Bast & Moyer Eat Chips

My friends, it’s time for another edition of Bast & Moyer. This week we’re doing something we both adore and probably do too often.

Bless you people for actually watching this. Happy Monday!

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Merry Christmas

My dearest blog readers,

Thank you for journeying with me this past year. It’s certainly been a wild ride. This fall has been full of crazy, scary, exhausting trials (to say the very least) and I am looking forward to simply resting and being with the people closest to me.  In the interest of making the people in my life smile, I took it upon myself to take some inspiring Christmas photos. Huge thanks to my sister-in-law for making this happen.

Please enjoy this photo essay of sorts.

Have a blessed holiday season.

Love,

Amanda

 

I tried taking one of those cute Pinterest baby photos, but it was more difficult than I expected.

I tried taking one of those cute Pinterest baby photos, but it was more difficult than I expected.

 

It was puzzling. How DO people take cute pictures of babies wrapped in lights?

It was puzzling. How DO people take cute pictures of babies wrapped in lights?

 

I decided to roll with it anyway.

I decided to roll with it anyway.

 

Because as long as you have a cute face, you have a cute picture. Right? RIGHT!

Because as long as you have a cute face, you have a cute picture. Right? RIGHT!

 

WHAT'S THIS? An unexpected Elfy guest?

WHAT’S THIS? An unexpected Elfy guest?

 

He descended very quickly. I didn't have time to respond.

He descended very quickly. I didn’t have time to respond.

 

HAVE MERCY ON ME SCARY ELF!

HAVE MERCY ON ME SCARY ELF!

 

PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!

Oh. OH. NOW YOU’VE JUST GONE TOO FAR.

 

 

 
*Pictures in this sequence have been removed due to sensitive content not appropriate for all audiences.

 

 

 

Well. I DID warn you.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

 

Poopin’ in the Food Court

I want to make a difference in the world. Maybe not the entire world, but at least the tiny part of the world I call my own. I want to help, I want to influence, and I want to promote change. I want to do everything I can to impact those around me. That’s why I teach. That’s why I volunteer. That’s why I write. That’s why I try to be intentional with my actions.

Sometimes I selfishly daydream about what I’ll do that makes a lasting impact. Continue reading

I Told You So

I said it as soon as we sat down. We were seated in the second row right behind the dugouts on the first base line. The protective netting was nowhere near us. We were close to the action, and we were exposed.

“Guys, I’m going to get hit.”

They shrugged it off a little and said I just have to pay attention and everything would be fine. So I did. I payed attention like I’ve never paid attention before. I didn’t even reflect upon how ridiculous it was that I was watching a minor league baseball game in Mississippi with a bunch of people I had met on the Internet. I was too nervous to think about how absurd our situation was. I watched every hit and flinched at every foul ball that came even remotely close to us. We saw a lady get bonked on the noggin by a pop fly, but she was fine. No big deal. I paid close attention. Continue reading

I Live Alone

Now that I live alone, I find myself doing odd things. I did odd things before, but they’re just odder now that I live alone. Or maybe they’re not actually odder, I just have more time to think about whether or not the things I do are odd. I don’t know. Should I be saying “more odd” as opposed to “odder”? I don’t know this either. I need a dog.

I spent the day alone in my apartment. This seems to be the norm as of late as I prepare for a busy school year ahead of me. The problem with this is that I spend a lot of time deep in my head, and when I do interact (namely on Twitter or via text message) people I message get some weird crap that makes perfect sense to me because I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, but leaves the receiver of said message completely at a loss.

Texts or tweets I’ve sent today:

“I want pancakes and I have the mix but no oil or syrup. I’d have to shower which defeats the purpose of lazy pancakes. I know too many of the bag boys. I’d have to eat something before I leave so I don’t pass out and then I wouldn’t be hungry for pancakes anyway. I am going to make eggs.”

“I didn’t get any birthday presents this year.”

“I need to stop listening to Alicia Keys.”

“The amount of junk that came off of my bathroom and closet doors actually makes me want to vomit.”

“Kevin Bacon hahahahahahahah”

“SOOOOO jealous that you got to go to Leamington without me! Lolz. Totes JK. Like, ROFLCOPTER, right?!?”

I’m starting to think that the phrase “I live alone” can get me out of a lot of future awkwardness. When I overreact and it’s embarrassing: “I live alone”. When I accost someone with a deep personal question: “I live alone”. When someone catches me talking to myself: “I live alone”. When someone asks why I’m talking like a small southern child: “I live alone”. When I write comments on Facebook just to be a jerk: “I live alone”. When I talk about the parrot who lives below me like he’s my best friend: “I live alone”.

Guys. I’m on to something here. What else can I start to blame on living alone? Help me milk this for all it’s worth.

The Exterminator is Coming

I am staying at house with some friends of Joseph’s while I’m here in the south. They live in part of a big old beautiful house. They have been gracious enough to let me occupy the front room while one of their housemates is gone for the summer. One particular morning, I had decided to sleep in. I was in bed slowly beginning the waking up process when I heard a loud knock at the front door.

I knew that the person at the door was not there to see me, so I ignored the knock. Then came another knock. Then came a knock and a “HELLO?” Again, I knew she wasn’t here to see me, so I didn’t move out of my bed even though it was odd that the woman was now inside of the house. I figured it was a friend or another housemate that was supposed to be there. (I later found out that it was their landlady,Miss Somethingorother. It was a name from Full House that I can’t remember. Let’s just call her Miss Uncle Joey). More knocking, more hellos, each becoming more frantic and louder than the last, until one loud knock on my door was immediately followed by Miss Uncle Joey bursting into my room.

“Oh! I just wanted to let you know that the exterminator is here so you won’t be startled. Bye!”

Startled?! Too late. Totally startled. Before I could ask any questions, Miss Uncle Joey was gone. Cue panic mode.

Exterminator? What exactly does that entail? Is Miss Uncle Joey the exterminator? Is she licensed for that sort of thing? Where would one get an exterminator’s license? Is a man in a big suit with tanks on his back going to spray the house down with toxic chemicals? Will this affect my breathing? Will I come down with some incurable disease? Will I need to use my out of country traveler’s insurance? Does my travel insurance cover treatment for incurable diseases? Will the room fill with fog? Do I need to get on the ground and crawl to safety? Won’t I look like a bug if I start crawling? Should I be wearing a gas mask in this situation, because mine is at home in Canada. Are Canadians allowed to stay in homes of Americans? Is this legal? Am I allowed to be here right now? I’m totally going to get arrested, aren’t I?

Do they even have the right house? What if it’s not really an exterminator, but a creepy dude casing the joint for old family heirlooms? Are there heirlooms in this house that I should know about? Where would they be hiding? Should be hiding? My mattress is on the floor so I can’t hide under the bed. WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO HIDE? Is the closet too predictable? I can’t go to the kitchen, it’s too far away. What about this sunroom thing? Is that like a conservatory? I bet there are lots of things for an exterminator to use as weapons if his bug juice doesn’t work.

I AM OUT OF OPTIONS. I AM GOING TO DIE FROM PESTICIDE INHALATION OR FROM OTHER BAD THINGS. OH CRAP THOSE ARE CANDLESTICKS.  THIS IS STARTING TO SOUND LIKE A GAME OF CLUE AND NO ONE COMES OUT ALIVE WHEN YOU’RE PLAYING CLUE. THE EXTERMINATOR IS TOTALLY COLONEL MUSTARD AND MISS UNCLE JOEY IS ACTUALLY MISS SCARLET. I’VE NEVER NOTICED THAT MISS SCARLET SOUNDS INCREDIBLY SOUTHERN. THINGS ARE ALL COMING TOGETHER NOW. THEY HAVE PIPE WRENCHES AND BUG JUICE AND ROPES AND CANDLESTICKS AND I AM IN AN OLD HOUSE WITH MANY ROOMS. WE ARE ALL DOOMED.

Then Joseph sent me a message saying that exterminators are pretty common in the south, especially in old homes and that it was harmless and I had nothing to worry about.

Oh.

Okay. Time to have a shower and start my day, I guess. Everything is ok. I am alive. The exterminator isn’t coming to get me.

I am calm.

I am collected.

The south is great.

This isn’t a boardgame.

I am at peace.

All is well.

Now time to open the curtains to let in the morning light.

OH SWEET HEAVENS, THERE IS A MAN MOWING THE LAWN.

Kookaburra

While I was in Jackson, I somehow convinced THE Joseph Craven to take me to the zoo.

It cost us $9.00 and it took about an hour to see all of the animals. And we took our time. I was warned ahead of time that the Jackson Zoo wasn’t spectacular, but I didn’t care. I probably should have cared. It wasn’t that spectacular and most of the animals were sleeping. We avoided the snake house and saw some otters, so all in all, it was a pleasant day afternoon hour.

We did find some Kookaburras, which we both would agree were the stars of the zoo. Mainly because they weren’t sleeping. It doesn’t take much to be a star in the Jackson Zoo.

When I walked up to the cage, I immediately began singing the song (it’s only natural). I was quickly horrified to find the Kookaburra was having a little….snack. It wasn’t pleasant, but like a train wreck, we couldn’t look away. I took a short video for you to enjoy and be traumatized in the process. You’re welcome!

That gasp at 0:19? Totally and completely genuine terror. Along with snakes, I am also afraid of Kookaburras. Apparently.

Six Degrees of Separation

Someone once said that everyone in the world is six steps away from any other person on the planet. I don’t know what I think of that, but I seem to find myself knowing someone that knows someone who knows someone else. I love playing the six degrees of separation game, especially when it makes the world seem a little bit smaller.

In my city, we also call this “The Mennonite Game” but instead of figuring out if you know someone famous, you try to figure out if you are related.

Since you’re probably not Mennonite, I now present you with my six degrees of separation to several people you may have heard of, or a list of things that makes me seem cooler than I actually am.

1. My friend is second cousins with Matthew Thiessen, lead singer of Relient K.

2. My friend graduated from the same theater program as Rachel McAdams and has consequently had telephone conversations with her about acting and such.

3. I was the flower girl in the wedding of a guy whose best friend was best friends with Steven Page (formally of the Barenaked Ladies) in grades 4 through 6.

4. My sister in law’s uncle is the Simon Cowell of Argentina. He attended Michael Buble’s wedding.

5. My sister in law’s family is friends with the “Mista! Mista!” lady in Happy Gilmore..

6. My friend’s friend (who is now my friend….wink) ate Derek Webb’s macaroni and cheese while she was babysitting his kids.

7. My aunt and uncle live in Africa. That’s got to count for something, right?


That’s it. My list is short. Please help me add to it.

What makes you sound cooler than you actually are?

Craven Came to Canada

Ladies and Gentlemen who are not on the Twitters, I apologize that I never announced who my mystery visitor was before now. You may have already guessed, or possibly you read the title of this post. No, your eyes are not failing you. Joseph Craven did indeed come to Canada. Yes, THE Joseph Craven, my Internet Worst Enemy.

Why exactly did Joseph Craven come to Canada? I’m still trying to answer that question myself and he has come and gone. I don’t know. The whole situation is rather absurd. But what I do know is if you have random Skype sessions like this:

…you should probably hang out in real life. Joseph Craven (who I will always refer to by first and last name. It’s in his contract) flew in to Canada last Tuesday and stayed for a week. We have loads of pictures and videos that I’m sure will make an appearance here or over on the GBOAT at some point in time. But for now, I give you a brief run down of what we did (and how much of our list was checked off).

Tuesday
-Greeted Joseph Craven at the airport with a sign reading “McSlapps”.
-Made Joseph Craven eat a box of Smarties
-Introduced Joseph Craven to the wonders (gag) of Tim Horton’s coffee (ew)
-Ate at Swiss Chalet
-Saw Mennonites at Swiss Chalet
-Short tour of Uptown Waterloo
-Introduced Joseph Craven to my mother
-Ate fries with vinegar and drank Canadian beer at McMullen’s Canadian pub
-Looked at the lights at Waterloo Park
-Saw a dogsled at Waterloo Park
-Threw a snowball at Joseph Craven that left him doubled over in pain (I either have REALLY bad aim or REALLY good aim)
-Drank Wellesley apple cider

Tweet that summed up the day:
“So I kind of just woke up and I’m in a different country now and there’s a tiny person who won’t leave me alone and I’m scared.”

Wednesday
-My brother was in the hospital (Christmas was QUITE the event at the Bast household this year), so we offered to babysit my niece and nephew. Well, I offered to babysit and told Joseph Craven that we were going to babysit. WELCOME TO CANADA.
-Joseph Craven wore a tiara
-Went five pin bowling with a group of my friends

Tweets that summed up the day:
“I liked you better when you were sleep deprived and didn’t talk so much. -@mandiemariebee”
“Tonight @thejosephcraven took his pants off at the bowling alley. #IWishIWasMakingThisUp

Thursday
-Toured the St. Jacob’s Farmer’s Market (saw lots of Mennonites)
-Stumbled upon a Maple Syrup Museum in St. Jacob’s (honestly, I had no idea it existed)
-Went to a Mennonite information Museum thing (a highlight of the week for both of us…it was really interesting to learn about MY PEOPLE)
-Ate lunch at a restaurant and were served by a Mennonite
-Went to a Mennonite general store
-Watched The Help and learned about Joseph Craven’s PEOPLE

Tweets that summed up the day:
“I gave @stantonmartin +K about Vancouver & District Inter-high School Football League Senior Championships (sports)  on @klout”
“I added Eat Poop You Cat (game) to @KnoxMcCoy’s topics on @klout”

Friday
-Went to Guelph to show Joseph Craven around the town I went to school in
-Discovered that my favourite Mexican restaurant was no longer in business
-I don’t remember the rest of the afternoon because I was too miserable about the Mexican restaurant. I’m completely serious. It was a low point for me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It’s a good thing I’m going to Mexico next month.
-Went to a Kitchener Ranger’s hockey game

Tweet that summed up the day:
“Random guy at the game high fived @thejosephcraven. Because stuff like that always happens in Canada.”

Saturday
-Drove ten minutes off the highway to BALLS FALLS. We took pictures of the sign, then drove to Niagara Falls.
-Looked at Niagara Falls
-Went to Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museum. We chose not to believe any of it.
Here is where things started getting completely absurd.
-Were on Entertainment Tonight Canada’s New Years Eve show (we can only assume…there were cameras all up in our grill)
-Heard the Sheepdogs perform live (they were great)
-Started chanting “Rick the Temp! Rick the Temp!” (Joseph Craven still doesn’t know why he was chanting this)
-Heard Our Lady Peace perform live
-Scream-sang along with Our Lady Peace and pretended we were back in high school
-Heard Simple Plan perform live
-Wished our last moments of 2011 weren’t spent listening to Simple Plan. “Shut up shut up shut up”.
-Happy New Year!
-Walked back to the car, found ourselves almost in the middle of some weird gang fight
-Saw a guy get kicked in the face
-Scream-sang to Weezer’s blue album on the 4 hour (ugh traffic) drive home in attempt to make me forget about seeing a guy get kicked in the face

Tweets that summed up the day:
“New Years Eve at Niagara Falls. NO BIG DEAL.”

Sunday
-Went to church to meet some more of my PEOPLE
-Watched Arrested Development for the rest of the day
-Sang The Growing Pains theme song several times

Tweets that summed up the day:
“Best phrase ever? ‘I have a Kirk Cameron story for you.’ ”

Monday
-Drove to Yorkdale mall and took the subway to Toronto
-Went up the CN Tower
-Almost died at the very top of the CN Tower
-Walked to get some really wonderful food
-Took the subway back to Yorkdale

Tweets that summed up the day:
“At the top of the CN Tower, when the PA announces “the noise you heard is being investigated.” #NiceKnowingYou #JustKiddingWereFine”

Tuesday
-Endured minus 15 degree weather (that’s about 5 degrees Fahrenheit)
-Had coffee at my favourite cafe
-Ate at a Southern BBQ joint that was approved by the Southerner
-Said goodbye

Tweets that summed up the day:
“If i had a fork in my car I would eat the crap out of that pulled pork.”

IN SUMMARY

It was a busy week. It was a very fun week. We checked off most items on our list except for the rap song (it will still happen though) and Apple Butter (we totally forgot until today). I got to play tour guide (which I’ve discovered I really enjoy). I got to do and see a lot of things I’ve never done or seen before. The whole situation was really rather absurd. When you spend 12+ hours of the day for 7 days with the same person, you get to know them really well. It’s hard to fully explain a week like this one, and this is the best way I know how:

When Joseph Craven eats over-easy eggs, he always cuts open the side, and pushes all of the yoke out of the center, causing it to spill on the plate, so he can then mop up the yoke with his toast.

A Stupid Dog

On my ninth birthday, I got a dog. A tiny black and white miniature Schnauzer that I named Zoe. It was a total surprise and I was woken up by my parents late at night to be given a dog. Hence my pajamas in this picture:


I can’t say that Zoe was the best dog in the world, because that title belongs to our other dog at the time, Tasha (also pictured). Tasha was a smart, gorgeous Goldren Retriever who never did anything wrong. She was well behaved, friendly, great with kids and protective of us, but only when necessary. Zoe was none of those things. 

She was the runt of the litter (much like myself), yappy and stubborn. She hated kids and strangers. You know that whole “put a towel over your dog’s head and the quicker they get it off their head, the smarter they are” trick? If you put a blanket over Zoe’s head, she wouldn’t move. She would literally sit for as long as it took until someone took the blanket off for her. She was dumb.

But she was mine, and I loved her dearly.

She would pose for pictures.


She started that whole “Owling” trend.


She was chill.


She let me put weird stuff on her head


…on more than one occasion.

She also didn’t mind being dressed up in baby clothes.


She was simultaneously Tasha’s best friend and arch nemesis.


She was MY best friend. And I loved her.


So much so, I had her emblazoned on my Christmas stocking.


Every year when we pull out the stockings, I am reminded of my dumb little friend who was a part of my life for ten years. It takes me back to my childhood, when things were simpler and my only care in the world was whether or not Zoe was in the mood to let me put her in my doll cradle. Those were good years. She was around for ten years, and after she was gone, I was thankful that little ten year old me loved her enough to have her on my stocking.

Now I’m rather mad at ten year old me for making this decision. You see, dear Internets, after the death of both Tasha and Zoe, came an animal quite unfortunate.

Sassie.

This dog is an entirely different story. She has Tasha’s intelligence, but Zoe’s dumb determination to bark and anything and everything. While Zoe spent time biting and jumping all over Tasha, Sassie spends time peeing in my room and eating the contact information off of business cards. Sassie lives up to her name, and I’m really not a fan of this creature. I’ve written about such things before, if you are inclined to read up on my hatred for this animal.

So now, every Christmas when I pull out my Zoe stocking, I am no longer fond of it. It no longer reminds me of a sweet, daft dog, but of the little black devil that now inhabits our house. I now have a tiny douchebag on my stocking.

Thanks for ruining everything, little me.

Did you have an awesome animal growing up? What about one that you hate with a passion?

P.S. I will not be entertaining any questions about my blue sweatpants or my boy haircut. I WILL however, point out that my Dad is reading the TV guide.