Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.

Five things that are making me laugh.

1. In Act V, scene i of Much Ado About Nothing (my spirit animal in play form), Benedick calls Claudio “Lord Lackbeard” when confronting him on his wrongful scorning of Hero.

Now, I’ve always thought this to be a terrific insult, and I laugh at it every time I either read it on the page, or hear it used live.

This past weekend, I made a joke about the fact that I’ve pretty much run my breasts into non-existence. Building off of this love, Marc didn’t miss one beat, and immediately called me his “Lord Lackboob.”

LORD LACKBOOB.

Classic.

I’ll be laughing about that for YEARS.

2. This Lonely Island song.

Angela Merkel is a lyric.

A LYRIC!

I can always do with more Merkel in my life.

3. I was speaking with my mum on the phone yesterday and she told me how she was helping out at my sister’s store when she went to the washroom to use some of my sister’s hairspray.

(My sister practically lives at her shop, so she keeps an assorted array of housekeeping materials in her bathroom – toiletries, changes of clothes, shoes – it’s a veritable treasure trove of her stuff.)

Anyway, my mum nearly gave me a laugh-induced stroke on the skytrain when she followed-up with, “only what I thought to be hairspray turned out to be industrial grade oven cleaner!”

And people wonder why I am the way that I am.

4. This photo of my sister and I from Christmas this year.

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Yeah.

It’s really amazing Ford Models isn’t blowing up my phone trying to sign me.

5. Mary Roach’s Packing for Mars.

This lady is one heck of a great writer, and funny to boot. Ever wondered how hard it is to use a toilet in zero gravity?

No?

Me neither.

(But you’ll definitely not want to miss her chapter on just how hard it can be. I mean – they actually have to practice, on earth, with cameras, before launching themselves into orbit!)

I mean, who knew that there would be such a science, to well, this part of science?

So that’s all she wrote my darlings.

I’ll just be here in my little corner of the interwebs, silently shedding these tears of happiness.

And I’ll probably be here for a while.

Thanks for the dance

Yesterday I didn’t have too great of a day.

I worked too much, and didn’t eat enough.

What I did eat was absolute garbage, and mostly just consisted of one thing: doughnuts.

I arrived home way past my usual ETA – deflated, rain-splattered, and exhausted.

Holed up on the couch, I ate some carrots, and watched a few episodes of Arrested Development, before schlepping my rickety bones up to bed.

By 9 o’clock I was out like a light.

And oh how I slept.

Today, thank goodness, was different.

The rain was good enough to stay away, and my workload was manageable.

I even only ate one doughnut. ONE!

(Seriously, any day where I stick to one dessert per meal is a win in my books.)

It’s also my big sister’s birthday.

I miss this beauty cat more than you could possibly know, and it makes my little heart sad knowing that I cannot be with her to help her celebrate. However, I take solace in knowing that in but a few short weeks I will be there in New York PARTYING IT DOWN, feting her wedding like my life depends on it.

So happy birthday Kate! You are the most magnificent big sis a gal could ever hope for.

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In other wonderful news, today I met up with Ms. Laura Beth of Perched on a Whim AND IT WAS AWESOME.

Inspiring.

Hilarious.

And just plain old fabulous.

She is in town visiting with her husband, and I was lucky enough to catch her before they took off for the wild, bewildering beauty of Whistler village.

I couldn’t have asked for a better lunch hour.

Sometimes you meet people and everything just clicks. It’s easy – the conversation, the rhythm, the energy.

Our time together, although brief, left me energized and enthused.

What an amazing thing that we could connect through our writing, and have the chance to meet each other in person.

The world truly is a magical place!

AND YOU GUYS.

My first blogger meet up!

This just means I will get to meet more of you, right?

Because goodness knows you all do light up my life.

So happy Wednesday folks.

I couldn’t do it without you.

Love in the little things

Things that I love.

Marc’s cold hairy knees pressing into the backs of my (warm, hairless) knees, as we spoon together at night.

That first sip of vanilla latte – all sweet steamed milk, espresso and foam.

Finally smelling spring in the air.

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Spring!

The funny way my big sister always says, “Oh hellooooo” at the beginning of our Skype calls.

Short sundresses.

Telling a joke and then pausing, so to let the audience’s laughter wash over me, like a wave made out of happiness.

Managing the trifecta of hair removal – leg shave, armpit shave, brow pluck – ALL IN ONE GO.

When my little sister calls me WAWA.

Finally watching 30Rock.

My poppy-red coat that makes me feel like Paddington Bear.

Kitten kisses.

Kitten snoozes?
Kitten snoozes?

Cleaning the shower REALLY WELL (and then using it right away.)

Eating chocolate covered cinnamon buns.

Sprinting so hard until I feel as though the only way to put out the fire in my lungs is to barf them right up.

My mum’s broken sarcasm detector. (“Oh that’s not true…IS IT!?”)

Looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I look really pretty today.

I think I do today too!
I think I do today too!

Laughing with friends until I think I am going to pee my pants.

Quoting Arrested Development, The Big Lebowski, A Fish Called Wanda, Rushmore, Love Actually, and Mean Girls all the gosh-darned time.

She doesn’t even go here…

Having a mad dance party in my underwear, in a Top Shop change room because the song playing at that very moment was just too good not to.

Boardwalk brunches.

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Nom.

This.

My brilliant friends.

My amazing family.

My beautiful man.

You.

Never forget.

Always, always you.

Making it up as I go along

There are times when I think to myself, “Will I ever grow up?”

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Sometimes it is when I am speeding along the highway blasting some terrifically terrible pop song du jour, or buying sluprees at midnight, or laughing so hard that I snort.

Snort repeatedly.

(Because it’s either that or pee my pants.)

Will I ever grow up?

I don’t know.

And what does this even mean?

For all intents and purposes, I live a relatively “adult” life.

I am married.

I have a mortgage.

I have a BA and an MA (although I am missing the PhD to complete the trio.)

I am gainfully employed.

I pay my taxes.

But then again, do any of these things actually constitute “adultness”?

Or is it just evidence that I am, on paper at least, a compliant citizen?

And in the end, isn’t it this all [picture me gesturing about the place] just play acting?

When we were little girls, my sisters and I lived in worlds of make believe.

While Jessi and I got to inhabit the kookiest of characters, Kate, being the eldest, was always saddled with the most vanilla of roles, which usually included “Owner” or “Nanny Kate.”

(For whatever reason, our otherwise shockingly powerful imaginations seemed to run out of steam when it came to her parts and their accompanying monikers.)

In one iteration of our fantasy world, Jessi and I played Shampoo (pronounced Shaum-poo) and Squirt, two extraterrestrial creatures who lived with Owner.

Shampoo (in my imagination at least) was part bulldog, part Tasmanian devil, part vacuum cleaner. He was a little ball of fury, always tearing about the house, and to the best of my knowledge, foaming at the mouth.

Jessi (who never had very complex speaking roles with any of the characters she portrayed) mostly just made crazy guttural gnashing sounds to communicate Shampoo’s feelings.

Squirt was long, blue, and strangely collapsible. As we walked to school in the mornings, Kate would press down on my head, and I would chirp, “SQUIRT!” before crumpling down into a low squat.

(I always pictured his body as the middle part of an accordion.)

Squirt was from a pacifist alien tribe, and never wanted any trouble. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure the only thing I could say whilst in character was also just, “SQUIRT.”

A couple of budding linguists we were not.

Now Shampoo hated Squirt, and was always trying to eat him. So as you can imagine, most of the game involved Shampoo running after Squirt, with Owner every so often stepping in and playing intermediary.

(I think this was Kate’s genius idea to let us play 90 per cent on our own, tire ourselves out, and then step in when the time was right for a brief hang out.)

And what can I say?

It worked.

Let’s flash-forward to grade five.

I really liked Sailor Moon.

Like, a lot.

After watching the latest episode on YTV (best Canadian youth television channel EVER), I would dress up in my highland dancing outfits, and then creep upstairs to my parent’s bedroom.

There I would sneak into their closet, and dig out my Dad’s old tai chi swords from behind my mom’s many shoeboxes and Hudson’s Bay Company shopping bags, (and other miscellaneous OLD PERSON detritus that was lying about).

Then I would choose between the long, thin blade and the fat, curved sabre.

I normally went with long and thin.

Fatty Curve (copyright) always seemed like something the bad guys would use.

From there I would race about my house, pretend-battling alien evil-doers, and then quasi-make out with my hand (in lieu of a real-life Tuxedo Mask.)

This was the main difference between my world and the television show: I never needed a man to come and save me at the last minute. I did my own butt-kicking, and saved the disguised suitor for kissing (and other general pretend-boyfriend duties.)

Jump ahead twelve years.

I am twenty-two years old and I am walking home from the gym.

It’s summer, and therefore quite warm. I can feel the sun baking down on my sweaty, salt-licked skin.

I am listening to my “I JUST FELT LIKE RUNNING” playlist, which basically consists of any and every song that makes me want to get up and dance.

Pretty much anytime I am going anywhere listening to music I imagine that I am in a movie, and whatever song I am listening to turns in the de facto score of Miramax’s newest release: MY LIFE – THE FILM.

As I near my apartment building, Metric’s Poster of a Girl begins to play.

I try everything in my power to not dance.

I kind of shuffle a bit, and maybe side step once or twice.

I even try to speed up my pace, thinking that the sooner I get home, the less likely I am to break it down in the middle of the Ukrainian church parking lot.

No dice.

My body is physically incapable of not dancing to this tune.

So I just give in, and dance like I am in the credits of some absolutely ridiculous teen comedy, (probably titled “Gym Nuts!” or something equally as trite.)

After a little while, I manage to regain my composure and continue my walk home.

That is of course, until I realize the painters working on the building next to mine have been watching me the entire time, and burst into spontaneous applause after I finish.

I am torn between pretending nothing happened and running away.

Instead, I curtsey.

And then I run away.

Now I’m pretty sure that I am still all three of those people – SQUIRT, Sailor Moon, and mad-dancing gym nut.

And I don’t think any number of “adult” qualifiers will ever change that.

I mean what, my friends, would be the fun in that?

I make so many beginnings, there never will be an end

Hey duders.

It’s a chilly, misty evening out here on the west coast of Canada, and I am wrapped in a blanket, tap-tap-tapping away at my keyboard like some kind of tapping thing.

Thank goodness that it’s Friday.

Even though it has been a short week, I am feeling the strain of everything that has been going on of late, and I still don’t think that I’ve fully recovered from three days of zero sleep, thanks to the snoring dogs of death.

OF DEATH!!!

On the plus side, I have booked three more stand-up shows, and have signed up to compete in a comedy contest starting at the end of March.

I am also hosting the Storytelling Show this weekend on Vancouver Coop Radio, and will be interviewing two ladies who are members of the city’s burlesque community. It should be a really interesting, really great chat!

In the meantime, it’s business as usual here at the home front. I’m trying to make sure that I’m getting some longer runs under my belt in the lead up to the Sunshine Coast half marathon. It’s can be really hard to get out there (and stay out there!) when the weather is such rubbish, but last weekend I did manage to run twenty-two kilometers, so I’m hopeful that I will ramp up my distance, slowly but surely.

I shall keep you posted on my progress. Also, have any of you purchased running shoes over the internet? I am in need of some new shoes, and am thinking of ordering them online.

Do let me know. And in the interim, how’s about a fry-up?

Oh I think so.

It’s in the bag.

Look at what I bought!

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I’ve had my eye on this leather doctor’s bag FOREVER. And I think these little flats are just the bee’s knees. So you can imagine how stoked I am to have them in my possession.

BUT – this purchase (which, on its own is darn fab) isn’t all that I have to report.

Oh no.

First of all, it should be noted that I nearly passed out from disbelief when I paid for these items.

This is because, (drum roll) the purse was originally $150.00 marked down to $10.00 (!!!) and the shoes, once priced at $29.00, I procured for $4.00.

HOW – !

WHAT – !

WHY – !

I PAID $16.71 FOR ALMOST TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS WORTH OF MERCHANDISE!!!

Now, bless my little frugal heart, I really still cannot believe it.

Sweet mother of pearl do I ever love me some Joe Fresh.

Now if you excuse me, I’ll be taking this bag and making my rounds.

Sweet cuppin’ cakes.

For Valentine’s Day, Mr. M and I woke at the crack of dawn (like every other work day) and exchanged the cards we had for each other (not quite the same as every other work day.)

He also bought us these awesome cupcakes to snack on post-dinner:

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We ate these bad boys as we slurped down some amazing Earl Grey tea, and worked through last weekend’s New York Times Saturday crossword.

(Otherwise known as pure V-Day bliss.)

Sister dear.

I was at Starbucks last night with my little sister study buddy, when low and behold, who was to come on the radio?

That brilliant relic of the 90s – MORCHEEBA!

Holy smokes. Remember this song?

Anywho, listening to this rad tune got me thinking about my brilliant big sister. She was the one who introduced me to this band (as she did with so many other musical greats – seriously, I will never, ever forget listening to Weezer’s Blue album on repeat my entire grade seven year) and it just got me thinking about all the amazing times the two of us have had together, either adventuring about on late night quests, or just hanging around cackling over old Kids in the Hall episodes.

Kate is pretty much one of the coolest, craziest, smartest, most dedicated, brave, and fearless women you will ever get the chance to meet.

I may (slightly) tower over her, but goodness knows if she isn’t my consummate protector in life.

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I also cannot tell you how many times this gal has talked me down from an all-consuming panic attack. I definitely would have not made it through my undergraduate days without her.

What a brilliant, brilliant lass.

So there you have it my sweets!

A very merry (belated) Valentine’s to you all.

I hope you all had a chance to celebrate the wonderful people who fill your days with light and love.

And maybe eat a cupcake (or two.)