2014 - Fumbling Towards Adulthood

2014 Pop Culture Influenced Round Up 

Here is my BEST OF list: 

Favourite New TV show: A to Z. It's not perfect, but I love seeing The Mother and Michael Ginsberg together. It's really cute. Makes me hate TV for creating these perfect boyfriend types who just don't exist in real life. Unfortunately it's been cancelled and we will not get to see them finish the alphabet :(

Favourite Album Released in '14: Three-way tie:

1) Neverlove by Buck 65 - Best Break Up album I've ever heard. Rich Terfry is one of the most introspective, emotionally secure artists. He's a great writer too!

Song to check out - A Case for Us

2) Lazeratto by Jack White - Well, you guys all know how much I love Jack. This album is fantastic.

Song to check out - The Black Bat Licorice

3) The Lemon Squeeze by Jeremy Fisher - Love piano pop! I also love an album with songs about political scandal, happy "fucking" days, and corpse brides. I saw Jeremy live this year and he's a treat.

Song to check out - The Bride is Dead

Favourite Song from '14: Take me to Church by Hozier - I'm not usually one for songs with religious undertones, but who can resist this one. The guy is a hot Irishman who rocks a man-bun in the best possible way. I want to go to his church...

Honourable mention: Back to the Shack by Weezer

Favourite Movie: The Grand Budapest Hotel - I'm a sucker for Wes Anderson films. They're campy, arty, funny, and shocking. This was one of my birthday requests this year - for someone to see this with me. Thanks Amanda!

Favourite Book: Never Have I Ever: My Life (So Far) Without a Date by Katie Heaney - This book was like looking into a magic mirror of my own life and experiences. While I have had dates and relationships, I related so much to this girl!

Significant Moments of 2014: 

• Unemployment from January to End of March
• Threw my oldest friend a Surprise 30th Birthday party
• Joined a fitness centre with a program that has changed my life for the better
• PB'd in a 5k race
• Got a job working for the biggest fucking loser where I was underpaid and micro-managed
• More unemployment
• I turned 30 and it was great. It's not so bad.
• My brother's stag & doe
• Hosted bridal shower for my now sister-in-law
• A bunch of races - 5 and 10k - 10k PB
• Bachelorette party for sister-in-law
• Brother got married
• Jack White Concert
• Joined the committee for a charity run
• Had two unsuccessful interviews, and one very good one
• Had a hilarious day of touring Niagara Falls with my friend who just moved to the area.
• Got hired as a creative writer and content coodinator for a media company
• Saw The Book of Mormon musical in Toronto and laughed!
• Saw Danny Michel & Jeremy Fisher play in St. Catherines with my friend and her boyfriend

Check out my posts like this from previous years:

2009
2010
2011
2012
2013

People I Irrationally Hate Who I've Never Talked to

I take the bus with a lot of annoying people, and these annoying people give me many reasons to dislike them. They either play their music too loud, so I can hear it through their headphones, or they take up three seats on the bus, forcing me to stand. But they're jerks and I don't have to know them to get this.

However there are a hand full of people I see regularly and I just don't like them and I have absolutely no reason to feel this way. Whether it's on the bus, or at the gym, there are people I don't like for petty reasons.

1. To the girl who wears short dresses on cold days without tights and has resting bitch face. I do not like your face. You never smile. You always walk like your about to run someone over. And you never look cold, despite your distaste for tights or leggings. Smile and maybe cover your legs up - it's fucking November. Summer's over!

2. To the tall, thin, mousey blonde girl. When you get on the bus with a yoga mat I irrationally hate you. You probably only buy your fitness clothes from Lululemom - which is probably why you have to take the bus, because that shit is expensive. What, you think you're better than me? Okay, you're probably better than me.

3. The girl at the gym who's way more fit than everyone else, who brings her own weightlifting gloves. How is it that you still look beautiful after you've worked out? Oh yeah, because you're super fit and these exercises are like nothing for you. Why do you even come here? You make me want to go eat cookies and forget the whole thing because clearly this whole working out thing isn't doing anything for me. You also seem to suffer from resting bitch face. You should do something about that.


So now that I've got that off my chest, I can move on and maybe hate them less. I used to irrationally hate a girl in university because she always looked intense, but it reality she was super sweet, funny and nice. I hope I'm wrong about these people. Maybe I just hate them for their ability to stay warm in the cold, or their dedication to fitness and healthy living. But I still want to smush a cupcake in their faces.

In my Backyard

I didn't know Nathan Cirillo. In fact, I'd never heard of him until yesterday when it was shot and killed with a rifle at close range while he ceremoniously guarded the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the foot of the National War Memorial in Ottawa, Ontario. He was carrying only an unloaded gun. It was a posting he was honoured to have. Dressed in the dress uniform of his regiment, the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders of Hamilton, Ontario, he smiled for tourist pictures minutes before he was gunned down.

This evening, as I was taking the bus to catch another bus home from work, we drove the same route as always. As we turned onto James Street North I was compelled to get off two stops before my usual stop. I hoped off, and ran across the street towards the John Weir Foote Armoury - where the Argyll and Sutherland Highlander regiment is based. Bouquets of flowers lined the sidewalk in front of the now locked gates. Candles burned, and balloons with Canadian flags floated over the handwritten cards and letters from people all over the city. News crews were camped out with cameras ready in case anyone important stopped by. People walked up the street with flowers in hand to pay their respect to a young man taken too soon.

It's been an emotional couple of days for Canadians, but we, for the most part, have handled it with dignity, grace, and respect.

The memorial at the Armoury was a sobering reminder that members of our armed forces are all people who live in communities and have families and people who love and miss them.

Humans of Hamilton #5

I catch a bus across the street from a men's homeless shelter. Every morning there are dozens of guys in various states of dress waiting outside, or smoking on the sidewalk. Today I arrived at my stop and there was a man sleeping on the bench. He was young but looked old - life had aged him. He woke and stretched and got up to cross the street to the shelter - hopefully for a hot meal. He jaywalked across the business road as if he was invincible. Or maybe he just didn't care.

After a man with long hair and a beard walked by in dirty clothes. He walked with purpose with blank expression on his face. The bus stop smelled like hot garbage. I stood with my coat over my nose to block it all out.

There was a person on the bus carrying a large garbage bag of cans. Just empty cans. They clanged as she exited.

The kid I used to know. The one I thought got off the streets walked by again. Holding his pants up because they were two sizes too big. He looked like he twitching as he walked. Maybe if I had such a fucking horrible life and lived on the street, I'd want to be stoned too. Numb the pain.

Instead I stand at bus stops, hugging my purse and hoping I don't get harassed.

Today, a container of leftovers broke open in my bag, spilling rice into my purse. Realizing I couldn't transport it home, I threw it out. Part of me wanted to offer it to someone. But would that be offensive? Here, take my half eaten chicken shawarma with rice and hummus.

I feel like a fool. I feel like a spoiled brat.

I wanted to brush a girls hair today. She just had a tangled ball of matted hair at the back of her head.

I like being in my office, away from the people on the streets. I have a purpose there. I'm different there. I'm blind to their problems.

I see cigarette butts everywhere. I see men picking them up off the sidewalk. I saw city workers fixing up the gardens by the road. Do the citizens even care about the gardens? Or are they just giant ashtrays to them? A place for pigeons to poop.

Boarded up buildings with garbage and newspaper everywhere. It can be such a terrible place.

Humans of Hamilton #4

Conversation with a man with a walker this morning.

Man - It's hump day!

*I misunderstood what he said and replied...

Me: Maybe later

Man - No, hump day..

Me: Oh, I thought you said it was a hot day.

Then he lit a cigarette and proceeded to ask me what I was waiting for.

Me: A bus

Man - What bus?

Me: Errr...the number 4.

Man - Ah, the Bayfront.

Me: Yep *checks phone for time*

He then coughed up a lung and walked away.

Humans of Hamilton #3

Door to nowhere.

The past few days the street activity seems to have picked up. Maybe it's the cooler weather that makes people desperate. There's a man now sleeping on the sidewalk not far from my bus stop in the morning. I've seen the dancing man a few times, still dancing, outside of the Salvation Army building. There was a girl running around asking people for bus tickets. Homelessness is quite visible in this city. Some people are clearly on drugs, while other probably should be. Old, young, male, female - they've all got a story, a reason for being there. The moment it gets real for someone like me - an outsider looking in - is when you recognize a face in the crowd.

It was the Fall of 2009, and I was working at a coffee shop. We started having live music on the patio that year. There was a teenaged boy sitting alone and through my boss's son, I learned that he was homeless. I believe he was 17, and had left home for all of the usual reasons, unsuitable parents, drug use, alcohol, that sort of stuff. You could tell the kid had a good heart, but was stuck in crappy circumstances. He had made mistakes, lots of mistakes - but we all wanted to help the kid because he was young and it was getting colder. He used to sleep between two condo buildings at night, and as soon as we opened in the morning he was there for his morning coffee. My boss would give him food, and even brought him a plate of thanksgiving dinner leftovers from his home. We all wanted to see him get off the street and get a job.

I last saw him either late 2009 or early 2010 and he had a job at McDonald's or something and was living in an apartment with some guy. I always just sort of figured he was doing okay. Then I just never thought of him again...until yesterday.

Yesterday, between the girl selling her beaded jewellery and the mohawked skateboarder with the cardboard sign and a dirty upside down hat, I saw a guy who looked just like him. He was more chiseled - less of a baby-face than before, but the smile was his. But he had a twitchiness to his movements that wasn't there before. A sure sign of drug-use. His clothes looked okay, but too big. It broke my heart to see him again in a place like this. I wanted to pull him over and get him onto the bus with me and take him away from all of this. But I know I can't help him. I saw him again today and I wondered if he noticed me, would he even remember me. I know he's in his 20s now and is in charge of his own life, but I really hope he eventually gets off that street. I don't want to see him shivering in January.

Bus Woes

This sign is a lie...sort of.

I'd file this as a "Humans of Hamilton" except this isn't so much about the people I encountered, but more about my own issues with various public transit systems yesterday. Those of you who also take the bus on a regular basis will (maybe)  understand my frustrations.

My day began rather smoothly. Perhaps too smoothly. I'm housesitting for a few weeks, turning my two bus commute into three (each way). I caught my first bus at the downtown terminal and travelled to the train station to catch my usual bus. This was flawless. It was the third bus were things got dicey.

My third and final bus stop is a minute up the road from where I'm dropped off. I usually wait a few minutes, and then I'm at my office by 8:30 A.M. But when I got to the stop there were signs posted on the pole stating that my stop has been temporarily moved. First off, I didn't know where because I'm unfamiliar with the side streets in the area. I asked a guy and he didn't know either. So I walked in the direction I thought was correct and found it. Only on this post the sign said that the stop was temporary starting at 10 A.M. At this point I'm down the street, and around the corner from my usual stop. I see my bus coming, so I start to run, but I hit a red light and have to wait to cross. I sprinted to catch it but missed it. I believe my reaction was "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKK!"

So I quickly email my co-worker to tell her I missed the bus and would be 15 minutes late. It's not a big deal, but I hate waiting. This also meant I'd be working 15 minutes later. This sucked especially because it was a Friday. When I looked at the signs on the post more closely I noticed that it did say "10 A.M." in very tiny, messy printing that was hard to see because it was wrapped around a pole. Really, big block letters would have been helpful!

The reason for the bus confusion was caused by a huge street party event called "Super Crawl." The artist community on this one street hold regular "Art Crawl" nights, where there's art, music, and food. Once a year they hold a huge event that shuts down a huge section of a busy road. I'm all for supporting the arts, but the bus detours threw me off!

My day at work was pretty good. I went out for lunch with my co-workers and got to know a few more people in the office. It was nice feeling like I belong in my new situation. My co-worker John, who is my bus guru called my desk to tell me how to get home on the detoured bus. I got on and talked to the driver - and paid special attention to the street signs so I wouldn't miss my stop. Again, I got on the bus with no problems whatsoever.

When I arrived at the station my third and final bus of the day was sitting there with it's doors open still. I walked towards it, but drove off before I could get on. I tried waving down the driver, but it left without me. So again, I was waiting - this time for 20 minutes.

The bus arrived and was supposed to have left the station by 5:40 P.M., but the driver got off the bus and didn't get back on until 5:50. So basically I was half an hour behind my usually schedule at this point. I was mad. I was tired, grumpy, and had no tolerance for the "basic bitches" sitting behind me. I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up so we could just ride in silence. Before heading to the house, I stopped at a coffee shop for a hot chocolate and a piece of cheesecake because after the commute from hell, I felt I'd earned dessert before dinner.

Humans of Hamilton #2

Thoughts from the bus 

Flashing lights from three police cruisers. Officers standing on the street wearing blue gloves. Crime scene?

I noticed some street art I'd never seen before. I want to take pictures of them. I tell myself that I'll go back there on foot some day, but I probably won't.

At the bus stop the street people are more active than normal. Two punks sit with cardboard signs and an upside down baseball cap. A man with long red dreadlocks literally gives them the shoes off his feet. He has another pair in his backpack.

A older woman wrapped in a blanket asks me for money. I have none. My bus pass is all I have. I tell myself not to be weakened by their sad eyes. I have nothing to spare. The bleeding heart next to me in line gives in.

A flock of pigeons battle it out for a discarded pizza crust on the street. They flap and swarm, pecking at each other trying to win the battle. I cover my head hoping not to get caught in the crossfire.

A man with a Jamaican accent dances in front of a store front playing loud hip hop music.

A girl stands on a the corner holding a shiny new electric guitar. She looks like she's trying to sell it. I feel terrible for this thought, but I wonder if she stole it....she probably stole it.

Police are riding up and down the streets on bikes. I wonder if they hate their jobs - having to pass so many idle people begging on the sidewalk.

A girl jogs by. I think she's a brave soul for jogging down this street.

I get on the bus and leave this place for another day.

See you tomorrow, Hamilton.

Humans of Hamilton #1

I know I've been rather quiet over the past few weeks since I announced I got a new job, lots has changed in my life and for the better! I don't really have time to get into every detail of what I've been up to, but if you like photos I have some on Instagram. Follow, like, comment...whatever you want. I went to Niagara Falls, a peach festival and a rib fest!

The purpose of tonight's post is to reflect on my first week of A) Working in another city and B) Taking multiple buses to get to said city. Not so much a narrative of the trip, but people I've observed in my new surroundings.

I know not many of my readers are familiar with Canada, particularly the part of Canada that I live and work in, so I will give you a bit of an overview. I got a job working as a writer and content coordinator for the digital division of a huge media company. This is an amazing opportunity for me, so nothing was going to stop me from going for this - not even the fact that the office is located in a semi-crappy neighbourhood in a less than affluent city.

I've grown up in a very clean and conservative suburban city. While my politics are progressive, and I tend to go against the grain in terms of my views and social status, I'm still very sheltered. That said, please don't take offence to what I'm going to write, these lists are meant to be humourous and light. I understand there is a bigger issue when it comes to homelessness, poverty and mental illness and I don't mean to degrade anyone. I'm just noting these things as I observe them as an outsider.

Humans of Hamilton might be weekly thing, but maybe not. I'm not making any commitments. Here is my list from my first week of commuting to work:

1. Two teenaged girls in matching leggings and similarly dyed hair asked me if I knew where they could find a clinic. We were standing near a hospital.

2. A rather large woman on the bus sat near the front, dressed all in black and had wild red hair worn up with a sparkly headband. She wore make-up that would rival Mimi from Drew Carey.

3. A young woman was crossing the street just singing to herself. Just singing like no one was around.

4. A teenaged girl wearing a very fake/cheap looking hair piece/extensions designed to create a huge bump on top of her head. Picture Elvira.

5. A young woman with a shaved head and bandana selling homemade jewellery off a blanket on the street. She was there two days in row.

6. Numerous shirtless men walking around with unkept hair and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.

So many idol people in parks and alleyways - smoking or bumming smokes. There's a beautiful park in the centre of downtown with a huge, opulent fountain. I'm sure when the steel mills were booming and the city was thriving this was a symbol of that. But now that fountain is probably where the homeless bathe and the pigeons poop.

Last Week of Freedom/Hell

I have emerged from my cocoon!

Unemployment is like retirement except you're broke and can't move to Florida and take up golf. In other words, being unemployed in the summer isn't all it's cracked up to be. You can't afford to do all the fun things your friends and family are doing. No week's at the cottage, no stand-up paddle board lessons, no endless nights on the pub patio ordering round after round. You can't do any of that because you have no money. So while I've appreciated the sleeping in, I'm proud to say that...

I HAVE A JOB!

After months of debilitating self-doubt, and several moments of weakness where I checked the local malls websites to see what stores were hiring. I even almost caved and got a job in insurance. But I stayed the course and finally was rewarded with a job in my field. Starting August 25th I will be a creative writer/content coordinator for a large media company. It's a five month contract, but with potential to become more if I play my cards right. 

My interview on Monday was amazing. I've never had an interview that went so well. I was interviewed by two woman - the boss and the girl I'll be working with - a fellow writer. They were very cool. They were casual, collected. They asked good questions that weren't hard to answer because I can 100% do this job. Near the end of the interview, the younger of the two woman, asked me what my favourite TV show is. The other gave her a weird look and she responded with, "What? That's an awesome question." Trying to think of ONE show was hard, because I have several favourites - but I went with How I Met Your Mother. She said, "ah, I'm almost done the last season, don't tell me what happens." Maybe by the time I start work I can ask her if she liked the final. This interview was such a contrast to the previous two I had.

1. The interviewer seemed more nervous and awkward than me, causing me to feel weird and uncomfortable. Also, it was in a shabby little office with no windows. Not my ideal work environment.

2. The phone interview with the design firm that I desperately wanted to work for because it seemed "hip" went okay. There were some aspects of the job I was not familiar with, so that was hard to answer. Plus, he asked me where I saw myself in five years, which is just awful.

Strangely enough, the day I found out I didn't get the cool, hip design firm job, I was asked to interview for the job I just got. The commute will be awful, but it's totally worth it to be working in my field again. My month-long nightmare job back in April taught me that I still had the drive to succeed in writing, but I needed to work for people who could nurture my talent, and respect me as a human being. I want to learn as much as I want to succeed.

So this week coming up is my last week of being a bum. I'm house sitting at the perfect place for this - a house by the lake. So my plans are to relax, sleep-in, celebrate, meet friends for drinks and coffee, walk along the water, and soak up the last of the summer sun before reality sets in.

I'm so excited for this re-boot. 

The Dark Places

I've never thought about killing myself, not even once. I'm afraid of pain and avoid it at all costs. I've never felt so down that I thought life wasn't worth living. But I do feel like I've been close to the bottom.

There are days in my life where getting dressed in the morning feels unnecessary and a shower is too much work - thinking 'who cares, because no one will see me.' I stay in the house and lay in bed and waste the day away. In many ways I know that if I got up and did something outside I'd feel better, but the darkness wins and I remain in bed, in my pajamas.

Depressed people know there is an alternative because they haven't always felt this way. They know there is light in the world and opportunities for happiness, but the darkness wins. It's easy for outsiders to say that depression is a selfish disease because they don't know how it feels to feel powerless to change.

One of the greatest gifts you can give a person with a mental illness is your friendship and support. One of my dark days happened after I'd lost my job. I was feeling really sad and discouraged and I didn't feel like doing anything. It was a night that I was supposed to go running with my group, a great activity for my body as well as my mind. My running coach, friend and mentor texted me to see if I was running that night. I was face-planted into my pillow, feeling like my body weighed a thousand pounds, and I managed to texted her back:

"I'm just not feeling it tonight."

Recognizing that this was unusual for me, as I'm an active member of the group, she replied,

"I'll pick you up, you and I can just go for an easy run."

When she picked me up she had a bunch of colourful daisies in her hand.

"You seemed sad in your message, so I bought you these."

I was so touched by the offering. It was amazing that my short message of "not feeling it" was enough for her to figure out that something wasn't right with me. I felt like crying. People notice when I'm not around and when I'm not myself. This is something I think a lot of people suffering from anxiety and depression feel they lack in life - people who notice and understand. Even just noticing small changes in someone's personality can force a positive change. Not to say we must put our happiness in the hands of others, but support is a necessary part of the healing process.

I don't expect flowers every time I'm sad, but what I do need is understanding, but also a push towards the light. She made me run that night and I'm so thankful for that. Running makes me a better person. Running gets me out of my head and into the open air where I can breathe. I feel happy to be alive when I'm running.

In my life I don't need a lot of friends, but I need the right friends. People to remind me of all the good things I can do. People who make it possible for me to help myself. Because of this wonderful support system I will always choose life.

900 but Who's Counting?

Can you believe this is my 900th post? I bet I have the same number of readers now that I did for my first post. *Waves at Amanda, who is likely reading this*

It's a rainy-thundery night here in Southern Ontario and I'm up after binge watching TV on Netflix, listening to the rain and the rumbling sky and I feel anxious. I'm not anxious because of the storm - but because I am waiting for something.

I had a phone interview for my dream job on Tuesday - after I sent a thank you email follow-up, which I patted myself on the back for sending. The person replied that he'd "be in touch soon."

SOON.

soon.

s...oon.....

What the hell is soon?

Honestly, in some cases soon could mean anything under 6 months.

Example:

"When do you think you'll have that building finished?"

"Oh soon, probably in 5 or 6 months."

People like me do not like the term "soon."

I had a awful ex-boyfriend who would say he'd call me "soon." I'd end up calling him after waiting what felt like forever. I'm impatient and anxious by nature. I feel much calmer when I have a framework for things - a timeline. I am not impulsive when it comes to life changing events. I don't want to hear someone tell me something will happen "soon."

 I'd much prefer they tell me they'll let me know no later than next Tuesday. Don't keep me waiting. In the time that I wait to hear about whether I have something I can completely collapse with self-doubt, which is proceeded, usually, by extreme confidence.

Using the job as an example: I had the phone call, and it went well (I think), but I'm of course self-critical. Then I start to feel over-confindent and I start thinking about a fantasy life I could have if I got the job. I check bus routes and see how long it would take me to get to the office each day. I think about how fun it would be to work in a creative environment with designers and innovators. It's totally my wheelhouse. Then I start to crumble. I wonder how many other candidates he's spoken to. He said a lot of people applied. I bet there are people who applied who are way more awesome than me. This sucks. I start thinking that I have no chance. I have a bit of hope thinking maybe I won him over with the thank you email. Then it's the weekend - so I let go completely because their office is closed, so it's unlikely that I'll hear back until Monday at the very earliest, possibly later than that.

Now it's Sunday night and I feel like I can't sleep because tomorrow is Monday.

MONDAY

monday.

m...ond...ay...

It's a work day for many, but not me because I am unemployed. I want this person to call. I want him to change my life and tell me I still have a shot, I'm still in the game. I need this. This needs to work out...and soon, whenever soon may be.

Five Year Plan

Let's face it, job interviews are not designed for complete honesty. No one is so earnest and sincere that they answer questions 100% truthfully. The questions aren't asked for the truth in the answers - they're asked to seek the correct answer. The answer the interviewer is looking for.

It seems stupid to lie - dishonest even - but you're not really lying, you're just not expressing how you feel. You have to take the emotions out and answer with logic. I've done several interviews in the last year and I can tell you the answers I actually wanted to say versus what I really said are drastically different.

I once interviewed for a terrible call-centre position. In truth, this was not a job I wanted. I interviewed with them because I was having a rocky relationship with my employer at the time and was looking for an out. My friend worked at this place and set it up for me. This is the one time I had a hard time answering an interview question. He asked me:

"So is this something you can see yourself doing?"

I hesitated. He could probably see the fear in my eyes...the pain. I did not want to answer phones and provide tech-support for 90 year olds who can't figure out why their TV channels don't work. I couldn't lie because I didn't want the job.  It wasn't something I'm passionate about.

When we do want the job we do whatever we can - we don't fabricate things - but we maybe don't answer the question with the first thought that enters our head. The toughest question that requires this type of truth bending is:

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years."

You'd think, there's no wrong answer here, right? Wrong. The wrong answer is to say you don't know. This is sad, right? Because we don't know. We have no idea what will happen in five years. I'm a single female in her 30s. I don't want children, and finding love is not a priority of mine. I have a "if it's going to happen it will happen" attitude about relationships right now. I have no goals in that regard. My career is the only thing I can speculate about. But the question is worded wrong. It asks us where we see ourselves in five years, when it should really ask where we hope to be. Seeing ourselves in the future seems too set in stone, too permanent. Like if you were to fail to be in that position by 2019 you'd be a huge failure. But hope, hope can change. Hope is flexible. We can hope for something now, and hope for something completely different next year, or next month, or two days from now. The one thing that crushes hope is telling us that the future is already written. You are supposed to be here and doing this. But that's not how life works.

If I was answering this question truthfully I would say, "I don't know where I'll be in five years, but I hope I'm happy."

Right Place Right Time

I really hate it when people say, "everything happens for a reason." No, that's not why things happen. Things happen because events, places, people, and circumstances allow things to develop and change. Some things change because we intervene on our own behalf - making things happen for ourselves.

Fate alone doesn't work. You can't just wait and expect things to happen. But sometimes a serious of events seem to happen in succession and everything feels right. Everything is happening at the right time for the right reason. This has been my week.

A month ago I contacted a local charity regarding joining their committee on a volunteer basis. They got back to me and we got to talking and I revealed that I was a writer and offered to help with communications on behalf of the group. Without asking for samples, credentials, or anything, the director let me take the reigns of an article for the local paper that he was to submit. With his help I got quotes from residents to round out my story. It was published this Wednesday.

I was so excited to be published and all my friends and family were proud - sending me words of congratulations. I was beaming. That night I came across a posting on LinkedIn for a job that is pretty much exactly what I've been looking for. The best part of this is that I know someone who works there! So I quickly contacted him to say, "hey, help a sista' out." but in a much less lame way. Basically I asked if I could name drop him.

I made my resume super chic, because the company is a design firm - so I needed to pimp it out a little bit. I name dropped my acquaintance there and sent it off. In less than 20 minutes I had a reply! He wanted some writing samples and wished to speak on the phone early next week. Well, how convenient that I just so happen to have an article that was published just a couple of days ago to share. I also linked my professional blog/portfolio in the email to him. So I'm speaking with him on the phone on Tuesday afternoon.

I'm so excited. I know it doesn't mean I'll get it - but I feel like I've done everything right to lead me to this opportunity. Now I just have to sound awesome over the phone and cross my fingers and toes because it will then be in his hands.

I really need this!

Summer Reading

Sometimes I'm a real book snob. There are certain authors I love so much  that I basically NEED their first edition hardcover or I might just die or something. But sometimes I just want a crappy "beach" read. Not often, but sometimes I pick up something that's light and fluffy. This time it came in the form of a young adult romance called Landline by Rainbow Powell (yep, her name is Rainbow).

The curious aspect of this book was that it was a book written about a subject that isn't inherently a young topic - it was about a 37 year-old woman struggling with her failing marriage. The book was simplistic in its writing and had elements of magical realism (a genre I learned about in university). The fantastical elements of the story are what make it more a YA novel, while the subject matter remained mature. The elements of magic come from an old yellow landline phone that dials her husband's phone from when they were first together - giving her a chance to change her relationship, sort of like the movie Frequency.

But perhaps the concept of a marriage failing is something young people need to read about - the idea that a marriage isn't just a fancy Pinterest wedding with lots of gifts and expensive outfits. It's about a life with someone and how that's actually really hard. People aren't perfect. No couple will ever be 100% in sync. Children will change your relationship - not always for the better. This book reflects upon a couple who met when they were very young (university), fell in love, got married, had two kids, and unfortunately, made each other miserable a lot.

As much as I crave a good twist and a complex story, sometimes I just need some simple writing that I can read in three days then move on from. Landline, of course, had a happy ending - but sometimes you just need a good happy ending to buffer some more hard-hitting fiction in the adult literature section. Sometimes you need to believe that love is enough, even if it's fiction.

Bridesmaid: Nailed It!

This "next level" top knot almost makes me want to keep
my hair long...ALMOST!

Over the past 18 months I have posted rants about all my bridesmaids problems: The dress, the cost, the many parties etc. But it's over and it was spectacular. For all my complaining, the day actually went extremely well. I pretty much nailed this whole bridesmaid thing...BUT...I'd be happy if none of my friends get married for a while (well, those who would ask me to be part of their wedding) just so I can have a break - emotionally, mentally, and financially.

The wedding weekend began with the rehearsal, where my groomsman counterpart was late and I had to walk down the aisle with an invisible person. He eventually showed up and we practiced linking arms walking down the aisle like pros. After we had a dinner at a nice restaurant below the maid-of-honour's condo and were given complimentary champagne to toast with. After, I went upstairs with the bride to the condo and we got ready for bed and watched a bit of the movie Bridesmaids. We watched the rest in the morning while eating breakfast.

The day of the wedding is quite an ordeal for us ladies. There were seven of us, including the bride, and we all needed hair and makeup. We all met at 8:30 am in the condo's party room. We all brought food so we could snack all day - cheese, fruit, veggies, muffins, crackers, stuff like that. This of course included coffee - an essential bridesmaid staple. At 9:30 four of us went down to a nearby salon for our hair. I asked for a high bun with a braid wrapped around (you can't really see the braid well in the above photo). I came back up and snacked some more. The other three went down for 10:30 appointments.

One of the girls had a game on her iPad that was like Head's Up. We held the iPad in front of us with the screen facing everyone and as the words came up on the screen (movies, tv shows, animals, etc.) everyone had to describe them to the person holding it to guess. It was a good time-killer. The makeup artist arrived and we took turns getting beautiful. I decided on dark eyes with a nude/pinkish lip colour.

By noon the photographer, Ben, arrived at the condo. He took photos of everything! From the bride in her dress to us playing silly iPad games - he captured every moment. We poured some mimosas and toasted to a great day.

We left the condo around 2:30 for the hotel and I checked into my room before meeting the rest of the bridal party in the Presidential Suite where we waited to go downstairs to make our grand entrance. 

The wedding ceremony was okay - the room was very hot (as the AC hadn't kicked in yet). One of the groomsmen was sweating and red - we actually thought he might pass out. After the ceremony ended we all walked out of the room (to a song from the Muppets) and went up to a beautiful terrace on the 3rd floor of the hotel. There they took some photos with the bride's grandma and her baby niece.

The traditional family photos were next - and I of course had to be part of those. We then went on an adventure through the urban landscape of the city for the wedding party photos. I was happy about the photo locations, as I have a huge hatred for scenic nature shots (basically people standing with foliage). We got some shots of us in front of the historic hotel, then we walked down the middle of a street (that was closed for a festival). The street shots were fun, however, some homeless people thought it would be funny to yell things at us - though one busker played "Here Comes the Bride"on his accordion for us as we walked by. We found a huge colourful mural behind some buildings near a back alley. We did the bridesmaids photos in front of it - which I'm excited to see. He also took some individuals of each girl in front of this green wall.

My feet were killing me, so I changed into flats and the bridesmaids were told we could go back! Woo hoo! I really earned the gin and tonic I ordered at the bar.

Bridesmaids duties weren't over yet. We had to make an entrance into the hall for the reception after all the guests were seated. 

The food was great, the dancing was super fun, and the speeches were heartfelt and funny. I had to make a toast later in the night, luckily I had enough liquid courage to make it through. 

So now it's done. Over! No more bridesmaid complaints from me. I did what I had too, and even though it was stressful, I don't regret being part of my brother and sister-in-law's big day.

The beautiful head table set up. The wall of flowers is actually made of paper.
The chevron runners were made by the bride.

Heads or Tails?

One of the many reasons I'm single is the fact that I put way too much energy following around minor rock stars and pining over my fitness trainer. I try to come up with plausible scenarios where the seemingly unattainable can be tricked into loving me, leaving behind their more attractive alternatives.

I'm 30 and I still refuse to give up and settle for a guy online who works at a bank and wears a suit to work. I refuse to settle for boring. I just can't. No. Not yet! I got ID'd twice this weekend, so I still have my youth!

Here is a text conversation I had with my childhood best friend yesterday:

(I had sent her a couple photos from a live outdoor show I was at...featuring the minor rock star).

Her: Did you go down? U must have...too close for a balcony shot :)

Me: Yeah...he was [on the stage] behind the hotel

H: Playing originals?

M: He was supporting [other minor rock star]

H: Ah, interesting. Good show?

M: ...Originals and some covers

M: Yeah it was

M: I talked to him through the fence before the show

M: I'm such a stalker

H: Nice :) I would have liked to see it

H: Meh

H: It's ok

H: I'm sure he likes that he has a groupie* ;)

M: Awe...some day your kids will be older and you can be a groupie with me again

M: I'll still be single and likely wearing animal prints

M: You know...living the dream.

H: Lol haha :) animal prints are always fashionable :)

M: Suits an almost cougar chasing minor rock stars.

H: Lol yes it would ;)

M: I can't give up the dream

H: No reason not to at this stage :)

M: lol

M: Nothing to lose

H: Nope lol :)

*groupie in the non-sexual definition of the term. 

I can always count on this particular friend to encourage and indulge me in my crazy whims. She's a mom of two kids, with a house and three dogs - doing things that are seemingly normal for people our age, so my antics and childish crushes on unattainable men must amuse her.

As for my fitness instructor he's just a goof and has a great smile that makes me act like an idiot around him, causing me to fall over while trying to balance during floor exercises. I doubt he's amused. I'm not little and cute...it's pathetic.

I think what these two guys have in common that attracts me is their passion and their talent. I'm attracted to talented people - whether they be artists or athletes. I love when people dive right into what they love. It's what I've been trying (unsuccessfully) to do in my own life, so I feel like I need to latch onto someone and absorb all their talent and creative energy to inspire me to make things happen for myself. I want to be a Yoko Ono.

Our Animals, Our Friends

"Time spent with Cats is never wasted." - Sigmund Freud

I've been around pets my whole life. When I was born my parent's had a big Rhodesian Ridgeback named Nikki. I don't remember much about her, but there are photos of us together. Nikki probably loved me because I was a great source of extra food. Unfortunately for Nikki, her other favourite way to scam extra food was to sneak out under our fence and eat garbage from a nearby restaurant. This restaurant sprayed the garbage with poison and my parents had to put her down. I was too young to understand, but I'm sure my parent's were heartbroken.

The first pet that was mine came as a late night knock on the door. Our neighbours, who had a farm somewhere, found a tiny tabby kitten and brought it to us. I was three, and my brother was two. My dad, feeling outnumbered by our mom and us, reluctantly took the kitten in. I named her Softie, after the word I used for my childhood blanket that I dragged around like Linus. She was very small, so I played with her like she was a toy. I put her in my doll-sized cradle and carried her around on my hip till her fur rubbed off. My uncle even wrote a story about me and my kitten. As she got older she got mean. I mean really mean. But we loved her anyways. She ended up having kittens on our kitchen floor - giving me my second kitten (my Sally Mittens, more on her later).  She was the queen of the house and ruled with an iron paw for 19 years. No tears were shed when she passed, as she had a long and good life.

Sally was born to Softie when I was in pre-school. She had two sisters - Tabby and Blackie (a somewhat racist sounding name, now that I think about it). Tabby and Blackie were donated to the shelter, but I was allowed to keep Sally because she was the first born and my dad claims I said, "I want that one." He tried to tell me there would be more kittens born, but I didn't care. I wanted her. She grew up to be a great cat. Thick wooly fur and a great lion's mane. She had white on her paws and a bit on her face. She was feisty, but not mean like her mother. The two cats would fight often and there would be fur all over the house as they growled and hissed. She was my baby for 15 years and I'll never forget the night my dad called me while I was in university to tell me they had to put her down. I cried for a whole day and my roommate thought I was crazy.

My brother wanted a Dalmatian puppy - like the movie. He saved up some money, and my parent's paid the rest and we all went to the breeder together to pick up Freckles. She was probably the most attractive Dalmatian I've ever seen. Even to this day I have not seen one as beautifully marked as she was. She even had a spot by her mouth that we called her Cindy Crawford mark. She loved people and being photographed. She was a model for sure. She also had some unfortunate medical conditions that made her kind of smelly sometimes. Yeah, we definitely had a farting dog. She could clear a room. But in spite of that people all loved her. Strangers always wanted to pet her and take pictures of her. We once had to take a photo of a Japanese couple at a restaurant with our dog. She was 11 when she got cancer and had to be put down. I was sleeping when my mom woke me up to tell me she was going to be euthanized. It was summer and I was 18 - my friend and I were going to drive up north to my cottage the next day and I had planned on taking the dog with us. I bawled my eyes out the whole day. When I came home from the cottage to a house without a dog I felt sad all over again. I keep her collar in a box on my desk. She was a good friend to our family.

In addition to my own pet's, I've had to say goodbye to other people's animals. My best friend's childhood cats, and her dog. I would pet sit for them and looked after them when they were sick. I fed her cat Holly on a bed because she was too weak to move. Her dog Brooke stopped eating for a whole week while I was with her, and she was diagnosed with cancer shortly after the owners returned. I've always been worried that someone's animal would pass away in my care, and I have been able to avoid this up until yesterday.

For a week I have been housesitting for a lady I run with and her husband while they are in Europe. I know their pets very well, as I've watched them before. The dog, Cash, is a 5-year-old loveable golden retriever, and Bandit, was a 23-year-old brindle coat cat. I noticed Bandit was looking extra thin and her fur was matted, but she was otherwise acting like her usual self. She was eating, drinking, using her litter, and climbing the stairs. Yesterday evening I noticed she hadn't finished her food - then I found her behind the couch. I picked her up and set her on the living room rug but she couldn't walk. Luckily the owner's daughter was with me, so we called the emergency after-hours vet and drove her there. I cuddled her on my lap and pet her as we drove. After checking her out we were told she was extremely dehydrated, anemic, and had tumours. They told us there was nothing they could do and that the most humane thing to do would be to put her down. While I'm sad that she's gone - especially while her family is away - I am grateful that the clinic was honest and kind. It feels weird to be here with just the dog. We both slept in really late today because the cat didn't wake me up to be fed. So goodbye Bandit, it was nice looking after you and being part of the last year of your life. You were a good girl.

When I get home I'm going to cuddle my animals so hard and tell them they can't die for another 10 years at least!

On Being Poor (not to be confused with being "poor")

People seemed to like my last post about being unquestionably single to the highest degree. Wanna know what else I am? Unemployed. Being unemployed also makes me....poor! Broke, penniless, in-debt, below the poverty line...actually, I'm like caught in the poverty pit. Now, I will say that I'm not as poor as say a homeless person on the street, but if a few sensitive things were to be disrupted in my life, I could easily end up that way. I live in a fragile ecosystem and I need to adapt to a new habitat quickly before I die off.

Curious about how I stay alive? Here is a list of how I stay clothed and fed:

1) I am a 30 year old "woman" (I don't put this in quotes because I'm confused about my gender, but more because woman just sounds too adult for my current situation.) I rely on my parents 80% for basic survival - shelter and food. I am not proud of this, so I don't exactly spread it around. I have been close to breaking free of this a few times, but my inability to remain employed has stunted my personal growth.

Imagine the dating profile: I'm an unemployed adult woman who can't survive without her mommy and daddy. Looking for rich idiot to pay for all my expenses while I continue to find myself.

2) I do odd jobs. I freelance edit occasionally and house and pet-sit for a few families. I am also working at the polls for an upcoming election, which is basically one day of work. I manage to get these gigs just in time to pay my phone bill, and throw a bit of money against my huge credit card bill. Oh, and my student loan debt! I also spend this money irresponsibly on clothes and candy sometimes.

3) I have a lot of clothes, so I probably don't NEED to buy anything new. Though, that dress would be so cute for a cocktail party, should I be invited to one.

4) Occasionally people buy me meals. Basically, I know that if I go to breakfast with my running group on Saturday mornings someone will pay for me. I will say, "guys, I feel terrible (I really do), you really shouldn't (they really shouldn't)," but it doesn't stop me from ordering the French toast with a side of bacon like the fatty that I am. Refill on the coffee, please?

5) I bum rides when I can to avoid public transit. Public transit can be super slow and frustrating.

Do I want to live like this forever? Obsoletely not. But in the meantime I must do what I have to to not end up homeless. I'm way to spoiled and sheltered for life on the streets.

On Being Single (not to be confused with "single")

There's nothing more annoying than hearing people in committed, long-term relationships say, "sometimes I miss being single." First of all, these people rarely mean the kind of single that I am - what they mean is single and dating. This is not single - this is dating. Dating is the opposite of single in my opinion.

There are so many types of single, but the type I'm talking about is pretty much the most single a person can be.

There is...

• Single with an Online Dating Profile

• Single and seeing someone casually, but we don't like to define things

• Single and dating multiple people at once

• Single and hooking up with people at bars

• Single and a flirt-slut

• Single parent

• Single and Divorced

• Single and pregnant (by mistake)

• Single and pregnant (on purpose - biological clock was ticking!)

• Single as in not married (the box you check on official government documents even though you're in a relationship)

• Single with no prospects, no dates, no hook-ups, no online dating profile, no sexual contact of any kind

There is nothing to envy about the kind of single I am (which is the last one, if you didn't understand) - unless of course you like sitting in bed watching Netflix alone every day for the rest of your life. It's not that I hate my life - I have great friends and family and I do a lot of enjoyable, fulfilling stuff. But I am as single as they come, and unless you really love your personal space and really hate your significant other, there's no reason for anyone to miss being single.

My brother is getting married next month and I said "no" to bringing a +1. My brother was like, "why aren't you bringing someone?" And I gave him a look of disgust as if to say, "um, hello, it's me - don't you know me at all?" Who the hell would I bring to a wedding? Would I call up my one guy friend and ask him to ditch his girlfriend for the night so he can come to an out-of-town wedding with me, to not sit with me (because I'm in the wedding, I'll be at the head table), and to mingle and try to explain to all my nosey aunts that we're not dating, we're just friends. Or better yet, I'll call up my ex and ask him to forget all the horrible things I've said to him and to please come to a wedding with me and pretend we're back together. Or I could bring a female friend and have my whole family assume I'm a lesbian (not that there's anything wrong with being a lesbian, but since I'm not one, I'd rather not give the nosey aunts more to talk about.) So yeah, I'm going alone and I'm choosing the chicken instead of the steak.

That's it. The end. I'm single and I don't care - but please, don't pretend you wish you were me.

Why The Canadiens Will Win - by Me

While Lana and I didn’t do our full on Stanley Cup Playoffs wager, we have found ourselves in an interesting situation – our teams are playing each other in the Eastern Conference Finals. The winner of said finals will go on to play for the coveted Stanley Cup!!!!

For those of you not that into hockey, our respective teams are The Montreal Canadiens (me) and The New York Rangers (Lana). Both are original six teams (along with Toronto, Chicago, Detroit, and Boston). Reminder to Toronto fans: your team didn’t make the playoffs, so you should just refrain from speaking and enjoy the baseball season. The last time Montreal won the cup was 1993, and 1994 for New York – so both teams are anxious to get another shot. But since I’m a Hab fan, I will now list off all the reasons, in my opinion, why MY team will win.

• Goaltending – I’m not sure why, but Carey Price doesn’t get much credit. Fans of other teams are always quick to say he’s undeserving of his accolades for X, Y, or Z. But I’m pretty sure all those haters and nay-sayers can put a sock in it. Carey Price dominated against Boston. Let’s not forget that Price has an Olympic gold medal and I’m pretty sure they don’t just give those away. He may not have been nominated for the Vezina trophy, but 2014 will definitely be a highlight of Price’s career.

• We beat Boston! – Boston won the 2013-14 President’s Trophy for being the first place team in the league. That said, they did not play like a first place team this round by any means. Our victory against the Bruins is special for two reasons: 1) The aforementioned ranking and 2) The intense rivalry between the two teams goes back decades. The two have faced each other more in the regular season and playoffs combined than any two teams. Leaf fans want to believe that the Toronto – Montreal rivalry is greater, but since the Leafs suck, there’s no comparison. Our hatred towards Boston only intensified a few years back when Zdano Chara smashed Max Pacioretty into the corner of the boards near the bench, nearly ending his career. We boo Chara for sure. Plus no one likes Lucic or Merchant. This win will give us the confidence we need to take on the Rangers.

• Home Ice Advantage – For game 7 in Boston, Montreal’s Bell Centre had a sold out crowd. That’s correct – Montreal fans gathered to watch the away game from a big screen. Montreal loves hockey. They have incredible, loyal, and vocal fans. Prepare to hear “Ole, ole, ole, ole” a lot. While historically, Montreal doesn’t always perform well at home (plus superstitions that blame the Bell Centre for their losses), the energy of the crowd and the city will be invaluable.

• Our Defense – Subban, Markov, Emerlin, Weaver, Beaulieu, and Gorges have all been amazing. From scoring goals (looking at you, P.K.) to blocking shots – these guys have done their job right.

• Our Forwards – They work together to create opportunities and it pays off. There’s not a single forward on the team that falls short. They don’t play selfish hockey.

• Speed – Montreal’s speed is their advantage. This is how we won against Boston. If you look at Game 5, where we basically sucked, it was because we were slow and letting Boston knock us around. As long as we do what we do best, we will win.

• Lastly, History – Montreal is the greatest and most decorated NHL team of all-time. Perhaps this makes us hated – because we have already achieved so much. But I doubt very much 1993 will be the last time we win.  We might not have the whole country (Canada) behind us, in-fact there are many Canadians who hope we fail. But that doesn’t matter, because we’ve still failed less than any other Canadian hockey team. They’re just jealous.

Haters gonna hate. Bring it on Rangers. 

Lana, Hank may look good in a suit, but Carey loves puppies.

Why the Rangers Will Win - by Lana

The opinions expressed in the following blog post were made by an American Rangers fan. They do not reflect the opinions and beliefs of Textual Healing. This is a friendly gesture between rivals. Basically, I won't be speaking to her till June - you know, to console her after her team loses.

• • •

Unfortunately this year, the NHL playoffs fell during a really busy week for me so Allison and I decided not to do our annual contest where we try to make you guys take sides over who will win.  Also, my blog has kind of fallen to the side while I make room for life’s other important things like switching jobs, moving and eating candy. I know, try not to cry too hard while you imagine a world without me.

This all changed when both the New York Rangers (a.k.a. GREATEST TEAM EVER) and the Montreal Canadiens (Allison’s second place finishers) made it to the Eastern Conference Finals and we realized that we can’t be friends anymore, or at least until June. This gave me the brilliant idea that we should both compose editorials on why each one of our teams is the best, and then Allison switched it around and titled hers “Why My Team Will Win.” How selfish of you, Allison. That’s not very Canada-y at all. So here is my post on why everyone should root for the Blueshirts. You will all clearly discover why I am winner and still champion.

EXHIBIT OH HAAAAAI: Handsome Hank, or as I like to refer to him, Swedish Chef, is one of the more elite goaltenders in the NHL. He’s a constant Vezina winner or finalist, even though this year it will probably go to that douchebag Tuuka Rask. This entire postseason he’s been playing like a beast, making ridiculous saves and contorting his body in ways that make me feel kind of funny, like when we used to climb the ropes in gym class.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ytcAVWB_Hc

Observe:

Plus, here he is on a boat.

Also, here he is in a suit:

Sometimes he kind of looks like Aladdin, which confuses me but Aladdin was also my first major childhood crush (don’t judge), so also, major bonus points.

Also, here he is in a suit again.

Update: I guess Carey Price is also kind of hot, but in that “I look like I’m 12” way. So yeah, but no. I do admit that Price is an exceptional goaltender- it requires a certain amount of stamina and skill to knock the Cup-favorite Bruins and their high-school bullying out of contention- but in no way does he come close to Henrik Lundqvist. Period. The End.

Also, here’s Hank in a suit.

I probably shouldn’t have looked at a picture of him on a bed.

I think you can see where I’m headed with this.

EXHIBIT B CUP: (see what I did there? CUP?) So Allison, in case you didn’t realize, not ALL your games are played in Montreal. We have a home ice advantage, as well, and Rangers fans “bleed blue” for a reason. The New York sports community is one of the most loyal there is in the US, especially when one of our teams makes the postseason. The Rangers beat the Pens, who we hate, and the Flyers, who even their players’ moms hate, to get here. Not to mention that there’s the excitement of an Original Six matchup, with two teams that each haven’t won in 20 years. I’m betting on an astronomical attendance at the Garden, and even a huge fanbase at the Bell Centre, which will only boost our morale. Watching it on a big screen means nothing if your team doesn’t know that you’re there. GO-O-OAL!

(We have home ice advantage this series - meaning the games start in Montreal and there will no doubt be plenty of Hab fans in NYC too).

FYI- I’m in no way suggesting that New York City hockey fans are bigger than Canadian ones. You guys are insane. Like, scary insane. Like, hockey is pretty much all you guys have. Besides Molson. And flannel shirts.

(I'd make some threats here, but I'm no Milan Lucic).

EXHIBIT GOSLING: Our forwards can pretty much do no wrong right now. After the tragic loss of Marty St. Louis’ mother, he chose to come back and perform with his team; then scored the first goal of the game- on Mother’s Day. Even Penguins fans probably cheered him on. Brad Richards, Derek Stepan and Daniel Carcillo are killing everything. If Chris Kreider stays out of the penalty box, we can expect a lot from him as well. Any one of our main forwards could fill the vacant Captain slot next year and I would be fine with that. (HAHAHAHA. “Fill the vacant slot.”)

EXHIBIT DD: At first I wasn’t sure about Alain Vigneault as our head coach, to be honest. When we swapped with Vancouver, the Canucks were perennial chokers, never making it that far in the Playoffs. But he’s proven to be a great addition to the Club, with a style that’s clearly suited the Rangers and helped them advance to the Final Four. Vigneault has also previously coached Montreal, so even though it’s a different roster, he knows how to get past the most decorated team in the NHL.

Meanwhile, John Tortorella is now an even bigger asshole, and the Canucks sucked even harder. Tort got fired at the end of this regulation season when they failed to make the playoffs.

http://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/puck-daddy/canucks-flames-line-brawl-five-simultaneous-fights-john-041732349--nhl.html

EXHIBIT SQUEE: Here’s Hank in a suit: