Andrew, He-Who-Lives-Under-A-Rock

 Andrew and I were watching a video on Youtube yesterday when he asked me:

What's an Osnookeh?

Me: They said "that old Snooki".

Andrew: Ok. So what's a Snooki?

Me: ... You're completely serious?

He has never heard of Snooki. Ever.

Me: Come on Andrew. She's on the Jersey Shore. 

Andrew: *blank stare*

Nonexistant in Andrew's world.

This is why I love this man.

Me: Good morning, Life! - Life: F@*K YOU CHRISTINE!

I officially quit on living life today. I wash my hands of it. But just for today.

It all started with the fact that I forgot my phone at work last night. This has never happened to me before, but it wasn't really a big deal. Andrew is always all "Why don't you ever answer your phone Christine?! WHAT'S THE POINT OF OWNING A PHONE IF YOU DON'T ANSWER IT?", but I'm not as tethered to my cell as he is. So while a runaway phone isn't usually a big deal, it just happened to be the catalyst of today's events.

Sometimes, Captain Resourceful gets aggressive.

My biggest issue with not having my phone overnight is that it also doubles as my alarm clock in the morning. But that can't stop me, I'm CAPTAIN RESOURCEFUL! Andrew used a regular alarm clock, so I told Andrew to reset his alarm clock after he woke up so I would wake up a half hour later.

Andrew has the memory of a goldfish. It's ridiculous. Every once in a while, I think that he's miraculously developed the ability to remember important tasks or events.

Every time, I'm wrong.

I woke myself up at 8am. I usually wake up at 6:30. I emailed my boss that I was going to be late and rushed like the Roadrunner on cocaine. Captain R wasn't going to be stopped by a pesky goldfish-partner. I grabbed my lunch and my purse, locked the door, ran out to put Lucy in her kennel and then got into my car. I rummaged for my keys.

I had no keys.

My keys were on the microwave, inside the locked house.

My 19th Birthday - Scar included.

This post is kinda like a PSA warning of the dangers of taking friends out to get shitfaced during an emotional time in their lives.

Every year, millions of women in Canada become drunken hot messes. Known as the "", being a drunken hot mess can strike when you least expect it, although others around you can see it happening from a mile away. It can affect your friends, acquaintances, that chick that slept with your ex, and even you. All it takes is one too many drinks to get from this...



...to this.



Early detection is key to preventing this debilitating situation. If you feel like crying while drinking, DO NOT attempt to drink your sorrows away. Remember, early detection is key to preventing embarassing Facebook photo albums and bruises you don't remember recieving. This message is brought to you as a public service from crazywithasideofvanilla.

Now that you've been warned, let me speak of my own personal experience that led me to create this message. 

Mini Stories.

• A couple of nights ago, we were taking Lucy outside before going to bed when she suddenly bolted into the dark. While Andrew was rummaging for a flashlight (being a 90% black dog, she's really hard to spot at nighttime), muttering that he was going to "kick Lucy's ass", Lucy ran back home... with quills all over her face. I guess she tried to make friends with a porcupine, but it wasn't interested in meeting a 60 pound mass of excitement barreling at full speed.

While looking for photos of porcupines, most of the search results are pictures of hedgehogs labelled as "baby porcupines". I have never been more disapointed in humanity.

Outcome: We had to call Andrew's parents (waking them up) to bring over giant tweezers/pliers and help take out all of the quills. We really needed the help too: it took all of Andrew's strength to hold Lucy down while his dad was doing the tweezing. It took an entire hour. Andrew was litterally drenched in sweat by the time it was done.

• While attempting to find Lucy some extra water to put in her pen for the day, I met with a giant garter snake. It was longer than my arm. I yelled "GAHHYULLLLLLLLSGHHSS" (the closest approximation to the sound I made) and ran away. I then proceeded to shudder during the entire morning ride to work. 

Update: Andrew lifted the wooden plank next to the shed where I had met the snake and found three snakes. I am never going anywhere near the shed for the rest of my life.

• My friend Lawyer (a super academic that is a hick at heart) has decided for me that she is going to plan Andrew and I's wedding. Not that we're engaged; Lawyer just likes to think ahead.





A wedding not planned by Lawyer.

Ok, I totally am thinking ahead too: just go visit my Pinterest board labelled "Wedding Ideas". It's way too ridiculously large to be considered normal. There's probably more pins on my board than the boards of women who are actually engaged and in the midst of planning their wedding. It's definitely an issue.

Anyways, Lawyer hasn't gotten too far in the planning stages, but has pitched to me her main ideas. They are: pink and camo wedding dress and decor, moonshine and shotguns, beer and a banjo player. I agreed to the beer. Maybe the banjo player too. Cause saying the word "banjo" is fun. Banjo.

I Sometimes Assist when no Assistance should be Needed.

Someone just asked my for help with their Microsoft Word document. She came to my desk and explained that her document was too "squished". I suggested she widen the margins. Apparently, that didn't work, because she sent me the file with with "see what I mean" as the email subject. I opened the file.

Everything was in font size 9.

I didn't understand what the problem was, so she came over to explain that no one could read it. I actually had to teach her how to increase font sizes. (She grew up during the age of computers and works in Marketing. There is no excuse for this.)

I .... am in shock and have no idea what to say.

Sometimes, I Need to Work on my Communication Skills

Browsing Kijiji (the Craigslist of Canada), I spotted this ad.

Being really broke and really cheap, I jump at the chance of anything free. So I send this email to the photographer.

Maybe not the best use of words...

And the Award for Weirdest Effin' Cat Goes to...

This photo, for reasons absolutely unknown, reminds me of Dakota Fanning.

So I've had my two cats for almost a year now and just when I finally started to believe I understood cats, Tika has slapped my confidence in the face.

Tika has always been cuddly and affectionate, but for the past couple of months, she's come up to me, expecting to be petted, only to get pushed away. Why?

Because one side of her face will be completely soaked.