Once upon a time in a dumpster, there lived a Princess who had 36 cats...

On the weekend, I was a princess.

I wore a wedding dress (that I OWN, thank you very much...) to a four-year-old girl's princess themed birthday party and showed up as a real princess.

Surprisingly, I have done weirder gigs.

And as much as I wanted to show up hammered with makeup running from my eyes because of the running-tap-like tears that wouldn't stop weeping about how love doesn't exist and your very own Prince Charming will soon enough leave you for a better version of you, I didn't.  I gave those four-year-olds a show they will never forget.  Nor will I.

Now besides the fact that one teeny child saw that I had grease on the bottom of my dress
(Her: Princess, your dress looks like a car ran over it.
Me: Well, my carriage broke down and Prince Charming had to get more gas and I was on the side of the road and there were TRUCKS.
Her: Oh.
Me:  Well, like other things in a Princess' life, I will hide the ugliness and just show off the beautiful dress.
Her:  That's better.)
And the fact that all of my stories were held together with lies, charm, and the overwhelming fear of dying at the hands of children, I think I pulled off being a princess quite well.

Not that I had any practice as a child myself.

You see, I was what you would call a "obese" child.  "Rotund".  "Chunky".  "Hideously fat".  I never really liked any of the Disney movies growing up because it instilled the idea that the skinny beautiful girls would have horrible lives until their "Prince Charming" came along.  And let's face it:  if those girls are having tough lives before they found true love, what about the crap girls would go through who had to wear ladies size 14 jeans in grade 4?  Well, I guess they are just doomed to a life of flirting with the pizza delivery guy because they hadn't left their house in a week and living with the fear that if they fall down (presumably from becoming winded from going up the stairs) their 7 cats will eventually eat away at their rotting corpse because no body would realize they had died. I had figured that this would be the way my life would go until one fateful day when I met my role model.

Her name was Ursula.

She was a massively obese octopus.

Once I saw the power Ursula had in her 8 tentacles (dude, she TOOK SOME CHICK'S VOICE.  WHO DOES THAT?!?!) I knew that ANYTHING was possible.

So I bought a wedding dress, and played the waiting game.

After the realization occurred that I in fact was not a two-tonne octopus destined for evil (and that "The Little Mermaid" was not in fact a documentary about the life of under-sea royalty...), I set off to make use of my newly found wedding dress the best way I knew how... I made people feel uncomfortable.

One of the gigs I had to do with said dress was to sit in the food court of the West Edmonton Mall and be a part of a scavenger hunt.  People had to find the "devastated bride" which meant (you guessed it) I had to sit there - bawling.  For hours.  The other food court-goers were confused (and I do not blame them) as I sat there crying my eyes out.  I would sometimes grab a pop or some fries, which made it even worse (Food court goer: "Look sweetie, she's eating her pain") but I soldiered on.  I look at this experience as a real-life foreshadowing of the life that I will lead, and if that's the case, BRING IT ON. 

If there are any teeny girls reading this blog who want to become princesses when they grow old, I hope you see how the fall from Princess to Random girl bawling in a wedding dress in a food court eating KFC is a slippery slope.

But it sure is a fun one!

Until my prince wakes me up from this rohipnol-induced dream with a creepy kiss,

Princess Ursula

All work and no play make "The Shining" a movie I may never see.

As I look out my window this afternoon, I see nothing but piles of snow, and violent shards of ice flying down towards the ground at high speeds, I can start to understand how Jack Torrance brutally murdered his wife and son in the movie "The Shining" (here's a great piece of trivia for you about me: I NEVER WATCH MOVIES.  But I usually have a good inkling about what the premise of the movie is.  Let's see now... "The Shining"....  This movie is about a family who lives in Canada during the winter and the husband ends up becoming so frustrated with the snow that he believes his wife is the "Snow Devil" and bludgeons her to death in a fit of rage, and also murders his son because he never really liked his son and was slowly poisoning him anyway.  Jack is acquitted of his crimes because - well who could blame him - the snow sometimes makes you do some funny things. And children suck.  Yep.  That's the shining in a nutshell...) 

And just in case I have been living inside a cellar for the past week, my mother (who has just learned the "art" of text messaging...) has been constantly waking me up with text messages like "man, this weather" or "it's snowing here" or "another day of work!' I am pretty close to blocking her phone number from my phone.  Not because I am upset with her, or ashamed of receiving her text messages.  The only reason why I would would be to make her pissed off at me (that's right - I am that kind of daughter). My mom will probably read this and immediately text me afterwards about that too.  Oh mother...

So I wiped out on the bus the other day, and I don't think I will ever get over it.  Falling down is one thing, but falling ass-first on the bus is something else.  And I love when people fall they usually say something like "there's a slippery spot here" or "jeez, these boots" or "I'm kind of retarded".  I really wanted to say the latter, but bit my tongue.  So I just sat on the bus and awaited my faithful stop to get the eff off and never see those bastards again.  Until I took the exact same bus to work the next day (and the day after that, and the day after that..you get the picture)

I could use this time to go into greater detail about how much I HATE public transit, but I will take the high-road and let it stew inside of me until I snap one day and go on some sort of shooting rampage.  At a shooting range.  Against a paper target. Then I will go home and sleep soundly knowing I could've (but didn't).  But could've. That's the main thing I guess.  

See you again when I decide to (a) stop taking the bus or (b)  buy a gun.

What?!?! I am no longer a scorpio?

Some people start new projects when the calendar turns over another year.  Some people feel compelled to do so when they get another year older.

I decided to start this blog when my astrological world seemingly crashed around me.

January 13, 2011.  The day that will NEVER be forgotten.  Move over, D-day.  Take a seat, 9/11.  Even you, Titanic.  Back of the bus please.  Nothing, and I mean NOTHING could prepare us for this onslaught.  Nobody is safe.  It's terrorism that crosses borders.  Crosses generations, genders, most sexual preferences (would lesbians be excluded from this?), beliefs, EVERYTHING.

This morning I was reading my horoscope in the free newspaper whilst waiting for my almost always tardy bus.  This is the usual routine for me.  I mean let's be serious for a moment... how else would I plan my day if not for my own personal bible verse - in the form of generic daily advice? Well, hours later... BAM.  My usually mysterious Scorpio self has become a less-interesting, scale-toting but still very bland Libra.   How can this be after 3000 years?  Couldn't this news have waited for another 3000 years (or at least until 2012 when we will all be dead from the Mayan calendar apocalypse/second-coming?).

Now, as I sit in my room, listening to a Dave Matthews Live album, sipping green tea, I wonder: is this the real me? Is ANY of this real anymore? Or am I in some sort of Twilight Zone (Read: NOT TWILIGHT the movie.  Or book.  They can both succumb to death by the Mayans) episode where I am beautiful and all the medical staff look like farm animals and I am somehow seen as the hideous one?   Should I now, as a Libra, set my place on fire, and in essence "Chris McCandless" myself (don't know that reference? Watch/read Into The Wild) and die alone in the middle of the Alaskan tundra delirious from lack of nutrients and weak from fighting a bear, but nonetheless happy that I changed my life so drastically to become a true Libra.

Or I could simply become a Librarian.

Well, at least I still have my great sense of humour.  No astrological fanatic can take that away from me.



Until my horoscope tells me to write again,

The Scorpion Scale