Entry #74 - My Career as a Leg Model Takes Off, But My Immune System Fails

You should invite me to come with you when you try on wedding dresses, though I may show up wearing leopard-print rain boots and suffering from bronchitis. I'm helpful like that. As pictured above. 

Dear Diary, 

      There is something about late September/October that always results in me falling off the blog bandwagon, and this year was apparently no exception.

For a long while it felt like there was simply nothing to say post-Unicorn. It happened, I wrote about it, and then it was like there was nothing left to do but drop the proverbial mic and walk off the stage. 

One of my 7-year-old students gave this to me, and yes, it is a unicorn blowing a bubble and saying "Naa".
I couldn't think of anything more perfectly symbolic if I tried. 

"I slayed a unicorn" 

*drops mic and never blogs again*

But we know that if I stop blogging The Terrorists win, and we just can't have that. So here we go again...

I must admit that unicorn aside, not much blog-worthy stuff has been happening lately, thanks in part to not one, but two bouts of bronchitis. You'd think that being sick would mean I'd blog more, but there is something about cough-gagging and feeling like hot-garbage that seems to limit me to reclining on the couch and binge watching TV shows on Netflix. Also, I'm quite certain that no one would want to read detailed accounts of my cough-gagging. Also also, I was drinking a lot of Hot Lemon drink at the time, which might as well be morphine for how out-of-it I am after drinking it. Long story short, TV is all I am good for after some extra-strength Hot Lemon Drink. I have watched more Dexter in the last two months than is even remotely healthy, and I must say that I could live a thousand years and never UN-see John Lithgow as Trinity. Ever. Anyone who has seen season 4 of Dexter knows exactly what I mean by that statement. 

"I don't know how to put this... 

                                  but I'm kind of a big deal"

That's right, take a close look. Those are MY LEGS, bitches! Yup. There they are, doing some bike riding. It's a good thing that riding a bicycle is like, well...riding a bicycle, because I am pretty sure that I had not ridden a bike for at least two decades before that day. I should also mention that the last time I rode a bike as a child it resulted in road rash up one side of my body. Some of us are not born athletes. Some of us are just built for leisure.

I'm not surprised, however, that the professionals chose to showcase my legs (*cough* cut out my face *cough*). I mean, I once dated a man who said to me: 

"You have nice legs for someone who is in no way athletic" 

to which I, of course, replied,

                                  "..thank  you?"

I truly revel in a backhanded compliment, there is something magical about being innately offensive and complimentary at the same time. 

Where was I? Oh yes, my leg model gig...

So I see the website, spot my legs, and I completely did one of these:

     

I managed to add this sound clip all by myself using the HTMLs, which I am immoderately proud of. "Why is it off center?" you ask?...I have absolutely no idea. 

Right after that I sent Vanessa the link along with this message:

 "It's my leg! It's MY LEG!!!!"

She was appropriately overly-excited for me, and said that she thought my legs were supermodel quality for sure. If supermodels were 5'4 3/4 , obviously. Vanessa can always be counted upon to feed into my raging narcissism. God bless you, sweetheart!

When I arrived at my parents house for Thanksgiving, I gathered my family around my parents' PC so we could partake in my fame and eternal glory. Together. As a team. We're supportive like that. Turns out the family unveiling was extra dramatic and exciting due to the fact that my parents larger, superior computer screen allowed more of the photo to be seen, thus revealing - prepare yourself - MY BUTT!!! We cheered. We exchanged embraces.We high-fived. Elaborate champagne toasts were made.
We discovered later that my face was visible in a couple of other pictures, however nothing would go on to rival our initial excitement of seeing my butt used as part of an advertising campaign.

"MY BUTT WAS USED TO SELL MICRO LOFTS"

*DROPS MIC AND WALKS OFF STAGE*

"That's the first and last time we'll see you in a helmet" - Vanessa

A few days ago Vanessa and I went to see the show-suite for the micro-lofts and what do we see on the wall??? You guessed it! My ass! When the presentation center opened to the public one week later they sold 80% of the building in one day; success I will forever attribute to my rear end. 

My butt on the wall at the presentation center, which we (of course) treated like it was fine art. I'm quite certain we scared off prospective buyers as I shouted "MINI LOOK!That's totally MY butt!". 

In Transit

Traveling during any holiday season is usually a somewhat stressful experience. Strangely enough, though, many of the highlights of my Thanksgiving weekend this year were the portions when I was in transit. 

The Thanksgiving weekend on B.C. Ferries is one of the busiest times of year for walk-on passengers. Every first-year Uvic student (newly insufferable and obnoxiously self-important thanks to six weeks of Philosophy 100) boards the ferry and heads for the mainland. This means that rather than having a nice quiet sunny seat for yourself, a seat for your bag, and an empty buffer seat (as is my preference), one has to settle for any available seat...often a seat awkwardly jammed between strangers of questionable origin,smell, or disposition (not my preference). I was once stuck beside an individual who thought is was socially acceptable to clip his nails. It's not. On the sailing home I was on a ship so jam packed that people were sitting on the floor, giving the ferry the feeling of a refugee ship (if a refugee ship laden with hipsters existed). My tolerance for the ferry during the Thanksgiving weekend is low to say the least. So much so that my mother was surprised when I said I was coming home. 

On the ferry I decided that I would partake in the Seawest Lounge, as it is an uncrowded and child-free area of the ship that also happens to have cheese, crackers, tea, cookies, and magazines, all for the low price of $12.00. Totally worth it. As I walk in I see that my friend, Chloe, also a teacher, had the same great idea. I immediately force myself upon her and her unsuspecting boyfriend and talk their faces off for the rest of the sailing. Right when they thought they were free of me they found out that I too was getting on the bus. Sorry about your luck. The bus was jam packed, of course. We made it on but there were no seats left, so we ended up holding on near the back of the bus, right after the accordion part (this makes sense if you take buses in Vancouver). Visibility is poor. It is as this time that Chloe informs me that she sometimes gets a little motion sick. I then inform her that I feel about vomit the way that many people feel about spiders, heights, or confined spaces. Chloe is a trooper and totally makes it to the Skytrain station without vomiting, though right as the bus pulled up to the final stop she said:

"Thank god, my tongue is totally sweating"

"What?" 

"You know right before you puke, when your mouth waters"

"HA! My sister always talks about her mouth watering in a threatening way! I've never heard it described as "tongue sweats" though, I'm going to be using that"

There you go, Amy. You can now say "my tongue is sweating". You're welcome.

Prince Rupert

From the Skytrain went on meet my brother, Adam, downtown for some quality sibling-friend time. We had some delicious noodles, hung out at his apartment, drank some wine, watched some "Eureka"...and we realized eventually that we should probably drive down to my parents place. I knew that Adam had recently purchased a car, but this was my first time actually seeing it and going for a ride. 

"DOES IT HAVE A NAME ?" I demanded loudly as we rounded the corner in the underground parking. 

"Not yet" Adam replied.
As soon as I saw it, I knew. 

"RUPERT. His name is RUPERT". 

"...YES! It totally IS".

Insert jumping high ten here.

My brother and parents with Rupert. 

So we piled into Prince Rupert and head out. While I flipped through radio stations Adam informs me that he really likes Lorde's "Royals". I find this surprising because I have never known my brother to be aware of or into anything Top 40ish. Turns out that commuting every day in a car with a cassette deck has really opened up the world of popular music to him. As we approach the tunnel on the highway the stars align and Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball" comes on - Adam and I exchange a silent look of acceptance for the challenge that has been laid out before us by the universe. What happened after that was the highlight of my entire Thanksgiving weekend. I assume that any humans who drive through places where the radio signal will be briefly lost automatically know that the challenge is to keep singing that song by yourself, and to see how close you are in terms of timing and correct pitch when the signal returns. I'm quite certain this is a universally acknowledged challenge. I might go so far to say it is part of the human experience.

Adam and I attacked "Wrecking Ball" in a way so fierce that it would have been played in slow motion on the Discovery channel. As we descended into the tunnel the signal faded then cut out - right in time for the chorus - which we belted out in perfect harmony (thanks to Adam's Bachelor of Music (and no thanks to me)), and yes, Adam took the falsetto. As we burst forth into the evening twilight on the other side of the tunnel it was to join Miley RIGHT ON TIME! We totally NAILED IT! The victory and sense of accomplishment we felt could rival that of Olympic gold medalists.


So there you have it, a condensed version of September and October. I am down to one season of Dexter, but I have started re-watching all the Harry Potter movies. I have also started making this season's jam. So far I have screwed up a number of batches and have sprayed my arm with burning hot jam, which I promptly licked off, just like a trained paramedic.

Other reasons I have a hard time updating this blog.