And it burns burns burns the ring of fire, the ring of fire

I seem to do a lot of stupid shit.  Today, for instance, as I was getting ready for a meeting, and choosing my accessories (it's a fashion company, this is how I get ready for meetings), I decided on this amazing ring I bought on my last trip to Cancun.  It's a stainless steel square band with a small clear stone set in it, and looks very much like a very cool men's wedding band, but is clearly a women's ring, as it is a size 5 and even the men in Mexico don't have that small of fingers.  At least I hope not, for the sake of all Mexican women...  Anyway, when I spotted it, I immediately fell in love with it, and upon trying it on discovered the only finger it fit was the ring finger on my left hand.  After much deliberation I decided to buy it anyway, but have barely worn it since, as I feel awkward wearing a ring on my  left hand that looks like a wedding band and I so don't want people to think I'm that girl...  you know the kind I'm talking about.  So anyway, back to this morning.  I take it out of my jewelry box, and decide what the hell, I've lost weight lately (10 pounds of being sick, 5 pounds of breakup - I don't eat when I'm depressed - I'll never be the fat ex-girlfriend), let's see if I can get it on my RIGHT hand.  And I did.  Unfortunately my finger seems to have swelled up since this morning, and now, after a vigorous effort involving olive oil, butter, and a lot of screaming and swearing on my part, the ring appears to now be fused onto my finger.

Notice the angry red swelling and chafing.  It hurts like a motherfucker too.  Great ring though.

If I get the damned thing off it's staying in my jewelry box.

*Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash*

All these places had their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall some are dead and some are living in my life I've loved them all

Stolen from S...

I have...

1.  been in love

2.  been heartbroken

3.  given birth to a child who decided that "posing" with her hand on her head during the labor process was an acceptable alternative to an "easy" delivery.

4.  walked face-first into a glass patio door while I was brushing my teeth.  Lucky for me, one of my best friends witnessed the entire thing and will likely never let me forget it.

5.  smoked pot.  Like, a lot of it.

6.  successfully escaped a bad relationship and have not looked back.

7.  had an amazing, movie-scene-worthy makeout on a beach in Mexico at night with a guy I had just met that day.

8.  flirted my way out of what would have been a $400 speeding ticket.

9.  regretted not getting that cute police officer's phone number.

10.  become close friends with both my sisters.

11.  partied until sunrise with one of my best friends since we both turned 30 (this one's for you, S)

12.  found a career I love.

13.  perfected a recipe for the best white chocolate brownies you have ever eaten.  And no, I will not give out the recipe, but if you're lucky I'll make you a batch.

14.  yelled at my daughter's principal and told her she sucks at her job and should quit.

15.  tried caviar.  Disgusting slop...

16.  realized I am coming up lacking as a Mom in so many ways, and try to be better at it every day.

17.  adopted a cat from the Humane Society.  ♥Frankie♥

18.  locked myself out of my car not once, not twice, but 3 times.  And one of those times was because I flushed my keys down a public toilet.

19.  been "caught" singing and sit-dancing while driving by other drivers.  And I don't give a rat's ass.

20.  tried to make peace with the fact that my mother and I just do not see eye to eye.  On anything.

21.  envisioned what my life would be like without various people in it just to see if I'll cry.  I always do.

22.  made a lot of choices in my life that I may regret on the surface, but am glad I made them, because without those choices I might be in a completely different place.

*In My Life - The Beatles*

Yes, I said it's fine before but I don't think so no more I said it's fine before I've changed my mind

Once again, it's been a while...

So it seems like I had my life exactly on track the way I wanted it last time I was here... oh how things change.

Once again I find myself in old patterns. In the past year or so, anytime I find myself "between" relationships I call on an old "friend" (read: someone I dated and got along great with, but not on the same page dating-wise, but great sex nonetheless). Oh, by the way, "man of my dreams" from a couple of posts ago and I have had a parting of the ways, as we unfortunately found ourselves to be in different phases in our lives and not as compatible as we once thought. But this isn't meant to be a pity party, this is the about-to-be-drunken-ramblings of me, needing to figure out where the hell my head is, and thinking, possibly mistakenly, that my seldom-updated blog is exactly the venue in which to do it. (Oh, in case I forgot to mention it, I cracked a bottle of red, and am systematically showing that motherfucker who's boss).

Where the hell was I going with that?...

Ok, think I got it.

So I am the girl who lets everyone think that I'm all anti-relationship, that I am fine on my own, that I don't need anyone. What a load. I finally found someone who I completely, 100% fell in love with, thinking he felt exactly the same way about me, and what happened? I got suckerpunched, that's what. If I go into any details at all I will be blubbering in my aforementioned shiraz, and that would be a ridiculous abuse of unsuspecting wine, but suffice it to say, I feel I got my butt handed to me on this one. So now I am doing my usual... running straight back to C in desperate attempt at distracting my brain from thinking about what happened with ridiculous hot sex the same night of the breakup. So now I find myself wondering if this makes me a bit of a slut? I was at a poker game with a bunch of girls back in the spring, some good friends mixed with some girls I had never met before, and near the end of the night, after I found myself sans poker chips, I found myself in conversation with a girl I had just met that night. (Just to preface this, everyone at that poker table was married with the exception of myself and J, who is in a long term relationship). Anyway, the conversation came around to my relationship status (something I find all married people are pathologically unable to sidestep), and after more than a few glasses of whatever it was I was drinking that night, I told her I was single, but sleeping with a few different people. I swear I could FEEL the eyebrows raise in that room (married women scandalized). At the time I couldn't care less what anyone thought about it, and still don't really (I advocate safe sex, and am very careful), but now I find myself wondering if I am avoiding the pain of breakups and loneliness by engaging in meaningless sex, and thinking I might be the emotional equivalent of... um... fucking shiraz.

Oh fuck it. I'm having more sex than married women. Eat me.

*Erase-Rewind - The Cardigans*

You want the sunrise to go back to bed I want to make you laugh

Just watched "Dear John". Cried what probably amounts to a keg of beer (what can I say, I drank a lot of beer this summer). Strangely, I enjoyed the movie more than the book, which pretty much never happens. This may possibly be due to 2 things: Channing Tatum (yum), and a much happier ending than the craptacular ending in the book (boo-urns). I won't ruin it for you, in case you like cheesy romance novels as much as I do, but suffice it to say that I might have to write a strongly worded letter to Nicholas Sparks and demand a re-write.

I hate sad endings. They ruin books, movies, love songs, etc... You get the point. Oh, except for Beaches. Best sad movie ending ever. As soon as I hear the first few notes to Wind Beneath My Wings I have this Pavlovian reaction and instantly start welling up like one of those cartoon puppies with the huge eyes who want the kid to adopt them. It's such a girl thing. Seriously, you find me one man who doesn't roll his eyes when Debra Winger, or Barbra Hershey, or Julia Roberts dies, and I will eat my handbag. Studded handbag. My best friend S, who I lived with for about 2 years, used to work for a video store, and once brought home this movie. One of the best lines in it is something along the lines of "women like movies where one person dies slowly, and men like movies where many people die very, very quickly". Pretty profound, for a movie with Carmen Electra...

*Paperweight - Joshua Radin feat. Schuyler Fisk*

I can see you your brown skin shining in the sun you got the top pulled down radio on baby

I am a fairweather blogger.

Sigh...

So it appears as though summer is nearing its annual finish line, as evenings become cooler, daylight hours become shorter, and cellulite of short-short-wearing women gradually is covered up in deference to cooler evenings and less sunlight. And I have to admit that, barring numerous cellulite sightings (seriously ladies, gym and tanning next year!) this was a pretty good summer. Shall I recap?

My summer Top Ten:

10. Great tan (par for the course, but always noteworthy)

9. Lots of alcohol-fueled evenings spent on the patio at Muddy Waters with best friend

8. Days at the beach plentiful as hottest summer in Winnipeg in a bazillion years

7. Discovered a-maz-ing rollerblade path at Birds Hill Park

6. Promoted (finally!) to Store Manager, so now have my own store and can really kick it into high gear with this whole bossing people around business:)

5. Happily let my daughter go to Calgary in July for most of the summer

4. Enjoyed freedom of being non-Mommy for 6 weeks

3. Freedom including but not limited to copious beer consumption, endless hours spent sunbathing at pool, and deciding to go out in the middle of the night simply because I could

2. Happily got my daughter back mid-August as freedom was beginning to get to me a little...

1. Seem to have met the man of my dreams.

Not a bad one. Hoping fall continues where summer leaves off...

*Boys of Summer - Don Henley*

No second billing 'cause you're a star now oh Cinderella they're all sluts like you

spec-ta-cle

[spek-tuh-kuhl]

-Idiom

1. make a spectacle of oneself, to call attention to one's unseemly behaviour; behave badly or foolishly in public: They tell me I made a spectacle of myself at the party last night.

2. this season of The Bachelorette.

Ugh. Bowlegged, airheaded, personality-deficient twit.

Ok, yah, I watch it. I'm one of those people you make fun of for wasting 2 hours of precious living time each week watching some dumbass woman claim she is looking to find her husband (a.k.a. "soulmate", a.k.a. "yin to my yang", a.k.a. "love of my life", "Prince Charming", or other such drivel) among 25 or so perfect strangers, whilst going on dates in perfectly mundane settings such as Thailand, or Bali, or Belize, often in group settings (awkward, anyone?), while engaging in such activities as helicopter rides, tight-rope-walking to picnics, or elephant Safari rides.

Oh, and did I mention the goal is to sucker the last sap standing into proposing after, like, 2 months of knowing her?

Right.

I want to see a "real" version of this show. Some guy picks her up in his Honda Civic, takes her to dinner at Olive Garden (bleuch) where there is that awkward moment when the waiter brings the bill and she makes the mandatory show of reaching for her handbag to make it look like she's willing to pay (but she's really not), then go for a walk near the river, while trying to ignore the smell coming from various mushroom plants and meat packing facilities nearby, and with him wishing he knew her well enough to feel comfortable to tell her she has a huge piece of spinach stuck in her teeth, and her trying to figure out why he hasn't kissed her yet. Then there's the drive home in awkward silence, both of them talking about their plans for the weekend ahead (embellished, so the other knows how cool and in demand the other is), and ending with a vague "I'll call you this weekend" (which really means a text message, sometime on Monday evening, that reads: "sry didnt call u this wkd supr busy wit frenz. u feel like movie l8r?") ...and so on ad infinitum. You get the picture.

Boring? Hell yes. Realistic? You betcha. This couple will probably end up dating and breaking up at least 3 times over the course of a year or so, have a pregnancy scare or two, and finally get engaged after realizing this is about as good as it's gonna get.

Reality t.v. at its finest. I'll even volunteer to be the first Bachelorette. Watch out everyone, my Prince Charming is out there!

... cue gagging noises...

*Celebrity Skin - Hole*

Yah pass that bottle around got the rock from Detroit soul from Motown the underground stoned f*cking pimp we trash the mack and slap back the wack

Just dragged my ass in from the pool...

Did I mention I was drinking beer by said pool? Guess not, as I just started this post.

Guess what beer in the sun does to your brain? In my case it appears to have pickled it to a nice fuzzy consistency. Am I making any sense at all? No... but due to aforementioned fuzzy-pickle brain, who cares?

So I'm seeing a pattern emerging in my posts, that being that I am an approximately-once-a-month blogger. You may think this is due to my fascinating, fast-paced, glamourous (Canadian spelling) life. It's not. I'm just that lazy. That, and nothing that exciting really seems to happen to me.

I was at the beach with one of my best friends -JG- yesterday. And as the norm, the conversation came around to relationships, and sadly, my lack thereof. I have gone through my fiercely independent stage, my lonely stage, my short-lived "I have a vibrator, who the fuck needs a man?" stage. and am currently in my "what is wrong with me?" stage? JG's opinion is that I may be too focused on looks, and that there is a possibility that I am overlooking great guys who may not be so great looking, and maybe I need to give these other guys a chance. I realize that what she says has a distinct ring of truth to it, and wonder how I got like this. I mean, I'm not exactly a supermodel myself, but I fully admit that I won't look twice at a guy if I don't find him wildly attractive on first meeting. And I know full well that I am not the only woman out there like this. It makes me wonder why it is that average women will not deem a man worthy of their time unless he is gorgeous? And why are we not looking at things like "is he a good person?", "does he still feel the need to go on all-weekend benders with his high school buddies he still hangs out with?", and so on.

Holy fuck this is way too SATC Carrie Bradshaw sitting at her laptop in front of an open window for my barley-soaked brain right now.

I need a Slurpee...

*American Badass - Kid Rock*