Nanners Rambles

Dating Shmating...

2010-04-19T20:45:00.000-04:00

Summer is coming and so is my period (I hope.) There is something about the summer that just makes me want to ~~have sex~~ date. But for reals, it’s super hard to meet someone quasi normal to go out with. I typically meet real fucking winners. Flashback: Going back to the night the Canadian men’s hockey team won the Gold, I was at a bar with my friend and she was being told how beautiful she was and I was pulled aside by a guy who said “if we went home together he’d promise to destroy me in bed.” Oh that’s so romantic! You would like to destroy me? You promise? My cha-cha is tingling just thinking about it. Are you gonna put rose petals down first Cassanova? Douche bag. I’d like to meet the hooker that line worked on.

As a last resort, I could go back to online dating but between my previous experience (which made me want to sleep with a knife under my pillow and get my hole sewn shut) and my friends experience of just plain creepiness, I fear it just ain’t gonna work. Unless that is, if these dating sites could add more categories so you know what you are signing up for. Let me explain.

If you are unfamiliar with the online dating world, there are typically 4 things that people say they are looking for.

1) Friendship
2) Dating
3) Long Term
4) Intimate Encounters (Ew.)

I think that the categories I’ve created below would be really useful so that people could lower their expectations, save a 2 hours of their life that they’ll never get back, and spare everyone involved from having to shave.

Category 1- I love my dog more than people, but it just won’t blow me.
Category 2- I am just on here to see if I am as socially inept as I believe.
Category 3-Serial dating is far cheaper than therapy
Category 4-I just want to play a game of “just the tip.”
Category 5-I look the exact opposite of my photo…still want to meet?
Category 6-I just got divorced and I need to find out if I am as emotionally fucked up as my ex says I am.

Wouldn’t this make things much easier?

Nanners.

P.S. Please don't ask me to try eHarmony-I did that two years ago and called and scream cried for my money back. Perfect match my ass. None of my matches were in Canada. Plus, if you haven't noticed they have used the same 4 couples for all their commercials for the past 2 years. That's a red flag.

Also, there's a good chance that people are going to write to tell me that "my friend met her boyfriend online and now they're married." Isn't that nice? I don't want to hear it.

The Goss

2010-04-16T20:17:00.000-04:00

Okay. Enough with the Kate and Jon Gosselin fiasco. They have 8 kids. Good for them. The thought of having 8 kids actually sends me into a state of vajagony. (Vagina+Agony.) Literally.

If you haven't seen Kate on Dancing With the Stars, I urge you to tune in if only to watch her dead weight be dragged around the floor by her dance partner. She walks;not dances. It actually burns my eyes. She has about as much talent as Heidi Montag's left breast (speaking of Heidi, she and her douche bag husband recently appointed themselves Indian names in order to keep idiocy alive.) Omg. Even typing this I am becoming infuriated with all this H-Wood insanity. I am almost as mad as the morning I woke up and discovered I wasn't a virgin anymore. Ugh.

Anyway, back to my point. I really and truly, from the depths of my soul, do not understand what all the fuss is about the Gosselins. From my understanding wasn't she just angry all the time and he was just a douche? If that's what they are getting attention for then fire it up TLC, you can come live with me...I am typically pretty angry. Ridiculous.

Happy Friday

Creepy Scream Singer

2010-04-16T00:13:00.000-04:00

Hi. I'm Amanda and I'm a scream singer. Sometimes when I am ~~at the Grammys~~ in my car , I will purposely drive past my destination and take another lap just so I can scream sing. Pedestrians and passengers think my scream singing is destructive. But I don't care. I can't be stopped. I also pee when I sneeze-this is irrelevant but I feel like sharing is caring.

Getting back on track.

Today was a day when the nice weather and lack of sleep provoked me to scream sing with the windows down. Completely uninhibited. So I drove past my house and up into the area that my brother was working in (he's a landscaper) so I could pay him a visit. As I am driving, the wind was forcing me to choke on my hair and the sun was burning my retinas. Perfect. I spot my brother in the distance. So I lay on my horn and start cat calling him, "Ow Ow Owwwww." Through the screaming I am frantically waving and I manage to pull over in front of him. He's about 40 feet away and he's hesitantly waving back at me but not walking towards my car. So I begin screaming "what's up my brother? What's the good word my man? What is shaaaaakkkkking?" I was just trying to embarass him but as I am typing this now, I am getting the feeling I am a flat out lunatic. And ew. Who cat calls their brother?

So I began to get angry at him as he is still not moving, just blankly staring at me. So I follow up my one-way convo by screaming at him "What the fuck? Why aren't you moving asshole?" (This is how we talk to eachother...I do not speak like this to other people. For realsies.)

Now I am pissed. And then it finally dawned on me...I just assumed this was my brother. I haven't actually done my official Nanner's squint to get my vision in focus.

I squint. It's not my brother. In fact it's literally a giant man-child in a garden. I would say at the max he was ummmm 16? I cannot even imagine what was running through this childs head. It's clear to me now as to why he wasn't walking towards my car...he didn't want to be a 20/20 special. Not only am I a spinster; I am a creepy, creepy, scary woman.

I'll just do the cops a favour and pre-print my own wanted poster. In fact stay tuned for my new blog on my journey to prison..."Nanners in the Slamma."

Nanners.

Spinster

2010-04-15T01:33:00.000-04:00

Due to the high volume of crude questions I have been recieving (specifically from friends) for my advice column, I have decided to forgo the Q & A idea until I can get some of these vile images out of my head. You are sooo lucky I am not naming you and putting your questions up. In lieu of this, I have decided to discuss more important topics...such as spinsters.

When I use the term "spinster," I am not referring to someone who teaches professional cycling. I speak of single ladies who have a fear of dying in their parents basement. Generally speaking, if you are a spinster, you know it. You definitely don't need someone to remind you. I'd like to thank my mother for inspiring this ~~meltdown~~ post.

Mom: "Amanda, you should go google yesterday's Toronto Star."
Me in my head: OMG she's finally taken out an ad for me. Better yet, she's found a picture of me in the paper next to an article about fat people.
Me for real: "Why?"
Mom: "There was a great article in there about spinsters..and..."
Me: (Insert lack of blood to the brain and shortness of breath as I find the most appropriate words for this reccomendation...I slam my book shut and stand up and begin to storm upstairs while scream talking ) "MOM ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? DID I JUST UNCONSCIOUSLY TURN TO YOU AND SAY "HEY MOM, I'M A SPINSTER, PLEASE HELP?"
Mom "Well that's the last time I try and help."
Me: "Jesus."

It would have been much easier if she could imply I was a spinster. These alternatives would be much better.

"Hey you remember you're going to die alone right?"
"Hey don't forget to pleasure yourself tonight, because no one else will. Ever."
"Hey don't forget to change the batteries in your boyfriend. He's your only hope."
"Hey should we get you a litter of cats tomorrow or Friday?"
"Hey your cat isn't the only thing that's furry. I see you've let yourself go. Might as well."

I'm sweating. No one needs to be called a spinster..especially before bed. Being alone with my thoughts in the daytime seems so much easier than at night. I guess I should go recharge my boyfriend.

Smooches,
Nanners

Got Gas?

2010-04-14T00:30:00.000-04:00

This is the deepest of the questions that I have recieved so far. This one came from someone I know who has asked to remain nameless...

Dear Nanners,

"What do you do if you're getting a wax and you fart in the waxer's face."

Don't make eye contact and be lucky you didn't shart.

shart: a small, unintended blend of "shit" and "fart."

Nanners

Forbidden Fruit...

2010-04-13T13:32:00.000-04:00

Anonymous writes:
I am 29 years old. I would like to think that I am attractive, out going, and educated
My problem is with men. Shocking! I have a HUGE problem of falling in love with guys who already have girlfriends or married men. I have never followed through with any of them, but have wanted to on a number of occasions.
My question is, what is my problem? Why do I keep falling in love with forbidden fruit? Am I just looking in the wrong places?

Flat out-you are wasting your time.

Falling for a guy whose penis has a another home is super shitty. Give yourself a shake sister. Been there done that. I'd like throw up all over my computer right now because I know what this feels like. Put the goods on lockdown because you should not act on any of it. In fact, go a little amazon for a while and stop shaving if you feel it will help you to resist the forbidden fruit.

If you keep falling for unavailable men, as painstaking as it may be, that's probably the way you consciously/unconsciously like it. 5 things could be happening with you:

1) You may like drama and panic attacks-because that's all it leads to;
2) You may also like the idea of unavailable men because you know that you still have your independence;
3) You may have a fear of being in a relationship and getting hurt so the unavailable guy is way easier because the chances are super slim that anything will come of it;
4) Something has happened in your past to make you not trust a man enough to get into your own healthy relationship-liking unavailable men are convenient for your lifestyle
5) You may be delusional and actually think that he's gonna leave her for you

If you keep this up, I promise you will find yourself with a one-way ticket to Lunaticville where you'll be appointed mayor.

My apologies if this was harsh, I am sure you're an awesome girl but share your ~~vagina~~ awesomeness with someone who wants it.

Reccomended reading: He's Just Not That Into You
Reccomended movie: He's Just Not That Into You

Good luck,
Nanners

Face & Shoulders

2010-04-12T22:57:00.000-04:00

About a month ago, I made the decision to return to my dermatologist after 4 years of dealing with the Rosacea on my face. (He's the one who gave me Botox without me knowing.) Anyway, I was tired of looking like a burn victim or as the nurse so eloquently put this morning, "you looked like someone who had been slapped in the face really really hard." Thanks.

As it turns out, upon further review of my face, my dermotologist has concluded that I don't have Rosacea. I know you are all shitting your pants with anticipation about what my skin condition is. Here's how it went down.

Doc-"Uhhh this isn't Rosacea."
Me-"Ummm, what is it then."
Doc-"Uhhh simply put, you have dandruff of the face."
Me-Insert silence.
Doc "So, just take this cream and rub it on your face and come back in two weeks. Take care."

Amazing. I have facial dandruff. What the fuck is facial dandruff? I leave my appointment and get in my car-Word of advice; no one should hear that they have dandruff of the face and drive alone. The entire way home I found myself unable to scream sing, plagued by my urgent mega-wish that there is an entire closeted community of facial dandruff sufferers...if I could only find them on Google.

I didn't...It gets much worse.

Upon revealing my secret to my girlfriends, I become the butt of jokes. As my BFF stated, "Maybe you could create your own cream...Face & Shoulders." Fucking comedian.

Getting back on track...this morning was my follow up appointment. The crazy redness in my face has subsided for the most part (in case you care). I just look like I am blushing now...nothing unusual. However, my doctor still wants to see if he can get the last of the redness so he prescribes me some pills. I just picked them up.Please look closely at my box below... This was prescribed for my face.

Let me get this straight...not only do I have dandruff of the face, but now apparently according to the description on the box (not in my box), my face has a yeast infection. I actually don't know what to do, other than the obvious...panic.

Nanners

Wrap it up...

2010-04-11T21:24:00.000-04:00

If you didn't read my last post, ~~then screw you~~ I have decided to shell outadvice to my followers. Below is a question from a reader...followed by my advice.

Okay, so what would you do in this situation...I'm dating a guy for a bit - we're exclusive (although it was never spoken about, just assumed). One day he's being nice and helping me move stuff around in my bedroom. When moving my bed, up pops a (old, i.e. prior him) condom wrapper. Note: there's also several socks, bras and dust - so it's not like I had been under there cleaning in a long time (don't judge). We had stopped using condoms (stop judging). Am I obliged to say something i.e. reassure him that this was something pre-him??? (because I didn't - just laughed it off...)

Advice please :)

Dear Biggest Fan Ever,

First of all, it would be a god damn miracle if a guy found a condom wrapper under my bed...that would indicate that I was getting laid.

I would let him know that not only is under your bed normally clean, but so is your babymaker. No one likes a slut. Give him some sort of reassurance that your vajay-jay is a one penis woman. However, if it gets to a point that he is constantly needing reassurance, then I would evaluate the amount of trust he has in you.

Also,you technically haven't had the conversation about being exclusive so neither of you can just assume that eachother's privates are on lock-down.This could be your chance to discuss being exclusive (and to get an STD test) if that's what you both want or you could choose the route of blatantly ignoring this situation.

If by chance he starts acting like a giant man-child about this then I would take any personal effects that he has left at your place, and sell them on ebay.

Hope this helps.

Warmest fuzzies,
Nanners

Dear Nanners

2010-04-11T19:34:00.000-04:00

A good friend (also the sluttiest), asked me to start an advice column on my blog. As I am somewhat famous for giving advice and making really bad decisions I thought...why not?. Here's how it works: (I figure I would explain in great detail for my dumbest friends.) You post a question in the comment field or if you are blessed enough to have my contact info then email, text, call, pin, facebook me or ~~sleep with~~ me.

Nothing is off topic.

Ew. I Hate Today.

2010-03-11T13:39:00.000-05:00

I should have known that when my computer crashed this morning that today would suck. So far I managed to chop some of my eyelashes off with a faulty eye lash curler, I smashed an egg all over the fucking floor in the kitchen, I hit something in an underground parking lot because I became distracted by the thought that I am kind of like a "husband fluffer," (around for the fun but never at the altar.) So I got distracted...can you blame me? I never checked to see what or who it was that I hit...I just kept driving...I am sure it's fine. And to top things off, I found an old cheese string at the bottom of my favourite purse. That's really gross and I debated writing about that but it just added fuel to my fire.

But here's the thing that agitated me the most: I had to fake laugh at people's jokes. For some reason, I feel obliged to forcefully laugh out of courtesy at jokes that aren't even remotely funny. I have a standard fake laugh which is eerily high, accompanied by an awkward head tilt and followed by an under the breath "Oh God, that's so funny."

I feel socially responsible in particular to laugh at old people's jokes. Who knows, that joke could be the very last painstakingly unfunny words they utter. Do I entertain them by laughing or watch as they go down in a blaze of non-comedic glory?

My BFF...Corey Haim

2010-03-10T20:31:00.000-05:00

Unless you live under a rock, then you have heard the news that the beloved 80's star, Corey Haim has passed away at 38.

This morning when I heard the news I immediately went to my basement to try and dig up my old posters from my Tiger Beat and Bop magazines to see if I had any Corey Haim stuff lying around. Um, what were you going to do with that Amanda? I have no idea. But I was so shocked because we were literally BFF's for an evening. True story. Until I turned creepy.

My friend Mandy, Sandy and I were hitting the town pretty hard one night in October 2008 and we were just finishing up terrorizing the men of Toronto, when we stopped into the convenience store by our apartment and met Corey Haim. This is how it went down.

In my intoxicated hungry state, I was most likely grabbing Cheetos, a frozen dinner, ice cream and chips just to satisfy the emptiness that 10 pints of beer left. We were raiding the store when we heard a bottle smash. We look over to see a gentleman heading toward the counter apologizing for the mess. Immediately, we all recognize who it was but none of us could gather any of our sentences-no not because of the beer but because it was our 80's crush in the flesh. We were silent as we relished in our celeb sighting. We left the store and did what any respectable, un-stalkerish women would do...Waited.

We formed our very own private papparazi and threw in a few "holy fucks," and "OMG's that's Corey Haim!" There was nothing sneaky about us as we were like school girls when he finally exited the store, "Um, excuse me can we get our picture taken with you?" He was so polite and of course obliged. He was really quite shy. This is Mandy...she's a bit permiscuous.

The below photo was taken before he caught me sniffing his leather jacket. I literally couldn't believe that I was standing there with a guy whose poster I kissed nightly when I was growing up. Anyway, I was going in to smell his neck (as you would if you met any celeb) and instead I ended up taking a giant and noticable deep breathe in. My nose was pressed against his leather jacket. At this point he just turns his head and looks at me like "what are you doing?" He didn't say it but I felt it in my BFF's eyes. This photo is quite blurry but who cares.

It was a memorable evening that's for sure. I am choosing to leave out the part when we returned home and t Mandy and I refused to go to bed so we put on our party shoes and scoured the neighbourhood for him at 4am. What we were going to do if we were to find him randomly on the street...we have no idea. It sounded genious at the time.

On a serious note, this is a tragedy as he was turning his life around. My thoughts are with all those who knew and loved him and his spirit will live on through his movies.

We're Having an Office Pot Suck...I Meant Pot Luck

2010-03-09T18:49:00.000-05:00

Being at home with my parents does have its advantages-the home cooked meals. However, I do have to listen to my mother talk about what her colleague Linda brought to the pot luck at work and how much she adored her recipe for her spinach dip. Fact: This may seem insensitive, but I don't really care what Linda brought to the pot luck. In fact, here is what I am thinking when my mother is telling me this story. Does Linda have any single sons around my age or at an age that it wouldn't be creepy for me to date them? Does Linda have money? Can you become better friends with her so we can spend her money? Did you bring home some left over spinach dip? This ass isn't going to fatten itself.

This conversation about pot lucks, literally just took place in the kitchen 5 minutes ago and reminded me of how much I hated office pot lucks with a firey passion. On this occassion you discover that there are 4 types of people you work with and I have broken them down into seperate categories:

1. Those who just picked up the brownies instead of baked them-which some may view as lazy;
2. Those who are Julia Child in the kitchen have 4 young children at home but yet still bring the most delicious and thoughtful dishes so that everyone else feels like an asshole;
3. Those who cook,and are in denial about how grotesque their bean salad is but they are somehow always lingering around to ask "have you tried my bean salad?" Now you have to. Again, you run the risk of looking like an asshole so you politely accept;
4. Those who actually don't bring a thing, have managed to avoid the topic when brought up but yet, you find them filing their plates and stuffing their faces in their cubicles. Bastards.

(There is kind of a non-official 5th category and that's the type of person such as myself, who enjoys watching other co-workers take a bite of something disgusting that you, yourself, just spit back into your napkin. They carefully glance up to see if anyone caught their reaction. I always do. Now that is my favourite part.)

The end result of an office pot luck could go one of 3 ways. You realize that Rose in accounting not only sucks at her job, but she is also super shitty at cooking. Now she has exposed 2 areas of her life that she is useless in. Or, Rose could still be shitty at accounting but if she brings in the best Mexican rice dish ever, then there is a chance for redemption and some meaningful high fives for her around the office. Lastly, Rose could be a star at cooking and accounting which really makes her the fucking star of the office for a few days. We hate Rose.

I once fell into category number 1, as I had a raging hangover and totally forgot to bake something. So I ran to a gourmet coffee shop, bought 24 gourmet cookies, which cost me 40 gourmet dollars, only to get my arm stuck in the door of the subway and have my cookies crushed. That was God's way of calling me lazy-and an alcoholic. No one ate my cookies.They couldn't. They were essentially shrapnel and debris from the war I fought in the subway that morning. Lesson learned-always call in sick on pot luck day.

Smooches,
Nanners

I Promise to be Faithful...To My Pillow

2010-03-08T11:57:00.000-05:00

The days of me feeling stupid for making out with my pillow are over.

A Korean man has finally upped and married his body pillow-But it's not just any 300 thread count pillow case stuffed with cotton, drawn on the pillow case is the anime character, Fate Testarossa (of which I know nothing about and intend of not researching it)

If you ask me, this guy is one lucky ~~nutjob~~ man. She'll always keep her mouth shut when arguing and she'll just lie down and take it like a champ in the bedroom, he can drool and fart on her and she won't bitch slap him. What guy wouldn't want that? Meeting the in-laws and friends are a breeze and that bitch really got off the hook without having to worry if everyone liked her.

Maybe this guy has the right idea.

The Vaginator

2010-03-03T21:18:00.001-05:00

Hold the phone. Literally. A new Octo-Mom iPhone app is in the works pending a trademark on the new Octo-Mom game. Nadya Suleman, mother of 14 (my vajajay hurts thinking about it) will be the star of her very own iPhone application.

Here's the riveting concept: You shoot each baby out of her Cha-Cha in hopes it lands in the hands of waiting mothers. But wait, you score brownie points if there happens to be a papparazo in the room!

Screw reading the newspaper or people watching on the subway to work. I would much rather enjoy a stimulating round of playing the ~~vaginator~~ Octo-Mom game.

Maybe in the next brainteaser of an app, she can shoot out her placenta.

Grossed out,
Nanners

Filter, I Miss You

2010-03-03T02:27:00.000-05:00

So last night while twittering, pinning, playing Family Feud online and sending random dirty e-cards, I recieved a text message from a strange phone number talking about "their heart and how they had an x-ray done on it and they couldn't live if I wasn't in it." I can't post the entire message as I deleted it immediately. Well, I forwarded it to a friend in case I ended up on a milk carton next week. (Do they even do that anymore? Anyway, you get my drift.)

Apparently, during the game on Sunday, I was giving out my number out like Heidi Fleiss used to give out blow jobs. What is wrong with me? My phalanges have a mind of their own once the drinks start flowing, not to mention the filter from my brain to my mouth has been withering away since high school. I had a "what the fuck flashback" of a conversation I had at the bar the other night and I am sitting here purple faced as I type this. Here's how it went down...This convo was held in a scream talking tone in a busy bar:

Guy "So Amanda, what do you do?"
Me ( Here comes lie #1) "Well I am taking some time off to figure out what I want to do."
Guy "Do you live in Toronto?"
Me (Why couldn't I have stuck to lying?) "Well I actually live with my parents in the east end," (Now I try to be funny)
"I'll probably die there alone with 100 cats." Insert my laughter...Insert his blank stare.
Conversation over.

My girlfriends find this shit hilarious so they would rather witness a conversation like this to take place than to stop it. Hence, why I am taking out an ad for babysitter to smack me in the mouth when my filter is malfunctioning.

An old boss of mine told me that I have the ability to charm anyone. This was a false statement. Clearly, I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to the big, bad world of picking up. Purchasing Dating for Dummies is also not an option as I was embarassed enough to buy He's Just Not That Into You from a male cashier at Indigo. (It was 10pm on a Friday night and I wreaked of desperation.)

I must have been away that day when social ettiquette was taught...or when God handed out filters. My girlfriends (whom most have landed husbands) seem to have done something right. Maybe because they all slept with their significant others on their first dates? Ha. You know who you are.

Do I need to skip the small talk and show my Cha-Cha to get a date around here?

Smooches,
Nanners

Drunk on Patriotism

2010-03-02T13:01:00.000-05:00

As yesterday was a day I deemed Canada's national hangover day, I myself was suffering from an Olympic hangover. Waking up on a floor with the imprint of my BlackBerry in my neck and team Canada stickers stuck all over my body, it occured to me that I was probably not alone in this feeling. An Olympic hangover consists of a horrible taste in your mouth from last night's beer (and whatever was free), a withdrawl from cleverly arranged video montages and Tim Hortons commercials that brought tears to our eyes, and the stark realization that you can't hug strangers in the street and high five anymore simply because you're Canadian.

Two words. Sidney Crosby. Our very own homegrown hockey hero lead us to our 3-2 gold medal victory over our southern friends. I do have to mention that team USA were tough competition and they too played a great game. Okay back to ~~my baby daddy~~ Sidney. Let me just say that this guy has a permanent invitation to a party in my pants. Sweet mother of God, that boy can handle his stick. Before I get too carried away and this turns into erotic literature or just plain creepy, I will move on.

Watching the gold medal game in one of the busiest bars in Toronto, was an experience unto itself. It was kinda of like the Olympics for drunk people. I found myself dodging ass grabs, firing back witty comments left, right and centre, running outside in between periods to chant and dance in the street and of course guzzle my beer as fast as I could when I saw the waitress coming so I didn't have to wait an eternity for the next one. I kinda have been training for this moment since University. Only in University-I never dodged an ass grab. I did happen to meet myself a "showstopper" who took quite a liking to me as we talked for a chunk of the afternoon...that was until I couldn't remember his name when I went to put it in my phone. He was a little pissed, but I realized he was over it when he began whispering R rated things in my ear. I was so taken back I was speechless...a rarity for me as I have been known to let a dirty word slip here and there. I soon realized that as I was planning our first date in my head in between periods as he was planning on me being a hooker for the night. Thankfully I dodged that bullet.

Well after 17 days of high impact emotion, excitement and high fives that still sting, the Olympics have come to a close. I am so very proud to be a SINGLE Canadian and I have such admiration for all atheletes worldwide that actually got a chance to live out their dreams and play in our backyard.

Peace,
Nanners

Trash Talkers on Ice

2010-02-27T00:04:00.000-05:00

Well folks, it really does feel like a real Canadian winter now...snow is falling, people are driving like assholes and hockey's on. Speaking of hockey....

I'll be the first to admit that I would be down for a good ol' "slap and tickle" from Crosby or Iginla. I find myself watching these hockey showdowns with legs crossed, in fear of spontaneous combustion.

Tonight's battle between the Slovaks and the Canadians left me all tingly in my "no no special spot" as the Canadians beat the opposition 3-2 in a very intense game-in particular the 3rd period. (I would call it a "nail biter" but I bit them all off during an STD scare.)

Each game I try desperately to read the lips of the players as they talk smack to eachother or curse under their breath in the penalty box. I haven't seen too much of the shit talk in our friendly Olympic competition as I do in regular NHL games. Or is that me just shit talking to my t.v? Hmmm.

However, in last night's Canadian women's hockey game there was a point where two women collided and shared some words. I couldn't help but wonder what they were. Do women get as vulgar with eachother as men do? Do they use hurtful sentences such as "well at least I shave my legs you hairy lesbo." Or. " You're boyfriend gave my syphyllis." Or do they use the word C*#T? (A word I typically use while driving or shopping) I am curious to know. Or maybe I am way of base and none of these thoughts don't even pop into their head...just my filthy mind.

Until the gold medal game bitches!!!

Nanners

Could I Have Been An Olympian?

2010-02-24T22:42:00.001-05:00

Unfortunately my narcolepsy interfered with Olympic spirit tonight. I awoke in my clothes on my bed (unfortunately alone) during the 3rd period to find Luongo was as tight as me on prom night. Like I, he remained on his knees and deflected most shots by the ~~KGB~~ Russia, helping to lead team Canada in a 7-3 victory over our European neighbours.

I was a goalie once...in field hockey. I sucked and I only did it for the jacket and the free trip to Boston. I would conveniently drag my ass to the field with all my equipment during practice when the team was finishing up their 3rd lap of running. Running-something that caused me a great deal of mental anguish and judging by the size of my ass...it still does. I can't help but wonder-what if I actually ran a lap once in a while? Could I have been an Olympian? What if I watched Cool Runnings a few more times? Could I have been a pro bobsledder? I could be striking endorsement deals with Omega (the fancy watch people) and Ralph Lauren if I just hadn't been born a whiny bitch. As I struggle to find my career path at the moment this thought plagues me. However, the realist inside me acknowledges that I missed my chance and I am one hot dog away from being the next Rita McNeil.

Proudly Canadian,
Nanners

***I want to give a GIANT congratulations to Ms. Shelley-Ann Brown who, as I type, is standing on the podium recieving her silver medal in bobsledding. Her and I went to public school together and this is truly incredible to watch. So proud!!!! Congratulations Shelley!!!***

P.S. Am I the only one who cries like a baby during every medal presentation for Canada? That "I Believe" song tugs at my heart strings.

Oh to Be a Puck Bunny

2010-02-23T22:12:00.001-05:00

As a former puck bunny, tonight's showdown between Canada and Germany was nothing short of an orgasm. While the Germans were getting their asses handed to them, I was thinking of asses of my own.

While watching the game and spontaneously cursing, I had flashbacks of traveling to the rink every thursday night with my boobs up to my neck with my winter jacket open just enough to show my guns which resulted in random make outs in closets at rookie parties. I also chuckled (insert evil laugh) when I reflected on glaring at the other puck bunnies in the stands and of course, participating in Canada's favourite past time-drinking beer. (Well in my case, I think it was Mike's hard lemonade which was pretty much like drinking gasoline, but either way it made me a "sure thing.")

I oozed with Canadian pride as our home and native land crushed the Germans 8-2 and I realized how much I miss ~~men~~ hockey. Which has led me to the decision that if I am still without child, husband and dignity in 2014, I will travel to Russia for the Winter Games to volunteer my services as the team Canada ~~fluffer~~ towel girl.

I always wanted to be a part of the Olympics but my fat ass just didn't know how. It's all clear to me now and I owe it to all puck bunnies across the nation.

Smooches,
Nanners

Is That Your Twin in Your Leg?

2010-02-23T02:26:00.000-05:00

So I have been held up in hotel Nanners for the past 3 weeks (with the exception of a couple play dates) because of a minor surgery I had on my leg. Long story short-I woke up with a giant lump on my inner thigh. As amusing as it would be to my girlfriends to learn that it was symptomatic of an STD-it wasn't. Getting an STD would imply that you most likely were getting some, and that's not the case.
I have nurses that come to my house everyday to change my bandages, clean it and stick gauze in my wound and see me freaking out with my pants off. (The last time I freaked out with my pants off, I was peeing on a stick and praying to our sweet baby Jesus, but that's besides the point.) I think it's safe to say I am a full blown hypochondriac. Every morning I pop a pain killer in anticipation of my nurses arrival and wait in fear of discovering they have found my twin growing in my thigh.

What fuels my growing fear of um, pretty much everything is a little search engine some of you may know as Google. Anytime something goes remotely wrong with me I immediately google it. I remind myself to breathe as I am looking at the 133,000 results it has returned. Pages upon pages of horrible stories or images glare back at me as I sit in my bed and begin to twitch in horror. It also happens that I do all of my investigations of horrible diseases and medical mysteries in the middle of the night when no one is around to bitch slap some sense into me.

I also don't think that it helps that I watch Untold Stories of the ER which typically runs as a marathon and not just one episode that you can go to bed and forget about. (I know you are thinking "turn the channel moron," but I can't. It's like seeing a real life hooker for the first time...you can't stop staring.) For instance, last year I saw an episode of a man who came to the ER on Halloween with an axe in his head. Everyone said "cool costume." For some miracle this man could articulate sentences and he managed to tell them it wasn't a costume....I mean, how does this happen? These are the things I think about. I can't even think of a situation when I have been around an axe in the past year, but still this story haunts me and I fear I will wake up with one in my head. I am crazy. I am aware. This is a tiny tidbit of what runs through my head in a given moment.

From now on, I vow to make a concious effort to limit my google searches to more important things in life; celebrity gossip and porn. Not diseases. Maybe I should install a parental control feature on the WebMD site?

Smooches,
Nanners

Giant Man-Child- Need Not Apply

2010-02-16T20:57:00.001-05:00

An hour ago a friend messaged me to help her with her online dating profile. Honesty is the best policy. Below is what I came up with.

Okay. Let’s cut the shit. There is a good chance you looked at my picture and probably thought about fucking me. And I’ll be honest, if you supply the weed and wine-it’s a possibility.

Let’s get this out of the way now. I have a former fiancé who fucked me over before walking down the aisle. I took the high road and didn’t use my “crazy pass,” when that asshole broke my heart so I can find the crazy from within if you fuck with me. Don’t cheat on me-I won’t cheat on you. Simple as that.

If you act like you are 16 but suffer from gigantism (physically big but emotionally small) then I’d like you to be up front with me. In other words, I don’t want to be fooled by a man-child and their dramatic outbursts. I’ve been there and bought the t-shirt and I am selling his tool set on e-bay.

I think this profile is likely the most straight forward that you will read so if you like what you read-message me. Message me at an uncreepy time...like before 1am. And don’t say weird shit. I will delete you without a reason. Perhaps even block you.

Also, if you do pass go, please don’t try and befriend me on facebook after our first chit chat. That’s far too personal and there is a good chance that I will post something about our first date to either belittle you or gush about you.

I like to travel.

Peace.

If we could only be that honest.

Hey Nice P.J's...Do You Still Live With Your Parents?

2009-12-28T16:03:00.000-05:00

Sorry I've been away for awhile. I have been yet again busy hating my life on many different levels. But it's getting better...the pharmaceuticals that I am taking are causing me not to feel dead inside. Although they come with the side effect of me wanting to make out and rip some random strangers clothes off. The problem with this is, I have no potential suitors at the moment and making out with my pillow is getting old.

Christmas was alright (besides the vicious hangover I had on Christmas day.) I got some great gifts...I was spoiled...well that was until I opened the box with my pajamas in it.( Also included were Granny panties but I don't want to touch that issue.) These are the pajamas that solidified my fear of living with my parents the rest of my life may actually be a reality. I think my parents have become aware that it is quite evident I will rot in their house until at least my 50th birthday...so why not bundle this bitch up in some wacked out cotton pattern 'cause our daughter sure won't be getting any.

Anyway, the new pajamas I just got are what I have named "The unfuckable spinster classics." They are cotton and blue and have tons and tons of flowers all over them. I would definitely equate them to an old wall paper pattern that our parents had in their kitchen in the 80's. Either that or something you would see on elderly woman in a nursing home. I asked if I could return them and get money for an iPod but that didn't go over so well. (I'm actually sitting in my room and writing this as I am wearing them...they are comfy.)

So the holidays became busy afterall...today I just got back from a dinner party in London with my University girlfriends. 4:30am was bedtime and 12:43 was my train time. When I arrived at the train station I went to pay for my ticket. Ticket man was staring at my wrist intensly. I was thinking "what the fuck is this guy looking at." I have a tattoo on one of my wrists but this hand wasn't the one. So I looked down at my wrist as I was passing him my money only to realize that I had forgotten about the giant penis and balls my friend drew on my arm after our drinking game. (Yes, my maturity level is not where any normal 28 year old's would be) I immediately tried to snatch my money up with my left hand (this hand goes a little spastic sometimes and it becomes hard to hold drinks or trays of food without throwing them on the floor) So as the line up builds I start sweating like a whore in church trying to get my money and ticket off the counter while hiding my penis hand behind my back. That was nice.

Well, I really don't feel like writing anymore and coming into a writers block or as my parents call it "just plain stupidity."

I will write again in the new year-until then folks....I'm just livin' the dream

Smooches.
Nanners

How Was Your Summer?

2009-09-30T23:31:00.000-04:00

I have been dreading running into people in my hometown in fear that they may ask "Hey Amanda, how was your summer?"

I have been avoiding local hotspots like the grocery store, in fear that the below response would fly out of my mouth: *This is intentionally 1 sentence.*

"Well I didn't have a job which meant that I barely went out and when I did, I would be sweating so much that the front of my hair went curly while the back was straight and my skin was oily so no one talked to me at the bar so I ended up drinking a lot because I felt so unattractive and the drinking caused me to have major heartburn the next day which mimmicked a heart attack and created a lot of anxiety which in turn made my road rage intolerable which increased my bitchiness so when I got home to my parents place which I just moved into at the age of 28 and where I will die, I would fight with them because I was dying of a hangover and lingering road rage which would cause me to eat my feelings and stay up all night watching documentaries on deadly bear attacks and repeats of extreme home makeover in between googling "celebrities with cellulite" and eventually I would fall asleep for maybe an hour or two and dream of what it would be like to have sex then I would wake up and think about the time I thought I was pregnant and immediately be turned off then remember I live with my parents so chances of me having sex are like the chances of me discovering the cure for cancer and then I would think about how much cellulite I have and want to stay in bed all day, but that wouldn't be possible because of the telemarketers that call our house 4 million times a day so I couldn't sleep so after I thought about it, I would get my fat scottish ass out of the bed to go down and stand in my parents fridge for oh... I don't know- about 30 minutes and then promptly complain that there was nothing to eat, squeeze in Law and Order at noon, sit on facebook for a couple hours, think about something witty to say in 140 characters or less to update my twitter page of which I mainly follow celebrities because their lives are far more interesting than mine only to update my status and have no one @tweet me, then I would try and catch a nap before Ellen started but that was impossible because I was continually thinking about not having a job while rubbing anti-wrinkle cream on my forehead wrinkle and then I would get a text from Meagan about her latest date and then think about how I am not dating then go on a dating website only to be verbally accosted by complete strangers whose tag line was "I would do anything for love." which really meant "I am fat, desperate, socially inept and super creepy and have a really small penis" so they would message me and ask me out which caused me to hide my profile and swear off online dating then my mom would come home see me in my pajamas and tell me that I needed to get a life and then I would say "with whose money...yours?" then she would tell me to "fuck off", at which point I would grab her car keys take off in her car in my pajamas and drive around the neighbourhood and scream sing "Billy Jean," while simutaneously crying and wishing that my summer was better. How was your summer?"

I Need A Muzzle

2009-09-24T14:52:00.000-04:00

If you haven't noticed, I am awful at keeping this blog up to date. I wish I could say it's due to my chronic dating addiction and Maxim photo shoots but no such luck. (In reality it's more like I have been busy with my addiction to internet porn and Betty Crocker.) I have however, been interviewing at a few companies and have been offered a job. I immediately took it and am very excited about it...looks like I won't be dying a spinster in my parents basement afterall. All my repenting for being a tad slutty in my younger years has finally paid off.

I am not quite sure how I managed to pull off my first interview. I know I can be charming but I actually sounded incredibly intelligent. I was so proud of myself. I didn't sweat, swear or mumble which in my books, is a good day.

However, in my second interview, I really felt the pressure to "bring it," because I knew it was a good sign they asked me to come back. Despite the fact that my ass had been eating my pants all morning and my wedgie was splitting me in half, I managed to pull off another great interview. I felt incredibly comfortable. So comfortable in fact that when my boss asked me what I was doing this weekend, I told him "pole dancing." Which wasn't a lie. I was going to learn how to be an exotic dancer at a bachelorette party I was going to. It literally just flew out of my mouth. He stared at me with a blank look on his face. At this point the oxygen supply was limited to my brain. I felt my face turning purple and the awkwardness between us was unreal. He then followed it up with "Don't go moonlighting as a stripper, " and thankfully, began to laugh.

Holy fuck. Was I really having this conversation with my new boss who thinks I am smart and professional?

Wait, it gets worse.
I decided to take the spotlight off of me as he was walking me to the elevator so I asked him "What are you doing this weekend?" Now please keep in mind that I had been working on my positive attitude prior to this interview so my response to everything would be enthusiastic and it would appear to others that I am not an empty shell like I have felt for months.

"Well, one of my colleague's father passed away suddenly so I am going to the funeral home tonight..." before he could finish, I responded with great enthusiasm "Nice!" I immediately had a flashback from the movie P.S I Love You when Harry Conick Jr. asks Hillary Swank "What did he die from?"
"A brain tumor."
"Nice."

Thankfully, my boss continued talking without the acknowledgement of my inappropriate conversation skills.

No doubt I will be back on the market in no time for another job.

Keep it real bitches.

Nanners

The Littlest, Creepiest Librarian

2009-09-14T23:07:00.000-04:00

I typically avoid going to the local library since my incident last summer and the fact that printing on the library's paper has now afforded me the option of only sending one of my future children to University. It's so effing expensive. Did Jesus touch this paper? Was it recycled from the menus of "The Last Supper?" Jesus.

Anyway, this post isn't about the cost of paper (BORING) it's about the creepy 4 foot tall woman that swears she knows me and eerily watches me from her desk everytime I go in there. Before I even go into the library, my heart starts to palpitate in fear that the elf they have employed there is going to touch me inappropriately behind the book shelves.

It was last summer when I was at the library quite a bit doing some research on doing my post-grad studies when I went to check out a movie (Win a Date With Tad Hamilton. Fuck he's hot.) that Tinkerbell struck up a conversation.

Her-"I know you from somewhere."
Me in my head-Tell me I didn't sleep with your husband.
Me for real-"Oh really? I grew up around here."
Her-"Your name is Susan."
Me in my head- Shouldn't you ask me if that's my name and not tell me?
Me for real-"Oh, I'm sorry it's not. You must have the wrong person." (Even then for some reason, I had a funny feeling that this could turn into a scene from Misery with me tied to a bed and her standing over me with a sledge hammer.)
Her-"Yes it is." She stared right through me. Ugh. Gives me shivers.
Me for real-"No. No it's not. My name isn't Susan-it's Amanda."

It went silent as her beady little eyes just looked up at me. I took my movie and ran.
A couple days later, I went back in hopes that she wouldn't be there. Sure enough she was and has been subsequently every time I have gone back. Each time I go back, I see her become slightly aroused that I am there. She gets this odd look on her face and this head tilt as she watches me. (I have exceptional side glancing abilities.)

Tonight, I just went in for a couple minutes to print some things and there she was. The devil-all wrapped up in a little, short weird package staring at me like I just ran over her favourite cat. Ew. Just writing this I am baby barfing in my mouth a little.

So OF COURSE, the computer that I am using isn't able to print my stuff and there are no other computers available.(I had to make this visit short as Intervention was coming on and I started to panic.) Anyway, I frantically looked around to find a librarian that wasn't busy but to my luck and instant horror I saw the anti-christ walking towards me. Game time decision-do I ask her for help and risk winding up dead in the forest by my house? Or do I wait patiently? Patience is not my virtue so out it came-
"Excuse me? Can you help me with my computer?"
She didn't say anything. Nothing. She just stared at me. What the fuck do you do in this situation? SO WEIRD. So I just turned around and walked away-she followed me.
I got back to my desk and sat down and she literally came up behind me and pretty much rested her head on my shoulder. I am talking like she was blowing in my ear.
"Give me the mouse." She whispered. Ahhhhhhh...She's so creepy.
I sat there and didn't move a muscle.

Her garlic breath wafted up my nasal cavity and into head triggering horrible memories of eating pizza after the bar. I thought to myself as her dirty nails gripped the mouse, "Is this going to be the last thing I remember before she jumps out of the glove compartment of my car and smothers me?" God help me.

Before long my pocket sized friend had my problem fixed and THREW my papers at me. I am really not sure what to make of this situation. Should I just tell her my name is Susan to avoid being a 48 Hours Mystery special?

You say it best, when you say nothing at all.

2009-09-14T00:11:00.000-04:00

When in doubt, don't say anything. Which is what I told my father the day after the vagina monologue aired in my parents house. (See below blog post for further explanation.)

I wasn't able to choke on the feathers in my duvet so I eventually went down stairs and faced my Dad. At first, I just stuck to speaking to my mom. My dad, feeling left out looks at me out of no where and says "I used to wipe your bum." For some reason he had to get yesterday's episode off his chest.

"C'mon. Fuck. Dad, " I yelled. "Is it necessary to bring this up? Jesus." I could feel my face turning as purple as his as my mom stood chopping onions and scream laughing in the kitchen.

Why say anything? Really? I understand that verbal diarreah runs in the family but it's kind of an event that you don't speak of. For instance, it's like the first time you have sex with someone and talk dirty and the other person looks at you and says "what?" You just don't bring it up. Ever. It's like it didn't happen.

Anyway, felt as though I needed to follow up and let you know that I survived.

Tiny Blog

2009-09-01T22:46:00.000-04:00

Today a homeless man on the street told me he wants to "give it to me good." After stopping to contemplate his offer, I decided against it. Although looking back there have been no other offers on the table lately and technically I wouldn't ever have to tell anyone. It's not like I would tell my friends " I hooked up with a homeless dude yesterday behind a dumpster." Oh well, life is full of regrets.

This is off topic but is anyone else wildly sick of hearing about Michael Jackson? Don't get me wrong he is a legend, but let the man rest. Speaking of rest, his father looks like he hasn't slept in... oh I don't know, about 60 years. He looks a bit like this ~~pimp I used to work for~~ man I used to know.

Anyway, I will be going offline for a couple days until I get wireless access at my parents. Oh dear Jesus help me.

Smooches,
Nanners

Thanks For Ruining My Day.

2009-08-31T21:18:00.001-04:00

There's a giant man hole in the intersection where I am staying in Toronto and I briefly thought about jumping in it after the day I had. Terrible, terrible day. I don't think it helped much that I watched The Notebook before going to bed last night then subsequently saw a Jenny Craig commercial which reminded me that

a) I should probably swing by the pet store on my way home to my parents on Wednesday and pick up about 9 cats as I will die a spinster in their basement.
AND
b) I should invest in a bunch of elastic waist pants as my ass is like a Chia pet. It just keeps growing. "Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia."(I know you all said that in your head)

This morning when I woke up and looked in the mirror I realized that I am a cross between Kirsty Ally and Courtney Love. Not feeling at my best, on my way to an interview, some douche bag yelled obscenities out of his truck window at me and all I could do was yet again, burst into tears. I am so mad at myself for not telling him I hope his penis spontaneously combusts and that he gets herpes of the face.

Generally speaking, I can only express my opinion to douche bags and bitches out loud in public during the holiday season in mall parking lots. That's really the only time that I scream obscenities at strangers. In most seasons I just verbally assult people in my head (or via email) and smile at them.

Anyway, I am kinda glad that my parents didn't raise me to be an asshole. At least not publicly.

Must go. Into my second hour of Intervention.

Smooches,
Nanners

Wow. A Blanket With Sleeves.

2009-08-31T16:19:00.000-04:00

Last night while channel surfing I came across one of the most ridiculous inventions I have ever seen. I know it's be in out for a while but as the memory tends to block horrific memories, I had forgotten about this giant munk-like blanket with yes, if you can imagine...sleeves. Today I went to write a post about it and googled "Snuggie," and stumbled upon this video. I feel a post is uneccesary as the video hits the nail on the head. How incompentent does one have to be...Hilarious.

Womanly Banter

2009-08-30T22:12:00.005-04:00

Quick post-I noticed today that most of my postings refer to urination and generally have the not- so- subtle hint of how desperate I am. So I decided to take the attention off my own bladder and my "no no special spot" for a minute. Instead, I have created a list of conversations that happen between women at the bar and the next day after the bar.

(These lists are not ordered. I am too tired to rank the importance of these rambles.)

The Night Out
1. "Do you think that I should still go home with him? But look he's making out with that girl in the corner. That girl has acne. I am prettier than her right?"
2. "Pinky swear that when we leave, that we can get hot dogs?"
3. "That girl is a whore."
4. "Don't go to the washroom without me. K? Promise? Swear?"
5. "I love you. I love you so much. It's like ridiculous. You are like totally my best friend. Where did you get your lipgloss?" (This person is a stranger)

The Morning After -typically spent with a "what the fuck?" look on your face as a friend reminds you "That was so funny when you...." But is too nice to give you the EXACT details.
1. "When's your next appointment with your shrink?"
2. "OMG. No one noticed that you took your shirt off in the bar. I swear."
3. "I totally didn't tell anyone you had unprotected sex with a stranger last night."
4. "Honestly, he will totally call you. He probably didn't hear you fart in bed."
5. "Maybe next time don't order doubles. Maybe just stick to beer."

This list was inspired by only conversations that I have heard other women have. Definitely not me. I am a lady. Not.

Smooches,
Nanners

I Can't Catch a Break

2009-08-29T14:30:00.004-04:00

I am continually impressed with my ability to make really poor choices in my life. For example, a poor choice would be drinking a litre of wine and 3 pitchers of beer like I did last night. (Not alone in case you were wondering.)

My decision to drink like a sailor leads to painstaking hangovers which induces self pity and laziness...but this morning of all mornings I was one bitch that couldn't be lazy. At 9 am I woke up and finished moving (with the help of a friend thank Christ) then I had to drive my fat ass back to Pickering with the last of my belongings. I probably shouldn't have been operating heavy machinery ie; my car, but I always enjoy driving as it's the only place I can scream sing comfortably.

I refused to stay in my hometown for the weekend so me and my pounding head and bad breath hopped on the train back to the city. After what seemed like a century I had to hop on the subway. Oh joy. We all know how I enjoy the fucking subway. My favourite part of today's subway ride was when there was a power outage and we were underground for oh ummmmm 20 very long minutes. During which time I was hoping those Jehovah's have a point and the world really is coming to an end. I would have been JUST fine with that in that moment.

(Please note that since 9am I have had a raging case of cotton mouth that became progressively worse the day has gone on.)

After coming to terms that the subway was not going to be my final resting place, I got off and went straight to the food court to get a fountain pop. A diet coke on the rocks always does the job. So as I was standing in line, I noticed an old woman struggling with her tray and her bags as she walked to her table. So me, being the good samaritan I am, left my place in line and carried her tray to her table. AS I WAS SETTING DOWN THE TRAY, HER GIANT CUP OF ICED TEA FELL OFF AND INTO HER PURSE. THIS IS ME SCREAM TALKING.

I felt sooooo bad that this elderly woman could very well be in her final days, and one of her last memories/burdens of life is ordering a new cheque book as I just soaked it in iced tea. On impact, I just burst into tears. The iced tea was absolutely everywhere. Her purse and the contents in it were soaked. She handled it much better than I did. She was sweet enough to tell me not to worry about it but I insisted on cleaning everything up.

Seriously. I can't catch a break people.

Finally I got back up to the apartment to sit down to write this while it was still as fresh and as horrifying as my breath...and you know what? If I never leave the apartment again, it would be too soon.

God, if you are reading this, I know I was a slut in University but I think its about time you cut me some slack.

Got no Game

2009-08-27T23:35:00.003-04:00

Just a quick post...this just happened in real time. ***I need to preface it by mentioning that I am highly unstable today...I burst into tears in a dressing room in the mall and I can't stop swearing.***
I was lying on the couch up until about an hour ago feeling sorry for myself and thinking that I should probably grow my nails and then it occurred to me that I am moving this weekend from my own apartment in the city and I have done next to nothing...well I went there today only to throw things around my room. I left it like it had been ransacked by terrorists, but I had a really bad day so I had 2 options:
Option 1. Stay and throw all of my belongings out the window
Option 2. Leave...
I chose the latter.
Anyway, out of guilt and sheer panic I decided to go back to my apartment tonight and pick up some things and put them in my car so I could at least sleep for a little tonight. So I got there, stepped on some glass with my barefoot, bled a little, sweat and then felt a meltdown coming on so I left.
Why the meltdown Nanners? Oh, I don't know, I am moving back to my parents place after living on my own for 5 years in the city...it's my own damn fault. I partied like I was on vacation in Vegas for pretty much the entire time.
Off topic again. Got back to the other condo and me and my sweaty upper lip got into a little bit of a tiff with the concierge because he wouldn't open the god damn garage door to the underground parking. So I started shaking. When I get really mad or nervous I get this twitch in my neck (it's not noticeable but I can feel it so I start acting weird..ie; looking intently at the person to see if they can notice it.)
Finally parked the car, carried a bunch of bags....got into the door in the underground and forgot to lock the car. Back out to the fucking car. So on my way back, the Greek Adonis that God sent to me, came through the door at the same time. I got all tingly in my special spot.
So we are waiting for the elevator and I am totally side glancing him to see what he is doing and he is playing with his phone...so I started playing with mine...awkwardly as I held bags. (He didn't know I was just scrolling the ball of my BlackBerry up and down....looking at absolutely nothing.) C'mon, we all do it.
Out of no where, he turns to me and says..." Did you forget to lock your car earlier...don't you hate that?" He chuckled as angels around him sang and his pearly whites shone at me. Him asking that question means...he saw me struggling with my bags and probably heard me say "Holy motherfucker, I just can't catch a break." Undergrounds tend to echo. Awesome impression.
How do I respond? "Yeah, I hate that." (should have left it there Nanners) I continue, "Cars are really expensive and I would hate to wake up and it was missing." O.M.G. Just shut your mouth already. He just looked at me and nodded.
Finally, what felt like a bloody century, we hopped in the elevator (where I was hoping we would dry hump) but this is the point where I noticed my B.O.... not sure if he picked up on it but that would be just fab.
BUT WAIT. JUST WAIT. Somehow I guess he was listening to a message on his phone but he had it on speakerphone (weird) and I turn to him and say "what's that noise?"
He responds " um uh, a voice. "
At this point I am asking Jesus to make the elevator go lightning speed right up the shaft (haha) to the twelfth floor.
The story has a weak ending because nothing came of it, I just ran/limped out of the elevator hoping to leave behind the scent of a woman...my b.o.
Ladies, I ain't got no game.

Smooches,
Nanners

Awww...You pissed yourself. That's so cute.

2009-08-27T20:36:00.013-04:00

There are many people that partake in voyeurism -most of them are in jail or on probation but what I am about discuss is "low level" voyeurism. People watching. One of my favourite things to do is to watch people. Particularly children-now I am sounding creepy, but I mean it in the most innocent way. No need for hidden Dateline cameras.

Going back to children- they are the most fascinating little creatures and I am so envious. Why? For instance, this morning there was this kid in front of me at the train station, probably about 4 years old and all of a sudden he turns around to me and puts his arms and his head inside his shirt. I was jealous. Man, I wish that I could do that on the subway and not be put in shackles and a white jump suit. (If you haven't noticed from previous posts, I have a huge problem with public transportation and the people that are on it.) Anyway, to me, if I could put my hands and my head in my shirt on the subway it's kinda like putting up a little "fuck off" sign. Genius. I certainly wouldn't talk to someone who appeared headless and crazy.

While I am on the topic of kids, I didn't witness this event today but it's a very common occurrence for children-peeing your pants. My heart just breaks when I see a kid that has just pissed their pants in public. When in my adulthood, will it ever be socially acceptable for me to pee my pants in public and my friend's turn to me and say (with a sympathetic head tilt) "Oh honey it's okay, just next time try and get to the washroom." Yeah fucking right. I peed once on the floor during a ski trip in University and my friends have not let me live this down. I'll have you know there were funny cigarettes floating around and I suffered a significant loss at beer pong. Cut me some slack bitches.

Another thing that kids do is projectile vomit in public. It's all good. I mean, it's not cute...but its manageable. However, when I do it, no one thinks it's cute. For example, a couple months ago on my birthday, I thought the window was open in my cab because I felt wind in my hair (it was the A/C blowing) so I turned to lean out the window and smashed my head off of it and simultaneously vomited. My cab driver didn't think it was cute. I ended up walking home covered in barf. A kid could get away with it though. (Leave your "you should know better" comments to yourself.)

I guess the point I am trying to make is that I really wish that peeing and barfing, even in the boardroom wouldn't make me a social deviant.

***My maturity level and my ability to be rational are definitely the reason behind me being single.***

Dear Diary...

2009-08-26T22:59:00.006-04:00

***This post must be read in a "Debbie Downer" tone and would be a real diary entry if I had one.***

Dear Diary,

What a day I had. I woke up with the extreme urge to pee, but still, I lay there in bed out of pure laziness thinking about all the dishes in the sink and how much better the sheets would feel if I actually shaved my legs this summer.

After peeing and counting the wrinkles on my neck in the mirror, I walked into the kitchen to look at the dishes in the sink then I slowly walked over to the couch and turned on Maury Povich. Most look at Maury as a trashy show, I look at it as a gift of sorts. It allows me to be thankful that I don't have a baby daddy, a terrible weave and the urge to wear a mesh off the shoulder shirt AND most importantly I don't have to worry about someone throwing a chair at me when they find out that they are my baby's father.

Diary, thank you for letting me vent today. I have been thinking a lot about how my vagina has been in a recession just about as long as the economy and I really need to do something about this. Prostitution is an avenue I have considered more than once when I saw my phone bill last month but I just can't go through with it. That's a good thing right?

I am thinking something that would help get me out of my funk while looking for a job and casual sex (just kidding mom) would be going to the gym. My inner thighs have been rubbing together since 2006 and I fear I will be featured in one of those obsesity clips you see on the six o'clock news only showing the unsuspecting person's lower body. You what I mean? When you only see their torso and their shorts riding straight up to their crotch to create a serious case of camel toe. Don't let me be a part of the obesity epidemic.

Diary, it seems like all my friends are getting married. I am thinking of immigrating to Russia so I can be featured in a male order bride magazine so some rich, hopeless American can purchase me and I can just live the sweet life. The only thing is, I fear that I will end up on 48 Hours Mystery as these types of courtships tend to end up with someone dead in a forest. Oh what to do!

Well I must get back to Twitter and Facebook, uhhh I mean Monster and Workopolis.

Good talking to you Diary.
Smooches,
Nanners

Sing It Biatch

2009-08-26T00:26:00.009-04:00

So as I was having a dance party last night in my friend's apartment which I am house sitting, and subsequently ruining her suede furniture with wine, I had an obscure thought....no, not that someone will one day fall in love with me and all that jiggles, but if I had to pick a theme song of my life just like a good movie or play, what would it be?

I couldn't narrow it down, I feel there are many songs that get to the core of how I feel, who I am and what I am thinking....

Here's my top ten that I narrowed down off the top of my head. I have put some reasons why I chose each song in particular so you can better understand my choices. They are as follows:

10. Beyonce-If I Were a Boy.-My life would be a fuck of a lot easier.

9. Beyonce-He's My Man- Ummm until I saw you kissing him and then shortly thereafter change your facebook status to "ENGAGED."

8. Ella Fitzgerald-Fever-Which is something many folks believe I have due to my raging case of Rosacea.

7. Gin Blossoms-Follow You Down-Yes, that's exactly what I did, I downed my Gin, I followed you down the stairs, out of the club and watched you walk away.

6.One Republic-Too Easy-This pretty much sums up my University career. Sorry Mom.

5.John Mayer-Gravity-Which at the ripe age of 28 seems to be pulling my tits and ass further towards the ground.

4.King's of Leon-I Say I Love You-And we sit there in an awkward silence...Of course followed by a "thanks."

3.Sir Mix-A-L0t-Baby's Got Back-I am pretty sure this speaks for itself. And in case I needed a reminder, a nice old gentleman reminded me in McDonald's yesterday that "Chu hav a preddy face but a beeg butt." Thanks asshole.

2. Tara Oram-Go to Bed Angry-Generally this is a common occurrence. This could be due to slight annoyances such as being unemployed, a stranger throwing bird seed at me, stepping in barf in flip flops or the fact that I have insomnia.

1. Janes Addiction-I Am Not An Addict-On more than one occasion I have been suspect to friends' invitations to make sure I am at a party-I fear Candy Finnigan from Intervention may be the host.

I hope this provides my readers with a better idea of who I am. Thanks for reading.

Smooches,
Nanners

I'll Have the Panty Latte Please

2009-08-25T15:44:00.003-04:00

So this morning I had finally had a reason to pull my ass out of bed...I had to rush to an employment workshop put on by the City of Toronto. There was no need to be fancy since most of the people in the workshop are from the streets, I felt comfortable in putting on my finest ghetto fabulous outfit to attend. (I specifically wore Capris since my legs are only half shaved because I am lazy and really? Please. What's the point? I got more action in kindergarten.

Not having time to make my own breakfeast mixed with the urgency for not rushing to the subway to be molested be fellow TTC creepsters, I decided to stop at Starbucks. Technically, unemployed people such as myself, cannot afford to spend 4 million bucks on a trendy beverage but I really like the frozen ones so I splurged.

As I arrived at Starbucks, I was immediately jammed at the back of the shop right underneath the air conditioner, at which time I chose to let the air blow dry the back of my head (which I hate doing) and eavesdrop on some dude's convo about how his baby's shit is green.

Still having an appetite and the feeling in my face from the amount of A/C blowing on it, I ordered my usual. Mocha Frappacino...those things put a hop in my step and tend to make me a little less angry during the morning rush.

As any Starbuck's frequenter would know, you generally have to wait around for your bevy as the robots behind the counter somehow scream your order and make it at the same time and tell you to have a nice day. All of a sudden my phone starts to ring...As it's 9am I know it's either my mother, my mother, possibly my mother or someone is dead. So in my jaunt out the door this morning I shoved my phone in the side of my gym bag (which is purely for looks, not for use...you should see my ass.)

Anyway, as it's ringing I am searching every corner of the side pocket of my bag....FORGETTING, that 2 weeks ago on a visit home, my mother shoved a bunch of full back granny panties in that pocket that I, of course, forgot to take out.

FLYING up into the air by some mythical force and landing on the ground in front of the woman beside me lie my Granny panties. In the middle of rush hour at Starbucks. I froze. I just stared at her for 2 seconds until I realized that she was bending down to pick them up....

"Fuck no" which was the response that first came to mind (but didn't say), I lunged to the floor before her fingers could touch them I yelled "NO." The lady jolted upright and just looked at me...As I quickly picked them up and fumbled to put them back in my bag, she just stared at me like I was on a day pass.

I don't think she realized exactly what they were...they could have been god damn bed sheets judging by the size of them for all she knew. I just grabbed my drink and ran out of the store.

Even writing about this, my upper lip starts to sweat...word to the wise...lock up your panties bitches.

Smooches,

Nanners

Bumpit or F***it.

2009-08-24T19:17:00.006-04:00

If I haven't mentioned before, my mom enjoys buying me things out of pure guilt and I enjoy taking them. The most recent gift I received was a great handbag that can perfectly fit 3 bottles of wine in it...I tried. AND....Bumpits.

Some of you may have seen the commercials on t.v where you are sticking large clips at the crown of your head to give your hair extra volume. They come in 3 sizes-large, medium and small. Everyone looked super happy once their hair had volume so I thought this could be another endeavour to make me happy...The higher the hair, the closer to God...I have been trying to redeem myself with the "man upstairs" since University...maybe going through the top of my teased hair ins't the route I should be taking. I heard there are churches in the area.

Thinking my head was large enough (as mentioned in a previous blog about the size of my gigantic head) I decided to use it. So I stuck it in and started teasing. The trick is, you have to tease your hair up and over the clip so it's not noticable. Well, sweet merciful Jesus...if you didn't know me, you would say I was an act at the circus or the heading to the talent portion of the Miss Tennessee pageant.

What a nightmare. Plus, not to mention the fact that I would have to stear clear of any candles, matches or lighters as a result of the half can of hairspray I used. (most of which, ended up in my mouth. and unknown blonde facial hair that became apparent due to the stickyness located at the side of my face. (Just another thing I need to worry about...now I am scared that in the sunlight, my new found facial hair makes me look like a moutain lion....that could be a post in itself.)

So I tried the other medium and small options in hoping this wasn't a complete waste of my mothers money...not too bad. Takes a lot of work, precsion and oh yeah giving a fuck whether your hair has volume.

I now like to refer to my bumpits as "fuckits."

Smooches,

Nanners

2009-08-23T02:41:00.003-04:00

You know, you would think that waking up with noodles in my hair on a Saturday morning accompanied by the indescribable taste in my mouth, would deter me from drinking, but yet, I find myself already planning the escapades for the following weekend.

As the typical single and sexless woman in the city, I tend to get my kicks from going to the bar in a shirt that makes my B cup breasts look like D's, uncomfortable shoes, cheap earrings that turn my ears green well before last call and the hope that I will meet "the one" that will be different from the rest of the douche bags I encounter.

Last night, I attended a friend's engagement party where I became magically so intoxicated I left the bar to grab some street meat and returned in just enough time to squeeze in about 4 double vodka/cranberries. Despite the fact that I wreaked of hot dogs and booze my relentless pursuit of finding a husband continued. Oddly enough...no takers.

However, I am way off topic (it's the wine) tonight's post does not pertain to my singledom. It pertains to peeing.

To all those gentlemen out there that can "whip it out" (so to speak) and pee on location, I have a message for you that is two words...and it ain't "happy birthday."

What men need to understand is, a woman and her bladder (while drinking) essentially become enemies. We would love to stick around and dance our faces off and continue our intellectual conversations about where our outfits came from but you know what? We are busy. Very busy. Spending most of the night waiting in line to use the washroom to piss like race horses so we can get out and dance like it's 1999.

If by chance, I come into some money in my lifetime, I will develop a chain of bars and restaurants that have approximately 50 female stalls and only one male stall. Just so all the men out there can feel what it feels like to have to pee so bad you can taste your urine. To the point that you cannot open your mouth or uncross your legs in fear of spontaneous urination. It's coming my gentleman friends...it's coming.

This intense emotion, most commonly known as anger, is something that I experienced tonight due to the fact that I fell out of the stall I was peeing in and ended up in a puddle of god knows what on the very tiny whole in the wall women's washroom. Despite the bottle of wine I consumed in the limo we took, I am unable to move my foot.

Excuse Me...You Need to Pay for That.

2009-08-21T13:08:00.004-04:00

Ever have one of those mornings when you wake up, realize that you don't have anything to eat for breakfast but toothpaste, then you decide to go for a walk and step in vomit while wearing flip flops? Well I just had one of those mornings.

To add to my excitement, I realized that I lost my back-up sunglasses (and I am highly concerned about my squinting causing wrinkles) so I decided to run across the street (braless) to Winners to get another cheap pair. To my amusement as soon as I walk in, about 6 security guards are tackling a middle aged man in a fedora to the ground and detaining him for shoplifting. I stopped and stared long enough to see that it looked like a can of hairspray and to update my facebook status on my phone about this experience.

In case you are interested, I ended up getting a pair of cheap sunglasses after consulting 2 strangers if my head was too big for them. Most people have the problem that sunglasses look to big on them but in the words of my mother; "You had a big head at birth and it just kept growing.") Well I am sure she is pleased to see that the rest of me has grown into my giant head. Thanks for the complex Mom.

So me and my oversized head and now newly protected eyes took a walk down to Dundas square. I don't know why I venture into places like this as I know that insane people are naturally drawn to me (keep your comments to yourself) So I was standing outside H&M looking for the liquor store when a young gentleman approached me and quickly asked me in a very quiet voice "do you need some coke?" I politely replied "No thanks, but thanks anyway,"

and continued to search for the liquor store. BUT THEN. To my disbelief, just outside of H&M ANOTHER person, this time a woman, got busted by security guards for shoplifting.

I thought about it on the subway home, if I were going to shoplift, I wouldn't pick H&M or Winners...I would choose something more high scale like Gucci or Prada. I would rather go down in a blaze of glory for some quality shit.

It's like I was living in an episode of cops this morning.

Smooches,

Nanners

The Double B Experiment

2009-08-20T12:53:00.004-04:00

A new experiment that I have been partaking in this summer is one of my very own creations. No, its not some fad diet or a sleep study I call it the "Double B." What does that stand for you ask?

Well, I purposely run to the store or run erronds without brushing my hair and I do this all braless...hence the Double B. Why would someone ever do that?....ummmm the answer is pretty much this: I don't care. I understand my days are numbered that I can go braless in the city without them touching my belly button but I am taking advantage of the liberating experience.

I also figure the less I brush my hair, the more I will have. I flat iron and blow dry my hair when it is not curly on a daily basis and I would like to continue to do so when I am 40. (In which case I predict I will still be single so nice hair will be paramount in landing me a catch.)

I probably look rather funny while walking as I try and hold my bags up by my breasts in case my nipples are showing but again...I don't care.

***Please note I always wear a bra when I go out OUT like for a few hours and with friends.***

I was inspired to tell you this story as I just returned from a braless run to McDonalds for my liquid lunch...a chocolate milkshake. It was all I could afford from the change collected from the couch.

Smooches,
Nanners

Sitting in a Condo

2009-08-18T23:17:00.004-04:00

Currently, I am "condo-sitting" a friend's place while she gallivants and terrorizes the men in Europe. (I frequently tune into CNN and the BBC to see if I can see her in shackles, but no such luck.)

Anyway, her lovely landlord regretted to inform her that her place is for sale. So about 2 weeks ago as I was snug in bed just dreaming of employment and what it would be like to be touched by a man, I woke up to a Chinese woman standing over me. So as I jolted up in bed and felt the need to change the sheets as I feared I peed a little, I calmly asked "Who are you?" She proceeded to back out of the room (silently, which was super creepy) into the living room where an entire family and a real estate agent were. Here was our conversation.

Realtor-"Sorry we had an appointment."
Me in my head. "For a gang bang?"
Me for real in my pajamas "ummmmm appointment for what?
Realtor-"This place is for sale"
Me for real in my pajamas "Oh that's nice."

So they sauntered around the place just scream talking and opening doors and cupboards-invading any sense of privacy imaginable. I stood in the doorway of the bedroom with my legs crossed just praying they would get the hell out of there so I could pee. (Fearing my pea smelled of asparagus, I neglected to go while the family was there. )

Ever since this moment, I have had over 20 clients and their Realtors (who all have keys) come in and out of this bachelorette pad where I came to relax and essentially sit in peace. Instead, I find myself pissing like a race horse all day, taking showers only at night when I know no one will walk in with a camera to take measurements and photos of the bathroom...with me in it. It's quite stressful actually.

(That was just a random tid bit that I forgot to mention when it happened.)

Today I had a mildly amusing experience...while I was on my dating site being completely creeped out, (but I keep going back for more) a couple of old women came in with their realtor and made me test every channel on the T.V to make sure that it worked. (They found out cable was included and it was important that they knew that both CNN and BNN were included.) I just assumed they were really big Michael Jackson fans and wanted to stay up to date on any life altering Michael Jackson developments, since that's the only thing CNN likes to discuss.

Until today, I had not noticed that Michael Jackson had passed away...I can't believe the media hasn't covered this story.

2009-08-18T18:32:00.002-04:00

Do you ever sit by trashy people and feel like you are from the trailer park too? Feel like you have sat by the campfire and crushed beer cans on your head?

For instance, yesterday I took the train to another special part of town which is know for its shiny mullets and meth labs and I had the pleasure of sitting beside a couple which I feel I need to physically describe.

The man-Short Cotton Ginny sweater-cut off at the sleeves and a bit of beer gut showing and he had a smoke hanging out of his mouth while we were waiting on the tracks which was continually burning but never burnt out. I am pretty sure there was more than tobacco in it. Sources tell me that weed smells like skunk? Interesting.

His lovely female companion had shit brown hair, a black t-shirt that had a faded impression left of those ever so popular t-shirts "I'm with stupid." I must give a shout out to her nasty tobacco stained fingers which must have taken years to tarnish...How did I notice her fingers? Well she continually flipped her male companion the bird when he would even open his mouth. I must say though somewhere out there, there is a man named "Jerry." Who according to this delicate lady is a "SON OF A BITCH AND I HOPE HE DIES. KARMAS A BITCH JERRY, KARMAS A BITCH."

Halfway through the trip, after locating the passenger assistance alarm and carefully reading the fine print of how to escape, I decided to put my earphones in as the entertainment was coming to a lull. Perhaps their cigarette had put them to sleep...I hear that can happen.

Anyway, all of a sudden an argument errupts. "GIVE ME THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH." (prompt removal of one earphone so I don't look like I am listening) What on earth could be of earth shattering urgency and fowl mouthed language...THEIR FLASK.

Ohhhhh, of course that makes sense. So what seems like the next logical option to get this woman to calm down?...To me,I would think giving her a swig of your booze would shut her up. NOPE. Captain mullet himself decided that he didn't want to share soooo badly that he would get off the train at the next stop....without her.

For about 3 of the 7 minutes that were left on our train ride, I listened to her call her gentleman friend every name in the book so I did what any good samaritan would do...offer her my flask.

Smooches,

Nanners

The Truth About Love Online

2009-08-15T00:37:00.004-04:00

So I just got off this online dating site and I am so tempted to write a new profile due to the high volume of douche bags that I have creeping on my profile..you can see who views you which would seem like fun to the average gal, but in no area of my life am I average.

As a sidebar-I was on another dating site recently and I only signed up because a friend asked me to do it with her. So I did-I didn't realize I put my profile in the "Intimate Encounters" section. So I would wake up every morning to an inbox full of emails that read "I love getting blow jobs in the morning more than anything." "Must like whipping." "Not into beastiality but willing to try anything." "I don't mind experimenting with vegetables if you are comfortable with that." After a week of recieving emails that verbally violated me (yes, I waited a week because I was intrigued) I called my friend and I asked if she was getting these super creeps. Well turns out it was just a setting issue. Word to future desperate daters...check your settings.

On this other site, typically a guy who views me is aged between 33 and 62. I am 28 so the 60 year old that has been viewing me everyday for 6 months makes me vomit in my mouth a little. I am dying to post the pictures of the fuckers that email me to go on dates, to have casual sex or to meet their children, or just sent me pictures of their cars. Different types of guys have different approaches on how they initially contact me. The below are some examples of what I have recieved recently.

Bachelor # 1. "Hi." This guy has a lot of substance and I picture us having long conversations on our porch.

Bachelor # 2 "Hey-your face looks like a party. What time can I pick u up. Happy Canada Day.-WHAT?

Bachelor #3 "Your profile made me laugh. Do you want to chat? Before we chat I think you should know that I have two kids and I am in the middle of a divorce. I hope that's not a problem. It has been in the past. Let's meet." -OMG. Sounds amazing. Please bring the little ones.

Bachelor #4. Hey, I'm Giovanni in between working out and volunteering I spend time with my family and friends."-This guy generally is standing in a picture shirtless beside his car covered in baby oil and is under 5"4- and a liar. Really-you don't volunteer. You hang out outside coffee shops with your friends and talk about your cars and how you wish you were taller.

I would like to believe that everyone is telling the truth in their profiles but to be honest if I was telling the COMPLETE truth at this point in my life mine would read.

"Hey there,
I'm Amanda. I am a little mentally unstable at the moment-well the past 2 years in particular. I am a diagnosed insomniac so I am full of energy. (Although I try not to keep my partner up by eating chips in bed since I have started eating my feelings as a full time job.)

I don't have a job, which means we will have lots of time together, and I have tons of bills that I could really use your help paying. To save me from moving home with my parents, if you want to just go ahead and open up your place and your bank account to me-that'd be great.

I should mention, that my pictures may be decieving as I am actually 50 lbs heavier and without makeup I have severe Rosacea which is a condition that causes my face to go insanely red so I typically look like a burn victim without make up.

Anyway, if this sounds at all interesting to you and you would like to stop me from becoming my own Dateline special, then send me a message! Can't wait to meet your parents!

Smooches,
Nanners

My Return.

2009-05-17T18:38:00.004-04:00

Normally, I spend my Sunday afternoon googling symptoms of STD's but I decided to do something different and write on here instead...

I have been away for awhile as some of you have noticed...let's just say that shit hit the fan in my personal life and I am covered in it which is why I haven't been writing.

I will be back soon, but for now I have a hectic tv schedule.

Smooches,
Nanners

Just a little one

2009-04-25T21:41:00.002-04:00

Just a couple things...I am sick which is why I am not avidly updating my blog with random nonsense. I believe it's the horse tranquilizers that my doctor prescribed me that leave me coherent for all of an hour. Nothing exciting happens to me except for today...two things...

1. Since I have severe hot flashes, I have all my windows and doors open and a fan on my face...and a bird briefly flew in my apartment and flew right back out. I peed a little on my couch.

2. I have learned that episodes of Cops filmed in New Jersey is way funnier than the Cops episodes filmed in the deep south. I think the east coasters are way more creative when it comes to lying. Southerners on the other hand, aren't actually lying about getting their clothes being stolen while looking for their cat and happened to find meth at the mini mart while trying to buy a pack of smokes and a DVD player all at the same time.

Hope you are enjoying your weekend. NOT.
Nanners

Blog Postings

2009-04-22T00:09:00.003-04:00

So, the girl that I pay to write this is in rehab for about a week. Therefore, there will be no updates until further notified.
I am so disappointed in this broad.

2009-04-17T15:39:00.004-04:00

So as if I haven't exposed enough of my personal life, I am about to expose more....

Lately, I have been feeling more pissed off than usual-meaning Gordon Ramsey pissed off (but totally internally)....I would never walk into a room and call someone "A lazy fat fuck and tell them their grilled salmon is rubbish and belongs in the trash"...although I may think it.

I am not a chef, but I think you get my drift.

Anyway, so I went to my doctor to tell her about my insane tendencies and she gave me "anti-irritants." Who knew those existed? She said that "it will help take the edge off." Then of course I piped up and told her "I think booze does the same thing." That didn't go over very well.

So needless to say, I tried them...they made me feel high as a kite and no, I will not tell you what they are called as I am trying out selling them in China town...I may have found my calling.

So I stopped taking them but do carry them in my purse for parties. Just kidding.

This blog post is about just one litte thing that is currently getting right under my skin...You know when you are driving along (I have self diagnosed myself with clinical road rage if that even exists) Anyway, you are driving along and you are in a residential area and the person in front of you is turning into their driveway. WHY WHY WHY....does it take them an eternity to actually pull in? Dude, it's your own garage, if you run into it, just fix it, or if you are busy looking at your petunias, get out and look at them...in fact eat them for all I care. Or if you are texting, text from your parked car. Better yet...get in your house. But take your foot off the break, stop looking at your lawn or whatever the hell you are looking at and pull your damn car in your damn driveway.

Thank you,

Nanners

Excuse the mess...my car doesn't usually look like this...

2009-04-15T13:46:00.003-04:00

You know when you are picking up a friend for the first time or they unexpectedly ask you for a ride home? Then you get to the car and shove aside the wrappers, c.d's, Tim Hortons coffee cups and random papers? Then you casually say as you are frantically cleaning off their seat..."Sorry, it doesn't normally look like this." YOU ARE LYING. YES. YES IT DOES.

(for the record this is not my car and I have no idea who that person is)

Just as a side note, in a convenience store parking lot, I rolled down my window and called a guy a douche bag and it felt very liberating today. "I normally never do that." YES. YES I DO.

Nanners

This may explain a lot...

2009-04-12T22:38:00.004-04:00

For my new readers, welcome. For my older readers, can you please post your comments on my blog instead of emailing them to me? I would look a lot more popular.

To welcome my new readers, I thought that by sharing a few quick facts about myself, you would feel more enticed to read my blog if you found me remotely amusing. And also if you are male and find me amusing maybe you could invite me out for an expensive steak dinner and a litre of wine.

I really enjoy lists, so here I go. (In no specific order)

1. My father sounds like Shrek and my mother is straight from Newfoundland...I am destined to be screwed up. Both are scream talkers and I am partly hearing impaired as my friends have told me. (I am still trying to figure out what they are talking about.)
2. Growing up, I was never into playing in the dirt, I was into watching soap operas, Dallas and Murder She Wrote with my mother.
3. When we finally got rid of our Atari computer in high school, I would invite friends over and go into chat rooms and say really dirty things and pretend my name was "Summer" and I was from Miami. (To my friends who know about this, keep your comments to yourself on this one.)
4. I was voted class clown at my high school prom. What was more of a joke was my dress and my hair. I looked like an escort.
5. My hair is naturally a nice shit brown colour.
6. I have an amazing brother who has taken me to get all two of my tattoos...
7. You will never meet someone who enjoys crime shows more than me. My roommate is convinced I would be able to commit the perfect murder.
8. I will publicly admit that I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to guys. Watching me pick up is like watching an episode of Blind Date. (Meaning you feel cheap and violated for even watching)
9. I am an insomniac...the only way I sleep is with a handful of pharmaceuticals or if I black out.
10. I picked up garbage at the Toronto zoo for 3 years during University and then 1 extra one after...that's what my degree got me. While others dry heave at the smell of garbage and gorilla shit, it brings back the sweet memories of summer and my heat rash.

Thanks for reading.
Smooches,
Nanners

Typical Saturday morning....

2009-04-11T15:50:00.003-04:00

This is what I looked like when woke up this morning. I only discovered this when I walked by the window at Hasty Market and caught a glimpse of myself. By that point it was too late to turn around as I had called in an order of pancakes at the Golden Griddle.

To be truthful, this girl actually looks a lot better than I do...I also have rosacea which means I look like a burn victim when I am not wearing makeup. I would love to explain what it is but in summation, my skin gets insanely red and strangers feel compelled to ask if I am alright or if I need sunblock. It's not recognized by spellcheck yet which really pisses me off.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend. Smooches, Nanners

Up Yours...

2009-04-10T16:50:00.002-04:00

First off, this is going to be a short blog as I believe I pissed out my liver this morning.
(Speaking of pee...today for the second time in my life, I also peed a little when I sneezed. Pretty sure that I will be in diapers a lot sooner than my parents.)

Anyway, have you ever had one of those days when you walk down the street and people are smiling and laughing and you think to yourself "Up Yours" Well, it's one of those days for me.

Why you ask? Well, my credit card debt has sky rocketed through the roof as I shop when I am stressed, I am looking more and more like our large and in charge Canadian singing sensation Rita McNeil as I am eating my feelings, I found out I started a small fire in a potted plant at a party I was at last night...it was only discovered AFTER we had gone out and my friends Megan and Laurie smelt smoke coming from the balcony, the taste in my mouth is not disappearing with toothpaste or mints, I have constant heart burn coupled with exhaustion, panic and sweatiness (maybe the ol' ticker is actually giving out.), I checked my phone this morning and was spitting angry at myself for all the messages that I felt were necessary to send to people and frankly, my inner thighs hurt as they have been touching since 1995.

That is all.
Nanners

Freeze Mam, Put the Phone Down...

2009-04-09T13:07:00.004-04:00

What is it about drinking that makes people want to type so badly? Speaking from personal experience, I know there are tons of things I feel necessary to text/pin past 12am. It is very important for people to know where I am, how much I love them, how drunk I am, and if I would like them to come over at 3am for a slice of pizza.

The cardinal rule of drinking is to return home with your phone. When I return home with my phone, I know that is one less thing I need to panic about. But the REAL panic sets in when I check my sent texts, sent emails, sent pins, dialed calls, and call duration.

Let's outline a morning after drinking for Nanners shall we?
1. Wake up and change into my pajamas as my clothes are still on.
2. Locate my purse...I usually just follow the trail of pizza sauce to it.
3. Reach inside and hope that I don't have a stock pile of taxi drivers phone numbers (which means I have been to multiple destinations of which I have no recollection.)
4. FIND MY PHONE. (Say a tiny prayer to our sweet Jesus that I have not sent hate or creepy love messages to people)
5. Start checking outboxes, in boxes, pins, emails, outbound calls, inbound calls and call duration. (Call duration is VERY important if you are black out drunk and have no idea what you could have possibly said at 3am for 4 minutes and 35 seconds.
6. Start the apologies. (The trick here is to either PRETEND that you remember talking to them or LAUGH it off in a text message...Examples below.

The two types of next day texts are as follows:
1. This is called the "HEY YOU!" text. At this point you recognize that you have made a call and can't remember what the f you were talking about. Here is what you text.

"Hey it was so great talking to you last night! We should do drinks soon!"
Response time is crucial here people...If you don't hear anything back within 8 hours, make a call.

2. This is called the "OMG!" text. This text is the one where you realize you sent an inappropriate message asking for sex or strange requests in the middle of the night. Here's what it will read.

"OMG!" I was so drunk last night. Sorry for the message."

Please feel free to use these tips as these are rules I live by.

So that's what it feels like to shave your legs...

2009-04-02T12:10:00.002-04:00

As Oprah would say " It's an Aha moment."

I literally have not seen my legs since the summer of 2005 when I was picking up like mad...Then again I was about 100 lbs lighter. In other words, I have gained an 8th grader, which in turn makes it quite dificult to pick up these days. So I forfeited shaving my legs. My life is about crisis management so I figure, why run the risk of slipping and falling in the shower while being bent over shaving? If you know me. you will know that this is a possible scenario.

Since I no longer have the texture of a mountain lion, I look forward to putting on my pants for that warm fuzzy sensation of cloth against skin and not a brillo pad. I also look forward to getting into bed tonight to see what my sheets feel like.

I guess the next step is moisturizing?

Have a fantabulous day.
Smooches,
Nanners

Top 10 fears continued...

2009-03-12T00:44:00.002-04:00

we have a tie folks....getting eaten by a shark is tied with number one.
Also I am going to tie never getting married and dying a spinster alone in my apartment with parquet tiles with number 2.

Nanners top 10 fears

2009-03-12T00:29:00.003-04:00

Inspired by David Letterman I sat here and thought of my top 10 fears.
Just in case you are wondering this is what runs through my head while watching t.v, waiting for the bus, peeing.

10. Burning my forehead with a curling iron or straightener.
9. Shitting my pants in public
8. Falling out of the door on the subway while its moving.
7. Being locked in an airplane bathroom...again.
6. Chopping off my eyelashes by using a broken lash curler...again
5. Having to take cotton out of a container of Tylenol. (I can't touch cotton balls)
4. Getting drunk and having unprotected sex with a homeless person on a dare and not remembering.
3. Being tricked into eating a cat or dog when someone told me it's chicken
2. Growing a giant zit on my forehead that looks like it's ready to pop but it never does and never goes away...it's a part of me.
1. Getting on the bus and someone insisting I take their seat because they think I am pregnant but I am not.

2009-02-18T22:07:00.003-05:00

Would you call a guy back that was heavy breathing in your phone? Not once, but twice I had the pleasure so far this evening....I don't think I can afford to be picky but c'mon.

After listening to my creepy voicemail, I had the pleasure of getting a text from the same guy asking why I am treating him like a "piece of meet." Perhaps I should send him a dictionary that he can wack off to instead of my picture.

2009-01-12T21:20:00.002-05:00

No Bachelor update this week.

Say What?

2009-01-09T15:33:00.003-05:00

Just a quick post.

I was walking down the street about an hour ago on my way back to my apartment from running erronds (getting booze) and I had my Blackberry in my bag with my headphones in my ears so I could talk and carry my bags at the same time.

As I was hanging up with my mother, I said "Take care and have a good night." So the gentleman walking by me on the sidewalk at the exact time I said that,looked at me and said "You too mam." For a second, I was midly confused but then I realized that he couldn't see my phone so I must have looked like I was out on a day pass.

Of course following this, I burst into laughter, throwing my head back and forth on the sidewalk and convinced the other pedestrians that I was clinically insane.

It was highly amusing....

Have a good weekend!
Smooches,
Nanners

Let's get electronically awkward..

2009-01-06T19:42:00.003-05:00

As I was on the smelly TTC on my way home from work tonight, I had a thought...Nothing life changing or profound ( you can trust me on that one) Anyway, I was thinking, when you start dating someone and you begin to get a little more serious, when is the right time that you change your status on facebook? Do you have an awkward conversation about it? What if the other person doesn't want to change their status? (you should probably dump him/her if they want to keep you a secret anyway.)

Dating comes with enough awkward moments as it is...for example, when you get naked in front of eachother and one of you laughs by accident, when you meet his/her friends for the first time and get absolutely shit faced and have to apologize the next day, when you are on a date and insist on paying and it comes up as "insufficient funds" on the debit machine. Get my drift? Now we have to worry about the right timing of changing our electronic status to "in a relationship."

So here is my thought. I say, when you are able to fart in front of the person...you are now in a relationship.

(This thought was literally inspired by all the smelly subway goers of this beautiful city, that smelt like shit...hence the farting.)

That is all.

Smooches,
Nanners

Who's your Daddy?

2009-01-05T19:59:00.003-05:00

Just before I get started on tonight's blog post about the Bachelor, I need to let you all know that I would participate in unsafe sex with a homeless man for $10 if that meant spending the rest of my life with our yummy single daddy Jason from Seattle.

Quick recap for those who missed last season...basically Deanna Pappas broke Jason's heart...blah, blah, blah. Generally, it's the loser left standing the day of the proposal who gets majorly dissed on national T.V, that ends up getting their own show. Jesus. If that was real life and every time I got rejected I got a show, I would have had a show since the late 80's.

I have to say that my favourite part of the Bachelor is the very first night when they all get out of the limo and most seem like they have all their marbles...FALSE ALARM. The only reason why they seem quasi-normal is because they haven't had much of a chance to open their traps. Just wait until the cocktails get flowing...I would say about 19 out of the 25 women failed the pre-screening psychological testing. Let's use an example: Shannon, the dental hygenist who recited his MY SPACE page to his face and admitted she's a bit of a stalker. RED FLAG. Somehow she still made the cut. I think that's creepy.

The biggest twist of the evening was when the women thought that they were voting their least favourite person in the room before the rose ceremony. Please keep in mind that all 25 of these women are in fear that their ovaries are rotting since they all want to be a mother and a wife in the span of 6 weeks, so the bitches are vicious. Poor Megan, (who by the way left her 14 month old at home to go on the show) received the most votes. Ouch...that definitely tugged on her heart strings.This is the same girl that told Jason that "I like animals more than people." However, the plot thickens...Megan, the least liked transvestite looking contestant, actually ended up getting a rose instead of being voted off...man, life can throw you curve balls. Her reaction was a mini-melt down in terms of melt downs in Bachelor history...just a few tears about how much people hate her.

If you are a religious Bachelor viewer, you will know that the "first impression rose" is the most important rose a girl can get. Tonight's recipient, Tits McGee...I mean Nikki, was more than happy to accept his rose.

The end of the night loser monologues are by far the best. For example, the drunk leopard print dress wearing contestant who had her own monologue with camera and admitted that she had her wedding to Jason planned "with about 40 to 50 guests on the beach." Or my favourite is the "vision board" freak. Okay, whatever helps you get through the day, but cutting a bunch of words out and pasting them on paper, does not mean that you are going to find the love of your life. If that were true then the collage I made of New Kids on the block when I was 12, would have me preggers and married to Donnie Whalberg by now. Keep dreamin' sister.

Well, all in all, not uber disastrous for episode number one...it was pretty tame actually. But stay tuned folks...Deanna comes back to steal Jason away...

Smooches,

Nanners

The Quotes

2008-12-30T20:38:00.002-05:00

So every morning in my inbox, I receive quotes from some random woman named "Arina" in Texas...she doesn't come up with the quotes, she just sends other intelligent people's inspirational words of wisdom. She also tries to scam me for money once in a week to buy inspirational videos. No thanks. My inspiration is watching Intervention and Cops to learn how not to live my life. Anyway, I am getting away from my point.

I will share with you today's quote which made me pee a little.

"The higher your energy level, the more efficient your body. The more efficient your body, the better you feel and the more you will use your talent to produce outstanding results."

Reason for laughing: My body hasn't been efficient since 1987 when I realized that while all the other kids were running around and playing in the dirt, I could be inside watching All My Children and Dallas and "smoking" fake Popeye cigarettes in front of the t.v.

My energy level has been that of a snail for about ummmm 21 years now. Looks like I am destined to be sluggish and produce mediocre results for the rest of my life...and you know what...I am fine with that.

Today's quote has essentially inspired me to write my own straight from the heart and my personal life experience. I hope you are inspired by the below.

"Just when you think your life is a heaping pile of shit, you are probably right."

If you would like more inspirational quotes, I can send them to you every morning for a small fee.

Smooches,
Nanners

It's that time of year again...

2008-12-26T21:23:00.003-05:00

I personally can't think of any other season that reminds me more of being single than Christmas...oh yeah and New Years...can't forget 11:59pm when you look around the room and everyone is smiling and groping each other and staring lovingly into their partners eyes...I on the other hand am staring directly into my empty glass of vodka...secretly telling everyone to fuck off.

At this years family gathering I was able to dodge the "where is your boyfriend" bullet by telling people that I am "focusing on my career" and hanging out with the guests that ranged in age from 2 to 3 years old. Children tend not to remind you that your eggs are rotting and you "look different" (which we all know is another way to tell you that you have eaten a lot of your feelings since the last time you saw them.)

Santa was good to me...I got my ring from Tiffany's from Momma and Pappa Keen...I only had to send the link for about 56 days straight before they gave in...I got anti-bacterial socks which I was mildly confused and insulted about, make-up of course which you know is my passion and a gorgeous new robe which came undone in front of my father on Christmas morning...I didn't have a shirt on. Unfortunately, the ground did not open up and swallow me at that point, but I managed to continue on with my day with limited eye contact. I have never been more embarrassed. Funny part is, I didn't notice it was open until my father screamed at me in his thick Scottish accent "Close your fucking robe!!!"

Eventually, it was time for my annual Christmas day nap which is induced by eating 15 Ferrero Roches. Every year, I manage to eat my entire stocking (not the fabric, but generally the edible contents) by about 11am. Then I head up stairs, try on clothes that don't fit, put on some of my new make-up, climb into bed and start thinking about New Years.

New Years Eve, is the one night of the year where everyone has hope that the upcoming year will be better than the last...Ummmm I tend to disagree. It's just another night to drink yourself silly, think about how you are the only one not sucking face at midnight and make really bad decisions (No need for detail), and wait approximately 3 hours for a cab.

If it sounds like I am really bitter...ummm well it's because I am. Don't get me wrong, I always have a great time on New Years, and I am a firm believer that New Years and my birthday are the only times a year where anything goes...I am hoping this year it is my clothes that go if you know what I mean...but we will see how the night pans out.

Sorry to those of you who have been asking where I have been, I will try and keep on top of the blog thing...Not really much to write about, single and sexless in the city...I do however, plan to get on the dating bandwagon in 2009...if not to find love, at least to have some juicy horrific date details to share or surprise unplanned pregnancies to make you laugh.

Happy New Year Everyone!
Smooches,
Nanners

Yeah...about that...

2008-12-10T21:38:00.003-05:00

I really don't want to write tonight to be honest...I am writing this out of guilt because that's how I live my life...not words to live by since I am pretty sure that I have a bleeding ulcer and occasionally have signs of a coronary and I may or may not have swallowed my tongue during an anxiety attack on the subway the other day.

I know I promised about 12 of you that I would write about our recent weekend up north...but truth is, too much happened that weekend and there are not enough words in the English dictionary to describe how slutty my girlfriends are. So until, my brain and the girl I pay to write for me can come up with something witty to engage my girlfriends (you know who you are) I simply cannot write about that weekend.

Anyway, I am seriously going to bed now. Alone. Just like every other night. (Except for a few weekends a year when I feel that the amount of liquor in my body is just enough to throw myself at someone.) Just how I pictured my life as a fabulous 20 something in the city. Awesome. I also just realized that I wrote "20 something." Ewwwww. I just threw up in my mouth. I thought I would be married and popping out my 3rd kid by now. Perfect...it's great heading to bed with such positive thoughts.

Smooches,
Nanners

The Country Music Network

2008-12-04T08:13:00.002-05:00

I fell asleep last night with the Country Music Network on the t.v in background and I woke up this morning thinking I should be drinking whiskey, running away from home, singing about women's rights and frolicking in a corn field in a sun dress....what's that all about? Hmmmm?

Single or in a Relationship?

2008-12-02T21:46:00.002-05:00

When I first signed up for facebook, it was initially a numbers game to see how many friends I could get...well as it turns out, I am just really popular and the numbers just keep adding up. So I have put the numbers game to rest.

However, I LOVE the news feed. Particularly status updates. It's as close as we come to reading real life tabloids. For instance today on my news feed. I saw two people who went from "In a relationship" to being "single." We all know how much drama and attention this generates. I guarantee that after reading this post I will get at least a few people who question who it was that had broken up. I have had plenty of juicy gossip based conversations had with my girlfriends about who is doing who now or who dumped who. I think the key here is that it distracts us from our own lives...although most of the people on our fb page, we have not seen, probably will not see and probably avoid when we see them at the grocery store. It's odd though, because we know so much about them without them saying a word.

Facebook, by far is the creepiest, yet greatest invention of social media. I will admit, I full on stalk people. Damn right I do. What am I supposed to do? Sit and read my profile and update how single I am all day? Update what I had for dinner or lunch? Of course I look at people's pictures and read their walls. I get all up in their bidness!!

The feature that I am not a big fan of is the instant messaging feature. It's awesome if you see someone on there that you want to talk to. However, they know you are online, so what do you do?...Logging out isn't as easy when you are panicking to get off the computer. Also you run the risk of being really rude by completely ignoring them. (Yes, I secretly care what people think)There is no "I'm busy;" "I have nothing in common with you;" "I don't remember you from high school;" "You are just good to look at but suck at conversation" avoidance feature like on MSN.

Thank God someone told me about the privacy features ie; hiding your pictures...when my page wasn't like Fort Knocks, I would be at work shitting my pants thinking about all the horrible pictures that I could be tagged in from previous weekends. I love the pictures that shows me with eight chins chugging from a bottle of wine.

If you are reading this and are on my facebook friend..."I Know What You Did Last Summer."

Shop with a fist....

2008-12-01T13:50:00.003-05:00

As the holiday season is rapidly approaching, I realize it is yet another holiday for family to question my sexuality..."Where's your boyfriend?" Saying that my boyfriend is in my nightstand is completely inappropriate so I just grin and bear it.

However, that is not the point of today's blog. I believe the real anxiety provoking moments about the holidays begin when you enter the mall parking lot. Today's entry stems from this Saturday's brief excursion amongst those shopping for Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or Christmas.

As a rule of thumb, I enter the mall parking lot with my window half down during the holiday season no matter how cold it may be. Why you ask? So I can scream at the bastard that 1.) who has stolen my parking spot while my blinker was on; 2) the person that believes that rear view mirrors and looking behind them are not necessary; 3) the person that I see speed walking towards their car and have been following throughout the parking lot in belief that they know where their car is parked...only after 15 minutes they realize that they parked somewhere else.

Anyway, I just have a few brief tips for the holiday shopper so you can avoid being asked by a sales clerk if you are alright (which by the way, happened to me since I was sweating like a whore in church under the fabulous pot lighting and crowded store)
1. Use my window method of half down if you feel that you are going to lose your shit in the parking lot. It allows extra air flow to the brain and you are able to communicate with other drivers.
2. Wear as little clothing as possible while in the mall
3. If you are in a rush, keep your head down when you see a sales clerk smiling in your direction
4. Take half a Prozac approximately 30 minutes prior to shopping
5. If you are hungry. Fuck it. Put some crackers in your pocket or wait until you leave the mall to get something to eat..don't attempt the food court.
6. If there is a Walmart in the mall you are in, do not use that as an entrance for two reasons 1) the Walmart greeter doesn't even greet you so what's the point; 2) Entire families make trips to Walmart and buy in bulk and generally they feel comfortable doing a slow saunter up and down the aisles just browsing. If you are like me, you don't have time for that.
7. Wear an Ipod or use your MP3 player to avoid the ear cringing shrills of terror coming from little children when they realize that they are NOT getting the Dora the Explorer board game for Christmas.

Those are just a few tips. I have more which may be wildly inappropriate for this site so I will keep them to myself for now.

Good luck out there,
Nanners

Hello Dolly

2008-11-28T16:27:00.003-05:00

Out of all the scary movies I have seen and creepy lookin' people I have seen Dolly Parton scares me the most.

Dear Santa,

2008-11-27T14:09:00.003-05:00

I was thinking this morning how vastly different my Christmas list is now compared to when I was say ummm 10. Let's compare shall we:

10 years old:
Dear Santa,
I am 10 years old. I hope you get this letter in time for Christmas because it's very important that I receive everything on Christmas morning. Here is my list:
1. Malibu Barbie-(I have already picked a name for her so it's important that I get it
2. An autographed t-shirt that I saw in the flea market of Joey Lawrence
3. I would like a Skip-it so I can count how many skips I do. Pink please
4. A pogo ball would be great to bring to school. Pink please
5. Please put lots of chocolate in my stocking because it's the only time of year my mom and dad let me eat it for breakfast.
6. Jewellery. Maybe a ring. Mood rings are pretty cool.
7. Real Doc Martin shoes. I was teased in the play ground for wearing fake ones. It wasn't nice.
Thanks Santa, I love you.
Oh yeah and scrunchees for my side pony tail and the Mini Pops album..the newest one if you have room.

27 years old
Santa Baby,
I'm gonna skip the b.s and get to the point. I know you're busy but aren't we all? I heard you got a big sack, so if you can just squeeze it all in that'd be great.
1. Please don't let what I think it is be an STD
2. Please get Rogers Wireless off my back about paying my bill
3. If you could just put a grand on my Visa that'd be great. Thanks.
4. Liposuction from a qualified doctor, preferably not in South America
5. A man. Any man. You pick. For christsakes you travel the world, there has got to be someone out there for me.
6. Maxi pads.
7. A ring from Tiffany's which clearly states it's from Tiffany's. I'm not kidding.
8. A maid. I don't live with my mom and dad anymore. I know you drop by there still but just make a detour this year.
9. Please don't put chocolate in my stocking. My ass and I are done with that. Just put gift certificates from Sephora. That would be great thanks.
Thanks, don't disappoint.

My Brownies...

2008-11-25T21:31:00.003-05:00

Okay, so when a lot of women are down or stressed out we turn to chocolate or that one comfort food that essentially helps us to eat our feelings. My vice during trying times is chocolate. Due to the new owners of the convenience store located directly beside my apartment building, they have re-vamped it for the life of an emotional eater. Awesome.

I was in a bad mood and at the counter one day and decided to pick up one of these nicely packaged brownies. Although, I am not proud of this next statement, I made this a two week habit of getting a brownie everyday. I have now stopped this. Why you ask? Plenty of reasons....you know health, the fact that my jeans are getting tighter, AND THE WOMAN AT THE COUNTER SCREAMED ACROSS THE STORE TODAY WHILE I WAS PICKING UP A DIET COKE "WE ARE ALL OUT OF BROWNIES. I ORDERED SOME MORE, JUST FOR YOU...THEY WILL BE HERE TOMORROW."

Although the store was only packed with pre-pubescent adolescence on their lunch break from school, I am wildly embarrassed to be the neighbourhood brownie lady. I can't wait to start my water and lettuce diet tomorrow.

I can assure you that when the brownies arrive off that truck tomorrow, I will not be there. I will be at Mac's Milk.

Smooches,
Nanners

A little bit about me...

2008-11-21T10:40:00.002-05:00

Some of you who read this don't actually know much about me so I thought that todays post would give you an insight into who Nanners really is...I personally think that it's the little things that make a person interesting...I am by no means going to start from birth and tell you details of my 1oth birthday party but just the things that make me tick on an everyday basis. So here I go....

I sleep with my window open all year round, I need cold pillows and a fan blowing on my face at all times when I sleep no matter what the temperature is; I think chocolate and mint should never meet only chocolate and peanut butter should exist; I hate peas (my father once told me that I would not be able to get down from the table when I was around 10 until I finished my peas...so I force fed myself the peas and then simutaneoulsy through them up in the centre of my plate to make a statement) I hate spicy food and beans; I could literally eat pizza for every meal, I dance in my room or in my apartment to really loud music when I am alone; when I wash dishes and my roomate is here I only listen to jazz music from the 1940's; I read People.com every single day, mainly to look at the pictures; I read magazines from the back to the front usually...just a habit that I started when I was younger; diamonds actually truly and sincerely make me really happy; I talk to my mother every single day about 5 or 6 times; I am smarter than people think I am...I can whip out facts that knock the socks off people; I am addicted to Wikipedia and I have it set on my google homepage; I love shows that involve murder and kidnapping...I really don't know why; I am pretty materialistic; I make my decisions based on emotion, not on logic..big downfall; I can't sleep on Christmas Eve no matter what-even though I am 27 the excitement of Christmas Day is so strong that I can't sleep; I bite my nails; bleach my hair; surf the internet for ailments that I think that I may have; I sometimes eat cookies or brownies for breakfast and then I feel really sick by 1pm; I always have to have my bed against a wall..so I can sleep against the wall; I can only sit in booths at restaurants...I get anxious sitting at tables in the middle of a restaurant; I can't touch cotton balls; because it gives me goose bumps and I dry heave; I have broken my right arm twice, my left arm once, broken my index finger in a New Years fire place accident, dislocated my ankle, broke my toe 3 times and was hit in the head with a line drive at the Blue Jays game and it cracked my skull and I suffered short term memory loss at the home opener on April Fool's day when I was 16; I am addicted to diet coke but I have cut back dramtically; I can imitate accents-my mom wanted me to become an interpreter for the government when I was a kid because I could pick up languages and dialects so quickly...can you picture me as an interpreter? I would be a UN forum being like "The ambassador from Moscow says you have a giant ass and yes, he has nuclear weapons." I wouldn't be able to take it seriously.

Anyway, my wrist hurts...I am done writing.
Happy Friday,
Nanners

Let's get physical...

2008-11-20T14:25:00.002-05:00

So yesterday I am at the doctors for a complete physical....I hadn't had one in at least 11 years...yikes....Well let me tell you, besides the metal clamps (ladies you know what I mean) I will go for one every six months...that's the most action I have seen sober in a very long time.
I avoid physicals like the plague because I am afraid of the "did you know that you are growing a third nipple on your back" talk.
In all seriousness, the only reason why I booked one was because I have been reading too much Cosmo and anytime they report some sort of alarming statistic on women or they say "you should really take this up with a physician if it persists" I convince myself that I have whatever disease they are talking about. During yesterday's painfully awkward appointment when my doctor was staring at my cervix, I asked her if she thinks I am infertile, if she sees anything alarming,(amongst the plethora of many other questions that I will not write) then I asked her why she was laughing. You never want someone in your "no no special spot" laughing. She says to me "I am laughing at you...you are a bit of a hypochondriac." I told her that she "probably shouldn't be laughing while in that region, it make patients uncomfortable." I also told her that I am only there because Cosmo told me I should be. At the end of my embarrassingly unnecessary anxiety provoked appointment, she looks at me and told me to stop reading Cosmo.
I can't make any promises but I am definitely just going to look at the pictures from now on. Shows what happens when I actually start reading.

Smooches,
Nanners

A craft circle?

2008-11-19T04:56:00.002-05:00

Okay, I am getting a little pissed off...maybe because it's 5am, but nonetheless, I get my horoscope delivered to me every morning in my inbox. Do you know how many times I wait for them to be like..."Oh,Amanda today is a lucky day for you in the love department..." Do you think that ever happens? No.
For example today I am supposed "Say how I feel instead of just thinking it." Ummm listen Cleo, I don't know if you want to be handin' out that kind of advice...there would be a lot of Geminis with a lot less friends.
In addition to me pissing everyone off by saying what I feel, today is a good day to "Join a craft circle or a knitting club..." Just a quick question do I sound like a girl that would thrive in a craft circle? "Nancy, your paper mache christmas tree is just fabulous." Personally, I wouldn't mind being able to knit shit since it would keep me warm, but a craft circle?? I'd sooner become a prostitute.

Smooches,
Nanners

Diamonds are girls best friend....

2008-11-18T17:20:00.005-05:00

I woke on Saturday morning wanting throw in the towel to my week long gym regime. I paced my room, stood on the balcony to determine if it was too cold to go outside because I don't have a hat, thought about stubbing my toe that way it would be too fat to fit in my shoe, looked at how greasy my hair was and thought that it would just be an embarassment if I ran into a local that I made out with. This is how bad I did not want to go.

Then I lifted up my shirt in the mirror and put those running shoes on. So as me and my favourite granny panties (yes I wear granny panties to the gym as I was nearly split in half the last few times I wore thongs) I argued with myself (internally) and walked right past the gym.

THEN...I saw the light...no not heaven...the lights from the Estate Jewelery store in my neighbourhood. I was drawn to it all of a sudden. (Right now I realize that I have lost any chance with any male reading this because I am the girl that they run away from.) So I went and peered through the bars on the window and I heard a buzzing...that meant that they were letting me in despite my god awful appearance. So after going through three subsequent buzzings I was finally in state of euphoria.

Holy mother of Jesus I was surrounded by bling so I did the unthinkable to most people and sat down and tried on hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of diamonds. It may or may not have come out of my mouth that I was "getting ideas for my boyfriend for Christmas." This was false. If I had a boyfriend, I think that he may prefer it if I stuck to the gym and not the diamonds...that can get pretty scary for a guy. It's too bad diamonds come with so much symbolism and a heafty price tag.

After about 30 minutes of feeling like a complete jackass but thinking that the experience was worth every carat,I finally hiked up my granny panties and headed off to the gym in hopes that I would meet the man of my dreams that would love to shower my with diamonds and be happy seeing me in my granny panties. (These are only for the gym only so keep your comments to yourself...you know who you are.)

Smooches,
Nanners

Quote of the day

2008-11-12T12:03:00.000-05:00

"They call it PMS because Mad Cow disease was already taken..."

My skin condition...

2008-11-11T14:36:00.002-05:00

Okay, so for those of you close to me, you know that I have a skin condition called Rosacea. For those of you wondering what the hell it is and why on God's green earth I am talking about it...it basically looks like you have been badly sun burnt or escaped a burning building. Literally, your face feels like it's on fire...It's particularly agitated by sun, heat, extreme cold, waking up and breathing.
For instance a couple years ago in Mexico, an old woman ran after me down the beach and started scream talking at me " GET OUT OF THE SUN HONEY, YOU ARE GOING TO BLISTER, OH MY GOD. HAVE YOU SEEN YOURSELF?" Although my initial knee jerk reaction was to punch her right in the uterus, I calmly scream talked backed to her "IT'S ROSACEA."
It didn't hurt. But bitch should have minded her business. When I see people on their vacation, I don't approach them and say "OH MY GOD, YOU LOOK LIKE A BURN VICTIM, GET OUT OF THE SUN." As if they couldn't feel it if it's that bad.
Anyway, I am just pissed off today since Microsoft Word my email and my blog for that matter does not recognize the word Rosacea. For instance, when I spell check, the following suggestions come up: Rosa's, Races, Rosana, Roses, Rosales. I am not referring to a Mexican restaurant. I think it's about time us red faced people unite and write Microsoft.
Help us find a cure people.

Smooches,
Nanners

Elevator Etiquette

2008-11-10T12:01:00.004-05:00

As I left my friend's 33rd floor condo on Sunday morning, I just knew that the elevator would hit every floor on the way down. Of course this became a fact.
I got in and there were already 4 other people in there...I immediately wondered where they were going but that soon left my head as I caught a glimpse of myself in the elevator mirror and as a result vomited in my mouth.
I stood in the corner avoiding the mirror as well as the four other strangers by staring at the floor numbers at the top of the elevator. The way I see it is you have 3 options when in an elevator which can be oddly uncomfortable because I hate silences.
You can :
a) stare at the numbers with everyone else;
b) stare at the back of the head of the person who decided that squeezing in was a good idea;
c) play with your phone and pretend you are typing a very important text, even though you have no reception.

Anyway, I digress, so after stopping on the 30th floor my elevator of awkwardness stops at lucky #28.
I say lucky because I have never been as lucky as I was that Sunday morning, when the elevator doors opened and a gentleman eating a GIGANTIC EGG SALAD SANDWICH hopped in. Are you f'ing kidding me? Everyone in their right mind, knows that egg is a little off smelling...I do enjoy a good egg salad sandwich on the odd occasion but I would never dream of eating it in an elevator FULL of people. At least keep it wrapped jackass until you get out of the elevator. Eat it on the street and let the wind waft egg up people's nasal cavity but don't eat it in an enclosed area.
As I watched him from behind, I also bore witness to the tiny bits of egg that fell on the floor due to his abnormally large bites he was taking.
It felt like an eternity of egg smelling, baby vomiting in my mouth, people avoiding, number watching, elevator riding, pure awkwardness.
I was spitting angry.

The Claim

2008-11-07T09:31:00.002-05:00

I wonder if you can make a disability claim for "excessive inner thigh rubbing due to growth of inner thighs which is caused by emotional eating from stress" Or. "Extreme pre mentstrual symptoms which causes employee to want to harm people, small animals or throw objects. Considered a danger in the workplace."

The Subway

2008-11-06T14:37:00.004-05:00

One of the many things which I hate about the subway is how close people stand to you and breathe on the back of your neck with their smelly breathe. Now if I was feeling randy and it happened to be a hot man breathing ever so softly on my neck then maybe I wouldn't care. However, the chances that happening are about the same as me winning back my $4 on Cash for Life ticket.

The one thing that really, really pisses me off about public transportation is that the fact that completely mobile seniors or "golden aged citizens" feel it's a right to have a seat. Nope. We give seniors our seats because we think of our own little grandmas and great aunts who struggle or we sincerely believe that this elderly person is unable to stand so we politely give them our seat. I do it all the time and I see a lot of others do it too. HOWEVER, yesterday, we stop at Bloor station, one of the busier, more crowded stops on route and I see this old woman running (not limping) with a million bags in her hand and she literally shoves her way to the front of the platform so she could hop on and get a seat.

She gets right in front of me and is staring at me suggesting with her eyes that I get up to move. Nope not me. I thought to myself " Hold on saddlebags, you just elbowed a small child in the esophagus and knocked your bags into a lady holding a cup of coffee, you ain't sittin' here grandma." Common courtesy. You just ran bitch, you have the capability to stand and perform martial arts to get your way to the front of the line to get on the train. So she stood there and stared at me and huffed and puffed the whole way home. I just pretended I didn't see her as she rested her Bowrings bag on my foot.

Oh yeah, one other thing, say if there is a row of 3 seats. One person on either side and the middle seat is free...try and remember the circumference of your ass before you try and squeeze in the middle seat. Generally, we are aware of how large or small our body parts are and where they may or may not fit. There was a while when I was knocking things off of tables and not realizing it and it turns out it was my ass, but I got used to it. SO please don't sit on my lap. Have some ass courtesy. The only things that go on my lap are:
1.)male strippers for a lap dance
2.) the crumbs of my food

So screw off and sit somewhere else.
I am not having a very good day so this was written with a hint of anger if you couldn't tell.

Smooches,
Nanners

Mojave Desert

2008-11-04T22:37:00.002-05:00

So I was in the Condom Shack on Queen St. today and I am standing in line to buy flavoured condoms which will only expire in my night stand, and the spanish lady in front of me was debating over what size lube she should get. " Chu tink dat dis size is gon e be enaf?" IT WAS 2 LITRES. I remember standing there and thinking "If your vajay jay is as dry as the Mojave Desert, perhaps install a sprinkler system in the bedroom or get a new man. Jesus woman. Stop wasting my time, I need to get my condoms home to practice putting them on bananas."

Quote of the day

2008-11-04T20:18:00.002-05:00

Some of us in life are just naturally blessed with good luck. Others are blessed with frizzy hair. To those of you without frizzy hair...up yours.
Author-Nanners

The Catwalk

2008-11-03T15:16:00.002-05:00

Most of you reading this are likely familiar with shows such as America's Next Top Model and Project Runway, you know, the shows that are like watching little centipedes in clothing walking down a runway.
Anyway, part of me is writing this post in admiration that they in fact have cheek bones, and their rolls don't sweat while they sit.
Since it was the weekend and I have recently, subscribed to Cosmo t.v, there are a plethora of model/I want to be famous shows on which I am embarrassed to admit I have become captivated by.
So this morning I did a little experiment. I woke up this morning feeling like shit and decided that I should probably feed my shittiness with a litre of ice cream so I went to the grocery store at around 9am. (Which in my neighbourhood is prime time for traffic.)
Being inspired by all the model shows that I watch, I stuck on my sunglasses (to heighten my fashionista qualities-even though I was in jogging pants and a winter jacket) in addition to this I decided to try and do the "catwalk walk" if you are unfamiliar with what I am talking about I think you may live in a hole in the wall but I will explain it to you. Basically, it's one foot directly in front of the other. I know your like " dah....that's how you are supposed to walk" but this is a little more exaggerated. So I tried it for the first and last time.
As I approached the hotel close to my apartment walking like an absolute lunatic, I thankfully side glanced what I looked like in their dining room windows and IMMEDIATELY stopped. It looked like I was actually let out on a day pass. I am very embarassed and my reasons for attempting this walk alone and not amongst friends as a joke are questionable.
I really wish that I could say that I was drunk and I am really wondering if I should be posting this, but if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at right?
Mother of God, I have a doctor's appointment on Friday...let's see if she can increase my meds.

Smooches,
Nanners

Ooops

2008-11-02T16:33:00.002-05:00

Hey Sandra, (she's my roomate)
You know the other day when I was vacuuming my room? Well I accidentally vacuumed up the eye mask that you let me borrow to help me sleep. I am telling you this on here to see if you actually read my blog.
If you are upset/outraged, can we please discuss after the Amazing Race tonight?
I will replace it.

Smooches,
Nanners

I said what?

2008-11-01T19:30:00.005-04:00

Most of us are born with filters from our brains to our mouths. I, on the other hand, am a special breed of species who at anytime will say something deemed socially inappropriate or something that will make a room fill with silence. As far as I know, it's nothing offensive that I say it's just plain awkward. I believe it's more awkward for me as it usually involves me giving something known as TMI (Too much information.)
What triggers these events? Liquor.

I am sure many of you can relate to waking up the next morning after an evening of drunken debauchery and have spent most of your day on the couch wondering what the hell happened last night?Why did I order two street meat specials? Why did I drunk dial that person? Where the hell are my pants?What is that taste in my mouth? Where is my phone?Did I barf last night? How did I get home? What is the name of the guy/girl in my bed? Why won't this stranger leave? How come I have no money in my wallet? Why did I steal the microphone from the lead singer in the live band? What is this substance in my hair? Where is my right shoe? Why did I eat that wet nap on a dare? Did I call that girl a whore to her face? I peed where?

Truth is, the above can be the harsh reality of drinking...at least for me anyway. As the holiday season approaches I am mentally preparing myself to reduce my liquor intake which I hope will resolve my diarrhea of the mouth and limit the amount of embarrassing incidents. Unfortunately, there is no prescription for this ailment. I have googled it.

If you or any of your friends can relate to any of the examples I have made, then please see below my list of tips that I have prepared for a night of drinking followed by a day of regrets.

1. When meeting new people in a social situation and there are cocktails involved, try and gage their maturity level before impressing them with your ability to guzzle, chug, chant drinking songs, or throw out the "f" bomb uncontrollably.

2. If you wake up the next morning with a raging hangover and the previous evening is a gaping black whole in your mind, wait before you pick up the phone to find out exactly what you said or did. I find if you give it time, you have flashbacks. The blow is much easier to your ego when you remember and are not reminded by friends who are scream laughing at you on the other end of the phone.

3. Throughout the course of the evening, if you feel the urge to call your ex or "friend with benefits," pass your phone to a friend for safe keeping. You will thank them in the morning.

4. Sometimes we are unable to predict if we are going to be mad drunk, sad drunk, or "oh my god you were so much fun" drunk, if you do take the route of mad drunk, try not to pick fights with the bar tenders, waitress, the coat check girl about her losing your jacket while you are wearing it, and bouncers. Being escorted out or being "suggested to leave" is not very lady like. Especially at 6pm.

5. Do not confuse alley ways for a washroom. Once you have broken the sacred seal ladies, there is no going back. If you must pee in an alley way which is an absolute last resort but does seem like the easiest idea at the time, then make sure that you not only pull down your pants, but do not forget to pull down your underwear since being known as the girl that smelt like urine isn't the most flattering compliment.

6. Use your indoor voice.I have been hearing this all my life. I was born a scream talker so this concept is hard for me to grasp even while I am sober. The more of "grandpa's old cough syrup" you have does not mean that everyone in the room has suddenly becoming hearing impaired.

7. Limit the amount of random "I love you" conversations to about 2 people. Preferably...people you don't know. Then you don't have to deal with the awkward aftermath. Although it is a wonderful feeling to hear those three little words, some are creeped out by the fact that you love them so much... especially your boss.

8. Keep your "I'm sorry for being so drunk last night" emails short, sweet and thoughtful. Throw in a few compliments like "Hey, it was so great to see you last night. Have you lost weight? Man, that bartender was pouring some stiff drinks. I am sorry to hear that someone threw up on your jacket," (even though it was you...wait for their response and play dumb.)

9. If you are taking public transportation home, ensure that you remain awake for the entire ride as you may miss your stop and it could possibly take you to the wrong destination on the other side of town. What should have been a 20 minute ride could potentially turn into a 3 hour journey. One you are likely not to forget and one you would rather just keep to yourself. Invest in a Redbull or a cup of coffee before hopping on.

10. Don't exchange numbers with your new friends that you have made in the ladies washroom. Yes, you may have bonded over lipstick shades, how men are bastards and hair styles from the stall next door, but in reality your new friends are a little nuts.

11. If you want to hand out your business card, be sure to take a good look at what card you are giving to your potential Friday night date. As drinking may make your vision slightly blurry, confusing your business card with your gynecologists appointment card can be awkward.

12. Don't ask "What happened last night?" In front of a group of people. There are bound to be people that will gladly chime in their part of the story..and believe me there are usually many. Walk away if "what happened last night?" slips out of your mouth. You are better off not knowing and you don't want to hear "....BUT the best part was...." Leave. Leave now.

Just for the record, none of the following events stem from personal experience. These are just stories I have heard, I am just a really good listener....Well I am off to clean my halo.

Smooches,
Nanners

The Walk

2008-11-01T15:00:00.002-04:00

Okay so today I went out for a little while...it was nice...until I started my journey home.
Now for most of you who have travelled on the TTC ,know that it is a cesspool of germs and creepy smelly people. The great thing about my life, is that the creepy smelly people seem to take a liking to me. Just who I am looking for to bring home to Mom and Dad.

As I sat on the subway this afternoon, a homeless man was blantantly and creepily peering at me from the seat opposite to me. Awesome.

I thought that I would be able to ditch this guy when I got off at my stop. False. Looks like his dumpster is located in my neighbourhood. He proceeded to follow me off the subway and right on to the street...I know this since I have superior side glancing abilities. Then he decided he would like to strike up a conversation...Which at this point I could hear him muttering something about a dumpster....ummmm that's when my pace picked up as well as the volume on my mp3. I am not sure if he was giving me his address or telling me that's where he will dump my body. I felt like turning around and saying "Listen, let's cut to the chase. I don't have any money, here's my wallet..check it out. And if I did have money I would spend it on carbs and fat burners so seriously, you're following the wrong girl."
I eventually took a side street and ditched my lover and it turned out to be a BETTER IDEA because of the following:

1.) As I was walking by the apartments in my neighbourhood, I was nearly struck by a black Lexus speeding out of an underground parking garage going at about oh I would say 100 km. Perhaps instead of the "Tenant only parking" sign, they should replace it with sign which cautions PEDESTRIANS. I am thinking this may work. "Caution. Douchebags may exit garage at high speeds. Good luck." I would love to work for the city and create signs for subways and parking lots.

2.) Just as I recovered from my mild coronary, A guy I kissed last summer in a local bar was out in the neighbourhood walking his dog. I know you may be thinking that's trashy and I am too old for that shit but it was the litre of vodka that made me do it.Plus I guarentee you, 99% of you reading this have made out with a guy/girl in a bar. It was super awkward since we were supposed to go out and then we never talked again. So yet again I was found running/walking with my head staring straight at the pavement trying to dodge this guy. I am pretty sure he saw me doing my weird running/walking down the sidewalk so I think I actually attracted his attention by acting so f'ing ridiculous. Honestly, I feel like I am 5. The number of streets in my neighbourhood that I can walk down without panicking are now becoming limited because of my wierdness.

I'm really glad I left the house.

Smooches,
Nanners

My Locker

2008-10-31T16:50:00.002-04:00

Recently, I have been going to the gym again. I have carefully chosen locker #350 to be locker of choice which is a constant reminder of what my weight will be if I have another slice of bread.

I am a woman of few words today.
Smooches,
Nanners

You heard me....

2008-10-30T14:45:00.002-04:00

So last night, I was watching an episode of Blind date. Setting aside the predictable and inevitable hot tub scene, I was really impressed with the way this woman was standing up for herself....a quality that I have not yet perfected.

I started thinking back to the instances where I have stood up for myself and they all have seemingly backfired. Let's review shall we.

1.) Last year on Thanksgiving weekend I was in McDonalds alone having my own pitty party when I witnessed a grown woman screaming at a bum who was quietly eating his meal at a table. She was yelling "You smell so bad that I don't want my kids around you, we have all lost our appetites, get a job, you are useless..blah blah blah." The homeless man just sat there and read the newspaper and ate his fries while she got all up in his grill. Not only did she get up in his grill in front of everyone in the restaurant, but she did it in front of her children. I could not believe what I was witnessing...I went up to the counter and I asked for the manager and I said "There is a vulgar rude bitch, screaming at a homeless man for no reason, can you please ask her to leave, it's very upsetting." The teenager standing next to me turns to me and says "That's my mom." I looked at her and replied "Your mom's a bitch." She was speechless. I was so proud of myself and I just walked away. I was shaking of course in fear that this little teeny bopper could possibly bust out a glock at any minute...but at the time, I felt it was necessary.

The manager came out and escorted the mother and the children out of the restaurant and told them not to come back. Technically I was not standing up for myself, but nonetheless I stood up for someone else and it felt good.

So I sat at a table by myself and ate my fries absolutely horrified at what I just witnessed. I kept staring at the homeless man until eventually I walked over and gave him $10 bucks and said "Happy Thanksgiving sir." Then I walked home on Eglinton scream crying because I felt so bad for the man.

THEN 2 days ago, I was walking up Yonge and I see the exact same homeless man and he asked me for change and I actually didn't have any and he called me a bitch under his breath. Are you kidding me? I gave you $10 last Thanksgiving so you could buy booze and drugs and that's how you repay me?

2) I am in the parking lot of the mall with my mom and we were CLEARLY going into a parking spot when some jack off decided it was his...so the bastard started to turn at the same time. My mom slammed on the breaks and I rolled down the window and yelled "HEY COCKSUCKER, THAT WAS OUR FUCKING SPOT!" I have no idea what got into me and I completely forgot that I was with my mother who was having a mild coronary in the drivers seat in regards to the language that just flew out of my mouth. We entered the mall in silence...we didn't say a word until we sat down in the food court and she quietly says "He could've had a gun you know?"

It felt so good to scream that though...I don't regret it at all.

I would like to have more episodes which reflect having a back bone...although I could work on my choice of words and my habit of giving homeless people money.

You know you are bored when....

2008-10-28T23:49:00.007-04:00

Well the 11 o'clock edition of Cold Case was over, so I thought I would hop on facebook and do a little stalking and take some of the 300 quiz requests that I have received in recent months. So I am ignoring pretty much every request (keep in mind don't send me any requests for "Which plant are you?"or "What fish would you be?" from this day forward...I don't give a shit what plant I would hypothetically be.) Then I stumbled upon "What Celebrity Are You?" I thought it sounded pretty innocent and fun until I discovered who I was...I have copied and pasted the results below...even exactly how it was spelt. Please see below.

Woopie Goldberg
Good for you!! you are very romantic and funny but know when to be serious. you will ecomlish many things except getting a date! you also have some friends but.. noy many.

So in a nutshell, I am a black middle aged woman without eyebrows who has strikingly "manish" qualities, and is funny and romantic but no one would ever know that because I will never get a date and I have no friends. Awesome. Just what I wanted to hear. That totally lifted my spirits.

Yes, Ms. Goldberg is somewhat amusing but romantic? What? I would never look at her and think "You know, she really strikes me as a really romantic person."

What is the deal with these quizzes on fb anyway? I admit, I took about 30 of them already and I am not impressed with the results...basically because facebook has deemed me as a loser.

Just for the record, I have lots of friends. I have also had many offers for dates...they may be from men who live on the street, men who are old enough to be my great grandfather and men who hit on me with their eyes closed because they are steamin' drunk...but still an offer is an offer...I have just chosen to take the high road and decline...not because I am better than them...it's because I am busy. Very busy.

Great. The Holidays are coming...

2008-10-28T17:10:00.004-04:00

No not Halloween. Christmas. A time for singles to be reminded that yes they are in fact single. (Just in case you woke up that morning and forgot)

During a typical holiday gathering, I can be caught weaving in and out amongst the plethora of quasi sober relatives who all have the same question on their mind. Is Amanda a lesbian? I haven't seen her bring anyone to the family gathering.

Eventually I am cornered by a drunk cousin who says "I have the perfect person for you." As my eyes quickly do a once over of the Northern Reflections sweater and the booze breathe breathing in my face, I awkwardly decline their invitation by saying "Oh really. I am not really ready for a relationship." Then I quickly look in every direction for the closest dessert platter floating around so I may begin my emotional eating.

This year, I have decided that the kids table is probably more suited to my needs. Their biggest concern is if they will get to play X-box after dinner so they are eating at a rapid pace. In addition to this I can pretty much guarentee that the topic of conversation will not head in the direction of politics or love for that matter. I am game. Although we may need a bigger chair for my slightly larger ass.

Technically, I have so many family members that attend these things that I don't think that I will be missed if I didn't show up. Perhaps I could get away with issuing a family bulletin? I'll put it on festive paper and fax it over to my Aunt. This is what it will read.

"Happy Holidays everyone! Sorry, I couldn't be there. I am actually in Cambodia hand picking Brad and Angelina's next child. Yes I am still single and very very very happy. In fact, the happiest I have ever been.And my god, I am getting so skinny. So please stop questioning my sexuality. Merry Christmas."

Anyway, the likelihood of me getting out of the family festivities is the about the same likelihood of me eating cabbage as a snack. So it looks like I will be attending. But to any of you out there who know of a guy with a job, some morals, over 5'10 and a pulse, please feel free to give him my information.

Smooches,
Nanners

Um...Wish I didn't watch that

2008-10-27T23:03:00.004-04:00

I just witnessed (well via the television) an exorcism.
I started watching the Paranormal State on A&E because I have a huge crush on Ryan, the head of the Penn State Paranormal Research Society. I know most of you are rolling your eyes and thinking it's garbage but when you have Rogers on Demand and no social life it can become addictive to order episodes...about 13 of them in one day....yup that's right.

Tonight's episode was literally the scariest one I have seen...normally I am daydreaming about how I would like the shows host to have his way with me but tonight I was captivated....a lot of times I think these people are a bunch of nuts just trying to get attention but I really have bought into it. So much so that I have decided to sleep with my light on, go to church on Sunday and order holy water and crosses off of Ebay.

Speaking of Exorcisms have you seen the movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose? Yikes...that was one fucked up movie...when I found out it was based on a true story I had to change into a clean pair of pants....It terrified the shit out of me. I don't know why I watch stuff like this. As if I don't already lie awake at night worrying enough.

As a side note, when my father first immigrated to Canada and he was a handsome Scottish bachelor living alone in an apartment, he rented the movie The Exorcist and it scared the shit out of him as well. So that night after turning off the movie,kicking the hooker out and settling in bed...the bathtub from the apartment above him fell through the ceiling and into his apartment. This is fact, not fiction. Till this day my father has never seen the movie again and hates the mention of it.

I don't care who you are, when you watch a creepy movie, you can't tell me that when it comes time for bed that night that you are a tad more suspect to any noise you hear. For example, right now, I am staring at my computer screen as I type but also side glancing my mirror waiting for something catastrophic to happen.

Well, thank god I have a nightstand full of pharmaceuticals that can make me forget I even watched the Paranormal State tonight.

Sweet Dreams,
Nanners

The Quasi-Boring Race

2008-10-26T20:19:00.002-04:00

If you watch any reality show, you will know that it is totally the loose cannons that make the show. Currently, on the 15th million season of The Amazing Race, I am a little dissapointed.
However, in saying that, the remaining teams are borderline boring/somewhat quirky enough to watch and they at least provide me with enough material for their bio's
If you are a viewer, let's recap in regards the remaining contestants shall we?

Ken and Tina-The jock and the milf who are currently separated, probably because he is an ex pro football player and Tina realized he has been sticking his dick into cheerleaders for years...look closely and you can see his balls turning blue from the grip she's got on him now. I am no relationship expert but I don't know if going on the Amazing Race is the greatest idea to help repair their relationship. They keep saying "This will make or break us." Ummmmm I think that the race has a tendency to push people to their limits and make them a tad crazy. For example screaming at eachother to "get the fuck in the boat." "Stop pushing me!" "You're a psycho." Racing for a million bucks on little sleep around the entire world is not really a realistic counseling session. At least that's not how my shrink and I work through things.

Terrance and Sarah-I can't wait until Tina watches the show which is being Tivo'd for her, and realizes that she is dating a whiny gay man bitch. "Sarah. We are not here to make friends. Don't smile at them. Pay attention to ME!" In the monologues that Sarah has with the camera she can be caught defending his sensitivity. Yes, because he is mestruating Sarah. Dump him. I also believe Sarah is a member of MENSA (the smart people's club) because in every country, she can speak their language. And Terrance please remove your ridiculous bandana.

Kelly and Christy-The young divorcees. Combined, they make a grade two student look like a NASA employee. These women are so bitter. I believe their bitterness stems from the years their husbands spent banging their secretaries....oh wait...maybe they are the secretaries. It's funny because not only in tonights episode did they have to back track because they did not read the clue, but in previous episodes they have had to start over because they didn't read the clue. Their talent is being stupid and bitchy...way to go girls.

Andrew and Dan-The Jewish fraternity boys-What happened to the good ol' days of casting good looking frat boys?Being Jewish has nothing to do with their looks, I am just stating that they are jewish just so I could say the word schmuck which is commonly used in the Jewish community to describe someone as being stupid. Honestly, they suck at everything. I don't even know what to say. Why are they on there?

Nick and Starr-The Brother and sister that sleep together at pit stops. I am pretty sure that they have a "Donnie and Marie" brotherly and sisterly love happenin' there. I am sure Starr enjoys every "leg of the race"Ewwww...excuse me while I barf in my mouth. The second trip for two which they won in this evenings episode will be a great romantic getaway for the brother and sister.

Ty and Aja-Who? Exactly. The token black couple. Okay, to the producers of this show, you must understand that no couple will ever compare to the black couple of all black couples. No, not Oprah and Stedman but Uchenna and Joyce from a few seasons ago. She shaved her head people! For the love of her husband and to prove how strong she is. Every time they had their monologues on camera it was like Ghandi addressing the people. They were amazing! Ty and Aja are going to break up...it's obvious...they are long distance dating and I have a funny feeling that is secret for internet dating because there is no chemistry between them. This may actually be the first time they met. But according to my false prediction, the couple who came in last and were eliminated tonight, will be moving in together...good luck with that.

Tony and Dallas-The mother and son duo-My personal favourite. Although he looks like he's from a boy band, he is definitely the best. He's super nice and encouraging to his mom. I really don't have much to say about the woman. She's a trooper. Good for her.

Join me next week for a re-cap.

Smooches,
Nanners

Would you like some lipstick for your collagen...I mean lip

2008-10-26T15:47:00.003-04:00

Have any of you ever seen the train wrecks that are on the reality t.v series Rock of Love starring Bret Michaels as the love interest? Oh. My. God. As much of a reality t.v junkie as I am, I was unable to follow it this season as my retina's could not absorb the hideous puffed up, trailer park rock n' roll, alcoholic meth addicts that vied for Brett's undying gonorrhea...I mean love.

Sweet merciful Jesus. I just happened to sit down and change the channel and there they were. What a vision. I wasn't sure at first if they were all on the verge of sneezing or really surprised by the looks on their face but after watching it for longer than 15 minutes I realized these silicone princesses were botoxed into this position.

The amount of collagen plus silicone combined from each contestant could actually help build a vessel to free Cubans and safely float them to the Miami shore.

What is the deal with these woman? Perhaps the casting call was in K Mart in the deep south? I don't know. I can't even begin to guess where they found these women. There truly is no witty explanation that I can come up with.

Ewwww. This just had to be stated as there is no one else in my apartment right now to share this with.

Ciao.

I'm really happy for you if you're sleeping.....

2008-10-21T04:48:00.002-04:00

Actually, I am not happy for you if you are asleep, warm in your bed, as I have been awake for a couple hours. I am yet again, going to lose my mind from the lack of sleep I am getting....

I have decided to turn off a re-run of Survivor because frankly the cast is irritating...I really don't care about lions and who didn't pitch in to get water or who was slacking at the immunity challenge. In addition to this, the camera man keeps zooming in on people's bug bites, which is subsequently making me swallow my tongue everytime I see the gaping bloody lesions on their skin.

Prior to watching Survivor, I read about Florence Nightingale on the internet. That sounds completely random I know, but on my google homepage I have "This day in history..." as one of my saved items. For those of you who are interested, she was the pioneer of nursing in the late 1800's. I chose to have "This day in history..." so I would be able to come up with fillers at parties with useless random facts. I hate awkward silences. Actually, I guess I would make it more awkward by talking about Florence Nightingale but nonetheless, I am learning a lot. You would not believe what Peru went through a 100 years ago.

I am actually lying here in soaking wet sheets. No, I didn't have an accident. I drenched my bed in lavender spray about 5 minutes ago because apparently it's supposed to be calming. Calming my ass. I now have my fan on the highest level in an attempt to dry my sheets which are actually quite uncomfortable against my skin. Not to mention that my head is pounding from the aroma of lavender. I think I have also managed to burn my nasal cavity with all the chemicals I have just unleashed in my little crawl space I call my bedroom.

I have my realaxation cd on in the background with some douche bag telling me to "breathe 1,2,3 and squeeze 1,2,3." By squeezing, he is referring to my eyelids, my toes, all my extremities. It's called progressive muscle relaxation. This is not relaxing. I would like to be sleeping rather than squeezing. It also has great music in the background while this mother f'er is speaking...I believe I have heard the same music in funeral parlours and elevators all across the GTA. I think that I have heard enough.

One of my doctors told me to go out and get a white noise machine. Where the fuck do I get a white noise machine? That actually creeps me out. Isn't there a horror movie named White Noise? She also reccomended that I get a C.D with sounds of the rainforest. Yeah, 'cause the sound of monkeys, bugs, dripping water and elephants is EXACTLY what will put me to sleep. Why didn't I think of that?

Anyway, I am spitting angry and I am a little damp at the moment and I believe Law and Order is on Bravo.

Nighty Night.
Nanners

I am done

2008-10-20T15:10:00.002-04:00

As of today, the internet is to be used soley for porn and hotmail, not internet dating.
I am spitting angry.

My love/hate relationship

2008-10-19T16:48:00.003-04:00

So before I actually write about what is going on in my life as of recent, I must tell you that yesterday was the first time in a while that I have left my apartment and upon me entering the world... I was shit on by a bird. I actually thought someone threw a milkshake on my hand, coat and brand new pants. Birds are bastards but not quite as bastardly as some of the men I have recently met online.

As you may have guessed which avenue I am going down, it's the online dating one. All of my girlfriends who I have shared this information with think it's just fabulous. Nope. I hate it. However, that being said I have taken down and re-posted my profile twice this week out of sheer boredom/disgust/curiosity/my eggs are rotting/where am I going to meet someone normal to counteract all my abnormalities.

If you know me well, you know that I immediately fall into the friend zone with the male species. (Unless you count all 4 years of University when I was in my "prime" so to speak where each weekend started with a mouthful of coolers and ended with a "what is your name and why won't you leave?"

Recognizing that you are in the friend zone is quite painful. If I am unclear about what I mean about being in the friend zone let me give you a few examples:
1. He says "Nah, you can say that stuff around here...she's one of the guys."
2. He has no problems blatantly staring at another girls tits in front of you and remarking about how hot she is.
3. He tries to jersey you, but not in a playful flirtacious manner, he has simply forgot that you are a woman.
4. He slaps you on the back or high fives you instead of sticking his tongue down your throat.

Anyway, before I go any further, I need to apologize to my mom for this posting ie; for reminising about my promiscuity in University online...okay so falling into the friend zone makes it very difficult to find someone, so I thought "you know what Nanners...you are going to take some more chances" Now to give you a scope of what "taking chances" has entailed for the past little while,it has varied in degrees from getting out of bed in the morning to pondering if I should order chicken on my pizza. So online dating is a huge deal for me. Part of me failed to recognize that my fellow suitors may want to meet me in person so for now I am just electronically flirting in cyber space with pictures of people who may look exactly the opposite of their picture.

For those of you who have never hopped on a dating site, I urge you to do so now while the cesspool of weirdos is hot. You couldn't even begin to imagine the range of people I have encountered. Some people were fortunate enough to hit the genetic jackpot and others...ummmmm not so much.

The perk of online dating is that you can see who has looked at you...somedays I feel really flattered about the bachelors who have looked at me...almost good enough to shower, but for the most part I am fending off private message sessions with creepy old man douche bags that don't understand that I don't want to give them my number.

Well, I should go. I just googled "tingling sensation in left arm" and I may very well be having a heart attack. If I do manage to survive, I will keep you posted on my creepy online love affairs.

Joke of the day..

2008-10-07T18:32:00.001-04:00

Did you hear about the Newfie Who thought nipples were Japanese children?

-I can say that 'cause I am part Newfie

Creepy Caller

2008-10-06T21:30:00.005-04:00

As a single girl in the city, I enjoy getting men calling my cell phone. Now most of you who have my number will know that it is primarily off in recent months as I am scared of bill collectors, calls that someone has died, Blockbuster telling me that I now own Driving Miss Daisy and I am scared to hit answer when I really meant to hit ignore. No need to have an awkward conversation.

So getting messages can be kinda fun for me. I check them a couple times a day since we all know how busy I am. Well guaranteed, twice a year, I get a creepy message from my old boss.

I will provide you with a brief history as you may not know my extensive corporate work experience (yeah right.) I used to work as a skip tracer at a collections agency-essentially, I was an electronic bounty hunter to locate debtors and assholes all throughout Canada. So every day I would go in and put on my Maddona-esque headset and be ready to hit the call button. I worked in a team of two other people and then there was my boss.

I don't want to brag but I did make the most calls a day and did find the most people in Canada who just decided that paying bills wasn't their thing. So my boss seemed to take a liking to me.
Not only a liking to my work, but a liking to the "symmetry of my face" as he would say in front of my other co-workers. Symmetry of my face? He would follow that statement up by saying "Men are attracted to symmetry by nature and you have a very beautiful symmetrical face." ( I always thought to myself when he said that "wait till I take off my shirt, you won't think I am so symmetrical then, one boob is definitely much bigger than the other. Why don't you just stare at your balls in the mirror...they are somewhat circular aren't they?) Of course I would never have the nerve to say anything of the sort so I just sat there.
So I was wildly uncomfortable when he would look to my other female co-workers for their agreement. They would peer over their cubicles and say "Yeah uh... I guess her face is circular." So fucking awkward. Who says that?
1. Who says that period unless you are walking by a cracked out Janice Dickinson on the street and she yells " hey fatty, you have a very symmetrical face."
2. As a manager, who points out another co-workers attractiveness in front of other co workers? (Maybe at the company Christmas party but not in the middle of the open office.)
3. This is the kicker, we would actually have meetings to talk about how my other two colleagues should be more like me.That would be the basis of the meeting. If you think I am kidding, I swear on my mother's life. Not why they can't look like me, but why they can't hit my target. Neither of my co-workers would look at me during the meeting.

Eventually, I had to pull each one of them aside as their attitudes towards me began to change. I can't help it if I am circular. They should see me now...everything is circular...nothing to be proud of. Finding clothes for circular people ain't so fun.

I also had to have the awkward convo with Mr. Boss man to tell him to stop singling me out. And by the way, please stop calling me over to your desk to show me the picture of you as your screen saver when you were a body builder. I think it's gross that the vein in your wrist is bigger than your penis. And you hairstyle went out with high tops.

Anyway, got to love those creepy callers.

So, naturally as expected he calls me twice a year and leaves me messages as some sort of game to see if I still have his number. His creepy voicemail he left this Friday sounds something like this:
"Hey Amanda, It's Chris, I hope you remember me. I was the best boss. If you really like me then you would call me back."

Actually, right after the first time I realized you had my number (for emergency purposes only) I deleted your number. And immediately told my friend's father who ran the company, that he hit on me all the time. He didn't have a clue who he was.

That concludes my rant for the evening, I am back to watching CSI Miami (Which I hate) I am just waiting for the episode where Horatio dies, I could have swore I saw a commercial with blood coming out of his mouth.

Cop a feel Station

2008-10-03T15:03:00.003-04:00

First of all, Union station smells like hot dogs, barf, and cheap perfume. Oh yeah and a hint of cinnamon. Yummy.
However, that is not the point of my story. Perhaps it is my generation or my morals that have developed in the past 2 years, but is dry humping against a wall in the middle of Union station cool? (Or in public for that matter.) If you want to dry hump at home go ahead...I'll be jealous, but go ahead.
Not only were there copious amounts of "clothing-on" sexual encounters taking place at the station the other day, but these little dry humpers were about 15 years old. I guess if I were a young dude I would be taking advantage of the little gr. 9 fashionistas who have breasts the size of my head. What the hell was in these little girls baby formulas? When my lady friends and I were growing up, our breasts were practically inverted. Sorry ladies, but it's true. We have spoken on this matter before and to be honest, most of us are wearing padding at the moment.
These 15 year old girls actually look like miniature Pamela Andersons, and in my books, I don't know if that is anything to aspire to.

Anyway, besides the dry humping I witnessed the other day, Union station is one of my favourite places to people watch.
I always try and sit close enough to the departure screen, but far enough so I don't turn into an information booth for lost travellers.
Throughout my experience of people watching, I have placed people into categories.
They are as follows:

1.) The frantic business man who comes barrelling into the station with his brief case and curses out loud and starts running for the train as he is aware that his wife is going to divorce him if he misses one more family dinner or misses little Jimmy's soccer game.

2.) The business man who saunters into the station and happily and calmly recognizes that yes, he has missed his train, but he would much rather eat McDonald's in the station than the left over pork roast that his wife made last night. He is in no rush to get home because he is still glowing from banging his secretary at lunch.

3.) The mother running through the station with 5 children in tow who looks up at the screen and realizes that there is no way they are going to catch the train, swears under her breath and then shoves junk food into the kids mouths to keep them quiet until the next train arrives.

4.) There is the other mother who is heavily dependant on pharmaceuticals, who is running through the station with 5 kids as well, realizes she has missed the train, and turns around to scream at the kids, tell them it's their fault, and they will not get any dinner when they arrive back to their trailer in Oshawa.

5.) Next we have miss size 2 executive who cannot walk in her Jimmy Choo stilettos, realizes that she still has 5 minutes to catch the train but there is no way that she is running to catch her train because the bitch can barely walk.

6.) Last but not least, there are people like me who believe that there is going to be some sort of catastrophic accident on the subway that requires me to leave my apartment an hour early so I get to the station in time to watch the above people.

That is all

My career in criminal justice.

2008-10-02T20:42:00.002-04:00

Let's be honest, we are all creatures of habit...I believe that my t.v watching habit is quite possibly leading me down a path to pass the Bar exam, to be a police officer or at the very least become a part of a CSI unit. Let's take a look shall we:

7am-Third Watch: I learn how fast criminals can run, how dirty cops can be and how fast I need to be able to run in order to catch a criminal.

8am-Crossing Jordan: I learn that being a screwed up Medical Examiner should never mix business with pleasure and having a love affair with a cop really can effect your work

9am-The Sopranos-This show teaches me how to catch the Gangsters-now I am not talking about the "Bloods" or the "Cripts" I mean the old school Gangsters who will shoot you in the head for insulting their wife's lasagna. I think I would be able to track them down and know good hiding spots for example; the country. In addition to this I think I would also be able to run a sanitation company as well as a strip club. I have also learned that faking insanity doesn't get you off a trial.

10am-American Justice-Man Bill Curtis knows his shit. He has taught me a lot. I have learned a lot about creepy serial killers and how to catch them...sometimes DNA isn't enough. I'd like to give a shout out to all those detectives that are hardworking and now divorced because they spent all their time hunting the killers.

11am-IR-Cold Case Files-The show has taught me the reality that some cases go cold because not enough DNA. I have learned a lot about semen.

12pm-I usually eat, slip in and out of consciousness

1pm-Law & Order-Classic-The first half hour you get the detectives hunting down the suspects and throwing them up against the wall in the interrogation room. (I don't think that I would be good at throwing people on the wall, but that's okay...my good looking partner who I have sex with will do that) Then, to make the show even better- the second half hour you have the lawyers and the trials. I think I would be good at making deals and tricking people and screaming "I OBJECT."

2pm-Without a Trace-Has taught me a lot about the inner workings of the FBI and how to find missing people. I think that I would be able to find people really well actually. Plus on the side have an affair with a steamy co-worker. Technically, I just want to wear a jacket that says "FBI" there is something about being federal that makes you cool.

3pm- I am usually surfing the net, wishing I was someone else, debating whether or not to go check out the corner store to see if they have any fancy sales from panty hose to chocolate bars. There are a plethora of options to choose from. They also have some hard core smut behind the counter and I always squint to see the titles and I have to admit, I am so tempted to buy one of those videos but I could never show my face in there again. I would be the pervert that buys milk, bread and porn. No thanks.

I am not going to get into my evening t.v watching as this is actually embarassing and I have no idea why I am sharing this with you....it was just a thought while I was watching t.v.

Anyway, I must go as "The First 48" is on- the first 48 hours of a crime are very important as you are more likely to catch your suspect, gather leads and talk to witnesses if everyone co-operates.

Night.

May Cause Side Effects.....

2008-09-25T22:26:00.003-04:00

As my television watching is at it's all time high, I have noticed the increase in advertising for pharmaceuticals....Everything is flowers and rainbows...great visual presentation...at least enough to distract you from the life threatening side effects if you don't listen closely.

For example in the background you may here the following being delivered by someone speaking at a rapid pace, but clear enough so there can't be any law suits.....

"Side effects may include but are not limited to....
Nausea, shortness of breath, runny nose, tingling in extremities, blacking out, insomnia, hair growth in funny places, uncontrollable diarrhea, night terrors, tremors, temporary blindness, hearing impairment, loss of speech, dry mouth, pink eye, warts, loss of toenails, addiction to cough syrup, herpes, constipation, redness of the face, urinary tract infection, unwanted pregnancy, headache and death....
If these side effects persist or worsen over time please consult your physician"

Who needs mirrors and breaks on a car?

2008-09-24T18:18:00.004-04:00

Certainly not the cab drivers in the city of Toronto. Mirrors are just annoyances that get in the way of innocent cyclists and seeing the road.
In fact, I would equate riding in a taxi to a life threatening adrenaline rush such as skydiving or bungee jumping.
I definitely believe that the horn remains a useful tool for cabbies as they weave in and out of traffic @ 90 kilometres/hour on a busy two lane street. I mean it is essential to make sure your horn works when barreling through crosswalks and school zones. Or simply, when another car inconveniences you by staying in their own lane.
Last but certainly not least, who needs a signal? It's much easier if you scream out your window at other drivers in a language that is completely foreign to them. That is what I call conflict management.

If you can guess, I have recently been in a cab. Today in fact, I had the pleasure of risking my life going from Union station to my apartment. I am happy for two reasons:
a) I didn't have a coronary in the back seat and the passenger side was not crushed in a collision.
b) I had the pleasure of reading the taxicab passenger "Bill of Rights."

Did you know that taxi drivers are supposed to be licensed? News to me.
The passenger is also entitled to a safe ride. Where? To the hospital after your cabbie hits a lamp post head on?
I personally enjoy the rule that says that there is "no cell phone use (for the driver) unless it is an emergency. That's funny. What is that giant contraption strapped to my cab driver's head with the ring tune "Sexy Back" that goes off every 5 minutes. Each call is simply ear piercing as the driver scream talks to a family member.

Here is my absolute favourite...which happened today by the way...I had to use debit and the driver turned around and asked me, "how much tip are you giving me so I can include it." Last time I checked, that was a function that a passenger put in. I have never felt so awkward.

I am sure that we all have plenty of cab stories...sometimes I have been the asshole on the other end throwing up silently in the back seat out the window on the George Washington bridge in NYC. Needless to say I was kicked out.

However, my barf did not endanger the life of my cab driver...well maybe the smell.

Buckle up out there folks and when in need, remind your cabbie you participate in the "arrive alive" program.