Ottawa/Canada Day 2016: The Muskrat’s Lack of Revenge

First of all, this should be an aside, but I want to write my blog post chronologically not in terms of importance, so this is going at the beginning: I am fucking in love with Porter Airlines. I’ve heard people talk about them the way they talk about SoulCycle and Wegman’s and other cult-y shit, and if we’re going to be honest, my response was always “you whores,” so easily bought for a pack of free cookies and aiport WiFi. But the hype is real. They fucked up our checked carry ons every single leg of our trip, but I don’t even care. Those snacks are incredible. Their flight attendants are the nicest and they have the best outfits. I would purchase one of their tiny, glass, Porter Airline branded cups for use in my real life. I would attempt to live in the aiport lounge of Billy Bishop if it weren’t for the fact seeing the CN Tower and the TD building and the Sky Dome and the roundhouse for those few fleeting moments made me feel like I was getting hit in the stomach with a bag of rocks and I actually thought I was going to cry. Thank God the safe windowless Porter Airlines lounge with it’s endless free coffee was there to comfort me.


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My Birthday Redux

Should’ve mentioned that my birthday was not shitty.

I got a beautiful, $250 blush pink  lace Ralph Lauren dress at Burlington Coat factory for $40 and it was a size 2 so I kept that fucking tag. Tacky, I know, but I need this in my life right now.

Ever since college it has been more about the birthday outfit than anything else for me. Like as long as someone will take me to dinner in a cute outfit and buy really corny party decorations I’m kind of cool. I just want to look real pretty and come home to the entire contents of a dumpster behind City. I wanted to go to Founding Farmers because I always want to go to Founding Farmers but it’s so expensive and not particularly closeby. So I pulled the birthday card on that one. And, OMFG BEST BURGER OF MY LIFE. Literally. The best. burger. of. my. life. I don’t even think they gave me THE RIGHT burger. But I didn’t even fucking care because it was so good. Balsamic and goat cheese and a ton of these really really dill-y pickles. I’m not even a big pickle person, but it was SO GOOD. SO GOOD. My sister got a Sazerac even though it was like 5pm, and I tried that shit and that was so good too. I’m going back, I’m going to live in Founding Farmers.

Our waitress was sooooo nice too. She was also 27. Said it had been a good age for her so far.

So my Mom and sister plastered our main floor with WWE decorations and fulfilled my wildest fantasies. I still have the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner with the faces of the WWE Superstars over my bed (John Cena’s face is on two letters, everyone else just got one, what the fuck?) Instead of party hats there were Rey Mysterio masks, and paper belts you could tie on. The paper plates were the championship belt face plate. I got paper cups and napkins with more Cena faces all over them, and I drank my $20 bottle of Chandon out of his paper head while eating leftover Founding Farmers kettle corn and corn bread while watching Sisters, (which was disappointing, ironically (?) except for John Cena’s character.) The best part was WWE apparently does not update their decoration selection frequently, so everything was covered in Rey Mysterio and Daniel Bryan and CM Punk faces. I kept a Rey Mysterio mask and title belt, seriously that shit was so entertaining, and after a while I started rationing the plates because they were so fun too.

My cake was a Costco cake that I specifically requested, because I am all about that 12lbs, 2ft x 3ft Costco sheet cake, vanilla/vanilla with that weird custard shit in the middle. It is usually the only thing I eat through the entire month of June. My family aren’t big cake people, so I have an all cake diet for one month out of the year, and I look forward to it. My Mom got some sort of… custom cake sticker… off Etsy or Amazon or something. It was real bootleg in the best way possible. This sort of… Nintendo 64 looking group photo with Rowdy Roddy Piper and Owen Hart and Rob Van Dam and shit. The best part was on the end was Sgt Slaughter, I just went through this thing with my sister where she mentioned her best friend is close family friends with ‘a wrestler who wears a military a hat,’ and my subsequent freakout and attempt to explain how famous Sgt Slaughter is, so that he would end up on my birthday cake was real fitting.

So yeah, we watched Sisters which imo sucked, minus Cena and the Korean manicurist character, who exuded otherworldly levels of bitchiness. Then I took my paper Cena double cup (for the leakage) full of grocery store champagne and retired to my room where I ate 4lbs of vegetable oil solids off a title belt while watching King of the Road until my eyes bled.



So it was my birthday last week. I’ve pretty much spent the months leading up to every birthday from 22 on (21 was obviously a milestone I was excited for, I had been living in Canada but since a family trip to Disney World when I was 11 it’s always been my dream to drink responsibly in Epcot Center) suffering roving bouts of crippling despair. Starting around March each year, my birthday is in June, I’d have moments where I was just sitting in the car, or watching TV, and I would feel my brain clamp down and go “you’re turning 23. you’re turning 24. you’re turning 25.” It was like watching a dog lock its jaws down and shake its prey. I just felt so defeated. This would happen a few times a week until I got about 72 hours removed from my actual birthday and then it was just full on, constant turmoil and sobbing. I forgot to make a birthday wish while blowing out my candles multiple years because I was just so consumed in how sad I was.

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Shake Shack & Nikki Glaser at the DC Improv

Went to see Nikki Glaser at the D.C. Improv. Hit up the fabled ~*Shake Shack*~ which is conveniently a block away, beforehand. Dude. It was good. The service was so efficient which is almost just as good as the food. They even have a little water fountain and EASILY ACCESSIBLE WATER CUPS alongside the condiments. This is my socially anxious, hate-to-ask-for-anything-extra dream. The stools were very high. Not sure how I felt about that. Made me feel a little physically insecure. The burgers were > Five Guys but < Good Stuff Eatery. I got a chocolate malt and that was to die for. The fries were shit though. They tasted like McCain’s fries.

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So a bunch of squirrels started nesting in the firewall between my house and my neighbor’s house, just chewed straight through the roof and made themselves at home in the special jurisdiction that was hard to determine whether it belonged to us or our neighbor’s, and where neither side’s chosen exterminators could really see them. I think it was eventually determined the hole was on our neighbor’s property, so they hired this trapping company with employees that exclusively looked like they were in either ZZ Top or Duck Dynasty to put cages on the roof with bait and come out with a big ladder every afternoon and check the traps. So I’d be sitting in my living room and all of a sudden I’d hear THWONK THWONK THWONK SCREEEEEECH and see a giant blue ladder unfurl as a river hippie with a wizard beard stomped his way past my window.

You could hear when the squirrels got trapped in the cages because they’d rattle the bars like a fat, fat, asshole version of my elementary school hamster, Pearl. Just up there running it’s tiny tin cup against it’s cell.

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