Pull it together!

I don't usually go all political up in here, but I have noticed recently (on facebook, which I guess my own fault, cause fb sucks) that people are posting these news articles about budget cuts, programs shutting down, wah wah wah.

I have two questions for said people:

1. Why are you surprised?!? Budget cuts are the name of the game in governmental spending. The other thing us useless expenditure. So it was, so it is, so it ever shall be. Shad ap, all this postulating and forecasting is not at all proving how smart you are, it proves that you can regurgitate ages-old "opinions".

2. Why post this stuff on facebook? Do you fool yourself into thinking that any high ranking member of the government reads this stuff? "Oh my god, Bob Smith over in Red Deer doesn't like my fiscal policy, I'd best shut that shit down right now! Cake, therapy and music lessons for all!" C'mooooon.

Yes, I do understand freedom of expression, and having an opinion and whatnot, I mean, what am I really doing here, but expressing myself. I just don't understand people's fear and surprise at shitty things happening to good people/programs. Tilting at windmills yo.

I think the same thing every time I read these stories or statuses - yes, this sucks, but what are you DOING about it? I volunteer, I give crap, I throw in a helping hand when I can. Imagine if all the people who complained about programs being cut gave an hour a week to volunteering? There would be more volunteers then programs, and how wonderful would that be?

This is gonna be the only time I'm gonna do this quote thing, but I think in this instance, it applies:
"Be the change you want to see in the world" Gandhi

The Help

They see me rollin

I've had a difficult time writing this particular post - not that there's anything wrong, it just happens to be post number 100. I felt like the one-hundredth post should be monumental, some sort of spectacular. I've been running topics in my head, trying to come up with something worthy, and then I had an idea; Fuck it! Ha ha, I will write whatever, and it'll be just fine.

The Messy Dressy was a week ago. It was a wonderful night, though admittedly not nearly as raucous as previous years. My darling wore a kilt, it was unendingly hot. Like ridiculous. I couldn't stop staring at him, and strangers were stopping him in the restaurant and hotel to tell him how good he looked. Yummy.

I got very, very, oh so very drunk. I was home by midnight. My man was also very drunk, and here is the best story of the night: once home, I realised that I needed to be sick (don't be alarmed, I'm a barfer. I have it down to a clean science now), so I went into the bathroom. My wonderful boyfriend helpfully made puking sounds every time I ralphed. I'm sure if he had be remotely sober he would have held my hair or whatever (though I'm also a private chucker, so probably not), but as he had such a difficult time with his shoes ("goddamn unrelenting shoes"), I wasn't surprised to learn that he didn't remember this, ahem, moral support.

There's a lot of words for vomit hey?

I have two exams and a week of clinical, and then I'm free.

The zombie shoes that no Messy Dressy outfit o' mine would be complete without.

The Help

Messy Dressy Anyone?

I've been informed that it is 4 days until the 4th Annual Messy Dressy. I am terrified, and let me tell you why:

A re-cap of the last 3 Messy Dressys

Year One - Unaware that it would turn into an annual event, I spent a bunch of time shopping on-line, and mistakenly purchased 5 inch heels. Wore the heels, even though it was still in the throes of winter and they made me approximately 7 feet tall.

I fell off of my towering heels, and broke my ankle that year. After breaking my ankle, I allegedly went to the shooter bar and said something along the line of "that's gonna hurt tomorrow, someone give me a shot, ahahahahaha", and then danced on said broken ankle until closing time. Someone had to help me haul the shoe offa my ankle as it was so swollen and gross by the end of the night. I am so proud.

Year Two - I got home 2 full days after I left my apartment. I repeat, 2 days. I have a picture of me wearing a crown in a bathroom. I have no recollection of either a bathroom or a crown, though I assume (based on the pictures) I was in a bathroom wearing a crown at some point, and I also learned a lesson. Wore black hightop sneakers. The afterparty was legendary. Apparently.

Year Three - At the pre-party dinner, the restaurant allowed me to plug my ipod into the sound system and we played the Roxanne Drinking Game* during dinner. Not only did we play this drinking game in a fancy restaurant dressed as if we were going to the prom, we called over the other patrons of the restaurant (including some random's grandfather) to play/drink with us. And they did it.

Each year, the party happens at the Legion, and each year, I apparently sing with whomever is performing that night. Again, I can surmise this only from pictures. Heh.

Last year, I spent the day after the party putting my bathroom back together, and cleaning up vomit (not mine).

Good times.

The Help

*You play the song Roxanne by the Police. Half the people drink when they say "Roxanne" and the other half drinks when they say "you don't have to put on the red light". They say each of these things 600 times - we went from zero to hammered in 3 minutes (grandpa was WASTED). Try it some time!