Greetings, salutations, peace to the nations

I live by myself. It’s cool. I get to come home and you know… sit.

I don’t have to worry about doing all that stuff that people do when they have roommates like…have conversations or fulfill that need/love I have to make dinner for others. Nope. Just me. Hi!

So I thought today that I should get one of those welcome slates to hang on my front door. Seems like the friendly, neighborly thing to do. Do you know what it would say?

Welcome! The Mokaba

Artist’s rendition:


**Kudos to my Dad for laughing at my sign idea and then brilliantly suggesting I just tape over the sign they already have at the house to change it from plural to singular.

Life is funny. So is that sign. And if you don't think I'm going to actually order one, you don't know me at all. And if you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never know me...oooooooooooooh.

And in case you were interested, below is the original, loving family version:

I see a storm bubbling up from the sea...and it's coming closer

A few random thoughts on a Sunday night/Monday morning. It's all the same when you don't sleep.

We’ve discussed this before. My general dislike of being known as “cute.” (Go here, if you’re a rookie)

Well, we reached turning point when a boy accosted me in a bar (he physically stopped me dead in my tracks) “You are the cutest person I have ever seen in my life. You are as cute as a button.”

My reaction? I laughed. I think I’m okay with this. I mean, if he had said “pretty” or if he was nearsighted “hot”, I may have thrown my drink on him. But cute was harmless. Especially the comparison to a common clothing fastener. It made him cute. Being told you’re cute is a way better feeling than never being told anything at all. I may have changed my mind on this entire situation. What a year for changes, huh?

Speaking of cute, is there a cuter commercial in the history of television advertising than Kylie? She’s four and half. She’s a PC. She’s emailing a picture of her fish Dorothy to her family. She makes the picture better. “It’s better!” I love it. I hope that commercial never gets taken off the air.

I do not feel the same way about the “Viva, Viagra” commercials. The one where they throw every “distraction” from golf clubs to the television remote out on the patio. Um, if you need to throw general household items out on the patio to make time for and focus on marital relations, maybe your only problem isn’t ED? Resorting to trickery is not healthy. I should be a doctor.

That’s a lie. I would be a horrible doctor. I’ve recently began doubting my own intelligence. Don’t even get me started on trying to drive somewhere without getting lost. It’s nearly impossible. I’m not talking about a road trip to an exciting new place to which I’ve never been. Nope. It can be a place I’ve been to one hundred times before, I just can’t get there. If any of my close friends or family knows that I’m in a car by myself, they DREAD the phone call with my number popping up on the caller ID. It’s the same conversation every time. “Hi Lisa.” “I’m lost…”

One of my friends, knowing I was on my way to meet her, just answered, “Alright, where are you?”

I think I might be the dumbest person in the world that is allowed to travel without an aid.

I once messed up the direction “go straight.”

And finally…

Does anyone have the lead singer of Kings of Leon’s phone number? I would like to call him and tell him I love him before it is too late. Too late for what? I don’t know. I’m afraid to find out.

Strike first, strike hard, no mercy.

I'm the innocent bystander...somehow I got stuck.

Acting is difficult. It truly is a craft. I really believe that some people pour themselves into roles, get into character and become who they are selected to portray. It is very difficult. I totally can’t do it.

Take my friend Andy, for example. He has the most ridiculously awesome sideburn/chops going on right now, just for a role. They are outrageous. Seriously. The kid looks like Wolverine. And he has a day job…he works in finance! Can you imagine handing over your finances to a kid that looks like Wolverine?

(In fact, I think I might prefer to hand my finances over to Wolverine, as opposed to any middle-aged white guy in a suit. Why? Because those are the assholes that seem to be robbing people. Have you turned on the news lately? You don’t see any of the X-Men conducting pyramid schemes. You only see them fighting crime. “Never trust a salt and pepper haired white guy in a suit and trench coat with your money” has become my new “never trust a big butt and a smile.”)

You know who is totally not a master of her craft? Julia Roberts. Holy crap.

That woman plays the same character every single time. I can’t believe she keeps getting cast in movies.

She has a new movie coming out with Clive Owen and it’s called “Duplicity.” Fitting, considering she just basically duplicates all of her previous characters.

If, IF, I ever decided to see that movie (which would totally not be in the theater, but for hypothetical purposes we’ll say I got it on NetFlix…wayyyy down in the queue) I would not be the LEAST bit surprised if her corporate spy character actually used to be a high priced (but with a heart of gold) prostitute who got to retire from the corner after she took down a big corporation for giving low-income people cancer through the water. This of course would be where she got all of her savvy to take on a casino not once but twice…clearly overcompensating for her heart being broken by her best friend at his wedding.

I bet at some point in this new movie, she opens her mouth really wide and does a one syllable “HA!” laugh because she’s really surprised at something that was said.

I’m just guessing.

Additional random thoughts:

- Four minutes = total duration of phone call with my Mum yesterday. 93 = total number of times she said “be careful!” before she hung up. Be careful of what? The world?

- Sometimes I wonder if the people that work at the convenience store near my apartment think I’m a phenomenal athlete because I am constantly in there in the morning buying Gatorade. The real reason is that I drank too much the night before but I like to think they assume I’m Misty May Treanor…or Nancy Kerrigan.

If you don't, you’ll be alone…and like a ghost…I’ll be gone

Not that I ever needed reinforcement that the people around me think I’m a hazard to myself, this latest gem comes from one of my (now adorably overprotective) sisters. After realizing that some new…ah…lifestyle changes mean that there is a good chance I’ll be in the company of people she does not know, she suggested that we establish a series of ground rules for me leaving my apartment, and most importantly, that I begin wearing a GPS anklet.

I mean, I guess I see her point. I’m sure my interactions with new people will inevitably lead to the day all reason eludes me and I decide to get into a windowless van because some guy needs help finding his dog (you’re right, I am MUCH more likely to fall for the candy in the car line…but definitely not if it was one of those vans that does have windows and those creepy curtains), it will be exponentially easier to find my body.

See, people, I’m not joking about that whole “black sheep” thing. The bar has been set for me at “don’t die.” So far so good!

Steppin down to a six when you're workin with 10?

Question.

If you were going to make a cookie, an oatmeal cookie, why would you EVER reach for raisins instead of chocolate chips?

Do you really want an oatmeal raisin cookie more than an oatmeal chocolate chip one?

This makes no sense to me.

That’s like answering all the questions on a test correctly…but then erasing the last few answers because you’d rather get a C instead of an A. Essentially the same amount of effort, but you’re actively choosing inferiority.

Sure, oatmeal raisin cookies are good, but a little piece of me always questions the judgement of the baker.

This is actually something I thought about today. The sandwich place I went to had lots of oatmeal raisin cookies and frankly, I found it disappointing.

I also thought about my entire life and decisions I've made and what I am doing with myself and where I am going and what I can change and things I can fix and things I have to accept and things that are out of my control...but that was so boooooring.

Choose chocolate chips. Time for a change.

Once the pen hits the pad it's danger…to this I be no stranger

I had a lot of random thoughts go through my head today and I would like to share some with you.

Sharing is caring.

(Unless you are sharing needles...that is so dangerous! Didn’t you see RENT?! I did. It was TERRIBLE. I was really expecting something life changing but I couldn’t get past them singing “how are we gonna pay last year’s rent.” Last year’s rent? What? You haven’t paid your rent in a year?)

I think there is practically nothing more valuable in life than a sincere apology. You know what is not an apology? “That was months ago, get over it!” No. No I won’t because you’re still a jerk, today. You were a jerk months ago, you’re a jerk right now. In real-time.

Another favorite of mine is “I’m sorry you’re mad.” You’re apologizing….for my reaction? I don’t think you can do that. That is not effective at all. I’m sorry...you’re a jerk?

The one thing that might be more valuable than that is the ability to say thank you.

I think that if I went to find a roommate on Craigslist, I could convince that person to pay $200 towards my rent each month if I made dinner for him/her 3x a week. Unfortunately, the thought of living with someone random right now makes me sweat in my armholes, but I still think it’s a solid plan. I make a really good steak. I’ve also mastered homemade mac and cheese.

That kind of sounded like I was writing an online dating profile.

I had such an overwhelming craving for carrot cake today that if some 2009 extreme version of the Super Girl Scouts came selling carrot cake door-to-door, I would have paid $50 for one cake. I would have totally regretted it afterwards, but that’s what I do, make horrendous spending decisions and regret later. With cream cheese frosting breath. And red leather pants.

Sometimes I can hear the guys that live next to me…have… “conversations”…with girls. It’s a quiet building. Lucky for me (and unlucky for them) it never lasts that long. ZING!

Did it just get awkward in here?

I’m fairly confident that it was unnecessary for my landlord to snowplow behind my building (re: Right up against my apartment..first floor...windows unlocked! Come say hi!) at 6:30 this morning. There are no doors behind my building, access is completely unnecessary. I think this could have waited until mid-morning. How about you take that snow blower and go take care of my parking spot? I’m one of the six grey Honda Accords in my lot, I’m sure you’ll find it.

I recently experienced a merging of best home friends with best non-home friend and the result was a night where I have never laughed so hard in my whole life (also during a time when laughter, combined with alcohol, was a much needed medicine). I think my friends might be the funniest people in the world. Brilliant theories on life and relationships. Some may be posted here eventually. (Teaser! Be sure to tune in!)

Did you know most of my blog titles are song lyrics?

I’m obsessed with adoption. I once tried to convince my Dad to adopt “Wednesday’s Child” because the featured child on the interview was a teenage boy that wants to go to BC. My Dad said no and also reassured me that they would not let a 27-year old adopt a teenager. I will when I’m older though, I can’t help it. I can’t imagine being a teenager without a family.

And finally, for the record, I despise the use of any abbreviation for laughter. LOL, ROFL, LMAO, ugh. The one time I allllmost thought it was okay was when my Mum told me she thought LOL meant “lots of love.” That’s adorable! That is totally an acceptable use. Now, as it turns out, my Mum doesn’t actually think I’m funny as her text messages had led me to believe…but that’s okay because it just means she loves me. A lot. Perfect. That’s all I need. Serious face.