About a year or so ago I went on a road trip with a few friends to Florida. We decided we would drive from our little city in Ontario all the way to Orlando, spend a few days there, head to Miami for a couple of days, and then drive back home.

So in planning the trip the four of us going decided that we would all take turns driving. Now, when I say "we all" I mean the three of us that could drive would take turns driving. Jess, my current roommate and I would be driving buddies and Rach, my former roommate and her boyfriend would be driving buddies. We had a rule, if your driving buddy was driving, you were to sit in shotgun and navigate while the other two slept in the back. Sounds simple, simple it was not.

As it turns out, both Jess and I are actually quite fantastic drivers. Directionally, however, we were a little helpless. First, we brought a faulty GPS. Apparently it was only programmed for Canadian cities, which was great for the first two hours of the trip, but once we crossed the boarder it was about as handy as a two year old with a wrench.

We did come prepared with our handy dandy Google maps, so at least we did have some sort of guide to getting to Orlando. Our route looked a little something like this:

We were off to a really great start too, of course because it was Rach's boyfriend who had started the drive, but as soon as it was my turn to drive, Jess and I would get talking, or singing, or waving to passersby and the next thing we knew, we were off course. We didn't want to wake the two sleeping babes in the back so like any normal person would do, we drove around to find the nearest McDonald's to get free WiFi. (I neglected to tell you that we had turned our phones on Airplane mode to avoid roaming, so we couldn't even use the GPS on our phones unless we used WiFi, hence the need for McDonald's).

When we finally found the WiFi we were looking for and turned on our GPS we noticed that we had gone more than a little off-route... Nashville Tennessee off route. By the time we got to Orlando our map looked a little more like this:

We got there in one peace and fun was had by all. Then it was time for us to drive home. Jess and I had decided to do most of the driving because *spoiler alert* Rach's boyfriend was going to propose to her the day we got back so they needed the sleep. We had the best intentions, but we failed miserably... For the geographically challenged like moi, here's what our map looked like heading home:

We decided to take a different route so we could see more of the United States. And boy, did we ever... Again, Jess and I did more talking, more singing, and more waving and again we found ourselves looking at unfamiliar signs. After much debate, we caved and woke up the rest of the car to figure out where we were. We did this more times than I could even count, including once while we drove through the Carolina's during the huge tornados they had (March 2 & 3 2012, look it up because Rach and her man think Jess and I made it up).

We had also managed to drive through Washington, (don't ask how, but I saw the freaking Peace Tower and was like, whaaa) Baltimore, (yes, I sang the song from Hairspray as we got out of the car at a KFC to ask for directions) and, wait for it, New York City. We decided since we were already on our way we were just going to go and enjoy ourselves for a few hours, which we did, then hop back in the car, and go home.

Yeah... I was way off.

*Side note, I did manage to get from the U.S/ Canadian border at New York, all the way to Toronto in about two hours. I may or may not have broken the law in doing so, but that point is moot.

All was good, Rach and her man got engaged, and we ate Chinese food in celebration, but not before Jess and I had been officially dubbed "The Bermuda Triangle". Basically our faces are in Wikipedia now.

True story.

I took a gap year in between graduating college and starting university. For sake of theatrics, this year will forever be remembered as “The Dark Ages”. During said “Dark Ages”, I worked at a call-center for an American cable company. I received calls from all over the United States of ‘Merica, anywhere from California to Florida, and usually within the first three minutes of answering the phone, I was always asked the same questions. 

This is how it typically played out:

Customer: “Are you Canadian?”
Kate: “Yes, I am!”
C:“I could tell by your accent.”
K: “You could? I didn’t know I had an accent.”
C: “Oh yeah, it’s a mix between a Californian and Minnesotan accent.”
K: “Really? That’s surprising since I live so close to New York.”
C: “So, do you know Drake?”

Other calls usually went like this:
Customer: “Oh, so you’re Canadian! It must be really cold out there!”

Most of these particular calls occurred in the summer time.

Kate: “Well today it’s about 80 degrees”
C: “Oh wow, so you folks do get some warm weather!”

I’d also get the typical questions about free healthcare and getting rid of the penny, but my favourite calls were usually the angry customers:

I’ve taken the liberty of editing the language since ladies don’t swear....

Kate: “Thanks for calling [American cable company that shall remain unnamed], my name is Kate, and how might I help you today?
C: “Y’all done [rhymes with trucked] up my TV!”
K: “I’m sorry ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”
C: “Y’all cut off my TV! Cut it back on right now!”
K: “Well let me take a look at your account and see what the issue is”

After about five attempts of having her list off her phone number at lightning speed with a very heavy southern accent I ask her one more time...

K: “I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ll need you to say your phone number a little slower so I can catch all the numbers, please”
C: “This is rediklus! You stupit or somethin’?
K: “No ma’am, it’s just hard for me to record your number when you say it so fast”

After many sighs, and finally some cooperation, I find the account and see that the customer is two-months past due and has an account balance of about $600.

K: “Okay, so I see the reason why you’re in an interruption is because your bill is past due. Are you able to make a payment today to clear up the arrears?”
C: “I don’t know what the [rhymes with stuck] you’re goin’ on ‘bout, but turn my [Lord’s name, beaver’s house] TV back on right now!”
K: “I’d be happy to restore services for you after you’ve paid the past due balance.”
C: “Well I’m not payin’ the [Lord’s name, beaver’s house] bill because my cable went fuzzy last month and y’all didn’t fix it.”
K: “I’m sorry, did you call us about the issues”
C: “No, I got other [feces] I got to deal with, I don’t have time to be sittin’ on the phone witches”
K: “Okay, then unfortunately there’s nothing I can do apart from take your payment”
C: “Where are you?”
K: “I’m sorry?”
C: “Where. Are. You?
K: “I’m in Canada, ma’am
C: “Mmmhmm. You Canadian’s are so stupit. Takin’ our jobs and now stealin’ from a poor old woman who’s lost her husband and doesn’t have a job. Y’all should be ashamed of yourselves” (Her husband was alive, it was notated that he called the night before to make sure his pay per view titles wouldn't be on the bill).
K: “I’m sorry you feel that way ma’am but there’s nothing we can do until you’ve paid your bill”
C: “Oh I’ll see about that.”

And then usually they hang up. Most of the time they spew out obscenity after obscenity and then hang up, but I think you get the drift.

True story!

About two winters ago three of my friends and I planned the roadtrip of all roadtrips. We drove from our little city here in Canada, all the way down to Florida. We had decided that we would spent three days in Orlando, and three days in Miami. Being the pasty white Canadians we were, we decided on our first day there that we were in dyer need of tans. Monday morning we got up, and took this picture, cataloguing our adventures...

There I am, probably the whitest of them all; happy, ready to take on the day, and without any pain in my body whatsoever.

Our condo had a pool so we decided we would just spend the day there getting our tan on. We brought everything we needed: snacks, books, and tanning oil. We were ready to get bronzed! Before I go any further I should let you know, I've never had a sun burn before in my life. Despite my pasty skin, I actually tan very easily, even with sunscreen on. This time around though I thought, I want to get really tanned, so we all slathered the tanning oil all over ourselves. Every 15 minutes it seemed like we weren't getting tanned enough, so we'd slather more on. This continued right up until dinner time...

Here's the thing, the reason I had never gotten burned before is because Canada is pretty far from the equator, so the sun isn't as close to us. None of us had clued in that being in Florida, the sun would be stronger, so we'd need to keep ourselves protected from it.

You see where this is going, right?

Tomatoes. Also, I did the Miley Cyrus tongue thing before she did, so there.

My face was probably the worst. Once the burn started to turn into a tan, my skin started to feel hard, and my forehead looked like leather. It was so painful! At the end of the week, we were on our way to New York City and whilst I was reading with my head in my hand, Jess said something to me, so I turned to listen and what came next was, well....

My whole forehead had peeled off. I kid you not. The dark brown skin peeled away to reveal brand new pink skin. It had looked like someone carved a patch out of my face! It was like, a sheet of skin came right off of my face! It was so gross but I couldn't stop laughing!

This is as close as you're going to get for photographic evidence because I was so embarrassed by my face I didn't want to take any pictures of it...

I learned a very important life lesson that week: always, always, always use sunscreen. It's so dangerous getting burned, especially that badly.

In case you were wondering though, when I got home, I coloured my hair brown, and was the darkest I've every been in my life. Also my face healed and I looked beautiful once again.

True story.

Proof.

Happy Wednesay, all! Only a few more days until I get to mow down on turkey!!!

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Hey guys! Happy Friday! I hope your weekends are fun-packed and exciting, mine will consist of working and going back to my hometown for a few days! Woo!

Anyways, remember when I went to my first Blue Jays game as a Torontonian? Well what I neglected to tell you about that day was that I was approached by a very attractive young man with one of those neat little carriage taxis. You know, the ones where you and your friend or special someone sit in the carriage and someone else drives it by holding onto the handles and running? Yeah, well this dreamboat of a man comes up to me and asks, "do you need a ride anywhere?". Now at this exact moment two things are running through my mind, first was, "holy crap this guy is cute, is he talking to me?" and the second one was, "don't trust him, he either wants to steal your money or is going to kidnap you". So I just kind of stared at him and smiled and said, "uh, um, no...thanks. Sorry" and ran walked calmly back to my group of friends.

In all honesty, I probably would have hopped on the carriage if I wasn't with a group of 20 friends heading to Starbucks. I could just imagine myself hopping on the carriage, pointing yonder and yelling, "to Starbucks!" looking back and my poor friends who had to walk the block and a half with their petty feet laughing maniacally shouting to them, "see ya later, suckers".  Instead I was too scared and ended up walking the block and a half, (which takes a really long time when everyone insists on walking together).

So as we're heading out of Starbucks I see another person running with a carriage and people sitting in the back. This time, it was a tiny young woman. And as she passed I looked over and saw, printed on the back of the carriage, "The Amazing Race Canada". Yeah, the cute guy was a contestant on The Amazing Race Canada and was needing my help to complete a task.

True story.

I totally could have been one of those background people in The Amazing Race! Which would have meant completing number 8 on The List!

Double bummer.

You better believe the next time someone with a carriage taxi asks if I want a ride somewhere, I'm going to say yes!

Also! Today I'm participating in Whitney's #backthatazzup Friday!

Have a great weekend guys! Let me know what you're up to this weekend! See you Monday!

I love my cat dearly. Before I had Leia, I wasn't a cat person. I was a full-fledged "dogs rule, cats drool" gal until one day I saw her furry face looking at me with those cute little green eyes and I was smitten (with a kitten).

One of the reasons I adore Leia so is because of her hilarious personality. I mean, she's a dog. Like, drinks out of the toilet, plays catch, and barks, dog. She also pants, which I never knew was possible for cats until I saw Leia doing it. She is so kind and loves people though, which, as a dog person, I didn't think was possible. She loves to snuggle, and will try and give you kisses, and believe you me, if you don't accept them, she'll force them on you.

Said cute little green eyes.

Here's the thing though; like most cats, Leia can get a little temper mental. If I leave her alone for too long, didn't pay enough attention to her that day, or simply just left the house without saying goodbye, she does this little thing to let me know she's mad. And by little I mean completely disgusting, so readers beware. What Leia does, is she force-feeds herself to the point where she throws up whole food. And where she throws up the food let's you know just how mad she is. My roommate Jess is just learning to live with Leia, and yesterday morning she had her first puke experience...

Jess was getting ready to go to class in the morning and was rushing around getting all of her things sorted out before she left. Leia, seeing a perfect candidate for attention (and possible meal ticket) had been following her around the apartment like a little ninja (in that Jess hadn't seen her coming). Somewhere in between brewing coffee and grabbing an afternoon granola snack, Jess had accidentally locked Leia in the pantry and left for class. Twenty minutes later I was woken up by the sound of a cat in distress. My first thought of course was, "gosh, these stupid neighbours need to spay their cat", to which I was then almost immediately met with loud banging noises; at that moment I was certain someone was trying to break into my apartment. I slowly rose out of bed (to see what was the matter) and with my expert deductive reasoning skills resolved that the noise was neither a cat in heat, nor a robber, but poor Leia stuck in the closet.

Fast forward to yesterday evening after Jess and I had left to go to Rach's baby shower. Before I had left, I had fed Leia dinner and peaced out. We got back rather late so Jess and I headed straight to bed, but before I even had a chance to get in Jess burst into laughter and yelled at me to come to her room. What I saw next shocked and appalled me (viewer discretion advised).

Leia had not only thrown up her whole food on Jess' window ledge to inform her that she was indeed very mad that Jess had so thoughtlessly locked her in the pantry, but just in case it wasn't clear that it was Jess on her hit list, she decided to throw it all up in the shape of a "J'. 

I kid you not.

The evidence Jess took, and then posted on Facebook as proof.

It was at that very moment that I was certain my little Princess Leia (or Hima-Leia as I affectionately call her) was part of the feline mafia. Whisker-face. God-kitty. She made her mark, and she made it clear.

True story.

Jess had better sleep with one eye open from now on...