Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Do Hicks Wear Ed Hardy?

According to me, no they don't. And neither should anyone else.

Andrew's best friend Jason, gave him a bunch of shirts he didn't want anymore. Unfortunately, most of them were Ed Hardy T-Shirts. Andrew - not even knowing who Snooki is - is obviously pop-culture-defficient and so didn't understand why I refused to let him keep them. I proceeded to show him these pictures, among others.

....No caption is required.
Andrew quickly surrendered the shirts.

Monday, 23 July 2012

The Ass has Relocated

My one year contract as an Ass expired last week, so my Ass ass said bye bye to marketing and hello to job hunting! Luckily, I was able to find another job right away so that, other than three paid vacation days, I never had an unemployed work day.

You are now looking at a brand new Administrative Assistant!
Sidenote: Well, ok, you're not looking at me at all. Just look at the picture of me on the side bar, or picture me in your head. With clothes on, you pervert.
My job title is the same, only I now work for an Environment firm. Or something like that. Whatever it is, a lot of photocopying is invloved. I basically answer requests for information about the environment in our province. That would include information about specific regions, and the events that may have environmentally impacted that region.

Why the Eff is the octopus looking
for orange juice? Is this a common
Unfortunately, I'm on contract yet again, and so am only promised work until the end of October.

Now here's some deets about my new job.
  • The office is a frigging maze. You know those labyrinths in your activity books when you were a kid? Yeah, its like that. I have to bring my paperwork down to the HR people, but I got lost trying to find them, so I just gave up and went back to my desk. Office: 1. Christine: 0.
  • I'm on a short contract because I'm filling in for someone who is on indefinite sick leave. Which means I'm sitting at the desk of someone who's already established here. The result is me, surrounded by family photos and decorations that are clearly not mine. I would pretend they are, but everyone in the photos/paintings/sculptures is Black, and mostly sporting dreadlocks. And let's face it, although I can dance like I got soul, I'm as White Girl as it gets.
  • In the afternoon, a trolley comes by with snacks. A FUCKING TROLLEY! It's like I'm in the middle of a train ride to Hogwarts. I almost squealed and asked for a chocolate frog. Instead, I just gave the weirdly-difficult-to-determine-age trolleyman an awkwardly huge smile and walked/skipped by him.  I hope I get into Ravenclaw *fingers crossed*
  • In our office building, there's a cafeteria. Bonus: they have an awesome salad buffet. Even better: the salad is super cheap! They make you pay by the weight of your plate; while my salad cost $2 without tax, a small bottle of apple juice and a coconut/chocolate chip cookie cost $3.
    • SOMEONE'S GONNA GET SKIN-NY! (I sang that part)
  • They didn't have much work for me to do on my first day here (the girl with access to the information requests is on vacation today) so I've been mostly looking at wedding stuff. But now, Andrew can't get mad, because I'm doing it for Swizzy. Because I'm a badass M-O-H. HOW DOES IT FEEL, ANDREW?
P.S. In case you're wondering how much I need to pay for my salad in Wizarding money, here's a currency converter:
Answer: My salad would have cost 3 Sickles and 17 Knuts, tax included.

Sunday, 22 July 2012


Not me.

That honour goes to my best friend! I'll call her Switzerland, because she's so good at being neutral during conflicts. She's been my friend since we were two years old, so she's pretty much family.

So Switzerland was proposed to two days ago by a guy who loves her and makes her happy.

Congrats to the happy couple!

Now, here's my news.


I have no idea what that really means, other than I'm in charge of hiring strippers for the Bachelorette Party and I'll have to hold her dress up while she pees on the big day.

Other responsibilities I can think up include:
  • Making sure Swizzy's wedding dress doesn't look anything like this.
  • Kicking the ass of anyone who stresses her out during the planning and actual wedding.
  • Being her Bitch until the ceremony and reception is over. From that point on, the Bitch title will be taken over by her new husband.
  • While I loved the movie Bridesmaids, I promise not to recreate it in any way. That includes not taking strange pills during the flight down to the location.
Not me.
  • Making sure it's the best day of her life.

Anybody else been a Maid of Honour/Honor before? What the hell else do you do?

Saturday, 14 July 2012

Cause After Being Stuck with Each Other for Four Years, We REALLY Need a Vacation

Long post with lots of pictures. Get ready, Bitches, cause this is a marathon!

Here's a little summary of our Four Year Anniversary trip that Andrew and I took.

We'll start off with the fact that rather than taking an hour to get there (the actual time required to get there), it took us two and a half hours. Why, you may ask?

Because even though I gave Andrew a provincial map and a copy of visual and written directions to the lodge, Andrew just assumed he knew the way and winged it.  What should have looked like this...

Ahhh, what a simple and easy journey!
Ended up looking like this.
Where the Fuck are we, Andrew? WE'RE SUPPOSED
I could elaborate on how our trip could have been corrected multiple times if someone would have simply asked me for directions, but I won't.  Because I would resort to yelling at Andrew. And maybe punch him in the crotch.

Let's just say that our happy times where we sang along with Xavier Rudd were peppered with periods of arguing, followed by long silences (which is difficult to do when Xavier Rudd is playing in the background. Listening to him, you just want to smoke a toke and surf all day. And I don't even smoke, or surf.)

Thank God we weren't listening to country music. Because I would have gotten violent. Like, Naomi Campbell-with-a-cell-phone violent.
When Andrew saw this in the lodge,
he felt at home immediately.
So we finally reached the Lodge, where we were greeted by the German owner, who gave us a bright green drink (with alcohol in it, thank God) that he called a Green Lawn. Well, I assume that's the translation of a German drink, because its definitely a horrible-sounding drink in English.
Side note: Google says its a GrĂ¼ner Rasen. I have no idea how to pronounce that, so I'll just presume that it sounds cool.
So after our drink, we head to our cottage. It was adorable.

I'm pretty sure these beds were 3/4. I
know that encourages cuddling, but at
least a double/full would have been nice

Once we settled in and waited for suppertime, this conversation happened:
Poison, according to Andrew.
Andrew: I feel like they're going to kill us in the middle of the night.   
Me: What?!
Andrew: What if they put something in that lawn drink and poisoned us, or just something to put us to sleep so they could stab us later? 
Me: Why would they kill us? That's horrible for return business.

Apparently, when on vacations, our mental states switch so that Andrew is crazy and dramatically paranoid and I'm the sane one. It was a refreshing experience/ slightly scary to see what I sound like to an average person.

Once he was reassured that no one would die, Andrew proceeded to take a nap. Lucy quickly joined in. I spent my first hour in the cabin mentally alone. (As in, no one was mentally present. Not "the voices in my head finally stopped.")

I eventually woke him up and we headed to the main lodge for dinner.

 It was fabulous. The table setting was all silver, porcelain and crystal. It was not made for people like us.

Although I coached Andrew a little on what fork to use, etc, I really had no idea myself what to use. We pretty much looked like idiots with good taste. Here are pictures of the amazing homemade food.

How do you say fucking delicious in German? Cause this shit was beyond scrumptious.

Apparently in Germany, most restaurants accept dogs and even give them a meal and bowl of water, so we were allowed to brign Lucy in with us. Food tastes so much better when a dog stares at you eating as if you were eating the last meal on Earth.

After supper, we attempted to take a walk through their beautiful trails, but the dog flies were so bad that we ended up going back to the cabin and played card games all night. I won all of the games.

Ok ok, that's a lie. I won one out of five games. But I like to pretend that I won everything.

In the morning, we were once again given a huge, amazing meal.
Is this how Germans eat? Cause if they do, I wouldn't be surprised if they were all morbidly obese. So. Much. Goodness.

 After each gaining five pounds of tastiness, we packed our bags and headed back.

We took the short way home.

Country music played and there was no violence involved.

Wednesday, 11 July 2012

There's Awards for these Kinds of Things, Right?

Last night, I used a ShamWow as a bath mat for after my shower.

Until that moment, I had never truly felt like a genius.
Sidenote: When you enter ShamWow and ShamFuckingWow in Google, the image results pretty much stay the same. It's so awesome, you don't even need to add a fucking swear word.

And in case you've somehow never heard of a ShamWow, here's more information about it.

Sidenote: Ok, I lied. Swear words do make it more awesome.

Saturday, 7 July 2012

I Think my Dog has Self-Esteem Issues. As in, It's too High. WWCMD (What Would Cesar Milan Do?)

Andrew and I are celebrating our four year anniverasy this weekend (even though our anniversary was last week) by renting out a log cabin for a mini-weekend, aka one-night-because-that's-all-we-can afford-but-we-can-still-make-it-sound-fancy. The package includes a welcome drink at the main lodge (Andrew wants to try a Grasshopper a la Raj from Big Bang Theory), a three course fine dining meal that we will probably ruin by slurping our soup and using the wrong fork, and a free breakfat that will most likely be too meager for Andrew's Magical Bottomless Stomach.


Regardless of these potential problems, I am super excited. Like, 12-year old girl at a One Direction concert with front row seats excited. This is the first vacation we will take just the two of us since our first year together when we drove to a nearby province to stay at my friend's house for a weekend.

Because we are so unhealthily attached to Lucy that we can't even leave her at Andrew's parents for the night, we are taking her with us.

This means having to buy a carrier to transport her during the trip, since sitting inside a car doesn't work so well. So I invested way more money than I ever anticipated on an extra large dog carrier.
Sidenote: I had previously bought a large-sized dog crate for Lucy, seeing as it was advertised as being compatible for 40-70lbs dogs. However, it turns out that though Lucy may only weigh 50lbs, its all muscle and bone, so she's much bigger than the weight suggests. That, or dog crate companies are assholes that enjoy messing with their customers.
Sidesidenote: why is the abbreviation for pounds lbs? For years as a kid, I had no idea that it was even an abbreviation, so I just pronounced it as luh-bissss. No wonder I never skipped a grade.
Pretty sure there's lazy eye going on in this picture.

So after emptying my wallet, spending a total of 15 minutes getting the carrier in and out of the back seat of my small Oldsmobile,  I brought it to my living room and assembled it. Turns out, I should have had the cats in mind, because they've claimed the giant plastic cave.

Funniest/saddest thing ever. Sako tried to get in the carrier from
the wrong side of the door, got her head stuck for a few seconds,
then panicked and ran away.


Lucy finally figured out that it was for her.

We head out tomorrow morning, so I probably won't be posting anything else this for the next couple of days. Everyone enjoy your weekend!

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Let's Play "Where's Sako?"

Sorry for the crappy quality. It's like the camera on my phone was confused as well.

Click below for the manipulated photo that better shows her.

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