"This dress exacerbates the genetic betrayal that is my legacy. " **

My 20 year reunion from high school took place a few weekends ago. I'd love to report back that the all-time school bitch is still a bitch, and the super skinnies are fat and ugly, but I wouldn't know, because I didn't go. I have to admit to creeping on a few pictures that have been posted on a share site, and those who are pictured look great (really, most haven't changed a bit). Do I regret not attending the reunion in person? Not a bit. Truth be told, I was helping set up for Tanya's baby shower at Julie's, & I wouldn't have dreamed missing out on that to go to a stuffy locale to spend 2 hours with people I never liked to begin with.

In high school I had friends, don't get me wrong. I had a great collection of girls, all of whom I still keep close contact with today, and some of my all-time best memories are shared with them. Aside from 'my group', I was also friendly with a lot of other people, and I don't think I was on anyone's 'black list', for lack of a better term (in high school, that is). I wasn't "popular" by any means. I wasn't athletic. My parents didn't make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, so I wasn't dressed head to toe in brand names and styles. My crushes on the cute, popular boys all went unrequited. I kept to myself, for the most part, and I earned decent grades. The list of 'accepted' people on the invitation list contained 98% of the people from my graduating class that I don't care about, and didn't associate with. I actually would love to set up an afternoon or evening with my old high school friends, or "bench gang", as we called ourselves. Our own little reunion of sorts. But, to pay $40 to eat (or $80 if I wanted to drag Chris with me) and view a room of snobs to see them continue to look down their nose at me? I'd rather watch paint dry. I'd rather endure a lengthy gynecological exam.

Surely there must be a reason why I'm so bitter, you're all saying to yourself. Yeah. Of course there are memories that are etched into the depths of my brain that I will never forget. Stupid, silly, grade school memories of a group of bullies who didn't want to accept the 'new girl' into their pact. Bullies who made me come home and cry every day after school. Bullies who made me write terrible things about them in my diary. The same bully pact that followed me from elementary, to junior high, and on to senior high school. So I carry a grudge. You don't treat me like shit in my 'formative' years and then slap me on the back and be my best friend years down the road. One girl went out of her way to do whatever she could to have the entire 6th grade class hate me. This girl, as you may guess, was one of those attendees to the auspicious 20 year reunion.

A decade ago, I did attend my 10 year reunion. I expected the 20 to be much the same. One of the popular girls (not the same girl in the aforementioned paragraph, but they both travel in the same circle) came over to the little bench gang grouping, and she smiled her fake smile, looking to see what we all did with our lives since leaving high school. She's apparently an accomplished sports psychologist or some such thing (and how she got the degree beside her name is beYOND me, because she wasn't the sharpest pin on the cushion through high school, let me tell ya). When it came to my turn, I proudly announced my then-place of employment. A call centre. She looked me deeply in the eyes, patted me on the shoulder and said, like she was sympathizing with me over a dead pet, "Oh.... it's okay....". I can't make this shit up -- and why would I?

So yeah, I wasn't in the right mindset to face her questions 10 years later, when although I'm not still working at that call centre, my future with my current employer is not really known right now. How do you go to a 20 year high school reunion without a known career path or answer to the question, "What do you wanna be when you grow up?". Besides that, I have probably another 50 or so odd pounds on since I bid adieu to my alma mater, and I just know I wouldn't fill out that dress like I'd like to. You can't blame a girl from being a little self-conscious.

I purposely didn't name any 'names' in this post - and if any of my graduating class happen to read this, I mean no offense. If you can figure out if you're one of 'those girls', you should just know that you really hurt me, and I wanted to let you know. I can only hope that you raise your children to be a little more respectful of their peers so history doesn't repeat itself.

Yeah, I opted out of my 20 year high school reunion. And I have no regrets.

** Alternate title, and both quotes courtesy of Heather from Romy and Michele's High School Reunion: "Why don't you tell everyone I said to go f@#k themselves for making my teen years a living hell?"

Beauty is skin deep. A tattoo goes all the way to the bone. **

Quite often, I've given thought to getting a tattoo. A small one. A respectable one. A few times I've been in the parlor watching my friends get one and almost went through with it, but then I've backed off at the last minute. It's perhaps the whole permanency thing that bothers me. That, oh, and something about pain, as well.

I love the idea of little cat paws somewhere fairly obscure. I mean, how cute is that? And you know how I feel about cats. And no, despite the recent barrage of reality-tv posts from me, I do not toy with the idea of stamping the "Big Brother" logo, or a 'final rose' on my ass. Really.

My ever-fluffing frame has made me question the idea of placement. There's nothing that needs stamping and stretching out on any of my parts. However, perhaps the 'fluff' would help with the pain? I mean, it makes sense that sticking a needle into a wad of fat would hurt much, much less than doing so into a thin layering of skin right over the bone, doesn't it? Perhaps I'm a perfect candidate for this art form after all?

It's quite a mental process. First, you have to settle with the fact that you're going to actually dooooo it. Then, there is the all-important task of what you want inked on your parts forevermore. Originally I had toyed with a tiny daisy or a ladybug and the placement would be on my ankle. Recently, though, I have given considerable thought to one that will be a token or symbol of my father's memory. Thinking of what I want stamped to commemorate him is much more difficult than deciding on the size of ladybug...

My friend Darren has one going down his calf muscle; it consists of Chinese symbols, and says, "like Father, like Son". I love that. It's not obvious. It's not, "Father" with roses and crosses intertwined through it. It's something Darren can share privately... 'spose until he travels China :). So, the idea of mimicking him with a phrase in symbol is a contender. I also thought of a picture that immediately spoke him... He was a lover of the sea, and a member of the Canadian Navy. His father was a lighthouse keeper, and anytime I see a lighthouse I think of him. I have, and will forever describe him as being my Guardian Angel. He died of cancer.

All those words of brainstorm bring up several ideas:
-Chinese symbol for "Father", "Daddy", "My Dad, my Hero", "Daddy's girl"
-an ocean wave
-the Canadian Navy logo consisting of an anchor & crown
-a small anchor alone
-a small lighthouse, or light beam
-a pair of angel wings in-between a heart, with a halo over top of it
-a yellow ribbon

I just can't seem to come to a clear decision. I'm doubtful that I'll be overly popular if I land into the tattoo parlor with my aforementioned list, requesting they come up with something that includes all of them ;). Whatcha think, people?

**Quote by Vince Hemingson

Bachin' it in the Pad

Ok so now we welcome a whole new show onto the airwaves. The Bachelor Pad made its premiere this evening. What is it, you ask? Well it's The Bachelor meets Survivor, meets Big Brother, of course! I know you're all thinking that this is the reality-show that's simply made for me. I know several of you only come here for my Bachelor updates, so I couldn't disappoint you. I thought I'd let you in on my inner most thoughts on this show too (I promise a few new thought-provoking, real life posts are forthcoming in the very near future).

Aaaand go!

-Why do women squeal like pigs when they see each other for the first time after being apart?
-Gwen looks very....plastic? And so very old. Wow.
-"This girl's bangin'" - that's an interesting...erm...compliment. Maybe I'm an 'ol fuddy duddy?
-I.want.to.punch.Tenley.in.the.face and it's only 10 minutes in...
-And the man we love to hate...Wes. Who out there believes he's really single? He might be. He might not be. How'd anyone know for sure?
-Mmmm....Kiptyn. How I've missed seeing his face :).
{the urge to punch Tenley is increasing}
-I'm confused as to why they'd allow people into the Bachelor pad if they are not single? Though I suppose, by definition, "bachelor" specifically only refers to "unmarried". Still, I figure if you're in a committed relationship outside of the house, $250,000 or not, you have NO business being in this game.
-Oh Weatherman, you're such a DWEEB.
-I almost had Christopher's attention as the girls in bikinis started their game of Twister, but he quickly rolled his eyes and went back to his laptop.
-Was Elizabeth really washing her face in the bed? Like she was too self-conscious to wash herself up in the bathroom prior to heading to bed? What's she going to do? Reapply the makeup by flashlight under the covers before the break of dawn? Give me a cotton-pickin' break!
-Oh Jebus, Elizabeth has to go HOME.
-No. Tenley does.
-I think 2 hrs was an hour too long for this show. I hope future Mondays are only slotted for 60 mins.
-Not a bit surprised that Michelle and Juan were the first victims of the Pad.
-Thank God it's bedtime now.

"You're a homo sapien, Brendan. You're not a wizard!"

-Did Kristen REALLY think she had a chance at keeping the PoV in her possession? Really??! That one statement alone proved her deserving to wear the hippie-tard.
-Since watching this episode I've been totally song-bombed with a song by The Who.
-Gotta say I think I'm preferring to see Kristin in the hippie-tard than having to see Hayden in it; and Enzo's description of her, "a bootlegged little orphan Annie" is quite fitting (though Flashdance is also a contender if you ask me).
-I'm stoked about there being a new saboteur. As much as I poked fun at Britney at the beginning, she's growing on me in leaps and bounds. Could it be, though, that's because there is NO ONE else that I care to see go far? Yeah. That might be it. She does have a comical side to her that comes out in the diary room that I find endearing though. I'd be delighted to see her win America's vote to be the new saboteur.
-To borrow my dear friend Mosher's term, the "brigayde" needs to be shut down - if for nothing else than to put a stop to the grunts and animal noises that come out of Enzo's mouth (and no I don't actually mean his talking; the actual animal noises).
-I would have enjoyed tonight's episode so much more if my effing Anonymous spoiler hadn't ruined it for me. The fact that Rachel even entertained Hayden's ploy to 'shake up' the nominations if Britney chose to use the PoV proves, once more, that shes just a ditzy blonde in a painted-red-headed, big-boobed body. Oh wait - she then "redeemed" herself at the very end to say she, "didn't really trust Kristen and Hayden anyways". Right.

Roses, letdowns and rainbows...

Hello my Bachelorette-watching lovelies... I joined Erin, Julie & Tanya last night over at Tanya's house to tune into the finale. I was heartbroken by Ali's decision to let Chris go, but I do think it was a mature way to do it. I mean, really, if her mind was already made up (perhaps a scripted "not the norm" action that was written and directed to try to make the show look unscripted??!), it was the right thing to do, as opposed to spending the whole day with the guy and being "there", and "in it", only to drive his hopes up even further. His reaction was very mature (and might I add that I was indeed surprised that he held it together like he did. I truly thought he was a fragile little egg one crack shy of opening up).

I never hated Roberto, so I'm not in a frenzy about her choice. As the show progressed, I liked her less and less though...that whine.... They will indeed make beautiful, beautiful babies (don't get me started on my opinions surrounding babies made out of a union organized and initiated through a reality-tv show though. My only saving grace is Trista & Ryan).

Perhaps Chris' fish is in the sea. If you play along that the show is not scripted, finding the rainbow in the sky as he was getting ready to depart was bittersweet loveliness. I do hope his momma is shining down on him and lighting the way to his true happiness. I know not if the decision is fully made - but I know speculation abounds - re: him being the role of the next Bachelor (and spoilers don't ruin this for me - I will watch "After the Rose" soon...I just couldn't keep my eyes open last night). I've not made my mind up yet if I think that's the best idea for him...

Next up - the drama in the Pad....... ;)

Up, up and away!!!!!!

So my amazing weekend continued...

Having already been down to witness the hot air balloons on Saturday night and Sunday morning, Chris was like a kid in a candy store, insisting we go Sunday evening for their night flight. I wasn't overly enthused, I'll admit. Thinking if there were dozens of pretty balloons I'd be so much more impressed. He'd already shown me some fabulous photos he'd taken of those that would be taking off. There were 4. Selfishly, I was sorta tired, and wanted to go home. However, he was the driver, so after he took some pics of Tanya and after we had a lovely visit with the Masons, we headed to the Crapaud field.

The trucks were lined up waiting for the next run. The mosquitos were absolutely INSANE there. Queue Cranky Amber. I'm in a hot car waiting for something I have no idea if I'll even enjoy. I'm not prepared for warding off bugs. I'm in my flip flops and don't have a coat. We don't have bug spray. I'm anticipating hours of being inside the car because I'm trying to avoid being eaten alive while he's out shooting photos. And I'm tired.

One of the pilots knocks on Chris' window to let him know that the wind has changed, and the take off is going to be out of Hunter River instead. 1o billion mosquitos pile inside the vehicle in search of unsuspecting flesh (ok possibly not that many; 5 billion?). So we follow - I'm still not overly impressed, but I do have a glimmer of hope as I envision the possibility of having a pee and perchance, the purchase of some bug spray. We went to the Hunter River Irving, shooing mosquitos as we traveled, and found our refuge in a tiny bottle of Muskol.

We got to the field for the lift off. The crews unloaded the gear and unfolded the balloons, and one started to fill. As I watched the balloon take shape and the utter enormity of the balloon in scale of everything else in my surroundings, I then started getting impressed. Yeah. It was pretty cool. The pilot that Chris had followed out (he'd been part of the ground crew earlier in the day - holding onto the restraints as the balloon filled) came over to me, handed me a pair of gloves and said she was going to put me to work. I helped keep the mouth of the balloon steady as the air was forced in. In no time, it was filled, and we all were asked to use our weight to keep the basket down on the ground. She asked Chris if he wanted to go up. Her basket was the smallest there -- room for only herself and one passenger.

When you go up on a balloon, you are moving with the wind. The crew on the land have GPS systems and they 'chase' the balloon to help with the landing and to pick up the pilot and passengers. We had taken Chris' car there. His car is a standard, and because I can't drive a stick, he declined, knowing he'd have to be the chaser,...but then quickly volunteered me to go up in his place (he was SUPER jealous, but was happy that one of us at least had the chance to go).

I'm terrified of heights, so for a brief moment had a thought cross my mind of, "Wow, can I really do this?". With hot air balloons you don't have a lot of time for large discussions -- so without much further thought, and more of a, "Wow how can I NOT do this??", I climbed into the basket and off we went. It was spectacular. Amazing. Incredible!

Here are a few shots I took with Chris' G11 point & shoot. I was one-handed -- having to ensure one hand was always on the balloon. Funny thing with those things ...there's no seatbelt. There's no harness... and this particular basket wasn't overly tall. I would have felt a lot more safe had it been about a foot higher in height (that surely would have made the climb in and out that much more entertaining to observers, too, no doubt).

So yeah. I flew in a hot air balloon over picturesque PEI. And it was amazing. It's as good a task as any to have added to your bucket list. And I get to cross it off mine. :)

a day in the life....

I love weekends.

Yesterday, Lana and I planned a terrific girlie night. We started late afternoon - opting to meet at Cedars at 4pm for shwarma supper. An early supper, to ensure we had ample time to enjoy some chick flicks, annnnnd most importantly, to provide ample time between supper and movie time to enjoy movie snacks. Supper took no time to arrive, and it was delish, as usual. We landed back at her place, after a visit to two video stores, the bulk barn and the good ol' LC, just after 6pm. We were good and fed, and carried with us an armload of candy goodies, Doritios, wine, shooters, and a season 1-4 DVD of Degrassi High (the original).

Supper (with tip): $16.81
Bulk Barn treats: $9.06 & $6something for Lana
LC: $19.98
That's Entertainment: $19something for Lana
7ish hours of nostalgic entertainment with Spike, Wheels, Snake, Joey Jeremiah; a candy buffet; stinky feet Doritos; wine; and, QT with the bestie: PRICELESS :)

****

Chris was at the Crapaud Exhibition shooting everything from tractor pulls to hot air balloon rides. He'd left the house just after 11am. He'd sent a text that he was shooting in Tryon at 10:45pm. I replied, asking what he'd be shooting at that hour. Well, the Milky Way, of course ;). By the time he made it to bed after uploading and a few edits, it was just after 2 am. He'd shot the balloons at dusk, and at 4am his alarm goes off and he's back in his car heading back to Crapaud for the balloon take off at sunrise. He's home just after 9am, uploads a few more photos, showers, and is back on the move for a family portrait at 11am. We're scheduled to be at the Mason's for a maternity shoot at 2pm. He anticipated an early bedtime tonight until he realized it was Big Brother night. Priorities, ya know.