And then today

I just purchased my wedding invitations.

Shit just got real son.

It's so funny, I got more weepy and nervous ordering the invitations then anything else so far (well, except for the dress of course, I am human after all). I'm surprised in fact, by how emotional I got. We both have already purchased and received our rings - and while I do take the rings out of the safe and stare at them sometimes, it has not come close to what I am feeling here today.

Is it because the important stuff just got committed to paper? Or because my mom and dad's names appear on the top? I haven't been a little girl in a long time, but I'm still my parents baby, I'm not gonna lie.

My ipod tells me that we're getting married in 9 months and 18 days. I hope I can pull it together in those intervening months, cause I'm paying a lot of money to get my make up done, and I don't want to cry it all off before I even leave the freakin spa.

I have shocked even myself since getting engaged. I cry ALL THE TIME. Like, several times a day. What the hell is the matter with me?

I once had a manager type say about me (behind my back) that I had a soft touch, backed up by balls of steel. This was (I assume) a huge compliment, but since I've gotten engaged, it's like I lost my lady balls.

I cry when I think about my niece and nephew getting all dressed up. I cry when I read the things people say in their speeches. When I think about my daddy walking me down the aisle, or my mom giving us a blessing.

I cry when we plan ways to include my darling's lost dad in the wedding.

I cry when I see how happy people are for me.

And Jesus, the state of me when I hear the song that will be our first dance. I've started listening to it often, so maybe I won't be such a wreck on the day, but so far, this process hasn't tamed the beast.


Go to www.momentjunkie.com, and have a little cry with me.

It Has Been Decided

My darlings, my dears.
How nice it has been to hear from you all again, and gratifying to know that people give a shit  - enough to tell me that they are glad I'm back anyway. Warms the cockles of my heart.

Speaking of cockles, my darling one and I have decided that we want to take an actual vacation when we have a few days off in November.

Lemme break down a "vacation" for when a northerner goes down south:

1. visit as many people as possible; rub bellies, kiss babies that didn't exist the last visit, assure favorite aunts that life really is ok "up there", show parents and siblings a years worth of lovin and missin in mere days

2. do six months worth of clothes, toothpaste, shampoo and liquor shopping. Seriously, I feel like a cartoon shopping "I'll have one of these, and one of these, and six of these, and these come in 3 colors you say?" I shop with a cart in the liquor store. What. Up.

3. find out everything missed out on. For example, when I went south in February of this year, I asked my sister about this Gangnam Style business. I thought it was a fashion choice.

 I only found out about Macklemore this past July.

5. Family stuff. This is super-sized once engaged, I have learned. Gotta cuddle with the kids, and view soccer games, and sing "Cups". Visit the elderly and sick, and remind them that they aren't forgotten. Family dinners, celebrations, and toasts, oh my!

6. Pray that the people you didn't get to see (which is always MOST people) still love you even though they haven't seen your raggety mug in 3 years.

So you see, even when it seems like I have endless time, it's all very slippery and it slithers away before you can imagine.

We had three weeks vacation this year, and of that, we had exactly one day that wasn't planned or otherwise taken. One day.


This November, it's gonna be about us, just me n he. We haven't decided where we are going yet, but it will be somewhere where there is no family (not that we don't love ya by's) or friends (not that you're not missed my dears). There's going to be no wedding planning, or invitation list talk. We may shop, but it won't be a frantic misadventure.

And you know what will happen? We'll probably sleep through the whole thing.

Been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely time

I haven't been lonely at all actually, but you get my meaning.

I have missed you!
I thought I was done with the blog, it was just going to go quietly into the good night, but I've been reading stuff on www.salon.com recently, and it has made me realise how much I miss writing, if not every day, at least more often then preparing a bill, or shooting off an email.

 I was feeling a little remorse about having a blog as well; they are such intrinsically narcissistic beasts. I'm not gonna lie, I LOVED having people tell me they read my stuff, they like my stuff.....but I was feeling a little dry. Light on useful topics.

So first, an update: getting hitched in just over 9 months! Holy God. Weddings are insane business, but I'll do a little something on that later. I have made some serious headway in preparing for Christmas craft fairs, though all this has done is extended the time that I worry I won't sell anything. Ah, without worry, what would I be? Probably worried that I have nothing to worry about.

The big news (no, I'm not freaking pregnant), my darling and I are leaving the North. Early next year. We're buying a house and starting a life among friends and family. There will be trees. Starbucks. Lip gloss WHENEVER I WANT IT.

I have been in the North for so long - people don't believe me when i say I'm leaving. They say I'll be back.
Hhhmm. We shall see. My friends, the biggest problem I have is that I am tired.

Yes, I do understand that tired happens everywhere in the world. I am tired of always being on. I'm tired of not being able to disappear for a little while if I need to. If I go to the grocery store, I may (and do) run into 7 people that I used to work with. I go to a nice dinner with my darling, and at the next table is 3 people who made my working life miserable just the day before.

Again, I understand that this sort of thing happens elsewhere, but we can all admit that it probably doesn't happen that often right?

Let me tell you about something that happened recently.

There has been an issue making the local news - a woman was attacked by a dog. She was horribly mauled, in front of her children. She spent a long time in the hospital, and is having a difficult time overcoming this psychologically. Completely understandable, I mean, Jesus, a dog tried to rip her apart.

People are in an uproar, and some want all non-huskie dogs to be banned from Nunavut.

In the wake of this discussion, I was out, walking my dog one day. My dog is a sweetheart - we adopted her from a family who could not take her with them when they moved down south.

It was a lovely afternoon, sunny and warm. I had my headphones on and we were just sort of ambling around - she wasn't even doing her business, we were just walking.

A woman was smoking on her balcony, and motioned for me to take off my headphones, and asked me what kind of dog Rosie is. People ask this sort of thing all the time. So responded that she's a spaniel/lab mix.

And this woman LOST HER EVER LOVING MIND. She screamed at me that I had no right to have a non-huskie dog in Nunavut, that stupid qallunaat like me are the problem with Iqaluit. She told me to fuck myself, and to get out of the north. She told me that I am disgusting.

The worst part? I was so shocked, I didn't respond. I did not tell this woman to fold it up and shove it. I was so disappointed in myself, for allowing someone to make me feel bad. I was just takin a walk man!

Anyway.....this is not why I decided to leave the north, but it didn't help. What helped even less, a few nights later I was eating dinner at a local restaurant, and this same woman tried to sell me a carving at my table. So you see what I mean? There are little chances for getting away.


But screw all that, I get t have a shower! Whoo-hoooooo!!! I dearly hope we all survive my stagette. Heh.

No day like snow day

Like today. My my, the vantage point that my new living room window has afforded me it quite something. Well nothing really. Can't see past the building. Snow!
These days, snow days are all the more enjoyable cause I don't have to do any homework. Is this what normal life is like? We are currently enjoying a Simon Pegg marathon.

My darling and I have moved in the last few days. Again. I f-ing hate moving. There are some awesome things in our new place (like space, a dishwasher, and a view of something other than a sketchy parking lot) that have made the move worth our while, however, I still spent the last week or so on the useless side of useless.

Thankfully my darling has done the lion's share of the work. I go pale at the thought. Ah god, the TEDIUM of looking at and sorting every item in your possession, trying to cram your whole life into some boxes.....ugh, I would rather remove, roast and eat my right arm (and my right one is the good one).

It's not just me right? Moving sucks. Whenever I said to people "Oh I can't, I'm moving this week", most people invariably offered the response: "fuuuuuuuuck. I hate moving." Right you are chum.

I said yes

About 2 weeks ago, I got my wedding dress. This whole experience totally blew my mind.

How I thought it would go: I would try on a bunch of different stuff, probably not fit in to anything, be incredibly sad, have worst day ever, buy a cheap knock off on line.

How it actually went: Found a dress! Blew my budget, didn't give a crap, cried like a little girl.

I suprised my sister (my maid of honor) on Valentines day, by walking in on family dinner and asking if she wanted to go dress shopping. I had (on Boxing Day, of course) made a bunch of salon appointments. Just making appointments was an intimidating process - they asked about budget, and sizes and dates, and for the secret location of the holy grail. One place emailed me with a page long list of rules. For real.

Like, God didn't give a page long list of rules, there was what, 10 lines?

The first appointment I had, Just my best friend and I went to, and tried on eight dresses. EIGHT. I figured that because of my size, there would be three dresses in a dark corner. How wrong I was.

I was completely prepared to buy one of the dresses from the first appointment, by my dear friend said "why not just check out the second store? You only get to go wedding dress shopping once in your life." And I thought, why not? Plus my mom and my sister could come to the second appointment.

I was nervous. The second appointment was at the place with all the rules. I spent a large chunk of the night before thinking up snappy retorts in the instance that these people were mean to me.

The morning of, I met up with my friend and family, shotgunned a coffee, and went to the store with steel in my heart. Which was, of course, completely unnecessary.

They were lovely. They treated me like gold. I mean, I understand they wanted my money, but I felt so good, I didn't want it to end. The lady at the shop pulled 5 dresses for me from the TWO RACKS of stuff in my size. Some stuff was too big for me. Wrap your head around that shit.

The second dress I tried on was it. They all say on that dress show that I love, that you know when you put your dress on, and honestly, I put this down to rich people on reality tv talk. But they were right. Before I even looked in a mirror, I knew.

My family wanted me to try on other dresses, but I didn't want to see anymore. I wanted to wear this dress to lunch.

Nope, I'm not showing you. Sorry.

I'm borrowing my sister's veil. It also looks as if it was made for me.

I am the luckiest.

The Help

Remember when I said big changes were coming?

Let me tell you what's been going on.

I'm on a deferred year at school. When I tell people this, most are completely understanding. Some are overtly judgmental, and one or two (usually strangers, which I find amazing), quiz me on what, and why, and what the new plan is.

This was my choice, and I gotta say, it feels awesome. I feel like a new woman! People comment every day on how much healthier and happier I look.

I am going back. I will be a nurse. Just not right now.


I had some pretty big health stuff happen, that I was having a difficult time with it. I'm getting better, and doing what I can. It's big enough that I don't feel like talking about it here. Calm down, I'm not the kind of sick you're thinking of.

This was a part of my decision to not return to school this year. But really, just a part.


I got a promotion at work. I have never worked so hard, and I have never enjoyed the hard work so much.

Ok, what? I can't even believe I just typed this stuff. Dear Lord, is this what growing up is? Uuuugghh. I hope I don't turn into a perky ponytail - that's those women you see at the fancy grocery store who all wear Lulu Lemon and have perky ponytails, and push ergonomically correct baby strollers, and only buy organic. They probably don't own televisions, and call their man-children Tristan or Andre.

I bet they eat refined sugar in private. How I judge thee, oh Perky Ponytail.

And judgment! I alluded to people judging me for my decision to take a year off of school. The people who I assumed would judge me, didn't; and I was deeply surprised by the people who did.

I could see it on their faces. Raised eyebrows, stumbling to find something nice to say. Visibly physically restraining themselves from asking what the hell I'm doing. There were of course, people who did not restrain themselves, and while I give 'em an A for ballsy tactics, they get an F for social etiquette. I had one woman, a guest at my hotel, quiz me up and down about why I wasn't going to school, what I'm going to do instead and what kind of future I intend to have. Even after I said very clearly that I deferred for personal reasons, and I didn't feel like talking about it, still she continued to grill me.

While I appreciate that people have high hopes for me and my future, if my face is one you see 4 times a year, you do not get to have an insider view of the Help. You get the public face. And you like it!!

The Help

I Hate Flying

It's not just the flying part of flying (which I really, REALLY hate), it's everything that goes along with it -the line ups, the jostling, the upheaval. The idiots who never read signs (why doesn't anyone read signs?). The worse idiots who get pissy about uncontrollable things like the weather; I have witnessed darling friends getting crapped all over because the fog was preventing flights landing.

Riddle me this dumbass - how could a ticket agent possibly control the weather??

I have been on 3 flights recently, and I am attempting (and failing) to get back to the north. Lemme give you a run down of some of my recent flying experiences:

Flight the second, I am seated next to a woman who clearly wants to make friends. As I am consistently on the verge of gibbering terror when flying, I hope she will forgive me to not playing along. She was travelling with two young women, my guess both were in their early twenties. They were sitting in three separate isles, and for the bit of the flight that I couldn't wear my headphones, this is how the conversation went:

Woman: Say goodbye to Ottawa!
Daughter 1: Autobots?
Daughter 2: Autobots?
Daughter 1: They're like robots from that movie.
Woman: Autobahn?
Daughter 1: Autobahn?
Daughter 2:Autobots?
Woman: Autobots? I thought we were talking about a road in Germany.

End scene.

They commenced drinking (it was 9am), I watched them in open mouthed awe until I was able to turn music on really, really loud.

This is what I'm talking about ladies and gentlemen. Simply typing this conversation has made me tired.

A woman who sat next to me on the plane on the way back to Ottawa took off her boots and changed into slippers for the 45 minute long flight. Seriously. She was all grunting and heaving....just leave the boots on lady! AAahhhhhh!!

I'm walking to Ottawa for my next vacation.

I have been engaged for almost three weeks, and the planning has been so fun. I'm a super, hyper organized person, so this opportunity to create news lists, and lists for my lists, Oh! The joy. I manage to out-dork myself on a daily. I just hope my darling will still want to get married by the time our wedding day comes.

Man oh man alive, people are nuts. Two things: wedding costs and the guest list.

It's like, as soon as people hear the word "wedding" people go, DING! I'ma cut you and take all your money. I looked at photogaphers, for example. The cheapest one was in the arena of 2 grand, and thats the base. And with that price of a fairly crappy used car, you get a photographer for 6-8 hours and 800 to 1200 photos. What?? What would I ever do with 1200 photos? I'm not gonna lie, I'd get bored after picture number 26, so the other 1174 photos would not only be a waste, but where in God's name would I even shove 1200 photos?

And then theres the guest list. I can hear you already - Dear Help, why oh why are you worying about the guest list? You're wedding is 17 months away! I promise the guest list is an early and important list. So I've learned.

What I find hilarious, is the people who assume they'e going to be invited, and say as such. Here's what it is:

1. If I don't know your last name, you are not coming to my wedding.
2. If you don't know MY last name (or my darling's), you are not coming to my wedding.
3. If we can't even be bothered to be facebook friends (a social media I'm not even sure why I bother with anymore), you are not coming to my wedding.
4. No ex's. Jesus in a jar people!
5. If it's been more then a year since we've hung out or been in touch, you are not coming to my wedding.

You can get all these guest list helpful hints and such on pinterest.....I read one, and then I threw it out. I'm forming my own rules, which will include the above, and the one other, most impotant rule - this one day is about me and my darling, no one else. We will invite who we love and who we want to party with on the best day ever. We will not accept guilt or bad attitudes about it.

And it feels SO GOOD.

Let me Tell you a Story

I am the luckiest. I had the best Christmas ever.

Our Christmas day plan was this - get up early, put this breakfast casserole thing I made in the oven, go to my friend Sarah's place and open gifts with their daughter, and have some breakfast. I thought we were bringing our gifts to each other to the friend's place, and then open the stockings and other gifts when we got back.

When we up, my darling said that we should open our stockings before we go. I was so confused, I couldn't figure out why the fuss over the stockings - like, I had put pens and socks in his stocking.

But then my fella put a coffee with bailey's in it in front of me (what up day drinking?), and handed me my stocking. Very good, I'll open it, and he was opening his at the same time.

The very last thing, in the toe, was a black velvet box. Never has anyone ever opened a box so fast as I did. Inside was my dream ring.....I had showed it to my girl Sarah months before and she took care of it. That is a good friend right there.

He asked me to marry him. I don't remember the exact words (he could have called me by the wrong name and I wouldn't have heard it), but the important part is, he asked me to marry him. I'm getting married!!!

I have cried on average three times a day since. Usually happy crying, but sometimes sad; when I think about the people who won't be there like his dad, or my friend Michael....but mostly I'm so insanely happy, it has literally kept me up at night.

I had no idea it was coming. My friend Sarah, who co-ordinated the whole effort, was getting a vacuum, and I was TERRIFIED that I was also getting a vacuum (in which case some of us may have been single by Christmas night).

It was one of those situations, everyone knew but me. He asked my parents for their blessing before proposing, which I am so glad of. I am so grateful for his thoughtfulness. That will probably be the only traditional part of our marriage, let me tell you.

Big changes are coming my friends.

A Blog o Lists

It's been a while since a blog of lists, so I'm gonna tell you about the stuff that I'm obsessed with lately. Here we go!

TV shows:

Big Bang Theory and Modern Family, of course.

Walking Dead, of course. Twice. I mean good God. I get so involved, I strenuously enjoy arguing with the plot and assassinating the idiot characters. plus; zombies. What up.

Top Gear. It's a British car show. Who'da thunk? They're zarking hilarious AND I get to freak people out with surprising car knowledge. I sure don't look like a gear head.

Don't even talk to me about Top Chef. If there was such a thing as chef baseball cards, I'd have 'em all.

Say Yes to the Dress. don't judge me, it's all kinds of feel good. Shut up, I don't cry.

Music (songs):

Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
Somebody I used to Know - Gotye (pronounced Goat-ee-a, I've learned) - have you seen that crazy video with the 5 people and the one guitar doing this song? I was so baffled and jealous. Talented jerks.
No Church in the Wild - Kanye and Jay-Z (I know. I KNOW.)
I Gots to get Paid - ZZ Top (What? ZZ Top?)

Web Stuff:

PINTEREST! For really reals, this is my new fave. Screw facebook, I spend days on pinterest.com

www.postsecret.com. It's sad and lovely, and devastating, and so refreshingly real.

That's all I can think of for now.

Hi guys

I know it's probably the time of year/semester (the last two weeks), but Sweet Jesus on a stick, I am sick to death of school. It's not just me right? I think it's everyone, well, every student. Staring longingly at Christmas decorations, pushing off plans in order to study for finals......le sigh.

So let us focus on the positives my friends, enough of this droopy drawers moaning! Positive thing the first: I am finished Christmas shopping! I on-line window shopped, had everything ready and then did it all in one fell swoop on black Friday. Wonderful!

Thing the second; I have almost paid off my Christmas purchases. Now I'm just talkin crazy, I know - $200 more dollars and my Christmas debt is gone. Not too shabby.

The big craft fair was this past weekend, and as always, I went with my beaded pretties. It was so wonderful to see friends, and all the children and babies, and to see everyone so excited for Christmas. While I didn't do great sales-wise, I had lots of fun.

Positive thing the third: remember how I failed a course this time last year? This year, so far, I'm actually passing this course. It's a very strange feeling for me. Not to be passing, but to be happy about passing. My grades are generally pretty good, so it's been a stiff shock, being SHIT HAPPY about a pass. My final exam for this course is on the 12th, and if you have any love in your heart for your poor beleaguered friend, you'll pray for me.

 Or whatever you do, I'm an equal opportunity accepter of good will.

In other news, I ordered a T-Pain mic for myself last night. My darling should probably be terrified of the noise potential for this purchase. Oh there will be auto tuning of every Christmas carol known to man. Oh yes.

Balls.

So heres the thing guys. Perhaps it's a failing on my part (I do in fact turn into a vacant-staring mouth breather around computers), but I am no longer able to publish with relatie annonimity. When I logged back in last week for the first time in forever, I had to set up a profile and put in a name, and generally make myself known to the man.

I don't like this. I tried to put my name in as The Help, and basically I was told (electronically of course) to stick it up my wazoo. I use my name or I use nothing.

I mean, I know that I was fooling anyone with my nickname, but I did like the sheild, the faceless quality. And I can't do that anymore. I'm like batman with an identity crises (I know, you were probably just thinking about how much like Batman I am).

So I can't talk about my work, or my shitty, shitty school situation. I can't be full-on honest anymore, and I don't like that man. I'm a shitty liar.

I haven't decided if I'm going to keep writing or not. And may I just say; Balls.

The Blogger formerly known as the Help.
Hi, I'm Nicole.

Balls.

Be Warned: Moderate Grossness Ahead

The post-surgical hurty finger.

Hello Dah-links

I haven't written in like 5 months, it's like i've been re-virgin-ized in the whole writing process. I'm a born again virgin. Yeah, I never bought that crap either.....did you have someone come to your school when you were a teenager and talk about the perils of teenage sex, and then clim they were a born again virgin? I did, and even in my as yet unjaded teenage years, I didn't fall for it. sounds to me like you were a raging slut and needed to justify it to yourself lady. but what do I know?

So a lot has happened since I last wrote. A lot of it was just normal life stuff, and honestly I was too tired, like mentally (who knew I was capable of such things?) to write every day. There were days I had a hard time brushing my teeth, so writing was out of the question.

On the good news front, I finally, after a 150 year wait, got my hurty finger fixed! I have a hurty finger no more, and I have literally not taken pain killers ONCE since the post-surgical pain wore off. For the first time in my adult life. I'll include a pic below, but be warned, it ain't pretty. Whats funny about the surgery - I figured since it was such a small thing, doctors kept telling me that it wasn't a big deal (don't you feel like punching people in the nads when they tell you pain isn't real?).....I figured I'd have the surgery in the morning, and be playing piano that afternoon. No so. The surgery kicked my ass, it was nuts. The morphine may have had a part to play in my ass kicking. I got on a plane to Ottawa the night of my surgery (smart move), and my awesome fella picked me up at the airport, and apparently all I did for the rest of the evening was cry and mumble "morphine". What a delight i must have been to be around. Good news is, I don't remember any of it, so I'm just pretending it wasn't me.

I'm back in school. That's all I have to say about that.

I'm going through some stuff right now. I haven't decided if I'm going to talk about it here or not, but I don't want to talk about it today. Suffice it to say, I've had some terrible things happen, and I'm coping. Well. I'm trying.

It's good to see you all again.

The Help

My darlings, My dears

How I have missed you! Please don't hate, let me explain my absence. Picture the last three weeks.....here is what I did: Week 1 (3 weeks ago), had exams (which I kinda killed), worked. Week 2, had clinical time in the hospital, did gross stuff, learned stuff, worked. At the very end of week 2, found out that I was moving, and that I was working/in hospital every day up to moving day. Finished clinical and went home to pack all my worldly possessions. Worked. Moved. Was stressed to the point of breakdown. But!

We have moved, my wonderful man and I. Since our move (not quite a week ago), we have begun breathing on the regular. Sleeping too. Our new place is so much bigger (we have THREE windows now. Three!), it feels like a different world.

And let me tell you something about our happiness levels - we are at an all time high. There has been ZERO snot hawked on our doorknob since moving. There has been no fresh vomit on my stairs, and I have not had to call the police once.

The world feels different when you can sleep. It feels different too, when not living in a cave, I mean having three windows has changed my life. It's the little things.

So I'm working still, but only a few shifts a week, and otherwise, I'm cooking, and sleeping and learning to sew. I'm reading, and trying really, really hard to not feel guilty for doing almost nothing. I don't need to accomplish stuff all the time right? I don't need to always running. Right?

We'll see.

The Help

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.

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*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!

Well, that was brutal.

I've been to a lot of funerals in my time. A lot, a lot, a lot. When your mom is the youngest of 17 (true story), there's always someone buying the farm, it's just the way it is.

I've gone to funerals for young people, old people, long-term sick people, and surprise deaths too.

Today I went to my first funeral in the North.

A girl in my class, lost her father this week. He was a very popular and well-loved man in the city, and there were so many people there, they spilled into the hall, and the porch beyond.

At first, it seemed like a typical funeral, but then the wailing began. It was gut-wrenching, retching sobbing that filled up the room. It was a siren song for mourners; come grieve with me, don't let me be alone.

It was terrible, and beautiful.

I have never encountered anything like it. It made southern funerals seems stunted, cut short. Why do we hold back? Why do we hide our grief?

I think I'm going have a drink now.

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That's the kind of math I like

I did a little math today. I have (spread over 2 weeks), 7 days of classes left! For this semester. This does not include exam week or clinical time in the hospital, but this is a manageable number for me. 7 days. I guess that's not really math, it's just thinking, but whatever, work with me here mm'kay?

3 months and 5 days until I go on vacation. FOR A MONTH. There won't be ANY snow whatsoever. I'm not gonna lie, I've been spending a lot of time in the last little while looking at summer clothes that I'm lusting after, and thinking about summer menus to cook for my wonderful friends down south.

You know what's funny? I cook, like a lot. I'm kinda prideful about it (is prideful the right word in this situation? Only other usage of prideful I can think of is getting a lecture about it in school. God bless the catholics). Point is, I love to cook, I have fancy pants cooking utensils, and am forever feeding people and watching them react to the food (sidenote, I think that is the best bit about cooking. Watching people fall in love with something they never even thought of before. But I digress). Long story short (too late), I cook, I love to cook, and I don't think I have ever cooked for my family. For real. What the frak is that about?? Weird hey? I guess it's cause I don't live in Newfoundland anymore, and I didn't really find my cooking legs (whatever, you know what I mean) until I moved to Nunavut. Which is also kind of funny, given the price of food around here. It's expensive to be experimenting in the kitchen.

I remember the first time my parents REALLY heard me sing. It was the same sort of thing. I never really stop singing, and they heard me sing in church a bajillion times (which is not really singing, It's the little white gloves of singing.). But after my friend Michael's funeral, me and all my hippie friends descended on my parents house (mom made a giant meal for us all, as none of us had eaten for days. I wonder where I get it from.....) and after eating, we decided to sing. We wanted to sing him up. We sang every song every one of us had ever known, and then some.

My parents were there, hovering in the background, and I remember very clearly (everything that happened that day is burned into my memory), my mom saying to me later "I knew you could sing, but I didn't know you could sing like that. I didn't know you could do that." It is one of my fondest memories ever, let alone of that day, when there weren't many good memories.

I can't wait to do this again. I'm thinking a mango gazpacho to start.

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