pretty girls poop too

I’m all for being myself around my bf, but I don’t think I’ll be offering him a cup of cheese anytime soon.

Still, mad props for the hilarious vid.

K.

• Who feels super weird about watching America’s Funniest Home Videos when people submit clips of their kids doing things naked like taking a dump in the tub?
• Who had hidden food because I really want to eat it later and not share with you?
• Who has forgotten to either shave one entire leg, or just created the first landing strip for legs by missing a whole row, and then GONE OUT ANYWAYS?
• Who thinks that a ton of babies are actually really ugly?
• Who doesn’t understand why so many chicks will take pictures of themselves in their car and then post them on the Internet? Like, not even ON the car … just IN it. With a seatbelt on.

Maybe it is just me.

K.

S. and I have a really good friend from college – a third trifecta of the weirdly close relationship we have, really – who sometimes says and does the most epic things that … well, I just HAVE to share them with the Internet. Her name is E.

Well, E. was supposed to go to a concert last night in our hometown. The band’s lead singer is dating one of our good friends so she really had to go. Unfortunately, she did not make it. But, being the champ she is she didn’t give the “Something came up,” “I got sick” or even the “I fell asleep” excuse that seems to pass more and more credibly the more we age. No. She gave us the real, true, full story. In the interest of keeping the eyes of our readers safe, so as to OF COURSE read more PGPT, and to promote honesty amongst friends, please read this shining example and  important discovery made by our good friend E.

So as per keeping the goils in the loop –

E. was a no show at PVR/Marquee room last night because her loving but non-aiming boyfriend had a surprise blowie pop-off and got it right in my eye, causing my whole right eye to inflame and become swollen shut within 10 minutes. Very inconsiderate, but he did rectify the situation by going to Shopper’s to fetch me some saline solution.  After a proper upside down flushing where I kinda felt like my eyeballs were being waterboarded while he laughed over me, it definitely felt degunked, but the swelling did not go down.  So I then took a Benadryl figuring I was having an allergic reaction to his spooge.  I then ate a giant bowl of fettuccine and got extremely sleepy.

Apparently some bodily enzymes (love dust), similar to those found in cats or dogs can cause severe allergic reactions to the sensitive ph balance found in the eye cavity. Lesson learned.

As I said to KBar last night – now I know how K. felt. Bahahahah.

Eye boogers.

XoXo

E.

(For the record, I had an infected eye that was not due to anything of the sort just last week. I guess I’m just that kid in class with the itchy eye sometimes. Not that something like this would never happen to me, knowing my luck.)

So, do any of you guys have a similar story? Don’t be shy, because let’s be real: We’ve all had a moment that’s turned from sexy to “OH MY GOD CALL A DOCTOR” in about two seconds. Plus it feels good to share.

K.

So, Big Brother 13 is upon us. I effing LOVE Big Brother, and as such, you guys have to as well. I’m confident that this year will bring more mindless drama that will fill way too much of my time and make me forget my real-life problems … and I could not be more excited.

Being the nerd that I am, I of course did some research on the teams this year to see who I should root for. Right now, I’m betting on Brendon and Rachel. This is most definitely just because Rachel is a barracuda-competitor who would probably eat her first-born if that meant she would get HOH.

I came across some disturbing slash hilarious video whilst doing this. It seems that our man Brendon decided that being on live TV 24 hours a day wasn’t quite enough exposure, and decided to send pics of his wangis to some online chick, who was probably actually Harvey Levin in disguise.

Brendon – Don’t be a cheater. And if you’re going to be, don’t cry about it. It makes the Internet judge you.

K.

A) Yes, the title of this is spelled correctly up in here in Canada-land. Colour me embarrassed if it’s not, my American neighbours. Also – centre. I couldn’t find a way to make that work in the sentence so now I’m just straight up Canadian spelling everything I can think of up in here … and digressing.

B) This song is hilarious. I know that none of our readers would ever represent themselves like this, so I’m sure we can all have a good old-fashioned laugh at the duck-faced, Photoshopped girls of the Internet, classing up our gender one side boob at a time.

K.

I’m sure your mom was like mine, trying to instill a sense of self-worth that wasn’t tied directly to the way you look in the mirror. She supported my schooling, my extracurricular activities and helped me out when I needed rides to go volunteer.

Guess who didn’t have a boyfriend in high school.

Not that having a boyfriend is all that matters. Clearly there is a lot more to life than that (i.e. for me, trying new types of cheese and finding out that Being Erica was renewed for another season). But the older I got, the more I learned that the cold, hard, fact is – looks matter.

Research has proven that better-looking people not only get the guy (or girl), they get the job, the raise, the opportunities and the attention. They are perceived as being successful and put together – even likeable – solely on their hair, their face, and their body.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/beautiful-people-earn-12-more-than-ugly-bettys-461261.html

Think you’re exempt, men? Nope. Studies have shown that your height is directly correlated with how much money you make. Kinda gives new substance to the phrase, “I wish I was little bit taller,” don’t it?

Frankly, I’m just disappointed that I didn’t learn this valuable lesson years ago on Boy Meets World. Come on – WE ALL WATCHED IT.

So, after thinking about this a lot … and not wanting to be THAT girl with the fake hair, fake eyes, fake tan, fake boobs and fake nails …

… I decided to go for real skin, real eyes, real nails, real boobs … and fake hair.

Don’t judge me! My hair is thin and short and needed the help. Let’s not forget to mention that I chopped it all off a year ago and it has grown a WHOPPING inch (maybe two) since. Am I becoming one of those girls? Am I being smart? Is this really a career move … or am I just being vain? I think that as long as I continue to pursue those things that my momma taught me were best – keeping myself educated, working hard and not forgetting what matters most in life (your family) – I can’t come out worse for the wear … right?

K.

So, as S. mentioned we have a friend who is pregnant. Our first pregnant friend! We were talking this morning about all the stuff that goes along with that. I mean, if I’m not going to be on a roller coaster that dives into a hot tub with a beer in my hand, what else am I going to do for nine months?? Frankly I’m terrified at the concept. However, being the awesome friend that she is, she was able to show me all the amazing positives of being pregnant:

• “Can you help me move?” – nope, I’m pregnant
• “Want to go for a hike?” – nope, I’m pregnant
• “Can you make me breakfast?” (baby daddy) – nope, I’m pregnant … YOU make ME breakfast
• “Want to do a 5K run and walk for cancer?” – nope, I’m pregnant
• “Want to pitch in money for XXX’s birthday?”- nope, I’m pregnant … need money for the baby
• “Want to go to the club for XXX’s birthday?” – nope, don’t want to be the pregnant bitch at the bar

This list should be my mother’s best friend right now, as it’s convincing me that maybe the whole thing is worth it. Oh … I guess that whole baby part could be pretty cool too.

Just not yet.

K.

I loved Ocean’s Eleven. Heck, even Ocean’s Twelve. The Bourne series? Gold. So, naturally you can see why I came to the conclusion that The Adjustment Bureau would actually be good.

Wrong.

Please go if you want to see Matt Damon and Emily Blunt run around town for a couple hours through some magic doors, being chased by angels with snazzy hats only to find that true love does conquer all – even “the Chairman’s” big plans.

I literally had more fun standing in line to get popcorn whilst people watching. The nervous 14-year-old boys taking their crushes out, being dropped off by mom two blocks away and wearing a t-shirt in -20 degrees Celcius (for you Americans reading this, just know that’s HELLA COLD).  I never noticed how fortunate they are, for the most part, that a lot of girls start getting taller before boys do…

Oh puberty. You fickle bitch.

K.

Arguably the most controversial day of the year; I’ve never heard more people say that they hate this commercial holiday and everything it stands for. So, let me get this straight, all nine people that I asked (a fair sample size of the Western population, I think) – you hate love? No. No. You’re just being close minded. Following are all the things I would ask to be my Valentine today:

Pizza.
My co-workers used to  joke that I would marry pizza if it asked me to. Truth is, I would have. Pizza won’t ever forget your birthday. Nay, it will make every birthday you have that much more fun.

Yoga.
Yoga doesn’t get mad if I don’t talk to it for a few weeks. It always makes me look good. Yoga would be the most understanding and supportive Valentine ever, frankly.

My mom.
Okay, everybody’s mom is their Valentine. Do I really need to go into detail here?

Puppies.
Try to be sad right now. TRY.

Cheap Canadian TV.
The good old CBC got me through my first “real” breakup. It has since been a solid friend. Yes, the production value is cheap, but let’s all take a minute to realize that Jersey Shore is the best thing to come out of America lately. Yeah.

My bff.
Hey, S.

My bf.
A bringer of pizza and tolerator of Canadian TV – what’s not to love?!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

K.

At least that’s how it’s supposed to go, I’ve been told. But I think that there are a few very real steps missing from this equation. And I’m not talking meeting the friends, meeting the parents of any of that stuff. I’m talking about the really important things, like:

The first fart.

It’s never intentional and it is NEVER unnoticed. It always has to be acknowledged, usually by a stunned silence of both parties. Eye contact (no less than three full, slow seconds) with a shocked facial expression after a “mrrrrep” has slipped out during a laugh fest. Whatever happens after that very accurately predicts whether or not you and this person have any kind of a future.

The first fight.

So you’ve survived the fart. Good for you, and congrats to the dude. But you’ve now entered the phase of the relationship where all those things that you thought could never possibly annoy you now make you want to javelin a fork into his eye. This will inevitably lead to an argument at some point. Now, couples argue. It’s normal. It can be healthy even, if done correctly. But if it’s not done correctly … well, you don’t want to stay with somebody who doesn’t fight fair. Or who blinks too loudly (GAWD).

The pre-wedding.

You’ve conquered the “love” part and are now on the way to marriage. Now, let me ask you something: Have you ever planned an event? Like, a big one? In my line of work I have to do this sometimes and it is never simple. Never. There will always be an issue with guests, foods, rentals, dates – you name it. You will never make everybody happy.You’ll have so much to do in such a short time and let’s not mention how much these things cost.

Now imagine doing this with a boy.

And you want it to be perfect.

Well, if you can survive that? Then I’d say you’re home free my friends. You’ve found a keeper. And if there’s anything that you’ll all take away from this, I really hope it’s this: if you really like a guy, go and fart on ‘em.

K.