Forever Love. Always.

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Catch That Kid.

It's no secret I want kids. I've said it before, I've wanted kids since I was a kid. I want to feel my growing baby inside, I want to feel it kick and stretch and push against my bladder. I will be inconsolable if for some reason it won't be able to happen for me. I'd adopt or something but it wouldn't be the same.

But for right now, I want to steal Shiloh Jolie-Pitt*.
I think she's the most adorable thing ever.

Pictures taken from various sources and do not belong to me or this blog.

*note to the crazies who think I actually might try to steal Shiloh Jolie-Pitt... I won't so don't worry.

Monica Geller.

I'm a clean person, I enjoy being organized (though I forget things like a 90 year old), I like having things in order on my bookcase; everything in my apartment has a place. If something isn't straight it will eat away at me until I fix it. I'm a freak that way. Since coming back from New York I just haven't felt the urge to do anything, anything. I truly mean, anything. My suitcase is sitting at the end of my bed, half open with clothes spilling out of it. I've allowed dishes to pile up in my sink and my once black coffee table has a thick layer of dust. My apartment has become a guy's college dorm room- without the half naked women on my walls.

Well, I've had enough.

I've taken this weekend off from visiting my parents and I'm grabbing the rubber gloves and various cleaning solutions- I'm gonna tackle this hell hole. Last night I went to the dollar store and picked up various bins and baskets (none over two bucks), I picked up a bottle of Lysol wipes and started cleaning and organizing early. Since my apartment isn't very big I don't have a lot of spaces to store shit- which is why I have a bunch of bookcases and various bins.

You know how Monica (from Friends) had that one secret closet that she piled all her shit in and Chandler found it one day? Well, I have one of those too- my walk in closet. Thank God there is a curtain over the door because it's a fucking nightmare. I toss everything into it, pull the curtain across and instantly feel better. I'm going to attempt to deal with that. But I can let you know now that will be the last thing I touch this weekend.

My goal: finish everything tomorrow and have Sunday to relax.

Wish. Me. Luck.

I Went To New York City...

And I fell in love.

If I could hop on a plane tonight, I would.

Light Up The Sky.

Tonight when the sun has gone to sleep, the sky over English Bay will light up with fireworks. Thousands upon thousands of people will crowd local beaches and busy streets but I'll be watching from the comforts of my apartment with a sweet smelling puppy snoring by my side.

Photo credit: jonrawlinson on flickr

Everybody Has That Somebody.

You have you're cute courier, I have my cute bartender. She bar tends at my local pub and just like you, I try to find excuses all the time to go see her. Isn't it lovely/extremely sad! She has a boyfriend. So like nothing will happen, the only thing that will happen is the pub making shit ton of money off me from buying beer just to see her.

He found out later that the cute bartender has a crush on him.

Sunday's Secret.

Reminders can be a blessing and a curse. They retell stories that one may have been forgotten. They bring up things from the past that should be kept, well, in the past. They make you hurt and they make you smile. It's been a long time since I've picked a postcard from PostSecret to write about but when I saw this, besides saving it and making it my Blackberry wallpaper, I knew I had to post it here. I always over analyze the secrets on Sunday. I look at every little detail thinking maybe it's the secret holders way of communicating to someone. I could just be crazy and a little thing may just be that- a little thing.

I like to be reminded of the good, though sometimes it's best to be reminded of the mistakes.

I wonder if the things that remind me of you, remind you of me.

PS. I've fucked up my finger and this entry took like 30 minutes to type out. #fail