I’m supposed to be working on my paper that’s due tomorrow so I’ll have to keep this brief.

Last night we went to the Fort for it’s innagural Halloween party and a great time was had by all.  Our former karaoke hostest with the mostest arrived with her just turned 18 daughter in tow and it was great to see her again after her months of self-imposed hiatus.

A group of us got together and planned a group costume – after talking Robin out of coming as the Village People (thank goodness, since they showed up later) – we were decked out in homage to are area not far from my neighbourhood.  I was a street light – with a working light and complete with the anti-prostitution signs and bus stop sign; Drew was our two-bit ho; Wendy a john – complete with bribes and a car; Robin was a pimp; and Caroline was our cop.  Despite the wonders of our ensemble, no one from our group won the best costume prize *sigh*

I guess we’ll have to try harder next year.

I connected wiht a large number of my social circle at my former work place. We have, for years, gone out to a bar on Friday nights to partake in the joys of Karaoke. Over time the make-up of our group has shifted but the central core has always been drink, song, and Robin.

With the retirement of our favourite Karaoke hostest with the mostest we’ve found ourselves stagnating and sometimes bored as a slew of hosts and hostesses made the rounds. Luckily for us a BJ fell into our laps. Our new host plays games and ensures that lots of silliness ensues as the evening progresses. Of course, some of that silliness is of our own doing. After all, how else can you explain the kidnapping of his giant yellow blow up die and our conspiracy to have it filled with water in time for the next roll?

Last night as we were hootin’ and hollerin’ at the venue, the lights went out. Normally, you’d expect a mass exodus for the door and some wrangling over how the bills would be paid. Instead, what any new person wandering into the bar (and there were a few) found was a bunch of happy-go-lucky people singing rounds in harmonizing. Swing Low Sweet Chariot? Edelweis. My Eyes Are Dim. Amazing Grace. We covered it all.

We’ve occassionally bounced from bar to bar following a specific host (we miss you Betty) in our search for a home. No more. Last night was a perfect example of what fun and cameraderie – and too many Karaoke singers gathered in one place – is all about.

Which begs the question – where were you when the lights went out?

Technorati Tags: karaoke, bar, power outage

It’s Tuesday night. I should be out stuffing my gullet full of wings and drinking trendy beer with Drew, Wendy, Paul and Alex. Instead we’re slurping back spaghetti and I’m working my tush off on my contract assignment. The boy (refugee from Winnipeg) is running up my phone bill and Drew is prepping lunches for tomorrow.

I can’t believe how long the boy has managed to stay on the phone. He’s like a teenage girl. 3 hours and counting. He get’s cutt off in the next half hour or we won’t be able to call my mom or sister for the rest of the month. We’re on a budget here ya know…

Oh, and it’s my sister’s birthday. Guess who’s not getting a call.

Oddly enough, we’ve never spent more than 6 hours a month on the phone since dad died so we haven’t ever had to worry about a large – and expensive once it gets past the plan limit – phone bill in years!

Gin: you so didn’t warn me about this stuff.

Technorati Tags: nephew, refugee, Winnipeg, phone, teenagers

Aside from br the hubby’s birthday on Thursday (his 32nd for my 32nd Thursday Thirteen) it was my friend Robin’s birthday on Monday. Now, being useless at buying gifts, I figured I’d go with what I know. Robin’s really involved with scrapbooking and altered books. Me, I’m in the very beginner stages of scrapbooking but still assumed it couldn’t be that difficult to find a variety of standard scrapbook items for her birthday present. I picked up paper, stickers, photo corners, page protectors, a storage box and a scrapbook album. Now, being the cheapskate Scot that I am, I decided to buy an album for me when I noticed they were on sale…

Of course, I bought two of the same colour albums.

Once I arrived home from the store, I promptly stored most of Robin’s gift away but put both of the photo albums on the shelf. Then, in a fit of madness, I attempted to work on a few pages containing bits and pieces a past fishing and camping trips. I’m a fits and starts type of scrapbooker. I’ll spend hours on a few pages, then close the book and not look at it again for weeks. No dedication to the cause apparently.

But I digress, this story is about Robin and me, not just me.

I’m a last minute wrapper. I’m sure having to dig under my bed for the rubbermaid box containing all our gift bags and wrapping paper has something to do with it. If I hold off long enough and act pathetic enough, the hubby will crawl under the bed, battle the dust bunnies, and return victorious with bags, tags, paper, tape, etc.

I waited. Drew retrieved. I gathered up all of the items I’d purchased. Since I’m a lazy wrapper, I put all of the small items in the storage box I’d purchased and then promptly dropped the box in a gift bag. We didn’t have a bag large enough to fit the album and page protectors, so I grabbed the album off the shelf and conned Drew into wrapping it for me. Presents wrapped and birthday card signed, I was all prepped for the grand opening and all the ensuing “oohing” and “ahhing” that goes with it.

Despite Robin’s birthday being on the Monday, I didn’t have a chance to see her before our weekly Friday get together (karaoke). I arrived at the bar with gifts in tow. Robin was, as usual, late. Upon arrival, she dug right into her gifts – first opening her card, then the storage box/supplies/gift bag combo. Finally, she dug into the wrapping paper and found herself the proud owner of a new scrapbook album and page protectors.

Or so we thought.

Robin opened the album and to my immediate mortification said “Cool, recycled memories”. I’d pulled the album I’d been working on off the shelf and wrapped it instead of the blank one I’d bought for Robin. Of course she insisted on viewing my pathetic attempts at putting a few pages together. All the bar regulars also got a good glimpse when they trotted over to our table to see what Robin had received for gifts. Lobster red, I kept insisting that there really was a blank book for Robin and that I’d accidentally wrapped the wrong one.

I don’t think anyone other than Robin believed me.

The bartender and karaoke hostesses shared the story around the bar. There was nowhere to hide.

Drew decided at this moment that he was too tired to hang around until the end of the night and hit Robin up to drive me home. That way, he could take the truck and haul himself off to bed. Prior to leaving, I asked him to get the correct book for Robin from the office and put it on the kitchen table so I wouldn’t forget to replace mine with the blank one intended for her. Bless his little heart he did exactly as instructed – he even left the lights on so we could see – with the one minor exception of locking me out of the house.

So there we were, standing on the back porch, looking at the kitchen table. I started ringing the door bell and pounding on the door, but not a creature stirred. After five minutes of futile noisemaking, I decided to try the front door. Groping my way around to the front of the house in the dark, I hit on a winner. Immediately after ringing the front doorbell and knocking on the door, the dogs went nuts. Barking, growling, and generally forcing Drew to get out of bed. He dove out of the bedroom door and ran for the back door. “Great” I thought, “I’m at the front and he’s at the back!”. Robin saved me from what could have been a comedy of errors, pointing him in my direction and finally, I was let into the house.

The nightmare was over. Robin was presented with the correct scrapbooking album. We sat out on the back porch babbling away for hours. I’m sure the story will be passed around for generations – or at least to all her friends and family.

The embarrassment and shame will die down soon…

Technorati Tags: birthday, scrapbooking, album, regift, locked out

The black tie dinner I attended a two weekends ago (when the license was misplaced) was quite the experience and not just because the hubby dressed up in his newly purchased tux. Men have it so easy when it comes to finding the proper clothing for these types of events. Slap on a tux and away you go.

Women, on the other hand, first must understand if the event is black tie, formal, semi-formal, or casual just to pick the proper dress length, shoes, degree of make-up, and hairstyle. Of course, being a Levi’s, t-shirt and sandals wearing hippie type who rarely wears make-up or does more to my hair than wash and brush it – I was way out of my league. So yes, I did traipse around town visiting all the swanky stores to determine what length the dress needed to be, what colours were appropriate, etc. What can I say? When other people dress me I can clean up quite nice.

aside: My visiting (Scots) aunt helped me pick out the pant suit I often wear on interviews and a helpful store clerk helped me pick out the skirt suit. Blouse, shoes, accessories and all…

I was originally planning to wear the black dress my mom had given me for Christmas, but was hoping that I’d find something a bit fancier within my budget. While I wouldn’t completely embarass anyone if I wore the black dress, it was a little too short and plain for a black tie affair.

That said, I didn’t manage to find a dress until 72 hours before the big event. I chose a floor length navy blue satin number with sparkly stuff on the top that ended up all over my plate and anyone I wandered within 100 feet of. On the bright side, my sparkles were silver and less noticable when on skin than my friend Amber’s. Her dress was decked out in blue sparkles and by the end of the night they were everywhere – including her drink and her nose!

Once the dress was purchased, I had to find shoes. After trying on 3+ inch heels that were more likely to bring about my death than prompt me to wander aimlessly between the gathering groups of people, I settled on a strappy pair of sandals that were just as likely to land me face first into a potted plant.

At least I’d fit in, the even was being held at the Muttart Conservatory, so I expected lots of other things to land in the plants – like mosquitos.

Dress and shoes sorted out, I needed a haircut. Prior to sitting down in the stylists chair, I had a (just past) shoulder length blonde bob with bangs. After she did her magic, I had a layered cut that looked great at the time. She fluffed and added goop and it all looked so simple at the time. Of course, one wash later and I was left looking like I’d hacked at it myself with a pair of rusty scissors and a blindfold on. The hubby calls it my country music star look. I think I look like a member of an 80’s hair band – and they were ALL male!

The cab arrived early so all plans of make-up were abandoned. Probably a good thing since I don’t really have the first clue how to apply it properly. Since I didn’t have an appropriate clutch or evening purse, my license was handed over to the hubby for safe keeping (just in case I needed ID) and off we went.

We had a fabulous night. The hubby belongs to an all male organization and the black tie event was the annual ball celebrating the wives. I met lots of new people, most of whom I’ve promptly forgotten, and was reuinted with some women I’d met on previous night out. It ended at a decent hour so getting a cab home was easy and the party clothes were hung up with care – swapped for jeans, t-shirts and sandals of course.

Technorati Tags: black tie, dress, shoes, clothes