Jaclyn's Gonna Feel Like An Asshole; A Love Story/Update

So, I realise I've basically dropped off the face of the Earth this past month. I promise I have not died, or been attacked or killed by the pimps and whores. I'm just in the crazy process of packing up my entire life, working 15 hours a day and training a new girl to take over the hotel gig, and getting ready to move myself to another province. Insanity, to say the least. So much has happened that I could talk about, and will eventually because this week and next I don't have to train the new girl so I should be able to slack a bit more and write more blogs, but today I'm trying to peel off a post because Jaclyn is an asshole.

I say that with love, of course. Some stabby thoughts but mostly love. Because I listen to the internet when the internet tells me I need to pay attention to the tags I've been given. Mainly, that she tagged me in the 11 things about me, 11 questions I have to answer and then I have to tag 11 people for this shit so it's a vicious circle of kinda cool but really annoying if you're just coming back to your blog after almost a month of being blogdead.

Anywhore.

11 Things About Me


1. I'm 23 years old, turning 24 in September. Birthday E-Cards are expected now.

2. For my 16^th birthday my mom let me dye one side of my hair black and the other half bright red. The day after my 16^th birthday I went and got my drivers license, and that picture was forced upon me until this year. Clearly I pissed off an instructor in a past life because I would trade that terrible picture over the one I currently have.

3. I broke my right arm/wrist enough times as a kid that teachers forced me to learn to write with my left hand because I was missing too much work. I can still write with both hands now, even though the left hand looks like I'm in the second grade still.

4. I miss playing volleyball more than I'll ever admit. Except for right now.

5. I hid my first tattoo from my mom for almost two years before my (now ex) fiance made me tell her. I don't know if I would have told her otherwise. Everyone in my family except for my gramma and mom found out before she did, and my gramma only found out because my mom needed her to have a distraction while we were going up to visit my uncle in the hospital. I have 8 tattoos and 2 of them are actually of my gramma, when she was 17 and doing a model shoot.

6. I am 2 weeks away from having my Level 2 in ASL and I couldn't be more excited. Except maybe when I get my Level 3 and 4, and can finally converse at a higher speed.

7. I keep the letter that Jaclyn mailed me during the anniversary of my last miscarriage in my bag all the time. I still tear up when I read it.

8. I started writing this so another community I'm a part of would be able to read the stories, and because I had a friend who wanted me to write a work (sort of) friendly blog. My last blog was so incredibly not safe for work that it makes all of this tame.

9. I have always wanted blue eyes, but I've grown to like how intensely dark my brown ones are. I hate contacts though, so I'll never be able to change my eye colour.

10. Moving to Nova Scotia is probably the best thing I'll ever do for myself, even if my family is so very against the idea of me being so far away. I have 16 more days of working 2 jobs, 21 more of working any jobs in Ontario and 28 more of being in this province at all. The closer I get to leaving the more stressed and excited I get. I'm so excited to go on the road trip I'm planning, but so fucking scared I'm gonna fail. I think that fear is healthy though, because I know it'll make me more stubborn and I won't give up unless I'm dying or something drastic happens.

11. I'm 95% sure there is a porn being filmed in my hotel right now. The fact that I'm not doing anything about it, should speak to everyone about how little fucks I give anymore.



Jaclyn's Questions She Asked Me (This is where she will feel like an asshole. Or not.)
1. Who wronged you this week? Go ahead, vent. You know you want to.

All of the fucking infants who work at the Dairy Queen. Their lack of bullshit motivation to get anything done and my inability to not give a fuck while working means that I fucked my back up somehow, and I got sick, and they aren't fucking working. Oh, and the people who fucked up my coffee order on Friday morning. I had to drive three hours to say goodbye with NO GODDAMN COFFEE IN MY SYSTEM. It was TERRIBLE, for everyone involved.

2. Top 5 bangable celebrities

a) Chris Evans
b) Ryan Gosling (Fuck you, he's Canadian and I'm sorry, but, yum.)
c) Mila Kunis (Don't judge.)
d) Ryan Hurst
e) Norman Reedus

3. 5 completely unbangable celebrities (for the record, I don't get the whole Ryan Gosling thing. I guess he's not technically "unbangable", but I wouldn't hit it. At all. Please don't chase me with sticks. It had to be said).
I won't chase you with sticks. I'll just continue to mock you for your shitty taste in men. OH SNAP that was more of a burn than I meant for it to be.

a) Lance Bass
b) David Hasselhoff
c) Katy Perry
d) Steve from Blues Clues
e) Mister Rogers
4. Tell me the story of the drunkest you've ever been. If you don't remember all the details, feel free to make some shit up.
This one time, at band camp, ... no. Kidding. Drunkest I've ever been? Jesus. My dad reads this blog. ....alright, no longer caring about that (And to be fair, people can skip this part) I think the drunkest I've ever been was at a party I had at my parents house when I was 19. They had gone to Vegas or somewhere far away and knew I was having the party, because I have been a responsible child like that and let my parents know when to expect the neighbours to complain and shit, plus I've never invited the entire school to my house because I'm not a goddamn moron. Anywhore, a group of us (I think there were... 30? less than? Who the fuck knows.) had gotten together and we were just dancing and drinking and someone was stupid and OH MY GOD THIS WASN'T THE DRUNKEST I'VE EVER BEEN.

Drunkest I've ever been was at someone elses house and a group of us decided (well I think it was one of the guys in the group, but we'll all take blame for this shit) that we should do a vodka shot contest, and I was the only girl who lasted past 5 shots. I was only friends with pussies back then, apparently, but the competition continued on until there was me and one of the guys and he was ready to tap out, but I was a determined bitch and I crawled over bodies of drunken people to get to the next bottle of vodka, and double fisted shots so I could seal the victory at a ridiculous 15 shots.

Yeah. 15 shots of vodka and I didn't puke, or overdose. Or at least, didn't overdose to the point where people took me to the hospital. Fucking absurd. I can't drink vodka today though without wanting to die. It's like my body remembers what I did to it that night, back when I was a mere 17? 18? I feel like 17 is the right age answer here.

5. What did you want to be when you grew up? How is that working out for you? Please tell me why you failed to reach the goals you set for yourself when you were 8.
When I was 8 I wanted to be a mom and a writer. When I grew up a bit more I wanted to be a mom and a writer and a lawyer. When I grew up in high school I went back to wanting to be just a mom and a writer. When I turned 20 and miscarried the first time, I wasn't deterred, same for the next two miscarriages. I'm still gonna be a mom, and I am a writer. I may not be making any money off of it yet, but it's happening.

Now that I'm an old 23 years old, I'm hoping by the time I'm 27 I'll be an ASL/English Interpreter. And a writer. And maybe a mom, but maybe not until a bit later. Let's get me through school first.

6. You have to be in a room with Newt Gingrich for an hour. Do you end it all?
If I knew who the fuck you were talking about maybe.

7. Song you hate the most and why.
Anything by Nicki Minaj. Because she's fucking retarded. I'm sorry. I can't stand her and turn her and Drake off my radio anytime they come on. My whole body shakes with hatred.

8. First and last name of the first boy you ever had a huge crush on, so when that narcissitic asshole Googles himself, he will know all your private shame.
This is where Jaclyn will feel like an asshole, because the first boy I ever had a huge crush on is dead now. Royce Hickman. Grade six through eight, I swooned over his blonde locks and Russian figure skater looks. When we hit high school and he had a locker near mine, I had basically died and gone to heaven. We lost touch in grade ten, even though we went to the same school all four years of high school. He was a sweet kid who hung out with the wrong kids in high school, got out of all that shit and was doing well before he died in a car crash that to this day no one knows wtf happened. That was almost three years ago.

9. Do you like me? Circle one ----     yes               no             I like you so much I know your social security number
If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you already know, you only need ask.

10. Why did the chicken cross the road (I suspect hallucinogens but please tell me your theories)?
Because the cock was there.
11. Hot air balloon or white water raft? (I'm not even going to give you context here. Tell me a good story)

Hot air balloon. More likely able to have sex and not die.

I'm not tagging anyone. I'm too lazy for that shit. Here are some questions for you though, if you feel so inclined to answer.

1. Favourite time of day?
2. How many chucks could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
3. Dream job and why aren't you doing it?
4. Name five movies that John Hughes made.
5. What book changed your life?
6. How many pictures of you are on the internet?
7. What time is it right now?
8. Thing you love the most about winter, thing you hate the most about summer?
9. Do you know any other languages?
10. Favourite smell?
11. You can only take four things with you to a desert island. What do you take and why?

And now I have to go and finish my chores for the morning.

I'll try to blog about more real shit tomorrow!  

I Haven't Died Yet. Promise.

I always start my shift thinking I'm going to write about something completely different than I actually end up writing. I have so many topics and ideas and then life gets in the way and slaps me in the mouth and I end up using this as a place to vent and release. That's what writing is all about, right?

I was looking online to find the exact quote about writing that really struck a chord with me, but I fail and can't find it. Anyways. It goes something along the lines of “Writing is one of the easiest things a person can do. You just sit at the keyboard and bleed”.

It's true. When I'm writing about something, like what I'm about to write about, it takes a piece of me with it. It also helps heal me, and helps me to make sense of certain things. I have a lot of shit going on this week and next. I've been trying to write a post for here this entire week, and other shit keeps getting in the way.

Just a highlight of the awesomeness in my life right now:

I'm sick, and have been for the past week. I'm a whiny grumpy bitch when I'm more than a cold sick. I have some sort of throat thing, mixed with the general exhaustion that comes with my days off not being true days off. I am also aware that I'm still upset over my boss being fired, and the chaos at work here with the new manager is kind of ridiculous and taking a toll. I'm the invisible employee again, and while it's nice because I don't have to really answer to anyone, it's also annoying because I'm not getting answers to fucking questions I keep asking.

So I'm trying to get over my sickness because I really can't afford to be ill right now.

Today I'm packing up my entire room and getting ready to move back to my parents. The move is happening either Friday, or Friday and Saturday. Not sure which, it'll depend on how much help and muscle I can acquire on Friday. I have some bribery and IOU cards from a couple guy friends, so that might work.

I heard back from the local Deaf Access office, and I'm waiting for an assessment test date to see if I can skip to the Level 2 course. Cross your fingers for me, please, because I really want this. It will make my shit so much easier to handle, because I'll be able to finalize my application to the school out east that offers the program I want.

My goals for the year have changed, but it's a good and responsible change I think. No more bike, still getting out of debt and moving to a much prettier part of my country.

I've had to deal with a lot of personal shit lately, and work hasn't made it very easy. I had a serious incident this week where the police had to be called, and it took me a good day and a half to get over what the fuck happened. There's just a lot of shit that most people don't think others have to deal with.

I'm probably not going to post anything for a week or so, but, I'm alive. If I die, I promise I'll tell Jaclyn, and she can collaborate with Jen and write my obituary. I expect it to be full of how I died, and how I should have passed many months ago after the lip balm touched my beautifully moisturized lips.

Seriously, though, I promise not to die.

Court starts Monday, and fucking lawyers just made my Saint Paddy's Day celebrations impossible because we're meeting at the courthouse Sunday morning to discuss prep and questions. To say I'm freaking out is an understatement, but, I'm putting on my big girl panties and hoping that this shit only takes a day or two. I'm already missing two days of work, and it's fucking lame.

As I'm typing this, my hot construction men are waking up to the thunderstorm that is ravaging my city, so I shall leave you all with this awesome cover of a song that I'm obsessed with this week. Enjoy.

Love,

Ninja

Life Choices Will Always Come To Punch You In The Mouth, Kids. Always.

I'm not just talking about the unfortunate dress you wore to your cousin's wedding, either.
Life choices are going to affect us in so many future years that you cannot properly control everything.
I'm willing to admit some bad life choices on my part, a lot of bad ones actually, but I figured ever since Douchebag, my life was turning its shit around.
Clearly, Douchebag and his shitty life has yet to be done with me. He is ruining my life now, without even fucking trying.

Without going into details, because it's such a dramatic and long story and shows how bad my judgement was two years ago, my last ex boyfriend is going to be standing trial for something horrible in March, and I get to testify against him. Which isn't that bad of a thing, because I want the fucker to rot in hell, but it completely fucks my Move Away plans.

I'm going to the courthouse today to get more information and if the likelihood is that I'll be in court for more than a few days, I'm pretty confident I won't be moving away, at least not yet. No supervisor/big boss is going to take a chance on someone they do not know, fly them to a remote location and pay them money only to have them be gone for who knows how fucking long, over something that is questionable at best and shows how bad my judgement was and makes them rethink hiring me at worst.

I'm hoping if I don't get to move this year, I'll be able to end things on good terms with the Inn and maybe reapply when my life isn't so goddamn 80s soap opera. I'm looking at you, Victor Newman.

On a completely related note, Month End was tonight.
It was smooth like a newborn baby's bottom, people. I take it as a sign from the Month End Gods that they are being forgiving and understand my stress levels are two seconds away from shanking the next skank to come in here.

I do have a hilarious story about drunks and escorts, though.

Saving that for next time.

Happy December, kids!

It's The End Of A Goddamn Era, Kids

Okay, so I've been in super secret ninja mode for the past... five days.
I got a job offer and it's a serious one and I had to
a) consider my options
b) figure out what the fuck I wanted to do
c) do it.

Saturday night, by the by, I only called the cops once, and it wasn't even for a hotel related issue. I had a drunk passed out (and I thought he was dead-no lie) outside leaning against my sign and it was tacky looking. I listened to the health and safety flag waving in my brain and let them boys in blue (technically black, but I didn't want to sound racist) handle that situation. Funniest twenty minutes of my life, y'all.

Anywhore.

The moral of this story, is I have 25 days left at this job, and in 30 days I am flying to a colder, much more isolated, I am almost certifiably insane, smaller province in Canada. For a year.
This is a much nicer place, people.
http://www.frobisherinn.com/ <--- yeah, I'm gonna whore that link out like one of my regular hookers. I figure if anyone really wants to pay the 900+ dollars one way to fly in and stalk my ass, they should probably get a medal.

This place is located in Iqaluit, Nunavut.
It's a once in a lifetime chance, and after five days of no sleep and so many pro and con lists, I'm doing it.
You cannot drive there, you literally have to fly (anytime) or take a ship (summer only, because otherwise...there is ice.)

So! With that all being said, because I have a year to stick it out in the cold cold North, where there is limited? internetz, I feel like the next 30 days are going to turn into a batshit crazy marathon of packing, moving, packing shit for Nunavut, saying goodbye (my first goodbyes start this weekend coming up, I'm already ready to cry) and getting ready to take on the average -30 degree temperatures.

I'm toying with the idea of doing a "moving to Iqaluit" blog, because there aren't many recent ones out there, that I've been able to find. I won't be able to write about the hotel, because I'll have my ass handed to me, but I feel like I can still write about my experiences up there. I'm sure it's going to be a crazy ride, and I want to share.

If I can't, I might just keep a journal, and then bombard you guys in a year.
Whatcha think?