The awesome life of Tasha...

I know, I know... I have been very delinquent in my writings. I can use the old excuse that I have been too busy, which I do, but really I think the problem lies within the fact that I am never home! I find myself on the road travelling to and fro and if I could simply dictate my thoughts and have them delivered here to you, you would be up-to-date on my goings on. Which, let me tell you, really are not all that exciting. And on second thought, if I were to dictate while driving you may get more than you bargained for, hearing exactly how un-classy this mouth of mine is. Believe me, I can throw it down with the best of 'em! Speaking of driving... Here is what has inspired me to get back at these keys and give you something to read. For those of you who know me, you know that I have been driving what I have referred to as a "Clown Car" for the past 8 months. A car, that while sitting in, I felt like a giant, all 5 foot 3 inches of me was crammed into t...

I am sitting precariously atop of "the hill". I arrived there this week. And I ask you to please not make any sudden movements, noise or carry on foolishly while I am teetering there. I wouldn't want to drop suddenly over the hill! My birthday, a fairly momentous one, has left me looking down from my high perch at all the young'ns, reminiscing of the carefree days of my youth. Although, to perfectly honest, I still feel like a "young adult" and I wonder when the hell am I going to feel like a grown up? I mean, I do have a pretty grown up life. I have a child. I have a house. I have a car. I buy my own diamonds and I buy my own rings. The shoes on my feet, I bought it. All the women who are independent, throw your hands up at me. Sorry, I got a bit carried away there. I had to represent for all us honey's who's makin money ... and again, carried away. Back to it... What do grown ups do, how do they feel? Cause this old gal sure doesn't feel l...

Poor Gus, so sick he couldn't even stay awake while I got my hair done! I don't think I keep my wintery thoughts inside, but in case you are unaware, I dislike cold. I dislike snow. I dislike dry skin. I dislike static. I am not a huge fan of winter. I could live in a tropical locale very happily. But, I am Canadian. No hopes for tropics here.  I have to tell you, however, my distaste for frosty weather pushed aside.... this weather has got to go. An Ontario winter shouldn't be, as December draws to the end, seeing the plus side of the thermometer. That mercury needs to take a drastic dip. And quickly! My poor wee man, Gus, is down and out. Sicker than I have ever seen him. Not just the man cold either, he is legit ill. Germs have run rampant in this balmy wintery weather and infected him with a triple threat. Bad enough he has caught the dreaded influenza virus (and by Influenza I don't mean the gastrointestinal version, I mean the full blown fever, shakes, run...

If I had the means (and/or the nerve) I would totally be pumped full of neuro toxins. May not sound that attractive, but heck yeah, I would do it. I think my forehead would appreciate a little relaxing.  And if it weren't for a stinking anaphylactic allergy to muscle relaxants I would absolutely give it a shot. Ha! No pun intended. And yet, even with the threat of death, it still crosses my mind at least once a week that I should look into injecting my face full of  botulinum toxin type A . And really, are muscle relaxants and botulism in the same family? But as I sit here typing away, Coco Loves IceT has come on the TV. Have you seen this show? Seriously what the heck?! Coco is apparently 33. I was so shocked that I had to Google her. She is, in fact, 33. (And just as a side note, IceT is 54! Holy senior citizen! Still, to this day, when I see IceT all I can think of is him dressed as a kangaroo... Tank Girl. Great movie even though IceT is clearly a freak)  Thir...

Patience. Some people have it. I, however, do not. Some days I think I do, then all I have to do is slide in behind the wheel of a vehicle and I realize, what a facade. Patience is not one of my virtues. And really, I am not sure why people think it is so important. I get through life just fine with my short fuse. What's wrong with a little anger? Nothing, I say. And if you disagree, well I have no patience for you. Traffic, or rather other vehicles on the road in general, will always set me on edge. Whatever semblance of patience I may have thought I had, is blown right out the window. For the most part, I can dispel my feelings of vehicular ire by cursing a blue streak in the privacy of my own vehicle. And I am quite sure I could make a sailor blush at the variety of vulgar language I can come up with while driving. I am an extremely creative, non-patient person. I do have to give myself some credit, I actually have a wee bit more tolerance than I used to back in the ...

Here I am, sitting at my desk in the ol' workplace, for my last Tuesday here. After Friday, it's all done. I am no longer a business owner. Not only that, I have no workplace whatsoever. WHAT?! On the upside of a limited income (soon to be zilch-o income) is I can now say I am in recovery. My name is Tasha and I am a recovering Shopaholic. It's been a path of discovery and self-healing. I have really found myself and the deeper meaning of my need to be a consumer. Do I need 10 different purses? Do I need shoes in every colour? Do I need 3 drawers full of make-up? Who the hell am I kidding?! Of course I do! YES! I need all of these things! I need to shop. Its in my blood. Its who I am. I shop, therefore I am. Money does not buy happiness. Bullsh*t. Money does indeed buy me the things I need to be happy. My life needs Things. Discovery and self-healing? The only discovery I need to make is whatever new stock Winners has just put out. The se...

I have so much on my mind lately I feel like I am drowning in my own thoughts. I am in a constant state of thinking... which in my case can only mean one thing. I am most likely losing that last little grasp I had on sanity. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not having a bottle of wine a night in honour of my own personal pity party (although, even at 11 am as I am writing this, that doesn't sound like a bad idea). I guess, technically, I could hold a soirèe celebrating my internal turmoil, but who the hell wants to open that can of worms?! I'll stick with my internalisation any day rather than turning into one of those Facebook status updater types who have the need to tell the masses when they've stubbed their toe, have a zit, or are purposely vague in their eternal sadness quotations, followed, of course, by the ever popular FML. Really? Is your life ending because you're having a bad hair day? FML should be reserved for things like; oh my god my...