Oh God. This weekend.

Late planes, late nights.

Never has this phrase been more applicable:

"Those nights that turned into mornings, with those friends that turned into family."

♥

Thursday: Arrived late, had sushi with Mitchell and Lydia. Watched High Fidelity.

Friday: Bought a silo worth of alcohol, had coffee and cigarettes with Landon, bought shoes, looked at comics, had dinner, consumed silo of alcohol, jump-attacked Lydia and Tristan in bed, bought more alcohol, got drunker, watched Landon headsmash, wrangled Landon home, discussed many deep things, went to the water, went on Tangents [capitalized for emphasis, frequency, and our ability to come back to the point], went to the waterfront, went to the sauna, got locked out of the sauna, tried every wacky scheme we could to get in, sat in the elevator and pretended we were trapped, finally got let in by a woman coming home from the bar, went upstairs, smoked a last cigarette, went to bed watching Family Guy.

Saturday: Woke up and watched more Family Guy, visited Landon at work, bought books, got dinner, watched Ghost Town, began drinking second silo of alcohol, got fancied up, drew on glass walls, attended gala, won a Frilly Lily gift basket from a silent auction, Mitchell won 20 lbs of fudge [don't bother making jokes, we already made every single one of them], went to the gay bar, went to another gay bar, got super salty, came home, made a video about our saltiness, watched racially insensitive material, took more pictures, went to bed.

Sunday: [Original day of departure] Woke up at 9 a.m., went to Elbow Room, got sexually harassed and extremely drunk at breakfast, went back to the apartment, lounged, packed, went shopping, bought comics, watched Almost Famous, had sushi, missed flight, went to hotel, was salty, watched Family Channel, slept.

Monday: Hotel failed in waking me up, almost missed flight again, made flight, went home, showered, went to work.

Yes, I do always rule this much. Sexless marriages, polygamy, and photos to follow when I don't fail as much.

This is me and the new shampoo and conditioner I'm trying. Solid shampoo and conditioner from Lush. 

My aunt was here for the weekend and it was awesome. Also, I'm happy that my room is feeling clean. I have the space heater. I have antibiotics and I have awesome friends. So. I'm off to do more cleaning before it's time for Meghan to be off work and us to be awesome. 

Time to go green, yo.

Ah ha. Internet, trying to trip me up from telling my offensive jokes. Yeah, right.

Q. How do you tell if a native woman is menstruating?

A. She's only wearing one sock.

Q: What do you get if you put 50 lesbians and 50 natives in one room?

A: 100 people who don't do dick.

Q: How do you tell if an East Indian woman is pregnant?

A: The red dot on her forehead turns blue.

Q: Why do they call native men braves?

A: Have you seen the women they have to fuck?

Did you hear about the east indian man who put odor eaters in his shoes? He disappeared.

Q: How do you tell if a lesbian built a house?

A: There's no studs, it's all tongue in groove.

If a Hudderite couple gets divorced, are they still brother and sister?

I'm not sure if I remember any more of the jokes that Paul* told us. But he used to be a stand-up comedian. Blame him if you're offended, not me.

But when I heard the word "Brave", I definitely wanted to watch Ernest Goes To Camp. Who doesn't love that shit? Definitely me. I'm going to proudly watch Ernest Goes To Camp and think about really offensive things until I go to sleep. 

Good Night Calgary, and Good Night Adam, my friend for 5 Years. We don't need the theatre, because we have a long-ass friendship and siblinghood that isn't dependent on blood/legal relations.

A is for the way you look at me.

D is for the only one I see.

A is very, very extra-ordinary.

M is even more than anyone that you adore and love. 

Oh, wait, that's not ADAM, that's LOVE. Oh well, jugs of triples do that to you. At least I'm mostly coherent in this drunk post. Hearts and stars and kisses and love.

My life has become an interesting pop song...

But no one is singing along. Perhaps that's because I haven't told anyone the melody.

This past week has been non-stop go go go. I worked Monday night and because we dicked around there, we didn't get out of the theatre until 2 a.m. Yay for working longer than you paid yourself for!

Tuesday through Thursday I volunteered at the film festival. Since last night was my last night at the film festival, Davis decided we were going to drink rum all night while working. This wasn't particularly difficult for me as my job was to scan in prepurchased tickets and download film box office control codes. He, however, was working in booth, threading projectors that are as old as Alabama. Between him, me, and another guy named Chad, we finished off half a 26 of white rum.

Apparently that wasn't enough for us. No, we had to go consume more alcoholic beverages at a place called Bottlescrew Bill's. They're famous for Around The World In Eighty Beers. If you finish all eighty beers in a year, you get a plaque with your name on it. A boy from my office finished them in a matter of two months. It was kind of awesome. Anyway, last night we slammed back beer, shots consisting of Pear, Creme de Menthe, and Sambuca, as well as Sour Jacks at the end of the night and vodka slimes. This still was not enough for us! We went back to Davis' friend's place and continued to drink vodka, rum, and something called Wild Turkey, which Davis made exceptionally strong and I didn't finish. He took one sip at the end of the night and said "I am so damn proud of you for even making it halfway through that cup, Mindy."

We stumbled out of there just after 3 a.m., two drinks and a whole lot of Michael Jackson later. Funnily enough, when we left the theatre to buy the original rum, Davis told me about a party where he and Clements both slept with girls from our theatre and he said he did not picture the evening ending like that. As we were walking to the hotel to get a cab, we talked about how we definitely didn't see this evening coming. And then we decided to hang out more.

I proceeded to cab it home and pour myself into bed around 4 a.m. and then wake up at 6:30 a.m. to get ready for work. If I pushed getting out of bed to 6:50 a.m., well, that's between me and my blankets.

Remember that time that I would only smoke marlboros?

Me either. This past night was a gong-show. I wish I could accurately represent what happened? But in order:

1. Renaldo, giving us some Mean Girls. Madge being straight-up 50s. 

2. Not getting enough drinks but being danced all up on right away.

3. Having two gays to rescue you instead of just one. 

4. Chugging coolers.

5. Hot wrist-bandana guy being too hot for real life.

6. Meeting a pornstar and not realizing he was a pornstar until Landon recognized from pornographic material he has studied.

7. Rosalie and Alex coming to an afterparty with us. 

8. Our own afterparty being better than anything else we could have done.

9. Almost getting killed by group of slightly homophobic people who don't take too kindly to being flipped off. No, actually.

10. Underwear party with painting, uninvited upstairs guests entering in the most unusual way ever, and a group bath.

11. Our paintings including peppercorns and bandages. 

12. The most awkward morning after this side of Mary finding out she was pregnant with Jesus.

13. Random gay men being perfectly awesome to dance with. 

14. Short gay men running rampant!

15. Go-Go Dancers! 

16. Someone totally fucking calling Piece of Me 8 seconds before it played. 

17. Alex passing out on the couch and us having to check to make sure he was alive and ensuring he was in the proper vomiting position.

18. Nerdy straight boys? No. 

19. Once again making out with a gay boy.

20. Mixing champagne, vodka, rockstar for the cocktail of doom. 

21. Drinking a silo, van, and bucket of alcohol. 

22. Spoon-dancing? Something involving spoons over our nipples and Landon grabbing my breasts for no apparent reason. 

23. Drinking while watching The Gods Must Be Crazy and thinking it was a documentary.

24. The bathroom being the best fucking seat in the house. 

25. Corporate discussions on the balcony. 

And now, I think I want to go smoke with Landon, my new BFF from last night. He and I might actually be the same person. We're trying to piece together the evening and all of us have different recollections of everything but something none of us can figure out is whether or not we were wearing pants when the guy scaled the wall, Spiderman-style.

Oy vey it's a been awhile. Things are a lot better on my end. The Conference 'O' Doom is over and I no longer have to meet in the boardroom for six hours out of what were turning into ten hour days. I'm grateful for everyone who kept me sane. They know who they are.

As of right now, I'm setting a new list of goals for myself because the old ones belonged to the old blog which belonged to the old me. There are things I find more important now than getting a huge record collection or seeing a certain band a certain number of times. Like I said, this time I mean it, I'm coming clean.

Meghan and I had Starbucks hangs last night and the newest love of my life is Venti Iced Passion Tea Lemonade Unsweetened. Sorry, guys, you can't compete. I'm in the middle of reading Mailman and I wish it would hurry up and get to something interesting. The premise sounded so promising. That's what she said.

I have two flights coming up in two months and I'm deathly excited for both of them. Seeing someone too often spoils me but not seeing them often enough makes my heart break a little more.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Fail

I'm so happy I didn't work Wednesday or Thursday evening at the theatre. There was so much fail going on tonight with my staff and my guests and my life. 

First of all, I'm trying to go a little more green and start using public transportation. I should be rewarded for my efforts. Or they should at least go a little smoother than they went today. I woke up bright and early and caught the 7:11 a.m. bus to the train station and caught a train going the opposite way I wanted to go. This was on purpose. I'm one stop away from the end of the line and then I ride the train almost to the complete other end of the line. I wanted a seat. So, I took the train into downtown and everything went smoothly. It was nice out, I got to wear my sassy new raincoat and be gleeful that it was not yet raining.

I should've quit there. I should've quit right then and there and said "Thanks for the wonderful day, life." No, I got in and I did nothing but work for the entire day. Now, most days I'll make time to check out my favourite blogs and see what's going on in the world at large. There wasn't even time for that. 

After work, I went to catch the bus to take me to the theatre. Now, I know the 301 takes me to the theatre. Great, I miss a 301 but the next one is due in 11 minutes. That's not horrible. I'll wait for it and feel awesome about myself for caring a little about the environment.

I got on the wrong 301. This one took me to the southwest rather than the northeast. Of course, I was reading The Zombie Survival Guide and learning how to do search and destroy/reclamation missions, so I didn't really pay attention to where I was going until I looked up and saw Bow Trail and 33rd Avenue SW. ... So not where I needed to be.

I get off at the next stop, cross the street and catch the other 301. Thusfar, I have managed to remain relatively dry. I board my 301 and it starts pissing rain from the sky and I have deal with a woman who not only wants her seat but also wants half of mine. I think, I can deal with this for a little longer. I get to my stop and finally, finally am at the theatre, half an hour late for my shift. I already know shit is going to be hitting the fan because there's no way in hell that Indiana Jones isn't busy. And that's when I start getting poured on. 

Also, my staff are all incompetent and they know I hate them. New jobs, anyone?

Things that made today bearable: Starbucks water, Meghan, Adam, Shopper's Drugmart at 3 a.m., and Tabatha doing zombie watch for me while I peed. 

Sleepy Melinda. 

I finally unpacked today. I love using my day off for random, unimportant shit that I should be doing other days but just can't be bothered with. Here's hoping it doesn't rain tomorrow because I don't remember where I put my umbrella and I have too much to do tomorrow to have real life get in the way. 

Speaking of the serious business that is real life, Meghan is awesome. She smokes all the crack I give her and she indulges me in 3 a.m. hangouts. It's the only time of day that really matters. Plus, I think we both remind ourselves that we're good people. At least I hope she remembers that because she makes me remember that. 

I'm sick and somewhat delusional. When I run fevers, I look at pictures of caterpillars and this has been no exception to that rule. Right now, I'm in love with love and the way yellow looks with blue. 

Busy week, busy life. Hair appointment on the 31st because seriously, totally as shallow as a kiddie pool.

All I want to do is listen to Manchester Orchestra's 'Golden Ticket' and remember that I still have a shot at life. If you haven't heard the song, I suggest you check it out. Andy fucking slays me every single day with the awesomeness of his mind. I want to bring a blanket and curl up in his head for a day. 

Good night.