Pfft.

If I'd zipped the hoodie up, it would read 'REPUBLIC'. Just saying.

The last two weeks have forced me to reassess my relationship with the Royal Family. Relationship is the wrong word - it's not like they invite me round or anything. My opinion of the Royal Family would perhaps be a better wording.

A few weeks ago, I was certain. I was sure that they are neither use nor ornament and should be ousted in favour of someone like me, who would use the tax payer's hard-earned cash on drink and fun instead of fancy cars and castles. In this way, the country would be united under a monarch who was just like them.

However, in the run up to the wedding things have reached fever pitch. I walk past shops selling Kate Middleton masks. MASKS I TELL YOU. My brother's girlfriend is having a street party. The hairdressers on the High St is offering a ROYAL WEDDING DISCOUNT. It's as if the world has gone mad and I've unwittingly wandered into 1950.

But then it hit me...it's not annoying me. I don't look at all the hype, all the Union Jacks, and feel anger. I feel something else. Is it...patriotism? I think it might be. And that's unusual. You see the British don't often celebrate British-ness. It's quite a rare occurrence. Unless you're Welsh or Scottish in which you have loads of options. The English, then, rarely unite unless there's a World Cup on. But despite the differing opinions on the matter, at least everybody's talking about the same thing for once.

It's difficult to put aside 20 odd years of not knowing what the Windsors actually do, but I think for tomorrow I will try. I'll concentrate on the pomp that Allison mentioned. And, as I'm going to a Royal Wedding party, on the drink that I hope will be flowing soon after they tie the knot.

But after tomorrow it will be business as usual. Honest.

Kicking the Habit

Given that Lauren highlighted her habit of posting two days late in her Bad Habits post, I think it's only fair that I do the same. Especially as this is a week (and a day) late. Not two days.

Ashamed as I am, my lack of punctuality is not the bad habit I want to concentrate on. No. I am here to discuss the mother of bad habits, the habit that sends biting finger nails, turning up late for work and swearing running and screaming in terror: smoking.

This is really quite topical for me, as I gave up four weeks ago. This is harder than it sounds. It should be easy to resist the temptation to waste money on things that do you no good at all, but there's a reason that companies can make millions by 'helping' people kick the habit.

While I know that it was bad for me, I do miss it still. But I suppose that's part of an addiction isn't it, if you didn't miss it, you wouldn't be addicted. And I was.

I should say though, while I'm sure there is lasting damage, it's incredible how quickly the human body can turn itself around and start to repair itself. It's impressive, really. At first I wondered why not smoking was making me cough - I assumed it should be the other way round. Apparently it's the lungs getting rid of all the crap. Sorry, that's disgusting. But good, too. It was the best cough I ever had. And not just that - there's pins and needles as your circulation improves, your sense of smell improves. All this I'm grateful for, I just wish the insomnia would sort itself out.

Anyway, that's my uber-late bad habits post. Wish me luck, as I'm not out of the woods yet and could still succumb to tobacco's siren call. And don't go anywhere - royal wedding post coming right up.

Pomp and Snobbery at It's Finest

This week Tom suggested perhaps a Royal Wedding theme - I know what you're thinking - that we've jumped on the bandwagon. I suggested that it might be fun to every-so-often tackle specific topics to our respective countries and each write a lighthearted post on the subject.

While Tom says the Royal Wedding is more of a Brit thing, but I disagree - because as a Canadian, Prince William is my future king as well. The British Monarchy reigns over the entire commonwealth, which includes Canada. I obviously don't take it too seriously, but I do enjoy the glamour and fanfare of it all.

I'm not here to talk about Wills though, I'm here to talk about Kate and how I adore her fashion sense. I want to own all of her hats pretty much. I want to someday host a garden party and make everyone wear fancy hats and drink tea.

I've decided to derail the topic a bit and not talk about the upcoming nuptials, but to talk about one of my favourite colours lately: Royal Blue.

My famous hat paired with my favourite coat ever!
Seriously this jacket was a steal and it's gorgeous!
Royal blue is such a eye-catching colour.

One of my new nail polish colours: Dating a Royal.

Not quite as glitzy as Kate's sapphire, but I love it.
This is a lapis ring I bought back when I work at a jewellery kiosk. I love the colour.

It's hard to see in this photo, but there is royal blue in this dress.
This was my birthday outfit.

I won't be watching the wedding on TV - as it comes on at 3 am here, and will likely be quite boring. I'll catch the highlights online. A lot of people seem quite upset that this wedding is getting so much press - but I don't really care one way or the other. For me I think the little girl inside of me is living out her princess fantasies through this.

Tom, as you live in the city that this wedding is happening, I expect a full report on the state of London right now! Also, your Bad Habits post :)

Bad Habits...

Ground Control to Major Tom! Your circuits dead, there's something wrong! Can you hear me Major Tom?

Really, I don't know what happened to Tom this week. Maybe he's floating in a tin can far above the world. Planet earth is blue and he doesn't know what to do.

Anyway, I am alive and well in my corner of the planet. So I'm going to forge ahead and tell you about my bad habits. Prepare to be disgusted.

Lauren's Bad Habits:

- I have a hard time with deadlines and timliness. If you need an example of this, note how most of my "Friday" posts happen on Saturday or Sunday.

- I drink too much coffee. I've definitely cut back a lot since college, but I'm still way too reliant on caffiene.

- I pick at my fingernails. It's an unattractive compulsion that dates back to childhood.


- I believe that problems will go away if I ignore them. When will I learn that whether it's an awkward boy, a student loan payment, or a kidney infection, ignoring the situation will only make it worse?

I could probably go on but I'll make this list short.

Hope everyone is having a good weekend!

Coffee time...

Bad Medicine

Before I, The Organized One, introduce this week's topic, I have two items to discuss:

1) If you're on 20-Something Bloggers and haven't voted for May's Blogger of the Month yet, please consider voting for Tom. I nominated him again!

2) Last week's posts were too funny. Lauren's epic comic was amazing. Hope you enjoyed it! Is this something you'd like us to do again in the future? Any artists out there interested in drawing us something?

Okay, so this week we're discussing our bad habits - past and present.

So what are my bad habits?

Here we go:

1) Junk food...specifically sweets: I have no will-power when it comes to chocolate, or cake or pie or cookies...you know what I mean. My mom was shocked when my blood test came back last month and revealed that I DIDN'T have diabetes.

2) I recycle boys: Guilty as charged. I will meet someone, like him a lot, things go bad, I stop talking to him...sometimes for years, and then he reappears in my life, apologizes, I believe him, and the cycle begins again. Now, there is a chance that one of these times it will work out for me. I keep hoping, anyways. Don't judge me!

3) I fixate on my flaws: Specifically my skin. This is probably my worst habit. If I have a zit or even just a small irritation I can't leave it alone. For years my mother has been harping on me, "don't touch it and it will go away." It's a nervous habit and I really hate it. It's kind of like how little kids suck their thumb.

4) I overreact a lot: Maybe because I'm an emotional person I tend to jump to conclusions and freak out over the smallest things. I wish I could be more laid back and chilled out, but I'm just not. This personality defect has caused me to clash with others. I wish I could learn to let go.

Sorry this post is sort of short - I am going to eat dinner soon and then head to the pub for quiz night.

Oh, I leave for my trip in two weeks!

See ya Wednesday Tom!

Game 3 tonight! Woo. (Loving hockey is NOT a bad habit)

Proof That The Yank Needs To Get A Job Or Something...

Okay guys, I got a little carried away with the super hero thing.  Read at your own risk.  Click on each section to enlarge it.  I apologize for my lack of artistic abilities.  Also, I should warn you that all of these cartoons happened late at night.  They're pretty weird, especially towards the end.  Enjoy!

Calling the Transatlantic Rescue Squad!

The Brit begins another long commute home, after a hard day at work. All he wants is his nice warm bed, or perhaps a nice cold pint. But his daydreams are interrupted by a noise. An annoying noise. A tinny, annoying, irritating noise...

No! It can't be! Evil Loud Music Chav Girl! Being able to hear somebody else's music while stuck in a train carriage is the Brit's Kryptonite. It turns him from a mild-mannered, rather pleasant young man into a slobbering, growling, rage-filled beast, like this:That can't be allowed to happen - he can't control his powers when in Rage-Beast form. He quickly summons his superhero support group. Within minutes, the Yank arrives, accompanied by her faithful companion, Goat Man.

They immediately set about drowning out Evil Loud Music Chav Girl's offensive tunes with some excellent songs of their very own invention. The Brit feels the rage begin to subside. Meanwhile, the Canuck has arrived and his doing her very best to avert the disaster that would ensue should the Rage Beast appear in the enclosed space that is a tube train.

She...erm...floats through the carriage, spreading cinnamon hearts and, aided by her sidekick Yoga Cat, restores the mob of angry commuters into the group of polite, quiet and ever so British individuals they started the journey as.

"WELL DONE TASG!" The Brit cries joyfully, relieved that his evil alter ego will not be revealed. "Come, I owe you both a pint, seeing as you did, like, fly across the Atlantic to stop me kicking off."

And so they went to the pub, which Evil Loud Music Chav Girl could not enter as she had no ID.

DISCLAIMER: Allison & Lauren: I can't draw, so please don't take offence at my doodles. Rest assured you look nothing like the above. The 'art' tag is meant to be ironic. Allison: I'm unsure as to why you've adopted such a Christ-like pose. Lauren: I apologise for your outfit, and hope you don't mind me drawing Goat Man.

Also, Yoga Cat is in the pub picture, you may not be able to see him. I didn't want you to think I didn't buy him a drink, too. He's in the bottom left corner of the window.

Tune into Friday's edition of the Transatlantic SUPERHERO Group (see what I did there?), brought to you by the Yank.

The TASG VS. Suburban Moms

This week the TASG is writing adventure/superhero stories about ourselves. Hope you enjoy my installment!


In the suburbs of Southern Ontario...

The Canuck is working at a quiet, lakeside cafe alone on a sunny Monday afternoon. She’s ground enough coffee for her shift, restocked the milk, and swept the floors and there is nothing left to do. She fiddles with her phone and wishes she didn’t have four more hours to go.

She decides to make herself a nice hot cup of Earl Grey when suddenly the doors burst open and a mob of yuppy moms with strollers charge at the counter. They demand organic decaf, half-sweet soy moccas, and gluton-free cookies. They scoff when not all their requests can be met right away, if at all. The babies start to cry and the mothers get restless and start demanding that their drinks be made faster.

The Canuck cannot deal with this madness alone without having her ass handed to her by a yoga practicing mommy so she raises her Transatlantic Super Ring in the air.

From across the ocean and borders The Yank and The Brit receive the signal. The Yank is in the middle of playing a killer keytar solo at a local bar in Portland, Oregon, when she is summoned by The Canuck. Tom is at a Fulham match on a cool day in London, England, when his ring lights up alerting him of trouble in Canada. He wraps The Elder Scarf around his neck and flies into the sky.

Meanwhile, back in Southern Ontario, The Canuck has pulled out her magic hockey stick and is using it to swat away the Lululemon-clad super moms. Soy milk is flying and babies are bawling. Suddenly the the front door kicks open and The Yank and The Brit come to save the day. Lauren promptly plays some lullabies on her keytar to pacify the evil babies while Tom charms the moms with his lovely accent and fashion sense.

The Canuck holsters her hockey stick and is finally able to finish up the drinks and send the ladies on their way. As a thank you she gives her TASG Super Friends lattes on the house. The three of them sit on the patio and enjoy the view.

Tune in on Wednesday for more TRANSATLANTIC SUPPORT GROUP adventures courtesy of The Brit.

This is my embarrassing photo this week - it's not really a photo, it's a drawing.
I suck at drawing faces. If there are any artists/cartoonists out there who'd like to draw us,
I'd love that!

Less Than Sober Moments With The Yank

Believe it or not, alcohol not one of my favorite things. I like to go to pubs and drink beer with my friends occasionally, but I usually try to avoid getting absolutely trashed. Maybe it's because I know I'm a lightweight and that if I have more than two drinks I become downright obnoxious. Maybe it's because my social circle lacks that person who can always hold it together enough to drive home so I end up attempting to act responsible. Or maybe it's the fact that hangovers are horrendous and I have never said to myself "Oh man, I am so glad I drank that much last night!"

But I do have a special list of things I do when there is alcohol in my system. Some are more incriminating than others. The list is as follows:

- Laugh loudly at things that aren't that funny. The time I drank vodka and watched "Labyrinth" with some friends was nearly a disaster. Sure, it's got a kitsch factor, but it's not worthy of a laugh attack every time David Bowie comes on the screen.

- Sing every song at the club. If I'm not careful, I can easily transform into that obnoxious person who exclaims "I LOVE THIS SONG" within the first few notes of every new track.

- Appreciate the music of Ke$ha. When I'm sober, I think the music of Ke$ha is appalling. But when there is alcohol involved, I just have to dance to it. I will even go so far as to sing along. Last time I went dancing, my friends found me singing "Tik Tok" in it's entirety with a random gay man. There were hand motions involved and everything. Horrifying.


- Dance as though I'm in a choreographed music video. I have no problem dancing when I'm sober, but when I've had a couple of drinks I tend to get really into it.


- Play charades on a friend's front lawn. Ladies and gentlemen, this is why I stay away from tequila. I stood with my arms extended and yelled the words "I AM A MAILBOX" to an entire neighborhood. I think I forgot that you're not supposed to talk in charades.


- Talk in a variety of fake accents. Usually I go back and worth between Indian and Eastern European. I've also been known to have really long, deep philosophical conversations entirely in a fake accent when under the influence of alcohol.

- Send incoherent text messages. Phones need to come with built-in breathalyzers.

- Email Tom and Allison to inform them that I have been drinking. Usually I put something really clever in the heading ("Drunk Lauren Is Drunk!").


- Wear a sparkly red cape in public. Even when going to a gay nightclub, cape-wearing is not a sober activity.

There's probably more but I will stop incriminating myself at this time.

A Slurred Word from the Brit

If ever you feel like you need a drink, please refer to the above photo as a reminder of how bad an idea it can sometimes be.

Reading Allison's list of things she does when she's had a drink but would never do sober set some bells ringing. Singing, dancing, hugging, texting people I shouldn't; it's all a bit too familiar. One thing I always find myself doing when drunk which I've never had to do sober is running for the last train, leaping up the escalator at Fenchurch Street in a mad rush to catch the 00:25 departure. When sober, I won't even run for a bus.

I think I've blogged before about the time a bouncer escorted me off a dance floor after I fell over and I accidentally held his hand as he led me through the crowd. I don't think I've told anyone about how I was sick all over my dad on Boxing Day (I blame the bacon sandwich, not the hangover). The list of my alcohol-fuelled embarrassments is long and...embarrassing.
People at work have noted that after two pints I sound like someone from Eastenders (the bald one in this video here). I stress I sound nothing like this normally. My laugh also transforms into a pantomime cackle, and I think everything sounds like innuendo.

My friends, I am not a man who can hold his liquor without making a complete twit of himself. There may come a time, in the distant future, where I can nip to the pub for a swift pint without feeling the need to dance, cry or pull stupid faces.

And while part of me is impatient for a respectable drink, there's another part of me that's secretly in love with Drunk Tom, because he's more fun, less inhibited and sounds like a TV character. I don't think I'm ready to grow up just yet - besides, the sun's coming out for the first time this year and it would be rude not to greet it with a bevvy or two.

Cheers!

*pulls stupid face*

The Tipsy Canuck Strikes Back!

I'm going to let you all in on a little secret - some insider information about the behind-the-scenes goings on here at The TASG. We email each other a lot - not always blog related. Usually about something funny or interesting that happened in our lives. Sometimes these email threads inspire post ideas. An email I sent Tom and Lauren Saturday night (or early Sunday really) inspired this week's theme:

Things I Never Do Sober

2007 Classy Formal Drinking

* We here at The TASG are not raging alcoholics, but we do drink socially. Don't judge us!

I'd love to fill you in on what my email talked about in reference to this topic, but that's just not possible. It's a bit personal in nature. But there are plenty of things I willingly do when I'm intoxicated that I would never do sober.

1) Dance - I am not really the type of person who enjoys dancing in front of people - unless I've been drinking. I am shy and awkward on the dance floor, but if I've had a few glasses of wine at a wedding I suddenly can't get enough.

2) Sing - Not by myself, but along with music playing at the bar (either the stereo or a live band). Especially if it's something by The Beatles. I love busting out a little "Hey Jude."

3) Hug people - I'm not usually a touchy-feely person, but if I've imbibed a bit I suddenly feel more open to hugging.

4) Talk to strangers - I don't usually strike up conversations with people I don't know in my everyday, sober life. But I can be quite the charmer at the pub.

5) Text people I shouldn't - There are people in my life who I shouldn't text late at night after I've been drinking. I would never do this sober.

6) Not care that I am wearing my sweater inside out at a keg party - This is a true story. I'd taken the sweater off because I was hot, but put it back on later inside out.

7) Walk home without shoes - My shoes hurt my feet, so I took them off.

8) Talk loudly about how badly I have to pee - Usually this happens when I'm walking home and really have to pee.

9) Flirt - I am an awkward flirt most of the time, but sometimes the demon rum transforms this Canuck.

10) Write my phone number on a guy's hand - I did this once and he didn't call. I don't know if this situation would have happened sober. Not likely.

Hey Tom!, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better!

Cheers!

A New World Order

When I become King of the World, the first order of business will be to construct several thousand statues of me, in a scarf, pointing. The statues will be erected in towns, cities and sites of interest all over the world. What they will be pointing at is yet to be decided. Perhaps they should point in the direction of my palace.

My second piece of legislation, will see pavements divided into lanes. The slow-walkers will be forced into the slow-lane. People who walk fast enough will therefore be able to carry on at speed without having to slow down for dawdlers. I shall also be given the right to punch anyone who walks slow in the fast-lane in the back of the head, with no retaliation.

Hmmm. What next. Ah. I will receive an invite to every party in the world. An army of well-trained invite-readers will separate the good from the bad before forwarding any worthy of note directly to me.

And I will choose who wins the lottery, every week. I know this takes luck out of the equation, but I want to make sure the money is going to someone who needs it, not someone who is rich already or will just spend their winnings on drugs, or something. In this way, though it may not be the luck of the draw, it will at least go to somebody deserving.

I wish it were possible. My life would be so much fun.

I hate it when people are late. *shame*

Cast your mind back, if you can, to two weeks ago, when Allison and Lauren published their posts on their pet peeves. This is my effort and, as I'm sure you'll notice, it's incredibly late. Fortunately for me, the Yank and the Canuck were incredibly understanding - I've been away with work for a week, far from technology with but 30 minutes to myself every day. I'm knackered.

Not too knackered to reel off a few pet peeves, however. I've been storing them up.

Airports and travelling by plane: though I appreciate that being able to travel any where in the world in a matter of hours is extremely impressive, I'm not sure that there really need to be so many queues involved. On my way back from Italy I queued for a taxi to the airport, then for check-in, then security, then passport control. I queued in the shop for a bottle of water, I queued when getting on the plane. I queued when the plane landed, waiting for the people in front of me to get the $*%@ out of my way. I queued again at passport control, then for a train ticket, then for a ticket for the tube. By the time I got home, I never wanted to leave in case I'd have to queue to get out.

Hangovers: I think Mother Nature was needlessly cruel when she decided that anything that is either delicious or makes you have fun must have some kind of nasty side effect. Either you get fat, or wake up on the bathroom floor in a puddle of sick with a splitting headache. Why can I not get drunk, have fun, and feel well the next day? Would that be so wrong?

People who dawdle: I joined a Facebook group entitled 'I Want To Punch Slow Walking People In The Back Of The Head'. This is only half a joke. I really do want to punch them in the back of the head, it infuriates me. I only fear the consequences. Especially if said slow-walker is twice my height and built like a brick $%£@ house.

I'm so angry now. I think I'd best stop before flying off the handle into a fit of rage. Second post on its way - please forgive my tardiness!