Priorities vs options and good intentions.

cell phone pics 051

There’s that saying: “Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option.” -Maya Angelou

Now don’t get me wrong.  Sometimes I am a sucky friend.  I’m the worst at keeping in touch with people at the best of times and it’s not because I don’t love my friends, I have legit memory issues and well adulting is hard yo!

I have learned one thing through the years though, even more so after moving to Montreal: who my circle is.  I have a lot of friends and I am fortunate to be surrounded by them and I am secure in the knowledge that they love me, even when I am not always around, or when I am not very lovable.

I have one very important thing in common with these people though: Loyalty.

I know who will be there for me in a heartbeat and I know who won’t.  Some people I can count on when it really matters and some not so much…  So it irritates me when some people complain that I come home and I don’t go out of my way/make the time to see them.  It’s not usually a secret when I come home (except for that one time) and I’m really not that hard to find when I am in Ontario.  Up until recently, I would always be staying at the same house.

Mind you, it depends on why I returned in the first place.  I had truly wanted to meet up and see a ton of people but I was just done.  So done with this whole adulting thing and having just finished up final exams for this term, my mom sold the house, my dad died and the list goes on and on.

I was SO very, tired this time around.

So sadly I missed out on a lot of stuff, but it was in part by sheer exhaustion, not so much by choice.  I made my mom and option this time around.  I didn’t come home to Ontario for a vacation per se. I came home to give back because I haven’t been able to help out as much in a physical sense, I was however pulling my weight behind the scenes which is just as exhausting. Except some people don’t ‘see that’ and it doesn’t count in their mind.

But fuck them.  Seriously. 

Anyway, it was nice to be able to come home and not only help out my mom but indulge her a little.  It doesn’t take much to make her happy and if taking her out for a few meals and doing some laundry makes her day a little brighter, than so be it. She’s the best mom ever and she totally deserves it.  She bends over backwards to make people happy, even when they don’t deserve it.

I did make it a point to stay later this time with the hopes of seeing/doing more but i’m old yo and when I don’t get enough sleep and my allergies are being douchy I get uber lethargic and it just takes too much effort overall, even more for those who would never respond in kind (aside from my mom putting my ass to work on the daily).  You get what you put in after all. However, to the people who claim to miss me and complain and carry on that *I* don’t make time for them…

Would you make time for me?  Montreal isn’t that far, I’ve lived there for 11 years now and only five of my friends have made the trip to see me.  I don’t care about your excuses.  I know some circumstances can’t be helped, I totally get that…  However I am unemployed, a student and yet I made the trek for the second time this year.  There are SO many ways to come see me on the cheap, you just need to be willing to do them.

So your excuse(s) is invalid. 

Snippets and other misc. shit

I’m sick. Sick as in I want to crawl into bed and stay there because my head is so fucking congested right now and the back of my throat is so seriously itchy I am thinking about sticking a fork down my throat so I can scratch it.  Thankfully I could in fact do that, I have no gag reflex. At least not in the traditional sense.

That however is a story best saved for another day.

How did I get sick? My little ‘boyfriend’ (AKA favorite baby at work, not my actual boyfriend) KG sneezed. In. My. Mouth.  Last week he was all sick and cranky and he just loves me so of course I pick him up and try to comfort him and that was the thanks I got in return.  I’ve been fighting it all week, but of course today it hits me like a fucking Mac truck and I feel like ass.

Magical!

So anyway, today being good Friday and all, work was a lot more lax.  So much in fact that I didn’t have much to do and left before 2pm. That almost never happens as while handy, that’s going to hurt come payday…  Anyway instead of doing something useful like cleaning my office or working on my new cake website because that just takes far too much effort… So I come on here to bitch and whine about being sick and other random nonsense that spews forth in my mind.

So today, I stumbled upon the following (in no particular order):

 

Yeah I know it’s blasphemous and I don’t give a shit…  I’m going to hell in every religion anyway and that happened loooooooooooooong before this post happened.  

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The Naked truth…

I did an interview with a friend for my other pet project NAYOP.  He does freelance journalism and occasionally takes pictures.  Some of them are of moi.  The article has gotten some amazing feedback (thank you all for that!) I thought I would share the behind the scenes view of what it’s like to do an interview with me. 😉  Dominic is a trooper I have to say!  When he showed up I was in the middle of making some lunch, wearing my jammies, hadn’t bother to brush my hair (just my teeth) and to hell with make-up!  This was about as naked as naked could get.

Things you would have likely over heard:

“Steph, what’s with the sun glasses?”  “I don’t want to bother with make-up, what is this Cosmo?”

“Are you seriously not wearing a bra?” “I’m not wearing any panties either, what’s it to you?  Please, call the crew from what not to wear”

And yet, I still look like a rock star!

And so we talked… Over a plate of my bad ass nachos, which are insanely messy but freaking awesome to chow down on!  While we traded insults back and forth about how much of a slob I appeared to be (It was SUNDAY) and how maybe, just maybe I may have taken the whole thing a little more seriously had the interview been with someone else.  OK maybe not, I might have showered but to hell with the rest.  After all, the article was to be titled the naked truth.

Essentially an article debunking the myths on how not all tattooed people are bad asses (even though I AM, with or without my tattoos ;)) How one person can make a difference and I finally publicly speak out about how I felt to loosing one of my closest friends 2 years after the fact.  It’s not something I openly speak about and while lately I’ve been taking up with talking smack about some really bad dates I’ve had (Oh come on, you all know you LOVE the fodder for le blog!) and political non sense, this is important to me.

And while the behind the scenes portion was fun and full of total non sense, the article itself speaks volumes.  This is why I posed naked and with no make up.  I bared a portion of my soul to the world and I didn’t feel that it was right to ‘cover up’ any portion of myself either with clothing, make up or props for the photo shoot.  It doesn’t get any more real then this.

The naked truth, UN encumbered.

You can read the whole article here.  Thanks for your support lovelies xoxo

Medusa (of a different sort)

So I’m in Cambridge, ON for the holidays.  I was born here, most of my family still resides here so of course when Christmas rolls around I make the obligatory trip home.  Which never ceases to amuse me more often then not.  The vast differences between Cambridge and Montreal are huge.  Cambridge has a population of about 130,000 vs Montreal which has a population of  1,620,693 as of the 2006 census.  You’re likely wondering why this matters…  Let alone what the hell this has to do with Medusa.

I’ll tell you why…

When I walk the streets of Montreal, I seem to ‘blend in’ more.  It’s a larger city, which is also a lot more open minded then my hometown, which seems to be on occasion, still stuck in the dark ages.  So the other night when I was at a local bar with some friends, standing outside.  I happened to grab the attention of someone and he took one look at my face and zeroed in on my Medusa piercing.  The rapt, childlike fascination he had with my piercing was pretty priceless (I’m going to assume he was also pretty drunk)   He said something to the effect of: “Holy fuck, don’t tell me that’s pierced for real!?!” ‘Yes, it most certainly is.’  “Wow!  That must of hurt?” Your damn right it did (most painful piercing I have to date as a matter of fact)’ “Wow! That’s crazy.  Oh my God, you have your tongue pierced too? wow!”  “You must be crazy!?!” Me: With the most diabolical, sinister look on my face that I could muster (think Jack Nicholson in the Shining) ; looked at him dead on and said: “Why yes, yes I am”.

The look on his face was so precious it was priceless!  He looked frightened ha ha!  He looked at me on last time with that same awe struck look on his face and said “wow, I should stay away from you!!” Enter creeper face  and I said: “Yes, yes you should.” He looked so terrified I thought he was going to wet his pants!  He hightailed it back into the bar so fast and I’m pretty sure he left soon after that.

Amy & I got a good laugh out of that one!  That’s the beautiful thing about being on vacation, even if it’s just in your hometown.  You don’t live here, so it doesn’t matter what you do or how much you mess with drunk people (within reason of course, I don’t set out to be malicious in any way) it can be pretty entertaining.

It’s a shame that it wasn’t summer or at the very least warm enough to warrant showing this off:

My Medusa tattoo

 She tends to freak people out.  Medusa is pretty awesome all around mind you.  Too bad I didn’t posses the ability to turn people into stone.  Not all the time mind you, just on occasion. I’m thinking that would come in handy someday. No?

In any case, it’s good to be me 😉