Saturday, 31 January 2015


Guess what? I got eyelash extensions y’all!

After seeing countless friends walking around looking like majestic little baby deer with their long, beautiful, voluminous lashes, I decided it was time to jump on the bandwagon.

Although excited, I was extremely apprehensive for the following reasons:

I am very fair, basically albino, and with that comes the misfortune of being extremely sensitive. Weird break outs and mystery rashes could essentially be considered a hobby at this point. Seriously... I got scarlet fever last year. SCARLET FREAKING FEVER.

My history of superficial ailments has led to a pretty awesome case of hypochondria. What is a hypochondriac’s best friend? The almighty internet! I searched the web tirelessly to find out what kind of weird side effects or reactions may (aka most definitely would) happen to me and came to the conclusion I was probably just going to lose my eyeballs.  

These minor issues were also in the back of my mind:

Being a side sleeper. Are the lashes going to shed quickly from one eye and not the other? (visions of A Clockwork Orange danced in my head)

Wearing contacts and the subsequent handling of my lashes while putting in/taking out my contacts. Apparently oil breaks down the lash adhesive and causes them to fall out quicker.

Wearing glasses most of the time… If I have to deal with my eyelashes hitting the lenses every time I blink I will definitely rip them out.

I am happy to report that, all in all, it was kind of a breeze! Kind of.

For starters, the esthetician that applied them for me was great. Her workspace was clean, nice, and very relaxing. She was extremely friendly and understanding about my body paranoia and zillion questions. She tells me to lay down on the table and cover up with a blanket if I wished. She then told me that I would probably fall asleep (???!! oh that’s right, you don’t know me at all) and began to apply the cool, sticky pads to my undereyes, making sure my lower lashes were folded underneath the pads and out of the way.

For those who have never had lash extensions before, I’m going to hit you with some truth right now. This is what you’re going to feel like at this point in the process and probably for the rest of it as well:

It is hands down one of the most uncomfortable feelings I have ever experienced. Then she says, come put your face 6 inches from my stranger face and don’t open your eyes for an hour and a half.

WHAT HAVE I DONE???????????????

The next 90 minutes are filled with trying to figure out exactly what is going on with your eyelashes without opening your eyes, attempting to decipher every move, feeling, and sound to understand exactly how she is attaching this business to your face, counting how many lashes she has done, wondering how much longer, and briefly remembering that you ate curry for lunch and hoping your breath doesn’t smell like a questionable apartment building. Then, right when you’re thinking she must be done because it feels like you’ve run out of lashes and she’s obviously just gluing lashes to the side of your nose now, she says, “15 MORE MINUTES!” in the cheeriest tone possible. Bitch is this a joke????

There were also a couple times during this that I could have sworn she rested her face on my face. I mean, it must have been her hand but it sure felt like a face. I would make a terrible blind person.

When I did open my eyes, I was astonished by what I saw. My lashes were full, beautiful and dark! For a person that has spent the better part of three decades with actual white eyelashes, this is basically the equivalent of seeing God.

Newest member of the majestic baby deer club right here!

My eyes were a little bloodshot for a couple days but I’m not sure if the contacts I wore that day were perhaps a little past their prime or if the lashes just took some getting used to. Either way they’re all good now.

Anyone care to share their lash experience/concerns/questions/horror stories?

Friday, 16 January 2015


This song makes me want to dress up, get drunk, and break laws. WOW.

Sober January may very well kill me.

After weeks of working every weekend, I FINALLY have one off. Not only am I not working, there are actually things happening in the very boring place that I live. Tonight is the London Wine and Food show. I've been planning all week to go tonight and now that it's finally here, I am seriously questioning my judgement. Its a wine and food show. I'm abstaining from alcohol for the month and eating like a damn bird in attempt to shrink my gut. Just sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Tomorrow, Mudmen are playing in town at a small church converted into a concert venue. If you haven't heard of Mudmen, check them out. It will be my fifth time seeing them and every time they get me SO amped up! Maybe because every song is about drinking? There seems to be a theme here... Anyway, I'm really looking forward to the concert and the subsequent visit to get fitted for hearing aids. Something tells me bagpipes in a room the size of my kitchen is probably going to cause some kind of irreparable damage. I may start researching sign language right now.

Have a great weekend!!

Thursday, 15 January 2015


What better way to kickstart this new little venture than to write down my ramblings while in my natural habitat: caffeine-starved and borderline delirious at 3am during a night shift. As stated in my blog description, I’ve just begun the year countdown to 30 and decided to start a blog to document my slow and painful farewell to my 20’s.

I have always been uncomfortable with aging… and by uncomfortable I mean I have had full blown meltdowns almost every birthday since turning 20. On my 20th birthday my family decided to present me with a cake at midnight to celebrate my swift exit from the teen world. Cue Steph bursting into tears.

Fast forward a couple years and I found myself working at the local tavern the night on my birthday. I was running around serving drinks on the very busy evening and for some reason, and this has not happened since, I sneezed and peed a little bit. Fearing that due to my advanced age of 22 I had now embarked on the slippery slope of incontinence, I locked myself in the bathroom for what felt like an eternity and pondered what the future held for a decrepit old hag like myself.

This year is going to be different. I can’t hide from the inevitable. I have decided to view getting older as a privilege instead of a curse. I am going to celebrate everything life throws my way, good or bad, and I’m going to write about it.

These are the ways I am going to make this the best year yet:


Man Friend and I are planning a trip in April. Where to? Who knows! Somewhere hot and beautiful.

Bonnaroo is calling my name and I am getting there for my 4th year if I have to walk to Tennessee!

That’s all I have in the works for now, but I have come down with a serious case of wanderlust and I have never had a worse craving for adventure than I do. It might have something to do with it being the dead of winter in Canada and I have days were I legitimately miss daylight. Winter is like an icy prison of darkness. And the driving sucks.  


Sitting for 12 hour shifts and having ZERO self-control with food means that I have become a bona fide fat ass and I plan on changing that. Not going to lie, there is probably going to be some documentation of failed attempts at pinterest fad diets on this blog because, well, I’m a sucker for unachievable promised results. That and I’m lazy so if someone tells me I’m going to lose 20 lbs in three days by eating nothing but red pepper jelly then goddamn it, give me that effing jelly.

For now I am calorie counting (1200 a day) and trying to work out. I’m also taking a cocktail of supplements that were recommended to me by the convincing salespeople at GNC. My goal is to lose 30 lbs by April. So far I’m down 4. Almost there! (What I keep telling myself even though it’s a damn LIE)



So… the people that owned my house before me left a pretty sweet gravel pit in my back yard. Just kidding, it’s a complete abomination and I have no idea what they were thinking. Each summer that passes I have grand plans to replace it with a deck but then it gets warm out and I’d rather just get drunk. This summer I'm getting some deck.


BEING A G.A.W. (Grown Ass Woman)

Money handling is not my forte. I’m definitely a paycheck-to-paycheck kind of girl and this needs to stop. I am old now, I could be someone’s mother, and I have under $5 in my savings account right now. What happens if something catastrophic happens to my house/car/expensive things? Well, I’m not too sure. Maybe find a nice bridge to sleep under and start showering at truck stops like Charlize Theron when she got hideous for that movie. Obviously I have not seen that movie because I have a feeling that was not the storyline. I think it had more to do with murderous sex with truck drivers and that has nothing to do with being a grown up. What I’m trying to say is I need to save money.


Alright, this has turned into complete gibberish… Did I mention it’s 3am?