Ducks

Did you know that I used to have pet ducks?

Ivy and Vanilla

Actually, I’ve had pet a lot of things during my life. My dad was the kind of guy who was always bringing home random animals to give to us as pets, and my mom was a total pushover when it came to animals: If you begged hard enough she would ALWAYS say yes.

In fact, she’s still like that, which is weird, because I think of my mom mostly as this rock hard terrifying woman who wears the pants around the house and knows how to say NO.

But not with animals.

The ducks were not something that my dad brought home, however. They were a school project that my grade six teacher thought would be a great idea for the class: Raising eggs and hatching them and then SOME lucky students whose parents were nice enough, would be allowed to take the ducklings home and continue to raise them from there.

I never got the latest Polly Pockets or Commander Keen, but I ALWAYS had good luck when asking for animals. So I was one of the lucky few that was going to be allowed to take the hatched ducklings home with me.

Except that I think my teacher quickly regretted this awesome idea and realized that it was more of a not-so-awesome DISASTER. None of the eggs hatched. They all died. We were grade six failures. Looking back, I’m sure my teacher was all, “Shit…”

I was disappointed but not crushed, because, after all, they were only eggs, and they had been sitting there looking nothing but boring for WEEKS.

But I guess my teacher thought I was more of a wimp than I actually was, because he went ahead and got me some NEW ducklings that an EXPERT had raised and I was going to be able to take them home.

I named them Ivy and Vanilla and they were ADORABLE. Oh my GOD were they ever adorable. They would follow me around the yard going ‘peep peep peep peep’ over and over and over again. No matter where I went, they were always right behind me, two little soldiers scooting along.

They loved to eat slugs, and I’d spend so much time digging up slimy bugs and watching them try to wolf them down. It was like watching a dog eat peanut butter: Delicious, but difficult and sticky and oh-so-comical.

I’m sure you know where this story is going, but there IS a twist that you won’t expect, I promise.
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Posted in Long and Rambly, Photos | 8 Comments

Weekend Fluff: The Beach

This one is so dark... So my friend Diana and I went to the beach on Saturday for an all-day excursion. The weather in Victoria has been kind of finicky, and I’ve been missing out on most of the good stuff, so this was one of my first days in awhile being able to get out in the sun. It was amazing. I am red today.

We went in the ocean, we played volleyball, we tanned, and we stared rudely at a girl tanning in her thong. Not thong bikini. THONG. Lacy thong.

This was probably the best part of our beach trip. We’re lying in the sun, checking out these gorgeous guys playing volleyball right next to us and looking forward to the next time they hit the ball too hard so that it would bonk me in the head (this happened at least three times, but it was OK, because they were cute and they made an even cuter joke every time it happened.) …Then me and Diana would swoon for a few minutes before getting back to whatever we were talking about.

At one point as we were talking our eyes shifted focus to a girl behind Diana who had only shown up recently. It took a second of processing, and then at the same time, we both stop and are all, “Is she wearing a thong bikini?!”

Which, I KNOW, the whole world is into thong bikinis now, and I am totally cool with this, except that me and Diana had just been talking about how we had no idea where you could buy them in Victoria, and how neither of us had ever seen one In Real Life. Only on gossip blogs (me) and TV shows (her).

So we get up and casually go to stare at her butt from a better vantage point (while still attempting to be nonchalant about it), and realize that NO, this girl didn’t find the secret stash of thong bikinis for sale in Victoria. She just brought her zebra stripe black lace underwear to the beach. That, up close, cannot be mistaken for anything but UNDERWEAR.

Why did she pick one with lace, is the real question.

At any rate, it had attracted a good deal of attention from the public – a group of guys had lined themselves up on the log behind her, a shameless view of an exposed butt.

This attention ALSO indirectly lead to the demise of our romance with the cute volleyball guys, which had already started to sour after one guy said, “Thanks Lady,” after I threw the ball to him. Thanks Lady? LADY?! Maybe I’m just sensitive, but: Errrggg. It made my skin crawl.

Eventually, one of the cute volleyball guys comes over to talk with us, and he reveals that he’s been dared by his friends to invite miss Thong Underwear to play volleyball with them. I laughed a little and mentioned that Diana had been dying to play. You could tell he wasn’t overly motivated to go talk to the thong, and maybe a little more interested in flirting with us, so we talked a little, and then he goes to introduce himself, starting with Diana.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again? Crystal?”
“Um, DIANA.”

Which = the second reason why we dumped our volleyball boyfriends. CRYSTAL?! Who hears the name Diana, completely forgets about it, and then guesses with the name CRYSTAL?!?!?!? If I were to guess, I’d guess “Sarah” or “Michelle” or something that doesn’t sound like a porn star1.

On the other hand, we did get a volleyball game out of the encounter, so it didn’t all end bad.

AND ANOTHER THING:
Could you ever use the term Fiance seriously? As in, “Yeah, my fiance and I went to see that movie last weekend!”

I think I’ll make the transition from boyfriend to husband and skip the whole fiance word. It just seems weird.

1YES, I am aware there are lots of Crystals out there who aren’t porn stars. And that you might be one of them.

Posted in Friends, Long and Rambly, Photos, Pointless | 2 Comments
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