The Beauty of Bar Bathrooms

For the most part, females are territorial individuals and it does not take much for them to register you as an immediate enemy.

Here’s an example, if you dated their exes sisters cousins dentists neighbour, that’s it. It does not take much for you to be on the bitch list.

Or, if you look at them the wrong way. They’re like gorillas. But worse. And less furry.

However, with a magical substance, known to us mere mortals as alcohol, everything changes in the blink of an eye. Or the suck of a lemon, post tequila. Take your pick.

Enter a bathroom sober? It’s awkward eye contact in the mirror while you’re pretending to wash your hands by running them under the water (don’t lie, we only do it when we’re under pressure).

Enter a bathroom DRUNK? Prepare to find out just how pretty you are.

“Oh…My…God…I LOVE YOUR DRESS”

I LOVE YOUR SHOES”

“YOU’RE LIKE MY NEW BEST FRIEND, I SWEAR”

“YOU. ARE. SO. PRETTY”

Easy there Malibu Barbie, I just came in here for a sweet release of the 8 whiskey sours I’ve knocked back in the past 45 minutes. I am sweaty. And I need some breathing room. Why do you smell like coconut? Do I smell like coconut? Probably not.

If the world was run by drunk women, and World Nations meetings convened in the sticky bathroom of a local bar, we would be far better off.

There would just be a lot of hair touching, and an excessive amount of inter-nation selfies.

No wars. No famine. Because everyone would dance to the Top 5 hits of the week remixed in 37 different ways, go get some poutine, and call it a day.

I’d have to say, my personal favourite was the girl who was shaving her legs in the bathroom at the club. “I didn’t think I was gonna get laid tonight, but I am now so desperate times call for desperate measures”. Now THAT, people, is a scavenger. That’s the kind of woman we need running our country… if not our WORLD. Making the tough calls in drastic situations. I like it. Hell, if she had another razor I would have done  the right leg while she did the left… Us girls gotta stick together. As I said, we are not gorillas and it is not in our nature to be furry.

BUT SUDDENLY. 

Somewhere around 11:30AM, when you’re fast asleep in your best friend’s bathtub, and awake to an overwhelming desperation for a blue Gatorade and some scrambled eggs, we slip slowly back into the real world.

And Malibu Barbie would see you on the street and scoff because you dated her exes sisters cousins dentists neighbour.

Shame, really.

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The Important of Arts Degrees – Living in the Grey

Upon the conclusion of my degree, I came to the realization that it wasn’t for nothing. Despite the ridiculousness that is our “education system” (i.e., absorb and regurgitate information).

Too many times I have informed people of my 6 subject course load, and they are impressed, until… “What program is it?” – “Criminology” – “Oh, well that isn’t bad then”.

And frankly, I get embarrassed and often play it off as if I know that my degree is useless in the real world. Whereas I should hold my head high.

Why are Arts degrees considered easy?

Have you ever written a 20 page paper on a subject that you have no sweet clue where your actual stance is? Researched for hours upon hours. Tried to develop an opinion on a foreign topic before next lecture when your Professor expects it printed, stapled, and prepared for sacrifice.

Arts students are experts in the grey. 

Social Sciences and Arts do not have a right or wrong, a black or white… As it is completely up to the discretion of the Professor. We are advanced in bullshitting. And it is a skill that will help you through life, that’s for damn sure. A degree is what you make of it.

Too many times I have had engineering, kinesiology, and science majors send their English prerequisite papers my way for major editing (and let me tell you, they need it). Then the next day at the bar with all our friends will disregard me and my chosen focus; “yeah but she’s in Arts”.

I have spilled countless coffees, tears, and soul onto the pages of my papers and reports. We are passionate about what we do. Not everyone can do what you are doing. So, guzzle that redbull, open your Microsoft word, and know that you are working towards something. Because a degree doesn’t make you, you make your degree. 

Next time someone asks you “what can you even do with that (criminology, psychology, sociology, etc.)?”, you quickly pull your hand out of your right pocket, raise your middle finger, and promptly state, “this“.

Extrovert + Introvert = Ambivert

Ambivert – The Lovechild of Introverts and Extroverts.

HOW am I just stumbling upon this beautiful definition so late in my life.

Let me confirm: I am pleasant for a certain amount of time and then I suck at being a nice person. 

I’d like to get to know you, I really would. But I just have more pressing issues to attend to. Such as Grey’s Anatomy, or that bag of pirogies in my freezer, or perhaps my body pillow that I have left to be lonely ALL DAY (breaks my heart).

And let me tell you, this shit is not fun. I would LOVE to be the life of the party. But I am more so the childhood phase of the party; seems like she’s drunk (could be, might be), falling everywhere, eating everyones food, making dumb faces. And then I’m done. I’m done after the first quarter or so of said party, hence… Childhood phase. You remember me, but it’s kind of hazy because it was all slightly overwhelming.

I like you until I want to nap, or maybe get pizza… “Why don’t you just share your pizza with them, Jade?” – Take a step back, and reevaluate that question and then come back to me with something realistic.

Here are 15 surefire ways to know that you are an Extroverted Introvert

(1) You probably wouldn’t be one to actively start conversations with strangers out of the kindness of your own heart – We know you’re nice, but you’re not THAT nice.

(2) You tend to pick and choose whether you want to observe or be involved – This can greatly depend on amounts of tequila shots ingested.

(3) Too much time alone can get you feeling kind of depressive, not very productive – Until you hit the d-floor and WABAM. Is that Madonna? Nope, it’s just an ambivert in a $20 dress from Stitches, get at me.

(4) Some weekends you’re Paris Hilton, other weekends you’re Liz Lemon.

(5) Small talk is incredibly insincere and it almost hurts you to do it. Meaningful/exciting conversation or nothing.

(6) Your closet ranges from stained sweatpants and ratty university sweaters to sequin covered mini dresses and leather pants.

(7) When you read things about being an extrovert you agree… Until you start to agree with the introvert ones as well. Hm.

(8) Spending too much time with other people can be absolutely exhausting – How do people do it? Does it hurt your face to smile that much?

(9) You are more than happy to meet other people – On the condition that you have friends of your own within your general vicinity.

(10) You can talk for hours about certain topics of interests, and then shut down as soon as it’s done and feel perfectly content just listening.

(11) Your friends generally can’t describe you as introvert or extrovert, and for the most part describe you with the term: “sassy” – Which can have sassy flamboyant meaning, or sassy “leave me alone” meaning. The term is very much in flux.

(12) You relate to cats very very very well. Almost scarily well. You love to be pampered and showered with attention but rub the wrong spot on your belly and BOOM, off you go and walk away with your tail in the air and showing everyone your butthole. Okay, not literally.

(13) Thinking before you speak isn’t usually a problem because chances are you’re a chronic over thinker (I am the prime example of that) – Except for that one time you told your Aunt Darlene that she reminded you of an eggplant in that purple dress, oops.

(14) You tend to balance out whoever you’re with – They’re loud, you’re quiet… And vice versa.

(15) You related to most of the things on this list. Did you? Because if you did – HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE AMBIVERT CLUB WE HAVE COOKIES.

I’m lying. We don’t have cookies. But they’re lots of us.

One of us. One of us. One of us.

Jade, Xx.

It’s a Ruff Life – My Mission to Get a Puppy

G is not down for doggy-style.. Life, that is. A doggy-style life.

Perhaps, it’s that their unbearable cuteness is overwhelming, and he fears he will not be able to make it to work if we get a pup. Or perhaps, it is because he fears that my love for him will fade, also due to said unbearable cuteness. Which, may happen. I can make no promises that he will still be my favourite (sorry, G). He can be my favourite human, but that’s all I can say.

I’m thinking of getting a vizsla, or a doberman. Girl would be Gidget, boy would be… Not sure. If you have any name suggestions, please comment them because I love to hear some ideas from my fellow K9 lovers out there.

Let me list some reasons as to why it would be a good idea to get a dog (coughG-AREYOUREADINGTHIScough)

1 – They are dogs.

2 – Dogs are heaven on earth.

3 – They will lick your face with little concern that they just recently licked their doggy-parts with it; they love you THAT much that they don’t even care.

4 – WHO CAN CUDDLE YOU BETTER THAN A DOG? NO ONE. DON’T ARGUE IT.

5 – A dog thinks you’re the best and will stare at you while you poop as if you are sitting on a gold throne and ruling a kingdom.

6 – Dogs don’t judge you when you are on your 12th episode of Grey’s Anatomy and eating peanut butter with a spoon.

7 – Dogs are active – You have to walk/run with them. Therefore, working off previously mentioned jar of peanut butter.

8 – Who else will lay with you when you are sick and disgusting? No one. But your dog will.

9 – NOBODY will love you like a dog can – Sorry G, don’t hate the player.. Hate the game.

10 – THEY ARE DOGS. END OF DISCUSSION.

Additionally, I need a dog to love me while G is on training, at work, on tour. I’m terribly needy… It can be kind of endearing… Maybe… Ok, so it’s kind of annoying, but it is not my fault entirely (DAMN YOU, ATTENTIVE PARENTS). Nevertheless, in conclusion. I need a dog. This is not a want. This is a need. IT IS HAPPENING.

Ps. Dog names? Hit me up!

J, Xx.

Am I… Basic?

This past weekend, I was called “basic”. A “basic bitch” to be specific. It wasn’t meant as an insult, apparently.

So I took it upon myself to search the dark realms of the Interweb to define what “basic” is.

*Enter UrbanDictionary.com* … “Basic Bitch: Just an extra regular female” – PARDON ME, KIND SIR?

I would like to announce to the general public that I am NOT EXTRA REGULAR.

Furthermore, I do not own/buy any of the following items that Google has told me are “basic bitch items” (mostly due to the fact that I am broke as F):

– Hunter’s (I prefer Walmart rain boots #noshame)

– Uggs

– Canada Goose Jacket (My jacket was $15 on the sale rack from Urban Planet, as I said.. Broke)

– Starbucks

– Big salads (Gimme da MEATS)

– Macarons (People Instragram them all the time – WHERE DO YOU GET SUCH FRENCH THINGS?)

From what I have gathered from my male friends, these things are “basic”. So am I fake basic? Am I fasic? Perhaps. Because I DO HAVE:

– Fake laughing pictures on my instagram

– A heart next to G’s name in my phone

– A Coach handbag (ALSO FAKE, VERY FAKE – Thank you Chinatown, NY)

– Ombre hair (I can’t help it that I’m indecisive about hair colours)

– A gold iPhone 5s (with scratches on the screen of course because I suck)

Could it be.. Am I.. Fasic?

Greetings Readers – If You Exist

I was brought up in a loving home, an eccentric mother (Mama Bear), a successful father (Papa Bear), and a brother who I swear got all the good qualities of both… Um, why didn’t I get that? Anyways, I had some hardships growing up. My brother and I (Brotha Bear), had to grow up extremely fast in the face of a lot of loss; cancer is a bitch. In 2007, our cousin was taken away from us in cold-blood, and it was then that I knew that I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a police officer. As the years went on, there were some other unfortunate events but I am sure we will get into those later. In 2013, I met G, and I can remember clear as day saying, “I have a lot of baggage, I don’t think this is a good idea”, but he persisted and here we are.

In explanation of the name of this blog, I refuse to be “categorized” as a military wife. Not that there is a thing wrong with it at all, I respect the military (I mean obviously, look who I cuddle up to every night). However, I am just not the type to follow a man around and bake cookies and do fundraisers. I want to work, and I want to work hard, as that was how I was brought up. And this blog will be life from the perspective of a woman who is with a military member, but is not, by any means, a military wife. There is so much more to a person than that title, and I refuse to be defined as that.

TAKE THAT STEREOTYPICAL EXPECTATIONS OF WOMEN. RIGHT IN THE KISSER.

In the past several months, with the conclusion of my degree, I have had an excessive amount of people give me their two cents on whether I should be going with G across the country, and at this point I have approximately $68.44 in “two cents” and it has been clouding my brain. This is what I’ve been hearing.

“You don’t want to be that girl Jade, that girl that just frolics after a man and gets her heart broken” – Ah yes, negativity.. Mm, tastes good.

“What about YOU and what YOU want” – Well, I mean… G is pretty handsome, I want a piece of that for sure.

“You are putting your career on hold” – I have a BACHELOR OF SOCIAL SCIENCES for f’s sakes, if I get a “career” in the next 3 years I’ll be an anomaly.

“Do you have that kind of money?” – Arguable. This is a fact. Student loans are like a bad pimple on your back that you just can’t reach but you know it’s gotta go at some point, and you hide it with sweaters and whatnot, and you think everyone can notice. I can promise you, nobody can tell that you have loans. But oh lordy, that doesn’t make them any less scary.

ANYWAYS. After a nice little raccoon faced cry sesh, and a whole box of pirogies, I came to the conclusion that y’know what.. Why wouldn’t I go? I’m in no rush to dive headfirst into my career.

BUT.

There’s a big ol but booty here.

This does not mean, that I won’t still be preparing myself for my career while I go.

AND. I won’t be going until the end of the year, when G is finished Phase 1 of Training. So, while he is gone I am sure you will be hearing from one emotional Jade, that is for damn sure. Stay tuned for a beautiful mental breakdown, guys and gals.

Check ya later,

Jade, Xx.