Monthly Archives: March 2013

What the Bottom of the Barrel Looks Like


I was just reading an article on (a great, great website – check it out) on one woman’s series of bad dates.

I’m going to tell you now about the Worst Date Ever. I’ve never ever shared this story, so listen up.

When I was in university, for a number of reasons, I just couldn’t find anyone. I finally got really, really desperate and put an ad in the personals in “Now” magazine. Part social experiment, part “look how effing wild I am”, part sheer lonely desperate misery. It was the 80’s. It was weird.

At any rate, I got a lot of responses, most of them odd, but some of them interesting. I went out with a few of them, some more than once. But here, for the first time ever, is the absolute bull-goose worst date of all time:

I talked to him on the phone for a bit. He was an appropriate age, and was looking for a serious, long-term relationship. We met for dinner. He was a “wow, you’re really tall” guy, which turned me off right away. After half an hour, we’d had a cocktail, and he excused himself to use the restroom.


How fucking humiliating is THAT? Anyway, I figured it out after about 15 or 20 minutes, and I was just sitting there kind of gobsmacked. I didn’t actually know WHAT to do. Good thing we hadn’t ordered dinner. He at least had the decency not to stick me with the tab, and paid for my initial drink. I ordered another before I realized I’d been ditched. It seemed like the thing to do.

So, here I am, sitting alone, with a drink, all dolled up in a swanky lounge, not having a fucking clue what to do. I haven’t got a cent on me. I was a student. I’m sipping on a drink that I have no means of paying for. Along comes an older guy, maybe 50? Remember, I was only about 22 at the time. Starts chatting me up, we have a couple of drinks. He’s “in town on business”, whatever that’s code for. Pays my tab and takes me back to his hotel room. I wish I could remember the name of the hotel – it’s in Toronto, down near the water. Pretty scabby. It’s still there. Starts kissing me, which is pretty much what I expected I was in for, so no big surprise.

Then, I realized two things: First, his hair was really greasy and smelled completely nasty. Like, gaggingly nasty. Also, he had this big weird growth on his chest. Almost like a tiny pair of balls. Really. Not kidding. It was seriously, seriously skedaddling time. Reality hit me like a big wet bag of shit.

So, what did I do? Nothing honourable, believe me. He went to the bathroom and I hightailed it out of there.

So, it’s 3 a.m. On the Lakeshore. I’m in heels. In the rain. With no car, and no money.

I walked all the way home to my place on Dupont Street. I kicked my shoes off, walked in my bare feet, and ruined my stockings. The sun was coming up when I got home.

And I’d like to say I learned something, and that I never had another bad date. But we all know that’s not true! I had lots of other bad dates over the years. But none quite like that. That, my friends, was the bottom of the barrel.


Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner


“Okay”, you’re thinking. “Make up your mind. Are you a writing blog, an advice column, a knitting blog, a wedding blog, or what, lady?”

Well, right now, today, I’m a cooking blog. I’m going to share with you a recipe I invented. It’s freaking awesome and you should make it. I make it all the time. I don’t know what it’s called. If you can think of a name for it, you win a prize.

You need:

– whole wheat pasta – any shape – does it MATTER?
– a jar of alfredo sauce – the garlic kind is good
– a package of boneless chicken thighs or breasts, whatever’s cheap
– two zucchinis
– half a large spanish onion
– 2/3 of a package sliced mushrooms
– a couple of handfuls of baby spinach
– olive oil
– garlic salt
– italian seasoning
– parmesan cheese
– one year old smoked cheddar cheese – you CAN use other cheese, but don’t, okay? you can get it at Freshco, and it’s awesome.

Cook the pasta up. Drain it and toss it in the alfredo sauce. Line the bottom of your lasagne pan with it.
Cook the chicken in the oven. Slice it up and layer it over the pasta.
Cut up your veg. Slice it thin. Toss with olive oil, garlic salt, italian seasoning and parmesan. Layer that over the chicken.
Grate cheese on top.

Cook at 375, uncovered, for 30 minutes.

This is seriously VERY good. No, I haven’t put measurements. I don’t measure, I just toss stuff in. That’s how I roll. Maybe you like stuff different from me. How do I know? I’m not the boss of your cheese, sister.

Also, you can portion it out and freeze it, and then you don’t have to cook for a week, which is also awesome.

March 6

Twelve Things I Know For Sure


1. Don`t mistake negativity for maturity. Being cynical and jaded is not cool. If you want to be happy, be happy.

2. You`re not nearly as interesting to other people as you think you are. Get over yourself. It really doesn`t matter what anyone else thinks, and most people aren`t thinking about you at all, surprisingly enough.

3. If someone is doing something `just to get attention`, then they probably need some attention. Try giving them some, and see if it helps.

4. It takes a long time to develop emotional maturity. It`s really the last thing that comes. Some people never get it.

5. It`s really, really hard to be completely honest with yourself, and quite easy to justify anything.

6. Listen to that little voice in your head. It`s usually right, unless it`s just talking smack.

7. There is no such thing as a coincidence. That`s the universe trying to tell you something, so listen up.

8. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Which is great, if you like flies. However, yeah – be nice. It works, it helps, and it makes other people be nicer to you.

9. Be nice to yourself, too. If you wouldn`t tolerate what you`re saying to yourself if it came from another person, don`t tolerate it from yourself. Friends don`t let friends be mean to themselves.

10. Not everyone thinks as you do. They don`t have to. But you have to respect their views. You can reject them outright as unsuitable for you, but you have to respect them.

11. You`re better off alone than with someone who makes you unhappy.

12. Learn to enjoy being alone, and spending quality time with yourself.

Big Wheel Keep on Turnin’


So much going on, and so little I can blog about!

The problem with interpersonal things, and family things is that there are always other people involved;  people who deserve privacy and consideration, no matter how I may feel about them or their actions. 

I promised when I started this blog that it would not be a forum for negativity, nor would it be a place where it was okay to slam people.  I stand by that statement.  It’s still not okay.  The only person who really gets slammed on here is me, generally.  It’s not okay for you to slam me on your blog, but it’s okay for me to slam myself, and vice versa.  That’s assuming you even have a blog, which you should.  I recommend having a blog.  They’re much easier to care for than a dog or a cat, and can be completely neglected for long periods of time.  They don’t poop in odd places, or bark at inappropriate times.  They occasionally do wake you up in the middle of the night, though, so be forewarned about that.

The very wise MLS once responded to my whinging about private issues, and wishing I had a super-top-secret-private-blog, by advising me that there is indeed such a thing, and it’s called a diary.  That’s where this kind of thing belongs.

I’ve been blogging pretty regularly for a couple of years now.  I thought I’d run out of things to say, but it hasn’t happened so far, mostly because life keeps happening.  Yup.  Big wheel keep on turnin’, Ike.  But I can’t always share.

So, until I have something that’s fit for public consumption, here’s the lovely Miss Tina Turner, who still has better legs than any of us: