1. When You Were Young - The Killers
2. Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol
3. Lips of an Angel - Hinder
4. Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
5. What Hurts the Most - Rascal Flatts
6. Hate Me - Blue October
7. So Sick - Ne-Yo
8. Maneater - Nelly Furtado
9. Easy Silence - Dixie Chicks
10. Give it Away - George Strait
APRIL: My birthday party, which was attended by my family, lots of friends and a selection of delicious shooters. The result was captured in one of my favorite pictures of all time: me singing like a drunken idiot and Kristen giving me the worst look in the whole world. It makes me laugh every time.
APRIL: Getting hit on by Bill Welychka at the Alberta Film & Television Awards in April.
MAY: Kristen, Kory and Dane taking me on a tour of Victoria. It was my favorite part of the whole week.
JUNE: Going to the System of a Down concert with Jill and Ross and feeling like I was on drugs the whole time.
JUNE: Watching Pronger glide across the ice like a swan during the playoffs.
JULY: Getting a high five from Raine Maida during the Our Lady Peace concert at Klondike Days. Actually, the whole concert counts as a favorite moment. It kicked so much ass.
JULY: Camping at Gregoire Lake and scrambling to the tent when a big storm rolled in. Then having to use the bathroom and running to the outhouses with Jimmy in the pouring rain.
JULY/AUGUST: Floating down the river in a plastic dingy with the Four Seasons hotties.
AUGUST: Tearing around on ATVs with Andrea at Christina Lake. Sitting on the dock and girl chatting was awesome, too.
AUGUST: Sleeping in Plaig’s bed for the first time.
AUGUST - NOVEMBER: Every single card game with Andrea & Kelsey (and sometimes Plaig). Bonus points when Andrea told off Ugrie when Ugrie told me to “seriously, fuck off!”
NOVEMBER: Finding out that Jill is pregnant and then feeling her hard, growing belly at Christmastime.
DECEMBER: When David gave me his phone number at Reckless and handed it to me on a little piece of paper over a table full of people.
It's not going to be insightful, but it heavily supports my last post:
"To be honest, your height is something I'm going to have to get used to."
- a new special someone, said in all seriousness yesterday
There might not be any single ladies reading this, but in case there are, I found a couple of great articles about being single during the holidays. They're worth a read (even if you are attached):
Single this season? There's nothing better!
Single this season? There's nothing worse!
A post about one of my favourite topics… boys. Or, more accurately, how my lifelong struggle to understand them continues to this day.
In junior high, I played basketball with the guys at recess because it was way more fun than standing around with the girls, who were very cliquey, and to me seemed boring. However, I couldn’t understand why those same cliquey girls were the ones who had boyfriends (whom I played basketball with). Was I not fun enough to ask out? I thought, ‘What is better than having a girlfriend that will play basketball with you?’
Well, what I didn't realize at the time was that the guys didn’t need a girl to play basketball with – that’s what the other guys were for. They needed a girl to make out with.
A girl who wears sneakers, jeans and a (very flat) T-shirt every day isn’t exactly “make-out” material. Why did it take me so long to realise that a guy is not attracted to a mirror image of himself?
I soon started hanging out with girls and they assisted my transformation from a tomboy into a make-up and female-clothing-wearing girl. Eventually I ended up with a fantastic boyfriend – one who was supportive, sexy, had a great sense of humour and accepted me for exactly who I was. Then I found out that he actually prefers dating (and sleeping with) other men. I can’t help but wonder what it was about me that made me attractive to a gay man.
Anyway, I digress. I will now tell you a story about what started this self-reflection train in the first place.
The weekend before last I was at the Lion’s Den, a local pub. I was hanging out with some friends and some friends of some friends. A guy introduced himself around the table, and because I can’t remember his name I will call him Matt. Matt was a clean-cut, decent looking, single guy around my age. He sat down beside me and started up a conversation.
For starters, he was drunk. Actually, he was drinking-out-of-a-champagne-bottle drunk. That was probably the catalyst for him telling me that he can speak five languages and he works at Syncrude but thinks so-and-so is an asshole, blah, blah, and blah. Matt was a pretty annoying guy. Nevertheless, he was more entertaining than my alternate company, so I kept talking to him.
Somehow I brought up the subject of how tall I was. He had not seen me standing up, so he asked, “How tall are you?” I told him six foot two and he absolutely did not believe me, so he started hounding me to “stand up! Stand up!” So I did.
Gobsmacked is the appropriate word to describe his reaction. “Holy shit!” was his response. The top of Matt’s head was level with my chin. We sat back down and Matt turned his back to me… and didn’t speak to me for the rest of his life. Just like that.
Then I was gobsmacked. I wasn’t interested in Matt (or the spit he was showering me with), but I had no idea my height could potentially be such a huge barrier for me getting a date. I knew height distribution that favoured me was a big problem for a lot of guys, but it didn’t hit home until that moment.
I am a very tall person. I outweigh quite a bit of the available male population. I now realize my height is a restriction not only in buying a car, camping in a sleeping bag or buying pants, but in getting dates. “Duh!” you all say in unison. Well, thanks for telling me.
Which brings me back to understanding what guys look for in a girl. The best I can do is be myself and one day someone will come along who likes me exactly the way I am, even if I am a bit of a tomboy and have a big nose.
“I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.”
Last week I was sitting in my office, minding my own business, when a fellow co-worker came in. I will call her Wendy. She is newfie. That should pretty much explain her behavior for those who may soon be flabbergasted by it.
Wendy tells me, “There is a hot guy on a ladder next door! You should go check him out!” This is the same woman who suggested I hook up with a 40-something from the fourth floor, so I am not taking her that seriously.
“Okay, Wendy,” I say with a smile. I turn back to my computer monitor.
“No, seriously! There’s a hot guy on a ladder next door! Go check him out!”
“I will –” I start to say.
“– I just checked him out. He’s hot!” the married, middle-aged Wendy exclaims. Keep in mind we are right next door to the subject of her desire. He can definitely hear this conversation.
“Yeah, okay I will,” I tell her, with no intention of actually going.
She leaves and goes into the lunch room to heat up her Timmy’s coffee. I hear the microwave beep and try to make myself look busy as she walks by my office again. “Nicole, did you check him out?”
“No,” I answer without looking at her. She walks away and I think it’s all over with. But no, I don’t get off that easily.
I hear the sound of her voice next door, “There’s a hot single girl in the office next door! You should go check her out!” I don’t hear the guy’s response, but at this point I am flabbergasted… but not that much, because she IS newfie. I should have expected her disregard for normal, professional behavior. (Wendy is the mayor’s executive secretary.)
All I can do is continue working and hope the guy next door thinks Wendy is as crazy as I do. But no, I don’t get off that easily. A few minutes later I hear a male voice say, “Um, excuse me…”
My initial reaction is, “Shit! I can’t believe he actually came in here!” But then I look up and see who it is and I am no longer surprised that he came to check out the hot girl next door.
It is Ryan MacNeil. Yes, Ryan MacNeil from Merc’s graduating class of 2001. Ryan I-check-out-your-ass-before-you’re-fully-turned-away-from-me MacNeil. At the very least, I am relieved that I know him so we can laugh about the situation and not make it more awkward than Wendy already did.
Ryan and I spend 15 minutes catching up and he shows me the work he was doing in the boardroom next door. In the midst of our conversation, he asks for my number and makes me program it into his phone. Fair enough. I mean, I did look pretty hot that day.
How did Wendy react when I told her I knew him and we were able to laugh off the situation? She was disappointed. Disappointed that she didn’t embarrass me (close, but no cigar), disappointed that she didn’t “hook me up” with the hot guy on the ladder, or maybe disappointed that she didn’t cause sitcom-like mayhem or drama she hopes for. Ah, whatever. That’s newfies for ya, buy!
1. They overflow their seat.
2. They hog your armrest.
3. They stink.
4. They listen to their iPod loud enough to share it with you.
5. They have a truly enjoyable flight, oblivious to your high level of irritation and discomfort.
I had the pleasure of sitting next to a garlic-breathed mammoth on my most recent flight, who besides elbowing me several times while digging through his skin-tight pockets, exhaled deeply every five minutes to remind me of the contents of his dinner-to-repel-vampires.
His big arm, cloaked in bally, itchy fleece material, permanently stationed itself on my one and only armrest (the downside of a window seat) and half into my sitting area, forcing me to curl up against the fuselage in retreat of my personal space being invaded. The weight of his massive limb was so great that my Westjet TV controls gave way and the screen contrast turned all the way down so the screen was off.
Whoever says emergency exit seats are the roomiest – think again – you are forced to sit next to freak-sized humans possessing no regard for their neighbours’ personal comfort.
Some hints for annoying airline passengers: tuck in your gangly appendages, suck on a mint, and if you listen to your iPod with the volume turned all the way up, play something other than Amanda Marshall.