Breath

Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just wide awake coughing thanks to the never ending flu.

I’ve missed two weeks of Crossfit right before the Open, so I’m probably going to die. Of course, the last two weeks, I’ve felt like I was going to die. I’ve lived on a steady diet of NyQuil, soup, and tea. If you never learn anything from my blog, please learn to get a damn flu shot. You don’t ever want to feel this damn shitty. Forgetting my flu shot is my greatest regret in life right now.

However, I didn’t let a little thing like a super flu get in the way most of my life. I didn’t call in sick. I didn’t miss the Breaking Benjamin concert. I still took the kids to the movies & watched Olympic figure skating. I only missed the gym because it’s really hard to get anything done when you’re coughing until you puke. But I can’t afford to take time off from work. I can’t lay in bed and miss a valuable day off to spend with the kiddos. Breaking Benjamin rarely comes to Canada! Not to mention Adam Rippon is a damn treasure. I have to finish Driver’s Education. So much to do and I’m just one person.

But, whenever something like this comes up, I’m always reminded that I’m more fortunate than most people who are sick. I live in a country with free health care. I’m fortunate enough to have friends and coworkers that look out for me, whether it’s my boss kicking me out of my own store to cover the last four hours of my shift, or my friend driving the girls & I home from the mall, or the friend that insisted that we still go to Breaking Benjamin because they’re my all time favourite band. A member of my gym made it a point to tell me he couldn’t wait to see me at the gym next week. Even my 11 year old loaned me her stuffed bunny. I was feeling like crud and everyone tried to help in their own way.

I know you’re probably thinking that none of these gestures seem very significant. But one of the things I’ve been trying to improve upon over the last few years is to be grateful when someone does something to help me out. I think about how dark the world seems sometimes, especially when you read social media comments, or watch people interact in public. Everyone seems so cold. What happened to the days when people were there for each other and we really valued each other’s efforts? Maybe the world would be a little kinder if we all recognized that an effort to help you was a sacrifice on someone else’s part. My boss coming in to help me took time away from his work and delayed his Valentine’s Day plans. My friend risked catching the flu. That ride home took my friend out of her way. That’s how it works. Maybe if we really appreciated each other and looked out for each other, the world would be slightly less sucky.

Or, maybe I’m still really sick and babbling nonsense in my NyQuil induced haze.

Sick or not, I think we should all try harder to be more appreciative of the things people do for us. They’re going out of their way to make our lives easier. But don’t forget to pay it forward either. Help them when they need it. Be a good friend to those who need it. Help a stranger. Donate money. Don’t be a dick. The more we try to work to help others, the better place the world would be.

So, thanks again to all of the people in my life that go the extra mile to be a good friend to me and the girls. We appreciate how awesome you are. It’s always important that when things aren’t their best, that you find the things to be grateful for, so you can see life is always pretty rad.

Gorgeous

Oh, Hello. Happy New Year!

I hope you enjoyed the festive holiday break! I worked like a dog through it! But, it wasn’t all for naught. I love my jobs, even if journalism had to take a backseat for the month due to the craziness of the season. Fortunately, I’m working on an article that I’m super excited about, with some pitches out there. Things are quieter at the day job. 2018 is already amazing & I can’t wait to see what it has in store for me.

My professional life is already off to a rocking start. As many of you know, last year I was asked to step down from my position and work as an assistant manager. It was demoralizing as fuck, but I wasn’t ready for the job. I had so much to learn and I actually saw it as an opportunity to learn how to be a good manager. I wanted to learn from my mistakes and become better. So I did. Thanks to a lot of guidance from my District Team Leader (whom I call my Jedi Master), I was recently transferred to a new location as acting sales manager! I’m pretty excited about my new role within my company. My staff is amazing and I’m so proud to have them as my team. Don’t worry though, I held onto that old nametag because I was pretty sure I’d use it again.

Meanwhile, my personal life is going pretty okay. I have the best friends who are with me through of the best and worst times. 2018 brings visits with them, including my friend’s wedding to her soul mate. Her joy makes me smile. I’ve been adopted into the best gym community. There’s no one else I’d rather hate my life during a WOD with. My kids are amazing and they’re super pumped for our trip to see Taylor Swift this summer. Breaking Benjamin has a new album coming out this year and my friend/favourite former co-worker are going to see them live in February, so that’s pretty awesome too. 2018 is gonna be rad yo.

My love life will always be ridiculous. I’ve been casually dating a guy we’ll call the teacher for about a month. He’s nice, attractive, we have a ton of things in common, and I should be head over heels…except I’m not.

I wanted to like him, but instead, Meh. The first red flag was that he goes dutch on every date, which is fucking rude. Before you get all “But MHC, you’re a feminist, what about equality?! I can’t believe that this bothers you! Think of equality!” Well, Captain jerkface, let me tell you something; except on very rare occasions; my platonic friends and I don’t even go Dutch on nights out. The person who invites pays. Why? Because it’s called having manners, asshole. Tonight I went out with my friend Carissa & I paid because I invited her. The guy asked me out every time. But every time, we split the bill. This to me screams lack of effort. If you can’t treat your guest, and make them pay for half the plate of nachos and a mojito, what effort will you put into a relationship? Not to mention it sends a mixed signal. Are we on a date? Are we dudebros? Life is too short for games in the early stages of dating. But more importantly, everything has a negative twist. EVERYTHING. Working late, not having plans on Friday, the Far Side. Everything had this dark attached to it. I look at the bright side of everything so the sigh and pessimistic side to everything was kind of meh. But we kept talking. I kept agreeing to go out again. I kept the conversation going. It was constantly me putting in the work & it bugged me. Unless he’s having a bad day, I don’t hear from him. Why do I bother? I guess I thought that you can’t ask for everything to be what you want. So what if he’s cheap, and kind of emo, and says things like “it’s too people-y out?” He’s interested and nice I guess?

Sure, I didn’t get butterflies, or kind of excited when he texted me. Just meh. But I’ll grow into romantic attraction, right? When was the last time the butterflies led me in the right direction anyway (if you need a friendly reminder of my horrible dating choices, click HERE)? Obviously it’ll be the right choice, I’ll just keep telling myself that.

Then I ran into the hot guy from my gym while I was out and about one day. I tried to talk to him once before. I tripped over my own barbell and contemplated dying there. Everything else can be summed up by my lord and saviour Jesus Swift by clicking here.

But we had a nice chat and said we’d see each other in class. Told my best friend; she may be planning the wedding because she was so excited that I’m so attracted to a human being. I’ve literally spent a year telling her about why the hot guy from my gym is so hot. This random interaction gave me an epiphany (& no, it’s not what one of my fellow managers thinks and that Jesus was showing me that I should make a move. Hot guys at the gym always have girlfriends, because they’re hot. And cool. And I’m a potato that sucks at burpees). I realized that I was wasting my time with the teacher.

I keep settling because I feel like I should date, or want to date someone, even though I don’t really care. Then I hate them after like a month because I realize they’re assholes. I choose guys (to shut people up) that I think are more “my league.” You know, losers, not “quality mans”. I always think maybe if I was in better shape, or wasn’t awkward and weird, I could land a great guy who would make me happy like in the movies. But I am, so I should choose guys more my level. You know, the guy who doesn’t pay for dinner and turns everything into an emo sigh.

Between well meaning friends and family who want me to meet someone, and my own feelings of inadequacy when it comes to my life, I keep settling for guys so I can be in a relationship for the sake of being in a relationship. It’s not some item I want to check off of a bucket list, like the triathlon I want to participate in, or going to Vegas, or finally trying a donair. It should be because I genuinely want to spend time with someone. I’m tired of selling myself short in relationships. So, I likely won’t see the teacher again. I keep replying to be nice, but I can’t see accepting another date. Maybe we can be friends, or acquaintances? But a relationship is definitely out of the question. So is hot guy from the gym, because that would require actually talking to him, and I literally cannot do that.

For me, 2018 is about elevation. Elevating my team, empowering other women, including my daughters, building people up and watching them thrive. It’s obvious that I need to start with myself! Get to the gym more and have some work life balance. Attend the events we hold at the gym! Spend time with my friends, and make loving myself a priority. The more I love myself, the more I will see men like hot guy at the gym as “my league.” After all, I’m pretty dope. Four out of five Wireless sales managers would agree that I’m kind of cool. And I’m pretty when I make an effort. I’ll keep losing weight and build up my confidence and kick some ass at life & stop lowering my standards just to say I have a date. I deserve better, and I’ll need to remember that.

Maybe I need to look in the mirror and see a “quality womans,” and then I’ll stop wearing my “I attract losers” sign when I go out. Or learn how to talk to guys without looking like an idiot. Or both. Whatever.

New Year’s Day

Man, 2017 was wild.

As we say goodbye to another year, I like to post a little year in review, highlighting all the cool stuff that happened (excluding photos of my children). I always think of this as the conclusion of a chapter in the story of my life. This year, it was all about how I’d take the lessons I’ve learned out here and use them to become a better MHC. I went on grand adventures. I spent time with rad people. I accomplished a bunch of goals & kept building on the foundation of myself. I’m looking forward to this next chapter. New articles, new friends, and adventures with the people who have long been my tribe.

Thanks for continuing to read about my wacky life. I appreciate every one of you. Don’t forget to follow me on Snapchat to see more of my weird adventures! They’re not super entertaining, but why not?

Anyway, I hope this year was good to you & 2018 is everything you’ve ever wanted.

The time I taught my best friend how to Snapchat



Lumineers!


All hail crossfit Jesus

Ed Sheeran ❤️

When your article is a cover story. So honoured. So proud.

Cover story number two!

This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

I try to refrain from talking about my daughters on my blog because I have this thing about parents who blast their kids lives on display. It feels so ooky. Like, photos on social media is one thing; but bloggers posting stories about their kids or videos of coached kids doing “spontaneous funny things” and tagging Ellen feels so gross to me. I choose to be a blogger and share my life publicly; the kids have no say. So, I never post photos and keep stories about them to a minimum.

But, they will be mentioned a bit today, although I’ll keep the deets high level.

Yesterday, I was stressed out. I had worked from open to close on Black Friday & was on hour six of what was supposed to be another 10 hour day. I was tired, terrified that we wouldn’t beat last year’s numbers, and generally cranky. I was kind of stressed because the guy I’ve been getting to know seems almost too nice, too perfect. Too many “I love that too,” and too many compliments, and it makes me feel like it could be too good to be true and after a few weeks I’ll find out he’s a serial killer. I was stressed because I hadn’t been to the gym in a week, and I had planned to try a barre class, but I couldn’t find the time. I was stressed out about finances, because it’s Xmas and I’m a sole support parent. I was stressed because I’m trying to get the girls their gifts, as well as hopefully surprise them with tickets to Taylor Swift and a fun trip to Toronto to go to the zoo and my 10 year old will perhaps finally get her dream of seeing kangaroos that hop and aren’t depressed like the ones in Detroit.

I was stressed and pushing myself too hard, and then I got a phone call that my two oldest daughters had been hit by a car during a hit and run. I ran out of my mall, panicked and thinking the worst, with my only thought being how I could get home faster to get to them. The good news is that everyone is fine, injuries are minor and they’re only shaken up. I insisted that they all sleep in my room last night because I didn’t want them out of my sight. Today was spent with doctors and taking steps to have the case investigated, but also to eat pizza and go to Toys R Us, play Super Mario Run and listen to our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Swift.

The most important thing you can do when things are shitty is make your day as normal as possible, to remind ourselves that nothing is ever as scary as it seems. I don’t want my girls to live in fear of the world around them. I want them to focus on good things, like the neighbour who went out to help them, or my coworkers, who all called to make sure they were okay. Focus on the fact that Aunt Kiki called and checked in every few hours, not that dad dismissed it as no big deal and didn’t call to check in on them, just a quick call at 8pm to fume about my upgrading a phone, never asking if they were okay. Focus on what’s good; the rest sorts itself out.

In the end, the store hitting budget, the guy being too nice, or my bank balance didn’t matter. What did matter was that I could have lost 2/3 of my whole world because some dude in a Honda Civic was speeding in a school zone. What matters is that they’re okay and safe. They get to grow up into women and make me proud every day. What matters is that somewhere there’s a parent who isn’t as fortunate as we were and their story doesn’t have the ending mine does. They would kill for a chance to call out of work to take their teenager to the doctor to check for concussion symptoms, or rearrange their shifts to walk the kids to school because they’re scared to cross at that crosswalk. I’m fortunate af that I get to do those things. Sometimes being a sole support mom means you have to work so much to give them a good life that you miss stuff, like parent teacher night. But what matters is that you put them first, whether it’s working that 16 hour day, or rushing out into the night to protect them. That’s being a parent; not a handful of phone calls or a visit every now and again. Being a parent means supporting your kids emotionally, financially, protecting them and being there for them 24/7. That’s what matters. If you’re not doing those things; you’re not a parent.

I hope no parent ever has to have that kind of shock to the system. Let’s not lose focus on why we work so hard, or do so much. We’re doing it for them. We can’t take even a second for granted because an asshole in a Honda Civic could take it all away. I’m going to try to remember that next time I’m stressed about sales numbers, or my bank balance, or because someone did some stupid shit to piss me off. I’ll remind myself that what really matters is making time to hang with the kiddos, play Super Mario, and be grateful that I have the chance to do so.

So It Goes…

I’m a very lucky human being, because I’ve had a core group of friends to see me through most of my life.

There’s something so comforting about the fact that my best guy friend at thirty something is the same one I had when I was 17. That my roommate at 21 is still my friend today. That my best friend at eight years old is still someone I connect with on social media while we navigate the world of single parenting three girls. It always makes me feel like I can’t be that bad of a person, because the people who knew me then still like me now. It’s nice to know that the people who saw you when you loved Barbie, or listened to KoRn, or went with you to get eleven different piercings have evolved with you and you still love each other.

Also, look how cute we were at prom.

I will also be the first to admit that I once relied too heavily on people to look out for me. My wonderful friends did that, mostly because my track record with life choices is pretty terrible. They still do, and I love them for it. Last week was a shit show (which I mentioned here), and every one of my friends (save for one), suggested that I move home. Sometimes I even think about it. But the teen has her heart set on attending a university here, and my job as a mom is to help her get to where she wants to go in life. But, after a long chat with the best of all the guy friends, I realized why I need to stay with the Cow People in the Cow province.

He casually brought up someone that I used to know, who I haven’t thought of in months. I called him “the Dude.” Mostly because for a good two minutes, I couldn’t remember his name. I once believed that the dude was my happily ever after; now I had to pause to remember his name. I’ve realized that I have no idea who my soulmate is, because I have no idea what I want in a mate. I know what I don’t want; but I’ve spent so long listening to what people think I should want that I have no idea what I want. But I know I need to stop getting caught up in a type and just let what’s meant to happen strike like lightning. Maybe instead of a Seth Rollins, I belong with a Dean Ambrose (gross). Maybe not that extreme, but you get the idea.

However, I do know that my adventures to the land of cows have helped me realize that life evolves when you do; the thing you wanted a million years ago, might not be anything you would recognize now. I don’t want to be the person pretending on FB, posting the happy family pics to pretend I’m happy when in reality, I’m not because I’m walking on eggshells. You know what I mean, one half of the couple has everything about how in love they are and happy photos and the other, not so much, and you KNOW neither one is happy. I don’t want the complacency of my life in London; where I was content at my job and didn’t really push to get my written work published because meh. I don’t want to be the person who settled: for the house on Felix, for the call centre job because it paid the bills, for the husband that made me cry because no decent human would want me. I don’t want to be the woman that relies on her friends to prop her up; I want to be a person that can stand on her own while holding up others.

In the Cow Province, I don’t settle. I grow. I wanted to achieve my goals and I am. I am growing as a journalist; my Great West Newspapers editor is really helping me evolve as a writer. I want to move up at work; not just because a promotion means more money, but because I want to be challenged. I want to develop into a better leader and coach. I want to push myself to be better, so the friend who knew me at eight, or dated me at 17, or lived with me at 21, can be proud of me. More importantly, so I can be proud of me.

I needed to go on my grand adventure so I could learn how to push myself harder. I needed to learn that my weirdo personality is not for everyone; but I need to own it. I needed to learn how to stop being some simpering victim and own my shit. But most of all, I needed to learn that every single thing that pops up on FB memories about my life from this time a few years ago isn’t the life I really wanted at all, and I don’t miss any part of it, except the house I lived in while in London, and that my friends lived in same area code.

As much as I sometimes want to go home and settle back into Ontario life, I realize that for me to become the type of person I want to be, I need to follow the path I’m making, not the one anyone built for me. Maybe this grand adventure was a lesson in throwing my very sure and certain guidebook for life out the window and actually work to become a better person. Maybe I needed to change for the better, and the things that stayed (Crossfit, journalism, an unhealthy obsession with pancakes) were meant to stay, along with my best friend in the eighth grade, the friend I met working at Target, or the hippie that dragged me to college with her, and always reminded me that just because it’s not the path everyone would have taken, doesn’t mean it’s not the one I’m meant to follow.

For Now

In the never ending story that is my life, we’ll call this chapter “the time everything absolutely fucking sucked.”

I’ll keep the major details to myself, as there are a great many things that I still choose not to share with the internet, but trust me when I say this week absolutely fucking sucks. Because it sucks, I’m seriously contemplating functional alcoholism (despite the fact that I rarely drink), or maybe full Brie Mode (for those of you that don’t watch Total Divas, click here for the definition of Brie Mode).

Despite the fact that I have the most amazing friends back home, sometimes I feel like I can’t talk to anyone, because they all tell me “you’re so strong, you’re Superwoman.” I want to be a superhero, and that bad ass woman they all tell me that I am, but am I? I don’t feel very super. I feel more like “pitifully average human who is drowning under the pressure to be a good mom and a good writer and a good employee and a good Crossfitter and pay bills while still looking pretty and maintaining a social life, despite having one friend that isn’t a coworker.” Being a one woman operation is tough kids.

We live in a FB filtered world; no one wants to admit that their life isn’t perfect and maybe they aren’t the superhero that their inner circle thinks that they are. No one wants to admit that they sometimes think they’re a shitty parent or looks at their bank statement, which is currently negative $36 and wonders how Xmas will be wonderful when cheerleading fees need to be paid and the gas bill is due and one kid needs new glasses and another has a field trip & it all costs money. No one wants to admit that sometimes they just want a night off from trying to be the best and just go out with friends, but since you don’t really have any, it’s hard to go places (sometimes I feel like I’m in the ninth grade again, where I wonder if people actually like me, or if they just want me to help them with the grownup equivalent of helping them with their English homework). No one ever admits that they feel like their very personality is somehow deficient, and you are somehow too weird or annoying for people to actually like, so you feel like you can’t really be yourself around anyone. These are things we just don’t do. Instead, everything is perfect. Everything is fine. Life is awesome.

In my life, everyone is counting on me to be so damned inspirational. Spoiler alert: I’m not inspiring; Beyoncé is inspiring. I’m just me. I’m a mostly unimportant writer and kind of okay assistant cell phone manager who talks too much.

Sometimes I wonder why it’s not socially acceptable to admit you’re not killing it at life right now. That maybe you’re lonely, or stressed out, or you just don’t really feel very good about yourself. Wouldn’t it be so nice to be able to say “I hate literally everything. You ever felt like that?” And someone relate to that? Maybe then we wouldn’t feel like it’s somehow not okay to have moments of self doubt, or sad, or stressed. Instead, we push ourselves to be the superhero we’ve made ourselves out to be and you don’t want to let anyone down. I think it’s harder for women, because we’re taught at an early age that we’re in competition with each other to be the prettiest and the smartest, meeting all of the Game of Life checkpoints while also never getting angry, or feeling less than confident, and God forbid you aren’t a size six! So, we all kind of compete for the best highlight reel and you can’t really live up to the hype.

Sorry guys, I’m not Wonder Woman. I’m just little old me; a plain, boring human who struggles with self esteem and time management, and sometimes is overwhelmed by the enormity of her responsibilities. I’m actually not sorry. If I’m going to be some inspirational ray of fucking sunshine, I need to be an authentic human being. Authentic human beings sometimes hate everything and feel like they suck at everything and look to someone they think has their shit together and goes “man, I wish I had my shit together and was half as awesome as they are.” I look at another manager in my company and wish I was half as cool as she was! She doesn’t care what people think; she just does her thing. She doesn’t second guess every word or thought, hoping she didn’t do something wrong by being herself. She just slays. Who knows? Maybe she gets days where she feels like I do too and looks to someone else to inspire them. Maybe it’s Beyoncé. Who knows?

So, if you ever feel like that, let me be the first to tell you it’s totally okay. Humans are not meant to live by the standards of social media. Humans are messy, complicated beings who sometimes aren’t happy. So, embrace those moments where you feel like the world is crushing you. Allow yourself to feel it, so you can get back up again. It’s okay to feel down; it’s just not okay to stay there, not even for me. In order to be on top, sometimes you’ve got to slide back down a bit. Since I’m feeling down, there is nowhere else to go but up! So, I’ll focus all of my energy on accomplishing all of the things that I’ve set my mind to…

…if not, there’s always functional alcoholism, right?! Brieeeeee Mooooodeeee!

John Wayne

If I ever decide to write the book about my life, we will call this chapter, “the time I went on the worst first date ever & created a safe word at my work to save me from future situations like this.”

I went on a first date with a guy and it already started out as a disaster because I was late. I hate being late and it just looks bad. So I’m already off my game. But it starts out so promising that I decide to let it go. There’s coffee, sunshine, good conversation. I’m actually having a really nice time. The subject changes to my work & an article I wrote about safe injection sites. This stemmed into his opinion that BLM is a terrorist group and “as woman, statistically, you should fear black people.”

Ummm…what? Statistically speaking, women are 10 times more likely to be abused by a date or romantic partner over a stranger! When I mentioned this, he informed me that those numbers aren’t totally accurate, because certain minority groups inflate those numbers.

He continues on by telling me that black men wouldn’t be shot if they stopped resisting and just accepted the police were right. I have some pretty strong feelings about this, and all of them are that that opinion is complete bullshit. We need to stop blaming victims for their own murders.

Then he said “I’m a Trump supporter because Bernie should have won.” Then I realized I needed to run.

Before I continue with the story, can someone explain to me how Trump is an acceptable substitute for Bernie? Because I genuinely don’t understand. Please explain. When I asked the dude, it was just that Hilary isn’t the right type of person. It should be Bernie, or Trump. No one is ready for a woman world leader (sorry Angela Merkel, no one is ready for you. Please resign).

I made up an excuse about having to work and ran screaming for the hills. My coworkers had a good laugh about it at my expense, and suggested I write a book about my ridiculous first dates.

But a friend from home reminded me that I’m not getting any younger & I still haven’t met anyone & stop being so picky. Just date the Trump supporter because I talk too much, I’m not gonna land a decent man. I thought about a guy online that started a conversation saying I was “hitting the wall” and no decent man would want me. I started thinking, maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I do just talk too much. Maybe I am too picky. Maybe I do work too much and focus too much on the gym and I’m just unlovable.

Or maybe I just have some sucky, not supportive friends? I mean, when I sacrificed all of my interests, hobbies, feelings for relationships that I had to walk on eggshells to maintain, my self esteem took a hit, I gained weight, and I felt like a person watching their life unfold than living it. I didn’t feel like I was someone unworthy of love, or unattractive, or the like, until the friend back home said so. Until then, the first date story was hilarious. We all laughed at how ridiculous it was and discussed making a safe word so I could have an escape. My best friend and I had discussed that I’ll probably meet my Mr. Right at my gym, because that’s where I spend all of my social time anyway, and because he’ll have already seen me all sweaty and miserable, so it’ll be a match based in reality.

Maybe it is all downhill from here, but I had a good run when it comes to being cute.

I didn’t think I was doing something wrong until someone else decided to tell me that I need to settle for the Trump supporting racist. But how would I be proud to introduce my friends to a Trump supporting racist? I wouldn’t. I won’t settle for a relationship I’m not proud to be in ever again. So, maybe I am hitting the wall. But if I wouldn’t want you to meet my coworkers, I sure as Hell wouldn’t want you around my girls, which means, peace out, Trump supporting racist. All this showed me is that I need thicker skin and can’t let my self esteem take a hit because another person feels the need to tell me I need to land a husband or an online dating dude hates himself and wants to spread the pain around. Until I improve on that, maybe the universe wants me to stay unattached.

The thing is, you can’t lower your standards because you’re afraid to be alone. That’s how you end up taking back that toxic ex that only comes into your life when they want something, or staying in a relationship that you have no business being in. When you do that, you are doing yourself (& them) a disservice. Choose your time to improve yourself, work on your self esteem, and fall in love with yourself. Figure out who you are and the rest will fall into place. No one needs to settle for a Trump supporting racist. We all just need to do our thing, live our lives, and just in case you end up on a date with a Trump supporting racist, don’t forget your safe word.

The Last of the Real Ones

Normally, I write about my personal success stories and how I’m improving as a person and junk. Today is not one of those stories. Today is the story of the time that I did some dumb ass shit.

So, let me preface that I am not smart. Like, I’m articulate, and well read. When it comes to my line of work, I’m a god damn pro. But when it comes to men, I’m dumb as fuck. To review some of my *ahem* finer dating decisions;

1. I was married to a serial cheating, abuser for eight years.

2. I DATED MY OWN STALKER. TWICE (legit looked up my address and camped outside a movie theatre. A few months later my hotel room. TOTALLY NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL A FELONY)

3. I was once attracted to a pilot that couldn’t find north.

4. I went out a guy who lied about getting a colonoscopy to go out with another girl

So, clearly I am super good at making relationship choices. I swear, really great guys are attracted to me, BUT I AM TOO FUCKING STUPID TO PICK UP ON THEIR SUBTLE CUES OF SANITY TO NOTICE. PLEASE HELP ME. Anywho, this brings me to Mr. Oil Guy and why I am a moron.

So, Mr. Oil Guy is cute. Mr. Oil Guy is pretty chill. Funny, fun to talk to. MHC is super into Mr. Oil Guy. Mr. Oil Guy & I are planning a date. MHC is actually really excited. What could go wrong?

Well, he started telling gay jokes. The first one was more of a wrong number joke. The next few were less funny. I tried to play it off by pointing out that gay men are usually funnier and smarter than straight men, but then he got kind of defensive. So, I thought I’d point out that most of my friends are LGBT, as is my brother, so if he’s gonna keep cracking gay jokes, even light ones, I’m not gonna be interested. He then flipped it that I was being argumentative. So I apologized. We carried on. The next day we got talking about my birthday, and he got kind of defensive again. This time, because my manager bought me some shiny new headphones for my birthday (mine broke that day), because he had bought me a pair and now needed to return them (we haven’t even gone out yet). Also, that I was going out with some male coworkers. I kind of felt awkward about it. Lots of comments about brown nosing and hints that male coworkers don’t just go out with female colleagues as friends (yeah they do. All the time). But I just kept thinking that these aren’t red flags. I’m just afraid of dating. This is normal.

This brings us to the next day. Mr. Oil Guy says he’s gonna buy a phone at my work. So, I STUPIDLY TELL HIM WHERE I WORK. Then he proceeds to explain how Canadian telcos rip off Canadian consumers and there is no excuse and begins explaining to me how my job works! He tells me that subsidized phones aren’t “free”because you pay for them through your plan.

HOLY SHIT NO WAY. THANK YOU FOR CLEARING UP THE THING THAT I EXPLAIN TO CUSTOMERS A MILLION

TIMES A DAY, PLEASE DO GO ON SIR.

Finally, after I flat out ask if he’s mansplaining my own job to me, and he informs me that we are “having a healthy debate,” (about why my job is stupid), I stop messaging. I’m sooooooooooo done. If I wanted to hang out with a stubborn, arrogant, manchild who doesn’t know anything about anything and talks down to me like I’m braindead, I WOULD STILL BE MARRIED. But then, he sends me this message:

So, naturally, I throw up in my mouth a little bit (I actually replied “my hair is down”), but decide that my best friend Erica needs to see this message, because I tell her all of the things, complete with the caption “barf barf barf.”

What could go wrong?

(Narrator: everything went wrong)

In order to fully appreciate the next series of events, I present this conversation;

Yup. Sent it to him because I am fucking Einstein. I actually felt badly, because that’s some kind of rejection. But I also felt badly because I didn’t trust my own judgment. I was so afraid that I’m too picky, that I was willing to settle and ignore obvious red flags because I wanted someone to like me. I should hold myself accountable to my own standards and if Mr. Oil Guy doesn’t meet them, fuck Mr. Oil Guy. As luck would have it, I do have a date with Mr. Nurse next week, so as long as I don’t fail screenshot, we’ll see how that goes!

I should have stopped talking to him the minute I felt like I had to apologize for not appreciating the off colour jokes. Instead, I tried to look past a deal breaker and ended up embarrassing myself super mega big time. So, trust yourself guys. If something feels off, it probably is. If not, you’ll end up screenshotting their own stupid comments back to them and end up looking and feeling like an idiot. Chances are, there’s something better right around the corner. Maybe. Unless you’re me, then they’re probably fucking crazy too and you should probably get a cat.

…Ready For It?

Welp, another spin around the sun for me, as yesterday I celebrated another birthday!

Still not mature

I celebrated my thirty something-th birthday with the coolest bunch of coworkers ever, cheesecake made by my littles, and this weekend, I’ll be a true Albertan, heading to an Oilers game, and some friends & I will be hosting a girls night get together the next night! Yup, being alive is pretty rad.

However, I’ve been using this time in my life to make some change. My place, which was a great “starter” place here in YEG, isn’t right for my family anymore. With the teen attending school in a different part of the city, we need to look at living closer to her school. So, I put myself on a waiting list to move to a condo closer to her high school. Come spring, we’ll be living in a newer, nicer place. While I’ll miss my lakes for running, I’m sure I can find running in a residential area just as fulfilling (narrator: she will not), but the needs of the family need to come first. I’m also finishing up driver’s education, so come spring, I will be buying my VERY FIRST CAR. That’s right bitches, I will be buying an automobile. I’ve got some great suggestions (thanks to every one on Twitter, Facebook, and Snapchat for their vehicle suggestions! The best part of being a slightly well known blogger is the awesome product suggestions from readers). I’ll be test driving all of your suggestions, as well as my first choice, a 2015 Toyota RAV4 (big thanks to my good friend Paul at TD Insurance, for letting me know which cars body shop techs and rental agencies recommend. When it comes time to insure my new baby, I’ll be talking to you for sure!) & should have narrowed it down by spring! This is kind of a big deal. I’ve always been afraid to drive full time and buy a car. But I’m really excited to be a car owner. It’ll make getting to the gym easier, and easier for the girls and I to go places without having to wait for a bus. I don’t plan on wasting gas; I’ll still walk short distances when need be. But it’s another major step for the famjam.

It’s really important to me to continue to check off boxes and grow and evolve. As I continue to be happier in my life, it’s only better for the girls, right? I need to teach them the importance of self growth, self love, never settling, and hard work. So, over the next few months, I’m going to do just that; grow, evolve, love myself a little more every day.

So, thanks everyone for your birthday well wishes. I super appreciate them all. I’m pretty much the luckiest person ever to have so many cool people in my life. This year is going to be even better than last year and I can’t wait to share those experiences with my girls, my crew, and even you, random person taking the time to read my blog.

Look What You Made Me Do

Happy birthday to my blog! 

It’s been seven years of crazy stories, a name change, three cities, two provinces, 19 million jobs, and for some reason, you’re still reading! That’s awesome! That’s also longer than I’ve ever been able to commit to a human being, a house, a city, pretty much everything but my cell phone company. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed my adventures these past seven years. I know I’ve enjoyed every step of them, as they helped shape who I am as a person. I’ve learned to live life on my terms, and that it’s okay to march to the beat of your own drum & do things your way. I’m sorry I don’t have some inspirational junk, but I’m not really an inspirational person. I’m just a regular human, trying to raise a family, be a decent person, and super loves Taylor Swift. But I hope you’re all living life on your terms as well, and I hope it makes you happy. 


I guess that’s what we all need to do; live life for us. On our terms, & if people don’t like it, fuck em. Maybe my life isn’t the way you want it to be, but it’s mine and I’m so utterly in love with my life, my family, my job, and my portfolio. It’s mine and I made it for me, my terms, my way. When people feel the need to question your choices, or call you names, you’ve gotta remember that’s all that they have; talk. While you’re out there doing your thing, they’re talking. I used to care about the talk. I tried so hard to bend to please everyone; friends, lovers, bosses. It’s still a work in progress, but I’ve learned that while I’m doing stuff, they’re just talking. While I’m raising my kids, writing my articles, working, exercising, and living life to the fullest, they’re sitting in bachelor apartments calling me a cunt on Tumblr whining about things that don’t matter instead of moving forward or doing something about it. I recently had this same conversation with my middle daughter, when she wanted to return the shoes she asked for because kids would make fun of her. I reminded her that people who talk about you aren’t friends. You’ve gotta be who makes you happy; not your friends, not your sisters, not even me. In the end, an insult is just a word. It only hurts if you let it. Much like Taylor Swift embraced the insults her detractors threw at her & will use those monikers to make a fortune, everyone should remember that the best revenge is living well. I choose to live well & set a good example for my girls. 

My girl Pink summed it up so nicely at the MTV VMA’s, in her beautiful speech to her daughter Willow. No matter what you do, people will talk their shit. But every one of us is meant to change the world, whether it’s redefining beauty standards, using their voice for change like Pink, setting an example as a strong female artist like Taylor, or just making a difference to your inner circle. We all have it in us to make things better. But to do that, we can’t alter who we are to fit society. We change to become who we’re meant to be to make society better. So, as Pink said, take the gravel and pressure and become a pearl. Let them whine on Tumblr with their funions. Do your thing; shine your light.


Maybe that’s why I like to keep up the blog; maybe I like reminding myself that while my life isn’t perfect, it’s the life that makes me happy. I get to see how I’ve evolved. I’m not inspiring, that’s Beyoncé. But I hope you’re all living your happiest life too. 


Thanks for reading this for seven years. I hope to entertain you for seven more, even if it is just you feeling better about your life because it’s not ridiculous like mine.