We Don't Need Another Hero

Except we do. We can all use another one. And after seeing Tina Turner live in concert this past Friday at Toronto's ACC - I've got myself a new one to keep at the top of my list.

I could do all kinds of raving about the show itself here, but I think my beautiful and hilariously insightful friend Nadine, aka Scarbie, has already summed it up about as perfectly as can be, so go and read her spot-on review here.

I'll just leave it at this; my Besties are all heros to me in there own unique way and I'm so glad that we all got to take a time out from our too-busy-to-see-each-other-as-much-as-we-should lives to spend a few precious, glitter and stiletto filled hours together, soaking up the inspiriation that literally pours out of Tina Turner. I bet we've all felt a little prouder, walked a little taller, and sang a little louder since.

The Lonely Goatherd

Went to go see the stage performance of Sound of Music at the Princess of Wales theater last week. Awesome. Loved it. It was a truly fun night spent with two of my favourite moms (Scarb and her BFF) and my number one favourite wing-man, formerly known as Weirdo, but these days we're calling him Uncle Daddy. Heh.

The night started off with cosmos at Peter Pan on Queen West. So hip, I know. Then we saw the show and tried not to piss off the earnest audience members around us by laughing too loudly at some of the cheesier moments. There were many, but I still loved it. Great sets, nuns who could sing their asses off, and yes the VonTrapp kids were super, super cute and not in a way that made me want to vomit at all. Must be the new-found mother in me?

After the show Uncle Daddy and I went for more drinks and met up with an old friend who I hadn't seen in a couple of years. It was "almost" an old-school, out on the town, BB (before Bella) kind of night with cocktails and ciggies and adult conversation. I was just getting into the groove when all of a sudden the clock struck midnight and I suddenly turned back into a pumpkin.

That is, I received a desperate and (dare I say angry? True, I'd missed the first two calls because my phone was on vibrate) phone call from Crown. Baby was screaming. Daddy was panicking. Mommy was in a cab and at home in about 5 minutes flat. So much for letting loose. Ah well. It was a super fun night while it lasted. I'm beginning to finally get it now. As "the mom" I don't really ever get to go out "strings-free" or stress-free pretty much ever again. Or at least for the next, what? 18 years. Sigh.

Anyway, in an ever-so fitting development, this week Bella has learned how to yodel. Seriously. I'm not sure if it's because of all the, "High on a hill was a lonely goatherd. Lay ee odl ay ee odl ay hee hoo," I've been singing since the show, but I'm telling you, it's the cutest thing ever. She has also suddenly discovered how to do that "burble burble burble" thingy where she runs her finger over her lips to make a buzzing kind of noise. Ever since she's discovered these new tricks (about three days ago) she's pretty much been doing a combo of the two non-stop and therefore keeping her father and I in constant hysterics.

But why try to tell you, when I can show you. So here you go, for your viewing pleasure, the yodeling, burbling baby:

Party Up

Crown and I had our Baby Bash on Saturday night. I'm purposely avoiding the term "Shower" because, although we certainly felt showered with the love of our closest friends and family, and showered with generosity - this is going to be one spoiled baby girl - it wasn't exactly a Shower in the traditional sense.

For one, it was men and women. A trend that's becoming more popular, I know, but still a lot of people are very thrown off by this concept. When the invites went out some people reacted as if we were inviting serial killers to the party.

"You're having WHO there? Did you say MEN? Did she say MEN were coming?"

What's up with that anyway? I mean, shouldn't dads be encouraged to celebrate and get excited about the arrival of their babies just as much as moms? Call me a crazy feminist lunatic (someone did), but to me it just makes sense.

Anyway, it was a party on a Saturday night and there were men there. There was also booze. So there were drunk men. And what's a party without any drunk men? A Shower.

We didn’t play any games, but had a “Suggest a Name for Baby Champagne” name suggestion box. The best suggestion, as judged by creativity and innovation, will win a prize. I must admit, although Crown and I have not told anyone what names are on our short list (and it’s very short at this point), I was shocked by how many people guessed either dead on or incredibly close to some of my top choices. I say “my choices” because Crown hates them all except for one. And here I was thinking that I was being incredibly original. HA! In fact, one couple came so close to guessing the exact name that we both consider our front-runner, that I was a little heartbroken… until Crown told me that he “gave it to them.” Jerk. So much for our promise not to tell anyone.

The one traditional thing that we did honour at our Bash was to sit down and open all of our gifts in front of everyone. Understandably, people really wanted to see that happen and kept asking my mom if we were going to do it and when.

It was totally overwhelming, but also so much fun! Crown helped (though I thought he was going to jump out of his skin over it) and thank God for my BFF, Dings, who played my wing-man and kept track of all the gifts and who had given them. Life saver.

Girl, I got your back in January, so long as I don’t pop before then!

We received a ton of amazing gifts from the registry and I’m so grateful to everyone who stuck to the list. I know it’s hard when shopping for a baby (especially a baby girl) not to go wild and just buy clothes.

I really feel like we have almost everything we “need” for this baby at this point. A few exceptions, which I’ll be shopping for myself pretty soon, include a change pad cover (think I might splurge on the super-soft one from Pottery Barn Kids in white or organic), crib linens (again a splurge might be in order, got my eye on the “Snow” Crib Ensemble from Babylicious, so beautiful and it’s not that easy to find all-white linens for babies) and a mobile - still a little stumped by this one.

We also need a few items to complete our nursery decor, such as a table lamp, a chandelier and a chair, but we haven't quite found the "right" things just yet.

Of course, those who did go out on their own and stray from the “need-to-have” items from the registry ended up giving some of my very favourite gifts. I can’t possibly share them all with you here, but can’t resist showing off a few!

I fell in love with the "cowgirl" pattern by DwellBaby shortly after I first found out I was pregnant. The line is pretty luxe so probably not something I'd buy for myself. Good ol' Dings clearly understood how smitten I was! She got me both the hooded towel, seen here, and the stroller blanket. Love!
Not only do I have a thing for giraffes, but apparently babies do to. Especially if the giraffe in question is Sophie! This adorable toxin-free teether was given to me by a dear colleague who happens to be a new mom herself - I can't even bear to put it away in the "toy basket" because I adore it so much. It's got a special place on the shelf.


Books, books, books! We received a wonderful library of favourite kid's books, such as the two seen below. What a fabulous gift... about 8 books in total! Chicken's library is already over 25 books strong. I can't wait to start reading to her.

As I said, we actually received very little clothing and not a single pair of shoes?! So surprising, but not at all disappointing. I'm VERY excited to start shopping for my little girl. Of course, there were a few beautiful outfits in the mix. One of cutest has got to be the little cordoury dress and amazing sweater you see below. Could you not just eat it up?

I've talked about where the Chicken got her nickname on here before and so I was amazed and thrilled to receive the blue and white penguin that you see in the picture below. This stuffed animal from Pottery Barn Kids not only fulfills my own love of stuffed animals (I still have bins full saved from my own childhood), but is also a cuddly symbol of our baby-to-be. The best part is, the couple who bought it for her didn't even know about the Chicken/Penguin story! How's that for clairvoyance?
And allow me to go back for a second to the giraffe thing. Not only did we receive Sophie, but we also receved not one but two more stuffed giraffes. The cutie below and another stuffed beauty with a long floppy neck and bean bag feet. Fantastic!
I said it on the night (while stiffling back tears of course) but must reiterate now. This baby has no idea how lucky she is to have so many amazing people to love her. It was truly incredible to be surrounded by those closest to us and celebrate our baby girl. A million thank you's to everyone for your support. And for putting up with our unconventional method of celebrating--I hope you all had as good a time as we did.

xo

They Say It's Your Birthday, Baby

It takes a lot to get me out on the town these days. Mostly because I'm lazy. But there are certain people. Certain people that I'd do just about anything for. Especially if by anything you mean putting on a nice outfit, tossing back a few sociables and hitting a local raging kegger for some sweet beats and an evening of tearing up the dance floor. Okay, it wasn't exactly a raging kegger (it's just so fun to say), but it was a fancy after party at a hip, hidden downtown local. And it was a very special person. And let me tell you, it was a damn fun night.

This was taken by a dude with a fancy camera somewhere around 3 a.m. on Sunday morning. (I kinda stole it from Facebook, so thanks dude with camera, if you ever see this.) And I think it speaks volumes about my love for my number one birthday bitch, um, I mean boy.

Loves you Weirdo. Loves you THIS much.

Working for the Weekend

Hello. My name is Beaches and it has been 37 days since my last horse post.

I wanted to write a quick weekend wrap-up because it was full of so many GTs (good times), but realized that despite the fact that this weekend contained almost all of my favourite activities, the damn horse riding still comes out on top. This is really saying a lot people, because when I say this weekend included almost all of my favourites things, I really mean it.

For example, this weekend included but was not limited to, the following amazing things:

• poker
• winning at poker
• peanut m&ms
• sunshine
• red wine
• staying in bed in the morning drinking coffee and reading the paper
• QT with BFFs
• vodka-red bull-sodas with lime
• mint chocolate chip ice cream cake
• a clean house (lame but I thrive on honesty)
• fresh flowers
• dancing to house music
• wearing a new top
• The Body Blitz Spa. Oh, my sweet Jesus Lord, the Body Blitz Spa
• lunch in the sun, on the patio, french fries included
• Arrested Development
• more mint chocolate chip ice cream cake
• more peanut m&ms

Now, you have to admit, those are some DAMN good things. Even Martha wouldn't dispute on this one. Yet still, the horses. The horses stole the show. This week was my third private lesson. I rode a new horse, GusGus, a 13-year-old Hanoverian/Arabian cross. He was a beautiful, smooth ride and finally, FINALLY, I got to canter! It was marvelous. Made me dream of wide open fields and long leisurely rides through the countryside. One day. Maybe one day.

My parents came out to watch me ride this weekend, so maybe I'll have some entirely embarrassing pictures to post here soon. Of course, they clapped and snapped and flashed the thumbs up the entire time I was out there. It was like a grade-school choir performance but I loved it. At least I didn't fall off. Heh.

This was a magical weekend - and served only to make me long for next! It promises to be another goodie - with a double dose of horse power - riding on Saturday and Woodbine Racetrack with the fam on Sunday for Mother's Day done up Beaches style.

Until then, meet GusGus:

I'm a Hustler, Baby: The proof

A while ago I was prompted by Scarbiedoll to write this post about my short-lived acquaintance with Ron Jeremy. I claimed to have photographic evidence at the time and I do, damn it, I do.

So here it is, just because I don't want anyone to think that I was just using my hyper-active imagination and making up fun stories about short, hairy little porn stars. Other participant in this particular picture has been blurred for anonymity. And for those of you who read that post so long ago, this is from the House of Blues night, not the Hustler party night. Those photos are never, ever ending up on the internet.

Actually, they probably already are. Crap. Ah well, it's all part of growing up right? Right? Anyone...?


PS - this picture kind of makes me yearn for my short hair. Granted, I'm considerably older in the face and chunkier in the, well, everywhere these days. And I guess any hair cut would look pretty awesome next to Ron's. Still... a summer chop? Thoughts?

Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

This week I donned my gay apparel and hit up my first Christmas party of the season. I'm now at 1 for 5 billion. Given that I'm still hung over two days later, I'm having serious doubts about my ability to survive until January.

This was my company party at the fancy pants Eglinton Grand and you know what? It was really fucking fun. As you can see below, I drank my way through my fair share of the open bar and hit up the dance floor, high-high heels and all. Apologies in advance to my co-workers who might not have wanted these pictures posted for all to see.

Heh.

The Final Countdown

Still. Slightly. Hung. Over.

Saturday night I had the absolute pleasure to paint the town red with three of Toronto’s finest females, Scarbie, Ragdoll and The Suze. These generous and beautiful women took me out to celebrate the impending nuptuals, which, by the way are impending really freakin’ quickly. Five days and counting…

My memories of our Sex and the City style outing to a chic Queen West-West eatery and uber-trendy hotspot are still soggy from too much tequila, but from what I can recall:

a) We were all looking foxy and I have a picture to prove it but NO IDEA how to transfer it from my cell phone onto this magical glowing box.

b) Our meals were fantastic despite the fact that our waitress forgot to bring our plate of Moroccan spiced olives. Twice.

c) A banana walked by the restaurant while we were eating. A banana. This was before any tequila touched lips, I swear.

d) The Suze used her skillz to by pass the line at the club, but forgot that she was supposed to bring us with her! She did knock on the window and wave at us from the inside though, ever the thoughtful and loving friend.

e) Some guy came up to me and said, “Let me guess…. Jessica Simpson?” and then, not 30 minutes later another guy called me Jessica Simpson. I’d be developing a complex and blaming my new hair cut and her removal of extensions… but… fuck man, it’s Jessica Simpson. Who can complain?

f) Friends called me Jess for rest of the evening.

g) As if spending a whole night with my three favourite Tdot babes isn’t enough… my three favourite Tdot boys showed up later too. Weirdo rolled up around 1am, followed closely by Crown and GParty.

h) Crown was acting all badass and cocky because they wouldn’t let him pass the line, and in his words, “He could get into this motherfucker in three phone calls or less.” This is the behaviour that Scarbie and I dream of witnessing from him when we’re together. Cracks us up into fits. But also? Got to admit, HOT.

i) Weirdo danced on his speaker for about three solid hours. Also cracks us up. Also kinda hot.

j) GParty. What can I say about GParty? Who can have anything but the best time ever when GParty is in the house? Love him so much.

k) Also, Spiderman was at the club. I do not mean Toby Maguire the actor who plays Spiderman in the blockbuster Hollywood film adaptations about the famous comic book hero. I mean, some guy dressed as Spiderman. Full one piece spandex type suit completely with head sock and booties. Granted this maybe less random than the banana-guy (see above) but still, when’s the last time you saw a super-hero at a nightclub? I mean really.

l) Ran into some blasts from my past. One guy from university and one chick from high school. Both knew me in my “other life,” so my memories, especially of the guy, were fuzzy at best. It was kind of a worlds colliding moment. Luckily, from what I can recall, the past stayed firmly planted in the past. Was pretty jokes, actually.

m) Last call is extended until 4am in Toronto during the TIFF (film festival), so I’m sure you can imagine the amount of damage that was done. Enough said.

A huge and heartfelt thanks to my awesome girls who gave me a really special night, even though I said I didn’t need any fuss. You have made me vow that we do not need a bloody Las Vegas wedding to get us out together for a night of booty shaking!

Thank you. Love you. Never drinking again.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

So Scarb recently put in a request for my porn star stories.

I haven't pulled them out of the vault in a while, so bare with me if they are a little fuzzy. I'm going to try my best not to pull a James Frey, so I should add as my disclaimer that these were different times. Wilder times. Times where my memory has a few holes, we shall say, and we shall say no more.

You'll have to take my word for it that I do have photographic evidence of my short-lived aquaintance with Ron Jeremy. I would gladly post the pics for you here, but a) there are other people in them who may not want pictures of themselves hugging the Hedgehog posted on the internet and b) I don't know how to use the scanner.

The Background:
I did a brief stint in LA. The year was 1999. I went there for a few reasons but I guess the primary one was to get away from the insanity that was quickly enveloping me here in TO. I was partying. A lot. Betty Ford seemed a little excessive, yet I do question why I thought LA was the answer to finding healthy living and sobriety. Hm. Moving on...

My dear friend (and YES, ex-bf, but we really were just friends at this point) had recently moved his promotions and talent booking agency to LA. He was living and working out of a two bedroom apartment in West Hollywood and I went out there to help. Or, to go to the beach. Whatever.

The Clients:
While the client list for said talent booking agency had originally consisted of famous club and rave DJs, urban and electronic musicians, if you will, in LA the clients started to take a turn for the, well, weird. He started taking on celebrity clients who would get booked to make appearences at parties and other events. Corey Feldman (yes, I met him too, that's a story for another post, don't let me forget, it's a good one), Vern Shroyer... enter Ron Jeremy.

The Hedgehog:
I first met the Hedgehog when he came over to our apartment for a "meeting". It was around dinner time and we'd been preparing Shepherd's Pie, it was baking in the oven and smelling fantastic, but my appetite was low. I'd never met a famous porn star before, let alone one as notorious as The 'Hog. I didn't know what to expect... would he arrive naked? He didn't. I'm kind of sad about that now. Would he try to grope me? He did. It wasn't as bad as it sounds.

What can I say about RJ? He's kind of, well he's actually sort of, um, sweet? Kind? Likeable? Are the feminists going to come after me for that? I'm sorry. I'm a feminist, I swear, and I was prepared to dislike this guy, I truly was. But I LIKE HIM. I can't help it. He came in, sat down at the table, and shared our Shepherd's Pie. His manners are terrible. He talks with his mouthful and our dinner conversation DID involve the question about whether or not he could actually suck his own dick. I personally had never seen that movie. He offered to "prove it to me right here, right now." I regretfully declined. I'm kind of sad about that now too.

The Hustler Party:
That's right. I went to one. With The Hedgehog. Sorry, he wasn't naked for that either. Many of the women there were. I was incredibly, and embarrassingly, overdressed in my Snug jeans and a halter top. It was at the Hustler Store on Sunset Blvd. Joey Buttafuco was there, as was Corey Feldman. Did you know they are all buds? How's that for a posse? RJ was in fine form that night, ever the entertainer. He wants very badly to be a stand-up comic and he tells non-stop jokes. He also grabs a lot of asses. And the women? They love him. At least, the Hustler women do.

The Handshake:
Another night we all went out to see a show at the House of Blues, also on Sunset. I can't remember what the show was. That outta tell you how well the whole sobriety thing was working out for me. Heh. Anyway, I do remember this. We were backstage after the show. I was standing with RJ when two girls walked over to us and said to him, "We know you from somewhere... you're famous, right?" Ever the charmer, Ron held out his hand and said, "Yeah, you could say that." One of the girls grabbed his hand and started to shake is as he said, "I'm Ron Jeremy." Suddenly the girl's face become awash in recognition and she snatched her hand back as if she'd been burned. "UGH!" she exclaimed through her grimace and turned and walked away, disgusted and rubbing her hand up and down on her jeans.

I was mortified to watch Ron's face as this took place. I could see in his eyes that it wasn't the first time, and that it was crushing for him to have it happen again. He recovered with a joke very quickly, but he couldn't control that split second look and it spoke volumes for me. I'll admit I'm a softy and I hate to see people hurt. I cry when they cry, no matter who they are. But even I learned something in that moment -- you really can't judge a book by it's cover. And you can't judge a man by the number of gang bangs he's starred in.

The T.Dot:
The last time I saw The 'Hog was when he was in town for the premiere of his movie, Porn Star: The Legend of Ron Jeremy. My friend from LA was in town representing RJ and setting up various media appearances, etc. We were to pick Ron up at his hotel room and get him into the limo and over to the premiere on time. A few of us were going in the limo together, so we had a nice dinner and went together to get Ron from his room. We knocked on the door and heard some muffled noises from inside. After a few moments a stick thin, large breasted woman opened the door stark naked and stood there staring at us as we were the paper boy and she was in a robe and slippers handing us buck for the service. After she graciously explained that she was giving Ron his "rub down" before the show, she went back inside to coerce him into leaving with us.

We all piled into the limo together, naked woman now somewhat clothed, and drank champagne on the way to the theatre. My girlfriend who was with us got some choice photos on Ron's lap and sandwiched in between him and Ms. Naked. It was really fun. The premiere was a smashing success. If you've never seen the film, I highly recommend it. I think you'll be surprised to learn some of the things revealed about The 'Hog. And I suspect, that like me, you'll come away from it with a new perspective on what drives this furry, horny, strange little (yet LARGE) man.

There are many things that I loved about California. The weather, the beach, the shopping and the laid back vibe. But probably the best memories from my stay there were some of the characters that I had the pleasure of meeting. When in LA, you think you want to spot a celeb and you're constantly on the look-out, it's true. But for me, spending time with that aging porn star with a heart of gold was so much more fulfilling that a glimpse of an A-lister could ever have been.

Well, unless we're talking Brad Pitt...

Burn Baby Burn

Dudes!

Those who read me, know about the fire issues. No need to go there yet again or I risk boring you all so badly that you're going to find me and torch my place for kicks. Even I'll admit, that would be one hell of a show.

I've been meaning to pop on and tell you a ridiculous story about something that happened at a party I had on Friday night.

First, Crown and I had a party Friday night. Celebrating the visit of Dings, in for the weekend for her mom's bday. Was GTs all around. Since she was available to us in the Tdot for one night only we decided we might as well make an effort to show her a good time.

I'll admit that I somewhat selfishly hoped that she'd have so much bloody fun that she'd fly home to Van City, pack up the hubbie and pup, and move back to us next weekend. She didn't quite have that much fun. BUT I think we reminded her how we do in the Big Smoke, seen? She'll be back... oh yes... she'll be back. Nobody can resist the late-night-gay-Matty-dance-off for long. It's simply not possible.

Anyway, back to the fire story. Early on in the evening, shortly after the life of the party showed up - I'm refering of course to the one and only Scarbinator - I was cleaning up (shocking, I know) and she was settling in for a chat with our visiting guest of honour. I'm wiping, they're chatting. Wiping, chatting.

Suddenly there's a sound. A sizzling, frying, smoking, BURNING sound. I automatically look across the room at a collection of candles, certain that the blinds are going up, or the plant, HOY FUCK something is going up!! Keep in mind we're talking in nano seconds, I'm already near panic... when I hear a voice peep up from beside me... "Yo. I think your hair's on fire, fo' real."

Thanks Dynamus. You saved a life.

He was so right, Scarb's freaking HAIR CAUGHT ON FIRE. IN MY HOUSE. ON FIRE. Right in front of my face. Luckily I already had a coupie vodka-sodas in me and I handled it like a champ. Dings and I took turns slapping out out the flames and reassuring our fashionable friend that the damage was minimal. I even tried to convince her that it was a great way to get rid of any stray split ends.

She handled it like the true party girl that she is. I can tell it's not the first time she's set herself on fire, and you know, it's probably not the last. Respect for rolling with the punches and continuing to entertain us all night long with your hilarious self, Scarb.

And me? Well, I think I handled myself pretty well too. I promptly blew out all the candles, turned on the kitchen fan to air the joint out, poured myself a stiff one and got back to the fun.

I'll admit this here for you all though, the old neurotic Beaches reared her ugly head in the a.m. when I had to wash the reminants of Scarbie's burnt up locks from my dining room chair and floor. An ever so slight panic attack at what could have been, then a slightly larger panic attack at the state of my floors. At least we all know what neurotic behaviour of mine would win in a fist fight.

Scarb, they say these things happen in threes. I believe when it comes to close calls with fire, you and me are now at TWO? Crap.

On the Seventh Day of Christmas...

...my true love sent to me:

7 vodka cocktails,
6 more than that,
5 pounds of dip!
4 hours of dancing,
3 champagnes,
2 packs of butts,
And a huge hangover the next day.

Happy New Year everyone. Hope yours was as fun and fanciful as mine.

It's 2006, yo. Word.

'Tis the Season to be Jolly

If, that is, by jolly you really mean fat.
Because really? 'Tis the season to be fat.

Here's how the Christmas carol should really go:

Deck the halls with bowls of Turtles,
Fat fat fat fat fat, fat fat fat fat.
'Tis the season to be fat.
Fat fat fat fat fat, fat fat fat fat.
Don we now our large apparel,
Fat fat fat, fat fat fat, fat fat fat.
Eat the entire box of Timbits,
Fat fat fat fat fat, fat fat fat fat.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good feast.

I'll see you on the treadmill in 2006. Much love and many calories,

Beaches.

We Were Never Being Boring

Ahem. My weekend in a nutshell:

Saturday Night: 8:30 pm: Beaches arrives at Bendy Girl's Annual Christmas Bird Party, bird in hand and ready to give'r.

Saturday Night: 9:04 pm: Beaches is on her second Pomegranate Martini, third bacon-wrapped date and cheese thingy, 30th Cadbury Christmas egg and fifth Benson & Hedges Special Mild

Saturday Night: 9:17 pm: Beaches officially drunk.

Saturday Night: 10:10 pm: Have by now laughed so much that face is sore and the need to pee is constant and annoying.

Saturday Night: 10:12 pm: Beaches and Guru compare ugly red splotches that have spread over faces/shoulders/thighs. A result of delicious Pomegranate Martinis. Neither of us care enough about obvious severe allergic reaction to actually stop drinking.

Sunday Morning: 1:57 am: Beaches informed that it is close to 2 am. Holy fack, what happened to the last four hours, where did the other eight girls go and how did one of us end up in her PJs?

Sunday Morning: 2:03 am: Beaches decides that she really must get home, but definitely will need to polish off the tall glass of Red Bull and have another couple ciggies first.

Sunday Morning: 3:54 am: Beaches makes it home and into bed. Is now lying wide awake, staring at ceiling and cursing Red Bull/Pomegranate Martini soup currently sloshing around in her belly.

Sunday Morning: 7:02 am: Beaches has just settled into comfortable, drunken slumber when DOG decides it's time to wake up for breakfast. Beaches walks into two door frames and stubs toe on stairs in attempt to feed and shut up dog asap.

Sunday Morning: 11:45 am: Beaches wakes up in panic, realizes that she needs to clean house before Moms and Scarbie arrive to go with her to the *gasp" Umbra Sale. Note: Worst place on earth to go with a hangover.

Sunday Afternoon: 4:45 pm: Beaches is in hell (aka Umbra sale) with two million other cheapskates who refuse to pay full price for things they don't need. Like four new toothbrush holders and a gazillion picture frames, even though already have a gazillion picture frames from last year's Umbra sale still in the boxes and taking precious closet space. Do not have enough wall space in tiny downtown condo for all these bloody fucking picture frames. Does anyone need a metallic blue push pin board? Because Beaches decided it would be smart to buy four of them. What?! Everything was two for one and Scarbie and I were on a shopping HIGH. Just changed mind, Umbra sale is actually heaven.

Now. Back to the Bird Party. It's an annual all-girls party, held by the incomparable host, Bendy Girl, each year at Christmas time. Girls only, and each Bird needs to bring a bird for the perfect, Martha-Stewart-didn't-even-think-this-up, all-bird decorated Christmas tree. We are all approaching 30, already 30 or in our 30's, and at some point, after the wilder half of us left to attend a second venue, we had a brief discussion about whether or not we were getting boring. It came up because those of us who stayed behind half-heartedly discussed going out to a bar but then nobody actually moved and it was quite obvious that we were much happier to stay planted on our asses eating chocolates, drinking Red Bull and Pomegranate Martinis and talking shit. Is that boring?

I think not and I've got the conversational quotes to prove it. All quotes were spoken out loud (none by me, just so you know) and recorded in my Pig Bhong cup and saucer shaped notepad, a gift to each of us from Guru. Suffice it to say that this note pad has the headline, "Wsenever you deeply troubed" (sic) on the front along with a picture of a cartoon pig wearing a hoodie, no pants and bleeding from the nose. It's the awesomest note pad ever and the fact that Guru found and purchased them for each of us definitely proves that she is SO NOT boring and also an excellent shopper.

Five Actual Quotes from the Bird Party: (Warning, this will likely not be funny to anyone that was not at said Bird Party - feel free to skip to witty "Lessons Learned" ending)

1. "If it don't fit, wiggle it a bit."
2. "My vagina just smoked a joint."
3. "Feeding the Horse." (This is an apparent sexual activity. I never really got what it means, but it has something to do with whiskers and a flat palm.)
4. "I don't care if you smack my ass, or pull my hair. Just do SOMETHING."
5. "I had my fingers up to here in marinara sauce!"

Now does that sound like a group of women who are boring? Does it? Does it? Okay. Maybe we're a tiny bit boring. But funny-boring! Definitely funny-boring.

Valuable Lessons Learned:

1. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbours immaculate, perfectly decorated, disgustingly amazing apartment that appears to be something that lept effortlessly from the pages of Canadian House & Home magazine and has been decorated to such a state in just over ONE month, even if thy own apartment has been in thyne possession for well over four months and still has a looooong way to go. (Bendy, I NEED the paint colour used in your living/dining room STAT.)

2. Thou shall learn to write shorter sentences.

3. Thou shalt not ever, ever buy another picture frame from the Umbra sale. Not if they are 2 for 1, or 20 for 1. No more frames, damn it. No more frames.

4. Thou shalt not refer to oneself in the first person ever again.