You'll never believe what I've gone and done now.

So you know how I'm going to nursing school right? I'll be trucking along, writing notes, or studying or drinking coffee or shaving my legs, like not thinking about anything really, and then it'll hit me out of the blue - holy fuck, I'm gonna be a nurse. Like when I'm done with the classes, when the last bell rings (no, there's not actually a bell, I'm going for some imagery here people), people are going to depend on me. People are going to put their health in my hands. This thought doesn't scare me as such, it does weigh me down however (and that's not necessarily a bad thing). It forces me to do well. I don't want to be the person who barely passed, I want to be awesome. Christ. Ok, maybe it scares me a little.

And what pray tell have I gone and done? Two things really - I've already done a few psychology courses in  university, and I had the option of skipping the first psychology this year. I decided to do it anyway. My mark was ok at best, and I was 17 when I did it. Crazy? Or trying to get this right? And, the other thing - I signed up for student council, because obviously, the full time job, full time NURSING school, the choir, the beading, and spending time with the best guy ever was not enough. I mean, there's keeping busy, and there's me. Gonzo. But I think it's gonna be ok. I'll do what I can til I can't anymore.

I was going to put in another segment of the idiot series today, but I realised I haven't done a daily slice in a while. So today's slice of deep fried awesome - http://www.dlisted.com/. This is another gossip blog, but the writer, Michael K is pretty musch the opposite of Lainey. He is disgusting, and I love it. So again, not for the faint of heart, the homophobic or my mom, but shit is he ever funny. Funny!

Kisses!
The Help

Only Six Hours to Go

It has been quite a day my friends. I've been up since, oh I don't know, really fucking early, and today has been an excellent indicator of what kind of semester I'm gonna have (meaning: complete insanity). BUT! The good news - I finally got my schedule today (an hour after school started, hilarious. I thought of you my friends, I was writing this here post in my head as I was sitting there) and I got the first of my GIANT nursing text books. Further good news, my boss was able to work with my school schedule. Right? Could things get any better? Of course! Cause I have tomorrow and Thursday off of work, so I only have school and choir for the next two days, it's practically a vacation. There's gonna be baths. There might even be some vino, oh yes.

I cannot stress enough, how very exciting it is for me that I never have to go to karaoke again. Ok, my best friend is the host, so I'll probably show my face someday, but never again will I host. It's probably for the best, I was becoming emotionally unruly (ha! that is such a polite way of saying how I was feeling). So for my friend Matthew, who deals with this business so much better then I do, I dedicate this next segment of the idiots guide.

How to Go to Karaoke (Part 11)

Some say that hosting karaoke is not a job, but it's on my resume, and I had to show up every week for those two long years. Just because I was allowed to drink during....what anyone in the hosting position will tell you, you HAVE to drink to tolerate the goings on that go on at karaoke.

• No, no one is going to force you to sing. If your friends are the type to force you, don't act all surprised when they write down your name. You know your friends. The host really doesn't give a shit if you want to sing or not, and they definitely don't want to waste any time trying to talk you into it.
• Oddly, the host does not know all the numbers (song numbers, cd numbers) that coincide with every song. I LOVE it when people write down just the song name. LOVE IT! Oh yeah, there are only 12000 songs to pick from,  but no no, I'm the one not doing my job if I don't know them off by heart. Pull it together!
• "You don't have the song I want!" (so much better is said in a whiny voice, and throw in a foot stomp for good measure). You are right. There are lots of songs I don't have - grow up and fuck off. If you can't find one song in 12000 that you want to sing, you are clearly not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and don't deserve the adulation that comes with being a karaoke star.
• Believe it or not, the host does have an order. There is a method to the madness, even if you can't devine that method in your drunken stupor. The person who asks every few minutes, the person who insists on being a dick about it, these are the people who's selection magically disappears. Opps.
• There is no heckling at karaoke! It's really hard to be on the business side of a mic, and some people are totally pushing their personal boundaries to do it, so keep that in mind the next time you hear a bad singer. It's FUN. Remember fun?
• If you don't sing, you don't get a vote. About song selection, priority singers....shit, even if you do sing you don't get a vote. Shut your trap and play nice.
• The whole thing goes a lot easier for all concerned if you just have another drink.
• It's a very rare instance that being friends with the host bumps you up in line. Any person that has to ask - we aren't that kind of friends. You stay in line.
• It is very bad form to pick a song and then refuse to do it, or worse, do part of the song and walk away. You don't get two chances with me, I have a VERY long memory.
• Singers, keep in mind that no one is expecting professionals. It's karaoke, chances are you're going to be ok at best. Have fun, throw in some dance moves, sing it like you mean it! Is that so much to ask?
• It's a good rule to sing songs that you have actually heard before. And if you have overestimated your knowledge of a song, you go all William Shatner on their asses. Works every time.
• As with hotels, and retail, it's the karaoke host's JOB to be an approachable party starter. This is not an invitation. i was once bitten on the leg mid-song by a really smart drunk who thought I was askin for it. I did not junk punch him in his man business, but I certainly considered it as I got him kicked out of the bar.

The last piece of info - and I admit, this could just be me - could you stop with the kill yourself music? Just notice what happens to the room when someone does the slow sad stuff....the party stops. People go smoke. It's supposed to be a party, not a showcase. Yes, yes, you're a freaking singing genius, good for you. Sing something fun. That is all. Except of course, be nice to the host, and to the other karaoke patrons. Don't be an idiot.

Are we sensing a theme here folks?
Thank you to everyone for their well wishes. You people, my dear readers, you are the shit.

The Help

A Little Late

I know it's late in the day, I got a little turned around today time-wise. I've never really gotten the hang of Tuesdays, but apparently the same time/space laws apply.

So It's Monday, I've just been informed. No wonder I'm messed up.

Tomorrow is the first day of classes so today has alternately been the longest and shortest day of my life thus far. Truth told, I'm scared to death. I keep forgetting and making plans for tomorrow, but then I remember that I may very well be in class when I'm making these plans. I don't know yet of course, as I haven't been given a schedule yet. That's right, no schedule for classes that I will be expected to attend tomorrow. Cue maniacal laughter! I'm a pretty organized broad, so all of this chaos is kind of throwing me off kilter.

Wish me sleep tonight my friends, I'm gonna need all the help I can get.

The Help

And on the seventh Day, there was True Blood

Well, actually, there was work, then True Blood. Gonna have me a marathon tonight....a wonderful guest has loaned (lent?  Whatever, gave over) the first 2 seasons of the show, and I have seen maybe 5 episodes up to now, and it's very exciting times for me. I like those HBO shows, I like the fact that they don't hold back on the bloodletting or the swearing. And sometimes frontal nudity! Whoo-hooo!!

Lets talk about the bloodletting thing shall we? People ask me all the time why zombies, mayhem, and horror movies (I basically only watch horror and comedies. I think life provides enough drama, fuck it). What is the deep seated psychological reason behind my blood lust? No idea. I love the gore, and I live for inventive killing techniques. Like Diary of the Dead, one of King Romero's most recent efforts, is a godforsaken pile of crap but it has one redeeming quality - the kills are interesting. At one point, the group of characters is in a hospital, and when a member of the recently undead comes for one of the cast members (Good old George, he's a fan of the old school slow moving zombie), she puts defibrillator pads on either side of the zombie's head and zaps. Eyeballs explode, brains leaking......aah, good times. The helicopter blade massacre in 28 Weeks Later? Forget about it. I'm almost never scared by any of these movies, and double plus bonus, I am completely prepared for the zompocolypse.

So last night I went to a bonfire. There was just 4 of us there for most of it, and it was really chill. At one point, my fella and I walked far enough away from the fire that we couldn't really see the fire light anymore. And then we looked up. My God, talk about the wonder of the universe. It was possibly the most amazing thing I've ever seen. It was like we could see til the end of the world. I've never seen so many stars, such a wide scope of sky, uninterrupted by light pollution. It's nights like that, when the northern lights come out to dance for us, and a shooting star makes it's trek across the sky (for real), the most wonderful man has his arm around me.....it's nights like that that make me forget. I forget about school stress, and fear, and annoyance and bad service. It's nights like last night that make me realise how very lucky I am. I see amazing, beautiful things that MOST people in the world will never ever see, and I am so grateful. Shit, I wish I could paint. But maybe the view, and the world, and the universe I saw last night, this giant vista of sheer awesome, maybe it's better just in my head.

I will leave you at that my friends, til next time.

The Help

The Hangover Crises of 2010 has passed

Alright, so maybe it was only a crises to me, but it felt like the battle of the end of days was happening inside my noggin for much of yesterday. See, I drink Jack Daniels. Jack Daniels with water as my mix. The brave few who have tried it have decided that it tastes like either perfume or nail polish remover. I think it tastes like awesome, but it is very, very hard on the head. Like getting beaten up from the inside out. It would probably be best if I talked about something else now, all this JD talk is making me shaky and scared.

I'm feelin less bitter toward the world today as well, which is probably nice for everyone, in particular, my fella. I don't think I was very pleasant to be around yesterday.  I finally, after about 2 weeks of wrangling, procured a plane ticket off of the wonderful people over at aeroplan (oh, how my tune changed when I actually got the ticket), so for the first time ever since I've moved here, I will be flying down south in December. Gonna visit my man, some friends, and a giant cheese.  I also ordered beads today - in my obviously copious spare time, I make jewelry. So the bead shopping was a treat. Yep, I've got the world on a string here today.

So in the spirit of my lack of hangover, I present to you another segment in the Idiot series -

How to Party (Part 14)

Everyone, including you, needs to party more. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone spent a little more time getting stupid. At 33, I figured I'd be past the partying stage, but no, I party. Remember when you were 22? Me either, so it must have been a hell of a good time:

• Better to over dress then under dress. So you may be the only person in a skirt and heels, but wait! What's that sound? That's the sound of everyone noticing you.
• Don't plan too much. You've got 14 parties you are supposed to hit up tonight - bring enough cab money, but also resign yourself to the fact that you may not want to leave the first party, let alone the 8th. If you're having a laugh, you are not missing out.
• Bring only the essentials - ID, money, booze, lipgloss, condoms. Think about what you're bringing before you go. If you end up drinking in an ally somewheres, you don't want to be lugging around a duffle bag full of foundation and spare pantyhose. If you don't want to carry it, don't bring it.
• Know that (if it's a good party), by the end of the night, you're going to look and smell like a wet ashtray, no matter how much prep time you put in or how much crap you haul around with you.
• Life is too short for shitty parties! If you aren't having a kick ass time, pull up stakes and get the truck out of there. Any hot number such as yourself will find a fresh new gig double time.
• Don't leave your friends behind. Or let them get felt up by nasty dudes with facepaint in the living room corner. Also, if a friend wants to leave, take their word for it - fuck off with the moaning and the guilt trips.  Let them be adult enough to decide for themselves. Help them get home, it doesn't mean you have to pack it in right?
• This is very, very important. Partying often leads to drinking. Drinking often leads to drunkness. Drunkness inevitably leads to DUMBASS BEHAVIOR. I once had a friend physically remove the phone from my apartment so I couldn't drunk dial an ex. He gave me back my phone the next day and will forever be exempt from my "people to kill" list. Friendship yo.
• If you see an ex - friend/partner/sister in law, don't get into it at the party. Neither of you will be making any sense and it just brings everyone down. Don't be a buzz kill man.
• Know your limits, drinking, drugs, gambling, strippers. Know when enough is enough. If you just got hitched to a busty gal named Candy, you may be over the line. If you've vomited on anyone (especially Candy) you have crossed over. If you have come to the realisation that you have licked several people's faces, go home. You've had enough.
• If the cops come: firstly, congrats, clearly it's a kickin' shin dig. Secondly, don't argue with the cops. They don't give a fiddler's fuck about what you were up to before they arrived (unless there was virgins being sacrificed or something), chances are, they just want you to simmer down some. turn the music down, stop riding the dog like a bull, put your clothes back on.The cops don't want to arrest you, they want to get on to the next call.
• If you are going to get it on at a party, EVERYONE will know about it soon enough, and you have just engraved your own gossip invitation. All in good fun right?

Everyone has done something stupid and/or embarrassing at parties. If you haven't, you aren't trying hard enough. Get out there, have a laugh. I'm going to stop partying when I'm dead. I'll sleep then too. Remember that every party leaves a disaster in it's wake, so be thoughtful of your host. Be nice. Don't be an idiot.

Happy Saturday my friends.
The Help

I would like to preface by saying I have a hangover. This hangover seems to have a life of it's own, this is a vile beast of a hangover, haven't had one this bad in a while. But there was no morning after puking, which in the few times it has happened, I've found very alarming. I mean shit, it cannot be a good sign if you actually couldn't sleep it off. Perhaps my liver is actually trying to up and run away. I'm not telling you this for sympathy's sake, I'm telling you so that if I seem particularly rotten today, it's because everything is colored by a slightly green, nauseous, vaguely fuzzy patina.

There's days I really hate living here. And yes, I do understand that no matter where in the world I am, there will be days that I hate living there, even the far greener pastures of Newfoundland. Please to tell dear Help, why so bitter? Well I'll tell you. Aside from the awful bureaucratic frenzy that has been the start of my northern academic career, I've had a pretty heavy case of south-sickness these last few days. Not home-sickness as such, it's defiantly a south thing. I can't tell you what I would give to be able to go to a bookstore. Have a latte. I went looking for some kind of treat for myself yesterday, as I was really needing a little retail therapy, and the two stores that are available didn't offer any relief. I went home empty handed. Do you know how nice it would be to be able to buy a t-shirt, just because? So take delight in these things, my friends who live in the south.  Think about how lucky you are to be able to go and sit under a tree.

Case in point: there are basically four restaurants in this fair city. Four that offer sit down, people will bring you food, service. There are other options, sort of, but that's not what we're talking about today. I have a group of friends, and generally once a week, we get together for lunch at one of these establishments. It's really nice for us, it's a cool oasis where none of us (meaning me) have to cook. Of the four restaurants, there is one we cannot visit because it is the former employer of one of the group. We are down to three. The one place we visit the most often has typically laughable service, but it is again something that one becomes accustomed to in the north. We overlook. We don't complain. We keep going back. But today dear readers, even the usual craptastic service, was above and beyond. They outdid themselves this day, and everyone in the group left roaring mad. I won't get into the major details, cause really who cares besides us, but I will say this - everyone was late for work. I had to miss an entire orientation event because they took so long getting it together. And the bit that really galls me is that we all had to pay FULL PRICE to have them fuck up our day. If we were in the south, this restaurant would be out of business. If this were the south, these managers who were afraid to look any of us in the eye, would be kissing our asses so we didn't tell everyone and their sister of our ordeal. There would be free dessert. And that is another reason why I have this deep seated south-sickness. They treat us poorly, offer "two slices of deep fried awful (so says my good friend Chris)", and give us food that is ok at best. They do this because they can. What are our alternatives? We are running out of restaurants. Try, my southern friends, to wrap your head around the notion that there are TWO PLACES you can go. Scary isn't it?

I realise that there are many things wrong with the world, that there is hunger and strife and Miley Cyrus assaulting the eardrums of our fragile youth, and so my grievance with exceptionally poor service my seem a tad shallow, but the day to day  living in the north is never easy, and so a life stripped of simple pleasures is a very frightening prospect.

But enough. There have been good bits from these last few days as well. Last night was my last time hosting karaoke after a 2 year run, and most everyone I've ever known and loved in this city came out for the final showdown. I sang my ass off, shook it like I owned it, and of course got silly drunk.

Several people who's opinion I hold very dear told me that they love my blog, and send it on to their friends. I've had almost 500 views of this here blog in the scant week that I've been doing it. I only figured out how to check the stats yesterday, and I was completely boggled. So for that, thank you.

My choir had it's first rehearsal of the season last night, and I'm still high. It was such a joy, we all left walkin on sunshine.

I got many sweet kisses today. I am a lucky girl indeed.

So today's slice of deep fried awesome: www.fmylife.com. Whatever kind of bad day you've had, these poor mo-fo's have had it much worse, promise. These are little tales, and they are all so mortifying, you start to feel good about yourself, cause while lunch may have been shitty, and there's no place to buy books or shoes, at least no one pissed on your pillow and stole your grandmother. Silver lining right?

I hope today is the best day of your life. And I hope tomorrow is better.

Love,
The Help

No more coffee for me today!! Will try and curb my exclamation point use!!!

I'm kind of hovering above my chair, ready for take off. I don't usually drink this much caffeine, and my, it's hit me like a wet brick here today. I got up super early for orientation (which I did show up to - a mere 20 minutes late. Those 20 minutes were spent trying to figure out where in hell it was), and had some crazy tea, and thus the caffeine spiral began. ANYWAY, orientation was, uh, something. People kept asking me if I was an instructor, my sunglasses were stolen during a 3 minute getting to know you exercise, and if anything I am way more scared then I was this time yesterday. But it'll be ok, every little thing is gonna be alright. Bob Marley told me so.

So today I'm going to add another Idiot segment. I've decided to go out of order, and this segment, "How to Be a Friend" is one of my faves.

How to Be a Friend (Part 4)

Ever since the big guy put the first two idiots out of Eden and told 'em to multiply, we have been on an all idiots, all the time joyride. Thankfully we have friends to hold us up. Again, this seems pretty basic, but we are a BUNCH OF IDIOTS, so we need all the help we can get:

• No, it's not ok to call up a friend in the middle of the night to borrow money for lap dances. In fact, you probably shouldn't call in the middle of the night in general. If someone calls me in the middle of the night, I want to see either a bone sticking out of skin, or a corpse.
• There are two simple ways to fuck up a solid friendship: money and sex. Don't have sex with your friends fool!  And money....have you ever watched Judge Judy? That is why you should never lend your friends money. Obviously, I'm not talking about the cost of a meal  if your wallet gets left home, I'm talking real advances. Money for car payments, or rent, or the quickie annulment after your most recent trip to Vegas.
• If you have messed up, and done one of the above, it's ok, there are solutions. About money: write it down, make a re-payment plan and stick to it even though it sucks to get all up in your peep's grill. Think how much worse it will be after a few months, and you haven't said anything, and they're scared you're going to, so they've found new friends, and you're resenting being the good guy.....you know what, just don't lend your friends money. and the sex issue. First you have to figure out if you want to get it on again, or if that one ride on the platonic hobby horse is enough.If it's just the one time, know that shit is gonna be awkward and weird for a little while, and then you'll both move on. If you want to do it more then once, then you're either getting into a relationship, or becoming (dun dun duuuuuun) friends with benefits. I may be an idiot, but I'm not that stupid.
• The debate every person has had with themselves at least once in their lives - because I'm a good friend, do I say something about the stupid hair/fat ass/bad choices in partners/BO? Or, because I'm a good friend, do I never ever say anything about the unibrow/shoulder pads/hippie stank? This is a very tough debate, and I think it hinges on several factors. You never say anything about fat, life choices, or partners (think of it this way - if they stay together forever, who was the asshole that doubted and spoke up? Holy lifetime of resentment Batman). You never say anything about coulda, woulda, shoulda (yeah, cause you want to hear I told you so from someone besides mom). The other stuff, weigh in only if it gets brought up. In private. With kindness and love. You gotta remember, these people probably don't realise that they smell or whatever, and it certainly was never their intention to draw attention to themselves in such a negative way.
• Don't bail on your friends to get laid. at the beginning of a relationship, poeple are going to disappear for a bit, it's inevitable. Don't be the person who disappears forever. Don't be the person who forgets that they had a whole wide life before meeting the new fun times partner.
• Give your friends a hundred chances. Or better yet, don't count the chances.
• Know that, sometimes things said, even out of love, can cut to the bone.
• A true friend never brings a friend on Maury Povich. Or forgets a birthday, or pulls away when lovin' is needed. You don't need to buy extravagant gifts, or leap to action every time something is wrong. More often the knowledge of not being alone, knowing that there is always someone in your corner is far better then any potential beat down a friend could provide.
• If you ever make a friend choose between you and another loved one, you will be the one to lose. Everytime.
• To paraphrase the great Chip and Pepper, "friends don't let friends wear speedos". Also, friends don't let friends have mullets, butt bows on wedding dresses, Twilight obsessions, listen to the Eagles, or wear dresses that are the equivalent of poring ten pounds of sugar in a five pound bag. Or crocs. Under any circumstances, crocs are not ok.

Mean things get said sometimes. As a friend, you forgive. Also as a friend, you watch your stupid mouth because every word you say has resonance. the good bit about us all being idiots, is that we're all idiots. We're all in the same boat, paddling with one oar, not knowing which direction we're pointed in, hoping for the best with each stroke. Take care of your friends. Be nice. Don't be an idiot.

So wish me luck in the madhouse tomorrow.
Go do something nice for someone you love.

The Help