Being In The Winners Circle.. When No One Else Is Playing.

I'm currently 10 days into a 24 day cleanse.  We're not talking about something crazy like only drinking cayenne honey lemon water until your asshole prolapses, just a boring old cleanse.  It's probably easier to say what I can eat than list the million things I can't.  Basically it's lean proteins, non starchy vegetables and limited fruit.  As for beverages I'm thanking the sweet lord above coffee is legit and of course tea and water.  This means no alcohol.  No red wine, beer, lime palm bays, sangria or any of the other beverages I've come to enjoy so thoroughly.  This will mark a huge milestone in my drinking career.  Never in the past 8-9 years have I given my pickled liver more than a 6 day break, NEVER.  I did try once before on another cleanse to make it 12 days which failed miserably once Friday night rolled around.  I really do have a very special love for food but when it comes down to it I'll settle for oatmeal for the rest of my days as long as it's paired with my beverage of choice.  This may make me sound like an alcoholic and maybe I am but that doesn't change the facts.  This is going to be a LONG 24 days.  We're probably thinking the same thing, how on earth am I going to pull this off? I consider myself a very competitive person.  I'll use any excuse to turn a friendly game into something a little less friendly that can likely be bragged about later.  I can single handedly do this to ANY game that has more than 1 person participating.  Cranium, cards, bocce, baseball you name it and I've probably got money or my dignity (usually both) riding on the outcome.   Solo sports have never been my thing and you can probably figure out why.  Honestly I have a hard time playing games on my phone more than once because it's so god damn boring trying to beat your own score.  I've always thought of people that lived for solo sports to be weaker human beings.  Maybe they don't stand a chance in a game against anyone but themselves?  My apologies and condolences if that's what you're in to and I'm forced to wonder, what is the point?!  This may make me out to sound a bit intense and maybe even petty but I'm always in it for the possibility of a win.  This obviously isn't the outcome every time (I lack natural athletic skill) and often I'm forced to swallow sadness but at least I'm swallowing something.  Imagine winning something like the world cup in ping pong, jumping up and down alone, hugging yourself.  Or imagine eating a 12 pack of calorie free long johns watching The Real World on MTV.  I would take the latter even if I had to replace MTV for TSN because winning alone isn't winning at all.  I consider a cleanse some form of a solo sport, which as I stated above I'm no good at.  I've proven this time and time again, I just don't care enough to see the outcome when I'm the only one at the finish line.  This is where the problem started.  I had to ask myself how I could get through this with out the force of a competition driving me.  Then I realized I didn't have to.   What this has turned into a classic dual only it's between fat me and skinny me, weak me and strong me and it's working like a charm.  Changing my mind set was all it took.  As long as I feel that I'm beating someone out (in this case my fat and weak alter ego) I can persevere through anything.  So I guess you can say I'm starting to think slightly more of all you solo sport lovers and starting to understand your mind set.  Maybe solo sports really can be fun and make you look cool.  I'm actually thinking of taking one up myself, check it out: http://www.howtodothings.com/how-to-spin-a-nunchuck If you know me at all you know that by me writing this blog there is no doubt in my mind I will make it the full 24 days.  Even though I'm only a portion of the way through this (14 days 4 hours to go) I can already see the finish line and taste the victory (a 24 oz glass of sangria).   Honestly never thought I would be saying this but I actually feel great.  I have more energy, I'm getting more done at work, I'm no longer a slave to my stomach and I'm even more happy (until Saturday night rolls around obviously).  Maybe it's a bit empowering to know my main addictions and habits don't control me and I'm capable of abstinence, at least for a short period of time.  Oh I also came to the realization that any future children I have with be produced in a surrogate womb.  Even one weekend off the sauce really can put a lot into prospective.  Nine months sounds like a death sentence, or worse, a baby with FAS.  Well enjoy your beverages of choice this weekend and have an extra (dozen) for me.

The bright side of my life..

I found this on one of the many wedding blogs I frequent. I usually scan something like this and move right on past without thinking twice.  I read this one right through.  Then I read it again.  I feel like at least the first half of these random sentences are things I try to live by, or at the very least I tell others to live by (never been that good at taking my own advice).  

We all know life is too short to be unhappy in any aspect, but that doesn't mean we all go through life living it that way.  In my eyes my life is pretty god damn fantastic.  I have some amazing friends.  A retarded dog that loves to snuggle.  An understanding and entertaining family that just happens to have a cabin on a beautiful lake.  An exceptional wedding to plan.  A one month trip to Europe in the fall.  A job I actually like and pays me more than I'm worth.  My health (as far as I know).  A well stocked liquor cabinet and a gift for martini mixing.  A shit load of random and enjoyable hobbies.  A home that could be hitched up and moved away, ahh the freedom!  Last but not least Carey, my favourite person on earth who I get to spend the rest of my life with.  SO many things go into the reasons I get up in the morning.  For all the bitterness and sarcasm I expose in this blog this may seem hard to believe but anyone who truly knows me knows I am honestly happy.  Which is all that really matters and all that makes life worth living. This makes me sound like my mom but after hearing it 1000 times I will finally admit that it's true. It's your choice to be happy or it's your choice to be a bitter pig (not the exact words my mom uses).  So if your reading this and just wishing you were this happy stop being such a pussy and make it happen. No one feels sorry for you so stop feeling sorry for yourself, it's not a good look.


LIFE is good today! On the eve of this surely glorious 4 day weekend may we all celebrate the resurrection of our lord Jesus Christ!  OR drink and eat our faces off for 4 straight days.. your choice!

Double..Trouble? Mint? Rainbow? HOMICIDE.

Given the opportunity there are many things I would change about myself.  For one, I wouldn't interrupt anyone, ever.  Sometime it feels like I'm watching myself about to cut someone off mid sentence.  My brain is trying to stop my mouth from opening but it's like a compulsive disorder that it has a mind of its own.  Secondly, I would have the metabolism of a  humming bird.  I wouldn't be one of the skinny people who doesn't care what they have for dinner or can't remember what they had for lunch.  I would be the skinny person that appreciated my good genes but ate like a horse just because I could.  I could go on but I'll spare you (and save it for another blog) because this one is about something I never had a choice in but wouldn't trade for anything.  My twin sister.

From what I hear having a twin is a something most kids dream about.  Someone you could use to play tricks on people, a person to share your room or better yet, your clothes.  Of course being a twin isn't all practical jokes and large wardrobes. Firstly and easily the most aggravating part of having a identical twin is for the first 15 or so years you do not have your own identity. With the exception of close friends and family you are just "the twins".  When any normal kid spends at the least the first two decades of their life trying to be an individual we're just trying to get people to figure out our names.  The older I got the more this bothered me.  Clearly we have some differences in our appearance which would be easy to see if you were looking, which most people don't bother to do.  Bottom line if you don't know which one I am by now you never will.  Why? Because I won't give you the fucking time of day.

I'm not sure if this one can be filed under pro or con but since as far back as I can remember my sister and I have been in a some type of competition.  It's not just us doing this to each other, it's on everyone’s minds.  Who is better at which sport?  Who's smarter?  Who is more successful?  Who is better looking? You might not come out and ask these questions (some retards do) but you've probably thought about it.  My life has been like a god damn decathlon against my sister where the events keep changing.  On the bright side this keeps me on my toes.  It would be a lot easier to gain 15 lbs if she wasn't around to compare myself to.  Also this comes back to people not being able to tell us apart.. if she’s really good at something there's still a good chance she might be confused for me anyways.  Bonus, I win without lifting a finger.

Twin jokes... really?  They are all SO lame and far from funny.  You know when someone does something so embarrassing you actually feel embarrassed for them?  That is the feeling I have when I hear these half-witted sayings.  Things like 'are you the good twin or the bad twin?' or 'two of a kind' or one of the corniest of all 'double troouuuuble'.  I swore from the age of about 8 that I would stop fake laughing when idiots chimed in with garbage like that and I haven't looked back since.

There are obvious advantages to having a twin.  We never got picked on in high school.  Seeing as we always had each other as backup it probably wasn't worth the hassle.  It's nice to always have someone on your team no matter what.  We always have each other to get a totally honest opinion.  YES you look like a cow in that outfit and NO you shouldn't skip the gym today.  Being able to bounce ideas off my sister before voicing them publicly have allowed me to avoid countless confrontations.  Seeing as it's my natural instinct is to be a bit of a c-bomb she’s acted as a filter from time to time to save me the hassle of having to apologize after all is said and done. There’s someone to share a license with when suffering the repercussions of a DUI as well as someone to take driving tests for you if you busy or retarded (or in my sisters case, both).  If I ever need a kidney, I know where I'm looking first.  Bottom line getting born with a built in best friend is nothing to whine about and it's clear the advantages make the disadvantages seems pretty insignificant.  Oh and did I mention Law & Order SVU taught me that as an identical twin I could easily get away with murder.  So if you're part of the 99.7% of the population who doesn't have a twin, my condolences and DON'T cross me or I'll kill you and get away with it.

Delightful Sangria Recipe

Get a large bucket because a juice jug will just not cut it.  Put a few scoops of ice in first.  Not too much ice though, you don't want to water this perfect beverage down.  It's best to just add ice to your glass with each serving so you don't get ripped off on the alcohol content.

1 liter of cheap red wine
1 bottle of boones sangria mix
1 lemon cut into wedges
1 orange cut into wedges
1 lime cut into wedges
some orange juice (get the good stuff with pulp)
a few shots of triple sec
1 cup of raspberries
1 cup sliced strawberries
soda (you be the judge)


I used to make a variation of this with vodka as well. but I honestly don't recommend that.  I guarantee you will want to have several glasses of this and it would be a bonus for any bystanders if you could still form a sentence after.  Enjoy.. I know I will.

Thanks for sharing..

At some point or another everyone has met this person and been a victim to this crime.  When I come across this I'm only shocked the first time as these people are usually repeat offenders. Who exacting am I referring to? For lack of a better word, oversharers.  Now I know you have at least one person that instantly comes to mind.  That idiot thats doesn't have a social filter on what they can say to who.  I've come up with some basic guidelines to help you identify this person and place animosity where it is due.

OVERSHARERS:
-Tell personal things about themselves or others that you wish you didn't know.
-Make reference's about their sex life (when they are NOT attractive OR are related to you)
-Say funny yet revolting things with a straight face (note: laughing while giving too much info can alleviate the awkwardness and make you slightly less hated)
-Send spam emails that aren't appropriate for all 300 of their email contacts (example: A baby announcement with pictures of the birth and info about what they're planning to do with the placenta)
-Post facebook status updates about their rash that just won't go away while asking their 600 facebooks "friends" for advice.

Firstly there are exceptions to most rules and there are a few select people in your life you're allowed to indulge with too much information without an invitation.  For instance when your telling a story to your closest of friends it's almost expected that your going to give that extra shocking and maybe even repulsive tidbit.  It always makes the story that much more hilarious and memorable.  Overall I think if you're looking for a laugh while telling an offensive or vulgar story you get a pass.  Most people are willing to put aside the fact that you shit your pants if lets say in the story  it was at a piano recital, while wearing khakis.   But many people aren't as open to hearing about your bowels giving out if you have a straight face on and you're looking for sympathy.  Thats disgusting, your rotten, take that to the grave.

Hearing about a sexual mishap can be entertaining.  If a girl had a grand mal seizure while your were getting it on, I want to hear about it.  However, if you physically gross me out with your clothes on I do not want to picture you with them off, let alone in a explicate story where your fucking someone who is likely equally if not more unattractive than yourself.  Sorry, there is a reason why most porn is made with fit and somewhat appealing people.  No one whats to think about the reality that fat, greasy people have sex with each other.   Hmm this could pose a problem with my exception given above if you're close friends with greasy fat people.  Well if so thats your problem, not mine.

What exactly is it about people that have babies and feel like the whole world wants to know details of the birth?  To be honest I've been the person who has asked for the gory details, in which case let the flood gates open.  If you've been asked for details your not oversharing. But this does not mean if someone asks the weight of the baby you have permission to spout off about the amount of fluids that gushed out before and the 10 pound amniotic sac you spat out after.

Overall I would just like to say please make sure you know your audience before you verbally assault them.  Always test the waters first.  Please don't make yourself that person I avoid in the grocery store.

Only one way to go from here..

Last weekend myself and 7 others took off on a much anticipated snow shoeing trip up the mountain.  We had been planning this trip for over a month and for the most part none of us really knew what we were getting ourselves into.  I had done this same hike 2 or 3 times before but it had been upwards of 5 years since my last trek and lets be honest, I haven't done by body or brain many favours in last the 5 years.  Another key factor of the story is that in the past every time I attempted this athletic feat it had been sunny and dry, mostly in the early summer months.  Hiking 5km up hill with a 45 pound backpack on while trying out snow shoes for the first time is in no way comparable to any balmy summer time stroll I've taken up in the past.  In spite of all of this I was actually feeling really good on the way up.  I've been frequenting the gym for the past 6 months and am in considerably better shape than I was this time last year.  I kept my pace at the front of the pack looking back to see the pain on the others faces only boosted my spirits.  I liked being up front, having people suffer behind me (leave it to me to turn a hike in to some type of competition).  Just so your not let down by the rest of this story I'll tell you that at this point internally I was at the summit of good times mountain and from there on theres only one way to go, down.

Once we got to the Edwards Lake we knew we were only about 1 km from the cabin. Of course the direction of the cabin from the lake was still unknown.  There were two paths that were visible in the snow, both going in the same general northern direction.  We began to cross the frozen lake towards the point where the path split.  This was the point as which my exhaustion started to kick in.  Plowing through the not so light and fluffy powder was not as easy as it looked.  It was apparent on the others faces that they were feeling my pain.  After a quick discussion we veered on to the NW side of the trail.  Once we reached the forest again we saw an arrow drawn in the snow, it was pointing in the opposite direction.  Of course we ignored it, that arrow could have meant anything.  To be honest the cynic in me felt like someone was trying to fuck with us.  What I should have been thinking is most people doing these types of treks are granola eating hippies who just don't go around fucking with people.  The thought probably never comes in to there stinky dread covered heads.  If you haven't already figured it out, we took the wrong trail.  GOD DAMMIT we took the wrong trail.  Not only did we have to back track but we still had at least 1 more uphill km to go once we got back to the lake.  The only thing that had the ability to lift my spirits at this point was seeing the desperation in Brett's eyes.  Brett is my sisters boyfriend.  He and I are somewhat mortal enemies, in a sort of joking / I will punch you right in the mouth kinda way.  I would like to extend a thank you to Brett.  Seeing the anguish in his face gave me the strength to push through the horrific pain and make the final ascent to the cabin.

Finally we had arrived!!  We were instantly greeted by a group of 8 Pender people who had hiked up the day before. Euphoria spread through the group.  Thankful and satisfied we hurried inside and claimed our spots in the sleeping loft.  Turns out there was 4 others who where also staying at the cabin as well.  Not 2 hours later 6 more people showed up.  I don't know what you're imagining when I say 'cabin' so maybe I should elaborate.  It's about 30 x 20 at most.  Theres a small kitchen like area, with no running water.  A medium sized table with benches around, which closely resembles a picnic table.  A wood stove at one end beside a latter to the loft upstairs and one seriously rank out house.  When the last group of hikers arrived we were at max capacity in the loft and most of the cold soggy floor on the main level was spoken for as well.  Believe it or not they decided to make a snow cave to sleep in.  The very thought of sleeping outdoors snow cave or not revolted me.  I was more than happy to have my tiny spot in the corner of the loft and put up no argument when they set out to build the cave.  Little did the fools who were thanking god for their spot in the loft know what was to come next.

The next few hours were a bit strange.  I'm going to summarize this quickly because it's hardly relevant to my story.  A hiker went missing coming down from Mount Steel to the Edwards Lake cabin.  His wife had been with him on the way down and they got separated.  Once it got dark we sent out search parties from our cabin to no avail.  By the sounds of it he was the kind of guy who could survive for 5 days with his nalgene bottle of water and the mountain equipment co-op clothes on his back. His wife was confident he would be ok but it was a tense situation in our 600 sqft cabin.  By no means the kind of scene where you can enjoy putting down a few bottles of wine.  Lucky for us the Pender people had  spend 5 hours earlier that day building an outstanding snow fort.

Seeing as there was over 13 feet of snow at the cabin the snow fort was more of a snow cave, completely underground.  They had used a tarp for the roof and door area making it completely encapsulated.  This is where trouble had unknowingly started to brew.  Of course it was nice to be out of the cheerless, gloomy cabin with others who were up there to have a good time but there was a price to pay for the super happy good times in the snow cave.  I believe this cave was built for one reason only: hot boxing.  Don't get me wrong, there was a day where I would have been more than happy to hot box a snow cave. That day is not today and I have known for some years that I can not handle smoking weed while drinking.  Actually come to think of it I can't handle smoking weed sober.  This is one act that almost always ends up with me feeling like the room is spinning, trying to sleep with one eye open which is likely to result in barfing.  In this case I had already downed a delightful bottle of red wine so you could say my judgement was slightly clouded.  There I sat in the hot box for the next 3, 4 or maybe 5 hours (the time frame is a bit hazy) enjoying another bottle of wine and some ultra delicious pre-mixed candy apple martinis.  Please note that at no point did I ever actually smoke any weed.

This is where my memory fails me so please note I'm going off information gathered from about 5 different sources as to what took place next.  I claimed I was going to bed.  My friend Michelle tried to coax me in to staying up but apparently I was quite adamant.  From the evidence I found in the morning I've concluded that I went into the cabin (where everyone else was fast asleep) pulled off my boots and second layer of pants and left them in a pile at the bottom of the latter.  This tells me I was VERY gone by that point.  Never in my right mind would I leave my things scattered about a tiny cabin with a bunch of near strangers.  I then climbed up into the loft and trampled a few people on my way to my spot in the corner.  WAIT before I go on I'm going to give you some background on myself:

I give myself credit where credit is due.  Always have, always will.  Since the age of about 9 I haven't puked once without warning or in a place other than the toilet or the outdoors (well...maybe the odd bucket).  I'm just not that kind of person.  Theres been several times in the past 10 years where I've been around someone who is not so lucky.  To be honest I usually looked down on them with disgust, pretending to understand.  I should also tell you that I truly have a talent at holding my booze.  I can drink a copious amounts of liquor for my size.  I know, I must make my mother SO proud. Well all this changed on that monumental night in one fell swoop.

At this point I've gotten into bed.  There are some allegations about the details from here but from this entire black out I have one single memory.  I'm sitting up looking down at my pillow wondering WHO the hell puked on it.  There is no way I could have done this, I'm just NOT that person.  That moment of "clarity" left as quickly as it came.  Oh and I'm super glad I emptied out the clothes from my backpack and left them in a neat pile right beside my pillow, perfect target.  In my mind it magically cleaned itself up and I slipped back into a blissful slumber.  In all reality my sister (also suffering from a slightly more classy black out) bagged up the 'soiled' bedding and put it out on the deck.  Thanks Kristy, your a real champ.  Oh apparently also as an extra treat to the other 25 PEOPLE at the cabin I then went out on the deck and blew chunks all over the entrance area below.  I don't like to do things half-way.

I woke up around 5 hours later on Carey's twin mattress, with Carey next to me and tried to piece together the events of the night before.  I laid there before the sun came up for about an hour, swallowing sadness (like a boss).  I took this time to connect the dots and come to some conclusions on the matter at hand.  Here are some semi-legit excuses considering the situation:

-Altitude sickness.  If you remember reading a previous post I got extremely ill at my last snowy mountain adventure as well.  I'm seeing a theme.  It must be the altitude!
-Dehydration.   I drank about 500ml of water that entire day.  Mostly on account of Carey looking like he was going to drop dead on the way up if I didn't give him my precious water.  Being the nice girlfriend I am I gave him the better half of my tiny water bottle (sort of like he gave me half of his tiny bed? Thanks Carey).
-Karma.  Maybe a higher power thought I needed a reality check.  Point taken. I will most definitely have more sympathy for all you no warning pukers out there.  Turns out it really can happen to anyone (I'm using anyone pretty loosely).

THE REALITY: You can get stoned in a snow cave hot box and weed + boozey = projectile vomit. Lesson learned, the hard way.

That morning is up there on my list of 'reasons to kill myself'.  Kidding, but I bet the suckers sleeping next to my barf all night were thinking up ways to end their lives! Hahah.  Anyway after I packed up what little dignity I had left I said some quick sorrys to the innocent bystanders who had to huff in my aroma of my vom all night long, we were ready to go.  Before we departed I noticed a beer bottle left on the bench outside (mine of course) and I squeezed it into the area between my back and my backpack.  The same spot you would put a really large sword or staff if you were a ninja.   Now I'm dragging my ass 5 km back down this godforsaken mountain (with a bag filled with bedding and barf no less). Not 5 minute in my snow shoe slips off my foot, great.  Carey's laughing like a hyena behind me as I bend over to put it back on.  Then, believe it or not, the bottom of that icy cold stale beer poured down the back of my neck.  Obviously I lost it and chucked the bottle in the bush, which seemed like the only option in that moment.  I took a deep breath and reach into my fanny pack (I know they're super gay, but hands free.. you can't beat that!) and pulled out my tiny water bottle.  It seemed lighter than it should be.  Maybe because 3/4 of it were missing.  My fanny pack, crotch and snow pants are soaked from the leaky water bottle.  All I could think was, THIS IS BULLSHIT! who did I shit on to not only get handed the short end of the stick, but get beaten relentlessly with it.

Your probably wondering when this is all going to turn around for me.  Don't hold your breath, it doesn't.  Not every day ends the way you want it to.  Actually most don't.  This one ended with me eating McDonald's and feeling sorry for myself, but I could think of several worse outcomes.  The only good that comes out of this story is that you can read it and feel better about your life.  Your welcome, you owe me.

Like a BOSS..

I've always loved the gratification of creating something from nothing.  Mostly I like creating things that other people appreciate.  I'm a real sucker for a good pat on the back!  I've gotten into many different hands on crafts over the years but nothing has appealed to me quite like cake decorating.  I don't know exactly what started this obsession (I'm thinking a combo watching too many episodes of Cake Boss and the 350 pound woman living inside me). In the past year I've made several creative cakes, all with completely different themes (I'll post some pictures shortly for your viewing pleasure). Luckily for me my sister has grown quite interested in cakes as well, making her the perfect help for these massive projects we commonly take on.  Unluckily for her that 350 pound woman lives on the outside of her.  She's always loved bavarian cream a  little too much!

Cake decoration takes an insane amount of time.  I find myself playing it down when people ask details, probably because it would make me sound necrotic and obsessive if I told them exactly how many hours were spent creating the perfect cake.  I'm just not the kind of person who would be able to show up with anything less than perfect.  Like most hobbies I gotten into I've noticed my stress levels hit an all time high while creating cakes.  This is most likely because if my product doesn't turn out flawless I'll start over (alternatively if time doesn't allow this I would either fake a serious illness or slit my own wrists, depending on the day).

I've been reading this cake blog recently which is quite interesting.  It's entertaining enough but I'm just shocked and the kind of cakes this girl is willing to share with the world.  To be completely honest 85% of them are terrible (FYI I make up percentages ALL the time, I think it's some kind of disorder I suffer from). They look sloppy and cheap and resemble something that would be produced in grade 9 cooking class. I mean I will give points for creativity and mostly they're a step up from what you would get at the grocery store but come on, is she blind!?  I think I follow the blog religiously just to boost my own self confidence. The more I look at her junky cakes the better I feel about my superior decorating skills. I think it's comparable to going bathing suit shopping with someone whose 20 pounds overweight.. it always makes that 10 pounds you've been carrying around on your ass look more like 5.  So thanks to the cake blogger for making my cake skills look first-class and if you keep testing your new creations I'll happily go bathing suit shopping with you.

In closing I'll let you know that my sister Kristy and I plan to start a cake decorating business called 'Simply Cakes' in the next year so we can start making some cold hard cash for our blood and sweat.  Not literally blood and sweat, thats insanely unsanitary.  Oh and I guess I should clear a few things up.  My sister isn't 350 pounds (yet).  Also I'm not the type of person who would ever be able to slit my own wrist... I'm far more likely to go down with a pill cocktail and a half dozen candy apple martinis.