Are you pregnant?? Nope, just fat. Thanks.

I strongly encourage you to go and read this post before reading this one. Fine. You don't even have to read the whole thing. Just scroll to the last paragraph and read that. Okay?

So I'm in school and there are other people that are in my class. Weird, I know. So there's this guy that's in my class right now that's known as Chris, Mr Perfect, or simply Mr I-know-everything-about-everything. Safe to say, he's pretty smart.

My teacher didn't include last week's assignment in the note package he gave us and he had only one copy of the assignment in his binder. He needed someone to go photocopy it or email it out to the rest of the class. Being the team player that I am, I volunteered for this job and passed around a piece of paper to get everyone's email address so that I could scan it in and send it off.

I got home and scanned in the assignment and started entering email addresses into gmail... As it turns out, the Chris that's in my class, has the same name of the fellow, Chris, that writes "The Bucholz Discharge". Now I can't say for certain that Class-Chris is Cracked-Chris, but since I believe that's a fairly unique last name, I think it's safe to say that it is him.

Funny thing is, I declared my interlove for him in the post I made you go and read and it turns out that he sits behind me every week. Crazy right? What are the chances? Roughly 2%, I'd say. So anyway, I thought I'd update that post (you know, without actually updating that post):

With my luck he lives in Halifax (actually he lives in Vancouver and I know him), is married (he does have a girlfriend) and finds me repulsive (I have no defense for this). Fucker. (I stand by that remark)

I second-guessed every comma in this post

Well, I have 4 school deadlines over the next week and a half and really should be working on at least a couple of them. Instead I wrote this post. Gorm says I should always write posts when I'm procrastinating; I take that as my last post was my best work. Boo-yah! Anyway, here's the latest installment of "I'd rather do anything besides schoolwork".

I was recounting my weekend to a friend at work the other day; I was telling her about the Saturday night I'd just had. A guy I know, pretty well spent the whole night hitting on me and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. It was quite something really. Don't worry, I've known him for long enough that it wasn't creepy or anything... and I haven't known him for so long that it was creepy or anything.

Anyway, at one point he said:

Which immediately made me think:

And then that made me think about what it would actually be like to own the moon and the stars.

Not exactly something I'd turn down given the chance. Once I got to the end of that little tale, my friend burst out laughing:

Me: I know! Who says these things, right?

Her: Um... ... every guy?

Me: What?! No way!

Her: Yeah, totally. You've never had a guy say this shit to you before?

Me: No, I haven't... Have you?

Her: Tonnes of times!! Not any of your boyfriends? Not even your long-term boyfriend?

Me: No and no.

Her: Wow.

Me: I know! That's why it's so exciting!

Her: That's not what I was thinking.

Me: What were you thinking?

Her: You've dated assholes!!!

Apparently every guy that she's ever dated (or has ever wanted to date her) has said these things. She also suggested that this is what every guy says to get in a girl's pants. Not to say that that thought hadn't crossed my mind in the moment. In fact, a childhood conversation with my dad flashed before my eyes.

However, I immediately dismissed it as a possibility and allowed the sweet nothings to continue being whispered in my ear. Maybe I'm easily swindled by it because no guy has ever been (or even feigned to be) romantic like that before. Or perhaps the world is different than the moon and the stars. Not likely

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing the illustrations

How I met my friend

I had the best dog in the whole wide world. Yeah, sure, everyone says that, but for me, it's actually true. His name was Sabastian and he was awesome.



Just look at him!! Who couldn't love that dog?! He was a 100+lb rottweiller/german shepard cross. He was big, but also a big sweetheart. I loved him and he loved me. I had him for about 10 years before I had to put him down, and those were some damn good years we had together.

I, literally, have hundreds of stories I could tell about him and my blog won't be complete unless I tell at least one, but I'm having a really hard time narrowing down a really good, really representative story about Sab. I guess I could start off by how I got him. (And I'll write the really good, really representative post another day).

I got him when he was just over a year old, but I'd known him for about 6 months by that time. I met Sab through a punk-ass kid that ended up being a friend of mine. Oh, high school, how I miss you. I met this kid, (who actually went by the name of Flea) through a friend of my brother. My brother's friend, ended up letting Flea move in with him and this is when I met Sab.

Flea, didn't work; he was on welfare and made getting drunk and high a priority over feeding his dog. Me and K would buy Sab food, because he was starving to death. Literally. We took him to the vet at one point and he weighed in at 44lbs. (His healthy Post-Flea weight was 98-105lbs, but he chunked up to a whopping 115lbs at one point).

I would beg Flea to give me his dog, I was even willing to pay for him... how much do you want for him? $100? $200? $300? How much for your dog??? But he wouldn't budge. He "loved" Sab and wouldn't get rid of him. Some stuff happened and Flea ended up having to move back home and wasn't able to take Sab with him. I jumped on it: I'll take him!

The deal ended up being that he would stay with me for one month, after that, Flea would get him fixed and he would take him back. I knew this would never happen, so I agreed.

Two months later, I saw Flea and he said to me "I can't afford to get him fixed. So, I guess he's your dog now" and I said "Dude, he was my dog a month ago".

And that's how I met my best friend, and how our 10 year friendship started. (miss you Bubby!)

I'll write an actual post about him shortly, complete with pictures (fair warning, EliseArt!). I just had to get this one up... you know, because of obligations (thanks, Gorm!).

Something Ramdon....

So I haven't posted in awhile and it's purely because... ... well... I've been busy. I finished school and now I have all this free time and as a result I don't get anything done because I have no deadlines.

That's not entirely true... I have been working on my story, but as it turns out, it's much more difficult to invent a story than it is to tell one.

You see, when I tell a story it's like a little movie playing in my head showing what exactly happened; in person, I really try to portray the movie through words, dialogues, actions and gesticulations. I try and get the same point across when I'm writing, but for some reason I find it easier to write about real-life rather than the make-believe stuff.

Case and point

I have "an associate"... you may know her as EliseArt... She puts up with a lot of crap from me... I see her at work, or send her an email, and say things like: "Pics I want... Me, panicked, dropping something (black box), looking up (over?) and looking sad/distraught... mouth KINDA like the "Really Ugly" pic, but less drool and less saggy eye and more eyebrow!"

And somehow she manages to get it perfect.

When I first started blogging, I'd write the post, I'd think of pictures I wanted and then I'd go to her with the list of pictures (descriptions as above, or worse). Despite that, she would produce amazing artwork. Then we decided that it might be better if she knew what the post was about before she started drawing ... (for some reason my descriptions weren't good enough... weird...).

From then on, I'd send her my posts (in advance) with notes throughout it saying "Pic here" or a further description such as: "Me: Mopey... I think you probably have a good idea of how I look mopey... head sagging, shoulder slumping, sad face..."

And... BAM!!!!

Perfect picture everytime!!!

So anyways....

I've been working on my story and I sent it to Elise, with absolutely no direction whatsoever, except "Please read. And consider pictures. I don't really have any ideas. I'm sorry! :) See you in the car, Heather"

And of course, she sent me some awesome pictures... but I thought, it needs to be more funny... (not her pictures... my story). I tried to think up some other ideas. And I did. So I sent them to her today. But then I realized that she's leaving for a month in less than a week and then I'm on my own (and realistically, before then, because she's leaving for a month in less than a week).... Oh No... On Own.... On Own....

So I've decided that I have to brush up on my paint skills and attempt drawing for myself or else I'll have a month's worth of people coming up to me and saying things like "You know.... it's been two weeks since you posted anything...."

And I can't have that.

Stay tuned for some really bad paint drawings ...

That's the best I can do.... Elise... Come back soon! :)

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing the good illustrations.

P.S. Enjoy your vacation! :P

Turns out I can't play guitar while sitting on a swiss ball

I alluded to this in my last post but I decided not to include it because I thought I would veer so far off course that I would no longer have any idea where I was going and then I'd have to get back on track and get back to the point of the story and then finish it, well, understandably, it could have been a very, very long story (kinda like that sentence).

So I decided to save the side story and make it into it's own thing... that way I can really do this story justice. And justice it shall have. In my last post I said I dropped my rickety old 4-track multiple times and then it didn't work so well... Turns out, there's a huge back story (surprised? Probably not.).

I bought the 4-track so I could record a spoof song for my brother (Grow Your Own Hay, oh yeah!). I had never recorded anything before, so my knowledge was limited at best. There was a lot of manual-reading and chin-rubbing going on. I managed to get a (very) basic understanding of how it worked and was considering starting the recording process. That was about the time I started dropping the thing.

I was slightly panicked because I really needed to get the project finished (and started!) but I didn't want to spend any more money doing it. So I called my Mr. Fixer Friend. He fixes everything for me: desks, guitars, tables... ... my broken heart (he's my real-life-Gary!). Normally, our conversations go like this:

Him: Hello?

Me: Daaaaaaaaaaaaa-ve... !!

Him: Hi Heather. What's wrong?

Me: It's just that I dropped my guitar and now it has a big gouge in the neck and I don't know what to doooooo!!

Him: I can take a look at it and we can fix it. Okay?

Me: Okay... are you sure you can fix it, I mean, it's a pretty big gouge??

Him: I'm sure it'll be fine. Don't worry, we'll fix it.

Me: Okay... thanks Dave!

So when I dropped my 4-track and it no longer appeared to be working, I called Dave, in my normal state of panic. Our conversation went like this:

Him: Hello? (he sounded really sick)

Me: Hi Dave. Are you okay?

Him: I'm really not feeling well.

Me: You don't sound like it.

Him: Mmmm.

Me: So... you know... the reason I'm calling...

Him: Yes?

Me: Daaaaaaaaaaaaa-ve... !!

Him: Uh-oh. What's wrong, Heather?

Me: It's just that I dropped my 4-track and now it doesn't work and I don't know what to doooooo!!

Him: Oh. Okay.

Me: Okay? What?! Don't you think you can fix it, I mean, it's just a 4-track, right?

Him: I don't know; I can try but I can't guarantee anything.

I was speechless. I can't really recall the rest of the conversation, but I think it's safe to say 'disappointed and distraught' are very good descriptors of how I was feeling. We got off the phone and I continued to mope around the house and, in general, be bummed out. Whaa... I can't do my project!

A few hours later, Dave called me back. He was feeling much better and had time to consider it (and call people who knew stuff about it) and he wanted some details: how high did you drop it from, was it plugged in, did the plugs jam into the jacks when it fell, etc. My responses: Pretty high, like 2 feet! Yes it was plugged in and yes the plugs did jam into the jacks... yeah, it pretty much fell right on the cords, jamming them right in there.

Conversation not withstanding, he said that he would open it up and look and at the very least solder any loose connections, maybe replace an input jack or two and *fingers crossed*, it works. Whew... see, now that's what I wanted him to say in the first place! Even though he didn't guarantee success, I was still really happy and optimistic.

So I went to work the following Monday and we were discussing our weekends around the lunch table (thanks guys!). It was my turn and I started telling the above story. But instead of saying I was mopey and bummed out, I said... and I quote "Worst friend ever." Well, The Token Skeptic jumped all over that.

"Really? He's the worst friend ever just because he couldn't fix something for you?" "Yes, yes he is" and then I told everyone the part about how he called me a couple hours later and told me he could fix it (see, optimistic!). Of course she rolled her eyes (and possibly squinted) at my flaw-gic... but that's pretty much standard. This was roughly 8 months ago.

The other day, I was conversing with The Token Skeptic and I mentioned Dave. And she said "Don't you mean the worst friend ever?" and I was like "What?!? No!!!! Dave is ... great... ... he's a ... great friend..." By this time, I could tell by the look on her face that I was missing something. I start thinking real hard but have no idea how she would be led to believe that Dave is the worst friend ever. And then I recall the lunch time conversation and I burst out laughing and say "Yeah, that's right... that Dave. Worst friend ever!"

P.S. Dave you are not the worst friend ever. You are a great friend and I love you very much.

P.P.S. My sink is leaking.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations!!

That t-shirt is so fricken bright, there's gotta be a battery pack attached.

I have a tendency to fall in love with guys with whom I have absolutely no hope of them loving me back. It's dangerous territory, but in my defense, these guys tend to be people that I've never met; I have no idea what they're actually like. I'm not sure that helps my argument... In fact, I'm fairly certain it hinders it. Hmmm... no wonder I'm single. It's heartbreaking, yet, I continue to do it. I'm probably bringing this on myself.

In my defense, again, this "love" isn't actual love... Mostly, I "heart" them and just lack the vocabulary skills necessary to express my feelings without sounding like a stalker. So, by default, I call it love, because that, (apparently) is the least stalker-ish word I know... I should probably start reading the dictionary again. Or maybe a thesaurus this time.

Guys I love and have absolutely no hope in reciprocation:

1) Guys that are dead

2) Guys that live on the other side of the world

3) Guys that are married, in a relationship, or just plain "happy" (damn them!)

4) Guys that find me repulsive

My #1 #1 (i.e. the guy I love the most that happens to be dead) is Elliott Smith. Oh, if only he was still alive... I'd stalk the hell out of him! Okay, probably not, but I do think he's a musical genius and absolutely beautiful. I really wish I'd had a chance to meet him (or at least see him from afar) while he was still on this earth. *sigh*.

My most recent #1 #2 (i.e. the guy I love the most that happens to live on the other side of the world) is Xavier Rudd... he lives in Australia. Dammit. I also think he's a genius and beautiful, although not as much as my fav... sorry Xavier.

I had an opportunity to see Xavier recently - although it didn't result in a marriage proposal, he did look in my direction at least twice! And if paying good money to see him from afar and to have him look in my general direction is what I can get, then I guess I'll take it.

My first #1 #3 (i.e. the guy I love the most that is married/happy) was Jack Johnson... I was devastated when I realized that he was married... what is that shiny thing on his left ring finger?? *gasp* *sob*

I just realized all my "loves" have been musicians... Hmmm... I must have a non-musical one...

My most recent #1 #3 is this guy that works with a friend of mine. He doesn't quite fit the criteria, because I have, in fact, met him, but it's not like I know him, so I'll still use him as an example. He's quite the specimen; if you looked up "a ten" in the dictionary, his picture would be there. I held a torch for him for awhile and was convinced that the next event we were both at would be the time he realized how amazing I am. I attended the event, so did he. He didn't profess his love for me. And then his wife and children showed up... and they looked happy. Dammit!

I don't know who is my #1 #4 is... (i.e. the guy that I love the most that finds me repulsive)... Honestly, I can't think of anyone who I was (or am) in love with that actually finds me repulsive (or, more accurately, has told me as such). It's just my go-to reason for why they don't love me back (... I must be hideous...).

Okay, I must love things other than musicians.... Well, recently, I've become an internerd (blog: case and point); I used to laugh at people like me. So it probably won't come as too much of a surprise that my most recent loves are on the internet. Like the others, I don't know them and have no idea what they are actually like.... but I do heart them regardless. I had three favorites, but two of them left me for greener pasteurs, so that leaves me with one... but he's my favorite anyway, so it works out.

He writes articles for Cracked.com (The Bucholz Discharge... awesome!). He's witty and smart and seriously funny. He's also a huge jackass, which some may consider a bad thing, myself, I find it endearing. Also, I'm a jackass, so I think we'd get along. And... according to a post of his, he's Canadian. Bonus!!! All Canadians know each other, right? Maybe all hope isn't lost.

With my luck he lives in Halifax, is married and finds me repulsive. Fucker.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing the illustrations!