Fare Thee Well

As I type, these are the dwindling minutes of my time at this job. It's bittersweet, and I never thought I would think that. I have been dreaming of this escape for months. Now that it's here, I'm kind of sad. I'll miss a few people here. Not everyone, I can do without Jesus Freaks and Pious Pricks, but there are a few people here who made my time sweeter.

I'll miss the 2 gals I went for coffee with everyday. They've listened patiently to my troubles, and offered shoulders on which to cry, and stories to brighten my days. I'm going to miss the one lady who was always kind to me, and shared in my joy about Victoria. I always felt a bit out of place here, in a way, since I am so much younger than everyone else, and sometimes I felt like someone's daughter, or hyper little cousin. But in the end, this place has been a source of support and stress.

I've tidied my desk, filed away my things, and passed on as much as I could. There's nothing more to do except go home and pack.

Sadly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

For the Love of All Things Holy

How un-sweet is this...

In recent weeks, I have raised my blood pressure with my hatred of Rebecca Eckler, now known as Icky. I even went so far as to reserve her book "Knocked Up" from the library. You know, the book she thinks Judd Apatow ripped off for his hit movie? See previous posts, or Megan's blog. I am too tired to rant again.

In the meantime, I have had a lot of shifts in my life. Little things like a new job, moving, a new man, a new city... shall I keep going? So I wasn't really paying attention to any books I had reserved at a library. Well, I got the notice today. Icky's book is waiting for me. DAMMIT! I don't have time to read her shitty-ass book! And I sure as shootin' am not buying it. I'll have to wait until I land in Victoria to become a library memeber there, and reserve the book again.

Or perhaps the fates are telling me to make the "L" and let it go.

Busily Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Screwing the Pooch

This is how I spent my Friday afternoon...

You know how it is at a job you're leaving. You just came back from lunch, it's a sunny Friday afternoon, you're excited about plans for the evening, you're winding down your current job. The last thing you want to be mucking with are letters. So you find ways to entertain yourself. I just happened to enterain myself by Photoshopping my boss' head on David Hasselhoff's body. What's the harm in that? It's not like I have a million pressing projects to finish.

Wastingly Yours,

xoxoSallyt

Awe

It's awesome how the universe unfolds sometimes, isn't it? One minute, you're at your wits end about something, say a job, and the next, you have an idea of what's to come.

Less than 48 hours ago, I was facing a future of uncertainty about my career. Then I got the call I dreamed of and was offered a position with the BC government doing communications for the Education department. Otherwise known as my dream job.

Less than 48 hours ago, I was freaking out because I couldn't see how I was to move myself to BC on such short notice. Now, I have my flight paid for, a rental car, moving expenses paid, and a hotel to stay at. AND the gem at HR has asked every other communiations officer in the BC government if anyone knows of an apartment for me. I have 15 leads!

Besides that initial evening of stress and tears, this has turned out to be a smooth move so far. Things are coming into place quickly and with the greatest of ease! Even a guy I just started to see is cool with me going and says he's coming for a visit! Life is looking rosier every day!

So in a week, I am moving to Victoria. Not sure how much I'll be blogging about the move and my take on the city. But I'll be back. With curly hair thanks to the rainy days, a better job, and a brand new spring in my step.

High Kick of Happiness!

xoxoSallyt

A Whirlwind

I am moving to Victoria next week.

I found out late yesterday afternoon that I have a job as a Public Affairs Officer with the Education department with the BC government. A dream job. I start July 4th! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I am so excited, yet so scared. So relieved to get this job, yet so frightened of moving again. I have to ship all my stuff there, and I don't want to scrap everything and start all over again. I did that when I left Yellowknife a year and a half ago. I'm too old to do that again.

I have to think more and let this all sink in. I am moving to Victoria next weekend. I am moving to Victoria next weekend. I am moving to Victoria next weekend. I am moving to Victoria next weekend. I am moving to Victoria next weekend. Perhaps if I say it enough, I will stop being dizzy.

Excitedly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

I Met Chip and Dale

I jus had the best lunchtime treat.

I was out for my daily walk, and in the neighbourhood my office is in, it's quite old with big, lush trees. I walked along and saw these two little brown blurs come towards me. They were two little squirrels chasing each other! They ran up one old oak tree and back down again. They ran to the next tree, up and down and all around. I heard their giggles, and their tiny claws scratching as they ran around and around the tree trunk. They were fascinating to watch! And their little giggles made me giggle. I named them Frank and Steve.

They were a children's book just waiting to be written. And the book would be way cuter than Chip or Dale.

Adoringly Yours,
xoxoSally

My New Crush

Rodney MacDonald.

God help me, I am crushing on a politician, simply because he's willing to take Stephen Harper to the mat for renegging on deals. I am totally turned on by that!

You could tell Harper was going to get in trouble somewhere along the way as Prime Minister when he called the Atlantic provinces whiners a few years back. I'm surprised this backlash hasn't happened sooner.

I grew up in Nova Scotia, a "have not" province, and I live now in Alberta, the fat cat of the country. The differences are astonishing. Out here, people complain about wait times in emergency rooms and medical procedures, they cry about crumbling infrastrcure and pressure on the education system. I can understand that... to a point.

See, in Nova Scotia, wait times for anything medical is shockingly long. I, at 31, went in for a routine mammogram a week after my initial doctor's appointment, even though there was nothing wrong. My mother has a pain in her breast, and has to wait until April 2008 before she can get a mammogram. There is no money out east for anything. No development, no sustainability, nothing. The health care and education systems are stretched beyond capacity, and there seems to be no end in sight.

It makes no sense that when a have-not province has found resources that could potentially restore them finanically, the federal government would swoop in and take most of it away. Isn't that just perpetuating the poverty these provinces face?

So to Rodney, I say bravo for fighting for what's ours. Take that smarmy bugger to the mat for perpetuating the poverty cycle. And don't forget, Harper, that your forefathers did come from the east coast at some point. Your family didn't just pop out of the ground like Alberta oil.

Patriotically Yours,
xoxoSallyt

I Thought I Was a Goner

If you read this pretty pink page, you know I live in a sketchier part of town. It's not that big of a deal and it doesn't scare me, even when I am woken up at 4am by a SWAT team screaming "Get down, mother f*cker" as they tackle a criminal outside my bedroom window (true story from last summer).

But I was scared on Saturday morning.

I was walking to meet a friend at 8am, and I walked along the path next to the LRT (Edmonton's ghetto version of a subway). I had my MP3 on, I was jitterbugging to Wham, life was good. I saw a man ahead of me pushing a cart full of cans, and he was headed my way. As we got closer to each other, I veered to my left. He veered to his right. I shuffled to my right, he shuffled to his left. I saw a bat in his hand, and I froze. All I could think was "Christ, I am going to meet my end next to the tracks by a hobo with a bat". I stood still, scared. I have no survival instincts whatsoever and am rendered helpless in situations like this. He lifted his bat to hip waist and swung it a couple times. Then he started laughing. "I wouldn't hurt you, baby", he said with his toothless grin and he wheeled past me. "Not with a big bum like that!" I ran away and never looked back.

Was I saved by my big bum? Who knows. But that big bum scared me, and made me a little more leery of my hood. Damn him!

Hesitatingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Loving This

I want to preface this post by reiterating that I have a weakness for celebrity gossip.

As I got my haircut yesterday morning, my hairdresser, Marcy, and I discussed at length Paris Hilton. I feel dirty just typing those two names on my blog, but I am too full of malicious glee to stop myself.

SHUT UP! How priceless is that photo! I saw it on Friday and hooted with laughter. Justice is sweet! When a waste of skin and total boor doesn't get her way and then is photographed crying like that, life is great. It restores my faith in humanity to see Paris locked back up in the clink and for the full sentence.

Am I crossing a line if I hope she can't take life behind bars and chooses to hang herself instead? Meh, I thought so.

Maliciously Yours,

xoxoSallyt

This Little Piggie Went to Market...

I am grappling with a love-hate affair with Farmers Markets. I love going there, seeing the local produce, and supporting local farmers. I hate them because they are riddled with ignorant fools who push those monster strollers or zig-zag aimlessly with bikes. In short, they are filled with people who get in my way.

All I want is some inexpensive cherries, some saskatoons, if they're out, some bread, maybe a cookie. I don't want to have to get run over by an inattentive mother pushing the equivalent of a Sherman Tank. Seriously, folks, someone ran into my ankles this afternoon! There weren't even any cherries or berries or bread out. I scoffed, scowled and stomped home.

I just want some saskatoons! Is that too much to ask!

Wantoningly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

It's an Obsession... and I'm Wiped.

Where's MY book deal? Huh? Why am I not getting paid to write trite phrases about the kickiness that is my life?

Here's my confession... I read Leah McLaren's book last year. When I heard my numero uno imaginary enemy wrote a book, my green-eyed monster roared it's head and I had a hissy-fit. I wanted to read her crappy book so badly, but I refused to buy it. Re-frigging-fused. I was NOT going to pay money that I worked hard to earn to line the pockets of the likes of that snippet. But then I heard McLaren's book wasn't doing too well. Since it was Canadian chick-lit, I thought her publisher might send her on a nation-wide tour to drum up interest in the pre-Christmas months. And since I was living in a real city by then (farewell, Yellowknife!), I figured she would be stopping in Edmonton. So my plan was this... get the book from the library, read it, hate it, and when she came to town on her junket, I could go to the reading and scold her publicly for writing such cack. I realize this took a lot of effort and brain power on my part, and wasted precious time, but it soothed the savage beast inside me. I read it. I hated it. I waited for her book tour in vain. And I still hate the book.

I doubt Icky is going on a book tour, thank god. But I have just reserved "Knocked Up" out of the library, just in case. I am number 5 on the waiting list. Number 5!?! Really? Are there that many people who want to read this? Or are they like me and have this sick urge to read what Icky thinks is her own original tale?

On a happy note... The mangiest window washer is perched outside my office window right now. I thought he was a goner for a second there, when he splashed himself in the face with the washing water. I think he got his mullet wet.

Hysterically Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Talking 'bout my generation

Call it jealousy, call it cattiness, call it brilliance, call it what you will. But I would slap Rebecca Eckler AND Leah McLaren, if I could. I am infuriated each and every time I see them touted as the "voice of my generation", or promote themselves as such. Because they are not. They are prissy blowhards who deserve a kick to the box.

Thankfully, Little Miss Know It All (http://stevemegan.blogspot.com/) and I are on the same page with the same amount of vitriol for Ickler. I think I harbour way more than is natural for Leah M.

Both women are my age. All of us have similar education (although with two degrees, I have more, but I digress), and we all worked at some point as journalists. Except when I was at news conferences, press galleries, and crime scenes, Icky and Leah were sampling shit from cosmetics companies and prattling on about that. I am also more modest than those cows, hence I didn't moxie my way into a column in a national paper. But I can guarantee I would have made you more sense than those two.

Jealous? You f*cking bet I am! I have loans and responsibilities and jobs to maintain. I don't have the time to devote to promoting myself as the "voice of a generation".

Here is my voice... I was raised in the Maritimes, in a household with two parents and a mediocre income. I put myself through school, I moved all over the country, I have lived in almost every corner of Canada. I have close friends, and dear enemies. I have tried everything from food to drugs to crazy men. I have one of many voices of my generation.

To Leah and Icky: The women of my generation, nay - my whole generation does not spend their days worring about toe nail polish, sip martinis in posh downtown Toronto bars, or sue people for stories that vaguely resmeble my own. We worry about buying homes, paying student loans, finding someone decent to spend our lives with, how to balance life and a career. We live in and make homes all over the country, in far-flung places well beyond the limits of Toronto or Calgary. We have survived and seen and handled more than you could ever imagine. Our stories would shock, enthrall, entertain, and pretty much blow you out of the water. You're just the saccharine voices that leave us aching for something more substantial.

To you, Icky and Leah, I say good day!

Scribingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Oh, for the love of Jesus, shut up!

http://www.cbc.ca/arts/film/story/2007/06/04/eckler-sues.html

For god's sake, Rebecca Eckler, drop dead! Really, I think we've all had enough of your gal-about-town, look-at-me-I'm-pregnant schtick! Are you really that self-absorbed to think that a movie ripped off your life? Are you the only woman to ever find herself pregnant unexpectedly? And just because you happened to write a book about it, and someone made a movie about a similar, and may I add ficticious, event, does not mean you have sole rights to that story. If that was the case, darling, there would only be one book about a bored housewife, instead of the volumes written and hours of movies filmed since Madame Bovary.

Are you really that self-obsessed to think that a big Hollywood writer and a huge movie studio would rip the likes of you off? Really? You're going to go there? Becuase, if you think about it, Becka, you were a so-so "lifestyle" writer for the National Post. And you happened to have enough moxie to work that mediocrity into a book that not many cared about. So to flatter yourself into thinking that Judd Apatow and the movie execs saw your trifling book and thought to themselves "this is incredibly fresh and must be made into a movie" is sad on your part. Because I can guaran-fricking-tee they did not.

The wheel you did not invent. You just put new treads on it and wore the wheel out... again.

Loathingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

High Kick of Happiness

I am limber as a gymnast these days, since I have been doing my High Kick of Happiness (tm) since Friday. Why? Because I saw The Police!

Sweet Glen and I had floor seats, for which I am forever grateful to Sweet Glen. Floor seats! At an outdoor concert! To The Police! Quelle thrill!

When he arrived on Friday evening, we were grinning foolishly, still incredulous that we were going to the concert. All day Saturday was sort of a daze, and it still felt like a dream even when we listened to the sound check from my balcony. Mind you, throughout the incredulousness, I was still kicking out my joy.

As Glen and I took our seats and got comfortable for the show, four people sat in front of us. We all but high-fived each other when we saw they were tiny people. Not one was over 5"5. But when the show started and The Police took the stage, everyone jumped to their feet. After the first song, the little people left, supposedly for higher ground. I wonder, if you are tiny like that, WHY would you spend good money on floor seats at a rock concert? Surely you don't think everyone is going to be sitting, do you? It's not a Yo-Yo Ma concert, it's The Police and some of us have been waiting all our lives to dance to "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic"! Which I did, by the way. Who am I kidding.. I danced all night long!

I live shockingly close to the stadium; like I said, Glen and I listened to the sound check from my balcony. So after the concert, it took us ten minutes to get home. Along the way, we met these two "good old boys". They thought the effin' concert effin' rocked and Sting is still effin' god. Effin' right! One of them, the quieter of the two, went on about Stewart effin' Copeland and how he effin' keeps effin' good time and he's effin' one of the effin' best effin' drummers of all effin' time. I couldn't help myself. I declared that he had a Man Crush. To which his first response was getting a hooker for the night to show he ain't gay. Glen and I agreed - he doth protesteth too much. They wandered off, effin' into the night.

I still cannot believe I saw The Police. Glen has videos and photos to prove it. I feel another High Kick coming on....

Rocketteingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt