I've got a fever, and the only prescription is...

...bed rest, plenty of fluids and perhaps some fever reducing medication.

I'm totally sick, yo. It's not too awesome. I felt like crap this morning, so the fact that I even bothered to put makeup on is amazing. BUT TOTALLY WASN'T WORTH THE TIME. Why? Because 30 seconds after arriving at work, some dude I work with looks at me and says, "Are you okay? Wow, you look awful." THANKS FOR THAT. I suppose it's only appropriate to look bloody awful when you feel bloody awful.

Amanda is now feeling sick, and totally blames me for it. This is what I have to say about THAT: I didn't HAVE to come with you yesterday and perform odd jobs and manual labour around your house, did I? No. I did it because I am totally awesome. So you just think about that, missy! But it is always nice to have someone to blame for making you sick. I blame Ben, since he was totally sick on Friday, and I was totally sick the next day. You will be receiving your karmic punishment soon. It may or may not be in the form of a roundhouse kick to the face delivered by one Mr. Chuck Norris. I'm just saying, you might want to pay attention to your surroundings. He wears action jeans and is very swift.

It's time to go home and sit under blankets! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally using my superior debating skills...

with myself. I am currently in bed, debating the merits of actually getting out of said bed this morning and possibly doing stuff. There is much to be said about doing stuff... most of the time doing stuff is pretty fun times. But then again, sometimes doing nothing is totally just as good as doing stuff. It's kind of a Catch-22.

Whatever will I do? Stuff, or no stuff, that is the question.

The suburbs really DO ruin lives.

I was supposed to see Hot Fuzz tonight, but I didn't because everyone in my damn family thinks it is awesome to live in SURREY/LANGLEY. It takes a really long time to get home from there, in case you didn't know.

Then, just for fun they closed down a main friggin' road due to a "police incident" (in Surrey? Say what???) therefore causing me to take a 20 min detour to get to where I needed to go. That shit made me late for the movie. Now all of my friends can have sweet conversations about how awesome the movie was and I will just sit there and cry because I won't be able to understand the jokes!!!!! DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!!

My life is ruined! Cat Stevens feels my pain, because he is singing to me right now about how friggin' LAME it is to be all alone at home on a Saturday night. He is 100% correct. It is seriously fucking lame. GAH!

Get what you want, when you want it!

Honestly, if I knew how to do that, do you think I would be writing this blog for free? Come on, now! Let's be reasonable. I'm just testing out a new marketing scheme. Here is my theory: Cosmo is a way popular magazine. Pretty much all of their articles have titles like:

Get what you want, when you want it!

Or sometimes it is things like...

How to seduce a man and get him to marry you in 3 minutes!

My point is, that people really seem to want to read things with such awesome promises in the titles. I would be crazy not to jump on that! (That's what she said.)

I'll let you know how this pans out. If it is like anything else in my life, it will be wildly unsuccessful and you will all get a kick out of the hilarious situations I will find myself in as a result. Looking forward to the good times ahead!

Peace out, my little rockers who like to rock out way hard to the extreme for real! (Or is that just me?)

I've been reasonably arrested, and thrown in jail.

It is days like today that make me love YouTube like the dickens. You are searching for "The Police" because you really want to watch a video for Can't Stand Losing You, but then you find this instead... and you come out of the situation being a better person, really.





That Jasper kid is lucky to have such cool parents. I wish my dad had exposed me to more NWA... but nooooooooo. All I got was "You call it rap music, I call it CRAP music!" followed by a good solid 5 minutes of my dad laughing at himself.

These are arduous times, indeed.

I am back at work today. I must say, I am having quite a time of it. My brain is having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that my real actual life does not follow this particular schedule:

- wake up whenever I feel emotionally and physically ready to do so
- eat a giant breakfast that nearly always includes pancakes and rarely includes nutritional value
- wear some short shorts
- drink some booze
- wander around all day with no concrete plans
- drink booze out of giant novelty cups
- basically just do whatever I want, whenever I want, wearing whatever I want.

Nooooooooo. I have to get up TO AN ALARM. And eat cereal. And not drink booze until after work. And wear pants.

Man, this SUCKS!

I'm back, baby. *sigh*

If you have ever thought to yourself, "Hey, maybe I should go to Vegas..." FRIGGIN' DO IT.

I love you, Vegas. I'll be back. I miss you already, friend.

Silent but deadly.

Okay, I should have been done packing by now, but I am not. I should be asleep right now, but I am not. Why? Because there is a little problem that I am unable to solve and it is terribly distracting.

My whole house smells like a skunk. Actual skunk. It's revolting.

At around 9:30pm I went outside to do something and I totally smelled a skunk. I was grossed out so I came back inside right away. About 15 mins later I swore I could smell it in the house. It just began to permiate. It has seeped in through every available nook and cranny and is lingering in the air. It makes me want to throw up.

I have hypothesized that some a-hole from my neighborhood must have murdered a skunk without really thinking about the consequences. If the whole block smells like this, just imagine how bad that dude must smell right now! Gnarly. I hope all my stuff doesn't smell like skunk tomorrow. I am a girl. I'm supposed to smell pretty so that I might attract potential suitors. THIS IS TOTALLY THROWING A WRENCH IN ALL OF MY PLANS. Damnit.

As it turns out, your grandparents weren't lying to you after all...

They really DID invent rock n' roll.





Finally, proof that I am not the only kid with a swearing grandma who really rocks out.

This is why they invented text messaging.

To: Sarah
From: Lydia

Why did Snoop Dogg buy an umbrella when he got to Vancouver?


To: Lydia
From: Sarah

I don't know, but I'm already laughing my face off.


To: Sarah
From: Lydia

Fo' drizzle.


To: Lydia
From: Sarah

NICE!

One bruised toe and one inflated ego.

Today was the SUN RUN!!!!!! I actually ran in it!

I trained for a few months (off and on) to *try* and prepare myself to run 10k in the company of 55,000 other people. I was feeling pretty uneasy about the situation because I never managed to run more than 5k without walking. Things did not look good.

Then I started running. And I just kept going. It was flippin' amazing. I RAN THE ENTIRE WAY. I BLEW MY OWN MIND A LITTLE.

Amanda deserves mad props for reminding me to slow the frig down when I got a little too excited. I totally wouldn't have made it the whole way if I had kept up my show-off pace!

Carbo-Goo deserves mad props for containing enough sugar to keep an entire school full of 3rd graders on a sugar high for 3 hours at a time. Seriously. That stuff is magical. At about the 8k mark I felt like I was going to die. So I took a hit of my delicious carbo-goo and took off like a friggin' ROCKET. I'm thinking I should start using it recreationally.

The "shuffle" setting on my mp3 player deserves mad props for picking such awesome songs for me to run to. I only used it for the last 5k, but it gave me such a boost. Seriously. The song I finished the race to was Pink Floyd's "Run Like Hell". HOW COULD I NOT RUN LIKE HELL WITH THAT SONG PLAYING???? So I totally did. I ran like the wind. It was awesome. People were like, "Whoa, that girl is running like hell." (Well, not really... but I honestly was running like hell!)

And lastly, I deserve mad props because I totally did all the work. That's right, ME. If it weren't for me, this whole thing wouldn't have been possible. Yay me!

And now I am about ready to fall over. I'm so tired that I am actually watching Saturday Night Fever sitting down. I've never done that before. I always do the routines along with Travolta! Especially the solo that is on right now. It's killing me. Damn you, Travolta! Damn you and your sweet, sweet moves!

It only hurts when I try to think about numbers and words.

I think I broke my brain. I'm having immense amounts of trouble trying to form complete sentences when I'm talking to people. It's not cool.

This is what happens when you give a girl a week's worth of work to do in 7 hours.

It just ain't cool, man. Ouch.

Now we're talkin'.

Last night, I had a dream. I HAD A DREAM!!!!

This is big news, because that means I had some REM sleep for the first time in a week! It was only a little bit, as I still woke up several times during the night, but damnit it was good.

At this moment, I'm not sure if there is anything better than a good night of sleep. I can't wait to sleep again tonight! It is going to be awesome. To the extreme for real!

You might be wondering what finally did the trick... the answer is... gin and tonic! But don't worry. As of tonight, we go back to carbs before bed and melatonin. I promise I'll be good. Plus, I'm in full on Sun Run mode now, so no more getting drunk until after the race! I've got to be in top form, you know.

To be perfectly honest with you, I hadn't thought of that...

Amanda and I took a walk at lunch and I was telling her a story about Easter, when she helped me to have a moment of clarity.

ME: "So I let my sister give me a makeover mostly because I was too goddamn tired to argue with her about it. Do you know what that means? I had to sit there for half an hour while she put makeup on me and lectured me on the merits of mascara and how 'a little cleavage never hurt anybody'. I mean SERIOUSLY. Like I need another person hassling me about how I don't have a boyfriend and telling me how to get one. I know that I don't know how to find one! BLAHHHHHHH." *makes extremely unattractive face with tongue sticking out*

Amanda: "Well, for starters you could stop making that face in public."

*pause*

ME: "Point taken."

No sleep til Brooklyn.

SO WHY THE FRIG DOES BROOKLYN HAVE TO BE SO FAR AWAY????

So, the count is up to 5 days with practically no sleep. I'm seriously losing my damn mind. I need sleep. What can I do? I think I'm at the breaking point.

The breaking point is defined as the point at which I am so tired that standing up seems like a chore, I have lost all reason and good sense, and I run the risk of spontaneously bursting into tears. All of these things suck. Standing up really needn't be so difficult. Pretty much anyone could take advantage of me right now, as I have no reason and good sense. If I did cry and word got out, it would seriously damage my reputation as a sassy girl with no feelings! Plus, it would just be me, crying alone in my house which is really lame. What's the point of tears if you don't get anything out of it? (ie: hugs from boys, sympathy)

Ugh. Just let me sleep, PLEASE!

Dream on, dreamer.

It's a good thing I saw Grindhouse today, because I am turning into a zombie. Now I am familiar with how one should best go about eating someones face. Good to know.

But seriously, folks. I can't sleep. Since Wednesday night, I have not had a decent night of sleep. It basically feels like I lie in bed for hours at a time with my eyes closed, yet am otherwise fully conscious. I hear everything, I just can't open my eyes to see it. I'm starting to get worried that if I don't get some sleep soon, I might just pass out randomly in some sort of apparent narcoleptic fit. I have visions of myself at work, halfway through a meeting when in mid-sentence I just sort of just... fall over and go to sleep. HOW HUMILIATING WOULD THAT BE??

I bet they would send me to the hospital if that happened. Then I'd be all stuck in the hospital and no one would visit me. That would kind of suck. But at least I would not be tired anymore.

I really can't understand what is giving me this crazy case of the insomnias. People keep asking me if there is something bothering me... or something I'm thinking about. I have no friggin' clue. I'm not even capable of thinking right now, so basically there is no way to know... until I get some sleep. *sigh*

Here I go... giving it the ol' college try. Please just let me sleep!

It's just like in those Pepsi commercials...

... you know, the ones where they ask the grown ups what they could bring back from the old days? Then they proceed to still be their 40 year old selves, whilst acting like they are 19 and look totally ridiculous?

Yes. It was pretty much exactly like that... except instead of bringing back the 90210-esque haircut with the giant waterfall bangs, I shotgunned a beer.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, peer pressure. How I've missed you.

Ring the alarm!

So last night at about 9:45pm, I decided that I was done with trying to watch whatever lame crap was on tv and that I was going to go to bed. But first, I would try on random outfits as I so often do.

So it's just after 10:00pm, and I'm in my room, wearing a dress and shaking my booty to the Idlewild soundtrack. (Morris Brown, specifically.) Upstairs, I hear a commotion. The smoke alarm goes off, followed by very loud booming footsteps running towards the back of the house. The smoke alarm beeping gets louder. I open the door and stick my head out in the hallway. OUR smoke alarm is going off now. I run down the hallway, flipping on the light. Nothing is awry in the kitchen... so why the hell is the smoke alarm going off? Is the house on fire? Should I go outside? Shit, I'm wearing a dress! I can smell burning. I run back into my room, throw on some sweatpants and a hoodie and wander out into the backyard.

I'm thinking, "Shoot! What if there is a fire? Can I go back in and grab my valuables? (laptop, wallet, shoes, and my Justin Timberlake CD) I can't see any smoke... the landlords aren't out on the lawn and I hear no sirens, so I figure we're okay. Just then, I hear the landlord coming out the back door.

He leans over the balcony and yells out, "Sorry! We left a pot on the stove. It's okay! It should stop in a minute." I reply with, "That's okay. I'll go back in when the beeping stops. It's really loud in there!"

He goes back inside and I stand there for another minute, feeling terribly grown-up and mature because I managed to not say anything about the fact that he was wearing a sweatshirt, work boots and underwear.

A gourmet dinner... consisting of my words with ketchup on the side.

Okay. So remember when I said the only time I wish I had a boyfriend was when I had to a) put something together, b) buy something big like a tv, or c) have a lot of groceries? I would like to add one more thing to that list.

d) when I go for a really long run and I hurt my back so I don't really feel like cooking myself some damn dinner.

I'm inclined to think that if I had one of those boyfriend-types hanging around that I might just be able to guilt trip them into giving me a piggyback ride home and getting me some damn dinner.

That's how it works, right? You just call them on the phone, sound as pitiful as possible and then they come and bring you things?

Shoot. That sounds kind of nice.

So... any takers?

Half Nelson? I'll take the whole damn thing!

Dear sweet lord, thank you for Ryan Gosling.

Not to take away from the boy's obviously BRILLIANT acting talents (as evidenced in Half Nelson, The Believer and United States of Leland) but I mean seriously...





















Talks about politics even when inebriated, has super hot facial hair, dresses kind of like a grandpa... BASICALLY PERFECT.

I mean, shoot. You put a dude like that in a movie and expect me to be able to follow the plot points?

So intensely attractive.

PS: Oh yeah, the movie was actually quite brilliant. I highly recommend it. Even if he was ugly it would have been excellent. Watch it!

PPS: Rachel McAdams is a whore.

PPPS: I'm sorry. She probably isn't really a whore. But the bitch is lucky.