• Welcome

    This is our corner of the Internet. We're happy here. We're definitely "we" -- this blog is a group project. We all post as "My Own". This is where we write the things we can't say on our own blogs for one reason or another. We hope you like it here as much as we do. We hope you'll stick around.


  • I have a friend.
    Well, kind of a friend. I'm starting to doubt how much of a friend she really is, because it seems like she's a chronic liar. So how would I really know if she's being truthful about our friendship?
    She lies about EVERYTHING. Okay, well that's not true.
    But she routinely omits HUGE things, or grossly over exaggerates her own prowess, or gets completely lost in her own make-believe world.
    And it's so frustrating.
    I haven't seen her in over a week, and I'm still irritated at her.
    She slept with a friend of ours, and didn't tell me, then proceeded to freak out when he got attached to her, saying "I don't understand why he is so clingy!"
    One week she "confesses it all" and says that he kissed her.
    Months later she finally spills the beans, but only because I told her I knew more was going on.
    She refuses to tell the truth until she's caught in a lie.

    She's obsessed with moving. And it's completely consumed her. She says she's gotten an offer to move to Toronto and be paid 70 grand a year in musical theatre. I want to be happy for her, but really I think she's fabricating some of that so she has a reason to leave.
    When she looks in the mirror, she makes this annoying pucker face that doesn't look anything like her. But she's convinced it's her 'sexy' look. Her 'bedroom eyes'.

    She'll gush about how so-and-so must be into me, but really they just gave me a cursory glance.
    She spent one night telling me I looked 'just like a supermodel' when I'm sorry, but I did not, and will never look 'just like a supermodel'. I looked good that night, but come on. Let's not kid ourselves.
    And that's what it comes down to.

    Kidding ourselves.
    She's perfectly happy to spin this web of lies around her to protect her from the fact that she is disappointed with having a gazillion children way too early and missing out on the life she'd like to live.

    I just don't understand why she thinks she has to pretend to be someone she's not. I'm sure she really is a great person -- I know she is. But I just can't handle her lies anymore. Lies get you nowhere.

    Today, I was driving home from work.  I work in a pretty posh area of the city, so there are a lot of expensive cars in the area.  I glanced in the rear-view mirror of my humble little hatchback and saw a lovely new Volvo behind me.  In this Volvo was a man.  He was digging around in his nose.  He was really going for it.  Then I watched said man eat what he found.  Dear drivers – just because you are in your (expensive) car, you are not in a bubble of invisibility.  I can see you picking your nose and eating your boogers (and delighting in it.)  It is gross.  Just because you think it looks like you are coughing and your finger fell into your mouth, it doesn’t.  I know the truth, because I just watched you insert your finger in your nose, pretend to flick it, examine it and then ingest it.  I see it every day with children that I teach – they do it the exact same way. 


    Sometimes, you gotta dig, but it must be pretty dire to have to do it in your car… and you must simply be starving if you feel that you must then eat it. 

    The ladies who had the board's approval to advertise an in house bake sale did so by slipping strips of paper under everyone's door.

    Today, one of the ladies says that someone complained to her. They don't like paper under their door. She also apologized for breaking rules. She was told not to worry about it; she had permission. (Hard to believe there's a paper rule, in the first place.)

    On the upside, two professional bakers are selling homemade Christmas baked goods this weekend. Great chance to stock up the freezer for the holiday season. And there's no need to go outside.

    City Hall has approved a business
    license that allows foot traffic, although they've been asked to not allow such licenses since it is against the rules. Apparently, the last time the neighbourhood appealed a business license, City Hall requested a retraction because their appeal process was too long and they were ready to reissue the proper license. However, the only way to stop, or change a new license is by appealing. So, talk to person in neighbourhood that applied for license and send letter of appeal to City Hall. Person reapplies and City asks for retraction of appeal. In writing, retract appeal and request, again, that City not let foot traffic on business licenses in this neighbourhood. (Stupid time wasting government red tape)

    On the up side, tonight's annual Christmas party was a success.

    At my work, I am the person responsible for collecting money and keeping coffee supplies stocked.  About a month ago, I happened to see an employee who does not contribute to the fund, scoop some coffee grindes for his own use.  I did not confront the guy nor did I report it to my boss.  But I did do something.  I started an investigation.

    I started keeping the coffee locked in my office.  I also kept a closer eye on how much coffee we use.  Over time, it became obvious a few people were dipping into our stash.  There was too much missing for only one person to be helping themselves.  (Especially the day where half a can of coffee was suddenly used up.)  I sent an office memo informing people of what I've noticed and asked for suggestions.  This created conversation and I did mention to a couple of so-called trusted people what I had seen.  But I also said there had to be others involved because of the quantity being taken.  That and the fact that many other things in the school go missing including food and kitchen supplies.  After a couple of weeks of discussion, one person made a suggestion.  Her idea was to paste a list of contributors to the fund.  Apparently, that's helped in the past.

    Anyway, fast forward to yesterday... As I was leaving work, the guy who I saw take the coffee asked if he could talk to me.  He brings me to his office under the stairs, offers me a seat and sits behind his desk.  It felt like I was being called to the principal's office.  "You know about all this coffee going missing business? Yeah, well, I hear someone is saying that I've been taking coffee.  Now, I admit I took it.  And it ain't right.  But I always replaced what I took!  This one time I even brought in a big can and put it up in the cupboard.  So, yeah... I don't appreciate people saying that I took coffee, even though I did because I put it back.  OK!?"
    I looked at him and asked, "Are you upset about this?" 

    He answers, "No.  I just don't want people beaking off about me!"

    I then said, "Ok, then.  The next time I talk about, or hear people talk about you taking coffee, I'll make sure they also know you say you've always returned what you took."  He agrees.

    While walking home, I couldn't help thinking about the absurdity I had just experienced.  I couldn't wait to share the funny story of "the guy at work who's upset people are telling the truth about him" with my husband when he got home.
    This week's drama in the condo highrise...

    -After the annual sprinkler inspection, a resident complains.  The inspector not only left lights on, he also left doors that were supposed to be closed (for a good reason!), open. At least this year, he did lock the suite's door.   Because this is the third year it happens, it's clear proof that the board does not care.  Either hire a different company or make the company hired pay for its mistakes.  Resident also thanks the board for, once again, upping his power bill.

    -Light bulbs have been burnt out for weeks.

    -The dog in ### is still in the building. 

    -Dogs are peeing in the elevator...again. 

    -Homeless people, drunk teenagers and pot heads are finding their way into the building via an unlocked emergency access door.  The new alarm will be here in two days. 

    -It's cold in parts of the building.

    -The electronic key system isn't allowing access to gym during hours of operation.  There's a problem with the software. 

    -The metal plate in the gargabe compactor broke after 20 years of garbage slamming into it.   (Last month, there was a blockage all the way to the 5th floor because someone threw away metalic blinds and jammed the compactor.)

    Thank goodness there's a Property Manager hired to take care of most of this stuff.
    In the summer of 2000, I was a young gal, fun-loving and free. I lived in a town called Inuvik, above the Arctic Circle, where I had my dream job: a position at CBC and a show of my own. My husband and I were very happy there. The sun never set. (Literally.) It was the perfect life.

    I was called to Yellowknife, our regional centre, for muckety-muck meetings with the MotherCorp's northern senior management. It was part of what management types call a "visioning exercise": what did we want to be in five years? Ten? Twenty? I was the Inuvik rep.

    As most people from the smaller communities are when visiting Yellowknife, I was keen to go shopping and eat in restaurants. I went to one of the local shops with a few of the other reporters, and came out empty-handed. Nothing fit. Not the clothes in my size. Not the clothes in the next size up. They just didn't fit right. What a downer.

    All was well, though: there was a pub around the corner from the mall. We ordered big, pink, girly drinks. Then we ordered some more. And then we ordered some more. We were really, really drunk by the time we staggered out the door and headed home.

    The next morning was not one of my better mornings, but I am not the sort of person to call in "hungover" to work. I went back to the meetings. That day I was very conscious of the fact that I had to go to the bathroom a lot. It's one thing to constantly excuse yourself during an evening of binge drinking to drown the sorrows of unsuccessful shopping trips, but quite another to constantly excuse yourself during your boss's boss's boss's presentation about Reflecting Canada To Canadians.

    "HAHAHAHAHA," I thought to myself in the hallway outside the meeting room during one of my unscheduled breaks. "I sure have to pee a lot! I'm either diabetic or I'm preg -- wait a minute..."

    Fortunately, I had plenty of pee for the stick. There were two lines.

    I spent the next six months desperately quizzing doctors and nurses about fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.

    My son is fine. No thanks to me.

    One of the worse things about being a pot smoker is that when you happen to buy some weed that doesn't even get you stoned one bit, there's nothing you can do about it.  There aren't any refunds, exchanges or returns.  You're just shit out of luck!
    Sorry to disappoint, folks, but this is the low-down from the guy's cousin. It came after he came back into town after driving all day and randomly showing up at a movie night the cousin and I had planned. It was a pleasant surprise, and I was thrilled to see him, and couldn't let well enough alone. So I pestered cousin as to if this was going anywhere and she responded....

    So I lightly probed to see what he was thinking and he said he does really like you and in that way, but apparently while he was in (insert name of previous town here) he ran into an ex and they are in his words kinda sorta trying to maybe give it another go. He said she lives in (another province, across the country) so he isn't sure what will come of it but he wanted to put a little effort into it before he writes it off. So for the moment that is where he is at, but he didn't sound 100% that it will work. So we shall see. But either way he is totally wanting to be friends with you.

    But I have to tell someone.

    Today… I found a white hair, down there.

    I nearly cried.

    So there have been a lack of updates, because there hasn't been much to update.
    Except for the following:
    - back when the initial posts were written, guy-in-the-chair was feeling out the town (where I live) to see if it was a place he wanted to move to. He decided to move here, and has spent the past 2+ weeks getting stuff from another province and arranging to live here.
    - He's back tomorrow
    - He's been asking his cousin about me
    - I still don't have his number and things have kind of ... gone nowhere since my last post, but I've not been too concerned because he is moving, and I've been busy. But I now regularly stalk him on Facebook, and will harass his cousin (now one of my good friends) to make it happen so I get to see him and work my magic.

    Admittedly, I'm a little bit *less* twitterpated -- but that's really because I've not had much contact with the guy in 3 weeks.
    I'm still hopeful though, just slow :)

    Thanks for your interest!
    Please!  Dear writer who has the hots for the guy in the chair- tell us how it is going!

    I hope you are still twitterpaited and that you have finally gotten the guts enough to call him.

    A very city city-girl moved to town.

    She is upset that recycling is not picked up at her doorstep.

    She left weeks worth of recycling in her house for when her boyfriend flew up to visit her.  She made him return it so he could see how hard it was to live in this remote place.

    I don't think she will last long.

    I am just glad I live in a town that has recycling.
    For some reason, the blogs I read have been talking about abortion more often than usual.

    I'm not totally sure what I think about the issue, but one thing really sticks out for me. I don't get this "rape and incest" exemption people talk about. I really don't get it. If you think abortion is murder, why would it be OK if the woman was raped?

    I think it's because the people who talk about "rape and incest" exemptions secretly believe that women who chose to have sex deserve to be forced to carry pregnancies to term. There is no other possible reason for this sort of exemption. If abortion's OK, it's OK no matter how the woman got pregnant. And if it's wrong, it's still wrong if the person was raped.

    This offends me so much. I never want to hear anyone say it again.

    Is it bad that when someone goes out of her way to tell me she (it's always "she") likes the Pixies, I immediately assume she is a poser? 


    It's just a bit cliched, no? 

    I guess I'd better delete this from the drafts folder of my regular blog and put it on the other blog. 

    An update!

    I tell you, I can't stop smiling. I've been grinning ear-to-ear all night. I spent most of the day in varying degrees of contact with my new love interest (see post below). A bunch of us all went to lunch together, and then parted ways. Then went to a show -- and finally drinks with just my friend, her actual husband and the fella.

    It was so nice, and I just ... I really just think he's an amazing person.

    I also, against all my natural hesitations, told my friend that I thought her cousin (the fella) was pretty cute too. I'm not good at putting myself out on a limb like that. But I have a lot of people rooting for me on this one, and that makes it easier, maybe.

    I don't really know how to write how fun these past couple of days have been for me. I've really not been interested in anyone in almost a year now. I had one fleeting flirtation with a guy in a park about six months ago, but never saw him again. My problem is I tend to try to leave on a high note. I get in great conversations with people and find them really engaging but then... get intimidated and worried that they are getting bored and suddenly find a reason to dash off, and miss out on what could be something really neat.

    But here I have someone who I believe at the very least finds me interesting -- we have a LOT in common (he ordered my current favourite wine when we went out for drinks -- that's got to be a good sign, right?), and I really want to get to know him better.

    I'm just not sure where it goes from here. I will see my friend/his cousin regularly for the next two weeks, but not necessarily him. We definitely kind of went out on a date tonight, and he makes me all squeal-y but he didn't ask me out. That's okay, I'm not expecting the moon or anything, and to be fair I don't think word has gotten back that I'm interested.

    But it leaves me with a bit of a question mark looming above my head.
    I had a great night, a great day, and I want more...

    But I don't want to go the Facebook route.
    And I'm not sure where to go from here.

    Dear internetz: what do you think?

    So I met this guy the other night.

    Some of us were having drinks and this girl I know told her cousin to come along after his salsa class. When they came through the door, I was shocked. I thought he was her husband and I swelled up with pride for her and thought "wow, she's amazing -- she's built a happy family with this man in a wheelchair"

    I'm not really proud that's what I thought when I first saw him, but it's the truth. On one hand, it really would have been an amazing, incredible feat. She's got 4 little kids and fosters other ones every now and then, and that would be a lot to juggle, even if neither parents were in a wheelchair. But on the other hand, how absolutely rude is it for me to think it would be a compromise on her part? How short-sighted to think "wow, he must really be a great guy to make their relationship worth that obstacle!"

    Of course, it turns out, the guy wasn't her husband. He was her cousin.
    And of course, it turns out, he's super nice, and smart.
    Not to mention good looking (dare I say it?) in spite of the wheelchair.

    It also turns out I actually knew who the guy was. He's well-known where I live, he's been raising money for Muscular Dystrophy. He has a catchy name for his cause, and eventually I put the two together.

    So he's driven too.
    And finds a way to go to a salsa class even though he's in a wheelchair (he can walk with a cane -- I later found this out).

    All of those things are very very very attractive to me.

    Tonight, his cousin comes up to me and tells me as soon as the left the day before, he told her he thought I was cute and such. He of course asked her not to tell -- but she couldn't resist.

    When she told me, I just blushed many shades of scarlet and I couldn't stop grinning. I had a feeling he was interested, but it's always hard for me to read that line between guys who find me amusing, and those who are actually interested.

    We happen to be going to be at the same place again tomorrow night. I'll see him again for sure. It feels like it's been so long since I've done this, I'm not even sure how to deal with it. I'm so used to being around married people that I've stopped trying to figure out how this dating thing is supposed to work.

    And while I'm hardly a traditionalist, I really do hope he asks me out.
    I am planning to break up with a friend. She doesn't know, or maybe she's planning to do the same to me.

    I really like her. At least I like the idea of her. The reality just isn't working. I've been thinking for at least a year that it was time to pull the plug, but I didn't want to do it. Like I said, I really like the idea of being friends with her. But I think it's time. I'm sick of arguing and waiting for the next argument and watching her argue with others.

    I imagine that she is thinking the same about me.

    I'm going to start slowly, by not initiating e-mails or responding to her Facebook posts. I'm far too timid to really pull the plug all at once. I'll know she has the same plan if this really is the end.

    And then it won't have to be weird. I really don't want it to be weird. I don't want to be enemies. I just don't want to be friends.

    Sunny days.  Makes everything seem so much brighter! (Go figure.)

    My husband is awesome… everyday I’m happy to have him in my life (even when he drives me batty!)

    So, I finally got a message back from my friend who was upset with me.  Apparently, I’m not a very good friend… or not the friend that she’s wanted me to be over the past several years since I moved away.  To put it in her words, it’s just not working for her as she’s never felt that her needs have come first. 


    She wanted time to think before we talked, but also said that when I was ready to listen to let her know.  So I let her know (after about a month), and also expressed my regret that I’ve handled all this poorly.  This apparently was also the wrong thing to do, as she ended up feeling pressured to talk to me and I wasn’t respecting her need for time.  Apparently, reaching out to her and letting her know how much I care about her and value our friendship was also very wrong, as she felt that it was about my need to make it better, not a genuine desire to express my love for her and to make her feel loved.  (Apparently, she gets a message from me and vacillates between annoyance and indifference.  Nice.)  She is a pretty great person, but she’s not perfect.  No one is… but I accepted and loved her as she was because that’s what you do, isn’t it? 


    You know, I get what she’s saying and I feel somewhat remorseful for not being the kind of friend or giving the kind of support she wanted or needed throughout the past 16 years of our friendship (oh yes, it goes back that far.)  But my question is, if it’s been bothering her for THAT long, why didn’t she say anything about it before now?  Why let it get to this point?  Surely, in a true and open friendship, you wouldn’t let this fester, nor would you give up on the friendship that easily. 

    While I’m a bit sad, I’m relieved at the same time.  It has provided closure… and I’m very sorry that she felt pressured to talk to me, but now, like she’s doing – I’ll have to put myself first and unfortunately that doesn’t include her in my life right now. 

    I accepted a new job today.

    I am very excited. Apprehensive about telling people, but still excited.

    My husband has a best friend. They've been best friends for over half their lives, and I've come to love him like a brother. 
    But this guy has got the worst taste in women EVER.
    Over the years, he has brought a parade of losers into our lives, convinced in each case that this one was the one with whom he would share his life. There was the clingy one, the bitchy one, the stupid one (no, seriously - dumber than a box of HAMMERS and thought Jerry Springer was quality television), the crazy one, the one that I think he found in a trailer park with tires on the roof.
    And then there's the latest one. The one who chose yesterday to use a racial epithet in casual conversation among our group of friends. I've decided to call her "The Bigot." Lovely.
    I'm hoping that this one will go the way as all the rest, because it seems very obvious at this point that she and I will never be friends. For our friend's sake, I will try my best not to be overtly rude to her, but seriously - a racial epithet. In mixed company. With people you don't really know from Adam. Great judgement, there, dude.
    I'm very proud of my husband. He is truly amazing at times. I would tell him this myself but I'm afraid his ego will inflate his head so much he would simply float away. Then I'd be alone and sad.
    I was getting ready for bed tonight when my mother-in-law showed up at the door to my house.

    She did not want to visit. She wanted to poop in my toilet.

    Am I just out of touch with society, or is this not quite normal?

    So my parents are visiting me in my tiny little 800-square foot apartment for the next two weeks. Well, my mother, technically, is here for three weeks, but is spending one traveling the countryside.
    I was really really looking forward to them visiting, even though I don't have a lot of space for everyone.
    But I had forgotten how toxic they can be towards one another.
    My sister and I have never understood why they don't just get divorced. They don't even seem to like one another, let alone love each other.
    And I hate conflict. It makes me so uneasy, I get nauseous ...
    And when it's family conflict, all I want to do is bawl.

    Right now, my father is in some kind of snit and won't even talk to my mom. It was over -- get this -- him being hungry and wanting to eat. But in the process of not talking to my mom, he's not really talking to me either. And I have to try so hard not to take sides, be just as friendly to him as I am to her (even though he just grunts or gives me one-word answers back to my non-stop, let's not sit in silence questions).

    They may be used to hating each other, but I'm not used to being a referee.

    I'm so sick of the two of them acting like teenagers.

    My best friend is angry with me.  I’ve apologised (and a heartfelt one too, not just a lip service apology because I felt I had to) and I feel genuinely remorseful for upsetting her.  The thing is, she just won’t talk to me.  I feel almost as though I’m being further punished for not apologising in the way she felt was needed or that there’s something else she’s cross about that I just don’t know.  I’m so painfully sad – it’s like there’s a little hole in my heart, but at the same time, I’m starting to get a bit fed up.  We’re adults – why can’t we just talk about it, like adults?  We’ve been friends for 16 years.  Surely we can work it out… I hope.  I miss her. 

    I'm young, and I've always been blessed with thinness and a fast metabolism. So... I've never been as body-conscious as I am now. I can feel it. I'm getting a little older, picking up a little extra where my flat stomach and thinner thighs used to be. I've never had to exert effort in my life to keep thin and reasonably fit (I know, I know, I'm thankful), so I'm at a loss right now as to what to do. I know I should get more exercise. I little walking, a little running, maybe some weights or crunches. I know I could probably eat a little better.

    But. I need motivation. I need to get myself into a habit, into liking the exercise. It's a sticky situation. I have no will power or motivation to start or keep going, but at the same time, I hate watching my body change like this when I know a marginal amount of effort will keep me in better health, trimmer and happier. I hope I don't sound too whiny.

    A little help from the secret bloggers? Any advice on how to exercise and eat well without making it a chore? Things you like to do? Websites or books that have helped you?
    I just bought haemorrhoid cream for the first time in my life.

    This came after days of denial and surreptitious Google searches (speaking of which, BTW, OMG, you should NEVER EVER GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH THAT, OMG OMG). Tonight I decided it was time to buy cream.

    I couldn't go during the day. Too many people. After supper, I drove to the OTHER pharmacy. The one where I do not buy my own medical supplies. There was still a chance I'd be seen, but there was no way to reduce the risk to zero.

    The cream is in the same aisle as the Tylenol, which was handy, because I could pretend to be studying the painkiller bottle while I was actually sizing up a box of something called Anusol. (THAT IS NOT EVEN A FREAKING JOKE OMG OMG.) There were several different formulations of Preparation H, so I grabbed the cooling and refreshing gel. (OMG OMG.)

    I strolled nonchalantly up to the counter, where I had to look for a cashier. Because it was imperative that I be able to purchase my haemorrhoid cream. I found a giggly young girl who, although she really would have preferred spending her evening texting her friends, was willing to check me out. She took my money and gave me my change, and I fumbled with my change purse.

    And she just stood there, watching me.

    I sort of thought she would put it into a bag so I would be able to preserve SOME of my dignity on my way out of the store, but apparently not. She did not want to touch the box of Preparation H. I can't say that I blame her, considering that I did not want to touch it, buy it, be seen with it, take it home, open it, and slather it all over my haemorrhoids but WE CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT WE WANT OMG OMG.

    I stuck it into my purse and made a run for the door, hoping to God Almighty that the security guard would not stop me and ask what I was doing.

    My husband comes home after work. He says, "Pizza for supper again? I'm getting sick of eating the same things for supper. "

    I respond, "But I did not make supper. I made myself something to eat and made some extra for you because I love you. If you don't want any, that's ok. The kitchen is that way. "

    I think I want to quit my blog. There are a few reasons for this, but mostly I'm just uninspired. Big sigh.......
    When my husband rambles at the mouth and pisses me off, I just start making reference to how small his penis is. It shuts him up every time. It funny, too, since his quite well endowed.
    I have pretty much abandoned my blog. My real one. And I think I like it.

    I've posted almost nothing for weeks. I didn't feel like I had to. I was out, living in the world. And I liked it.

    I wonder if my blog is keeping me from actually experiencing things.

    Ever since my son moved out, he's been acting like he was raised by wolves. He blows off family events with no explanation and without calling, he blew off my birthday without even an acknowledgement, and won't respond to messages (I know he's safe because his sister tells me she's had contact with him - he's just being an asshole to me).
    Now, I know that young people need to establish their independence when they leave the nest, and I'm not suggesting he should be dropping in several times a week to chat. After all, he has his own life, and I'm trying to respect that. But I ask the blogosphere - is common courtesy too much to ask? Especially since I'm still paying several of his bills?
    I have officially, as of this evening when I stood stark nekkid on the scale, lost 20 pounds.
    It only took me all bloody winter (the first 15 were easy and seemed to melt off... the rest I'm going to have to work for, I think).
    It's awesome, I'm happy with myself, but at the same time, I'm feeling secretive about the accomplishment.

    Probably because saying anything:
    A.) acknowledges I needed to lose weight
    B.) points out I still have a way to go
    C.) could 'jinx' the progress.

    But you know what, I tried on a button up shirt in a clothing store two weeks ago, and it didn't fit. I went back to that store today to return something, gave the same shirt the old college try...
    And it fit.

    I've not worn a button-up shirt (that wasn't several sizes too big) in ...

    Over a decade?

    It's like I've reached this weird crossroads though. I'm happy, I have 5 pounds to go before I leave the 200s behind...
    And I've wanted that more than anything... but now I'm kind of dissatisfied with it all.
    Men still look past me, and only see a chubby girl (I'm not completely thick, I know I'm pretty, but the pounds hide things).

    So now it's become, what do I want?
    What's a new goal?
    Should I be realistic and hope for 175 in the next year and stick there at what is basically the lightest I've been as an adult (and is totally reasonable and a 'comfy' weight for me)?
    Or should I actually try to be a fit healthy athletic person?
    I've always dreamed that I would be ... well... thin, I guess. I remember in high school wishing I could just get "back" to 140 -- and even then, that was the most active I'd ever been.
    And in this town, where image is supreme, it seems like that's what I should be going for.

    But it looks just so unobtainable.
    It's like rounding this this one little landmark just reveals a whole lotta road in front of me.

    And instead of being inspired, and invigorated...
    I feel overwhelmed and disappointed.

    I'm starting to think I just may never get married. May never find "the one" and may never have a family beyond the one I already have.
    It's not what I want. I want desperately to be in love again, but everywhere I look the people I meet aren't single and the people I once knew are getting married.
    At least I've not entered that "always a bridesmaid" cycle yet.
    But it's unnerving.
    It was one thing when the guy I had a crush on in high school married his sweetheart just a year or so into university.
    But it seems this is the summer of marriage for people I went to school with, and it's all just very bizarre.
    I've not even had SEX in 10 months let alone find anyone worth spending any real time with.
    It's depressing because it makes me wonder what is so WRONG with who I am that I can't attract even a semi-interesting, moderately good looking love interest.
    My dad calls upon me often to do him favours. I don't mind, really. I owe the guy my life so I'm happy to oblige in times of need.

    Today my father calls me and says he needs a huge favour. He had forgotten his insulin at home and he was already at the airport. He needed me to fetch his meds and bring them to him.

    Which I did. I dropped everything and flew out the door.

    After thanking me, my father tells me that if he wanted to, he had the option of picking up his meds at his destination at the local Wal Mart.

    I wonder if I just past a test and jumped up a few levels on my dad's love-o-metre.

    Or maybe he just likes to boss me around.
    Sent wirelessly from my BlackBerry device on the Bell network.
    Envoyé sans fil par mon terminal mobile BlackBerry sur le réseau de Bell.
    Why are the other mothers at our local children's playgroup so damn cliquey?  Actually they are more than cliquey- some days they are stuck up bitches.  But I smile.  Make small talk.  And think about how many more days until they move on to another town.

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    I was just pulled over for the first time.
    And I'm still shaking.

    It was stupid, it really was, and I know it. I had just submitted my information to change over my registration and insurance a week ago, and it occurred to me today, as I was driving home that I hadn't heard back from them. I started the process, but couldn't finish everything because my OLD old insurance company hadn't faxed over my driving/claims record.

    And as I left this morning, I saw my little green folio that holds my old insurance and old registration sitting on the counter, but forgot to put it back in my car.

    So when I saw a police car behind me on my way home (after a LONG day, I might add), I drove the speed limit (okay, 5-10 above, it would look suspicious if I didn't speed a LITTLE, right?). I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

    And when I saw those red and blue lights flash, I nearly had a heart attack.

    That heart attack nearly became a hernia as my first-time-pulled-over jitters made me stutter and shaky. That only made matters worse, because then I became convinced that it looked like I was lying, and got more anxious. That anxiety reached a tipping point when he told me I was going to get a ticket for something like 800 dollars for no insurance and no registration.

    So I did a little yoga breathing, decided the tax return I was going to put on a debt would just have to go towards paying a ticket, and really it was my own fault.

    I guess the guy took a little pity on me, or at least believed part of my story, because I only walked away with a 80 ticket -- which they'll cut down to 60 bucks if I pay it in the next month.

    I swear to god, if I ever really do something wrong, I would never ever ever hold up under any sort of interrogation.

    There was a bake sale at work the other day. We have them often; they raise money for the kick-ass Christmas parties we have every year.

    I walked in and saw a boardroom table laden with goodies: brownies, cookies, pies. And in that second, inside my head, I saw myself eating ALL of it.

    I backed away, but it was already too late; you can't really walk into a bake sale and walk out again unnoticed. I had to explain myself.

    So I made some lame joke about not wanting to eat everything (which was true) and said that I have a problem with food (which was also true). I really should just shut up.

    My co-worker, who is larger than I am, was not impressed.

    I was not always this size, and it's easy for people to forget that I lost a third of my body weight a few years ago through ten months of hard work and dieting. I still struggle with the urge to overeat, and I KNOW that I could have eaten everything on that table without a second thought. I am not a skinny bitch, I swear. I am a skinny glutton.

    I used to think that people who talked about being sober alcoholics were weirdos. If you're sober, you're not an alcoholic, right? I now know exactly what they mean. They're talking about the constant struggle to fight off the urge to do something they don't want to do and yet DESPERATELY want to do. I was insensitive to question their description of that struggle, even inside my head.

    People at work have said that I have great willpower. This is usually in the context of bake sales or someone's birthday cake. They don't realize that I have absolutely no willpower at all. If I ate some of the cake, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from eating far too much of it. It's easier to walk away and pretend that I have some self-control.

    That I hide my weed in my spice cabinet?
    Oh well.
    I just saw pictures online of a person that was quite horrible to me in my last community.

    I see she has gained a lot of weight.

    That made me smile.

    But then I felt bad.

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    I don't necessarily like that the only things I can think of to post are kind of petty little nigglies about an ex boyfriend.
    But that's part of what makes the secret blog secret. His mom reads my REAL blog and I don't want to be a total bitch... or really admit that some things still bother me.

    Annoyance #1.) the man and I broke up because of a couple different reasons, the main one being he really didn't want to commit to anything serious. A year and a bit later, he has a baby.

    Annoyance #2.)  -- very closely tied to annoyance #1.) they moved in together shortly after we broke up and have bought a house together.

    Annoyance #3.) I'm not that vain, but seriously, I am better looking than her.

    Annoyance #4.) They produced an ugly child. Hopefully it will get better looking with age.

    Okay, maybe that last one isn't so much of an annoyance. Maybe it's a little bit of an observation that makes me want to do a happy-dance.
    I am fully aware that I'm not able to let this go because really, I can't get over MYSELF. I can't see what in the world makes this woman better than me, more worthy of commitment than me. I can't stand the thought that I could possibly be THAT intolerable.

    Adding insult to injury is the fact that I really do know that when we were together, he was no catch. Now, he may have stopped drinking now (and only by court order, I might add), and I know that I needed to NOT be in that relationship anymore...

    But I can't help but feel that little sting.

    Because I really did love him.
    I have an agreement with my husband: If he cleans the house, I will have sex with him.

    Sure, this may sound excessively transactional after our many years together. Go ahead and judge me. It works.

    I wouldn't call myself a neat freak. It would be more accurate to say that over time, the messiness that collects in my house slowly drives me crazy, and eventually I snap. I have been known to walk around with a garbage bag, throwing out-of-place items away.

    I can't identify the precise moment at which I lose my mind. It isn't Piece of Mail #17 or Dirty Sock #5. Well, it might be either of those things. What I mean is that it is an art, not a science. It may be some indefinable combination of dirt on the kitchen floor and congealed leftover cereal. I think I am pretty laid-back about messiness most of the time, but I can't handle a total takeover of disorder. My stress level was rising all week. I made pointed comments and emptied the dishwasher while glaring at my family.

    By Saturday night, I was furious. I did not have a garbage bag. Instead, I walked around staring pointedly in the direction of the biggest messes. After some heated words, I decided to go to bed early. No point in fighting.

    I awoke to find that he had cleaned the house. He'd even Swiffered the floor. It was very sexy.

    I decided that since he'd gone the extra mile, I should, too. I pulled out my Naughty Mrs. Claus outfit. (Naughty Mrs. Claus is always good for a party of two, but I do not recommend her for the office Christmas party: she's a bit of a ho-ho-ho.)

    And when it was all finished, I rolled over to find him checking Facebook on his iPhone. Damn.

    Ever leave a friendship without any remorse, just thankfulness that you managed to get their family secret recipe before you left?

    I have.

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    You know what really cheeses me off?
    I'm awake at 2 am still working on a breaking news story for tomorrow.
    I got the call at five, jumped in my car and drove my ass down here and started interviewing people.

    My colleague, a national reporter, got on an airplane, and arrived five hours after I did.
    We met up, he saved all the interviews I did to his computer.
    Wrote a story using those interviews, clipping sound bites for his piece.
    And then went to bed.

    I, on the other hand, am still awake.

    And annoyed.

    This whole trend of "national" reporters swooping in and getting all the credit for my legwork and my stories really BLOWS.

    And I would have written this on my own blog, because I'm THAT kind of annoyed...
    But coworkers (past and present) could then read it.
    And my mom would chew me out for publicly criticizing my employer.
    And it's not worth the bother.

    I'm putting everything in place, trying to finish off certain projects and get the rest of them to a point where they don't need my active involvement.

    Only a few of my friends know, but I'm becoming a bit paranoid. Every so often, I'll be asked to work on a long-term project. I'll hesitate, wondering if it is a test. I say sure, I'll work on it. And then I try to come up with a way to keep from leaving them in the lurch when I disappear. Because I am going to disappear.

    My boss asked me to come up with a workplan. I haven't done this. Sure, I suppose I could, but is there really any point? It would be a meaningless table filled with timelines the next person would never be able to meet. Maybe I should do it anyway, just so I don't feel totally guilty. It's just a table. Anyone can put together a meaningless table filled with timelines that will never be met, right?

    I am putting off telling my boss until the last possible moment. He has no idea I'm planning to leave. At least I hope he doesn't.

    I admit it.


    I don't like children. They're loud, and usually smelly, and they don't have much to say that's interesting to me. While I respect people who like kids and have the patience to deal with them, and I absolutely recognize the importance of having such people in the world, I'm not one of them, and I don't think I should have to apologize for it.


    So don't assume that because you love your kid and think he or she is the best thing since sliced bread, that I should feel the same way you do. To me, your kid is not a unique and special snowflake whose very presence in the world brightens our existence and makes the angels sing. To me, they're just loud. And usually smelly. It's not personal - I'll probably think they're fabulous once they're grown and have something interesting to say. But in the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep them away from me. Really - it's best for everyone.

    The trouble with a recession (aside from the obvious issues) is this amazing sense of entitlement that is currently being enjoyed by businesses. They figure, "Hey, you should be grateful just to be EMPLOYED, so don't even THINK about complaining even if we treat you like shit, try to force you to work 80 hours a week or cut your pay (without cutting your hours)! YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL, DO YOU HEAR? GRATEFUL."
    You know....I am grateful. I know lots of folks who struggle with unemployment, and I really am grateful to be working and have an income to pay my mortgage. This is a good thing, and I'm happy with my professional circumstances in that respect.


    But don't ask me to be GRATEFUL for your ABUSE. Because I'm not. You're being an ass, and I'm not going to thank you for it.

    My MIL got a call from a survey company asking if she would vote Conservative if a federal election was called right away.

    I hope the Conservatives keep their minority government.

    It's not that I like the Conservatives, or their policies or politics, or even Stephen Harper. I actually kind of dislike all of those things. But I think the Liberals wouldn't be significantly better, and if we had a change of government, people would be hoping for change that wouldn't come. I'd rather go on being disappointed than be let down yet again. That would be even more disappointing.

    Over the weekend, I heard these two stories.  These are true stories. I could never post them on my blog because I find one of them funny and the other I agree with.  Due to the content, if people knew I found story #1 funny and agreed with #2, I would probably be tarred and feathered.  I think I'm safe here, though.  Thanks goodness for this blog.

    Story #1

    A woman recieves a phone call at work from her son.  "MOM!  MOM!  I caught a troll!  I caught a troll!  Come and see!  He's going to spin gold for us!  We're going to be rich!"

    "What are you talking about?" the mother responded.  As it turns out, the son is 30 yrs old and has autism (or some other congnitive delay) coupled with bi-polar disorder.  He's been on his own his whole adult life and maintains an appartment on his own.  The mother checks in on him first thing in the AM and again after she finishes work.  He does not pose a threat to himself or others in anyway.  It is not uncommon for him to call and say unusal things since his view of the world is a bit different than others. 

    "Come and see!  Come and see!  I caught a troll.  He's going to spin gold for us.  We're going to be rich!" 

    "I'm at work right now.  I can't come over.  I'll be there at 5 pm after I'm done work." 

    But the phone calls did not stop.  The son called repeatedly.  By late afternoon, the mother gave up and asked her boss if she could leave to tend to her son.  Her boss had no issue letting her go home early.

    When she arrived at her son's appartment, he lead her into his bedroom.  He was very excited.  She saw that the bed and dresser were pushed up against the closet doors.  She heard some movement in the closet.

    Upon opening the closet door, she discovered a little person cringing in the corner of the closet....just scared shitless.  Poor bugger.  He'd been there for over 4 hours.  Locked in the closet.  With no food.  No water.  No bathroom.  And the whole while he was kept captive he had to listen to the excited screams and ravings of a burly 30 yr old man saying, "The troll will spin us some gold!  We're going to be rich!"

    The mother released the little person and after some discussion, she got the story.  The little person was a Jahova's Witness doing his daily rounds of spreading the word.  When he knock on her son's door, the son's eyes went wide.  The son, never having seen a little person before, assumed the little person was Rumplestilken.  He quickly scooped up the little person and imprisoned him.

    The little person did not press charges.  He did say that he will never do his rounds again without his partner who was sick that day.

    Story #2

    There was a party.  Young adults were drinking.  One of the guys at the party went postal on his girlfriend.  He yelled and screamed so much that the other guys at the party got between them and tried to calm the man down.  It did not help.   During his lunatic ranting, he used a rock to smash the window of his truck that the girlfriend was driving while she was sitting in the driver's seat.  He opened the door and threw her out of the truck.  He got in and drove off.  The girlfriend called the RCMP. 

    Now, here comes the good part.  The part that in public I would pretend to be horrified at hearing but secretly giving a thumbs up to the RCMP for doing this.  I could never admit this publically.

    The RCMP catch up with the guy and pull him over.  They asked him to get out of the car.  They then said, "Here's what we do to drunk drivers."  They beat the living shit out of the guy. 

    Good job RCMP!  Granted you behaving that way is very, very wrong for so many reasons but, meh... the guy needed some sense knocked into him.

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    These sex stories are great. I'm a parent, so mine goes like this:

    "HURRY UP! He's getting out of the shower!"

    I have to brag.  I had a quickie this morning.  YES!  A quickie.  I feel like such a teenager.  I made a comment to my husband about a good dream I was having, and next thing I know he's back in bed (he was getting up for work).  It was awesome!  My husband is a very conservative guy, but OMG he's awesome in bed!  15 years and he still makes me blush.

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    What happens if my desire for sex never returns?  Right now I attribute it to busy schedules and lack of sleep due to children.  I would take a full night of sleep over the most amazing mind-blowing sex without a second thought.

    I cannot be the only other person out there feeling like a disappointment to my partner (even though my partner never complains) and worried that the intimacy will never return.  Or am I?

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    I wish that I was pregnant. We are into month six of trying and it's
    starting to scare me that nothing is happening.

    Every time I hear of a friend, an acquaintance or even a celebrity who
    is pregnant, I panic even more. The rumors that Mariah Carey is pregnant
    are making me crazy.

    Seeing white trash hicks who are just bad people on Maury who have
    babies and/or are pregnant infuriate me.

    I hope our time comes soon.

    In a sick sort of way, it's good to know I'm not the only author here who's just biding their time and looking for another job.

    I mean, I'm sorry that you guys are dealing with lousy work situations, too. But at least I'm not alone.

    My Job that is. I'm tired of it and want it to go away. I have considered leaving several time. Just wanting out. Throwing in the towel.
    I use use to love my job, I was good at it. I still am good at it. Actually every day I have people tell me this, but I just don't enjoy it anymore.
    Maybe I feel held back from it now. Maybe in my mind I think I could be doing so much better, then again that is in my mind.

    Do I make any sense?

    Lets just say I quit my job. What would I do then. I would no longer have financial stability. Would something come along that I would actually enjoy doing. What qualifications do I even have anymore. Could I make the things I enjoy a job. What what I have seen, that doesn't come easy.

    Does a person stick what there good at and what is stable or do they follow the things the really enjoy and hope the money comes?
    A friend of mine has a secret blog, and she writes about me. It's not a group secret blog. She doesn't know that I know.
    A friend of mine has a secret blog, and she writes about me. It's not a group secret blog. She doesn't know that I know.
    I feel like I'm less intelligent than my partner.

    I don't like to have intellectual conversation or debates with him, play games with him, or tell him about my work because I feel like I just can't measure up to him. I never know what to say and I never have the immediate knowledge to put out an opinion like he seems to. It could be that we're just so divergent in our interests and areas of expertise that I just don't have a chance to show any knowledge. Even if I wanted to, I don't think he'd be at all engaged by talking about what I know or what I'm good at. It just feels really crappy to always feel like you're less than someone else, especially someone you love.
    I've been waiting an hour and a half for my supervisor to check over this document.
    We agreed last week -- after several quality-control problems -- that she would be the one to do this from now on.
    I was game for it, I want to be better.
    But my shift ends in 12 minutes and I still don't have her name on it.
    And she refuses to let anyone else do it.

    I officially post more to the secret blog than I do my own.

    I absolutely hate them.

    I can't say this on my own site because at any particular time, I have at least one friend who is planning her wedding. (It's always "her" wedding.) My dislike for weddings has absolutely nothing to do with any individual and much more to do with my sense that weddings are self-indulgent parties for people who are rather blatant about wanting to be the center of attention. If I told you that I was planning a party and that you had to wear a certain color, and pay attention to ME all night long, and not do anything that would upstage me, you would think I was crazy. But if I invite you to my wedding, you will think nothing of the same insane requests.

    I love my friends who have gotten married. I can't blame them for getting swept into the craziness that comes with that diamond ring. But just once, I'd like to get an invitation to a barbecue reception. Wear your jeans and bring your swimming trunks.

    That's all, for now. :)
    Our territorial government is a joke. A total joke.

    From the cabinet, who have been mired in scandals almost since day one, to the regular MLAs, who are so out of touch with their constituents they base their priorities on our rag of a newspaper, which is so poorly regarded that its endorsements are the kiss of death to any public initiative, they are all a joke.

    I can't even start to rank them. Ranking them would mean that someone would have to be at the top, and this bunch is jockeying for the lower rungs and building the ladder even deeper into the ground. Heck, they would probably blow up the ladder if they had a chance. They would self-righteously declare that the ladder wasn't built with the right sort of consultation and so the only proper approach would be to dismantle the whole thing and start over in a culturally appropriate manner.

    The only thing we regular guys can do is wait for the term to be over and hope that a smarter group takes their place. And keep an eye on them to make sure they don't make any decisions that can't be undone after the election. We've learned that lesson the hard way.
    I post to my personal blog pretty much every day. Some day's posts are better than others, and I admit that some days I just "call it in" and embed a video or post photos.
    I have to admit that in the last few months, I have been "calling it in" far more frequently than I ever have. Providing thoughtful, well-researched blog entries on a daily basis is work, and lately, I just haven't had the energy to do what's necessary to put out a quality product as often as I have in the past. I do have a full-time job, and it requires attention.
    But I think the other part of it is just the natural waxing and waning that's inherent in any endeavor or relationship. Sometimes, my writing is on fire, and I feel proud and energized by what I post. Other times, it feels like a chore. I'm just in a natural slump right now.
    So why do I feel guilty that I'm not entertaining my readers in the fashion to which they've become accustomed?
    Well maybe he's not actually my boss, maybe he's just my superior. Still, it's baaaaad news.

    But I can't help it.

    Take off maybe about 10-15 years and he's my ideal guy. He's smart, witty, equally a hockey fan and does yoga with the woman at lunch.  Loves his job and cares about it, and is good at it. Is probably the snarkiest person ever -- that scares some people, but I'm that way too so it just makes me laugh.

    We get along swimmingly. Though I'm new at my job, he turns to me for input on a lot of things that he doesn't go to other coworkers for.

    He gets my sense of humour, and that's so rare these days.

    I'm not so hung up on the man that I get all tingly when he's nearby (I mean, come on, we sit 5 feet from one another) and while most of the time he makes my day, I don't want to go slit my wrists when he's not at work.

    And really, the man's got two kids and a wife who's survived cancer.

    So it's not like its ever going to happen.

    But I can't help but hope maybe he's got a younger brother?
    So please stop asking me.  Would you be okay if your dad dropped dead unexpectedly?  If you were out on a stunningly sunny Saturday afternoon, doing your grocery shopping, to come home to that really, really, really awful phone call... How do you thinkI am handling it?  How the hell do you think my mum is handling it?  Not bloody well, that's how. 
    And while I'm on the subject, stop asking me how it happened.  Do you want all the gory details, or is it that you would like to see me break down in tears so you can cluck and shake your head and say "You poor thing.  It'll get better in time.  Just remember the good times and say your prayers."  I don't want to remember the good times, nor do I want to sit silently and pray for my dearly departed dad's immortal soul. 
    What I want is to have my dad back... to have not been away the weekend before, so I could have called home to talk to (ie - argue with) him again.  What I want is my dad to meet my children one day when I have them... and my mum not to be alone and so be hurting so friggin much. 
    I'm really angry and fairly sad. 
    I'm tired of being philosophical.  I am tired of being gracious... I'm sick to death (no pun intended) of saying "Yes well, his quality of life had been deteriorating, so it was for the best I suppose... and he didn't suffer in the end."  I'm sick of it.  So no.  I am not okay, so please, please, please leave me the hell alone.   
    And as I write... in another window, another well meaning friend has asked how I am... and of course, I said "Fine thanks, how are you?"  Because, at the end of the day, I know all the words, sympathy etc is borne out of love and well wishes.
    But that still doesn't mean I'm okay... so if you ask and I say I'm okay... I'm lying to you.
    You know the current leader of the NWT?  I don't want to say his name cuz I don't want this post showing up as a search result for him.  The initials are FR.  He's from a northern community.  Anyway, I googled his name once to see what history I could find.  Did you know he was a car mechanic before being the leader?  A f'en car mechanic runs the show in the NT.  What a joke! 

    Ok, maybe it's not funny.  Maybe it's just embarassing. 

    I think it will only get worse.  MM from HayR is next in line.

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    Smells bad everywhere
    Yell Yell Yell
    Bottles of beer
    Bad feeling
    Sad Sad Sad

    -7 yr old

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    Do you know why I'm a fool? When the Canadian government announced it was setting up a Joint Review Panel to evaluate the "potential impacts" of the proposed Mackenzie Valley Pipeline, I was GLAD.

    Yes, GLAD.

    Maybe I'm more of an idiot than a fool.

    That was 2004. I saw the pipeline, a huge infrastructure project with environmental, social, cultural, economic, and energy implications, as something that should be taken seriously. I thought its review should be coordinated by a single body to reduce the duplication that could easily result from having several agencies do the review.

    The budget was about $6 million. Seven panelists would do the review with the help of staff. They were to deliver a final report within a year.

    This, I thought, was our opportunity to show that northerners could do it. We could take on a serious project and deliver on time and on budget. The result would be truly northern and reflect the priorities of our own people.

    I was such a fool.

    Hearings started in 2006 and went on for two years. The panel wanted everyone to have a say. EVERYONE. If you wanted to intervene, you could do that. If you wanted to appear before them, you just had to show up at one of the many, many community meetings the panel held all over the NWT. It didn't matter if you had nothing to say. It didn't matter if you were essentially duplicating someone else's presentation. You've got thousands of pages of documents? Bring them on in!

    The panelists questioned the people who appeared before them. They wanted to make sure all of the presenters were serious. They asked questions like "Where will the workers buy chips?" and "Suppose this project goes through. And suppose that there's another project after this one. And then, hypothetically, something bad could happen with the second project. And on that day, you might be out of town. How would your agency respond to the crisis?"

    I'm telling you, it was a gong show.

    Then we found out they were WAY over budget. Not just your standard northern "over budget", either. The last I heard, they had run up over $18 million in bills. We knew they were way past their deadline, but we didn't know just how little they cared about meeting any of the original timelines. They told us they'd publish their report in 2009. Then they adjusted this to December 31, 2009. They ended up releasing it on December 30, 2009. I am sure this is the JRP's idea of "getting the report out early".

    In the meantime, the estimated cost of the Mackenzie Gas Project soared to $16 billion from its original $4 billion.

    For some odd reason, I've developed a hate for fat people.  I don't know where it comes from.  When I see an obese person, I am literally disgusted.  It has gotten to the point where I have to stop myself from saying something to the person. 

    Not all fat people bother me.  It's only the ones that are so fat that they waddle around or have to work extremely hard to walk up a flight of stairs.  It's the people that are so fat that the only pants they wear are those leggings (for women) and sweat pants (for guys).

    I know it's wrong to hate.  Should I be ashamed?

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    I'm going to love this blog.  I have my own blog but I can't say what I really want to.  I wish sometimes I could be a kid again.  Being a grown up is really hard.  I remember as a kid always wanting to be a grown up, to live on my own and have my own car.  Life seemed so easy as a kid.  I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and kick young me's ass.  Between working full time, being a parent and spouse and keep up with household chores, there is no time for ME.  Of course, people always say "you have to make time for yourself". I truly believe those people do not have children.  If I am making time for ME, that means I'm taking it from someone or something else.  I don't know how to relax anymore.  I feel like I'm being pulled in all different directions, and god forbid if I complain or get sick.  Being a grown up really sucks sometimes.

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    I'm putting myself in a time out.

    I normally reserve time out for my kids, but i'm actually feeling
    like a child myself right now. I want to scream, I want to throw
    myself to the floor and kick my legs, throw my arms, and do what
    every other child does to seemly get out all of their frustration.
    My kids are driving me insane, just listening to my husband talk
    drives me up the wall, and I currently have the patience of a three
    year old. The reason for my regression to the 'terrible twos'
    attitude? I don't even know. I'm frustrated with the state that my
    life is in right, and frustrated that I don't seem to have any
    control whatsoever over my immediate future. Someone else right now
    is getting to decide the path that my life is going to take over the
    next couple of years, and they seem to be taking their sweet-assed
    time telling me their decision. Maybe that's why I feel so much like
    a child....in essence, i'm getting treated like one.

    I'm an educated women, I make good decisions, and have done well with
    my life....yes, it has taken a different turn than I thought it
    would, but overall I think I have made good choices. So I hate the
    feeling of being out of control, and someone who doesn't know me from
    a hole in the wall has it all.

    So, i'm going to stomp around, i'm going to cry, i'm going to lay on
    the floor in the middle of the room and refuse to pick up my
    toys....well, that is, until the kids wake up from their nap and I
    have to put my 'adult' face back on.

    I take responsibility for the majority of house-related tasks in my household. Errands, vet visits, service people - I take care of 95% of these tasks. If there's an emergency, I'm the one who rearranges my schedule or takes time off to manage it. The reasons for this have everything to do with the circumstances of my employment - I work from home full-time, and my husband works in an office full-time. Because I don't have a commute and do self-directed work, I have the flexibility to be able to manage these tasks effectively, and I do.
    I don't mind handling these tasks. It just makes sense for me to do so, and in a partnership, there are going to be certain aspects of household management that fall more heavily on one person than the other.
    But sometimes, just sometimes, I would like my husband to acknowledge the fact that it is always me who takes responsibility for these tasks. It's stressful for me to take care these things while still performing the work for which I'm paid, and I would occasionally like him to acknowledge that my work on our behalf is not some kind of entitlement he enjoys as a result of my profession, but is in fact something I do because I choose to. It wouldn't kill him to periodically say THANK YOU. Because nobody enjoys feeling like they're being taken for granted.
    I'm terrified of my job. For a few reasons.

    I'm mostly terrified because I don't feel like I'm good enough at it. I feel like I'm in over my head and that I won't be able to meet the expectations of my company. I can't tell if this is just my self-consciousness talking, or if it's actually true.

    I'm also terrified because I always strive to love my job. To wake up every morning and want to go to work. Sometimes, I don't feel like that here. Probably partially due to reason one. I worry that I picked the wrong field. Not always, but sometimes.

    I'm also terrified that I don't look the part for the job I have. I'm terrified I dress wrong, or act wrong, or will say something irreparable. I'm terrified that people won't take me seriously.

    Now, I know someone will comment on this post, so I want to end by saying that I'm not depressed or unhappy or aching to quit my job. I didn't write this for those reasons. I just wanted to get those fears out. I'm sure they are normal fears that everyone has, I just don't normally talk about them.

    My ex had a baby last weekend.
    A year ago we were together.

    Now he looks serenely at a little pink scrunchy-faced rugrat.

    I wish I didn't know. Not really my fault, to be fair. His mom added me to Facebook back in the day. Only realized after the fact I could 'hide' her updates on my home page.

    I look back now and know we didn't work. He didn't work. But at the time, he was my everything. I genuinely thought we were in it for the long haul. I'm a little bit ashamed of how naive and hopeless I was.

    I begin again.

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