The one where I’m 18 and got Chinese food

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One of the first four courses that I took in university was Enlgish – Introduction to Fiction. I don’t remember a lot except we read an essay about how male dominated sports are a mans way to express his homosexual yearnings in a heterosexual environment. Oh and I met this girl named Amy from a small town near my small town and apparently at some point I hit her younger sister in the face with a volleyball during a game. She was an average girl who you never would have payed attention to until she laughed. Because when she laughed, she snorted and brayed like a donkey. She said it was the only way to laugh: To find something so funny that you lose control of what you’re doing and you just let it all out. Except for peeing when you’re in public because that’s hard to explain.

Her words, not mine.

Amy and I were close for a semester. We often ate dinner before our night classes (Mine was a horrific 3 hour long Linguistics lecture and her’s was a 2 hour English lecture) and spent a fair amount of time studying together. One week I missed our English lecture together and she took notes for me and brought me food while I pathetically huddled in my bed. That Thursday when I was feeling relatively human she brought down the usual gross fare that came from the SFU dorm dining hall. It was pasta of some sort in a white sauce that looked like great heaping globs of sperm and all we could do was sit in my bed staring at our plates.

Amy – “It looked better in the dining hall.”
Me – “I’m craving Chinese food.”

So I pulled on a pair of grungy jeans and an even grungier zip up hoodie and we hopped on a bus to Downtown Vancouver. I have no idea where we were going, or anything about where she was leading me, but according to her the best Chinese food that I’d ever had was at this place and it was dirt cheap too. I said it was because the cat was sub-par and she replied that they skimp on the cat a little, but they have such big portions that it’s worth it.

By the time we found the best Chinese food that I’ve ever had and it’s establishment, I was tired from the walking and had popped a little bit of a fever. So we ordered everything to go and started on our way back to our bus. Except that I was so tired that I didn’t want to do the 10 minuet walk so we started to look for a bus that would take us in that general direction or would take us back to campus or to somewhere that we knew would get us back to campus. Instead when we were walking up a street to a bus stop because we saw that it went to Metrotown, we came across a sex shop.

Now at this time, I was 18. One of the highlights of turning 18 for me was the fact that I could go into sex shops and buy porn. I mean, what the heck else was I supposed to do with my drivers license that declared me an 18 year old to all those who dared to look? Vote? No! To me, being 18 meant I should abuse my powers to go into sex shops, 7/11’s and book stores and buy porn.

So we rolled into this shop and started to look around. Now compared to the nicer stores that I’d been in up to this point, this places was kind of gross. I want to say it had a “seedy” feeling to it, but that would just be an almost lame descriptor to use because I swear there was an juice spattered on these walls. It was dingy, the toys looked scary, the guy behind the counter looked like a serial killer with a foot fetish (feet are gross, by the way) Amy was upset that she could see no obvious glory hole anywhere. But to make up for it’s lackings, the place had an incredible rental collection of porn that went all the way back to the 80’s.

For whatever reason, Amy and I wound up looking at all the videos. It was a 2 for 1 rental night and the videos had a 7-day return on them. I think that was the reason because we thought it was an awesome deal to pay $5 to see two pornographic movies of our choosing. The guy at the  til just stood there watching us as we debated what to rent.

Me – “How about this one? It looks like the girl is Chinese.”
Amy – “No, it says on the back she’s Japanese. Have you ever mixed Chinese food with Japanese porn?”
Me – “Umm, I don’t believe I have.”
Amy – “Me neither, but if it’s like mixing chicken chow mien with sushi covered in wasabi, I don’t think it’ll be good.”
Me – “Well, what would go good with Chinese food?”

Amy just shrugged. At this point I was feeling dizzy and kind of just wanted to go back to dorms so that I could eat and sleep. While watching porn. I was in the store and dangit, I wanted to be ID’d. So I turned to the man behind the counter who I figured was going to kidnap us and cut off our feet and we’d have to be avenged by some sort of Russian mafia because Amy was some guys daughter and tried to ask him as politely as I could, “Excuse me? What would you recommend to watch while eating Chinese food.”

He just stared at me while Amy and I stared at him and I hoped I could move quicker than Amy so that I could escape because she had the Russian mafia to save her or avenge her as the situation needed. Then I realized that I was bigger than Amy and should probably stay and help defend ourselves if our feet were about to be cut off. But as it turns out, I didn’t need to worry because with out missing a heartbeat the guy looked at me with this “WTF MATE?” expression on his face before he mumbled quietly, “Anything off the far right rack, I guess.”

Which was full of old timey porn so we picked out something with Ron Jeremy in it and one that had a photo of a woman on the cover who had the biggest bush of pubic hair that either of us had ever seen.

After getting asked to show our identification and getting a rental card for the store, Amy and I went back to dorms to curl up in her bed (She had a TV with a VHS attached to it), watch our movies and eat our very cold Chinese. Except I wound up taking two bites of our chop suey and promptly passed out before the first scene was over.

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Still Scared of Midgets

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A while back I wrote about my top five fears. One of those fears was midgets. Seriously, when I get near a little person I have this instinct to either kick them or hide. But since I can’t kick them and usually can hide from them (they fit all the places I can go and probably are small enough that they can hide in my hiding spot) I get nervous that they’re going to attack. I become this paranoid wreck thinking that I’m going to die in the next ten minuets. And then I start to hyperventilate.

Sometimes I wish I could kick any midget that I see so that I wouldn’t have to look like I was having some sort of bad drug trip in public.

I should take this moment to say that I have nothing against little people. I’m just freaking terrified of abnormally short people and I don’t know why.

So imagine my horror when I started to read George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones series and a midget is one of the story tellers…I’ll give you a minuet to imagine that. For those of you who don’t know me: I have an overactive imagination. After watching The Hills Have Eyes 2 with my dad I refused to wander away from him when we went woodcutting later that day for fear of one of us being snatched. The couple time I’ve been in the states, I refuse to walk near those freaky storm drains because I’m scare the clown from IT will snatch me and kill me. Oh and once I read some horror novel by Richard Laymon when I was living alone and had to make a friend come spend the night with me because I nearly peed myself in fear every time I heard a noise that wasn’t my blaring TV that I’d turned on to keep me safe. I’ll give you another minuet to imagine what I’d be like having to read about a midget every other chapter for an entire series…

The first night after starting the series and reading about the Imp, I had nightmares about midgets chasing me and cutting off my skin to wear as a kilt. It has nothing to do with what I had read, but the idea of midgets were in my head and…*SHUDDER*…it was enough. I had to do something to get the image of a cunning little person trying to stab me in my sleep.

So I starting picturing Tyrion as the midget from the Austin Powers movies.

It sort of ruins the books because they keep writing about how he looks and I sort of skip over those parts so that I can keep imagining Mini Me plotting, scheming and waddling about because…

Well, because these books are so freaking good that I can’t put them down.

Have you ever pictured a character in a novel differently from the way he or she or it was described? How come?

How Apple Trees Grow

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The other day I was driving with my Nana on our old dirt road and I was totally loving how my life was a country song at that moment when Nana started talking about all of the apple trees growing.  Just picture me and my little Nana in my dad’s green Intrepid, with Starships by Nicki Minaj quietly playing in the background and the air conditioner on full. There we were, bumping over some train tracks while Nana pointed out where one apple tree after another was growing.

The only apple trees I remember in that area were the ones in my Great Grandma’s orchard. So I was a little confused about where the Hell all of these apple trees were suddenly popping up.

Me – I don’t remember these trees as a kid.
Nana – They just started popping up the last few years. The apples over there are just hard and sour.
Me – Really? Maybe the deer like them at least?
Nana – There’s another one growing just down the tracks.
Me – Seriously, where the heck are all these trees growing from? There’s a tree on our road at home too! How do they randomly pop up?
Nana – (As she’s giggling to herself) Don’t ya know? They grow from bears poop!

I just sat there blankly for a second wondering how apple trees grow from bear poop when it hit me…

Me – Ohhh! The seeds in the bears poop! Really, Nana?! Really?! From bears poop?
Nana – Yep. From bears poop.

We both sat there giggling and I thought it was awesome to know how apple trees come to randomly grow all over the place. Out of their butts and into our mouths, look out orchard people and let the bear show you hows!

Another first

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Today was another first for me. Not only that but I was a lesson in patience that I don’t have. Seriously too! As I sat there making my first pine needle basket ever I was losing my mind. It took every silly thought in my head not to toss my little basket down and scream TO HELL WITH THIS! I was determinded to see my basket complete and say that I made my first ever pine needle basket. I started it and I was going to finish it.

One lady in the immersion course that I’m a part of said it was like a form of meditation while I thought it could be used as a future punishment. Obviously that woman is a better woman than I. Or she is at least a good person while I am an impatient one.

But you know what? I’m actually really proud of myself for this first accomplishment and plan to tackle this same challenge in a few weeks…except my next basket will look a little better. Hopefully.

If not then I know I wasn’t meant for basket making.

Which makes me giggle and remember a conversation I had with an elder once who was trying to teach me how to weave a cedar hat:

Elder – You have no patience or hands for this art!
Me – I have no patience for anything!
Elder – What would your ancestors say if they could see you now? One of their grandchildren so impatient and crazy.
Me – If they’re my ancestors, they probably saw this coming.

The elder laughed and said I had a good point. Though to be honest cedar weaving isn’t one of my peoples traditional things so I wasn’t putting a lot of effort into it. That and I’m sure my ancestors would have loved me just as I am.

Crazy basket making and all. 

A Life Skill

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When I was in high school I had to take Shop 08 as a requirement in my grade 8 year. It sucked. The teacher hated me because he didn’t like my older cousin and I’m sure he had every right to feel that way about my cousin, but not about me. It sucked having the wrong last name when I was in that class. However, after having homeroom with Mr. B and being force to take Shop with him, anything my cousin did to piss him off, he deserved. I also think who ever hired the guy should be shot. Who hires a SHOP TEACHER who says he lost his finger in a SHOP ACCIDENT?

I spent most of my time napping in the paint room because said shop teacher had almost cut my fingers off while I was using the band saw or ban saw or whatever it’s called to work on one of my projects and then yelled at me for being stupid. I WASN’T THE MORON THAT ALMOST KNOCKED A STUDENTS HAND INTO A RUNNING SAW. I was pretty sure then as I’m still sure now that he was jealous of my fingers.

The entire term I had to spend in this guys class sucked besides the naps I took in the paint room. But seriously, who hides in a room meant for painting? The girl that hates her shop teacher that’s who. I learned absolutely nothing because I wasn’t allowed to use any machinery after that and barely passed the class. And the only reason why I passed was because I made a lovely engraving on a scrap piece of wood and had one of the guys in my class make me a ring to hand in.

With that said, Shop was a really useless class for me that could have been easily replaced by. Something. The other week when dad and I got a flat tire on our way back from fishing on some lake on some backroad, I definitely wished that I knew how to change a tire so that I could have been a little helpful to my dad. Except I napped in a paint room instead of learning useful things like changing tires. Not that it would have been much use to me since finding the jack took us forever and changing tires on trucks these days is an epic adventure in and of itself.

But still, it would have been nice to know the basics of tire changing!

What about you? Did you have a class in school that you wish had been replaced with a useful life skill?

The First Time

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Have you ever done something for the first time and realized that what you just did is something you totally should have wanted to do because it was just that awesome? For me the first time a moment like this happened to me was when I was on a ferry to Victoria, BC to visit my Aunt and younger cousin. That was when I saw a killer whale up close and personal for the first time. I mean, like many kids before me I’d seen killer whales in the Free Willy movies, but I’d actually never really seen one. And it was freaking amazing. I was in total awe the entire time when I saw a pod of these gorgeous creatures swimming alongside my ferry. But had I never seen the whales in my entire life, I never ever would have said to myself, “I want to see killer whales for real reals.”

I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.

I plan to travel to the Vatican someday.

I went to Mexico because I wanted to see the cenotes.

There are lots of things that I want to do. Want to see. And plan on seeing and doing, but there are probably twice as many life experiences that are just as amazing that I haven’t thought of.

Like seeing my first turtles! Up until this past week I’d never seen any turtles that I can recall.

I named him Mort for the brief period of time that I had him.

Then on Wednesday when my supervisors, co-workers and I were driving up Dunn Lake Road and past the Frog Pond, I saw turtles! Just seeing turtles for real reals was pretty awesome since I’ve only ever seen them in pictures, on TV or in movies. Naturally I wanted to get out of the truck and try to catch one…or at least get close to one. Because I’m curious like that. I have a friend who lives in Louisiana who tells me about how he and his brothers go out catching turtles and frogs to eat. THEY MAKE TURTLE SOUP! As in, they catch and kill the turtles and cook them in their shells. Though according to him, that rarely ever happens and they mostly just catch hundreds of frogs. So I wanted to see what my friend claims is a delicacy in his world. Ya know…to figure out if I ever wanted to put turtle on my future menus.

And that’s why PETA will someday kill me.

However, shortly after seeing my first turtles, we were driving along some back roads when my co-worker calmly said “Oh look a turtle.”

My supervisor that was driving ask/shouted, “Where?!”

In a deadpan voice my CW replied “Under the truck now.”

Immediately breaks were slammed on and I sat waiting to jump out of the truck to catch me a turtle. As soon as the truck stopped, I was stumbling out of the truck and I don’t remember what I said because I was just so darn excited about catching this turtle that I went running after it as quick as I could tumble and fall away from the truck and after it. And damn, could that turtle move! I vaguely remember thinking these things were supposed to be slow while I ran after it and my older cousin (she’s all of three days my senior) shouted warnings at me.

“Be careful!”

“Don’t let it bite you!”

“Grab it between the legs!”

“WATCH IT’S TOES!”

I caught up to the turtle, asked if I could pick it up and wondered to myself, REALLY?! IT’S TOES?! Though I’m glad she warned me about it’s toes because they were topped off with these vicious claws that I never would have noticed if she hadn’t hollered about it’s toes. Serious, those things were sharp and I have a couple of small scratches on my left hand to prove it. Because that’s what happens when you don’t watch a turtles toes closely enough.

So yeah, I got scratched by a turtle for the very first time and I even thought that was pretty darn cool. I mean, I got to pick up and hold a turtle for the first time in my life so a couple owies were totally worth it. Again, this is why PETA will someday try to kill me. Or at least hunt me down and splash paint on me. Totally worth it though because that turtle was pretty fracking cool.

They wouldn’t let me bring the turtle back home even though I named him Mort and promised to give him a good life. So I wound up putting him back in the ditch beside the road so that we could go on our merry way, doing all the other things we were out to do that day even though they wouldn’t be as spectacular as catchin’ me some turtle good times.

Though once I was back in the truck and could think about the creature I’d just held in my hands I was able to decide that turtles would not be good eatin’.

Why I Buy Books

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Why do I buy books? Sure there are a few books that I own as e-book and I love having lots of my favorite novels ready to read and always at my finger tips because they’re on my phone…but there are just so many amazing reasons why going to a book store should never die out. Here are my top 5 reasons why I’ll always buy books from the book stores:

5. Used books stores are some of the most magical places to visit – I remember when I was in New Orleans for Mardi Gras and I went into this second hand book store. And there were books stacked everywhere. There was a rolling ladder attached to a wall full of books. Books were stacked on the ground, on chairs and jammed into every available bit of shelf space that there was. It was freaking magical and I can say that because I was neither high nor drunk for this experience. And the best used book stores are like this. If these die out, I’m sure the world will die too.

4. My smutty romance novels should have all the steamy parts dog-eared – Not lying. I’m just saying. That’s how it should go.

3. I need something to do when the power goes out or I get stuck in the middle of no where – I can remember this horrifying Greyhound bus trip where we were stuck on this snowy highway for like and hour and a half because a storm had blown through and covered the highways in several feet of snow. But I was ok. Do you know why? Because not only did I have copious amounts of homework to keep me busy, but because I had a good book to read even though my mp3 player and phone were dead.

2. I can highlight, dog-ear and write in the columns of my book all I want – I’ve tried doing this with my eReader apps on my phone and iPod but it’s just freaking annoying. I should be able to curl up with a good and thought provoking book, highlighter and pens at the ready and be able to jot things down, mark pages up and dog ear entire chapters at my will…instead of fighting with my app so I can make a three word comment on a paragraph.

1. It’s better than buying drugs – I mean, I save a lot of money buying books electronically. Almost 50% on every book actually. So for every $10 book I buy online, I save $5. That adds up after a while. What would I do with that kind of money? It sounds like  a gateway habit for harder things like snorting Pixie Sticks and getting hopped up on pain killers. Or whatever it is kids my age do these days. I mean from what I can tell, everything is a gateway for harder stuff like shooting up crytalized Moon Shine. So world, YOU’RE WELCOME. I am one more person in this world doing their part to not do drugs. Sort of. Maybe. Whatever. The point is, I’d rather spend my money on books than anything else and that’s great.