ECUADOR!

Yes, that is the final destination for Hermana Russell. Quito, Ecuador which straddles the equator. The girl who shuts down when it gets above 30 c, the girl who becomes paralyzed upon the discovery of a spider in the bathroom, the girl who made it through Spanish joking and pronouncing everything with a Southern accent, the WHITE-EST most sunburnable woman in the world - going to Ecuador. Here's some fun facts about this dynamic country:

1. Although Ecuador marked 25 years of civilian governance in 2004, the period has been marred by political instability. Seven presidents have governed Ecuador since 1996.

2. Frequent earthquakes, landslides, volcanic activity; floods; periodic droughts

3. 13,363,593 people to an area smaller than Nevada.

4. Organized illegal narcotics operations in Colombia penetrate across Ecuador's shared border and caused over 20,000 refugees to flee into Ecuador in 2004.

5. Significant transit country for cocaine originating in Colombia and Peru; importer of precursor chemicals used in production of illicit narcotics; attractive location for cash-placement by drug traffickers laundering money because of dollarization and weak anti-money-laundering regime, especially vulnerable along the border with Colombia; increased activity on the northern frontier by trafficking groups and Colombian insurgents.

So there you have it. Is it Provo...no. I'm not completely negative about it, the people are wonderful and it is apparently breathtakingly beautiful. And I will be able to do welfare work which is where my heart truly lies (as does my mother's fears). I am excited...terrified, but excited. I know that's where I am supposed to be, there's no question of that. You never know, maybe I'll fall in love with it and spend the rest of my life there with my drug lord husband. All joking aside, I will go and do the things which the Lord commands. I can do this, and I can do it well. I just hope I don't wake up in the middle of the night with a cockroach on my face... I'm gonna be sick again.

ps
Anyone with any Spanish experience please contact me and help me. Please help me.

Although it is indeed December 24, I was unable to get to a computer yesterday to wish everyone a Happy Festivus! I hope you all pulled out your aluminum poles, had your dinner of whatever and aired your grievances with one another. The feats of strength was particularily good on my end this year, but that's for another blog. It's a Festivus for the rest-of-us!

So this is Christmas...

Well, I've recieved my call folks. But don't bother asking me where I'm going, that will not be revealed until a later time. Well...Christmas, that's when it will be revealed to me and everyone else. I suppose it was a combination of the fact I haven't eaten since Sunday and my day long vomitfest on Monday that made me agree to waiting to open it. My entire family is going to be here for Christmas, the last time we were all together was my graduation from good 'ol Hanna High. I love how it's the major events in my life that my family ends up convening for - simply out of pity for my being the youngest and single. Hey, I'll take it.
My brother had to come and take it from me so I wouldn't be tempted. For some weird reason, I'm glad I get to wait. I don't know if I'm ready to know yet.
I was wondering today, what is it okay to cry over as an adult woman? We're emotional in nature, but is it okay to cry when you get hurt? I wonder. I think it would take a lot to get me to cry from pain. Or maybe not. I cried Monday in sort of a "I'm going to die" way, but it was more from exhaustion and the fact that I didn't move from the bathroom floor for three hours. I don't think I cried when I sprained my ankle, any of the times I sprained my ankle. I actually can envision myself nervously laughing for some sick reason. Interesting. I conclude that women should only cry for emotional reasons, not pain. Unless the emotional reason is a consequence of the pain, than it's okay. This and more in my latest pamphlet "Dr. Russell's Discertation on the Annoying Idiosyncracies that Come With Being a Woman." Anyway.
My sister is flying in tomorrow! I am so excited. I haven't seen her in a year and a half, therefore she will be subject to all my 'sisterly' venting. Boys, stickers, jelly beans and ... Morgan Freeman. I may not have a plethora of blogs over the next few weeks so Merry Christmas to all and Happy New Year. May your holidays be filled with grazing, sleeping and just good 'ol fashioned American wasting time.
I have alot of time off work people, and I'm not used to having nothing to do, so call me if anyone wants to do ANYTHING. From shaving cats to being shaved by a cat I'm up for it all.

I've got a weather forecast for ya. It's gonna be cold, gray and it's gonna last the rest of your life.

What's this "Feels Like" garbage. Let me tell ya something. I don't give a flying, hot damn if in meteorlogical (is that a word?) terms it is "only" -14 c, if it "Feels Like" -24 c than it's freakin -24 C!! When did this start? So you're telling me there's people out there who care what the temperature "really" is, for serious? If so, why are we catering to these freaks? I remember coming home from elementary school with my top lip frozen to my winter jacket zipper, no feeling in my extremities and reciting psalms to keep concious; I didn't really care about what the temperature "really" was or just what it "felt like." In my opinion, it's a cruel jab from the meteorologists in their warm ivory towers to make us feel weak and subjugated. WELL KISS MY GRITS DAVID SPENCE!

CHECK PLEASE!!!!!

SERENITY NOW! I cannot stand one more day of this! Why I have lasted this long I can only acredit it to good genes and brazen self-nullification.
My paycheck didn't go through I found out this morning. When I ask what may have happened to my co-workers, what happens. I GET BLAMED! "Well did you make sure everything was right?" "Why didn't you check the check...you didn't check did you (laugh), oh Cindy." "Yeah, I would never take a check without making sure it's signed." Excuse me for assuming that a BUSINESS paycheck would be filled out properly and go through when I deposited it! Unreal, un-FREAKIN-real! I won't even get an apology in the least, not that I'd even want one, but to turn the tables and blame it on me, YOU must be shrooming. I see their point, but come on. It took every ounce of self-control not to get up say, "Happy Holidays" and walk out the door. OH I WOULD GIVE MY FIRST BORN TO DO THAT RIGHT NOW!
Whoa...sorry. You've just witnessed what is a daily routine in my life. Something like this happens to me - everyday. I'm not even a person anymore, I'm the runner of mindless errands and the fetcher of coffee. A flippin Spider Monkey could do my job.
Oh, a new discovery on the Reverend, I can't exceed 60 kliks with my defrost or heat on, otherwise I start to automatically decellerate. Not too calming to realize on Crowchild Trail. Fun times in Enema Bag Jones.

That’s Progression Baby
(I whole-heartedly apologize for the existential nature of this entry which showcases my longwindedness. I know that only the most dedicated of my blog followers will make it all the way through)

I think all of the directions we take in our lives can be traced to a series of life altering moments. From childhood we inherently carry in us a pure hope and unadulterated perception of life that slowly wears to skepticism and the burdens of “real life”. We as adults tend to label this beautiful perspective as naiveté and criticize those who hold on to it, if only to a small degree. Even for those of us who champion holding on, some lazy day comes around, and something happens, a moment that seems to shatter your youth into adulthood. It could be something extraordinarily happy, so happy that you struggle to understand how something as wonderful as this was possible, especially for you. Perhaps it’s devastating, to the point where the only strength in you is focused on reminding yourself to breathe. In my life, the moments that have gotten me where I am, are the subtle seemingly meaningless ones that are over almost as soon as they begin.
These moments, no matter the form, mould and sculpt you into ‘who you are’, but always at the core is what we have always been and always will be.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked forward to growing up, being independent and strong. I longed for the day that I would know, beyond dispute that I had made it; I made it to my happiness, I made it to my life. I look forward to it still. We know where we want to be in regards to who we want to become, I don’t believe that changes. You may pursue numerous careers, desire to live in different places; one day you may look forward to a life free of family responsibilities while the next your heart craves the joy of family. These things will always be extremely important and influential on the direction of your life, but they fluctuate so often for me that I am forced to come up with a new theory, at least new to me.
The core of me projects upon everything that I do, whether it is good or bad. It’s who I am. It’s not so much what I take into my life that defines who I am as much as what I produce from what I am. Read Matthew 15. v 11 reads ‘Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.’ This is not to excuse bad behavior by any means and of course outside influences will affect the ways that I change as a person, from the lessons I learn to the experiences I go through. But they way I take in the information, what I do with it and every choice I make – that’s me. That is what separates me as an individual. So how do you know who you are? That’s a question that takes a lifetime to answer. But the answers I have found have begun to develop the core of ‘who I am’ into what I aspire to be.
Perhaps I have gotten too deep too fast, I digress.
Remember a time, a day, an hour whatever it was, when time seemed to stop and you felt something so powerful that it knocked you from the course of your life into a completely different path of thought or action. I’ll explain. I saw Hotel Rwanda back in February, until that point I wanted to be a writer –books, novels what have you. After that movie my entire perspective changed, but it wasn’t foreign to me. That was perhaps the strangest thing, I uncovered a part of myself that had remained hidden or too vague to recognize for so long, and I felt the most joy in knowing that this was a part of ‘who I am’. I still carry the desire to be a writer, but that dream has never filled my heart as much as the dream I have to do humanitarian work.
Now this humanitarian aspect of me has always been there, I just never knew it would satisfy such a huge portion of that innate hunger we have inside of all of us. May I suggest that we all have qualities within ourselves that we have yet to discover? In these life-altering moments we uncover something within ourselves that requires recognition, and if we play our hands right, they'll never stop. Never settle by saying you know who you are. You know who you’ve been, and in this moment you may know who you want to or will be, but in the turn of a single minute, it is so possible for your world to change.
Life is one turn after another; no one’s path is straight out before them. We compensate for diversions with persistence and strength, using all that we are to stay straight when the way bends. I can only hope I have the wisdom to bend when I need to bend.
But how do we retain the fire we feel in the moment of the moment? That I don’t know my friends. If anyone has any ideas, enlighten me. I only know that you may only feel the force and power of those moments for a short time, but if you act upon it, the next one shouldn’t be that far behind. That’s progression baby.

*What time is it: the time is now.
*Nickname: Lakweesha, Eggo, J.B., Cin
*Piercings: Well after a freak encounter with the infamous Nurooto tribe of Western Nigeria, nothing. I was sorely disappointed.
*What is the most recent movie you've seen in the theater: Walk the Line. Who would've guessed the kid from Space Camp would grow up to be a good actor?
*Color of eyes? My eyes are like mood rings. Green when I'm happy, Blue when I'm sad, A pale skin tone when I'm asleep, and that saucy little brown streak to keep me humble.
*Place of birth: C to the Aio L to the Gizzo A to the Rizzo Y to the ...period...izzo.
*Favorite foods*: Breakfast foods. Unfortunately I have made the dangerous discovery of the McDonald's McGriddle. I have rationed them down to one a month, but December's sucked. Don't get the sausage - bacon it up all the way. I also love anything Italian. Except Italians.
*Ever been to Africa: Only in my dreams. But I still got a parasite.
*Ever been toilet papering (rolling): Not successfully. It always breaks, damn one ply. One day when I've made millions from my books I'll be able to afford fancy toilet paper with kittens on it, and I'll have high profile acquaintances to TP.
*Love someone so much it made you cry*: Question Vetoed.
*Been in a car accident: Look, it was one time. My car was just a late bloomer, he wears rubber pants and he apologized for the antifreeze he leaked on me . It's not like he's ever oiled himself, and he's really sensitive about it so I'll thank you to not mention it around him.
*Croutons or baconbits: If I want bread, I'll eat bread. If I want bacon, I'll have bacon. I don't need it in bit form.
*Favorite day of the week: Sunday.
*Favorite restaurants: The Brooklyn Diner, The Saigon Palace, Moxies, homeless soup kitchens
*Favorite Flower: I love all flowers. I love flowers. Love flowers. Especially love gardenias and orchids.
*Favorite sport to watch: The best game you can name...the good old hockey game. And federal election campaign debates.
*Favorite drink: Juice. Anything fruit that excretes juice, I'll drink it. It may sound raw, but so is my juice weakness.
*Favorite ice cream: I'm a frozen yogurt kinda girl. Which is odd because I'm also a Steak and potatoes kind of a girl too.
*Disney or Warner Brothers: Mickey Mouse or Ephraim the Retarded Rabbit? I'll go with the WB who was home to such greats as The PJs and Tiny Toons and Animanics
*Favorite fast food restaurant: Damn you Dave Thomas! Oh the life I might of had if it weren't for your affordably delicious JBC's.
*What color is your bedroom carpet: The color of hardwood and dustbunnies. Gross.
*How many times you failed your driver's test: Nonce. Keep in mind taking your license in Hanna gets as stressful as a four way stop and parallel parking between two 78 Chevy pieces.
*Which store would you choose to Max out your credit card this
week: That would have to be my man HMV. Or Best Buy. Or Banana Republic, mmmm preten-cilicous
*What do you do most often when you are bored: I haven't been bored in a really long time. I suppose if I were bored I would do those things that I put off, like pay rent.
*Bedtime: I wish I was in bed by 8 every night. Why? Because my bed is the love of my life. And 6 or 7 or 8 hours just isn't enough time. His duvet-y goodness and the pillows... sorry, I need a moment.
*Favorite TV show: Seinfeld. I don't care! It will never die. I also indulge once a week in Gilmore Girls. I was a critic at first too, but trust me. It's cute. And I'm a girl, and Luke and Loralie are in love and they're going to get married and it's really sweet...I'm so alone.
*What are you listening to right now: I don't really want to talk about it. But if you must know Lite 96 is doing Christmas Music all day every day, I believe in hopes that people will kill themselves with a staple to the temple and then there will be parking at Market Mall. I'M ON TO YOU DON, JOANNE and the COACH!!
*What is your favorite color: Red
*How many tattoos do you have: Do places where I've accidentally written on myself with a pen count? If so, none.
*How many pets do you have: Other than the dust bunnies, none. But some day I will own a dog, his name will be George, and we will grow old together, unless I happen to live past 40.
*Which came first the chicken or the egg: Hmmmm... I think that the egg came first. Oh but wait, a chicken would have to lay the egg in order for there to even be an egg. But wouldn't said chicken had to have first been hatched from a very similar egg as the one in question? Wow, that's a provocatively good question. I think I should take the day off and try to figure this out.

FYI : Anyone who hasn't guessed where I'm going on my mission - you get two guesses and if you're right...The reward will be scrumtralescent! Let me know.

Where have you gone Joe De'Grammy'o?

I envision that someday even I will have a child. A little girl, maybe. Oh how sweet she’ll be, how smart and fun. She’ll love music as her mother does and she’ll pursue her dreams with the zeal of youth. But I also envision a darker day. Having to sit down my daughter and have “the talk” with her. “I knew this day would come,” I’ll say. I’ll have to tell her the history of...Mariah Carey. The Duchess of Darkness. She who must not be named.
My children will know that the powers of Mariah Carey are to be feared and never underestimated. Her name must never be spoken, lest she may appear and destroy. Her voice has the power to make you do things you would never in your right mind do. Before you know it your bedroom will be filled with furry pink alarm clocks or drawers filled to the brim with nail polish and lipstick. You’ll start using words like ‘precious’ or ‘darling’ to describe inanimate objects. You’ll say things like, “When the world learns to love what they’ve got, then the peace can begin,” or have the profound political advice of “I think it’s good the government want to take away everyone’s guns, then no one will have them anymore and people can be happy.” Then it will spread to your clothes. You’ll buy ‘baby-tee’ shirts with phrases like “Girls Rule” or “In Your Dreams” written in cursive sequins and your jeans will get tighter and tighter until you need a shoe horn to get into them.
No matter the song, no matter how good it appears to be, never concede. That leads to the dark side. The mindless, lemming-like musical tastes that will never scratch the itch that will be inherently embedded in my seed. Sure it starts with Mariah Carey and then what? Soon I'll hear Michael Bolton or Lionel Ritchie late at night when my kids don't think I can hear it, then I'll know it's too late.
I suppose I will have to explain the numerous Grammy nominations that the Duchess of Darkness has received this current year. Sometimes, good things happen to bad people. And all we can do is hope that those of us who haven’t been infected by ‘she who must not be named’ will band together and keep supporting the constants like David Gray or U2.
You see I, yes even I, was once entranced by the song ‘Hero’ to which I only admit in order to accentuate my place in the struggle. I know how easy it is to fall victim to the sadistic siren’s tune. But there is hope. Soon all you’ll hear is the shrieking of a crack- banshee that will turn your soul cold. So once I got past the brief-lived Mariah Carey tolerance, I began my fierce campaign to bring the wielder of the dark arts down from her ‘glitter’ing, hollow, pillar of ignorance and “I love everyone”ism.
I cannot trace from whence my loathing began, perhaps it was from the first shrill solo or the disgustingly revealing dresses, or perhaps an amalgamation of all things Mariah Carey...all I know is, I don’t like her.
I don’t want to terrify my children, but I think it’s important to have a certain amount of fear for unexplained, supernatural, freak phenomenon – i.e. Mariah Carey becoming famous a first time, let alone a second.

I love you man – I know – No, I mean it, I really love you man!...

Last night I attended my ward Christmas party. Not only did I attend said party, I contributed to the program with two songs done with my beloved band-mate, and, with all my roommates and full respect and attention to the detail of original, the Christmas Song performed by Horatio Sanz, Jimmy Fallon, Chris Kattan and Tracy Morgan.

Ah the holidays; Family, friends, food, sleeping in and classic, unbreakable traditions. But this time of year brings so much more than that. It always seems to be when the world slows down long enough for one to do some deep introspection, whether one wants to or not. Seriously, Christmas is the equivalent of Valentine’s Day for me. It’s the time of year when one really feels how “one” they truly are. I hate Valentine’s Day for completely different reasons, which if listed would paint me bitter or lovelorn, so I shall forgo.
But Christmas brings those moments when I think about the events of the past year. The ankle sprains, the random road trips, school, work, school, church, or school. There were certainly some good times. And although it is the beginning of the month, I thought that I would send my love out early to all those who have made my year fantastic.
Today is and I’m sure always will be a very reflective day for me, and I think about where I could’ve been if I had made different choices. ‘Two roads diverged in a wood and I, I took the road less traveled by. And it has made all the difference.’ -Robert Frost. I know, you’re almost in tears, but it gets sappier still.
Thank-you everyone who listened to me complain over stupid things, laugh over stupid things or analyze stupid things; and screw-you too because they weren’t stupid to me, but mostly thank-you. Thank-you for the hours of laughter, the individual, unforgettable lessons I’ve learned from all of you and the memories that will stay with me forever. I wouldn’t have made it through these months nearly as well without the constant surety of friends. I don’t know what it was that brought all of you incredible people to my life, but I’m forever in debt to it.
Now I’m veklempt....talk amongst yourselves...

all my love,
lakweesha

I have the most original idea for a movie...

Okay, here we go.
An expedition of scientists goes into the bowels of the jungle in search of... okay we’ll come back to that later. Stay with me guys, stay with me.
Anyway, they have to charter a boat with a rough, mysterious, American captain and a first mate of local dissent. Then we’ll throw in some hot women and token black guys, all of which are the top scientists / analysts in their given fields. Now what can we use as an antagonist? Hmmm ... oh yes! An Anaconda! Brilliant, fresh! Why has no one done this before?
I like to think that the following is somewhat of the thought process for the first Anaconda movie starring Jennifer Lopez and Jon Voigt. But I have the sneaking suspicion that this was also the thought process of the more recent Anaconda film starring a plethora of B and C rate actors. My question is simply this, “are you kidding me?” IT IS EXACTLY LIKE THE FIRST ONE! THEY USED THE SAME FREAKING WARDROBE!
Has anyone else seen this piece of crap? Let me answer for you; “no,” because you knew it would suck. How much variation could you possibly put on a story about a giant snake in the jungle? What could possibly be changed to make this story any different than the first other than new faces? Let's just pray that neither of the female heroines go onto the success J-Lo has found after doing her tango with the giant snake. I don’t think I even know one person who would be capable of seeing that preview and go, “WOW, that looks AMAZING!” So last night I watched this crapterpiece with some-a my boys and we slayed it. It was choice. But as I embarked on this adventure in Borneo in search of the Blood Orchid a.k.a. proverbial fountain of youth, I thought, has my life come to this? Am I so cynical that I purposefully watch bad movies just to make fun of them? What kind of person does that? What deep inner angst or struggle am I masking by cutting down people I don’t know just to get a laugh?
And then we discovered the boat wasn’t working anymore because there was too much water on the river. Wow.
Well folks the truth is I am a cynical person. My life has gotten to the point where I take boundless enjoyment in the mockery of bad movies. What kind of person does that make me? I don’t care... I just don’t care. Whatever inner struggles or angst I’m masking I hope they never surface. The amount of joy I get when my team can pull it together and come up with the perfect line and the perfect moment, no one could be prouder.

Do you have any idea what the street value of Calgary is right now?

So I’m driving home last night, well coasting home would be the better description, and I’m absolutely freaked out of my mind. The roads were sooo bad, and my winter driving experience consists of making doughnuts in the IGA parking lot back home, good times. So there I am freezing to death in my car, Reverend Michigan, my breath fogging up the glass because the defroster is crap so I’m furiously wiping the windshield to see. So to calm my shaken nerves I throw on the good old radio and what to I hear. “This holiday season, do you want the have the memory of this sound...,” (shrieking tires, someone screaming and a crash of broken glass and metal). “Before you drink and drive,” yada yada yada. ARE YOU FOR SERIOUS CLARK?! Here I am praying to get home safely as are the other thousands of people driving in this mess, and the good people at the radio station decide to pluck the morality strings of the masses. I am not a drinking and driving advocate by any means, but for the love of all that’s Holy, don’t play that crap when I’m sliding all over the place afraid to drive above 20 kliks on Crowchild Trail!
Anyway, winter sucks. And as an official member of the driving community, I can say with full force of thought, winter sucks. When I was a transit monkey, I didn’t mind the cold or the snow at all really. I was one of those artistic people that stare at the snow for hours drinking their chi lattes or whatever (in my case apple cider) and say things like “Snow is the blanket that hides the pain of vulnerability.” Snow, you’ve made a powerful enemy today.

Ephgeny, this one’s for you…

I can’t believe that Jesse Metcalf, Miguel himself stayed in your hotel. It’s moments like these that it doesn’t give me an anxiety attack when I imagine living in Edmonton. If I had only been there, I could have raced to your hotel and paid him my life savings to say “Charity, I want to be with you,” in that way only he could say it. And everyday in Charity’s nasal, whining, annoying voice I could say “M i g u e l…do you want your pillow turned down?” or “M i g u e l…you have four messages at the front desk.”
That show certainly had its moments. From Teresa’s obsession with Ethan to Sheridan’s remorse over the loss of her good friend, Princess Diana. “I’m so grateful I was wearing my seatbelt in that accident…(sigh) if only Diana had been wearing her’s.” AHHH, good stuff…good stuff.
It was a predictable journey everyday during my afternoon spare. When I think of Passions, I think of Orange Julius, soft pretzels and Ephgeny. Truly the enjoyment of this show would be empirically impossible if it weren’t for these things.
And this is one of many memories I hold to from my probation within a probation that was, Hanna. And wouldn’t you know it, what’s playing on the radio right now as I write this, but ‘Photograph’ by… that band.
Schmandy, I miss you as much as Pearl Harbor sucked. I could fill this blog with our cherished memories, common abhorrence of certain celebrities and legendary conversations during cruising sessions and slurpee runs. Take care babe! And thank-you for teaching me the word ‘biz-natch’, I shall use it and use it well.

It’s Peanut Butter Jelly Time…no more.

I must say, despite several incredible moments, the aforementioned included, it may be time to hang up the old Family Guy uniform and retire. After a very, very tasteless shot on Sunday, I begin to realize one of the downfalls of being a grown up and having convictions, some things you just can’t shrug off. They crossed a line, a line they have crossed before, but for some reason, I just can’t shake my head and carry on about this one. So Stewie, Brian, Peter, Lois, Chris, uh…the other one and greased up deaf guy, adieu. I have found a new love; Arrested Development.
But don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine, you probably don’t even have a spare room…do you?
Which brings me the silver lining of this particular cloud. I now have in my possession, a friend with whom I can make fun of literally any movie I watch. I mean, anything. And not just make fun, but enter into a Utopian state of sarcasm which has seldom been matched outside the theatre.
Case and point: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
Now this was a fantastic movie. Honestly. I saw it on Friday and I thoroughly enjoyed it. But I couldn’t help but feel lonely in that packed theatre, something was missing.
So I returned on a last minute escapade with some friends – one friend in particular - the following evening to see it again at 11:30 at night. We raped and pillaged that movie. Not as much as we did with ‘Stealth’, but rarely does a movie THAT bad come around. But we got to use the horrible lines from that movie and others to make fun of this one. Lines such as, “That Polyjuice Potion has Fundamentally Altered his DNA!!”
Do we have any qualms that the theatre was full; full of people who had been waiting in line for over an hour to see this sold out show? No. Can’t say as we do.
Sure we try and keep as quiet as we can, but when Harry is on the ground writhing in pain, and your friend yells out “quick get his Epi-Pen!” I ask you, could you help but laugh.
I implore you all, if you don’t have a friend like this, find one. It is so choice.
So life is a little better now. And I know this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Well, not really because she’s been my friend for like two years, but…yeah…don’t really know where I’m going with this.
So see the movie, and don’t be afraid to immaturely jab at it just because it is a masterpiece.

A Woman needs a Man like a Fish needs a Bicycle

Or so thinks Maureen Dowd, a columnist for the New York Times who is known for her feminist, ‘girl-power’ principles. Her latest bestselling book, titled “Are Men Necessary?” has stirred up some controversy from an unpredicted audience, women.
Now I know that my female counterparts are struggling to answer this question now I have asked it, so I will throw in my two cents.
I will try to look at this situation as an average, secular, independent, bitter, North American woman would look at it – a.k.a Maureen Dowd.
Point the First:
Thanks to the progression of the Women’s Liberation movement – which in my opinion has been making strides since the late nineteenth century - women are able to own their own property, vote and are no longer burned at the stake after being accused of witchcraft – at least not in the Northern States. A women can own, say and do what any man can in the eyes of the government.
Point the Second:
Thanks to some enlightened ladies of the ‘40s and ‘50s, there came a broad emancipation (no pun intended) for women in the workplace. Women began to realize that perhaps breasts don’t necessarily make it impossible to drive a bus or be a police officer. There came the call for equality of the sexes in the workforce. Many people, myself included, attribute this to the Second World War. Our brave boys went overseas and left their women to build cars and perform other such ‘manly’ occupations. Once the men got home, women were no longer satisfied reading Red Book and cleaning the bathroom all day. So thanks to the good ladies who didn’t giggle when their bossed spanked them, women began to demand more respect in the workplace. A woman can hold any job a man can – within reason, by which I mean a woman can’t be a male stripper. I suppose that’s not even true if you ride the tranny train. Anyway, women can pursue any career that their hearts desire.
Point the Third:
What about children? Thanks to the magic of modern technology and artificial insemination, a woman can be impregnated by a man she’ll never meet. I suppose the same effect could come with a ruffee, but this is far less disturbing. So women don’t even need a man to have children and raise a family.
Point the Fourth:
Companionship. Well thanks to idols such as KD Lang and Ellen Degenerate…oh sorry, Degenerous, the lesbians of America have crawled out from the grimy nightclubs into parades and primetime television. Women don’t even need to rely on men for sex or companionship anymore.

So, it really looks like we don’t need men doesn’t it? Wow.
Now let’s hear what Lakweesha has to say about all this.

Rebuttal to Point the First:
Rock the freak on! If I want to own a emu farm in the outback, I’m going to own a bloody emu farm in the outback!
Rebuttal to Point the Second:
Fantastic. I am certainly appreciative that I live in a day in age which allows me to follow any career aspirations that I may have. Now if I could just find a way to get the money to do that, maybe it would mean more to me.
Rebuttal to Point the Third:
I cannot wholly refute this fact. But I cannot wholly condone it. The best situation to raise a child in is a home with a father and mother who love each other. And I cannot be moved from this. But I do see that other circumstance prevent this, and in those cases, exceptions need to be made.

Lakweesha! It sounds as if you have joined the bandwagon. Fear not…

Rebuttal the Point the Fourth:
WHAT!!?? It frightens me that repetitive rejection and low self-esteem can lead to, this! May I state this unwavering proclamation today, in the witness of all who read this?
I Lakweesha, no matter how many times I am rejected, no matter how many times the man I fall for goes for one of my roommates, no matter how many times I hear the phrase “you’re a great friend,” or “you’re just like one of the guys”, I will love my men!
I don’t get it. These women, are their no good guys where they grew up? Men are sexy! At least sexy men are sexy. There’s something about every man that makes him sexy for someone. For the most part they have an amazing sense of humor, an innate ability to protect and an impressive knowledge of some major sport. Now I know that I generalize, but a nice guy is not hard to find, and they truly do make great friends, at the least they’re usually good for bringing some drama into your life. Men inhibit so many things that I will never understand, and I am determined to spend the greater portion of my life figuring them out.

So for me, Men will always be necessary. As easily as I am confused and hurt by them, life just wouldn’t be the same without them. I could own my own home, be the CEO of a major corporation and have as many invitro-babies as my heart desires. But how hollow it would be if I couldn’t mock, analyze or laugh with a good man.

TB Free and Filled with Glee

Well, it's official, I don't have TB. I can't tell you how much of a relief that is to me. But now I really don't why I've been coughing up blood for the past month. No matter.

I drove to High River on Monday to get a TB test, and I had to drive back today to get the follow-up. What is the common protocol for celebrating being 'TB Free'? Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something.

This was one of the last hurdles that I had to jump on my journey to the mission field. Tuesday was my 21st birthday, and I submitted my papers to my Bishop and Sunday I will meet with my Stake President. Hopefully come Christmas time I will know where I'm going and when I'm going to get there.
It's really sobering to have gotten this far, and although it's been hairy thus far, I know it's going to get hairier still. So I'm prepared for a bombshell like, you have unpaid library fees that prohibit you from leaving the country until they're rectified.

So I will soon lose my civilian status and be promoted to missionary.

My birthday festivities also included a fan-freakin-tastic birthday party last Thursday, followed by subsequent 'after-shock' parties on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. On Tuesday I had my free dinner at Denny's, a birthday must, with some friends and then went and watched Kiera Knightly try to portray an intellectual, independent Elizabeth Bennett. I mean honestly, Elizabeth Bennett is one of the most amazing woman in the history of English literature, and they get the Pirates of the Carribean chick to play her. Needless to say the movie was far inferior to it's A & E counterpart, starring the scrumtralescent Colin Firth. But I think I'm through with sappy love movies for awhile. Give me the mindless action or delicious comedy.
So it was a good birthday all in all, I'm a little older, I'm a little wiser...and I've acquired a new nickname via Joel M. - Oldy Hawn. Good one Joel, good one.

Scandalamity

Ah, if it wasn't for the good people of Scandal Town, there wouldn't be fuel for the good people of 22 minutes, or Saturday Night Live – and they bring us so much joy. Satire as we know it would never be the same. We’d have to rely on stupid people for cheap laughs, that is, stupid people who don’t govern our world.
The world is in a vortex of immorality and politicians aren't going to come down with a sudden case of integrity anytime soon. Does that mean we should excuse it and, as you have said, take up a shield of ignorance or apathy? NO!
We need to see past what's shoved in our faces by media outlets owned by oil companies and billion dollar corporations – perhaps they have a different agenda in mind than to inform the general public? (just spit-balling). Trust me, I could blow your mind with that tasty lick of capitalism, but I digress.
The Gomery thing is ridiculous, and I too thought that the good people of Canada would dust off the pitch forks and take it to the streets. We’re talking about millions of dollars. But I never thought that the good people of Alberta we be so happy to receive 400 dollars a pop as “duh, we’re sorry we taxed your face off, here’s some hush money”, so my opinion could be slightly skewed. The fact is that the non-political population of Canada is like the morbidly obese man that sits on his couch while the local neighborhood children rob his house, and asks why they won’t just stop. But as long as he gets his cable, cheezies and government handouts, he’ll stay in his niche of ignorant complacency with little motivation to stand. Possibly because he fears his legs might break.
I’ll tell you what’s really sick, the situation with the earthquake victims in Afghanistan. The UN projects that 200,000 people above the freeze line of the mountains could freeze to death with the approach of an unusually harsh winter. 200,000!!! Yet it’s still not enough that 73,000 people died, or that there’s 3,000,000 homeless. That’s not enough for the humanity in us to kick our brains into gear and do something. Look, Katrina was horrible, and I’m not debating that. But it’s when Julia Roberts and George Clooney come out and subjugate the American public into donating their money, that’s when I start to squinch my face in frustration. 1000 people died in Katrina, it covered the news for weeks. 73,000 died in Afghanistan and India! And it’s shoved on the back burner. Unreal.