Hey Mom!

Hey Mom! If you've been in this alcove of the internet for awhile you know that I'm fairly certain that my life is a sitcom. With that in mind, a car dweller tendency (CDT) may be defined in the following way: Car Dweller Tendencies (CDT) - if you found out I was living out of my car, you wouldn't be surprised. Now, I'm imagining a cartoonish sitcom world where solutions to all problems can be found within 30 minutes. This means that I'm probably living in my car for a hilarious and very fixable reason (like I'm too stubborn to admit that a clown lamp given to me as a housewarming gift scares me... or something, I haven't put too much thought into it). So recently, I pulled into work and happened to park next to my boss.... then I realized that I had a pillow, a sleeping bag and a waffle iron in the backseat from a recent trip to Lethbridge (don't ask me why I needed a waffle iron, I just did). Then I realized if my boss walked past my car and th

Hey Mom! So this week is more of announcement than a tale of shenanigans gone horribly wrong... well ok, maybe just a quick tale of shenanigans gone horribly wrong. On the weekend, my roommate was gone so I thought it would be the perfect time to unleash the fiercest choreography my living room had ever seen. I turned on the music. I yelled along in the key of flat discordant chaos. I felt the music in my soul. Then. It. All. Went. Wrong. Unfortunately, I did not feel the music in my soles. There was a bit of a coordination mix up which resulted in pain. My living room saw the rise and fall of a dance legend that night. It gets worse. My boss also happens to be my physiotherapist WHICH MEANS I had to explain to another grown adult that I can barely walk this week because I have an uncurbable enthusiasm for dance coupled with all the ability of a dead sloth. Ok announcement time! I am very happy to announce that I have created something of a one-stop shop for all my

Hey Mom! So the honeymoon stage has worn off my gap year and now a sort of listlessness has set in.... I used to have lists for each class, each day of the week plus monthly lists and long term lists. Now? I have no lists. But on Thursday I was once again swept up in adventure, the harrowing tale to follow. *I want to preface this with saying that my roommate does 99% of the yard work but otherwise I would die* So I decided I was going to rake the backyard. Fuelled by Reactin and the promise of a sweet Benedryl slumber later on, I set about my task. I hoisted the rake above my head and released my battle cry into the cold autumn wind ... ...Then about ten minutes later it started raining so I went inside because it was cold and I didn't like it. BUT FRIDAY, a day traditionally used for evening naps and the consumption of various forms of melted cheese, I was ready. I donned my rubber boots with their thermal lining, I layered a long-sleeve under a t-shirt (mostly becaus

Hey Mom! So we have an employee bathroom at work which someone has mercifully stocked with Poo-Pourri. Personally, I avoid using the bathroom while I'm working. I know what you're thinking Oh, you are one of those people that won't use public bathrooms aren't you? No. I have no problem dropping a deuce in a public bathroom because that is what bathrooms are for ... but using the bathroom throws off my momentum. Anyway, recently someone has moved the Poo-Pourri to a more prominent spot in the bathroom in what I can only assume is some sort of passive aggressive power move.  This is very exciting for so many reasons.  But first and foremost is the idea of a Poo-Pourri memo getting circulated around the office.   SUPER SAIYAN DUMPING FACE In the event that I am tasked with constructing such a memo (very unlikely but dreams come true every day), I have come up with a rough draft so that my time to shine will be as brilliant as all the suns in the universe: Hel