The Vagina monologues.

Before I write my intended post, you know what’s exceptionally fun?  Going into a place that you regularly frequent, seeing the poor bastard wanting to kill his newly hired co-worker & when they ask you if you want anything else? Look them straight in the eye and ask them if they want to make out. 🙂

So back to vagina land…

By that I mean my work.  Aside from the gym teacher, the entire staff is sporting a vag.  Most of the time it’s OK but I have to admit, I have a whole new appreciation for working with boys.  They’re sweaty, smelly and generally full of it. However they don’t get PMS, get all pissy and offended easily or get their periods. Oh and they don’t usually cry at the drop of a hat either…

I’m telling you, we need to turn my place of work into a reality show.  It would blow the ratings through the roof!  Needless to say, when you have that many woman crammed into one environment, shit is likely to get fucking ugly from time to time.  What floors me though is how utterly childish some people can act.  It’s a sad reality when the children at your work with are more mature than some of your colleagues.

I don’t take most things personally, I believe in accountability and try to be respectful at all times.  This pretty much sums up how I feel about people who get offended.









It floors me when people get offended for getting in shit for something that they damn well know that they’re NOT supposed to do.  I mean really?  WTF is wrong with you?  Also, I don’t believing in raising one’s voice. I believe that one should better their argument instead.  There is however a limit to that.  When I have to give someone shit about something, I try to be a decent person about it.  However when I have to remind you on numerous occasions not to act like a fucktard, my niceness goes out the window.

That’s when I yell.  

Which is exactly what I did.  Admin seen/heard me yelling at said co-worker and instead of backing me up like they should (knowing that it was wrong), and I said what she was doing was disrespectful not only to me but everyone else; she threw my ass under the bus. Cunt.

Needless to say my boss (whom I adore and respect on a number of levels) got an e-mail that was CC’d to my kitchen partner in crime and the rest of the admin team.  I’m not pleased.  There is one thing I will not tolerate and that’s being taken for granted.  God help my ass when I put my foot down for a change, everyone get’s their panties in a knot over it.

So I basically said that if it keeps up I will quit.  I love my job, I really do.  However when the environment you work in becomes so toxic that you can’t handle it anymore, it’s time to go.  I refuse to be sensitive to my co-workers needs if they flat out refuse to respond in kind.  I freely admit that it was inappropriate to raise my voice.  However when I have gone from being polite, yet firm to stern and you still continue to violate said rule; I will go prison guard bitch on your ass.  Had she listened the first fucking time, none of this would have happened.  Not to justify it, but it’s true!

The co-worker in question still won’t speak to me. It’s been over two weeks.  If you’re going to be that pety and childish, so be it.  I was asked to apologize and I refuse to do so.

Because I have nothing to be sorry for.



I had to run off to Ontario for a bit and deal with some ‘family stuff’.  It couldn’t be more different from my usual trips back home, but that’s what made it special.  I did nothing but hang out with my dog and the living was easy.

They say a picture is worth a thousand, so i’ll let you see that for yourself.

 To navigate the gallery, just hit up one of the images and you’ll see the Previous/Next buttons on the bottom to your right.  One of these days i’ll get around to installing a proper widget for this thing…

Until then, please enjoy!


Success from my point of view.

Some people measure their success by the amount of money they make, what they own, the amount of people they know, the power they have and the list goes on.  I however disagree with that.  One of my favorite pieces of writing, a prose passage that has been attributed to Emerson*; is a beautiful summation of what success should be.

“To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one’s self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded.”

When I started NAOYP, my goal was to not only honor his memory; I also wanted to make a difference.  Even if it was only for one person, whose life was changed because of my own pain.  I didn’t want Jason’s death to be in vain.  I’m not internationally known, I don’t have a huge cult following and that’s OK.  I make ripples, not waves.  When I’m having a shitty day, and really miss Jason, I just need to remind myself of the beautiful messages I get from the people who have found me.

“Thank you.
Even though it’ simple; knowing there are people out there who aren’t afraid of my pain helps me get through the rough days.
Thank you.”

“I just wanted to stop in while my tears were still fresh, and express to you how your story made me feel. I’ve (as I wipe away tears) been contemplating suicide for many months now. Your story for some reason is the only one EVER to make me feel selfish about what I was thinking. I can hardly see the screen and still I know that what I’m saying is worded accurately because it’s coming for once from my heart. I just really wanted to leave a message thanking you for your words. THANK YOU!”

“I just wanted to say thank you for posting that message and image of hope.  I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety disorder for almost 12 years now and some days are tougher than others.  I’ve contemplated suicide on occasion and yet i’m still here.  I’m going to print off that picture and post it up around my house to remind myself not to give up and to hold onto hope.  Thank you for all that you do, it means so much.” In regards to the hope project.

To me, that’s success.

*For more information on this, go here.

So, how high is your pain tolerance?

I willingly allow people to inflict pain upon me and even worse, I pay them to do it.  I am of course talking about my tattoo artists and my dentist.

Tim & Gil, they know how stubborn and hardcore I am when it comes to my tattoos.  For me, getting tattooed is about as close to a spiritual moment I can get.  I could go on and on about my tattoos, but I do that enough already.  In any case, I get to pick and choose my tattoos, the placement, the location. The whole 9.

My dental work however is a whole other story. I make a commendable effort to take care of my teeth.  Especially given the thousands of dollars I’ve currently invested in them as of late.  So last time when I went on a dental shopping spree of sorts, my dentist asked me the one question I feel everyone should dread:

How high is your pain tolerance?  

Come again? 

You see, I was getting some repair work done on one of my front teeth.  She didn’t want to give me the Novocaine shot if she could help it, said it wasn’t pleasant.  So I thought that having a fairly high pain tolerance, I could take it.  Well turns out that she was closer to the nerve than I was aware of  and once the tears started streaming down my face in a silent homage to pain, because tooth pain sucks balls on so many levels; I had to cave and ask for the Novocaine.  Which normally isn’t too bad.  However getting a shot of Novocaine on the very front of your face?


OMFG…  I could feel that needle underneath my right eye.  Most disturbing feeling ever!  Also? My sinuses and half my face were frozen solid for the better part of three hours. Always a good time!  So when I recently discovered the beginnings of a small cavity on another tooth, I got my ass into her office right away.  The faster you get these things fixed, the less it hurts later.  I am of course talking about you and your bank account.  So there’s an x-ray taken and she’s all, oh it’s small, you don’t need any Novocaine.

Um sure…  That’s what you said last time dentist of mine!  Except this time it wasn’t too bad.  It sucked a little bit, not going to lie.  I do however now have bragging rights:

I got a filling with no Novocaine. Take that bitches!