So I was walking down the street after work. Suddenly, a random mustache appeared. Quite.
Bankers hours suck. I have a day off of work for the first time in forever and I have some banking to do. So I dropped The Boyfriend off at work and headed to the bank. I got there at 8:55 am and the notice on the door said it doesn’t open until 9:30. So they close before anyone else gets off work and they open way after everyone starts and then they wonder why everyone prefers to bank online. So to kill time, I got yummy breakfast at McDonalds. Mmmmmm….hashbrowns
Our dear IT Mike turned 32 this year and invited us all out to celebrate this momentous occasion this past Saturday. Good times were had by all. Drinks were consumed, laughs were had, the birthday boy was in good spirits and it was a great time. But this is not a post about just any old birthday, dear readers. This is actually a story that starts a few days back with a Facebook hacking.
Let me set the scene for you. It was mid morning in the middle of the week a few days before we were set to go out for IT Mike’s birthday. I received an email from my friend at work to check out my Facebook and see why you should never leave your profile signed in on someone else’s computer. On break, I checked my phone and started to laugh loudly when I saw that IT Mike’s status read, “I agree with *another coworker* and also love the Biebs”. Many laughs were had by all and IT Mike vowed revenge.
What he didn’t know was that, almost immediately, we started plotting a birthday filled with Justin Bieber randomness. There was talk of gifts including the nail polish line, however, we quickly discovered that it was almost $10.00 a pop and I couldn’t force myself to pay that much for nail polish no matter how funny it would have been. Instead, we went old school and decided to make a Justin Bieber birthday card. I like to scrapbook and have started making my own cards so I had all the supplies. We purchased a couple of teeny bopper magazines so I would have pictures and I went to work on the card. It was very nice indeed. Bieber surrounded by a heart with a pink background on the envelope, a classic head shot on the front of the card, and inside, a shirtless beach pic of the Biebs with a birthday hat affixed to his head, to go with the theme. And on the back, the piece de resistance…Justin Bieber on a Segway.
We all met at my place before we headed to the bar for a couple of drinks and the three of us (the original Facebook hacker, another of our work friends and eager conspirators, and myself) signed the card. We arrived at the bar and smiling widely, presented IT Mike with his birthday card. Below is a picture of his reaction:
Though I will say that IT Mike is a great sport. As it was all in jest and for fun, he humoured us with something that made our nights. He swept his hair sideways into a imitation of the signature hairstyle of Mr. Bieber. The style I have affectionately named “The Fluffy Sideways”.
We all finished out the night having some more drinks, chatting, and eating good food, each heading our separate ways for the end of the night. But our story doesn’t end here, folks, oh no. You see, IT Mikes actual birthday wasn’t until the following Tuesday and we still had those magazines sitting around needing to be put to good use. And so, brainstorming began and we decided that, as a nice surprise, we would poster his office with all the Bieber content from the magazines on Monday when he wasn’t there so he would walk in Tuesday morning and see it all.
Two of us went down there on Monday afternoon, armed with scissors and tape and giggled our way through our break, cutting and taping the ridiculous articles and pictures we found in these magazines. See below:
On Tuesday morning, IT Mike arrived and again, he was an excellent sport. He told us we did a really good job of putting the Bieb’s everywhere and that he hadn’t suspected anything until our other IT guy smirked at him and said, “Have you seen your office yet?” Then he had a sneaking suspicion of what was to come.
So that was our fun for IT Mike’s birthday this year. I will say that it all worked out just fine because his awesome girlfriend thought the card was hilarious and our other IT guy’s daughter was with him when he saw IT Mike’s office and since she loves Justin Bieber, IT Mikey graciously kept the pictures and posters unharmed and gave them to her to use.
I will say this, however. All three of us (the co-conspirators) have birthdays coming up in the next few months and we’re wondering if IT Mike will do something in retaliation.
Now, I know that technically, dishes and utensils aren’t food and some people would argue that having quirks regarding said objects doesn’t count as a food quirk. However, this is my blog and I’ll write however I please. I feel that these objects are the main conveyance of my food and therefore, play an important role in it’s consumption.
Alright, first up…bowls. I like bowls for the simple reason that I am less likely to shoot my food across the table when it is contained inside a bowl. This does not mean that I eat things like steak or turkey dinner in a bowl, but I do prefer more than just soup to be served in one. For instance, I always eat my pasta in a bowl. Many a noodle has flown off a plate, flung accidentally at the unfortunate people sitting around me. Bowls are safe…they keep your clothing stain free. Spaghetti sauce is not your shirt’s best friend. This has caused a few tiny arguments between the boyfriend and I, as he is a plate pasta person but likes us to eat on the same type of dish. I don’t know the reason, I’ve never asked. Despite his many attempts, I refuse to give up my bowl-ish ways and he always begrudgingly serves my pasta in one while he loads up his plate.
There are degrees to bowls as well. Some are just better than others for the more liquid like foods. For instance, soup should never be served in one of those shallow bowls with the wide brims. They need to be served in what my mother refers to as “cereal bowls”. Which are deeper and have no lip. They are just all kinds of bowl. Which is why I call them “bowly bowls”. Much to my family’s utter confusion when I request one from the cupboard.
Moving on to utensils, I have one thing that I really dig my heels in about. We have one fork out of all of our forks that I like. Only one. It’s the best fork in the entire house and I refuse to eat with anything else if I can help it. It’s just so much better fork-wise than all the others. It has the perfect length of prongs, they’re nice and narrow and I like the pattern on the handle because it doesn’t have rough edges that bother me when I hold it. The problem is, the boyfriend also likes this fork. I don’t know what his reasoning is, but I suspect it is the same as mine. So I grab this much sought after fork at the beginning of meal preparation and I hide it until it’s time to eat. If he takes it, I steal it off his plate. If it’s dirty in the sink, I will wash that one single fork rather than take a clean one from the drawer.
Cups. In our house, there are many different kinds. Coffee, beer pint, small, large, plastic, glass…there are a lot to choose from. I have a few of my favourites, I’m not as particular about them as I am about the other dishes, however, there are ones that I will not use. Thick glass cups are on the banned list for me. They’re too heavy and big and cumbersome and no one should have to go through so much effort just to have a drink. I don’t like coffee cups that slant. I like the perfectly cylindrical ones that go straight up and down. This is a safety issue. Over there years, I have discovered that I spill hot coffee on myself far more often from a slanted cup than from a cylindrical one.
So that’s pretty much it. There are other small things here and there. I have my favourite bowl for popcorn or the one cookie sheet I like to use, but everyone has that. I don’t like being served in a restaurant on plates that aren’t normally shaped because then I can’t figure out the best way to position my dish before I eat and this causes a little bit of panic, but not so much that I’ve ever freaked out in a restaurant…yet.
So the boyfriend and I went on a random thrift shopping adventure yesterday. He just wanted to browse and I was on the lookout for belted sweaters. Christmas is fast approaching and the boyfriend is always rather cold. As per usual, while he browsed the video games and textbooks (yes, the boyfriend eagerly checks out the textbooks at the thrift stores), I wandered around in search of bizarre and interesting things that one could only hope to find in a second hand store. This trip was not a disappointment and because of the approaching holidays, the stores were chock full of wonderful Christmas items to see.
First up, a stocking. But no just any stocking. This was home made…with latch hook. I find that the eyes are the creepiest thing about this stocking. Santa either has deep dark patches underneath his non-existent eyes or his eyes themselves are nothing but dark, black frightening patches, not unlike a shark who is about to devour his prey. This stocking must have frightened many a child back in the day on Christmas morning.
Another creepy thing I spotted was something I’m assuming was supposed to be an angel of some sort. However, it seems as if the male angel has a female angel growing out from the side of it. I mean LITERALLY out of the side of the male. She’s got one arm and then her mid-waist connects to his side and they freakish Frankenstein stitches are covered by some kind of shield. It’s like a Christmas science experiment gone wrong.
Elves are a jolly lot. They’re happy and bouncy and oh so fun and dancy, right? Well, not this elf. This one is completely demented. It’s got weirdly smeared lipstick and googly eyes and these odd little eyebrows. With his sparkly little hat and shiny green tights, I would be very suspicious of this elf if he were working in Santa’s workshop.
A theme I noticed while browsing the Christmas wonders on all the shelves was Santa statues holding geese. It was odd because I wondered why Santa would be holding such a thing. Then it occurred to me that perhaps, Santa was delivering these birds to be eaten as Christmas dinner. Which is all well and good, I’m by no means a vegetarian. I love turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas and the occasional Easter dinner. So I understand the concept of perhaps eating these cute little geese for dinner. My problem with this is, they seem so happy to be hanging out with Santa and if they ARE food, then he’s delivering them up for slaughter. It kind of seems mean. If he’s going to be delivering food to people, it should be dead before hand.
In one of the stores, there were a bunch of little statues of kids playing in the snow. There was nothing particularly odd about them individually, however, two over them were placed on the shelf in such an unfortunate manner that I couldn’t help but share the amusement with the rest of you.
The last thing I found that day was just something that was quite odd to be sitting on the shelf at all, let alone with all the Christmas ornaments. A Coke bottle. A little glass coke bottle with actual coke in it. Just sitting on the shelf, happy as can be. It was just odd.
So yes, these were my Christmas adventures in thrift store land. I will, of course, be keeping my eye out for any other marvelous treasures as well as belted sweaters.
I have been feeling unmotivated towards blogging for a while now. I don’t know why other than to say I’ve been feeling rather unmotivated towards a lot of stuff, mostly because I’m tired after working all the time and don’t want to do anything but sit on my butt and watch Netflix.
Today, however, I was sitting on my butt and watching Netflix while surfing the net and the boyfriend sent me a link on MSN. I clicked and then I laughed hysterically for a very long time. I’m still chuckling and I will never get tired of this picture. I know that this is not a real blog post, but I figured it would tide me over (and anyone who cares to read it) until I put an actual post together.
Now, imagine if this were the style today. Could you just see yourself walking down the street, minding your own business, perhaps listening to some tunes on the old mp3 player, when suddenly, what do you see? A man in a belted sweater…strolling nonchalantly down the sidewalk, his head tilted just so as the wind sweeps through his flowing locks…oh ladies, the tingles would abound, no?? I don’t really remember ever seeing this as a prominent fashion staple in any movie or magazine from recent years or back in the day, so I’m hoping this never caught on, despite the admirable effort on the part of Columbia Minerva Leaflet #2528.
I couldn’t help myself and I did another copy of the pictures with my comments on each different design. See below:
UPDATE: I realize that I called the man in the upper left corner a reminder of the Man in the Yellow Hat and he is not actually wearing a yellow hat but a yellow sweater. I do, however, stand by my original statement, as I look at him and that’s what I’m reminded of.
A disclaimer for those of you about to read this story. If you are in a workplace, probably it’s best if you don’t read it here. It’s not really that bad, but still, just in case. I’m marking this as NSFW (not suitable for work). You have been warned!!
Today was kind of an odd day. First of all, I like my Sundays to consist of me sitting on the armchair in the living room, watching movies all day, snacking and not leaving the house for anything. Those Sundays are my very favourite ones and I relish them when they come along.
Sadly, today was not one of those days. I had to get up, shower, get dressed, do the makeup thing and then head out to pick up a friend and then drive to our hometown for a bridal shower for a friend we went to grade/high school with. Just so you have a background on my experience with these sorts of things, this was possibly only the fourth wedding/bridal shower that I’ve ever been to in my entire life. It was at the house of someone I didn’t know (worked with the mother of the bride) and there were a lot of people there that I didn’t know. There were, however, many of my friends that I went to high school with, some of which I hadn’t seen in a while, so that was awesome.
In case you weren’t aware, generally at these types of things, there are girly kinds of games that everyone participates in and the winner gets prizes. This shower was no exception. The first game involved someone reading a list of typical things contained in a woman’s purse and the person who had the most matches won. Me being me, I didn’t have very many. I have a huge purse and there are lots of things in it, but they’re weird. Instead of lipstick, bandaids, and a lint roller, I have a box of Wonka Nerds, a giant notebook filled with random writing ideas and three or four packs of batteries for my camera, just in case. So no, this was not my shower game victory for the day.
The second game of the day was one where you had fifteen seconds to reach into a bag and feel around, trying to think of as many things as you could feel and write them all down. Again, whomever had the most won the prize. I didn’t win this game either. I knew what many of the objects were when I felt them, but after my fifteen seconds were up, I pretty much forgot everything I’d touched.
So at this point, I had resigned myself to being neither girly enough nor having a good enough memory span to win a prize. However, when the next game was announced, I thought I would perhaps have a shot. This is where it gets a little risque, folks. It seemed a little odd to go from the mundane and generic first two games to this final one, but I took it in stride and was determined to win a prize.
What was this game, you ask? What kind of activity could it be to get such a confused response from my fellow shower guests and myself? We were asked to make a penis. Yes, that’s right. We were all handed an unformed lump of PlayDoh and told to make the most realistic penis we could manage, the best one being judged by the maid of honour and the woman running the games. If the makers of PlayDoh only knew what their product was being used for, I wonder what they would say.
And so, I immediately set to work on mine, crafting it to perfection and putting it on the little card with my name on it, hoping for a win. There was much deliberation and eventually, it was down to two, mine and someone else’s creation. The mother of the bride was called over to make the final decision and, lo and behold, I WON!! Yes, that’s right, mine was the best PlayDoh Penis out of all of them. I had never felt such pride and accomplishment (at a wedding shower, that is). I did a little mental jig of celebration and then chose a nice little orange Pashmina-style scarf as my prize.
Below you can see all the competition and the triumphant winner. An odd victory, but a victory nonetheless!