The Lost Plum…

I did something the other day. Something I haven’t done in like 4 years.

I started to clean out my address book on my phone.  I began the daunting task of deleting numbers unneeded, adding to those I have further information for, and all the good head scratching that comes from filing through ones address book of 724 contacts.

I have friends, work contacts, old work contacts, restaurants, stores, doctors, old friends, and of course boys.

We all have our own version of the chick-ionary or in my case I guess my dick-ionary.  And we live in an age where such books, such contacts are usually on our phones (and consequently our computers).

And in the digital age t has allowed us to gather more information, or a greater vocabulary to add to our dictionaries.

My girl friends always tell me I’m crazy for keeping number of like ever guy I have ever exchanged numbers with in my phone.  They never understand why I don’t delete them. My response is always that then I know who is contacting me.  The response is always the same “Well I don’t pick up unknown numbers” and the way it is always said is sorta a dig. I’m not sure what type of dig but the tone is always there.

Of course I don’t pick up unknown calls. Who really does?! The real problem is those unknown text messages.  Those really throw me for a loop. I am always to intrigued to answer back.  Thus knowing and having numbers for almost everyone I have encountered in life is important. Or at least I used to think it was…..maybe that has changed, but then again maybe it hasn’t.

SIDEBAR: I always add little notes to every contact I have to help better recognize or establish who they are. These include “works with so and so” “from Texas” “the boyfriend” “reflexology” “so and so’s bitchy girlfriend” “mommy-moo” “my best Pal” and so on….

Regardless I’ve started deleting numbers. These at the moment are mostly composed of random guys numbers, which I’ve decided I don’t need because I frankly don’t care. But for your reading enjoyment I leave you with 7 favorites of mine thus far.

Dan ( the onion ring guy from bar) yuiy8

Hj ehBehn (guys friend food likes 22 years old)

BJ hater dude (two shirt)

Shawn (not sean! old married guy in pj pants at bar) I am drunk

Aussseeettin ( guyi who knows heather)

Mikee (madeout with at 6^th wrad)

Salor Halloween man sexy (matt?)

SIDEBAR: I find this story a great follow-up to the last one.

My cousin has been visiting and we were talking about how people ask her for directions all over the city (something that happens to me often no matter where I travel) and I was saying it must be because we appear to be nice, sweet, approachable Canadians. But no one really knows we are Canadians. We just seem nice, sweet, approachable, and helpful (like most Canadians)

What makes someone approachable? And what doesn’t? I always share the ridiculous pickup lines that guys have used on me, but do I just seem like an easy approachable target that looks sweet enough to fall for their terrible lines or do they really find me attractive?

Do I really have nice, sweet, and approachable (Canadian) written all over my face, or is it just in my head……

One time I had gotten off the subway on my way to an event. I had about 6 bags in hand and it was a hot September night. I got off on one of those stops that are way under ground. You know the ones that take like three levels of escalators before you see the light of day.

As I could see the first set in my view I noticed it wasn’t running as people were clopped up the ’stairs’. Urg…I struggled with my bags up the long (and first) flight of escalator stairs. I started to sweat in my party dress. I was starting to get angry, but after this flight the escalators will work I thought to myself. But then…those weren’t working either. “F-this” I think, and I made my way to the elevator. Now subway elevators freak me out. If you have ever been in a NYC subway elevator you know what I’m talking about and if you haven’t just think on it for a bit.

I push the button and wait. As I’m waiting (the elevators are really slow, I want to mentioned that) this guy makes his way next to me to wait. He’s attractive at first glance, and on crutches as one leg is in a full-length cast. (I start thinking about a broken femur bone, which must hurt like a firey hell as I wait for the doors to open) He smiles, I smile back.

The elevator doors open and I go to walk in (crutches boy had gestured for me to go first) But I stop just past the door as I notice something. There is the corner of the elevator is a big pile of poo. Yes real human poo! “Hells no!” I think to my self, and probably said it out loud too as I go to leave the elevator. As much as I don’t want to climb two sets of escalator stairs with all these bags sweating up my party dress I sure ain’t getting in that slow ass elevator with someone’s feces!

“Wait!” The guy says.

“Pardon” I turn back.

“If I ride up alone when it opens people will think I did it.”

I stare sorta blindly at him.

“You serious?!” I say

“Please. It’s only one floor.” He gives me this look that only a sweet approachable Canadian girl would fall for.

I step in the elevator as close to that door as I can. The doors shut.

I turn back and look at the guy I followed into an already gross NYC subway elevator that just happens to have a pile of poo in the corner.

“If this elevator stops and doesn’t open I will break your other leg!”

He begins to laugh…and laugh hard.

I begin to laugh.

We get off the elevator at street level laughing like I’ve never laughed with a stranger before.

“Thank you so much! You’re really sweet.”

We parted.

This story always leaves me confused. Does being sweet mean you’ll ride with poo for a complete stranger? It may, but it sure smells wrong to me!

Nando, Nate and I did a video topic question on “most embarrassing sex moments” I was rewatching the video the other day, and it got me thinking about how ‘embarrassing’ is usually the case for one person. You know like you fall on your face in front of a crowd embarrassing, but sex is only a party for two. Well typically there isn’t really a crowd, so what seems to be embarrassing is more like an incident with one other person.

We all have those embarrassing sex stories, those elbow to the eye, granny panties, fell off the bed, and the hit my head on a head board stories. And if you don’t have one frankly I don’t think you’re doing sex right!

But these are usually personal. One person fell off the bed, one person burped in the others mouth, and so on.

So rather then telling about what I think is an embarrassing sex story that has happened to me, and believe me there are lots! I thought I’d try to think of what awkward, funny, disastrous sex moment I’ve had that would be the other persons most embarrassing….

Some time ago I was having sex (that’s sorta has to be in this story doesn’t it) and it was good, wonderful and every word you can think of to replace “great”.

Basically, we can say I was very much enjoying myself.

He was ontop and therefore I was below him (the classic missionary) and all of a sudden I feel this strange pressure building up in my lady parts. It was odd, different, not like any feeling I’ve felt like before.

I gave him a funny face as he continued with his ‘business’.

“ummm” my face kind of twisted.

“You ok you want me to stop” he stops but still ontop of me.

“Ummm…..No, but….something feels strange.”

“Bad strange or good strange?” he seemed concerned but obviously his blood wasn’t going to his brain at this moment.

“Kind of bad strange, it kind of hurts”

He backs up, and this pressure that had been building stops, kind of rushes out of me in a strange ‘I don’t know this feeling’ kind of way. And then I notice everything is all wet….

I sorta backup, sit up, and look down.

“Did you just?….Baby! I think you peed in me?!” I say as this look of shock and embarrassment comes over him, and he hides his head and rolls over.

And I of course can do nothing but start to laugh….

SIDEBAR: Apparently guys aren’t supposed to be able to urinate while having an erection, however, my Google searches have proved otherwise….and so has this personal experience.

FACT: I guess this means I’ve dabbled in water sports, although I didn’t ask too.

While on holiday I’ve been doing a lot of nothing. Well that’s not true. I’ve been working, seeing friends (one of my bestest friends got married to one wonderful lady this past weekend), and a lot of topless sunbathing in the pool.

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)

In case you don’t follow me on Twitter (which I don’t know why you wouldn’t!) I am here to inform you all that I am on holiday. Well sorta a working and getting things done holiday, but a holiday nonetheless.

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?