pretty girls poop too

Welp, welcome to 2012. I heard that we’re all gonna die this year … that should be neat. If that’s the case, though, there are a few things left on my bucket list that I would like to take care of:

1. Quit my job, take what’s left of my “assets” aka my car, the contents of my one-bedroom apartment (although you may have to fight my boyfriend for the video games) and my amazing collection of tiny mugs from around the world (shut up), and travel. Because let’s be real – who has the time or money to actually do this in real life the way it was meant to be done besides that b*tch Elizabeth Gilbert and her stupid perfect life in that book we all read and/or forced guys that want to sleep with us to see in theatres.
2. Eat. Seriously though, if I have one year left to live you better BELIEVE I’m going to try everything under the sun before I go. Except beets. Those can stop existing any time now, thanks.
3. Write a book. Lame? I once wrote a book in Grade 2 about a girl … well, about in girl in grade 2. So it was more of a diary, WHATEVER. Seriously though, having some personal memoirs that nobody will be able to read after the end of the world would be cool, albeit completely useless I guess if everybody’s dead.
4.  Photobomb a celebrity. Heck, even a PSEUDO-celebrity would do.
5. Inappropriate list item that involves my man. I’m pretty sure his mom reads this blog so if you’re reading this, what I mean to say is we will be holding hands and going for long walks.

What would you guys do?

K.

IT’S LIKE YOU JUST KNOW WHAT I NEED, GROUPON

There are just so many reasons why I need this. Some of them relate to a very positive push towards dental hygiene but most of them relate to having Justin Bieber in my mouth every day.

Have I mentioned it’s almost my birthday, you guys?

S.

Since Jillian Michaels ruined my life last year I’ve decided to set myself up for success in 2012 by actually taking the time to make resolutions that have more depth to them than: “Get less fat.” Because I’m not fat. And I’m at the point now where taking better care of my body isn’t something I should set as a repetitive New Year’s Resolution, I should just be fucking doing it. I should be making it an actual part of my lifestyle and ingraining it into every element of my behaviour and that’s a slow and steady process, not a simple change that I can wake up on the first day of a new year and suddenly adhere to perfectly. Basically what I’m saying is that my first meal of 2012 was a cheeseburger and poutine.

Here are my resolutions for 2012 (I’m chanting “If you blog it, then it’s real” in my head right now, by the way):

• Begin volunteering in some way. Or rather, convince people that I’m well adjusted enough to have valuable skills they may want to make use of for free. I would especially love working with young girls doing writing workshops.
• Master a dish of food, to the point where I can boast about making “the best gawd damn [exotic and/or classic dish name here] you’ve ever had in your mouth, EVER” and then actually back it up by making it.
• I will go to Paris and/or Barcelona with my roommate.
• I will take a class in creative writing even though they cost a majillion dollars. (Majillion. I’m making up words to emphasize my points. I doubt that’s encouraged.)

And that’s it, because those are four pretty big things and I really don’t think I’ll have time for much else. Realism. That’s what 2012 is all about. Oh, and maybe I’ll meet a really cute and nice boy who won’t be scared away by my penchant for emotional nonsense, my need for constant verbal affirmations of love, or my tiny hands.

What are YOUR resolutions?

S.

We’ve all had them.

The dreaded drunken rants. The texts we can’t take back. The morning-after-reviews-of-messages that make us cringe with regret. Some are worse than others. Some of my own I regret … some I wouldn’t take back.

None of S.’s rants would I ever take back.

Because they are hilarious.

#1. The College Rant

Let me set the scene: it’s Halloween. We’re at a party at the college bar. It’s nearing the end of the evening and as the crowd gets wilder, it also begins to thin out as people couple off, get sick or just go home after an unsuccessful evening. S. and I had come together, as a couples costume (of course), Bonnie & Clyde. She was Clyde, and I was that tramp Bonnie. We were both only 19 (welcome to Canada, friends, where we love our beer so much teenagers are legal).

Anyways, I ran into a boy I was crushing on and flirting with real bad. Some guy who I’ve now been dating for two years and live with (or whatever), so you can see the level of my excitement at the thought of OMG kissing him upstairs in the food court where nobody could see us.

Or so we thought.

Whilst thinking that we had total privacy, who should walk – no – She-Ra Walk of Doom ­– towards us, but S., in all her drunken glory.

Fingers were WAVED.
SNAPS were given.
We got told, in NO uncertain terms, that we both sucked and to come back downstairs so that this one lesbian would stop hitting on her, already.

At the end of this glorious, surprisingly eloquent (if not partially slurred) rant, we were speechless. Her job was done. It was perfect. We had no reply.

So she spins around on her heels and positively sashays away from us, still basking in the warm glow of her smackdown. She reaches the top of a flight of stairs, to which we can only see the top, but which leads to the front door of the very busy party (see diagram A).

She casts one last glare in our direction, takes one step forward … and begins to tumble down the stairs like a Slinky back in 1989.

The crazy part? NOBODY SAW THIS HAPPEN.

Nobody.

S. topples, like a sack of potatoes, ass over hat and hat over ass, into a crowded bar lobby … and NOBODY SEES IT. Girl got away with it totally! She brushed off her dirty knees, back and elbows, straightens herself out and picks up that sashay right where she left off, like the champ she is. I only know about the fall because she told me about it. Which is why I love her, and also why this is one of my top three favorite drunken rants by S.

Stay tuned for #2 and #3!

K.

I’ve got writer’s block.

Bad.

To fix this I’ve been baking a lot and doing my nails. However, it just seems to be making my jeans tight but hot damn if my nails don’t look fresh every day. Still  no writing inspiration though.

So, they say to write what you know. Right now, I know that these nails look sick and are very easy to do. Try it out!

K.

I KNOW, I TOTALLY MISS YOU TOO AND I’M SORRY

I DON’T HAVE THE TIME TO WRITE YOU A PROPER POST RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO BUSY GOOGLING BABY GOATS (I’LL FILL YOU IN LATER) SO FOR NOW… I’M JUST GOING TO LEAVE THIS HERE BECAUSE IT’S REALLY IMPORTANT:

Yashar Ali: A Message to Women From a Man: You Are Not “Crazy”

Love you all…you crazy bitches.

S.