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O hay

What's shakin?


Updated my iPhone from iOS 4.something to iOS 6.something. It's pretty much a new phone.

Been a rough patch. My beloved Mollywobbles, eleven-years-old, perfect health, had a seizure on 12 March and died. Gorgeous golden girl. Her entire life has been documented in this LJ, from even before I'd ever met her.

(I am so sorry if this picture is huge - posting from the updated LJ app. Ain't no time for fancy shit)

She was so wonderful and I'll never, ever forget her.

Have been off work since 9 May due to complications from having all of my wisdom teeth removed. Was shitting bricks until I realised I work for a company who'd rather pay me to stay home and recover than to come to work with an infected face and die at my cubicle. Good times.

May long weekend has been boring. I'm craving Tuesday so I can return to work. My tongue is still numb, I'm drowning in painkillers and I'm on antibiotics for awhile yet, but there's only so much napping and American Dad! a twenty-five-year-old can tolerate before wanting to just roll over and not move ever again.

My cats are way too majestic to shit in a box. Nature made a mistake somewhere.


Identity Issues, AKA, Who The Fuck Am I?

One thing that always helped me cope with Dad's death was looking in a mirror. I'd see his eyes, his hair, and bits of him in me that comforted me like words never could. It was something nobody could take away from me, yet somehow managed to.

Oh ho, dear reader. Oh ho.

Tuesday last week Mum invited my brother and I out to her house in Radison for a family meeting. I was going to stay the night and they'd drive me back into the city on Monday. My brother picked me up around 1:00 and off we went. The roads were really clear despite a heavy snowfall days earlier.

We get to Mum and Dennis's (my step-dad) house and are greeted with hugs. The first thing Mum does is offer us a drink. We all sit in the living room - I have Smirnoff Ice and a small bowl of potato chips. We chat for a bit about inane and inappropriate things. I confess to having broken two bra underwires this year, and should really probably go to a fitting shop.

It's about then that Mum sits my brother and I down on the couch. She says she has something to tell us. I remembered her suggesting something was up, but that I had to hear it in person.

'You have cancer!' I blurt out. No, she says, and reassures me that nobody is sick or dying. If that's the case, what the hell could possibly be wrong? My brain came up with nothing.

She sighed and then she said it.

My brother and I were conceived through donated sperm. We both had different fathers and she had no idea who they were.

My jaw. Dropped. She kept talking and my mouth was just hanging open and the only thing I could think is, are you fucking serious?

She goes on to tell us what she does know. They were pre-med or med students at the U of S, and after lots of digging, she was able to find conception dates. Someone had told her records were destroyed after two years, but she had since learned otherwise - But still, no information.

Tears started running down my cheeks. My brother ran to the bathroom, slammed the door and vomited. I sat dumbfounded for a few moments before I asked if I could check on him. I found him laying on the floor shaking like a leaf. After some mouthwash and Ativan, it was back to the living room.

My step-dad puttered around in the background while Mum proceeded to hand my brother and I booklets of paper. It was a string of emails Mum had written with a guidance counsellor back in 2005 about her struggle with this secret and how to tell us. She had removed it from an envelope marked 'secret and extremely confidential'.

Nobody knew. My grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts knew nothing. My dad knew. Mum knew. Dennis knew. That's it. It was the eighties. Artificial insemination wasn't exactly non-taboo. Mum said she was terrified I would figure it out because of my eyes. Blue eyed parents (my dad) don't often give birth to blue eyed children (me). I shrugged and said I'd never bothered to look into it and that I must be the exception.

Mum said that she'd like to read the emails with us. She kept her own copy and read aloud while my brother and I followed along. My brother tried to skip ahead but Mum asked that he not.

About halfway through hearing this, I felt a burning in my chest. I had to talk to someone sane. I excused myself, grabbed my phone, and headed for the spare bedroom. I called my best friend. She answered and I asked if she had time to talk. She did.

I explained what had just happened. 'Oh my God,' she said. I agreed enthusiastically and we were able to have a conversation that lifted my spirits. 'Just another day in the exciting life of Britt, eh? On the plus side, you're now officially a special snowflake,' she said. I laughed and said I needed to get back. We promised to talk later.

Back in the living room my brother was sitting on the floor freaking out a bit. My chip bowl had been mysteriously refilled. We both sat back on the couch and Mum continued.

From the emails it went on to letters written to herself in 2008. How she wanted to tell us but didn't know when. How she wished I had a partner for support. The letters were intermittent, but ended up at last week when she had written that she would finally tell us. My brother and I took a moment to call our respective work places and explain that we would probably not be in on Monday due to family crisis. This was definitely something that would take more than a weekend to come to terms with. My boss said she needed a legit explanation. I teared up and said, 'I just found out my dad is not really my dad.' Mum offered to take the phone, but my boss said to call her if I needed anything and to check up on Tuesday.

This was weird. Weird is the only way to explain it. I excused myself again to call my friend in Vancouver. When she didn't answer, I sent her a text saying that she had to call me asap because I had a story that would BLOW HER GODDAMN MIND.

She called a few minutes later. 'You're joking,' she said when I told her. 'What? Wow. You have delivered what you said you would. My mind is totally blown.' We chatted for a bit, shared some laughs. My brain began to hurt. This didn't feel real.

Later that evening we ordered Chinese food. My brother kept spilling it on himself. At the end of the night, it was decided that I would go home with him as he'd probably be distracted on the road. No shit. He was swerving like a drunkard the whole time. I'm shocked the RCMP didn't catch us veering into the shoulder.

My brother took me home and he went to work to crash. I wandered around the apartment aimlessly for a bit. I fed the cats, watched TV blankly, and soon it was 1:00. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take my pills. I looked into the mirror. I saw Dad's eyes. I saw Dad's hair. Only it wasn't. I realised now that whenever I told Mum how comforting these features were, she'd quickly change the subject and insist I had my grandmother's hair.

Who am I now? Nothing has changed. This isn't good news or bad news. It's just news that I have no idea what to do with. I could be walking through the mall and have passed one of my siblings without even knowing it. This was so weird. The weirdest day of my life. Nothing will ever top it, I'm sure.

Looking in the mirror, I told myself it wasn't true and that I needed to find a new perspective, whatever that was. It felt like everything needed to be resolved urgently, even though I knew it was something I'd be dealing with for the rest of my life.

My brother and I are only half-siblings. My dad was an anonymous sperm donor I'll never know. My life has been flipped upside down and yet my feet are still on the ground. Whose eyes do I have? Where did my hair colour come from? Am I secretly half-American and am missing out on sweet dual citizenship perks? What I was once so sure of is now a complete mystery. I'll never have that comfort again.

Thank God I have an appointment with the shrink on Tuesday. Thank. God.

Brawny Man

I love the Brawny man. Don't ask why or how I even know who he is, I just do. You can't get Brawny in Canada, so whenever I or my parents go to the States, a roll of absorbent Brawny paper towel comes home.

Today a co-worker was looking up games for her sister's baby shower. I just happened to be nearby when she asked if Brawny was even available in Canada. I said, 'yes, I hoard it in my front closet' (I have several rolls right now). Apparently, one of the games requires a roll of Brawny. Something to do with manliness, I'm not sure.

Anyway, I said I'd bring her a roll. It's really sad how pleased I am about this. My strange obsession with Brawny has finally proven itself useful for more than just cleaning exploded Pizza Pops from the microwave!

Also, my computer is dead. Hence my lack of updates this summer. I still have my laptop, but I don't use it for much more than streaming movies to my TV and watching Big Brother live feeds.

How are you all doing?



I have good news! I GOT A FULL-TIME JOB!!!

As of 28 May I'll be working customer care at Western Business Machines, a company that's been pimped to me so hard I feel incredibly privileged to have the chance to work there.

Omg I get my own desk and everything.

I won't be able to work days at the Hilton anymore, which really blows as I like what I do and who I work with. Sadly, two shifts a week won't my my mortgage.

I'll also have to say goodbye to The UPS Store, a place that has been my safe haven since 2009. I'll still go in on Saturdays, but I feel terrible at leaving my boss. It's just her and I in there all day, and she's my true bro. But again ... Bills to pay.

The sense of relief I have is overwhelming. Dear God, do not let me fuck this up.


Best Regards

The following is an e-mail exchange between myself and the useless manager of my building.

Hi Richard,

I'm writing this complaint at 1:30 am as that was the time I was woken up by 24's drum playing. Since acquiring this drum kit, he's played at 10 pm, 11 pm and now the middle of the night. I can't tolerate this. I need to sleep. I have a job I need to be awake for.

Please see this is resolved,


He replies:

Hello Brittany, the only recourse you have is to call the police and have them come and give the person a ticket. We have talked about this before so call the police and get the noise stopped now. I feel bad for you but you are the person that has to stop this.

Best Regards

Omfg. Useless, right?

Hi Richard,

There is no point in calling the police as the drumming doesn't usually last more than 30 minutes. I need someone to speak to this tenant as he has no care for what I have to say. I'm hoping as building manager you can assist me.

Behold, he gets his ass into gear.

Britt, this is the response from the owner. Just so you know I do not deal with tenants ever just owners.

Best Regards

Not to worry - I will evict him myself. What an idiot. I had a discussion with him about noise complaints and that if there was one more, he'd be out.

And then he goes and gets a drum set??? Grrrrr!

I'm on it....

I can't believe it. I may get to sleep through the night in the near future! Even as I type this he's stomping about like a troll. Bitch doesn't have a job - He thinks staying home all day and night while making noise with his noisy dog counts as a career.


Finally had a date.

It went well.


Considering how much I pay for Adult Friend Finder I'm a little disappointed it hasn't gotten me laid. Unless I put out for a 50 something couple living on a farm or a douchebag hockey player. I hate hockey players.

OK, it's only been a month but still. I don't put my boobs out there for nothing.

And apologies to my brother if he stumbles across this entry. Actually, no. Stop snooping.


I said before that perhaps Bubbles left so that The Dude could enter my life. The Dude has a lot of Bubbles's weird habits, including climbing on the air conditioner to see out the window.

Bubbles on the left, The Dude on the right.


Ramblings of an Idiot

I've been diagnosed with depression by the shrink, which answers a lot of questions. Namely, why I have been sleeping so much.

I sleep in until ten minutes before I leave for work. As soon as I get home, I binge on crappy food and go right back to sleep. I've been spending more time asleep than I have awake the past few months and it's only been getting worse. I am tired all the damn time, even when I'm at work or hanging out with friends. I've dozed off on a buddy's couch more times than I can count. The psych wants to try psychotherapy with me in two weeks. I'm seriously lousy at keeping myself occupied. I don't feel like reading, watching TV or playing games. I just want to sleep. When I am at work, I crave getting into bed and snuggling with my kitties.

OCD, ADHD, depression. What a shitty hand I've been dealt.

I applied at Claire's today. My hotel job isn't doing very much for me, and I really liked working at Claire's. Unfortunately, it's changed a lot. We'll see what happens.

My parents bought a house thirty minutes out of town today. More anxiety, yay.

Latest Month

May 2014


'My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.'
- Jack Layton


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