The Things

I’ve done a lot of things.

A lot.

A lot.

I’ve lived in a lot of houses, in a lot of cities, in quite a few countries (46, 11, 3).

I’ve gone to school to study a lot of different things, in a lot of different places (Theology, Screenwriting, Criminology, Geology, Art History, Sketch Comedy, Photography; Kelowna, Vancouver, London, LA).

I’ve dated some duds and married a good one (numerous, Lloydster).

I’ve been to a lot of different talks, lectures, screenings and concerts (blah, blah, blah, Keep on rocking’ in the free world).

I’ve been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt (everywhere, everything, size L).

And now I just want to watch TV.

A lot.

A lot.


I mean, when you’ve already gone to hear Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein talk about Portlandia and “felt their essence”, you should just stop. There will never be any thing better than that, so you may as well just stop going to things.






The Stopping and Thinking


It really makes you stop and think, doesn’t it.

The cartoon that is.

It’s making a statement.

It’s making a few statements actually.

Statement #1: Cartoons are fun.

Statement #2: Cartoons can actually contain a very important message. New Yorker cartoonist S. Gross draws attention to the need for all people to “stop and think” by drawing a cartoon with two guys looking up at this massive sign that reads: “stop and think.”

Statement #3: Isn’t it interesting that a sign that reads: “stop and think” can actually make you stop and think? (Yes, it is.)

Statement #4: Life can be overwhelming and sometimes you don’t stop and think, but then you see a sign (or a cartoon) that challenges you to stop and think. So you do.

Statement #5: Sometimes you might feel like you’re one of those guys, looking up at the sign, wearing a suit, and worrying about your bald spot.

And (you’re never supposed to start a sentence with the word “and” but I don’t care, FYI), by drawing attention to this cartoon, I’ve also made you stop and think… about the cartoon, about the message, about S. Gross, about the meta quality to this whole scenario.

I hope that makes you stop and think.


The Toilet Seat Cover

So I’m at work, and I’m in the kitchen getting a drink of water like I always do… no big whoop. I’m just filling up my water glass, shooting the breeze with a co-worker, when a guy walks in and goes over to the kitchen sink.

At first I don’t really take notice of this guy, because there are a lot of people in this world and I find it very hard to take notice of all of them.

As I look around the room (as one does), I see it… a toilet seat cover, tucked into his pants/bum, like a lobster bib at McCormick & Schmick’s.

I don’t know this guy, at all. I work for a large company. I have never seen this guy before, and I have no idea where he sits (except the toilet, obvs). This guy is very non-descript. I could not pick this guy out of a line-up. All I know about him was that he was wearing clothes, and he was a he – unless he was a she (it’s hard to tell from the back).

Anyway, I see the toilet seat cover attached to his pants/bum and I think to myself: “This guy is walking around with a toilet seat cover attached to his pants/bum.”

I cover my face/mouth/eyes to muffle the laughter, and by the time I look up… he’s gone.

There was nothing I could have done anyway (to save him from embarrassment, or the dreaded workplace nickname: “Hey, Toilet Seat Cover Guy, have you finished that report?”)

I mean, yes if it were me (it wouldn’t be me), then yes, I’d want someone to tell me (but it wouldn’t be me), so it’s really a non-issue issue.

Things to keep in mind…

  1. There were other people around… Lots! (at least two.) Therefore, it was not my sole responsibility to tell this guy that he had a toilet seat cover attached to his pants/bum.
  1. There is a “bro code” which is a set of rules that “bros” abide by, which include (but is not limited to) telling other “bros” that they have a toilet seat cover attached to their pants/bum (this is according to the “bro”/co-worker I just discussed this incident with). I’m not a “bro”, nor have I ever been a “bro” so I can’t be expected to follow such a code. Also: the other two people present were both “bros”.
  1. Personal responsibility lies with the individual. I think Ice Cube said it best when he said, “You better check yo self before you wreck yo self.”

And that my friends, is what happened today.

The Smoker

So, I’m walking down the street, minding my own business, drinking a smoothie that I just purchased from the aptly named “Da Juice Bar”, and I get that thing where the fruit is sort of tart/sweet/acidic and I start coughing a little.

This was not a big cough. In fact, “cough” might not be the right word for it… It was more like a vocal throat tickle, or maybe an ahem. It can best be described as: an audible clearing of my larynx. No big deal.

What I didn’t realize was that while I was walking down the street (minding my own business, drinking a smoothie) a Smoker was walking in the opposite direction.

The Smoker passed me as I audibly cleared my larynx.

She was female (as you may have expected), past her prime, pale, thin, sickly (as you may have expected), and she looked like life had dealt her a bad hand (assorted low cards and a few jokers).

She was smoking (as you may have expected) but I’m not one to judge.

I mean, yes, smoking is disgusting and it will definitely kill you and others around you, and it’s a huge waste of money, as well as a huge burden on society as a whole what with the second-hand smoke, ozone, tar pits, etc.… But as I mentioned previously, I’m not one to judge.

Live and let live… That’s what I always say (unless I’m talking about spiders).

So (as I mentioned), I’m walking down the street (minding my own business, drinking a smoothie, clearing my larynx) when I hear these two words:

“Real subtle!”

I turn around (because that’s what I do when people make a noise that I don’t expect and I want to see where it’s coming from), and I see that the Smoker has also turned around, and she is glaring at me.

I’m like, “huh?”

And she’s like, “Uh huh.” Her teeth were bared, her eyebrows were arched, and her cigarette was dangling from her sagging lips. It wasn’t a good look.

And of course, I would have liked to explain that I was not making an audible, judgmental statement on her choice to inhale toxic chemicals. I was just drinking a smoothie and had a little tickle, and I just needed to clear my larynx.

But then she was gone.

People sure get hyper about stupid stuff… Don’t be one of them.

The Summer

I’ve learned a lot of things this summer… A lot of things!

2015 will hereby by known as “the summer of learnin'”.

I learned a lot about myself (for instance: that I am capable of things I didn’t know I was capable of, and I love avocados), and a lot about swimming pools.

I thought I’d share some of the latter with you.


Don’t swim in a pool if you’ve had “active diarrhea” within the past 14 days. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, “Tiny amounts of fecal matter are rinsed off all swimmers’ bottoms as they swim through the water”. All it takes is swallowing a mouthful of the contaminated water, and then you’ll be the one sitting out of the pool for 14 days.

Don’t get in a pool with a posted pool capacity sign of “112 persons” if there are already 112 persons in the pool. If there are only 111 people, then go right ahead and get in there. If you’re not sure how many persons are in the pool, you should count the persons. If they keep moving and you’re not able to get an accurate count, ask the persons to stop moving. If the persons refuse to stop moving, ask them again nicely.

It’s not the chlorine that makes your eyes sting… it’s bodily fluids… all kinds (urine, sweat, poop): “Chlorine binds with all the things it’s trying to kill from your bodies, and it forms these chemical irritants. That’s what’s stinging your eyes. It’s the chlorine binding to the urine and the sweat.” My advice? Don’t let the water come into contact with your eyes, or nose, or mouth, or ears, or arms, or legs, or torso, or any part at all.

Oh, and if you hear the words “Code Brown”, it’s time to get out of the pool.

You’re welcome.

#learnin #summer #getit #dontgetit #chlorine

The A$$hole

For those of you who don’t know who Wayne Newton is… Wayne Newton is an American singer and entertainer, perhaps best known for the song, “Danke Schoen”, which was featured in the best scene of the best movie of all time, ever… Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Apparently, he’s an a$$hole.

Not Ferris… Wayne.

You may remember the time when I sat in the front row at a Martin Short show and he gyrated in my face while wearing a nude bodystocking with drawn-on genitals, and how it was one of the highlights of my life thus far…

But what I didn’t tell you about that evening (aside from pretending to be “with” a group of people with backstage passes, and then – much to my husband’s dismay – following that same group of people backstage, and only upon entering the green room deciding that I had perhaps taken my Marty fandom too far, and so – to avoid a security incident – pretended to be lost and looking for the women’s restroom)… was that the woman sitting behind us was very vocal about her dislike for Mr. Las Vegas (Wayne Newton).

When the discussion turned to Wayne Newton (as it often does), the woman said flatly: “He’s an A$$hole.”

I had to turn around. I had to find out who was making this declaration for all (within earshot) to hear.

She was amazing: gray-hair piled up on top of her head, costume jewelry that wasn’t even trying to be real, mauve press-on nails, and a sweatshirt that read, “I don’t want to. I don’t have to. You can’t make me. I’m retired” across her bosom.

Her friends were visibly upset by this comment, mouths agape, shaking their similarly adorned heads.

The woman explained… “I went to a Wayne Newton show, and during the banter portion of the show I shouted, ‘I love you Wayne.’ Wayne said he loved me too, and then continued on with the banter. I then shouted, ‘Sorry to hear about your bankruptcy,’ because I was. I was sorry to hear that he’s filed for Chapter 11… Wayne then turned to me and told me to ‘be quiet’. He said it was his show, not mine. Can you believe that guy? What an a$$hole.”

I turned to my husband and gave him a look. The look that say it all. The look that says, the only a$$hole around here is sitting behind me, tapping her press-on nail on my chair.


That Time I Saw Jerry Seinfeld

I saw Jerry Seinfeld.

I should explain.

I didn’t just see Jerry walking around in the public realm…(he doesn’t do that)… I saw him perform stand-up comedy at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas.

The backstory: I was newly married (and, obviously… freshly deflowered), and as part of our “Honeymoon in Vegas” we bought tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld.

I don’t know what was more exciting… committing my life to one man and making a sacred covenant for the rest of my life in front of friends and relatives and the “man upstairs”… or seeing Jerry Seinfeld.

Obvs: Jerry.

You know the phrase, “knee-slapper?”

No? (Where have you been?) Well then…

Knee-slapper an uproariously funny joke which makes you slap your knee with vigor.

That was me watching and listening to Jerry Seinfeld perform his stand-up “routine”. I slapped my knee repeatedly as tears streamed down my face and I honked-laughed in the ear of my new husband.

I have never laughed so hard in all of my life, and I doubt that I’ll ever laugh that hard again, which is one of the saddest and happiest statements one can make.

100_0186Love you Jerry.

You too Rhys.

(Happy anniversary.)

The Dank Meme

I overheard the term, “dank meme” at work. A few of my co-workers were talking about memes, and said kept saying “dank memes” like it was a thing, so I also acted like it was a thing… Then I googled it as soon as they were out of range. 

For your convenience… 

Dank Meme A meme that is just really radical, cool and neat. 

(Thank you to the Urban Dictionary for that wonderfully concise definition.)

Apparently the term “dank” originated in the Bay Area* as a slang word for “good weed”, but eventually came to be used for everything that is good (or: radical, cool, neat, etc.). 

So, a “dank meme” is an awesome meme… (I think).

Other definitions suggest that the term should only be used to describe a meme that is old, cliche, or mainstream (God forbid).

Either way, I’ve incorporated the term into my vernacular to fit in at work. 

When I say, “I need some dank memes for my new cubicle”, I scan the faces of those around me to see whether I have used the term correctly. 

This is my life now.  



* The term is surprisingly not derived from Latin.

The Fine Line

My dentist said that I should get Botox®.

It was more like a suggestion really… A really suggestive suggestion.

We were just sitting there (well, actually I was sort of reclining in the chair and he was standing over me with a mouth mirror and a torque wrench), casually discussing oral health (as one does when one is at the dentist) when he casually said that I could, and possibly should get Botox®.

I should note: I suffer from Temporomandibular joint dysfunction (TMJ to the lay person), which is a dental condition involving the jaw joint, muscles, teeth, and central nervous system. I have to wear a (sexy) mouth guard to bed every night because otherwise I’ll grind my teeth and then my jaw will dislocate, and then I can’t open my mouth wide enough to eat a club sandwich.

Enough about the cross I bear…

“Dr. Cho” said that he could inject Botox® in my jaw, which would block the nerve activity in the jaw muscles, causing a temporary paralysis which could help with the ol’ TMJ. Then he casually added that it wouldn’t take a whole vial (Botox® is sold in vials), so he could put the rest of it in my forehead and take care of that “fine line”.

I left Dr. Cho’s office feeling a lot of things… Anger, sadness, embarrassment, lust (all the feelings), and to make matters worse, my gums were bleeding from an over-enthusiastic hygienist.

Dr. Cho made it sound as though my mid-30s face required it.

Some things to keep in mind:

1. I have been ID’d on multiple occasions and locations, which means that some people (with glaucoma and other “seeing” problems) think that I look younger than the legal drinking age, which is 21.

2. I regularly ask people at work and on buses how old I look and they (almost) all say: “late 20s”.

3. From the back, I look even younger.

There is a fine line between being giving constructive and pertinent medical advice and suggesting (admittedly, casually) that an extremely young looking patient (with zero cavities) could, and possibly should inject Botox® in their face… Just because they have some fine lines.


The Memo

So, last week I went to Utah.

Utah is… (How shall I say this delicately?)

Utah is an interesting state in that… It’s not very interesting. On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being the least interesting, and 10 obviously being the most interesting)… Utah is a 0.5.

Meaning, it doesn’t have a lot going on. It has, in fact, very little going on… At all times (days, evenings, weekends, etc.).

I was also surprised* to see so many women with short, spiky dyed blonde hair… a la Kate Gosselin.

You know… This gal:  images

You know that idiom; he (or she) “didn’t get the memo”? It means that he (or she) wasn’t informed about something that is considered common knowledge by everyone else on God’s green earth.

Yeah, I don’t think Utah got the memo.

About a lot of things… birth control, alcohol, caffeine, up-to-date hairstyles, ethnic diversity, and having just one wife or husband, etc.

As Oprah would say… These are good things.

I don’t understand why the majority of Utahans don’t like these things.

Birth control? It’s great. You can have one (or none!) children, and enjoy (or endure) sexual intercourse as often as you like.

Alcohol? Come on! Do I even have to explain this one? It’s basically the best thing ever, plus it’s a social lubricant and a beverage that dulls (but never erases…) the pain of past regrets. Can water or orange juice do that? No.

Caffeine? How else does one make it through a day of work? Seriously.

Up-to-date hairstyles? Perhaps I shouldn’t be the one to comment on this as I’ve rocked the “Hilary Clinton bob” since 2004.

Ethnic diversity? Who wants to just look at a bunch of white people all day? Not me! And, who doesn’t like Mexican food… specifically, guacamole? Well, guacamole wouldn’t exist without ethnic diversity… just sayin’.

Having just one husband? It works for most people. Cleaning up after more than one man seems like it should be considered a punishment for a heinous, hateful crime.

(Okay, now that I’ve had some time to think this one over, I’m not entirely opposed to the whole “having more than one husband” thing… I’ve always had somewhat of a “crush” on Pearl Jam’s lead singer Eddie Vedder, but I’m also extremely committed to my husband of nearly nine years. If I could marry them BOTH… I could maintain my wonderful relationship with my husband, whilst occasionally making out with Ed Ved. My husbands would have separate rooms – or, better yet – wings of the house, and I could choose who I wanted to sleep with each night. We would obviously hire a housekeeper to help with the extra chores, and to free up more time for “cuddling”. This actually sounds pretty good to me. I’m going to run it past my current husband tonight. Fingers crossed!)

So, Utah… you may have not have gotten the memo, and you may be super boring… but I think you might be onto something with the extra husbands… So, thank you.


* I wasn’t that surprised.