that perfect hand…

In Ocean's 11, Danny said that "the house always wins. If you play long enough, never change the stakes, then the house takes you. Unless, when that perfect hand comes along, you bet big… and then, you take the house." Here's the hand I've been dealt, sometimes it's risky and sometimes it's safe, but all the time… it's perfect. It's mine.


taking the fall

I would like to say that there will be a lot of nudity within this post. In the last three days I have had some very uncomfortable, sad, disappointing, awkward, humbling, and life-strengthening moments. Someone at work told me today that all bad things happen in threes and while this is representative of my catastrophic weekend, I will only share two of my three heinous moments as the first one is too depressing to ever repeat.

And numbers two and three are where you owe me your deepest and most heartfelt thanks because I subsequently experienced your worst nightmare(s). Twice. So now you don’t have to. I am glad I could help.

Either that, or it has the makings of a solid straight-to-DVD bomb of a Hollywood movie:

Scenario #2:

I was in the hotel room getting ready for Blake and Ashley’s wedding and I came out of the bathroom to ask Jes if my outfit looked ok. When she gave her consent, I turned to put on my shoes when she said “oh KATE it’s tucked up in the back, Mark don’t look!” and I yanked out the hem of my skirt that was caught, somehow, in the sash. After some advice to pay attention to that problem if I went to the bathroom at all that night, we left for the ceremony.

Right after all of the speeches and vids at the reception, I realllly had to use the restroom (which was down a bunch of stairs and a hallway from the room we were in). So I went to the bathroom, and when I finished washing my hands, I gave my skirt a little tug. Since it swished a bit, I figured I was good to go and headed out into the hallway.

It was not until I was almost at the top of the stairs and I heard a half snicker from a 14 odd year old at the bottom of the stairs that I realized my skirt was tucked into my underwear or sash (or both), giving that unlikely suspect a full view.

I was a mere 4 stairs and 10 steps away from utter and total mortification. Every timeĀ  saw that girl throughout the rest of the night, she grinned — and did the people around her.

Scenario #3:

I had a very long night last night. I drove home from the coast in torrential rains, almost hitting the meridian 2 times when I lost control of the wheel in the slippery rains. That is my excuse for this next painful experience.

I got home around 12:30 am and had to work this morning. I took the first hour off so that I could sleep and so I woke up around 8. I had a shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and headed back down to the den where I make my home for the four months I am here in the summer. I was doing a bunch of stuff, all wrapped in my towel, like unpacking and blowdrying my hair and packing my gym clothes. Since I moved my dresser to Victoria a couple days ago, all of my underwear is sitting on the arm chair right by the window.

I was still wet so I pulled off my towel and was drying myself off before putting on my underwear and there I am, stark naked, when I glanced out the massive window to see two of our landlords’ handymen working on the irrigation… separated by glass, a mere two feet away! One of them was hanging his head, his BRIGHT RED face, and then ran away, mortified. The other one, awkwardly looked at me and then got reaaaaal interested at something near his feet.

I didn’t want to make any drastic moves… so I backed away from the window, and in my mid fumble to get the towel around me while getting out of his view, I fell over the arm chair.

The guy did not know what to do.

So wanna know what he did?

Came to the door after I got home from work (so 9 hours later), uncomfortably told me that the irrigation was all fixed, asked me how my day was, and then proceeded to stand there and fumble through what I think was a dinner offer.

I’m not quite sure though, I had a 30 second lapse in reality where I forgot who, where, what, how, and why I was.

And I am never going to imagine the audience naked when I am giving speeches or teaching — it would be much too hard on me given my latest victimization.


baby it’s cold outside

Hello my faithful readers, friends, and awkward creepers,

I am HOME. Yay. (For the record, I hate the word Yay.)

Bella did not enjoy the trip home… even thought I have brand new tires, the traction and grip was limited so I was extra cautious through Manning Park and its icy roads and snowcapped trees… the Okanagan is officially gorgeously snowy and cold. It’s fascinating. But a 4 hour drive slowly became more like 6, as I inched along, enjoying the view of the wintery goodness.

I did decide I am sick of driving alone. So anyone vying for the job of my husband or official companion, please apply slash come do so before January 4th. The lack of a stereo really and truly made for a long, awkward (People driving by and watching) trip of me belting out Christmas songs, trying not to swerve, and dancing to the beat of my own offbeat tunes.

So I formally am looking for a distraction from my own ridiculousness.

Here’s a good one though, I started a fight on the ferry.

I curled up with the book Joce and Jordie gave me for Christmas (a colection of Alice Munro’s best stories…positively brilliant!) when my Dad called.

I was talking to him in a hushed tone when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye… this old lady, wearing a floorlength fur coat I might add, was shaking her newspaper at me. Then I made eye contact and she literally (she was probably 80) mouthed to me ‘shut up’. I checked my tone and I definitely was not talking loud so whatever. I Looked away.

This lady sitting beside me saw this and looked at me and said ‘watch this’… she picked up her own phone, called her friend, and proceeded to scream-talk at her friend. AT being the operative word: she was full on yelling about Christmas plans and the whole bit.

Once she hung up, this old lady looked at us and said some obsenities that shouldn’t come out of anyone’s mouth, let alone Granny Jane’s. So… my seat-mate called someone else, and did it all over again. The old lady stood up, walked over to us, threw her newspaper at my feet (I was on the outside, ergo, the target), and stormed off.

For the love of Ebenezer Scrooge, calm down.


i love a guy…

…who loves his mom.

There is a guy in my English class that is constantly talking on his cell phone to his mom. Sometimes I catch him saying ‘mama’ or ‘mother’ but for the most part, he affectionately discusses his life with ‘mom’. I don’t eavesdrop necessarily — we’re just always wating for class together and he’s always on the phone. Sometimes I am not sure it’s his mom, but I often am there for when the phone rings [Hey Mom! I miss you] or when he’s saying goodbye [I love you mama!] or mid convo [Oh stop it Mom, you’re embarrassing me!] All the while, he’s discussing things from his love interests to not being called back by a girl to work and school to what he did the night before. A few times his phone has actually rang at the very onset of class and he goes “HEY MOM” and jumps out of his desk and runs out of the room, not returning for about 14.7 minutes.

I find this endearing. I love my mama too, but I don’t know many guys who actually stop in the middle of the day… obviously more than that… to show his mama some love. I kinda want to ask him about her.

Now, I am sitting in the comp. lab at UVic right now, minding my research when some guy’s phone just rang and he answered, real loud, “Hey Mom, I was just going to call you!” and lo and behold, it’s the dude from English. English doesn’t start for another hour.5 or so, proving they talk more than once per day, and he just ran out of the lab to chat with her… I think it’s hilarious.

I also just realized my creep-value because he’s sitting across from me in the lab and I am writing a blog about him. Perchance I can take a picture of him, talking to his mama, on my own phone… I will then update this post.

In other words, thank goodness it’s Friday.




I know, I know… kind of a ridonkulous (haha?) title… possibly even reason for avoiding this entry. Although, I just had to share this with someone.

So after school I got off the LRT and onto the bus, and I was sitting down while this group of people were standing beside me, talking about their day. (I don’t consider it eavesdropping when they are speaking load and clear for everyone to hear, ok?) Anyways, the one girl, let’s call her Teresa (T), was telling this boy, alias is Jeff (J), about her “break-up” she had that afternoon. It went something like this:

“So Jeff, I did it.” – T
“Yea I know, I heard.” – J
“It’s unfortunate. I mean, I only dated him for two weeks but I know he was the one.” – T
“Then why did you break up with him?” – J (good point…)
“Because he didn’t let me use his homework when I forgot to do it.” – T
“You’re kidding?” – J
“Nope. It was really hard though. I mean, yea I’ve only known him a month but it’s really tough when you think about having kids with the person, you know?” – T
“Well then you should just told your friend to dump him for you, then saves you the hassle of dealing with things yourself.” – J
“Oh I never thought of that!” – T
“Consider it for your next boyfriend… Teresa you always say you’re with the one.” – J
“Don’t make fun of me, it’s not my problem every guy who meets me loves me. It’s just unfortunate they aren’t good enough for me.” (No Joke.) -T
“Haha. Don’t kid yourself. The guy actually called you a man infront of everyone.” – J
“WHAT! What did you say? Did you defend me?” – T

(Jeff’s Stop to get off the bus… as he’s leaving…)
“NO I agreed with him. You are a total man looking girl” – J

And she proceeded to bawl.

Now, here’s the kicker to this episode. I assumed these kids were in early high school, judging from their actions, conversation and appearance… but the crying, devastated, single, gift-to-men woman, sat down beside me and proceeded to talk about her weekend plans with another bystander… as it IS going to be her 19th birthday and all…

ARE YOU KIDDING! Not only was I confused the only time (obviously) but it brought me back to when I was 19 (two years ago) and it begs the question: was I ever like that?

When we leave high school, we leave that immaturity behind… don’t we? I mean, the boy calling her a man was a little over the edge but boys will be boys, they say. Girls are supposed to be girls…until they’re women. Or something?

Yea it was a had to be there moment, but I want to pose to the general audience of my blog: when are we supposed to leave the high school-esque girlie drama behind?