No Ordinary Rollercoaster

San Diego 2009

2009-07-10T10:00:00.002-03:00

Okay. Can we get serious here for a second? Running away to San Diego is thus far the greatest decision I have made in 2009. And yes - I know:

Howcouldyoupossiblygostaysomewherewithacompletestranger?

Shecouldhavebeenanaxemurderer!

Yes. Tia could have been an axe murderer. But she wasn't and I just saved close to $1,000 in accommodations, didn't I? And really...if someone actually wanted me dead, I think it would be much easier to just come to my house rather than lure me across the continent. At least that way I'd go out with some heavy breathing on my bedroom at night...you know...the CLASSY way to get murdered.

Tia and I got along without a hitch from the second I arrived. I didn't mind when she refused to leave the three-block radius that contains her entire life (I kid...ish). She didn't mind when I refused to make eye contact because there were topless Abercrombie & Fitch models jogging down the sidewalk (I kid...not even a little bit).

I refuse to bore all of you with the hundreds of stories I could share from those six, glorious days but I'll instead just let you know that it's nothing but good times when you and Tia get to experience Phil, JenBun, hubs and BFF main gay Andrew.

Aside from that, I leave you with the short version of the highlights and the links to my videos and photos from the trip. Check 'em out and be jealous.

Best Vlog About a Lube-base Product:

Excerpt: "I'm first place in front of travel lubes? I guess by gay standards that's pretty high."

Best Conversation:

"I loves me some Naomi Campbell. That crazy bitch knows how to throw a cellular."

"Bitch - she crazay. I ain't throwin' no phone. I ain't got no insurance on that shit! I'mma throw somebody else's first."

"Girl, you can barely afford to keep your phone connected..."

(to me, getting ready to aim) "Scuse me. Can I borrow your phone?"

(Of course...this was entirely between two guys)

Best Meal:

Potato Rolled Tacos...duh.

Best One-liner:

(To Tia, re: hot man walking with son)

"Damn....He should lose the twink."

Best Picture I Don't Remember Taking:

Best Hang-up:

(Me and the newf)

"I've been throwing up all day. Make it better."

"If you've been throwing up, that's past a hangover and actually alcohol poisoning. Your body is probably still processing the alcohol consumed the night before so there's really nothing you can do. You see, once it makes its way to the liver-"

*click*

Best Pseudo-Celebrity Encounter:

This one's only for the hardcore Idol fans. If you don't know who he is, check out the video at about 4:40.

Rallying for Kelly Clarkson

2009-07-07T08:00:00.001-03:00

Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.

I have to admit, I was worried. I spent the six hours leading up to your concert with my head in a toilet thinking that I had entirely blown my chances of getting to rock out with you after waiting six years and flying across a continent. But holy shit, did I ever man up and holy shit, did you ever rock it.

Thanks to my fantastic host, tourguide and escort (not in a dirty way), Tia.

Many dry-heaves and a deep-fried cheese on a stick in your honour later (American Fair food is grotesquely awesome - remind me to tell you about the chicken breast sandwiched in two chocolate chip cookies with strawberry jam...), I was finally able to pull the hungover mess formerly known as Ben Boudreau together enough to realize that I was going to see. you. live.

I may have peeed.

Peed? Peeed? Pee-d? P'd?

Anyone able to confirm the past tense verbage of pee?

I have to admit, we got a little too excited too when we realized we had a private table with full waitstaff on the terrace overlooking the stage. It was all a little too VIP to handle but we handled it - don't you worry. And Kelly, don't take this the wrong way but experiencing your concert while eating beer battered onion rings and drinking wine?

TOTALLY THE WAY TO DO IT.

My camera died half a song in - which as it turns out is because we took 29830 group shots at the bar the night before of which I remember about four - but luckily folks in the front row picked up the slack and YouTubed it by morning.

Awesome that I can past-tensify YouTube but not pee, right?

LITERACY FAIL.

In an hour and a half you were able to show just how many killer songs you've had to the point where I almost couldn't keep track. Add in some Rod Stewart, Janet Jackson and Patsy Cline covers (see below), not to mention remixing some of your own with Black Sabbath and the Eurythmics (I died and went to heaven), it was the most diverse concert I've ever experienced.

I love that you forgot a line in one of your newer songs and said "Oh c'mon. It's new! You guys don't know it either!". I love that you described an unexpected song choice on the new album as a "big middle finger to your record label". I love that you didn't think before you spoke, making you a real person in addition to a seasoned performer. I love that you bragged about your big ass. I love that you sang so hard you probably couldn't speak after it was all over.

Don't think I'm waiting six years until the next time, Kelly. You're stuck with me now.

Still alive

2009-07-06T08:00:00.000-03:00

So how quickly did our plan of keeping you updated with blogs, vlogs and tweets on our San Diego adventures go out the window? PRETTY DAMN QUICK.

Sure, we may deserve a failing grade as bloggers this week but definitely an A fucking Plus on absolutely killing this vacation.

I have too many stories to tell and have no fear, you will surely hear all of the appropriate ones for mass consumption. But for now, I have one more day in beautiful California to gawk at hot men, stuff my face full of Mexican food, and act like a five-year-old at their zoo.

For now? I leave you with two impromptu vlogs for your viewing pleasure with the promise of at least one more with Tia as soon as we get our shit together.

(Sorry as always to Matt who yells at me every time I post videos)

And pictures:

Before the RENT-induced sobbing...

2009-07-04T14:26:00.002-03:00

The San Diego adventures continue.

Chick Chat

2009-07-02T02:00:00.003-03:00

Okay - we all know that no one can girl talk like the 'mos, right? Well, that's probably why I was invited to join in on the Chick Chat discussion hosted by Three Bay B Chicks. For this segment, I'm talking about life as a twenty something with five other great bloggers so make sure you click over to their sites to check out their videos:

Confessions of a Twenty Something Year Old
The Everyday Adventures of Me in the City
Live It, Love It
Thee Bay B Chicks
The Lifestyles of Sevi

Before you watch, I should also mention that I was grotesquely unprepared to do this as I left it to the last minute. Actually, as I write this, I'm supposed to be leaving for the airport in one hour and I haven't put anything in my suitcase.

WIN.

Okay. Here goes nothing...

Lessons Learned

2009-07-01T12:52:00.003-03:00

1) Do not assume that you'll get through customs based on good looks and charm alone.

2) Even though going to stay with a married woman you met on the internet sounds perfectly legit to you, it does not resonate so well with embittered customs officers.

3) "Oh don't worry - she's married!" is not the response these officers are looking for when they say: "So it sounds to me like you're flying across the continent to stay with a woman you've never met..."

4) Once the customs officer starts demanding to know where you work and how much money is in your bank account, it is NOT the time for nervous giggles.

...sincerely hoping this trip just needs to hit its stride.

Testosteroney

2009-06-30T08:00:00.000-03:00

If you are in need in some good, ole fashioned manliness after yesterday's post that I still can't believe I actually thought was a good idea, here it is...

This was my ride while I was out of town over the weekend.

First off, let's get the obvious off the table. Could they have found me a bigger SUV without getting into Entourage-for-a-Rap-Star territory?

No. No they could not. And if you're of the camp who says that size doesn't matter - fools... - let's get into the add ons that deserve special attention.

1) The Satellite Radio - awesome feature that lets you listen to just about whatever you're in the mood for, right? Right. But this is not the case when your Chuck Norris SUV radio is stuck on NASCAR radio. NASCAR. That means hillbillies debating current events (okay...this part was kind of hilarious) and Kid Rock over and over and over and over.

2) The Killing Puppies Factor - yes, SUVs are bad enough for long-distance journeys...you know...earth-wise if you're into that sort of thing. But THIS vehicle was not to be outdone by regular, peasant SUVs. You see, this one's fan cannot be turned on without the air conditioning pumping in at full blast.

Basically you can choose between sweltering hot or a bone-chilling cold that makes you cry for a fur coat made of baby rain forest animals to warm you up because global warming just isn't melting those ice caps fast enough.

3) After dropping off the vehicle, the newf, Nick and I went to see Transformers 2 which is two and a half hours of explosions and Megan Fox looking like a whore. So...pretty awesome.

This is where the manliness of the post starts to fall apart since I definitely commented on how long her make-up lasts while everyone else's faces are cut to shreds and Nick complimented Optimus on his use of shoulderpads and called his weaponry "sassy".

On the plus side, all three of us spent the rest of the night trying to transform our arms into plasma cannons to unleash our road rage.

It didn't work no matter how good my sound effects were.

As close to a TMI Thursday post as I will get

2009-06-29T08:00:00.001-03:00

Today is a first for NOR as I do that thing where I convince myself that a gchat conversation is so hilarious that it needs to be a blog post of its own. I'm doing this even though sometimes I skim when you guys do it. Hey - at least I'm honest.

Feel free to skim although this post promises overshares galore, me in an embarrassing situation (surprise!!), plenty of opportunities for you to make fun of me in the comments section and awesome twitter #hashtags. Plus it'll help you understand what my week-long stay with Tia is going to look like: all kinds of awesome.

Me: Okay. So...problem. (Only a mild one and it's mostly funny)

Tia: K. Ready.

Me: So I figured I would use my time alone at the hotel to get any necessary manscaping required for the trip under control since I really have nothing better to do.

Tia: Uhm.

Me: Stay with me.

Tia: Manscaping like...waxing?

Me: No no no no no. Like hairclipper buzzing. It's not so much of a time commitment as I made it sound.

Tia: Ok. Got it.

Me: You know...HOURS.

Tia: Hahahaha gross

Me: So I figured I'd clipper my leg hair for better sunning while I'm in Cali - and besides...the whole Acadian thing? I could easily be Wolfman if I really wanted to be. (This is a total overshare. I know).

Tia: Ok so you were clippering your leg hair.

Me: Don't say it like it's weird...

Tia: Hahahahahaha

Me: So anyway...back to my super normal story.

Tia: Continue.

Me: Our good set of clippers broke because the newf likes to go HULK SMASH on things and break everything we own. So I took the backup set which I forgot work much better but also make more noise than a motorboat. I did a quarter way around one leg and then swear I heard someone knocking at my door. So I stopped, didn't answer the door and am now too afraid to keep going.

Tia: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Me: AWFUL.

Tia: I am SURE that no one was knocking on your door because of that.

Me: #gaypeopleproblems

Tia: #thiscouldonlyhappentothegays

Me: So needless to say, my leg looks AMAZING

Tia: #randomgayworries you should really finish it and do the other.

Me: What if someone knocks?? WHAT IF THEY THINK IT'S A REALLY LOUD VIBRATOR?!

Tia: THEN THEY'LL BE IN AWE OF YOUR MAD SEX TOY SKILLS. They'll be like..."whoa, he means business." I seriously thought you were going to tell me about some home waxing mishap like, "I only have one eyebrow. Don't be scared."

Me: I'll just wear pants...

20SB Blog Carnival: My Corner of the Forest

2009-06-25T08:00:00.001-03:00

This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free
ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers! Get your entry in before June 30 for your chance to win.
Republish a blog post from your first two months of blogging to show where you've been compared to where
you are today. As my first post after the big 6-0-0, I thought this piece from February 2007 was kind of fitting...

As a close friend packed up her life with visions of a European adventure dancing in her head, I sat amidst the boxes of memories and wondered: now what? While she and I had only met one year earlier, we had seen each other through too much for a simple hug and goodbye to cut it. Under her watchful eye, I had survived two apartments, three relationships, five jobs, two cities, three months of feeling absolutely lost, and more goodbyes than I'm willing to admit.

I found a lot of strength in our friendship during difficult times but as we taped up the last of her boxes, I realized her departure was a wake-up call. In 12 months we had fast-forwarded through the kind of friendship that takes years to grow. Watching as she stood over the pile of boxes with a smile to mask the looming uncertainty, my eyes were opened to the toll that life places on our most important relationships. In that moment I understood that as we grow and follow our own dreams, friendships are no longer as effortless as they once were.

From Osh Kosh to honour roll

As young children, starting out was easy. Parents screened and facilitated friendships, essentially doing the work for us. In Kindergarten, for no reason other than geography, I became friends with the boys and girls in my corner of suburban heaven - even the older first-grader who so kindly threw my coveted Fraggles backpack down the snowy hill on a daily basis. Our neighbourhoods and classes forged strong bonds out of thin air as we learned, played, and grew together. For almost 16 years of our lives, school was the backbone of our relationships.

When the emotional climax of high school graduation finally came, the behind-the-scenes strength of our friendships was taken away. All of a sudden making plans and keeping in touch was more difficult. Of course there were new and lost relationships over the course of our public schooling. Long before graduation, for example, the boy who ruined my life on a daily basis with the hijack of my schoolbag took up smoking and the social circles that came with it. These, of course, did not mesh well with my place in the school band and Students' Council.

Despite the shiver that the cruel high school politics sends down my spine, walking across that stage and taking the diploma in my hands somehow meant surrendering to a whole new set of unforgiving challenges. Some friendships fell to the hurdle of keeping in touch from different provinces, while others didn't even survive separate universities in the same city, or even different fields of study. This was the first taste of the real world, showing us that nothing would ever be as easy as when we all waited for the bus in Osh Kosh overalls.

New game, new rules

In the past year, I have fallen out of touch with many friends for a variety of reasons. The girl with whom I created a Pound Puppy adoption centre now studies in Spain, another who fueled my espionage phase is graduating in Vancouver, and my backpack-stealing nemesis -if there is any justice in the world- is living far away, unknowingly working toward the day that he becomes my undervalued personal assistant. More importantly, many of these people are living well within reach, but simply don't appear in my life as often as I would like. No emotional blowouts, no undeniable differences in opinions, nothing drastic; we simply don't make the effort. No one person is to blame, nor is any one person completely off the hook.

The past year has been hard for everyone: break-ups, the loss of parents, the strain of living with friends, the more trying experience of moving out after living with friends, and both national and international relocations. Of all our years, this should have been the one for us to band together. But when times get tough it's easier to just worry about yourself, isn't it? In my case, I know that I wouldn't have made it through the past year as unscathed as I am without the support of the woman who stood smiling at me in her bare bachelor apartment, as if to say: you'll be fine.

Dreams of white-picket fences

Like a catch and release program, we learned and grew through our fast and furious friendship and now the time had come to snap back into reality, bringing with us new perceptions and knowledge. In my case, this meant promising to rekindle the invaluable friendships in my life before another graduation shakes them even further apart. Be it naiveté or a tragic optimism, I would like to believe that throughout the weddings, funerals, births and reunions ahead of us all, I will be able to see some of the alumni of my life at my side. Perhaps even the children of my oldest friends will be able to save my own from the backpack bullies of their neighbourhood.

Departures and awakenings

When the truck was loaded, we cleaned the packing carnage of three monstrous garbage bags, empty rolls formerly carrying heavy duty tape, beaten up cardboard boxes and the little trinkets that didn't merit a stay in storage. We both knew that we may never again see each other face to face but I hope this, my promise, will prove contagious: If my friends, regardless of location, career, field of study or family life, make the effort to keep our relationships alive, no ocean or time difference can keep us apart. She had me flick off the lights in her apartment for the last time; she couldn't bear to do it. She was never one for goodbyes, and with my new oath well underway, now I can proudly say: neither am I.

"You can't stay in your corner of the forest, waiting for others to come to you; you have to go to them sometimes." Winnie the Pooh

Clever Girl Goes Dream Date: Shit Just Got Real Edition

2009-06-24T06:00:00.002-03:00

[If you're a newer reader, you may not have experienced the trainwreckery of my Dream Date series. Basically I write the G-rated version of how a date between me and some of my favourite bloggers (one at a time, of course, I'm not an animal) would play out. I may have let the dust settle on what is often a grossly inappropriate experience but I'm ready to bring it back.

Considering that in less than a week I will be having a seven-day, epic monstrosity of a real life dream date with the wildly famous and popular Tia from Clever Girl Goes Blog, it's only natural that I finally pay my respects to her awesomeness - not just for putting me up next week but that's definitely a part of it - with her very own, and all soon-to-be true, dream date feature.

I heart run-on sentences.

Also Tia, spare me the sass that this isn't a video post as promised. I'm giving you my 600th bloody blog post so I will hear no complaints. DEDICATING MILESTONE POSTS IS THE TRUEST OF LOVES!]

July 1

1:55pm - Mentally prepare for the eight hours, two planes, and two major American cities worth of time wherein I must remain a vision of first impression perfection.

8:00pm - Land in California and try to reel in my laughter at her proposed welcome signage to maintain an attractive facial expression lest I scare her off. She has already bounced some ideas off me - my favourite so far is a sign saying "PETER DEWOLF" (the more eloquent and charming blogger with whom I share a Canadian province in a 'this town's not big enough for the two of us' kind of way. Except the town is plenty big. And we're both pacivists).

Her favourite is "MAIL-ORDER CANADIAN".

9:00pm - drink, giggle and play with each other's hair until further notice. Really...we should all feel really bad for her husband who will quickly hate the two of us together. The combined ~~snarkiness~~ hotness will be unbearable.

July 2

Shoppity shop shop shopperson shop with breaks to eat burritos. That is all.

Oh wait - and maybe see a bit of the city. MAYBE.

Well, only if there's time.

But there probably won't be since I'll be spooning the William Rast collection.

July 3

Second row, center seats to see RENT?

YES PLEASE.

July 4

Act over-the-top Canadian all day long. Tia hasn't approved this portion of the date yet.

Beach, BBQ, and her (hopefully) over the top Italian family will play a role in this good ole fashion God Bless AmURRica day.

July 5

HOLY SWEET MERCIFUL JESUS IT'S KELLY CLARKSON CONCERT DAY! The fact that the fairgrounds also serve such inappropriately fatty snacks including Cheesecake on a Stick (Tia, that better not have been a joke) doesn't hurt either.

July 6

Let Tia pat my head while I cry about how nothing in life will ever measure up to being in Kelly Clarkson's presence. This will continue until I am provided with more Cheesecakesicles.

I will also require a trip to the zoo to see cuddly baby animals and teeny tiny penguins. Then I might consider acting like an adult instead of a toddler coming off an Ecstacy bender. Or the penguins might make it worse. Time will tell.

July 7

Leave at an ungodly hour of morning just to be sure that my departure feels like a week-long walk of shame back to my own country. Tears will be shed.

For the Cheesecakesicles.

I mean Tia.

I mean the Cheesecakesicles.

Watch out, California...

(and my waistline...)

Nothing has ever been THIS important to me.

2009-06-22T11:04:00.009-03:00

We've had a lot of fun on this blog and we've even managed to do some good (and bad) along the way. We've raised money for abandoned animals around the world, we've allowed hundreds to learn from our ~~hilarious~~ disturbing binge-drinking mistakes, and god only knows how many people now know to hide housekeys or full outfits outside of their homes for emergencies.

But now, more than ever before, I need to ask for your help.

(Thanks Rachel for the photoshop work....I mean IT'S TOTALLY REAL!)

I NEED TO MEET KELLY CLARKSON.

In less than two weeks, my seven year obsession will reach a feverpitch as I stand within shouting distance of her in California. I've loved her through thick and thin (srsly.) for seven years now so the idea of seeing her in person and not getting to profess my love to her and present her with the 3095 bulletpoint list of why we should be best friends is simply NOT! AN! OPTION!

Having been blogging for over two years, I know first-hand the power of the internet. It has helped me get jobs, build a portfolio, make friends, and secure places to stay in foreign lands. For that reason, I KNOW THAT YOU CAN HELP ME MEET HER, INTERNET.

So come on. Let's hear it. Do you know the event planner in San Diego? Best friends with the bouncers? On a texting basis with Ms. Clarkson herself? A skilled master of Ninja stealth? Help a brother out!

Tell people. Spread the word. I'll be there in San Diego on July 5. You can see the view from my seat above. Worse comes to worst, I can just make a run for it and hope that security will take pity on the wee, jetlagged, sunburnt Canadian who hauled his gay ass from the other side of a different country just to kick off an epic friendship with his Top 40 Soulmate.

You know you want to see this happen.

The POWER is YOURS!

If Captain Planet says so...it's ON.

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Blind Item: Save this wedding

2009-06-21T11:05:00.005-03:00

Alright friends, it's time to pitch in to help one of our own who needs some advice. Since this 20-something, Pittsburgh blogger's family keeps an eye on her blog, she's come over to the Rollercoaster for some under the radar input.

Here's the situation, this wonderful woman is on the cusp of marriage to her her merman in October. Her sister is supposed to be in the wedding but there is one problem. A big problem. Her sister is suicidal, back into her drug addiction, and refuses to check herself into the psych hospital--as per her doctor's advice.

The blogger asks: "How do I kick my sister out of the wedding party without contributing to her already unstable mental state? In addition to her drug addiction, she's also bipolar. My family has been dealing with this for years and to be honest I'm just completely numb to it now. I feel nothing except pity and compassion for my parents who are on the brink of a breakdown themselves."

Right. It's go-time. Any advice is good advice. Just be sensitive, understanding and supportive like I know you can be and help put our friend's mind at ease.

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Obligatory new URL post

2009-06-19T08:31:00.003-03:00

I have owned my own domains for almost three years now and what have I done with them?

Absolutely dick all.

But I was okay with that. Since I owned the ones for my own name, I felt good knowing that no one would swoop in and turn them into porn sites tarnishing my reputation by implying that I'm some rippling, sexy Adonis who gets naked on the internet. Wait - that doesn't sound so bad...

But that's besides the point.

Matters got worse when the oh-so sweet Tia bought me the domain for NoOrdinaryRollercoaster.com for Christmas and what did I do?

Absolutely dick all.

Luckily months of procrastination and the help of a smart stranger who so kindly offered to help (another reason why the newly redesigned 20SB network is the best!), I am officially up and running as http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/

Well - almost.

You shouldn't have to update your bookmarks but I can't get the old RSS feed to push through new posts anymore so you should probably update that to the new one just to be sure.

*Edit: the old RSS feed does seem to work but is a solid 12 hours behind the new one.

Thanks again to Tia for the domain and Nick for the easy instructions!

The sketchiest morning of my life

2009-06-18T08:00:00.004-03:00

Yesterday morning I was working from home when I heard Calvin and Theo trying to pick a fight with the mutant Yorkies on the other side of the fence. No yorkie should be as strangely tall as these weirdos...

Being the considerate neighbour that I am, I happily skipped out into the sunshine in my pajamas to break up the barking match. As the light dew touched the bottoms of my uncovered feet and the sun shone down on my face, I thought to myself about how truly lucky I am in life. I walked back to the french doors on our deck, so optimistic about life that there were practically lolipops and unicorns falling out of my orifices, and took one deep breath of summer air before getting back down to business inside.

And then my day went straight to hell when I realized I had locked my stupid ass outside without keys, phone, shoes, socks, or underwear.

You know how moms sometimes remind us to wear clean underwear in case you get hit by a bus? Well...now I know that in times of need, ANY UNDERWEAR AT ALL WOULD BE NICE.

So there I am. Absolutely fucked.

MacGyver would have probably trained the dachshunds to enter through the air circulation ducts, locate the keys and bring them back, getting him inside in about eight minutes flat. What he doesn't know is that the dachshund would get in - sure - but would then spend the day curled up on a pillow, leaving MacGyver for dead.

Instead, I spent the first 40 minutes trying to break into my house with no success (which is a win, I guess...), the next 20 minutes moping about the situation, and the next 30 minutes wishing that I would just die so I wouldn't have to do the things I knew I was going to have to do:

The dogs were left in the yard as I roamed the neighbourhood in very thin pants, alternately keeping myself from getting a wedgie and a man-camel-toe while prancing to keep from getting hepatitis of the foot. Thanks to a neighbour's small front door window - keeping him from seeing that I looked a meth-addicted hustler - I finally got access to a phone and started making those embarrassing calls.

First to the newf - voicemail. Then to the office - sympathetic laughter. Then to the cab company - dread.

Yes. I got in a cab barefoot and got dropped off at the newf's school where I had to sit in the main office and wait for one of his students to bring up our housekeys while the secretary looked like she wanted to spray me down with Lysol. It was like that dream where you think you're at school in your underwear except EVERY SINGLE PART OF IT WAS REAL.

But, as many bloggers so often do, I'm going to take something traumatizing and turn it something for you to laugh at:

While this picture is staged, it is the exact outfit I rocked while going through all of this - oh, except I did put on underwear because you really don't understand how clingy those pants can be...

...just ask my entire neighbourhood, the cab driver, or all of the newf's coworkers and students.

FML. Epic Fail. Etc.

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Seriously? Cake again??

2009-06-17T08:00:00.002-03:00

[I screwed up for the feedreaders yesterday. In case you missed the interview video, it IS in yesterday's post.]

Holy buggery balls!

I'm so freaking sick of writing happy-go-lucky, celebration posts and we're not even halfway through June - a.k.a. the month so attention-seeky that if it were a person it would probably have gotten knocked up as a teen just for the goddamn baby shower. I don't even know what this Speidi phenomenon is (aside from the fact that it is not, as I had hoped, a reference to Spiderman's cutesy nickname for his female intuition) but I'm pretty sure June is their calendar equivalent.

We've already celebrated my birthday, our anniversary and now - just when you thought June couldn't get ANY more festive, it's the newf's birthday today.

That's right...we met on my birthday, went on our first date somewhere in between, and then moved on to his birthday (a mere week away from mine) just to make sure that we cursed ourselves with a week of gift-buying overload every single year until the end of time. The only relationship oversight bigger than this one is the fact that my parents' names are - brace yourself....this is BAD - Paul and Pauline.

I kid you not.

I'll give you a few moments to soak that in.

Okay. Everyone good?

As much as I'd like to be excited and pumped up about another special milestone in our lives together, I am BARELY over the ~~hangover~~ sugar-rush from MY birthday and now I have to do it all over again without the direct benefit of people celebrating MY existence. That's a crumby deal, if you ask me.

So you know what, newf?

NO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

Take one for the team and move your damn birthday to a more convenient date where we need a pick-me-up. April looks pretty bleak. Or maybe November. Either way, get the hell out of my month. I need downtime before I'm expected to celebrate Nick's birthday, Calvin's birthday, our one year anniversary in the house and Theo's adoption date - all before the end of the month.

Or maybe you should just celebrate your damn birthday with that adorable bear that I caught you dancing with. Oh - don't act so surprised! DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD HIDE SOMETHING LIKE THAT FROM ME?

You slut.

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Bloggerview? Intervlog? Blogterview?

2009-06-16T09:02:00.005-03:00

Someone was silly enough to interview me live and unedited about blogging...

Bum bum bummmmmmmmmmmm....

(video below in the actual post for all you feedreaders)

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

1095 Days

2009-06-14T08:00:00.003-03:00

Three years ago today I finally caved and went out on the date I said I'd never go on.

It took three days of playing coy before I finally gave in to the allure of adorable dimples and big biceps. And it wasn't just because I was procrastinating from studying for a Stats midterm - although that did play a key role in my decision making.

So on a random weekday a few days after the 16-hour hangover called my 21st birthday, I broke my rule of not dating people that hit on me at bars and the even more important rule of not dating people rumoured to enjoy golden showers.

1) Do not Google that.

2) The rumour was false.

3) Thank Jesus.

The date was off to a rocky start. We were being served by a guy who has a history of hating my guts because he thinks I told everyone he has herpes even though I didn't. That was Nick. I just laughed at it. Also I was plagued by the memory of the pick-up line that got me there in the first place. You know...the ever so coy:

"Hey! You're that cute guy I saw at that fundraiser last year, the park a few months later, and then last month in the shoe store where you work!"

Whoa.

We ordered the same dish and by the time I had eaten my third piece of tortellini, he was finished. My choices were clear: a) finish my meal while awkwardly trying to talk with my mouth full, b) finish my meal hoping that he can carry the conversation for 20 minutes, c) call it quits and get far away from Herpes McJerk and hope to salvage the date elsewhere.

So I played full (yes...after three individual pieces of pasta) and got the hell out of there.

We walked along the waterfront, boasting how slutty we'd be for any of the people owning the beautiful yachts and then he dropped me off to continue studying for my exam. Which happened only after I popped out to get take-out because I was freaking starving.

Two months later we survived long-distance.

One year later we moved into an apartment together.

A year and a half later we adopted a puppy together.

Two years later we bought a house and adopted another puppy.

Three years later I wrote this post while waiting for him to finish working on his report cards so we can go to a movie.

Life has been awfully good!

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Birfday.

2009-06-11T08:00:00.008-03:00

1) No. This is not my dachshund although I wish he were because - seriously - how awesome is that little fattyface-cupcake-eater-fatty-fat-fatterson-facey-face-fat? If I can have just one moment where I look and feel just like that today, this birthday will have been a success.

The fact that my moment is more likely to involve a martini than a cupcake is besides the point.

2) I am turning 24 - also known as the cusp of too-old-to-be-deeply-attracted-to-the-stars-of-Twilight-who-aren't-even-old-enough-to-drink. But since it's the cusp...hey Sharkboy...call me before this gets even more inappropriate.

Oh - it's already inappropriate?

Suck it. I didn't judge when all of you wanted to make man out of Zac Efron.

3) My plans for the day? Well since work gives us the day off for our birthdays - the regrettable lows that followed the cake-induced sugar highs were getting to be bad for morale - I'm going spend the day eating gnocchi smothered in gorgonzola and truffle oil and drinking for a very long period of time.

If work knew me better, they would have given me the day AFTER my birthday off.

4) Twitter locals, I'll be bouncing around downtown starting at noon so feel free to check in for a drink or two. I'll keep the world posted on my whereabouts. Besides, the newf had a GPS chip implanted for these sort of days...you know...after the LAST time he found me topless and alone slumped up against a waaaaaaaaaaait a second I shouldn't be telling this story again....

Ahem...that never happened.

I don't want to talk about it.

Remember to update your bookmarks to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/ and your RSS feeds to http://www.noordinaryrollercoaster.com/feeds/posts/default

Edible culture is the best kind

2009-06-09T08:00:00.003-03:00

Having officially survived another Eastern Canadian winter - also known as hell on earth if hell were to freeze over and the devil were to take giant snow dumps all over your everything - we have officially entered our second season here in Halifax: Festival Season.

From now until winter returns (sometime in August...), there is some sort of magical festival of magic happening just about every weekend until the end of time...or August...whichever comes first. Greek Fest, Multicultural Fest, Gay Fest (well...Gay Pride but Gay Fest sounds so much more fun), - it never ends. Except it does. You know...in August.

Keep up, would you?

This past weekend I kicked off Festival Fest 2009 by checking out the Polish Fest with my parents. It was held at a quaint church hall not far from their place and boasted $5 pierogi plates. And just so we're clear, I'd go to PunchYourselfInTheFace Fest as long as they serve $5 pierogi plates.

Another thing to know about Halifax is that our [Fill In Cultural Group Here] Fests are all about the food. Sure, we like culture just fine but we like the food a hell of a lot more. So naturally once we had finished stuffing our faces with carby-cheesey goodness and noticed that the dancing had started to take over, we were ready to make our discrete exit - promising ourselves that we'd celebrate Polish culture more that evening by watching this clip:

(Sorry Deutlich.)

And then something bad happened.

There were over 40 dancers on stage that all of a sudden starting clogging their way into the audience looking for audience participation. Keeping in mind that the audience consisted of about 50 people, the odds were SO not in our favour.

I immediately pretended to make a business call on my Blackberry while Dad engaged in an intimate relationship with a sausage and Mom? Well...she pointed at her water bottle and shrugged. That's right Polish culture - Mom's too busy hanging out with Evian to dance.

So of the three of us, who do you think got dragged up on stage?

Lesson learned: water bottles make terrible wingmen.

Poor, poor Mom.

*For the record, the picture at the top is Poland. Not Halifax. Poland.

Skinny Bitches.

2009-06-08T13:28:00.003-03:00

I think it's safe to say that my flirtations with a fit, active lifestyle have been well documented on this wee blog.

I think it's also safe to say that if a fit, active lifestyle were a delicious, 25-year-old piece of hotness that I decided to hit on at a bar to the subtle, romantic tunes of Flo Rida, I would be already be in a cab on my way home alone to cry bitter tears into my extra cheese pizza.

But time's are changing!

Not only have I gotten back into the gym routine that I had for that single week back in November where I worked out more than once in the span of seven days and tried to pretend I was a Healthy Person despite coming home to eat wheels of camembert afterwards...I've actually DOUBLED my work out ~~so that it's now on par with that of regular, active people~~ and have been sticking with it.

And it's all thanks to the collection of overachievers that live in this very city of Makepeoplefeellikefattiesifax.

I mean Halifax.

You see, I recently beefed up my Twitter feed with a bunch of awesome locals who make me feel like shit about the way I live my life. I mean they give me something to aspire to.

....I mean they make me feel like shit.

Take Amy for example. She and I do somewhat of the same thing for a living at different agencies but she's been doing it for longer and better. She also goes home at the end of the day, runs a marathon, bakes four dozen cookies, redecorates the entire apartment and helps give birth to 18 babies in poor African countries before bed.

(I exaggerate sometimes.)

That's right, she's a marathon-running, baking, HGTV-show hosting midwife.

She also got on The Most Bangable Blog Babes site which has pretty much been my life goal since birth.

By contrast, I fall asleep behind the wheel of my car, maiming a class of fourth graders and then drown my sorrows in cookie dough and regret.

Another example is Dave. And this one hurts a little because you know what? I thought we could have been friends. But ohhhhhh no...he has to spend all his time hiking, lifting things, traveling the world, finding hidden waterfalls and QUITE LITERALLY BIKING ACROSS THE FREAKING COUNTRY.

(That's actually not an exaggeration.)

So after eating an entire grocery store aisle of Doritos to make myself feel better (and then quickly thereafter much worse), I decided that I too could try this thing called....'moving body parts after 5pm'. And can I just say....how quickly one can become that person who comes home, walks the dogs, mows the lawn, goes to the gym, and then eats four celery sticks, a glass of water and a laxitive for dinner?

And just so that this doesn't come across as too motivational - I know, I'm quite inspiring - let's be clear that the only reason I'm doing this is so that one day I might be able to be in the same city block as Amy without feeling awful about myself.

Screw self help books. Self-loathing is how you get shit done.

Cuteness for no particular reason

2009-06-05T12:14:00.004-03:00

This is a cop-out post but at least it has puppies in it.

My dogs reviewed new dog toys for Who's Your Dachshund so I figured I'd share the mania that is Calvin and the sooky, clueless baby that is Theo for your weekend enjoyment.

Here's the link for dog owners interested in the full review of Flappy Dog Toys.

Mullet with headlights?

2009-05-31T20:48:00.002-03:00

Okay - you're going to thank the living crap out of me for this one...trust me.

So my favourite rock ballads of all time also happens to have the biggest acid trip on ecstasy with a hit spoiled pepperoni music video of all time which obviously only makes me love it more. But yet even its whacked out, big haired, gratuitous pop culture referencing, five-and-a-half minute but three minutes too long music video can't compare to this.

Total Eclipse of the Heart rewritten as a literal description of what happens in the video. Prepare to be amazed and be overwhelmed with new one-liner opportunities...

Thanks to my genius cousin for flagging this one.

My new professional goal

2009-05-28T08:00:00.000-03:00

I owe my friend Nick a lot. He taught me how to dress, how to be a gold-digger (in theory), and how to be better than others. So obviously I owe all of my success to date to him. He also taught me never to question him - ever - which is why I'm sharing my newest goal in life, according to my best friend Nick:

Be a crazy-ass, psycho professional slash part-time model slash person who intimidates others on an Olympic scale.

And by that...I mean be the Beyoncé of my company.

Over the past three weeks, I have spent one of them actually working in the office. Otherwise I've been out ~~eating my own weight on set~~ living the luxurious video lifestyle of glamour, flash and all round gorgeousness, occasionally stopping in to make sure I still have a desk. So it's only natural that Nick would encourage me to start living the part of that incredibly important sassypants who's always busy doing fancyface things.

Here's how it's going to work.

1) I will need those dangly, chandelier sunglasses in order to only see sparkles all day long. Consequently, this will also force others to see FOR me, thus reinforcing my level of importance.

2) Pants? I'm too busy for those. From now on it's leggings and leggings alone.

3) "Where yo boss at?!" and "I need them bags uh that money!" are going to be my new catchphrase staples. I will find new ways to incorporate these into all meetings and encounters every single day. I can already see so many practical uses for both.

4) Whenever I leave the set, the office, a meeting or go from one room to another, it is a must that I blow up a car with a trunk full of mannequins. I shouldn't even have to explain my rationale behind this. Just think how awesome that would be.

Pretty awesome.

If life is a highway then I'm losing

2009-05-27T14:20:00.003-03:00

On Monday I took off for a week long business trip that has me working about three hours from home. You might remember the last time when I ended up in a battletank from the rental company so I had high hopes when I arrived in their parking lot before heading out. But this time there must have been some sort of confusion - someone missed the ‘Rental Car’ tickbox and accidentally clicked ‘Rental Kia’.

Yes. I am driving a Kia.

So obviously I sped like a motherlover to get off the roads and avoid being seen.

Okay…fine…I didn’t. The poor thing wasn’t able to struggle past 105km/hr. But this wasn’t the biggest problem on my journey. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise but I quickly learned that nobody wants to get passed by a Kia. NOBODY. This led to the horrible yet memorable experience of getting caught in a drag race with a ’89 Toyota Tercel.

It was not a fast race. It was not a sexy race. It was kind of like if you took The Fast and the Furious movie and cast it with Jack Nicholson and John Goodman but with less flatulence - a race between someone with something to prove (Tercel) and someone with nothing to lose (Kia).

I remember looking over at my competitor who was fueled by the bitter rage of knowing that his ungrateful, teenaged son is out driving the brand new family car while he’s stuck in the car that just won’t die.

I would find no sympathy in those eyes.

As he ~~sped~~ managed to accelerate slightly passed the speeding limit of the road and the speeding limit of the Tercel, I smiled knowing that if nothing else the Kia was able to make that broken shell of a man feel like a slightly less broken shell of a man.

Thank you, Kia. You make me almost feel bad about abandoning you in that parking lot because the attendants only accept cash and I have a hard time convincing myself that you’re worth BOTH the walk to the bank and the $15 it would take to release you.

Maybe I can hitch a ride back to Halifax in the Tercel.

Be honest...

2009-05-21T22:15:00.002-03:00

1) How many of you bought into the Von Dutch trucker hat trend?

(Really...is anyone even surprised that I jumped on that bandwagon?)

(I have two $300 belts...of course I bought a $100 fucking hat.)

2) What colour or pattern of pretentious, pop culture slut were you?

(Mine was a demure and understated brown/tan combo...I didn't want to flaunt it. That would be uncool.)

3) How long did it take for you to stop pretending that you bought it before it was 'cool'?

(I still insist that Ashton and Paris stole it from me.)