I'm Not Funny Anymore

I am so out of practice that I'm not even funny anymore.
I actually have nothing funny to tell you. Let me think really hard

Today someone honked at me while I was walking and I waved because I actually couldn't tell if I knew the person or if they were just being annoying. I hate being blind.

This week I went through my old Facebook photos and lets just say, THIS (me right now) is an improvement. #scary

...see, its sad. Someone come trip me or push me off the dock. I need some humor in my life.

No Words

Ever find yourself so caught up in school, work, and homework that you find yourself too busy to hang out with friends aside from the occasional study sessions?

Well I have, I barely have enough time to do my hair let alone get online and blog. I have the need to reassure you though that even though I am so busy that my personal appearance is suffering funny things still do happen.

My schedule right now looks a little bit like this:
School
Homework
Eat (if time allows)
Work
Read
Sleep (if time allows)
Repeat

Ya feel me?

I guess I forgot what it feels like to be in school.
Shout out to you students who have yet to drown under a pile of books.

Anyways. I used to blog about 10 times a month but now its about once every ten months. I will try to be better.

Keep it real
Try not to drown.

My Summer Summed Up

I would love love love to hear about all of your summers, tell me the good, bad, and the ugly. You can tell me via Facebook, email, or a simple comment. I will sum up my summer in the fewest words possible but lets be honest, my posts tend to get pretty wordy.

July, its hard to think back that far but I had fun, I know that for sure.

August, HOLY BEANS, I don't even know where to begin. Everything before Rev Camp is kind of a blur because Rev Camp kind of dominated my summer. I did however turn 20 and that was pretty huge. I ate 75 packets of ketchup and 5 packs of hot sauce in order to make it into a game called Last Camper Standing. Just a word of advice to all you ketchup lovers out there after about 10 packets I can guarantee that your insides will begin to burn and it hurts. I also learned that water fights are more fun if you have buckets named Revenge and that the majority of people would rather be known as a murderer than a booger picker. Apparently there is an aspect of respect that comes with murderer. But hey, what do I know?!

I also got a job in August, YAY! I can pay the bills... For now.
Hope your summer was wonderful.

Absent Much

Hey there party people, 

I hope that you are all still alive and well, but mostly alive.

I feel like I haven't blogged in a month and that's mainly because I haven't. I promise I will try to do better. I have been so busy lately. That's not about to change but I might have a few more spare moments to tell you about the weird things that I encounter. 

Hopefully I don't slack off this month. 

Stay Classy. 

Dear Langley Drivers

Y'all need to get it together! Holy beans! Green means: GO

Yellow means: Slow down 

Red means: Stop

If you are using your breaks at a green light, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG! 

Unless your light is yellow I expect you to step on it. Don't make me ram you.

My road rage is immediately connected to your incompetence behind the wheel. 

I'm not actually as angry as I sound, but please don't break on a green light. 

Happy driving!  

What Really Grinds My Gears

As a person ages they come to notice things that really just straight up grinds their gears. We call this pet peeves. They aren't necessarily things that they hate or cannot stand, just something that they think the world would be better without. 

Today multiple things happened that made me think about my pet peeves. So I complied a list with a little explanation for your personal enjoyment. I titled it 'Marika's Pet Peeves'. I thought about naming it after a segment done on Family Guy called 'You Know What Really Grinds My Gears' by Peter Griffin, but that title was too long and unoriginal. This post may be one of those posts that continues to grow longer as time progresses because I'm sure as I experience the world more, things will grind my gears. 

Marika's Pet Peeves 

1. Other drivers - first of all, I love driving, I love music and I love dancing. If I am singing and dancing to my music at a stop light, consider yourself blessed to have witnessed my talent! Don't frown at me and don't glare at me. Just because you're having a bad day doesn't mean you need to spread hate with your eyes, join in, release that stress, you might just feel better! Secondly, do not stop at a green light. Green means go!! If you're using your breaks at a green light, you're doing it wrong! Do not stop because you think the light might-just-maybe-possibly turn yellow. 

2. Pedestrians - you do not own the road! You have a side walk and you're own special lights to tell you when you can cross the road. When that countdown is over and the solid orange hand is no longer blinking, it's my turn. Don't get in the way. Don't cross in front of me when I have a green light; I will run you down. Accidentally of course, but seriously. If I drove like you walk we would all be dead. 

3. People that love their pets like people - First, if your prioritize your dog over humans you, my friend, are doing it wrong. You and your dog do not need matching outfits, I'm sure people know that he's yours because your hair matches and you're carrying him in your purse. Your dog also does not need a new bed every two weeks. How often do you buy a bed for yourself? My dog plays with the same stick she found in the river 3 weeks ago, but your dog has a toy box. Secondly - your pet might as well have it's own social media accounts. You have more pictures of your dog on Instagram than you do yourself. And last but not least - I do not love your dog or cat even half as much as you do. Don't expect me to cuddle up to it on the couch or pet it enthusiastically. I will not move over so your very hairy cat can sit on the couch. Sorry not sorry. I'm incredibly allergic so, how about no?! (Side note: if you are a pet owner, I do not in fact hate you! There are some pet owners out there that are great. I, myself own a dog, and love her to bits; I just know the difference between pet and human. If I see the occasional picture of you holding your kitten and walking your dog, it's great. Just don't expect me to follow you on Instagram if that's all you post.)  

The list is shorter than I had anticipated it being, which is probably for the better. I do want to stress to the pet owners out there however, I love you but your pet is not a person! I am also aware that I probably do things to annoy people. Maybe I am your pet peeve. That's okay. Leave a comment below and tell me what your pet peeves are. 

Happy Friday, er... Early Saturday Morning. 

#YourHashtagsSuck

Hashtags have recently become a huge part of our day to day life. If you don't know what a hashtag is, it's possible you have been living under a rock. A hashtag for those who do not know is a way of tagging your post so that when people search '#cutie' your post shows up.

Hashtagging started on Twitter and was a funny way of ending your tweet. I often will use hashtags on twitter as a form of comedy, with tags such as: #yesfilter #mugshotmonday and #homelessproblems. I find that the longer the hashtag the funnier it gets with posts like: #iwonderifitwillsurfacebeforethegumiswallowed6yearsago and #maybeiwillturnthefreezerintoapool.

Hashtags are funny and useful at times but on Instagram they are used to get likes, comments and followers. I have fallen victim to the hashtag overkill on a photo, but at least my hashtags suit the photo. I have seen girls photos that say #nomakeup but they look like a cake faced clown. #Kitten #pretty #cute on a picture of a watermelon.

Ya'll need to quit cause your hashtags SUCK.

Happy Hashtagging.

Remember, I am watching.

Not A Real Adult

I teach Sunday School at my church, Christian Life Assembly, every Sunday; over the weeks I have gotten to know most of the girls but every summer a new set of kids comes in from age five. This years crew brought an adorable six year old with some intense dating advice.
The conversation follows below. We will call her 'L' for little girl and I will be 'B' for big girl.

L: "You're not a real adult." She stated.
B: "What do you mean? I am the right age to be the adult." She replied.
L: "You're not an adult cause you are not married." She added.
B: "Oh." Silence followed.
L: "Do you even have a boyfriend?" She questioned.
B: "No......" a hint of sadness in my voice.
L: "Why not? You should get married today, you should just go up to someone and say, 'Hey, you wanna get married?!' Just go ask him over there. Marry that guy. Or you can marry my uncle. He hasn't gotten married yet. You should meet my uncle." She advised.
B: "Uh, it doesn't really work like that, unfortunately." I tried to reason with her.
L: "Yes, it does." and she ran away to play with her friends.

Since her little pep-talk I have been thinking, I am okay not being a real adult. I am going to build myself a blanket fort and hide out.

Happy Adulthood to me.
20 in 14.

The Second Wave

I was discussing with my friend 'arm fat' because I couldn't fit my "muscular" arms into a jacket I recently gave my sister. Her and I were laughing and joking about things such as clapping and waving when it dawned on my that my arms were were doing the "second wave". I used to joke about how my legs applauded my every time I ran because I could hear them clapping for me, and now my arms are waving for me. 

I am in no way talking down about myself, I am simply just saying I need to tone my arms a little bit so that my waves do not last longer than they should. 

The Five Senses

I recently took up running, but not like I took up being gluten free. I actually do go running. I've noticed, though, that all my senses are engaged when I run.

Touch/ Feel: I can feel my feet throbbing and my heart pounding with every step.

Sight: I can see that I am NOT running very fast and that my finish line is not even close but I also witness the weirdest things, like people walking cats and large teddy bears belted in to the front seat of a car.

Taste: I can taste the hot, thick air with every sharp breath I take.

Smell: I can smell chicken noodle soup? I run about a five kilometer section every time I go running and it's always the same. On two separate locations on two separate roads, I smell chicken noodle soup.

Hear: I hear laughter as people watch me drag my sweaty body up that menacing hill.

Every time I come home after a run I am never sure if I feel good or just more confused. At what point of attachment to your teddy bear do you feel the need to strap it in for fear of its fluff flying through the windshield. I sure hope you are wearing your seat belt. How often does your family eat chicken noodle soup, are you ill or do you just really love it? Must you actually laugh and point your chubby fingers full of McDonald's fries at me? I mean at least I'm trying to change. Never laugh at a runner, it will be those people you turn to in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse just sayin'.

Speaking of running, I neglected to run the last couple days so I am going to go do that.
Happy Running Friends.

Continuing Post

I just thought I would write a list of things that I absolutely cannot stand or fear and a list of things I love. That way, when you talk to me, hang out with me, or cross my path, you know what not to do and what to do. This lista will grow and shrink as I fear more things and conquer others.

The list of things I hate/fear are things that if you approach me with, I am not responsible for your injuries.
Things I hate and fear:
Feet
Clowns
Large Costumes
Spiders


The list of things I love, is a list of things that if you accidentally do something with the above list, you can apologize with.
Things I love:
Orchids
Chocolate
Fort Langley
Ice Cream
Children
Dancing
Laughter
Coffee
The Beach
Surfing
Black and white movies
Wine
Fancy Cars
Amusement Parks
Churros
Diamond Rings

As the list get bigger the gifts get more expensive. Let's hope, for your sake, that you don't cross me. You can only buy me so many coffees.

What are you afraid of?

Audios, my loves.

My Issues With Society

So I was thinking today, while I brushed my pearly whites, about how food is actually the worst thing ever. We basically are flushing money down the toilet. I then started contemplating the problems of the world and came up with a few problems and solutions.

Food- we need it to keep us alive, but we are charged money for it. I LOVE food, probably more than I should, but I do. So, it costs me a little bit more to eat. But why aren't certain foods free. I can understand fast food, because someone has to make it for us, but eggs? They come from animals. Our money doesn't go to the animals so who's making bank on collecting eggs? I loved collecting eggs as a child. Someone should do it as a hobby. How about we pay for the necessities by donation? Or the government gives us a weekly food allowance? The more I think about it, the more I understand that making bread is a chore, as is butter. But we have machines for that now. I think I'm going to have to buy a chicken, cow, pig and butter churn. Screw society I'm kicking it old school.

Clothes- If the law requires me to wear clothing, I suggest we get a monthly allowance for that too. The law is costing me money. Not fair! I could walk around naked and it would be free, but no. I have to pay money for clothes or pay money for a public nudity ticket.

Math- I have never in my life since graduating, needed to use the Pythagorean Theorem or needed to graph a triangle on a calculator; but I learned it. I didn't however learn what a mortgage is, or how to get one. I didn't learn about how to do my taxes; my mom still writes them for me.

I am kind of kidding. I do realize that there is a certain order of how the world works, but I just wish things were cheaper.

Funnier than the Movie

So I guess it was a couple weeks ago now, but I was just told about this today. We were watching Home Alone 3, a movie that I seriously miss judged. I thought that because it was with different characters and plot that it would be totally lame, but it wasn't. I was sitting in the living room of a small apartment with about 13 people in the room killing myself laughing and not thinking anything of it. I have a very distinct laugh. It's not only loud but it has this weird authenticity to it. When I laugh, I laugh hard. If something is funny to me it becomes funny to everyone else because I laugh so hard.

My mom thinks that it is hilarious how hard I laugh. She texts me and tells me how much she misses having the house full of laughter. I never really thought about it until today when my friend told me that they were watching me instead of the movie. Apparently my reaction to the movie was funnier than the actual movie. They say you learn something new everyday, I just never would have guessed it would be information about me.

If you guys want to come over and watch a funny movie with me, you're more than welcome.

Happy laughing, friends.

Enthusiastic Dancer

I am one of those people that cannot sit still when a good song comes on. If there is music playing I am moving. Be it wiggling in my seat, rocking back and forth or full on dancing in a room full of people who have never seen a girl move her hips before.

In my car, I am restricted by my seat belt and certain laws but that definitely does not stop me from getting my groove on while cruising down the highway. For all you parents out there whose children I drive around, let me be clear. I follow the rules of the road and if I have a passenger, I at most will get an enthusiastic fist pump going on. If I am alone however, there is some swaying, loud singing and serenading of fellow drivers. I often get looks that suggest people think I'm crazy, or the occasional fist pump or head nod of approval. 

In my home, where no one is watching or even sometimes when people are. I dance like no one is paying attention. I have been known to knock things over, turn the music up too loud or jump too high. I'm pretty sure people hate cooking with me in the kitchen because of two reasons. One, I can't really cook so I ruin my food and whatever they are making and two, they usually become my dancing partner. Whether they want to or not. If you're close enough to grab and dance with, you're it, baby! I have knocked things off the counter and dropped stuff. I usually make quite a mess when cooking and dancing. It's always a party though.

I would also like to point out that I'm not the most talented dancer in the world. If you picture a graceful butterfly floating in the wind, you need to stop. Picture more an awkward giraffe (ironically my favorite animal) tripping over a hippopotamus and tumbling down a hill. That is my dancing technique. Having said that, I understand why people don't generally like to dance with me. But hey, if you love the music and love to dance, why the heck not, right? If you like to try your hand at dancing you're welcome at my house any time. Music is always on and loud and there is zero judgement. 

Here's my current dancing jam: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5y_KJAg8bHI

Happy Dancing. Hope you're more graceful than I. 

Facebook Creep

I know for a fact that I am not the only person that creeps my friend's and occasionally random people's pages on Facebook but how often do we creep our own. I recently found myself deep in the depths of a new friends Facebook analyzing how weird this person looked back in 2008 and then thought to myself how much weirder are my photos. So there I was elbows deep in my own page scrolling through the nine hundred  plus photos. I cannot even begin to describe to you the photos that I found. For your personal enjoyment, I have added a few. Keep in mind that I did at one point tell you that it is easier to find a million dollars under my bed than for me to take a good selfie. So here you are. My childhood wrapped up into some very awkward photos.





So there you are, friends. That's my Facebook in a nutshell.

Happy Creepin'.

Google Problems

So I do a lot of research in which I use Google, but in never does it ever just answer my question.

I am currently looking trying to find out if I can do nursing in Australia and then work in Canada. Most people I have talked to have said no, because I would have to take a bunch of tests. That's fine, but how many and how much would they cost. I am really excited about the idea of studying in Australia but cannot find the answers. So I do what any modern day citizen does, I hop on to the interweb and hope to find the answers but cannot.

I type into Google: 'Can I use my Australian Nursing Degree to work in Canada?' 

and what pops up is:

-Nursing Schools in Australia

-Canadian Nursing Schools 

-Nurse Together in Canada

and

-Nursing Degree in 24 Months

Um, what the beans? That doesn't me at all. I know that I could do school in either place but I want to know if they transfer over to a different country.

I mean, worst case scenario I just permanently move to Australia right?! That doesn't sound so bad. My dad would probably flip and lose his socks at the same time if he heard me even talk about vacationing there, but hey, a girls gotta live. I just wish Google answered my questions... Maybe I should try Yahoo - Just Kidding. That would be even worse. Things would pop up like 'News from the Ukraine' and I would get quite distracted as I have now. 

I have also been writing this in an Australian accent so that's fun. 

Happy Googling, mates. 

Recycled Material

As I am currently jobless, my interactions with the public have greatly decreased. It's gone from random strangers knocking on my car window to the awkward hello in the elevator. I am afraid that all I have to tell are old stories that have already been told. Maybe, if I think really hard and challenge my brain, I can come up with some small glimpse into my boring reality I call my life instead of recycled material.

Lets see, okay, so on Sunday a friend of mine dropped me off at my house after a volunteer appreciation lunch. I opened the door and pressed the elevator button. To my surprise the door open almost instantly and what my eyes fell upon was a sight that made me wish I had chosen the stairs. As the elevator doors opened I was graced with the image of a couple going at it. Great! So here's awkward me standing there, internally killing myself laughing because their faces were so red and the tension in the elevator was so dense that I was wishing I lived on the first floor. On the other hand however, I was also wishing that the elevator would break down because that would be more awkward for them and a good story for you. The guy muttered something about how he wanted to drink a beer when they got back to their condo but I think that was just code for finishing what they started in the elevator.

My building isn't a very tall one, four floors - five if you include the parkade. So having said that, an elevator ride to the top from the bottom is only about 35 seconds. I am willing to go and time that if you need evidence. (I haven't left the condo in over 24 hours.) Not a whole lot of time.

I have never understood really why people fool around in the elevator... It's not a private place, unless it's your elevator in your house. I have actually never really understood the need for PDA in general. I mean, I get the hand holding kind of deal, and the simple kiss goodbye, but seeing you suck face in public makes me physically ill. Seeing your public displays of affection gives me intimate deals about you and your babe. I'd like to go with the don't ask, don't tell method. If I don't ask, you don't tell. I am not asking you what it looks like when you guys kiss, therefore don't tell me or show me. I am being straight up here: I DON'T CARE.

Married people, I am in no way talking to you. If you 90 something years old and been married for 90 years you, my friend, have earned the right to kiss your babe. If you're 20 and been married 1 year, congratulations, I am so happy for you. You sir, have earned the right to kiss your wife. If you have made a marital commitment to your significant other, KISS AWAY but if you're 16 and you and your boo who have been dating for 3 days and are so in love you're locking lips - GET OUT OF MY WAY. I will run you over with my car. Okay, maybe that's a little dramatic but seriously save it for your living room, and not the bedroom either. You will end up on 16 and pregnant, and you will quite possibly wish I ran you over with my car.

Well, that about sums that up,
Happy Kissing... NOT!

SnapChat

Okay, so I totally have fallen victim to the 'public selfie snapchat', but I am never going to get a boyfriend if I don't stop. I stand in very public places making more than ridiculous faces. I don't quite know what you use Snapchat for, maybe I don't want to know, but my friends and I are having a contest to see who can have the most chins and make the most bizarre face.

I love snapchat, but I think I should probably save my photos for the safety of my own home. Lest I be single for life.

Happy chatting, party peeps. 

Ex-Bar Junkie

I am not afraid to admit that I used to have a lot of fun at the bar. Dancing with friends and listening to sub par music used to be my up of tea. That being said, I have grown up in the sense that it no longer appeals to me, but because I love dancing, I go out every once in a while.

This past week, I visited my parents house to catch up with friends and family and decided that I would go dancing one night. I didn't go to drink, I just simply went to dance with some of my friends that I haven't seen in a while.

So I show up and the sub par music is less that sub par. It's down right crap. Garbage I'm telling you. In a town that has more cow boy boots that suits or ties, they play some weird music. I am in no way a racist, but it is a rare occasion to see an East Indian man wearing cow boy boots; so why in this country town are we playing Punjabi music? So the whole night bounced between Punjabi jams and Skrillex and on top of all this the music was so loud that you couldn't pick a beat out if you wanted to. This meant that the usually enjoyable activity of dancing was instead a bad experience where people spilled beer on my feet and stepped on my toes. I went to the bar to hang out with my girl friends but spent the night running away from guys and zig-zagging my way through the masses of drunk people. Why do people enjoy this kind of activity? I'm starting to question why I ever enjoyed it.

I can't say I have ever been to a different bar, but I feel like most of them are the same. For now, I think I will pass on any offers though. Maybe throw a dance party or two at my house... When I have one.

Happy dancing, party peeps.

Laugh With Me?

"Just laugh it off." That's what they say, right? Well I've definitely been laughing. I'm just not quite sure how much good it's done. I'm afraid I look like a crazy person laughing when I am not only homeless and naked, but jobless as well. I just want to let you know, before I get into this, that you can laugh, cause that's all I've done.

So many things happened so suddenly, I got a text from my mom early Saturday morning that said, "GG passed away." Okay, so that happened. I love my great gramma, and I hope she rest in peace, but that was just the beginning of my week. Monday morning rolls around and I got asked to go nanny for a friend who wasn't feeling very well, no problem. I make my way over and go about my nanny duties. Well to spare you the details, I left the house feeling upset and a little angry because of how I was treated but left my emotion in the car. I wasn't about to left this wreck my week, but I got a phone call from the girl and she apologized and then yelled at me and hung up the phone.... Last time I try to be sympathetic. Anyways, the lady I live with, mother of the girl I nanny for, comes home and gives me about ten hours notice that I need to pack my crap and get out. Um...... Okay? So through my tears and with the help of my best friend, my stuff was packed for me to take in the morning. I packed up the car and took everything over to my sisters to store in her storage unit while I tried to figure out where I was going to work and live. They cleaned out a room for me and gave me a place to put my things for the time being! Love them, best people alive for sure. I stayed at my sisters for a week, then her and I came home to the island for a couple days. Well I think it was the third or fourth day I was on the island when I got a text that said, "Our storage locker was broken into, you will probably need to go through your stuff when you get back." Great!!! My sister took a picture of the storage unit and send it too me and we realized that my suitcase and two of my back packs were gone. AWESOME!

A list of things that were in my suitcase: 
ALL MY CLOTHES 
A dearly loved teddy bear. 

So that's how I became naked. I really cannot help to laugh at my misfortune. It's been a very humbling experience to lose so much. I am sitting here with a smile on my face and a giggle in my chest, because what else could go wrong?! Well that's the woes of this white girl. 

Until something else happens, Peace out party peeps. Loves y'all! 

The Reason I Don't Ride Bikes

When I was younger I looked up to my dad quite a bit. I still do but I remember this particular day in history because it was the last day I rode a bike. People say you never forget how to ride a bike, I don't think that's totally true. Maybe I have just mentally blocked the idea out of my head but if you ask me, I've forgotten not only how to ride but the joy it brings. Petal bikes have become evil in my opinion. I would much rather dirt bike or quad. 

My dad, brother and I used to whip through trees, over roots and logs, and race each other while my mom and sisters trailed behind enjoying the view. 

There was no particular reason for the event that took place the day I stopped riding bikes but it did; and this is how it happened.

Like any other day, my dad and I were racing down a rocky hill trying to see who  could make it to the grassy hill first. I reached a speed I've never seem before, probably like ten kilometres an hour. Just kidding, I was flying down this hill at a speed in which a rocket enters space, and I lost control of my handle bars. Well here's me, flying down a hill with no control of where I'm doing and suddenly I've launched myself into the air and m headed straight for the prickle bush. A ghost must have stolen my bike because even though I was scraped up and sitting in a very uncomfortable bush, my bike flew twenty feet down the road. I'm pretty sure my family didn't stop laughing until we got home because I refused to ride my demon possessed bike back to the van. It was that moment that I stopped riding bikes. 

I know it sounds like I have a knack for catapulting myself throw the air, but it's better than that. It's a hobby. I'm taking flying lessons. The more stories I ask my about, the more I realize I am better at flying than walking. Now... If only I could learn to land more gracefully. 

Goodnight party peeps. If you have any tips on landing, let me know. 

Little Girl; Big Rock

As you may have all already figured out, I'm not exactly the most graceful or balanced human being alive. I trip, I fall, and I run into things on a regular basis. Well I am here to tell you that has been a life long struggle for me. As I child my father played baseball and he, being my hero taught me how to throw thinks like rocks into the river. He always skipped rocks and tried to throw them all the way across the river, more often than not he was successful. 

One day, I guess I thought it would be awesome to impress my daddy by throwing the largest rock I could find into the river. Well, what landed in the water just so happened to be about the same size as me plus a rock. What I'm trying to tell you is that I threw myself in the river. I'm really not sure how old I was but I believe I was pretty young. Launching myself into a river happened the same day that I found out that I couldn't fly, nor could I swim. I was in fact meant to e human and walk on the land. 

A small child flying into a river following a rock must have been quite the sight; because to this day I still get teased when I throw rocks in the water. I can only imagine what that would look like as an almost twenty year old. If it happens you will be the first to know. I promise. 

Until next time party peeps, try not to throw yourselves into rivers with out supervision. 

Olympic Sprinter?

I am just going to start this throwback with a fact about myself. I am terrified of bees!!! 

What kind of stupid insect makes a nest in the ground?! Obviously that's where things walk be it people, deer or Bigfoot. Seriously.

This must have happened six something years ago on a family camping trip. My family loves to go out camping in the middle of no where, and by my family... I mean my parents. We go out where the rivers are so cold and crazy you get swept down at rapid speeds on a tiny, pink tube with a butt so numb you could be dropped twenty feet and not feel a thing. In these woods you are surrounded by wild life, the sounds of nature and absolutely zero cell service. If your vehicle breaks down... Good luck. 

My family and I were spending a week in the boonies like usual and an incident happened that changed the way my family thinks of me. I'm not longer the brave older sister but a very mean sissy. My brother, who my mom and I guess was about 8 years old, and I were walking through the woods one day. We were going to join my dad while he fished. So here we are walking along and suddenly, Manny screams. A swarm of hornets covers him head to toe and I book it. Not like a casual run, but a roadrunner, cartoon, leave a dust trail, sprint out of the woods and straight into my tent kind of run. I then zipped up my tent and hollered, "Manny got stung." 

To my holler my mom responded by running to the woods and stood there in the nest trying to dust the hornets off of my brother. Suddenly, my mom is left standing there alone, confused, because my brother has just disappeared. My dad had heard my holler and came running. He saw what my mom was doing and made the decision to grab my brother and exit the hornets nest before trying to dust bees off his sweater. 

Turns out my brother is allergic to bees. His ankle swelled up to the size of a softball because his cowardly sister didn't think to grab him before she ran. 

What are you scared of? I'm sure there's something that everyone would fly out of the woods and into a tent for. 

Side note:

I'm probably not the person to ask if you need saving, especially if there are bees involved. 

Peace out party peeps. Save lives, today. I'll be hiding from bees. 

Too Much Tea, Too Little Ice

Aright amigos, I know that this post is thirty-seven minutes late, but I'm a night owl hopped up on coffee and sheer adrenaline cause I'm going home tomorrow, but here you are... A stupid story from high school.

So maybe some of you have discovered, from my previous post, that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but I have a good time. I am a huge fan of competition and an even bigger fan of eating competitions. It's a chance to pig out on great food, in public, while people cheer you on... Um, that's awesome. I'm totally in and usually the winner. I was in a Big Mac eating contest once, I went three rounds, it was awesome.

In my graduating year, my classmates and I were trying to raise some money so that we could go on a trip as a class to Vancouver. Every Tuesday, I think, we would sell chilli and buns with iced tea for a reasonable price to the staff and students of our school. It was a roaring success, and by that I mean, we did it twice. The last time we did it though we made way too much iced tea and didn't add enough ice or water. I'm talking like 6 extra extremely sweet pitchers of iced tea. My wise peers and I decided that we would have a contest to see who could drink the most cups of iced tea in our spare block. So we walked off to the library with books in our arms and two pitchers each. Oh, did I forget to mention that I graduated with just four people in my class, and one of those girls didn't want to go on the grad trip so it was just three of us? Yea, that's probably important information. 

So, my diaper buddy Tyler and my best friend Steph and I sat down at this small table and started our little competition. All was going well, cups were slamming on the table and laughter filled the air until the lemon and sugar started to burn and ache in our stomachs. I am really unsure of how much iced tea everyone had ingested but I know I was the leading lady with a solid thirteen cups in my belly. I'm not sure why or even when we stopped but I'm glad we did because the pain that over took us was excruciating. We all crawled to the bathrooms where my best friend puked up most of the contents and Tyler and I tried our best to empty our bladders. Tyler and I met up in the hallway where we sank to the floor holding our stomachs and groaning. Steph wandered out and told us how much better she felt while Tyler and I were discussing our wishes incase we were to die. 

We must have spent a good forty-five minutes on the hallway floor explaining to teachers why we couldn't move and how badly our bellies ached. We move, we ache; we laugh, we cry (and not a laugh so hard we cry kind of cry, an "OMG IM GOING TO DIE, kind of cry.); we talk, we laugh and thus we cry. It was a vicious cycle. The pain didn't end there though. 

My teacher whom laughed at us for being so weird and silly thought it would be great if he didn't let us go to the bathroom during class. So not only did my stomach ache but my bladder was bursting. He must have heard the story of third grade because he did finally let me use the bathroom; five minutes longer though and I swear, I would have been looking for a mop. 

It took hours for the stomach ache to wear off and months for me to be able to enjoy iced tea again but I am always down for a food devouring contest. Maybe next time I'll do root beer and burp my way into the next century? 

Tell me, what do you think I should eat or drink next and who should I do it with? 

Don't drink too much tea or add too little ice. Think happy tummies. 

Peace out party peeps.

Just a Little Piddle

Alright friends, so as promised I am posting funny stories of my childhood as a series called Throwback.
So here's embarrassingly hilarious story of Marika's childhood number one.

I think I was in the third grade when this happened but it followed me for years after. My school was about forty-five minutes away from my house. I remember the third grade as being a hard year for me. I had moved from a first, second, third grade split class to a third and fourth grade class. The teacher was strict and hard to please. I remember this day so vividly, I remember what the stinking weather was like.

So, I'm sitting in my new class room, taking a spelling test and suddenly I get the urge to go to the bathroom. I calmly put up my hand and the teacher snapped "No questions during a spelling test!" So I sat there a couple minutes thinking that I could make it a little longer. A couple moments later I raised my hand again, feeling that my bladder was about to EXPLODE and I would die, I got the same response. This time as a last ditch effort I called out, "I need to pee!!!" She told me that I needed to wait until after the spelling test. I don't know if this test was like being graded by the Queen of England or the President of the United States but this was important spelling test. Apparently it was imperative that I learn to spell 'because' at this exact moment so that I could write out the next thing that took place.

Because... My teacher would not let me march my little booty to the washroom and I was bursting at the seams I PEED MY PANTS. In the middle of 23 kids I straight up peed in class. It wasn't like just a little piddle it was like the flood gates of heaven opened up and buckets of pee were splashing underneath my tiny third grade desk. My teacher yelled "Why didn't you go to the bathroom?!" "Well ma'am, I was a little busy riding elephants??...Wait, no it was definitely because you wouldn't let me go!" All the kids in class were killing themselves laughing and I ran out of the room. My school was so far out in the boonies that it took my mom almost an hour to bring me some new pants and then take me home from school. I sat in my pee soaked pants for almost an hour while I cried big embarrassing crocodile tears in the office.

People wonder why I am so messed up... This is probably why. I was a traumatized little kid. I hope your childhood was more pleasant and less pee filled than mine, but if it wasn't, I am sorry. I sympathize with you deeply.

I also peed my pants in eighth grade, but I am NOT ready to talk about that.

Goodnight my loves.

Long Time No Chat

Hey, so I recently moved and the place I am staying had no Internet until today. So, I am sorry I have not be posting funny and troubling woes but I promise that now that I have Internet, we will be up and running again. Woo! 

This week I'm going to focus on throw backs. What does that mean you ask? Well that means that every day I will post a funny story about high school, dating and childhood. I will be home with my family on starting Thursday so I will Ben ask my mom for a story or two. 

Here's to a good week of throwbacks. Enjoy. 

Forever Alone

I know I write about being single a lot, but lets face it, it's comical. I'm unhappy single, but then I see pictures of people kissin' on Facebook and I get jealous. But let's be honest your pictures make me ill. I don't want to see pictures of you and you main man Sam sucking face, it's gross. I want to puke on your happiness. Also, I hate photographers. They capture the happiness and engagements of couples but here I am kissing my pillow and taking selfies with my head in the oven. Here's to another post of single white girls woes. 

I'm not very good at being in a relationship or being single. I'm frankly too bipolar for a relationship. I hate being single until I get into a relationship and then I miss freedom. 

For real kids, you need to stop posting pictures of you and your 'boo' kissing and being all couple-y. You're twelve, okay? I'm nineteen and still don't have a SINGLE picture of me kissing a boy. No one needs to see that. Im not actually mad, you're just making me jealous and that's where my anger stems from. But seriously, no more kiss-y face with your new boif. 

Photographers, I love you and your work, but I'm afraid I'll never hire you. This girl is forever alone and my iPhone and I do a great work on our own. 

Just kidding, I met some one. We actually took some couple pictures tonight. 

 

Okay so I'm dating myself. The man I was mentally seeing is mentally unavailable, just my luck! 

I'm okay though, I think I'm the one. 

FOREVER ALONE. 

How To Get A Boyfriend

No more searching ladies, here are your step by step tips to catch and lock down that man of your dreams.

I'm sure by now you know that I am a relationship guru because all of my relationships have worked out so well. So with out further ado, here are your tips:

1. Make the strangest faces possible every time he looks at you.
This will convince him you're not at all crazy, and are actually really cute.

2. Drool on him.
If he happens to bump into or even says: "Hey, you have some spinach in your teeth." You should definitely drool and make some weird noises, this will tell him that you are single and looking.

3. Offer to help him to his car.
So you just made a crazy face and drooled on his brand new shoes, you're off to a great start. Now you need to really make sure he's interested. Tell him there is ice out in the parking lot and you would love to hold his hand so he doesn't slip and fall. This lets him know you're helpful and sweet.

4. Snort, LOUDLY. You know when you laugh so hard your face turns purple and you're not actually making any noise but clapping like a retarded seal and realize its been seven minutes since you breathed? THIS is the perfect time to inhale in such a way you make a loud snorting sound and pee yourself a little because you're laughing even harder. He will be insanely attracted to you, guaranteed.

5. Learn from my mistakes and DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT do any of the above. Otherwise you will end up, like me, dating the man of your dreams - IN your dreams.
I am currently mentally dating a guy, he doesn't know it yet but we are getting married and I have the names of our children picked out. Yep, safe to say I'm that crazy cat lady down the street with the swollen eyes because I'm allergic to cats.

Maybe it's best you don't take any of my advice, the world doesn't need another Marika. Unless I tell you to ALWAYS brush your teeth after you eat, that way you avoid the whole spinach in your teeth scenario.

Selfie?

Let's just be honest right now, I have a better chance of finding a million dollars under my bed than taking a good selfie. I'm not being hard on myself, I'm just being honest. I am just not photogenic. I don't know what angle best suits my face, or what lighting looks best with my skin tone, heck I barely know what color my eyes are. When I smile if I'm not careful one eyebrow gets so excited it joins my hair line and the opposite side of my smile decides that my chin is where it's supposed to be. Not only am I weird, my face is weird. It takes about thirty pictures on average for me to get a picture decent enough to post on Instagram. If you follow me on the Insti you will notice I don't take a whole ton of full face selfies.

I'm about to show you what I am talking about.

 This is me, when my roommate told me to pose for the camera:

This is me taking a selfie while shopping, note the thumb in the corner of the screen:

And then there is me trying to adorable: 

It just doesn't work for me. I have given up, I will never be a model. I worry about the day I get married and have to take photos. There will be me in my wedding dress with a drifter for an eyebrow and a droopy smile. But who am I kidding?! I'm not getting married, I'm going to be a crazy fish lady. (I'm allergic to cats and fish are easy to replace.)

Happy Selfie Sunday -- Hope yours turn out better than mine. 

Sharpies, Sticky Notes and Coffee

Coffee is probably the only thing that I am addicted to that is sane. Everyone loves a good ol' cup a joe in the morning, afternoon or even right before bed. Okay, so maybe not before bed otherwise you end up like me blogging at random hours of the night about things like sticky notes and sharpies but you get the point. Coffee is good and I am okay with being addicted to it. But the thing I'm not okay with being addicted to is sticky notes and sharpies. Like what the heck?

I was one of those kids that would go through the Wal-Mart check out with gum, sticky notes and sharpies like every week. Who does that? If I had saved my money as a child I could probably buy a house by now, but no I went and bought sticky notes, and why you may ask... Because they are pretty colors and I need them. As a ten year old you do not need a pack of sticky notes four miles high. For reals. If I collected all the sticky notes I bought and combined it with the gum, I could probably build a house.

Don't get me wrong, sticky notes are insanely helpful now that I am an adult. (Or trying to be at least) I use sticky notes for everything. Who was the genius behind this sticky paper? Brilliance I tell you. I stick sticky notes to everything, the inside of my notebooks even, you know cause the amount of blank pages in that book just aren't quite enough to write on that I need to add extra paper to the stinking thing. But you get my point, sticky notes on your mirror, sticky notes on the door, all useful for not forgetting things like - You're beautiful in every way, and don't forget to brush your teeth//call your mom. Which by the way, I write in SHARPIE. My other crazy addiction I guess you could say. Sharpie is like the greatest writing utensil on the planet and it bleeds through everything. The plus side to that is that not only do you have it written on a sticky note that you need to buy new mascara but you also have it stained into your desk, that way you will never forget. The downfall however is that you can't write small or your letters bleed together, you can't write too big or you need to use six sticky notes instead of four. But never the less, I'd rather write with a sharpie than with a pen or pencil.

You see the problem with starting a blog is that people can see just how weird you actually are. Sometimes I get so weird I freak myself out. I think I'm going to go write on a sticky note and put it on my mirror that says - Stop being so weird. Good reminder.

What kind of strange addictions do you have? I'd love to know I'm not the only weird one. 

Single Woes

Being single sucks, okay?

The only upside is doing what ever I want, when I want and being able to check out whom I want whenever I want.

So I see the occasional cute boy here and there, occasionally let the people around me know that the boy is indefinitely cute and then dream up dramatic ways to get his attention.

Yesterday, for example, and for those of you who know me and were there when I casually let you all know he was cute, dibs! Oh and for those of you who know me and were not there yesterday, don't try to figure out who it was or where I was, not gunna happen.

So as I was saying, yesterday, I was sitting on this, uh lets call it a thing. Ya, I was sitting on this thing and he just so happened to walk by and I was like "Daaaang, guys did you see him? He's kinda keeeute!" Trying to be casual of course. So then I started dreaming up my dramatic schemes, because I think I'm more hilarious than I actually am I was telling the girls sitting on the thing with me.

"What if I 'drop' my phone at his feet and then have to pick it up? OR what if I throw my phone at him so I not only have to pick it up but I have to apologize for throwing it at him? Hmm, how about you guys push me of this thing so I fall into him and he can romantically catch me and we look deeply into each others eyes and he realizes I'm the girl he's been dreaming of?"

I feel like even if I did drop my phone at his feet and he were to ask me if it were mine I would do this sort of double chin, snort, shake my head violently and drool kind of thing that indefinitely would make him run the opposite direction.

In all reality I sat there giggling and snorting as he walked by. To make matters worse when he did walk by he would admire the floor.

SINGLE FO LYFE.

Outcast, Even In My Dreams

I am one of those people that dreams insanely vividly, like if you were to see one of my dreams you would be blown away by the colour quality and graphic design.

When I was little I used to think of a dream like it was another world. I used to look forward to dreaming because I would be the popular kid and the fairest of them all, but last night that all changed. After a long night of rough comments and derp-y moments, I looked forward to entering my imaginary land of awesome.

As I lay in my bed, playing Candy Crush waiting for slumber to find me, I was thinking about the events of the day, how I needed money and how I was so not the cool kid. I guess sleep found me and I entered la-la land in the state of feeling like a loser.

I was dreaming about being a university student, but for some reason I was in a high school classroom. The teacher was introducing himself to the class and for some reason the students were talking about the kind of car the teacher drove. The teacher asked a question and hands shot up around the room and I began to panic because I had clearly not heard the question and so I did not know the answer. This question seemed to be a survey of sorts and I still had no idea what was going on. He listed off the last thing and I just covered my face with my hands hoping that he wouldn't notice that I hadn't answered in any of the categories, well I guess that was the wrong time to cover my face because he took that small hand motion as my answer and everyone laughed at me. Not with me, AT me. So there were a couple comments thrown out about me being poor and I was like, "Excuse me, I'm in university!" and again they all laughed and said "why are you in high school then?" The girl beside me asked who my grandfather was and I answered a normal, sarcastic, Marika answer hoping to get the class back on my side again saying "My mothers father, obviously!" And they laughed again calling me an idiot. Like what the heck?! Why couldn't the teacher just repeat the question so I could give a legit answer but nope, the damage was done, my dream world was now just like the normal one. My dreams will now have to made up of me avoiding human interaction and locking my self in my room to watch Grey's Anatomy.

Goodbye fantasy land.

4950? 4475? 3210?

Have you ever been on a date and decided that it would be a nice gesture if you paid the bill just once?

Well, I have.

I was walking around Fort Langley with a super cute boy holding my hand as we strolled the rustic, old streets. He just so happened to mention that he was thirsty and I knew just the place. We walked in to this adorable, little coffee shop and I said that I would buy because he had been spoiling me like crazy lately. I'm talking showed up at my house an hour away from his with flowers and wine and then took me out for dinner. It was definitely my turn to buy.

As we approach the counter I start getting out the necessary means of payment and start thinking about what I am going to order.

"I'll have a raspberry-vanilla Italian Soda, and he will have an Essential Vitamin Water, please?!" "Your total comes to $6.98, on debt?" I nod, put my card in the machine and suddenly my mind goes blank. I whisper "I can't remember my pin." I try a couple different combinations and the message "PIN ERROR" pops up again and again. I look at my very cute date who is actually laughing at me. He yanks my card out of the thing and puts in his. He will great ease purchases our drinks and we leave the cafe.

Outside he is still laughing at me, making fun of me and teasing me about how I didn't actually want to pay for the drinks. I legitimately had to call my mom and ask her what the pin was.

Even though my mom told me that day what my pin was, I still can't remember it.

Note to self: Always be the lady, don't try to buy the drinks, unless you have cash.

Poop Your Pants, Asthma Attack - SCARED

I am one of those unfortunate souls that scared really easily. I'm talking shout boo and I'm screaming and running for the hills. I also just moved back to Canada after spending four months in Hawaii where I learnt how badly I scare.

It was an ordinary night in Hawaii, my best friend, Micah, and I were walking down the hill to McDonald's where we spent a lot of time, not necessarily eating, but borrowing the WiFi. We had just left the house and were maybe fifty feet from the house and our friend, Felix, shouted at us that he was going to come with us. We continued on our way down the hill not realising he wanted to walk with us.

Now, Felix is the kind of gentle giant type, rarely quiet but easy to talk to. He is the kind of loud and out going guy that gets the group going and laughing with a simple word, but can also sit down and have a serious talk if needed. He's a phenomenal guitar player too.

Micah and I were casually minding our own business as we walked, and out of no where Felix apparently hot on our heels says "BOO!" Or something along those lines, my memory is slightly hazy due to the events that followed.

I screamed bloody murder and ran towards the street. Micah, in a level mind sense grabbed my arm and swung me around where I grabbed the first thing I saw and collapsed as a car drove past the three of us. Calming down and holding on to a no parking sign I looked up and saw Felix. He was literally rolling on the side walk laughing. You know that laugh where no sound comes out?! To any passer by it would have looked like Felix was having a heart attack or something along those lines. As I watched my dear friend kill himself laughing I began to laugh. I laughed so hard that I became asthmatic. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Micah offered to go back to the house and get my inhaler. I remember sitting there, cuddling the sign post and thinking... This is actually how I die. I am going to be one of those people with a head stone that reads:

Marika Donovan

August 1993 - November 2012.

Daughter, Sister, and Friend.

Scared to Death. 

RIP

Obviously I did not die, but I cannot really recite to you the events that followed. I know I went to McDonald`s for about forty seconds where Felix continued to laugh. Then as far as I know I went home, lungs tight and abs killing, took my inhaler and fell asleep. 

Just thinking about this event I feel asthmatic. If you want to scare me, you don`t have to go to great lengths. A simple tip toe and boo works quite well. Just make sure you bring my inhaler with you. 

Adventures in a Foreign City.

I recently moved to the Lower Mainland, Fraser Valley area and my experience has been anything but ordinary. As a girl growing up in a small town with a population equal to that of a skyscraper in Vancouver, my public interaction has, up until now, been over the counter at Starbucks taking coffee orders. I might even say it's been slim to none. My interactions with the public has greatly increased having moved to the big city but my small town ways still haven't left me. You might say I am clueless when it comes to how to react to certain situations in day to day life.

Today for example I was driving down the road and received a text message that read "Are you cool with painting our nails in the tub tonight?"...I replied, after having come to a complete stop, "I'll go get my stuff."
You see, when I took a quick glance at that text I thought it was talking about going hot tubing and painting my nails so I was going to get my bikini and nail polish.
Well before turning around I thought I would make sure I had to go all the way back across town before wasting the gas.

Good thing I looked...

Turns out, the girl said hub, not tub and she was thoroughly confused as to why I wanted to borrow her bathing suit.

So here I am sitting in my car, on the side of the road, music playing, tears streaming down my face, doing the silent laugh and seal clap and a man walks up to my car and knocks on the window. Um... I looked at him, no longer laughing and shook my head. As if shaking my head is going to help me in any situation. This man is now talking to the side of my car, my heart is pounding and he is looking at me like I'm the crazy person. I casually reached over and hit the lock button, praying that I don't accidentally hit the unlock instead. I have a million and one thoughts running through my head at this moment, "what does he want with the bewildered white girl in the old Monte Carlo?" "Am I in danger?!" "I thought it was safer to pullover and text, than to text and drive?!" "Does this sweater say drug dealer?" I was left with my thoughts as the man walked away and called someone.

Does this happen to everyone? Do people usually knock on your windows? He's lucky I didn't have a heart attack. Is it just me that has crazy interactions with the public or do these things happen to everyone?

I'm left with so many questions. So many unanswered questions.

Recent Discovery.

I have recently come to the realization that I, Marika Donovan, am hilarious. I don't think other people find me near as funny as I myself do, but I thought that if I were to post my daily thoughts and humorous happenings on the Internet some one, some where, might get the same joy from reading about the daily adventures my brain goes on.
My hope is that even if your aren't splitting a gut about the craziness of my life, you will at least continue trolling the Internet with a smile on your face.

I can promise few things, but what I can promise is huge. Ready?!
1. I promise that if you decide that this is so hilarious you just have to read it to your grandmother, you will not have to mentally edit out cuss words, racial slurs and sudden profanities.
2. I promise that I will do my best to entertain audiences of all ages.
3. I promise that if you read enough, you will find out that my brain is a like a dried package of Mr. Noodles, interesting and entertaining, but hard to follow.

You're awesome and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.