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The ugly beautiful

To you, in the round glasses and white coat. As I eagerly waited to hear if the sweet baby inside me, who I’d grown from a blueberry to a lime to an avocado, was of the boy or girl variety, you opened the door and instead said, “there’s no easy way to say this.” And then, over the jungle howl that came from somewhere so deep inside my being that I didn’t recognize it as my own, you uttered those 5 cruel words I knew were coming: “We don’t see a heartbeat.” To you, Sir, thank you for letting me hate you. To my body that I’ve cared for and (mostly) loved for 36 years, despite your imperfections, you betrayed me and this baby and for that I am pissed. But you were strong through the hell that came after and we emerged on the other side together, so for that I am thankful. To Si, the labour and delivery nurse who gently placed the IV in my crooked vein, “I know you,” I thought. Yes, you helped bring Charlie into the world two years and a lifetime ago. Thank you for keeping your kind eyes locked on mine as you waited patiently for the answers to the questions no one should ever have to ask: do you want to hold your baby? Cremation or burial? Do you have a name? There is no name for pain like this. To Dhea, OB/GYN by trade and good human always, you called us from your home and came to my bedside when you weren’t on shift. You said, “first I’m going to hug you and cry with you, then we’ll talk about the rest.” You said “don’t let anyone rush you. You had plans for this baby.” Thank you for your words, but more than that, thank you for showing up for me. To the baby down the hall, who said hello to the world just moments after I’d said goodbye, hearing your first sweet cries brought me back to life times a thousand. Thank you for reminding me that there is light to be found in even the darkest of places. To my husband, who can fix broken doors and fences and a mean cocktail, but couldn’t fix this. Thank you for holding my hand and holding me up. I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me because I don’t know a word that is enough to describe you. To my little blond ray of sunshine, who I could not wait to squeeze and smell. Thank you for running to me with open arms and shouting “Mama!” This life will always be beautiful because you are in it. You are everything. To our parents who only want joy for us, it must have killed you to get that call. Thank you for answering the phone always, whether I need a recipe, a favour or a lifeline. To all the women I loved before I knew this pain was yours too, thank you for your knowing hands on my shoulder. You made me feel less alone and for that I am so very grateful. (But, goddamn, I wish you could say you had no idea how this felt.) To my very best friends, who know how soft I am under this tough shell and invited me to take it off for a while. Thank you for keeping me fed, keeping me company and keeping me breathing. And to everyone else. My neighbours, my co-workers, my boss (and friend) who all walked willingly into to this very dark and ugly place with me. Thank you for knocking on the doors of hell, where you knew there would be no right words and for finding them anyway. I know that is not comfortable or easy. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of the lovely humans who made the ugly beautiful.  

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Let us pick up our books and pens. They are our most powerful weapons.

Malala Yousufzai, 16

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One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world

Malala Yousufzai, 16

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You must have meant wine, not workout

I had to amend my friend's workout invite from this:

"Get your spandex on, your workout faces ready and come and join us for a workout in the great outdoors."

To this:

"Get your Spanx on, your bitchy resting face ready and join us for wine in the great outdoors." 

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How Work Bathroom Posters Should Read

SORRY FOR THE CRAP TOILETS

We know you all understand how toilets work (except Margaret, am I right?), but HR made us create this poster because it's cheaper than putting in new plumbing and, the truth is, this plumbing is old as fuck and can barely handle a numero uno. Sorry about that. We recommend the "holding it" technique, followed by "business time" at home if you want to avoid embarrassing multi-flushes or overflows. If you really must go at work, try flushing mid-sesh so the toilet only has to work half as hard. Seems like good science. If that doesn't work, there's a 90-year-old plunger beside the toilet that might work, but we're not making any promises. Good luck. 

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Me and 3 Cabbies

Last night I had a dream I was eating lunch with three 20-something cabbies (one woman, two dudes) who later offered me a ride in their taxi. But then they locked the doors and started attacking me. I was pretty sure the next step was to make me their sex slave, because obviously attractive 20-somethings would adore the shit out of me. I punched them each in the face and jumped out of the moving car, yelling after them, "we ate lunch together!" as though attacking someone you've shared a meal with is the coldest thing you could ever do. I stand by that feeling.

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Things that went wrong on the first day at my new job

1. I couldn't figure out how to get through the locked doors on my way to the washroom, so I just waited until someone else went through and ran through behind them. In retrospect, a simple "hey, how does this door open?" would have been more effective. 

2. I accepted a lunch invitation, but didn't have my wallet with me. Luckily I was being treated, so I didn't need my wallet and, therefore, didn't need to pretend like I'm an organized person who doesn't forget her wallet every other damn day.

3. Both of those things pale in comparison to when I clicked on a link that appeared completely innocent and a giant vagina popped up on my screen. I (inadvertently) looked at porn at work — on my first day. Normally I would reserve that for the 87th day. 

Hopefully I can manage to get through tomorrow without accidentally downloading information on the effects of chloroform. 

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Top 10 job titles at TED 2013

In order from "I could probably do that" to "I've totally done that and why didn't you call me?":

10. Management theorist (I have so, so many theories on management)

9. Mouth musician (You should hear the F sharp that comes out of this mouth)

8. Yo-yo champion (Probably, if my 7th grade teacher hadn't confiscated my yo-yo)

7. Sanitation champion (I'm wiping down toilet seats every damn day)

6. Shepherd of electrons (I have the perfect boots for it)

5. Personal fab pioneer (I am almost definitely all of those things)

4. Charity defender (Whenever anyone says "I hate charity," I'm all like "Fuck you.")

3. Kindness catalyst (Whenever anyone says "I hate charity, I say "Try being nicer, asshole" and I think it's working.)

2. Wishmaker (I've left about $1 million in pennies in mall wishing ponds all over this country)

1. Passionate reader (Seriously, why didn't you call me, TED? I read books so good)

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There is never a need for a pair of pants to have both a button and clasp closure. It seems the clasp's only purpose is to keep the button discreetly hidden, as if a button is some kind of fetish-laden clothing porn we should be ashamed of. I have never seen a button on someone's pants and thought, "oh my God, put that thing away, you dirty, dirty person." In fact, if I noticed pants without a button, I might say "hey, dude, you lost a button" or just stand there staring and marvelling at how well the pants were operating under such stressful, lost-button conditions. My point is this: I almost peed my pants because I forgot I had two closures to open. Take note, pantelones makers.

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I applied for this writing job, but I'm not entirely sure I have all the (awesome) physical skills required. 

Physical demands: Frequent repetitive arm, hand and finger movement. Bending, reaching and daily stair climbing required. Exposure to dust / fumes / gases / odours / animal dander and change in temperature. Accurate visual acuity, colour vision and conversational auditory skills required.

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I'm legitimately afraid to go to the doctor, despite having debilitating stomach pains for two weeks now, in case she tells me I have to become one of those assholes who doesn't eat bread. No offense to the assholes who don't eat bread. It's just that I don't understand you and I fear what I don't understand, so you scare the shit out of me. Also, stuffing for the win!

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I learned something about myself tonight as I re-covered my kitchen chairs. I'm far too lazy to walk across the alley to get a staple remover from the dollar store, but I am not too lazy to remove 700 staples using a pair of nail clippers. It probably doubled the time, but it saved me at least 200 steps in the cold. I'm not sure what this says about me, but I'm also not sure it's bad.

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Melina-isms

We're doing an office clean-up today and I couldn't bear to throw out the post-it note collection of things our former co-worker and friend, Melina, said. So for the sake of posterity (and, yes, the opportunity to embarrass a friend...once again, her name is Melina. Last name: Morales), here they are:

1. "Is that a baby? Oh, it's Sarah's chair."

2. "Ew. I don't like my meatballs."

3. "We used to throw poop at each other."

4. "I can't wait to stuff my turkey."

5. "I want a sea otter. I want to squeeze one to death."

6. "Remember when I bit into an apple and my tooth fell out?"

7. "My mint tastes minty!"

8. "I smell like beans."

9. "OMG. It smells like gerbils in here."

10. "Ew, I hate baths! I don't like floating in my own filth."

11. "My ovary feels funny."

12. "She has the best life!!!" (Referring to Kim Kardashian.)

13. My body is like a pomegranate: nice and smooth on the outside, all bumpy and seedy on the inside.

14. "My fingers are turning gold. I am becoming gold. I look good as gold."

And my personal favorite:

15. "oh shit, did my eyebrow come off?!?" 

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hahaha

pedro couldn’t vote. but damned if he couldn’t make a difference.

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James, your testicle

Best quote from the halloween party we attended this weekend. The dudes were dressed way sluttier than the women and, well, some things were seen that shouldn't have been. 

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Tina Fey, ladies and gentlemen.

“And if I have to listen to one more grey-faced man with a $2 haircut explain to me what rape is, I’m going to lose my mind.” — Tina Fey speaking at the Center for Reproductive Rights Inaugural Gala.

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