A self deprecating post, for a friend.

At the request of a friend, I am writing about my absolute clueless and frightened state of singleness. Because it is funny.

Over the last few years I have come to realize a lot about myself, as I suppose most people do in their early twenties. One thing that I have more recently began to think about - and I don't want to say "I realized about myself" because then it is true - is whether or not I am awkward.

The odds are not in my favour.

Some examples:

1. Sometimes people tell me I am awkward.

2. I wave at people. It's like a nervous tick. If I want to talk to someone who is across a room, instead of going over to them, I wait for that brief moment of eye contact. When that moment comes, I don't really know what to do with it... smile? Sure. That would make sense. But no, I guess I feel that is not sufficient, so I raise my hand to about shoulder level (while the elbow stays close to my waist) and and wave it back and forth. Why? Rarely is this reciprocated.

Who invented the wave? It's silly. It's a vague sort of a greeting that says "I don't know how to communicate to you with my face right now, nor can I get close enough to you to talk to you, so I will just start moving other parts of my body. In fact, why don't I just stand here and flail around until you look away? Good?"

As if I didn't already look like weird enough standing around like an awkward teenager at a high school dance... you know, hanging out by the refreshments (are there refreshment tables at high school dances? I wouldn't know, I never went to any.), peering back and forth between the food and the person of interest. Both are good. Food = good. Person I want to talk to = also good. Both good. But food is easier. You don't need to talk to or wave at it. And if there's punch... forget about it.

When I was in high school I was practically a poster girl for non dating. I questioned, even chastised my friends regarding their dating decisions. I insisted that there is absolutely no point in dating while you are in high school because those relationships wouldn't last. "Are you going to marry this person?" I would say, condescendingly. "Umm, I don't know" would be their reply - as it should be from someone in their teens. "Well, why are you dating then? What is dating to you, anyway?" etc etc. I was doing my friends a great service, really, constantly sharing my many insightful musings on the topic.

I was annoyingly proud of my stance. I don't think I would enjoy talking to myself about this, were I to go back 8 or 9 years and meet me. But really, I think I would have a great time hanging out with me. We would laugh a LOT. And get into only God knows what kind of shenanigans. We would only discuss 15 year old Jenny though, lest we get into some sort of Back to the Future scenario, where I told her about stuff from the future and then it changed the course of important events and messed things up for everyone. Mind you, shenanigans probably wouldn't help in not messing up people's futures either.

If I got into conversations with 15 year old Jenny about current Jenny, she would be like "You're not married? What? Oh... you're not even dating anyone? I thought you'd have this figured out by now. I expected you to. I know I am acting like a pompous ass now, but come on. You're not in high school anymore. You're 24. You should at least have a potential boyfriend... something on the go..... nothing? Why are you so weird?"

(Let it be noted that these would be the thoughts of a 15 or 16 year old me. I do not currently regret that I am husbandless. I am in fact, 24. *Note the different context this time when stating my age, and how in this light, I .... I don't really need to explain this, do I? )

Then 15 year old Jenny would probably do all sorts of irrational things based on information she gained about her future upon meeting current Jenny, and then who knows where current Jenny would end up. Which means, I would be different, which means 15 year old Jenny would then have met a different Jenny than current Jenny.... and this is why time travel makes no sense. And my name is starting to look really weird the more I type it.

ANYWAY...

As it turned out, my best friend from high school, who had the privilege of listening to my many thought provoking and convicting messages on why dating in high school is stupid, married her high school sweetheart. And here I am, 24, trying to figure out basic things about dating and relationships that she figured out in grade eight. Ironic, no? It's funny... I guess. Yeah. It's pretty freaking good.

My blog sucks.

Well, I suppose if I want to continue on this "one post a month" trend I should write something, as October is nearing it's end.

It just so happened that for the previous few months I had one day in there somewhere where I thought of something in particular I could write a blog about. Not so this month. So who knows what's going to happen. Maybe this is a mark of the end of an era. Four posts... (I almost wrote "poast" again)... I had a pretty good run. Except they weren't all that good, either, so not really.

I should write a post (Seriously. Try to type "post" without first typing "poast". I don't think it can be done.) using as many lame and overused words as possible that I can think of. It will be one of the most annoying blog posts (postas) you've ever read. Or maybe it will be very similar to conversations you have daily with friends.

So on Saturday I went to see Mumford & Sons and it was totes one of the most epic concerts I've ever been to. There was this totally random moment with a lady that was really awkward where she put her hand on my knee to sort of lean on as she stood up to let someone out of the aisle, and then she realized what she was doing and we had a pretty good laugh about it. It was legit. Then the opening band played and they were so epic that I wanted to buy their cd, but I didn't have any cash. Fail. Then at the end of the night I left my umbrella in the aisle and didn't realize until I left the building. Epic fail.

... Okay, I can't go on like that any longer.

Mumford & Sons, I have to say, was not epic, because unfortunately the term epic doesn't really mean what it should anymore. Everything is epic; funny stories are epic, that movie was epic, that time Carl drank four frostys was so epic.

Mumford & Sons were amazing. I was blown away. If I said they were epic, I would be cheapening how good they were, because I can not call Mumford & Sons epic when someone else is calling a youtube video epic. It's not the same thing.

I continued on a little rant about some of the other words in there and why it annoys me when people say them, but then I deleted it. No one wants to read this as I go on pretentiously talking about words and what they mean and why people should or shouldn't say them. Heck, say whatever the crap you want. I'm not God. Except don't say the eff word at my camp unless you're prepared to write lines.

This is boring. I'm bored now.

Sorry this post (paost, followed by poast) was so lame.

Here is the picture of a zombie that I drew on my Etch-A-Sketch that I mentioned before:

I don't really like it anymore. When I did it I thought it was cool and funny, but now it scares me a little bit.

This month's post.

When I first typed the subject line, I wrote "This month's poast." It made me laugh really hard. Poast. It looks like it should be a real word, doesn't it? I reminds me of "poose" (which is also not a real word) and "toast." Imagine having some toast with a slice of poose bacon. Mmmm that would be good. It would be like normal bacon (which is incredible), but would have a game-y taste to it, because of the moose-ness (to know what the crap I'm talking about, go here). Some poast would be pretty good right now.

I was going to write something nostalgic about summer... you know, 'It's already September, where has the time gone,' etc. Okay actually I wasn't, I was just going to tell you about this one time during summer when my room mate was on vacation and I watched a movie.

I believe it was during my prep week at work before summer day camp started. I was basking in the dim light of the post midnight hours, getting in all my late nights while I still could. Soon I would have to be more wise when choosing a bedtime, as I would have to wake up early enough to get mentally and physically prepared for six energetic, loud, tiring hours spent with upwards of 90 kids.

But I was still free to stay up as late I fancied. It was about 12:30 AM and I had a sudden and uncontrollable urge to watch What About Bob. If you haven't seen that delightful movie, please stop reading this lame blog, and go rent it and watch it. It will be a better use of your time.

But the problem with my sudden need to watch What About Bob was that it was almost one o'clock in the morning and I knew that a) this was a movie watching scenario in which I would definitely need to be lying down, and in a state of utmost comfort, and b) I might feel sleepy and want to fall asleep in front of the TV (enter point A again). The problem with this was that I hate my couch. Well, I have two couches. Well, I guess only one couch. I have a couch and a loveseat. The loveseat is comfortable, but not enough for the level of comfort that I desired, because being a loveseat, it is of course far too short for me. The couch is almost long enough for me, but not quite. And it is leather, which is never a good idea for furniture. Who thought of leather furniture anyway, and why?! I don't understand why people like it.

Some jerk: "Hey, Simmons, I've discovered this awesome material that is perfect for furniture!"

Simmons: "What is it, boss?"

Jerk: "Leather. You're gonna love it. You should use it on your couches."

Simmons: "Will it be cool and refreshing to sit on in the summer?"

Jerk: "No, it will be sticky and hot. You won't want to sit on it while wearing shorts, or other typical summer clothing. You will need to change into pants and a long sleeved shirt, which are too hot to wear in summer."

Simmons: "..."

Jerk: "But in winter, it will be cold and unwelcoming. You will need to wear pants, and probably also throw a blanket over it, which will constantly slip off the couch because leather and every other material are like oil and water. What do you say, Simmons?"

See? That's not fun for anyone.

Another one of my problems with starting a movie late at night is not having good eyes. I knew that if I were to start watching a movie at night, and potentially fall asleep, contacts would not be a good idea. Contacts are fantastic - they allow for all of the joys that people with perfect vision take for granted, that one could not enjoy while wearing glasses: peripheral vision, walking in the rain, things like that. But after several hours of wearing them, and especially after an extended period of time wearing them while looking at a glowing screen, you may feel like you've been walking through a desert. But the alternative to contacts is glasses, which are almost worse when it comes to late night movie watching, especially when maximum comfort is what you are striving for. If I were to go the glasses route, I would have to give up the dream of lying down, because who wants to lie down and have a pair of glasses digging into the side of their face? Not me. I've tried to mix glasses, TV, and lying down too many times before and it always ends with disappointment.

So I came up with the most brilliant solution of all solutions. It was a solution that I am still proud of and remember very fondly. It solved all of the aforementioned issues... it made it possible for maximum and utmost comfort, it would allow for clear movie watching without the need for contacts, glasses, or squinting, and it would be most conducive to the inevitable falling asleep that would ensue about halfway through the movie that I needed to watch. I moved my mattress from my bed into the living room, right smack in front of my TV. I had my bed in front of the TV. It was fantastic. I know, I know, you're probably thinking, "You idiot, it's called a laptop. Ever heard of one?" Well What About Bob is such a movie that needs to be watched on a real TV, on a big screen (or so I felt that night. And still do.). Plus when you bring your laptop into bed to watch something, you're just going to bed and watching a movie. But what I did was create a situation where I could watch a movie while going to bed. Do you see the difference? When you watch a movie in your bed on your laptop you are done for the night. But camping out in my living room with my mattress in front of the TV - it was a movie watching experience. I had the big screen. I had snacks. I enjoyed supreme comfort.

So I started watching What About Bob at quarter to one in the morning, in my bed. In my living room (and bonus: I ended up sleeping there for the next few nights). I laughed my head off at the hilarious antics of Bob Wiley, while eating Lays salt & vinegar chips, pepperoni sticks, and cold, leftover bacon that I stored in my fridge for such an occasion. Tell me you're not jealous. I doubt you can.

Toy Story

Today my brother, sister in law, and two lovely nephews came to visit me. While we were getting dinner ready, my little nephew crawled around my non-baby-safe apartment doing fun things like knocking videos off the shelf and playing with remote controls, which apparently I have a somewhat extensive collection of. If you know me well, you know that I am stupidly anal and borderline OCD about cleanliness and order, so you may be thinking this was bothersome to me. But you're wrong. I love that little boy much more than tidiness as it turns out (but later I fixed the movies... I can't help it). He also came and grabbed onto my legs to help himself stand up, making it very hard to to anything else but stand there and be enamored with his cuteness, and also try to hold it together through the pain of his grabby little hands and sharp fingernails.

My other nephew was watching Toy Story. He had seen the third Toy Story but neither of it's prequels. He asked me "Is there scary babies or teddy bears?" and I reassured him that there were not. Man, I was freaked out by that stupid baby (if you haven't seen Toy Story 3, you need to. It's fantastic. But there is a freaky baby.) and I'm 24. My nephew is 4 (ok, almost 5). Poor kid.

Toy Story made a lot of sense to me when I was a kid. It wasn't really a crazy idea, like, for example "The Brave Little Toaster". Toasters, vacuum cleaners, lamps... coming to life when the humans are gone? That's ridiculous. But toys, yes, that makes sense.

I definitely thought my toys had feelings when I was a kid. I remember getting very, very upset at my brother for punching my favourite stuffed bear in the face repeatedly, while saying "Look at his face, Jenny! He's still smiling!" I would just stand there yelling at him to stop, crying for my poor bear, who just had to hold it together and put on a brave face while getting smoked in the face time after time. I have that same bear to this day, and yes, he is still smiling. What a trooper.

Did you miss me? ...I'm not even talking to anyone, because no one reads this.

Welcome to post number two.

It has been exactly one month since I started blogging again, and what a journey it has been.

So many hilarious memories, poignant and heartfelt conversations, brilliant new topics to discuss with various interesting perspectives from readers, nostalgia filled anecdotes, tales of woe and heartbreak, and of course the delving into the very deep ocean that is my soul.

It has been the ride of my life and I thank you.

What is exciting is we are only just getting started.

(In truth, I have almost completely forgotten about the fact that I even created a blog because I can NOT stop reading another blog, hyperboleandahalf . If you haven't read it before, go read it, it is absolutely hilarious. But it is way better than my blog will ever be, so finish reading this post first, then go read it, because if you go now you won't be back to finish reading this because, like I did, you will forget about it.)

Here is a picture I drew on my Etch-A-Sketch:

I went on a bit of a toy-buying binge last summer. Among the toys I bought were one of those wooden snakes, the ones that wriggle and look like a real snake (I named him Will - he now lives on top of my microwave... he'll probably die of some weird radiation tumors, the poor guy. Or, he would if he wasn't made of wood, anyway. But then he'd be a real snake and he would never stay on top of the microwave, he'd just go slither away somewhere safe and far away from microwave radiation.), a slinky (to replace my old, rusty one, and that has only been properly used ONCE because I can never find a good set of stairs for slinky-ing) and this Etch-A-Sketch, which has become my absolute favourite.

I never realized how fantastic the Etch-A-Sketch was before. When I was a kid, I didn't really give it the time of day because all I thought you could do on it was horizontal and vertical lines. So, I'd make a few squares, then move on. But no! A friend showed me the trick where you twist BOTH knobs and voila! Curves! Circles! Squiggly lines! An exciting world of potential was opened up before me, as if I were dear little Lucy Pevensie stumbling out of a dank old wardrobe into the magical world of Narnia.

I have drawn some pretty boss stuff on the Etch-A-Sketch, and subsequently have started taking pictures of my work, because I am a dweeb. But for my last few good ones, I couldn't take a good picture, so someone with a spiffy camera took some pictures of them for me, and I am in the middle of a very long waiting process in receiving said pictures via email. I'm getting impatient. I want to show you my zombie, who is saying "I WANT BRAINS!" I'm pretty proud of it, though I actually think zombies are super freaky. I've only ever seen one zombie movie, and people who are actually into zombie movies would tell me it's just a spoof, but there were zombies in it, so it's a zombie movie. Shaun of the Dead - it was stupid, sometimes funny, but mainly gross and freaky, because of the zombies.

Let me get this straight - zombies are people that were once dead, then somehow came up out of their graves in some sort of semi-alive state (comparable to a chicken with it's head cut off, maybe? Like when there's still nerve reactions, or something, so they run around, but aren't actually alive? Is that even true? Does that even actually happen? I don't know.) and try to eat other, legitimitely alive people. What's the deal with that? That's freaky. I don't think it's cool.

But it seemed like a good idea for a drawing on my Etch-A-Sketch. I felt like I needed a challenge - not just artistically, but personally; I thought maybe if I could use the Etch-A-Sketch, something I love and trust, to draw a zombie, maybe I could face my fear, and it would become nothing more than a hilarious, but impressively well done, little caricature... hiding the reality that zombies are terrifying, blood thirsty, half dead people who are partly decayed and who stagger around like drunk people (REALLY drunk people, but, like, 1000X more dangerous and threatening. This isn't taking into account those happy, "I love you", sleepy drunks. I'm talking about the angry ones who yell and stomp around, who the people who live underneath them in an apartment building nickname "Stompy Joe" and are too afraid to call the cops on (yes, I'm speaking from experience)), looking for fresh meat. Ugghh. Zombies.

Poose.

I've decided to start blogging again. We'll see how long this lasts, until either I stop completely, or the blogs become very lame and uninteresting ... making the title quite misleading. Who knows. It might just suck altogether. But it's kind of fun.

The animal on the top of the page is called a poose. I created it probably five or six years ago during one of my many ridiculously late night conversations with a friend from school who I didn't actually know that well, but who I became friends with after the world of msn took us by storm. Both being fresh out of high school and not realizing that we should start contributing in some way, we had many poignant discussions - as only people could when tired and sitting up all night in front of a glowing screen in the dark, lest we wake up our parents. I don't remember a lot of what we talked about, but I know we liked corn dogs and Wes Anderson movies. Many conversations resorted to pure nonsense: finding as many ways to misspell "haha" as we could (our favourite being "jaja"), and saying "woof" back and forth.

One time, though, we were talking about various animal combinations (you know, ligers, etc) - I'm not sure if that conversation was first, or if I typed "poose" by accident, meaning to talk about a moose... but either way, the poose was born. Weird conversations late at night + MS paint = Poose. No, not just a pig with antlers. It must have been quite late though, or my attention span quite short, or both, because you can see I put very little effort into it as only the tip of the curl of the tail is coloured in. But I do know, I used a quarter as a reference for the moose part of the poose.