Happy V-Day!

Okay ladies now let’s get in formation.

Cuz we slay.

Another year single, another year ready for a pringle. Am I right?

Look, there are only so many ways that I can try to make you feel better about being single with me. Over the years I have written about what not to do to your single friends, I’ve given you the option of dating fictional men instead of real men, I’ve sent you a Valentine with David Tennant, I’ve made you collages, I’ve made romantic book lists.

I’m one hell of a Valentine if you ask me. Because for the people I care about I also bake things and drink wine with them and have a Galentine’s day if it’s on a weekend.

Damn. I’m so romantic and I didn’t even notice.

This year though, I thought I would try something different.

Online dating.

JUST KIDDING THAT’S THE WORST. *laugh crying emoji*

Here’s what I would like to say to you this year:

Treat yo self.

That’s right. I’ve decided (since I’ve turned 30 and ain’t nobody putting a ring on this finger any time soon.) that I will date myself, so to speak. In that I now buy myself relatively expensive presents for my big events.

Because I’m going to die alone in a pile of dogs. #livingthedream

This year I have my eye on a sweet purse that has bananas on it. Because I’m an adult.

You know you’re awesome, you have to by now because I’ve been convincing you for years. You hustle like a champ and all the good things will come your way. And if they don’t, then they weren’t meant for you.

Love isn’t something that is to be forced, it will show up when it is meant to happen and the only thing to do in the meantime is live your life the way you want to because someday you’ll be knee deep in a relationship and these days are the ones you’ll look back on and think “Yeah. I set myself up to be who I want to be and that’s what got me here.”

Or you’ll think “Man. I miss when I could sit around with no pants on and I only had to forage for food for one person.” If you’re lucky, your future significant other will also like not wearing pants while watching TV and will be the kind of person who buys surprise pizzas instead of flowers.

Because flowers are the goddamn dumbest thing to bring a person. Stop bringing things home that can die, bring home things we can eat. (I know you feel me ladies!)

Romantic entanglements aren’t the only things that matter in life. You do you girl!

Man, sometimes I get really serious.

Probably because I hate when I chirp myself for being single so I get mad when I think others are doing it to themselves! Good thing I have some friends who are good with throwing encouragement at me like it’s a confetti parade and give me a hard slap of reality when I need it.

Happy Valentines Day you sons of bitches.

Use the search button to find other such inspirational posts from years of yore. It’s worth it. But I’m biased because I wrote them.

Work it Out Wednesday

Hello fellow humans:

As you may have noticed (if you follow my Instagram stories or have seen me try to sit in a chair lately without making a sound) I have started the process of working out again.

Ugh. I’d be super annoyed, but I do this to myself. I genuinely forget to look after my own body because I spend my entire day worrying about someone else’s and then when I go home I’m too tired to do much of anything besides watch something on Netflix while I sew things for other people.

My body is one of the most neglected things in my life. Besides I guess my love life. But that’s a whole other story.

Anyway, once again, in an attempt to hold myself accountable I will be crying to you every Wednesday now in my newest series “Work it Out Wednesdays” where I will update my progress and talk about my new boyfriends.

Yes, that’s plural. And a joke.

My new boyfriends are my “trainer” John and Sam Heughan. You read that second name right. The guy who plays Jamie Fraser on ‘Outlander’. They have a program called ‘My Peak Challenge’ and they set you up for the whole year of meal planning and working out, including videos where you get to see Sam teasing John while they work out. It’s magical.

Especially since they are both Scottish, so it’s nice to listen to as well.

My progress report this week is: I’m sore, but it’s not too bad. And I actually look forward to working out every evening now because it’s a plan, and it’s for me. One of the only things I do that’s 100% for me. Which is nice. I’ve been holding onto my New Years Resolutions. I’ve faltered twice in one thing (which is the Tim Hortons, but I didn’t buy it, someone else did for me and I needed to see my friend and that’s literally the only place open passed 10 pm around here. And the kid didn’t eat his donut, and I was super hungry…) and a handful of times in the other (the piano, I can’t seem to find the right time to practice, so I’m moving the piano to the basement today in hopes of getting over my fear of playing with other people in the house.) and besides that I’ve stayed off the scale, which has been lovely. I’m not beating myself up every day three times a day.

I’ve also managed to not go on a diet, which has also felt great! I’m eating better and there’s not so much pressure to be perfect at something.

Anyway, I have to get to work, but I hope you are all having a great week and keeping hold of your resolutions!

(Also, my ‘Be kinder’ one needs some work. But hey, it’s a work in progress and that’s okay.)

Constant vigilance, keep moving forward!

The First Year

Today marks the first anniversary of Doomsday’s death. An anniversary that I actually never thought would come. I figured she would live until I died and then we would enter the ether together. Like a wizard and their Patronus.

Instead she was handed to me by a heartbroken vet into my openly weeping embrace. I cry just thinking about that feeling. Even though ten minutes later the crying vet came back and was like “How are we doing in here?” and then we cracked a sad joke about never knowing when it’s time to hand back “the body” while we both bawled our faces off. I remember saying “I think 10 minutes is good, otherwise it’s starting to get weird that I’m just sitting here with a dead animal.”

Even though I was thinking it wasn’t THAT weird because we had spent years of ours lives together. What was a few moments of her death to say goodbye forever?

Several things have happened this year that were harder without her, but more odd.

It’s strange to lose a pet. She wasn’t a person, a living breathing human that I could hold conversations with, she never gave me advice, or teased me for being silly, or even laughed with me. But she held such a huge part of my heart and soul that it felt weird to not have her around anymore.

Things you would never think about were really hard without her.

Christmas, mainly. I’m usually the first person up on Christmas just because now I’m the first of three early risers awake in my house on a regular basis and I’m not one for sleeping in unless I’m sick or had a hard week. So when I wake up Christmas morning she was the first creature I would celebrate it with. I would take pictures and let her open her new present of a toy. (She was more concerned about the wrapping paper because she loved to chew, so I made sure to always wrap stuff.)

Filling the corner she lived in was hard. I thought (when she was alive) that decorating the room would be a good thing to move forward, something positive, I would have room for other things and a new space to organize and decorate. I put my writing desk there, it felt weird to sit there and still be able to see the marks that were left on the floor from her cage. I moved a bookshelf there, it hurt to put something there that I’m always looking at.

It felt rude to replace her. That was HER space.

Finally I decided that I would put a chair where I could read and sew. A productive corner where her little ghost could come and chew my patterns and perch on the top of the chair. (Something she liked to do when she was alive.) It still felt weird, but it was a positive weird.

The worst was moving her cage out. I had to empty that out, throw away her litter and anything that wouldn’t be helpful to a future pets life. I moved her cage into the garage so I wouldn’t have to look at it empty. For that first week I would go out into the garage and click her water bottle because I couldn’t sleep without that noise. Or I would try to imagine it as I fell asleep. Sometimes I would even think I really heard it. And then I would remember, and the wound was open once again.

Coming home at the end of the day was bizarre. I always kept my light on, especially in the winter months, so that she would have the light in the room and not always be in the dark. So when I would walk up to the house it was a harsh reminder because my brain would immediately think “Who the hell turned that off? She needs that on.” and I would get so mad. Then my heart would plummet with the realization that the light doesn’t need to be on because she’s no longer there.

My nightly schedule is thrown off. I used to do “lights out” between 8 and 9, which was essentially turning off my laptop and whatever I was watching so that I could read and she could come out and hop around the room for an hour and a half before bed. Now I have no schedule. I don’t even sleep on time anymore. I used to get 8 hours of sleep and now I’m lucky if it’s 6.

My insomniac friends/parent friends want to punch me when I say that.

Her birthday was hard too. I used to go out and get her a new toy in February and she would immediately destroy it. I just loved our little celebrations together of life and love because she was the only creature who was fully mine and I was fully hers and while that’s a little Stockholm syndrome-y, it was a beautiful and ridiculous love.

One of the hardest things is that now I have no idea what to do for my Christmas card this year. Which sounds stupid, but that was one of our traditions in the fall. I would figure out something silly or cute and get ready early for Christmas. I even knit her a little scarf one year for our picture. And last years was so sad to me that I made my piano teacher take it down from his cork board after a few months of staring at my “smiling” face. I knew that I had actually been bawling my face off because I knew this was the last of our pictures like that. I didn’t want to look at my sad face or her tired face anymore. (Thankfully, he complied, and now he has a sarcastically made birthday card from me in its place. Which I appreciate more and helps me not completely lose focus. Or cry.)

I miss her all the time.

Today I feel haunted by her ghost. And not just the ghost of her memory, like legitimately her ghost. Strange things have been happening all day that don’t normally go on.

I know that time heals all wounds, and while this wound doesn’t feel as raw and broken and heart wrenching as it was on this day a year ago, I still hurt from missing her.

And all because I fell in love with a bunny in 2009.

How absurd.

“Give me a smile”–Keep Moving Forward

I got really amped up the other night because my brain decided that instead of sleep it would think over something that has really been bothering me.

“Bitchy Resting Face”.

I have it, I know that, I always look unimpressed or super annoyed when I’m just hanging around and thinking or just working away at a task.

In truth, I’m not unimpressed. That’s just my face.

My little sister also has this face, and while I don’t get too wound up about stuff involving myself, I do get insanely angry when things happen to my siblings. Lately customers and workers have been going into her work and telling her to ‘Smile more.’

To which she just stares at them and her ‘Bitchy Resting Face’ turns into ‘Go Fuck Yourself Face’. Or simply says ‘No.’ Which I find hilarious.

What has me wound up is not just people picking at my baby sister, but that people (mainly men, I’ve found.) have the gaul to tell someone to change their face because they want a different look when they walk into a room. How self-centred is that?

You don’t like how my face looks when you walk into a room? Well maybe YOU should change YOUR attitude. My face will be in reaction to how much I care for you. And if you are a customer, yes, I will be kind at first, but then you telling me to change my face for your pleasure will make our future interactions less friendly.

Because you don’t own my face. You don’t own how I feel about you or your presence. Nobody should tell anyone to change their facial expression! It makes me so mad!

Because it’s actually incredibly sexist.

The man that sits across from my sister in the office doesn’t get told to smile even though he has the same expression.

I’ve been told time and again ‘You would be so pretty if you smiled.’.

So you’re telling me my regular face is ugly? Oh thanks. Now I’ll smile you self serving son of a bitch.

I’ve been told time and again “Why don’t you give me a smile?”

Because I don’t want to. That’s why.

I’ve been told “Perk up.” “Smile more.” “Why are you so angry?” “What’s the matter with you? Somebody piss in your cereal?”

No. You just walked in the door. And this is my fucking face.

I’ve been asked “Just give ME a smile?”
Why? Because you’re so special?

And this is from strangers. (Okay, sometimes people or customers I had seen on the regular and had made an assessment about our relationship from the get go based on how they treat me and others around me.)

Let’s get a couple things straight shall we?

No one can tell you how to react to them. No one can ask for a smile. No one has control over your face but you.

My smile doesn’t belong to anyone but me. And I get to decide who sees it. It’s a signal to show I care about you.You don’t get to demand someone’s facial expression to be more bright because it bothers you that they don’t light up when you walk into a room. That is not your right.
I am not going to be subservient and submissive to stroke your ego.

You do have one thing correct however:

You are not the sun that lights the day. I am.

I am brilliant and dangerous. And my smile DOES light up a room.

It can also burn your guts into liquid, take the flesh from your bones, and char your remains.

My light is malevolent and fickle. But make no mistake:

It. Is. Mine.

Keep moving forward.


Very Good Lives–J.K. Rowling

Sometimes I feel the need to curl up in J.K. Rowling’s writing like a security blanket. Harry Potter is obviously my favourite book series, even though I promised not to read it for five years after the movies were over I still broke that promise to myself and snuck them in a few times when I was stuck in a book rut and needed to break out.

I grew up with them and learned how to be a kind and clever person. So it only seems natural that in a transitional phase of my life, where I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m doing, who I want to remain, what I want to do with my life, and generally growing up from my 20s into my 30s, that I need her.

And this time she was making a very valid point:

Failure is good.

Failure IS an option.


Failure helps you learn more than success sometimes. And it’s not shameful or something you need to guilt yourself over.

This was a speech she had written for graduates at Harvard, and while it’s short, she makes you feel better if all you’ve ever felt you’ve done is fail. Or at least have a day where you feel like that’s all you’ve done and you are trapped in your own cry factory and BooHoo Festival.

Everyone needs to read this when they are feel stuck or like a failure or like their lives aren’t going anywhere.

She always puts things in perspective in a smart and articulate way that speaks to real people.

Curl up in her words, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.

Jo always has my back.

KMF: My Figs

Hey there, hi there, ho there!

Last week I mentioned that I have found one of my ‘figs’ and although I’m sure you were just like ‘What the hell is she talking about?’ and then moved on with your life, I DID promise to explain myself.

My friend sent me this thing awhile ago that spoke so hard to both of us.

There is a quote by Sylvia Plath in The Bell Jar, it goes like this:


Indecisiveness is one of my character flaws. So this really hit me. Like a fig to the head.

It’s hard to find out what you want in life, so it’s amazing when one of those things comes up and blooms right before your eyes because you’ve put the work in and the love and you actually like what you are doing.

My Etsy store is one of my figs, and I’m so grateful someone thought of a platform for modern artists to get their stuff out there and to be able to sell it without having to go through the hard task of craft fairs where people won’t get to see my foul mouthed stuff.

I found one fig. I’m hoping more will fall into place and not rot at my feet.

Constant vigilance. Keep moving forward.

How to Be a Woman–Caitlin Moran

Morning all! This book is truly amazing. I borrowed it from my sister out of nowhere and I was pleasantly surprised. Borrowing is a little ridiculous since I have roughly 10000 books in my room so what the hell am I doing reading other peoples book lists?! But here we are. And I’m glad I did it.

Admittedly, I didn’t think this woman would teach me anything. I figured this would be a good laugh and some stories from her life. Overall, I thought I was walking into a dumb-dumb funny read for my piddlesworth puddle brain.


It was all that. I feel like she actually taught me some interesting things about feminism and sexism and all manners of which I can now use the word “Cunt”.

It was a funny, smart, and great book to read when you need a reminder of what it is to be a woman. She talks to you like your her friend, student, and daughter and we all need to hear what she has to say.

EVERY woman needs to read this because she goes through everything from adolescence to giving birth, to talking about feminism to talking about abortions, breastfeeding, growing older, and all that in between.

It’s just so damn good.

I’ve also learned recently that Emma Watson added this to her GoodReads book club “Our Shared Shelf”. So you know that it’s a smart, clever, and all around great book for women. (And men can learn a thing or two from it as well. Can’t wait to read ‘How to Build a Girl’ that I just found at the Elora book sale this weekend!)

(#17 A Book That Will Make You Smarter. Didn’t know until afterwards. Well worth it. #26BooksWithBringingUpBurns 2015)


Constant vigilance!

Annual Valentine’s Rant.

Hello Humans.

With the couple holiday coming up you should know what is up next for us single people.


Just kidding! Haha I like Valentines Day! All I meant was that it would be my annual “Buck up mother fucker!” speech because (ho ho, who would have guessed!) I’m still single and there isn’t any shame in that.

But instead I thought I would give some sage advice because I’m the wisest person in the room these days.

…I’m currently sitting by myself and the closest thing to a “live” creature in here is Doomsday’s ashes. … Awkward.

Okay. So here we are and I’m wired after I basically just slept through music lessons even though I drank a French Vanilla and now it’s finally hitting me! Useless caffeine!!! EEEEEE…

I’ll try to calm down.

All right. So, with the impending Valentines Day you are all likely thinking “OH YAY THE WALKING DEAD IS ON!” No? Just me and my sisters? …Awkward!

Cutting out hyper rigamarole : Here is “How to Interact with Single People”.

1.) Just don’t. Just fucking stop trying to talk to us. We like being alone. That’s why we are always alone. Just leave us to our Netflix binge watch and our cross stitching. We are happy little clams alone. Okay, that was a partial joke. You can talk to us. As long as you hand us candy first.


Don’t tell us: “You’ll find someone someday.” Bitch I find people every day. And just as quick leave them behind. …That sounded kind of slutty. I just meant I interact with humans on a regular basis…you probably can’t tell given the awkwardness of this entire article so far. MOVING ON.

Don’t tell us: “You’re great, why aren’t you with someone?” ANSWER: I’m WITH someone all the time. ME. I’m fine. You can shut up though.

Don’t tell us: “I just want your life to start!” (This has actually been said to me by multiple people) Acca-scuse me? I believe my life started December 19th, 1986. And I’m still just as Goddamn cute. Just because I’m not romantically entangled does not mean that my life hasn’t begun. My LOVE life hasn’t really taken off, but that’s not the entirety of a person’s life. YOU on the other hand, need to get a life. Life life life life life life. Can I say the word enough? I’M SO HYPER.

Don’t tell us: “When are you going to get married?” Never. Moving on.
Don’t tell us: “Hey, I know someone that would be GREAT for you.” Never. Moving on.

Don’t tell us: “You just need to put yourself out there more.” Never. Never ever ever. In a German accent.

Don’t tell us: “You are too picky.” Picky isn’t something I associate with befriending humans. Picky is what I am with food. And I have yet to meet a person who is as delicious as food. …Except Matthew Lewis. That guy can get it. Don’t even try to tell me that Neville Longbottom isn’t a hot piece of cake. Just don’t.

Don’t tell us: “You should try online dating!” Ugh. Worst. Let me tell you something about online dating. That’s where human garbage generally lives. And they all message weird shit or dick pics. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I like dudes, but I don’t need someone messaging me their genitals and having it scare the shit out of me when I’m just scrolling along. Nobody needs to see your angry dick.

3) Give us your candy and be on your way. No explanation needed.

4) Talk to us like we are human. There is nothing wrong with being single. There is nothing wrong with waiting for the right person. There is nothing wrong with just hanging out trolling through life. Talk to me like you would your married friends because girl, I’m a person. I just don’t have someone attached to me by a legal document and matching rings.

5) Tell us how happy you are in a couple and we might throw up. Or mime throwing up. Or make that throw up motion behind your back. Or to your face. Mostly to your face. Because what do I have to lose, right?

6) Stop using the word “babe” when you are talking to or about your significant other. Babe is a pig. Are you calling your S.O. a pig? Why do you hate them? Also, if I hear you call them that I will ACTUALLY throw up. It’s the worst. Stop it.

7) Stop complaining about how big of a dick your S.O. is. Because my response will usually be something along the lines of: You should break up with that dick because god he sounds like the living worst. To which you always respond with “Hey! He’s actually the sweetest!” Where? When? What the actual fuck. The only things you’ve ever said about your S.O. were negative and complaining bullshit. When would I ever find out that they are the sweetest person alive when the only information you’ve given me is all evidence of douchebaggery?

And then you get mad at me and we can’t be friends anymore. Tale as old as time.

8) Stop telling me I just need to “get laid”. It was funny the first never times you said it and it’ll keep being funny until the never of never o’clock in Neverland on the second Tuesday of Novnever.

9) Accept my singledom. Because I have, and it’s fun. Never assume I’m completely lonely 100% of the time just because I don’t have a boyfriend. It’s maybe 12% of the time because I’m usually surrounded by people I love, like, and can tolerate the rest of the time.

10) You can tell me your Valentine’s Day plans and I promise not to make the barfing motion or be a dick about it because it’s actually nice that you and your lover made plans to bone. To bone and be nice to each other. We should put that in our calendars every day man.

Can you tell I’m coming down off my caffeine high? I’m starting to get nicer.

All right. Enough ranting. Keep moving forward. Listen to me, don’t listen to me, I don’t give a fuck, just stop being a dick. Be kind! Rewind!

Peace bitches. I’m off to spend the weekend with my spinster sisters and watch Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and then the Walking Dead.

Eat your heart out. (Haha…get it? Zombies would do that…they would eat your heart…nevermind.)

I’m so tired. I’m also so fancy. You already know.

Happy V-Day Bitches.

KMF: Treat Yo Self

This week I was feeling like a bag of garbage. My haircut is currently a mess due to growing it out for a wedding next year. (Through no fault of my friends, I’m sure she doesn’t give two shits if hairdressers have anything to work with come the time of her wedding.) My eyebrows were starting to look like individual angry Hulks, ‘stache city, and gnarly nails.

While looks aren’t the most important thing to me (they only make Top 20 because I try not to completely tip over into looking like a street urchin, and I work with kids and have wrestling matches so what’s the point in my hair looking good during the day? Most of the time I come home looking like I’ve been wrestled by a mongoose not a two year old.) it’s interesting the affect it takes on a person.

Yesterday morning I was telling myself I looked like a bag of garbage because I don’t know what to do with my hair anymore. I was telling myself I looked like garbage because my eyebrows had a few extra hairs that my old glasses normally would’ve covered and I wouldn’t have thought about for probably another three months. (I’m naturally blonde so who gives a fuck, right? And I’m one of the most hairless people I know.) I was telling myself that I looked like garbage because my hands and fingernails weren’t at their best. I was telling myself I was a big fat ugly bag of garbage because of a few rogue hairs.

What in the actual fuck.

GARBAGE? I was calling myself ‘garbage’. I am not:


noun: garbage
1 wasted or spoiled food and other refuse, as from a kitchen or household.


2 a thing that is considered worthless or meaningless.”a store full of overpriced garbage”

I am not overpriced garbage.

I know this. Most of the time. So in a bid to snap the hell out of it. The simplest thing would be to remedy all the things that were bugging me physically.

I decided that I would pamper the hell out of myself yesterday and show myself I’m not garbage, and thankfully my favourite salon had an opening.

In the grand scheme of things I care very little about eyebrow hair. And even less about a blonde barely there moustache hair. So those would be the first to go because it’s ridiculous to give them a second though. So boom. Gone. Sleek as fuck.

The most important thing I did yesterday was for a body part I use the most and think of treating the least.

My hands. My lovely 29 year old hands have been bruised, battered, cut, slammed, poked, prodded, and beaten to hell. And all that’s just from cross stitching and knitting.

So I decided to get a manicure. Something that I haven’t done probably since prom. At the very least. And because I usually just cut my nails short and call it a day because I’m always doing something with them that messes up my nail polish so what’s the point?

The point is the hand massage bitches.

Why haven’t I been doing that more often? Forget the cuticle cleaning, or even the applying of nail polish or any of that. The hand massage alone was exactly what I needed. If you can’t afford/don’t care about getting your nails done, get someone to massage your hands with moisturizer. Because it was so lovely!

Plus the girl doing my nails told me ghost stories, which was fun. Haha .

My point is: Don’t talk to yourself that way. I’m trying really hard not to. Treat yourself to something you wouldn’t normally treat yourself to. Be kind. (Always) And then go and buy the on sale Kardashian moisturizer and perfume kit for $13 at Winners like a goddamn queen.

I went spa crazy yesterday. I even bought one of those weird things that pulls out your blackheads and those weird towel things that’s not a towel that wraps around your head so that you don’t damage your hair. And an on sale Ralph Lauren bathrobe.

Because I’m a mother fucking queen.

I also only buy things on sale now because I’m a cheap queen! haha.

Whatever. I feel like a million bucks for under 200 bucks.

Treat yo self. Keep moving forward.