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And it’s kind of skanky.

One Sunday night whilst I was in Montreal for the Explore program, my homosexual friend Abraham suggested we go into The Village and experience one of the men-only strip joints, since it hosted ladies night every week on the Lord’s Day (hah!) $5 Cover at Campus gains you entry into some basic stripping, albeit by some extremely hot men. Some of them were hot. Other’s Abraham and I decided looked like they probably ate babies for breakfast because of their ‘roid problems. Ick.

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We thought it would be funny to get lap dances too, since we were there. I had heard from other chicklets in my French program who had gone to straight strip clubs that they just danced near you, they couldn’t touch you and you couldn’t touch them. Not so much a problem at Campus, apparently. The first words my stripper (my stripper, lol) said to me were ‘you can touch me anywhere’. I did not take him up on this offer. He, on the otherhand, attempted to do things that HE would have to pay ME for. I was kind of revolted. And he made me smell like cologne for the rest of the night, which was gross, because I’m a girl and I don’t particularily like smelling like a dude.

And thus ended my adventure at the strippers.

Whatever.

It got something off of my list.

306. Go to the strippers

Well, I have gone and finished something off of my life list apparently, graduating with a BA. I one-upped myself though and pulled off a double major, thus graduating with two BAs, one in History and one in Women’s Studies. Both with distinction. Holla! This was by far one of my longest tasks to complete, taking me a full five and a half years. I’ve already started looking into grad schools, because I – for some reason – included getting my Master’s on this list. Oh and PhD. I must really hate myself.

Regardless, I guess I’m proud of myself. I think I was just more excisted for retarded photo-ops.
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#350. Graduate with a BA

Now to spend the rest of the day packing for the annual weeklong trip to Kingston, ON.

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Snapshot of me at the Hoover Dam on my way to the Grand Canyon in September 2008. This satisfied #121 on my life list.

Forgive my ridiculous lack of posting. There is not excuse for laziness…pure, consuming, indulgent laziness.

I did make it out to Kelowna for a rather short, but incredibly relaxing trip. Adam and I just hung out and took in the beautiful surroundings. I did get to see the Spotted Lake near Osoyoos, which was pretty awesome. It was actually one of the things I was most excited for on my list, because I like freaky natural things. CheckĀ  out the pic below.

I also got a massage for the first time, which has gotten me a slight addiction. There is definitely not picture of that. Pervs.

Two things were crossed off of my list in the short trip!

26. Get a massage from a professional

308. Go the Spotted Lake at Osoyoos, BC

Osoyoos

spottlake!

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The conversation went like this
Mom: Why did you get Tang when you don’t like orange flavour.
Me: …
Mom: I mean what inspired you?
Me: I didn’t know what Tang was.
Mom: Great job.

And that was how crossing number #591 off my list went.

When I added “Try Tang” to my list, I really had no idea what it was, other than a drink that was insanely popular 20+ years ago. How bad could it be? Well, given the fact I hate anything orange flavour, it would be really bad. I talked myself into still going through with it at the grocery store, after seeing the orange glow radiating from shelf. So put it in a cupboard when I got home and for weeks tried to forget it was there or on my list.

Of course boredom always wins out in the end.

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It wasn’t really that bad, just really insanely sweet orange. Like orange juice except unhealthy. Definitely not one of the “favourites” list. Now the rest will sit in my fridge and hopefully someone else in my family will drink it. Ick.
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Pulpit Rock Photo Montage

image via Dilidou

Heights are not my thing. Thus, Pulpit Rock in Norway scares the crap out of me. Just watching those people sit leisurely on the edge makes me sink to the carpet covered floors of my room in my “safety crouch” (reserved for swinging bridges, gondola lifts, driving on the sides of mountains, the fake Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas, and pictures of Pulpit Rock). You can definitely file a visit to Preikestolen as it as known in its Native language under Thanks But No Thanks

The trip to Halifax was interesting. It wasn’t my choice to go out there, more of a last minute decision to accompany my boyfriend to see his extended family. The trip was very nice, not just for the sights but for having been able to meet his amazing and generous family. We stayed in an ancient old nunnery with a view of the Bedford Basin and had our own ride to kick around in. We made it out to the infamous Peggy’s Cove and to Pier 21 (which is terribly boring and not as interesting as I thought it would be.) Both items were on my list so I’m two more closer to completion!

Here are some pics!

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It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting another trip until June when I hope to get off somewhere for a few days to celebrate my birthday. I’m bouncing around San Fransisco, Seattle and Yellowstone.

I was trying to avoid writing about my trip to the Dominican Republic, but I cannot put it off any longer. It was silly, not wanting to write about. I’m just scared to admit the truth about my ridiculously expensive excursion: it was terrible. Not I-was-held-hostage-and-forced-to-eat-raw-cow-pancreas terrible, but I certainly did not get what I thought I paid for.

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When I got back I was depressed. Not depressed because it was the end of my vacation, leaving the Dominican Republic made me happy. Getting on the plane was truly wonderful. I was depressed because the best part of my vacation, other than the odd playful dips in the ocean, was laying in the room watching the BBC and bootlegged movies on “Punta Cana TV”. I was angry at myself for letting my money go to waste on what I should have known would be a terribly packaged resort deal. Why didn’t I fly to Santo Domingo and take in some real culture and actually see some of the Dominican Republic? Why did I let myself be duped into an over priced resort with constant noise from helicopters and screaming Germans. Why didn’t I make sure there was ready access to fairly priced or free excursions and activities.
Truth be told, I could have gone to any over crowded noisy beach on any tropical island, I wouldn’t have known the difference. I have to take it as a learning experience though, no matter how embarassed and angry with myself I am. I know now that resorts are simply not for me. I like options, being able to go places, and most of all, being able to leave if necessary. The resort experience, for me, held the feeling of being held against my will. I had no idea where I was, no access to entertainment or the food of my choice. I was paying to be held captive for a week, or at least that is what it felt like to me. It just isn’t my travel style, which I can readily admit I am still learning.

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Traveling isn’t something innate for me, I’m learning what I like and how I like to do it on the road. I can’t expect perfection at every turn, but I can expect myself to take crappy vacations and realize how to avoid the same pitfalls the next time I head out into the wide world.

In the end I came back with two things crossed off of my list
#241. Stay at an all inclusive resort
#583. Soak up the Caribbean sun

I’ll give you the winner straight up: Via Rail.

No this is not some bout of patriotism and hatred for the United States. Amtrak just sucks so hard in comparison to Via Rail it kind of hurts. And no it’s not even that they are in direct competition with each other, seeing as how they operate in different countries. I suppose it’s just a matter of knowing what to expect when you use either of this North American rail travel providers especially if you are crossing the border on them.

I was quite excited to travel by train, since it has been dubbed the more humane way to travel. Oh, and it’s not 37,000 feet in the air. On my first experience with VIA Rail, going the 20 minutes between Toronto and Oakville, I was incredibly impressed. Incredibly helpful staff, clean at the station and on board, spacious, and polite customers! I left actually looking forward to the 12 hour haul I would be taking in four days between New York City and Oakville. This longing for rail travel was reinforced by my not-so-pleasant over night drive to New York on Greyhound.
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On the Monday we were leaving New York (sad face goes here) we got to Penn Station at around 6:15 to ensure we would be on time for our 7:20 departure on Amtrak. We were told at the counter that they would not know or announce the boarding platform until 10 minutes before boarding. Lies! Lies! Lies! We went straight over to the boarding platform as it was announced and found at least 200 people stretched out in front of us. I wonder how they found out the boarding platform before everyone else? We eventually made it to the train, and found ourselves looking at a full car. We somehow found two seats somewhat near each other, but both had to sit with strangers (I booked my tickets together for what exactly?). I guess we had it better than many of the people crammed into the Amtrak car, as about 25 people didn’t have seats. Oh and the door to the next car wouldn’t open. Awesome. The train left the station, and people began to get a bit frantic thinking they’d have to sit in the aisles, until the rudest, angriest man I have ever encountered in a customer-oriented position came hollering in, yelling to open the door and get out of the car and go into the next one. A few men spoke up that they gladly would if they could seeing as how they’d paid to sit down and had been standing on a rocking train for almost 30 minutes. The angry train employee continued to act like a complete ass, pushing his way to the door where he found that is was indeed stuck because it seemed to be…oh let’s see…locked? Yeah, awesome. People began moving into the next car, and some people began getting up in order to follow their families into the next car, but the rude man made sure to inform them that they WERE NOT TO SWITCH CARS. Yeah, children and parents in separate cars. Awesome deal Amtrak. You kick ass.

While we did eventually get a new and much better train attendant, we began finding that every hour or so we were being delayed for rail construction. I should say that Amtrak did call me a few days prior to leaving to tell me that my train would be arriving in Oakville 6 minutes late. I can’t fathom why they bothered calling me over 6 minutes in the first place, especially considering we arrived almost 3 hours late when all was said and done. In all, we spent almost 12 hours on Amtrak, and after about the 3rd hour the washrooms were essentially unusable and beyond anything sanitary (dear men: for the love of lordisa SIT THE FUCK DOWN when peeing on trains. They rock and sway and you do not have skills to compete with thePhotobucket train and pee in a straight line.) The food selection was alright, but going to the food car meant walking by mostly empty cars where we could not go sit and spread out a little.

At the Canadian border, after quite a bit of waiting for customs to finish whatever it was they were doing (scheduled time for customs = 10 minutes. Actually time: 1 hour and 10 minutes). VIA took over the car at this point, and you could feel the difference. We were allowed to move. The employees were nice and asked how we were, if we needed anything (the last 12 hours of my life back please?). One thing that was absolutely impossible not to notice was that almost all of the VIA Rail car on-board staff are middle aged, attractive gay men who love to help people. All three of my train rides with VIA featured several of these attendants. Even though we were frazzled and at the end of our wits from the long, long ride on Amtrak, you could feel the atmosphere settle when VIA took over.

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The next morning I boarded my final train of the trip, en route to Kingston, Ontario. I sat back in the incredibly cushioned VIA Rail chair and allowed the gay-40-something on-board agent ask me at every stop if I needed anything. I looked out at Lake Ontario lapping just feet from the train and enjoyed the silence on the train. I thought of the day prior, packed onto a stuffed, dirty car, with people yelling and angry agents. I wondered how I would ever survive a train in say, India or China. The only knowledge I have of the train service in these countries is Western biased of course, with images of 500 people clinging to the sides of over-packed train cars. I survived Amtrak, but I hated it with every fibre of my being. When the time comes to get onto that train that has a hole through the bottom of the car serving as the toilet, will I be able to board and get to where I need to go?

I crossed one more thing off of my list this summer. I’m excited for when September 8th rolls around and I can officially see how many things I accomplished in the last four months. Yesterday I put a big strike through #43 which was to donate blood. I had planned to do this shortly after my vacation out east, but I was suffering from breathing problems when I got home and did not end up donating. Since I had a day off yesterday, I rescheduled for a morning appointment.

I arrived late thanks to pretty much every road in downtown Calgary being under construction. They weresuper nice regardless at the 737 13 Ave location, the main office for Canadian Blood Services in Calgary. I went through the normal procedures and was taken into the donation room, where I saw the size of the needle and had to avert my eyes from the vein puncturing. I can take needles without blinking and normally watch, but this was a freakin’ huge needle!! Of course, no trip anywhere with me is complete without drama, so I half passed out after they removed the needle. Yeah, everything was fine until I was completely finished and they took the needle out. It got all bright and loopy, and then I was suddenly aware I was wet (cold damp cloths to help you come too) and people were staring at me. Completely embarrassing. Completely. Regardless it is off of my list, and I have another appointment booked in October. I think I can donate two more times before going to Mexico in December/January.

If you live in Canada and aren’t a donor yet, call 1.888.2.DONATE to make an appointment. It’ll take about an hour in total but you could add years to someone’s life.

picture courtesy of jasondunn.com

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