Hey, all. Sorry I've been ignoring your need to read my blog and realize your life is much more uncomplicated and much more relaxing. I'll fill you in quickly while I still have the internet connection I've jacked from my brother's wellness clinic.
The move went well. I'm so sick of packing, and I'm sure that when I begin unpacking I'll be finding barbeque tools with left over cereal boxes and a lonely can of tuna all stuffed in a box. Filling the left over boxes went by in a bit of a blur. My exams were 'meh'. There are only so many major Canadian historical events that took place after Confederation in 1867 that one brain can remember. Still don't have a mark, so I'm taking that as a good sign--he's probably in awe of my insight of how the Maritime Rights Movement impacted Canadians' outlook on decreasing tariffs. Take that, History 102.
We are so glad to be back home with our families (ahem...my niece) for the holidays :) We will be enjoying our stay at both family homes until our house finally arrives mid-January. And since I'm the most patient person on the planet (obviously), it will be a piece o' cake.
I've been found out and summoned off the computer, so enjoy your week or two of holidays and have a very merry Christmas!!
Did you get my title? 7Eleven, like the gas station? It was a stretch, I know. Regardless, let me cut to the chase. We're outta here in 11 days. Reasons why I'm impatient:
1) My niece. She's walking and pointing (apparently, that takes priority over learning to talk for her), and I'm missing it. For 11 more days.
2) History exam. I've had about enough of the impacts of the Quiet Revolution or the reasons why Diefenbaker was unfit to run a country, let alone a 1960s style washing machine. It's a wonder why I find the time to blog amidst studying those two rather important moments in history. A side of procrastination, anyone?
3) Research Paper. Not just any research paper, of course, but a research paper about the influence of collaborative learning in a post-secondary composition class on student motivation and the building of classroom community. Wow, I may have just found my thesis.
4) Packing. I hate it. I kind of just want to throw/give everything away and watch as all those wedding gift cards appear before my eyes again so that we can just re-buy everything when we get home.
5) Rain. Blech. Give me a foot and a half of snow any day. I swear my toes have started webbing together.
6) Neighbours. Upstairs. Downstairs. Upstairs we have 'the movers': one large dose of floor sander sprinkled with a bit of marital UNbliss. Downstairs we have 'one small UNhappy family': one large dose of lack of communication sprinkled with a little less holiday cheer than the rest of us.
7) I cannot stress this more. My NIECE. See 1. She counts for 2 reasons.
We're moving! As you already know. I have exactly 20 days before we hit the road and a lot to accomplish in that short amount of time. 3 English assignments, 2 stupid exams, and a lot of packing to do *sung in the tune of 12 days of Christmas*. I've begun a small amount of packing: a box of summer clothes here, a box of nick nacks there.
Questions for you all: Do I seriously have to wait until two days before moving to pack kitchen stuff, winter clothes, etc etc? That'll drive me crazy, but I can't think of another way.
Actually, I can. They way our upstairs neighbours move. They've been 'moving' for 3 months now. They're moving as I write this. I can hear them. This list below is what we hear every other day (everyday sometimes if we're lucky):
-Multiple people wearing 10lbs hiking boots clomping around up there for at least 3 hours at a time.
-Dribbling of basketballs, we think.
-Floor grinding renovations that have been taking place for about 6 six weeks.
-The occasional marital dispute that heightens to vulgar language and lamp throwing, we assume.
That sounds like a way more efficient way of moving to me. You ask "How do you know they're moving if it has been going on for months on end?"
"Well," I say, "We know they are moving because we met her on a joyous elevator ride about a month ago. She was carrying a heavy box, and she stated, 'The joys of moving, eh?'. After that, the elevator got awkwardly quiet as we cursed our extremely slow ascent."
So yes, they're moving in the most prolonged and noisiest way EVER.
But seriously, where is a good place to find boxes?
I apologize, folks. I've been neglecting you. Do you feel neglected, or are you completely overwhelmed and excited that Christmas is a mere 37 days away?! You're probably excited about Christmas, which is why you should turn on your Christmas music this instant! (reread that with your best angry mother voice)
Aside from the fact that I am totally psyched about this holiday season, I have new (additional) reasons this year. Old and still extremely relevant reasons being: Jesus' birthday, same month my niece was born, wrapping all of our doors in wrapping paper (in that order). My new reason is that Ryan and I are permanently moving home right before Christmas! YAY! I know you've all missed us so incredibly much over the past 2 and a half years, but miss no more! We bought a house, Ryan has his dream job, and I am DONE school...for now. Don't worry though, I will still continue blogging regardless of my geographical location.
And now for the superhero part. Two things.
2. I'm incredibly proud of these people. I laugh hysterically at what they did but still proud. Click HERE and you'll see what I'm talking about.
Enjoy.
It's November! So, look behind you at your calendars. Change the month so that I can have peace of mind. I hate it when calendars are left months behind. Last month, I spotted my parents calendar on the wrong month while Skyping with my mother. *shutter*That's not really where I was going with this post, but I just want to be sure that you have all changed your calendars to the right month. Phew.
Recently, as in our last grocery shop, Ryan told me 'not too look at something'. Don't you hate it when people tell you 'Don't look!'. For instance: when someone is peeing on the side of the road OR when someone is wearing a polka dot patter, stripe pattern, and a floral all at the same time? I hate it. So I looked. At what? you ask. I can't remember, but that's not the point. The point is that I broke out into a 1970s pop song: "The Streak".
I shouted: "I said, 'Don't look, Ethel!...Too late. She'd already been mooned.'"
Now, those of you 40+ will probably know the song I'm referring to. Ryan did not. I shouldn't, but I do thanks to my parents collection of 70s and 80s pop hits. Anyway, he doubted me. HE did not think that the song existed; that someone would actually write a song and that it would become a hit with those lyrics. I proved him wrong, everyone. Thank you, YouTube.
Take a peek (pun intended). Click HERE.
Kick off your Sunday shoes. For me that equals heels, thanks to my overly stylish mother always challenging me to at least look good enough to be in the same room as her. And gladly will I 'kick them off'. After doing so, I'll dance.
I'm not sure if anyone has had this problem before, but I'll describe it to you in a bit of detail. Currently, it is quiet and still in our place as Ryan and I both pretend to be filling our minds with knowledge thrown at us by overdeveloped syllabuses and underrated professors, and yet, my foot will not stop keeping a beat. At this rate, I'll have cankles by Christmas. Also, I've had the same song stuck in my head for approximately 42 hours and I'm still not tired of it, nor do I quit dancing to it. And the final straw: I feel the NEED to learn a new line dance. Please, any suggestions to make it stop or at least limit it would be appreciated. I'm fairly sure our neighbours downstairs are done with the foot tapping and would show no sympathy for my swollen ankles.
Alright, I'm doing it again. You get to pick my pumpkin again this year. I've narrowed it down to 3; however, I'm definitely open for suggestions. So cast your vote on the bottom of this post or on the facebook link!
Tink! She never gets old.
Or do I tackle a NEW Disney character: Rapunzel!
You choose!
So I've been noticing lately how people have 'the best intentions', but it doesn't always work out. So let these few examples of 'The Best Intentions' be a lesson to you.
1. The Pumpkin Spice Latte.
Their best intention: For customers to feel all warm and fuzzy inside while they watch the seasons change and all the leaves disappear from the trees as a blizzard creeps in from the North to freeze them from the inside out.
The outcome: People are drinking milky gourds.
2. Charlize Theron's Red Carpet Look.
Her best intention: Draw attention away from her midsection.
The outcome: Well... I guess you could say she accomplished that with a little bit of coconut shell inspiration mixed in.
3. Wii Fit
Their best intention: Get couch potatoes to exercise right beside their favourite couches using a television and a remote control. Seems practical.
The outcome: I now have a 'perfect' golf swing while sitting sideways with my eyes closed eating popcorn.
Case closed.
For one of my History assignments this semester, we were asked to look at The Globe and Mail newspaper dated 80 prior to the week of our birthdays. This would make my specific week during March 1911 (do the math, people, I'm 20). Anyways, it got me thinking that news of TV these days is too detailed, graphic, and literally, ALL bad.
I came across the news section of March 14, 1911, where the deliverance of bad news was done in a rather matter-of-fact way, leaving the rest of the newspaper open for good news, fashion advice, advertisements about homemade cocoa, and of course, 'recipes your husband would love'. This is what it said:
Day's Accidents in Toronto
Burned to Death. Mrs. Elizabeth McArthur.
Struck by Street Cars. Mrs. E.J. Boyd and Mrs. Adair. Mr. Martin Kennedy.
Fell Down Elevator Shaft. Mr. Joseph Tait.
Fell in Lake. Mr. John Gardner.
Injured by Explosion. Mr. George H. Hargrave.
Swallowed Poison. An unknown man.
My question is: Why don't we do this now? I need recipes, people!
We're back in Abby. I still hate the weather. Today, it's 31 degrees, which if you know me, is just as bad as rain. I'm so sticky. Yuck.
Anyway, here are a few highlights of our first weekend back to school.
Our 'friend' comes over (let's call him Ned). Let me start over. NED comes over since we haven't seen him in four months. We get to chattin', watching Track and Field (since that's the only good channel we have until Shaw calls back...and we all become scared enough to pee our pants a little when we catch sight of the shot-put women *shutter*), and then we decide to play Wii. Neh. We decide to play Wii ARCHERY. So I gear up to get roasted. Obviously, I will lose because I'm playing against two nerds. Ryan and Ned. However, I was pleasantly surprised to have SMOKED Ned in Wii Archery. You may applaud.
Then we go check out another friend's place. Let's call her Sarah. This year she lives off campus in a sweet place with sweet rent AND has a sweet car. Sarah is SWEET.
THEN another friend, let's call her Nancy, shows up, hugs us, and then proceeds to tell us how she ran out of shaving cream this morning and had to use dish soap. She said to us: "Now I smell like 'Sunlight'."
We love all three of them.
Since it's our 1st anniversary tomorrow, I thought it would be appropriate to do a recap of our first year as a married couple. For all you 'guys': Try and view this a sports highlight reel. For all you 'ladies': View this as a slow motion romantic reunion of a middle aged couple on a beach in a movie.
I thought I would maybe pair these 'recaps' with a little tidbit I've learned along with these experiences. (Feel free to click on the link to read the blog post to go with each tidbit)
1. Husbands absolutely HATE putting up Christmas decorations prior to December 1st.
2. Husbands can actually tune out things their wives say that would, in fact, be categorized as 'ridiculous'.
3. Husbands have more tolerance for government workers.
4. Husbands are not the only ones who forget anniversaries.
5. Husbands can, indeed, like IKEA given that they're taken at the appropriate time of day.
Cheers to continuous learning for the next 50 years of my life!
I'm dedicating this post to one of my few, hmm...avid? readers. Randy.
However, I ran into a bit of a dilemma: what should I write about. So I took a moment (as in a literal moment) and decided it should fall under the realm of one of these categories. The educational system. Hunting. Or pig roasts. Sadly, pig roasts are obviously out because of my last post. So I'll just cover the other two to compensate.
Hunting
I have little experience with this subject. Although, I have shot several guns: 12 gauge, .410, .22, and a pellet gun (if that even counts). I accept hunting as a means to fill my freezer; however, I don't like imagining shooting a victim that is completely oblivious to their unfortunate fate. (Blech, say that sentence ten times fast) So all I will say about this topic is regarding the Olympic event involving a very elegant sport (cross-country skiing) and a very NOT elegant sport. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld: "Cross-country skiing and shooting. Why not make it the breaststroke and strangle a guy?"
The Educational System
I present to you a timeline of the way a student sees their principal throughout their years of public schooling.
Kindergarten: The President.
Grade 3: The guy who can't sing the national anthem in tune every Monday.
Grade 6: The guy who sent me home to watch TV for three days because I kicked a soccer ball out the window.
Grade 9: The guy who sent me home to watch TV for three days because he caught me tee-peeing his car.
Grade 12: The guy who's signing the papers to get me the heck outta here.
Randy, you know I was never this student. Just thought I would remind you, as you may be my future employer.
Let's just take a moment to remember the book we all hated from high school: The Lord of the Flies. Ok, that's plently long enough. Try to get that nasty image out of your head of the boys dressed in leaves running around with a rotting skull stuck on a stick. Ah, high school, how I miss you.
ANYWAY, this weekend is our family's annual pig roast! And since it was canceled last year because of my marriage to my incredibly calm and completely sane husband, I'm doubly excited. My dad is the pig master. If he were a character in that horrible book, he would be Ralph.
Let me break this down for you because you're probably imagining one of two things:
Prespatou Style Pig Roast
A man shows up to school to pick up his children. Of course, he comes with the tractor. And obviously, it will have a dead, dripping, eyes-gaping pig hanging off the front. Yum. Not. (P.S.- This actually happened. Just sayin')
Townie Style Pig Roast
A man walks into Safeway and asks the butcher for a slab of ham. He greases it up and dumps it into a vat of boiling oil or something. Yum. Not.
INSTEAD:
A man, my dad, heats a 3 foot deep pit for 12 hours using a bon fire. He stokes the fire, heats up the rocks, and dresses the pig. The pig gets lowered into the pit at a brisk 7 a.m. and literally bakes inside the pit for 10 hours. Then we feast! YUM! YES!
Be jealous.
So I was paging through my old yearbook the other day, and I came across a short story I wrote in Grade 3 (age 8). I laughed out loud as I realized that I've kept the same style of writing since! However, my grammar, spelling, vocabulary, and sentence variety has much improved. I thought I would share it with you all:
Inside Out
One night I was sleeping and I had a dream. My shirt was inside out. My pants were inside out. Everything was inside out. The store was even inside out. I could not believe it. My pencil was inside out. "Mom", I called. My mom came into my room. My mouth dropped open. She was inside out. "Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed. Then I woke up. Boy was I ever huffing and puffing. "Mooom" I screamed. She said, "What happened?" "I had a bad dream." Then I put my shirt on inside out...
The End.
-Still not sure how a pencil, a store, and my mother could be inside out, but hey, at least I have an imagination.
P.S.- Still praying for Carly's family! Glad to see her mom is making a miraculous recovery!
Hi all.
I had an odd thought today (surprised?). Why do people name their inventions after other people, animals, or landscapes? Can't we come up with something original?
For instance, this is a Bobcat:
And what did we name after this cute, cuddly feline?
This:
Do you see the resemblance? I don't.
Another example: Ford.
Name after this man:
...Wait. I'm not sure which one is older...
And finally, this invention:
...was name after the island where the first atomic bomb was tested. That should say something.
Linguini, Martini, Bikini.
Today is my parents 30th wedding anniversary! Woohoo! Go Mom and Dad!
So I thought I take you all back to the place it all began: Prespatou....Kidding! How 'bout 1981?
Music: Jessie's Girl. (Mom, did you ever date a Jessie? Awkward)
Also, Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing', and obviously, my parents took that to heart :)
Fashion Trends: Everything you're NOT supposed to wear. Like this for example. Oh, Olivia, you look much better in 50's garb.
Additionally, hairstyles were, literally, at their biggest. And thanks to this lovely woman (you all know who she is), my mom was trapped inside her hair (exactly like this) on her wedding. But I'll save her the embarrassment and just show you this lady.
TV Shows: Three's Company, of course. 'Jack, eat your salad before it gets cold.' -Chrissy
I'll leave out snorkel goggle glasses for now. That picture would take up all the space for my wandering thoughts.
Anyway, it's quite a feat. Wishing you at least 30 more, Mom and Dad!
They've done it. IKEA has perfected their store.
Ryan and I ventured to Edmonton last week during FSJ's torrential down pour, and with that came our purpose for the road trip: IKEA. Ryan had never been there. NEVER. I questioned him. Please enjoy this short dialogue:
Whitney: You'VE NEVER been to IKEA?
Ryan: Nope.
Whitney: I thought for sure you've gone with me at least once.
Ryan: You've invited me several times, but usually your dad and I get out of it with an excuse like, "We'll call Shaw and order UFC on PPV." OR "I ran out of beer."
(Notice how I don't realize that he's never been to IKEA with me, which means that I was paying too much attention to the furniture in my tunnel vision to disregard the fact that my husband was not accompanying me.)
Whitney: Hmm. Too bad. I think you'd really hate it.
Ryan: Why would I hate it?
Whitney: Because it cramped and claustrophobic; therefore, you have to walk through the entire showroom to get to the exit. There's arrows on the floor. It's a bit like living vicariously through Hanzel and Gretel.
Ryan: Actually, you're wrong. A few years ago, IKEA was sued by a customer because they weren't able to find their way out of the store during a family emergency. They got lost, so they sued. They lost, of course, but now every IKEA has mandatory shortcuts throughout the whole showroom.
(Please note: This quotation is about 98.76% word for word)
Whitney: Wow.
But I digress. We precisely arrived at 10 a.m. (I thought I'd break him in easy...avoiding the afternoon crowds and all) We found some great furniture, made decisions efficiently, and arrived at the IKEA cafe in approximately 47 minutes. Record time if you ask me. Before heading downstairs to fill up our cart with the desired items written on our shopping list, Ryan notices the menu.
"They serve beer?! This place is awesome!"
IKEA is not only perfect for the thrifty wives, but for the patient husbands, as well.
So I came across quite a deal this week. From a Mennonite. AND I AM a Mennonite! So put two and two together, and you get a steal of a deal. It got me thinking about what Mennonites do to save a buck. I've come up with a list:
1) Mennonites save hundreds of dollars a year down the hygiene aisle. Can you say 'Deodorant Free'?
2) Mennonites search local classifieds for used items, saving them more money on house hold items than any other community around. For instance, a used breast pump is not out of the question.
3) Mennonites replenish their children's bicycle tire stash by collecting bent ones off the side of the road. This type of find is almost as good as roadkill. I have people who can vouch.
4) Mennonites sew all their blankets from used clothing. No joke, your grandpa's sweat stained lumber jack shirt becomes your duvet cover.
5) Mennonites talk to other Mennonites to get the scuttlebutt about the latest deals. That's how they found out that a friend of theirs is housing four sidewalk blocks in his shed, which he's been trying to get rid of for months! Thanks Tim and Suzanne!
I'm Whitney, and I'm a Mennonite. I just saved myself some serious coinage.
So basically, Ryan's awesome. I could technically end the post right there, but I'll go on. Recently, Ryan and I have been doing lots of future planning because we're almost done university. And by 'almost', I mean that Ryan will successfully complete a Bachelors of Administration while his wife, me, will end up with an Associates Degree at the end of next year (Thanks to poor planning and absurd advice from the Arts Department at a 'nameless' post secondary institution). So now I'll give you somewhat of a chart/timeline of our lives as per the next three years.
Fall 2011
Ryan: Begin his final year of his Bachelors of Business Administration.
Whitney: Begin her 4th of university with no end in sight.
Winter 2012
Ryan: Finish his degree, while probably getting a full time job while taking 4th year courses. A slight possibility of homework and a large chance of mastering Donkey Kong on the Wii.
Whitney: More willy nilly courses.
Spring 2012
Ryan: Start a job at an esteemed accounting firm in our hometown. (CONGRATS, honey, for scoring your dream job a year before you even start!)
Whitney: Set up house- paint, shop for furniture. Take the same job I've had for the past 5 summers. Pester Ryan about having kids.
2013
Ryan: Moving up in an esteemed accounting firm because he's a genius.
Whitney: Register for more online courses in hopes to eventually finish some sort of degree. Pester Ryan about having kids.
2014
Ryan: Become Chartered Accountant and make millions.
Whitney: Pester Ryan about having kids.
Again, Congratulations to my wonderful husband for getting your dream job!
Wait...does this means we can have kids*?
*Kidding!
So after realizing that I haven't blogged nearly as much as I wanted to in May, I figured that I should share Ryan's latest...experience. Heat stroke.
After a fantastic golf game celebrating my mom-in-law's [29th] birthday, Ryan said he was a tad queasy. So I tossed him a water bottle, and he went to lie down while I watched the finale of Survivor: Redemption Island (Season 22: yes, I'm still watching). Just as Isla, my niece, and I jumped for joy at Boston Rob's ten year awaited win, Ryan dashed for the bathroom and lost his lunch...in a few words.
"That's it!" I said, "I'm taking you in!" After equipping our bathroom garbage can with three plastic bags (just in case), we hopped, neh, I hopped and Ryan hobbled into the truck and off we went to the hospital.
Wait time: 45 minutes. Not bad considering that one premie, one toddler, and one seriously stoned adolescent were admitted before Ryan.
"KKKsshhhhh...RYAN.......RYAN.....KKKsshh." Translation: intercom.
As the woman behind the glass shield began asking semi-relevant questions about Ryan's condition, he was overcome, once again, and dashed to the bathroom, leaving no time to even close the door. Needless to say, the entire main floor knew that Ryan was...ill.
After an entire bag of IV fluids and a shot in the hip, Ryan was sent home to recover. So all in all, an eventful Sunday.
**May I also mention our golf scores.
Whitney: 50. Ryan: 51. It counts as a win :)
If any of you are 'The Office' fans, you are well aware of Creed's blog: creedthoughts.com/creedthoughts, which just happens to be a word document saved to his desktop that no one but Ryan Howard will every read. Anyway, wouldn't it be interesting if Kramer had a blog? I think it would. So I'm going to make up his thoughts.
Kramer's thoughts on Stephen Harper: I'm going to ask him to join me when I attend Mickey Mantle's Baseball Fantasy Retreat. Looks like a guy who could use some Gatorade.
Kramer's thoughts on The Olive Garden: It would be better if it was a pizza joint where you could make your own pie...like Subway, but with pizza.
Kramer's thoughts on the Wii: I throw things at the TV all the time...
Kramer's thoughts on the UFC: I know a guy; I could get you in for free if you'll trade him a chicken.
Kramer's thoughts on world domination: I once played a game of 'Risk' with Newman that lasted 6 days. I think I could handle world domination.
Kramer's thoughts on bath toys: Waste of time. I once made a full meal while in the shower, complete with a starter salad.
So I gotta feelin' that I should blog. I have no idea how this will end up, but I feel like I should share some random thoughts with you. While I was just writing the last sentence, my husband filled me in on a very exciting fact: Lyoto Machida will be fighting Randy Couture this evening alongside my all time favourite George St-Pierre!!!! So let's explore that, shall we?
Some of you, I'm sure, despise the UFC with a passion; however, I quite enjoy the sport. Yes, sport. It is a sport just like ice hockey, rugby, and rhythmic gymnastics are sports.
And yes, they bleed. They bleed just like hockey players, rugby players, and rhythmic gymnasts bleed.
So, all you out there watching the PGA Golf Tournament I say to you: "That sport disgusts me! How could you sit there and watching another man carry around another man's clubs! Despicable." **Side note: I enjoy golf, I'm just trying to get my point across.
All you watching Dancing with the Stars I say to you: "You maniac! Two people chasing, lifting, and throwing each other around! Absurd." **Side note: I don't like DWTS, but I like dancing.
And all you watching the Canucks in the playoffs... wait, I think I already milked that enough.
Dear Canucks,
For once, you didn't choke. Unfortunately. However, let me just say that you'll never look as good in bright blue and bright green (which, by the way is a rather elementary combination) as Griswald does in white and red (with feathers because he like to accessorize).
But let me continue. As you are aware, your team has yet to win a SINGLE Stanley Cup, so I warn you: Don't get your hopes up.Your fans will continue to fall in and out of love with you on a whim, and those green slinky, spandex mascots will run out of money for playoff tickets.
Sincerely,
Disappointed
So I just wanted to share one of my latest experiences with you. It involves late-night Walmart shopping, child sized life jackets, an awkward stranger, my husband, and last but obviously not least: Sarah.
The Beginning:
Wal-Mart is tempting, you know? They carry pretty much anything your evening heart desires: Barbie Jeeps that were forever on your childhood Christmas List that you never got, Dr. Seuss' 'Oh! The Places You Will Go!' (very inspirational), fancy Kleenex box designs, and of course, infant sized life jackets to keeps us afloat during exam season.
So, picture this: Sarah, Ryan, and myself peruse aimlessly (having lost Kirsten in the laundry aisle at least twenty minutes prior). We come across the sporty goods section, and Ryan becomes entranced with a punching bag while Sarah and I hit up the boating aisle. Rods, line, bait, life jackets. Bingo.
The Middle:
Sarah's wanting hand reaches for the TinkleBell toddler size (14-27 kgs). She states, "I want this one" and dawns the jacket. To our astonishment, she actually gets it up past her elbows eventually reaching her shoulders. But of course, it's simply impossible to do up the front dual clips, let alone the crotch strap.
"You try," she states.
I try. It doesn't fit :( Once again, my Disney dreams are crushed. I've outgrown my childhood! It reaches only to my elbows and then gets stuck. I mean, completely stuck! It was at this point a lovely gentleman graces our presence in aisle 17. He pretends to peruse the plastic tackle boxes as he eyes our dilemma. I try and warn her, "Sarah, there is a guy in the aisle. This aisle. Right behind you."
It doesn't matter because it's too late! He approaches. He chuckles and looks to Sarah, "You look stunning." (Obviously, I don't fit the 'stunning' category as TinkerBell's face is being contorted while it pushes up against the crook of my elbow).
The End:
We begin laughing uncontrollably as I pry the jacket off of my arms and do the same with Sarah's. But then we realized we didn't have a picture to remember this moment. Sarah dawns the jacket once again. I pick out a more sensible size for myself (28-45 kgs). Enjoy.
Kirst, aren't you bummed you missed this?
So today I'm happy to announce that two of my besties have acquired rather desirable summer jobs that will provide them both with extraordinary experience, as well as much needed money to put them through another year of extensive studying/procrastinating. Congratulations, Miranda! I wish you well as you go on to carve out many-a-ruptured appendixes :) And Sarah, Congratulations! I wish you well as you murder many-a-mosquito (I say this because I don't really know what your new job entails other than pesticides; therefore=bugs).
I, however, will be working at the same job as I have for the past four years. I definitely would not classify reflective cover-alls and scratched safety glasses as attributes to a desirable job, but yet I am grateful--somewhat--to make enough moola to come back to this dreary city of rain for another year.
Kidding! I love my job--somewhat. Can't you tell by my terrified expression??
Hey guys! Thought I would share a little bit of my creative writing fiction that I've drafted, revised, re-drafted, and re-revised this semester. Please, unlike my classmates, don't over analyze. It's a simple story. Feel free to leave comments and suggestions; NICE suggestions :P
Hey, everyone! It's Grandma's 80th birthday today! Go Grandma! Anyway, it's been a long time since I wrote...nay, rapped, so here goes.
80's the New 40
by W-Dawg
Sup? It's G-Ma's birthday today
She ain't born in the month of May
She wears great clothes:
Peach, pastel, and pink
Always accompanied by a pair of hose.
She's 80 today, but she doesn't look it!
No way!
She's still makin' a quilt
And she ain't got no flowers that wilt (ugh, that line pained my English Major-self to write)
Check it.
I bet she's knittin' up a storm
Because that's her daily norm
She's probably even bakin' a cake
Her own birthday dessert she'll make
I wish I was there
But I have nothin' to wear
So have a Happy Birthday, G-Ma
Remember: 80's the new 40.
Check it.
P.S.- If I look half as good as she does when I'm 80, I'll still be sporting a bikini. Just sayin'.
It's getting to be that time again. Crunch time... for students. (Those of you aren't students, be jealous. Not.) Therefore, my thoughts are anywhere else than homework. Isn't that always how it works? So basically this post is just a random list of thoughts that have gone through my head today while avoiding all subjects homework:
For Kirsten: Maaan, you are really going to LOVE your birthday present. Me and Sarah rock at late night Wal-Mart shopping.
For the stupid weather: Dude, I bought new flats yesterday, and now you rain?! Come on.
For the gym: I hate you.
For the Fruit Gushers I finished off yesterday: I love you.
For all you KK fans (you know who you are): WHEN ARE CODY AND BAILEY FINALLY GOING TO BE TOGETHER?! Thirteen novels is enough already!
For the Angry Birds App on my iPhone: It is simply impossible to pass this stupid game! 10 four hour lecture classes, and I still only have half the stars!! ARG!
....So. How's your day going?
Yellow! So I realized I haven't done a gLee post in awhile, so I figured it was about time for one...even though that show is getting uber weird. However, the music is still fantastic, so yes, I watch it.
Anyway, in recent months I have come across some...hmmm...bullying, I guess you would say. Now don't get your panties in a knot right away, I'm not the one DOING the bullying. It's actually happening in one of my university courses. As a third year university student, I thought I was passed this elementary attitude; however, a few of my classmates and I have discovered that's not the case. We are being bullied.
Wow, that sounds pathetic. Now, since you're all worrying about my mental state (which if you only started doing that now, you have some catching up to do) you shouldn't. I actually find it kind of humourous. A person (who will obviously remain nameless) in one of my classes is bullying...about 3/4 of the class about our creative writing. Normally, I would be angry, upset, or shocked, but instead I found a song to cope. Ha! Glee's new song: Loser Like Me. (Click the title and put your mind to rest about my fragile emotions).
Enjoy.
As promised, I'm back; however, not on a rainy day. For once. Spring has sprung (see earlier post) and the sun is shining! ANYWAYS...
Sunday, moments after I completed my last update, I was given the gracious gift of more blogging material. Now, this doesn't happen very often, where it's just handed to me...like one silver platter. It was awesome. But I digress.
Carissa, my BFF (of many other BFFs, as I'm lucky enough to have several), and I figure we should Skype. Just for kicks. This is where you put yourselves in the moment...
Bliiiing! Bliiiing! (OR if you have the new Skype: Boo beep boo beep, boo beep boo beep)
Whitney: Hello! (turns on webcam and her face appears on screen)
Carissa's face appears on screen, her mouth moving in contorted ways but no sound comes through my speakers.
Whitney: Umm... (furrows her brow as she watches the contortions on the other end)
Carissa: throws her hands up, opening her mouth wider as if she is yelling at me.
This was our first indication something wasn't right. Obviously, audio-wise, we had some work to do. So, after about 15 minutes of tinkering, Carissa's contortions bellow sound through my speakers. I celebrate with a "Woooo!"
Whitney: Wooooo!
Carissa: Umm... are you saying something to me because it looks like your lips are moving and you're throwing your hands up, but I hear nothing.
Now I'm making weirdo contortions with my lips, opening my mouth in a more distinct way as if that will help her hear me.
Carissa: Still nothing.
So the dance continues for about another 15 minutes, as I search around on my new laptop for some sort of audio menu: it's like I was working with a PC. Jeepers.
UNTIL Carissa states: Oh.
Whitney: Oh what? (Yes, I'm still speaking to her even though I was probably just going to be seen making clown faces on her end)
Carissa: I had it on the wrong setting. I can hear you now.
Hey! So it's been awhile...with good reason. We had a rather stressful week on our hands with the robbery and such. But now I'm back!
Contrary to my hometowners (you know who you are), spring has arrived in the Lower Mainland. Do you want to know how I know that (besides the fact that March 21 is tomorrow)? Well, I tell you because now that you sassed me in your mind, I'm going to prove you wrong. Ha! The reason IS because my allergies have also arrived. Not-so-yay.
Do you know those Claritin commercials where these moms who are incapable of taking their children outside because their head has become un-proportionately swollen, where their nose is red, their eyes are watery, and they're scratching at their ears and throats like vultures on a corpse? Well, it's kinda like that. But hopefully, just like in the commercials, a layer of my world will be peeled off and grassy meadows and blooming wildflowers will be at my fingertips.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the drugstore. Good day.
Well, most of you Facebook friends are aware of my recent encounter. If you're not a fb friend then: welcome to my life.
Ryan and I were robbed.
LAMESAUCE!
Everything from laptops to cameras to jewellery is gonzo. Completely gonzo. I'm not sure your getting the full full effect here. Let me rephrase it:
$16, 000 of our stuff is gone.
Got it? Good. I just wanted to make sure. And I'm sure that you all want the full story. (Don't worry, I type fast)...haha
Yesterday, at exactly noon Ryan, me and my mom left the condo to go for lunch. A nice, lovely, calm, tasty lunch. At 1:35pm, we drop off my mother at the spa (go figure:P) and head home. As I approach our door, I noticed it was opened. PANIC. (panic lasted about 10 minutes...not really sure what happened, so I'm just labelling it 'panic') They had dumped and emptied every box, basket, drawer, and shelf in the entire apartment. "Proof", you say? Viola:
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| (Not sure if this formatting is working for you; it's a picture from my phone...because they took both of my cameras) |
What you see here is my closet. This is basically what our entire place looked like. Perhaps a resemblance of something you might see on 'Hoarders' or in a bachelor pad... Anyways, so police arrive, we debrief, she (the cop) gives no assurance and leaves. We clean up the mess--approximately, an hour or so for the basics, and we discover more things missing. However, I did recover my flashdrive with my assignments and one camera card of last year (we did not recover any of Summer 2010, honeymoon photos, or pictures of my newborn niece).The locksmith arrives; he guarantees this new lock is much safer than the $45 deadbolt that was on there in the first place. Yada, yada, yada. I still feel unsafe.
So that's about it. Yes, we have insurance, and yes, I'm typing this on my new laptop. To be honest, I miss my old one. My pictures, my music, my dirty finger grease that covered the screen and the keyboard.
I'm sad. Surprisingly, I'm not mad. Jesus knows who they are. Thievery, schmievery. It's just stuff.
Fun Fact: Dog Days are the hottest days of summer. Just FYI. And thanks to Wikipedia, they've narrowed it down to a week between July and September. Awesome. (sarcasm). That is, of course, for the Northern Hemisphere only, while Brazil builds igloos in +20'C. Poor them.
Anyways, just one of those days where homework becomes completely overwhelming, so much of my time is spent on YouTube and iTunes. Bah, the humanity of consumerism!
Sadly, that's all of have for you. Unless you wish to click HERE for the most fascinating music video. Do it.
Enjoy the Southern Hemiphere's Dog Days, everyone!
Hello, friends! Today, I went from utter enthusiasm (about what shall remain nameless...no, I'm not pregnant) to utter panic in a matter of seconds.
I had a midterm today in my I-choose-this-as-an-elective-because-it's-going-to-be-uber-easy class, Business Communications 125. So as I was 'glancing' (literally) at my textbook notes, I notice in fine print in an online discussion board, the prof has noted that only during Part B, the Memo section of the exam, will we be allowed to use our notes. NOT Part A, the 50 multiple choice questions about Chapter 2, 3, 4, 7, and 8. AWESOME. Therefore, an hour and a half of my afternoon was spent in a very fast paced cram session, in hopes I could retain some of this information, *cough cough* seemingly just common sense *cough cough* about how to right an effective email to a co-worker, essentially. Yes, there is such a thing as a non-effective email.
As I enter the classroom, filled with anxious students flipping violently through hand-made notes, I take a seat near the back for twenty minutes of people watching. Yes, Dad, people watching because as a third year university student, I know that cramming with five minutes to go is rendered completely useless. (Note: I know I completely contradicted my hour and a half cramming session by saying this) My ears zone in to a conversation taking place near by between a nonchalant girl who could care less about any sort of exam and a jock-type with too much gel in his hair. My attention perks when he begins noting what notes he has made in preparation for this midterm.
He states: "I even wrote down the definition of a noun."
Not to be intellectually snobby or dramatic in any way, but I realized at that moment, this class was intended for a different caliber.
I know I just blogged less than 24 hours ago, but something came up. I had to share this with you. As you know our last Young Marriage Episode (if you missed Episode 1, I DARE you to click on the link) was...well...dramatic in a rather nonchalant way. Today's episode is much more relaxing.
I'll try this through dialogue:
Scene: Ryan and Whitney sitting on the couch watching the Ellen show. Yes, the Ellen show.
Ryan: Whitney...I forgot our sixth month anniversary.
Whitney: ...You did? When was it? (*Notice: I didn't even remember)
Ryan: Four days ago. I thought you would be mad at me. I was going to buy you flowers. (Don't I have an awesome husband!?... Be jealous, ladies)
Whitney: Awww... too bad we missed it.
Ryan: Should I still buy you flowers?
Whitney: Nah.
Ryan: Do you want a plant? (Now, this is a crucial line. It's important to know that I'm one of these people who, for the life of them, CANNOT keep a plant alive)
Whitney: (Eyes widen in delight) YES.
So everyone, meet Drake.
So I seem to be distracted by EVERYTHING since we got back to school after Reading Break, which means my homework list remains just as long as it was ...48 hours ago. Sigh.
But today, I don't really care about my to-do list. I care about...my tummy. And that it is filled with wonderful things :) And today's wonderful menu included the following:
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| Yummy steak and shrimp kabobs! |
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| Tuxedo Strawberries! |
That's right. I just made your mouth water :)
Yellow, folks :) So I haven't blogged in about a week and a half, and I apologize for that. I was visiting home (meaning: Mom(in-law), Dad(in-law), brother/sister(in-law), friends (who shall remain nameless for typing sake), and ISLA)! As most of you know, it was Reading Week for many of us students, which means lots of fun and virtually no reading :) ...or blogging. Anyway, I had a wonderful week at home holding my GORGEOUS baby niece, hangin' out with family and bff's, throwing surprise birthday parties, and surviving the blistering cold weather of FSJ, among other things.
However, I came home to a little surprise today. Actually, Ryan and I both did. Let me explain. So, as diligent and financially responsible young adults, we checked our Visa balances online after a week of literally no expenses. (Thanks to both of our parents for free food, free laundry, and a mattress that might as well have been a slab of concrete). And what to our wondering eye should appear? NOT a magical sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. Rather, charges to BOTH of our credit cards from the parking meters at the university. Did I mention that all the charges came out on a day when Ryan and I were not even in Abbotsford, let alone in class? Well, I mentioned it now! Not impressed to say the least. So after being transfered from the automated female robot to "Hi, my name is Laura, how can I help you today?" to "Thank you for calling Visa Risk Centre, my name is Eric and [I really have no intention of helping you today]" I was able to put a hold on my card until I find out what happened.
But I'll tell you what. When I can that Parking Office tomorrow, boy, are they going to get an earful! I just wanted to let all of you know that I haven't changed this past week. It's still the same ol' me. Enjoy.
After a terribly long day sitting in class learning about the Neo-Aristitilian rhetoricians and how they make the whole world better by teaching composition processes in "unique" way, I needed to find a happy place. So it made me think: What could reverse my mood from complete BOREDOM to simple happiness? Obviously, my husband came to mind :) and then....(drumroll)....cupcakes!
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| Figure A: A diagram of standard rhetorical theory |
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| Figure B: A delicious looking cupcake :D |
| Annnnd... how does THIS make you feel? Dreary? Sad? BORED? I DON'T THINK SO! This cupcake has a sense of accomplishment, unlike the centuries of rhetoricians that have shaped language into what it is today. This cupcake satisfies, not only my aching brain cells, but my stomach as well! I'd like to see the art of persuasion do that. Ha! |
After a disappointed finish to UFC 126 last night, I must come to grips with Vitor Belfort's loss and move on to bigger and better things. *Sigh*
I mean, check this guy out. Canadians wouldn't go prancing around looking like a giant Cheese Nip? Am I right?
OBVIOUSLY.
Instead, we go around looking like this: a giant watermelon.
I believe my point has been made.
So I know I have addressed dancing before on my blog (in particular, Elaine dancing), but today is just one of those days. Mainly, the sun is shining, so I see reason to celebrate! Therefore, I will bring to your attention AGAIN the little kicks.
For all you FSJers out there: I know it's cold, but just think, you're well on your way back to summer. So excluding the time you spend reading my awesome blog, eating, showering, and sleeping, summer's only like 20 minutes away! Now that's cause to celebrate!
I was bored with homework... and then I noticed my deep freeze, which prompted this blog. I compiled this list with a bit of help from my fellow Mennonites. All of them my relatives.... Kidding!
Ten benefits of being a Mennonite:
1) Lard can be a main ingredient.
2) Our refrigerators are always fulling stocked with Neer Beer.
3) We can buy in bulk without being judged.
4) We are like canoes. We don't tip.
5) We can rock a floor length dress with sneakers.
6) We believe a deep freeze is appropriate for all square footages.
7) 'Sax' is not just an instrument.
8) Our husband's accept our whiskers as part of our natural beauty.
9) Dough is a separate food group.
10) Deodorant is optional.
To end with a bang:
**How do you know Adam was a Mennonite?
Who else could stand beside a naked woman and be tempted by a fruit.
**Courtesy of Amber :)
So during my stress relief shopping sesh with Sarah yesterday, we decided to explore the GRAND OPENING of Bed, Bath, and Beyond! There we discovered something quite incredible. The clearance aisle. And amidst the clearance aisle, we stumbled upon something even more incredible. Gingerbread House kits, which gave us an idea. An awful idea. It gave us a WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA. To buy them. :) .... and then have a contest.
AND you get to be the judges!!! Please comment at the bottom of the post as to which one is your favourite.
1) The Icicle House- complete with gravel walkway.
2) The Twoonie House- complete with a garage door on the side.
3) The Cranberry House- complete with a professionally shingled roof.
Hiya, folks! This semester has started off extraordinarily shaky. In fact, I've come to despise the university I attend. It makes me angry. Vengeful, even. So what better way to relieve a bit of this rage than to shoot something, right? You've guessed it! Ryan and I are proud owners of Cabela's Dangerous Hunts for the Wii!
No, we are not going around shooting actual live beings. Silly, you! However, I have new found interest seeing every animal on the TV screen fall over after being shot with imaginary bullets. UNLIMITED imaginary bullets. It's like I'm the A-Team all wrapped into one giant superhero.
Or I'm Walker, Texas Ranger, and nobody gets away with anything because I'll win EVERY draw.
So basically, I just wanted to share with you all my strategy for ridding my mind of rage. I recommend it.
So my third last semester is underway. That right. It's officially a countdown!
Anyway, I began my first chapter reading for my Communications in the Workplace course, and I came across a few fun facts that totally blew me away. They also blew my husband away, which means they were pretty incredible. (If you know Ryan and his quiet demeanor, when something catches his eye, IT'S BIG)
Below is a picture taken out of my textbook displaying a wonderful Technology Timeline:
** Please note: 1980: Sticky notes
STICKY NOTES!
Obviously, Sticky notes would fit into the same category as an iPhone and a Blackberry. I can't believe I've misjudged the technological advancement of this adhesive adorned paper pad before! Silly me!
Therefore, I suggest a business proposition:
Dear Staples,
I advise you to implement mobile contracts for all of your Post It notes. 'Sign here' tabs being the lowest contract amount, and the large, lined notes being the iPhone of your adhesive paper aisle. Please execute immediately for maximum profit in this declining economy.
Sincerely,
A concerned and INFORMED customer
Also, Happy Birthday to my wonderful friend, Miranda :D
Breaking news from the Freezin' Front*! But obviously, I'm going to tell you the entire story first, so you'll have to wait to hear the breaking news. Just FYI.
*play on my maiden name/hometown winter conditions
So today, my mother, my husband, and I were doing a tad of baby shower shopping for the upcoming celebration of my adorable niece, and I happen to come upon a startling fact in the diaper aisle. After perusing rack after rack of Parent's Choice, Huggies, and Pampers diapers, I came to the realization that clothing a human that has no bladder control can become expensive. Like, REALLY expensive. However, I did finally make my selection: size 2 (14-18 lbs) Pampers diapers. (No, my niece has not hit 14 lbs; however, if you're planning on attending that shower, start taking notes) A box of 84 diapers= $23.99...working out to 35 cents a diaper. Which EQUALS INSANITY!
Want to hear an even more INSANE statistic?
A box of 80 Depends adult underwear is $16.00!!...which works out to 20 cents a diaper!
Folks, it is officially cheaper to for adults to pee their pants than babies. I smell a pyramid scheme.
