I spent my first week of holiday in my hometown.  Ah, Northern Ontario Canada in the summer, it really is one of the greatest places you can be this time of year.

SIDEBAR: I’ll challenge anyone to a duel that says otherwise, and my sword skills are amazingly good!

Wherever you happen to hail from it always holds a special place in your heart, even if you would cut off an appendage before moving back there. Your hometown can teach you many things. Some good and some ugly, but all in all there is always a lesson to be learned.

8 Things I’ve Learned from growing up in North Western Ontario Canada!

1~ Fish do and will bite you in the open water!! And I can most likely tell you what type of animal that squished up unrecognizable pile of blood and fur on the road used to be

2~ Drinking and operating any type of moving vehicle is not a good idea. If I even tried to count deaths I’ve known of as a result of drinking and driving/seadooing/ boating/snowmachining, and so on it would take years!

3~ I’m a great shot. Don’t mess with me.

4~ I have at least three major outdoor survival skills, and I know all the best ways to keep warm.

5~ Curling is hard. If you want to joke that it’s the easiest Olympic sport, I suggest you take a look at bobsledding, even the Jamaicans can do that! Curling is hard, and I think the only section I always failed in PE.

6~ I always dress appropriately and come prepaid for impending weather. I also know what “looks like” followed by any type of weather description is, and am pretty much always right!

7~ I can walk on ice with little effort, infact I can even run on it.

8 ~ It is possible to be friends with past lovers and old flames. In a small town people jump romantic partners all the time, but your social circles never really change. You learn to get along with the ex that is now dating your best friends little sister who used to date your old brothers best friend who you once dated as well who cheated on you with the girl who is now dating your brother. And all in all you learn to be civil and kind to others, and respect peoples romantic choices (I mean you might judge but still)

Right now, I’m home-home, with my parents for a week or so. Just relaxin’, chilln’, and doing lots of swimming with my puppies!

It’s peaceful here. It’s quiet, well except for those frogs outside my window that actually kind of make me miss honking cars and sirens at night. It’s the Northern woods of Canada, and it’s my home.

There aren’t many luxuries in my hometown. Nowhere really to shop, or go hang out, or anything really fun to do. No real cultural anything.

SIDEBAR: Today is Canada Day so that’s pretty cultural.

I like it here because it’s familiar, nothing changes and I know everything.  It’s special to my heart.

Much like a good relationship, a good home can’t be beat.  As I went to get ready for bed last night after a late night swim I got thinking about all the things I kind of dislike or “live” with when at home.  My own bathroom I’ve always loved. It’s big and has lots of light, and yet the water pressure just doesn’t cut it in the shower.  I have a huge sink area with long big sink top with a makeup area with a chair and everything, it’s almost perfect, but then I forget that the sink is very shallow and if you turn the tap on to far it splashes water all over everything! My bed is big and huge and tall and comfy good, but it’s kind of lonely being in a big nice bed like that all alone, and then they’re those frogs outside my window.

All that is good about home has little faults that we tend to forget or over look till they are right in front of us.  A relationship is like a good home. It’s warm, inviting, it shelters you and can be used for entraining. It holds memories and creates new ones. It’s a rock that we count on….only good thing is that the person you’re in a relationship with can talk to you, and a home doesn’t really do that, unless you count “house sounds”.

And then there are those little extras, or more like the hidden “gems” of a relationship.  Just like my shallow sink that splashes unless you turn it just right, everyone has those little things about them they bring to a relationship.  These added gems get overlooked, pushed to the side and sometimes ignored because the whole package or “the home” is just so wonderful. Maybe it’s the way someone laughs, or chews their food, or holds your hand in a funny way.  Maybe it’s the sounds they make in their sleep, or sounds they don’t make during “sleep”.

Just as we get used to a new house which eventually becomes our home, do the little things start to disappear as the larger picture unfolds in a relationship and if so then why do people always say it’s all about the little things in a relationship?

I’ve talked about commercials before. I’m bothered by a commercial that deal with “female issues”, I just am. I’ve talked before on how I don’t like the women in most of them, and then I talked about how some point out how stupid the female population is. But this one takes the cake on pointing out how stupid/dumb/ridiculous the female population can be.

Bayer has come out with a new ad champagne that encourages women to learn more about their birth control. This comes off the back of them being sued millions of dollars for apparently not adequately informing women about the health risks.

Ok first off, if you take any medications you should know what it is, how it works, how it affects your body and interacts with other drugs you take. Your health should always be number one. You need to understand how stuff works. That’s “Living 101.”

Anyways, so although I agree that it’s good of Bayer to let you know that you should take control of your health I have an issue with their commercials. A huge issue.

If you haven’t seen the commercial in question let me break it down for you. There are these women who are blind folded feeling a rhinoceros.  They touch the rhino all over and are trying to figure out what they are touching.

These women give the absolute dumbest answers that one could ever say while feeling up a living breathing moving rhino!  Answers given include: a wall, a rope, a pipe, and my all time favorite is the stupid chick who get’s ear slapped in the hand by a rhino and guesses… A BRUSH!

WTF?!  Where are all these stupid women coming from!  At least I’m glad someone is trying to make sure they all know how to use birth control correctly, cause God forbid these dumb ass chicks get pregnant and start procreating…..that is if they can read the pregnancy test.

Oh here’s the link to the commercial so you can watch for yourself.

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Oh and if you like, dislike, agree, disagree, or want to cock punch me over this opinion (or me in general) you should check LostPlum (that’s me) out tonight from 10-11pm EST. on Shivio.com because I’m going to be a guest on Abiola on LSD: Love, Sex, Dating. The show is hosted by the ever amazing, always funny, constantly sexy Abiola Abrams!  It’s going to be hot hot hot.  You can watch, listen, chat, and even beam in….with me!

People always inform me that they too don’t like birthdays and that infact no one likes getting older. In fact everyone always assumes it’s a “getting older” thing I dislike about birthdays. That that’s why I’m not out wanting to party it up with huge big exciting plans, as I guess people expect me to do.

And then when people push as to why I hate birthdays I get flustered and close up. Cause fact of the matter is I don’t dislike getting older. Although being one year closer to 30 (the last year before 30 I might add) is a little nerve racking, and I do feel like I’m getting old. It however, is not the issue.

I just don’t have good luck or good experiences when it comes to my birthday. And I guess I just project that out there, that I assume since I’ve had so many terrible birthdays that this will just continue to happen.

Now I’m talking birthdays in resent (in my 20s) memory.  My birthdays when I was younger were pretty awesome. I had rocking birthday parties as a child that still has people talking.  However as I approached and grew into my 20s the just seemed to go down hill.

I lost my virginity on my birthday and it wasn’t anything exciting.

I was in a bad car accident on my birthday.

I’ve had 3 very important people in my life die on my birthday, and 2 right near my birthday.

A Psychic told me on I wouldn’t live much past 25 the day before I turned 25.

I’ve walked in on my boyfriend at the time with another girl the day of my birthday.

I had everyone and I mean EVERYONE forget my 21^st birthday. (my parents, my boyfriend at the time, and my friends)

and so on….

Last year for the first time in a long time since moving to this city I surface from my room.  In a “hey I’ll be out at this bar if you happen to want to show” fashion I let friends know I’d be out. I ended up getting drunker then I can ever recall and maybe dying my friends sink pick from all the cupcake frosting I puked up in his sink. It was bad news. Cause although I had a nice time with some friends, I spent the entire time alittle uncomfortable. To many people and unknown intensions.  Did people really want to celebrate my birthday or just celebrate?

The thing is I think we all have ideals of perfect outings, gatherings, dates, and or experiences.  We want to feel loved, appreciated, and special on a certain occasion: this being my birthday.   You hear people say all the time that events are better when you’re in a relationship, that unless you have one special person to celebrate with then it’s just not as good.

I think I can admit that yes for once I’d love to have a day, this being my birthday where I am in a relationship with someone who truly cares about me and wants to make me feel special.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

I’ve never really had a boyfriend or guy I was involved with recognize or to be honest remember my birthday (unless you go back to the virginity story). I’ve never had a guy say this day is about you and let’s actually make it about you.

I was thinking about this last night. Thinking about how maybe one day someone will embrace me on the day my parents first embraced me, and maybe I’ll start to like getting older.

Here’s to Friday being just another year like all the rest…..

The subway system being one of the most popular, it’s usually always there for you (usually). It gets you places, it provides entertainment and it opens doors.

You could say it is the most constant relationship I’ve had since moving to NYC.

SIDEBAR: We did have that 3-month break but that’s another story.

Yup, I think the subway is my true NYC boyfriend. He’s usually on time, he smells sometimes, he’s cool, and always has someplace to take me…. oh and he’s a fun big long thing to ride on!

However, if it’s my one true relationship I must project my fears and hang-ups that I usually foresee in men on my beloved subway boyfriend.

And I do. I’m scared of the subway most of the time. I stand back away from the edge (see above sidebar), I get disgusted by others my boyfriend lets ride on him, I make comments about his smell and appearance, I worry when he’s not on time, and I get pissed when he’s not there for me when I need him, yet he seems to be there for others.

But like all relationships I’m prepared for what might go wrong.  See the subway has its emergency plan. It is in ever car, on every line: The, “what to do in case of an emergency” procedure plan.

The emergency brake is usually right above this list of procedures. The list of what to do in case of fire, evacuation, illness, police emergency and so on.  What does one do? Not what you think. In fact you don’t pull the emergency brake.

In all emergency matters you never pull the brake.

The brake is like a false security. Much like the false security you have in a relationship. If something goes wrong you can’t just push a button or pull a cord and all will be ok. You can’t always walk away unscathed.

In case of an emergency you need to turn to the procedures to handle the situation in the right manner. You need to calm down and walk through step by step.

In relationships we aren’t always prepared for the “emergencies” we face but we can’t always fall back on a false security that things will be ok.  Something or in this case someone isn’t always there to catch you, isn’t there to save you, and in most cases just isn’t there fore you.

Although, subway emergencies don’t happen often, relationship emergencies happen all the time. Whether it is a real fire, or just an irate passenger we need to learn to just breath and take the right steps in making things better.

Now if only there was a manual for that…..

Let’s face it we all find ourselves in situations with the opposite sex (and same sex) that are less than ideal.  The retched being picked up or should I say attempt at being picked up is always a circumstance I dread.  However, after years of practice I’ve found some interesting and straight up nasty ways of getting that man who has attached himself to me to leave.

SIDEBAR:  Those who know me are always shocked when I pull these out of the bag of tricks, because I’m always the nice one who will politely talk to the creepy boy and make a nice and descent exit, however, sometimes you can’t hold back.

6 Excuses I have used to get out of talking to a guy (or ways to get him to leave you alone!)

1.  When he asks you what kind of drink you want and insists he buys you one even after you’ve made it clear you don’t want one you come up with a disgusting drink concoction. This concoction should include two types of alcohol and orange soda if possible.  My personal favorite is Jamison, Greygoose, orange soda, and bitters.  When he asks if it’s good you say: “ No, but it gets me angry drunk, and that’s what I’m going for tonight!

2. Put a ring on it!  Yes girls do take rings off their other fingers turn them around and make them look like wedding rings so they can tell guys they are married. However, this doesn’t always work, but when you tell him you are married, make sure you say it’s to a woman.  Guys are fascinated by lesbians, but for some reason they get turned off by married lesbians.

3. Pretend you are deaf.  This only works when you are alone, and not sitting with headphones on.  I have on more than one occasion pretended I couldn’t hear on the subway when some creepy man has started to talk to me. I also do a great ‘deaf speak’ of “ I can’t hear” with the sign language followed by a smile and a look away.  This should not be confused with not speaking English. Guys get turned on by the idea of you not speaking English, but no one wants to be the creep hitting on the deaf girl.

4.  When at a bar ask the guy if he came with any female friends. When he asks why, or says yes. Ask if he thinks they might have a tampon cause you’re bleeding through them like crazy. They run faster than Moses parted the red sea.

5.  Start to dry heave and excuse yourself. Only at a small house party gathering will you maybe encounter the guy who will follow you and want to hold your hair, otherwise they’re done with you. Starting to pick your nose also works very well, as long as you get right up in there.

6. When they ask for your number say it’s better if they give you theirs because you wont be availed for a while. Tell them your doctors says you shouldn’t be having sex until 5 days after this cycle of medication you’re on is finished.

Let me first say this:

Yes this happened. Believe me and the friend’s shoulders I’ve drunkenly cried on….this happened.

I have no idea when a switch happened, if the switched happened, how long something happened for or what have you all I know and remember are the words being whispered in my ear by him, and he wasn’t where I thought he was.

The aftermath……… (only so you’ll all stop emailing me, not cause I really want to hash back at this topic-guy!)

Two days later I get a text message: “I had a wonderful time can’t wait to see you again.”

I didn’t respond.

Three days later I get flowers at my office.  I don’t remember what the card said but something to the above.

Text message: “Would love to dinner tonight if you’re free?”

I responded:  ”I’m not interested but I’m sure you have someone else in your life who you can take!”

Stumpy: “ Oh that’s just NAME, we hang out a lot. She really liked you.”

NO RESPONSE

The next day.

Text message:  “Didn’t hear back from you. If you want to pick that girl that’s cool too, it doesn’t have to be NAME.”

AND THAT IS THE LAST I HEARD FROM HIM……

On a side note it forced me to take the stairs more at. work

SIDEBAR: This is also a story I’ve sat on for a while. I’ve struggled with on so many levels, but in the end putting it out there is always best, or not. But here we go *deep breath*

You, Me, and the Stump equals three! Part One and Two!

I had noticed Elevator-Hottie since I starting working in the building 5 months ago. Ok, I didn’t notice him I straight up stared and maybe drooled at him. This man was hot, and by hot I mean HAWT!

We always seemed to be stuck in the elevator together, most times alone no matter what time of the day.

I simply chalked this up to fate!

We had exchanged a few smiles back and forth (god he had great teeth) but other then that, he watched the elevator TV and I pretended to be doing something important on my phone while I checked out his hot ass in his nice suit!

I worked late that night and as I was leaving the office around 8pm, I clicked the down button.

The door opened and there stood his tall gorgeous frame. (If I were a guy I would’ve got an instant hard on)

He smiled. I quickly looked down at my phone.

Elevator-Hottie: Can I just say something?

I looked up, mouth open from shock and stared at his beautiful face. I did not say anything, I don’t think I even nodded, but may have turned bright red.

Elevator-Hottie: You’re gorgeous! I’d love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like and are available.

I keep staring, drool may or may not have fallen from my mouth.

“Ummmm…(What ever I said here was most definitely babble and I fear evening thinking about it. I’ve blocked it from my memory)”

Elevator-Hottie: Can I get your card?

“Umm…yeah…sure” I fumbled for a card.

Elevator-Hottie: “I always wondered what you did at ‘the magazine with boobies’……”

His voice trailed off as he got off the elevator. I was planted firmly in my place still in shock and awe from the fact he even talked to me. ME!?! Did he just ask me out? HE asked ME, (ME?!) out!?!

The elevator doors closed!

SIDEBAR: I am an idiot!

I press the button the doors open (as I am already on the first floor). I walk out he is gone and there is Tom my favorite of our night security desk guys. “Smooth, very smooth!” He says with a smile.

I blew it! I totally blew it! Oh well.

But I get a phone call that night, and it was Elevator-Hottie. Seriously, I was now staring to believe in this ‘fate’ stuff.

Our first date was to be an after work drink. Although in all honesty I didn’t go to work till the end of day cause I was picking out the perfect outfit, getting my hair just right, doing nails, and all the girl (yes sometimes I’m like that) stuff!

We had a seemingly perfect first date. We had great conversation, I didn’t get to drunk (a usual first date flaw on my part) we ended up grabbing dinner, all in all a great date. As we were saying our goodbyes he gave me a “had a great time” accompanied by a pat on the shoulder.

He hates me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third drink, maybe I talked to much, I probably swore to much, maybe it’s cause I made fun of him…..urg such is my life!

But he called me. And he kept calling me.

Now Elevator-Hottie was everything you’d want in a man, especially in a Manhattan man. Tall, unbelievable handsome, very well educated, good family, owned his own apartment with a park view (and not stand on the toilet  in the bathroom tilt your head kind of view, we’re talking a view!) He had great job, and he even a summer house.

Date number 12 rolls around and the most action I’ve gotten is a peck on the lips and a pat on the back hug. And a few flower arrangements sent to my office.

I mean come on, a girl cant wait forever. In my dating world 12 dates is pretty much an engagement! So you better pony up! I was so confused by the situation, and never been in one like this before. Plus, I like sex so I was alittle upset on that front too.

I was also struggling with him because as perfect on paper as he may have been. He really didn’t make me laugh. OK, I shouldn’t say that he was funny he would make any normal girl laugh alot. But I need and want a guy who makes me spit out my drink, maybe pee my pants just alittle bit laugh! (It’s a requirement)

My friends all pushed me towards the ‘perfect on paper’ and said to ignore the other details.

Oh right, I’m forgetting that one other detail. You see for all his great perfect on paper points, there’s one little thing he didn’t have.

One quality mister-perfect-elevator-hottie-on-paper was missing.

Actually, it was more of an appendage then a quality. You see Elevator-Hottie was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a prosthetic, no leg, a whatever you want to call it………There was no leg!

So I rationalized his lack of physical contact as a shyness of his stump.

Maybe it was all scared up and nasty! Maybe it was shaped funny. Maybe he was scared I’d want to lick it during foreplay.

All I knew was if he didn’t take my pants off on this our 14th date, it’s over.

Leg or no leg : Over!

I get a Text message: Instead, why don’t you come over and we’ll order in and watch a movie.

Thank you Jesus! Come over and watch a movie IS and has always been code for come over and have sex!

But now I was terrified. I frantically spent hours googling sex with one legged men, and so on. These results turned up nothing but scary porn, and creepy craigslist ads.

This was it. You see if the sex is amazing, I guess I can get over the lack of gut hurting laugher. Plus, I was starting to really like him. NowI was more nervous then excited.

I show up at his apartment. I walk in the door and he jumps me. Wow! Like throws me against the wall, jumps me.

Where did this guy come from?

Lips are intertwined, arms are throwing and ripping off clothes. This one legged Hottie was on a mission! And his mission was me!

We take this action into the bedroom. We’re doing it, and we’re doing it. Oh and we’re doing it! And it was really great. And did I mention the view of the park from the bedroom!? The whole thing was hot and amazing!

I’m in the moment. Really in the moment, and then he decides he wants to take a trip…downtown !

And as I lay there with my eyes closed enjoying his downtown adventure I hear a soft whisper in my ear.

“She’s good isn’t she.”

I look over. I look down. I look over. I look down. I look…I look DOWN!

And there between my legs is this mass of grey hair.

I jump back! So fast and hard I hit the headboard and the back of my head started to bleed.

There at the foot of the bed is this …..Old Lady.

Now not just old, we’re talking tales from the crept, old lady boobs to her knees, fucking Old Lady OLD!

As I’m picking up my stuff I’m speechless. More shocked then when he asked me out in the elevator. I kept looking at him and his perfect body his mouth was moving, something about it being ok, how he wants me to stay. I kept looking at her with her really not perfect body saying something about how he was right I am really pretty.

And I couldn’t say anything. Maybe it was just the surprise of it, maybe it was the feeling that I was pretty much just violated by an old woman, or maybe it’s because I hit my head so hard I was pretty sure I was dying of a brain bleed. I was shaking and in shock, and just wanting to leave.

As I ran out in my jacket, one shoe and holding everything else I came in with. I walked into the bar across the street asked where the bathroom was and said I was coming back for shots!

As I put my clothes on I held back tears. I don’t know why exactly, but I had never wanted to be more loved and cherished by a man then in that moment. It sounds odd I know, but all I could think was why couldn’t I meet a nice guy, why does every guy I meet need to be an asshole douchebag or a freak. Why won’t anyone ever just love me. What was wrong with me?

Because just when you think someone is perfect on paper you realize their grandmother is doing the book keeping from inside the closet, or under the bed, or wherever one hides a walking swinger of a corpse!

FACT: I have not done ANY post holiday shopping. I hate shopping with the masses.

One had a big pink bag in which he started to pull things out of and they started their conversation.

Now this wasn’t any pink bag, this was a Victoria Secret bag. I’m not thinking anything of it. Maybe the teddy he’s holding up is for his lady, or mom, or man, or even himself, no judgment. Then he pulls out a bottle of lotion. And they smell it, then another, and another. I’m intrigued. I shut off my iPod and listen to them talking.

“I’m just not attracted to her body, but other then that she’s perfect”

“Well I’d give her the brown one, it smells sexy.”

” Yeah in the dark it’ll smell sexy”

HOLD THE PHONE!

Let me break it down for you because after that little exchange I was to busy trying to keep my jar off my lap that I don’t remember the exact dialogue.

This guy, ‘Victory Secret bag guy’ had purchased a whole bag of stuff in hopes that his girlfriend would become more “sexy” more “physically attractive”.

Ok, I can admit that some times you fall for people that physically you never thought you would. At least I like to still hope guys do (otherwise how else am I going to land one)

And sometimes people try to change their partner’s looks. This mostly happens to guys. Their ladies make them get haircuts, buy them clothes, and what have you. (oh you poor boys)

But body lotion? If she’s physically not attractive that’s one thing, but smelly? That is a deal breaker I’m sorry. I’m not talking I haven’t showered went to the gym smelly, I’ll give everyone that. But needing to smell better in the “bedroom” that’s just Bunk!

Poor guy with the smelly girlfriend I feel bad for your friend who had to help you smell lotions on the train. He was cute but I’d never date a guy who’s friend will lather his lady in lotion just so he can have sex with her scent cause he’s not attracted to the body.

I got a letter yesterday. A letter that has made me rethink a few things.

I used to have a blog with a friend about our job (we did the same thing but for different people) and it was completely anonymous. Problem being it started to get some attention, and we had to shut it down. Legally we may or may not have been telling stories we shouldn’t have…. even if we changed names and such.

So I get this letter from a law office representing a client and publisher.  I need to waive over my likeness for a book. Wait what?! Are you serious?

It made me think about this blog. (well it made me think of alot of things, but the blog is one) Is one day down the line one of my PULL buddies going to sue me because I shared his “genius” pickup line with the world to steal? Is that guy, or the person I thought was a friend going to one day get angry and mean. Or what is someone steals my likeness (another legal issue) I mean I am pretty hilarious; maybe someone wants to steal what I have written? (With the spelling and grammar cleaned up of course!)

I also have been thinking about people who touch my life, how everyone has shaped me in a different way. Some have made me scared, others have given me the ability to trust, some have taught me skills, and some have made me grow older. So in the huge melting pot of people who have ‘touched’ me there are those that really stand out. One of these being “mystalker”.

FACT: A full fledge real stalker! We are talking restraining order, used to break in and watch me sleep, tried to kill himself, documented my day to day with telephoto lenses, tried to kill an ex boyfriend capital S stalker!  I use the term stalker seriously and don’t throw it around like almost every girl out there.

And now he has written a book! A book that I am featured in and the character draws so much to my “likeness” that I need to sign over a waver.

We all know he’s crazy, so I’ll say this: His publisher is fucking crazy if he thinks I am signing this shit, and even crazier if he thinks this isn’t going to be a legal issue!

SIDEBAR: This is the last thing I need right now! Merry Christmas to me.