Guys, I Have a New Baby!

Heh heh heh. Here he is!

 

Cute little guy, hunh? He needs a name though!

I'm currently taking suggestions, so feel free to suggest one in the comments.

Gold Discovery in a Smartphone Image Gallery

Oh hi. So I decided to scavenge my picture albums on my phone for content, and man, I've got to say, that worked out just swimmingly.

A long, long time ago, I was a nice big sister and decided to give my younger brother (he's 20) a ride back to his house that he lived in during the school year while attending college.

This happened not long after he moved in- I'm pretty sure it was still September, actually.

While my brother was unloading the copious amounts of groceries that my mother had sent with him in the hope that he would survive the coming week, I had a chance to survey the premises and collect educational data.

First up is the note on the fridge that my brother must have left for his friends when he came home on Friday afternoon. Apparently he is called (or more likely calls himself) "The Bandit".

Here we have a mildly appalling empty beer bottle selection. Again, this is SEPTEMBER.

This nice little kitchen feature had me concerned but also laughing pretty hard. Really, how does something like this happen? Anyone?

I decided to open a closet because I figured it might be funny. It was. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the bong graveyard: the place where beloved bongs go to die and rest in peace.

And a Yoda hookah, just for kicks.

Another closet. In my defence, this one didn't even have a door to hide its contents. Here we have some painting supplies, Monopoly, an old cooler, and what appears to be the body of a young person rolled up in a sleeping blanket.

Decorating 101: Fruit often comes with free stickers! Apply to cupboard doors as you see fit.

Not to be outdone by the above mentioned oven door, the dryer joins the circus with its handy duct tape closing assists. I guess it didn't stay shut on its own, so you know, duct tape?

Next to the laundering ensemble we find the obvious remnants of a super cool Guitar Hero club. I should mention that this is even more weird considering that both the laundry stuff and these guitars were located in the front foyer, where normal people keep things like shoes.

And there you have it. My smelly mechanic brother's student house. Don't worry, he's all done living there. Now he is a smelly mechanic who lives at home with my parents.

I Miss My Car

My car isn't out here with me and that makes me super sad, but here's a funny thing about when I DID have my car and the ability to park it every day.

My dad had a very real (and totally unfounded) fear that I was incapable of parking my vehicle within a safe distance of the other vehicles in our shed. As in when I arrived home from work and he happened to be outside or in one of his sheds, he would walk over to where I was parking and try to direct me to be "close enough" to the other vehicles, but of course not anywhere near hitting them.

Newsflash, I'm kind of a shithead, so when my dad would do this "directions" gimmick, I would purposefully avoid his advice and proceed to pull my car absolutely as close as possible to the vehicle in front of me, just to make the man squirm.

Exhibit A:

I win, bitches, I always win.

Middle Name: Skyrim

This conversation happened one night when I wanted to go to bed.

Me: "Are you coming to bed now?"

The Prince: "Sweetie, I just bought Skyrim today. I'm probably never coming to bed ever again."

Me: "What? You've been playing that all day. Seriously, come to bed."

The Prince: "It's just so freaking good, though. Like I might name our first child Skyrim."

Me: "No you won't. Our first child is being named Sloan."

The Prince: "Sloan Skyrim.... I like it!"

Me: "Stop being an asshat."

The Prince: "You know why I play video games? Because they don't complain like you do. They just let me play them and achieve my goals of beating them and reigning victorious."

Me: "I AM NOT A VIDEO GAME AND YOU CAN'T COMPARE ME TO ONE."

The Prince: "But if you were..."

Me: "What? You would play me and beat me?"

*long pause while I laugh*

The Prince: "Maybe. I'm tired. Let's go to bed."

So Now You Know That I Blog (And Currently Live In Disarray)

So now a bunch of people that I know are aware of this blog, which is making me anxious.

As far as an update goes:

I like living in British Columbia so far, my new job is pretty bad ass, I get my own apartment in four days (I'm currently staying in the Prince's university residence illegally. FYI, This situation can also be considered living in squalor.)

Squalor, you say? Gosh that's a harsh word, BUT NO. I'm talking the floor is sticky, they've hung tie-dyed cheesecloth in the hall as a fruit fly barrier, there are random motorcycle parts littered about the hallway, there is a constant bad smell coming from HOW COULD YOU EVER BE SURE, they sometimes decide that toilet paper is not a basic necessity, there is something brown rotting in a glass of water (I've been told that it was once celery and that I'm not allowed to throw it out), and oh, OH the array of smoking paraphernalia constructed from coconuts.

Aside from the squalor, I'm also living in sin for the first time, and so far that's been absolutely cool beans minus the sharing of a twin sized bed, the snoring and the plan I've concocted to smother The Prince in his sleep.

In other news, The Prince and I are currently accepting applications from those of you who wish to come visit us in this wondrous world of wine once we've settled into our clean, grime-free apartment.

10 For Today

"10 for today" is a staple in my writing. Basically, on days when I'm not feeling wordy, I just try to list ten good things about the day I just had. Sometimes it's a little hard, sometimes it's wondrously easy, but it's always interesting (to me).

1) I got to sleep in!
2) When I did wake up, I was treated to the Prince making me a 5-star omelet for breakfast.
3) Today was a good wavy-hair kind of day in the beauty department.
4) I ran to catch the bus downtown and I made it just in time.
5) I went out for Indian food with The Prince's roommates while he was at work and had a fun time.
6) Then we went to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie, and I really liked it.
7) When we got back, we played metal music, lit candles and played Catan.
8) I just won at Catan, and I'm pretty proud of myself.
9) The Prince got home from work a little while ago and one of the cosmeticians he works with sent some free samples home for me.
10) I'm spending the rest of the night with The Prince, which is worth about another 10 points.

A Postcard for a Puppy

I'm a tiny bit ashamed to say that I sent my dog (the family dog at my parent's house) a postcard today. I purchased about 12 Kelowna postcards to send out to people that I miss, and as it turns out, the dog was deserving of one.

I figured it only made sense to send my last blank postcard to the family member I miss the most, you know?

I'm a little (but only a little) sorry that I'm "one of those people". As in PEOPLE WHO SEND MAIL TO ANIMALS.

Re: The Title of This Blog

So. Three things regarding the title of this blog and what it means.

1) The Prince is my boyfriend. He is called The Prince because he bears a striking resemblance to Prince Harry, the hotter Prince of Wales. When I started dating my boyfriend, I commonly referred to him as The Prince, and the name has stuck with both me and a number of my entourage.

2) The Prozac part. As my "about me" section suggests, I have anxiety disorder. This is a recent formal discovery, but also something that I've known about myself for a long time. I've been taking Prozac for about four months despite harsh criticism from a lot of important people in my life. I'm not ashamed of my disorder or the fact that I use medication to help me deal with it- that's why it's in the title, right there for everyone to see.

3) Late one night when I was writing in my journal, I said something like: "And this is really the story of how a prince and Prozac changed my life." Because, well, those two things combined- The Prince and the Prozac- have changed my life drastically for the better.

And there you have it. The reason for this blog being called A Prince and Prozac. Just in case you were wondering.

The Prince: Filthy Animal

The following is a verbatim text message exchange between The Prince and I.

The Prince: I love you

Me: Are you seriously texting me from the toilet?

The Prince: No you are getting these from earlier

Me: Lies.

The Prince: No for serious earlier

Me: No for serious YOU'RE A FILTHY ANIMAL.

Bambi Gloves

I'm vegetarian. I think that every "vegetarian" sort of has their own rule book, so here's mine:

I don't eat any meat at all. No, not fish either. I don't eat anything that contains meat, like chicken broth, for example. At restaurants, I ask to make sure that the seemingly veg-friendly offerings are legitimately vegetarian. I've lived this way (and totally loved it) for four and a half years. 

Why? Because I've never liked meat. I think this has something to do with my grandfather insisting on making the corresponding animal noise of whatever meat was on my dinner plate back when I was a kid. For example, we'd be having pork chops and he'd ask me how the "Oink Oink" was.

My grandpa is kind of a jerk, sure, but that's not the story here.

Anyway, I also subscribe to the whole "let's not mistreat the animals, slaughterhouses suck, meat is bad for you and the environment" mindset. It's kind of nice.

My problem, then?

Good gracious, I love me some leather. I love leather jackets, leather boots, leather purses, leather furniture, uggghhh it's so exhaustively excellent and I want to wear it all the time.

... You see it, right? The glaring hypocrisy? Yeah. I've often felt that I need to defend my leather love affair, until yesterday when I was shopping and I FOUND A CURE TO THE WHOLE ISSUE.

The scene: I see a pair of beautiful leather gloves that I impulsively feel I must buy because they are warm, lovely, and LEATHER. As I'm poring over them with glee, I check the swing tags out. There, in big black bold font:

MADE FROM REAL DEER SKIN.

Which to me said: YOU ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON AND A CRAPPY VEGETARIAN HOW DARE YOU ATTEMPT TO WEAR BAMBI ON YOUR HANDS.

I quickly dropped the gloves and walked away in shame.

Basically, all I'm saying is that if Coach purses came with tags that said "Made from Moo Cow Skin", I would probably be a better (if not richer) individual.

Adventures In Apartment Hunting (Part Three)

Funny about the third rental suite we explored:

Nothing. We found a place that has clean, white bathroom fixtures. We took that shit on the spot.

Well, not exactly, but that's just about as bad ass I want you all to think I am. So yeah. The Prince and I will be moving into our new suite in about a week now, and we're very excited.

Aren't you excited to hear about our adventures in MOVING ALL OF OUR BELONGINGS IN A SINGLE FREAKING TAXI CAB RIDE? Because yep, that's happening. Welcome to the reality of moving across the country and having nada money, bitches.

RegistRAWR!

So, late last night, long after The Prince and I should have stopped talking and started sleeping, we had a conversation that went like this:

Me: "Yeah I think you can do that at the university's registrar office."

The Prince: "Registrar? Like with an A? Are you sure you don't mean register?

Me: "No, it's registrar. Well, it was at my school. It's like the admin building."

The Prince: "Hmmm. RegistRAWR?"

Me: "Yeah I think it might be a latin word."

The Prince: "Sweetie, I'm pretty sure that it's a dinosaur word."

My Brother Has A Girlfriend

Well then. My brother has brought home a girl. For the first time ever. Three days after I moved across the country.

Am I THAT intimidating?

Wait.

Yep.

Literally Phoning It In

I'm on a bus right now, it's late, and I've been drinking red wine, so all I've got for you lovely people this eve is what I'm calling the sentence of the day:

"I love you even though you have a giant coldsore."

And that, dear friends, is how you literally phone in a blog post.

I've just been ordered to go drink more wine and play Carcassone. I'm going to cooperate.

Adventures in Apartment Hunting (Part Two)

Funny about the second place we went to look at:

This visit started off pretty well. The building had a nice lobby, a nice building manager and a much nicer smell than building number one. During our wait for the elevator, the manager told us that the only real issue she has with the place is that she can sometimes smell marijuana in the halls.

British Columbia, you rebel houser, you.

Anyway, we take a look at the bachelor apartment that's available to us. Nice view, nice carpet, okay size... we're both thinking it has got to be better than what The Bird Lady had shown us a few days before.

The last thing we checked out was the bathroom. I flicked on the lights to find...

Yellow effing fixtures, AGAIN, just like the first apartment.

The Prince and I dismssed oursleves politely, and before I had even heard the lobby door latch closed behind me, I let out an exaggerated "Nope!"

I mean, really, is asking for bathroom fixtures in a shade that doesn't make one gag too much? During our walk back to the bus stop, I'm pretty sure I pitched a fit that may or may not have contained the sentence: "I JUST WANT TO BE ABLE TO PEE IN A TOILET THAT IS NOT ALREADY THE COLOUR OF PEE."

Adventures in Apartment Hunting (Part One)

Well, I've been in this far-west province for less than a week and I've already managed to settle on an apartment. That's a big accomplishment for me- big decisions are not my thing. Along the way to finding my new home, some funny things were sighted.

Funny about the first apartment we saw:

The building manager had two pet birds that she let roam around her suite. Oh, how I wish I could recall the names their keeper had bestowed upon them. Anywho, while this woman is talking to The Prince and I about the available apartment, there is a bird on her shoulder the entire time. Out of nowhere, bird number two hops up toward bird number one, sparking a sort of birdie-brawl. The Bird Lady (as she is now named) proceeded to tell us how "They don't get along, they both want me to rub their heads." Then I watched with disgust as bird number one (the battle victor) tried to eat The Bird Lady's earring out of her right earlobe.

When we got out of there and on to the actual apartment viewing, The Prince and I decided pretty immediately that we weren't going to be residents of a smelly apartment that had YELLOW bathroom fixtures. I'm talking a yellow toilet, yellow sink, and yellow shower. And believe me, I don't mean happy sunshine yellow. I mean like... ear wax yellow?

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I just wrote that, I really am.

Who am I kidding, it's an accurate fact. I'm leaving that shit in.

Boggle, Baby.

Boggle. You know, that noisy little word-making game where you shake up the letters and then race to beat your opponents at finding the longest words. I'm good at it, and more than I'm good at it, I'm good at ticking off the suckers I get to play with me.

My boyfriend, The Prince, is not good at Boggle.

Is that mean of me to say? Maybe. True? Yep.

The other night, the two of us got all situated to play a round of Boggle (after much whining on my part, Re: "You never plaaayyy with meeeeee")

It was late at night and we were both too tired to actually write down the words we were finding... yeah. So we were just saying them out loud as we found them.

I list off about 7 words off the bat, and then The Prince goes: "Log."

Me: *lists off more awesome words*

The Prince: "Hunt."

Me: "That's actually pretty good."

The Prince: "Log."

Me: "Um, you already said that one." (Keep in mind that in between this conversation, I'm listing off words like a machine gun. Essentially kicking ass and taking names, if you catch my drift.)

Time passes, and I can sense that the buzzer is about to go off, signaling the end of the round. I've run out of words to call out. The Prince looks serious, intent on finding a mother of a word to end the game with; some sort of saving grace to make the sting of his terrible defeat feel less stingy.

Seconds before the buzzer goes...

The Prince: "Hunt."

Me: "Are you freaking kidding me right now?!?"

The Prince: "What?"