Toasty Roast!

Recently, my friend, coworker, and (fake) brother announced that he would be leaving our motley crew at work. We were all devastated, though perhaps somewhat relieved there would again be room in front of the mirror. We decided to show our  love and send him off in the only way that seemed appropriate- we roasted the shit out of that mouthy little troublemaker. 

So with love, Brother, this one's for you.

I remember the first day I met you. I had maybe only been working 2-3 days. I was sitting in the old office and you were talking to our manager, and I can only assume you were in a more generous mood than normal because you proceeded to tell her that she looked miserable and dumpy that day. It made me wonder, "Who is this insolent, scruffy-haired teenage lesbian, and how does she still have a job here?"

I love that the Employee of the Month program was discontinued because you rigged it. Uh, I mean, because you won it after an overwhelming outpouring of support and recognition for your tireless efforts inundated the ballot box. You have the proof after all. You did make us all write congratulatory statements for you.

I was surprised at Halloween when our boss trusted you firstly, with an Exacto knife, and secondly, to carve our department pumpkin. But then it all made sense when I realized that it was just a sneaky way of keeping you in your corner, away from everyone else, and keeping you busy.

You also managed to make me feel genuine concern for your well-being when late one night when we were both closing and there was only one guest left in the spa, I heard a blood-curdling shriek from downstairs. I called the dispensary phone, no answer, your cell, no answer, and when I ran downstairs to make sure you were okay, I saw a trail of discarded towels that looked to have been dropped in some sort of emergency. No joke, I thought something horrible had happened to you, and that you maybe had fallen somewhere and were bleeding out on our beautiful marble floors. Turns out, you were just really upset that the Canucks had been scored against.

Your continual chirps about my hair, and how when I wear it in a bun you ask if I just came from working the deli counter at the grocery store, have strangely, become an endearing part of the day I look forward to. I like your new hair by the way, just a few inches longer in front and some highlights and you'll be giving Kate Gosselin circa 2009 a real run for her money.

But Brother, for all the flack we may give you, you were still one of the only people who managed to show up to work when the city almost didn't survive the one day snow storm of January 2012. People were warned to stay at home, the military base was shut down, all flights and ferries were cancelled, martial law was just about put into effect, but the spa was still open, and you bravely and against all odds demonstrated Herculean strength of character when you took the bus to work for the first time in your life. Sure, your mom watched from the window to see that you boarded it safely; I wouldn't doubt that she probably paid your fare and talked to the bus driver to make sure he knew where you needed to go. And then she felt so bad for making you take public transportation that she paid for you to take a cab home, but I don't want that to take away from your heroic efforts.

And now you're venturing off to a new city, into uncharted territory. Namely, you'll actually have to do your own laundry, buy groceries, cook meals, and clean up your apartment... on the days your cleaning lady is sick, and the care package from your mom arrives late.

You confided in me that you're thinking of going into modeling there, to which I say, you definitely have the right look to be a great hand model. And I've always thought you'd make a terrific actor. Your impression of a manatee marooned on the lunch room couch is always flawless, and I felt like your turn as a helpless toddler, trapped in the body of a 6"2 twenty-six year old working at a spa, was an Oscar-worthy performance. It was reminiscent of Sean Penn in I Am Sam.

Failing that, you've got the perfect face for the radio. But keep working out. One day you'll meet a wonderful girl, and a chiselled body will be her only consolation in a lifetime of tuna melts, Canuck open weeps, and never being as good as your mom at tucking you in at night.

Really though, you are my friend, and I am so glad that you are. I've always thought that anyone who is ballsy and sharp-witted enough to chirp me will likely become a good friend. I decided to give you a pass on the sharp-witted part regardless.

You are a kind, warm-hearted, and caring friend. I was going to say man, but I'm not sure if that has happened yet, and I didn't feel comfortable asking your mom. You've always been there to listen to me when another boy has dumped me or deleted me on facebook, and offer your support and advice. I'll miss the nights when we both had the closing shifts and would walk to our cars together, the times when we watched hockey games in the men's change room and ate yogurts, and I'll never forgot the time I was heartbroken and on the verge of tears, and you wrote a creepy note to cheer me up.

Brother, you will always be the heart of Team WSS (albeit a heart that takes frequent and extended lunch breaks), you will always be an unofficial member of the Bell family, and Mom still thinks you have a HOTT BODD. I am going to miss you. So very much! I mean that. The lunch room couch is going to be so cold without you.

Love,

Natalie

In. Love.

BFFing

Recently, one of my best friends was visiting, and it always reminds me of the really important things in life.

I met this friend 11 years ago, when we were both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and on one of our first training courses in the military.

I pretty much instantly disliked him.

He poked fun at me, gave me a hard time, and had this uncanny ability to always be around when something was going wrong so that he could quietly chirp, "Well, this isn't going the way you thought it would, now is it?"

He was one of those tall, slender assholes that could effortlessly run long distances. This was made even more annoying by the fact that he was also a smoker, but that never seemed to deter his abilities. I can run, but keeping up with a pack of guys, an incredulous amount of whom were also tall, slender jerks that probably went for casual jogs with the Kenyan cross-country team or something, was not the easiest for me. I'm pretty sure that my friend/nemesis at the time would purposely drop back to run beside me so that he could say things like, "Oh, looks like someone is looking a little tired this morning. You're not going to fall out, are you, Bell?" And then he'd trot right back up to the front. I don't really remember how often this happened, but I remember it happened at least once, and my reaction was always to utter his name in the same way and tone as Jerry Seinfeld would say, "Newman."

Turns out, we were just best friends waiting to happen, and I suspect he had always known this, and was maybe the reason for all the chirping. And now over a decade later our friendship is held strongly together by all the good-natured teasing and jokes. So much so that when I meet new people, if they're ballsy enough to poke some fun at me, I pretty much instantly know we'll get along just swimmingly.

What I've always so greatly appreciated in all the years we've been friends, even when there have been long periods of time without visits, is that we've always been able to pick right back up as if we had seen each other yesterday. I think the best friendships are like that, because there is a deep understanding of each other, and I think when you get right down to it, you are same kind of weird.

My friend has the rare ability to make me really laugh out loud, and the little games that we play out of self-amusement make me the kind of happy I remember feeling as a kid when I would set up prehistoric worlds across the lawn with my plastic dinosaurs and play with my friends. My best friend growing up was also a boy, and he had all the same qualities: effortlessly deadpan funny, made me erupt into fits of uncontrolled giggles, and just so fucking smart in the way that intelligence of that kind sometimes gets them into trouble.

It's time spent with these kinds of people; the people that make you feel understood, and make you laugh, and make you feel the kind of happiness that doesn't come along every day, that I think you understand what all this time is really for.

And obviously, that time is for quoting Vin Diesel movies. 

Natalie Bell is excited for when the 6th Fast & Furious movie comes out. She's betting there'll be some pretty decent one-liners.

I Don't Know... Science?

This one's for you, Tommy.

I really like movies. I watch a lot of them. I also really like bad actions movies. Explosions? Yes. Cheesy one-liners? Yes! HOTT BODDS? YAASSSS!!! Steamy sexy-time* scenes? REPEAT VIEWINGS!!!!!!!!!!

And then throw in cars, boats, or cowboys, and you've pretty much got the best two hours of my week.



So this brings us to the upcoming entry in the Bourne series, The Bourne Lethargy, or whatever. Truth- I've never been a huge fan of these films. Maybe it's because I'll never believe Will Hunting as some sort of super-duper-ninja-spy. Super-smaht-math whiz-also purchaser of a zoo? Yes. I totally buy Matt Damon as an animal/apple enthusiast. But a Bond-ish type dude? He just doesn't have the quads for it.

Enter Jeremy Renner. I totally get what Elisabeth was going on about when she openly invited him to find the pot o' gold into her pants. I'd co-sign that statement! BY TAKING OFF ALL MY CLOTHES AND CHAINING HIM TO MY BED. 

But why? What is it about this guy that is so beguilingly, pants-off sexy? Is it science? 
I've been enjoying him in my dreams since Dahmer, WHERE HE PLAYED A SERIAL KILLER. Yeah, I know, that's messed up. 

And does anyone remember him in P!nk's Trouble video? Oh god, do I. HE WAS A BAD, SEXY COWBOY! A COWBADBOY!!!! Ugh, I need to go do some laundry.

Jer, I don't want to be too forward, but you have a standing appointment in my bedroom. Do me a favour and wear the cowboy hat, but not much else.

I'll be patiently waiting,

Natalie
xoxo

* Seriously, a horrendously bad movie/show can totally be redeemed by said HOTT BODDS stripping down and getting all up ons. True Blood pretty much relies on this. I mean, at this point does anyone even care about the fairies, Lilith Fair, or LOST's smoke monster's career revival, so long as we get to see Eric TAKING A LAP AROUND BOOM CITY?!?!? Of course not. I second what Eric said at the end of this week's episode, "What are you doing?" WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ALAN BALL? Where is the episode where my favourite Nordic vampire goes on a scorching-hot sex rampage?? I'm still waiting.

Shit Happens

This originally appeared on thehairpin.com, July 25th, 2012, as “A Spectrum of Embarrassment.”

To find it there please go to:

 http://thehairpin.com/2012/07/things-more-embarrassing-than-a-bird-shitting-on-your-head

Things More Embarrassing Than a Bird Shitting on Your Head

Yesterday, you had a bird open up his ass on your head. Rude! And disgusting. This has never happened to you before, ever, and you hope it never again does, until the end of time. Like a normal human being, after this happened, and after you went running back to work to wash up before making the half-hour walk home, you immediately thought to yourself, "What could be more embarrassing than this?"

Let’s go:

1. Your mom comes running down into the grade-eight band room in the middle of rehearsal and yells, "NATTY WATTYYY! I'll be outside in the parking lot."
You forever hate when people call you that.

2. The first time you take the city bus, you don’t know that you have to step down the steps to get the back door to open. You just stand there, looking perplexed and terrified while people yell at you. You think they are yelling "SIT DOWN!!!" So you do, dejectedly, not knowing how to get off the goddamn bus and go home. Turns out they are saying "STEP DOWN."
Your hearing has since only gotten worse.

3. The time you get your period while driving to a yoga class. You are wearing light gray tights, and it is maybe the only time there is a disproportionately larger amount of men to women there. Also, you are supposed to be the teacher for that class. 

4. The time you are makin’ time with a gentledude in the shower, but then, again! Your period shows up to crash the party. Not to be outdone, you also later get dizzy, almost pass out, and have to sit down in the shower. But because he is a gentleman, he sits down with you.
That last part is actually very sweet and endearing, even if it does kind of remind you of the scene from Bond where the chick sits down and cries in the shower while Daniel Craig holds her, except you're neither fully clothed nor crying.
You like him a lot for doing that, the gentledude that is, but also Daniel Craig.

5. The first time you get really, stupidly drunk, and remember absolutely nothing. Your roommates on the other hand, remember everything. You wake up to find a garbage pail beside your bed, and you wonder how and why it got there. Everyone living in the barracks with you is surprised to see you alive and chipper the next morning. They say with bewilderment, “You mean you DON’T remember???” You don’t. Not any of it. And you feel fine. Apparently, you had gotten wobbly, so they put you to bed. But then you kept getting out of bed and threw up all over the hallway, the bathroom, other people’s rooms, etc. They said this happened half a dozen times. You sort of think they're making this up, but then all 34 people confirm the same story.

6. You're on a first date with a guy, and it's going really well. You had been walking around outside for a while, though, and it is a cold night. You have really, really, probably-shouldn't-be-human poor circulation, and when your hands get cold enough, you sometimes lose the use of them. As in, they kind of stop functioning in a normal way. You go to use a washroom, but because your hands are so cold, you are then not able to do your pants back up. You spend probably upward of 20 minutes in the washroom, desperately trying to grasp the top button on your jeans. As this is happening, you are fully aware that you have been in there for a suspiciously long time, and are mortified that your date probably thinks you:
a) ran away
b) are completely evacuating your bowels
c) were kidnapped by washroom ninjas

None of these are good options. So you casually stroll back out once your pants are safely back on, and just say, "Sorry, that took a lot longer than it should have. I feel it's important to tell you that I wasn't taking a massive dump."
You explain the hands-of-death situation, and he still goes on more dates with you.

7. You are maybe eight years old. You go to a slumber party at a popular girl's house. Your parents are maybe closet hippies and teach you things like “your body needs to breathe at night,” so you don't wear underwear or pants with your oversized t-shirt pajamas. They neglect to mention this is something you should only do in the privacy of your own home. The other girls notice this and spend all night and the next morning teasing you and running over to pull your t-shirt up. The girl’s mom eventually gives you pajama bottoms so that they will stop.
As an adult, you feel most comfortable sleeping au naturelle. Fuck pajama bottoms.

8. You're out with girl friends, and you get pretty drunk (surprise!?). You spend some time talking with a generically attractive guy who is a friend of a friend of a somethingface or whatever. Feeling brave and not at all like your decisions are influenced, you ask the guy to dance. His friends who are standing beside him let you know that there is no dance floor. You look around, and turns out they are right.

Undeterred, you are also feeling lonely and like you want some kind of intimacy, like you just want someone to touch you in a caring way. So when one of your girl friends, who is also drunk, suggests you ask generically attractive guy to go home with you, you think “Great idea!” It was not. He shoots you down, thankfully. You go home, become ill, and throw up for a few hours.

9. You are getting busy with a man friend for the first time since it happened, and you suddenly you have to tell him to stop, because you are scared, because you remember. He does, but you’ve already been pulled into the memory of the time when a guy didn’t stop. When you prayed it would be over quickly, and you hated yourself for it. You know that you’re not still in that moment, but you feel it all over again, and you start to cry hysterically. He holds you, lets you cry, and he is the first person you tell everything to.

10. Every time you are intimate with a guy, and again you remember, and they leave you there in the bed, crying. They not kindly tell you to get it sorted out, and to go to therapy. You feel like a leper. No one wants to touch someone like you.

11. Every time you cry in the years you spend in therapy.

12. Every time you sleep on your bathroom floor because you feel worthless, shattered, disposable, and like a piece of rubbish.

13. Every time you tell your mom that you're okay, but you're not. You sleep, at most, four hours, but sometimes not at all. You have become someone you don't recognize. You isolate yourself from your friends, because you don’t want them to know, and you don’t want to have to lie. You lose a noticeable amount of weight, but most people compliment you for looking so skinny. You become unreliable, often having to cancel work. You are overly emotional, and start becoming weirdly paranoid about things. You are prone to violent outbursts in the privacy of your own home. One day you destroy your bathroom, ripping shelves off walls, smashing bottles, breaking everything within reach. You feel like a monster. You want him to see what he’s done. You want him to finish it.

14. The night you spend in the hospital, after swallowing a fistful of anti-anxiety meds that are not yours.

15. The time you are at a yoga workshop, and the teacher, who may just be an angel, or in the least, a completely wonderful human being, holds you in a yoga pose that makes you want to run and hide and move away as fast as possible from all the uncomfortable feelings and memories and things you wish weren't a part of you. She tells you not to run, she tells you to stay with it, to sit with it, and that on the other side of fear is everything that you want. She tells you to let go, so you do.

There, in a room of 60+ people, in a yoga class being recorded for an audio CD, you full-on openly weep.

But suddenly you don't feel embarrassed. You realize that all these things, all these moments that make you want to hide, or turn off, or appear cold and unmoved and unphased, all these memories that you wouldn't wish on anyone else — they have taught you things you never would have realized without them. They have made you stronger, even if the process of getting to that end result was completely and inappropriately fucked up. You grew and changed and evolved and became a better, kinder, and more compassionate person because of it. And no one can ever take that from you. No one can ever hurt you with it, because it is yours to wear like armor. You know that even sometimes when you feel alone, lost, disposable, worthless — you are not. And you know that sometimes, shit happens. But hopefully, it doesn't ever again happen on your head.

Natalie Bell went home and washed her hair three times, but was still paranoid that she could smell bird shit. She also took to heart the advice a dear friend gave her about writing when he said, "The only stories worth reading are the ones that are honest. Honest stories are sometimes stories that shouldn't be written. The fact that they are is what makes them special." But more on him later.

Puffin' Right

No joke. Today I saw a girl wearing this exact shirt. Coincidence? Of course not.

I knew I was on to something with puffins.

So, who's laughing now?
Oh. You're watching that episode of 30 Rock where Jack can't act and he doesn't know what to do with his hands and decides to eventually hold a coffee mug in each? Yeah okay, that one is pretty funny. So I guess we're both laughing. But my laugh is haughtier.