Clean your room

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I talk to both my parents almost every night on the phone. My mom and I talk about lots of stuff. Books, the text conversation I had with my Nana (her mom) this morning, and my sex life. My dad and I talk about other stuff like what we did with our day, how much we slept, and what we’ve eaten that day. Tonight when I spoke to my parents I mentioned to my dad that I needed to wash my dishes again. I’m just one person living in a very small basement suite and I feel like I always have to do dishes. Or clean my bathroom. Basically, I walk behind myself and make messes as I clean.

Now my dad is texting me, asking if I did my dishes (I did) and if my room is clean. My room is sort of clean. I cleaned it yesterday. Except because I have this awesome super power of walking behind myself, making messes as I clean, my room is only “clean enough”. So dad told me to clean my room. Via text message. From over 400 kilometers away.

My first reaction?

xmeh35

 

Except…he’s my dad. And I don’t really want to see what happens if I don’t do as I’m told, so I’m off to clean my room. For the second time in two days.

3.10 – Cleaning

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Most of this used to end up on the floor then get tossed back on the shelf whenever I cleaned.

I am about one of the messiest people that you will ever come across. For the most part it’s not an unsanitary mess, it’s just a lot of clutter on account of me being a little bit of a pack rat. As I’ve grown up my mess has moved from toys, books and forgotten sammiches to being books, clothes and random clutter.

As a result my mom will sometimes clean my room and I do my best to avoid that.

Now that I’m not living at home she waits until I leave for school and then I get a text in the middle of the week saying “I’m sorry” which means she just went in and cleaned my room. Basically she walks into my room and cleans up all the little bits of clutter that drives her crazy. Then I go home on my next break and make another mess.

We’ve gone back and forth like this for a while now. Mom knows that if she wants my room to be clean, she probably has to do it herself because when I clean, I make my room “clean for me” which is a “bloody stinkin’ mess” to her.

I can’t count the number of times my mom has given up on my idea of clean and has charged into my room to clean it herself…including that one time in my first year of university when she cleaned my dorm room in front of my dormmates because it was such a “frickin’ mess”. I helped her, but I wasn’t allowed to stop cleaning once we got to my standard of clean…we had to keep cleaning until she was happy with how tidy my little hole in the wall was. Thusly, I learned my lesson:

When mom comes to visit, clean your room!

So tonight I cleaned my room and it’s…clean compared to what it was before. Sadly, once I hit that point of clean I’ve cleaned my little heart out and I give up. I promise to try and wake up and clean some more and if I don’t…well time with my mom is time with my mom. Even if it’s spent with her telling me to quit screwing around and clean my room!

Day 8.6 – On Muscle Memorization

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The Banana

I’m one of those people who had the “good ole days” of high school and more than that my “glory days” were also in high school. Why? Well, because I played a lot of sports. Basketball, softball, volleyball, rugby and netball all kept me busy throughout my school year. During my regular basketball season I would usually wind up with 3-5 hours worth of cardio exercise squeezed in here, there and everywhere. On a good day I would wind up working out for up to 7 hours. I was so in shape and actually so flexible that I could…bend over backwards!

(I’m the one on the far right)

However, now I’m going on 25 years old and all of those shenanigans are things of my past. I’m no where near as fit as I was in high school and I’d be surprised if I ever got back to that level of fitness. I mean, by my senior year I was living by a Lute Olsen basketball video that said a good post player should be able to run a mile a day…which I did happily, but now that I prefer to think of round as a shape, that mile long run is not going to happen any time soon.

I am happy to report that I am slowly forcing myself back into shape. I’ve banned the idea of “round is a shape” from my mind and I’m attempting to work out on a consistent basis though my work outs are different from the ones I did back in high school. They are slower, more controlled and involve more pain than I remember going through as a teenager. The pain is a given in my mind, however, because since high school I’ve dislocated my right shoulder twice, tore up the ligaments in my right knee and all around damaged and destroyed my body to the point where I can almost feel the rain in my bones now.

The thing that really amuses me though is the fact that my body still remembers how to do everything to an extent. It’s amazing how all the muscle memorization exercises that I put myself through have paid off through out the years. Here, check out the upsides of my muscles instinctively knowing how to do somethings even though I may not mentally be all there through out my growing up years:

High school: No matter how tired I got in high school, I always had perfect form on my foul shot. Not only that, but I could close my eyes while standing on the foul line and consistently sink 6/10 foul shots with my eyes either closed or blindfolded. Yes, I tested this out a number of times just to see if I could do it. I didn’t have much of a life in high school, but whatever I gave a new meaning to “taking a shot in the dark” in my  teenage mind and that was cool enough.

First and Second Years of University: I could do it drunk! It’s not my proudest admission, but there are a couple of instances in my university years where I had a few too many drinks, would get suckered into playing strip something or ruther and would eventually con some over eager guy into playing strip basketball with me. Not only could I make a great foul shot with my eyes closed, but my I had trained my body so well in high school that I could play basketball or basketball shooting games while completely drunk of my ass and actually look sober doing it.

My Early Early Twenties: At this point my parlour tricks of shooting foul shots blindfolded and playing basketball drunk had gotten old. But for intramural and drop in basketball, being able to play basketball with a decent amount of basketball intelligence and not being a total klutz was awesome. In fact, I made a little bit of money off of it in a few cases. For those of you who have seen “White Men Can’t Jump” know how the hustle works. I’d show up at a gym, get onto a pick up team and everyone would whine about having “the girl” on their team…so people would toss some money around and then “Oh snap!” I was actually really good and I’d make a little bit of money for all my troubles. Plus at this point I was still flexible enough that I could bend over backwards and do some other bendy things and I wound up meeting a few men who thought a girl who would literally bend over backwards for them was darn neat.

Image from stacktv.stack.com/Football/Darren-Sharper-Workout/Darren-Sharper-Ladder-Drill-1.html

Present Day Twenties: I’m grossly out of shape. Unless you count round as a shape…then I am very muchly in shape! However, I am banning that way of thinking from my mind, so I’m sticking with the fact that I am grossly out of shape and trying to fix that. I can no longer bend over backwards, but you know what? My body still remembers how to do somethings really well despite the fact that I’ve packed on more pounds than anyone should ever pack on, I’m still somewhat bendy. That and my body is much happier jogging up and down a court dribbling a basketball than it is running on a treadmill. Slowly as I push myself to get into shape, my body is remembering what it feels like to run hard, jump high and do all sorts of other things that I get sore doing…or even just thinking about. I find myself running harder than I had originally planned. I also find myself laughing because I’ve also taken a couple of Zumba classes and in those classes I look like a total fool because I’m a total klutz and can’t seem to wiggle my hips while moving to music even though I can easily work through some old ladder exercises that I have.

My body remembering how to do all the old things that I used to do on a daily basis has been my saving grace in getting back into shape. I honestly think that if I had relearn how to run, jump and move as an athlete I would give up faster than I can say “round is a shape”. Thankfully that’s not the case and all that’s left to do is to get back into shape and try not to giggle as my extra pounds on my butt bounce and jiggle as I work out.

In all seriousness, when I run, jump or walk quickly, I can feel my butt moving. It feels like I have jello stored in my shorts or something.

Day 6.6 – My First Pregnancy Scare

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Shortly after I broke up with my first boyfriend I started getting sick. I was tired all the time, my tummy hurt and I felt like I was going to throw up all day and I’d missed two periods. Oh and my tits hurt like a mother truckers. Seriously, I could barely touch them without wanting to scream in pain. My nipples were worse and I went bra-less everywhere I went and was topless at every opportunity. Now I figured I was just sick because I was living in dorms that summer while I took summer courses and my room was easily 25-30 degrees (Celsius, because I’m Canadian) in the afternoon. Who wouldn’t be sick when you were living in that heat and not eating properly because you had an upset tummy and puked at least once a day?

Now, missing my period wasn’t a big deal to me. In high school I often would miss periods during volleyball, basketball and rugby seasons because I worked out a lot and was constantly stressed because I’m a spazz. So I figured that I was missing periods because I was stressed. I mean I’d just broken up with my boyfriend, was stressed from school and all sorts of other things were going on in my life that left me frazzled. Plus, like I said, I’m a spazz.

I went on like this until I rolled up on the week before missing my third period. I was talking to one of my friends from back home (This friend is now also my dental hygienist) on MSN Messenger and mentioned how I was feeling. Right away she read how I was feeling as something else. Soon another two friends were added to the conversation. Both were friends from back home. One was a new mommy and the other was a good friend from high school. Boy, did I feel like an idiot. I’d reasoned all pregnancy symptoms to other things when chances were, I was knocked up.

Now this was back in 2007 when I’d just turned 20 and hadn’t quite figured out a plan for if I ever wound up preggers. I’d spent the last year in a committed monogamous relationship where we planned on getting married and having a life together. I knew that a pregnancy would eventually happen – either not using condoms (I’ve been on birth control since I was 16) was going to catch up to me or we were probably going to deliberately try to make a baby. But what the frick was I going to do if I wound up knocked up outside of a relationship? Would I turn it into a dumpster baby? Would I have it, keep it, name it and attempt to raise it into functional member of society? Would I have it and let someone adopt my bastard child? The frick would I do if a sea monkey decided to take root in my uterus?

After talking to my friends they had me convinced to take a pregnancy test. The Hygienist insisted that I go and get a test right then and there. She told our other friend to take one and she turned out pregnant. But that other friend is an amazing month. Me on the other hand…I was kind of thinking ignoring the fact that I might be pregnant in the hopes that I might just…pop the thing out in a toilet and I could flush it away. It’s awful I know, but I wasn’t ready to be a parent and attempt to rise a womb monkey and hope that it would be a good person.

In the end though, I bowed to peer pressure and wound up busing to the nearest drug store and picking up three different pregnancy tests. I got home, pulled my friends back into our MSN group chat and sat there reading the instructions for First Response which was going to be the first stick that marked up with my urine. Well, that was the plan until I read that I had to pee on the thing for thirty seconds. Now I had to pee, but hold the phone! I didn’t have to pee that much. I mean my longest ever pee lasted a solid 45 seconds and that was after several litres of water and not being able to pee for thirty minuets. Not only was I potentially knocked up, which was stressful enough, but now I had to try and pee on a stick for a set period of time?

I wasn’t a guy! I didn’t have any practice aiming my pee at anything at any time.

Well my friend solved that by saying that it helped if you peed into a cup and dipped it into there for the amount of time you had to.

That led to my next problem: I didn’t have a cup to pee in. Thus began my search for a cup to pee in. I refused to use any of my cups that I drank from for obvious reasons. After that there were a few slurpee cups laying around from 7/11 but those were kind of sticky and I didn’t feel like washing anything. Maybe I could use my soap container? Eew no. Shampoo bottle that I emptied? Again, I didn’t feel like washing anything. Then my eyes fell on a cup of gum that was in my gym bag. It was Dentyne Fire and I figured that I could empty out the gum, give it a quick rinse and then use it as my pee cup.

This entire time my friends were doing a great job of keeping me relatively calm as I found my pee cup, dumped the gum out of my cup, tossed a couple pieces into my mouth and ran off to my dorm bathroom to pee into my Dentyne pee cup.

Thanks to my friends, I’d gone through the stress of peeing in the cup and then letting the stick season it for the directed amount of time and waited the amount of time it took my urine to tell the stick whether I was knocked up or not. Keep in mind these were also the girls that I peed with behind bushes in high school, strung up tarps horribly while camping in the rain and skipped school with for the bulk of my senior year because KFC fries and gravy were too good to turn down. After that day I also added survived my very first pregnancy scare with despite the fact that I was 400 km away from them.

Naturally I wasn’t pregnant, but frick the idea of knocked up was a frightening one. As it turns out I was suffering from a mild case of heat stroke. Though I still have no idea why my boobs were as sore as they were. That eventually went away too though.

Day 5.6 – I always forget something

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I moved away from home the August after I finished high school. I was 18, I’d packed and loaded up my Uncle’s truck that we were borrowing with all of my stuff. I had everything that I could possibly need living away from home. Teddy bears, blankets, my blankie that I needed to sleep at night and pretty much everything out of my bedroom except for my bed and bedroom door. With all of that in the truck, I was ready to move away from home and start my journey as a pseudo-adult who lived on her own.I kissed my dad goodbye and me, my mom and my sister were on our way.

Or at least we were until we stopped in town to get money out of the bank and my dad drop up behind us.

He approached the truck and leaned in the window and asked if I had everything.

I replied that yes, I did.

Then he asked what I was going to wear.

I replied clothes and turned around to look in the back of the truck and noticed that the suitcase and bags that I’d packed with my clothes weren’t there. I’d forgotten to pack my clothes! All of them. As in, I was on my way to university that was 400km away from my home without any clothes except for what I had on my back. No shirts, no pants, no underwear, no socks. And I needed my socks!

So we turned around, drove back home, picked up my clothes that were packed and waiting for me and we were off again.

Ever since then I seem to have a habit of always forgetting something. No matter how many times I come back to the west coast of BC I have managed to forget to something, be it little, barely noticeable or integral to my existence, I forget one or two or many things. The point is, something always gets left behind. These things include: my dorm room keys, make-up, rugby boots, birth control, a favorite shirt, cell phone charger, glasses, basketball shoes, jackets, pants, my favorite teddy bear, Zoodle, hair ties, head bands, mittens and my wallet.

My mom drove me back to school today and after unpacking and making a right mess of my hobo hole, I came to realize that I’d forgotten two of the things that I really need and want in my life. The first was my Cartman (from South Park) pillow that is soft and covered with my drool so it’s perfect for sleeping on. The second was my iPod touch which has all of my music and is needed so that I don’t kill the people around me when I’m stuck in transit and need something to keep me amused while I wait for my bus or get stuck sitting next to another stinky person.

Sadly when my dad finds out he’s going to call me and tell me that he asked if I had my iPod. Which I thought I had. I was darn certain that it was in my little backpack. Apparently it wasn’t so dad gets to gloat because I forgot something even though he took the time go go everything that I could possibly have forgotten.

As I was heading down the steps to load up the car he asked me if I had my birth control, my books, my chargers, my phone, my iPod, my clothes and everything else that I usually forget to pack. Dad and I do this every single time as I head out the door to leave home once again and every single time I wind up getting a phone call from dad asking me to name what I forgot and then he teases me for forgetting whatever it is that I’ve forgotten.

Someday, I’ll remember everything…but today was not that day.

Day 1.6 – My Top 5 Places in The Greater Vancouver Area

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For those of you who know me, you know that I spend the summer living at home with parents and the rest of the year living in the Greater Vancouver Area while I go to school. I originally moved to Burnaby when I was 18 and a brand spanking new first year student at Simon Fraser University. I lived in dorms then, but my living spaces would shift all over the place. For a time I lived in a basement suite on South Granville, a suite new BCIT, with my then boyfriend just off of Kingsway near Metrotown, just off of Hasting’s and Holdom and a few other places. Since moving away from home I’ve moved 15 different times over the space of just under 6 years. As a result, I’ve fallen in love again and again with the cities that make up the Greater Vancouver Area. Here are my top 5 favorite places in no particular order:

1. 135 and N35 bus routes to and from Simon Fraser University to Downtown Vancouver – Why? Because it’s the most interesting route to take of them all! Not only do you get to see one of my favorite areas of Burnaby along Hastings, but the 135 SFU stops right outside of my favorite used book store which is a walk away from my favorite butcher which is very close to my favorite food market. I love this route simply because it has so much character. From Boundary road on you notice an almost immediate change in the environment as you stop and go along East Hastings and see a place that sells $7 hunting knives, a bar called “Funky Winker Beans” and another used book store that usually has all sorts of treasures in it. However, my favorite reason why I love this bus line is the fact that it often gets the most interesting people on it. I can’t count the number of times I’ve made a new and fun acquaintance or friend while taking a late night 135 or N35 back to SFU. Also the 135 stops near the PNE and a 24 hour sex shop…need I say more?

2. The SFU rooftop above the Maggie Benson Centre – Having lived in 3 separate dorms while going to SFU (Shell House, McTaggart-Cowan Hall and C Tower) I know that SFU can be a sick, sad and very depressing pike of concrete salad. Seriously! Try living on a campus that sometimes looks like it’s trapped in a black and white scary movie where all you ever see is drab buildings with fog always floating around. It’s not fun. There is a big “BUT” to this dreariness,thankfully. You see, in my first year I was awake at 6am every morning to go for a run before my classes started for the day. I would run from residences over to Convocation Mall and up the stairs that led to the koi pond where I would do a Rocky dance at the top of the stairs before turning and running back to residences. It wasn’t a long run, nor was it an interesting one because of all the c-c-c-cold concrete everywhere. So one morning I decided to run back to dorms across the rooftops and wow. I saw a city blanketed with fog so that only the tallest buildings were peaking out of the sea of fog while a vibrant pink sunset shone over top of it all. I fell in love then and there. Whenever I would feel down, needed a place to be alone or was just downright bored, I would head to those rooftops and look out over Vancouver and I would dance. Moments like those demand dancing.

3. The Lonsdale Quay – This was another gem that I discovered in my first year at SFU. I was hung over and visiting a friend and after a stomach rolling Sea Bus ride (I loved the Sea Bus despite that) I stumbled into the Quay. After quickly exploring the market and nearly barfing from the smell of all the fresh seafood, I went off to meet my friend with a self promise that I would be back. And hours later, I was back and fully exploring this new world within a world. I got fresh, but expensive fruit, chocolate peanut butter cups and a cute necklace for a dormmates up and coming birthday. It’s actually where I go to buy fresh pasta whenever I’m in the mood to actually cook a great bowl of pasta. Mostly I just like the market atmosphere and will usually make my way out to the Lonsdale Quay once or twice a month just to hang out with myself and sometimes others. That and I’m always interested in seeing all the different fish on display and am convinced that someday I will make myself eat something seafoody from there…someday.

4. Waves Coffee House on Hastings and Richards – I didn’t find this place until well into my third year at SFU. At the time I was living at SFU and working at Vera’s Burger Shack down in South Granville. It was a freaking one and a half hour commute! On two buses! My long commute led to me pushing to work longer shifts which led to me working closing shifts. Thankfully I had friends in low places who were more than happy to meet up with me after my closing shifts and drink the rest of the night away…or at least until I had to leave to catch the last N35 bus home. One of these particular nights I needed to detour from my usual route because I had to pee and I had to pee “RIGHT NOW!” as I yelled at a friend over my phone while I frantically tried to remember where I last put the 7/11 that was close to my bus stop. I searched high and low while steadfastly refusing to pee in an alleyway as my friend was urging me to do. Finally, as my bladder was about to burst from the 7 or 8 double vodka/Red Bull’s that I’d downed, I found salvation. It’s name was Waves Coffee House and it was open 24/7 and had a washroom. And brownies. How can you beat fresh baked brownies, a clean toilet and free wireless internet? At that moment I didn’t think that you could and I swear the angels sang as I sat there peeing to my hearts content with a fresh and chocolatey brownie safely stowed in my shoulder bag. Waves also turned out to be a great place to hide from the world and pull an all nighter writing a paper though it still mostly remains a drunken pit stop so that I can pee and get my brownie.

Image from platypuscreative.com/clientsites/cityviewterraces/neighbourhood.htm

5. Commercial Drive – Seriously, grab yourself, grab a friend, grab a pet or grab a stranger and walk along Commercial Drive. I started visiting here after I’d failed out of SFU and had started taking courses at Douglas College. For whatever reason I was making my way to work at Vera’s one day when I realized that I’d taken the day off the week before for whatever reasons I scheduled days off from work. I was bored and figured that since I was out of the house I might as well go and get Booster Juice. I flipped a coin and wound up at the Booster Juice location that’s right inside the Commercial Drive skytrain station. From there I noticed a clothing store that looked interesting and from there I noticed…lots of places that looked interesting. I’m actually still exploring C-Drive, but every time I go back I find something new and fun whether it’s great donairs, a fun cafe or just really fun people who I make silly faces at for the Hell of it. There isn’t enough I can say for this stretch of street except that you should just go there.

There you have it! 5 favored places of a 20-something Burnaby girl! They may not be the most awesomerest thing you can do while visiting Vancouver and area, but to me, they’re among the best way to spend your time, smiles and bladder.

 

 

Note: I’ve been sick and sleeping through my usual writing time and anything that I’ve written has been sub-par and therefore not posted. Trying to develop this habit of writing every day is tough to say the least. However, I am determined that by the end of this ear, my something everyday will be as natural to me as shooting free throws and farting.

 

Day 3.5 – Condom Shopping

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Of all of my periods that I have ever gotten, I easily remember my third one. That’s the one where my mom figured out what was happening. We were driving home one night and I was sitting in the back seat and we had this extremely awkward coming of age talk that mothers have with their daughters when their daughters start their monthly reenactment of a volcanic eruption…except it’s upside down. The gist of the conversation was that if I ever thought anything was wrong then I should talk to my mom. I was eleven at the time and I didn’t have a whole lot to say to my mom since I’d yet to lose any shame that I had for whatever brief period of time that I had it. It was just a damn awkward moment to say the least.

But it wasn’t the most awkward. Having my dad on one side of the underwear section of a Wal-Mart, holding up a bra and shouting “HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?!” during my very first bra shopping trip might have been the most awkward moment of them all. However, for every awkward and embarrassing moment that I had as a pre-teen and teen meant that as an adult I would be comfortable with a lot of things. Bra shopping (It was a big deal for me because I didn’t want to start wearing bras), buying tampons, getting on the pill and staying on the pill and condom shopping.

One condoms are my favorites...they're pretty.

As my life worked out, being able to buy condoms turned out to be a skill that was much needed among myself and several of my first and second year friends. Not only that, but my comfort level with condoms was a huge asset for me and my friends. After countless trips with my dad and my sister down the “Family Planning” aisle to look at and buy condoms for our various jokes, I was ok strutting into any store and buying  a box of condoms. Sure, I was more comfortable turning condoms into balloons and science projects, but after watching my friends walk into a store to pick up a box of condoms and then fill a basket with all sorts of useless crap to hide the fact that they were buying baby stoppers I was happy for this skill I’d acquired.

One of my favorite outtings was with a girl that I lived with in dorms who was planning on having sex for the first time. We went to a Shoppers Drug Mart that was near SFU campus and my friend being the shy and easily embarrassed girl that she was, wanted to go look at everything else in the store. Suddenly she needed cover up, shampoo, batteries, toilet paper and all sorts of little things that are useless and way to expensive for an average student to be buying at Shoppers. Finally I managed to drag her to the condom section in the store and not only was the poor girl freaked out at the prospect of having to buy condoms, but she looked so damn squirrely that a security guard kept walking past us as we stood there quietly arguing over whether or not she was actually going to buy any condoms.

While I was waiting for her to actually build up the courage to look directly at the condoms, I grabbed a box of my favorite brand of rubbers and tossed them into my basket. I love One condoms. They’re pretty and they come with a cute case that I now have a small collection of. I even tried to collect the wrappers for a short period of time because they were all really neat looking, but I soon realized how icky and weird that was so I tossed out the 30-odd wrappers that I’d accumulated.

It literally took my friend 15 minuets to work up the courage just to pick out a box of sperm dams and by that time a security guard had come and stood at the end of the aisle we were in watching us. I think he was waiting for us to do something bad so after making sure my friend hadn’t picked out crappy condoms (She chose a box of Durex…the ultra thin kind) I dragged her up to the cash register to traumatize her by making her pay for her little box of naughty deeds on her own. As we were leaving the aisle I glanced over my shoulder, saw the security guard was still glaring at us so I did the only thing that I could do:

I mooned him.

And was promptly asked to leave the store which left my poor friend to pay for her anti-pregnancy devices on her own.

It took her 20 minuets and she came out with 6 bags full of stuff…but at least she got her condoms, yea?