come to this class when they clearly don't have the skill level required. Case in point, at this weeks class there was a woman, whom I have never seen before in all the time I have been taking this exact class at this exact time (which is probably around 4 years) and it was a ball class. That means balance. Normally I sympathize with people who don't have very good balance, being a walking disaster myself most days, but this woman! Good lord! She was one hot mess, falling everywhere, her ball rolling into me, and don't even get me started on her form. This meant that instead of teaching the class, the instructor spent most of her time trying to fix this woman. Maddening. And instead of being all relaxed and energized and happy from pilates I walked away more irritated than I was before I started the class, because her presence was just so damn annoying!

2. Old people drivers: Let me say this, I honestly believe that people over the age of 75 need to take a yearly road test to make sure that they are still capable of traveling the speed limit, and can actually see over the steering well, and who can still shoulder check. As a tiny person myself, I know for a fact that there are things that you can do to help you see over the steering wheel. Hell, in my very first car, I sat on a pillow. Nothing drives me crazier than when you are rolling along, at a nice speed in the left hand lane, and then BAM! An old person is driving at least 20 under the speed limit. And they don't move into the right lane. And then you get someone in the right lane who paces the old person in the left lane making it impossible to pass. I get that things happen when you get old. You have a harder time seeing, and your sense of balance is all wonky so you think that you are traveling at a good pace, when really, you and your car from the dawn of time, are crawling. If there were road tests my road rage would be minimized, making the roads safer for everyone.

3. People who walk really slow: If you are, or have ever been a university student, you know the people of which I speak. Those really super slow walkers, who are often texting on their phones. I am all for multitasking, but if multitasking is taking more time than it is saving you, don't do it. Do yourself a favour and walk like a normal person. Nothing infuriates me more than having to rush from one side of the campus to the other in 5 minutes, and then finding myself stuck behind people who are just casually strolling around. Do you not have class to get to? Are you physically incapable of walking a speed slightly faster than molasses? I also get irritated with slow walkers at the mall. The ones who bring their infants, in their strollers, who then walk 5 abreast, really really slowly. By all means, walk at a glacial pace! I love it! And by love it, I mean I hate it. Do us all a favour, and walk faster dammit! If you find that walking is a challenge, I suggest you practice on a treadmill before unleashing your sluggishness on the world. Sloth is a sin you know...

4. When people touch my shit: I have a system. I call it organized chaos. I know where all my stuff is, because I have organized it in what looks like a disorderly fashion. When people come by and touch my things, moving them around, I lose it. Hours of research mixed in willy nilly! It brings me to tears almost every time it happens. Also, don't touch my cell phone. If I haven't given you permission to do so, don't touch it. I will break your fingers.

These are just the tip of the iceberg of things that bother me. Like I said, the time of year means that I get very irritated, very quickly. Also, this post was conceived because I am procrastinating. I have a paper to finish. On the plus side, I get to say 'bastard' as many times as I want. And that's why I love history.

The End


Monday, 28 November 2011

Muesday: Guess Who Has Two Thumbs and Is a Giant Hypocrite?!

This gal!

I did it. I caved. I am ashamed. Like that time I kind of willingly, with minimal coercion, sang Justin Bieber, or really any other other shameful moment that I have ever had, of which there are many. I am now on the Twitter. The things I do to tell the world what a douche canoe cancer is. Dammit. Please feel free to judge me. I openly accept it.

But on the plus side, at least I can admit it when I am kind of an asshole, and a hypocrite. Like right now. Just goes to show that nothing is perfect right? Or at least not far off from perfection? Just let me have it.

So if anyone, or a few Russians, is interested in "following" me, you can do so @LopsidedLeah. You should, mostly because I have candy, and I'm not above bribery...

Anyway, enough about my continued failure at life, and on to some music. Let me ask you this? Who here has never heard of Mother Mother? If you haven't, do yourself a favour and stop listening to crappy top 40 hits, from a show hosted by the worlds most annoying man, also known as Ryan Seacrest, and listen to them. Keeping in the tradition of Canadian bands, (also because it appears that a substantial portion of the music I listen to, and love, just so happen to come from Canada) Mother Mother hail from Vancouver. Seriously, I'll say it once, and I'll say it again, B.C. has awesome music. So please, sit back and enjoy Chasing It Down by Mother Mother, off their newest album Eureka.


Sunday, 27 November 2011

Accomplishment Unlocked: Published!

Alright everyone, one more time!

So remember how on Friday I was talking about something that I thought was really exciting but couldn't talk about yet?! Well, I can finally talk about it! I got an awesome email today. Here is what it says:

Dear Leah,

Constellations would like to thank you for your contribution this semester. We appreciate the opportunity to work with your article. Your paper undoubtedly required hours of research, reflection and passion. We recognize the time you gave to revisions and consideration of reviewer recommendations.

Just as celestial constellations guide travelers, Constellations seeks to help students navigate the process of publication and intellectual exchange. We encourage revision, exchange and discussion of undergraduate papers to refine editing skills and illuminate student research.

In light of the deliberation of the editing team and based on the quality of your revisions, Constellations is pleased to inform you that the journal will pursue publication of your paper, "‘The inordinate excess in apparel’: Sumptuary Legislation in Tudor England" in the Fall 2011 issue.

If you would like a copy of the final copyediting on your paper or have any other concerns, please contact the editor. We hope that you will participate in Constellations in the future and appreciate your support.

Noor, Editor
Leah, Classics Editor
Lily, Assistant History Editor
Philip, Assistant Classics Editor

I'm getting published! In a legit academic (undergraduate at least) journal. This is so exciting! Now I can cross one more thing off my bucket list!!!! I wanted to be published by the time I was 30, and guess what, I am. This makes me not want to sit at my kitchen table all day writing papers, but instead go shopping and buy myself something pretty for a job well done! Go me! Also, just in case anyone was wondering, this is what my paper is about:

Abstract: The purpose of this paper is to explore the nature of sumptuary legislation in sixteenth century England. It argues that the aims of sumptuary legislation were threefold: that legislators sought to maintain the stability of the common weal through social regulation, through moral regulation by moralizing luxury goods, and to regulate England’s economy, by prohibiting foreign trade in luxury goods, in order to stimulate the home economy and the burgeoning wool and stocking trade.

Watch out, this only adds to my inflated sense of self!


This is Shameful. Sh*t.

I did something last night that I am not proud out. It's so shameful, and once again I am left saying "let's pretend this never happened".

It was Merry XWreck's-mass last night, also known as the MS Society Staff Christmas party. It was at this divey little bar down the street from the office called XWrecks. Classy, I know. Basically we all got together and made pour (and yes, I spelled pour like that intentionally) decisions. There was kareoke.

What did I do that I am so ashamed of you ask? Remember that time I was like, there needs to be a vaccine for Bieber fever? Ya well, last night I sang Bieber kareoke with my friend Brit. She LOVES the Biebs, and somehow, I got conned/roped/persuaded to sing it with her. I should also just say that I wasn't drinking at all, so this happened with me being completely sober. I have no excuses. I have no idea how it happened, and now it's left me with a sense of shame. Although, I will give her this...when she rapped Ludacris, it actually made my night. But do you know what this kind of makes me know? A giant hypocrite. And possibly an asshole. This will never happen again. I have to get off this slippery slope that has the potential to end badly...with me maybe just liking Justin Bieber.

Let's pretend this never happened.


Friday, 25 November 2011

Sh*t That Happened While I Was Away: Time, You're A Sneaky Bastard

Sh*t That Happened While I Was Away: What Fresh Hell is This?!

It's Friday! Thank you baby Jesus. This week marks the end of Hell Week #1 as I have come to affectionately call it. It brings me one step closer to the beginning of Hell Week #2, meaning that all the shit that I didn't do when I was supposed to and left to the last minute is due, AND I have the LSAT (again) next Saturday. That' Maybe. I don't know. All I know is that my life is regimented in hour long segments, and I have spent quite a substantial amount of time calling myself all kinds of names, like idiot, for leaving things to the last minute. I don't know why I am surprised though. It always happens, without fail. I get all my research materials with the good intention of starting early, and then I get complacent, and think to myself "hey, it's October, that paper's not due till December, that's loads of time". And then the end of November hits, and shmabam! I panic and freak out. Time is a sneaky bastard that has a tendency to run out on you.

Anyway, because I have been preoccupied, I am bringing you something that I made up, right this very second, called "Sh*t That Happened When I Was Away". This is also going to happen mostly because I am having a hard time coming up with anything witty at this current juncture in time. So ya. Here you go:

1. Apparently the Canadian Task Force on Preventive Health Care decided that they needed to change the Breast Cancer screening guidelines in Canada. Normally, I would be all for this...if it was a change for the good. Basically they are acting like super villains in some cheesy 1960's comic book and are recommending completely ridiculous things. For example, they are recommending that women between the ages of 40-49 don't need mammograms, that physicians only need to administer breast exams every 2-3 years, and that self checking your breasts is unnecessary. Um, excuse me? Pretty sure a self check saved my life...just saying. If you'd like to see idiocy in action, go here. I did an interview with CTV about how stupid they are. You can go here, to view it. Go to to the CTV news video player and it's the second link from the bottom. Challenging idiots is what I do best. Maybe Probably I'm just a naturally confrontational person.

1.5. Also, I didn't swear. I almost did, but thought better of it. Also, pretty sure people don't want to see a tiny, angry person swearing like she's a raging lunatic on television.

2. I am thinking of joining the Twitter. I should probably qualify this. I have, in the past, railed about how stupid I think Twitter is, mostly because I could quite frankly care less about what someone is doing at any second of the day. I normally just care about what I am doing (kind of selfish? maybe?). Also because I don't really think anyone would want to follow (is that what it's called?) me...but then again one could argue that I didn't really think anyone would read my blog and apparently people do...or at least a couple Russians do, so maybe people would like me on the Twitter as well? But here's the thing. I was asked by my good friends at the ACF to join, so I could talk about this awesome fundraiser that we are having on 24 March called Bust a Move. And this got me thinking. Even though I really don't like Twitter, it is a powerful platform of social media, meaning that I could further disseminate my wit and wisdom all over the interweb (and have another in-road to Russia...seriously, I love Russia...don't ask). Also, it would be for cancer. Well not for cancer, but for me to talk about cancer. And let's be serious, we all know how much I like telling the world that cancer is a real A-hole. I haven't quite decided to take the leap yet, but I am being persuaded to. Damn you peer pressure. This has the potential to either go over very well, or will end up with me saying "let's pretend this never happened". Stay tuned.

3. My books that I wrote for work are finally printed! Two years of blood, sweat and tears went into them and they are finally printed! Now all I have to do is wait for my other 3 books to print! I can see the light at the end of a tunnel. Seriously, like cancer, MS is a real A-hole.

4. Is anyone else as confused about 'Black Friday' as I am? What is it and why does it exist? Is it like the American equivalent of boxing day? I know we get boxing day here in Canada, and in places like Australia, but that's because it is a bank holiday for all us nations who decided to remain part of the commonwealth (I won't get into what I think about the American Revolution, mostly because I think it would really piss people off...I really can't help it that I am a royalist at heart). All I know about Black Friday is that there are some seriously awesome shopping deals going on, and that Canada has decided to kind of adopt it. This is both a very good thing and a very bad thing. Good because I like getting things for cheap, and bad because I like getting things for cheap. I think my dad would probably kill me if I brought home another pair of shoes. All I know is that it took every single ounce of will power that I have not to go to Anthropologie and go shopping today. This is a big deal.

5. I have some awesome news (at least I think it's awesome) that I can't really talk about yet, but I will soon. All I can say is that it has to do with history and my inflated sense of self. I have also given myself 5 gold stars. It's so good that I want to go out and buy myself something pretty (see #4). Must. Have. Will Power. More on this later.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and read all about illegitimacy, bastard's and the London Foundling Hospital in the eighteenth century. This is also probably why I have used "bastard" several times in this post. Oops?


Monday, 21 November 2011

Muesday: I Never Realized How Creepy Some of My Childhood Toys Were

When I was younger, probably around 8, all I wanted for Christmas was this stuffed-ish toy called a Puppy Surprise. I think it had something to do with the gaping void in my life that would only be filled with a real puppy. At this time, I had no idea that I would be getting a real puppy that spring (hint mum and dad: that void needs to be filled again. I want a puppy for Christmas. Barring that, I will take shoes). But back to my original point. It had a soft body, with this hard plastic face, and you could open up it's stomach, which was closed with velcro. The whole premise of this toy was that when the stomach was opened, the dog would reveal a "litter" of beanbag puppies. You could get 3, 4, or 5 puppies, each with a hard face and head, just like the mum. One of the best parts, and probably one of the biggest selling features to my 8 year old self was the fact that some of these "puppies" were awake and others were asleep. I remember trying to be as good as I possibly could that year because that toy was all I wanted for Christmas. I think I even took a break from being a smart ass know it all for a few weeks, which is kind of a big shows just how committed I was to getting what I most wanted. I didn't care about anything else. Santa could bring me that one gift and I would be happiest child on the face of the planet. I was obsessed. You can only imagine my excitement come Christmas morning, as my little sister and I woke up at the crack of dawn, and waited impatiently by the Christmas tree for my parents to drag themselves out of bed. My dad set up the video camera and my mum made coffee, and after our stockings were done, my sister and I began the painstakingly slow ritual of each taking a turn to open our presents. I was shaking with excitement, like a little chihuahua that needs a sweater, waiting for the moment when I would tear off that wrapping paper and the holy grail of toys would be revealed to me. We were about halfway through, and it was my sisters' turn. She opened up her gift and it was a Puppy Surprise. I was immediately filled with jealousy, thinking it was unfair that she had one and I had to still find mine in the mound of gifts, assuming that I was going to get one. Then I had that sinking thought of "What if Santa wanted to spite me this year?! What if that fat, jolly bastard didn't bring me a Puppy Surprise at all?!". I wasn't too thrilled with the prospect of having to watch my little sister gleefully play with her new, awesome toy, while I had to content myself with new socks. I think I actually began formulating plans on how to steal her Puppy Surprise away from her. Maybe I would distract her with a mirror or something equally as shiny that a 6 year old would want. Then finally, close to the end, I got what I most wanted. It was beautiful in my 8 year old eyes, a lovely "German Shepherd" (a breed I use loosely of course). I couldn't wait to rip open that stomach and see how many puppies she held. Unable to contain our excitement any longer, my sister and I madly ripped open our puppies. We eagerly counted them, and I came away with 5, all with their eyes open! It was a treasure trove of the most coveted combination. I will say this, I gloated a little as my sister found she only had three, two of which had their eyes closed. My parents caught all of this one tape, as we proceeded to name them. I named them things like 'Buddy' and 'Pinky'. When asked what she was naming her puppies, my 6 year old sister replied, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph". I still don't know how or why she came up with this. Maybe it was because it was Christmas and at church the night before there had been a play about the birth of Christ? I think I might be grasping at straws. I don't even think she knows how she came up with this. All I know is that it makes me cry I laugh so hard remembering it.

Thinking back on it, I now fully realize how incredibly morbid and creepy this toy was. Think about it. How violent is it that in order to get to the puppies inside, you were basically ripping open the stomach of an animal, and ripping out its young. Maybe it's just me, but that's creepy. I have also come to the conclusion that those hard plastic faces were not conducive to cuddling. When you're little, you like to hug and cuddle your favorite toys. This toy was decidedly un-cuddly. Also creepy, Water Babies. It's basically a naked child that also serves as a hot water bottle. There is something inherently wrong with that. It's funny how as children, we don't think there is anything wrong or creepy with the toys and the shows we watched, and how it's only when we're older that we realize how inappropriate some of them were. Seriously, the more that I think about it, the more that I realize that the things that I wanted the most as a child were definitely among the creepiest things I can think of now. Maybe that's why I'm kind of weird.

Now for some music!

I love Shad, and I especially love it when he combines his talent with other great Canadian groups. I was watching the American Music Awards on Sunday night, or at least part of them, and as I was running out door to soccer practice, I heard John Legend quote the New York Times as stating that Drake is at the epicentre, and is one of the most influential artists in hip hop. I am all for Canadian's getting recognition, especially in the music industry, and hey, he was pretty awesome as Jimmy on Degrassi (I totally cried when he was shot in that one episode and then spent the rest of his time on the series confined to a wheelchair, kind of like Artie from Glee, except with less show-tunes), but I would have to disagree. I mean, Drake is fine and all, but I seriously think Shad is way more talented. If you take a minute to just sit and listen to how clever and witty his lyrics are, and the simple fact that he hardly ever swears or uses derogatory language, or autotune, puts Shad miles above Drake in terms of talent. Not to mention the simple fact that he can pair his talents with groups from very different genres and make simply magical and engaging music. Last time I shared his amazing duet with Dallas Green from City and Colour. This week I am going to share with all of you the combination of his amazing talent, with that of Hey Ocean!, a nice little trio out of Vancouver. Vagabond is yours to enjoy. Also, I just have to say the jazz flute makes my inner band geek very happy (yes I was a band geek, and yes, I played the flute, please feel free to judge me). Also also, I love that the title of the song is vagabond (anyone who know me, knows that I love 16th century vagrancy legislation!)!


P.S. This post makes me feel really old. That toy came out in 1991. I'm almost ancient.

Friday, 18 November 2011

The Big Book of Douchebaggery

Um, so I fully realize that I already posted once today, but it's been one of those days where I am stuck inside with mountain of books and a To Do list that is taller than I am, which inevitably means that I am procrastinating. I was just settling down to read about the oh so uplifting topic of child abandonment and poor children in 18th century England, when I stumbled on this:

What. The. Hell?! These CarLashes have got to be the dumbest thing since SpiritHoods. Who in their right mind would get them?! They look ridiculous! Sometimes I actually have to sit back and consider what this world is coming to. I mean, last time I checked there was some kind of economic crisis going on, and pretty sure people would rather eat than spend money on putting eyelashes on their car, with crystal eyeliner to match. This is not whimsical. This is not adorable. This is not flirty. This is stupid. Sheer stupidity. Seriously! If I saw these driving around, I would seriously have to question whether the person who bought them was, A) sane, B) Drunk, C) Both, when they decided that it was a good life choice to waste their money on them. These are being added to my Big Book of Douchebaggery as we speak, under Useless Crap No One Will Ever Want or Need! It joins the pink quilted smart car cover. Can you image what kind of unholy demon would result in the marriage of that car cover and these stupid car lashes?! It gives me shivers just thinking about it.


Judgement Placed

This is what I found when I opened up my computer this morning. It's actually quite sad that I forgot about this note altogether, and I wrote it two days ago. I somehow think I am might just fail at this one. I think that instead of trying to come up with something funny and/or witty today, I am just going to write about what I want to write about, and that is judgment.

We all judge people. We can't help it. I have been called the Queen of Snap Judgments on occasion, and I will freely admit to it. I have a judging buddy, who unfortunately moved to Halifax, but that doesn't mean that I have stopped. Au contraire mon amie. I have a very low threshold for bullshit which makes judging people that much easier. Usually it's in the form of what people are wearing (like Spirithoods, Ugg boots with short short, slippers that people think are shoes), or from the stupid things people say(there is such a thing as a stupid question, and they usually come from stupid people). I had a friend who sent me a message yesterday, asking me about something historical. I answered her question and she then told me that her prof was trying to tell her otherwise. I'm sorry, but you hold a PhD and you honestly think that a man's family gave a dowry to a woman's family in the 18th century?! Were you dropped on your head recently?! Haven't you read anything, ever?! Do you not know that men were worth more and that the woman's family had to throw something extra in like a couple goats or a llama to sweeten the deal and get him to take her off their hands?! Apparently not.

This brings me to my main point. It's that time of year again. The time of year that I look forward to with great anticipation. What is this thing I look so forward to you ask? Course evaluations. I love them. I see them as a way to provide constructive (and sometimes not so constructive) criticism to a person who has been judging you and grading you all semester. It's a turning of the tables, that I look forward to. Normally, I am pretty nice in my evaluations. I am all for constructive criticism and will give it out as nicely as I can. However, there are just some courses where you rub your hands together in excitement and glee, as you wait for that itty bitty number 2 pencil to be placed in front of you. For me, these instances are usually reserved for courses that I have absolutely loathed with every fibre of my being. The times when I can outright tell a prof that they are wrong and that they need to seriously consider revamping thier course. In my opinion some profs deserve this kind of feedback. They are the profs who are unclear in their instructions, are unrealistic in their expectations, and who blatantly ignore you when you kindly tell them that they are mistaken. For example, I took a survey of historic dress class last fall. I love clothing and fashion and history(my dream job would be to be a historical consultant for movie and television!), so I was really excited when I saw that this course was offered, even though it wasn't a history class, but a human ecology one. I was willing to overlook that fact because I was going to get to learn about pretty clothes. At first the class wasn't so bad. I did think that she was asking a lot out of a pretty big survey class, but hey, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. It was a couple weeks into class, and we were in the early modern period, and this is when I started to hate the class, and her. She started making these sweeping statements about society and social status and norms and tenuously trying to link them to the way people dressed (this is something entirely possible to do, but you have to have done your research!). That was her first mistake. If you are going to make claims like that in a class, at least do your research, and maybe make sure you don't have any early modernists sitting in class. Her second mistake was the paper. That hated paper, which everyone (with the exception of a few, myself included) did terribly on. Basically, by the time evaluations rolled around I was so done with her stupidity, that I basically ripped her and her course to shreds. By the time the final hit, I was really glad that I gave her the evaluation that I did, because upon sitting down and writing it, I noticed that one of her questions was logically flawed and had not one, but two answers. I raised my hand and pointed this out to her. She looked at me, and told me to just leave it alone and answer the one I knew was argument was that they were both right, so technically I could put one or the other. This isn't the LSAT where you choose the one that is more right than the other possibly right answers. She looked at me, and just told me to answer the question with the answer I knew was right. She didn't even bother to acknowledge her error. I was unimpressed.

Does this make me a know it all and possibly a bitch? Maybe. But I have no time for people like that, and even less patience for courses like that. The last I heard, she dropped the paper altogether and drastically revamped her course. I see my feedback as an act of kindness, in that, by providing the (perhaps a little vitriolic) feedback that I did, I was helping the students who decided to take the course after me. Also, in that she could re-evaluate the ways in which she approached her class, and possibly do a bit more historical research before she started making sweeping grand claims about time periods. This is why I get excited about evaluations. Regardless of how they are stated, course evaluations allow for room for improvement. Either that, or maybe MY expectations are too high and I have perfectionist tendencies and a mild case of OCP (I have rediagnosed myself with obsessive compulsive personality, rather than obsessive compulsive disorder...who needs a doctor!)...that's probably more so the case. Oh well.


Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Muesday: Every Action Has an Opposite and Equal...Oh Screw It! I Never Liked Physics Anyway

I went into history for a reason. It was because I am terrible at math. And science. No joke. I have a hate-hate relationship with math, as in, I wish math many painful deaths by excessive stabbing. The same can actually be said for most of the sciences. I totally understand that without science and math, the world we live in wouldn't exist. But that doesn't mean that I can't hate it. Chemistry and I don't get along, mostly because I see it as being kind of like cooking, in that you have to make sure that you get everything just so, in order to avoid a nuclear explosion. I am not that great at following those directions, and as with cooking, I get bored really easily. Biology was never my friend because I really don't like things that are slimy, and squishy (I actually don't even really like the word squishy), and I find bodily fluids and functions and the discussion of them to be in poor taste. I also hate it because I really don't like dissecting things (I remember being forced to dissect a shark in one of my honours science classes. My group and I named him Cleadus...poor, poor Cleadus). If I had to chose the lesser of the evils, it would be physics. Go figure, considering how I despise math with every fibre of my being. I think I dislike it the least because a) I can kind of see how it works and applies to every day life (when the hell am I ever going to know the molecular mass of cadmium?! Never, that's when), and b) because it was the only thing that got me through astronomy. Yes, I took astronomy. I needed a science credit for a prereq, and I most certainly was not taking math, and the university decided not to let me use my History of Science and Technology credit after the fact (which was a piss off because I got an A in that class)! I thought it was going to be about planets and pretty stars and shit. You can only imagine my shock when I figured out that it was really physics in space. That was a bad life choice on my part. What has space ever done for me?! Or physics? Or math, or any other science?! (Yes, I know a lot, but I am going to be petulant and say nothing).

This hatred of sciencey and mathy type things made my decision to go into history very easy. Also, because for some strange reason I am good at history. I can remember dates and dead people and events and social theory like nobodies business. Weird, I know.

Today I give you another band out of British Colombia. Seriously, I don't know what it is about B.C., but they produce some seriously talented artists and bands, along with some pretty kick ass fruit. I have been listening to Acres of Lions since their first album debuted in 2009, and I love them more and more with every new song and album. So, enjoy some more great Canadian music with Reaction by Acres of Lions.


P.S. I think I'm pretty clever! Did anyone notice what I did with the title and the song?! No, just me?

P.P.S. I love that the music video has a shot of Sonic 102.9 headquarters!

Monday, 14 November 2011

It's Happening. Dammit!

It's happening. No, not the Rapture. Snow. This makes me sad.

It took forever to get home. The roads are terrible. Also, I have come to the conclusion that people, in general are assholes. Don't tailgate on icy roads asshat! It's a bad life choice that will end up with you needing a new car.

Also, I love how the worst roads are the ones in Sherwood Park. Good job Strathcona County for being on the ball and getting those sanding truck out. Not. You all fail at life.

I'm going to pout about this.


Sunday, 13 November 2011

Oh Shit, the Sky is Falling!...Wait, False Alarm, That's Just Snow

I was really really really extra hoping that we weren't going to get snow this year. I hate snow. With a passion. Every year I get just a little hopeful, and think that it's not going to snow, and that Edmonton won't turn into Dante's forgotten frozen circle of hell, and every year, I am horribly disappointed. I know some people love the snow. They love snow sports, like skiing and snowboarding and skating and curling (curling is just very confusing for me). They get so excited at the first snowfall because that means that the ski hills can start creating their own snow and that soon the hills will be open. Perhaps if I actually did any of the above mentioned activities I would like snow a little bit more, but the fact of the matter is, I am a complete, and utter clumsy disaster when I walk, and I can only imagine that having my feet strapped to a board of some kind would only end in pain and woe. I bruise very easily, which I have mentioned before, but these sports look like I would most definitely break something if I tried it. I have a friend who went skiing once and broke her femur and she is an experienced and awesome skier. This makes me think that if I were to go skiing or snowboarding, I would probably die. I would fall down and get buried in the snow and then no one would find me until spring, kind of like that movie Vertical Limit that came out in the late '90's about those people who went up on Everest and then they ended up finding their guides wife frozen to death in a glacier....Pretty sure I am going to stick to being inside where it's warm and safe. The only winter sport I will ever take part in is indoor soccer. The closest I ever get to climbing mountains or skiing or whatever in the winter, is sitting in the lounge at the Fairmont Jasper Park Lodge, sitting by the roaring great fire, and sipping hot chocolate.

I don't like being cold, or wet, and the snow is both. That's strike number two against it (the first strike is that it exists in the first place). Being as little as I am, means I am usually wrapped up in some kind of warm sweater or a flannel shirt, and I am still shivering (kind of like a chihuahua in a sweater). In the winter, I sleep with no less that 5 blankets on my bed with flannel sheets. It's really quite sad. Snow just sucks. It also sucks because it means that I become a paranoid mess (even more so than usual) when I got out to drive somewhere. I love to drive, and I will gladly drive anywhere in the summer, but the minute the snow hits the ground, I become a hermit. I hate icy roads, and the fact that people are assholes who forget that it's winter and that it's a lot harder to stop on a super icy surface. I should also mention that while I do love winter fashions (I love chunky knit sweaters and cute boots), snow and winter are just not conducive to looking cute. I hate how you can have the cutest outfit picked out and then you have to cover it up with a giant parka and Ugg boots (although I will say this. I love my Ugg boots! However, they should not be worn outside of winter and snow, and NEVER with short shorts) in order to stay warm. Say goodbye to wearing cute dresses and heels. Snow is just bad news all around.

In the winter, I can deal with the cold, but it's the snow that gets me. It's one of the main reasons why I am looking at moving away for law school, to someplace like Vancouver where it does snow, but it doesn't stick around for what seems like an eternity, like it does in Edmonton. Hell, I would even take a million consecutive days of rain, if it meant that I never had to see another snow flake. I guess I will just have to continue to hope that we will get a warm snap and that all the snow will melt and that it won't come back for a very long time.

Also, I just thought that I would let you all know that I failed this weekend. Shit. This is shameful...


Thursday, 10 November 2011

A High Probability of Failure

So, it's a long weekend. Thanks U of A for taking my money and then giving me days off. Sure you have the highest amount of teaching days in the country but that's beside the point. I guess I really shouldn't be complaining. I mean, they did give students an extra day off so we don't all go kill ourselves before our papers are due and finals creep up. But still. At least if I were at school I wouldn't be tempted to procrastinate and do things other than being a real, responsible adult.

That being said, I would like nothing more than to sit around all day being fantastic. Unfortunately, I can't. I will instead have to be content with doing about a million things, and being fantastic. But let's be serious, I'm always fantastic. I wish it was December 20. If it were December 20, I would be done finals, all my papers would have been handed in, and "LSAT: Round Two" (it sounds more badass than it really is) would be over. Oh right, I forgot to mention that I am indeed writing it again. I want scholarships, mostly because I like getting money for doing absolutely nothing, and in order to do that, my score has to be the teensiest bit higher. Plus, it's not like writing it again is detrimental. But I digress...

Long weekends are like a treat. The kind that leaves you sick and feeling fat...kind of like if you ate an entire pie to yourself, and then washed it down with a pint of ice cream. They trick you into thinking that you have all this free time, because everyone has a day off, and all the good malls close early. You feel as if you can slack off and that you have all the time in the world to get your shit done. At the start of a long weekend you feel basically invincible and badass, throwing time away like nobodies business. But then you hit the latter half of the long weekend you start to feel guilty about everything you said you were going to accomplish but didn't. And then the day before the long weekend is over, you start to panic and freak out, frantically racking your brain for ways to keep yourself awake so you can finish whatever it is that needs to be done, and so you don't fail at life, all the while questioning where the hell all that time you thought you had went. This is kind of why I am glad that I am (still) a student. I can have moments of free time, but at the end of the day, I have way to much shit to accomplish and not enough hours in the day. Having free time again, would be great. Well kind of. I tend to do really stupid things, that I may or may not regret, when I have free time on my hands. Most of the time my conscience tells me not to do something (I am currently conflicted, and I most definitely see myself doing something that I may come to regret, and that might make me cry in the not so distant future), but I ignore it, mostly because I like instant gratification, and do stupid things anyway. These things usually end with me saying "let's pretend this never happened", or alternatively, "let's never speak of this again", or better yet, "it's best when you're not talking". This is another reason why I plan on keeping myself busy all long weekend, and trying to get shit done. It makes life less awkward for me, and I have less guilt, which I am all for. I will say this though, there is a high probability that I will fail miserably at both getting shit done, and at listening to that inner voice. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Sometimes I think all my problems and issues could be solved in the span of one long weekend. Then I realize that I have way to many problems and issues, that most likely won't even be fixed by therapy. But a girl can hope right?


Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Muesday: Dear Santa, I Mean Rapture...

It's the Christmas season. You know how I can tell? I can tell by the simple fact that Halloween hadn't even passed and stores were putting all their Christmas stuff up. Not to mention Starbucks brought back a few of their beloved Christmas treats and drinks. When Starbucks does this, you know that the season is upon you. What this means is that I have started my wish list of things that I would like for my birthday/Christmas. I usually don't ask for much, but that's because I have expensive taste. I will freely admit that. It's because of this fact that I am very cognisant of what I put on my list, also because I know what items are reasonable to ask for. But this year, this year I have found something that I want badly enough that I am going to throw caution to the wind and throw my request out there! I would even give my other boob to get this item! It's basically the nerdiest thing in the whole entire world, but I honestly feel that my library and my life will never be complete without it! What is this amaze-balls gift I am asking for? I am asking for the full set of The Statutes of the Realm, Printed by Command of His Majesty, King George the Third, in 11 volumes. Did I mention that this 11 volume set is a bargain at $12, 975.00?! I know that this is entirely unrealistic, but a girl can dream right? Even if it's a completely nerdy, incredibly absurd dream that most people would find utterly strange. I just can't help myself sometimes. I let the nerd in me come out to play. I got excited when I saw inserts of some of the statutes, in Latin, in 14th century court script.  I feel like this is slightly shameful.

Alas, I somehow think that this will be a gift that will be perpetually stuck on my wish list forever, or at least until the Rapture happens, in which case, if I'm left on earth, I can just go to the J.A. Weir Law Library and the Rutherford at the U of A and take the whole set...and really any other book that I might want. Wait, this actually sounds like a not bad idea.

Speaking of the rapture, is anyone else as confused by this as I am?

I think I will stick to more attainable a puppy. Or a pygmy goat! Nevermind that I will probably die from an allergic reaction! In that event I'll go with a puppy, mostly because I know you can get hypoallergenic ones, and the last time I checked you can't get hypoallergenic goats, which is really too bad. How awesome would that be?! You could have a hypoallergenic pygmy goat! It'd be like a house hippo! But I digress, as usual. Again, these are probably not the most realistic gifts to be given. I need to start thinking less ridiculous and more realistic. But really, what do you expect, I'm a pretty ridiculous person. I'm going to get creative this year with my wish list, and by creative, I mean ask for outrageous things and see what I can get away with. I hope everyone else is working on badass lists!

This week, I was having a particularly craptastic Tuesday. It was not optimal, and not even the fresh cuts at Anthrolpologie cheered me up. It was terrible, until Courage by the Tragically Hip came up on my iPod. If I had to choose one word that I would try to live by for the rest of my life, it would be courage. Listening to the Tragically Hip reminds me of being little(r). It reminds me of driving around with my dad in the summer, with the windows rolled down, listening to the Tragically Hip, Black Sabbath (um, Perry Mason is amazing!), Pearl Jam, REM, etc, as loud as the speakers would go. The Tragically Hip are just one of those bands that always make me feel better. Their lives shows are amazing, and Gord Downie is a legit genius. I remember right before I was diagnosed I saw them live and they had this amazing light show when they played Giftshop (which you should go and download now, if you don't already have this amazing song!). So, because I had a rather awful Tuesday, and because I love Gord Downie and Rob Baker, you all get to listen to Courage by The Tragically Hip (who are also, Canadian). Enjoy!


P.S. If anyone just so happens to have an extra copy of Alan Hunt's Governance of the Consuming Passions: A History of Sumptuary Law laying around and is looking to get rid of it, I know of someone (me) who would be more than willing to take it off your hands...

Saturday, 5 November 2011

Cancer is a Real A-Hole

I would just like to thank my good friend Courtney for sharing this with me. It's hilarious, and amazing, and funny.

"Because cancer loves Glen Beck and hates nachos".


Friday, 4 November 2011

When Homemade Goes Horribly Wrong

So, because I like to procrastinate, instead of finishing up most of my law school applications, which are due like now, I decided to peruse Regretsy. I have been a fan of the site for quite some time and it has made me realize the EXACT demographic Esty caters to. Hipsters. In order to further confirm my theory, I then decided to look at Etsy, a website which I will freely admit to visiting every now and again, but have never bought from, because while I find some things to be quite lovely, most of it is I find to be quite contrived and made of trash. Literal trash. It's the stuff that you would find in a garage sale that people are throwing out because it's useless, that a Hipster would then pick up and decide to be ironic with. But back to my original point. Etsy caters to the EXACT SAME people that wear SpiritHoods (HATRED courses through me when I think of those incredibly stupid, sorry excuses for hats/hoods/headwear and the assholes that insist on wearing them! I judge and I judge hard, and then when I am done judging I seriously contemplate violence with golf clubs). Seriously, if you look at half of the descriptions for crap on Etsy, it's all for these hippy dippy trippy, earth loving, politically correct, no shaving, braless idiots (sorry, but saggy boobs are really unattractive...luckily for me, I will never have to worry about that), who say things like "I love not really knowing what I am going to make until it happens; it's much more organic that way", type products that have absolutely no value whatsoever.

Like really, someone wants to charge $2,500 for a quilted pink car cover. I will say that it has one thing going for it and that is that it was created in conjunction for breast cancer awareness, but I don't see any place that says that the proceeds will go to a charity benefiting breast cancer research. What is mind boggling for me is that someone actually said to themselves, "You know what I think this world needs? A pink, patchwork quilted smart car cover! It will have velcro closures and everything! That is a great idea, and probably won't be a complete and utter waste of my time and energy at all!". First of all, smart cars aren't real cars. Why don't you go out and be a grown up and buy a real person car. I hear Honda makes a nice compact that actually has trunk space! A smart car is a fake car. It's like the hillbilly, backwater, inbred cousin of cars that no one likes to talk about. The only time driving a smart car is acceptable is if you have gone to clown college, then you and all your clown friends can do your homework on how to pack as many of you into as small a space as possible, or if you live somewhere like London, or Paris, but even then, drive a Fiat for goodness sake! Second, why the hell would anyone in their right mind think that there is a market for such a product?! I am going to go out on a limb here and say that some smart car owners still have a shred of self respect and dignity left, and that they aren't going to further humiliate themselves by buying a pink, patchwork quilted smart car cover. But let's not forget those velcro closures! I'm sorry, you've already wasted what is probably a substantial amount of time planning, and then making a pattern, and then getting the fabric and then assembling the damn thing, that you can't be bothered to put a zipper in?! Like really! What's an extra couple of minutes added on to an already colossal waste of time and resources!? Might as well go big or go home?! Velcro! What is this, a pair of shoes for a child?! Does it also light up and make noises?! I have a suggestion for you. Instead of being a complete and utter idiot and making things that no one is going to buy and/or ever need or want, why don't you give up the dream and go back to your real job. Seriously, there are so many douchey things on Etsy it's moved from the realm of funny, to the realm of annoying and sad, as it has made me lose a little bit more faith in humanity. This gives a whole new meaning to "where DIY meets WFT".

There is nothing about most of the products on Etsy that is even remotely endearing, mostly because they are just asking begging screaming to be made fun of. Lucky for many of the sellers on Etsy, who insist in making such a monstrosities, often out of trash, there are assholes in this world, like myself, who will be more than happy to make sure you know just how stupid they think you are for making this, and maybe make you regret your decision just a little bit.


(Photo and quote (Laura Mazurek) from Etsy)