July 30

Dear July,

Where did you go? You were here, we had some laughs and now you're gone. You always do this to me! I do know I probably contributed to it by drinking copious amounts of wine and the unfortunate stress jar night but seriously July - I hardly knew you. Moving on to a slower paced August who loves me and is going to support my new eating and drinking habits. August, I look forward to reading on the deck with you and mowing the lawn with a large frosty glass of water. August, when we part ways so that I can greet my old friend September I know your love and support will contribute to my 10 pound weight loss. Don't fail me August. 

Much love,

Stacy 

July 24

So I just finished reading A Long Way Home (adapted to the movie Lion). I suddenly have a whole new respect for 5 year olds! This kid survived the streets of Calcutta for 3 weeks and the many weeks in an orphanage in Calcutta. Seriously?! Although I was personally aquatinted with my own 5-year old self at one time and I can realistically say I was a pretty serious bad ass, I was in no way prepared to deal with Calcutta. Nor was I prepared to deal with the mean streets of Eckville for a solid 45 minutes. I was maybe more accurately described as a slightly prepared, nap needing 5 year old.

I think I cannot even pretend to comprehend the horrors of this world. I don't want to. I already have problems sleeping. I think my greatest wish is to be a good person - but I think I am a slightly prepared, nap needing 46 year old. 😕

July 21

I feel a little bad about my anti-Canadian-150-birthday-visitors-thing so I'll share why I'm proud to be Canadian:

1. Surviving winter for 46 years. Winters that last from mid-September to mid-May. Winters that include -40 degrees WITHOUT windchill. Winters that have 6 1/2 hours of daylight. I fucking hate it, except when my wood box is full, the Oilers are ahead by two goals with 2 minutes left in the third, the driveway is plowed and I have a full glass of wine, on my couch, with my husband and my dogs.

2. Beer commercials. Nothing brings a tear to my eye and elevates my national pride more than a Molson Canadian commercial. I. Am. Canadian.

3. Our history defending our country and other Commonwealth countries. I love when I hear our neighbors to the south say that WW2 was from  1941-1945. Actually bitch, it was 1939 until 1945. We joined the party 2 years prior to Pearl Harbour. I have nothing but respect for people who have served past and present. 

4. Canadian rock. Bryan Adams, Nickleback, Gordon Lightfoot (Sundown - all time favourite), Hedley, Streetheart (RIP Kenny Shields), Trooper, Our Lady Peace, Tragically Hip (Richard Goudie that ones for you), Tom Cochrane, Alanis Morisette .....the list goes on.

5. Terry Fox. I think the older I get the prouder I become of him. I'm amazed by his dedication, perseverance and courage. 

Okay now a couple things that unimpress me:

1. Our political correctness. Have the balls to say no, this is bullshit. Quit worrying about everyone's feelings. Put on your big girl panties Canada and tell people to fuck off. Or sit down and let me do it

2. Socialism. Seriously, is this a fad? Like getting a Jack Russell? Or a hybrid car? I seriously cannot wrap my head around socialism. 

3. Karla Homolka. Need I say more? That sick, twisted bitch walks free?! And has children?! Canada?! What went wrong!

4. Tim Hortons. I'm sorry, this will offend many but I really don't care for the coffee. And every time there is a Roll Up The Rim to Win contest the garbage is ridiculous.

5. We built a UFO landing pad and to my knowledge there has not been any landings?! Do they not know we are Canadian and we are the friendliest fucking people in the world? My only explanation is that they too must not care for Timmy's coffee......

July 18

First of all I would like to wish Canada a Happy 150th Birthday. You are a sexy bitch and you wear your age well. You can acknowledge some wonderful moments - Passchendaele, Vimy Ridge, CN railroad, Tim Hortons. You've also had some misses - residential schools, internment camps, Robert Pickton, $10.5 Million to Omar Khdar. But hey, we all learn from our mistakes, right? 

My current complaint is inviting everyone to our birthday party. No one likes drunk Uncle Steve or our second cousin Lucy that has tattoos and nose piercings. I also do not like the assholes in our national parks. If you are stupid enough to walk up to a grizzly with your 5 year old for a photo opportunity then that qualifies as natural selection. The world is a better place without you. And drivers. My. God. The. Drivers. Awful. I have considerable road rage at the best of time (Sylvan Lake drivers you know you're the worst. You fuckers all race up to those lights on Highway 11, passing all other drivers AND THEN TURN OFF!) 

But driving on Highway 93 is a test of patience, perseverance and whatever the hell else I do not possess. People pulling out into on-coming traffic, turning without signaling, slamming on the brakes to take a picture of a God damn crow, and my favourite....driving 60km/hr in a rented RV that you have no business driving. 

This week I had the joy of driving 93. I absolutely love the drive, we do it 10 or 15 times a year. Breathtakingly beautiful. Proud to be Canadian. We stopped at the overflow camping area at Lake Louise for a quick lunch on our way to enjoy beautiful British Columbia (which, unfortunately, just wandered back to the NDP side of government) anyway, we pulled into the parking lot and it was a mad house. They had parking attendants directing traffic. This was a shock to us because usually it's us and the odd car stopped for a bathroom break and 125 photo-worthy crows. 

So this fucker directs Darren and Jen to the desolate back 40 of the campground. I'm next and I quickly explain that I'm with the motor home, he quickly requests that I, "stop talking". I smile (but I'm thinking that I will later track him down and burn down his house) he tells me to go back and park by other trailers. Again, I smile and say thank you. I go back and park the trailer by Darren and Jen's, he runs his ass over there and gives me shit and tells me to park 50 feet away. Again I smile and say absolutely...you miserable fucker. I park and walk over to D&J's with chairs, dogs, bacon and beer. We enjoy a breakfast BBQ and then he comes over AGAIN to tell us our hour is up and he needs our parking spots. The parking lot has roughly 150 open spots but ours are so glorious and coveted that he needs ours. I swear to God I was going to have a throw down. I'm fairly certain that there is no hour limit on overflow parking, nor is there designated parking, nor do I give a flying fuck that he needs 150 spots for foreigners to take pictures of Lake Louise!! 

So, Canada, I know that 150 is a banner year but next year when we celebrate 151 can we have a quiet ceremony? Maybe a backyard BBQ? Invite only close friends? Smokies and cold beer? I look forward to the invite - yours truly, Stacy. 

July 15

Made the epic, colossal journey to Fairmont. Puck drop. Mike drop. Period. If you have been here with us you know the sentence ends there. 

We are a force. Like Hurricane Katrina (I know, old reference but applicable). We have been here for 2 days and visited be security once, dog attack once, 2 wine glasses broken, 2 fights, 16 martinis, NO GAME OF THRONES, 18 holes, 10 of us on the zip line tour and one escort out of Walisser's trailer- have I mentioned it is Day 1? 

I also have my nieces, 2 of them. I love, love, love them but it's hard to be responsible for me let alone two other human beings. I know they are 15 and 16 respectively, but I too am respectively, just kidding. 

I will attempt to keep everyone apprised of our activities but keep your expectations low.

In the immortal words of Brandon Imeson, "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" 

July 10

Another summer weekend gone. Naturally we were camping and having our fireside parties/sing-a-long/solving world problems…..

 

We were singing “Lonesome Loser” by Little River Band and I realized how monumentally politically incorrect it is:

 

“Have you heard about the lonesome loser
Beaten by the queen of hearts every time
Have you heard about the lonesome loser
He's a loser, but he still keeps on tryin'”

 

Today the lyrics would have to be re-written:

“Have you heard from a reliable, unbiased news source regarding the gender neutral individual who is currently suffering from an unidentified syndrome. This person has been assaulted by a female sovereign repeatedly and he is endeavoring to overcome the social, political and economic diversity  to excel with enthusiasm and vivacity”

 

Not sure if it has the same lyrical harmony…

 

July 6

Okay I am in my trailer with my 132,631 friends (mosquitoes) and they have a whole new weight loss plan for me...lack of blood. I'm not arguing, it may work.

I have to start with an update about my Sister With a Penis - all is good. (Btw....my iPad auto-corrected...wtf is a "Pemis"???) But I digress, my Tier One friend (hard to attain this level!) is doing fine. But our scare led me to reflect on my own life. Most people have a "Bucket List" and I too have decided on mine, except mine is a "Bucket List of Thing I'll Never Do"....

1. Look good in a hat. Let's face it I have an enormous head. If my head was full of quarters I could retire. I am a complete Bobble Head. I'm not sure where I get it - Bardenhagen side or Smith side but I'm leaning (with my large head) towards the Bardenhagen side (my numerous moles come from the Smith side)

2. Like spiders. Nope. Never. 

3. Vote NDP. Nope. Never. If I could have a 3.1, I will never vote Liberal either. My grandpa Smith would never forgive me, nor would I ever be able to look my big bobble head in the mirror again.

4. Skydive. First I would have to be completely honest about my weight, which I find it hard to do (even with Dr. Robinson, who after he weighs me I punch in the throat and threaten him with his life if he ever tells anyone else)

5. Shit, this is a hard one. Listen to ZZTop. Seriously, can't do it. I have to apologize to Darien Parker because he said he would disown me if I ever said this but I HATE ZZTop. (Also hate Florida Georgia Line - not sure if this helps or hinders with Darien's disgust) 

6. Sing the correct lyrics to 87.7% of the songs I sing. I make up my own words (which in my bobble head sound perfect!) Jack and Diane - I don't know what the fuck John Cougar Mellencamp sings but he's wrong.

7. Stop swearing. I try. But I can't fucking do it. Shit. 

8. Take in bottles. It's disgusting. They are dirty and gross. Ryan bought me a truck once because my argument was, "I'll take in the bottles" then we both stared long and deep into each other's souls because we both knew I was lying. 

9. Donate my liver. Sorry world, it's mine.

10. Be skinny. First my large head exonerates me from this, as does my large ass, boobs, belly, ankles, wrists, eyelashes and attitude. I know there is a lot of large bitches out there because when you try to order clothes from Roots all the XL and L are gone. You know what is left??? XXS!!! 

July 3

So I'm not sure if everyone knows about my circle, but my circle is small and tight. It is very tight and I love, love, love those around me. So I do have some criteria:

1. Must be able to pee on the potty

2. Have to be able to drive me home from a party 

3. Cannot. I repeat. CANNOT. EVER. EVER. EVER. Make me or Jen a martini with gin. This is a non-negotiable.

4. Have to be called a Thunder-Cunt or a Fiery Cunt at some point in the last 12 hours.

5. Must be able to console/counsel/condemn people at 3:00 a.m.

6. Be able to talk shit about ANYONE (including me) at any given time....and if someone walks in mid-conversation to must be able to quickly adapt a conversation.

7. Put up with me crying about my dad

8. Know that my dad was the most fucking awesome person you could ever know.

9. Be able to eat supper at 8:00 p.m., 9:00 p.m. , 10:00 p.m., 11:00 p.m., 5:00 a.m, 6:00 a.m. ..........

10. Be able to wipe my 3 day old mascara away and make look like Cindy Crawford. Cindy Crawford after a car accident....in Tijuana....after a 3 day drinking binge with Johnny Depp....and questionable plastic surgery....

11. Help me return my husband's side by side after I put it on it's side

12. Replace my dog you killed (Tracy, I don't think I need to say more)

13. Listen to my advice about marriage/child rearing/NDP at anytime, and agree that all my opinions are correct

14. Not have any heart problems.

15. Not have any heart problems.

16. Not have any heart problems.

17. Not have any heart problems.....

I will donate my kidney, liver, arm, leg or anything else, but I cannot donate my heart. You already have it. 

Please, please never scare me like this. You are my sister with a penis. I love you with a 1,000 fiery suns. I'm not sure how to soft sell this but I think that my friend Brian finally got his period and he has finally become a woman. Brian, my friend, my sister, my guy, please use tampons. You will live. You have to try to attain Tier One!! ❤️❤️❤️