Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Miscellaneous Thoughts and Stuff

List time.

  1. I apologize for being gone so long. I KINDA felt bad, but not really, since no one reads this anyway.
  2. Halloween has bummed me out ever since I left Trinidad. (I know that was only two Halloweens ago, but still.) It didn't this year as much as I expected, but it still wasn't emotion-free. I had a kickass sleepover with friends of mine where we watched some freaky movies and had girly talk and slept a lot. That was on Friday, and then the rest of the weekend, while everyone in the world I knew was out partying and doing awesome Halloween-related stuff, I stayed home, slept, watched lots of Halloween TV programming, and ate good food. I've never really acted my age, but does anyone else think it's weird that I haven't been to ONE PARTY the ENTIRE YEAR I've lived in Winnipeg? No? Just me, then.
  3. I totally think I could be a rapper/singer on rap songs now.
  4. I have an incredible crush on a real-life rapper/writer/actor/comedian, Donald Glover/Childish Gambino, and IT'S NOT GOING AWAY.
  5. I have no travel planned for November. This is very, very strange and it sort of weirds me out.
  6. On the topic of November, I cannot for the LIFE of me remember November 2009. Was I drugged that entire month, or something? I just missed it.
  7. I have INCREDIBLE cramps right now. Okay, so this is more of a diary now than a blog, but seriously, NO ONE IS READING THIS. If you are...you deserve a cookie.

I'm tired now. That took some serious exertion. Night, friends.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

When Robin Lives Alone

My mom went away for three days and two nights this past weekend. She left early on Sunday morning and got back a few hours ago, Tuesday afternoon.

Since 16 isn't old enough to be left alone (or, you know, fly to Trinidad all by yourself, BUT WHATEVER), some my friends moved in WITH me so that in case I burnt the house down, we would ALL die and not just me.

So here's what happened, in list form.

  1. Number of girls under one roof: 3 (4 counting non-humans)
  2. Number of alternatively crazy-ass hyped up OR depressed and downtrodden dogs: 1
  3. Number of worried mother phone calls: 5-6 per day
  4. Number of rooms cleaned before arrival of guests: 8
  5. Number of sets of sheets washed: 3
  6. Number of towels washed: 10-12
  7. Number of loads of laundry ruined by me: NONE
  8. Number of lamps broken: 1
  9. Number of "this is why I shouldn't try and be nice by cleaning the house because I break so much shit" moments: 3
  10. Hours spent with iTunes playing: at least 12
  11. Amount of homework done: the bare minimum
  12. Number of nail polish color changes: 4
  13. Number of doggie accidents: 4 separate occasions
  14. Number of Spanish words spoken: 15-20
  15. Number of Mad Men episodes watched: 3
  16. Number of hours spent talking about boys: 5
  17. Number of hours spent talking about ONE boy: 4.5
  18. Number of swear words said: 50
  19. Number of swear words said by me: 48
  20. Number of imaginary sexy young Latino men to stop by: 3

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Thing About Compliments; A Jagged Gorgeous Winter; My Cup Size

Compliments, rather than making me proud, tend to make me squirm.

I'm chatting to Eoin and trying to explain why compliments rarely work. I think it's because people are so quick to say nice things ("I love your hair", "I want those shoes", "Your eye makeup looks really good") that they're not a rarity. And, like all nice things, the more common they are, the less valuable it makes them.

If Don Draper were to compliment me, I would die. It would make my life.

If Eoin, or a friend, or my mom, compliments me, I appreciate it just as much, and I love that they do it, but it's not a day-altering experience.

That's all I have to say about that.









I hope you enjoyed that picture. I'm going to talk about something else now.

Winter is coming.

I don't know how I feel about that. I didn't really notice it last year. We got in a bit of a rut in winter, and I just sort of went through it in a fog. 11th grade overall went ridiculously fast, but it was like I moved to Canada, then stuff happened, and then it was Spring Session already.

I'm thinking about myself a lot lately. Not really in a bad way. I'm thinking about how I look (also not in a bad way), and confidence. I'm thinking that I've always wanted to have a skinny stomach and smaller thighs but how proud I am of my hips and chest.

My women's studies class makes me think about these things, and why I wear makeup and style my hair the way I do. And even when I'm home alone, and wearing my black sweatpants, and a tight-fitting black v-neck, and my hair looks banging with a red scarf in it, I have this incredible confidence that lets me swing my hips around my room, singing along to the Ting Tings and organizing. I'm thinking about how even if I'm not going to see anyone, looking good makes me feel good, and feeling good feels GOOD.

I like makeup. And hair. And my C-cups. And while I could live without my stretch marks, and wouldn't mind slightly whiter teeth, I'm learning to cope with what, and who, I am right now.

What do I love most in the world? This.



This is Mad Men, and this is my show.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

For the Newbies

If you don't know already, please go look at the page called The Blog(s) for a full description of what exactly is going on here.

Monday, September 6, 2010

There's Just More White to Love!

I consider myself a confident person. That being said, my self-esteem goes up and down more than...something that goes up and down a lot.

Things that murder my self-confidence and leave me wanting to crawl under my covers with nothing but a pack of double-stuffed Oreos and three seasons of Smallville include trying on swimsuits, being around my cousin Shayleigh while being within ten feet of a mirror, sunbathing, and being sweaty.

Things that make me love myself and every curve I have are things like well-fitting jeans, bulky sweaters, having my makeup done by Mai, waking up acne-free, seeing this picture (http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/photo.php?pid=2502126&id=565781751&ref=fbx_album), straightening my hair to perfection, painting my fingernails black, and watching Chris Rock, who normally annoys me, do stand-up about how much black guys love chunky white girls.

Before a day of what I was sure was going to be soul-crushingly painful clothes shopping, I watched a good hour of this stand-up. (There were no Saturday morning cartoons on.)

But what all the Chris Rock the crappy Canadian Comedy channel had on at 8 in the morning couldn't prepare me for was a little store called Aeropostale.

A haven for those seeking American grunge-style clothes without adopting the Kurt Cobain personality (see: Ke$ha), Aeropostale is famous for it's eagle logo, plaid chambray shirts, and ridiculous pretention, all seeping through over-priced, mass-produced clothing and accessories. And we just can't get enough of it.

Silly me, I decided to go into an Aeropostale on the Saturday of American Labor Day weekend. It was completely packed, but the sign that screamed "$15 Hoodies!" was irresistible. Turns out they were actually sweatshirts in ugly colors (note: difference between hoodies and sweatshirts - a zipper up the front. Sweatshirts have to be pulled over your head. Duh) but I ended up finding REAL hoodies and cute shirts in my size, which, I was sad to discover during this shopping trip, is a Large, if I want any breathing room. After waiting in line for what felt like FOREVER for a changing room, I was enraged to find that the Large size was tight on me.

Now, I am NOT a fat-ass. I know I can't convince you of that, imaginary internet readers. But I am AVERAGE in sweet, kind, lovely stores like Penney's and Target. And so while I still drool over the gorgeous clothes sold in places like Aeropostale and American Apparel, I have to come to the realization that hipster joints have done the opposite of what Morgan Spurlock talked about. They've labeled the Medium sizes "Large", and the Larges "Supersized" in an effort to make us all feel bad about ourselves.

I think it's time I put aside my Chris Rock issues and load up on his wisdom before I go back for Shopping Trip, Volume 2.

Friday, August 27, 2010

A Cleaning Frenzy

HELLO, AGAIN.

See, this is what I like about getting to dictate my own blog rules. I SHOULD be giving every single detail about my trip to Trinidad and everything else that happened this summer. I SHOULD tell you that it was awesome and fabulous and we had a bitchin' time. And I SHOULD tell you that I'm back in Winnipeg now and am in a cleaning frenzy to "get ready for school" which starts on September 9th.

I SHOULD tell you all of those things.

But I don't really WANT to.

So, here is a sampling of blog posts that I started over the past few weeks and didn't finish. Because I just didn't feel like it.

1. No Title (Because I'm Bad Like That)

AGH! NOOO! I'm doing it again! I'm failing to blog for weeks straight! You guys! This isn't good!


I know I said I don't like people breaking the fourth wall when it comes to my blog, but that only applies when we're in PERSON! COMMENT, YOU GUYS! I wrote that EPIC post about me yorking all over the Capitol steps AND NO ONE CARED. Do you know what that DOES to a girl's self esteem? Shit's CRAZY.

Anyhoooo.

What have I been doing recently?

Not a whole heck of a lot.

I know I'm in Our National's Capital, so the thought that I'm doing squat is pretty ridonculous. But these days, I'm more inclined to sleep until 2pm, laze around, watch old House re-runs and spend WAY too much time on Facebook.

2. Love-Hate Relationships


Everything is different when you're in a long-distance relationship. Nothing is the same as when you both live within ten miles of each other. The dynamic is different. Every conversation is long and full and complicated because once you're finally in a rhythm with that person again, after how ever many days it's  been, you don't want to lose it.

I'm not in one of these relationships - I'm in several. I'm with family right now, which, ironically, means I'm not with any of my friends. Every friend I care about is far away - whether its the other side of the world, thousands of miles south of here, or a short bus ride north of me, not one of them is here.

The internet eases the pain. It always has. I got my first ever email account (the Hotmail account I use to this day) before I moved away from Poland, and though there have been some fabulous technological advances since then - Gmail, MSN, Skype, Facebook - the basic principles are still the same. Internet may ease the pain, but it doesn't make it go away.

This is the second post in a row that has sounded down. That's probably because I'm writing it at closer to 4 in the morning than 3. (Barely.)

3. An Update from AMERICA


I'M ALLIIIVEEE!

And in the homeland. I figured I should update so I don't look like Ms. Allie over at Hyperbole and a Half, not blogging for a month. I WOULD blog, except I didn't bring Flamingo (my laptop. Seriously. If you don't know that, learn to use my *Archives* -->) and the only laptop around is my brother's, but more importantly, the internet around here is majorly lacking.

We're gonna make a list now, so I can organize mah thoughts.

  1. ANOTHER THING THAT'S MAJORLY LACKING - COLDNESS. If you know me, you know how much I love to be cold and how much I hate to be hot. It is HOT here.



See, you guys? I tried. You can't say I didn't TRY.

Meanwhile, props to Kaster (lifeisgouda.blogspot.com) for blogging again. Props to my brother (theextras.tumblr.com) for doing what I've encouraged him to for YEARS, and creating a place to post all the links he bombardes Facebook with. Props to Ms. Chesler (3limes.wordpress.com) for moving into her new house TODAY and being unlike me and blogging about every minute of it.

Props to everyone but Happy Little Lemon, who, I assure you, will get better at this.

Only if I feel like it.


Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Update

HAY, FRIENDS.

So, I'm in Trinidad.

And if you're reading this, you're probably not. Which SUCKS, because that means you and I aren't hanging out. Which is a major shame.

While I'm not exactly *busy*, I don't have much time for blogging, so we'll be on one of those little empty times where you all wonder, Will she come back? Is she just going to stop blogging again? What will I DO if she doesn't come back? Do you think she knows how much I love and appreciate her? Should I tell her? (The answer is, and always will be, yes.)

IMPORTANT NEWS: I OFFICIALLY HAVE A SECOND COUSIN. My cousin, Jeremy, and his wife, Veronica, who you may remember me blogging about back when she got PREGNANT (which seems like waaaaaaaaaaaay less than 9 months ago), are the proud momma and poppa to GAWJUS Josephine Isabelle Dimick (which, by the way, is WAY prettier than any Sims name I have ever come up with). So YAAAY.

That's it on the news front. Talk to you, my dear, probably non-existant, internet readers, soon.

R

Friday, July 30, 2010

A Butterfly in a Lemon

I have a lot of things on my mind these days. I've always been a worrier, and I have these little spurts, usually late at night, when I hear a particular song or see something on TV (i.e. tonights viewage of choice - Forrest Gump). And when times is hard, I tend to make lists.

  1. My dear, dear friends Eddie and Tyler are going to be in New York starting Sunday night, making it the closest, distance-wise, I will have been to these guys in six months. It's around a three or four-hour bus ride up to NYC, and a roundtrip ticket doesn't cost an unbelievable amount. I can't describe how much I would love to see my friends, but I wish someone else would, for once, take over the reins and deal with logistics. The wholeconcept can only be described as thrilling. I think I would have the best few days of my life. But I can't help but worry about the spontaneity of such an amazing idea.

  2. I went to what's called Preview Day at American University here in DC today. It's one of the schools on my list. I'm not going to ramble about AU, but I will say that whenever the college topic comes back up, it just brings back this whole new wave of concerns. Money, what I want to do with my life, where I want to be located, what I want to study - I've always thought of myself as a decisive person, capable of making decisions, but this process always flips that on its head and makes me doubt myself. There are so many things to think of that sometimes my head just hurts and I get so sick of it all and all I want to do is cry.

  3. And as always, there are man issues. For the sake of some of my readers, I won't get into the details, but we've all been in relationships and we've all had the same drama and emotions and we all know how that can affect a person. It's hard, and it's tiring, and it just adds to the other shit we have to deal with.


I think that's all I have for now.

If anyone out there has any suggestions to get rid of the butterflies and the shaky hands and the knitted eyebrows, I will be so grateful to hear them.

Sorry the Little Lemon doesn't sound quite so Happyy.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

And Today I Scraped My Knee

So far, my tour of the capital isn't going FABULOUSLY. After my exciting experience on Saturday, I topped it off by sticking my heel in a hole in the street and toppling over. Not, however, before I grabbed my dad's ass, the nearest thing within reach, for support on the way down, and thoroughly freaked him and his girlfriend out.

I also sweated my fucking ASS off today. Well, we all did, but if you know me, you know how much I want to murder the whole concept of being hot and you'll understand how that can ruin a day.

We went to see a play in the hip neighborhood of DC, called Dupont Circle,  home of all things indie/hipster/liberal and some of the best bookstores, restaurants, cafes, and little boutiques in town. The play was NUTTY and, as all plays do, made me miss acting.

We've also brought back up the topic of college and where in hellll I am going to go. I don't understand how other people decide things like this. I wish there was someone who would just decide all of this FOR me and then tell me to live with it.

A blog update: I plan on redesigning HLL once I get my computer back - so ignore its current state of ugliness.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

A Milestone

Ladies and Gentlemen, I would just like to announce that something wonderful has happened on Happy Little Lemon.

I officially have a total of 100 comments.

I know for some of those bigtime blogs out there, who get about 600 comments per post, this would seem awfully stupid. But HLL has always been a small operation and to know that there have been 100 times where people have felt connected enough to my writing to stop and comment on it, is to know that I must be doing SOMETHING right, and I cannot thank you enough.

In lieu of this exciting (for me) news, I would like to introduce my new system of CATEGORIZATION - I will now be filing posts under the location in which they were written. So far, we have Trinidad, Canada, DC, and Michigan, though hopefully, someday, there will be more.

This blog  has had its ups and downs. It has gone weeks, even months, without a single blog post. I've shut it down completely and then given it new life. I've tossed it aside and paid attention to other blogs.

But always, HLL was there for me, and she will continue to be for a very, very long time.

Love from the Happy Little Lemon herself.

Lemon Visits the Capital

And she is LOVING IT.

I have always loved DC. It's the bomb. If I could end up anywhere in the world, it'd be a weird version of DC where it never went above 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

I spent just under a year living here when I was in 2nd grade - it technically wasn't DC at al, it was a town called Arlington, and it's in Virginia, but it's almost literally a stone's throw from DC.

I usually come here 2 or 3 times a year - it's where my dad lives, and the State Department is here, aka the mothership for all foreign service families. Plus, my top two choices for colleges are in DC, so, yeah, I know the city, it's my place, I belong here.

I'm here for 2 or 3 weeks this time, and there is lots to do on the schedule.

Today, we went on a Segway tour of DC. Let me say that again for emphasis. A SEGWAY tour of DC. Do you know what a Segway is? No? Here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Segway

Yeah. I can't even describe the concept--it was wicked. It was cool. It was bitchin'. And if Segways didn't cost $5000 (yeah, five thousand dollars. I'm not kidding) and were more than kinda a pointless toy, I'd be all OVER that shit.

So, we hurried (we thought we were late) down to McPherson Square (an area/Metro stop in DC - by the way, Metro = the subway. That's what it's called here. If you live here, or have visited here, it's, like, impossible to NOT take the Metro somewhere). There was some initial freakout over whether or not we could wear flip flops on the Segways, but it turned out to be fine.

The reason I wanted to wear flip flops so badly was because a) the only tennis shoes I have are high tops and I can only wear jeans with those because they look stupid with shorts and IN CONJUCTION WITH a), is b), which is that it was a MILLION FUCKING DEGREES and only a NUTJOB would even CONSIDER wearing jeans in this heat. I declared myself NOT a nutjob and wore shorts and flip flops and it was all good. But turns out, I was a nutjob. We were all nutjobs. Because we made one very, very crucial mistake today.

We went outside.

Screw the heat advisory! we said. That's for WIMPS! We're gonna cruise around town on our sexy Segways and be OH-SO-FLY and anyways, it can't be THAT hot.

Turns out, it was that hot.

I don't know if it was because the Segways move in a hella-weird way, I don't know if it was my attempt at taking pictures while ON a Segway, I don't know if it was because I was on my period, and I don't know if it was because, like I said, it was a hot as a BITCH out there, but for some reason, as we pulled up on the stairs of the Capitol building, looked down towards the Washington Monument and, beyond that, the Lincoln Memorial, I was overcome by a wave of nausea.

Remembering what the nice (cute) guys in the Segway store had told us about getting off the things, I grabbed the handlebar of the Segway with my left hand and stepped onto the ground, my vision swirling and seeing spots. Yanking the earbuds the tourguide gave us so we could hear his commentary out of my ears, I ripped off my (very stylish) helmet and (sexy as hell) sunglasses, I mumbled something to my dad, shoved the segway at the tourguide, and took a seat on the steps of the capital. It's so hot, was all I was thinking. Sweat dripped down my forehead. My hands shook. I was fine, I told myself. It's just hot. A few sips of water, I sucked it up and stood up. Dammit, I was going to FINISH this tour if it was the last thing I did. I made my way back to my Segway, asked for my gear back from my dad, and I was about to put it on, felt another, far worse wave rush to my head.

My dad grabbed my arm. All I could see was white. It looked to be about ten feet to the steps. It was fewer. I felt the top step with my foot and sank to my ass. Head between my knees, I took deep breaths as my dad rubbed my back. Oh, god, I thought.

And then I puked on the steps of the Capitol building.

My dad told me later that puke actually came out of my nose. I vaguely recall that happening, but all I was thinking was, Pancakes. Why did I have so many pancakes? Look. My pancakes. They're on the ground. Ground pancakes.

When it was all over, the first thing I felt was cold on the back of my neck. A concerned security guard (they're all over DC, a common sight, especially around the governmental buildings) had come over with an icy bottle of water and plunked it there, after which he just stood around awkwardly, repeatedly asking me if I "needed medical assistance". I assured him I didn't, told my dad I always feel better after puking, and insisted that we continue the tour. My dad also told me later that cute Aaron, our tour guide, was frantically gesturing "no" at him behind my back at this comment, but whatever.

My dad and I decided to get in a cab and go home, leaving Tony with Aaron to finish the tour and take the Segways back (Aaron turns out to be very skilled with the Segways and was able to drag my and my dad's back to the store. Not easy stuff). As we walked (very slowly) away from the Capitol, the security guard (R. Weatherbee, his nametag said. Yeah, I took notice of that. How could you not?) offered to help once more, but by this point I was just super embarrassed and wanted to leave. I was actually feeling fine - everyone feels better after throwing up. I mostly felt guilty - I had been wanting to do the Segways for a few years now, and they're not cheap, but it was just a bad combination of circumstances that led to my temporary demise.

As we left, I saw Weatherbee walking with some orange cones towards where I had *inaugurated* (my dad's joke, not mine), which was good, because for some reason these tourists (very California-y ones) were standing RIGHT NEXT TO ME WHILE I was puking and then didn't move afterwards. Which was weird, but, you know, everyone's family is different.

In the cab on the way home, the nice Sheik cab driver cranked the AC for us and I started to feel better, but for some reason, I couldn't stop sneezing. I must have sneezed twenty times in the fifteen minute cab ride. At one point, the cab driver (HUGE turban, long white beard) actually turned around in his seat and looked at me, horrified. He offered me a "napkin", which I accepted, and he turned around shaking his head. If you've seen Pirates of the Carribean 3 (which you better have), he reminded me a lot of one of the pirate lords - "And SO, we shall GO, to WAR!".

So, all's well that ends well. My dad and I got home and watched the end of the first Narnia movie, and Tony got home some time later. Tony was pretty horrified by the whole thing - I caught a glimpse of him as I was being led away from the scene of the crime, and he was wide-eyed and pale. When he got home, he complimented me on my choice of location for the big event - centered on the steps of the Capitol and therefore directly in line with the entire Washington National Mall.

Hey, if you have to toss your cookies in public, at least be symmetrical.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Still

Still in Michigan, still struggling to type on an iPad, still listening to Childish Gambino, still rapping along with Eminem, still being annoyed by my bangs, still eating nothing but mac and cheese and hot dogs, still daily killing zombies with plants, still watching cooking shows and VH1, still straightening my hair, still Facebooking, still not Tweeting, still hanging out with my cousin nonstop, still bonding with my brother, still poor, still hot, still sniffly, still tired, still sleeping, still trying to get over you, still waiting for you to update your blog, still waiting for you to email me back, still waiting to live with you, still missing you guys.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Adventures of the iPadw

Oh my god, I am writing this on an iPad. Fo serious. It's probably the weirdest the weirdest technology related thing vie ever done, so if there are whack typos, just know that its the weird typing thingy and not me. I sm s GOOD TYPer. Yesh. See, that was supposed to say "yeah", but I liked it as yesh so I just left it. I do like that it corrects as you go, like making i capitalized. Its hard, though, to do symbols. There's three screens, right, kinda, of keyboards. One is the main one with all the letters, what I'm looking at now (Oh my GOD it just took me like three tries to write the word "now"), then one with all the ymbosls. But if you know me, i looove parrentheses and capitals in my writing and those are pretty hard to vdo on this thing.

Oh my god. I am never getting sn iPad. Look whist it's doing to myr pretty writings!

Im always worried that when sasy bad stuff aboutr a device I'm using that somehow Steve Jobs will find out. If so, and you're reading this, Steveiee, i love your compstny, my ipdod is great, pelssr don't hsve my fsmily killed.

I kinda gave up on that last line. I am not drunk, I swear to god, but it IS late at night and this thing is REALLY hard to type on. But hey, I'm always lookin' fer a challenge.

The only reason that line looked good is because it took me like five minutes. Here, I'll rant about something without stopping to correct myself and you see if you can decipher it.

So, ina sr you didn't Knowles, I'm in michigsn noe with my mom fsmily. Actually, mostly when I'm here i hsng out eith my cousin, shayleighg, who's the closest cousin to my sge.she has a cousin who is between me and Tony, he'll s tually graduate the szme yrar ii do , so the four of us make quite the...quadruple. My mom leaves to go back to winnipeg tomorrow, so me and tony will be here zll bbt oursvlez for a while, after which we kgo to dc to chkle wtb my dad. It's all rvery compaelocstrf and eill rrcquire some epic storytelling whenigeg bz k.

God. That was annoying. My fingers just od not work on a flat surface. I have an especially hard time with my a and s.

That was fun.

Night ;)
(WOO! Successful smiley face!)

Friday, July 2, 2010

My Dear Friends…

I am leaving soon.
Tomorrow, we begin the EPIC journey to...

America.

Yes. I could not be more psyched.I love America. I really do. And being in Canada only makes me love and crave it even more.

My point, friends, is that in America (that was a WEIRD movie, In America), I live with my grandma, who, of course, has no internet. So from now until July 22nd, I'll be pretty incomunicado. I'M GOING TO MISS YOU GUYS! Then, I get to DC (staying with my dad) and can blog until I can blog no more. Post-DC...I can't even talk about. Because my brain would explode with happiness.

One word: Trinidad.

Yes. God, countries are great.

See you then!
Love,
R

Thursday, July 1, 2010

I am a blogging MASTER…Mistress? MISTRESSS

Lol. Kay. So, here's the word - I have officially hyped everyone back into blogging. It's awesome. I'm awesome. I'm loving it.

I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE BLOG. I miss my people. I miss Tara and Ms. Chesler and Kaster and now that these people have started blogging, continue blogging, or are considering giving new life to their blogs, it's like I'm with them again and it's the best.

Now, if only EDWARD or JAMIE LEE would blog, maybe we'd be getting somewhere.

Blogging can be annoying, but it can also be pretty awesome.

We're gonna talk about blogs some more, so if you're bored, you can leave, but see, I don't know any blogging websites other than Wordpress and Blogspot/Blogger (they're the same thing. Yeah. They're fucking with us), but these two are verrryyy different from each other.

Wordpress is smart. Black and white and grey, it's sleek, it's all about the words (duh) and making SMART comments and having your blog read by SMART people and being SMART. As such, it's kinda hard to customize. You basically pick a theme (luckily, there are manyyy pretty awesome ones) and go with it. Not a lot of choice in terms of colors. The widget thing - which is how you decide what's in your Sidebar (over ---> there) is kinda badly organized, not my favorite, but it does its job. However, it is SUPER ANNOYING to post photos or to format anything. I'm not sure why.

Blogspot is the opposite. Blogspot is kind of the blog for the masses. It's so easy to customize, every single color and size and shape and font is yours to choose. It's easy to format and (especially) post pictures, and it doesn't have too many negatives, really. But it's less classy, I guess.

SO, yeah. That's all I've got for now.

I'm about to go take my *last* driving lesson. So. Maybe I'll post on that later. See how up in the air things are? It's great.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Sports

Normally, I hate sports. Like, come on. Why would I want to run around, sweating, with other people watching, being relied upon to do something important, when I can sit on my couch with a Diet Coke and watch Friends? I'm all for people being fit and active and healthy, but at some point in history, someone, somewhere, decided it would be a GOOD idea for us to *watch* people work out. I get that it's entertainment, but after a while, you're just a fat guy sitting in a bar, hot sauce from buffalo wings dripping down your chin, cheering at people you've never met and who can't hear you. I have always thought this, and I probably always will.

Until recently.

Right now seems like *the* time for sports. Wimbledon, the World Cup, and Major League Baseball are all going on (as well as basketball, I guess, I dunno, wasn't there that Lakers-Celtics game a while ago?), which is more than usual. Always a baseball fan, I used to think the only sport I could watch without screaming was the Great American Past-time. For some reason, and I don't know if it's the incredible boredom I've encountered being on summer vacation with nothing but a TV and my laptop to entertain me, my tolerance for watching sports has diminished.

It started when I sat down and watched the USA-Ghana FIFA game. Yeah. SOCCER. The one sport I thought I could never sit through. I guess it was because of my newfound love for my native country, but I was more interested in the intense game than usual, and really, really wanted my boys to win.

Then, today, a momentous occasion - I watched a match at Wimbledon. Now, TENNIS, tennis is something I used to think I could play ONLY BECAUSE of the really cute bags players get for all their equipment. THAT'S how out of it I was. I used to only watch Wimbledon when I was with my dad or other British relatives, where I just wanted to stay up late and watch them get drunker and drunker (usually post-Wimbledon).

It must be because of the aforementioned new pride for the US, but I found myself totally interested in a Venus Williams match. She lost, but I learnt a surprising amount about tennis, and learnt it is something I could never, ever, ever, ever do.

But American Football - I will never go there. I will watch the halftime show at the Superbowl, but oh god. Don't get me started.

Monday, June 28, 2010

It’s a NEW SEN-SAY-SHUNN

(I really, really hate that song. Just saying.)

You may notice something different about HLL today. It is now very, very SEXY and I like it. I hope you do too.

I want to introduce you to someone new in the neighborhood. Her name is Tara and she just got her very first blog. You can find it at memoirsofarat.blogspot.com/. She is an awesome girl and I love her very very much and you should read her blog because it is going to be epic.

I have often thought that blogging is stupid. That it's like writing a diary and posting it on the internet and bugging people to read it. I'll probably return to this way of thinking pretty soon, but for now, I'm in a nice place where blogging is fun and new and can be so prettyyyy.

I also re-designed my OTHER blog and deleted all of the posts I hated. I'm sure I realize soon that that was a terrible idea, but at least now the posts can be co-habitating.

AND ANOTHER THING - I haven't categorized or tagged any of my latest posts. I'm not sure if this is a habit I'll be dropping completely, or coming back to in a while. We'll see.

See? Everything's up in the air, and I like it, a lot.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

June, Differently

I've dodged around the question for months now, and I can't do it anymore.

My trip to Trinidad in February was a little disappointing.

I can't say how great it was to see my friends again. We needed it so badly, and on that front, the trip was completely validated. But my over-planning and reliance on other people hurt more than it helped, and I ended up more frustrated than exuberant.

Since HLL is pretty much reborn now, I guess I can talk about whatever I want, right? So here goes.

That trip ruined my relationship with my then-boyfriend. Sorry if you don't want to hear about this, but I want to talk about it.

After doing the long-distance thing for so many months, when we were finally together again, it was awkward and weird and we never recovered. If I hadn't gone to visit, I think we would still be together today.

It's nice, really nice, to be able to talk about stuff like this, and to do it in a place I love. I said in my previous post that things are emotional right now? June is always weird like that for me. Wherever I've lived, it was the end of things. Prom, final exams, my birthday, going away parties, the last day of school, graduation. It's about wrapping things up, ending the cycles, and, more often than not, saying goodbye to people you've grown to love.

The weird thing about my life now is that none of that happened. Yes, I still had exams and my birthday, but the environment for the last days of school was so different, I was thrown.

I kept hearing about Trinidad's June - the June I should have been experiencing, it felt like. I started concocting schemes of moving back there - who I would live with, what I would tell my Canadian friends.

I miss my friends more than I can say, but remaining so connected to them makes things infinitely harder.

Wah-BAM

Hey. I'm back.

Well, okay, don't get your hopes up, I'm not *back*. I'm just here, and then I'll be gone again, but I might come back. Eventually. Or maybe not.

See, I'm keeping you on your toes.

But I have some new rules I would like to talk to you about.

Do not, please, DO. NOT. mention my blog to me in person. You can comment, I love comments, but keep them to the web. Please. It is a small, easy-to-follow request. When people talk about my blog in public, it makes my skin crawl. I once apologized to a friend on my blog, and now whenever the topic comes up, she's off and talking about my blog and I hate it. Come on. If you've acted, you know what the fourth wall is. A stage is (generally) made up of three walls - left, right, and back. The *imaginary* fourth wall is what would complete the square, the wall on the edge of the stage, that separates the audience from the actors. Having the actors interact with the audience is called breaking the fourth wall.

People. I like the fourth wall. I will be very sad if you break it.

Another thing - stop with the pressure! One of the main reasons I stopped blogging in the first place is because I felt like I HAD to write all the time, about everything I was doing in life - people were breaking rule #1 and instead of enjoying a moment or an event, telling me I "haveeeee to write about this on your bloggg, oh my GOD". It's not COOL.

Another reason I stopped blogging is because I started reading other people's blogs. Blogs like hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ and veronicamarcettidimick.blogspot.com/, while hilarious and amazing in their own ways, are not the same as my blog and their style is not, and never will be, my style. I tried too hard to make my blog funny and lolzy and because of that, it came out whiney and bitchy. It's just not for me.

I know that's not really a rule, it's just a general comment.

I will always have a special place in my heart for Happy Little Lemon, and it broke my heart to leave it. I couldn't go long without a blog, so I turned to Blogspot and lemonsandflamingos.blogspot.com/. If you want to find out what was going on with me all of March and some of April, go there, but it won't tell you much. It was mostly my excitement at being able to easily post pictures on that blog that fueled it. It was heavily lacking in content, but it was pretty, prettier than I could make a Wordpress.

So it came down to looks vs. intelligence, and guess what I chose, when under pressure? Not the smart choice, I'll tell you that.

But things are emotional these days. Not Intervention (that TV show)-emotional, just, differently emotional. There are things going on, man things, friend things, family things, that I can talk to some people about, but in the end, it's me who has to deal with it. But having a blog for some of 10th grade was helpful in a way I can never express.

I miss the world that this blog used to represent.

If you're reading this, it means you still have a little bit of faith in me, and I will always appreciate that.

Friday, June 18, 2010

16

It's my birthday tomorrow, and I'm feeling anything but senitmental.

I'm hot, itchy, tired, dirty, sweaty, but mostly tired. I wish I was more enthusiastic about the fact that I'm going to wake up tomorrow a 16 year old. It's a weird thought.

My birthday party was fun, but it made me more mad (begrudging, really) than pumped.

Hey, I just turned 16. Look at that.

Friday, June 4, 2010

This Clock Never Seemed So Alive

No matter where I am, what I'm doing, or what mood I'm in, "You and Me" by Lifehouse sobers me up and makes me miss what, and who, I've lost.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

To You

I keep your picture on my night stand.

I keep your poem below my mirror.

I keep your sticker on my stereo.

I keep your labels on my chest.

I keep your ticket stubs by my door.

I keep your money in a wad.

I keep your writing on my shirt.

I keep your photography in my folders.

I keep your songs on replay.

I keep your world in my computer.

I keep your memories. I keep your love. I keep your face.

I keep you.

Monday, March 29, 2010

The Dying Wishes of a Fat Ass

I'm a fat-ass. I weigh 20 pounds more than I want to weigh. And that sucks. It sucks ass.

So I have to get all fit and whatnot. The problem is, there are seemingly only two ways to lose weight: exercise, or a healthy diet (or both). My diet's pretty healthy already (sans Granola bars), so we're good there.

But there is something you may not know about me, and it is this: I fucking hate exercise.

I would rather murder a drifter and be skinny for life than have to work out ever. Really. Well, okay, maybe not murder. But I would fuck that drifter UP.

I just can't stand it. I hate sweat. I hate smelling bad. I hate hair in my face. I hate sticky feet and tank-tops riding up and short shorts tangling up between my legs. I even hate the WORD. Exercise. It's so hard to type. I ALWAYS spell it wrong. It's completely illogical. It should be spelt excersise.

Anyways, as a consequence of this, I have never been much of a work-out-er. I figure, I walk a shit-ton all over school, and to the bus stop, and to my house, all while lugging like 20 pounds of bags (school bag, purse, lunch box, and sometimes my laptop). But apparently not. I got FAT over winter. YEAH. Fucking seasonal climates. You can get fat without even realizing it. Then the snow melts and you wear skimpier clothes and realize your stomach looks like a HIPPO'S and how incredibly screwed you are.

So I have to start working out. In the incredibly likely case that this shit will actually kill me, I present to you,

My Last Will and Testament
  • Menzie is in charge of my Facebook account, including taking care of my Happy Aquarium fishies. This is under the condition that she never delete the following fish: Roger (goldfish), Omen (clown fish), and Phil (long skinny one).
  • She also gets my books (except the sentimental childhood ones, see point #3), in the hopes that she further her chick lit education.
  • My dearest mother gets all my childhood stuff, including the boxes stashed in my closet.
  • My stationary and office supplies are to be buried in the crypt next to me, as is my makeup, earrings, and bags.
  • I am to be buried in my jeans, Converse, and grey hoodie, under my turquoise comforter, surrounded by the strips of photo booth pictures that are stuck on my mirror.
  • My alarm clock is to be smashed into pieces by my brother, a fellow sufferer of sleep deprivation. Burn the pieces and chuck the ashes in an ocean.
  • My clothes, with the exception of those that apply to point #3, can go to any friend who wants them, and after that, to children in Bangladesh.
  • All of my school papers are to be recycled and made in to other kid's school papers.
  • My laptop, Flamingo; my printer, Louise; my camera, Jefferson; and my iPod, Carmella are to be left egg-friggin'-zactly where they are. Seriously. Hands off.
  • My brother gets anything he wants, which won't be much, as do Kelshall, Mahabir, Feeney, Boccara, Armour, Wilkins, and Holder. [PS: these are friends from my last location. Get with it, reader.]
  • My dad gets any pictures of me that are in my room. That'll stop his bitching.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Artists I Have an ISSUE With

  • Vampire Weekend. Okay, I love these guys. Their songs are cute. Fun. Their lyrics are wacky but enjoyable to sing along to. But I do not recommend you plop all of their songs in one playlist and listen to them all jumbled together. THEY ALL SOUND THE SAME. I swear to god. I can't tell them apart. I love Oxford Comma and Diplomat's Son, but I can't get over the repetitiveness.
  • Dido. She is fucking amazing, and I only have one album from years ago. BUT WHY ARE HER SONGS ALL SO SAD?! They all make me want to CRY. Maybe it's because we got her CD right after my childhood dog, Tessa, died, and so now I associate all of her songs with that. But it's seven years later and they're still sad. Sing something HAPPY. Take a page out of Corinne Bailey Rae's book, Dido. Make me smile.
  • Gorillaz. Again, I love you. I love the mystique and I love the animated thing and I especially love Noodle. I've been a fan of these guys since the early 2000s when I was in 7th grade, grooving to edited versions of Rock the House and trying to remember which is the one with the bag of sunshine bit. My bone to pick lies in the fact that they have some WEIRD ASS SONGS. We don't really want to hear a dude screaming "...Hello? ....Can anybody hear me?!...Helloooo?" for seven minutes. We want to hear your awesome music. Really.
  • Rihanna. I have an album and a half of hers and don't know how many times I've danced to her stuff at parties and in my own bedroom. But post-Chris-Brown-scandal Rihanna I do not like. I want her to go back to her cute, happy, Music of the Sun stuff. Not this Rated R, chopped off hair, chain-mail-on-SNL-wearing Rihanna who's all agressiiiive. Get sweet.
  • Justin Bieber. You're 16, and you look 12. 'Nuff said.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Britain

This is Britain. It's colorful and all-natural. But it rains. Like a bitch.

Few people know I'm actually half British. I used to flaunt the fact, and when people asked where I was from, my go-to answer was always "I'm half American, half British". Over the years, I dropped the British bit, mostly because a) I didn't have the accent, passport, or citizenship to back it up, and b) because I started identifying more with the States. Before this summer (when I took those pictures) I hadn't been to the UK for three or four years. But I was in the US every few months. I got involved in American politics, fell in love with Obama, and then, here in Canada, the fact that I have British blood is ignored for the "Oh. My. God. You're AMERICAN" comments I get.

But I still have a quiet pride for Britain.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday: The Fatties Take Over

And so begins the Trinidad chronicles.

I'm a bit late, so I'll try and remember all the details. I hope my dear friends will correct me as I go along.

So. Let's do this thing.

You wouldn't think it would take three days to get from Winnipeg to Port of Spain, but for us, I did. Friday afternoon, when I got home from school, I packed my bags and waited in anticipation for my mom to get home from work. She did, and a few hours later, when the car was stuffed and cleaned out (to the best of my ability in the freezing cold, trekking back and forth from car to house while being WATCHED by our creepy, annoying, fat-arm neighbor), we piled in and were off.

Eight hours later, at around 1 in the morning, we were in Minneapolis, at the Hilton Hotel. Nice digs, right? We spent the night there, and woke up Saturday morning fresh as daisies. First item on the agenda: shopping. We caught the hotel shuttle and took it to, you guessed it, The Mall of America, in all its glory.520 stores, 4 of which are massive department stores, with an entire amusement park in the middle of it all - if you wanna take on this Mall, you had better have a plan. And we did. We carefully studied maps, we used landmarks and anecdotes to find our way around, and we hit five or six stores. Yes, five or six, out of 520. But we were commando shopping. If you go into the MOA thinking you'll just puts around for an hour, you are completely fucked. You will get lost deep within the bowels of the Mall, and never be seen again by your loved ones.

Anyways, we went to Penney's (surprisingly disappointing), Macy's (annoyingly expensive), Old Navy (spacey and smelly), and got a few good things. We were mostly shopping for swimsuits (I ended up not swimming. I know, right? More on this later), and my mom got a cute one, but I couldn't help but feel like the Size L that I am. I love swimsuits. But I hate shopping for them. There are bikins as far as the eye can see, and for someone whose tummy has seen the light of day a total of one time, the whole prospect can be a bit of a downer. But, ironically, I got a cute cover-up, and later, a nice Spring-y dress. So it all worked out.

Saturday night we spent in the Hilton again. Then verrrry early Sunday morning, we woke up, and started our day of travelling.

We flew from Minneapolis to Miami. The flight was uneventful, until the following. (I wrote this for a Creative Writing assignment. But it works. True story.)

I had dreaded my seat assignment as soon as I got on the plane and glanced up at the seating charts. 22E meant hours of discomfort, meant fighting for the armrests, and meant missing out on the window views. 22E meant the middle seat. As my mom and I sat there, me in my dreaded middle seat and her in the luxurious aisle, we were both thinking the same thing, but neither of us said it out loud. The pilot had warned that it was a very fully flight. Was it possible that the window seat to the left of me would be empty for the entire four hour flight? We pulled out our magazines and packets of gum, adjusted the air conditioning vents and buckled our seatbelts, not daring to make eye contact. The plane was slowly filling up. Fewer and fewer people were shuffling down the aisle past us, and the flight attendants were walking up and down the cabin, slamming closed the overhead bins and passing out blankets. The anticipation grew. An authoritative voice came over the loudspeaker and announced that we would be taking off soon. I still couldn’t look at my mom. I repeated a mantra to myself – it’ll be taken. It’ll be taken. The speakers ponged. The safety demonstration video was about to begin. A pan shot of an American Airways plane in midair, and I unclenched. They close the door after the video starts, don’t they? As the pre-recorded message reminded us that our seat cushion could be used as a flotation device, I began to relax. I pulled up the armrest on my left and leaned over to look out at the Minneapolis airport, happily letting my thighs splay into the neighbouring seat. Watching the plane ahead of us taxi around the tarmac, I was momentarily distracted by my surroundings, but I perked up when I saw her. She was a big woman, in a white shirt, with sweaty, red cheeks, and she was heading straight for me. Every muscle in my body tightened. No, no, no! I stared at the seatback in front of me. Fasten seat belt white seated. Life vest under seat. Fasten seat belt white seated. Life vest under seat. There was some fumbling going on in the row behind me. I heard shuffling, the opening and closing of an overhead bin, and some mumbling from the man in the seat. “Excuse me,” the fat rolls asked me and my mom. “That’s my seat.”
Yeah. So. That was that story.

We got to Miami mid-morning. They've just finished some big renovations at MIA, and it was uber-confusing to navigate. Plus, our flight out wasn't until late that night, so they hadn't posted the gate number on the boards yet, so we couldn't go to our gate, so we didn't have a home base. And I like having a home base. But after a hearty meal, we found what had kept us going the last two days - the spa. We both got pedicures and had the long days massaged away out our feet. We eventually got settled at our gate and were there for four or five hours, before we finally boarded our plane.

At this point, we got giddy. We had a near-fatty experience as the exact same thing that happened at the start of the Minneapolis-Miami flight: an empty seat next to us, the growing anticipation. Finally, a suave looking guy sat there, explaining that he would "only be here for a couple minutes". I was too annoyed to process that, but a few minutes later, right on cue, a flight attendant waved him up to first class, and we had a row of three seats all to ourselves for the flight. The Gods were happy with me. The giddiness comes in when the flight was about to take off. We kept imagining that fat bitch coming back and taking our extra seat, even after we were up in the air. I had been excited about this trip for a while, but for some reason, when we took off in Miami was the first time it really hit me. I got the jitters and they didn't go away for hours and hours.

We landed in Trinidad. We got our bags in no time, found our lovely driver Jason who we missed, and headed for Jamie's house. We got some top-ups for our phones on the way, and before we knew it, I was pulling up to Jamie's and mauling her.

I took a well-deserved shower and Jamie and I talked for a few hours. We caught up on everything, from the state of teachers at school to people in our grade, and planned how we would surprise Eddie the next morning. I was never happier to be in Jamie's spare single bed.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Your Life in Nine Pictures

Yes, I stole this from Jamie's old blog, but I've meaning to do it forever.

Everyone should do this.
a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Pick an image.
c. Copy each image URL into Mosaic Maker.
d. Change rows to 3 and columns to 3.
e. Save the image and post it.

The Questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favourite colour?
3. What is your favourite food?
4. Favourite drink?
5. Dream vacation?
6. Favourite hobby?
7. What you want to be when you grow up?
8. What do you love most in life?
9. Best self-description?

Mine:
Photobucket

Friday, February 5, 2010

Watching Some Good Friends Scream, "Let Me Out"

The hardest part of being away from everyone in Trinidad is that I see things happening to my friends and can't do anything about it. I can chat to them on MSN, Facebook, or Skype all I want, but I can't be there to nod, hug, cry, or scream in person.

It doesn't matter if it's fabulously fun times they have that they want to talk about, or the times when they just want to curl up and cry.

Ed mentioned a story today involving a projector, and how they hung out in Kaster's room playing music. But I wasn't there for any of that. So I can't "LOLOL" like I would do if I still lived there.

There's the negative things that happen to them too, that make me feel helpless. Drama, depression, anxiety, frustration, stress, whatever it is, all I can do is message them back and offer an emoticon or two. For someone as mothery (hell, my nickname is Momma) and empathetic as I am, all I want to do is hug my friend and tell them it's gonna be okay.

In the long, non-depressing term, I'm glad I left Trinidad. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I was jumping with joy to get away from my friends, or like I was annoyed as hell to see them again in Toronto. But after three years, the lack of efficiency and close-mindedness of the country will get to you, as I know after sixteen years it has gotten to my friends. So leaving the country, I was fine with. Leaving the friends, not so easy.

OKAY, so this is my Swan Song post. Fuck only KNOWS why it's hitting me, ooh, oh, seven months after leaving Trinidad. But this afternoon, in a massive joint conversation, Jamie, Eddie and I linked each other to dozens of different photos from our lives together, as well as YouTube videos of songs that describe our lives. THEY REALLY  DO, THOUGH - the soundtracks from Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Boom Boom Pow.

This was pretty badly written. But it is, like I said to those guys today, it's like we're on this big emotional ROLLERCOASTER! and I suppose that affects my writing skillz.

The weird thing is, Tony is really close with his friends from Dhaka, which is were we lived before Trinidad. And after we moved to TNT he still talked to those guys, and when he graduated, he went to Paris with them. Now, I am still really close with the Trini peeps. And I totally see us going on trips around the world until we're old and have to ride around in those little golf carts in the airports instead of walking like normal young fit spry people.

I wish I could teleport.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Forgive Me, Tara, For I Have Sinned


  • I took the Hair God's name in vain once, when my snarls got caught under the strap of my purse.

  • I wore my hair in a strict ponytail for an hour today.

  • I failed to use product before straightening my hair this morning.

  • Instead of allowing my hair to air-dry, I clipped it back to avoid getting my shirt wet.

  • I was jealous of my friend's naturally straight hair.

  • I was jealous of a stranger's naturally curly hair.

  • I ruthlessly used two metal barrettes to keep my bangs in place.

  • I tugged on my bangs when they would not stay in place.

  • I dropped a barrette in the street and did not pick it up.

  • I snagged my hair in my necklace and instead of un-hooking my necklace, I pulled out a few strands.

  • I stole a hair-tie from the kitchen counter without asking who it belonged to.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I’m In Love With The President of the United States

How could you NOT be? I'm watching the State of the Union and glowing with pride.

For years, when introducing myself, I made sure to include that "I'm half-American, half-British." I was ashamed of the Bush Administration and didn't want people to assume that because of my nationality, I was like that too - trigger-happy, overly religious, and pent on conquering the world.

I can't even begin to explain the amount of racial friction I got, coming as an American to Canada. I know what America says, or thinks, about Canada - see South Park. But I never knew what the Kanucks thought about us. Those were kept pretty much under wraps. But upon moving here, I've learnt that many Canadians have a lot of stereotypes of their neighbors to the south, and often assume any Yankees coming in will fit these stereotypes. I've been here for almost four months now, and am just starting to overcome this tension around Canadians.

They gasp when I say "ya'll" - something I maintain is more Trini than American. They die a little inside when I say I haven't heard of "Mr. Dressup", or that I've only been ice-skating twice in my life and have never been to a hockey game. They assume that because I'm white and have what could be misconstrued as a Canadian accent, that I know everything about the country.

For months, this annoyed me. I couldn't believe that in a country like Canada, which, surprisingly, could rival Trinidad for "The Melting Pot" status, people would be so shocked that someone, an outsider, wouldn't share their culture. I eventually turned to shame, wishing I could be three shades darker, develop an exotic accent, and be able to plead foreign.

These days, I am almost to the point where I get Canadians and they get me. Admittedly, I had to put my foot down in my group of friends, and ask them to please, please stop with the American jokes. But I am slowly overcoming all this and getting to a place where I can be proud of the Stars and Stripes.

I love to hear someone call New Orleans "N'awlens", or Toronto "Trontah". I love the look of US dollars, and love that they aren't called "doo-lahrs" to us. I love crossing the border and leaving the land of Shopper's Drug and entering the land where Walgreens, CVS, and Rite-Aid fight out for rank of supreme drugstore.

I love our president. I love that we learnt our lesson after eight years of (sorry, my Republican friend) hell. I love hearing his voice. I love seeing his purple lips and triangle face on CNN every night. I love his wife and children. I love that I shook his hand (two and a half times).

So, for now, I guess I have to get used to the fact that my first ever celebrity crush is my own president.

I don't mind it too much, though.

He's fucking sexy.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

What Would You Do With $1 Million?

This is the question I posed to Eoin today. The only rules - you had to list out everything. No saying "some of it for college, some for a vacation". Estimate the costs as best you can. And, you couldn't simply say "10,000 to Tony", you had to be specific as to what it is for.

My very well-thought-out, detailed, rational list:

120,000 --> 4 years at American University

180,000 --> Get apartment for last 2-3 years there, and beyond

15,000 --> Retro-style VW bug

100,000 --> To my mom, to buy a house and fix it up

2,500 --> Uber-awesome desktop; get Flamingo made as good as new

500 --> All the Sims games I want

1,000 --> Entertainment system - a TV, movies, etc. for my apartment

2000 --> All my dream toiletries

200,000 --> A vacation to Thailand for me, Eoin, and all my friends

75,000 --> New wardrobe (clothes, accessories, shoes)

150,000 --> The X-Perience

50,000 --> Manis/pedis, facials, hairstyling (until the 50K runs out)

5,000 --> Get Tony: PS3, all the games he wants, a big TV

4,000 --> Dream bathroom in my apartment.

Good, right?

Now, I present, Eoin's list. (With my explanations in square brackets.)

•18,000 for st.georges [the college in Grenada he wants to go to]

•then 10,000 for all my airline tickets to canada

•4000-10,000 max gibson lespaul/sg custom [a guitar]

•liposuction for my dog- 2000

•100: bike for my little cousin

•stuff for Robin: 500

•ps3 slime and a plasme for my dorm- 6000

•library of ps3 games (even crap i dont like)- 4000

•a day's worth of lessons on how to be awesome from will smith- 6000

•buy more seats for my parent's [home movie] theater and make the floor sloping- 20,000

•4000 bigger screen. better projector

•umm 3000 for the jabbawockeez [a dance crew] to give me a crash course in dancing

•4000 for a program that can make awesome playsists for me.

•4000 to hire my own personal ninja for a week

•500 to an asian kid to get a perfect SAT score for me

•5000 for 50 cent to walk into a club with me and be like "IM IN HIS ENTOURAGE!!"

•and 10,000 for two bodygaurds to beat ppl off of me

•25,000 to be in a music video with michael jackson, snoop dogg or missy elliot

•25,000 to never "halfway sneeze again"

•30,000 for...a rotweiler, an italian mastiff, a pit bull and a St.Bernard

•and 50,000 to be able to kick george bush in the nuts

•10,000 for an ACTUAL katana [Samurai sword]

•25,000 for a dual set of gunblades

--

He only made it to around $400,000.

Men and women are funny, aren't we?

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Real Life Doesn't Move This Fast

Lately, I've been playing a LOT of Sims. But not as much as I would like. My poor, old, desktop computer, Lucy, aptly named for being loud, slow, and good-hearted, is the only computer on which I can play my glorious games. We have had her for almost seven years and in three countries, and before we all got laptops she was our only PC. But she must live in some weird version of dog years, where she ages ten times as fast as a human, because if she were a human, she'd be ancient. Not that she's out of date. But dust from three different continents and multiple crashes can be rough on a...girl. Computer. Whatever.

Anyway, if you're a long-time reader or a close friend, you know of my Sims obsession. I would play it all day, every day if I could, and I'd do it well. I do it well. I consider myself a damn fine Sims player, if you don't mind my conceit. I put lots and lots of time and effort into my Sims and where they live.

But lately, my poor old Lucy has not been having the easiest time managing Sims. I get about 45 minutes before she crashes. I'm told by the very reliable peoples of the internet that it does this to stop from overheating. Like as a defensive mechanism. Like a gecko's tail falling off if you try to pick it up.

So I've become paranoid, saving every five minutes and every time something big happens. It's nerve-racking, really, but I'm too the point now where once it crashes, I kind of sit there, going, "Well. There that is."

I don't know why I love Sims so much. Tony used to argue with me that the game serves no purpose. You send someone to the bathroom, then to read a book. YAY, HOW FUN. But he never understood that it was, is more than that. You completely and totally bond with these simulated characters you've created. You cry when they get married, have a baby, and die. You plan their lives out from birth - a baby girl with high Outgoing levels is destined to be a spunky teenager and a revolutionary politician. Two roommates will fall in love, get married, make lots of babies, who will grow up, go to college, fall in love, get married, and make lots of babies.

It's about fantasy. It's about making beautiful people in gorgeous homes who don't worry about money or school and can live nocturnally if they want to. It's not weird for a grown man to wake up at 2 a.m. and play chess because he maybe someday will need more logic points, you're not sure just yet.

So, yeah, it's a bit of a cult gaming community, we Simsers. A great level of design and control skill goes into it, but you also have to be compassionate. These aren't just overly animated people on a screen. They become real and you want to be around them all the time. And so the obsession is born.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

LURKERS! SHOW YOURSELVES!

[Props to V.M.D. for the idea]

Okay. Let's be honest. Who the hell reads my blog. My friends, a teacher, my mom, sometimes my brother. Who else? If you are out there, and you read my blog, AT ALL, and I don't know about it, leave a comment. Let me know. Give me a little self-esteem booster.

Worst-case scenario is I get no responses. Which wouldn't surprise me.

In which case, I expect my friends to sign in as imaginary people and comment the hell out of this post.

Mmm hmm.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Get Better

Why is it that out of all the ways you can greet someone, thank them, say goodbye, congratulate them, or wish them well in general, there is no set, non-awkward way to tell someone to get over being sick? "Get Well Soon" springs to mind, but I can't think of this, or even say it, without picturing it written on a red velvet heart held by a simpering teddy bear. "Feel Better" seems to have become a suitable alternative, but I personally feel guilty ordering an invalid to get over whatever ails them. "I Hope You Feel Better", is, I suppose, the longer version of the previous command, but when faced with a coughing peer, say, a classmate, a coworker, or the local barista, this seems far too of an emotional remark. Besides, who would believe that you really do hope and pray and wish that someone you barely know would get better? On the topic of "get better", this is also an odd phrase. I know getting better after being sick just means returning to your normal state, but getting better also implies the improvement of yourself. "Get better." "Be a better person. Quit smoking, you, and cut back on the swearing."

Random musings.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

A New Addition To The Family

No, no one's pregnant. 'Cept Vern.

I've started a new blog. Not to replace Lemon, don't worry. They'll be co-habitatin'.

Check it out: http://robinjoneskerrthemoshpit.wordpress.com/

And stay tuned.

Friday, January 15, 2010

It Seems I Have Delved Into The Black Hole That Is Lists

Sorry about that. It is the New Year, though. So, what has been going on with me lately. It has been a blur of Mad Men, Sims, Facebook, and reading "Precious, based on the novel 'PUSH' by Sapphire". Which was extremely good, by the way, far better than I thought it would be, and it's not normally my type of thing. Actually, one of my most pissed-off moments was the other day. I was reading that book before my Creative Writing class started, and a guy who I normally get along with really well came in and unpacked his stuff. This guy and I have been called a Dynamic Duo. We're crazy and loud and funny and have a good time. But on this day, I think it was last Friday, my perception of him changed. He noticed I was reading that book and went off on a rant about how all books about black people getting out of the projects are the same. The young, impoverished black kid meets the optimistic white teacher and the two turn things around together. The kid is, of course, abused and has extremely low self-esteem, but the book/movie ends hopefully with their life being changed forever. I know, right. I guess some people are more dickheady than you thought they were.

But people can also turn out to be nicer than you thought they were. Well, not necessarily nicer, that sounds mean. But different. I know she doesn't read my blog, but I need to apologize somewhere. I was unnecessarily mean to a friend of mine a few days ago. I blamed it on "family stuff" but I was just in a bad mood, tired, and I snapped at her. So if you're reading this, and you have an apology weighing on you...just do it. Why put it off.

Lastly, I was reading my new PostSecret book, "Confessions on Life, Death, and God" that my mom got me for Christmas. This was right after every single Sims game I had ever saved disappeared. I KNOW, but don't be upset (I know you're probably not, but I cried for HOURS), I got them all back this morning. Like it never happened. Anyhoo. A secret in the book was a map of the world, with a male symbol on California and a female symbol on the UK. My mind flashed to Eoin, Kaster, my parents, my relationships. And I cried more. It was emotional. There was some French written across it, too, and it was translated underneath to be, "We'll find a solution." I wrote this on my hand and fell asleep. It was an emotional night, but I can't stop thinking that. "We'll find a solution."

Let's See How Far We've Come

Okay, I know I did my big End of '09 post already. But I want to review last year's resolutions.

1. Take better care of my skin and hair. --> Check. My mom actually complimented me on my skin the other day, saying she knew I was working on it and she thinks I have a nice complexion. And the hair thing, foof. Totally did. See my many comments on shampoo and conditioner, plus my new hair straightener.

2. Recycle. --> Check. The eight-ton shoebox full of paper I left in my old room in Trinidad answers this one.

3. Talk to Dad more. --> Sort of check. I didn't do this one in the middle of the year so much, but towards the end I did. And we're making plans to meet up more often than before. So a future check.

4. Get at least a C+ in Chemistry. --> FUCKING CHECK. B-, baby.

5. Cut back on my Chick Lit. --> Sort of check. I did slip back into it on occasion.

6. Add all 500 of the Rolling Stone Top 5oo into my iTunes library. --> Check.

7. Organize all 500. --> Check. I deleted a lot of them, actually, songs I just didn't like. I'm proud of my iTunes now.

8. Find balance in love. --> Check. Okay, the reason this was on here is because I wanted to sort out all the Eoin drama. And it has been fully and completely sorted.

9. Find social balance. --> Check times a million. I wanted to balance my two quite different groups of friends, and I definitely accomplished that.

10. Write to Nora. --> Not as much of a check as I'd like. I need to do this more.

11. Blog at least once a week. --> A pretty obvious not check. I'm getting better in the new year, though.

12. Make Canada kick some serious ass. --> Check and check, so far.

13. Read Atonement. --> Not check. What a shame.

14. Be in the play at school. --> Double check. We kicked its ASS.

15. Do the PhotoBooth at Movie Towne more often. --> CHECK CHECK CHECK. I have only about a million strips of photos outlining my mirror.

Overall, not too bad. Out of 15, 10 are full checks, 3 sort-of checks, and 2 not-at-all checks. I'm pretty proud of that.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

New Year's Resolutions 2010


  1. Get my hair cut more often, at least once every six months.

  2. Only buy one drink from a vending machine per week.

  3. Bring bottles of water/Vitamin Water to school at least three times a week.

  4. Buy less toiletries.

  5. Join less Facebook groups. Cut back to ones that REALLY make me laugh.

  6. Cut back on the after-school snacks. It's a chocolate black hole.

  7. Pass Driver's Ed.

  8. Go to Trinidad at least twice.

  9. Go to DC at least three times.

  10. Be fabulous at Grad Ball 2010.

  11. Stop biting my nails. For serious.

  12. Get some confidence.

  13. Wear jeans less often.

  14. Reconnect with people from a long time ago.

  15. Get to bed before 11:30 pm every school night.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

My 100 Things, Volume II


  1. I am in love with the shows "Cake Boss" and "Ace of Cakes", and I don't know why.

  2. I have a mini-panic attack whenever I have to pull the little stop string on the bus before my stop. I'm never confident that it's the right time to do it.

  3. At night, I tuck my mom in and then flip on our shared Bobby Baseball nightlight that's plugged in in our hallway.

  4. I would pay good money to make it so my hair was straight when I wanted it straight, and curly when I wanted it curly.

  5. I love it when people shrink to the size of an ant and fly into other people's bodies. "Hey, look, his tonsils!"

  6. I am terrified to learn to drive. Terrified.

  7. I always swear to myself that I will be clever with my money when it's mine to do whatever I want with. But I like to buy toiletries. A lot.

  8. I have never broken a bone or had surgery.

  9. I hate the letter "b", and there's one in the middle of my name.

  10. I think my cousin Katie and I could be good friends if we didn't talk about religion or politics.

  11. I spent years thinking "TLC" meant "The Learning Channel", instead of "Tender Loving Care".

  12. I hate March, but I will love February.

  13. Shows on The Food Network are always overly-dramatic. Especially Iron Chef America.

  14. Flambay ("OPAHH!") scares the crap out of me.

  15. I've often wished that I had black hair.

  16. I'm so lazy that I have laptop chargers in both my bedroom and the basement, but I've strongly considered buying a third the put in the office, where I play Sims.

  17. There are a pair of old bowling shoes, in my size, at our favorite vintage store here in Winnipeg, and I think I should buy them.

  18. When Scrubs ended, I cried. For hours. And now it's back, and though I swore I wouldn't watch a spin-off, I'm in love with the new season.

  19. I hate Froot Loops. When I was little, my mom thought I needed more fibre to keep me from falling asleep all the time, so she bought them for us. I made Tony eat mine.

  20. I don't know where, or when, or with whom I will go to college. And that scares the shit out of me.

  21. I wonder if Frank ever got our PostSecrets.

  22. I felt a lot of sympathy for Jon and Kate, and I feel bad for the way it all turned out.

  23. Who wears sweat bands? I have never worn them and I never plan to.

  24. Everyone warned me about the winters here in the Peg, but I have to say, I love it. I love the pink noses and long scarves, the snowflakes and wind in the hair. Everything looks prettier with snow.

  25. I find it hard to trust people who have mustaches.

  26. Calling someone an amateur is, to me, a maaajor diss. I would freak if someone called me that.

  27. Tyra Banks cancelled her talk show after five seasons. Though I  like her, I don't really know when she started it in the first place.

  28. I miss my friends from Trinidad infinitely, but it's surprising how much I miss the random people I never really connected with.

  29. I join lots of groups and become fans of lots of things on Facebook. LOTS and LOTS.

  30. I wish my family ate more meat so we could have a massive cleaver.

  31. The Mr. Clean Magic Eraser looks like it would be really annoying to use.

  32. I haven't had cauliflour in forever. But I don't miss it.

  33. Road trip food sustains me. But the thought of eating it day-to-day grosses me out.

  34. I downloaded The Da Vinci Code and Angles and Demons, but the pirates of the internet don't include English subtitles. So that was an experience.

  35. I have never and will never wear a purity ring, a sex bracelet, or anything of the sort. People don't need to know that about me and I don't want to know it about them.

  36. I wear my hair down almost every day now. I'm proud, and Tara is too.

  37. I do not want a cat. I will never want a cat.

  38. No offense to French people, but it is not a very pretty accent.

  39. I'm drawing a blank trying to come up with 61 more things.

  40. I friggin' LOVE crepes, but they take a long time to make. I was sitting on the couch thinking about them today, and how in Dhaka, if I had wanted to, I could've simply asked the housekeeper to make me pancakes whenever I wanted.

  41. The Core weekend in Toronto was one of my favorite trips of 2009.

  42. I grudgingly put a "u" in words like color and favorite for my schoolwork, but I will not do it on my own time.

  43. I've always wondered how other people see places like Poland or Bangladesh, since I have my own view of them. Have people heard of them? Do they have any connections to these places I've spent years in?

  44. I am in love with the Pedigree ad where the dogs jump up to get food in slow motion. It's amazing.

  45. Everytime I say or think "It's HOT" I mentally, and sometimes verbally, add "YOU GOT A WINDOW? OPEN IT!"

  46. People say you can't distinguish Canadians from other white people just by how they look. But you can. It's something in the cheekbones.

  47. Wearing a microphone on stage can be incredibly annoying. But it's also extremely fun.

  48. If I was a guy, I'd grow stubble.

  49. I worry that I have gingivitis. It's where your gums advance down onto your teeth, making your teeth look smaller. You can get it from lack of flossing.

  50. Tyler and Eddie are the sweetest people I know.

  51. Though I rarely play video games other than Sims, I know a lot about ones like Fallout 3, Bioshock, and GTA from watching Tony play them.

  52. I love Friends. Love it.

  53. The main reason I wanted to move to Canada was so I could buy winter clothes.

  54. Car envy annoys me.

  55. I LOVE to buy toiletries. To the point where I currently have three kinds of shampoo/conditioner sets and want a fourth.

  56. I was ashamed when I got dandruff a few years ago. After using Head and Shoulders for a while, the dandruff was gone and my hair was shinier and softer than it had ever been, to the point where people at my mom's receptions commented on how nice it looked. It's my ultimate beauty secret.

  57. People say I've been all over the world. Here are just a few of the places I've never been: Italy. Russia. Brazil. Mexico. Ireland. Indonesia. Egypt. South Africa. Germany. There are many more.

  58. I don't think I've ever had a snow day.

  59. A lot of my worries in life are about how I'm going to pay for things.

  60. I've never dyed my hair. Not even highlights.

  61. I love the Die Hard movies and have seen the third one ("Die Hard With A Vengeance") at least ten times.

  62. I have a Twitter, but only Tweet about once a week.

  63. It's sad that whenever you see pictures of New York before 2001, you can see the Twin Towers.

  64. I would love to paint my room turquoise.

  65. My Flickr account (http://www.flickr.com/photos/happylittlelemon/, if you're interested) makes me very proud.

  66. Kim Bassinger in 8 Mile put me off of her forever.

  67. I love John Lithgow's voice.

  68. My dog burps a lot.

  69. I used to think Head and Shoulders was a soap you could use on both your hair and skin.

  70. Zach Braff voices the puppy in the Cottonelle ads. It's adorable.

  71. I hate Nutella. There was a kind like it in Poland, but it was a Milky Way spread. It was amazing.

  72. Once in DC, I spent all afternoon eating prunes and walnuts. Now the combination disgusts me.

  73. Similarly, in fifth grade, I got a lot of stomaches (for some reason), so I carried around Pepto Bismol pills everywhere and would chew them constantly. Now, just the thought of Pepto makes me nauseous.

  74. The Green Goblin in Spider-Man 1 scared me. A lot.

  75. Why are there so many Superman and Batman films and only one series of Spider-Man ones?

  76. I have a pink laptop, but I don't really like pink.

  77. After seeing those ads for that little plastic thing that pulls your bra straps in so that no one can see them, I got self conscious about letting my straps show.

  78. Where did Jo Frost (Supernanny) learn all that stuff?

  79. It's odd that really awesome, powerful women, like Oprah and Stacy London, aren't married.

  80. Mad Men, Scrubs, and Lost are the best shows currently on television.

  81. I live in Canada and have never been skiing. That seems wrong.

  82. I used to have beads hanging over my door, but I guess they got lost in the move. I really want some more.

  83. When I was younger, Tony and I would play a game where, as my dad pulled the car out of the garage, we would stand dangerously close to the wheels - until my dad told us that if the car ran over our toes, they would turn into powder.

  84. If I had to play a sport, HAD TO, I'd pick basketball.

  85. My dad used to cut my hair. I remember the cold scissors on my forehead as he did my bangs.

  86. I've always wanted to spend New Year's Eve at Times Square. Who doesn't want to do that at least once.

  87. I miss acting.

  88. Eoin and I play the question game almost every time we talk. Sometimes I worry we couldn't have conversations without it.

  89. I still like SNL. I didn't see its Golden Age, and I'm sure it was awesome, but I like it now, too. It's sad that people have so little faith in it.

  90. I like the first half of this list better than the second.

  91. I don't really like beer or wine. And though I hate when people brag about how much they know about alcohol to seem older, I do actually like mixed stuff better.

  92. I have never had a smart phone. I don't know if I want one or not.

  93. I met my three favorite teachers in ISPS.

  94. Singing Boom Boom Pow with Eddie was one of my best moments of 09'.

  95. I rarely talk on the phone.

  96. I used to "type lyk dis" until Jamie educated me.

  97. I'm all for Microsoft. But I hate Bing.

  98. Dule Hill is underappreciated and really hot.

  99. It's a shame that many of these things have nothing to do with me.

  100. Though I have no connection to New York whatsoever, "Empire State of Mind", by Alicia Keys, makes me homesick.