The Weekly Nugget

From My Roomie


On Life


-"Shit only happens if you make it happen"

Episode 3: My First Boyfriend

 ***DISCLAIMER: Any men who follow me, I am sorry in advance for some possibly derogatory speak towards your species. I do in fact love men. Please just understand it's all in the name of being a woman. Sometimes, we are allowed to act like men. Jut like sometimes you guys wear our underwear while we sleep. It's okay, I promise we don't judge. So just skip this post if you take great offense to women bashing your sex. I promise I'll write a woman bashing post to***

Hola Bitches (no derogatory connotation intended, why DOES everyone take this so seriously?),

Alright, I know your all probably sick of my everlastingly boring childhood. But it is this childhood that made me into the awkward and crazy person that I am.  However now that University is over I am kind of lacking in the weirdo department.

But when worse comes to worse in awkward situations...once can just always talk about internet porn and men. (This seems to be a default setting for my roomie)

Which is why I'm writing this post. Okay maybe it's not about internet porn, don't get all hot and heavy on me. I'm talking about men here. The simple, wonderful and always available entity that is a man....oh sorry I WAS talking about porn. If men were that easy to understand, you know turn it on when you want to see it, fast foreward through the annoying parts, and shut it down when your done with it, life for females would be so much more awesome. (at least from what I've heard about porn. Personally I don't indulge in such things, but hey everyone's got their something)

My experience with men started early. I had my first boyfriend in kindergarten. I can tell you...it set up relationships for the rest of my life.

Perry was his name and he was one of those charming types. I remember him bringing me a music box as a present for my birthday party. Our relationship was like that of Romeo and Juliet, Tristian and Isolde, Noah and Allie. Seriously, Nicholas Sparks would have a cheesy romance novel hard-on for the cuteness that was our relationship. I realize that perhaps saying a grown man would have a hard-on for the romantic lives of 5 year old children would make him sound like a pedophile. I'm sorry Mr. Sparks.

Okay I exaggerate. Perry and I were not star-crossed lovers. In fact I don't even know if he's alive anymore. But  can tell you he was the reason I have no trust for men and I get walked on like a doormat by 98% of the male population. Okay maybe like 98.%. Thanks Perry. Asshole.

Alright, so Perry and I were all 5 year old couple. Now Perry had this insane jealousy issue. Of everyone. I literally was not allowed to hang around with anyone. Except Perry. My kindergarten class had these stations. You know the ones, home station, play-doh station, block station, sports station etc. Everyday Perry and I would be partners and I would be forced to play with him and only him. However, I made a critical and tactical error one day. I instead want to another station with my friend. Not the home station with Perry (you can guess he liked to pretend we were married).

Perry wasn't having any of this shit. He first tried the typical man thing. Pouting and being passive-agrressive to me to try and get me to change my ways. When this failed, he went for a more dramatic and much more manly route. He started crying like a little girl. Then he made it personal.

He told the teacher I had been mean to him and had ignored his polite attempts to get me to go with him to the station he wanted. Of course, I was traumatized. Perry's jealousy had forever changed me into a welcome mat for men. His insane jealousy had destroyed my feminist ideals. I think I have not made myself clear enough here. He was insanely jealous at the age of 5. Don't worry I didn't get in trouble. My teacher quickly saw the issue for what it was and corrected Perry's misguided thought that he owned me.

Dear Perry's current girlfriend,
Your boyfriend has insane jealousy issues. Enough to tell an adult on you if you fuck up. He will destroy you. Do not take this warning lightly. Run...run like a Zimbabwe man in the Olympics (AKA really really fast).

Sincerely, Amber

Damn you Perry, Damn you. 

The Weekly Nugget

The weeks nugget comes from my roommate:



On Sex:

" Two Sex Camels Don't Make A Right"

 

Episode 2: Where All Fear Begins

Before I start in on my wonderful blog post: I have a birthday to attend to.

Happy Blogaversary to my Roomie's blog The Prowl! It's been a year of good advice, hilarity and all around awesomeness, so cheers to that and here is to many more posts! If you haven't read it yet, read it now.


Okay, today's blog post is about my first ever fear. Now I've been afraid of a lot of things. The dark, snakes, sharks, zombies ( which in turn correlates to this story), cute puppies and one eyed monsters under the bed ready to jump out and consume my heart.

But by far my biggest fear has been: Dinosaurs. They scare the shit out of me. I have some perpetual fear that they will rise up from their fossily graves and chase me down and eat me.

I think where it all started was my loving brother. He captialized on my fear a lot when I was little (as most big brothers are entitled to do to their little sisters). As mentioned earlier, who do you think made me fear zombies? I have this distinct memory of my brother chasing me around with his eyes rolled back making weird half dead sounds. I'm not gonna lie people, this was some scary shit.

But there was one fear my brother instilled in me that will never leave my subconscious even as long as I live. It is this terrible nightmare that still afflicts my normally boring dreams of shopping at toys'r'us and running machetes through some of the people in my *ahem* past (you feeling me ladies?). Often these dinosaur dreams start off pretty normal. Like I'm busy saving the world and all of sudden my dream is filled with this sense of dread and I'm being chased by a gigantic T-Rex with it's heart set on consuming me a la Jurassic Park.

I probably watched Jurassic Park to young. Thanks to my brother. I witnessed people getting ripped apart by the claws of a Raptor when I really should have been watching magical trolls dance around the rainbow of friendship. So I had a bad start with dinosaurs. But my loving older brother was crazy about anything dinosaurs. And seeing the fear in my young eyes as the t-rex consumed the man in the porta-potty, he knew instantly that his whole purpose in life was to capitalize on this fear.

my brother and I

Everyday my brother would tell me that scientists were getting closer to extracting DNA from the infamous amber and they would soon be making dinosaur eggs and breeding vicious, scary monsters. I didn't sleep for days. I wasn't raised religious but every night you can be damn sure I was down on my knees praying that scientists would never find the DNA and if they did that maybe they would lose it again.

To this day, I still have Ornithoscelidaphobia. Yes I did look up the scientific name for fear of dinosaurs. See reading this blog isn't a COMPLETE waste of your time. You learn something. I still have nightmares about dinosaurs and I only just watched Jurassic Park last summer for the first time since I was little. And if you must know...it was horrifying.

The Weekly Nugget

This weeks nugget is from my mother

On Men/Breaking Up

--"Just there for a good time. not a long time"

Episode 1: The Pilot

Hello lovelies,

Okay, so I can't exactly pin-point the moment I started stumbling into awkward and strange situations. It may have been the moment I burst forth from the womb or it may have been last week when, while I was having "one of those days", I saw a guy in a flower suit dance around our student union building (also a character who will be re-appearing).

To be honest, I think it started when I was younger. I was never a kid who did anything particularly extraordinary. I mean, I certainly never coerced my birthday guests into bringing money to save Fluffy at the local shelter (by the way, who are these kids? What happened to the innocence of wanting more toys? When did that STOP being enough?). I wasn't overly popular or anything.

I did however have one special moment early on in my history that may have set in motion the rest of my life events. Now, you have to bear with me here. Feel free to enjoy the following story. Because I know at least ONE of you did this when you were little. No, don't look away, I know your just as guilty.

When I was younger, I used to LOVE disney. No sorry. I used to WORSHIP disney. I remember in elementary school being dubbed as "the most likely to become a Disney princess". I'm sorry, wait, quick digression here. Why isn't there a university class DEDICATED to getting your degree in becoming a disney princess. Someone needs to do something about this. I mean had I been offered this option before deciding on my degree, I think we know who would be graduating with her BA in "princessology" in 2 years and NOT wasting away in the library studying literary terms.

Okay, back to the important stuff. Now as I was saying, my situation with Disney was pretty set in cement. My mom, bless her sweet innocent soul, how could she have forseen? She went out and bought me a Jasmine costume. Yes kids, a jasmine costume. Not the cheap one either. It was the legit one. (Okay, maybe not LEGIT because I mean, 2-year-olds can't wear a shirt that only covers their chest and shows off their belly...you sickos pictured it didn't you? You people are sick. Get some help, then come back and finish reading).

From the day my mom brought that baby home, I didn't take it off. Seriously. My mom had to wash it at night because I had convinced myself that I was Jasmine. Aladdin was going to come any day to pick me up and we would fly off into Agra-bah(I am not going to lie, I have no idea how to spell that)together.I have pictures of myself in that outfit, everywhere. I was an impressionable kid. I told you already, your not allowed to judge me. I was like every other kid who wore their superman cape to pre-school (you know who you are).

I would like to say it ended there. It didn't. My Jasmine obsession may have lead me to do something that to this day, I am proud of. My parents, they took the plunge, they took my brother and I to Disneyworld. Yes, a place of nightmares for parents and a place where sugar-coated dreams come true for those demons called children. It was here that my mom perhaps made the realization that the "Jasmine" dream had gone to far. I made the critical error that would alter the history of my life.

I met Jasmine.

Oh yes. It was like all the world had opened up, we were instant friends (okay, maybe only in my 4 year old mind). I was on cloud nine. I got her autograph. Life couldn't get any better. But then, the unthinkable. It was probably this moment that started my perpetual dis-trust for the opposite sex.

Aladdin tried to get in on the action

"What's wrong with that?" your thinking. Are you kidding me? He destroyed the picture of just Jasmine and me. He diverted her attention away from our dream world. And he smelled of cigarettes and curry (okay this may be a bit of an exaggeration. I was only 4 remember. Just go along with it). So I did what I had to do. I took the situation into my own hands.

I told Aladdin to beat it. Yup. I made him bend down, look me in the eyes and made it clear to him that if he was a real prince he would get the heck out of my way and never EVER try to get in the picture again. No ifs, ands, or buts. My mom even has a picture of it.

So, I may have taken the Jasmine thing to far. I may have become power hungry. I can't tell you what happened that fateful day, but I sure as heck can tell you Aladdin was not in that picture. I also can't say for certain if this was the day the whole "awkward situations" thing started happening to me. But it's a pretty damn epic story regardless.

Plus...YOU sickos probably laughed at me. Yeah I know who you are. Well...then at least you can look at yourself (even though its lies) and feel okay about your "normal" childhood.

Mute Mondays and The Weekly Nugget

Mondays are the worst day of the week. I understand that it is hell enough to have to drag your sorry, tired, ass out of bed after a weekend of debauchery (or for some of you, a weekend of having your ass glued to a chair in front of your computer hoping to feel like maybe you aren't the ONLY one not partying on a Saturday). I get that the only thing that gets you out of bed is the hope that their will be coffee in the pot and one of my new posts to wake you up.

Well I'm about to drop some terrible news. I have made the official decision to make my Mondays "mute" (after this one). I figure it's my god-given right to take a sweet day to look my worst, re-build up my self-confidence, and think up more ways to make your life seem more awesome.

However! Have no fear. For I will instead be posting a little treat called

THE WEEKLY NUGGET
(Click me to go to the archives!)

Yes, each week I will be imparting some of the best pieces of advice I've ever received. Mostly they are a collection of things my mother and father have told me throughout my years, but there is also a peppering of advice given by my wonderful circle of friends.

So don't worry, there IS a reason to drag your ass out of bed, put on some coffee, pour a bowl of wheaties and snuggle into your attractive bunny slippers.

This week's nugget comes from my father.

On Breaking Up:

"Look, you gotta dig through a lot of shit to find the nugget"

The Big Realization

There comes a point in everyone's life where they make a grand realization. Mine was on a packed bus, stuffed between the guy who decided not to shower that day and the girl with the kitten hat who always seems to be smiling (more on her later). I was thinking how strange my life had become and then it hit me...my life would make the BEST sitcom.

Now, I don't claim to be some big shot, punk ass screen writer who can sit around on my ass all day and write witty satire or heartwarming lines that make your heart melt. Hell, I can barely write an email that doesn't have the reader falling asleep at the 2nd word. So mostly I'm just capitalizing on this whole "free speech" idea (I seem to have a lot of blogs, and none of them very good.) I also realize that most normal people don't give two shits about my life or the fact that I am constantly surrounded by the weird and wonderful. But to be totally honest, I don't really care about those people, they are probably boring and are clearly jealous of the VERY exciting life I choose to lead (since this is the interwbs, I realize I have to explain that was sarcasm).

For those of you who do choose to read my disgusting ramblings...umm...thanks?

Okay, so as I was saying, I seem to have this fantastic knack for the ridiculous. I have often found myself in certain situations and later realized that perhaps I should have just walked away.

As my roommate so eloquently said to me the other day..."Wow, you've been through a lot of shit man."

Fair enough, I have been through a lot of shit in my days.

Alright, so I'm going to lay down some details about myself so you get the whole picture (nothing to pervy, so if that's why your here...zip your pants back up).

I'm one of those, underpaid, over educated university types. Okay, maybe not OVER educated...if I'm being totally honest probably a little UNDER educated. I get most of my "material" if you will, from the wonderful people around me. University really is a bountiful cornucopia(yeah, I used a big word there) of people.
I also come from one of THE best provinces in the world...Alberta. Or as some call it "The Texas of Canada". Yup. That pretty much sums up all that needed to be said there.
For the win...I'm a vegetarian, or vegan(depending on the day). Yeah...one of THEM.
For now, that's all you really need to know to understand WHY I have so many interesting people and situations to write about.

So, if you haven't fallen asleep already, (I know I did somewhere around the second or third line), bear with me. I mean even if you use this blog as way to look at your own life and say "shit, at least that didn't happen to me. My life is good" then at least I've gotten you to read my blog.

And really...isn't that all a young, starving, university student with nothing to contribute to the world, could ask for?