tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22068559795921893312024-03-05T06:21:47.187-08:00That White Girls BlogThat White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.comBlogger232125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-78164933873780283232021-09-05T14:10:00.005-07:002021-09-05T14:14:37.232-07:00Park People<p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">With
the introduction of Whiskey into our household, we've taken to going
to the park in the evenings, mostly in the summer, but really any
time the weather is nice. The park is about a 15 minute walk each
way; we'll pull up a bleacher to have a couple drinks in the sun,
watching folks play sports.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7TMLNt4fx_eVTv5QmBTlOjY5Or6Wxo0YpJwjMQlGsm8ZvzOGoDDCV-J8xp2c6_-Q3-GWgrW3_21pvsvdZmOU3GuMElox5bpCuZb2io2I_nBC3A6kyNd3opiduAhhHO2T76GArZ5LfBHS/s1969/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Watching+Sports.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1969" data-original-width="1934" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7TMLNt4fx_eVTv5QmBTlOjY5Or6Wxo0YpJwjMQlGsm8ZvzOGoDDCV-J8xp2c6_-Q3-GWgrW3_21pvsvdZmOU3GuMElox5bpCuZb2io2I_nBC3A6kyNd3opiduAhhHO2T76GArZ5LfBHS/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Watching+Sports.jpg" width="314" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">We
go nearly every day, at roughly the same time, to the same park. As a
result, we've become and have become to know, The Park People. Some
of them we know by name, most we've come up with nicknames and, more
than anything, we know the name of the dog.</span><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">It
started with The Dog Walker. A lovely French lady that walks many a
neighbourhood dog. She LOVES Whiskey. And Whiskey LOVES her. I love
her because she always tells me how great I am with Whiskey and how
far she has come BECAUSE I'm so great.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3HYfZxu8BTjmTXJGfucE2vT3uiTScZSR_0I4ZRBKhnsrEBb12M2bMHN1BVIHzmuT1PaeSP_PEN35H4aISOx0NsN-zzF3Um9b_8e4zBbHLhJv2Sct_GOZmgYFR_serHkKE2L3982I9BN6/s2000/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+more+nice+things.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3HYfZxu8BTjmTXJGfucE2vT3uiTScZSR_0I4ZRBKhnsrEBb12M2bMHN1BVIHzmuT1PaeSP_PEN35H4aISOx0NsN-zzF3Um9b_8e4zBbHLhJv2Sct_GOZmgYFR_serHkKE2L3982I9BN6/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+more+nice+things.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There's
The Coffee Crew – The Dog Walker is part of this crew, thus, we
have come to know these folks rather well. We have been known spend upwards of an hour talking to them. So, yeah... We know their names!!</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">There's
the older Indian couple that go for their nightly walks. They live
very close to us and I will often see one or both of them when I'm
walking Whiskey in the morning.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">More
often than not, The Boyfriend and I will often remark about The Park
People...</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRx6bbPgbCosJ9Fs-YWERWyVCBH4BtDnjeZOVGGTIszn2waQT8qYXpRoNXXm52RGw7RVPAHiwwwYsoqrACvA0YtklWrghtdwNOA-lahF13Gb-R5BAMDBTCopD-b0pkt3VqqFL0x5WbTxkF/s2000/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+they%2527re+nice+people.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRx6bbPgbCosJ9Fs-YWERWyVCBH4BtDnjeZOVGGTIszn2waQT8qYXpRoNXXm52RGw7RVPAHiwwwYsoqrACvA0YtklWrghtdwNOA-lahF13Gb-R5BAMDBTCopD-b0pkt3VqqFL0x5WbTxkF/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+they%2527re+nice+people.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: verdana;">E</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">ven
though we've spoken at most a dozen words at any given time.</span></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNXlyZvBT0TljmRoGbUO0Rs8t7DppSA_fcFwZ9CGX9KFT9oUiV2F9fp7ltriNY3QvqVFxbln9-je95Tqb7x0azxLAxcyGg4vwJ7_9bXvLM-5yELZIG9kc49Wpk9rWvutnVFjEBzoV1MfP/s1790/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Beautiful+night.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="1790" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNXlyZvBT0TljmRoGbUO0Rs8t7DppSA_fcFwZ9CGX9KFT9oUiV2F9fp7ltriNY3QvqVFxbln9-je95Tqb7x0azxLAxcyGg4vwJ7_9bXvLM-5yELZIG9kc49Wpk9rWvutnVFjEBzoV1MfP/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Beautiful+night.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs0PfFnUxNDaErwgpJ6ymFv4y9L6EYt3b6-1zpNbPzMtxlQYFJ9s4y7UpK6sr5QDgoaG5Ek8nmIclUY_s8LWX3CrOVMr5OZIoALY2G2Tm1Ms-gy7aCD18KCe5O4jCihpJUv5CgpPfYc3R/s2000/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+it+surd+is+nice+out.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs0PfFnUxNDaErwgpJ6ymFv4y9L6EYt3b6-1zpNbPzMtxlQYFJ9s4y7UpK6sr5QDgoaG5Ek8nmIclUY_s8LWX3CrOVMr5OZIoALY2G2Tm1Ms-gy7aCD18KCe5O4jCihpJUv5CgpPfYc3R/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+it+surd+is+nice+out.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's
a crazy thing – where you feel like you know someone because you
see them all the time, but have never actually talked. How can you
possibly know if they're inherently good people just from how you
both recognize and acknowledge each other in a park??</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">There
are The Bocce Boys (they play Bocce... sometimes... they mostly just
smoke weed and drink). Before the team came out, there was Cast Man.
He wore a cast.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvmZgiDIlYbqLhNRO4BlNjNUjEQzf3WWN7H-rbkrRz3AucoMOPRYewqkmTXDdxGcweN7RmSsCl-sDdTaMkFvkSCVAbYm4SfTvMadmwAZ3LLGMZ-pPj2zWYoI2LLKw9BtoqEsAPilZHSQv/s1528/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Creative+nicknaming.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="1410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqvmZgiDIlYbqLhNRO4BlNjNUjEQzf3WWN7H-rbkrRz3AucoMOPRYewqkmTXDdxGcweN7RmSsCl-sDdTaMkFvkSCVAbYm4SfTvMadmwAZ3LLGMZ-pPj2zWYoI2LLKw9BtoqEsAPilZHSQv/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+Creative+nicknaming.jpg" width="295" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">I would see him multiple times a day, presumably because he was off work. But
then again, it's probably because I was walking Whiskey to the park in the
morning and the evening and he lives across the street from the park. Then, his friends showed up and they started playing bocce. You know, after the cast came off.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Side story – we know one of our neighbours quite well (same building,
different floor). We call him The Door Man because he opens the
parkade door for us when we come home. He plays golf at the pitch and
putt at the park. He has taken up to talking to The Bocce Boys. We
saw him hanging out with them one day and I exclaimed “Door Man –
what are YOU doing here”. The Bocce Boys were blown away that we
knew him.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">We
saw The Door Man on the way back from the park the other day and he
had been hanging with The Bocce Boys. He recounted a conversation he
just had with The Boys... “I've only known you guys for a little
while, but my neighbours come here all the time”. Cast Man says
“I've known them for YEARS!!”.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Truth
be told, when we saw Door Man with The Bocce Boys, I brought Whiskey
over to see Door Man and I said to Cast Man “I think this is the
closest we've ever stood”. So, "known them" is a bit of an overstatement. But it comes from the same "they're nice people" place.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Anyway, back to the real story... And
then there's The Cart Lady. She drives a scooter around collecting
cans around the park, neighbourhood and golf course. Whiskey used to
HATE her cart. All carts, really. They would send her into a prey
drive frenzy. But The Cart Lady recognized Whiskey's craziness and
would stop far away. Whiskey came to know the lady and stopped
freaking out as she drove past. Whiskey's now really good with her
cart, at least, so she has helped us break Whiskey of that hate. She
also loves Whiskey and gives air smooches when she's picking up the
cans. The cans that happen to be around us.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSLIVt7maULbRgYDzXkyZp-Z0hCncPCubt2mYzDK35KSqp8ZlgbF8fIgWHisVd7gBxgwoNw0S9K7af4mHwnJdfPHTgtLXo-gpUZNk2Kl-AA4QlxG7qlXQsQaWxy41po8Kwfrdo5UC1wBl/s2000/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+not+our+cans.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSLIVt7maULbRgYDzXkyZp-Z0hCncPCubt2mYzDK35KSqp8ZlgbF8fIgWHisVd7gBxgwoNw0S9K7af4mHwnJdfPHTgtLXo-gpUZNk2Kl-AA4QlxG7qlXQsQaWxy41po8Kwfrdo5UC1wBl/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+not+our+cans.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><span>Like
everyone, we've done the obligatory “Hello!”, “Thank-you!”,
“Bye bye”. The other day, she opened up to us. She's an older
European lady (unsure of region based on accent). From that
conversation, we learned that she doesn't speak English very well. We had no idea! She told her story about her daughter's dog dying and how
much she loved that dog and how sad she has been. That's why she
loves seeing Whiskey. </span></span>
</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Often
when we're sitting there, she will drive by and if we're early in our
shift (i.e. Only a can or two out), she'll make her rounds and come
back later. You know, once those park hooligans drop more cans near
us.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">But
the other day, she rolled up in her cart and stopped. She took a few
moments to get out of her cart and rather than grabbing her bag of
cans, she grabs this paper bag.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">She
walks right up to us with the paper bag and hands it to me. I take
it. She says “From my garden. Tomatoes.”.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">I
open up the bag and look at 4 glorious, HUGE, beautiful tomatoes. She
goes back to her cart and grabs her phone and starts scrolling. Shows
me 5 or so pictures of her garden. Cucumbers, tomatoes, squash. All
beautiful plants full of fruit.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">We're
both very appreciative. She goes back to her cart to drop off her
phone, grabs her bag of cans and cleans up after us.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Then
she walked back up to us and says “See, see, see” as she points
at several parts of the park. Parts we've been known to sit. Then
“See!!” as she points at us.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; text-align: left;">She
harvested these tomatoes specifically for us and roamed around hoping
to find us.</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYbednM6ropFMnEd0kKCQNO4lCT1-cmKvjjmoPsA0ut-R9PCn2M5gLcItKiOJWSxYgSYVLLyMAjxGrFwsfgVD1wh6yuE-wBRi1bjX6xijaZ2fWVdoAn8ZCGo0YWnvIuXDkxLd3W6g1LyC/s1310/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+chopping+onions+outside.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1310" data-original-width="1277" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYbednM6ropFMnEd0kKCQNO4lCT1-cmKvjjmoPsA0ut-R9PCn2M5gLcItKiOJWSxYgSYVLLyMAjxGrFwsfgVD1wh6yuE-wBRi1bjX6xijaZ2fWVdoAn8ZCGo0YWnvIuXDkxLd3W6g1LyC/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+chopping+onions+outside.jpg" width="312" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGwR__t5Xvhw6bTDDgo2Sh-CZvXlYKfiSYhCvO4VsIfmueeVinRti7Jv-qp24CyohXCiJH9zb3JVxvCCvYKv_qXlIfXn26yUlt2LmUWIC9B8lLRECNKBJiaVBZJDrhZENDIv-yJaaCiSZ/s1613/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+people+are+so+sweet.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1613" data-original-width="1366" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGwR__t5Xvhw6bTDDgo2Sh-CZvXlYKfiSYhCvO4VsIfmueeVinRti7Jv-qp24CyohXCiJH9zb3JVxvCCvYKv_qXlIfXn26yUlt2LmUWIC9B8lLRECNKBJiaVBZJDrhZENDIv-yJaaCiSZ/w308-h364/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+people+are+so+sweet.jpg" width="308" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jmlnr8iXNF4IGpX2gyTvaOnuiEFUxPGTEuKbKOCWCRhJaTNiq1UIy0ZMEmA74TLxsP9x1cj1G4measFtCxPGNH0iYX_pvBzvR0jxPjVNFQkP-HeAgVLfdYaSlJ90tfl7hKYm6G8toJL8/s1557/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+we%2527re+nicepeople+too.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1557" data-original-width="1456" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jmlnr8iXNF4IGpX2gyTvaOnuiEFUxPGTEuKbKOCWCRhJaTNiq1UIy0ZMEmA74TLxsP9x1cj1G4measFtCxPGNH0iYX_pvBzvR0jxPjVNFQkP-HeAgVLfdYaSlJ90tfl7hKYm6G8toJL8/w310-h332/ThatWhiteGirls+-+Park+People+-+we%2527re+nicepeople+too.jpg" width="310" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-5818442664692342792021-08-26T22:33:00.002-07:002021-08-26T22:34:18.818-07:00So... What HAS been happening?!<p><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana;">This
feels a bit like when you run into an old friend, or schoolmate or
coworker. They say “Hey! Long time no see. What's new?”. And you
try and think back to the last time you saw them and try and come up
with a concise summary of important events.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo6Sxz2SBiV02cORg2p09Ow3PQqgA-BwtHNdbfbgX2e_p7cr45JVfKpa-vHQnYnxGNaeBUdcx7fpH_tHzLHqZBLROfd9nJTLHaSF-CGOFp6gPa_9w7grtNf9QIL5sWRcWY3ySkASDgPhab/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+Heather+thinking.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo6Sxz2SBiV02cORg2p09Ow3PQqgA-BwtHNdbfbgX2e_p7cr45JVfKpa-vHQnYnxGNaeBUdcx7fpH_tHzLHqZBLROfd9nJTLHaSF-CGOFp6gPa_9w7grtNf9QIL5sWRcWY3ySkASDgPhab/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+Heather+thinking.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>Then
your brain is overstimulated and they're standing there staring at
you. So you say the first thing that pops in your mind.</span><p></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhde2ld6-I-1vfKKU1BxkM9Jq2avzC3lZU_lEE4oWZrH9VMaSv3f0aGbqlvSXxqEhLbjMBmya-SeTx1kXSszR5A8UfaoRGF4mLLszP-6g41cdbevk-YJiLDaaC9B_EhWQbIX5lAquT6BUS7/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+Same+old+same+old.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhde2ld6-I-1vfKKU1BxkM9Jq2avzC3lZU_lEE4oWZrH9VMaSv3f0aGbqlvSXxqEhLbjMBmya-SeTx1kXSszR5A8UfaoRGF4mLLszP-6g41cdbevk-YJiLDaaC9B_EhWQbIX5lAquT6BUS7/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+Same+old+same+old.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>And
upon leaving the awkward social interaction, your brain actually
starts functioning and you come up with a laundry list of things that
are new.</span><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">Luckily,
I don't have anyone staring me in the face looking for an answer, so
I have all the time in the world to spell it out. In detail. Well,
moderate detail. I don't need to bore whoever might be reading this
from the get-go.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">You're
welcome.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">I
think the last time I posted was shortly after my boyfriend moved
in... So... what has been happening??</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">I
bought an apartment – my first giant debt. It made me quite
nervous. Terrified, really. Truth be told, I vomited a lot during the
purchase process.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">It's
actually a very small debt compared to other peoples' mortgages. I
once had someone say “THAT'S not a mortgage”. The way it was said
seemed like it was meant to be a dig. A financial version of “mine's
bigger”. But in the worst possible way. It's not an RRSP. It's
debt. You don't WANT it to be big. Right? Just me? Okay, so anyway!</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">We
got a dog! It took a year after moving into the apartment (no
restrictions on height, weight or breed) for it to finally happen. I
spent so much time and energy scouring rescue agencies looking for
the right dog. My boyfriend was fucking Goldilocks about it.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmn8zotD1nrF6gFgMaMdCuL8iFuq1-PQOiLH7u9Iv23s6Zfg4boAL8vrRm1TyQVJs_oY8-LEbGDUSlQNp-WWsjXFsakyaqc3PD3T_saBQrCyg3O1IlUT8ApC426q6ShW7CF-nqrCn0MUf/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+big.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmn8zotD1nrF6gFgMaMdCuL8iFuq1-PQOiLH7u9Iv23s6Zfg4boAL8vrRm1TyQVJs_oY8-LEbGDUSlQNp-WWsjXFsakyaqc3PD3T_saBQrCyg3O1IlUT8ApC426q6ShW7CF-nqrCn0MUf/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+big.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EL77aEO_RleQ5zb0WyeQL-_SuMJRV7Wu9zE9NU0rzgVkPagDZa6Q8IE0sHFzv_rgDeUbQaJxcEbYMgROyrAtBqu1rQbvKRhAfwqKRUgd8IMHlBWh6B_frDAlyNFmlAPfDr4A7y6oBOq1/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+much+drool.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EL77aEO_RleQ5zb0WyeQL-_SuMJRV7Wu9zE9NU0rzgVkPagDZa6Q8IE0sHFzv_rgDeUbQaJxcEbYMgROyrAtBqu1rQbvKRhAfwqKRUgd8IMHlBWh6B_frDAlyNFmlAPfDr4A7y6oBOq1/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+much+drool.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s_6QMlbQrwYY1YG2HnC3iYlZdugQc-x6Ltw3-thfcRDsWS2u-bP2g-OnAbgPFO3mIOpyNWxAqBF1bdQ01SX4fJKT6cxR4jLQ99r8oyjO0JDb-eJj0KL31dG81guRBsxfSFNw6mVcgFGC/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+much+hair.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7s_6QMlbQrwYY1YG2HnC3iYlZdugQc-x6Ltw3-thfcRDsWS2u-bP2g-OnAbgPFO3mIOpyNWxAqBF1bdQ01SX4fJKT6cxR4jLQ99r8oyjO0JDb-eJj0KL31dG81guRBsxfSFNw6mVcgFGC/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+too+much+hair.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">It
got to the point where I was like “if you don't stop poo-pooing
EVERY dog I show you, I will make the decision myself”. He didn't
much like that. But... then his brother went on vacation and left his
dog with us. An 80 lb lab/pittie cross. And the biggest cream puff,
lazy dog you ever met. He was so happy to have her with us – he
kept saying "Wow - this isn't so hard". Meanwhile I bit my tongue "yeah... sure... all dogs are THIS easy!".</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">By
the end of that week, when he would leave for work on a Saturday
morning, I'd hear “Bye – I love you”. And when I looked up. He
was looking down. At the dog.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaRXNSMnwwnEQMBXXqDMIgYfDcYIzz-SvZ9aujWKB0QMdxWCjVoRTjmXmEAEFbuMetuYd_lwKuMyTgJN4nIzbLY5TTWrXpP6tHQvunLNBpCi9zyhQsIeTK-2xm0DQbe8WsR1s_xae6kXm/s2048/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+its+happening.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaRXNSMnwwnEQMBXXqDMIgYfDcYIzz-SvZ9aujWKB0QMdxWCjVoRTjmXmEAEFbuMetuYd_lwKuMyTgJN4nIzbLY5TTWrXpP6tHQvunLNBpCi9zyhQsIeTK-2xm0DQbe8WsR1s_xae6kXm/s320/ThatWhiteGirls+-+What%2527s+happening+-+its+happening.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Century Gothic", sans-serif" style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">A
week later we had Whiskey on a one-week trial. She's great. She's
crazy. But I think she warrants her own post.</span></p>That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-16740812995635142742021-08-12T23:31:00.005-07:002021-08-14T11:24:44.408-07:00Holy Crap - it has been a long time!!<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span>I've written and rewritten about a dozen posts (maybe more, but not that many more) since my last post. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Obviously COVID has not helped the situation, but as evidenced by 6 years of absenteeism, this extends far beyond COVID. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">I've been, in a word, lazy. Reality is, I've spent the last way-too-long simply consuming media and not being creative. In nearly every way. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I haven't been playing guitar much. I haven't been writing (as you can see). I haven't been recording new music. Or, really even, learning new songs. Stupid cartoon drawings are now back to kindergarten level, instead of the... grade 3 (?!) they were at before. I don't even have the right computer for recording. Turns out my equipment is out of date. My 60 year old neighbour has a new mixer that records right in the unit. He doesn't need the right cable, input jack, etc... My 60 year old neighbour is more with-it recording-wise than I am. AND I USED TO LOVE IT!!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm in a rut. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Is that what comes from being in a relationship for 7 years? Probably (hopefully!!) not for everyone, but s</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">omeone once said to me, the Wise Woman, "you can't have two sitters in a relationship". I was pretty sure I was a sitter. Turns out, I'm the ambitious one. How scary is that? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Try as I might to rally the troop (singular), these days, I largely don't have the energy for it. It's too hard. There is too much going on. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I would like to think that I'll figure some shit out and reignite the creativity fire I once had. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I bought a new laptop, which is a 2 in 1, so no drawing tablet required. It might make it easier. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Or this might be another one-off and you won't see another post for 6 years. Or ever. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Feeling pretty dejected. </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">COVID hasn't helped my mindset. I had my brother over for dinner for the first time in... 2 years?! I've seen him for various reasons, including socially distanced gift-giving (Christmas, birthdays). But haven't really spent any time with him. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">I saw my dad for the first time in 9 months. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Being social and being active (outside of the usual dog walks etc) is trying. I, like everyone, am having a hard time. COVID hasn't helped. It only helped solidify a feeling that was already lurking under the surface. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">I'm going to post this. And regret it. But I'm hoping this spurs me to do something. More than sit. </span></p>That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-39194496115909175492015-05-04T16:42:00.001-07:002015-05-04T16:42:04.581-07:00I’m done school!!<p align="justify">As you may or may not know/remember, I’ve been working towards my bachelors degree for, basically, ever. The final piece of the puzzle was a graduating project which has been a constant source of frustration.</p> <p align="justify">My prof continually changed the scope of the project, I had one project swept out from under me entirely and my prof rejected proposals based on minor writing style preferences. I’m not sure what he was thinking – I have a great writing style.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LmLqpd2b3GA/VUgDr1alLeI/AAAAAAAABrc/WFXQoIBfIL8/s1600-h/That-White-Girls-finished-school---n%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girls finished school - needed pictures in my project" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girls finished school - needed pictures in my project" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-og08oon2_b0/VUgDsnoJIAI/AAAAAAAABrk/NcP47Bl2_6Y/That-White-Girls-finished-school---n.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="299"></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wahSikN2CDM/VUgDttWZCrI/AAAAAAAABrs/TslqyRLdgTc/s1600-h/That-White-Girls-finished-school---n%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girls finished school - needed pictures in my project - reasons not to" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girls finished school - needed pictures in my project - reasons not to" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5CGuwV-BH6A/VUgDuWDCv6I/AAAAAAAABrw/bqyxoaPwAC0/That-White-Girls-finished-school---n%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="290"></a></p> <p align="justify">Maybe it was a good thing that I decided to put some thought into it first. </p> <p align="justify">After 18 months of writing and re-writing proposals, I finally got the go-ahead to start on my actual project. Like previous experiences, my prof was less-than-available; he didn’t respond to multiple emails that I sent throughout the summer and fall, providing updates and asking for guidance. </p> <p align="justify">Despite having no support, I managed to submit a first draft halfway through November; I didn’t receive any feedback for a month. With my December 31st deadline looming, I was very stressed out and worried about the whole thing. I could not ask for yet another extension. </p> <p align="justify">After I received the feedback, I had a little over 2 weeks to conduct all the necessary research, write the new sections and implement all the requested changes. With the added fact that it was a very busy time at work and all the holiday celebrations thrown in there, I barely squeaked the final version in; I submitted it at midnight on December 30th. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zOmTdEmh6J4/VUgDvNara5I/AAAAAAAABr8/3xg0v3x71ZQ/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520project%252520submitted%252520in%252520time%252520to%252520party%252520on%252520NYE%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girls finished school - project submitted in time to party on NYE" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girls finished school - project submitted in time to party on NYE" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kTRIiCLwKcc/VUgDvxXduqI/AAAAAAAABsA/JPVm49gB120/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520project%252520submitted%252520in%252520time%252520to%252520party%252520on%252520NYE_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="234"></a></p> <p align="justify">After that, I had to submit an application for graduation, which required an audit of my courses to make sure I had all the required credits. I was basically sitting in limbo (again) waiting for confirmation and stressing out for another couple weeks. </p> <p align="justify">At one point, I logged onto my school website to see if there was any movement on my application for graduation; I realized that my mark had been submitted for my project class. My heart increased in rate, my palms got a bit sweaty as I waited for the page to open. I scrolled down and saw the mark submission.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SXvv12SSzW4/VUgDwrGYeaI/AAAAAAAABsM/dGjMKeKCLnE/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520got%252520rage%252520face%252520over%252520an%252520S%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girls finished school - got rage face over an S" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girls finished school - got rage face over an S" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bl8VfPvv_EQ/VUgDxAQAHZI/AAAAAAAABsU/hqLNutsB8TE/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520got%252520rage%252520face%252520over%252520an%252520S_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="302"></a></p> <p align="justify">Something I didn’t know: it’s a pass/fail course. So of course the options for marks are “S” and “U”. I didn’t get a “U”, so there’s that, but it was entirely defeating to know that all my struggles over the past two years, all the stress, all the frustration, all the everything… culminated to an “S”.</p> <p align="justify">Somehow that doesn’t seem fair. </p> <p align="justify">But I did get my degree.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DNM2tFymhOU/VUgDx8bEO4I/AAAAAAAABsc/VlKn1QYc_t0/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520edumacated%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girls finished school - I'm edumacated" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girls finished school - I'm edumacated" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0BDix-gUaJA/VUgDyocmUqI/AAAAAAAABsk/7RaH7onprDo/That%252520White%252520Girls%252520finished%252520school%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520edumacated_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="317"></a></p> <p align="justify">So I suppose it’s all worth it.</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-37474804854580059502015-03-22T22:39:00.001-07:002015-03-22T22:39:38.254-07:00That White Girl’s Alive–Part Two<p align="justify">As I mentioned last time, I’ve had some recent developments in my life. Although, all developments I listed in my last post do not warrant their own post, they do warrant elaboration.</p> <p align="justify">List from last post:</p> <ol> <li> <p align="justify">I’m still alive</p> <li> <p align="justify">Work has been chaos and has been eating up all my time</p> <li> <p align="justify">I graduated from school (eeeep!)</p> <li> <p align="justify">The Boy moved in (double eeeep!)</p> <li> <p align="justify">I lost internet at home for 5 long weeks</p> <li> <p align="justify">I just got internet back </p></li></ol> <p align="justify">1. I am still alive. Unfortunately, I lost my URL because I didn’t have it on auto-renew. Even though that hurts me on the inside, it certainly hasn’t and won’t actually kill me. <p align="justify">2. Work has been busy and will continue to be busy for the next little while but now has a different kind of pressure and deadline. We completed one big project, but now are dealing with the aftermath of it and cleaning up after ourselves. We’re also expecting some auditors in at the end of the year, so we need to be prepared for that and make sure that we in fact adequately cleaned up after ourselves. <p align="justify">3. I graduated from school and this warrants its own post, so I won’t go into any detail now other than to say, I did it. <p align="justify">4. The Boy officially moved in. In the 8 months we’ve been seeing each other, we’ve basically been living together for 5 months. Right around Thanksgiving, he stopped going home much and was spending most of his time here. I eventually gave him a key. <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-mZiwwYqoHis/VQ-m51KWL2I/AAAAAAAABpQ/IyRP_SD0Ry4/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520the%252520boy%252520gets%252520a%252520key%252520and%252520then%252520never%252520leaves%252520again%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - the boy gets a key and then never leaves again" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - the boy gets a key and then never leaves again" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-TTlTczOZxho/VQ-m6tPv3RI/AAAAAAAABpY/OG7XZ_87puU/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520the%252520boy%252520gets%252520a%252520key%252520and%252520then%252520never%252520leaves%252520again_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="323"></a> <p align="justify">In January, we had the conversation about him officially moving in. It didn’t make sense for him to be paying rent to his room-mate for a place he doesn’t live in and he wanted to be able to help me with the bills instead. So, he gave his room-mate notice and intended to vacate as of March 1st. Over the next few weeks, he slowly started bringing stuff over. As the end of February grew closer, the loads got bigger. <p align="justify">With me being busy at work and not being around to help organize and go through stuff, the boxes simply piled up and remained unopened. Once work slowed down enough that I had an available brain cell, I was overwhelmed by the chaos and was minutes away from completely losing my mind. The Boy may or may not have heard all about it. Multiple times. <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9K7cUFop8cU/VQ-m7lxYQhI/AAAAAAAABpg/weC5I84RKy0/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520boxes%252520of%252520shit%252520everywhere%252520-%252520losing%252520my%252520mind%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - boxes of shit everywhere - losing my mind" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - boxes of shit everywhere - losing my mind" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dsGQ1k_RThM/VQ-m8Q4sItI/AAAAAAAABpo/eTJoVVhfhHU/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520boxes%252520of%252520shit%252520everywhere%252520-%252520losing%252520my%252520mind_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a> <p align="justify">I ended up taking the past week off work and we spent most of that time dealing with the chaos, so now the majority of stuff has been sorted, stored, given away etc. The place is starting to resemble a home again instead of this mess: <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YpUYsrYBUNQ/VQ-m9P-MVNI/AAAAAAAABpw/n3VKszN3huQ/s1600-h/IMG_0096%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_0096" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="IMG_0096" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HFKiTHMvNls/VQ-m94hFawI/AAAAAAAABp4/eO1Rvbc49v0/IMG_0096_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="404"></a> <p align="justify">5. The internet was being provided by my upstairs neighbour. Once the landlord moved out, his cousin moved in and continued to give the tenants internet. Over the years, the other tenants lost their privileges and eventually I was the only tenant left with this grandfathered perk. <p align="justify">When The Boy brought his computers over, I gave him the internet password and he promptly went to town on it. My upstairs neighbour promptly changed the password and I promptly lost my free internet. I called the service provider for my land line and requested internet be added. They had a fantastic bundle that would end up costing me all of $15 more a month. <p align="justify">And then, it took them over 4 weeks to get their shit together; I had to contact them 3 times in order for them to actually ship the modem out. And then I got my bill. <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-a-2ZH6W4LU8/VQ-m-whvxlI/AAAAAAAABqA/KfvqEVaUDss/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520internet%252520peeps%252520charging%252520me%252520the%252520whole%252520time%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - internet peeps charging me the whole time" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - internet peeps charging me the whole time" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-POLHFFaWX6s/VQ-m_vf_A_I/AAAAAAAABqI/465g4uPDN0U/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520internet%252520peeps%252520charging%252520me%252520the%252520whole%252520time_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="275"></a> <p align="justify">6. Moral of the story, I now have internet, even though it was a pain in the ass and the longest 4.5 weeks of my life. Luckily, I had a work-issued smartphone and was able to pilfer internet access through that data plan. <p align="justify">That basically covers everything from the last post, aside from the graduation, which will soon follow. <p align="justify">Met up with a friend the other day for lunch; the following conversation occurred: <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xhIOCNH_dCg/VQ-nAFkSclI/AAAAAAAABqQ/ABlkEol85I8/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520happy%252520for%252520you%25252C%252520but...%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - I'm happy for you, but..." style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - I'm happy for you, but..." src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNk7JOTg5IAjAXbCOHf5Msb_S3xgIVQH6ppKziC3li2GMv1J2aUOCbEjGVa4WpxwUCWqmh5aOBCz-935FXivekA7nSDLm4rvZr8PakXOvT_voGoZKa07wH1PZxep7QxkxjyYrNxyzteLGG/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="330"></a> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2PegxC170Q0/VQ-nBy-dusI/AAAAAAAABqg/5GTOtQv1yHw/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520you%252520don%252527t%252520have%252520any%252520funny%252520stories%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - you don't have any funny stories" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - you don't have any funny stories" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fbG1SjBOXzA/VQ-nCsgsfrI/AAAAAAAABqo/aemDwWQchKE/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520you%252520don%252527t%252520have%252520any%252520funny%252520stories_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="330"></a> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-P83WeKJsX8E/VQ-nDnbpk0I/AAAAAAAABqw/987Tt4c5SnQ/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520no%252520more%252520horrible%252520dating%252520stories%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - no more horrible dating stories" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - no more horrible dating stories" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3ZrKu-AR-o8/VQ-nEIW0YtI/AAAAAAAABq4/H2afazPmUuo/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520no%252520more%252520horrible%252520dating%252520stories_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="259"></a> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtJc1wo8JnI2xFoTfqbC4JLz-2QpNZQiyC8scW2YGBDmdhOLQ522yOqlZImas61YHZc7qUgix4L8ez6hsdBEzP77dp4jBK0dzO09p-38RDKcgN4cnIzYwqZqTZ1Xka6Wty4p01Q_zzhZ2/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520sorry%252520but%252520your%252520life%252520is%252520boring%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - I'm sorry but your life is boring" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - I'm sorry but your life is boring" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DBdOGMhCDoY/VQ-nFzF8LKI/AAAAAAAABrI/97Wbo0vvA_s/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520sorry%252520but%252520your%252520life%252520is%252520boring_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="330"></a> <p align="justify">Thanks LC. Although (I hope) you’re right about the lack of terrible dating stories in the future, I sure hope to prove you wrong about being boring and not having any good stories left to tell.</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-28499892195192013002015-03-05T22:33:00.001-08:002015-03-05T22:41:56.124-08:00That White Girl’s Alive!!<p align="justify">Holy crap – it’s been forever since I’ve posted anything! Just wanted to write a quick update to let you know what’s been going on.</p> <ol> <li> <div align="justify">I’m still alive</div></li> <li> <div align="justify">Work has been chaos and has been eating up all my time</div></li> <li> <div align="justify">I graduated from school (eeeep!)</div></li> <li> <div align="justify">The Boy moved in (double eeeep!)</div></li> <li> <div align="justify">I lost internet at home for 5 long weeks</div></li> <li> <div align="justify">I just got internet back </div></li></ol> <p align="justify">I swear I’ll write more details on all of this soon – I just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive and haven’t forgotten about this thing I call a blog. </p> <p align="justify">And apparently, I didn’t have my auto-renew on my website set up, so I lost my domain name. Serves me right I guess. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-87137974671122625272014-11-30T23:15:00.001-08:002014-11-30T23:15:55.030-08:00Goings Ons<p align="justify">Where do I begin? Well, the past couple/few months have been a bit of a whirlwind. Between working too much, doing my school project and having a full social calendar, I haven’t had much time to write (well, aside from my school project, that is).</p> <p align="justify">I guess that’s the best place to start. As you may or may not remember, I was having a hard time getting my school project off the ground. I finally got the okay from my professor to quit writing and re-writing my proposal and actually do the project. You could say I was pretty pleased.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-qXdTZRx3sLM/VHwVlThbISI/AAAAAAAABnk/6rSi1Nn8eMI/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520victory%252520is%252520mine%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - victory is mine" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - victory is mine" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_PkmbqtP5S0/VHwVl_rWDAI/AAAAAAAABno/eXb7UhoQPNM/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520victory%252520is%252520mine_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="262"></a></p> <p align="justify">In August, I carried out the sampling and then spent the next couple months analyzing the data, researching and writing the paper. I submitted the first draft just about two weeks ago.</p> <p align="justify">After which, The Boy, asked me to come down to the pub for a celebratory drink. Shortly after I arrived, he said something cryptic to the bartender and before I knew it, two champagne flutes were placed in front of me; they were quickly filled with a bubbly nectar. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JrgtmLxKZ6k/VHwVmW0I9fI/AAAAAAAABn0/Sy-tyx-shMQ/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520one%252520less%252520drink%252520on%252520the%252520bar%252520tab%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - one less drink on the bar tab" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - one less drink on the bar tab" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--s4lGNGmz5s/VHwVm1QdNTI/AAAAAAAABn8/di7PA3LX8xc/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520one%252520less%252520drink%252520on%252520the%252520bar%252520tab_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="282"></a></p> <p align="justify">I was shocked and surprised and, quite frankly, tickled pink. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. I basically swooned right off my chair. When I came to and thanked him for it, he simply said “You did a big thing today; you deserve it”. I didn’t remind him that it was only a first draft and that I haven’t actually graduated yet.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-K9PBvSYyJWQ/VHwVnrI-CeI/AAAAAAAABoE/dFzMm5G2KCQ/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520drinking%252520bubbly%252520and%252520enjoying%252520it%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - drinking bubbly and enjoying it" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - drinking bubbly and enjoying it" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jTx_XCAL5Oc/VHwVoMiomJI/AAAAAAAABoI/FSlMLl0xkPg/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520drinking%252520bubbly%252520and%252520enjoying%252520it_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="262"></a></p> <p align="justify">Work has been super busy for the past couple months and will be insanely busy for the next couple months; it will take over my life. The only light at the end of the tunnel is solace in knowing that when it’s all over, I’m getting on a jet plane to some place and spending a week drinking way too much. Stay tuned for that one!</p> <p align="justify">I’ve still managed to spend a ridiculous amount of time with The Boy; I even went to my first minor league baseball game and a couple minor league hockey games. Now, I’m, by no means, a sporty girl, but these games have proven to be a very good time. I even bought a team scarf.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PLvXf0CVqqY/VHwVokq6YII/AAAAAAAABoU/w4g3DbF-IXk/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520fashion%252520first%252520-%252520sport%252520poser%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - fashion first - sport poser" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - fashion first - sport poser" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zIhmx6CL2qg/VHwVpAZb9sI/AAAAAAAABoY/16bzrS66eP4/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520fashion%252520first%252520-%252520sport%252520poser_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="336"></a></p> <p align="justify">My niece is growing fast; she changes every time I see her. She’s walking and starting to talk. The running joke in the family is that she’ll be graduating college before I do. Did I mention my family are assholes?</p> <p align="justify">Thanksgiving was a success; The Boy came for dinner (I cooked) and met most of my family. It was nerve-wracking but we both made it out alive. Christmas is next on the list, and providing he comes for dinner, he will meet the rest of my family. We’ll see if he’s still around, or if he runs screaming from the building. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-U4BNr372sp8/VHwVphV-CqI/AAAAAAAABok/K4VOtWOw2QM/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520the%252520boy%252520runs%252520screaming%252520from%252520the%252520building%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - the boy runs screaming from the building" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - goings ons - the boy runs screaming from the building" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-v5Ji6jOLJEg/VHwVqC6jZLI/AAAAAAAABoo/lV15SLLe4NM/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520goings%252520ons%252520-%252520the%252520boy%252520runs%252520screaming%252520from%252520the%252520building_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="259"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’ll let you know how it pans out. Probably in February when my life resumes normality. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-39640745710199985982014-10-02T20:44:00.001-07:002014-10-02T20:44:27.255-07:00This Particular Boy–part 1<p align="justify">So, as you know, there’s this particular boy I’ve been spending time with lately. And because you’re all so incredibly nosey, you want to hear all about it. And because I’m so incredibly accommodating, I will tell you all about it. </p> <p align="justify">I’ve technically known him for a couple years, but we only started having consistent conversations in the last 8 months or so. I met BigBoy, or BB, at my local watering hole; he was often there when I was there. I attempted to make conversation with him on a couple of occasions and was met with, what can only be described as, indifference. I chalked it up to him being the strong, silent type. </p> <p align="justify">One day, I was successful in luring him into conversation; I was convinced we were going to be friends. Or at the very least, two people that would talk to each other while occupying a spot at the same bar. But the next time I saw him, I was met with the same indifference. I drew the only logical conclusion.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5mMRWbca72Q/VC4bkNimUUI/AAAAAAAABms/Gz8Miy_X03c/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520A%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520he%252520doesn%252527t%252520like%252520me%252520very%252520much%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl's Got A Boyfriend - he doesn't like me very much" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl's Got A Boyfriend - he doesn't like me very much" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DkqVMBwqfOI/VC4bknN-4YI/AAAAAAAABmw/9bl2XrHt3_M/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520A%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520he%252520doesn%252527t%252520like%252520me%252520very%252520much_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">BB ended up getting a job as a bartender at this establishment. I was sure that I would eventually win him over since he was required to have contact with me. But it turned out he wasn’t required to have contact with me at all. He’d simply leave my drink-getting-duties up to the other bartender, which naturally further convinced me of his dislike for me. </p> <p align="justify">Several months ago, BB ended up moving in with a friend of mine. I was having drinks with Mutual Friend at the pub one night and he invited me back to his place after closing; I agreed to go. He said “When BB gets off work, you’ll be there… I’m sure he’ll love that.”. I drew the only logical conclusion.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QqK1-NiAHwc/VC4blJVpeJI/AAAAAAAABm8/K7TAjat7JlE/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520A%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520everyone%252520knows%252520he%252520hates%252520me%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl's Got A Boyfriend - everyone knows he hates me" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl's Got A Boyfriend - everyone knows he hates me" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8LPMXTKW77w/VC4blbC6fOI/AAAAAAAABnA/hQWjv3aOQzI/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520A%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520everyone%252520knows%252520he%252520hates%252520me_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Things started slowly changing; around the time BB moved in with Mutual Friend, we started having nice conversations really consistently. One night about three months ago, I was at their place, BB and I were having an in-depth conversation about guitars (we both play); Mutual Friend fell asleep on the couch. The following conversation ensued:</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">BB: So, what’s the deal with you and Mutual Friend?</p> <p align="justify">TWG: What do you mean?</p> <p align="justify">BB: Well, sometimes I come home from work and you’re here, and Mutual Friend told me the other day that you came over and it was just the two of you.</p> <p align="justify">TWG: Yup.</p> <p align="justify">BB: Soooooo…?</p> <p align="justify">TWG: Noooooo.</p> <p align="justify">BB: No?</p> <p align="justify">TWG: Nope. It’s not going to happen and I’ve told him that about a thousand times.</p> <p align="justify">BB: Yeah, I know.</p> <p align="justify">TWG: You know?</p> <p align="justify">BB: Yeah, I’ve been around for a dozen of those thousand times.</p> <p align="justify">TWG: Right.</p> <p align="justify">BB: But you can understand why I’m asking…</p> <p align="justify">TWG: I… guess… (<em>I didn’t</em>)</p></blockquote> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uWpebmR_5yU/VC4bl4UX-yI/AAAAAAAABnM/WnUq_VadnKI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520a%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520fireworks%25252C%252520first%252520kiss%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl's Got a Boyfriend - fireworks, first kiss" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl's Got a Boyfriend - fireworks, first kiss" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wXRyTdwNXpM/VC4bmbHkD1I/AAAAAAAABnQ/zE1tlSO7eKw/That%252520White%252520Girl%252527s%252520Got%252520a%252520Boyfriend%252520-%252520fireworks%25252C%252520first%252520kiss_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="264"></a></p> <p align="justify">Since then, we started spending more and more time together and have had a nice conversation of the “What are we doing, where is this going” variety. And as of recently, we even put the nice little “Boyfriend/Girlfriend” label on this relationship. </p> <p align="justify">Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Relationship. These are things that haven’t happened in over a decade for me. </p> <p align="justify">You could say I’m a little out of my element. You could say that, at times, this whole thing completely freaks me out because being in a relationship has become such a foreign concept for me. </p> <p align="justify">You could also say I am enjoying myself immensely. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-77425706424098449862014-08-19T23:15:00.001-07:002014-08-19T23:15:59.808-07:00School Sucks<p align="justify">As you may or may not know, in addition to working for a living, I’m also in school. <em>Sort of</em>. I’ve been working on a bachelors degree part time for a long time; I’m finished all my classes, but still have a graduating project to do. </p> <p align="justify">There are only so many steps associated with this process.</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">Step 1 – Pick a topic</p> <p align="justify">Step 2 – Write a proposal and have it accepted</p> <p align="justify">Step 3 – Carry out project</p> <p align="justify">Step 4 – Write report and have it accepted</p> <p align="justify">Step 5 – Graduate</p></blockquote> <p align="justify">But every step, takes way longer than it has to.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gwha3JL44Z8/U_Q86iGeSmI/AAAAAAAABkc/HJ6Tsu2z018/s1600-h/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bBdGG8hDcPE/U_Q87GtmjqI/AAAAAAAABkg/-_-VxDHTB_4/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B8%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vF4lQHCcDcY/U_Q87y2YIRI/AAAAAAAABks/o4s1HDYWS8Q/s1600-h/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project round 2" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project round 2" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-L81AQlCJv4Q/U_Q88SItz-I/AAAAAAAABk0/1QBSELecfhg/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B5%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="225"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1E4wPY_5bvw/U_Q9AlK_hMI/AAAAAAAABk4/tSJ_F8bIDyA/s1600-h/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project round 3" style="border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px; border-top-width: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - decide on topic of project round 3" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yXHGhNCGVrY/U_Q9BHZzXlI/AAAAAAAABlE/NV9WNBUfLGg/That-White-Girl---school-sucks---dec%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="225"></a></p> <p align="justify">Six months later, we agreed on a topic. I started writing the proposal and it took 8 months (and 6 submissions) to get any feedback from my professor; when I finally did, it wasn’t exactly how I anticipated it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-b0i1xsm1R5Y/U_Q9B3K5uNI/AAAAAAAABlM/zvy2qVFwWjs/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520your%252520proposal%252520sucks%252520do%252520it%252520again%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - your proposal sucks do it again" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - your proposal sucks do it again" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Y4kFvTr8cs0/U_Q9CqaSdJI/AAAAAAAABlQ/bdiKhrZ690Y/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520your%252520proposal%252520sucks%252520do%252520it%252520again_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="379"></a></p> <p align="justify">So I did. And then…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgws4ceKU185Y_h9zWxqVHEWkhAZ5zhPj40Kr-Jt-hDUDKhMdLxRK1gWz3fpAOHZlPV9tSa6jqSS7nV1IQqriKJecNg4V5dZorRqYI-aYL57XwL11zNLCE3OfjKcwaSkufSN1HKDAQJWjSw/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520someone%252520fucked%252520you%252520over%252520and%252520now%252520you%252520need%252520to%252520redo%252520everything%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - someone fucked you over and now you need to redo everything" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - someone fucked you over and now you need to redo everything" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OsGzlp2z4c4/U_Q9D5gpwQI/AAAAAAAABlk/AGTzyEqfqOk/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520someone%252520fucked%252520you%252520over%252520and%252520now%252520you%252520need%252520to%252520redo%252520everything_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="279"></a></p> <p align="justify">So I did. And then…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-is5Qy_6BP8Y/U_Q9EzjVFaI/AAAAAAAABls/wGR6NsQbprQ/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520your%252520proposal%252520sucks%252520do%252520it%252520again%252520again%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - your proposal sucks do it again again" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - your proposal sucks do it again again" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5c59ii7aZEk/U_Q9F2X_fnI/AAAAAAAABl0/B-65ELHygac/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520your%252520proposal%252520sucks%252520do%252520it%252520again%252520again_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="379"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’ve actively been stuck in Step 1 and Step 2 for over two years. I’m beyond frustrated, which is why I have writer’s block and why you get a rant instead of a post. You’re welcome.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LD39HmqBkO4/U_Q9G8AdIdI/AAAAAAAABl8/pHrom12vNtg/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520thanks%252520for%252520listening%252520to%252520my%252520rant%252520-%252520you%252520guys%252520are%252520the%252520best%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - school sucks - thanks for listening to my rant - you guys are the best" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - school sucks - thanks for listening to my rant - you guys are the best" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-wjv5U4eRR1s/U_Q9HYZ6AKI/AAAAAAAABmA/wbBApNsosSI/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520school%252520sucks%252520-%252520thanks%252520for%252520listening%252520to%252520my%252520rant%252520-%252520you%252520guys%252520are%252520the%252520best_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="357"></a></p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-34661887673796943982014-07-31T21:32:00.001-07:002014-07-31T23:15:21.732-07:00I have a blog?<p align="justify">Holy crap – I think this is hands-down the longest dry spell I’ve ever had with my blog. </p> <p align="justify">A lot has been going on around here. I’ll try to give a brief rundown on what’s been going on… I’m sure most of these will require their own post. We’ll see if that happens. </p> <p align="justify">First off, I’ve been working away at my school project – it’s been a struggle for the past year and it’s only gotten worse in the last 3 months. The good news is, I’ve finally gotten the green light to go ahead with it, so I’ll be starting that next week. And it will overtake my life for the next however-many-months. </p> <p align="justify">For too long, I’ve been working too much; I recently decided I need more balance in my life and, as a result, have made huge efforts to maintain a social life with friends and family. Good, in theory, but it makes me stay up too late and have no time for writing. </p> <p align="justify">But I have a feeling that minimal overtime will soon come to an end – it’s a big year at work and the to-do list will eventually catch up to me and I’ll be living there again. Such is life, I guess. </p> <p align="justify">There’s also the summer factor, which also contributes to the social life factor. With the long days of sunshine, it’s much easier to not even think about going home until well after dark. And with the long days come short nights, so I’ve found its much easier for me not to get home until sunrise. It’s happening more and more. Which makes the next day rough and unproductive. </p> <p align="justify">Yet worth every minute of it. </p> <p align="justify">Now that I’ve put that in writing, it doesn’t seem as though it’s enough to warrant such a stretch of non-writing. I guess there’s no real excuse.</p> <p align="justify"> </p> <p align="justify">Except there might also be a boy involved. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-25467777342783731682014-05-26T22:09:00.001-07:002014-05-26T22:20:40.555-07:00Independence Day<p>Several years ago my mother told me that the reason I’m single is because I’m too independent; she said that I don’t <em><u>need</u></em> a man, that there isn’t anything I need or want in my life that I can’t get myself. Naturally, I disputed it, but she had a retort for everything I threw out there.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wBO7Cp2pRrvAtmLOh7VCT774Rgon7uyze4hcCli_oqaLRdO9SJw7vu58wGlM4BlpChECXxr2pUt190spgv3VergLP2g3JWrtsvY1Te63vt-AsqZ-b7pULoJ1nHZuGhpwDDziAN8IKrwR/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520having%252520kids%252520without%252520sperm%252520bank%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - having kids without sperm bank" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - having kids without sperm bank" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ueW7n0_9YyE/U4Qd7dDMdeI/AAAAAAAABhQ/dCNMZ9Sq-tU/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520having%252520kids%252520without%252520sperm%252520bank_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WP5uuWpsLRc/U4Qd72Ku-dI/AAAAAAAABhc/-o0U-hi-JZM/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520get%252520stuff%252520off%252520the%252520top%252520shelf%252520without%252520a%252520step%252520stool%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - get stuff off the top shelf without a step stool" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - get stuff off the top shelf without a step stool" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PNjg2o2l17I/U4Qd8fSW6II/AAAAAAAABhk/Fs9s70nsI_o/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520get%252520stuff%252520off%252520the%252520top%252520shelf%252520without%252520a%252520step%252520stool_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-RiEpPLdaRgE/U4Qd9FnZgkI/AAAAAAAABhs/OQInDeG76WI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520opening%252520jars%252520are%252520hard%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - opening jars are hard" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - opening jars are hard" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDdA0GgtlwOxotS3DvGjX27YdWGI4HlYeDOhqTQooeXauxwqEATBEzRpm0yzSue4UW57x7RCVycWBZsjqIHGzXKBD319FdrA0SGoJCvhxqcGJV8wBj_xRYwTsBUPsW5lTBlfDFgjgPQpu/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WCc7XwE2TgQ/U4Qd-FHSQqI/AAAAAAAABh8/7O88lDAu5bg/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520D-oh%252521%252521%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - D-oh!!" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - D-oh!!" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--QaK1EeL17U/U4Qd-pGGwlI/AAAAAAAABiA/RhOa3Awk9Ag/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520D-oh%252521%252521_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p>Naturally, I dismissed it, but since then I’ve wondered if she’s right. Maybe independence isn’t a desirable trait; maybe I need to be more dependent. But then I started thinking about the alternative. </p> <p>Take my stepmother, for instance; my dad does everything for her. Her responsibilities in life consist solely of cooking dinner and cleaning the house; dad works, pays the bills and even takes her shopping. </p> <p>It’s to the point where if anything were to happen and my dad wasn’t around anymore, I’m pretty sure she would not be able to function in the world. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DRtJX_dC_uQ/U4Qd_NMu-fI/AAAAAAAABiM/dgIhd6ieJsE/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520can%252527t%252520pay%252520bills%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - can't pay bills" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - can't pay bills" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SMK-nTAyGaI/U4Qd_QIKpQI/AAAAAAAABiU/8wLTWCkih7g/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520can%252527t%252520pay%252520bills_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="275"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-OYNOiqmS3Ss/U4QeAMhO3WI/AAAAAAAABic/TBBqpq3Tvak/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520can%252527t%252520count%252520money%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - can't count money" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - can't count money" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WzsmQXEOx64/U4QeAs2eAQI/AAAAAAAABig/l1NISJzzru4/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520can%252527t%252520count%252520money_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="330"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EJWNBITD91A/U4QeBI8WoZI/AAAAAAAABis/aGgGGZPsloA/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520seriously%252520how%252520can%252520you%252520not%252520count%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - seriously how can you not count" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - so dependent on my man - seriously how can you not count" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yjJaRj4yD8U/U4QeBt6QzOI/AAAAAAAABiw/a4eAiKw4doY/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520so%252520dependent%252520on%252520my%252520man%252520-%252520seriously%252520how%252520can%252520you%252520not%252520count_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="275"></a></p> <p align="center"><em>This. Happened. I could not make eye contact with the cashier while she handed back one of the twenties as change.</em></p> <p>All things considered, I don’t think my problem is a bad thing. Besides, I’ve also realized that I can’t do everything myself; I do need help. <em>Take that, Mom</em>. </p> <p>In September 2012, I bought a new TV. When I got it home, I took my old one off the TV stand, plopped it down on the floor and set up my new one. </p> <p>Fast forward to September 2013: </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-5GjvzM-frNE/U4QeCM66IwI/AAAAAAAABi8/mlvK4XocNc8/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520I%252520should%252520get%252520rid%252520of%252520my%252520heavy%252520tv%252520but%252520can%252527t%252520lift%252520it%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - I should get rid of my heavy tv but can't lift it" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - I should get rid of my heavy tv but can't lift it" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CIY3Qcts-84/U4QeCgbWUwI/AAAAAAAABjE/l7rAdRit54I/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520I%252520should%252520get%252520rid%252520of%252520my%252520heavy%252520tv%252520but%252520can%252527t%252520lift%252520it_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p>It was still sitting there for a few reasons. First, I’m lazy. Second, I’m weak. Third, I have a bad back. All these reasons made it so that I literally couldn’t pick it up, get it into my car and bring it to the recycling depot. </p> <p>Fast forward to last month:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nzHUR8IoxV4/U4QeDKK51DI/AAAAAAAABjM/5ua6N0jUMOY/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520I%252520should%252520get%252520rid%252520of%252520my%252520heavy%252520tv%252520but%252520can%252527t%252520lift%252520it%252520a%252520year%252520later%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - I should get rid of my heavy tv but can't lift it a year later" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - I should get rid of my heavy tv but can't lift it a year later" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SCGWBF_kSu4/U4QeDyWb8FI/AAAAAAAABjU/t2bXtHytdOk/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520I%252520should%252520get%252520rid%252520of%252520my%252520heavy%252520tv%252520but%252520can%252527t%252520lift%252520it%252520a%252520year%252520later_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p>I did, however, make <u>some</u> progress; I asked a neighbour friend of mine if he’d be willing to help me get it out of my house. Fortunately, he said yes; unfortunately, it took him 3 weeks to make it happen. He was apologetic but I told him that it was a drop in the bucket compared to how long it took me to even ask for help. </p> <p>Fast forward to yesterday: he came over and took it to the recycling depot with me. </p> <p>21 months later, I finally have two square feet of floor space back. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-DbgQ1aWN-7k/U4QeEa5AN1I/AAAAAAAABjc/cf5BshuY46M/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520gets%252520a%252520man%252520to%252520lift%252520a%252520big%252520heavy%252520TV%25255B8%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - needs a man - gets a man to lift a big heavy TV" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; float: none; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; display: block; padding-right: 0px; margin-right: auto" border="0" alt="That White Girl - needs a man - gets a man to lift a big heavy TV" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bdiV81PAS0s/U4QeFFgsUSI/AAAAAAAABjk/21D7HSzYLjQ/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520needs%252520a%252520man%252520-%252520gets%252520a%252520man%252520to%252520lift%252520a%252520big%252520heavy%252520TV_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="220"></a></p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-68994850271413646632014-05-20T20:36:00.001-07:002014-05-20T20:36:23.313-07:00I got laryngitis again<p align="justify">You may or may not remember a post from a few months back <a href="http://www.thatwhitegirls.com/2013/10/sometimes-fun-hurts.html" target="_blank">when I got laryngitis</a>. Well, it happened again. And this time not entirely due to my own stupidity. </p> <p align="justify">I recently went on a business trip (<em>first one – it was terrifying!</em>). The first day in Ontario, I developed a scratchy throat; luckily nothing materialized throughout my 3 day stay. I returned home Wednesday night and also noticed a scratchy throat; I attributed it to dry airplane air. Friday night, I went salsa dancing and once again noticed pain in my throat. I chalked it up to me being thirsty from dancing up a storm.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-FySps-mzaiQ/U3wfI8EMs5I/AAAAAAAABgE/66AaC1fc0gQ/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520incredibly%252520out%252520of%252520shape%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - laryngitis again - I'm incredibly out of shape" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - laryngitis again - I'm incredibly out of shape" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WvUFhMTka6I/U3wfJoZePOI/AAAAAAAABgM/3diH8hxGeNQ/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520incredibly%252520out%252520of%252520shape_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="285"></a></p> <p align="justify">After leaving dance, I stopped off at my local watering hole and met up with some friends; we then went back to one of their houses and continued the festivities until far too late. </p> <p align="justify">I woke up on Saturday feeling off; I wasn’t hungover (<em>as these stories typically end</em>), since I hadn’t had much to drink. I felt like I had the beginning of a cold; the sore throat had finally materialized. When my stepmom called, I realized that I didn’t have full use of my voice. A telltale sign of what was to come. </p> <p align="justify">I went to my folks place for dinner, but had to leave fairly early because I was feeling and my voice was getting increasingly worse. I may or may not have made the mistake of singing in my car on the way home. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xagE24yOPYM/U3wfKCl-A9I/AAAAAAAABgU/RU91qMmGVeg/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520dumb%252520and%252520will%252520never%252520learn%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - laryngitis again - I'm dumb and will never learn" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - laryngitis again - I'm dumb and will never learn" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOCUDnRofDqqDvRc3CnXkUTS2zOu3_lvwC0yIYDGkh3KzN-L4dCzQBd4QVZYwvQiKkG2jDwalGjJunV1c9CbAx8cWEw7dDzTeHBWJ5QtXUw4VKgzBgGMdAQUWgli7xlZ37YOsoSy4XYAW/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="265"></a></p> <p align="justify">On Sunday, it was ten times worse; the laryngitis was in full force. When my mom called, I could barely squeak out a conversation. Later that day, I needed food, but didn’t have the energy to cook (<em>if I had food</em>), shop (<em>to go get food</em>) or anything. I decided to order some take out, but realized that I literally couldn’t. I went down to the restaurant with everything they could possibly ask me written down on a piece of paper. </p> <p align="justify">Monday was fortunately a holiday and fortunately my voice started resembling normalcy once again. Unfortunately, the cold had reached mammoth proportions. Overall, a great way to spend a long weekend.</p> <p align="justify">I set myself up on the couch with all the drinking implements I could need throughout the day. I was laid up the entire day, racked with coughs, body aches and fever. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-E_gyDHWM_EU/U3wfLexvS1I/AAAAAAAABgk/vEUdaAVRXOc/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520snots%252520a-flying%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - laryngitis again - snots a-flying" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - laryngitis again - snots a-flying" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-XJSvcj7vbkE/U3wfL8UO30I/AAAAAAAABgo/DGOyJWZ5yXo/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520snots%252520a-flying_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="290"></a></p> <p align="justify">I pushed myself to go to work today, partially because I have great work ethic (<em>*cough* LIAR *cough*</em>), but mostly because my body physically couldn’t stand another day of lying around.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-4bzlykjp5yE/U3wfMoW5cNI/AAAAAAAABg0/8oGC55RSiGk/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520sore%252520from%252520lying%252520around%252520doing%252520jack%252520shit%252520fuck%252520all%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - laryngitis again - sore from lying around doing jack shit fuck all" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - laryngitis again - sore from lying around doing jack shit fuck all" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BlzeuGFE1Bw/U3wfNKuASVI/AAAAAAAABg8/gHO7FDCd_1g/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520laryngitis%252520again%252520-%252520sore%252520from%252520lying%252520around%252520doing%252520jack%252520shit%252520fuck%252520all_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="305"></a></p> <p align="justify">I barely made it halfway through my day before I tapped out and went home. So although I haven’t spent the entire day laid up, I’ve spent the better part of the day doing absolutely nothing. </p> <p align="justify">Four days and counting; hoping tomorrow is a better day. Wish me luck, folks!</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-16562245389921295322014-05-06T22:12:00.001-07:002014-05-06T22:12:57.166-07:00The Battle of the Ants<p align="justify">I live in a basement suite, so I get my fair share of creepy-crawlies creeping and crawling through my place. Naturally, I have patience for some more than others. </p> <p align="justify">Every year in April or May, the ants come out looking for food. Every year in April or May, I make sure to remove anything resembling food from the area around my front door (<em>that’s where they tend to come in</em>). Every year in April or May, despite my efforts, I have a trail of ants coming through my house. Sometimes just one here or there or sometimes a mass infestation if I neglected to remove all the things resembling food in time (<em>like my collection of empty bottles, for example</em>).</p> <p align="justify">This year, I was certain I was in good shape. I’d returned all my empties months ago, I spring-cleaned the area where my plants live, so any dirt, debris and sticky stuff was gone. So when I saw the first of the ants, I didn’t think too much of it. But one became five and then five became ten. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R62x8P0eSs0/U2nAyUPr7BI/AAAAAAAABe4/1CFumhuPMy0/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520it%252527s%252520on%25252C%252520no%252520more%252520mr%252520nice%252520guy%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - it's on, no more mr nice guy" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - it's on, no more mr nice guy" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jT1HvvTpem8/U2nAyzHyHbI/AAAAAAAABe8/UsLK-23nZzc/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520it%252527s%252520on%25252C%252520no%252520more%252520mr%252520nice%252520guy_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="229"></a></p> <p align="justify">The battle of the ants had begun. I was thoroughly cleaning my floors, when I was bleaching them, I noticed all the ants were congregated in one area right by my front door. I vacuumed the mat in front of my door, but then minutes later saw ants crawling all over it again. I lifted up the corner was shocked at what I found. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2khqYA7EdXQ/U2nAzbF-fGI/AAAAAAAABfE/7m3T7bNRTDs/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520so%252520many%252520ants%252520so%252520disgusting%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - so many ants so disgusting" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - so many ants so disgusting" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-B2xmCPj2tLQ/U2nAz_GBH8I/AAAAAAAABfI/REGw1WCbo8E/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520so%252520many%252520ants%252520so%252520disgusting_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="212"></a></p> <p align="justify">Literally* hundreds (<em>*not literally</em>) of ants milling about! I began pulling out anything and everything in that area in preparation of cleaning the shit of out it all. And that’s when I found it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-9QWSozG4aMA/U2nA0JFgtEI/AAAAAAAABfU/C_ieJ4AndeQ/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520a%252520half%252520eaten%252520candy%252520cane%252520is%252520like%252520crack%252520cocaine%252520for%252520ants%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - a half eaten candy cane is like crack cocaine for ants" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - a half eaten candy cane is like crack cocaine for ants" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LzGxFtJHGZo/U2nA0_iyQHI/AAAAAAAABfc/mx5bafbbEVw/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520a%252520half%252520eaten%252520candy%252520cane%252520is%252520like%252520crack%252520cocaine%252520for%252520ants_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Months ago (<em>obviously</em>), a small candy cane fell off my table unnoticed and landed amongst my reusable shopping bags; it then became the coveted food item all the ants in the neighbourhood sought. They were obviously all talking about it based on the congregation I found. </p> <p align="justify">I cleaned it all up, bleached the area and it appears as though I’ve once again reigned supreme in the battle of the ants. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Pf9vAv3wut4/U2nA1OsasUI/AAAAAAAABfo/MBuuwpNP6Kw/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520victory%252520is%252520mine%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - victory is mine" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - battle of ants - victory is mine" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-01XYOOBSui4/U2nA11ZLVnI/AAAAAAAABfw/kZQRuTmReOo/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520battle%252520of%252520ants%252520-%252520victory%252520is%252520mine_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="262"></a></p> <p align="justify">It’s only a matter of time until they prove me wrong once again. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-42275571185721928342014-04-13T13:09:00.001-07:002014-04-13T13:38:08.005-07:00Practical jokes really aren’t that practical<p align="justify">There are three of us at work that share an office; one of us may or may not get picked on much more than the others. I could reminisce for hours about the shenanigans that go on on a daily basis. It’s really quite fun. </p> <p align="justify">I was talking with one of my officemates the other day about practical jokes. Throughout the duration of our conversation an instance started slowly coming to my mind. It was rolling out of the fog; the fog of suppressed memories, of course.</p> <p align="justify">I was just promoted to supervisor; I was still in the awkward transition stage. So much so, one of my friends said to me “Heather, you really seem out of your element. Don’t worry – you can do this!”. Which was both reassuring and also troubling since everyone could see that I was obviously struggling. </p> <p align="justify">Not long after, another “friend” came to talk to me.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-gvHyXjKs6RQ/U0rux_v33CI/AAAAAAAABdQ/n0iyci1-vQ8/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520doing%252520a%252520good%252520job%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - you're doing a good job" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - you're doing a good job" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5CtVmQC3azQ/U0ruyNrio9I/AAAAAAAABdU/X3XCBleArmk/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520doing%252520a%252520good%252520job_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="236"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9rOSBzRZ2bY/U0ruyh9biyI/AAAAAAAABdg/JdyLu1YVwHg/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520supportive%25252C%252520touchy%25252C%252520weird%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - supportive, touchy, weird" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - supportive, touchy, weird" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx81_zF23BGQNiDd0FKzrAFzcdSwSyf5AKnt3hKJ0hJnMP7_MEhzajTRGxy34Y6WVHc9YyfJX5D-FNkAxpcvpFW5mH878ySXc-uYs70a19vOX3KRmQafsfSQJCvgTzdjBVA06dQTJZEG8E/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="236"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/--lAxvf98PPw/U0ruzq7FUWI/AAAAAAAABdw/IKeHxJQZhDM/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520doing%252520a%252520good%252520job%252520at%252520being%252520weird%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - doing a good job at being weird" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - doing a good job at being weird" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PpA020jYciQ/U0ru0WUlXcI/AAAAAAAABd0/vxqJkHgRfZQ/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520doing%252520a%252520good%252520job%252520at%252520being%252520weird_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="236"></a></p> <p align="justify">I got back to work and forgot about it. I ended up going into the lab to talk to someone; I was trying to tie up a loose end before I left to go to school.</p> <p align="justify">I finished my tasks, got cleaned and packed up and left for school. I got to school and was waiting for the class to start. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-86c_A3pIJ8Y/U0ru1H6LQ0I/AAAAAAAABeA/qZGAPrWrPzo/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520this%252520was%252520taped%252520to%252520your%252520sweater%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - this was taped to your sweater" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - this was taped to your sweater" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-jyWU4EAWUg0/U0ru1aoTkwI/AAAAAAAABeE/HopmML4SNcI/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520this%252520was%252520taped%252520to%252520your%252520sweater_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-x5eP1wrE9pg/U0ru1z8iuEI/AAAAAAAABeQ/fLqcL5RGEdI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520help%252520I%252520need%252520validation%252520from%252520men%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - help I need validation from men" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - help I need validation from men" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-197wW-bU32A/U0ru2RpDnWI/AAAAAAAABeU/AOF8VG81X8g/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520help%252520I%252520need%252520validation%252520from%252520men_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">That’s when it all came flooding back. I was so weirded out I didn’t pick up on the obvious queues: the awkward pat on the back; the people snickering in the lab. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-tsL0h8V8grs/U0ru24-m27I/AAAAAAAABeg/jp63R8Nj_OU/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520a%252520dick%25252C%252520Gorm%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - practical joke - you're a dick, Gorm" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - practical joke - you're a dick, Gorm" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AWF2MS2kfrM/U0ru3bxOElI/AAAAAAAABek/mS1ZjwIBy14/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520practical%252520joke%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520a%252520dick%25252C%252520Gorm_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="340"></a></p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-68835570324367394542014-03-19T21:43:00.001-07:002014-03-19T21:43:28.517-07:00I Stole Someone’s Childhood<p align="justify">A couple weeks ago, a friend called me up and said “Let’s go out!”. Even though I had an event the very next morning (well, noon) that required drinking, I said okay, sure that I would nurse all my drinks and be home at a decent hour. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M8V4Sxp8Ris/Uypx2POCeRI/AAAAAAAABb0/LzBlL0-Sftk/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520nursing%252520drinks%252520a%252520no-go%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - childhood thief - nursing drinks a no-go" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - childhood thief - nursing drinks a no-go" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3RcoaWq7ODk/Uypx2-IvwtI/AAAAAAAABb4/4xBn79tsKf4/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520nursing%252520drinks%252520a%252520no-go_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="299"></a></p> <p align="justify">We met up at our usual place; she proceeded to nurse her drinks and I did not. We then moved onto our next destination and ran into a bunch of people we knew. At one point, it was getting late and she had a dentist appointment the next day, so she called it and went home. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Ik_xI6wvXiQ/Uypx3lriaZI/AAAAAAAABcA/7FcdjftAdfM/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520grow%252520up%252520and%252520make%252520your%252520own%252520decisions%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - childhood thief - grow up and make your own decisions" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - childhood thief - grow up and make your own decisions" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGd_A2Usfynd8BWTuTLHtcfsJ9FaMFJWByc0btsnTN2nCKXqY8mXKy7fS7dXy8h-E2RIxBicMmjJ0Ioq-WAxkiJ2vl8C_PVB1O-boIntBpV6kK7opembbRgwFjR1meVeqHpA8ESPGhxF3k/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="182"></a></p> <p align="justify">At least that’s what should have happened; I stayed behind without a second thought. It was someone’s birthday party and one of my friends had won a door prize. He gave it to me. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bKYUxkJ3BRY/Uypx4qsEmfI/AAAAAAAABcU/dZqu9Zd34WA/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520dont%252520wanna%252520carry%252520a%252520pink%252520basket%252520-%252520here%252527s%252520a%252520door%252520prize%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - childhood thief - dont wanna carry a pink basket - here's a door prize" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - childhood thief - dont wanna carry a pink basket - here's a door prize" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AdP7HAEa2Ow/Uypx5K47eUI/AAAAAAAABcY/WFXlsZ6-3hc/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520dont%252520wanna%252520carry%252520a%252520pink%252520basket%252520-%252520here%252527s%252520a%252520door%252520prize_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’m not sure he knew just how happy it made me. I do love door prizes after all. I was getting ready to leave when one of my friends was all “Come on, Heather, we’re going to my place”. I think I put up a little bit of a fight, but then, sure enough, found myself in his apartment chatting it up with his girlfriend and getting another drink dropped in my hand. </p> <p align="justify">He announced that we were going someplace else. I said I had to go home, but he convinced me to go. It may or may not have been very easy seeing as I was pretty intoxicated by this point. </p> <p align="justify">I found myself at this party, where I knew no one and everyone knew everyone. Ordinarily, I might find that situation awkward, but not that night. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-VQ6iGDI_qhc/Uypx5s4QJNI/AAAAAAAABcg/Wr4UDdVOT5k/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520alcohol%252520makes%252520everything%252520less%252520awkward%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - childhood thief - alcohol makes everything less awkward" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - childhood thief - alcohol makes everything less awkward" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BsF2VLzIVvY/Uypx6DAJibI/AAAAAAAABcs/U5EIjgEPmHo/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520alcohol%252520makes%252520everything%252520less%252520awkward_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="289"></a></p> <p align="justify">I made my rounds meeting people, a few of whom I remember the names of, a few of whom I do not. At one point, the host said “It’s late, everyone has to leave”. All his friends we were like “No – not yet… blah, blah, blah”. I gathered my door prize, my coat and purse and tried to make my way out of the confusing apartment building and onto the street so I could get a cab. I managed to do that and found myself hitting my pillow at 4:30am, completely hammered. <em>So much for my plan</em>. </p> <p align="justify">Morning came all too fast and I found myself completely hungover; since I paid $60 for a ticket to the wine festival, I dragged myself out of bed, hit the showers and staggered around waiting for death, while trying desperately to get ready, make myself presentable and put my game face on. </p> <p align="justify">I succeeded, or at least, I thought I did. </p> <p align="justify">I was on the bus waiting for my friends to board at their respective stops and I felt like complete shit. My first friend boarded and then a couple stops later, the next one. They were positively chipper and chatting away. I was concentrating on not throwing up. </p> <p align="justify">After a few questions regarding what I got up to the night before, the cat was out of the bag.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2saMZL_6RIs/Uypx6v4GM4I/AAAAAAAABc0/_pzCYW1-9kA/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520are%252520you%252520hungover%252520-%252520terribly%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - childhood thief - are you hungover - terribly" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - childhood thief - are you hungover - terribly" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-eIf3PNQ52Os/Uypx7SABG-I/AAAAAAAABc8/gzSzvuzlcRw/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520childhood%252520thief%252520-%252520are%252520you%252520hungover%252520-%252520terribly_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Apparently my game face is transparent because she said “I knew something was off with you but I didn’t know what!”. We went for lunch where I pushed a salad around my plate and drank about a litre of liquids. </p> <p align="justify">We made it to the event and the moment of truth came; I got the first taste of wine in me and thankfully knew I would be okay. We spent two hours at the event, then met up with friends for more drinks, then went out for more drinks. By 11, the girls were tapped out, so we went on home. </p> <p align="justify">The next morning, I unloaded my door prize winnings and found something in the basket that I didn’t recall being in there when I got the thing. </p> <p align="justify">It’s a picture. Of a little boy, just getting off a school bus. There’s a date handwritten in mom-writing on the back “1988”. </p> <p align="justify">The boy looks vaguely familiar; I think I might have met him at that party. But 26 years later and the amount of alcohol I consumed that night, I don’t know who he is.</p> <p align="justify">All I know is, I’m pretty sure I managed to steal a picture of someone’s first day of school.</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-3253637033627338442014-03-05T22:42:00.001-08:002014-03-05T22:42:19.115-08:00That White Girl’s Comeback<p align="justify">As I’ve said on here before, all my life I’ve heard about just how pale I am. Between my last name and my colouration, I’m the butt of many “why aren’t you tan” jokes. </p> <p align="justify">I’ve grown accustomed to it; so much so that after a tropical vacation I already know my response to the above question.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-j25pze-Jyo8/UxgYueACkCI/AAAAAAAABas/MbV2B8Mt-s4/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520pale%25252C%252520that%252527s%252520why%252520I%252527m%252520White%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - racist - I'm pale, that's why I'm White" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - racist - I'm pale, that's why I'm White" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpf9sLP2hYsuGW6KMw11AO9cUxPLUp8_oP5DMMq59C2RoI5RKjcx6yOK8v6l-75EMnHXHgcqis0yH7gpiR53D92jEp0NMxlC39UiDOm1OXpLBcCVkz_BFx-ppYjfITeBJ1z2gng4TUhkGs/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="299"></a></p> <p align="justify">A couple weekends ago, I was able to off-load some of the ammo. I was able to reciprocate just enough to feel powerful. Let me replay the situation.</p> <p align="justify">I ended up at my local watering hole. I found myself a seat at the bar with a bunch of rowdies surrounding me. I may or may not have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B4VrheFhxwk/UxgYvZom1HI/AAAAAAAABa8/eTVGWUdOZKg/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520totally%252520at%252520home%252520in%252520dive%252520bars%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - racist - I'm totally at home in dive bars" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - racist - I'm totally at home in dive bars" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cZcCYkjUMCs/UxgYvycDKRI/AAAAAAAABbA/apXNRm2g9oA/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520totally%252520at%252520home%252520in%252520dive%252520bars_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="278"></a></p> <p align="justify">A heated discussion ensued. A heated discussion that would have driven many-a-people insane for the rest of the night. A heated discussion for which I happened to know the answer. This may or may not have garnered me a seat with them.</p> <p align="justify">As I was conversing with a girl within the group, the guy that invited me over was having a discussion with the waitress. I’m not sure of her heritage (Italian? Greek?), but in the dead of winter she has colouration. Not a lick of sun has been about and she’s positively olive. </p> <p align="justify">The guy beside me proclaimed something.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iimF__EkDxg/UxgYweMQTwI/AAAAAAAABbM/67JxfscA5dI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520totally%252520going%252520to%252520be%252520as%252520tanned%252520as%252520you%25252C%252520I%252520swear%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - racist - I'm totally going to be as tanned as you, I swear" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - racist - I'm totally going to be as tanned as you, I swear" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-h_kKB9OvkNg/UxgYw-poaiI/AAAAAAAABbQ/-dTMUgmlJdA/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520totally%252520going%252520to%252520be%252520as%252520tanned%252520as%252520you%25252C%252520I%252520swear_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="258"></a></p> <p align="justify">Not even knowing the basis of the conversation, I leapt on the opportunity.</p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">Me: I’m sorry – you’re going to be as tanned as Maia?</p> <p align="justify">Whitey2 – Yep!</p> <p align="justify">TWG – Got some Irish in ya?? I call your bullshit! </p> <p align="justify">W2 – What?</p> <p align="justify">TWG – Look at you – you will NEVER be as tanned as Maia!</p> <p align="justify">W2 – Sure I will!!</p> <p align="justify">TWG – Where are you going?</p> <p align="justify">W2 – Maui.</p> <p align="justify">TWG – And how long will you be there?</p> <p align="justify">W2 – A week.</p> <p align="justify">TWG – Yeah. You’ll be red if anything.</p> <p align="justify">W2 – What??</p> <p align="justify">TWG – How much Irish you got in you exactly?</p> <p align="justify">W2 – I’m full Irish…</p> <p align="justify">TWG – Yeah, you’re not coming back tanned.</p></blockquote> <p align="justify">He questioned how I knew such a thing. I told him he had no idea just how White I am.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ePoReik1qFI/UxgYxQlWp_I/AAAAAAAABbY/Sa10KHE2ytI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520racist%252520-%252520I%252527m%252520so%252520White%252520people%252520call%252520me%252520Miss%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - racist - I'm so White people call me Miss" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - racist - I'm so White people call me Miss" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5pspwcKOkORBZJ35bikPoCUCyfKQD3AAsqCuOTa3xr9IEDCgimavksZPdJXsyM9AF7aKyh59Mhk4R2wMhq7baQhixAOkfgrrd1Z7FNEVoxYkkQbX216aNudX814MrrZVNzyQnVgyIDBH/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="289"></a></p> <p align="justify">It was surprisingly fulfilling. </p> <p align="justify"> </p> <p align="justify">P.S. Dear Anonymous – I find it unfair that you seem to know who I am and I have no idea who you are. Reveal your identity. Please?!</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-26005365564021034292014-02-15T00:20:00.001-08:002014-02-15T00:20:00.487-08:00Happy Valentine’s Day!<p align="justify">Here’s my version of a Valentine’s Day post. Enjoy!</p> <p align="justify">Being chronically single, there are definitely times where I really yearn to be with someone and then there are times where I’m thankful for being alone. I’m sure the same can be said for people who are in relationships as well. </p> <p align="justify">For me, both of these extremes become very apparent when I’m sick. I spent the better part of this week sick at home, so it became very clear in my mind just how much (<em>and how quickly</em>) I can flip flop on this particular subject.</p> <p align="justify">For example, when I was at home laying on the couch wishing for death, the only thing that could make it more bearable was some juice, or soup, or something. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have someone come and take care of me. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cbEUHEV-DK8/Uv8jGyIdwEI/AAAAAAAABZQ/wp8wBxHbz5k/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520fridge%252520too%252520freaking%252520far%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - sick - fridge too freaking far" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - sick - fridge too freaking far" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v0NUPCnM9qM/Uv8jHlrkSZI/AAAAAAAABZY/yRYq_GvmMwM/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520fridge%252520too%252520freaking%252520far_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">I was too sick to fend for myself. This actually happens more than I care to admit. There have been so many instances that I’ve developed a coping mechanism. I don’t like to drink juice full strength; I like to water it down. It’s easier on the stomach, if that’s not doing so great. </p> <p align="justify">So I set up shop on the couch; I grab my tetrapak of juice out of the fridge, a glass and fill up a 1L container of water. I bring all the things to the couch and fill up my glass as I need. I do need to get up from time to time to refill my water, but much less than if I actually had to fill my cup up every time. In fact, if I invested in a larger measuring cup, I could reduce those trips down even further. <em>Food for thought.</em></p> <p align="justify">I’m still pretty much fucked if I need to get something to eat, but let’s just say, I got reserves.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QRCkFNngagQ/Uv8jIcA3dkI/AAAAAAAABZg/3BGHNDEis34/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520starve%252520myself%252520because%252520my%252520ass%252520has%252520all%252520kinds%252520of%252520reserves%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - sick - starve myself because my ass has all kinds of reserves" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - sick - starve myself because my ass has all kinds of reserves" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-c9fJl5U9O-Q/Uv8jI07Pm4I/AAAAAAAABZk/TJygA-Nm6zQ/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520starve%252520myself%252520because%252520my%252520ass%252520has%252520all%252520kinds%252520of%252520reserves_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="323"></a></p> <p align="justify">On the other hand, when I’m <u>disgustingly</u> sick and things are coming out of places that no one needs to see, I’m fairly happy that I live alone. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n-zd-LVSKTo/Uv8jJd92ySI/AAAAAAAABZo/8tfUiZWe0aQ/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520sweep%252520shit%252520under%252520the%252520rug%252520and%252520deal%252520with%252520it%252520later%25252C%252520even%252520if%252520it%252527s%252520puke%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - sick - sweep shit under the rug and deal with it later, even if it's puke" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - sick - sweep shit under the rug and deal with it later, even if it's puke" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-3tqyUlcvudQ/Uv8jJ5HukJI/AAAAAAAABZw/p76t9Jc3Tik/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520sweep%252520shit%252520under%252520the%252520rug%252520and%252520deal%252520with%252520it%252520later%25252C%252520even%252520if%252520it%252527s%252520puke_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">But those instances are usually few and far between, besides realistically, the person I’m with better be okay with holding my hair back and cleaning up some puke when I miss the toilet. Or the bathroom altogether.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Emb1p_Efcjs/Uv8jKEimnoI/AAAAAAAABZ4/hUVTgWChNL4/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520thanks%252520for%252520cleaning%252520up%252520my%252520puke%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - sick - thanks for cleaning up my puke" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - sick - thanks for cleaning up my puke" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pqYunmyHc-I/Uv8jKuXWzXI/AAAAAAAABaI/1WREbNrW_hM/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520thanks%252520for%252520cleaning%252520up%252520my%252520puke_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="269"></a></p> <p align="justify">But nothing makes it hit home quite like it did the other night. I was very sick; in a lot of pain, had a pretty bad fever and a terrible cough. Plus I was covered in hives (<em>an unrelated, yet agonizing, matter</em>). </p> <p align="justify">Even though I drugged myself up to “get a good nights’ sleep”, I still woke up constantly with scratching or coughing. Or alternating between kicking the blankets off and then scrambling to get them back on because I was shivering. And if that wasn’t enough, rolling over caused enough pain from my massive body aches (<em>and probably hives</em>) that I actually groaned audibly. </p> <p align="justify">My first thought was that I hoped my upstairs people couldn’t hear me and/or weren’t being woken up by my agony. My next thought went to what it would actually be like if I was in a relationship; what if I was sharing my bed with someone. Times like these, I know one thing is certain. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Zitm4keZLFo/Uv8jLH7r8MI/AAAAAAAABaQ/CHoG9PI4ff0/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520sick%252520-%252520separate%252520bed%252520and%252520separate%252520room%252520couples%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - sick - separate bed and separate room couples" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - sick - separate bed and separate room couples" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoVVzTOy9i62u32FfG9FZerARglMoBPDchNXZXUNeyQA_UB7uJ75Nwi2h9iNhxUmngi6IeFGcU4PDwuPxxPc49kX7eAcbvSMCN1AyiAx8yFsXaClwfP1DflyrbEeSO7WPu-DKrPTvlvtlG/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="269"></a></p> <p align="justify">Meh – small price to pay to have someone bring me soup, right?</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-588904196227204392014-02-05T22:29:00.001-08:002014-02-05T22:32:32.992-08:00Adventures in online dating: Part - Oh… I get it…<p align="justify">I found this in my drafts – I wrote it several months back, but since I’m chronically single, it still applies. </p> <p align="justify">Hooray for being timeless. </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_R1k4pRzgd3qCpT1RZhz9d9IYC4utwn5BW1-Gai-z36D9HRimHgN0ix1nYsDhXQFvAbEn_J2GUn1M05-jdXZwrkP7fyY4XhOcUDfONaSmg1CA-BB4uSJ13_i6cMHVnAI5HtfpU_88ucR/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520i%252520suck%252520at%252520this%252520-%252520FML%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - i suck at this - FML" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - i suck at this - FML" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LirY7vZRMck/UvMrtZwIM5I/AAAAAAAABXs/1L7ylvdLCJc/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520i%252520suck%252520at%252520this%252520-%252520FML_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="330"></a></p> <p align="justify">I think I’ve finally figured out a reason, if not <u>the</u> reason, why I’m still single. Meh – who am I kidding there’s clearly a laundry list of reasons…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0jdOBCbVi5s/UvMrtzFG-SI/AAAAAAAABX4/TyyViJJOabU/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520baggage%252520on%252520wheels%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - baggage on wheels" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - baggage on wheels" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7C_3xAgtDuACs0QLTdGwYBQD9LTsL50LCG8-ghLoLntJEsPm-c68uvjmFICbld_dxj7UMKy7llk4cwP6iaL4vmxqR8y3lKAeNhdzaJqpQ7dperz6tW_VPRZVkjpN6PunO3T-jNaJqTf5e/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="219"></a></p> <p align="justify">You know the dating technique where you trick someone into liking you by being not yourself and then dole out your true self in single-bite-size-servings so that, given enough time, you eventually become yourself, but it was done so gradually that the person you’re with didn’t realize just how weird/crazy/needy/sarcastic/(insert undesirable trait here) you really are until it was too late and they already like you and have already come to accept your character flaws?</p> <blockquote> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1DyefiRk01o/UvMruzSnz5I/AAAAAAAABYI/HGlReF5ZmZc/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520i%252520usually%252520tell%252520the%252520truth%252520from%252520the%252520beginning%25252C%252520now%252520wonder%252520I%252527m%252520single%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - i usually tell the truth from the beginning, now wonder I'm single" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - i usually tell the truth from the beginning, now wonder I'm single" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1lxGEAyW3PU/UvMrvdcvR7I/AAAAAAAABYQ/Ul7QFulhlhY/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520i%252520usually%252520tell%252520the%252520truth%252520from%252520the%252520beginning%25252C%252520now%252520wonder%252520I%252527m%252520single_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="299"></a></p></blockquote> <p align="justify">Turns out that may be a problem, if not <u>the</u> problem, with … … well... me. I think that honesty is the best policy.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-UeNI86zVicA/UvMrwFVqI1I/AAAAAAAABYU/lel11Ujsixw/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520rookies%252520tell%252520the%252520truth%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - rookies tell the truth" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - rookies tell the truth" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8-PCKSuuwzU/UvMrwZF9lrI/AAAAAAAABYc/7jfvPVkvoXs/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520rookies%252520tell%252520the%252520truth_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Allow me to explain my most recent epic fail. <em>*Update – since this is not so recent anymore, I’m sure there’s more to come… Who am I kidding, I have some in reserves.</em></p> <p align="justify">Although, my POF account is hidden and I’m not showing up in the general populations’ searches, I do log on, view profiles and email people. Not super frequently, but often enough.</p> <p align="justify">I did this recently and started chatting with an attractive young man, who coincidentally enough, shares the same, uncommon (<em>in the western world at least</em>), name as Thailand. We’ll call him Thailand 2.0, or Thai2 for short.</p> <p align="justify">I decided not to hold this against him, even though, more often than not, I cringe when I meet a prospect with the same name as my ex. Or my brother. Or my father. Sorry – but I got a thing with names! </p> <p align="justify">So we start doing the whole email exchange thing. Back and forth for an hour or so every night. This lasted a few nights when one day Thai2 asked me what I was doing. I said I was at home, relaxing, doing some writing. </p> <p align="justify">Something no one ever does is ask what exactly I’m writing. He does. I explain that I was writing some “short stories”; he asked what kind. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nd0rJqjvuLI/UvMrwwNf5XI/AAAAAAAABYo/OlvIwNbaFv0/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520I%252520have%252520a%252520blog%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - I have a blog" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - I have a blog" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-U8vTwAMCKsc/UvMrxfDIkwI/AAAAAAAABYs/NFvRRatSK1o/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520I%252520have%252520a%252520blog_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="269"></a></p> <p align="justify">Something no one ever does is ask for my blog address. He does.</p> <p align="justify">I wanted to discourage him, but I didn’t know what to say. My first thought was “No – I only share this with really good friends, or complete strangers and you’re too in between” which seemed like a ridiculous thing to say out loud. I settled with “I don’t know about that…..” He sent me his website in exchange, so I sent him mine with a “don’t judge me!” disclaimer. He said he wouldn’t.</p> <p align="justify">His website is themed around wine and is very professional and appropriate. And… yeah… you’ve seen mine. A little while later, he asked who does my “artwork”.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Z-I7_z2j6R0/UvMryKpdlkI/AAAAAAAABY4/05SWj5QtnRo/s1600-h/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520artwork%252520it%252527s%252520cute%252520that%252520you%252520call%252520it%252520that%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - artwork it's cute that you call it that" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="thatwhitegirls - internet dating - artwork it's cute that you call it that" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-PsOrNHVUkz0/UvMrygg67vI/AAAAAAAABY8/jM41pHjfiKo/thatwhitegirls%252520-%252520internet%252520dating%252520-%252520artwork%252520it%252527s%252520cute%252520that%252520you%252520call%252520it%252520that_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="269"></a></p> <p align="justify">A little while after that, he pointed out a specific post he liked. A post that was quite old. A post that happens to be in my “top posts based on nothing list”. I looked at the random list and hoped he wasn’t working his way down. </p> <p align="justify">Let’s just say that list of posts has some… … <em>unsavory</em> links. Links that my readers and friends enjoy, but maybe don’t portray me in the best light. That maybe aren’t super becoming of me. <em>Or worse yet, are exactly as becoming of me</em>. </p> <p align="justify">He must have found them because he stopped replying to my emails. I should’ve known he was judging me. Better sooner rather than later, though, right?</p> <p align="justify">Right??</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-90796115416935470842014-02-03T21:09:00.001-08:002014-02-03T21:09:20.940-08:00Wet pants are the worst<p align="justify">As you may or may not remember, I’ve had a tendency in the past to accidentally spill drinks. And by accidentally spill drinks, I mean, <a href="http://www.thatwhitegirls.com/2010/05/my-apple-tastes-like-parsley_3904.html" target="_blank">accidentally dump entire pints of beer into the laps of unsuspecting friends</a>. <em>Check out the old post – it’s a gem!</em></p> <p align="justify">Well… it happened again. Let me paint you a picture.</p> <p align="justify">The night started off innocently enough – regular Friday night routine of going out for dinner (a.k.a soup) with some friends. A drink or two was had. Another friend had wanted to meet up for drinks; when one of my friends at dinner got wind of it she said she would also be interested in going out. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qdAuwEOfLZ8/UvB17fKoSBI/AAAAAAAABWg/WzYP-u2CiIs/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520the%252520more%252520the%252520merrier%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - the more the merrier" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - the more the merrier" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-74QNMDgNR5Q/UvB18ONfKMI/AAAAAAAABWk/Q_ob9PJnAAA/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520the%252520more%252520the%252520merrier_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="269"></a></p> <p align="justify">So we met up at the local pub and had a few more drinks. This pub is notorious for shutting down early (<em>some would call it an old folk bar and they would be right</em>), so we moseyed on down the road to the next pub to get a couple more before the last-last call. Which is part of the routine for “one of those” Friday nights. </p> <p align="justify">In general, I’ve been known to attract weirdos and my friend happens to be quite the looker. Those talents combined, we always have an interesting night when we head out; this night was no exception. We weren’t sitting at the bar for very long before some dude came over from the other side to chat us up.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy95BAOx7Av_b5gBD70bP3mrxxLHbqObEn4Hl4-Fy5qR7LCLL1DPBhO0ylCOnzxGb9aGm_YiN5pgvM0S3UCHqGYqpFrQImyGd5mDlQZ88F1vTvr8upyuUSKtHpEO-xG_cM1Xy2UNRAc_yj/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520hot%252520friend%252520getting%252520the%252520attention%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - hot friend getting the attention" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - hot friend getting the attention" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_-HqID5xs-k/UvB19OMXEWI/AAAAAAAABW0/nx0wTk0d9QM/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520hot%252520friend%252520getting%252520the%252520attention_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="275"></a></p> <p align="justify">You could say I was feeling a little jealous of the attention, or lack thereof. You could say that maybe, just maybe, I wanted in on the conversation. You could also say I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings.</p> <p align="justify">It’s no surprise that things got out of hand and drinks were spilt.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Oq1AvTsBhoM/UvB199ug3UI/AAAAAAAABXA/ekD4XqVf_jI/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520spilling%252520your%252520drink%252520on%252520my%252520lap%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - spilling your drink on my lap" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - spilling your drink on my lap" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnUqtsna2naRPMwtOBRxHRbkTmoGJscxWbo214Q620HANDWjBeBHvHBTMW2wTaUZsNrggJhFcblLMKxZboj1-OsVOwt8Y_dWOujOOodcTTeFbF8hj9I8KPkrxEUQmoYLk35_ttFfNjOpj/?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nuQwQQydtiQ/UvB1_QCKlrI/AAAAAAAABXQ/VfTHC4A643I/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520karma%252527s%252520a%252520bitch%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - karma's a bitch" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - wet pants - karma's a bitch" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-YucAneCLn5k/UvB1_7TCbWI/AAAAAAAABXU/FFa754of62Q/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520wet%252520pants%252520-%252520karma%252527s%252520a%252520bitch_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="296"></a></p> <p align="justify">I totally had this coming.</p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-6134339289531844302014-01-23T22:37:00.001-08:002014-01-23T22:37:58.081-08:00Palindromes have ruined my life.<p align="justify">I was at my work party a couple nights back and was having a conversation with a friend; I may have been a couple drinks deep when I told her a little known secret. She found it to be very weird and her immediate response was “you need to write a blog post about this”. So, to make my friend happy (<em>yes, I am a people pleaser</em>), here it is.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Kj8pyBhLcUo/UuIKMCkbD8I/AAAAAAAABVI/llamTNQEe2s/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520AA%252520meeting%252520for%252520the%252520love%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - AA meeting for the love" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - AA meeting for the love" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--ehpKrGkvAM/UuIKMh62-PI/AAAAAAAABVM/6FqRW3EErxM/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520AA%252520meeting%252520for%252520the%252520love_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="253"></a></p> <p align="justify">My friend later forwarded me a facebook post that her friend posted the following day. </p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">“Does it bother anyone else that the word "symmetry" isn't a palindrome? What a waste of an opportunity."</p></blockquote> <p align="justify">I had a good chuckle. Anyway, back to the story… My brother is three years older than I am; when I was about six years old, he came home from school and told me he learned about palindromes. </p> <blockquote> <p align="justify">Mom</p> <p align="justify">Dad</p> <p align="justify">Noon</p> <p align="justify">Pop</p></blockquote> <p align="justify">The list goes on… but my all-time favourite (<em>yes, one that I learned that day and still continues to be my favourite to this day</em>) is racecar. I’m not sure why. Probably because my mind was completely blown. I may or may not have had to write it down to verify the fact. <em>C’mon, I was six, give me a break</em>!</p> <p align="justify">Since that day, I’ve loved palindromes. There was even a time where I knew I loved them, but couldn’t remember what they were called.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JusJ7pwnaH0/UuIKNTyS2WI/AAAAAAAABVY/tLi1F7hqgdo/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520what%252527s%252520that%252520word%252520again%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - what's that word again" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - what's that word again" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZXAfMijOcAw/UuIKN2Btv7I/AAAAAAAABVc/jj9fX8owpdw/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520what%252527s%252520that%252520word%252520again_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="242"></a></p> <p align="justify">It’s one thing for a six year old to love something like palindromes. It’s another thing to have palindromes completely take over a six year olds’ life. It another thing altogether to have that same control still be present in a 33 year old body. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2BtbbziVaRY/UuIKOeOhubI/AAAAAAAABVo/Wn1M_6UXizc/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520I%252520don%252527t%252520know%252520what%252527s%252520wrong%252520with%252520me%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - I don't know what's wrong with me" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - I don't know what's wrong with me" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-SQdJHzyAWn4/UuIKO4MlD2I/AAAAAAAABVs/bcVa8En5us8/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520I%252520don%252527t%252520know%252520what%252527s%252520wrong%252520with%252520me_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="289"></a></p> <p align="justify">Once I learned what palindromes were, I started doing something; something that can really only be classified as OCD. You see, my mom worked mornings and I was in charge of setting an alarm, answering the phone when she called and getting us ready for school (<em>yes, I’m the younger sibling</em>). But for some reason, this new found responsibility manifested in an obscure way. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-KgslsDTxhhU/UuIKPTRlWWI/AAAAAAAABV4/Pf1lBK8jaH8/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520I%252520set%252520my%252520alarm%252520clock%252520in%252520palidromes%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - I set my alarm clock in palidromes" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - I set my alarm clock in palidromes" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jTROcGXVpR0/UuIKP7I6c3I/AAAAAAAABV8/ujUVestcCwU/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520I%252520set%252520my%252520alarm%252520clock%252520in%252520palidromes_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">I still do it to this day and I don’t know why. I started trying to convince myself that I needed to stop this behaviour, so when I passed the palindrome on my alarm clock, I’d stop. <em>Yes, I used to go all the way around just to get the ‘perfect’ setting</em>. But it always ended badly. I wouldn’t sleep well, and once I fell asleep due to pure exhaustion, I would oversleep and I’d be late. It had nothing to do with the fact that I: stayed up too late, drank too much, ate right before bed, was stressed out or the hundred other reasons why I didn’t sleep well.</p> <p align="justify">No, clearly it’s because I didn’t set my alarm clock to a palindrome. I know it’s irrational, so I’ve tried to steer away from it; tried to regain control of my life. After all, two out of three of my current alarms are not set in palindromes. But I realized at my work party, that it still affects my life. </p> <p align="justify">I bought a 50/50 ticket; when the draw was happening, I scanned my tickets to see if I had a palindrome. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LJPrdCV9FFM/UuIKQSwLFsI/AAAAAAAABWI/MLSyTYINrS4/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520lucky%25252050-50%252520tickets%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - lucky 50-50 tickets" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - palindromes - lucky 50-50 tickets" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x2DATLxYXUE/UuIKQ0MwN8I/AAAAAAAABWQ/9TkVKZoXwyc/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520palindromes%252520-%252520lucky%25252050-50%252520tickets_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="268"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’m willing to look past whether or not it’s a “true palindrome”. I will accept if the last 3 or 4 digits (<em>the ones that count</em>) are a palindrome. Turns out, I had one and was pretty convinced I’d win the 50/50 because of it.</p> <p align="justify">I didn’t win. Because I never win 50/50 tickets. But…</p> <p align="justify">The winning ticket was a palindrome!!!!</p> <p align="justify">Fuck! So, my irrational rationalization is now justified. I’m pretty much doomed. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-88663159620797090692014-01-18T10:46:00.001-08:002014-05-22T21:51:01.370-07:00Getting old<div align="justify">
I woke up the other day and suddenly realized that I’ll be 34 in a few months. Thirty-fricken-four. I don’t feel that grown up. I have a blog, for fuck sakes!</div>
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</div>
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So I may have started having a “holy crap, I’m in my mid-30’s” crisis. I quickly decided that being where I am in life is an okay place to be. It was okay last week, what’s the difference now?</div>
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</div>
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But then, strange things started happening. Things that can only mean that I am in fact getting old. </div>
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</div>
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First, I got onto a pretty full bus the other day; since I was only going a few stops, I pulled up the nearest piece of pole and got comfy. <em>Well, as comfy as you can be standing on a bus full of people</em>. Then, it happened…</div>
<blockquote>
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Girl: Would you like to sit down?</div>
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ThatWhiteGirl: Um, no thanks, I’m good.</div>
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Girl: Are you <em><u>sure</u></em>?!</div>
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TWG: Totally. </div>
</blockquote>
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Only old people get offered seats on the bus. And sometimes not even. </div>
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</div>
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Next, I took a friend to get a facial on her birthday; she mentioned to the esthetician that it was the first facial for both of us. She eyed my crow’s feet suspiciously and said “really?”. As we were leaving, I said that it was so nice and that I should have started getting them sooner. Her raised eyebrows indicated that she was thinking the same thing but for very different reasons.</div>
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</div>
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Then, I was chatting with a couple work folk and we were discussing a particular intersection; I mentioned that a gas station was on the corner. I was shot down pretty quickly; the other two were convinced there was no gas station. I was adamant that it was there and a Circle K store was attached to it. They didn’t even know what Circle K was. </div>
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</div>
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This invoked a comment from one of my co-workers. “Were you buying your slurpees from there back in 1972?” Um. Thanks. Do I look old enough to be buying slurpees in 1972? My other co-worker informed him that I wasn’t even born yet. Thanks for having my back, Term. </div>
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</div>
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Lastly, I was going through the drive-thru the other day and had this gem of a conversation with the cashier. </div>
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Cashier: $8:35, please.</div>
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TWG: On debit, please. </div>
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<em>(we’re Canadian, leave us alone)</em></div>
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Cashier: Does it have the tap function?</div>
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TWG: Nooooo.<em>(in a “I’m totally sure” kind of way)</em></div>
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Cashier: Just thought I’d check, it makes it easier.</div>
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TWG: I know! I saw it once and it was so fast. It’s pretty cool!</div>
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Cashier: It is.</div>
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TWG: I don’t even know how you get one…</div>
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Cashier: Oh, it comes on newer debit cards.</div>
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TWG: Really?? Cuz I just got this thing a little while ago.</div>
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Cashier: Are you <u>sure</u> it doesn’t tap?</div>
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TWG: Ummmm… I. Don’t. Know. <em>(I spot an vaguely familiar icon on the card)</em> Hey look, the thingy!!</div>
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Cashier: Yeah, that’s probably where you tap it… Try it next time…</div>
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TWG: Okay – thanks!!! </div>
</blockquote>
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I stopped understanding technology and I was never very good at it in the first place. This is the beginning to the end, folks, beginning to the end. </div>
That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-11244088374395159282014-01-06T21:22:00.001-08:002014-01-06T21:22:13.037-08:00Cuba 1.0<p align="justify">As you already know, I went to Cuba a few weeks back. It was great! This is what I looked at for 7 days:</p> <p align="justify"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-864Efg6ZQbM/UsuO5B3ZWMI/AAAAAAAABTA/MW5xyEJkuGQ/s1600-h/SAM_1351%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="SAM_1351" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; float: none; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left: 0px; display: block; padding-right: 0px; margin-right: auto" border="0" alt="SAM_1351" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bo2TXf60KrQ/UsuO52j5NLI/AAAAAAAABTE/uVdBg9EKZJw/SAM_1351_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="354" height="266"></a></p> <p align="justify">White sand beach, clear blue-green water, 30 degree (Celcuis) weather, unlimited alcohol and enough shade (yay, palapas!) that I didn’t burn to a crisp. I can’t really ask for much else.</p> <p align="justify">Like Mexico, my MO was pretty much the same: Operation – Drink Too Much. I do think I kept it together a bit more than in Mexico. Perhaps because there wasn’t any tequila involved or maybe because I’m getting better at it. </p> <p align="justify">I arrived at the hotel around 8:30pm local time. Having left my house at 3am local time (Cuba is 3 hours ahead), you could say I had a pretty long day. My mission once I hit the hotel was: find room, find food, find booze. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PcLRhA1OF4k/UsuO6Nx20vI/AAAAAAAABTM/P5mb5kQukq8/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520mission%252520accomplished%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - mission accomplished" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - mission accomplished" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MAkwDtMaAS0/UsuO6rkzzvI/AAAAAAAABTU/B1savK9Xx2I/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520mission%252520accomplished_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="258"></a></p> <p align="justify">The resort was very small, at least compared to the resort I stayed at in Mexico. There was only one outside bar open at night, naturally, I went there to have some drinks.</p> <p align="justify">Travelling alone, you’re bound to meet some interesting characters. This trip was no exception. A couple tables over, there was a large group of mostly older folks. One of these folks was a 60-ish British fellow who was rather intoxicated. Randomly, he would stand up and yell. Loud.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GhnYn1-vxcU/UsuO7JxOahI/AAAAAAAABTg/IkCjArXgp5s/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-CdhflHpg4WM/UsuO7hyoMoI/AAAAAAAABTk/hsdXAeB11IQ/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">I found it amusing. The first night. By the third or fourth night, everyone had pretty much had it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QPDtapcWOFQ/UsuO8OQRvTI/AAAAAAAABTs/t-gF7W6cU7g/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out%252520-%252520no%252520more%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out - no more" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out - no more" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oLwfthzhyPs/UsuO8kFk_TI/AAAAAAAABT0/Qm2Ntja-ZEc/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out%252520-%252520no%252520more_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-8dGoyEHwT7c/UsuO9FHEIcI/AAAAAAAABUA/puFjtH7CH70/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out%252520-%252520shut%252520the%252520fuck%252520up%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out - shut the fuck up" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - who let the dogs out - shut the fuck up" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SWTdUL2Yppo/UsuO90sRxCI/AAAAAAAABUE/JR4kllVf348/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520who%252520let%252520the%252520dogs%252520out%252520-%252520shut%252520the%252520fuck%252520up_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">In that same group, there were a couple younger people. One of them was a 19 year old boy who was quickly adopted by a family that we met down there. He could almost always be found within arms reach of the two young kids. He’d play with them and take them swimming at the beach. All around, he was a good kid.</p> <p align="justify">The other younger person, was a female of indiscernible age; she could have been 24 or 39. But, let me tell you, Trainwreck Sally was a sight to see. Every time I saw her, regardless of time of day, she was absolutely hammered. 3am? Sure, makes sense… So am I. 3pm? What? Already?? </p> <p align="justify">As someone who enjoys the sauce (<em>and has trainwrecked through a week in Mexico once or twice</em>), I’m hesitant to judge someone on this, but I will. </p> <p align="justify">She did and said a lot of inappropriate things while under the influence, but the icing on the cake was one night when a bunch of us went to the disco to dance. She showed up after us because she kept getting distracted by things along the way. We’ve all been there. At least I have. </p> <p align="justify">Her dancing was… interesting. It started out with her twirling around, arms spread open, face turned upwards. I was pretty sure she was going to fall down or throw up. She didn’t. Then her twirl-fest morphed into, what can only be described as, an interpretative/artistic dance. </p> <p align="justify">I’m being very diplomatic; she basically rolled around on the floor. In a dress. And had no clue that what she was doing had any effect on what her dress was doing. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-J9RkbyWO7Qc/UsuO-KCNdCI/AAAAAAAABUQ/k9sqqf2FKD4/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520flashing%252520people%252520by%252520accident%252520drunk%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - flashing people by accident drunk" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - flashing people by accident drunk" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rCFZ4MQaNRc/UsuO-zXnoTI/AAAAAAAABUU/MCyAUjsl-M0/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520flashing%252520people%252520by%252520accident%252520drunk_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="328"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a point where she rolled right off the stage. Sure the stage was only 4 inches off the ground and sure she seemed to work it into her “routine”, but I can guarantee it was not planned. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-M26HGFfmlzA/UsuO_fkl5KI/AAAAAAAABUc/JrTEvnCw_-Y/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520not%252520drunk%252520enough%252520for%252520that%252520bullshit%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - not drunk enough for that bullshit" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - not drunk enough for that bullshit" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_zgySg29C4Q/UsuO_iXMVAI/AAAAAAAABUk/HayAAT_u3dk/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520not%252520drunk%252520enough%252520for%252520that%252520bullshit_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="244"></a></p> <p align="justify">A girl I met down there agreed with me and she decided to say something to Sally that night.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpilyQ4JuD5NkTASvXovFXjG7i0C0XrLOzqsUK7oZroLw8q-Cu5uEkXykTNi3rmu2ZnweoLAKhYnZnyyBLyUBrJdvXON8SOW_0WasW7_QllWFAoD2yu_hUzoR-42lRPG07ej6wfQp4s0vS/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520flashing%252520people%252520by%252520accident%252520drunk%252520-%252520see%252520vagina%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - flashing people by accident drunk - see vagina" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - Cuba - flashing people by accident drunk - see vagina" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vaoDK9kqAdU/UsuPA-kmu-I/AAAAAAAABU0/KJ2eXKGF1FI/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520Cuba%252520-%252520flashing%252520people%252520by%252520accident%252520drunk%252520-%252520see%252520vagina_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Apparently Paulie came out the asshole in that conversation. The next day, Sally was going on about how someone was very rude to her the night before; they told her that she thinks with her vagina. </p> <p align="justify">You could say she got the context wrong; all Paulie meant was that everyone in the club knew what Sally’s underwear looked like. </p> <p align="justify">You could also say she got the person wrong; she thought I was the one who was brutally honest with her. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-9080339265598835482013-12-22T18:39:00.001-08:002013-12-22T18:41:29.842-08:00Sleeping on the Couch<p align="justify">Couch sleeping happens from time to time. Sometimes, I fall asleep watching a movie or TV, wake up and go to bed. Sometimes, when I want to have a nap, but don’t want to “really sleep”, I cozy up on the couch. Sometimes, when I can’t fall asleep at night, I get out of bed and go to the couch for a change of scenery. Regardless of how it happens the outcome is almost always the same: not a very good sleep and a good chance of a kink in the neck. </p> <p align="justify">But for some reason, when Danny & I were growing up, it was a big, damn deal for us to sleep on the couch. I remember us hassling Mom for permission on a pretty regular basis. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BbRJBYLMMXs/UreiPjD25OI/AAAAAAAABRg/FhuI13JIzbU/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520please%252521%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - please!" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - please!" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VKfNrbWetwg/UreiQZefcjI/AAAAAAAABRk/vi1OSIWqqJY/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520please%252521_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">Reluctantly, she would let us, knowing full well that would we stay up well past our bedtime watching Love Connection (<em>don’t ask me why, but we loved that show</em>). The only problem was, at that time, we only had one couch and Danny was older, taller and stronger than me. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cK6aR_-04NA/UreiQ9OCYiI/AAAAAAAABRw/KmAVq46OSGg/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520I%252520get%252520the%252520couch%25255B15%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - I get the couch" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - I get the couch" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-heFY_MlRG1g/UreiRRsS9OI/AAAAAAAABR0/lzsFVMqPxLo/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520I%252520get%252520the%252520couch_thumb%25255B6%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">I always got the chair. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-nur6fKzibHE/UreiRhOMkBI/AAAAAAAABSA/PBbvFL8NvTU/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520totally%252520comfortable%25255B10%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - totally comfortable" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - totally comfortable" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--BLmQLHVCLM/UreiSa6HW3I/AAAAAAAABSE/5S0AXixur4o/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520totally%252520comfortable_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="318"></a></p> <p align="justify">Still, I always wanted to sleep on the couch, even with knowing that I would never <em>actually</em> sleep on the couch. </p> <p align="justify">Maybe I was a light sleeper (<em>or maybe I was a light sleeper because I was sleeping in a chair</em>), but I can remember being woken up a few times while sleeping in the living room.</p> <p align="justify">As you may or may not remember from <a href="http://www.thatwhitegirls.com/2011/07/talk-about-misdirected-anger_1691.html" target="_blank">this post</a>, I’m somewhat of an active sleeper; I talk, I walk, I … do who knows what else, really. I guess this is a hereditary trait because I distinctly remember getting woken up by my brother talking in his sleep one night on the couch. </p> <p align="justify">I remember Danny talking so loudly and clearly, that I thought I’d slept late and he was up and about already. I opened my eyes, it was pitch black and Danny was sleeping soundly beside me. I can’t remember all of what was said, but I got the impression that Danny was dreaming about playing football. He never played football. </p> <p align="justify">I was confused as to what had woken me; I started considering that perhaps I’d dreamt the commotion. I was about to snuggle back into my blanket, when…</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RtRt8DezrPk/UreiS9qixOI/AAAAAAAABSM/ckj9y-D9qhI/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520interference%252520by%252520jake%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - interference by jake" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - interference by jake" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jasoQr0dk58/UreiTPmNbQI/AAAAAAAABSQ/DoEkvaVNCrk/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520interference%252520by%252520jake_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="204"></a></p> <p align="justify">He practically yelled it and he was dead asleep. </p> <p align="justify">It wasn’t always my brother making noises that woke me up. Once I remember being woken up by the sounds of non-so-distant, but very quiet, whimpering. Non-human whimpering. When I woke up enough for thought processes to be formed, I quickly caught on to what was happening.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QgyM18WN5Cc/UreiT42b0qI/AAAAAAAABSg/fIi_gzk90cU/s1600-h/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520mandy%252520had%252520her%252520puppies%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - mandy had her puppies" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="ThatWhiteGirl - sleeping on the couch - mandy had her puppies" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ANnWnZ8gfVA/UreiUa0EJKI/AAAAAAAABSk/vWKvypj7GWc/ThatWhiteGirl%252520-%252520sleeping%252520on%252520the%252520couch%252520-%252520mandy%252520had%252520her%252520puppies_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="285"></a></p> <p align="justify">On the foot of the couch; on my brother’s sleeping bag. </p> <p align="justify">I think that may have been the last time we slept on the couch.</p> <p align="justify"> </p> <p align="justify">Merry Christmas!! And fear not, my friends, a post about my trip to Cuba will happen! <img class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-smile" style="border-top-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none" alt="Smile" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nD-345QXqYE/UreiU5weVtI/AAAAAAAABSs/hP-FIU9-UJM/wlEmoticon-smile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800"></p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-60900724663337540072013-11-24T14:20:00.001-08:002013-11-24T14:20:20.146-08:00Going’s ons<p align="justify">Hey Folks! It’s been awhile since I’ve consistently posted, I’ve been struggling a bit with writer’s block, I guess. Or else just a lack of motivation to come up with a topic. Whatever you call it, I hope that will change, but I usually hit all time lows with posting come winter and it’s starting to get mighty cold out.</p> <p align="justify">I’ve been busy with work; we had our big audit last week and it was a doozy. Leading up to audit week I was working 6 days a week, as many as 12 hours a day. Then during audit week, I was so drained that by the end of the day, I’d eat and then collapse. Somehow I did muster up the energy to make a carrot cake for the bake sale on Friday, which got rave reviews so it was worth it! <em>I also got a piece, which is probably the real reason it was worth it.</em> </p> <p align="justify">I’ve been slowly plugging away at my project proposal, which has become increasingly frustrating. I’ve submitted the proposal three times so far (plus two incomplete drafts), and have received feedback from the person at school that is looking for the results of the project. That’s great, but I haven’t received one word of feedback from the person who needs to grade and approve the proposal. Considering I need to complete the entire project (not just the proposal) by year’s end, I’m pretty much hooped and will need to ask for an extension. Again. </p> <p align="justify">All in all, I’ve been quite busy and operating with a higher than normal stress level. It’s only a matter of time before that catches up with you and bad things happen, so I’m doing what I always do when it gets to be that time; I booked a trip to some place warm with unlimited alcohol. I’m going to Cuba! This time next week, I’ll be packing.</p> <p align="justify">As usual, I’ll keep you up-to-date with the train wreck that I like to call my all-inclusive vacation. </p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2206855979592189331.post-14256794503426814122013-10-24T00:35:00.001-07:002013-10-24T00:35:12.573-07:00Sometimes… fun hurts.<p align="justify">As you know, Gorm and I (and sometimes others) get together for music day every now and then. What you might not know is that music day has become an integral part of my life; something I look forward to. It has come to be so that I depend on it. Unfortunately, this day can only be organized and executed on so much of a regular basis. Often enough, but at the same time the length between sessions leaves me longing for more and my fingers callous-less. </p> <p align="justify">As a result, I’ve been known to be… somewhat reckless in my music day commitments. </p> <p align="justify">About a year ago, I was battling a bit of a cold and music day was fast approaching. I was convinced the worst that could happen was that I wouldn’t get the rest I needed that night and I might be over-tired the next day. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xZRhWwwhNyg/UmjNbF9E-4I/AAAAAAAABP4/R5_fqrl1K_Y/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520my%252520throat%252520is%252520fucked%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - my throat is fucked" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - my throat is fucked" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RuyE4jYDlv8/UmjNc7LJd5I/AAAAAAAABQA/X-bMYcvVoIU/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520my%252520throat%252520is%252520fucked_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="312"></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--8cA5xiF44A/UmjNeEDIJvI/AAAAAAAABQI/5NMt3MwvcLc/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520my%252520throat%252520is%252520strep-y%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - my throat is strep-y" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - my throat is strep-y" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-pYy5Xo_oT_E/UmjNhdlgndI/AAAAAAAABQQ/7tIMbqLTZUI/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520my%252520throat%252520is%252520strep-y_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="239"></a></p> <p align="justify">I hadn’t had strep throat in about 18 years, so I dismissed my assumption almost as fast as I made it. The next day, I could no longer deny that I needed medical attention. </p> <p align="justify">I went to the walk-in clinic on my way home from work. The doctor asked what was wrong; I said that I was pretty sure I had strep throat. All doctors seems to react the same way when you self-diagnose yourself. They tell you why it probably isn’t what you think it is. This doctor was no exception. </p> <p align="justify">And then she looked in my mouth. She said she’d normally take a swab before prescribing antibiotics, but… </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BS5Z7DvEdyI/UmjNiaevOsI/AAAAAAAABQY/T7uJz-DCYtc/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520raging%252520strep%252520throat%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - raging strep throat" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - raging strep throat" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BdIOwhGT5cI/UmjNkdhu7OI/AAAAAAAABQg/zoRNGsLgb40/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520raging%252520strep%252520throat_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="245"></a></p> <p align="justify">I left the office a little smug, having known what the problem was, but also a little scared because I really didn’t want <a href="http://www.thatwhitegirls.com/2010/09/quick-randomly-say-something-random_6758.html" target="_blank">scarlet fever. Again</a>. </p> <p align="justify">You’d think I would have learned from this experience. But like I said, I behave a little recklessly when music day approaches and I’m not feeling well.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6nhNOsWGJ5k/UmjNlQxHueI/AAAAAAAABQo/hZ8jfUigu7A/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520I%252527ll%252520be%252520fine%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - I'll be fine" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - I'll be fine" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Itm-Dv5G_6c/UmjNm4pyztI/AAAAAAAABQw/Fnk_De4bhC4/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520I%252527ll%252520be%252520fine_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="258"></a></p> <p align="justify">I’d been fighting a cold and Friday night I noticed my voice was cracking. In an attempt to practice before music day, I tried playing, but found that I couldn’t sing very well (<em>mostly that I couldn’t project my voice. At. All.</em>). But I was convinced that the show must go on. </p> <p align="justify">The following day, I woke up feeling pretty good. I went to music day and when I started singing, I found again that I couldn’t project my voice. But I soldiered on. </p> <p align="justify">By the end of the session, I was croaking like a frog and sounded reminiscent of the pimply kid on The Simpsons. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-mQ5w62gYQU0/UmjNn7sL4fI/AAAAAAAABQ4/BDtdH4gS3rI/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520Gorm%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520fucked%25255B9%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - Gorm - you're fucked" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - Gorm - you're fucked" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zAveDmz8RtU/UmjNoo4fLBI/AAAAAAAABRA/SUlLw-iTlLQ/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520Gorm%252520-%252520you%252527re%252520fucked_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="325"></a></p> <p align="justify">Thanks Gorm.</p> <p align="justify">I completely lost my voice for two days. I went to work on Monday and quickly realized just how much I talk at work on a day to day basis. I was told just how fucked up my voice sounded. I received pats on the back in sympathy when I squeaked out a response to their question. I may or may not have had laryngitis. </p> <p align="justify">Despite the pain, ridicule and pity I received:</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R8iRdoTOFGY/UmjNqOaNIFI/AAAAAAAABRI/Z_bHwjz_-w8/s1600-h/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520totally%252520worth%252520it%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img title="That White Girl - music day hurts - totally worth it" style="border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; padding-right: 0px" border="0" alt="That White Girl - music day hurts - totally worth it" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3vLZ3lvvXFk/UmjNrnhlZDI/AAAAAAAABRQ/pPS6qPaxR4s/That%252520White%252520Girl%252520-%252520music%252520day%252520hurts%252520-%252520totally%252520worth%252520it_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="304" height="279"></a></p> That White Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10841650746277749285noreply@blogger.com4