Busy Doing Nuthin’

In true Leanimal style, I went out Saturday night with a mission: to get as drunk as I could with spending as little as I could. You know what the result is? Being as sick as I could possibly be Sunday morning with throwing up as little as I could.

My streak is over. I threw up. Kind of upset about it really. In all honesty, I didn’t drink an exorbitant amount Saturday night. Well, no more then I usually do (maybe more then the general public but again, that’s normal). However, the lack of dinner proved to be detrimental on my balance & fight with Gravity. While I never actually fell down, the guidance of a few hands to hold me up were grateful. Wish those same hands were there to feed me my poutine as I found remnants on my white dress Sunday morning.

It all started out innocent enough, me along with 3 friends attended a Hampton themed white party. Actually found a hot white dress from Zara (after I had purchased 2 others. So why i don’t just go there first is beyond me) and we agreed: clear drinks. Clear drinks all night as we don’t want to spill on our white duds. Everything is going along swimingly. Even the rain stopped & the night proved to be gorgeous. It’s probably here where i went down hill. Little white wine here, several beers there… My friend & I decided that we should go back to my place and drink more vodka after the party (that’s all i have at my place). I heard your a-ha moment except that never materialized. While we were at fritz’s he got a text from his friend stating he was in a fight & he had to go bail him out. Suddenly I felt I was in university & was left alone with my fries which frankly is fine with me.

And everything is always OK while I’m in the store. Everything is fine while I’m walking on the sidewalk but it’s the cab. It’s in the cab where I become a clumsy mess. I don’t know if it’s because it’s a moving object or the bumps or the turns but I always spill on myself in a cab. Logic dictates that I should wait til I arrive home to eat but again it’s 2:30 am & I’m an illogical person.

So I arrive home,  kick off my shoes, throw down my now empty cup & crash on the couch only to wake at 730am in my dress on the couch with a splitting headache. I may have moved geographic location (to my bed) but at 10 when i awoke again, the headache is epic. So in dire need to get healthy before kickboxing, I down 2 glasses of water & some ibuprofen. However, this is when madness ensues.

I’m spinning, I’m nauseous.. I’m begging for mercy only to have it come to head in my bathroom. Instantly, I felt better (nothing is worse then the build up to sickness) and I mercifully went back to sleep til about 1pm.

I was then thankful for his friend’s scrimmage as I probably needed vodka like a hole in the head but then I realized… it wasn’t the alcohol that made me sick.. it was……… water? I can’t hold down Water? Am I at a new low? I tested this theory out throughout the day. A coke made me woozy… a bellini cheered me up.

It’s official. I’m no longer Human. I’m 60% alcohol.

I just got back from lunch with my dad & the step monster (she’s actually becoming quite lovely. I may have to stop calling her that but once you gain a name on here……….) We had lunch as my step brother is in St Paul’s for the day to have some gall stones removed (although, he had his gallbladder removed several years ago so why he’s still getting them, we don’t know). Lucky for me he informed me he was going in for surgery at 630 this morning. Not last night when I first phoned … but this morning. When he got up at our parents house. Like wake up… DING! i should phone Leanne. She’ll be awake.

I say, sure.. I don’t sleep.

I’m not a heartless bitch (kind of not). He WAS going for surgery however, it’s actually not even a day procedure. It’s a half day procedure. He went for surgery at 10am & was done by the time lunch was over. The use a camera to go down your throat.. yada yada yada.. It’s now like Buttah.

The real point is… I went out with the rents. I went to lunch downtown with two people that detest downtown. Do you know what it’s like to sit for an hour & listen to someone complain about parking…. for an hour??? Do you know what it’s like to listen to someone fester on about why the olympics will be a mess? Do you know what it’s like to listen to someone comment how there’s not just too many people but too many weirdos (course, I agree with that last sentiment)

Yup, the rents had some time to kill so asked me to go for lunch. I was actually early and they still beat me, getting to the restaurant half an hour before the set time (they also eat dinner AT five pm). So I join their table & if you’ve ever eaten with them or spent time with them, you’ll know they’re always in a hurry so I decided to decide ahead of time what I want: a quesadilla.

Waitress comes by for the order, and the monster went first as her phone rang. My dad motioned for me to go second. The waitress looks at him and he looked at her & said, oh! ok…. and opened up his menu. He dallied around the menu & then said he couldn’t find the quesadillas that I ordered. So I turned the page & then said “yes! I will have what she’s having”…….. I’m afraid that he’s becoming an old man.

As we were waiting for the food, monster was still talking on the phone so my dad informed me how he was stung by a bee yesterday and his back is quite itchy. That when he took off his shirt a bee fell out, still alive & he KILLED IT… but his back his itchy (you may wonder why I wrote that twice. I wonder why he told me twice). Then the Monster got off the phone and we caught up on all that was going on during which my dad was uncomfortable in his chair during which the waitress came by & set our cutlery out… during which he then grabbed monster’s chopsticks, stuck them down his shirt & scratched his back…….

She used her fork.

Course last night I had a bachelor auction meeting and towards the end of the meeting with still a few people left, I got off my chair & pulled my underwear out of my ass via putting my hand in my skirt.

All Class….. All the time.

This isn’t anything new as I exude patience & understand in every facet of my life. However, as of late, due to my ever increasing work load & my lack of sleep, my patience is thinning & thinning & thinning. (Not to mention my dreams are getting weirder & weirder & weirder.)

This has nothing to do with anything but I’ve been a walking grump all day and as soon as a client phones and gives a little attitude or a little trouble, I want to tell them to jump up their own ass but then I wouldn’t make any money so instead I say things like “SURE!!! Noooo problem. I understand” and smile even if it is on the phone because one sounds less snotty if they are smiling. (Although, I think I perfected sounding even snottier & smiling. These are things you learn being a cheerleader in highschool.) Needless to say the resentment is somewhat building.

Anyways, in order to get through the day, I find that it helps to call other work at home people to break up the monotany and get some stimulating conversation going on .. you know, the kind where you CAN say: hey! jump up your own ass.

One such person is my friend Irish Heather (Heather for short.. I like it as it makes her sound all breathy & porn-like while she’s actually quite prudish & a financial person…lol.. she reads this blog so I’ll be getting a phone call). I phoned up Heather to bitch because bitching really is my specialty. If I could list it on my resume as one of my skills, I would list it higher then how fast I could type (btw, is that even a desirable trait anymore? Can’t everyone type?) However, to the extent and depth to which I complain even astounds me sometimes. If only I could spin it into a petty way Bruce can, I would give myself a gold medal (ahhhhh, yes, see what I did there? I dug deep. I think I CAN be petty).

So we had our mid day bitch session. We segued from crappy clients into men, naturally, and before you know it we’re hailing single women everywhere & our right not to settle! We’re tooting how fabulous we are and there is no reason to put up with emotionally stunted men! We’re not desperate nor are we worried about it! Unlike…….. our families… well, at least mine.

My marital status is something of great concern to my family specificall, my aunts & uncles on my mother’s side (my father’s side seems to be much more breezy. Course, there are a few divorces there) but my Mother’s side was aghast when I proclaimed a few years ago that I didn’t forsee myself getting married nor having children.

This isn’t entirely true as when I’m all gaga over someone, I have a much more positive outlook but I’ve always held the belief not to set myself up for some great expectation to just have it all crumble around me… In this case, it is not getting married or having babies.

Ok, I’m going to say it… brace yourself… I want babies.  There, it’s out there. I even want to give birth to one. Don’t hate me because I’m ticking but my uterus thawed out & I’m stuck yearning for these crying pooping machines. However, this is not the point. The point is that I’m trying not to set myself up for disappointment if this does not happenand I made this declaration at a family function.

I was met with shock & horror as this terribly worried, most specifically, My Aunt Eugenia. She is worried. She doesn’t want me to be alone. She thinks I would be happier with someone in my life and someone to take care of me. That’s what her husband, my uncle Joe thinks.. You know, when I’m sick, someone to bring me soup.

I think this would all happen if I could meet an appropriate person and by appropriate, I mean someone I don’t have to additionally care for. I mean someone that adds to my life, not takes away. I mean someone that I would rather be by my side then not (I’m speaking generally not specifically against my recent relationship). I have yet to find someone that meets this criteria (ok, so there were some factors that were missing). So in order to deal with my ongoing disappointment, I’m trying to believe that MAYBE I won’t get married when I had hoped for. That MAYBE it will be too late to have children and that MAYBE things don’t happen when you always want them to because things happen as they should and will just as the word is… happen. I don’t have complete control over this … so I tell myself, I’m not getting married.

I think Auntie’s heart stopped a bit. I don’t know if because my mom has passed that she has taken it upon herself to worry for her but she’s doing it. I may have well said that I am a prostitute and am moving to Dubai. I broke her heart but I also really wanted them to stop saying “you’re next! When am I going to see an invitation in the mail? I just want to be invited to a wedding…..” Yea, it’s annoying. EVERY TIME. I’m also reminded I’m tall like I grow & recede between visits & it’s always a surprise what height I may be.

ANYWAYS.. after we shared our families’ disapointments with each other, I said, “screw it!” I don’t need children. I don’t need someone to take care of me in my old age. I am going to move into a complex with heather, probably Jammer & who ever else. Where we share a pool, a common room with a giant bar, pool tables, and huge flat screen tv. We will have parties, we will have fun & importantly we will have each other. Seeing as we are successful individuals, we don’t need children to take care of us. We will pay for help, and no one will be above the age of 30 (I do like them young) and will be hot. Why not?

Heather said she was on board for the idea and said, what does it matter when we get married. Our life spans are getting longer & longer that before long, it will be normal to live to 100 which made me pause because yea, our life spans are lasting longer but mother nature IS mother nature & until they develop a female viagra, I don’t see the point of living that long. Course no one wants to have sex with an old woman, but as I mentioned earlier… I am willing to pay for the help……….

OH COME ON! That was funny.

I would suggest if you’re ever in a bad mood to turn on Family Feud. You got happy, crazy families, peppy music, continuous clapping and J Peterman as your host. He doesn’t have the creepy air of the original host that would make out with your wife right in front of you or is annoying like Louie Anderson. Why they got that guy to do it, is beyond me. The only thing I like him in was Coming to America. There’s all sorts of things wrong with that movie but it was the 80’s and we were apparently starving for lame comedies.

Unfortunately the imminent happieness erupting from your tv can quickly turn to annoyance BECAUSE of the crazy families, peppy music, continuous clapping and J Peterman hosting. So if you were in a bad mood, I would also suggest boxing. I myself take a kickboxing class 2x a week. Most often on Sundays (as Soccer Mom & Splatter Platter witness)  as the week is so busy with work & events & life.  However, yesterday I spent a good 45 minutes on the phone with Mrs. T-Town catching her up on all the miniscule drama that has transpired since we last spoke. Which felt like an eternity but in reality was only 2 weeks. She had taken her 2 kids & husband on a trip to Florida for Spring Break & has a great idea for a new business opportunity. I filled her in on pathetic conversations & ridiculous fights. By the time I got to class & got off the phone I did NOT want to do the class. If anything, I wanted to go home, crawl under the covers & sleep the rest of the day away. Fortunately, instead of skipping rope for a warm up as we so often do, I was instructed to hit the heavy bag off the top of the class for a one minute round of flurries… let me tell you… GOOD TIMES.

I positioned a certain person’s face right there in the middle of the bag & beat the crap out of it and I gotta say… i really did feel much better. It would only have been topped up if I started to swear my face off too.  Course today I’m walking around like freaking frankenstein but it was worth it.

Junos were in town this weekend & did i do anything  regarding it? That woudl be a big Hell to the no. I didn’t go near Granville STreet, I didn’t go to any parties & I didn’t watch them yesterday unlike many of my friends which was another reason I was sad… when did I become lame?

I’m not slutty…… I’m “approachable”