Congratulations Graduate!

Is it just me,or does EVERYONE feel the need to void their bladder  

upon decent in an aircraft? I am 12 minutes away from landing in  

Winnipeg,Manitoba to attend my baby sisters highschool graduation;  

(this is a misnomer because the reader should know my sister is 5"10  

and capable of taking down the loch ness monster). There comes a time  

in everyones life where you realize your youth has escaped you,and for  

myself,at 21,it had finally happened. Now coupled with the other  

neurotic, psychosocial,and mental issues my psychologist was currently  

tackeling,he could add this to the list of nightmares I present him  

with on a bi-weekly basis. Poor guy,honestly, being my shrink has to  

be THE worst job in the world. I'm a fucking nightmare,and being  

responsible for untangeling that is a heurculean task.

Back to the point, those in attendance at this event will be, my  

sibling, Eurocandy( her European boyfriend she picked up at boarding  

school), Platypuses family,Platypus, and Popsicle. Just so you know, these  

Platypus kin and Popsicle get along about as well as Platypuses and  

Popsicles in the real world. The have Zero use for one another and I  

imagine the Platypus will use all of it's claws and various water  

mammal skills against Popsicle. This should be good.... I've never been one to pray to a higher power, but this was most certainly the time. 

Night One:

 I arrived at the airport and descended the stairs with all the other passengers, wondering why the fuck I had come to Winnipeg, easily THE dullest city in Canada. Its kind of like our Iowa. Anyways, Platypus had instructed me that I was to look for my sibling in the crowd and she would bring me to her waiting vehicle. I wandered around a part of the terminal that was foreign to me, Platypus had gotten Air Chaos in the divorce and I was forced to take a West Jet flight and wind up somewhere I had never ever seen in my life. Those of us really LOVE when you thrust us into new and unexpected circumstance like this. Its an absolute fucking  nightmare. After wandering aimlessly for a few moments I spotted my sibling and her Eurocandy coming towards me. I'm going to stop here and mention why I have decided to call him Eurocandy. After attending a homosexual filled thanksgiving with my sibling, the gays went a little bonkers over Eurocandy and gave him his name. I decided I liked it and thus, it stuck. He was one of few men I had ever seen my sibling around that actually dwarfed her. I loved this because I am always feeling midget-ized and felt having a taste of her own medicine would be good for her. 

Upon retrieving my bag my sibling was shocked that anyone could travel anywhere without 9 bags and a carry-on for 4 days. I'm amazing what can I say. Once outside, my sibling, Eurocandy, and I waited for Platypus. It dawns on me now that I spend a large chunk of my life WAITING on Platypus, but thats a whole other can of worms. All the sudden we saw a bright blue Ford Escape coming towards us with loud rap music coming from it. THIS, is Platypuses M.O., she loves her "black-music", her words, not mine, and likes to blare it loudly from her incredibly 'white' vehicle. The more characteristically 'white', the better. "Holy crap Platypus! this is not the VMA's. Dial it down a notch!" was my reaction, however I opted for the more subtle, "turn this shit down". Platypus is a hot damn mess at the best of times, but she has these moments where I think she wants to be Tupac and I have to burst her bubble back to reality. I recall one specific instance in Vancouver in a rented Crown Vic that always makes me smile; The car was silent, and all you could hear was me gnawing on my tuna fish sandwich. Out of the blue, Platypus very sternly and seriously with the same inflection one would use to remind themselves to pick up the dry cleaning, "I need to get a Ludacris CD". I am 80% sure I choked on my food. I wanted to explain to my mother that she was white, and that white mothers of two do not frequently purchase his album. But sometimes, as is typical with most of my family, I like to let the lunacy play out so I can laugh about it later. After driving around and having to tell Plat several times to turn her gangsta rap down, we reached my hotel and I got to check in and have a much awaited shower.

I walked up to the random concierge who clearly had not slept in months and explained that I was Popsicles daughter and he had made arrangements for me to check in prior to his arrival. She listed two reservations under Popsicles name, A room with 2 beds, and an executive suite. "Well, the suite certainly sounds like Popsicle, but I know he changed the reservation when I decided to attend so I think it is the second one.." I explained to the shrew at the counter. She took my card and gave me a room key and I went on my way. Upon arriving in my room, I was 90% sure I had made an error. This room was the size of a walk in closet and had 2 of the smallest beds I have ever seen. I believe " what the fuck!" was my exact reaction to this much awry chain of events. But I was exhausted so I decided to shower and order some meatloaf. Popsicle wouldn't arrive till 1am so I decided to get some sleep. 

I have enough issues sleeping in strange locals due to my anxiety disorder, but this hot mess of a room was not making it much easier. By the time I finally passed out I was awoken by a "rat tat tat" at the door. Fuck. A serial killer. If you think i'm kidding, I am so not. This is part of generalized anxiety disorder. Everything from a knock at the door to a kitten sets me off like an asshole. Life worrys me. Nevermind some strange asshole at the door. Once I realized it was Popsicle I groggily opened the door and asked him why the fuck he didn't think to use his provided room key. He announced that he was in a suite upstairs and that this location was not suitable for him. Fuck. Well excellent. Now i get to uproot my ass and relocate to a whole other wing of the hotel. Popsicle seemed set on doing it right then, but i got back in bed, put on my eyeshades and pulled the covers over my head. To any sane person this is a gesture to fuck off, but Popsicle was not copying me. He insisted on planning for the next days move. I was over it and kicked him out. I proceeded to take an Ativan, an inanely common occurrence around Popsicle, and went back to bed. 

Day Two: 

At 8:30am I was promptly woken via phone by Popsicle who suggested I get my shit together so I could move. I had to get dressed for the siblings graduation brunch and convocation and move my shit all at once. This was not going to be a good morning. And of course, Popsicle had to show up to stress me out/move me along midway through and inquired as to why my skirt and top didn't seem to match. "WELL, if I didn't have people pacing around my room and rushing me about I'd be a bit more together wouldn't I?". It's well established I have anxiety, But popsicle is about a million times worse about most things.Its fucking exhausting and he should really be consulting a professional. I rallied my ass, moved my stuff, and we went down to the main floor for some breakfast. We hadn't been sitting more than 5 minutes when I start playing with Popsicles iPad and creating an aquatic sea scape when I hear, "SHITTTT!". " WHAT?, POPSICLE, WHAT IS WRONG?", I contemplated asking if Timmy fell down the well but I sensed from the sheet white color he had turned that this was not the time. " I LEFT YOUR SISTERS GRADUATION DRESS ON THE PLANE!"... I Covered my mouth in shock, partly to conceal my laughter. Before his heart could skip another beat Popsicle was on the phone with his over-payed travel god getting it tracked down. The gentleman's name was Scott and he said he would call Popsicle ASAP with any developments. Any chance of this day going at all smoothly was about to fly right out the fucking window. 

It has been explained to me that due to my anxiety disorder I tend to pant rather than breathe like a normal person. I had never really understood this until I saw Popsicle in his state of despair. I managed to calm him mildly and we got into a cab and headed for my siblings school. I had wanted to bring Platypus in at this juncture because of her avid air travel contacts, but Popsicle forbid it. He had a look on his face that was about on par with " hey dad i'm pregnant", so I decided to obey his wishes, as much as it pained me to do so for comedic reasons. Once we arrived at the school, Popsicle was still flipping out and upon seeing my sibling began sweating bullets. My sister is terrifying a the best of times, I can only imagine her wrath if her custom made grad dress did not arrive. This shit is HILARIOUS when it isn't happening to you personally. Popsicle is a hot mess, and this little incident had proven me right. Every time she was within 30cm's of him, Popsicle would flip out. He spent most of his time on the phone with Scott and how my sibling didn't catch on that something was up, I was shocked. Dad has all the ticks of a lime diseased mouse, he is not skilled at being subtle when trouble is afoot. I attempted to offer him prescription anti-psychotics to hide his freakish franticness but he was having none of it. 

Once we got into the gym, and were waiting for everyone to get their shit together so I could see my sibling convocate, Popsicle told Platypus and my aunt what he had done. Platypus just about died. She loves to think Popsicle is totally incompetent so when shit like this happens she is over the bloody moon about it. She wished Popsicle luck in his location of the gown because she knew my sibling would rip him in half if he did not manage to get it to her before he had to confess his mistake. Once the grad finally started Popsicle got more nervous. The closer we got to her graduation dinner, the more trouble he knew was coming to him. When each graduate was on stage, they would announce their accomplishments, if they were graduating with honors, and what schools they were accepted to, as well as where they planned to attend. WHAT A FUCKING NIGHTMARE. Nothing makes you feel like more of an asshole than watching 90 17-year olds have their triumphs listed to you in sequence. NOTHING. I am aware that I myself have many accomplishments, but this bullshit was seriously out of hand. If i had a gun with me, I would have used it. Only one fuck up didn't graduate with honors of any kind. She looked like a slut, but If i was her, being the only loser in the entire graduating class to NOT have honors, I'd have jumped off a cliff. I'm sorry, I don't give a shit that your child is amazing. You payed for this so I have no Idea why it needs to go on parade. Anywho, once they got to my sibling I was about to wet my pants. Platypus looked on proudly, Popsicle, hot mess that he is, was fucking with the camera and managed to miss the whole thing, and I was sitting on the edge of my chair beaming like an idiot. I was easily the proudest person there. I did not expect to be so excited but it snuck up on me. You would have  thought Britney Spears was graduating from my immensely excited look. Although my sibling looked destained, I screamed anyways. How often does your only younger sister graduate?! Once. The answer is once. Midway through, Popsicle informed me that Scott had located the package and Platypus agreed to pick it up when she went back to the airport. It really was a team effort from everyone but myself. I was just thrilled to see my parents working together, apparently years of loathing had gotten old and they decided to be a team. 

After all the graduating, we went for dinner at the best steakhouse in Winnipeg, Selected by my VEGAN sibling. Why a vegan would choose to go somewhere she couldn't eat anything i have no idea. But regardless it was the BEST Meal I have had in a while. We went with a friend of hers and her family of brazilians. Let me tell you, The brazilians have a passion for meat that cannot be matched. Also the more it bleeds, the happier they are. It's similar to how starving lions react to fresh meat. My sibling also introduced me to a tower of, and I cannot stress what an under-sell this is, THE BEST ONION RINGS EVER CREATED!! Holy smokes were these little tempura battered messes good. After this gigantic meal, we went back to the hotel room to rest/ prepare for the hot mess that would be the next day. 

Day 3:
On the third day of grad-fest at my siblings school, was the big grad dinner with everyones family and assorted dates. Since Popsicle had located the package, aka, my siblings dress, I was slightly less excited about the drama that would occur. It being Winnipeg, Popsicle and I did virtually nothing all day other than playing with his iPad, so we were steeped to venture outside of the room. Once we got dressed we went to mingle with my aunts and Platypus at the bar. While awaiting my siblings arrival, we ordered champagne and Popsicle informed us that my sibling had requested he send the car service for her at her party. Because clearly, her shit was in top organizational form... This is sort of typical of my sibling, she just assumes Popsicle will send for her wherever her location  and straighten out and shit of hers that is awry. I, being the older sibling am often left to figure things out for myself, or if I am to receive assistance I am informed that I should really have been thinking clearly. Apparently, nobody expects my sister and her whirlwind tornado to think for itself. Once she finally arrived at the bar we gathered the group and headed up to the designated area. 


This is where shit began to hit the fan at a rapid rate. Platypus and Popsicle were learning from the photography team that they could not have the 15 or so photos they desired and would need to stay within a space of 3-4 as to not take up the entire fucking evening. This is pretty typical of the circus, we seem to think that the world revolves around a central point, and that point is our hot mess of a family. After hearing Plat and Pop discuss what various poses my sibling would need to take, we finally settled on 4. The team of individuals taking these pictures pretty much looked at us like we were right out of our tree. I don't blame them, I myself was trying to locate the nearest alcoholic beverage to my human! SO long carb free diet! As long as my entire family is involved I find it best to drink Heavily. I felt for my sibling who could not partake in alcohol and considered slipping her an Ativan. After we ruined the lives of the photographers, the clan moved on to the middle of the cocktail area where we proceeded to fawn over various camera difficulties. My mother did not comprehend I knew how to work a camera and requested I find Eurocandy at once,as this was a 'blue' job. Popsicle attempted to remedy the situation, but he struggles to turn ON the camera let alone preform diagnostics. I was then instructed to take photos of Platypus and my aunts in their outfits so they could show them to grandmother. Platypus made a huge deal of this and pretty much told me not to fuck it up. Apparently, taking pictures of 3 people all at once was more than my little bird brain could muster.... Once everyone had been photographed I marched up to the bar and took the nearest glass of white wine I could locate and proceeded to knock it back like I was at a kegger. This was rapidly increasing my anxiety and I had decided on self-medicating rather than jumping out the window nearest me. 


Once we all got into the dinner area and found our table we were informed by Platypus that she was required to sign a waiver that nobody at our table would get out of hand. This was a pretty lost cause as I was rapidly becoming more intoxicated. My sibling then shared a story from her convocation, saying that the head of graduation or whatever had come up to her and said " oh! you decided not to wear makeup to grad! Thats so cute!". I immediately disliked her. Having been picked on for most of my education up until highschool where I became a D cup, and people started noticing me, I had much experience with these types of girls. Basically, their sole premise is to make themselves feel more important by telling you your shit is out of line. And upon becoming much more sure of my place in the social order of things, I had become accustom to telling these sorts of girls to shove it up their ass. I would also like to state that if any of you have a younger sibling you will understand my distain for this girl. Having a younger sibling, even if they could easily beat the tar out of you like my amazon sister, you still feel the need to protect them from assholes like this.My sibling suffers from being far too polite to people she should really punch in the face. I informed her I would like to meet this bitch and set her straight about what's what. My sibling told me that she was wearing a dress she had made a week ago. I decided my plan of attack would be to go up to this girl and say " oh your speech was nice! Oh your dress looks homemade thats so cute!". Everyone but my sister seemed to share my enthusiasm for this comment. Has I run in to her in the bathroom, that is exactly the speech I would make. My sibling was determined naturally to keep us as far apart as possible. 


After all the endless speeches and videos I had come to learn were going to be a theme of the grad festivities, came the dancing. I do not consider myself a strong dancer. In fact,  I am positive I would win "So you think you can't dance?" if it ever becomes a show. But I decided to participate with my sibling and Popsicle, As well as my siblings brazilian friend and her ballin' ass brazilian family. The brazilians throw down, let me tell you. Once we all started dancing in a circle and fist pumping, a japanese friend of my sibling and his parents had joined in. This would not be exciting normally, but they were in full on kimonos and rocking it japan style. I don't know if I have ever been so excited to dance with someone in my life. This guys little 4 foot asian momma in her ballin' kimono was fist pumping. I just about wet myself. This was easily the highlight of the weekend. By that time, It was 11pm and everyone who was not a date of a graduate was kicked the fuck out. This was fine with me because I was pretty close to being on my face, and as long as my family is present at important events, my life will NOT be together. 




P.S- I forgot to mention in my rant about the mean girl, but halfway through dinner, my hot mess of an aunt got up, and left. She decided she had enough graduation and without a goodbye peaced it. This is very much typical of her, however Platypus was sure she was in the bathroom, and upon learning that she was off the reservation, was not overly shocked. I can't wait till people think I am out of my tree enough to just bounce in the middle of a meal. That will be the day...

Homeward Bound.

It may not come as a shock that a control freak like myself with severe anxiety problems is a shitty traveler. I truly do not trust in the organizational skills of others and this causes my human a lot of stress. Also suffering from a generalized anxiety disorder means that pretty much everything causes me to flip out to some degree. Sometimes I wish I had a specific anxiety or phobia related to gazelles or peeing in public but no, I need to flip about everything. And it is bloody exhausting let me tell you, especially at 5:30am Cuban time.

This little tale follows my adventures in leaving Cuba. I feel I need to preface it by saying that on vacation, once it is time to go home I want to be home NOW and have zero patience for the needs and desires of others. 

The Cuban airport is a hot mess. It is about as organized as a retierment party  

put together by a sealion. I've never known an airport to completely  

shut down at night, Never mind one in a country who's main source of  

income is tourists. But whatever Cuba. You dance to the beat of your  

own drummer. Upon arival, the "staff" behind the counter seemed  

confused as to why the hell people were there. Newsflash, maybe we  

want to get on a fucking plane. Crazy.I know. I detest waiting of any variety and lines are my least favorite if I was to make a list. Albeit at this time I was second in line, I was still horribly displeased. I hate waiting on others to get their shit together. I really do, If someone who's mental state resembles a psychological crime scene at the best of times can be organized, I expect it of others. Once the asshole at the desk got us checked in we went to the "cafeteria" and got a can of Pringles for breakfast and proceeded to security.

Upon going through "security" things got stressful! Everyone is trying to explain that my  extra sunblock is not going to make it through security and proceeds  

to flip out. Let me explain, this is an airport that opens for the day  

ok? Clearly it's priorities are not on par with international  

standards. As everyone proceeds to flip shit I toss my bag,lipglosses  

and liquids a stray,on the xray and walk through. Then I collected my  

belongings. This is exactly what went down. I couldn't decide if this  

was trusting or stupid, but it got me on my way so I wasn't concerned.

The waiting area is on par with a second world mall. Horribly  

disorganized . Upon trying to decide what damn gate we were, we  

realized they do not provide such information to travellers as to how  

to get the fuck out of this airport. Excellente. This has become my new  

catch phrase because it can be so easily meaningful and sarcastic  

while expanding my Spanish skills Dora the explorer style. The boys  

decided to discuss their bowel situation at length and informed us  

ladies that they needed to "destroy some porcelain". 2 minutes after  

they left for the bathroom they had come back defeated saying none of the  

stalls have toilet paper, this is common in Cuba so none of us were  

shocked. After watching them fuss and fidget I finally went into the  

ladies room to retreive some. I rolled out about as much as one would  

need to wipe an elephant and trotted back to our little home base. In  

the year and a half I've known Mancandy,he's never actually looked SO  

elated to see me. The look on his face was simmilar to the one I'm  

sure Kate Middelton had when Wills finalllllly proposed. Like a facial  

fist pump. The boys went off to do their thing and strode back content  

as clams. This over agressive reaction to toilet paper taught me  

something about the male race: much like with babys,  

constipation=cranky. Or to get Freudian about it, men are permanently  

stuck in the anal phase of development,and will never reach a higher  

psychosocial stage of development. Platypus has always told me men are  

either simple or stupid or both, this Is her evidence.

When an hour later the Cuban airport seemed to have come around to it "organized" self, it was still a hot mess. I could no longer bare the stupidity and decided to  

medicate. Seriously, they do this once a week, at least, by this point  

I expect it to be a well oiled machine. If I was in charge I could  

have that shit in shape in 2 days I will tell you that. Organization  

and clarity are good friends of mine. Those of us with anxiety  

disorders need this sort of coordination otherwise we tend to go  

postal. Haha you wana see a hot mess? THAT is a hot mess.

When we finally boarded our plane we found our seats, and were hit  

with yet another disaster. Some individual,who did not show any  

immediate sign of being mentally retarted was in Mancandy's window seat. This  

smallish east Indian chick had taken it upon herself to select her  

prefered seating. Mancandy has enough issues in standardized seating  

as is so any time people on planes take it upon themselves to be  

comfortable with no regard for others, I tend to go a bit balistic.  

Especially cuz he's too mellow to say anything then is agrivated by  

the circumstances for the rest of the trip. I however, lack this  

filter that allows fools to do as they please. I do not find them cute  

and do not suffer them gladly. But he refuses to let me in my sweetest  

most caring angel voice ask the bitch to vacate and return to her  

correct searing. Just cuz you didn't get to sit next to your bff  

doesn't mean you can take my boyfriends seat to accomidate yourself. I  

had half a mind to sit next to her and rip ass for the rest of the  

flight but I'd like to continue a sexual relationship with my  

boyfriend who is seated next to me. But really people who does that???  

The browns that's who. Sometimes I wonder why I don't just tell people  

what I'm thinking of them, then I remembered I poped an Ativan before  

the flight and that I no longer cared. As I'm writing this,a small  

child began crying on my 6 hour flight and I may need to break out into  

other antipsychotic options in order to get out of this alive.

While we were waiting to take off on our flight I couldn't help but notice how retarded the flight attendant looked attempting to demonstrate how the plane allows you to look like a total asshole in a safety situation. At this time, I started thinking about a career in flight attending and came up with this list:

Why I'd make a shitty flight attendant.

1.I hate planes in general,they're dirty and smell.

2. Being an attendant means not being in control of the plane and  

although being a passanger isn't better, standing in the isles without  

a seatbelt is worse.

3. You have to be perky and plesant and smile at people getting on  

with a baby about to make sure your work day comes with a migrane. I  

as a traveller may glare,although rude in some circles.

4. Wearing the same thing every day would not allow me to take full  

advantage of my trully kick ass wardrobe.

5. If I decide I've had enough of my surroundings, which happens  

often, I cannot easily jump ship.

6. Im somewhat claustrophobic and most airplanes are the size of a jumbo size tampon.

As I'm typing this installment on the plane, seat stealers bff is  

sitting infront of us and has decided to start loudly flirting with  

the DJ next to her while his plane comrade is passed out next to him.  

I only know he's a DJ because at that octive,information is hard to  

miss. People astound me sometimes with their crazyness. Haha now she's  

explaining to dumdum how tips work... Goood lord. 1 hour 45 minutes left on this god  

forsaken airplane. Seat stealers bff is having what I can only deduce  

as the loudest conversation to ever take place on a plane. I myself,  

am known as a loud individual. Mostly when I'm drunk. I feel because  

I'm tiny I need to make sure people are aware I'm here,but this bitch  

has no excuse. To give the reader an update on the DJ she's Been  

flirting with for 4 hours and 15 minutes now, he's a Ginger, and he  

has a handlebar on his face not dissimilar to the colonel himself. I  

am not exadurating. This guy is a mess. Oh and also, he thinks he's a  

gangster, obviously. This situation really needs a seatbelt. And  

clearly the one on this aircraft is not sufficient. On a worse note, I  

beleive I went to highschool with seat stealers bff. Only in the hot  

disaster that's been my day would this occur. "AHAHAHAH!!" she screams as a result of some dumb thing this douche just said. fuck. I swear if this chick tosses her hair and laughs one more time I'm bout  to pop a cap in her ass. "not the story I just told you,I was 13, ah  

this is good.." seriously. These 2 people should not be speaking.  

She's one of those dumb girls who thinks she IS the greatest thing  

ever,and he's a g'd up Ginger colonel saunders. Am I the only person  

alive that thinks these people need to stay as far apart as possible?  

My iPod lacks a "holy shit stop fucking talking for 5 damn minutes"  

setting  for volume to accomidate your loud sexual misguidedness. So zip it! Got it? K  

good.

Since the crapfest airline I wound up on played one movie for a 6 hour  

flight , and I cannot shoot myself, I decided to continue to doccument  

the worst courtship known to mankind.

They have now removed their communal arm rest, this is a huge step.it  

communicates to those around them that they are "intimate". I know  

this because Mancandy refuses to remove ours incase we happen to touch  

as a result. He claims not to be clousterphobic but the valiant effort  

he put into not sharing any space with me physical,air,armrest or  

otherwise with me on an aircraft tells me and most psychiatrists  

differently. At this time we must also note that colonel asshat is  

infact sharing his armrest with his friend.

2:11pm - we learn douchefella rents an accerage from his dad slightly  

outside the city. What a classy SOB. His very own spot on daddys  

land!!! Cuz I can tell he's a farmer type,likes to get dirt under his  

nails... My panties are wet, I dunno about you guys ;)!

2:14pm - the odd couple is discussing the cropping of canine ears.  

Apparently this is news to douche and he is flabergasted that this  

exists. I took a break from crazyness to check in with Augustana on my  

iPod. But when I returned he was explaining how they cut tails off  

kids and stuff.... This guy is a CATCHHH!! You go girl!!!!

2:34pm - clearly the odd couple has broken up but, in other exciting  

news, there's a battle of the babies in the isle. The two are staring  

at eachother fascinated!! If my sibling was here she would pee  

herself. My sibling is bonkers for babies. BONKERS. One baby craped  

itself. And the battle ended. Orange baby 1. Blue baby 0. Maybe next  

time blue baby.... Maybe next time.

2:54pm- Missy has woken up from her nap and is explaining to douche in  

detail how falling asleep with gum in her mouth feels. And then  

explaining to him how to sleep effectively on a plane.  Seriously  

folks. This is the riveting conversation on my homebound flight. Also,  

when I begin an airplane trip I set a timer on my phone so I have a  

countdown of exactly how much longer I need to suffer. I keep checking  

it which drives mancandy nuts. I explained I could ask him every 5  

minutes as to how much longer, but this is easier and less annoying  

for everyone. Especially those of us with anxiety/control/crappy math  

skill issues.

2:59pm - douche is discussing his moustache growing skills! Why anyone  

with red hair would want to add more red hair to their body I have NO  

fucking  clue. Also, he breifly rapped about it. People, I am legit  

not making this up.

3:02pm - we learn asshat has a severe sunburn. Miss thang offers to  

rub some on him if she had any on her. "I freckle, but I notice I  

don't normally have so many"... Well newsfash dipshit you're a Ginger.  

Your hair and sun tan skills are an epic fail.

Then we finallllllllly landed at home and I proceeded to rush Mancandy to customs, I don't trust the organizational skill of others and so I like to be first in line to avoid waiting for other stupid people to get their shit together. The fact that I lose my shit at almost every point in the travel process is just another reason why my life is NOT together. 

Anxiety(n): realizing you are completely insane

Hello followers,
I realize I have not kept up with my blog in the last few months and I apologize. This is due to the fact that my life as of the last 6 months has become a complete and utter nightmare. I was working and going to school full time and rarely found a moment to void my human of unused fluids, let alone blog about it. To anyone attempting to work a full time job and go to school full time, I salute you, and think you are completely out of your damn tree. But, to each their own.
Anyways, what resulted from this careless reckless disregard for my own life was the development of a very real anxiety disorder. As my psychiatrist explained, if I did not straighten myself out, and fast I could really do some harm to myself. He went on to ask what it was that was causing my anxiety. -Let me just branch off at this moment and explain that is this time, my cat had been urinating on my carpet for about 4 months straight and after working 10 hours and going to class, to come home and clean up cat piss was about enough on its own to make anyone want to jump out a ten story building. Not to mention someone like myself who is generally tense on a daily basis. I learned 2 things from this: (1) My cat is an asshole. (2) Tears do not get cat urine out of a carpet, take that Billy Mays. Anyways, when I proceeded to loose my shit at my large egyptian psychiatrist, whom we will refer to as Pit-Camel, for his likeness to a hybrid pit-bull/camel mix, he explained that my cats urination was probably due to the fact that I was so tense. I did not appreciate his candor on the matter. Especially since the cat made me want to scream on a daily basis and I did not see her letting up any time soon. Although the vet had charged me $1000 in the weeks leading up to my meeting with  the Pit-Camel to diagnose the cat with an anxiety disorder and prescribe her pussy valium, I did not appreciate being blamed for my own stress-inducing situation. If he was going to give me a lecture on what I had done to myself I was ready to tell him to save it and fork over the Ativan.
One the Pit-Camel had decided I had generalized anxiety disorder, and clearly some other issues he did not feel like mentioning, he gave me a variety of uppers downers and candy corn that would have made Karen Walker proud. I aspire to one day be her, and figure this cocktail of antipsychotic medication was defs going to put me on my way to success in that department. I left his office with a lot to think about, and let me tell you, as someone with anxiety disorder, I already statistically spend 60% of my day worrying, and was not impressed with the heaping pile of shit he had dumped on my plate. However, the idea of Ativan intrigued me since I knew that could easily knock out an elephant in crisis, I was steeped to try some. As a rule folks, If it melts on your tongue, its worth participating in, let me tell you...
Upon confirming with Popsicle and Platypus that my psychiatrist thought I was right out of my mind, they both seemed supportive, although not horribly shocked by my diagnosis. I am also the same irrational individual that wants to leave for any air travel 2 hours in advance to account for any acts of god I might encounter on my way to my aircraft. So, I could kind of see where they might be drawing some conclusions.
A month into treatment, some of the fog had cleared and I came to a very important epiphany - I am completely bat shit crazy and really need to seek some sort of professional help if I am scrubbing my toilet 3 times a day and vacuuming anything and everything on a frighteningly regular basis. I could also have been high on lysol fumes, I don't know. I'm not a doctor. The worst part about dealing with my anxiety I had come to realize was the overwhelming amount of fear I was to be assaulted with for no reason during most of my day. It was this large volume of what I knew were completely insane and irrational little concerns that nobody in any sort of mentally healthy state could be feeling that prompted me to seek help.
The Pit-Camel had been trying for a while to get me to see a psychologist. I strongly dislike deep cathartic amounts of feelings and really was not steeped on the idea. The idea that this experience could result in me sobbing uncontrollably and using vast amounts of kleenex, which really has not done much for the environment in terms of 'going green', really pissed me off. The idea that It would be my own fault that I had completely fucked up any emotional and mental stability I had left also did not sit too well. Its like being mentally constipated and it really is a pain in the ass, pun intended. Finally, my new psychologist who has yet to gain a nickname, due to the fact he has yet to see and regret what the heck he signed up for, called. It was already a relatively stressful night for me, for no reason other than the absolutely ludicrous amount of bullshit bouncing around in my brain, when a call came through from something saying 'rehab' in the caller ID title. Because I have anxiety and my brain does not operate like a normal human, let me take you on a little adventure as to what was going through my mind immediately following this phone call:
1. Do not answer! It's probably some coked out drug addict who wants to find out where I live and come eat my cats and harvest my organs for snake food.
2. Text Mancandy so if he finds my dismembered carcass upon arriving to visit me he will know what to tell the cops.
3. Holy shit I'm going to die.
4. How did an addict get my phone number.

After going through that irrational little shit show, I listened to the voicemail and found it was only my new shrink calling to make a meeting.
NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE!, when calling to make an appointment with someone already experiencing anxiety do not add to it by calling from a rehab facility after 8:30pm. Its not smart, and it sent me into a frenzy for which I required valium tea and an Ativan to come down from. Do not fuck around with anxious people, we blow shit way out of proportion. So far, I was not liking my new doctor. He had yet to meet me and was already causing me more problems. Once I spoke with him directly and came down from my drug high, I managed to see that I was excited at the idea of meeting someone who might be able to tell me why I am such a complete fucking nightmare to myself and others, and apparently any wildlife in my vicinity. It was this excitement that prompted me to blog about my experience in my coming sessions as I believe that the only way to cope with mental illness is to be able to see the humor. So, stay tuned for what I am sure will be a whole host of reasons why my life is not together from a licensed professional.

Pulverization 90 X.

Recently, many people in my general vicinity have discovered a video workout program called P90X. The general premise is that if you do the DVD workouts in order, and follow the meal plan, you can sculpt your body into a toned weapon of mass destruction. This guy basically comes into your living room and assaults you in a manner not unlike what prisoners at Gitmo might experience. Shits not a joke, and it's not for pussies. At first, Mancandy had mentioned that he was going to embark on this P90X in lieu of a gym membership over the summer in order to tone up. I listened to it's general concept, but as with most of Mancandys workout habits, I was just glad it wasn't me and that was that. Then, my sibling mentioned to me via a phone call while looking at Universities with Popsicle that she too was going to embark on this crazy series of DVD's and that family friends of ours had already tried it. This particular family friend had the upper body strength of a drinking straw and I had a hard time imagining him in some sort of intense calorie burning situation.

When I asked Popsicle his thoughts on my sibling embarking on this he didn't have much to say. This is also a man who my sibling had lead to believe that Ontario had provincial wide free WiFi earlier in the day when he couldn't understand how she was Facebooking me from the highway. He couldn't comprehend that 3G technology allows this so my sibling offered this option his way. He was terribly excited when he informed me of it stating it was a "neat idea". Then I heard my sibling in the background telling him she lied. I've never heard Popsicle more disappointed. Anyways, My point is that this was not a man from which I was expecting helpful information.

In the days ahead, Mancandy informed me that he was getting his ass royally kicked and was seriously coming to the realization that he was not in as good of shape as he had thought. I could really care less considering my only real physical requirement in mate is that he be able to lift me above his head without huffing and puffing. It symbolizes manlyness. Also, I'm like 98 pounds so if you can't I realize how pathetic you are right from the get go. He had done a few of the workouts and was feeling it. Mancandy already has back pains from his football days, but I had never seen him in such a defeated state. Upon viewing his, for lack of a better word, corpse, a few days later, I came to the realization that this "Tony Horton" (aka. the worlds biggest douchebag) was not here to fuck around. I suddenly became concerned for my sibling and wondered if I should start preparing any sort of memorial arrangements for her once she started her program. I was kind enough to text her and provide her with the information I had gathered from Mancandy's experience, but she seemed un-phased. I had to give her props. My sibling is nothing if not a trooper when it comes to physical exertion. Her trainers at boarding school would frequently run the girls until someone threw up, so I felt she may be slightly prepared for this type of self inflicted physical torture. This was not the case.

A few days later I received a text from my sibling that her and my step-sister had gone out for chocolate cake at midnight and come home and decided to start the workout at 2 am. They started with Plyometrics, which from what I heard, was one of the harder ones and involved a lot of gay jumping around. They managed to complete it, although half-assedly, and with a lot of laughing. Apparently they were both in more pain than they could imagine. The fact that this DVD had reduced my amazon of a sister to a shriveled whimpering nightmare really scared the crap out of me. Additionally, something that can destroy you with even the weakest effort, could not possibly be approved by the FDA. They didn't manage to blow their cookies also was impressive.

In the next few days, my delusional sisters decided to embark on their venture again but this time tried the hardcore yoga version. Apparently, it was not relaxing, or any other words you might associate with yoga. They were both in seriously hurtin' condition and I found it funny that two people with clearly very little mental capacity for exercise, (for real, who works out after cake at 2 am? not the brightest crayons in the box thats who) would continue to do that to their bodies. My next thought was that I would have killed to have seen my step-sibling who had recently lost 60 pounds and was looking fantastic, try and do this previous to her weight loss. THAT, would have been funny.

After all these shenanigans, I had decided it was time for me personally to embark on this clearly insane workout routine. I had figured that my recent ability in the last 6 months to torture myself running and burn 1000 calories at a time, might have prepared me to deal with what I was up against. In short, all the cardio in the world could not have prepared me, or a United States Marine for that matter, for what I was about to do. My first time I decided to start small, and do the 16 minute ab ripper X workout. The general Idea is that you do 300 ab movements in 16 minutes. Previous to this experience, I thought I had a decent set of abdominal's. I was no Marissa Miller, but I thought I was better than most of those who had put on the freshman 15. I'm also a size 2, so it's not like i've got a gut. However, after starting in, I realized that nobody on the planet should be able to do this. I got through it barely with my sibling on the couch telling me to try harder. I wanted to tell her to try harder and get her ass off the fucking couch. Near the end I was sure I might vomit up my protein bar, but luckily I avoided it. This shit was not for sissies. I went for my run then went on about my day as I normally would. It wasn't till the next morning till I realized the true weight of what I had done to my person.

FUCK. That was my first thought when I awoke and realized I lacked the ability to sit up in bed on a ten degree angle. I was HURTIN. Actually, DYING might be a better description of what my vessel was experiencing. I got up, got a hot water bottle and went back to bed. Then went to see my tutor and realized It hurt to sit upright. Generally, not being able to make the motions one would require to void their bladder is a sign that you have truly an rightfully fucked up your life. I was 20 years old and was getting a glimpse into my future at 80 and was n0t enjoying my little time traveling journey.

Later in the day, I made what I think to date might be the worst possible decision I have made in my life to date. I embarked on the 90 minute yoga workout. WORST IDEA EVER. Flashed through my mind on many occasions. But I figured if the rest of these assholes could do it, I should be able to do it. Between each pose, Tony "the fuckface" Horton, informed me that I had the option to do a pushup in plank position, and that he was going to go ahead and do one. I decided to go ahead and give him the finger from plank position. I kept making faces and making a giggle/whimper sound that would have been funnier if I wasn't willingly trying to commit semi-assisted suicide from the warrior pose. When It finished, I opted to lie on my bed and not move. When it came time for Mancandy to come over, I decided to put on more appropriate pants. I then learned, I no longer possessed the muscle strength to do this simple task and had a new respect for those who lost limbs in Nam'. Once he arrived he took pleasure in mocking my physical discomfort and we proceeded to lie around for 4 hours whining and whimpering at each other. We're so romantic sometimes.

The next day, I experienced some of the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. My back, thighs,obliques,hips,legs,and ass hurt like nothing I had ever imagined. I then proceeded to text Platypus to ask her if I could have the half a perkaset in my purse and was really not interested in her response, it was more of a "heads up" than a ,"may i" text message. I was ready to jump infront of a bus. I was not stoked for my circumstances but was fairly sure my shit would be tighter than a hippos ass when it was done causing me pain. And it was brutal. Later that day, I had my first round of laser hair removal which for those not familiar, is a process where they shoot your armpits and bikini line with a laser repeatedly for 30 minutes. THAT hurt less.

Needless to say, P90X is an excellent way to kill yourself and I do not recommend it if you have any sort of job that requires movement or the use of your back. My P90X stint had ended as quickly as it had began. I was physically and mentally exhausted and was done with this bullshit. This workout is for androids and aliens and shouldn't be attempted by carbon based life. As long as I continue to do recklessly dumb things in order to bond with my kinfolk, my life is NOT together.

I'm on a Boat!!

Due to the recently warm weather, Mancandy and I have taken to visiting various lakes on the weekend with friends. This weekend, we decided to venture out with one of Mancandy's friends, Chuck, who happens to own a boat. I like boats, and I love anyone who lets me call them Chuck. I think they are both an excellent source of entertainment. However, I am most fascinated by how Boats manage to work. I understand the basic idea of how boats float, I'm not completely deficient, but I still am fascinated by the fact that they can endure so much water like abuse and not throw everyone swiftly from the vessel. But, this is not a lecture on boats, I'm not nautically inclined enough for that, this is about the various chaos that ensued.

Upon arrival at the dock, the menfolk managed to get the boat in the water and tie it up while various subsets of our little group ran back and forth from cars due to general lack of organization. I did notice the woman next to us with her boating posse seemed to be observing us as one would animals in the wild. Any group with me as a part of it is undoubtedly a hot damn mess and I take pride in that. While waiting on the boat, we watched other boaters fail epically at the maneuvering of their water-crafts. Some people are really just mentally retarded and should be put in a home, but for some reason their family member's feel it is appropriate to let them lose in the wild. One group of such miscreants seemed intent on proving my point. While in their boat they started trying to move about the small area and see how close they could get to hitting every other boat in our vicinity. Seriously, if you can't drive it, don't try. These mentally challenged individuals came close to striking out boat and one of our group asked them if this was their first time... of course it was. "Apparently!" was my shockingly dry, and very much British response, something I may not have said in different company. Sometimes, when I'm with Mancandy, I don't filter myself in the same manner I normally would around strangers. Mostly because I'm fairly certain that if they had gotten all up in my grill about it, Mancandy would have drowned both them and their boat for the hell of it, and with relative ease. They newbies explained that their captain was elsewhere and that they hoped he would soon return. I then explained to the group that if we planned on making our start as pirates that this was clearly the boat for us to seize as it contained limited brain power. Our victims laughed it off but I was definitely game for this plan if I could have gotten everyone else on board. Once the other members of the group came back with the tube strapped to their backs, we made a few Jesus jokes and were on our way. None of us seem capable of embarking on anything without mocking Jesus, it's simply unheard of.

Finally, everyone got their shit together and we started out to the middle of the lake. The first thing I noticed is that the boat was staying shockingly close to the water than it had in previous adventures. This most likely had a lot to do with the fact that Mancandy had brought along his partner in crime, who could only be described as fucking gigantic. Both of them had parked themselves on the back of the boat and I'm sure together were a combined total of 500+ pounds. I decided that this extra weight on the boat was awesome as it enhanced my personal boating pleasure since as someone who weighs about 98 pounds soaking wet, I often get bounced about and it takes its tole on my person. I'm not built for activities in which your person is tossed about violently as I have the upper body strength of a kitten and happen to be extremely top heavy.

The first order of business for the men was to go out on the tubes and prove their manlyness by hanging on as whoever was driving attempted to kill them. Men truly are fascinating aren't they?

First up was Mancandy and the Giant. Watching the Giant squeeze his massive self into a lifejacket has got to be one of the most amusing thing I've ever seen. I love watching people of large stature try and get into things that just do not fit them. It thrills me in a way I can only express with a squeal of joy. Once in the water, all that was heard from the boat was various profanity about the testicle shrinkage that was occurring. As a girl, I'm glad I don't need to experience the apparently painful shrinking of my sexual organs. But I do find it amazing that the male body has so many escape routes for its fun bits, such as retracting into the body. I have no idea why these things amaze me, and I should really seek help. Anyways, once the men were in the water and we were in motion it was about 8 seconds before the started trying to sabotage each other. Again, aren't men fascinating?, for about an hour all the men took turns in the water and driving in a manic fashion in an attempt to kill one another. Once that was done there began chat of starting to fish and then locating ice cream. We proceeded to fuck around for a while and then the boats owner, Chuck, decided we needed to ditch the tubes in order to lighten to boat and quickly make it to the location of the ice cream. I failed to see why we couldn't just deflate them, but Chuck was dead set on keeping them inflated. I've learned that when it comes to interacting with Chuck specifically,that I stop myself from interjecting my brilliance into the situation because I like seeing how he goes about shit. The men decided that we could drive to the other end of the lake and ditch the tubes on the rocks and then come back for them later.

Upon arriving at the rocks, a shit show of dumb ideas seemed to occur. Chuck noticed that we were in a shallow area with a lot of weeds and began to show concern for getting us caught, so we opted to shut off the engine and let the boat chill while the men hid the tubes. Dumbass moment number one occurred when Chuck leapt off to survey the roughly 2 meter rocky slope where we were planning to ditch this shit. He explored the rocks and noticed a bottle of minnows that had been left behind by a fisherman. At this point, I thought it may have been clever to save them for fishing later but I didn't dare express this thought to the group. I've found when dealing with Mancandy,Chuck,and the Giant, that it is often better to just let things occur for entertainments sake. So, I did just that. Chuck opened the vile and proceeded to dump the fish onto the rocks below him. Not a second after he did this, he looks at the empty bottle in his hand and says " hey, these would be really great bait for the pike!". The group proceeded into a fit of laugher and the men then scrambled to pick the dead fish out of the rocks and return them to their previous surroundings. Watching a bunch of guys collect dead fish really was entertaining. I knew they might think twice about rescuing my ass if I was to get tossed, but they DEFS needed to rescue the fish with haste. The men managed to get the tubes off the boat and Chuck hid them both behind some shrubs. Then, he came out from behind a bush with some leaves and announced that he was trying to provide adequate camouflage for the NEON orange tube. A meek whisper of the word "camouflage" while holding two small branches was made while he fluttered back and forth. I love when people who are dead set on things whisper there intentions. It serves the purpose of being mildly sexual and humorous al at once. What a fucking pointless nightmare that would turn out to be. After we had pillaged for some bait and "sufficiently" hid our treasures, we began to push the boat away and idled out for about a quarter mile and observed the handy work. It was at this point Chuck noticed some people walking in the general direction of our tubes towards what he had pointed out earlier was "excellent fishing". Apparently, it hadn't occurred to him that other lake-goers may be aware of this and want to partake. Cuz who the fuck would want to fish on a nice day? nonsense. Upon observing these fishermen, The Giant pointed out that they may not even see the NEON ORANGE OBJECT up ahead of them. They noticed. And so did the next people and their dog who followed. Chuck, fearing for the life and safety of his tubes, voted we go back and retrieve them and deflate them. So, back we went. The people Mancandy knows are recidiculous, and thats why I love them. Chuck had mentioned we should go try and kidnap the dog in broad daylight while we were there. I was willing to let him do it to, again, just to see him try.

Then we set sail to the other end of the lake to go get ice cream. More Jesus jokes, and then more dock nonsense. The particular dock we were attempting to use had a large sign that implied it was out of order or some sort of dock equivalent meant to tell folks that it was out of commission or some other bullshit none of us cared about. Thats what I love about being a care free 20 something, nothing seems to apply to me. We sent the Giant out ahead and felt that if the dock didn't crash under his weight that the rest of us were certainly safe. As we reached the end and proceeded to scale the fencing, a gentleman in the water inquired as to why we didn't just walk in the water. I informed him that it was because we were cooler than that, in a tone that would have sounded a lot more like "go fuck yourself" had I not had my purse in my mouth. I was on a fucking mission, and he was ruining any feeling of badassness I had mustered on my dock journey. What a douchebag. We then made our way to ice cream where I had never been more steeped to be eating and ice cream cone. I felt 12, and I was loving it. We then all gathered around a table while Chuck consumed his hot-dog. I pointed out that it was rather phallic which pretty much just made him more excited. If I had given a crap about Chucks sexuality, this would have alarmed me. At one point he informed us that we needed to edit our language as it was a family environment. I responded with "thanks mom". I felt as long as I said my profanities quietly I was allowed. I was on a fucking vacation of sorts and I planned to enjoy myself. The group soon bi-passed his warning and then the Giant proceeded with "THANKS MOM, NICE TITS", and Chuck proceeded to be embarrassed to be involved with us and thus decided to order us to be on our way. I love it when people feel that those their with are not appropriate for public. Since I often tend to be the reason for the embarasment, I've also gotten use to being ejected from my surroundings. We then headed back to the dock and I noticed a sign with a Canadian government logo on it and some nonsense about conservation. I then informed Mancandy that I wanted to find out what it was they were trying to conserve and go create havoc. Again, why he dates me, I have no idea. The sad thing is he wanted to so the same, which is why I date him. More wall scaling and death defying dock experiences and then we were all back on the boat. The sky was giving us a notable " I'm gonna F up your time" impression, so we decided to head back to our neck of the lake. On the way back, Mancandy and the Giant proceeded to make Herbal Essences commercials by tossing their hair in the wind and making sexualized faces at each other. These two feed off each other a lot like a pile up collision, one little bit of chaos causes a whole string of craziness until it loses velocity and decides to break. It's horribly exciting to watch and I was laser focused on absorbing the insanity.

As we were flying through the water at an alarming rate, Chuck spotted a bunch of ducks and a pelican and decided to ignore common sense and chase them down like he was on a fucking mission. I personally, have never had more fun disrupting wildlife. Once we started to get out of control and the storm started to gain, someone's survival instincts told us it was time to stop and head for safer water. We headed to a weeded area and came up against a bit of a road block and rather annoying family who insisted on waving at us like they had been on an episode of LOST and we were their first look at civilization in some time. Chuck once again instructed us to look friendly and wave back, meanwhile, Mancandy proceeded to pelvic thrust at every passing boat. Thats how we roll... Then, Chuck in his awesomeness, decided it was an excellent time to go waterskiing after several beers. Nobody else shared his passion but the Giant, arguably our most violent driver, decided to captain the ship while Chuck went about his nonsense. " See, this is normally the point where I would be the voice of reason and instruct us not to let him go along with this. But, just for the hell of it, I'm going to support this bullshit", I announced to the group. I figured as long as we were all in agreeance that this was arguably very stupid, we would cover our bases dumb luck wise. We took bets on how many trys it was going to take our comrade to get his ass out of the water and went on our way. Soon, we were on failed attempt 4 and really enjoying watching the venture of Chucks skiing go slightly uphill. Captain Giant agreed this was getting dumb but that It was better with Chuckles to just let him have his way when it came to this sort of shit. After about 20 minutes of this, Chuck gave up and we all headed through the insane rough water to a sunny patch where we decided to wait out the storm and do some fishing.

Chuck was the only one of us with any discernible fishing skills. So for the most part, we were a bit of a hot mess. Mancandy felt the need to narrate everyones casts with the enthusiasm of one of the virgins from the fishing channel. All the guys managed to reel in a fish but none of us on the boat had our shit together enough to actually get a fish into the boat. The first one we had any really shot at was caught by Mancandy. The Giant had been going at it for a good ten minutes and hadn't had any real success, and the other guy who was with us,whom I will refer to as that because I have no clever name for him, managed to swing incorrectly and just barely catch the Giants nipple. Then, upon receiving the reel from Giant, Mancandy, on his second ever fishing experience, caught something. This sort of beginners luck bullshit is typical of Mancandy. He seems to excel at any sort of sport related endeavor, and as he puts it, is " built for success". The man also feels he stirs for success but it really resembles the stirring stills of epileptic 9 year olds. Unfortunately, our group was about as well organized and a blind swim team. We had all of the passion and none of the mental ability to coordinate ourselves, Much like a deaf singing group. Then finally, with the last of the rescued minnows, Chuck managed to catch a fish and get it into the boat. As a girl, I felt the need to scream violently at it was flipping about. Chuck wrestled it into submission and made sure we all had a chance to see it. He informed us it was a pike, however I felt it looked more like a platypus if it were a fish and termed it Platyfish. Which spell check is not correcting me on and could for all I know, very well be a real fish. So I am now even more impressed with my naming abilities. Once the fish had been sent back to its normal high mercury surroundings, we all agreed that we had caught our fish it was time to go the fuck home. Heading back in is my favorite part of the trip, not because I am anxious to get back, unless of course I have to pee so bad I fear for my safety, but because between the clouds and the rough waters I feel like we are in some sort of National Geographic pirates special. Like storm chasers. I made note to learn more about storm clouds before our next adventure so that I could wow all my friends with my badass storm knowledge, and possibly procure myself a badass storm chaser outfit. These are the things I think about on a daily basis, and sometimes It makes me wonder why people speak to me at all.

We finally got back to dry land and the men proceeded to get the boat out of the water. A task that for some reason despite not owning a boat, Mancandy was freakishly good at. Overall, our trip had been a success. Despite our camouflage fail, and our general lack of fishing skills. However, as long as I continue to have nonsense times like these, My life is NOT together. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Mancandy Vs. Aircraft

Recently, Mancandy and I decided we needed a vacation. By we I mean, I decided Mancandy needed a holiday and told him I was going with him to ensure he got on the plane and did not make a B-line back to work. Platypus found this venture particularly hilarious since I have a generally well documented tendency to completely lose my shit while traveling. I have zero patience for any situation where I am not in complete control. It's a character flaw, I'm working on it. I assured her that it would be highly unlikely my travel tendencies would derail my relationship with Mancandy, but she was skeptical. Platypus likes to crush my dreams like this by informing me frequently that I am a complete pain in the ass and that I will be hard-pressed to find a man to tolerate my nonsense. My theory is that I just need to find a man with the same high end travel needs as myself... enter Mancandy. But this is not a lecture on how we are perfect together, this story is about the adventure that was our trip to Vancouver.

I knew that our trip was going to be excellent, simply because it involved both Mancandy and myself. We're excellent, and we tend to radiate that into our current surroundings. But, the second I knew this trip was going to be awesome was when Mancandy and I entered the aircraft and got into our seats. Mancandy is freakishly tall and requested that we be in an exit row, I had gotten distracted talking to my pregnant girlfriend and did not actually book the seats till 10pm, so I had guessed at which row on the wing was the exit row - I was WRONG. The second his massive vessel got into its seat I could see we had a problem, however, I proceeded to laugh anyways just because watching something that big crammed into that tiny seat was truly hilarious. I decided to text Platypus about our predicament since I knew she too would find it humorous. She agreed. Then, Mancandy did something that is very typical of him, he pointed out the asian woman standing in the row of asians in the isle... the only way I can express what I was seeing is literally THE most exuberant person to ever enter an aircraft. The smile on her face looked like something that could easily cause small children to have nightmares. I stopped mid text and proceeded to laugh hysterically. I was convulsing in my window seat and desperately concerned about how inappropriate it would be to take a picture .... This is the text message I then sent to Platypus ... " We're on aircraft. Mancandy doesn't fit. It's pretty entertaining. Also, there's and uncomfortable abundance of Asians". Platypus was with my Nana, who being a world war 2 survivor, does not enjoy asians, and apparently agreed with my concern about that number of asian airplane goers. Seriously, if you did not know the planes destination, you'd swear it was somewhere over the pacific. Mancandy eventually calmed me down and we proceeded to play scrabble for the duration of the flight. Upon decent, this asian baby started to scream violently.I LOATHE the sound of babies screaming. It causes an extreme anxiety in my person and I imagine its the same violentesque feeling that someone like Charles Manson might experience. Nothing on earth aggravates me more. I looked over to see this child in the most distressed position I had ever witnessed a youngster in. It was as if he just realized his mother was asian and there was a possibility he would grow up to eat pussycat. He was displeased. Frankly, I would be too if Platypus and Popsicle were of asian decent.

Upon our arrival in Vancouver, I was deeply stoked for Popsicle and Mancandy to meet. Mostly because I knew exactly what was going to happen, Popsicle would go to shake his hand and look up and down and the Sasquatch I had brought with me. I love watch people interact with Mancandy, mostly since it seems like they are trying the whole time to decide if he's going to kill them or not. A guy recently bumped into him in a crowded bar and was so terrified that Mancandy was some sort of thug with a gun ready to pop a cap in his ass. I laughed. Seriously, dating someone that massive is like a free pass to do whatever the hell you want with almost no consequences. Its like having personal security. Anyways, back to Popsicle and Mancandy.

Popsicle has driven his rented Mini Cooper to come get us since his car had an unfortunate run in with an immigrant a few weeks prior. To say Popsicle was enjoying his Mini was an understatement. He expressed a vigor for it similar to the one with which Angelina Jolie feels towards foreign children. Upon getting in the car, Popsicle informed us it was alot like driving a really expensive go kart. Why anyone would want to do that on a constant basis, is beyond me but seemed to enthrall the crap out of my father, so I let it slide. Upon reaching the downtown core, Popsicle explained to Mancandy and I that there was a button in the car he had not figured out how to work yet. Popsicle has these moments where he is impossibly straight, and absolutely NEEDS to figure out every single inch of the car. So, naturally, the best time for such endeavors is during traffic.

Mancandy and Popsicle proceeded to fiddle with buttons and switches until Mancandy stumbled upon these pen size lights on the roof that would change to rainbow colors when the button was pressed. Yes, its true, the Mini Cooper gets gayer. Not only did these mini lights not have a SINGLE useful function, other than providing our go-kart with ambient lighting should we decide to rave, but they AMAZED Popsicle. He proceeded to then drive while fiddling with the lights and half assedly looking at the road. Not only was he distracted, but he was driving in a location with an abundance of immigrant drivers....not a sick combo as my sibling would say. Eventually, I convinced him I was in fear for my safety and that I was not ready to die in a car with rave equipped lighting. This was not the 70's. When we finally arrived home and got settled, Despite my fear that Mancandy would not fit into the elevator, I felt all the recent excitement called for me to promptly pass out. I needed sleep if I was going to psyc myself up for what I'm sure would be an intense trip.

Upon awaking the next morning, I decided to take a gander out the window at my surroundings. Much to my despair, ( i hate big men with little dogs) I saw a large man walking a douchey little white lap dog down the street. I thought nothing of it till the man reached the cross walk and started to cross, when his dog, clearly not the sharpest ball in the bunch, continued to walk at his parallel. How did this imbecile handle it?? He simply picked up his dust rag of a dog and set it on the crosswalk in a more pleasing trajectory. I then proceeded to pee my pants laughing which woke Mancandy, and I explained to him the insanity I had witnessed. Only with Mancandy could I manage to laugh so hard at 8 in the morning.....I could tell things were going to be interesting. Since, as long as people who need to correct their dogs trajectory exist, my life is NOT together.

Why Pregnancy is a BAD idea.

Last Night, I found myself stumbling upon one of my favorite guilty pleasure shows, "I didn't know I was Pregnant" On TLC. I really don't know what possesses me to watch this show seeing as every time I do I wind up in the fetal position clutching my vagina in fear. As a woman, I have been drilled into thinking that pregnancy is the ultimate STD and until I am married or 30, it should be my worst fear. I fully participated in this part of my gender however, In watching this show I have realized my new worst fear.... my uterus could fall out. Although it is a very tiny possibility this could happen, and it tends to require trauma, I am not officially terrified of this situation. Never have I been more in fear for my "cash and prizes".

In essence, what was happening is some woman on a boat was freaking out and reached between her legs, felt something rubbery and assumed it was her uterus. I laughed originally at this delusion, but then some doctor came on the screen and informed me that it was in-fact, a very real fear. This caused me to lose my shit and bring forth a series of gaging noises from my person that I have never heard before, and hope to never hear again. Upon TLC providing me with this information, I felt an obligation to inform damn near every woman in my contact list of this terrifying realization. I then text messaged Platypus and asked her if she was aware of this. She said yes but that it was a very unlikely possibility, and that it could be worse and I could be pregnant. I then told her that she could cancel that and that this uterus exiting my person situation was officially my new fear as a woman. At least if I have a kid, my uterus has options and could stay in its current surroundings. In informed Platypus she has no idea how madly I did not want a Uterus right then. At this she told me she sensed a blog. Blogging was the furthest thing from my mind at this point when I was clenching myself in fear rolling around on the bed like a spastic zebra.

In my feverish texting, I managed to message Princess who in addition to being semi-mentally insane, loves babies and feels it is her sole purpose in life to procreate. I have bigger dreams, but I allow her to go on with her delusions because I suppose someone has to have kids and it isn't going to be me. She told me she was aware this could happen, but it was also highly unlikely and was rare in childbirth. Princesses knowledge on everything and anything pertaining to childbirth fascinates/repulses me. She then informed me that I wouldn't need to worry since I wasn't having kid. I then told her that if Mancandy and I were to reproduce, it would most likely kill me seeing as he is mammoth and in meeting his family I can only assume any offspring with half his DNA would also be distastefully large for my vag to handle. This also terrified me, so I tried desperately to put it out of my mind.

Amidst my emotional chaos, I texted Mancandy, who was sick, to inform him that I was terrified for my vaginas safety in watching this program and that I had emotional wounds I required him to kiss better. At this, Mancandy said just about the most unhelpful thing anyone could have presented me with at this point in time, " You know, we'd make damn hot kids"... I was completely not expecting this but was also pissed that he would even suggest harming me with his freakishly large offspring at this juncture. " Yes. We'd make hot kids. You're missing the point. We're not reproducing". I relayed this comment to Princess who was pissed at me only because to her it implied Mancandy was o.k with the venture of us having children in the future, which was kind of like crack to her. She has been forcing babies down her boyfriends throat almost since day one, and he has confided in me that like any other 20-something male, that he was defs not on board. She is however, convinced she can change him. Much like getting your partner to chew with their mouth closed, Yet another reason she's right round the bend.

The fact this aggravated her at all really made me laugh because in no way did I understand his statement as " I want to have babies with you immediately". Any moron who took one look at us could see we would create genetically superior offspring. It was the fact that she seemed jealous that I had inadvertently discussed babies with him without him vomiting. Not my intention, but with Princess the rides come off the track every time.

When I finally got her to chill out, She did agree with me that It was a terrifying situation and that Mancandy's offspring would more than likely kill me or rip me in two. I then texted my BFF Bliss, ( I call her that because I am deeply in love with the fact that her shit is always together and she is always following my train of thought) and informed her of the grave dangers of having a uterus in much the same way you would if you were in a PSA. She laughed at me and told me that Mancandy's children would probably destroy me on their way out, although be incredibly aesthetically gifted. I loved her for remaining cool about the situation and not flipping the fuck out like Princess. I proceeded to have her calm me down and then switched the channel to something less insulting to my uterus. After that, I sent a message to my Pregnant friend on Facebook to tell her that I had a newfound respect for her and her situation as well as a desire to hi-five her uterus despite how creepy that may have been. She agreed it was creepy and I didn't care. I then noticed my stepsister had set her status to something regarding she was having a bad day. I commented it could be worse, your uterus could fall out. She agreed and I'm sure proceeded to lighten up on whatever shit-storm was raining down on her day.

I get that all this anxiety over a uterus may be insane, but I want to inform you all in blogisphere that it is a very real fear and to be on the lookout for falling vag. Because as long as I am a woman with female reproductive organs, I see my life is NOT together.