The Worst Wallet Week

A few weeks ago, I could not keep it together, and by "it", I mean my person and my wallet. My poor wallet was neglected and abandoned like a radio in the 60s.

Here's a breakdown of my wallet's bad week.

Monday @ 4am - got a call from Raymond at ultimatebid.com. They had reason to believe that my credit card had been compromised. He suggested that I call VISA right away. When I called VISA, I found that my card number had been used to make an unsuccessful $950 bid at ultimatebid.com, to fill up a Tim Horton's card to the tune of $95 (that's a lot of maple glazes!!) and to purchase two tickets to the movies. I think Scrooge McDuck was using my card number to live a wildly frugal life.

VISA cancelled my card right away and made an order for a new one. I was flying to Southern Ontario that morning and decided to see if I could sweet talk the car rental agency into renting a car to me sans credit card. The gamble paid off - they were willing to do a favour for a repeat customer. Thanks Sven from Advantage!!

Wednesday 830am - The bank gave me a new credit card on Tuesday, but I managed to misplace it by Wednesday morning. I stopped at Booster Juice to get some breakfast and I left my wallet on the counter. Um...yeah. I go to Booster Juice, but I promise I will never feel 100% comfortable saying "Strawberry Sunshine with a Power Booster, please". The day I start feeling comfortable with that gibberish is the day I start popping my collar.

Wednesday 630pm - On the same day as the Booster Juice abandonment, I left my credit card at the home of the woman who will be doing my makeup for the wedding. I swear that when I picked it up from her on Thursday afternoon, it had some tears on it.

Since that week, I've been suffering from "wallet anxiety". It's similar to the feeling of driving a car during the first few weeks after you've been in a car accident. You're confident on the road and not afraid of driving, but there is this ambient anxiety that a collision is lurking around the next bend. You're quick to tap the breaks and little things on the road make your adrenaline glands dump their glandage (that's a medical term, BTW). I'll be hanging out at the house/cottage/corner and I'll suddenly think "where's my wallet?" and until I find it, I experience an adrenaline-filled rampage that leaves all by-standers and purse flotsam & jetsam in its wake.

I've recently started carrying a purse again and man...you can pack a lot of useless crap and forgotten garbage into that thing! The primary reason for me carrying a purse again was to have a stylish laptop bag, but I've started to enjoy its many pockets, nooks and crannies (aka - wallet hiding spots) for various other reasons - like being able to carry all the stuff you'd ever need with you including various creams, balms and implements of beauty and destruction. It's a Swiss Army purse.

Maybe a complete purse makeover will ease my worries.

Even if the shoe doesn’t fit…wear it!

WARNING!! This post contains graphic pictures and information that will not be interesting to most men of the non-metrosexual and/or non-manscaped variety. If you are not interested in all things girlie, please distract yourself with this link that should prove to be more up your alley (I know how much you dudes like Bon Jovi).

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I used to be able to wear any shoes and as long as they were close to the right size (9, 10 or 11 rather than a size 6). I wouldn’t get blisters. My feet wouldn’t get tired. My toes would stay fully awake and I never thought to myself, “are my toes numb because I've squished a nerve or have they broken off and are rattling around in my shoes untethered?” Maggie’s feet of today are much different from Maggie’s feet of yesteryear (Maggie promises she will never write in the third person ever again).

A few years ago, I swore off stylish footwear. I had worn pointy-toed stilettos for a couple of years and those years of foot abuse caused my regular arches (the arch that runs from toes to heel) and the arches I didn’t know existed (the arch that runs along the base of your toes from Big to Baby) to fall like investment bankers in the late 1920s. Now, without the help of orthotics or other foot supports, I usually end up with bloody stumps in the place of feet by the end of the day. It's Birkenstocks and ballerina flats for me...until recently.

I've recently decided that I too deserve to wear fabulous footwear and I was willing to put some work and research (and money) into making it happen.

The change of tune occurred when I was in a training session a while ago and one of my fellow learners was wearing these awesome high-heeled cowboy boots. I coveted my neighbor's boots, Lord. Please forgive me.

I complimented her on her covet-worthy boots and she said that they were the best purchase she made in years. She said that she bought them because they're beautiful, but she said the bonus was that they're surprisingly comfortable. I guffawed and she said that she was serious. She said that it was a miracle - she could walk around in them all day and her feet felt ok by the end of the day.

That was it. I was sick of being stuck with sensible shoes. I was ready for a foray into the world of fabulousness, so I went out that night in search of some unreasonable shoes. And I found some. And they are unreasonable. They are a pair of red, high heeled pumps that have a peep toe and damn it, I'll be wearing them at our wedding come hell or high calluses.

I had to fight a number of foot forces in order to tolerate my new shoes and through my return trip to high-heeldom (helldom?), I've learned a few things.

Revelation 1 - Wedges

During my return to glamour, I purchsed a really cheap pair of wedges from Target (pronounced Tar-jhay). To my surprise, wedges are significantly more comfortable than heels of comparable heights.

I’m sure there is an earthly explanation for the comfort of a wedge, but I’m just going to call it a miracle. Starting at 530am, I can go from my home in Thunder Bay to my home in Waterloo via Pearson international airport and a whole workday. I won't take those puppies off until 8pm and my feet still feel good - not great, but good. They should start making wedges standard issue in the army – you can't get trench foot when your foot always stays a good three inches off the wet ground.

Revelation 2 - Shoe augmentation

After having some success with wedges, I decided to press my luck with a pair of slick, red patent leather (or reasonable facsimile) heels from Winners. The shoes looked fabulous, but they felt less than fabulous. The biggest issue…slippage. I am blessed with feet that do not sweat, although they do seem to perspire heavily (I am a lady, after all), so things get a little slick on the dance floor that is the inside of my shoes by the end of the day. This loss of friction between the sole of the foot and the sole of the shoe causes “slippage”. Since your foot/body is subject to gravity (gravity – screwing us all since day one!!), the slipperiness of some sweat in your shoe causes your feet to slip forward toward the front of your shoes. This results in loss of balance, toe jamz (as in toes jamming into the toe of the shoe and taking the weight of the world on their little toe shoulders) and floppy, slippy heels. The last issue is of particular concern, because you end up looking like a kid who is playing dress up with mom’s favourite evening shoes.

I did some research and I found something called "Foot Petals" that stopped the slippage problem. They offer a number of different shoe augmentations that correct a number of ailments (sloppy heels, slippage, fallen arches, etc). For slippage in particular, they offer little absorbent pads to put in the front of your shoes that soak up your lady-seeps and keep your foot firmly in place in your heels, so you're not hindered by slippage while you work your lady-lumps (or work at your day job). They also offer arch supports specifically made for high heels, which make the heels almost as comfortable as the wedges. Miracle v2.0.

Revelation 3 – Foot lube

You keep your car well lubed, right? If you don't, things start to stick. When things stick, things wear, tear and then get busted. Feet are the same way. If you have a spot in your shoe where there is friction with your foot, you'll get rubbing and sticking, which usually results in a big, fat, hairy blister by the end of the day.

The solution...foot lube. I was investigating whether or not a "liquid bandage" would do my feet right, when I came across Band-aid's Blister Block stick. It claimed to reduce blister-causing friction by depositing a slick layer of stay-put lube on the trouble-spot. The lube layer would not stop the shoe from rubbing, but it would stop the effects of rubbing by allowing the surface of the foot and the surface of the shoe to glide freely over one another. I felt it was worth a try. I couldn't find the Band-aid brand, so I took a gamble and bought the Life brand equivalent, which is being hawked as a prophylactic measure for Diabetics, who are prone to serious foot problems because of blisters, chafing and other problems caused by friction against the feet. Note to Readers - I was going to link to some pictures of diabetic feet, but they were just too worthy of "Fangoria" magazine for my liking. You can look them up on your own if you are that interested.

Much to my surprise, the foot lube turned out to be awesome. You need to reapply it a couple of times during the day if you're walking a lot, but it's a small inconvenience compared to blistered feet. It's great for all types of shoe issues - like wearing your $2 rubber flip flops for the first time in the season.

Well, there you have it. My secrets to success. But only success with shoes. If you put foot lube on your face because you want to be successful at public speaking, you get a big, fat FAIL.

PS - For anyone who is interested, these are the shoes I'm wearing for the wedding, but mine are red patent leather. HURT!! Erm, I mean...HOT!!

Bad Things and Good Things to have happen at 430am

Bad thing - to be woken by a phonecall at 430am

Good thing - to be alerted to the fact that your credit card has been blocked due to fraudulent activity at ultimatebid.com to the tune of $950!

Thanks, Raymond from Ultimate Bid sales dept - your company's stringent security practices stayed your execution.

An Apology

To all those folks out there who couldn't give a crap about our upcoming nuptials, I apologize because all my dials are set on "WEDDING".

I've become one of those women. You know those women. The ones that when you ask them how they're doing, they tell you how their wedding plans are coming along instead of commenting on their state of being or just saying "I'm well, how are you?" like any other normal, disaffected person. This is my current response to the innocent "how's it going" question. "Well, the caterer is booked but we haven't tasted the food yet, I love my dress - it's almost done, I'm having a panic attack about the fact that I can't find someone to do my hair and Sean's been a huge help because school's out and he has lots of time to wrap up loose ends and make arrangements. [Breath] We're hoping there are enough outlets at the venue to accommodate all the stuff that needs power - DJ setup, PA, Toilets - I know...toilets need power! We're getting our flowers at the Guelph market the morning of and I'm concerned about getting tan lines, although I don't have enough good sense to wear sunscreen. How are you?"

I add that last part in to make it seem like I'm actually interested in how people are, but we all know it's a thin facade.

I swore I wouldn't be one of those women. The ones who become consumed with the next major event in their life (usually wedding or childbirth - occasionally, remodeling of some part of their household can get the same level of immersion). I always thought it would be work or my disdain for Nickelback that would consume me.

So - here I am. Gushing about how awesome my dress is, stressing over the perfect wedding hair-do and makeup, and wondering whether or not the reception will be the best time ever.

I ask for your mercy and understanding in this time of personal crisis.

Destructively Yours,
Bridezilla

I Went to Benny Birch's Birthday and All I Got Was This Lousy Stomach Ache

Who is Benny Birch? That's the question I had when Sean told me about the long-standing Thunder Bay tradition that is Benny Birch's Birthday Party.

Not only did I get to meet Benny Birch, but I think he tried to pick me up...like in the romantic way. He didn't physically try to pick me up. That would have been even more awkward.

For some reason, I thought that Benny Birch was some sort of beloved local hero. Perhaps he was the man who saved a school bus full of children from the raging Kam river or the man who founded one of the local paper mills, but no - Benny Birch is a tree. Boring.

Benny is the mascot for St Joseph's care group - a collection of medical services in and around Thunder Bay (I think). Every year St. Joe's hosts a "birthday party" for Benny, which consists of rides, lots of junk food and a few other entertaining tidbits.

At first we thought this guy was picketing, but then we got closer and saw that his sign was advertising raffle tickets. He definitely needed the sign...he was very short.

Sean and I stopped for a while to watch a live band that was playing at the band shell. The band was made up of a bunch of kids and their music teacher playing contemporary rock songs.

I would have had such a crush on these guys when I was 13. Their teacher played the bass for the band and sang like a mom (with anunciation and perfect pitch). They sang "Closing Time". No, not the Leonard Cohen "Closing Time", the Semisonic "Closing Time". Hey...whatever happened to that Leonard Cohen guy? He had a pretty short-lived career, but Semisonic. They really made a name for themselves. Why, just last week they played a big show in Nowhere.

Roarrrrrrr! Lions love T-shirts and cotton candy!!!

Like any local fair, there was a wide assortment of garbage to be bought and eaten. Sean and I started out with Elephant Ears (the T-Bay version of BeaverTails) and sno-cones (lime!!!). Yum-a-zum, zig-a-zig-ahhh!

As I mentioned earlier, I had the pleasure of meeting Benny in person. The man in the Benny costume was definitely elderly and when I asked for a picture, he said "do you think he'd mind if I put my arm around you?" I said no and then he said "If I were [Sean], I wouldn't let anyone else put his arm around you". Good thing Sean didn't seen Benny as a threat to his ownership of me or else someone (Benny) was going to be going through the "wood chipper" (Sean's ham fists).

As part of the $2 entrance fee for Benny's Birthday, we got free admission to the local zoo. It was a beautiful day, so Sean and I took a walk through the zoo and peeped at the menagerie.

Bird identification FAIL. The first clue that those aren't Canada geese is the fact that they're not shitting all over everything in sight.

Hmmm...what comely beast would eat dog food with fish heads in it?

Why the humble raccoon, of course!!! It wasn't until the moment I saw the raccoons in the enclosure that I realized there are no raccoons in Thunder Bay. A blessing from Nanabijou.

They have some birds of prey at the zoo. Here's a red-tailed hawk (I think...bird nerds in the house, can you verify?). It was kind of sad to see the birds in the enclosures. Apparently all the animals were either born in captivity or taken out of a bad situaiton. I hope those birds were somehow rendered unable to fly due to their "bad situations", because if they still have the ability to fly, caging them seems inhumane.

How many licks does it take to get to the centre of a Tootsie Roll Pop? I yelled that over and over at these owls and they didn't answer me. Not even once!



Lazy wolves. It was pretty darn hot that day. The wolves were out, but they were sleepy. They're not quite as majestic when they're sleeping.



Cougar! This fine feline is also taking a nap. To view some cougars in action, click here.



Sean and I are moose repellent. It's a proven fact. When we went to Gros Morne national park (the moose capitol of Canada) a couple of years ago we saw no moose. In fact, there were 16 moose/car incidents during the day we spent there and we didn't even see one. That means that 16 people hit moose with their car that day and we couldn't even lay eyes on one!!

The day at the zoo proved to be no different. Although supposedly there are moose in one of the enclosures, all we saw was caribou. Cari-boooooooooo! If I wanted to see caribou, I'd look at a quarter.



Another sleeping animal. This one is a red fox. It took a while to spot this little guy. He was sleeping in a shaded area under a little structure.



It wasn't quite as difficult to spot the arctic fox. Can you see him below?



He was a real cutie pootie



Once we were done at the zoo, we went back to Benny's party to get a little more garbage to eat. Sean bought some fudge, which was sub-standard. I bought a candy apple, which never disappoints.



Hey!!! Sean ate my candy apple!!



No remorse. Well, to get back at him, I've posted the image below. First it starts with sunscreen that is not fully rubbed in, next stop is sandals with black socks. It's the first leg on a journey toward unhip dad'sville, population: "Sean".

Who are you?

Much like the totally stoned caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, I beg the answer to the question "Who are you?" - not because I'm totally stoned, but because I'm curious.



I'm curious to know who reads my blog. I'm curious to know why people read my blog and I'm curious to know why you have so much spare time on your hands. Unemployment, perhaps? Self-loathing disengagement at work? An addiction to blogs? A blogiction? A blogoholic (someone who is addicted to blogohol)? So drop me a line and let me know who you are, faithful blogohol lovers.

I want to know who reads my blog because much like Alice and her Wonderland, things on the Internets are not always as they seem. I use Google Analytics to give me some stats on the blog (number of site visits, what global regions visit the site, etc), but I think the people at Google lie. Just like Henry Rollins.



I have a healthy mistrust for anything that is found on the Internet. Sean and I lost all faith in the accuracy or validity of information on the Internet when we were renovating our house in Kitchener. I think we reached the pinnacle of our false-belief in the Internet when Sean was all suited up in a plastic jumpsuit (which was way too small and the crotch had totally ripped open), a respirator, safety goggles and gloves in order to remove some lead paint from our trim. It wasn't until after Sean had been whipped into a full-on heat-fueled rage that we realized that our childhood homes were full of lead paint, our parents ate lead vitamins and that our favourite childhood toys were made of lead (how I loved my anvil), and we turned out fine. After that realization, we abandoned our fears of lead poisoning.



Here are a few more examples of things on the Internet that aren't as they seem at first glance.





So, while I take a long, slow drag off the hookah, heed the caterpillar's advice and take a moment to tell me who you are. Feel free to email me, message me on facebook (you may have heard of it) or just comment on this blog post. I promise I will not sell your information for profit. Maybe for the purposes of identity theft, but not for profit.