I was warned about this. But I just laughed it off. Surely this would not happend to me. I was prepared and ready and very organized, so why would I have nightmares about my wedding? Pfft.
They have begun in earnest.
I had one a week or so ago about the music. Byron and I walked into an empty hall that was beautifully decorated. We were dressed in our wedding gear, and there was no music. Before people came in, we were runing around trying to find CD's worthy of playing. We ended up with a dance mix compilation from 1992, and not our first dance song.
I had two last night. TWO. In the first dream, it was the wedding day and I still didn't have my dress. My mother came in with a dress she found at Sears, but it wasn't so much a dress as a white, beaded skort suit. When my dress came, the front was all lace and see-through. I had to wear a granny bra under my dress for all to see. And it was high necked. And ugly and ill-fitting. I woke up gasping. My dress was ordered about 2 weeks ago.
The second dream wasn't much better. Again, it was the day of the wedding and Byron and I didn't have our rings. I called him and told him to pick some up on his way to the church, like he was picking up some bread on his way home. In my dream, he balked about a ring and said it wasn't that important. I yelled at him that it was and we had a screaming match on the phone. I wonder if I yelled out in real life? Also in real life, Byron has no qualms about a ring and has said he wants to wear one.
Am I in for four more months of this? No wonder brides are exhausted on the wedding day. They don't get a decent night's sleep for months leading up to the event! Dammit!
Tiredly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tales from the Frat House
Who knew Byron and I lived in one? We sure as hell didn't. Until some dear, young tool informed us this morning.
It was 5:15 am, and I was getting dressed while Byron slept. The buzzer for the front door went off. I scurried into the hall, scared, and Byron bolted out of bed. I answered to hear the distinctive slur of a drunkard saying something along the lines of "Darren, dude" and then mumble. I told him he had the wrong place and hung up. It rattled me, since I was due to leave the house in about 15 minutes.
The buzzer went off again, and the same guy said he lost his keys. I said to go away and hung up again. Just as I was about to ask Byron to drive me to work, we heard knocking on the door next to us. We scampered to the hall, peered out our peep-hole and saw this drunk young guy knocking non-stop on the door.
Byron has very little tolerance for things like this, or inconveniences in our apartment building. He has no problem going to our landlord to tell him what's wrong. I can't bring myself to do it. I have lived in some serious shit holes over the years, and when there is a problem, be it a drunk neighbour or a dripping faucet, I try to fix it myself. So just as I was about to shoo the drunk kid away, Byron got on the phone to our landlord. He got the answer phone so he left a message.
We looked out our peep-hole again and saw the drunk guy laid out in front of our neigbour's door, knocking every now and then. Since he was passed out, I felt better about leaving. When we opened our door, we started to laugh. He was a mess! So we took a photo. And as I left, he never stirred. His white belt failed his jeans, and his turquoise underpant-clad bum hung out.
Byron said a few minutes later, he heard the buzzer next door ring, and saw the guy had left the floor. He figures he's passed out on the couch in front hallway.
We've had a tough time with the neighbours in that apartment. The people there before were gothy pot-heads. The hall always reeked of weed, and the constant thump of techno beat through the walls. They left a few weeks back, and I had never been so happy. Our landlord assured us the next tenent was a nice young guy who was going to college for welding. We heard "young" and "college" and knew immediately this would be trouble. Sure enough, the music was loud, and he and his buddies would be partying hard on a Monday night on the patio. Byron heard the landlord's wife reaming out what he assumes to be the kid's mom about the parties and the noise. I am sure once the landlord hears about this, it's a new neighbour for us.
I hope I never hear a drunk slur "duuuude" to me again at 5:15 am.
Fraternizingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
It was 5:15 am, and I was getting dressed while Byron slept. The buzzer for the front door went off. I scurried into the hall, scared, and Byron bolted out of bed. I answered to hear the distinctive slur of a drunkard saying something along the lines of "Darren, dude" and then mumble. I told him he had the wrong place and hung up. It rattled me, since I was due to leave the house in about 15 minutes.
The buzzer went off again, and the same guy said he lost his keys. I said to go away and hung up again. Just as I was about to ask Byron to drive me to work, we heard knocking on the door next to us. We scampered to the hall, peered out our peep-hole and saw this drunk young guy knocking non-stop on the door.
Byron has very little tolerance for things like this, or inconveniences in our apartment building. He has no problem going to our landlord to tell him what's wrong. I can't bring myself to do it. I have lived in some serious shit holes over the years, and when there is a problem, be it a drunk neighbour or a dripping faucet, I try to fix it myself. So just as I was about to shoo the drunk kid away, Byron got on the phone to our landlord. He got the answer phone so he left a message.
We looked out our peep-hole again and saw the drunk guy laid out in front of our neigbour's door, knocking every now and then. Since he was passed out, I felt better about leaving. When we opened our door, we started to laugh. He was a mess! So we took a photo. And as I left, he never stirred. His white belt failed his jeans, and his turquoise underpant-clad bum hung out.
Byron said a few minutes later, he heard the buzzer next door ring, and saw the guy had left the floor. He figures he's passed out on the couch in front hallway.
We've had a tough time with the neighbours in that apartment. The people there before were gothy pot-heads. The hall always reeked of weed, and the constant thump of techno beat through the walls. They left a few weeks back, and I had never been so happy. Our landlord assured us the next tenent was a nice young guy who was going to college for welding. We heard "young" and "college" and knew immediately this would be trouble. Sure enough, the music was loud, and he and his buddies would be partying hard on a Monday night on the patio. Byron heard the landlord's wife reaming out what he assumes to be the kid's mom about the parties and the noise. I am sure once the landlord hears about this, it's a new neighbour for us.
I hope I never hear a drunk slur "duuuude" to me again at 5:15 am.
Fraternizingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Rolling for Nothing
So another season of Roll Up the Rim is over. It was a slim season, with only one win. ONE. Inconceivable.
I did some math. Please remember I failed grade 11 math, so don't take these stats to the bank. Byron and I go to Tim's about twice a week, and we get a large coffee each. This contest lasts about 8 weeks, so that's about 32 coffees. Add in the ill-conceived road trip to Edmonton and back, and the week when Byron worked nights and I brought him coffee every afternoon, the number of coffees (foolishly) purchased by us is around 45. That's an average of 5.625 coffees a week. I won 2.2% of the time. Poor stats, Tim's. I feel violated.
I won once. In a scuzzy Esso/Tim's in Kamloops, I bought my usual large and won a coffee. That's it. That's ridiculous.
At first, I thought the number of winning cups was low in the Victoria area just because this is NOT a Tim's town. There's only 14 in the whole city. In Dartmouth, there are 14 in a 5 kilometre radius of my parent's home. In Victoria, people like their Starbucks. They prefer to pay $4.21 for a venti coffee and blueberry soy muffin. At Tim's, Byron and I order 2 large coffees and two bagels with cream cheese for the same price. But I suppose at Starbucks, you pay for the "ambiance". Or you just like to be ripped off. Trust me, if there was a Tim's on my way to work, my Friday Starbucks treat would be a thing of the past.
Turns out, I am not the only one who feels monumentally tipped off by Tim's this year. I guess if I lived in Quebec, I might have won more than a coffee.
No matter how much we squawk about les Quebecois getting all the goodies, or how much of a rip this Roll Up the Rim hooey is, or our calls for a more fair contest, it'll all be for naught. Tim's knows they have Canadians by the short and curlies. We are gaga for it and, like an abusive partner, keep coming back for more. Once the RUTR season starts next year, you know we'll all be making extra long trips to the nearest Tim's for our chance at a cookie. Which, may I say, is THE chinziest prize of all time. A cookie? Why bother.
Rollingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
I did some math. Please remember I failed grade 11 math, so don't take these stats to the bank. Byron and I go to Tim's about twice a week, and we get a large coffee each. This contest lasts about 8 weeks, so that's about 32 coffees. Add in the ill-conceived road trip to Edmonton and back, and the week when Byron worked nights and I brought him coffee every afternoon, the number of coffees (foolishly) purchased by us is around 45. That's an average of 5.625 coffees a week. I won 2.2% of the time. Poor stats, Tim's. I feel violated.
I won once. In a scuzzy Esso/Tim's in Kamloops, I bought my usual large and won a coffee. That's it. That's ridiculous.
At first, I thought the number of winning cups was low in the Victoria area just because this is NOT a Tim's town. There's only 14 in the whole city. In Dartmouth, there are 14 in a 5 kilometre radius of my parent's home. In Victoria, people like their Starbucks. They prefer to pay $4.21 for a venti coffee and blueberry soy muffin. At Tim's, Byron and I order 2 large coffees and two bagels with cream cheese for the same price. But I suppose at Starbucks, you pay for the "ambiance". Or you just like to be ripped off. Trust me, if there was a Tim's on my way to work, my Friday Starbucks treat would be a thing of the past.
Turns out, I am not the only one who feels monumentally tipped off by Tim's this year. I guess if I lived in Quebec, I might have won more than a coffee.
No matter how much we squawk about les Quebecois getting all the goodies, or how much of a rip this Roll Up the Rim hooey is, or our calls for a more fair contest, it'll all be for naught. Tim's knows they have Canadians by the short and curlies. We are gaga for it and, like an abusive partner, keep coming back for more. Once the RUTR season starts next year, you know we'll all be making extra long trips to the nearest Tim's for our chance at a cookie. Which, may I say, is THE chinziest prize of all time. A cookie? Why bother.
Rollingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
They're kidding, right? Right?
I read this a couple weeks ago, and the news shocked me then. I am dumbfounded.
WHY is Lauren Conrad, of The Hills fame, writing a blog for the NHL playoffs. Yes, you read right... National Hockey League. Hockey. Lauren Conrad. There is no connection whatsoever. It's like asking 50 Cent to discuss Shakespeare. It just cannot be done.
On her first and only entry so far, she says she sometimes goes to an LA Kings game, but since they're out, she's cheering on Anaheim. The backlash from readers of this blog has not been kind.
I can roll with change, so when the NHL scrapped the Smythe et al divisions for Western Conference, etc, I didn't even notice. Apparently after the strike, there were some rule changes. Whatever. As long as the NHL keeps going, who am I to complain. But when a time-tested organization like the NHL tries to hit a younger and more diverse demographic by using hokey tactics like this makes my blood boil. The NHL, instead of looking hipper and more girl-friendly, comes off looking pathetic and sad. Like the dancing 48 year old divorcee at a rave. You just want to wrap your coat around them and send them home.
If the NHL wanted to get on the blog bandwagon, reach a younger, more diverse audience, they could have found a real celebrity hockey fan, who has cred with the guys and who the girls love, too. Maybe Hayden Christensen*. Or perhaps Adam Brody*. Not some fashionista who can hardly string a sentance together.
Like, you know,
xoxoSallyt
* These are my uneducated guesses. These guys are young, cute, and one is from Canada, he has to like hockey, right? Who would you have wanted to write an NHL blog? Discuss...
WHY is Lauren Conrad, of The Hills fame, writing a blog for the NHL playoffs. Yes, you read right... National Hockey League. Hockey. Lauren Conrad. There is no connection whatsoever. It's like asking 50 Cent to discuss Shakespeare. It just cannot be done.
On her first and only entry so far, she says she sometimes goes to an LA Kings game, but since they're out, she's cheering on Anaheim. The backlash from readers of this blog has not been kind.
I can roll with change, so when the NHL scrapped the Smythe et al divisions for Western Conference, etc, I didn't even notice. Apparently after the strike, there were some rule changes. Whatever. As long as the NHL keeps going, who am I to complain. But when a time-tested organization like the NHL tries to hit a younger and more diverse demographic by using hokey tactics like this makes my blood boil. The NHL, instead of looking hipper and more girl-friendly, comes off looking pathetic and sad. Like the dancing 48 year old divorcee at a rave. You just want to wrap your coat around them and send them home.
If the NHL wanted to get on the blog bandwagon, reach a younger, more diverse audience, they could have found a real celebrity hockey fan, who has cred with the guys and who the girls love, too. Maybe Hayden Christensen*. Or perhaps Adam Brody*. Not some fashionista who can hardly string a sentance together.
Like, you know,
xoxoSallyt
* These are my uneducated guesses. These guys are young, cute, and one is from Canada, he has to like hockey, right? Who would you have wanted to write an NHL blog? Discuss...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Peter Piper Picked a Peck
Byron and I are growing our own peppers. We eat a lot of them... in salads, sauces, casseroles, you name it, and we fling some peppers in it. So a month or so ago, we were in Rona, saw some seeds and on a whim, decided to grow peppers. We planted the seeds, and our excitement grew with each sprout. We have 16 little pepper plants.
The plants are now taller than the pot they're in, so we thought it's time to plant them in bigger pots and reap the rewards. Yesterday, we got out the dirt, laid out the newspaper on the dining room table, and re-planted our peppers. It's been sunny and kind of warm here in Victoria, so we put the peppers outside. And we grinned with pride.
Later that evening we went for a walk, and when we came back, our peppers, our babies, looked like boiled spinach. They had fallen over, and wilted on us! So we brought them back in and hoped they'd recover. Which they did, a bit, this morning. They are upright and kind of perky again. Some of the smaller ones, I fear, didn't make it, but they were the runts.
I should also add that Byron and I have never planted a mini patio garden before. Neither one of us know anything about germination, temperature, or how to grow vegetables. We're doing this on a wing and a prayer. Hopefully, after the first brush with death, our pepper plants can come back to life and yield lots of fruit.
If there is progress, or even a sprout, I will post a picture. In the meantime, we would appreciate any pepper-growing tips.
Farmingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
The plants are now taller than the pot they're in, so we thought it's time to plant them in bigger pots and reap the rewards. Yesterday, we got out the dirt, laid out the newspaper on the dining room table, and re-planted our peppers. It's been sunny and kind of warm here in Victoria, so we put the peppers outside. And we grinned with pride.
Later that evening we went for a walk, and when we came back, our peppers, our babies, looked like boiled spinach. They had fallen over, and wilted on us! So we brought them back in and hoped they'd recover. Which they did, a bit, this morning. They are upright and kind of perky again. Some of the smaller ones, I fear, didn't make it, but they were the runts.
I should also add that Byron and I have never planted a mini patio garden before. Neither one of us know anything about germination, temperature, or how to grow vegetables. We're doing this on a wing and a prayer. Hopefully, after the first brush with death, our pepper plants can come back to life and yield lots of fruit.
If there is progress, or even a sprout, I will post a picture. In the meantime, we would appreciate any pepper-growing tips.
Farmingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Friday, April 11, 2008
DONE!
I am thoroughly digusted with American Idol and refuse to watch ever again. I don't give a flying fig who wins this year, or ever again. That clap-trap of a show should be shut down. I am done.
When that wee snippet Ryan Seacrest announced that Michael Johns was voted off, I snapped. Something inside me died. Well, it was just the fan of American Idol in me that died. Byron took the brunt of my rantings and ravings last night. Carly blows and has gotten worse and seems unable to handle the competition as it gets stiffer. Syesha looks like a frog and annoys the snot out of me. I can't stand David Archuleta. He looks like some moony freak week after week and he is the lyrical equivalent of John Tesh. Blech. I was rooting for Michael Johns. Anyone who cites Neil Finn as a musical influence is okay by me. His version of "Across the Universe" was wonderful. He deserved to stay. Not that frigging Kristy Lee Cook. I can't even discuss her this morning without spatting bile.
My blood pressure is rising at the thought of this. Simon is dead to me. American Idol is dead to me. Be gone!
Disgustedly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
When that wee snippet Ryan Seacrest announced that Michael Johns was voted off, I snapped. Something inside me died. Well, it was just the fan of American Idol in me that died. Byron took the brunt of my rantings and ravings last night. Carly blows and has gotten worse and seems unable to handle the competition as it gets stiffer. Syesha looks like a frog and annoys the snot out of me. I can't stand David Archuleta. He looks like some moony freak week after week and he is the lyrical equivalent of John Tesh. Blech. I was rooting for Michael Johns. Anyone who cites Neil Finn as a musical influence is okay by me. His version of "Across the Universe" was wonderful. He deserved to stay. Not that frigging Kristy Lee Cook. I can't even discuss her this morning without spatting bile.
My blood pressure is rising at the thought of this. Simon is dead to me. American Idol is dead to me. Be gone!
Disgustedly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
Thursday, April 3, 2008
A trooper?
You decide... am I a trooper or just plain dumb.
I had FIVE fillings done yesterday. FIVE! I went to the dentist to get sealants on my wisdom teeth. I was told it would take abot an hour. No. Two and a half hours later I emerge with my mouth looking like I had a stroke. Turns out once the dentist scooped the decay from the surface, she found more gunk on the inside of the tooth. What was once to be a simple proceedure turned into jaw-aching hell.
So I sat, and I cringed and gagged as I smelled what I assume to be burnt tooth. It took four shots of whatever they inject to make you numb. The dentist sincerely asked me if I wanted to be numbed. I told her I was no hero and take the feeling away.
Afterwards, I slurred my words and drooled and my lips twisted in weird ways. I was also thirsty as all get out but could not drink. Byron got a kick out of it. So I talked and talked and talked. My thinking was that the more I moved my mouth, my jaw, my lips, the sooner the freezing would wear off. It worked.
But now today, my jaw aches and I can't open my mouth too far. I think it's from having my jaw open so wide for so long.
Flossingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
I had FIVE fillings done yesterday. FIVE! I went to the dentist to get sealants on my wisdom teeth. I was told it would take abot an hour. No. Two and a half hours later I emerge with my mouth looking like I had a stroke. Turns out once the dentist scooped the decay from the surface, she found more gunk on the inside of the tooth. What was once to be a simple proceedure turned into jaw-aching hell.
So I sat, and I cringed and gagged as I smelled what I assume to be burnt tooth. It took four shots of whatever they inject to make you numb. The dentist sincerely asked me if I wanted to be numbed. I told her I was no hero and take the feeling away.
Afterwards, I slurred my words and drooled and my lips twisted in weird ways. I was also thirsty as all get out but could not drink. Byron got a kick out of it. So I talked and talked and talked. My thinking was that the more I moved my mouth, my jaw, my lips, the sooner the freezing would wear off. It worked.
But now today, my jaw aches and I can't open my mouth too far. I think it's from having my jaw open so wide for so long.
Flossingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt
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