I have never been one to watch serial television. Sure, there was that semester in university when my friends and I scheduled our classes around Days of Our Lives. But Stefano and his antics got to be too much, and life resumed as it should. Since then, I have never been able to get hooked on shows where I had to watch the previous episode. I prefer the kind of tv where I can plop down and understand right away what's going on.
Until I stayed a couple weekends with Stacey and Trevor.
Trevor loves Coronation Street, and watches it every Sunday morning. For two weekends in a row, we watched Coronation Street. And once I moved into my own place, I craved that show. Now I have a mild addiction.
But that addiction has NOTHING on my new obsession.... The Hills.
What the hell is that show? I have googled it, looked it up on IMDb, and I still cannot figure it out. Is it a reality show? Are these people actors? What is "scripted reality"? Do people really live like this?
I have MTV now, and stumbled on it the other morning. Ironically, it was during a commercial break from Coronation Street last Sunday. I had heard of the show and seen the "characters" posing for People magazine. But I got drawn into the vapid mess. And I cannot get out!
Conversations go like this...
"So I feel like I lost a friend, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Like, I just don't know."
"Yeah."
"It's just so, like"
"Yeah."
All said with vacant stares and lipgloss.
Do people actually hold conversations like this or is someone pulling a colossal joke? I must do more research.
Umm, like, you know,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, August 24, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I Hate Hippies!
Well, I did it. I horrified Byron last night. I took him to a Farmers Market, with the hopes of getting some good local produce, maybe a homemade loaf of bread, perhaps a chunk o' fudge. Instead, we came away with gaped mouths and shocked senses.
See, Byron is a simple man, in that he's not a granola or pretentious. He's a good guy from rural Alberta and I adore him. He, too, thought we were off to get some green beans and a cookie. We did not bargain for what we got.
Instead of stalls of colourful fruits and vegetables, we got tables teetering with homemade purses and homemade books. Someone was selling hunks of honeycombs. There were crystals, naturally. We gravitated to a table with some vegetables, and we found some small yellow plums. He found a bag of "Jips". "Jips" are chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. Why the hippies called them "Jips" is beyond me, but the name makes me laugh.
The piece de resistance, though, was the sight in the field next to the market. A gaggle of grubby hippies sat in a circle, singing/moaning, strumming a guitar and swigging from jugs of wine. What was missing was the unmistakeable stench of patchouli and weed. I am certain it was there, but I wasn't cozying up to confirm.
All the while, Byron was silently stunned. He was confused and disoriented and his face held the look of horror. He grew up in the country, on farms, no less, so he knows what a farmers market is and should be. This was no farmers market. This was a band of hippies selling their shit, and I do mean shit. We clasped our hands tighter, grabbed our bag of Jips, and hightailed it out of Hippie Hell.
There are lists of farmers markets all over Victoria, and I am hoping one of them holds promise. I just want some cheap, Okanagan peaches!
Longingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
See, Byron is a simple man, in that he's not a granola or pretentious. He's a good guy from rural Alberta and I adore him. He, too, thought we were off to get some green beans and a cookie. We did not bargain for what we got.
Instead of stalls of colourful fruits and vegetables, we got tables teetering with homemade purses and homemade books. Someone was selling hunks of honeycombs. There were crystals, naturally. We gravitated to a table with some vegetables, and we found some small yellow plums. He found a bag of "Jips". "Jips" are chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. Why the hippies called them "Jips" is beyond me, but the name makes me laugh.
The piece de resistance, though, was the sight in the field next to the market. A gaggle of grubby hippies sat in a circle, singing/moaning, strumming a guitar and swigging from jugs of wine. What was missing was the unmistakeable stench of patchouli and weed. I am certain it was there, but I wasn't cozying up to confirm.
All the while, Byron was silently stunned. He was confused and disoriented and his face held the look of horror. He grew up in the country, on farms, no less, so he knows what a farmers market is and should be. This was no farmers market. This was a band of hippies selling their shit, and I do mean shit. We clasped our hands tighter, grabbed our bag of Jips, and hightailed it out of Hippie Hell.
There are lists of farmers markets all over Victoria, and I am hoping one of them holds promise. I just want some cheap, Okanagan peaches!
Longingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, August 10, 2007
I am Betrothed
It's been less than a week since I got engaged to Byron. My ring isn't even on my finger! (It's coming back to me on the 15th... resizing) Finally, the idea of being married is starting to settle in. Perhaps because I have the greater part of our wedding mapped out in my head.
I never realized how traditional I really am. If anything, this courtship and engagement with Byron has shown me just how much of a traditionalist this one-time, self-declared non-marrying type is. You see, since the word has started spreading that I am getting married, I have gotten several emails from people expressing surprise. Many an email have started with "YOU!?!". When word got out that I was in a realtionship, I had a similar reaction. "YOU!?! In a relationship" was a common phrase in my inbox. I was offended! What am I? The billy goat's gruff? Then a friend pointed out that I have been squawking for years that I am not getting married and I will be independent forever. So, he said, I shouldn't be offended that people are surprised I am engaged, since I projected the image of the non-marrying, career-gal, independent chick for ages. In reality, that was never really me.
Another friend of mine, Janet, is getting married just a couple weeks before Byron and I. She's having a alterna-wedding. See her blog http://communities.canada.com/saskatoonstarphoenix/blogs/weddeddiss/default.aspx
Janet is incredibly funny and the wedding is totally going to be "her". Me? I'm going more tradtional.
We're getting married on Friday, September 19th, 2008. It's going to be an evening wedding in a small country church. The Friday day is probably going to be the only "alternative" part of this union. You see, I think if we get married on a Friday, the people who are travelling have a couple days to relax and enjoy themselves afterwards. We may not be there, but they can make a weekend of it. As plans are made and ideas tossed around, my tradionalist side gets stronger. I am addicted to looking at wedding dresses. I know what I would like my bridesmaids to wear. I can envision what the reception will look like. I can see in my mind what the church will look like. And it's ALL very tradtional. Very etiquette-driven. Very proper and tasteful. But it's going to be LOADS of fun. After all, we're celebrating our love.
Engagingly Yours,
xoxoSallyS
(I have to get used to dropping the "T". My traditional side says to take his name. So I am.)
I never realized how traditional I really am. If anything, this courtship and engagement with Byron has shown me just how much of a traditionalist this one-time, self-declared non-marrying type is. You see, since the word has started spreading that I am getting married, I have gotten several emails from people expressing surprise. Many an email have started with "YOU!?!". When word got out that I was in a realtionship, I had a similar reaction. "YOU!?! In a relationship" was a common phrase in my inbox. I was offended! What am I? The billy goat's gruff? Then a friend pointed out that I have been squawking for years that I am not getting married and I will be independent forever. So, he said, I shouldn't be offended that people are surprised I am engaged, since I projected the image of the non-marrying, career-gal, independent chick for ages. In reality, that was never really me.
Another friend of mine, Janet, is getting married just a couple weeks before Byron and I. She's having a alterna-wedding. See her blog http://communities.canada.com/saskatoonstarphoenix/blogs/weddeddiss/default.aspx
Janet is incredibly funny and the wedding is totally going to be "her". Me? I'm going more tradtional.
We're getting married on Friday, September 19th, 2008. It's going to be an evening wedding in a small country church. The Friday day is probably going to be the only "alternative" part of this union. You see, I think if we get married on a Friday, the people who are travelling have a couple days to relax and enjoy themselves afterwards. We may not be there, but they can make a weekend of it. As plans are made and ideas tossed around, my tradionalist side gets stronger. I am addicted to looking at wedding dresses. I know what I would like my bridesmaids to wear. I can envision what the reception will look like. I can see in my mind what the church will look like. And it's ALL very tradtional. Very etiquette-driven. Very proper and tasteful. But it's going to be LOADS of fun. After all, we're celebrating our love.
Engagingly Yours,
xoxoSallyS
(I have to get used to dropping the "T". My traditional side says to take his name. So I am.)
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Pssst.....
I'm getting married.
I cannot believe it, so I say that phrase aloud to myself to make me believe it's really happening.
I am getting married!
Wheee!
I cannot believe it, so I say that phrase aloud to myself to make me believe it's really happening.
I am getting married!
Wheee!
Friday, August 3, 2007
Boobs That Bounce
Have we met? If so, you know that I have a good set o' knockers on me. Some have said they are huge; I say they are jealous. But here is a tale that will kill that jealous streak.
I went to the Bay yesterday on my lunch break to get sport socks and, hopefully, a sports bra. You see, I joined a gym, since a Curves is no where near my new place. I loved Curves, and actually enjoyed some modest success. But instead of loafing around and doing nothing, I joined the YMCA in my 'hood.
As I searched the bra section in the Bay, I realized it ws in vain. The rack of sports bras made my blood boil. I could find my cup size, no problem! But I couldn't find the band size. I saw rows and rows of 32DD, 34DD, 36DD, and one38DD. Any size after that, we heftier gals are left swinging in the wind. Which got me thinking...
If you are a 34DD, you are stick-thin with massive boobs. Which probably means, and I will put money on this, those tits are fake! You can bounce and jump and carouse with nary a worry about excessive flopping, embarassing movement, or hurting yourself! Those mamms are not moving an inch! And I put a pox on you!!
So I guess if you're "big-boned" with a decent set of breasts, don't even think of getting a sports bra. Which licks, because you need one to work out. It's like a vicious cycle... I cannot get the gear I need to work, ergo my confidence is bruised, hence I sit on the couch. Well, nuts to that! I'll just wear two bras and hope I don't hurt myself in the process.
Bouncingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
I went to the Bay yesterday on my lunch break to get sport socks and, hopefully, a sports bra. You see, I joined a gym, since a Curves is no where near my new place. I loved Curves, and actually enjoyed some modest success. But instead of loafing around and doing nothing, I joined the YMCA in my 'hood.
As I searched the bra section in the Bay, I realized it ws in vain. The rack of sports bras made my blood boil. I could find my cup size, no problem! But I couldn't find the band size. I saw rows and rows of 32DD, 34DD, 36DD, and one38DD. Any size after that, we heftier gals are left swinging in the wind. Which got me thinking...
If you are a 34DD, you are stick-thin with massive boobs. Which probably means, and I will put money on this, those tits are fake! You can bounce and jump and carouse with nary a worry about excessive flopping, embarassing movement, or hurting yourself! Those mamms are not moving an inch! And I put a pox on you!!
So I guess if you're "big-boned" with a decent set of breasts, don't even think of getting a sports bra. Which licks, because you need one to work out. It's like a vicious cycle... I cannot get the gear I need to work, ergo my confidence is bruised, hence I sit on the couch. Well, nuts to that! I'll just wear two bras and hope I don't hurt myself in the process.
Bouncingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
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