Letters To Angie: Beacons

Angie, my love!

So I started my day with an unexpected cry, but a happy one! I was watching Youtube videos and an ad came on before my video. I was about to skip past it, but then what it was saying caught my attention. It was a Dove ad called "Would you #choose beautiful?" It got me! I had a few little dragon tears! In the ad they set up two doors, one with the word "Beautiful" above it, the other with the word "Average", and women had to choose what door they would walk through. The part that really got me was a young girl said she wanted to walk through the Average door, but her mom pulled her away and took them both through the Beautiful door instead. 

Also, I wanted to forward you something I wrote about a week ago, because you are such a big part of what makes me feel this way! It was part of an email I wrote to so-and-so, after I had driven home from Jill's house and we had watched The Voice:

"Driving home from Jill's tonight there was a full moon, and it struck me as a beacon of hope. I look at where I am and I feel so whole-heartedly happy and grateful and lucky. Sometimes I think, how do I deserve this? I feel so much love that the only place it can move is outwards, like millions of molecular-sized fireflies reaching into the night sky to become their own stars, lighting their own beacons. 

To have felt so sad for so long, and to have found my way to the other side, it feels like new life. To look back 10 years, I think, now I understand why it was necessary. The breadth of experience was necessary to understand the depths of both light and dark, and how they cage us, hurt us, scare us, but also free us. And there's still so much to learn, to see, to experience, to love. But I feel like now, I've learned to trust; to put my energy in faith rather than fear, and that letting go doesn't mean you fall, it means you fly."

It's slightly out of context from a larger paragraph, so I hope it makes sense, but I really wanted to share that part with you, because you are such a big part of the love I feel.

Your Pal,
Natalie

Letters To Angie: Redacted Hotel

Angie,

You hussy.

Hahahahaha! What you wrote made me laugh out loud.

Redacted Hotel is going well! I just did a practical exam. I was pretty nervous! I think I did okay though. We'll see. 

Also, I kind of miss you. I guess? I don't know, I sort of forgot what you look like to be honest. Hahaha! JUST KIDDING!

Oh god do I miss you. When the wind blows, it gently whispers your name, and a single tear rolls down my cheek, reminding me of the ocean (okay, strait) that keeps us apart. I feel the weight of that tear on my skin, and it recalls the existential lament of the ethereal memory of my love disconnected from your presence. My soul is heavy with longing. Angie, my dearest Angie! Wherefore art thou?!? I know the answer is probably: at home or at the spa, but play along, damn it.

Anyway. It is pretty boring. I wake up every morning at 6:15am, put my alarm on snooze until roughly 6:26am, and then go for a run. Realistically, it's more of a light jog. Probably more accurately, something just slightly above a jaunty walk. Picture the way really old people run who might have gout and a hip replacement and are only running because they got lost and are delirious and probably only have another 3-5 months to live. That is how I run. I do that for 20 gruelling minutes, and then I shower, get dressed, go to breakfast, and then we train until 4pm. After that I read my emails in my room, eat some snacks I probably shouldn't, go for another "run" along the river, go for dinner, go back to my room and study while watching The Bachelor, and then pick out my outfit/shoes and sock combination for the next day. Rinse and repeat for 3 weeks, and that is my world. I attempted to go on Tinder, mostly for entertainment value, but I promptly turned it back off after getting a message that read, "I bet you take it real good up the ass." That same guy also had 4/5 of his pictures of him doing squats at the gym, so maybe this shouldn't have been a surprise. In any case, that was enough to scare me away. Non merci indeed!

Okie dokie, it's almost lunch time so I'm going to head out. I'm going to hazard a guess and say that pasta is probably on the menu. They serve pasta every fucking day. I'm getting pretty goddamn tired of variations of penne with sauce. But they do have pie. Dean would be in heaven.

Love,

Natalie

xoxoxoxooo 

Letters To Angie: Almost Not Sick

Oh my love! I like this, it's kind of like we're pen pals, but then also real life pals too!

I am excited about this teeny tiny gift! Is it a pocket vibrator? Angie! How bold! Hahaha. That would certainly keep things exciting on the job. Maybe too exciting though.

Right now Charlie and I are on the couch watching the Pipe Masters surf competition on TV. I can't wait to get back in the water! The internet is saying that there should be waves all this week, YESSSSSS! I better get healthy quick, because sick or not I will be in the ocean.

It's funny to think of how so much has changed since moving here. I can't imagine my life without surfing now. It changed everything. Much the same as I can't imagine my life without you. Both are like pieces of light that have been threaded through me, making me brighter and more resilient, especially when the sky turns grey and dark. You are my beacon.

Anyway. Nap time.

Natalie

Letters To Angie: Surrender

Angie! My love!

Happy New Year! I have been very sick! So sick in fact, that last night, after having spent all day in bed and not having eaten in 3 days, I thought, "If this is the end, they are going to find me in period underwear that also have dog chew holes. Oh god." But then the Wellness Fairy came by and pumped me full of coconut water and gravol and gatorade and made soup, and it all stayed down! Yay! I also put on non-period/holey underwear this morning. It made me laugh that he brought Alphaghetti soup so he said that if I threw it up I could spell out, "HELP". 

So today I'm alive! All that coconut water really helped. I am still sick, but at least now I feel decidedly less zombie-like. Anyway, I was reading my girl Polly's column from Wednesday and it made me laugh and cry and feel all kinds of good stuff! If you don't make it through her column, no worries, I just thought it was so earnest and beautiful and it led me to finding my word for this year! I'm going with "Surrender"; surrender to the moment, surrender to love and to the depth of feeling, surrender to the flow and stop resisting, surrender to being here now.

So if it strikes your fancy, it's below.

Your pal,

Natalie

Dear Polly,

Hello, I am 22 years old girl from the other side of the world. I see that the dating problems are all the same everywhere, and it's sad. I don't want to end up like the most 30 years old ladies that don't know what love is, how to cherish themselves. I don't want to end up alone.

On the Christmas day, my relationship ended. Because there was missing the sparkle. Just like that, sparkles. He ended up wishing me all the best, because he doesn't want to ruin my life with his own depressive periods, caused by his Mommy. On Christmas he was alone at home in his room, and I was celebrating with my family in other city. I didn't know that his family is not celebrating and I was speaking how awesome is to be loved and to be with the people you love, and how I miss him.

On the next morning he ended up saying that he doesn't want to be with me on New Year's Eve. He said that he doesn't want to ruin my life, to disappoint me, but he did. Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is? Thinking about only his own ass! Looking at you, praying for help, kissing you passionately, hugging you like nobody else. Hearing that the best he has is me. Finding support for this relationship everywhere, making everything to see the happiness on my face.

The same one is waking up on 25th to tell me that it is not like before. One big nothing.

For 25 years old man, he knew what he wanted, he made plans for our future. I liked it. I loved it. I love it. So, dear Polly, why he is pushing me away? Why and how his happy eyes became sad in one night?

Even alone, he knew that I am there for him. How you can call it love if you can end it in a night? What is love? What is happiness?

Best wishes from Bulgaria,

Sad Girl

(Sorry for my English)

Dear Sad Girl,

The dating problems truly are the same everywhere. If the emails I get are any indication, all over the globe, people are saying "Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is?" to themselves, every day of every week of every year. "What does love add up to?" they ask themselves. "One big nothing," they answer.

Or as Livia Soprano puts it to her grandson on The Sopranos, "The world is a jungle. And if you want my advice, Anthony, don't expect happiness. You won't get it. People let you down. And I'm not naming any names, but in the end, you die in your own arms."

"You mean alone?" he asks.

"It's all a big nothing. What makes you think you're so special?"

I say "It's all a big nothing!" a lot. You have to master the Livia Soprano gurgle-voice to really nail it. She spits it out like it's a personal insult to A.J. Who do you think you are, to expect more than this? Who are you, to demand happiness from this world? What makes you so special?

And of course, she's right. Even if you find love for a while, there are a million ways to lose it. Chances are most of us will be alone for a big part of our lives. No one will be kissing us passionately, hugging us like nobody else. Happy eyes will become sad in one night. People will let us down.

There is no way to heartbreak-proof your life. People change their minds. One day, you are everything. The next day, you are nothing. Sparkles go missing and are never found again.

At times like this, though, it's important to know WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL. You can't just have a vague idea. You have to know exactly who you are and what you believe in. You have to know how you want to live, even if it is all a big nothing. That takes time.

I know I'm going out on a limb, but to me, part of what makes you special is that you're the kind of person who reads an advice column in a language that's not your own and then pours out your heart in that same language, even though it's hard to do. That shows bravery and openheartedness. When you're unafraid of showing yourself, mistakes and all, you bring happiness to other people.

And now a few people out there, when faced with perplexing behavior from someone who's supposed to love them, will say to themselves, "Holly craps, who the hell he thinks he is?" They will say this in what they think is a Bulgarian accent, but it will actually be more like a hybrid of German and Mandarin Chinese. And if you heard them, you might think they were making fun of you. That's how it is when you're trying new things and being openhearted: Someone might laugh. Someone might imply that you're foolish. That's how it is when you go looking for love: Someone might hug you like nobody else, then change his mind in one night.

That's okay. Happiness comes from knowing that it's beautiful to try anyway. Happiness comes from knowing that being brave is important, no matter how your message comes across. You try, and you are brave. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. What matters is your bravery.

Feeling comfortable in your own skin, understanding yourself as a quirky entity with major design flaws who still deserves everything under the sun: This will be your true source of lasting sparkles. You will have sparkles, with or without a boyfriend, once you embrace exactly who you are and what you want from this life. It takes a certain kind of audacity to believe in happiness, to believe in love, to believe that you are special.

For smart people in particular, it's no small feat. If you're not someone who can bumble along, mindlessly metabolizing the world's skin-deep jingles and regurgitating them in your own signature brand of empty cheer ("One day at a time." "Let go and let God." "Sky's the limit!"), it's not a small thing to believe. It's not a small thing to expect happiness. It is audacious and greedy, just as Livia Soprano suggests.

And it's embarrassing to try and fail. It feels pathetic, to be cherished and then abandoned. It's devastating, when someone changes his mind in one night. But humbling experiences are opportunities to rediscover what makes you so special. When you're staring straight into the face of "It's all a big nothing," something breaks free. The part of you that clings, that clutches and won't let go, that gives a depressed guy with Mommy issues the power to dictate your worth: That part crumbles away. Suddenly you can see a desperate 25 years old man clearly. Maybe he doesn't know what love is or how to give it without wanting salvation in return. Maybe he's a sinking stone.

Love can't happen between two people who are sinking. The sparkles that come from "Can you save me? Will you save me?" go dark in a matter of weeks or months. Real, lasting sparkles come from one person, a person with the audacity to believe that happiness will be hers in spite of great flaws. Real sparkles are generated every second of every day, from one side of the world to the other, in crowded subways and in one-bedroom apartments, on rainy days and in shadowy corners of a cold room. Real sparkles can be found right here, right now. Consider making yourself a cup of tea. Consider how loved you are, right now, even though he's gone. Consider the sky, framed by tree branches. Twenty-two years is not a long time. You might not find love for a while, but you can believe in it anyway.

Make that your work now: Finding sparkles. Suffering opens a direct path to sparkles. That's what the jingles don't tell you. Heartbreak and loss bring their own kinds of sparkles. Admitting that it's all a big nothing brings sparkles. If it's all a big nothing, what is left?

There is this chair, this drafty room, the raindrops on the window. There is this gray winter morning. One of my favorite songs by Pinback has the line: "Here's to the pranks we never pulled, and never will." There's something sad but also comforting about admitting that there are things you will never do, admitting that there are limits to what you can become before your time runs out.

Today, the second-to-last day of 2014, is a good day to toast to the things you've never done. Here's to the things we've never had a chance to say to each other. Here's to the things we never tried. Here's to the sparkles that we didn't notice. We were surrounded by sparkles this year, but most of the time we couldn't see them.

We can't do everything. But let's find more sparkles next year, okay? Let's look very closely, and notice them, as much as we can.

My 5-year-old daughter just walked up and gave me a picture she drew. "This is a horsey and he's looking for the yellow heart-diamond, up on the hill. He's saying, 'Can I get up that hill and down again? Can I? Can I? Can I?'"

I know that sounds made up, but it isn't. And honestly, at first I wanted to say, "Look, I can't talk right now." But then I remembered that sparkles sometimes get in the way of efficiency. Sparkles slow things down.

So I stopped and looked at her picture of a horse. "Do you think he can get up that hill and down again?" I asked her.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe not."

You don't need to know why he left you. Knowing why won't change anything. Knowing why won't make your doubts and fears go away. You will always have doubts and fears. You will never know what comes next.

That's okay. Just look for sparkles. They are everywhere.

Polly

http://nymag.com/thecut/2014/12/ask-polly-who-the-hell-he-thinks-he-is.html

Things I Am Afraid Of

I remember being in, maybe grade 5? Our English teacher made us write an anonymous letter talking about the things that we were afraid of. I'm pretty sure this was after we had just watched one of those PSA videos on the birds and bees of growing up. At one point in the video a young girl accidentally dropped a tampon right in front of the boy she had a crush on. We all laughed at her, but in the video the boy picked it up for her and smiled. Thanks a lot PSA, that NEVER happened to me. In fact, my mom wouldn’t even buy me tampons for the longest time because she thought they were “Too much like a penis.” Yup. Oh Mom, I love you. Those were the actual words that were used one day when we got into an argument in the feminine hygiene aisle at the pharmacy.

I sort of suspect that those anonymous letters were just a time killer for our teacher that day, and I was a little upset because I felt like I poured my fucking heart out into that letter and we never heard or saw anything to do with them again.

I remember writing that I was afraid to get my period, I was afraid of my parents dying, and I was afraid of growing up and not knowing what to do. My parents did not die (yay!), but I did get my period, and eventually realized that no know really knows what to do; they just trick you into thinking otherwise.

It would be fair to say that a lot has changed since that day in grade 5; namely that I am now afraid of a shit ton more things. Oh childhood, it was all so much easier when legitimate fears where things like whether Wolverine would survive having the adamantium ripped from his body, or if I would find my plastic Apatosaurus that I left near the pool the other day.

What am I afraid of now? Well friends, here is what my adult list would say:

. Sharks- The logical part of my brain tells me it is very, very unlikely I would be attacked by a shark while swimming in the ocean. The Discovery Channel tells me that if I was, it would be a mistake. My right leg and half missing torso tells me that is a pretty big fucking mistake.

. Millipedes- The big ones with the long, hairy legs. Groooss! Dry heave.

. Air kisses- I think this is self-explanatory.

. Kevin Bacon- Have you seen Hollow Man???

. Stephenie Meyer continuing to be a New York Times Bestseller.

. Game of Thrones season 3 not being as fucking badass as season 1 & 2 because SPOILER: the zombie-walkers or whatever, were exterior-shot-of-the-submarine-from-LOST lame. Totally ruined it for me. Zombies are stupid, so let's just never go there again, okay?

. My body slowly starting to fail me.

. My dogs eating my new Sperry Top-Siders. Again.

. I'm still afraid of my parents dying, because jesus christ, they've always been here! I love them! Please don't leave me yet. I'm not ready.

. Crocs- Please. Just stop it with these horrible atrocities against good taste.

. Stupid superficial stuff like my boobs getting saggy, my face getting wrinkly, my ass getting flat.

. Never paying off my debt.

. That you will let logic win out over your heart.

. Angie never leaving her husband for me.

. STEVE HOLT! Not getting his chance on the big screen.

. Never getting to see Celine Dion in concert. Serious. I love that woman. Her televised concerts make me cry big, ugly, baby tears.

. I am afraid that you are gone forever, and that I will never see you again. I miss the way you talk.

. My dogs one day figuring out how to surmount the impenetrable wall (i.e. the long, skinny mirror that is turned lengthwise and lies across the doorway in front of my bedroom).

. Getting my period unexpectedly while sleeping at a boy's house.

. Unexpectedly not getting my period after sleeping at a boy's house.

. Fish touching me. That's not a euphemism for anything. I mean that. Seriously. No touching.

. That the wizard is still holding my heart hostage.

. That the wizard is actually Alexander Skarsgard, and he will never realize that we are actually soul mates destined to dance together in the garden of passion and love (and sexy times!) for all of eternity, until the end of time.

. I am afraid not of being alone, but ending up alone.

. Even more, falling into the security of thinking that someone will always be there, because the truth of it is, they won't. No one ever is. None of us are bulletproof. None of us are impervious to disease and illness and cancer and life and time. None of us are immortal.
And what if they come to see you fully, to know you inside and out, to love you in a way you had previously not known; then one day, after years and years and family and birthdays and holidays and good days and bad days and couch days and so many days, they leave? 
I am afraid of being blindsided.

. I am afraid that this doesn’t get easier. But I don’t think that it’s supposed to.

- Natalie Bell, surprisingly, sleeps pretty soundly at night.

Angie and I Talk About Our Period Underwear

Oh, what's that? You missed Shark Week? Dry your eyes little dragons, because there's another kind of Shark Week I'll bet you didn't even know about, and it's a whole lot bloodier. Yup. I'm talking about Period Week. My sister referred to it as that one time, and it pretty much took off from there. 

So listen up dudes, we think it's disgusting too, but it's just a part of life. Deal with it. You know what else is disgusting? Peeing in the shower. The difference is that's not just a part of life, that's a choice. And this is why boys are not allowed at my house.

Angie: Hey, have you had this spa treatment yet?

Me: Oh yeah. I had that on my first day here. It was great, though overwhelming. I had literally just arrived in town the day before after driving across the country, and then showed up for my first day of work, and I think I was still on EST and feeling all kinds of weird emotions that I can't talk about because ewww, feelings. But I just felt unprepared, though extremely grateful to get this awesome treatment right off the bat.

Angie: Unprepared?

Me: Yeah, well I mean I wasn't expecting to have a massage or anything, and I had just been in a car for 5 days, and I was wearing trousers, so I hadn't shaved in awhile. Also, don't judge me, I was wearing underwear from the shark week roster. Because of the 5 day car thing... and definitely not because I was too lazy to dig out a nice pair.

And then on top of that I had never had a treatment with the body scrub and bath part too, so when the therapist told me to get fully undressed, I was all "You want me to get naked?" and "You are also staying in the room while I have a bath?" I didn't know it was for safety purposes, and not for, you know, voyeur purposes.

Angie: Hahaha! Shark week roster. You have that too?

Me: I just assumed everyone did.

Angie: One time I went to the chiropractor, and I was totally wearing shark week panties, but it's not like you could tell how battleworn they were, I thought, but then the chiro off-handedly says, "Oh, interesting colour."

Me: Your chiro commented on the colour of your underwear?

Angie: Yes! So when I got home I was all paranoid they were stained and I had to thoroughly check.

Me: Wow. That was pretty unprofessional of the chiro. Unprofesh.

Angie: But maybe it was just because they were Ron Burgandy coloured?

Me: Maybe he likes Scotch?

Angie: Take me to Pleasure Town.

Me: Oh you minxy little seductress! Please stop making advances that you are not prepared to follow through on, otherwise I am going to HR.

Angie: Ugh, I also have these underwear that my mom sent me that are, and I have no idea why she would buy these for me, a large, and come like half way up my waist.

Me: But you are at your bloatiest, maybe an extra small!

Angie: I know. But they really are comfortable and the waist band doesn't cut into me and now they are all worn, so I threw them into the shark week lineup. But soooo much material!

Me: Hahaha! Remember (name redacted)? She had these pair of jeans that were super old but she said she kept them for the very same comfort reasons. She said her husband affectionately named them the Mat Leave Jeans.

Angie: Yes! They are just like that. Ryan (the husband) jokes that if I ever didn't make it to the bathroom in time, it would be no big deal because there is so much extra room. He sarcastically calls them the Skanky ones.

Me: Whoa. If that ever happened, I think they would be the Stanky ones.

Angie: Mra haha! High five!

*We high five*

Me: If there was anything worse than blood bath underwear, would it be slightly-chewed-by-dogs underwear? I mean, the really chewed ones I throw out, I'm not disgusting. But the others, they only have a few small teeth holes.

Angie: But I bet they are comfy?

Me: So comfy!

Angie: You totally wore shark week/slightly chewed undies on your first day, didn't you?

Me: Yup.

Angie: Lunchtime!

Magical Mike

I'm not going to lie, my department at work is pretty badass. The people are terrific, we all genuinely like each other and voluntarily spend time together outside of work, we have weekly office dance parties, and recently, we all went and saw Magic Mike. Naturally, we also went and got boozed up before hand, but it was a classy kind of drunk because we were all nicely dressed, and because we're ladies, goddammit. 10 ladies that absolutely could not wait to go sit through 110 minutes of finding out what exactly Mike has to do for 20s. Spoiler: WE NEVER ACTUALLY FIND OUT!! But we did find out a whole boat load of other stuff. Here's pretty much what happened when my friend Angie and I, and our department director, discussed this cinematic gem:

Me- So what did you think of the movie?

Angie- You know what? I much preferred Rock of Ages.
(I wouldn't go see Rock of Ages with Angie because I find Tom Cruise both terrifying and grating. And I don't like Julianne Hough. Yeah. I went there.)
I didn't like the ending! I mean, what is going to happen--

Me- With the rest of those 7 hours that Channing Tatum and Robo girl have until breakfast? I am glad that she takes breakfast seriously though. It's the most important thing. Or is it family? Both?

But I mean, 7 hours is a lot of time to kill. What do you think they did? Play cards? Scrabble? Did they break out the Risk board? Those games go on for like, days. Maybe she has a WoW account? That shit eats up 7 hours easy, especially when you're gunning to get your night elf to level 30 so you get the pony. Why the fuck would you walk anywhere in Middle Earth or wherever it is if you could ride a badass horse? That's right. You wouldn't. Okay, sure, being able to transform into the tiger is pretty legit, but only until you realize it is only marginally faster travelling that way than by the regular way. I mean... I've never played WoW before and I have no idea what all this is. 

Angie- I'm pretty sure they were darning socks?

Me- What is that?

Angie- It's like when you repair the holes in a sock.

Me- Well I'm sure whatever they did, her brilliant personality must have really shone through, because you know, her character pretty much portrayed every emotion, except all the human ones.

Angie- Yeah, she was pretty awful.

Me- I did love that our theatre lost it in that opening shot of Channing's ass though.

Angie- Haha, I KNOW! And you were laughing and cheering so loudly!

Me- I felt like I had pretty much just gotten my money's worth, right there. 

Angie- I still liked Rock of Ages better.

Me- You know what though? Despite everything, I felt like Channing Tatum's upper AND lower body both gave stand-up performances. That doesn't always happen. Remember when we say The Lucky One? I really felt like that was a watershed moment for Zac Efron's quads, but everything above? It was just okay for me.

Angie- Oh god, the shower scene?


Me- Shut the fucking door! THE SHOWER SCENE!!!!

*We both take a deep exhale*

Me- But let's not go there.


Angie- I know, that's still a touchy one for you.


Me- Focus Angie. back to Magic Mike. Tell me what you really thought of such an emotionally complex cinematic titanic.


Angie- It was the ending that really bothered me! If I'm going to see a movie like that, I want it to be all rainbows and puppies and fluff! I don't want the ending to make me feel worried and depressed about the character. I mean, we know the only direction he's going is downhill. That makes me feel bad for him.


Me- Ugh, you're such a wonderful human being. I'm not going to lie, I didn't really care about him. I feel like anyone who claims to only owns one pair of shoes is not someone to be trusted. You know why? He was a football player, I'm sure he also had a pair of running shoes.Also, was the main girl a graduate of the Kristen Stewart school of acting? She was pretty effective at looking dead on the inside while also constantly keeping her mouth open. And the chemistry!!! It was absolutely electric. If the definition for electric was actually "devoid of any and all feeling and/or personality."

Angie- Agreed. She was bad. 

Me- I read on the internet this morning that they had a 96% return rate for their extras. That's pretty much unheard of. Can you imagine?

Angie- Oh! My! God!


Me- We would have needed to bring a change of underwear for that. Some serious slushy panties.


Angie- Totally.

*Our Big Boss Lady walks in*

Me- But let's get down to brass tacks. Favourite scene? For me, hands down the scene where Matthew McConaughey is practicing moves with The Kid and for no good reason that I can think of, is wearing a doo-rag (which sort of looked like a swim cap), black booty shorts, and a neon yellow CROP TOP. The only thing that could have been more ridiculous is if instead he was wearing one of those mesh football jersey belly tops. But then Matthew told The Kid to "fuck that mirror like you mean it" and it turns out they didn't even need the jersey belly tops to go there.

BBL- Easily the best scene for me was when he picks the girl up while she's still in the chair and then dances with her.

Angie-!!!

Me-!!! Can that really happen in real life?

Angie- No. Sorry, the real ones aren't like that. I know you've never been to a male strip club, but it's a little disappointing after that movie.

Me- Because I mean, Channing Tatum's dancing? I've been a massive fan since Step Up, part uno. And those floor shimmy things he was doing?

BBL- Impressive.

Me- Yes! Think of him doing that in say, the living room. Put a Swiffer cloth under each knee, and BAM! That's a clean floor right there.

Angie- My favourite was when The Kid stripped for the first time. I liked him, he reminds me of Brad Renfro.

Me- Well I mean the droopy underwear were pretty terrific.

Angie- Speaking of underwear, I've bough Ryan (her husband) all kinds of brands: Calvin Klein, Armani, etc. And then one time he sent me in to La Vie en Rose to buy something fancy for myself, but then I noticed they had men's stuff, so I bought him underwear.


Me- Haha! I didn't even know they sold men's stuff. And how did Ryan feel about that?


Angie- At first he was all, "Angie!! You were supposed to get stuff for YOU." But then he tried them on, and he loved them, so he forgot all about that other part. SO much better than the high end ones I tried to buy. Natalie, if you ever buy a boy underwear, just go there.


Me- Hahaha! I feel like that is unlikely to happen.


BBL- Oh, and going back to favourite scene, the "Ride My Pony" one.


Me- Oh god, yes. AND THEN THEY CAME OUT ON STICK PONIES!


BBL- I forgot how much I love that song.


Angie- I think my other favourite scene was when the credits rolled.


Me- Mrahahahaha!


BBL- That movie reminded me of some of the male stripper experiences I've had.


Me & Angie- WHAT???


BBL- Oh yes.


Me & Angie- You must tell us.


BBL- So one time in college, these girls and I ordered a male stripper, but we were in college and so had no money. This guy shows up, he's 6"5 and maybe 130lbs AND HE HAS A MULLET.

Me- Was it a wig?

BBL- Not a wig. No one wanted him to dance with them. He had on this Eurotrash button down top, and skin tight shiny pants. They were so tight he couldn't get them off, so he had to lie down and shimmy out of them. 

Me- Did you have to help by pulling on the ankle of the pants for him? 

BBL- Yeah, pretty much. He literally had to lie down on the floor, and we had to help him take his pants off.

Me & Angie- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

BBL- It was awful. But yet I was undeterred because then some years later, for a bachelorette, when we all had more money, a male stripper was again ordered. So bigger budget, and the guy was legitimately good looking. But! We had some noise complaints and the cops showed up. We thought it was part of the show.


Me- Oh no, you inappropriately hit on the cops, didn't you?


BBL- We sure did. Turns out they were real cops.


Me & Angie- Mra hahahahahaha!


BBL- But then! The male stripper did the fire breathing thing a la Matt McConaughey, only we had decorated the entire room with streamers, and then the streamers got lit on fire. We almost set the room on fire.


Me- Lesson learned. Fire breathing male strippers are nothing to joke about.

 *A little later that day, we had a full on work discussion with our staff concerning the troubling ending*

Lady- They totally set it up for part 2.

Lady 2- Oh yeah, it's gonna turn into a Harry Potter like thing, with like a bagillion sequels.

Lady 3- And a theme park.

BBL- Magic Mike: The Ride

Me- OMG, I can't breathe.

Lady 2- They'd have to strap the ladies down.

BBL- I'm prepared to build this here at work, if we have to.

Me- I unselfishly volunteer to be the casting director. I'll even bring my own couch from home for my casting office if needed.

BBL- And a chair. I'm still really impressed by that chair scene.

- Natalie Bell would really like to know where the wardrobe department got that neon yellow crop top. Angie would like to know when Rock Of Ages 2 is coming out. Big Boss Lady would really, really like Channing Tatum to show her that chair move. Every woman who's seen Magic Mike, seconds that.

Meet My Friend, Angie

Have you met Angie? You should. Maybe you've heard this before, but she is absolutely wonderful. She gives me great advice (which I sometimes don't listen to, but only because I can be stupidly stubborn and well, do idiot things despite knowing better), is tremendously supportive even when I end up doing said idiot things, and has the unwavering ability to brighten my day even when I show up to work in the human form of a little black raincloud with lightening bolt accoutrements.

She is also from the east coast of Canada, and it always seems to happen that when I really care about someone, I will unconciously start reflecting their patterns of speech and/or accents. It made my icy heart feel a surge of warmth when recently someone noticed that I say 'car' the way that someone from Nova Scotia might. That is, their 'ar' words sound like 'aaarrr'. Kind of like a pirate, yarr! But a super duper nice pirate that doesn't try to steal your booty or your cat, or loot and pillage your apartment or Hyundai Accent or treasure chest or whatever; instead does really thoughtful and touching things, makes the best picnic snacks, and is pretty much the nicest person, pirate or non-pirate, that you will ever meet.

Still don't believe me? Geez, you are a tough sell. Though I suspect you may just be playing hard to get. How minxy of you!


The first time I had a piece of my work published, Angie bought me flowers. She also printed off and mailed the piece to her mom. She has never once gone to HR about all the times that I have sung her Enrique Inglesias' "Hero", or the times I've left overly specific love notes on her desk, not even the time her husband called and I told him that her and I were running away to Acapulco to celebrate our (platonic?) love.


You know what else is wonderful? She comes across as the sweetest, most innocent and pure person (which she is), and then out of nowhere will say something holy-shit dirty that catches you completely off guard. And I LOVE it! I wouldn't say I'm a line crosser, but I am definitely a line pusher, and I will often do or say things to friends to illicit a reaction. I'm usually trying to be creepy, or trying to say something that will catch the other person unawares. So when Angie tries to out-creep me, or says something absolutely filthy, there is a part of my heart that breaks away and attaches itself to hers.


So I must tell you about the time she called work when I had the closing shift, and we were only open eight more minutes, and I was anxious to leave, and I didn't recognize her voice, and when I picked up the phone all I heard was this, in a really breathy voice:


"Hiiii, I'd like to book a hot..."

There's more, but I pause here because we offer hot stone massages at work, and there was loud music on in the caller's background, and she sounded like some young, ditzy girl that turns up the ends of all her words like they are a question or something. So, my immediate reaction was one of annoyance, and I remember thinking, "Who is the asshole calling me at 9:52pm to make what is probably going to be an irritatingly complicated booking? And also they sound drunk. Terrific."
But then! Bless the stars, this is the full version of what was pretty much said:

Caller: Hiiii, I'd like to book a hot, tall, leggy brunette?

*a noticeable pause*

Me: Umm, I'm not sure that I can help you?

*I look outside the window to make sure no one weird is out there*

Caller: Come on out with usssss! We're at Canoe Club!!!
Me: Uh...

Caller: But then we might go to the Bard!!!

Me: Angie?

Caller: Yeah!

Me: Oh fuck. I totally didn't recognize your voice. Hahahahahahaha! You totally got me. I was genuinely creeped out for a minute. Hahaha! You little floozy, you!

Also, Angie and her husband (who is just as wonderful, by the way) sometimes take me on day trips that make me feel the kind of simple and completely fulfilling happiness a dog must feel when they get taken to the beach and then travel in the car with their head out the window, the wind blowing in their face. I 100% mean this in an absolutely complimentary way. In the way that dogs have this miraculous ability to seem filled with nothing but unbridled joy and ease when they are happy, and completely released of any burdened or troubled thoughts. That is how I feel. I feel happy and free and so grateful to have such great friends. 

Then just when I thought I could not love anyone more, she went and gave me a reason to consider renting her out to people who don't yet know of her wonderfulness. The other day, I got home from work and took my dogs for a walk at the park behind my house. As I am bending over to pick up my dog's poop, I see a car just like Angie's and I think, "Hmm, that car looks just like An--" and exactly as I am thinking this, who else but Angie pulls her entire upper body out of the passenger side window and screams at me, "I LOVE YOUUUUU!"

It was tremendous, and a great coincidence. I was also holding dog shit as this happened.

But you know what? I really don't want to oversell anything. Yes, Angie is terrific or whatever, but at the end of the day, she's still only a mediocre music bingo player. She always gets distracted and forgets to dab her card when the songs come on, and I have to sometimes dab it for her. AND THEN SHE STILL WINS!! But I say this with love, and really, I cannot possibly think of another person I'd rather see win the red, oversized "MOLSON CANADIAN" t-shirts. That, and by the end of the evening when I am too drunk to drive home and am craving chocolate, I know her and her husband will caringly walk with me to a convenience store, and then let me pass out on their couch.

Natalie Bell hopes that one day, you get to be friends with Angie too.