Bribby's Blog

I miss My home

2007-04-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

Nice Day for a White Wedding

2007-01-29T13:56:00.000-08:00

This passed Saturday I attended a wedding to whom was for Chicken's cousin, Chris, and his fiance, Moriah. This particular wedding, however, was not white. It was green. Therefore, the bride wore green down the aisle, she wore green as she said her vows, she wore green as she kissed the groom, and yes, she wore green throughout the whole entirety of the reception. Green. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hate hate green. In fact, during the early life identity crisis of grade 6, green happened to be my most favorite color. And I do believe, that I had an entire lime green outfit which consisted of a lime green turtle neck sweater and lime green and grey pants. This is very much beside the fact that the bride chose to wear a very untraditional color for her wedding gown. Alas, hasn't white been the traditional color for not only the wedding gown, but weddings in general for as long as one can remember? Obviously, that has been for good reason! I might say that I was slightly outraged. White stands for purity, and a new beginning with one's counterpart. In that case, what on earth does green mean? The Grinch Who Stole the Wedding? Lucky St. Wedding Day? Oscar de la Grouch? Seriously! Being a new found fan of the "perfect wedding day", I do believe that I am slightly biased. I mean, there are plenty different types of wedding gowns, right? For example, for an East Indian ceremony, the bride would wear bright red for her gown. In Japan, a kimono perhaps? Gwen Stefani wore a white dress that faded to hot pink for her wedding. But who am I kidding here? She still wore white! If the bride felt so inclined to wear green for her wedding, why did she not choose to wear a nice lacey fitted gown? Which had a statin green stash at her waste, tied in a luscious bow, and fell to the floore with the train of her dress in the back? And could have had that same green for her bride's maids dresses? Why?!
The moral of this reading is to keep one's wedding, simply traditional, and classy -- or else blogs such as this will surface around the internet just as a bad Paris Hilton video.
Thank you, & good-day.
Brittany

Once Upon a Time in Mexico

2007-01-17T20:12:00.000-08:00

Maybe this Christmas

2006-12-21T13:28:00.000-08:00

My Christmas starts tomorrow and doesn't end until January 10th. Lucky? Yes. How come? I get to go home tomorrow. Not only do I get to go home tomorrow, but I also get to go home with my Chicken, whom I love. Love, being the smallest of words with the most meaning in the whole of the world. I am lucky. I also love my mom, and she will be there, too. I love my life.
I'll be flying back home for six days. Once I get back, there is New Year's to look forward to (in which I also spent with my Chicken last year, and it turned out to be something that you would watch in a movie, or maybe the first season New Year's episode from the OC), and then I leave for Mexico. December 22nd-January 10th would be my Christmas. And it makes me swell up inside. Not the bloated swelling up (thank goodness, uh-huh), but the kind of swelling that squishes all of your insides together, including your heart, which ultimately makes you want to gush or throw up tears of happiness -- but you don't. Clinically diagnosed as the one of the Bliss Factors. -- Seriously, I looked it up.
Sadly, I'll be leaving my second family, which includes my two adopted sisters (which being a girl growing up, I always wanted -- I'm sure you can relate) and Chicken's Momma and Daddy-Bear. I've grown attatched. Also, the McPuppies whom are all sleeping at my feet at this very moment. Although they pretend to be homeless doggers living on the streets, whom are starving and proceed to beg at the dinner table nightly, I'll also be missing them. Especially McPretty.
If that is the least of my worries, I sure am a blessed young lady.
See you at home!
I'm going to have a merry little Christmas.
Love, Snowflake Sally
xo

Black and White Insite

2006-12-07T19:14:00.000-08:00

If life in general was black and white it would be boring. But, just look at this picture. Is it boring? No. It's vivid with it's expression and internal passion radiating outward. Some black and white pictures are so classical and immortalizing, that they can't lock away their color. It fills the eye of the spectator with pigments that pauses one's thoughts, and expands them at the same time. Yeah, this all could totally be a load of crap. Plus, I'm biased because I'm a huge fan of those two in the picture. On the other hand though, I could be right.
When, for instance, a girl friend of yours (girl friend being your best girl, whom is your friend) confides in you a wish in which she wants her boyfriend to be more black and white, what she is really implying is that she's would rather opt for a boyfriend who says what he means and when he means it. Black and white. Imagine if all of life was life that, though? Boo-oring. Yes, it would be easier. "Hey, am I going to get this job that I've so humbly applied for and after such a successful interview?" -- "No, I hired the girl with the bigger boobs." For example. Harsh, but hey, it's to the point. It wouldn't just be rude like that all the time anyways. "Hunny, which picture frame do you like better? Black, brown, or white?" -- "Even though I'd rather be watching the hockey game at home on the couch with a beer in hand, and a remote in the other, I'm going to tell you what I think because I love you AND I want to go home as soon as possible. I like the brown one, sweetheart." See? Although this sounds humorous to those who don't live in a black and white world (for those who do, please go see an eye doctor, or psychiatrist, quickly. No, seriously, get up off your chair and get someone to drive you immediately), would you agree that that would take the mystery out of life and ultimately become dull and slit-your-writs boring? Yeah, I thought as much. So, as a result, I think we should all live with more color. No, I'm not saying layer on the makeup, tan until your skin is crocodile leather, or dress like your and African in the 80's. The message that I'm trying to enlighten you with is that one should appreciate the gift of not knowing everything. It would be seriously boring black and white all the time, trust me.
I don't want to know what I'm getting for Christmas anyways, Mom.
Think PINK,
Love Brittany

I'm itchy

2006-11-24T08:19:00.000-08:00

This is Max. On a cat-scale rating 1 to 10, he's a 57.2, seirously. Yes, I'm completely biased, but ask me if I care. Max is the best, and I miss him. No, no, you don't have to send flowers, he is alive. Max is back in BC. Lucky bugger. He's probably sleeping, and thinking about food or taking a poop while not being itchy. Itchy being my problem, these days -- among other things. Just kidding. Who needs problems anyways?
-- So, back to my problem. I'm itchy. Why am I itchy? Unlike BC at this time, Alberta feels like what I imagined the North Pole to feel like on a bad day. The bad days in which the penguins opt for a hottub rather than their ice pool, with their lovely ice floaties. I guess I have two problems then: I'm cold, and because I'm cold, I'm itchy. *NOTE* please don't think that I don't bathe. I do. I shower every day. If you've read my other blogs, you would probably have guessed by now that I have a little vainity issue, so why wouldn't I shower? -- And why am I deffending myself to you? No clue. Anyways, if you don't understand the whole being cold thing equals itchy, let me clarify that for you. It's not just cold here (like the north pole), it's also dry. Being cold, and dry, results with severely dry skin which is incredibly itchy. It's so itchy, in fact, that it's difficult to sleep at night. I know itching makes it worse, but it feels good for about .5 seconds before it becomes even itchier. Why doesn't Bribby moisturize then? Duh, I do. Every day. I've even switched to Vaseline because nothing else it cutting it. I bought a tub of it yesterday. It feels great, I didn't itch nearly as much -- until sleeping time. Then starts the itching. I'm going to start moisturizing my bod not just once a day after my shower, but when I go to bed, too! Genius. I had to sit down and dump my thoughts exposing them to the cyber world in order to come up with that brilliant solution. Good one, Bribby. Come to think of it though, have you ever noticed how shiney penguins are? And how they glide through their icey pools so effortlessy? And how they don't seem to feel itchy? Vaseline, baby.
Well, I'm just going to go ahead and forward this blog to Vaseline for a winter time/North Pole commercial idea.
Use Vaseline & enjoy your day.
Brittany

I couldn't sleep last night

2006-11-24T08:15:00.000-08:00

Under the Tuscan Sun ('Kamloops Sun' just didn't have the same ring to it)

2006-11-20T13:37:00.000-08:00

Pretty in Purple

2006-11-06T11:07:00.000-08:00

Gobble-Gobble

2006-10-09T15:55:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving!
This Thanksgiving (which I celebrated Sunday) consisted of the following:
Getting up early
Driving two hours to a foreign farm in which I was severley out-numbered
Rolling a quad, which squished not only my head but my hip (it's vividly purple) and back
Being falsely accused of naughty endevors
And missing my Momma's turkey
It wasn't what I had imagined for my Thanksgiving day fate, but it was nice. I enjoyed myself thouroughly; although suffering from life-threatening injuries today and missing my family back home that much more. It was still lovely.
Thank you V-Town-People and my new family,
Miss you tons, Momma and family-family.
Be Thankful,
Bribby

You're so vain, you probably think this Blog is about you

2006-09-29T22:02:00.000-07:00

I love that song. 'Yourrrrrrrr so vain, you probably think this song is about you-your-so-vain..' -- I could go on and on and on, really.
That song came to mind this evening after I got home from work. I found myself standing in front of the mirror removing today's denim from my fingernails. Then I thought to myself, I'm standing in front of the mirror, cleaning my fingernails. Seriously. Do you ever find yourself just standing in front of the mirror obvlivious to everything around you, staring off into the abiss? Ok, just me, that's fine. I think I do this more than I am actually aware of. Then I thought, how much time do I spend in front of the mirror? How much time in my WHOLE lifetime have I wasted/spent in front of the mirror? Well for one, I wouldn't call it wasted time. I sort of enjoy getting ready. It's one of my hobbies. I'm not vain, or completely self obsessed; I just enjoy getting pretty. On occassion, I don't feel like getting ready, and on those days I simply don't (just for the record). I do take a while to get ready. I read in a magazine once that one is considered high maintenance if one takes more than an hour to get ready. I think that's always on the back of my mind, too. Sometimes I feel guilty for taking as much time as I do. Since I've moved to Alberta, I get ready faster -- which is nice -- but I wish that I was one of those people that didn't have to put a lot of time into getting ready (even though I enjoy it). But still, I feel guilty. Sometimes. Partly, the reason that I enjoy getting ready is because I feel as though if I look good, I feel better and thus have a better day. It all comes down to control as well. When I say control, I mean, like when (for instance) I make my bed in the morning. I feel as though that because it is made, because it is neat and tidy, and because I did it, I am more organized and in control of not only my bed, but my life. The same applies to getting ready. I am in control. Don't get me wrong, either. I'm not a control freak. I just like some sort of organization and structure in my life. Structure is good. It makes me feel good, personally. I recommend trying it. Try it tomorrow morning after you get out of bed. Make the bed. Be happy that you made the bed. It's the make your bed and feel better about yourself theory.
Therefore, in conclussion, I am not vain or a control freak. However, I cannot explain the whole staring off into obvivion thing, maybe I am just tired.
Goodnight and Goodluck all

Happy Birthday, Mommy

2006-09-22T13:27:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on not being back home in BC for my Mom's birthday are the following:
I feel as though I've broken the Daughterly Code. There's seriously a code for everything. A Friend Code, Girlfriend/Boyfriend Code, Da Vinci Code, Code of Conduct, Code of Chivalry.. There are just tons of codes! And thus my point, the Daughterly Code being one of them; and the code in which I felt I have broken. I'm still being pretty vague, so let me explain a little further. My Muj ("Muj" being my pet name for my Mommy) and I are extremely close. Not just "awe, aren't they close," it's more like "holy crap, they're best friends" -close. It's true. I enjoy being around my mom, I can't get sick of her. She is one of those people that you want to get to know. She's so well rounded in every department of her life. I'm really lucky to be her daughter, but at the same time, after leaving I feel as though I've let her down in a huge, irreplaceable sort of way. My biological sperm doner left when I was in the Kindergarten, which didn't phase me at all. It was more like "so long, sucker!" The divorce did hurt my Muji though, and my little brother (whom I used to fight with, every single day -- but now we're super tight). After that effer (I don't like swearing) departed from out lives for the best, our threesome became a very close knit family, and I liked it that way. I believe that's when we really bonded. My Muj eventually remarried one heck of a guy, so at least she ended up with a very good feller, a castle and her very own fairy tale. -- So, there was a little of my background. Did that help at all?
Furthermore, on top of the guilt of not being there to help, and spend time with my Momma (+ the little brother), I am still burdened heavily with homesickness (a fatality that not even antibiotics can assist with). This makes me feel like crap, thus the breaking of the Daughterly Code. I am sure that there are exceptions and different sorts of rules that vitto what I think that I have done wrong, but the thing is, that would be cheating. You know, the type of cheating when someone (for instance) is 375 pounds and on a diet: works out, eats healthy, but during a weak moment when no one around, steals a crispy cream into there room and eats it in their closet. After which they get stuck in the closet and suffer a heart attack caused by exhausten when trying to get out of that darn closet. M ake sense? I lost you. Ok. The thing is, I just feel bad. I wish I were there. And I feel bad because I don't regret moving here at the same time.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
Love and Miss you,
Brittany

Is she new here?

2006-09-06T14:26:00.000-07:00

So I moved to Edmonton two weeks ago from BC. Two whole weeks ago. This is coming from a girl that would go home at midnight to sleep in her own bed from sleep-overs when she was a kiddie. What would make me move to a place where there is no Momma and no mountains? My Chicken. Yup, it would be his fault. No, not his fault. After all, who could blame the most genuinely, all around, as perfect as they get, little boy to fall for me. No, again, it was just fate. The sick kind of fate that people smile plastic looking smiles, while watching in disgust the two of the cutest love birds in the corner, whom have their own language and talk mushily to each other. I just love that sick kind of fate. You dream about it happening some day, and then right out of no where, when you least expect it, it smacks you over the back and chucks you off of a 100 ft. cliff, falling madly, and deeply.. to your death. Just kidding, again. Deeply in love, actually. Yes, it does exist. And it only exists once you think that you are as happy as you can ever be.
This is kind of nice. Being able to vent to countless amounts of people, most of whom one will ever meet or hear from. A blog is also nice because I can use endless amounts of pink (not that it has ever stopped me before anyways).
So, as I was saying, I moved to Alberta from BC. I paused university, quit my job, packed my bags, leaving my momma and the castle in which I used to live in. I loved it there. That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and the biggest change -- ever. All of which is worth it. Not that my momma is irreplaceable. Just that, my life had to begin, and knowing that the best thing that I had ever come across was waiting for me (with a very good job of his own), here in Alberta. Cute, hey? Ok, fine. Say what you want, but I think it's super cute. Me and my Chicken. I've encountered numerous obstacles since I've arrived. Finding a job, getting lost, getting lost, not knowing where I am half the time, getting lost, getting lost. I did, however, find a job in the first two days of living here. I ended up choosing one about six days after being here (yup, I said choosing, it was nice, too). I work in a mall, in a classy little fashion boutique. You might have heard of it. If you do come in, I'm quiet one with sore feet (breaking in new pairs of cute little leather flats is another obstacle all in it's own).
There you have it. A little chunk of my life chucked into cyber space for all the normal people, gamers, perverts, bored people, celebreties (haha, ok fine), relatives, friends, government officials, psycho analysts , taxi drivers, McDonalds employees etc. to read.
Have a lovely afternoon.

I'm in Edmonton!

2006-09-05T13:52:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's Brittany! This is my very first blog ever!