My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

Because Everyone Loves a Trip to the ER in the Middle of the Night

ER Stands for: Exciting Ride, Right? Riiight?Sister’s home, 3:00am My sister wakes me from a delta sleep by touching my toe. Like that projectile vomiting girl in The Exorcist movie, I sit straight up with a start and gasp. My sister’s expression tells me we’re going to the hospital again, but that the situation isn’t dire.Mom lives with my sister and has late stage lung cancer, which is totally unfair, because she quit smoking over 30 years ago. Cancer is unfair, like that.We've already lost one family member to cancer earlier this year. Like I said, unfair.We got the diagnosis for My Little Mom five months ago when she’d noticed a constant tickle in her throat. Since then, her lung...

Kiss and Tell. Fuckit, Why Not?

People have different ways of dealing with the impending death of a loved one. Some of those ways might not be considered healthy, but I say if we can garner a laugh out of it—and walk away without STDs or too many bruises (inner or outer)—then, BAM, why the F not? Here’s how it went down … (Mind out of gutter, we’re not at that part. Yet!) A few Fridays ago, I’m in my cozy abode deciding if I want to mope or make myself Little Miss Social. So, upon receiving an event invite, I—Vacillate between jamming out or going out; decide to go out; tell Marilyn for accountability.Call mom; cry.Put on upbeat house music to get in the anti-introvert...

Friendship and Houseguests

As previously mentioned, the first month I owned my cozy abode, I wasn't in Vancouver. A desperate and destitute friend—needing a temp place pronto—moved in with her three pups. Did I mention three dogs are not permitted in my building? Did I mention I’m a cat person?The second month that I own the place (June), I moved into my new condo with my friend and her wee beasts. A condo with no furniture, but a lovely view of greenery for us to admire while sitting on the floor. My friend bought an air mattress, which she slept on in the dining area with the three little ones. I have a bed frame (no mattress), and I slept on the planks...

A Serious Case of the Sads.

Since I haven't written in what seems like forever, I'm going to have to just sum up. I've gone through a shit storm of sadness with people I love dropping like flies. I can't tell you any more than that because it involves others who are private and don't want people to know what's going on in their lives. Suffice it to say that it's been a big struggle, and I have been wading through the muck of emotion for several months. There have been funny times during the morose moments. I can't detail that yet either, but it involves inappropriate taxidermy jokes. In general, I've been in Campbell River for months taking short breaks to hit Vancouver (I do...

Death, Dating ... Dominatrix? I Am Disturbed.

Facetious Financier wouldn't tell me how he got the photo of my butt, but it was posted on Facebook for a while because I was in the midst of my midlife crisis at the time and, well, why not, right? I was already on my way out of real estate at that point―at least mentally―so might as well throw on a dominatrix outfit and go parading around in public. (But it was Vegas, and I was one of a trio, so it wasn't like I was the only.) I would be deeply ashamed of myself for this―and several other escapades―except for the fact that I say shame on shame! Plus, my shenanigans inspire people; they know that they can redeem...

How To Get Skinny Fast. (Not "Skinny-Fat")

I Lost 10 Pounds. Start Skinny Shaming Me!Okay, so far no one has skinny shamed me—to my face! But I'm sure it's going to happen any day now because I'm getting skinny again, ya'll. What's the magic potion? Well, technically I'm not allowed to call it "magic" or "fat cure" or "God-in-a-bottle," but I ain't gonna lie. Dis shit is da bomb. The bulge-busting bomb, baby! "This stuff" is Thrive. And, yeah, I'm convinced it's making me svelte! Before we get to the part where I lost 10 pounds in a month—plus an inch off my muffin top—let me explain how I first gained the weight. Also, I'm disclosing that if you buy Thrive through me I do so...

Project: 50 First Dates aka Wanna Date Me?

Wanna Date?Shut. The. Front. Door! Project 50 first dates? Master Dater??? So, here’s the dealio. In case you’ve forgotten, I am now a (self-)certified Dating, Love and Relationship Coach—Expert! I mean, why not, right? I’ve studied love and relationships for years! Yes, because, like a mechanic’s broken down car, my own love life was in dire straits and needed some serious fixing. Crazy as it seems, I know a thing or ten thousand about people. But a mechanic doesn’t often get around to their own vehicle—until they have to. After giving love and relationship advice all these years, I figured I’d better start walking the talk. Yep. Luck favours the bold and brazen. (And crazy.) Here I...

Facelifts and So Forth

What To Consider When Considering Cosmetic Surgery. Anxious and waiting—and possibly oozing beneath the mummified bandages—in the private clinic of a plastic surgeon's office spotlighted by fluorescent lights ... Me: The swelling isn't that bad. Marilyn: I don't know. I have no one to compare it to. I don't know anyone who's had a facelift done. Me: Oh, you do. You just don't know that you do. I've seen a few. This ain't bad, I promise. Marilyn: That's encouraging! The surgeon comes in, and I take a close look at him to see if he's had any "work" done, as if it might reflect on his ability. Of course it doesn't unless he's operating on himself, and that would really...

Flirting & Master Dater ShenANNAgins

How To Meet Single Men In Vancouver.. Or Not. A girl friend and I are strolling by a hole-in-the-brick-wall mysterious venue in Gastown when a tall, not unhandsome guy in retro military gear asks us, "Are you into fetish parties?" An army green 1940s BMW cafe racer with matching camo sidecar is parked beside this scene with an antique ambulance behind it. A blockbuster-movie-sized photo light is aimed at the MASH ensemble. (I find out later Camo Guy owns the props in this mini movie set.) I scan the crowd loitering in the drizzling mist outside of the nameless lounge and see similarly attired patrons, several in skin-exposing camo, military boots and brush cuts. The men are just as interesting....

What's Wrong With Me??

This Blog Has Nothing To Do With Lesbianism And That's Why I Changed The Title Y'all.(Just roll eyes and keep reading...)He's got one latex-gloved finger deep in my mouth and the other stuck in my ear.I mumble something unintelligible, and he pulls his spittle-covered finger out of my mouth with a twist of his wrist as though twirling drippage from a just-poured bottle of wine.I swallow the accumulated saliva, clear my throat, stretch my jaw wide—activating a popping sound on my left side—and ask him, Did you hear that?He did.He waits with his hand in mid-air waiting for me to tell him whatever else I’m about to say.Me: Oh. Yes. No, nothing.But what I'm really thinking is how challenging it is...

And Then I Moved To Vancouver. I Think.

Episode One: The Silver FoxI flew over on Harbour Air. The water-landing five-seater delivered me from the harbour of my adulthood hometown to the harbour of downtown Vancouver. Forty minutes and 25 pounds of luggage, and I'm in the "big city."The intention was to stay at a girl friend's place while she is away to see if I like the city. Her place is near the Seawall—a pedestrian/bicycle path that meanders along the oceanfront and around Stanley Park—and within a few blocks of the hub of downtown Vancouver. Like!By the end of the first day, when asked where I live, I say, "I'm from Comox, but I'm thinking of moving here." By the end of the second day, it becomes...

Born-Again Virgin Seeks Semi-Chauvinist And Meaning Of Life. Or A Job. P.S. Vagina.

I'm at The Broken Spoke, an espresso-slash-bicycle shop. It reminds me of Deus Cafe in Venice, California, only Deus has pricey cafe racers and low quality coffee. The BS has affordable pedal bikes and rich, delish espresso. As a California-converted coffee snob, I now drive across town (seven minutes) for the best stuff: thick as molasses and smooth as Rihanna's clam. (I assume.) Speaking of vaginas—and, in my case, cobwebs—I went to my urologist the other day for more tests on my taco. Actually, they were bladder tests, but that's not nearly as fun to write, or say, aloud. Seriously, try it. "Bladder." "Taco." Or ... "Vagina!" Vagina: the funnest to say. The doctor is mid 30s and kind of...

Spirituality and Skinny Dipping.

Back in Canada, in my adulthood hometown, I thought for sure I would need to turn to mind-altering-slash-life-numbing substances. Maybe not right away—summers are lovely here—but perhaps by autumn and definitely by winter when day"light" (daygray) hours are from 8:00am to 4:30pm.But a funny thing happened.I drove home from Los Angeles, made record time, enjoyed clear freeways, experienced no border-crossing wait and no ferry-boat wait. And all with perfect weather.But that's not the funny thing. (Funny as in funny-peculiar.)The odd thing is—(pause, breath)—when I drove off that old, familiar ferry-boat arriving on Vancouver Island, I felt happy to be home.Home.This is the first time in four years of returning to Canada after traveling that, one, I felt good about being...

Hipsters, Crazies And Coffee.

I'll Miss You, Too, La La Land ...The HipstersWhile "researching" this "article," I sent an email to a gay, as in homo, as in homosexual homo-sapien—who I call J'Mo (his first name starts with J and, well, you get the rest). Anyway, I asked him how to tell the difference between a gay guy and a hipster.He basically tells me, You remember where I live, right? [My adulthood home town] where there is no obvious evidence of either! I have to admit—he's right. Even though I know several gay couples, I know of no one who wears suspenders, bow-ties, or their pants rolled up just so. (Not even in the lady couples.) And the fellows I've seen sporting beards and...

Let's Talk Razor Burn.

...Because Then She Shaved My Face...If you want a detailed list of the cosmetic procedures I've done to look baby-face fresh, you'll have to read my memoir. Or at least skip to that chapter. Oh wait, details are sprinkled throughout. In that case, feel free to skim-read—though, you would be missing out on plenty of shits and giggles-snorts. Just sayin' ... Just sayin'. Who else dislikes that saying? Riiight? (And that one.) And yet it slips out, not unlike a—I'll skip the innuendo because I'm a grown-up now. Though I can probably give myself one more year. I mean who ends adolescence at 44? OCDness alone begs another year (to make 45), but six is preferable (to round up to...

My Butt Has Fallen And It Won't Get Up.

What Do You Call A Dinasour With A Stressed Rump? Mega Sore Ass. First off, if you call me a dinasour you gonna get word-whipped. Second, even though it's not technically a middle-age birthday for me on May 24th (I hope, and, thank you), some days I do feel old. And, third, yes, I am going to talk about my ass again. (This was written a few weeks ago, but then my mom's butt took centre stage. Let's pretend this occurred just the other day ...) How sore is my ass? My ass is sooo sore ... Speaking of butt, we interrupt this blog to bring you ... Farting Fellow aka Gassy Guy aka Dude's Gotta Poo aka The...

Shit Happens. And Then Sometimes It Doesn't.

Well, darlings, even though I'm not scheduled to depart this La La Land of debauchery for another couple weeks, I'm already in the mindset of meandering north. Back "home." Where is home to a searching gypsy-hearted soul? Not only don't I have a nest of my own to go back to—despite desperately searching MLS listings for heritage homes (read: dilapidated fixer-uppers with vermiculite) offering quick possession—but also, in the two months since I left Canada, my sister and brother-in-law decided to sell their place—where I had been staying—and are moving before I even get back. I'm just not sure four adults, two foster kids and a dog can fit in a three-bedroom townhouse. I could live in my...

Ms. Jenner aka No More BJ(s)

Mr./Ms.? How Do You Address A Transgender Person Who Hasn't Transitioned Yet? I didn't watch the Diane Sawyer interview because I don't have TV. Also, I only have limited Wi-Fi at home. One of these days, I'll go to the library and watch it, but for now I already know all I need. Jenner has a limited amount of time to run around totally topless before s/he's got to get on board with the rest of us females and fight for—or flee from—airing our areolas in public (see #freethenipple blog). Though, I feel that if s/he were to trapeze around bare-chested now, it would already be breaking the law. Not only has s/he acknowledged that s/he is transgender but also...

Top 5 Reasons Why #Freethenipple Is Total Anti-Feminist BS

Exposing Ourselves in Public.There's this nipply thing going around the internet these days, and it’s hashtagged freethenipple. Basically, it's a feminist movement (and movie) lobbying to allow our lovely lady bits (nip bits, specifically) to be released from their prison—our clothing: tit-slings (bras), wife-beaters, tube tops, and sweater-stretchers—you name it, anything that women wear.Modern feminists claim that in order to break the glass ceiling, attain true equality and overcome all manner of male (gender?) oppression, we must be permitted to bare our boobs. Not just cleave. Not just under-cleave. Not even just side-boob. Nope, they want to see nipple action on the streets of Wherever and Whenever. Same as dudes can.Okay, I get it. I am sort of a feminist....

Deja Vu: The Mid-Life Weary-Go-Round Crisis.

What To Do When We Don't Know What To Do. Warning: F-bombs. Yes, my vagina is fine, thank you for asking. A little lonely perhaps, but isn't everyone?I decided to write this blog sober (but not somber) because I'm in a coffee shop, and the baristas don't take well to drunkards stumbling around asking patrons will you type this blog for me, (hehe) I'm having a hard time seeing the screen should we write about free the nipples or (hiccough, hehe)... hey, lady, wait come back ...What? You don't believe that happened? Well, fine you're right. But speaking of boozy, there goes a home-lacking man with a veritable townhouse of possessions attached to a bicycle. I'm not being prejudice here;...

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