Best Bachelorette Ever

It's a day every little girl dreams about: planning her best friend's bachelorette party. And that day is finally here because your closest pal is tying the knot to a real human being this time! Not that you're saying that you don't respect the love between a woman and a raccoon! Randy was a wonderful partner and you're sure the two of you will still be friends even after the split! Everybody be cool! The point is, a wedding is on the horizon, so it's time to quit your job, tell your mom you're dead, and abandon your new baby at a train station, because coordinating and executing The Best Night of Her Life will require your undivided attention for the next three to six minutes.

There are obviously a ton of cliches that go along with bachelorette parties (binge drinking, craving pickles and ice cream, sacrificing a virgin to appease Targon, God of Tap Dancing, etc.) but embracing the tradition is part of the fun! One popular bachelorette trope is for the whole group to wear matching outfits to alert passersby that they're "out on the town" and "likely to vomit". You can get a great deal on "BRIDE" and "BRIDESMAID" t-shirts if you're not picky about things like colour or spelling—for example, a quick trip to Hakim's U-Pick Stagette Wear Factory Outlet and Exotic Meats Butcher Shop can outfit all of the bropsmerds in style and have the brime feeling truly special, and with enough money leftover to splurge on a traditional matrimonial goatsmeat tart to enjoy on the shuttle ride home.

As for the location, it doesn't matter where you are as long as you're together! Whether it's a weekend in Vegas, a night on the town or three months trapped in a submarine, this party is about letting loose with your best gal pals and the bride's weird cousin Jelissa you were obligated to invite! If you are planning a multi-day extravaganza, put together an elaborate itinerary with all the classic "girls night out" activities to make sure that maximum fun is being wrung from every spare moment until it dangles lifelessly in your arms. Efficiency, after all, is a key ingredient in having a good time. Look at these famous parties from throughout history: Weekend at Bernie's; Weekend at Bernie's 2; the Donner party. What do they all have in common? That's right: great pals with great organizational skills.
10:00 a.m.: Front row seats at a dog fight
12:00 p.m.: Pap smears (Groupon)
1:00 p.m.: Chili eating competition
2:00 p.m.: Late lunch: leftover chili
4:00 p.m.: Interpretive self-defense course
6:00 p.m.: Shots! (Drinks)
6:10 p.m: Shots! (Immunization against alopecia, "The Silent Killer")
7:00 p.m.: Party game: Brainstorm Party Games!
8:15 p.m.: Lie awake in bed contemplating the futility of life

These days, everyone is on a budget, so even if your dream party involves bedazzling endangered dolphins with real diamonds, scale it back to make sure all the bride's friends can participate. Sponsorship is a great way to offset the costs while still Having it Your Way (tm). Instead of renting a yacht, why not enjoy a hot, flavourful order of Satisfries? Bungee jumping would make for a memorable event, but so would egging a Wendy's drive-thru window. It's all about compromise, trading your vision of glamour, elegance, and animal endangerment for a cheque as juicy as a Fire-Grilled Triple Whopper . And if your friends object to you commodifying this experience that is supposed to be about female bonding and celebrating your beautiful personal relationships with the bride before she starts a new chapter in her life, ask them to at least wait until the stripper that's dressed as the Burger King has finished his act before they start pointing fingers.

Holiday Greetings, Human Readers!

The holiday season is upon us, my good friends and secret enemies, having descended almost without warning like the plague of hyper-intelligent boll weevils that took over my building's laundry room last Spring. There's a crispness to the air, and bells where there weren't bells before. For most people, Christmas is a delight for all of our senses (sights, sounds, taste, seeing dead people, crumping); for others, they're probably Jewish. But it's a joyous time of year whether you like it or not. You can't avoid it, much like you can't treat a rabid boll weevil bite without professional medical attention. And unfortunately, modern science has no way of knowing just when Christmas will be over, so you may as well dive into the frigid, torrential waters of holiday cheer and allow your body to be pummeled against the jagged stones of childlike wonder by the bone-crushingly strong currents of goodwill towards men. Embrace the magic! And call an ambulance about that bite! Don't let a boll weevil do it, even if he seems like a good guy!! They're all liars who will use your fabric softener without even asking.

DECORATING
The first step to getting in the Christmas spirit is to get a tree. Now, most people tend to go for the obvious choices like fir or pine, but I'd like you to show me where in the rule book it says you can't have a handsome toxic manchineel as your holiday shrub of choice. You're going to need some lights, too, but why spend all that money on "special strings of lights" that "won't cause a deadly fire" when you've got dozens of perfectly good 40W bulbs lying around doing nothing but illuminating your neighbour's porch? Help yourself! If they didn't want you to take them, they wouldn't have just left them unsupervised outside and should have been more explicit when they sent you the court-ordered document about which of their lightbulbs they didn't want you to steal. To really complete the look for your tree, a little sparkle might be nice, but we're not trying to win the Christmas Olympics here; I've already got a lot on my plate trying to win the regular Olympics (freestyle monster truck driving). Let's just toss a simple but tasteful nativity scene up on the mantle—I like to just create a pile of any additional light bulbs to represent the whole stable gang (Mary, Joseph, Canadian one-hit-wonders the Philosopher Kings, three billy goats gruff, etc.).—and call it a night.

PARTIES
If you're like me, you're going to a ton of holiday parties this season, some of which you may have actually been invited to! That means dressing to impress. I personally have streamlined my wardrobe by purchasing a series of slimming velvet one-piece jumpsuits, each explicitly labelled across the belly to commemorate the occasion at hand ("GIRLS NIGHT OUT," "FUNERAL") but for those of you with a velvet allergy, I recommend a classic black cocktail dress (or for the men, classic blackface) paired with a chic and mysterious Hulk hand gloves. Whether you're attending family holiday movie night or binge drinking with your neighbour's fourteen-year-old in the park, you're sure to turns heads and have them talking in intrigued whispers, with questions like "What are you wearing?," "Why is your purse full of lightbulbs?" and "That's her over there, officer."

EATING
The holidays can wreak havoc on your figure. It seems like there's tempting treats everywhere you turn, from the office cookie exchange, to that whole birthday cake you ordered at the restaurant as a starter. You can't fight it, so pour yourself a big glass of egg nog to celebrate this wonderful time of excess—or to really "get this party started" (copyright Alicia "P!nk" Moore, 2006, all rights reserved), pour in a tipple of dark rum and top with a medium cheese pizza. If you're hosting some friends for a night of general merriment or classic holiday games like "Put On This Santa Hat So We Can Get a DNA Sample From Your Hair For That On-Going Murder Investigation" and "Tongue-Kiss a Boll Weevil," make sure to be the hostess with the mostess by serving up a hearty platter of holiday favourites. Think rum balls, gingerbread cookies, or just a good old fashioned brick of butter rolled in some crushed nuts and then slathered with some more butter. 

Office Life

At one point or another, every kid dreams of one day working in an office. It’s an important developmental phase, like thinking MadLibs are fun or trying to ride a bike on a trampoline. Sure, the more glamorous careers—firefighter, ballerina, witch doctor, alpaca breeder, garbageman to the stars—will attract your attention throughout your life, but the sweet siren song of the corporate American workplace can’t be resisted for long. Jobs with water coolers are water cooler. It’s right in the name.

Working in an office is basically exactly how you imagined it as a starry-eyed pre-tween. The fluorescent lights twinkle mischievously above as you playfully banter with your co-workers about who will be mercilessly stabbed with a ballpoint pen if they touch your clearly labelled berries-on-the-bottom yogurt in the fridge again. Yes, an office can be a magical place—somewhere to bring purpose and passion to your days, and hopefully to provide a comfortable place to haunt once you’ve left this mortal coil, perhaps due to some sort of horrific accident with the postage meter. But it isn’t always easy to transition into this brave new world from school or retail or living in an emergency underground bomb shelter for most of your adult life as seen in the 1999 Brendan Fraser thriller Blast from the Past. There’s an unspoken code of conduct. Unspoken, that is... until NOW! EXCLUSIVE TELL-ALL TIPS ‘N’ TRICKS TO FOLLOW!  HOT HOT HOT!

Cubicle Décor

Sure, “the man” wants you to sit in your little grey box and just be another corporate slave with no personality, but you’ll show him (it?). Take that blank canvas and make it your own, but make it your own more than anyone ever has dared before. If a simple poster of a kitten “hanging in there” will show that you’re more than just a number, then 27 posters of a kitten “hanging in there” will make an even bolder statement (that you’re a go-getter ready for middle management and/or dangerously closing to “giving up” at any given moment). Calendars are also a great way to express your personality while also acting as a constant reminder of the never-ending march of days that just takes you closer to death. Plants are nice too, as is keeping a healthy supply of vodka on hand for emergencies or days ending in “y”. Most offices supply you with a chair, but why stop there? Remember, this cubicle is your home away from home, so you’d better be comfortable there. I recommend incorporating a propane barbecue and some tasteful nude oil paintings at the bare minimum. (Ha ha! Just a little tasteful nude oil painting humour for you there!)

Elevator Chit-Chat

If your office is on the ground floor, what are you even doing with your life? You may as well be working at Taco Time. Nobody respects if you if they don’t have to take an elevator to get to your workplace. That’s rule one at business school and rule twelve at the correspondence clown college I attended (Go Wildcats!). And more importantly, the elevator is your time to shine, socially. Every time you take the ol’ vertical bus (because people definitely call it that) with a colleague, it’s an opportunity to make an impression. The number of floors you’ll be travelling will obviously affect the timing and topic of conversation, so use this handy chart to pick something appropriate for the time you have together:  

2 Floors: Weather

3 Floors: Weather

4 Floors: Weather

5 Floors: Abortion

6 Floors: Weekend plans

Holiday PartyWorking isn't all about work; sometimes it’s about play! But unfortunately, it’s rarely about putting on plays. Don’t get confused. Most offices will host social events a couple of times a year, like Christmas parties or swimsuit competitions. It’s a great chance to bond with your fellow co-workers, so don’t miss out! Put on your best formal turtleneck and get ready to mingle. Let your colleagues know you’re ready to let loose by suggesting some good old-fashioned body shots to kick off the evening. (Note: some offices encourage employees to bring their families to social events; if kids are in attendance, make sure to have a non-alcoholic alternative available for this activity.) Then, keep the party going by initiating some team-building games like Seven Minutes in Heaven and Guess Who Filled Todd’s Desk with Baby Spiders? If your office has a social committee who already planned things for the evening, or if your suggestions are deemed “totally inappropriate” and “do you even work here” by management, don’t let that get you down: spending the party vacuuming out Todd’s desk is a great story to tell your Real Doll when you get home.  

The Sun is a Jerk

The sun acts like it's your friend, but it's totally not. Just when you think that covering yourself in bacon fat and hanging out at an aluminum siding sidewalk sale is safe, BAM! The sun'll getcha.

And the sun isn't even cool about it, either. It's like, if you're going to burn me, at least do it evenly. Maybe I missed my elbows when I was applying sunscreen, or forgot I had a neck, but I tried to 'screen properly; the sun doesn't even cut me a break and suddenly the tops of my feet are the colour of Carrot Top's favourite red tshirt. How was I supposed to know feet burn? They're feet!!!

My family is from Scottland, Ireland, and England, a trifecta of paleness. I've never stood a chance against that stupid giant star that all life depends on. I have probably only avoided skin cancer at this point because the sun feels it would be unsportsmanlike, like taking candy from a baby and then giving him skin cancer.

There's signs out at the beach that are supposed to help protect you from the sun. You know the ones: Slap on a Hat, Slam on Some Shades, Stab on a Shirt, etc. But what they don't tell you is that the sun isn't satisfied with ruining your albino good looks in the summer. Oh no, UV rays are around even when it's cloudy, and even when you think you're safe tucked away in a tanning bed.

 As they always say, though, the best defense is a good offense. That's why I'm starting a postcard campaign to eliminate the sun. Mostly I'm just putting my mean-yet-pun-filled postcards ("You're a SUN-of-a-bitch!" etc.) in balloons and releasing them as vigorously as possible into the atmosphere, but a petition to NASA is in the works. Also, I'm starting a novelty-oversized-hose drive (fingers crossed that that is such a thing!) in hopes of eventually cobbling together enough water power to put out the sun altogether. Together, we can accomplish anything! Let's strive for a darker tomorrow.

Spa Day

I'm starting a spa. This may seem surprising to you, given that I have no "experience" in estheticianary and that I overuse "quotation marks" for comedic effect, but I'm not going to let that negative attitude nor the fact that estheticianary is not a "real word" stop me. I have been treated at upwards of six spas in the last few years (mostly for work, which is tragic only in the sense that at this rate, no one will ever be interested in making a biopic about my difficult-but-inspiring life), and have picked up a thing or two while lying scared and naked on a table. For example: People like to be rubbed and are willing to pay a lot of money for it. So for the spa owner, the earth's over-population isn't a crisis, but an opportunity: the more human beings, the more rubs we'll need! And basically anybody with two hands and most people with one hand can do it. I know there are schools and licenses that spa practitioners attend, but in my experience, most of what's happening as you lie there is a surprise and there's no real way to recognize if it's the work of a professional or, as we'll soon see at Big Stacey's House O' Feel Good, a hook-handed felon released on a technicality. Yesterday, my masseuse put her thumb in my ear and I am still not sure that that was a mistake. Today, during a body wrap, I was told to arrange a towel over my nether regions in a "diaper wrap". Anything goes at the spa. As long as the soothing tones of birds playing the harp are on the sound system, I don't dare to ask any questions, and ideally my future clients won't either if they know what's good for them.

I've got some ideas for my spa already, because it's a fun thing to think about as a stranger is rubbing your butt with whatever they found in the staff fridge.

SPA TREATMENT IDEAS
1. Someone plays with your hair for an hour.
2. A handsome man rubs your feet while you pop bubble wrap.
3. Lie in a tub and have puppies walk on your back.
4. Have your nails shaped into standard screwdriver heads.
5. Apple cinnamon scrub, but the leftover product is baked into a pie that you get to take home.

As always, if you're interested in this wonderful investment opportunity, please feel free to arrange a drop-off of unmarked bills at an abandoned train station of convenience to you.

Solo Vacation

I've never been on a trip all by myself before, but I'm going for it because I'm an Empowered Woman Who Loves Getting Sunburned. It's just so important to take some "me time," you know? To decompress and find your centre and spend some quality time resenting all your friends for being broke.

Well, I'm the lucky one here, because I am an excellent travel companion. I won't be passive-aggressive about picking a restaurant, or mind when I want to try on jeans for two hours instead of visiting a museum, and I can count on me not to tell anyone that my tweets about the amazing Gehry exhibit were sent from a Gap changing room. We're a great team, me and I. I'm braiding myself a friendship bracelet right now. I have a feeling I'm going to love it.

That being said, obviously I would ditch myself in a moment if an opportunity to meet real, non-self people comes up, but I doubt I'll be encountering many party animals to befriend in Palm Springs. I'm staying at a fairly decent hotel full of quiet people who presumably fled the comfort of their own homes for the very purpose of avoiding mingling; I personally chose it over a hostel for safety's sake but also because I have grown accustomed to a certain standard of pillow (stuffed with pegasus feathers, heated to 300 degrees Kelvin).

There's plenty to do in sunny California without a companion, anyways. Show me where in the vacation rulebook it says a single gal can't rent a tandem bike, receive a couple's massage, or order the lobster platter for two! I'm going to do all the things I want to do, alone, and who's going to stop me? My solo synchronized swimming will inspire envy, not pity. "No one's holding her back," on-lookers will say bitterly to their husbands."Look at her grace. I didn't even know you could do a back-flip in a hot tub. And now she's lying perfectly still underwater, even with that gaping wound in her head: what self-control!"

The best thing about traveling alone is that you can go to bed whenever you want! Immediately after dinner, during dinner; it's your call! The worst thing is either feeling awkward asking for a table for one, or realizing that no one will ever fully understand the experiences you're having, no matter how many pictures you take or letters you write, and those treasured memories of your adventure will disappear with you when you die, harsh evidence of the futility of human life,

Palm Springs, here I come!

E-Z Biking

So I bought a bike because, you know, I look really cute riding a bike. This apparently is not acceptable information to give the bike shop staff members when you're out doing test-rides, though. Reasons like “transportation” and “exercise” and “I killed a man with my car and am not allowed to drive anymore” are all preferable rationales when it comes to joining the cycling community. But whatEVER, commuters and tree-huggers. I don't need your approval. I'll buy the heaviest bike in the store because it matches my sweater if I want, and ride it to work very very slowly with lots of breaks and cursing, and you can't stop me. I'm a “bike person” now (not to confused with being a “bike-person”, the wheeled equivalent of a centaur).

You might be surprised, upon seeing my rich, meaty legs and blood doping kit, to learn that I haven't always been a bike person. Sure, I know how to ride a bicycle, and more importantly, how to pretend your bike was stolen so your mom will drive you to school instead. But that doesn't mean I've always had a pleasant relationship with our two-wheeled friends. I did a summer work exchange to Quebec when I was in high school and rode a bike to my job at the food bank through the sweltering Victoriaville July; it was a very damp experience, probably because it turned out the tires had been flat all summer. Another year, I borrowed my brother's bike to roll down the highway to my job at a bee farm. It had an unusual braking system, by which I mean flinging yourself off of the bike into a ditch while holding your breath to avoid unnecessary pollen inhalation was the most effective way to dismount during allergy season. Additionally, among all these unpleasant experiences remains the fact that most helmets are unflattering to my face shape (a 3D octangle).

But it's a new day! Cycling is hip and happening. People are doing it on streets in your very town, and in bank commercials that are sweeping the nation. And once a week if the weather's nice and I'm not hung over, I'm doing it too, with a beautiful 200-pound white bike equipped with a hula-girl bell, an adorable basket, and almost no capability for handling hills. Luckily, there's only 10 or so blocks on my commute to work where this is a problem, and I've got a handy solution: my legs! In fact, it's so much easier to push my bike than ride it that I might just forgo the pedals all together going forward and just push my bike to work. Cycling!

BIKE OWNERSHIP TIPS

• Though my mother insisted on calling her Toyota Stanza “Odie” for most of my childhood, I've never been keen on naming the various vehicles I've driven/ruined beyond repair over the years. But now that I'm thinking about it, this lack of personification could be responsible for my carelessness on the road. Maybe if I'd anthropomorphized my cars, I would have feel less inclined to be constantly driving them into fences. So if you're following along at home, maybe now would be a good time to pick out a name for your new trusty stead. Suggestions: “Kinetically Powered Two Wheeled Transportation Device” “Miss Bikey,” or “Billy Baldwin Jr.”
• Pick a bike colour that complements your skin tone. Take several coloured scarves to the bike store and spend an afternoon finding your “season.” For example, if you're a “summer,” you probably look great on a cheery yellow bike. If you're a “winter,” go buy a toboggan instead; nobody wants you here.
• Taking a road safety course is probably a good idea. But saving that $10 registration fee for ice cream is an even better idea. After all, what are you going to remember as you're bleeding out in front of some teenager's sedan: some dumb rules about signalling, or the delicious faux chocolate topping of the last dipped cone you ever ate?
• Good bike maintenance is important to avoiding accidents, and also offers more opportunities to talk about what a cool bike person (or bike-person) you are. To make sure that you're ready for anything, have the right sized wrenches on hand, as well as an air pump, nuts and bolts, a spare seat, lube, the other kind of lube, those streamer things you can attach to the handles, Lance Armstrong's unauthorized biography Take a Lance on Me, extra-adhesive Bubble Tape, a tandem expansion kit, and most importantly, a boyfriend with a reliable car.