Vacation Jitters!

Since I’m heading back to North Carolina to visit Josh in ohhhh tomorrow (!!!), maybe it’s a good time to finally post pictures from my last two visits in August and November? Oui? Oui!

Thanks to overtime during the office move last summer I had a sweet amount of lieu time to use as I saw fit, and I see very fit indeed to spend as much time as I possible with Josh. Obviously! So I scheduled two vacations close together which had the bonus of making the time between them seem nigh insignificant, but the disadvantage of making the time between a November and April visit seem to take forever.

And yet here we are! And here you go:  

(And if the formatting is all wonky, screw it. WordPress is misbehaving and I’ve no time to mess around with it!)

August
 
   

This is American for 'cheese'; the edibility of heavily processed foods being a constant point of debate between Josh and I.

Josh was very pleased when we returned to the hotel one evening to find his skull-betopped scooter bookended by a pair of badass Harleys.

A small island of Canada in a vast sea of on-sale Americana.

Something's wrong when your bestseller list includes disproportionate amounts of Glenn Beck, Nancy Grace, and Dick Armey. Oh and lets not forget the Ann Coulter. Oy vey.

Late night date night at the Wal-Mart extravaganza!

 

November

 
 
 
 

 

 

Gettin' all casual in the kitchen, by which I mean he didn't realize the camera was on secret timer 😉

 

Baking a brie! With caramelized worcestershire and red wine onions cooked right into the phyllo!

 
 

Now that's what cheese should look like!! The brie didn't make it two feet from the oven before being devoured within five minutes right at the counter. Words cannot describe the delicious.

 

Trip to the most psychedelic pizza joint ever!

Psychedlic menu! Just give pizza a try, man! Why can't all toppings just get along? 😛

 

Gettin' all domestic with the washing up.

 

Gettin' more domestic! 😉

 

 

Only one more sleep until more of these!!

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Happy Not-So-New Year

Have you noticed winter kicks my ass much? As soon as the temperature drops, my brain seems to freeze along with the pipes, and it becomes a struggle just to roll my unmotivated and generally winter-blah’d self off the futon first thing in the morning. It’s dark when I get up, it’s dark when I get off work; it’s cold, slushy, and all around miserable. Fuck winter, man. Fuck it.

The only good thing about winter so far was that I flew south to spend Christmas with Josh. Unfortunately, that merriment ended as soon as my return flight touched down in Buffalo – in the middle of a blizzard. But wait, it gets better.

One delayed hour on the frozen tarmac later, I shoved my way past throngs of snowbirding elderly (who should NOT be allowed to travel with ‘carry-ons’ they can’t lift out of the overhead compartments without assistance), ELEVEN people blocking the aisles waiting for wheelchairs, three screaming toddlers and a fat guy with a cat. My luggage took even longer. I was also starving, having only brought ten dollars for travel-food without realizing that a 9am airport breakfast of yogurt and O.J. would cost eight bucks (you’d think I’d have this figured out by now, it being my third trip), or that all the delays would bring me well past 4pm before I could get to a bank machine. Said bank machine promptly rejected my card. Turns out the last machine I had used before my vacation was of the sketchy variety, and my card had been frozen as protection against card copying fraud. In retrospect, I’m quite grateful – but try telling that to me when I’m starving, tired, and pissed.

Good thing my mom was there to pick me up, or I might have kicked something and broken toes again. She had agreed to drive me to/from Buffalo since it’s loads cheaper to fly within the U.S. than across the Can-Am border. It’s also not that long of a drive, and we’ve got fun family along the way, so she was happy to oblige. She’s also got better luck with technology – her bank card worked just fine, so off we left with a few extra bucks and the intent of stopping for a quick bite to eat before hitting the border.

And then we got outside. Ohhhh, the outside.

I’m not going to describe the outside. But it looked something like this:

static snowstorm

got snow?

And sounded something like this:

What exit do we take? Nine, nine, the map says nine. Yeah, but where is nine? I don’t know, I can hardly see anything! Oh my god, it’s getting worse! This isn’t safe, we need to pull over! I can’t see the road! There is no over to pull to! Just watch the signs, can you see them!? I’ll lean my head out the window – ack, blargh, spit, cough! – I think that’s exit…three! Exit three! So we still have…crap, a long ass way to go. Shit, this is a total white out, I can’t even see the car in front of me! From now on trips to Buffalo are only for good weather! This is so not safe, this is SO! NOT! SAFE! I think that’s a truck up there, careful. Is that a truck? I think that’s a truck. Oh fuck, that’s a truck! It’s on it’s side, it’s flipped! Swerve, swerve!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!

Soooo, yeah. That sucked. By the time I got home and into bed I was already counting down until my next vacation.

On the plus side, Southwest Airlines gave me a spiffy credit for the whole ordeal, enough to cover a flight! Totally worth the hassle, I’d say, especially since within-US flights not around Christmas are pretty reasonably priced, so as soon as I’ve got time saved up at work again I’m getting my ass back on a plane.

In the meantime, here’s some highlights from the holidays:

kiss love woot!

Lovin' up on my man.

manly construction

Josh being manly with his tools. Haha. Tools.

dogs rage against the removal of the carpet

The dogs were less than thrilled with the decision to reno out the carpeting.

dog wood flooring

New wood floors are confusing!

rad kitchen friends

Visiting rad friends in their rad kitchen

the puppy and the boyfriend

Not our puppy 😦

hockey night in...NC

My dad sent a Leafs jersey down as a Christmas gift - woot!

Scrapbook

Josh took me out to choose a scrapbook for our photos...

scrapbook

...and even helped me put it together!

cute shirts much?

I got us matching paw-holding otter shirts! (Which other than this one photo op, will not be worn simultaneously - because there's cute and then there's revolting.)

What’s the deal with the otter shirts? I saw them on icanhascheezburger as a shirt-of-the-day just before I left Toronto and HAD to have them. So I bought them on the spot and had them shipped down to us to arrive just before Christmas as a surprise! Why otters? Because Josh had sent me this video a while earlier to make me smile:

Celebrate Good Times!

Ok, I know you’ve all been just dying for some vacation details, so at long last, here we go! This will be one of many installments of our adventures.

It makes sense to start at the beginning, which in fact was way back in April – when we picked the general timeframe for my visit and I started the months long scrambling to get all the details sorted out. I had the paperwork to get my passport already printed off and ready for fine-comb scrutiny. It probably took about three attempts at filling in all the little boxes and squares and ‘this only applies to you if you were born at this spot before this date’ spaces before I was certain it could be brought in for government inspection without meeting instant rejection for having a signature go outside the lines. When it came time to choose which government line to brave for a morning, I chose a location far from the centre of the city. Less popular, less people, less lining up, less chance of me snapping at someone who controls where I’m allowed to travel.

It went off without a hitch, and within another few weeks I had my passport. My SUPER regimented, no glasses, no smiling, no frowning, no expression whatsoever passport. I look like a disaffected yuppie and it cost me $8. And that was just for the pictures, nevermind the little blue folded book itself.

Next came picking the dates for flights and hotels, trying to maximize our alloted vacation time between weekends and matters-of-convenience for getting myself to the necessary airports. As soon as the dates were picked, the tickets purchased and the hotel reserved, it was just a matter of waiting. Shopping, and waiting.

FINALLY June rolled around. The last two weeks crawled and dragged by until one morning I strolled into work with a bright smile on my face. I made no bones about announcing my state of mind to the world at large: “People, I am not here today. Technically I am not here tomorrow, as I will be on a plane to visit my boyfriend in warm climates for the first time in one year. But rest assured, I am not here today either. Is the coffee machine broken? My good sir, I do not care.”

The next morning my mother picked me up for the drive to Buffalo, as it was $100 cheaper to cross the border in a car instead of flying directly out of Toronto. The navigation was a bit rough. Next time I’ll get the directions myself instead of leaving it up to her to leave up to her boyfriend to leave to the last minute resulting in no more than a poorly printed map and handwritten, somewhat incorrect instructions. However, we got there. And after connecting issue-free in Detroit, I got there.

There is here

Josh’s brother Nate drove him to the airport to pick me up, and dropped us off at the hotel where Josh had checked in earlier. In we rolled with our luggage, up the elevator, down the hall, and, well I’ll leave it at that for at least a few hours 😉
We hadn’t stopped to eat dinner, so later that evening I was starving. I figured we could go to a bar or restaurant, but anything nearby was closed by ten. Even with the scooter Josh had already brought to the hotel, the closest source of food was the SuperWalmart. We decided on a late night junk food/grocery shopping spree. I’m not usually a big fan of Walmart or its inhabitants, but I figure when in Rome…(or the South…)
It's ok, Talea was at the gym...

It's ok, Talea was at the gym...

The next morning, or maybe the following morning (I may have lost track of time…), I asked Josh to take me to Ihop for breakfast. He agreed, but was disappointed to learn that it’s somewhat of a misnomer. The “international” house of pancakes is at most a “national” house unless they have them in Mexico – we sure don’t have them in Canada, or at least not that I’ve seen. I in fact did not have pancakes, which I have not been able to stomach since a rather disastrous event with plane food many moons ago. Nor did I get waffles, which I’m told would have been an acceptable substitute. I got a strawberry crepe, which was damn good. I also had a lovely eyeful of Ihop patronage, and the new knowledge that some folk do in fact eat fried chicken for breakfast and encourage their kids to do the same.
yeah...

yeah...

Our breakfast was followed by much in the way of napping (sort of), to fill the hour or so one is supposed to wait before post-eating aquatic adventures. Yes, the hotel had a pool. But between the hot sun and the small family taking up most of the water, we opted to stay indoors. The pool was small, and it wasn’t so much about there being a crowd as there being just one family – we weren’t really in the mood for inevitable tourist small talk. Luckily, there were recreational activities to be found inside as well. 

This photo took approximately 37 takes.

Word, they had a jacuzzi!

We also went out to dinner at the Outback (which I think we do have in Canada, but I haven’t been in a while), and clothes shopping at Target. It may seem mundane to spend a vacation going to Walmart and Target, but we never get to do these little every day things together. Getting to spend an hour trying on shorts and lamenting the lack of non-thong sandals for men is a rare opportunity!

Alas, the weekend could not last forever, and we only stayed at the hotel for a few days. So after 60 some odd hours of our shagedelic fest of sugar, saunas and shopping, we packed up our bags and waited for our ride to Nate and Sami’s house to stay with them for the rest of our vacation. The first thing we did all together was head on over to their parents house for a family dinner with what I like to refer to as my ‘almost in-laws’. They love to take pictures at any and all opportunity, flattering or not…

Thought bubble says "Hey what are you - "

Thought bubble says "Hey what are you - "

Photobombed, and still adorable

Photobombed, and still adorable

And of course, we took plenty of pictures ourselves.

Totally worth the wait!

Totally worth the wait!

That’s all for this first installment, the adventures continue soon! Coming up next, we’ve got killer dogs, date night, strippers, licking (not to be confused with stripper licking), and other fun.

Stay tuned!

Leaving on a Jet Plane, Suckers!

As you may recall, Josh and I celebrated our one-year anniversary of dating on March 11th. Unfortunately, the cosmos conspired against us to mark the occasion with frustration and general technological fuck-uppery as opposed to flowery romance. In fact, we have still yet to exchange our cute little love-projects. This displeases me greatly. I’m generally speaking more the kind of gal who appreciates a good trip to the liquor and/or candy store (please, somebody combine the two!) or a night in cuddling on the couch to celebrate such occasions, rather than the whole dinner and flowers shebang. But even that’s hard to do when you’re 800 miles apart and the damn sentient videophone picks the worst days of the week to frankly, fuck with your shit.

Fine then universe, you want to play that game? Do you? Oh yeah? Well you may have screwed up March 11th, but there’s another significant date coming up very shortly. I won’t tell you what date specifically for fear you’ll mess that up too, but the general time frame is mid-June.

Last June, after having been madly in love for some time already, Josh and I finally met face-to-face. And yes, it was awesome. And yes, it was very difficult to leave. It still blows my mind to think back and go ‘holy shit, that was a year ago!’ One year! What the hell???

Unfortunately, that also means it’s been about a year since we’ve gotten some good and proper bedroom action. Too much info? Well, sorry. If you’ve been following along here, you know Josh and I live far apart – so in terms of sexy times, there’s really only one logical conclusion: it’s hard to get some from across the room never mind across the border. This will not do! Poor Josh! Poor me! If you haven’t been following along and this happens to be your first glance at this page…well, now you know.

So in light of the gods-of-tech being general wankers as of late, I’d really rather not leave this particular upcoming anniversary to chance. I’m getting on a damn plane and getting my ass down there. That’s right, it’s vacation time again! One whole year! It’s time, people.

(may not be flying on this actual plane)

(may not be flying on this actual plane)

Wooooo!!!!! Naturally, there will be many more exciting details to share as we get closer to the date, like accomodations, places to go, people to see, and etc. After last years adventure with failing luggage, I think the first thing I’m going to do is buy myself a nice pink manhandling-resistance suitcase, and maybe a matching dress.

Look out America, I’m coming to get you! Or at least one of you 😉

One Year of Kick-Yer-Ass Awesome

Josh and I met one year ago today. He’s not home right now, and I just got back in from dinner with my mother and now feel like ass. So as far as anniversaries go, it’s probably not the most idealistic. But I still feel like the biggest winner ever. I’m so in love it’s retarded.

We met, quite randomly, via wordpress…and fine, blogspot too I guess, which is where he was before switching to wordpress. In fact, my first comment to him started off with how crap blogspot is. I found him from a comment he left on my post written about the equally crap Toronto Independent Music Awards (crap because there were more thank-you’s to the corporate supporters than actual music or info, and as usual, my usual posse of strange morons abounded in all their poorly-dressed glory).

He wrote:

Despite my general distaste for the Indie scene in general, I loved your account of the evening. I wish I could get this post drunk and seduce it into a one night stand that ends akwardly but still leaves both parties gratified. In fact this could just about be any awards show at any shitty club. It would have been the exact same lame ass people/bull shit. And take pride in how many people you pissed off. They were probably the bald deuche bags that blocked traffic with their charitable buggery. And forget about the grammar. Grammar is for class work and science articles. This is teh facking interweb noobs. Mother fuckers don’t have to grammarize shit if they don’t feel like it! Ask any LOLcat.

(ed note: I had gotten a lot of grammar-related shit from Indie lovers, and may or may not have pissed off a charitable organization en route to the show.)

Your blog has a perfect title, cause after reading it for the first time, it sort of feels like christmas time. Rock on Green Metropolis. I like chicks with balls. (not actual balls mind you, the metaphorical sort of balls that don’t clutter up the paradice city that is the ball-less vagina)

Lolcats and vaginas. How could I resist? I took a trip on over to his page and found a cool, hilarious, foul-mouthed character who instantly pulled me in with his ranting and raving over Google difficulties. Clearly, we were two awesome people waylayed by the jackassery surrounding us.

I wrote:

yeah, i’m with ben about the wordpress.com leaflet. But can I tell you that you’re awesome? I have totally blogrolled you (not that I remember how I repaired it), and if you happen to be at my site, you might find a kindred spirit with my post “Fuck you, you fucktarded fucking fuckbags.” Just a thought.

Kindred spirits indeed. More like meant to be.

And if you’re wondering who ‘ben’ is, he was some random person who commented just before me with *sneaks in*leaves a wordpress leaflet*sneaks out. I have no idea who he is, but I agreed and decided to say so. I’d thank him for his small role in this tale, but his blog is long abandoned with no contact. Oh well, we all play a bit-part in someone’s story.

It continued on from there, with more comments and almost immediate flirting. I was smitten. So was he. We each talked to our mutual e-friends about each other (*cough*Romi*cough*Talea-even-though-she’s-my-real-friend-too*cough*) while still avoiding the terrifying reality that is turning to someone you have a total crush on and telling them how you feel.

We began talking via msn, and facebook, sending each other long letters every day, sometimes two, or letters so long that facebook insisted on multiple…

…..

Sorry, multiple installments. Got a little distracted there. Ahem.

Right, lots of letters. Paragraph upon paragraph exploring our lives and our very different worlds. Our experiences with life, love and everything in between. In regards to our lives, they were and continue to be very different. We always have something to talk about, even though we’ve reached the point where we’re comfortable just sitting quietly together. In regards to love, we had both been jilted a few times. He had mentioned a few girls, and I disapproved of them – partially because I’m naturally a very judgemental person and mostly because I was already jealous and wanted him for my own. And I was rotating between a few non-committal characters that he could already recognize as completely wrong for me.

I’ve been reading back through our letters, and while I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it became clear that we were head over heels, there was a day where I announced my belief that a horrible joke was being played on us – we would so obviously be together if not for the 800 miles between us. From that point, we gradually changed from friends to more-than-friends with no effort at all. It’s like we had been together all along, and it only made sense. The 800 miles no longer seemed like a factor in a decision. It wasn’t a matter of choosing whether or not to pursue something that was sure to be difficult. It was now a simple fact that we were together, and there was this giant space between us that had to be conquered. We had started dating without having yet met.

On March 11th of this year, after he wrote a long, heartfelt, romantic letter on facebook, promptly had it accidentally erased, and then simply blurted out over msn “I’m in love with you,” Josh and I became an official ‘couple’. It’s awesome. He is awesome. We are awesome. Having Josh has changed me in so many ways for the better, and for once I feel like I’m doing something right. I win. I win, I win, I win I win I win. Whatever lottery or system of karma that determines who we find in life to carry us through, be it luck, destiny, fate, randomness, whatever you feel like calling it, I hit the total jackpot.

And here’s the best part: we’re not just in love (as well as total and complete lust), we’re in like. I *like* Josh. I can fart on him. He can fart on me. I can cry in front of him. I can rant and rave and be a total weirdo. He can insist on ridiculous manly things, be in funny moods, and send me e-cards to inform me that the bird is in fact, the word. He can comment freely on how hot such-and-such an actress is, and I still have my other boyfriends (Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue and George Stroumboulopoulos of CBC’s The Hour – as long as they don’t find out, since people do resort to restraining orders and whatever) because at the end of the day I feel totally secure that Josh is my man and will be there when I need him. Emotional security is not an easy accomplishment for a crazy girl like me, but Josh ninja-kicked his way through and ran off with my heart, leaving me with nothing to say except “Awesome. Count me in.”

*Round of Applause*

So today is not our official one year anniversary, but it’s still a pretty awesome day. Because we’re not just a couple, we’re friends too. And that is totally worth celebrating.