Rules to live by when using Public Bathrooms

Alright.

Things are going to get a bit personal in this post, and I apologize in advance if I inadvertently offend anyone, but I really think that an overview of bathroom etiquette is in order.

The other day I was in Church, minding my own business, chilling, praying dutifully and having a good time, when my bladder suddenly sucker punched me, immediately prompting me to find the nearest bathroom.

I hurried to the washroom after the homily and quickly found that a fellow parishioner had followed me, and, although there was approximately 8-10 stalls free, she inevitably chose the stall next to mine.

Here are a few simple rules when using public washrooms (restrooms, for all of my kind American readers.)

1)   Do choose the farthest stall if you are alone with one other person. If there are multiple people using the bathroom, take the stall that is furthest from the action. Taking a stall that is next to another person, when it isn’t an absolute necessity is just plain inconsiderate and obnoxious. Some of us have shy bladders.

2)   Under no circumstance should you sit on a public toilet.

3)   Under no circumstance should you use your hand to flush said toilet. Use your foot to lightly and respectfully tap the lever. Be respectful of new techno-smart toilets. There are 2 modes. Figure which mode best suits your needs.

4)   If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie.

5)   Make polite but uninviting eye contact if you feel someone else’s eyes on you when washing hands. Don’t promote conversation.

6)   If conversation is inevitable, keep it light and minimum. There’s nothing worse (aside from having girl-talk in the bathroom at three in the morning after a night out on the town) than sharing your life story or catching up on the past two years with someone you have coincidently reconnected with in the bathroom.

7)   Wash your hands. Wash with soap and warm water, preferably for at least 30 seconds or for as long as “happy birthday” takes you to hum.

8)   Don’t hum “happy birthday” out loud. If, for some reason, you do feel the sudden urge to start humming, the only acceptable song style is something catchy and fun loving, like John Denver’s “County Roads.” The tune has to be infectious and put others at ease.

9)   Don’t use the air blow dryers to dry your hands. Bathrooms never change the filters on those beastly things and so the past 10 years of grime and extricated particles will soil your already clean hands. You’ll have to wash and hum “happy birthday” once again. Totally inefficient.

10)   Do air dry your hands, or use the least amount of paper towel to dry off. Paper towel will just dehydrate your hands out, and although I am from Alberta, it is a popular misconception that we don’t care about the environment.

11)  If you have opted to use the paper towel, it is acceptable to reuse it again to dodge touching the door handle with your hand while leaving the bathroom. Look for the nearest garbage can however, as it can get tricky in throwing the paper towel out.

12) Walk quickly away and rejoin your friends as if you weren’t just in an area that could most likely both birth the cure and cause of most major diseases known to man today.

Hope this helps!

Happy Easter!

Wear extremely dark sunglasses when dancing with me

So,

I know that I haven’t really been friendly with this here lil ol blog, but truth be told, I’ve been running around like a chicken some sort of rabid bird without a head and have only now had a second to catch my breath to reattach said head.

I’ve been too busy to stop and smell the roses make a snowman, but something happened to me the other day that was so truly earth shatteringly, life-changing, mind-blowingly destructive that I have found myself just having to get this confession off of my chest.

To spit the truth, my entire world has been turned upside down. It’s made me question why bad things happen to good people; why life has to be so hard sometimes when all we try and be is good, generous, wholesome role models.

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I’m white.

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I mean, really, really, really white.

Like, stereotypical white.

I found out, in the most humiliatingly possible way, in front of large group, that I have absolutely no rhythm. I can’t keep a beat to save my life; I can’t even count the beat on a beat. I can’t move my feet in a seductive yet funky “I don’t care, I’m just gunna dance and pretend as though I don’t see you starting at me” kinda way. I just totally am terrible. And –I’m guessing this is why I found out- but I had to experience this revelation while being completely sober. Now, truthfully, I have danced while being sober. I love dancing; its fun and I feel like I’m expressing myself in some weird primal way. Like, I’m channeling my ancestors through dancing to Fergie’s auto tuned voice on” My Humps” or whatever.

Hell, half the time I go to a bar now I’m either drinking diet coke or Perrier. I served my mandatory 8 hours in Grade 10 gym class in the “social dance” unit, okay? My box step is nothing to laugh at; my square-like pattern is down packed, a few partners even told me that I’ve got exceptionally soft hands, alright? Like, before two days ago, I thought I was a somewhat competent untrained dancer.

God, how I was wrong.

So where do I start?

A few months ago, I was speaking with my good friend and adoptive mother, Cara Button, about the services offered at a local gym in Calgary. She confided that her daughter loves to attend step aerobic classes; she told me a little bit about how they work and how much she hates them because they inevitably make her feel as though she has two left feet. More often than not, she leaves within the first five minutes and heads over to a treadmill.

“Oh yeah, that sucks,” I replied, completely smug, thinking to myself, “well, I am 21 and an athlete… those step classes sound fun and how hard could they actually be? I run hills for forty five second at a time, and stepping up on a little plastic platform, dancing to upbeat music, doesn’t necessarily sound all that debilitating.”

I know, I know. Looking back now, I was one egotistical ignorant little wench.

Honestly, within thirty seconds of entering into the room and getting ready within my spot, feeling the music, looking at all the Lululemon clad women around me, I thought to myself, “I should have taken Cara’s advice.”

Within a minute and a half, I had already had an eureka moment, telling myself,

“take everything in; forget nothing. You have to document this for your thousands of readers. This episode needs to be blogged about.”

Within two minutes I was seriously questioning my dancing ability.

Within five minutes I was seriously contemplating my basic coordination.

Within six minutes I was seriously reflecting on my whole entire existence.

It’s such an incredibly harsh reality, finding out that you have no rhythm, no sex appeal, no coolness factor on a dance floor.

While the instructor was shouting instructions over the music, insightful things like, “step, step, stomp, chasse!” I had to ask myself, what the hell does chasse even mean anyways? After poking around the Internet for a meager few seconds, I learnt that it means, “to chase”.

In that case, my chasses were the best of all time because I was chasing not only the beat, but also all of my classmates away.

Never have I been so utterly angry and upset with my parents for not putting me in anything artistic when I was younger. I really don’t know why, either. I would have loved to have done ballet, and instead, I found myself practicing the trumpet, (don’t judge, that only lasted a few months). Even today, I consider myself more of an artist than an athlete. One of my great passions in life is acting; I love the theatre and everything to do with film and media. I want to dedicate my life to it after I’m done skating around in a counterclockwise fashion! I guess my artistic zeal is just an inevitable result of the lack of artistic outlets within my childhood.

I would like to think that I have found a new special friend in Elaine, with her “little kicks,” catchy ability to rhyme, and overly ambitious nature to start the dancing at any given party, I think we could become good friends.

But then again, maybe not; she does live in New York, and I’m here in Calgary, working at a sport that looks so beautiful on ice: powerful, sleek and effortless, but leaves your dancing ability completely bankrupt.

Ghost riding the whip is better anyways…

Alright. So now that we got all of that hooplah outta the way… I think it’s only fitting to rip into a select group of people that the dailyabuce just can’t stand/understand. We’ve tried, we’ve failed, and we’ve decided to come out throwing punches.

We’re talking about those who feel the need to hang large, metallic testicles off of the back of one’s often oversized and monstrous gas guzzling truck. Like, seriously, if these people don’t make you say the unabbreviated version of WTF, I really don’t know what will. What in the hell are they thinking? What could possibly ever make anyone think that hanging such a monstrosity off of their car is a good idea? Like, think of this: these people actually had to search, most likely on the internet or dare I say, even in the telephone book, a store in which would sell such an IQ-demoting product. Once they find such a high-class retailer, they either have to order it, or physically pick up the said product, face a real-live salesperson, and then actually pay for these balls.

What are they trying to prove? Or better yet… what are they trying to hide?

Is this a phenomenon that’s only apparent in Alberta? Like, is it only a redneck thing, or is it just a loser thing? Because I know a lot of conservative high strung Albertans that haven’t, and will never, stoop to that level.

I mean, come on, are witty bumper stickers that out of date that people feel the need to hang a big ol’ pair of ???? to make a point?

We just don’t get it.

Is Mother Nature’s vacuum on? Cus this weather sucks!

Gentle Readers,

as you may have noticed… it has taken me quite some time to rev up the blog again. Although my mind and spirit has been with you all, feeling stranded and alone without ye here lil ol’ blog, my fingers simply wouldn’t dance over my keyboard.

SO,

with that being said, I’m going to start off talking about something simple, moody,  forever reinventing/changing itself and frequently angry…

THE WEATHER!

For all y’all readers that aren’t situated in Calgary… let me assure you, the weather here has sucked. The running joke, in which I never tire of, even though it has never been funny, goes something like this:

“Oh hey _____! Whatsup? What have you been up to this summer?”

To which then ______ replies:

“What summer?”

Hahaha…. yes. Okay, I know… it’s stupid , it’s lame, it isn’t even in the least bit entertaining… but for some reason we all still chuckle and roll our eyes.

The fact of the matter is, the weather in Calgary has sucked. And I don’t mean to sound spoiled and bratty because I do know how lucky I am and how much I have to live for, case in point:

The Stampede, chewing gum, apples, horses, Indian Food, and Tetris.

But really, let’s get real here. The weather in Calgary has sucked!

I came from beautiful Thailand in which I would sip pina coladas and sun myself with a mist bottle and pool boy, into a city in which had thundershowers, tornado warnings, June snowfalls, and vampire-calibre mosquitoes.

So, when I saw two rainbows yesterday, and then stumbled across this little video today, I thought to myself: I’M INSPIRED! I’VE GOTTA WRITE ON THE BLOG! THIS IS PHENOMENAL!

It’s funny because this video is basically my exact reaction in laying witness to those beautiful rainbows last night. After a cold, windy, and oft times wet Tuesday, two gorgeous rainbows sprung out over my house, and I simply. went. mental. I laughed, I danced, I searched for the gold, and I took numerous pictures (of which I’ve now since deleted).

So please, I’m begging you. If there’s anyway in which was can change this weather- to make it warmer somehow- you have my full fledged support! Is global warming such a bad thing when it’ll provide you with a tan?

I propose that we let the politicians of this city know that we’re fed up with this terrible Edmontonesque weather. Let the cities of the North deal with this disastrous climate… and leave me in peace to my pina coladas and pool boys!

So, looking through the list of possible Calgary mayor candidates, I stumbled across this little doozie. His name is Wayne Stewart and he promises to “Make Calgary Great“. Well, in all honesty, Calgary can’t truly be great until our weather is great. I’m personally going to write him a letter suggesting that he fix this depressing weather, or he’s going to lose my vote. I hope you all make the right decision and join me.

http://waynestewart.ca/(S(glza5u550ew45n55sylpvn45))/NewsDetail.aspx?ID=17

Get R Done!

Quick look over here!

Okay, alright already!

You can all stop your moaning and complaining… ahem, Jamie Gregg. I get it. I haven’t written in like, forevskies a whole week. I know, I know… it’s called the daily A-Buce, I’m SORRY. I’m only human, alright? I actually do a number of things outside of skate around in circles and write on this here lil ol’ blog.

So. I hope you’ve forgiven me, and if you haven’t, I hope the following update and rant will change your mind and soften your heart. I know the following is going to upset quite a few people, but I need to address this very serious matter.

So, first off, let me update you with all the fascinating happenings swirling around my life.

I had a hard week of training, and I’m really happy about it. I started off with some starts, solid weights, and then transitioned into some quick aerobic intervals. On Wednesday I had one of the hardest practices I’ve had for probably three or four  months: breakdowns. Now, for those of you that don’t know what a “breakdown” is, look no further than Winona Ryder, just know that they aren’t very fun.

It’s very likely that skating breakdowns (for a sprinter) is one of the most destructive and humbling programs known to our thunder thighs and central nervous systems. To give you a subtle hint, after skating my first (of two) breakdowns, I tried to put on my guards and ended up falling down like a newborn bambi because my legs had simply had enough. Under no circumstance did they want to hold me anymore. Ha. Just another Wednesday at the oval…

I then was granted a nice and relaxing Thursday in which I just had a ride and stretch. Friday was an abstract form of pre-race as my legs still didn’t want to cooperate from Wednesdays destruction and the ice (at 7AM) was looking more like the Calf Robe bridge at 4PM on Calgary’s first snow fall. (AKA, it was slow, sketchy, and scary.)

So… with such an interesting lead up to a “training” race, I polished off the week with about two handfuls of Bridge Mixture too many, which I believe may have influenced my weight by 5 to 10 lbs. Hurray! Perfect racing, here I come!

I went to the Oval today with somewhat of a lacklustre attitude. It’s not that I didn’t want to race, I honestly just felt unmotivated. I won’t lie, I didn’t step onto the ice with racing in my heart. I wasn’t feeling absolutely terrible physically, but mentally, I was lacking from all of the commotion last week and this week’s intensive training. I wasn’t aggressive, and I was flat the whole race. Understandably, everyone has races like I did today- if you don’t, you’ll get bored with skating, realllllly quickly.

Although I’m feeling pretty meloncholy right now, I’m happy that today I was granted a first hand experience of how much faster I believe that I can skate. I had a crappy race today. Thats it and thats all. It showed me that even when I’m off my game, I can still be “alright“, but that I never want to settle for being just “alright.” I dedicate too much of my damn life to this sport, and I’m hella stubborn in that sense.

Oh well, live and learn I guess; I’m going to take my fire from this race and apply it to my racing next week in Japan. I’m excited for the trip- I’m looking forward to gaining some much needed experience for my 1000m.

So there’s the update. And now for the rant…

I hate crunchy peanut butter.

I know, I know. Half of you are probably fist pumping and dishing out high fives left, right, and centre because you wholeheartedly agree. The other 1/4 half of you are most likely cursing at your screens and ripping out your hair.

I understand that this is a touchy subject. Not many people have the balls to bring it up, as everyone knows that whether you like crunchy or smooth peanut butter is directly correlated with the core of one’s soul. Such a subject is anything but a grey area. It’s simply a black or white question. You’re either in or you’re not; good vs. bad, capitalist vs. communist, honest vs. cheat, smooth vs. crunchy.

Now, don’t play me for a fool, I know that thousands of you are thinking to yourself, “how stupid is this girl? Crunchy is obviously superior because it’s better for you, it’s crunchy because it’s less processed and fabricated. She’s like soo stupid because she’s compromising her health. Look at me, I’m  sewwww smart,” (p.s. the above is obviously meant to said in a Valley Girl accent.)

Well, all I have to say to you people, is that you’re about as bad as those people who count peanut butter as a great source of protein. I hate when people say, “Wow, I had sooo much protein in my breakfast today because I had both eggs and peanut butter.”

Why would you count peanut butter as a protein? That’s like counting tap water as a great source of calcium. It’s butter with peanuts in it. It’s a sandwich spread; a spread in which makes toast pretty. One little tablespoon is the equivallent of one serving of fat- so why would you try and make yourself sound so high and mighty granola-esque (that’s right, I just made that word up) by bringing up the fact that crunchy is less fake, manufactured, and thus “infinitley” healthier? You’re missing the point entirely. Peanut butter is in the Canadian food guide’s category of delicious, so stop justifying it as a protein.

Give me a break.

Crunchy > Smooth

enough said.

P.S. I only got 76% in Math 30… and I forget what the “greater than” symbol is. I don’t know if the above mathematical equation makes sense, but the bottom line is that Crunchy sucks!

HALLOWEEN APPLES!

ALRIGHT.

I’ve got a stomach ache, a doctor’s appointment and a mid term all bombarding my life so I’ve decided that the best thing to write about for today’s blog is Halloween and how much I love it.

Halloween is the GREATEST HOLIDAY EVER (after Christmas of course) because you can be a skank whoever you want to be for one night of the year!

A little known fact about me is that I’m a closet vampire. Seriously. I know it sounds crazy, but I honestly believe that I should have been born a vampire! I think know I’d be a good vampire; I’d adapt to the vamp lifestyle with ease. I love the night, I love black, and I love to be badass. Enough evidence already, y’all know I’d be a sweet vampire!

And I’m not talking about Twilight vampires or the pathetic “vampires” on the Vampire Diaries but I’m talking about real down and dirty Buffy the Vampire Slayer style vamps. I’m talking about running around the world for centuries, doing whatever I want, whenever I want. NO rules baby!!!!

Happy Halloween!!!!!!!!!

And lets face it, I’d be a hell of a lot more terrifying and blood thirsty than this poser! Shame on him! For SHAME! He gives all of us creatures of the night a bad name!!! SHAME, SHAME!!!

Climate Change

Yo yoo yooo,

Okay, so today is ‘Blog Action Day 2009.’  We’re still here to rant about K-Swiss shoes (aka bum shoes), but a slightly more important issue is also worth considering…  Climate Change.  In only a few weeks, the UN will be meeting in Copenhagen to essentially discuss the future of our planet.  We’re not only talking about having a warmer summer (which of course would be nice), but about everything above/below/and in between environmental disasters, famine, and displacement  coming our way.  By informing yourself and actually doing something, perhaps this entire change can be avoided.   If you’ve been living under a rock, well how freakin’ lucky, here’s some information worth checkin’ out.  With hope and determination, -ricky.

http://www.tcktcktck.org

http://www.unfoundation.org/

http://www.greenpeace.org/canada/en/

Feeling refreshed!

Whooaaa!!!!

I’m done! I’m really done! I finally wrote my REL 201 mid term on Judaism, and now I’ve got nothing due/coming up until a week after trials! I’m so happy, and feel like a complete weight has been lifted off of my shoulders!!! Whoaaaaa!!!

Now all I’ve got to do is race on Saturday and help my mama get ready for Thanksgiving on Sunday! Me and Dodes are leaving for Vancity on Tuesday and we’re both really excited about it. I’m looking forward to racing and she’s looking forward to the shopping! And now with the Sky Train all up and running, its easier than ever to get DT and start enjoying the sights and smells of vivid Vancouver.

I’ve only got one little rant for today. What in the hell is up with people “pimping” out crappy old cars?! And I’m not talking about FUNNY “pimping” but like, serious straight up tinted windows, whistle tips, and rims on a ’96 Civic “pimping“.I was driving home from school today and just so happened to stop next to one of these cars at a red light. I obviously couldn’t see the drivers face because of his super sweet tinted windows and all, but I could faintly make out the shadow of a backwards baseball cap. I thought to myself, “cool. I wish we were friends,” and then drove off at about the same speed, as both of our cars have the same crippling amount of horse power.

The only thing that could make a ’96 Civic cooler/faster would be if the driver was sporting some sick tribal tatoos and/or a racing stripe was painted down the side.

Hmm, I don’t know about the tattoo, but if it’ll make me go faster, I think I’ll tell Scott Van Horne to paint a racing stripe down my new boots. Or better yet, maybe I’ll just paint it myself, it’ll be more authentic that way.

Reason # infinity why Canada is amazing.

Stephen Harper is a “closet badass.” (Duffield, L. 2009)

Honestly. What other modern political figure has such a tame face, and hideous haircut and yet has the charisma to get up onstage with Yo Yo Ma and belt out a Beatles classic?!

He’s like the ultimate U of C redneck graduate… and he makes me proud! I swear, when he was first elected everyone was like “Oh that Stephen Harper.. blah blah, he’s got the personality of a half eaten sandwich…blah blah, nice hair cut buddy! What, did he get a free bowl of soup with that? blah blah”

Yeah well whatever. Get over it. He’s a badass and he kicks ass, so lets all come to together in perfect harmony for the first time in our 142 year history and enjoy the coming 3 minutes and be proud of our hellraisa! of a  Prime Minister’s singing.

OMG so true!

Sorry guys, I know this is a random post but it completely reflects my opinion!

I HATE ED HARDY!

Seriously. Ed Hardy is just wretched! Like, Jon Gosselin wretched. Every time I see someone wearing an Ed Hardy/Christian Audiger shirt I just want to roll my eyes and gag (which I do, actually.) If I see someone wearing Ed Hardy- and I hate to admit this- but I seriously judge their personality right away. People! Lets stay away from over priced, disgustingly designed, chav t-shirts. The only thing worse than wearing an Ed Hardy t-shirt is wearing a matching Ed Hardy Cap, and the only thing worse than wearing an Ed Hardy Shirt/Cap combo is wearing them with K-Swiss shoes.

Mireille was telling me about a really funny website today, and so I eagerly checked it out. It only took me a few minutes to stumble across this post… needless to say, it made me smile and reassured me that it was OKAY to hate Ed Hardy. I’m glad I’m not the only one!

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/04/13/124-hating-people-who-wear-ed-hardy/