well count yourself amongst the other half-dozen who feel the same way.  and be prepared to feel…..EXCITED.

yes, YOU.  i have now taken all of my blogs and updated them to live under one brilliant super site type idea.  and by super site, I simply mean just a legit web address.

I do intend to post far more often though.  I was trying too hard to be one type of blog, and therefore, hadn’t the content and ideas to share that often.  Now i am just going to let me be me.  So, you have been forewarned!

check me out at Forever. Tentatively.

i will be getting rid of the old blogs sooner or later, so please, please check out the new site, and often! I promise, it will be worth it (NOTE* promise only applies to those who find me somewhat entertaining as is)

thanks for reading!

Nic

My header looks like a grade 8-er in Beginner Computer Arts for Dummies made it.  But they didn’t.  And actually, before you crop it to WP approved sizes, it looks good.  But, it’s not before you crop it.  It’s after. And it looks like le poop.

Hey, come to my awesome blog, that looks like a pile.  Also.  What do circles have to do with sarcasm?

Cyclical.  Like technology.  Like the Rat King.  Sarcasm, never ending circles…I guess it could work.

This kind of inspires me to get my thinking cap on and learn more about basic design.  I think I will start in Clip Art.  That is where all the big pro’s get their graphics from.

If I weren’t so tired, I would right now, at this very minute write a post about how much I hate people to pretend like they are going to learn about things that we all know they never are.  Like when my dad talks about electric guitars. But I am tired. Too tired.  Doesn’t that just fill you with promise?  I am literally too lazy to write out 10-12 sentences, but I am proclaiming that I am going to learn about graphic design.  That is because sometimes I lie.  I also have a crappy header, so I most likely should not be trusted.  Then again, I DO do what I say I am going to do.  For example, I am still learning Italian.  It just happens that I took a long break from it after learning how to talk about strong jawed men eating apples.  Because that is really all I need to know to be able to prance around Italy without any problems.

Buona notte, polloni.

Mini eggs are the greatest invention ever made.  The wheel can suck on it.

What better way to point out the obvious reasons that Mini Eggs are better than wheels then with a fluid, 2 column, Truth Filled chart?  None

I’m more than sure that my scientifically control group tried, tested and true experimental facts prove my point.

Mini Eggs = 785 points + a life’s worth of wriggly puppies.

Wheels = a year’s worth of paper-cuts.  heavy card stock.

Closing Statement:  I’d like to see a chicken try and shit out a wheel.

I have been going through a lot lately…some bad, some lame-sauce, some good, some AMAZING.  And these 2 have been there as comforters, as pillars of strength, as mourners, as wise cracking sidekicks in my ever so devious plots.  These 2 hug me when I am sad, make fun of me when I need to step off my self proclaimed throne, and make me laugh so hard I become physically ill.  I have been just crazy ridiculous blessed that they even give one tiny amoeba sized care about me, let alone the giant behemoth sized amounts they actually do…

I realize this may embarrass the both of you in very large quantities, but I do not rightly care.  Sucks to your asthsmar, it’s my stupid blog and I can do whatever I like.

To my Princess and my Sugar Butt, whom I love heaps and heaps

My Princess: Oh HI!  Just a best friend.

Sugar Butt: Remember, our bond is just like a scar.  Permanent and Ugly.

And now, to make this even more awkward, a Dedication:

What would you do if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song,
And I’ll try not to sing out of key.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my love is away.
(Does it worry you to be alone)
How do I feel by the end of the day
(Are you sad because you’re on your own)
No, I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I’m gonna to try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.

Would you believe in a love at first sight?
Yes I’m certain that it happens all the time.
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?
I just need someone to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love
Oh…
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends
I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends,
with a little help from my friends

LOVE LOVE LADIES

Sidenote: the Summer Time is upon us, which means that there are Mosquitoes everywhere.  I have spent summers in Manitoba, and I can handle them in the great outdoors, where I know I can leave them.  But there is one in my room at this very moment that escapes me every time I prey upon it; and the mere thought of it being in here waiting to feed on my sticky sweet sanguine fluid is making my skin crawl.

I think though if I were to be introspective, I could tell you why I have not been blogging of late.  It’s because I have really been fairly happy.  Generally my posts take a rant-y approach on things, and as such, flow most easily when i am worked up about something ridiculous.  But happiness quells this.  So.  Now i shall take a brief moment to be serious and take a shot at saying something that matters.

I have been learning lately many things about myself.  It’s been an interesting realization lately, finding all these holes in my soul that are desperate to be filled.  Not that i ever think one stops learning, or growing, or that God will ever take a break from working in us.  But as 25 looms in the not so distant future for me, I am daily amazed at just how little I actually know myself.  Previously, I have always decided that I was strong.  And I am.  I have been told time and time again that God has gifted me with an emotional strength and resilience, and it is the one gifting that I can see in my life clearly time and time again.  I could carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I would be able to take on more.  Do I always like it? Absolutely not.  But I move along and take all that I can regardless and I make it to the next day.  God made me stronger than other around me for this reason.  I can carry them when He needs me to, I can comfort and I can build up and I bounce back.

So that is why I find it shocking that lately I feel so weak.  I suppose one brick on top of the other and sooner or later the whole wall wants to come down.  My walls have been crumbling.  And though it has been painful and trying, and at times I cannot see past the end of the ho ur let alone the day, I can tell that there is something more.  I can see the betterment in the working, the beauty through the fire.  Often it is clouded, and ashes obstruct my senses, but I am seeing glimpses of it.  God has been, and is currently molding me.  And that means breaking the old casings and making room for the new to settle in.  He has been teaching me that yes, He has made me strong, and that He will continue to bless me.  BUT.  He is showing me that He never expected me to carry all the weight.  Most importantly, I am for the first time in my life realizing that being weak is in some ways a strength.  Being able to admit that I need help not only from my Lord, but from other people is shattering for me.  This is probably the hardest lesson that I will ever learn.  Being weak is not a sign of failure, but a sign that I am able to accept that I need help, that I realize I need God to come and be my strength. And sometimes it really sucks, sure.  No one said it would be easy…but they did say it would be worth it in the end.

I’m not sure why I am posting this.  I really normally do not like to write about personal things in my life for others to read, but this has been something so bright that it is almost blinding the last little while.  Every day has proven to be an exercise in letting go and trusting that God will take care of me and my future.  And these things happen so that we can learn and better ourselves.  Take from it what you may!

Don’t get me wrong, I do have a faint inkling of how you feel.  I at times in my previous career as a semi professional high school wise ass often felt the need to just stick it to some frenemy…But I, unlike you, chose to take the high road.  Be it that I did it because of a divine moment of heavenly interjection, or because I was too scared of getting caught, or because I didn’t want to actually spend all my spare time in a place where people take care of their bodily functions, who knows.  But I chose to be a classy broad.  You, Mystery Bathroom Writers, do not.  Oh, I know some of you attach your name, or a pseudonym, or a gang insignia (Jets, Sharks, Crypts…take your pick).  But do you really think anyone in the Chapters Ladies Room really knows who you are?  Or cares? We are buying Dostoevsky and Woolf and Platt…you could try cracking open, say…Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? or Goodnight Moon (remember to start slow and sound the words out, you don’t want anything to burst).   Although, if I were to be honest, I certainly would like to contact you and thank you for your words of wisdom.  “Remember, boys are an accessory, not a necessity”.  I mean, my life really fell into place after reading that.  I got promoted at work, my stock shares skyrocketed, my racehorse won the Kentucky Derby, my boss stopped hitting on me and my cholesterol dropped!  I owe you everything.

Sometimes I’m not sure…is it possible that these people defacing the once lovely facilities are in fact, so stupid that they cannot fully grasp that the deliciously crafted burn they spent hours labouring over has just gotten lost amidst the normalcy and sadness that has become bathroom wall fodder?  I mean, I guess if I felt so strongly about something or someone, and were so proud of my highly anticipated bathroom wall burn,  I would say it to their face…or at least mail them…at the very least, via text/facebook…I mean really, what is the world coming to?  Anonymous potty time hate notes?

There are those few valiant souls who man up and grow some and go at it full force.  You, I can almost pretend to respect.  You are sure as heck writing the name of the person your message is intended for, and you are sure as heck signing your very own name at the bottom.  But I think you are one of those supremely passive aggressive people that is just looking to burn your former best friend who stole your other best friend’s adoration and is now courting your ex almost-boyfriend’s affection.  MAN, did you ever find THEE perfect venue in which to express oneself.  Writing a degrading note on the bathroom wall addressed to friendo from friendo, pointing out how big their hips are and talking about their B.O.  You, my dear dumb-ass, are in a bathroom.  The resting place of the Loo.  Where peoples do their business.  Your credibility has gone down 10 fold.  In fact, I now wish Jessica all the best with Travis and I am happy that her and Kate finally saw how much they had in common… You are a Porcelin Throne Author, and do not deserve either of them.  Just tell Jessica that she hurt your feelings.  Communication is key.  BECAUSE, more likely that anything, Jessica is never even going to know how much your feelings got hurt at the Spring Fling when she left you to go dance with the shy tall boy that finally asked her.  You never told her.  You oh so wisely wrote it on some random wall at a undisclosed location.  How in the world is someone supposed to find your Honesty Note?  They have probably been searhing high and low for this information tid-bit.  They’ve put a pin on the map, and are slowly going in a circle, hitting all public bathrooms untill they have covered each and every one.  They will not stop until they know! Geez.  Idiots.  Unless Jessica is waiting to use the toilet direcly after you, and you know that 110% she is going to use that same stall, you are completely useless.  You better tip her off before she goes in.  Just let her know and then wait it out while you dry your hands.

ALSO, to all you In The Can Composers.  Try brining a dictionary with you.  I know graduating from high school isn’t for everyone, but I really do think this tip will help to boost your validity at least a smidgen.

I duno…I’m feeling all Rant-y about this one…it angers me in such ways…

The Screen Door

I have a crippling fear of doing things that people would deem as “stupid”.  Which is almost certainly the most comical thing ever, considering how often I actually do things that people have and do deem as stupid.  If I were to say this happens numerous time throughout the course of one day, I would be doing myself a favor.  It probably happens more.  So, it would figure that on this particular day many many moons ago, I was already moving about in a state of paranoia.  I was running late.  As a youth, there was nothing in my life that was worse than running late.  Now, I thrive on being late, mostly due to the fact that I have turned into one of those scatter brained people that thinks it takes me WAY less time to get ready than it in fact actually does.  Anyhow, digression.  So, on this particular day I was already late to arrive at the fete that was going on at a friend’s house, like, massively late.  So I park my car, and walk around the back entrance and down a long set of stairs, trying to be as quiet as possibe as to not arouse any unwarranted attention, because even though the majority of these people were my friends, friends still think their friends are dummies.  Now I came upon the door, which was already open, seeing as it was a breezy summer evening.  My plans were to slink through the door all stealth like, slide off my flip flops and make a mostly unnoticed entrance into the house.  Life does not always go how we want it to.  I had taken a small step into the door frame when I felt a sudden force rushing up against me.  It was the oddest feeling, this sudden, dizzying pressure forcing me to stagger back, confused.  I recall stumbling for my footing, disorientated as to what this strain was working against me.  I’m not always one to think about the repercussions of what has just happened, and what the next logical step would be.  I of course, just took another firm step towards the door frame again.  BAM.  It was like a slap in the face.  But not only my face, my whole body.  I struggled shortly, but was quick to realize that resistance; disgruntled, out to make a fool of me resistance, was futile.  I gave in, letting the dull, scratching pain drag me down with it.  To my amazement, the struggle was short lived, and although it seemed as though in slow motion, I was surely moving ahead, one step at a time.  Seconds later, I was steady on my feet, awestruck as to what had just taken place.  What was this searing pain, this all to aware feeling of dead silence all around me?  Better yet, what was this unyielding black mesh rubbing up and twisted about half my body?  And how had I ended up inside the house?

All these terrifying questions were answered all to quickly, as I turned and noticed the waning summer sun glinting off the shiny metal frame of the screen door…the now screen-less screen door.  YEUP.  It happened.  I busted my way right through that bloody screen door.  I still hate that screen door.  Why do people even want their screen doors to be invisible?  The frame is still there!  People are always going to know that there is a screen situated in said door! Seriously!?!?  So I go inside, and realize that, of course, everyone who is there has seen this atrocity taking place.  And of course, everyone is staring dumbfound, some in reverence, some in incredulity as to how some idiot had even managed to walk through a frickin screen door.  And I tend to agree, I still have NO idea how I could be so insanely incoherent as to not STOP when I felt pressure.  I, evidently, thought that I had come up face to face to some sort of otherworldly test of strength and spirit that I had to overcome for all of humanity.  But the screen door, that blasted Phantom Screens screen door was busy doing it’s job, invisibly keeping unwarranted visitors out.  I looked around the room, realizing that the person who’s house it was, was not even in the room.  So now I was faced to face with the daunting task of doing the walk of shame through the room of gawking onlookers to find my friend.  Hoping against all hope, that after hearing my story, he would still be my friend…I found him, and sheepishly told him the horrific and incredulous tale.  Another interesting thing about me, I laugh when frightened.  I’m like Kato, giggling like an idiot as I admit to my many wrong doings.  I’m trying to explain how a person could even manage to push their way through a screen door laughing, and my friend doesn’t seem interested in believing me.  Once again I begin the walk of shame, marching solemnly alongside the person who’s house I have wronged, through the room of now chiding peers and coming to a sudden halt at the gaping mouth of a hollow, aching, screen-less screen door.  Seeing is believing.  Thankfully for me, my friend was super breezing, even more thankfully for me, he became this way due to his super breezy parents.  Bless these super breezy parents, as they let my malfeasance against them pass.  That was the day that I first fully understood the act of forgiveness.  And what a blessed, blessed thing it is.  Moral of the story?  Stop, for the love of all that is good and pure, STOP when you feel resistance.  Not just for screen doors, but take caution, I implore you the next time you are using a Q-Tip, or are about to embark on that 7th Krispy Kreme.  I promise you, you can push and push and push the limitations, but sooner or later, when you least expect it, everything around you will come crashing down, or exploding.  It’s not worth it.  The fear, then embarrassment, then ongoing, life long shame will never, ever be worth it…My mom puts stickers on all doors now, screen or not.

REASONS WHY I SHOULD NOT HAVE A BLOG:

• I hate having to format things with bullets
• I have little to no discipline to do any quasi regular updating
• I do not appreciate people getting to know me better without my approval.  Any random honkey can come read my thoughts.  Sick.
• I despise keeping in touch with people
• I have no causes to champion, nor am I really that good of a person, and if I were, I would not let the general public know
• New things scare me
• I LOVE instant gratification! – oh, wait a minute….ok, well I really love being gratified instantly, so I’m a gunna leave this one on the list.
• I don’t always invite challenges that readily
• I’m generally a loner…being a part of a community is foreign to me
• Self reflection is horrifying, and I am fairly sure that the more I write the more this is likely to happen
• Feedback scares me
• I am positive that somehow, I am going to further myself as a person.  And when that happens, I will no longer be the less good person that I started out as and everyone previously knew and loved
• I recently decided that I no longer believe in the freedom of speech.  What dummie came up with that idea?
• I make many a various typo
• Having fun is the worst
• It hurts when I use my brain too often
• New things make me physically ill
• I don’t like to promise that I am actively seeking new knowledge in various areas of life
• I’m almost positive I have used up all my ideas of what to write about already
• I get bored real easy
• Letterman might be on

I bet there are tonnes of other reasons that I, or many other people may have for me to not have a blog.  But, unfortunately for all of us, I already have one.  And now that I have it, I sure as heck ain’t quittin.  Cause if there is one thing I am not, it is a quitter, no matter if it gets tough or not, I am in for the long haul.  Except for when things get really hard; then I quit, because that’s the easiet thing.

#3.  THE SEMI IN THE FAST LANE FOR NO REASON…OK.  So I have NO beef with semis that are in the fast lane for an actual reason.  Like passing.  I can understand that one semi may need to pass some other even more pathetic semi that is barely able to crawl along at 70km/hr.  OK.  Fine; go for it.  But then move it back along into the slow lane!  For the love of all that is good and true, WHY do they stay in the passing lane?  Who in heavens name do they really think they are going to continue passing?  A 1975 Volkswagen Rabbit?  A tractor?  My little sister on her 3 speed bike? COME ON!  I try in vain to figure this guy out.  How much faster can the semi really be going?  Like a whole 13km more?  Seriously?  I often crane my neck around and try to stare down this guy.  And you know, this guy just generally looks like a jerk.  He knows.  He knows!  There is no real reason for him to be slowing down every blessed car behind him other than sheer tenacity.  We all get it.  You drive a big truck.  We can see that.  We know there is nothing we can make you do to speed up or get into the other lane.  We get it, the truck in your mind is like an appendage…Please.  Please, just suck it up and go directly back into the slow lane as soon as you have passed the other giant idiot in the semi.  Do the world a frickin service and don’t make the rest of us want to rip or hair out.  Please.

#2.  THE TAILGATE AND CUT OFF…Tailgating doesn’t really bother me.  I know I am going against the masses on this point, but I just don’t care.  I have tailgated at times, and I feel fairly justified in my occasional tailgating.  Like for example, when I am pulling up nice and tight behind that semi in the fast lane.  And if someone feels like tailgating me, then please, be my guest.  Because I am the driver who doesn’t move.  In fact, I might even slow down even more…

BUT.  Here is what is NOT o.k. with me.  Not o.k. is when everyone is already bumper to bumper, and already testy and full of road rage.  When  some idiot makes an actual out of their way effort to speed up even more and pull up real nice and close to my car completely out of nowhere, and I am already pushing 115; this is NOT o.k.  And then, when said buddy sees he has nowhere to go, so they sit on my butt for the next 10 min; this, THIS is not o.k.  What I love even more is when they realize there is now a half a car length spot for them to oh so stealthily slip into the SLOW lane and from there, promptly cut me off.  Thank goodness!  Because, now, they are one WHOLE car in front of where they previously were.  And they, of course, have so so many other options as to where to go.  Oh wait, that’s right, they have absolutely NOWHERE else to go.  They have just shaved almost a whole 2 minutes of their journey.  This is not Talladega Nights.  We’re not in a contest.   Congrats, IDIOT.

#1.  THE SWERVER…My dear, sweet Moses.  The swerver makes me scream in agony.  First of all, let me clarify that I am not talking about the person in the lane beside you veering into your lane.  Although this is incredibly irritating, as well as frightening at times, I have never been hit yet due to this, so it’s not as near and dear to my heart as the Directly In Front Of You Swerver.  O.K.  I know you are all more then well versed in the picture I am about to paint for you:  You have been making the best time ever, which is excellent, considering you left late as usual, and are of course, on a time deadline.  Unfortunately, you are noticing all the cars in front of you slowing, slowing…aaannnddd you’ve now come to a dead halt.  Balls.  This sucks.  BUT.  What sucks even more is the genius in front of you.  Yeup, yeup.  That’s it.  Abruptly swing your nose onto the shoulder, because my guess is that you can easily see the problem that’s making us slow down about 300 feet up the road.  And now, swerve back into the middle of the lane.  Great!  Now we are getting somewhere!  How about, if 5 min and 3 feet later, you swerve out completely and try to see again?  Fabulous.  What I appreciate even more is the idea that, even if they had a remote chance of actually seeing anything, they what? think they can do something about it?  Good job seeing the accident!  Hooray!  Now you can go on ahead and do something about it that the police, and the ambulance attendants, and the rescue workers cannot.  Thank you for doing me this service, you giant, giant simpleton.

So, in conclusion, ask yourself if you are one of these people.  And if you are, then I recommend that you keep a constant eye out for me as you drive.  Do not do any of these things if you do indeed see me.  Unless you value both your arms.  And if not, then happy driving!

Why I love mayonnaise:  first of all, I have French Canadian blood running through my veins.  It’s wired into my chemical makeup that I should constantly have the burning desire to dip my any and everything  in it.  Secondly; it’s tasty.  This much seems glaringly obvious.  So often, a simple meal is missing something; there’s little pizazz, no real urgency to consume the food.  A flavour, a certain essence is lacking.  This hole is often filled with a certain, off white, gelatinous, emulsion of oil and yolks.  There are many other reasons to enjoy what I would deem, my all time favourite condiment.  It’s viscous.  How can one NOT love something that according to the dictionary is “of a glutinous nature or consistency; sticky; thick; adhesive”.   It’s impossible.  And thick and adhesive it is!  I personally like having the complete and utter assurance that when I consume mayonnaise, it is going straight to either my thighs, or my arteries; where it creates a nice tight, thickening of the blood’s passageways.  At least there isn’t any guess work.  Some the of other condiments out there, you have no idea where they’re going to manifest themselves.  Arms?  Stomach? Eyebrows?  I cannot handle the stress!  Mayo is a safe choice.

But it does not end there, no.  For now I ask you, what is a sandwich without mayo? Or a hamburger?  NOTHING.  And you know it, don’t you?  You know it’s not worth it.  For all you people who argue the mustard side of this debate, get out of here.  Just get out; I have no more time for you.  We all know that mustard sinks into the bread, sucked into the sponginess, never to return again.  And now,  here we are, left with a dry hamburger and a mealy bun, forced to swallow a mouthful of water with every bite, just to choke the thing down.  Mayo pulls it all together.  Forget about it.  A nice, juicy hamburger that is easily masticated, and slides down ones gullet without any obscene amounts of liquid?  Glorious.  Please, go thank your nearest mayonnaise manufacturer.

Last, but absolutely not least, let’s quickly debate the different variations on mayonnaise.  First of all, you’ve got your Miracle Whip.  Now, this is really all a matter of personal taste.  I myself, am a big supporter of Miracle Whip, but we need to be very specific about the time and place of ingestion.  Anyone slightly adept in tasting things is quick to realize that Miracle Whip has got a little more attitude.  A little spunk, if you will.  Tiny little specks of flavour morsels are easily detected on a first visual.  I prefer this added zip, say on a sandwich, rather than a burger.  One needs to be careful of the flavours that are already lingering before adding Miracle Whip.  There may already be too much going on, hamburger wise, to throw some whip into the mix.  Sandwiches (hamburgers slightly dim witted older cousin), are often in need of a little extra sprucing up.  Also, potato salads.  Go for the miracle, I promise, you won’t be disappointed.  And let us not forget McChicken sauce.  Oh, dear, glorious McChicken sauce.  Just a tasty little fat boy treat.  The perfect accompaniment to deep fried fowl and french fries.  Please note: USE SPARINGLY.  Whilst this rich man’s mayonnaise is enticingly, seductively delicious, it is a surly kind of poison.  Upon consumption, one can literally feel it congeal and stick to the lining of one’s heart.  Take small, precautious steps, and enjoy only infrequently and on the most momentous of occasions.

And so we have it.  These reasons are only reaching the very tip of the iceberg.  Unfortunately, I am usually far too entranced with my jar of Hellman’s and the art of spreading said mayonnaise onto a lonely, but eager and willing slice of bread to think about why I love what I do.