I can get a bigger penis

Have you ever stopped to look at spam in your inbox? You know what I mean, the really stupid e-mails that come in, have nothing to do with you, and you're going how did they get my address?

I always laugh at the e-mails telling me a hot Russian girl is waiting for me. That's nice but what am I supposed to do? I mean, I don't WANT a hot Russian girl...unless she's really good at editing a newspaper and is willing to work for peanuts.

I also have to laugh at the 'make it bigger' ads. First off, I don't have a penis so will it make one grow? Second question, where will it grow? I'm going to wind up walking around with a private on my forehead all because of a pill. Dandy. Finally, what happens if you take too much? Ooh...E.P.S (Exploding Penis Syndrome).

What else can I do but laugh over spam? :)

Memory lane took a wrong turn

I had the most funny encounter last night. A fellow told me he had a crush on me since we were little kids. That's adorable, right? Well, not so much. In my cynical nature, I asked him to tell me a story about us hanging out as I didn't believe he actually remembered me (we we never hung out and I was a homely child). He told me ever since I lived on the back road next to another kid he thought I was cute...yep, that wasn't me.

There are moments when I just have to smile and laugh. Ahh, memory lane.

Wishing you all a very merry Christmas

Happy Holidays to you and your loved ones (and the not-so loved ones). As I sit in my living room, taking a break from DDR, listening to a cat snore and growl in it's sleep, I would like to ask everyone to remember that the holidays are a time for joy and celebration. Please, don't ruin the holidays for those who love you by drinking and driving.

Even if you never have an accident, you're setting an example and the ones who watch you may be the ones to say "It's okay because _____ does it."

Christmas is supposed to be a happy time...don't let is also be a memorial day for you or your loved ones. Take the keys away, hogtie them to a chair with duct tape and superglue...call the police if you have to and bring Christmas cookies in the morning to apologize.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays!

Sincerely,

Samantha Tinker

The amount of work that goes into the mop on my head

Almost any woman who bothers doing their hair will say that a good hair day will make or break their evening. I've got really fine hair that has NO volume so for me, it's a 10-step process.

Step 1- Blowdry hair with Conair thermocare round hair brush with roots lifted

Step 2- Shake so much Chi or G2B volumizing powder in hair, I can't breathe. Stop when lungs are full and hacking commences. Seal in place with G2B Fat-tastic hairspray

Step 3- Backcomb until hair is standing on end. When I look like the bride of Frankenstein, it's ready

Step 4- Add another couple squirts of hairspray for good measure

Step 5- Look in mirror, cringe, and start to get a part going on, use the round brush to start smoothing out the frizz-fest

Step 6- Straighten the ends with a small straightener.

Step 7- Section off a part on top to smooth out, make sure the back is poofy, flip over the smooth part so the rat's nest is hidden

Step 8- Add more Chi Powder with spray to make sure the hair stays in place (If I don't do this, the back-combing won't stay in place and it'll go flat).

Step 9- Wonder why I don't just accept my straight hair or get a perm. Ponder for a few moments as I finally get my breath back from the haze of hairspray in my room

Step 10- Step out into the rain/snow without an umbrella, curse Mother Nature, wear hat because the hour of work is rinsed out. Give up.

On top of all this, I have to attempt to remember who likes what hairstyle. New guy for example, hates the feel of the Chi powder (a heads up: it really does make your hair feel disgusting), D believed my extensions weren't fake and hauled on them (ow), and going out means planning for the Atlantic weather as much as possible.

It's fun being a woman, right?

It finally happened

Someone from Australia stumbled across the awesomeness that is my blog :) Santa really does exist and he granted me a Christmas wish...now, where's my pony?

The evil cat is up for adoption

Mom has given up her sanity and decided to foster a cat. It's not just any cat thought, it's Satan (who has taken the name Collie for the time being). A fluffy, adorable bundle of joy with the most sketchy eyes who has now decided anyone who sits in her chair is, in fact, a chew toy for her.

As I sat down in the living room, prepared to watch Live with Kelly and eat my breakfast, coffee in hand, my cute purple Tinkerbell bathrobe curled around me, my feet innocently on the ground, out of nowhere this cat attacked my legs. It was a sneak attack that still has me traumatized (and my leg is sore). I am the victim here!

She has the common sense of a wombat, the grace of Ashley Simpson on SNL, and the loving nature of a grizzly bear. Please adopt her.

Random facts about me

-I am completely adorable in my own mind.

-I love to exercise

-I really like steak, hotdogs, cheeseburgers, and fish...but I don't eat any of them.

-I hate the smell of mussels.

Note: After looking over my post from last night, I'm assuming I was really hungry!

-I strongly desire another tattoo

-I also want my tongue pierced

-At the age of 25, I still listen to my mother as she has strongly expressed her desire to rip a tongue piercing out of my mouth if I ever make the wrong decision according to her.

-I love the smell of cleaning products...the warning not to sniff is for me!

-I am extremely ticklish

-I am extremely violent when tickled

-I refuse to get old...I'll grow up but I'm still jumping in puddles and building a sand castle

-I have crazy dreams almost every night...usually I remember them

-I like wearing short skirts

-I still love cartoons (Fairly Odd Parents and Scooby Doo)

-I like being smart but I really enjoy vegging out!

-I hate making decisions that will still leave someone hurt.

-I'm naturally a blonde.

-I've had a ton of piercings but don't have any now

-I love speaking in public...I'm not really shy at all.

-My weekend hobbies are usually unhealthy but so much fun.

-I will answer a question honestly or choose not to answer but I refuse to lie.

Stressed at Christmas? Read this

To all you folks who are reading this attempting not to chew off your own arms, rip out chunks of hair and scalp and pick incessantly at your skin like a meth addict due to the stress of Christmas, stop and listen up.

Your kids have a choice: Like their gifts, pretend to like their gifts and sell them on e-bay or complain and watch as their gifts are donated to children who didn't get a Christmas and are grateful.

Your inlaws or family complaints: There is this wonderful beverage called alcohol. It comes in many flavours and potency levels. While you may not be able to show up at Nanna Minnie's shittered, you can remind yourself that there is whiskey waiting for you under the mistletoe when you get home. There are also drugs...not for you, for them. The best Christmas ever is when Aunt G. was stoned on her neck tranquilizers (letter of name and body part have been changed for an attempt at keeping people anonymous). Slip them in cider or mashed potatoes.

The turkey didn't come out right: Again, use the alcohol and no one will care. Really, it's Christmas not Turkey-day. People will survive and it'll be a funny memory.

The hubbub is driving you mad: Turn off the TV or put on a good movie, sit down and read a book. Stop caring that you're not being jolly enough...no one really cares enough to remember the following year unless you go Scrooge on them and hit little Timmy with the overcooked turkey in which case, you've created some amazing holiday memories.

I get it that Christmas seems stressful but it's only because people are flocking around like headless chickadees trying to plan every single minute and you're going "I just want to sleep in, drink some eggnog, open some presents, give some presents...and maybe do a few other things that I don't want my mother to know about under the mistletoe, the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen..." ...nevermind.

Merry Christmas to all and to all, SALUT!

Cause there's no place like home for the holidays

HAPPY HOLIDAYS from Sam and Esme!

For those of you who don't know the story, Esme was a rescue cat from the Saint John Animal Rescue League. I got her a few years ago and she was a mess - terrified of everything, matted fur, and claws that were stuck in the pads of her feet. Now, she's a Fleet family favorite. She's an inbred Persian who found her family!

This has become somewhat of a tradition between

Esme and I. She gets her photo taken in some awful

getup...and I laugh at her.

Photos from home

The first photo is of Duke, Bryen and Claude's dog (Sister and Sister's significant other) as he is going after the evil and vicious vacuum.

The other photos were taken by my mother as gram attempted to brush the dog hair off me after I gave both Moe and KC a good brushing. Both dogs look much less scruffy today!

Also, it was about -5 or -7 degrees Celcius that day! BURR!!!

Hey you...you're fat!

I just read an article from BBC that suggests family and friends should mention to their loved ones that they are gaining weight or overweight. They were being serious.

I'm not sure about the author's family, but in my house, you'd be slapped upside the head with a wooden spoon if you called someone fat.

The author may want to take note that MOST people probably already know they're not a size 2...especially when they get stuck in the dressing room at the mall with a size two shirt stuck around their double chin.

Look, I'm all for suggesting someone go for a walk, gym dates or offering gift cards to the gym for Christmas if they suggested they would be interested. I'm not okay going up to 85-year old Granny saying: "Maybe you shouldn't take a second helping of pie. You're getting a little chunky!" (For the record, my mam is a very petite lady).

Where is the common sense here? If you want to be invited to Christmas dinner, don't be known as the Fat Police. Take time to talk to people and if they mention it, pass along your advice if they're receptive to it. Don't just start handing out "Fat Fines" this season.

Grades

I see the Facebook posts saying grades are starting to be posted so I slowly type in the letters. UNB.ca. My heart starts to race, my fingers start to shake...then the inevitable stomach churning started.

I usually have a pretty good guess what my grades are going to be but it terrifies me to assume I'm going to get a good grade and then, because I bombed an exam, just fail. I know the stats are with me saying I probably won't fail if I study and have done well during the course but its' a fear.

So I open up my browser and there they are...1/2 my grades are posted. A B+ in War and Genocide and an A in Sociology. I was hoping to ace that W&G exam and haul up my mark but it didn't work.

So now I'm just waiting for the other 2 courses to come in (hopefully before Christmas). For the record, this is a form of torture albeit it, a nicer form than the typical types.

The afternoon of doggy delights

Anyone who knows me is aware that Melmo (Moe) and KC own my heart like their chew toys. These two dogs are the best dogs ever. While I defend your right to say you disagree, you're still wrong.

This afternoon, with my grandparents and mother present, I noticed my two boys were looking a tad bit scruffy so I hauled out the furminator (The most amazing pet brush ever). Moe laid down, groaned, flipped over, enjoyed having his belly rubbed and was excellent for about half an hour of brushing...KC was a different story.

He kept hitting me with his paw, refused to lay down, decided laying down was his best option, had to go get some water, came back, put his tail in my face and wagged, turned around, sat down again...and repeated. Then he decided he was sorry, and licked the entire side of my face. I was covered from head to toe in dog hair and slime.

Moe got jealous that KC was being brushed and decided he needed more work. Try pushing a 100 pound dog off your lap (Moe) when he doesn't feel like moving. Hint: It doesn't work. KC got upset that Moe took his spot and started trying to chew on Moe's face. I yell at KC, mom yells at me for yelling at him, Bamp is giggling in the corner watching the entire comedic event and I'm gasping for air and spitting out dog fur.

Finally, both dogs look lovely, sleek and polished and I get kicked outside to be wacked around by my grandmother who attempted to brush the hair off me in a broom. For the record, it was about -5C and I was in a tanktop/capris.

The afternoon of doggy delights...photos to come shortly

Merry Christmas

I feel like I just told the world to f*** off or something equally as rude by the title of my blog. "Merry Christmas" is apparently the new four letter word because not everyone celebrates Christmas. (Oh crap, like I didn't realize that there are different religions and people who didn't believe in Jesus in the world even though I have the internet! I missed THAT memo!).

Well, not everyone takes a summer vacation either but we tend to ask how people are spending their summer. Not everyone gets a March Break but we usually ask about that too.

Get over it. Seriously, those who are religious are not stuffing a Christmas tree up your butt sideways saying "Worship or I'll holy war you" when they say "Merry Christmas." They're trying to be nice. Being nice- a new idea. Try it by biting your tongue and saying "Oh thanks! Happy Holidays!" (See, no one's forcing you to say merry Christmas...not even the underpaid cashier at Walmart who accidentally let a Christmas slip out).

You may or may not celebrate Christmas but screw 'politically correct' and say what you want. One of your rights is freedom of speech. That's right, you're allowed to say "Merry Christmas" and if anyone decides to be a Grinch about it, that Christmas tree may very well go up their ass (pointy end first).

Cat are smarter than humans

I woke up this morning and said, "Oh shit" not because it was a bad morning but because my cat, a senior at the ripe old age of 10 or so, missed the litter box completely. As I began to clean it up, I realized I'm my cat's slave.

I work for free, without so much as a thank you. Instead of being loving and gracious, Madame Cat decided to watch and , in my opinion, critique my work of cleaning, spraying and scrubbing. After my hands were washed, she demanded I give her attention and a back massage.

She is fed and when out of food, only needs to scream (aka meow) for more...NOW! She sits and demands treats, doesn't get punished even when she does something wrong and is waited on hand and foot.

I crawl to drag her out from under the chair at times...I'm positive she believes I am worshiping her. She doesn't earn her keep as she would run from a rodent...she eats, sleeps, poops, and occasionally allows her adoring subjects to look upon her lovingly. Her hair is brushed, she never cleans a toilet and is routinely fed without having to prepare the nibbles or do dishes.

Forget being a lawyer, my goal in life is to be a house-cat.

What I want to say

I've been trying to write for the past ten minutes so instead of writing a bunch of blogs about topics that don't make sense, here's a glimpse into my thoughts for the night:

-I hate that our friendship has changed and I wish I could take it all back sometimes but I can't put my life on hold for this. I'm always unsure if you're just busy or ignoring me. I hate this uncertainty.

-I hope you know what you're doing because your decisions hurt a lot of people. I wish you the best of luck in your future.

-I miss hanging out with you. Wanna bake cupcakes?

-You're getting cupcakes for Christmas!!!! (I am terrible at secrets but you don't know who you are so it's still a secret).

-Hopefully you guys realize how much it takes to go to the front of the class and explain my work.

-I hope you're having fun over there and sincerely hope you're safe and enjoying time with your family.

-I am home for the holidays. Get it? I'm on vacation. Do NOT talk to me about my job. Thank you.

-Christmas is the season in which I truly believe that people are still good-souls.

The realization that I'm not the EIC today

I am home. On Grand Manan. Far away from Residence. I'm not being asked about the paper, an article, or anything regarding 'The Baron.' This might not seem like much but to me, it means I can drop my responsibilities for a bit and just relax. I don't need to be constantly concerned with being "Samantha Tinker- Editor in Chief"...today, I'm just Sam.

It dawned on me as I threw on a pair of sweatpants, a tank top and sports bra as I decided to have a very chill day. I grabbed a shower, threw my hair up in a ponytail and didn't even bother with makeup. I'll be honest though...this feeling of just being able to relax is good for about a week but after that, it becomes a bit boring. I like being able to dress up and go out. I like having a reason to throw on some dress pants or a cute top. I love my heels, my short skirts, my little red dress...oh, I love that little red dress.

Here, it's usually easier to wear sweats and a sweater because there are two huge dogs who love to shed on me, a cat who looks more like a poof ball, chickens to feed and goodness knows what else.

Here's to just being Sam today...it's a good feeling.

The Christmas Cookie Conundrum

I don't understand why I bother to make christmas cookies. I sincerely hate baking and don't even like sugar cookies. Here's why Christmas cookies should be laced with something to make my life easier:

-Trying to remember who has what allergy. Dad is allergic to nuts but not peanut butter, mom is allergic to mushrooms (not that they matter in Christmas cookies). Then there is soy, dairy, and apparently certain fruits...and if you mess up, you've put your friend or family member in the hospital with an Epi-pen in their hip. Merry Christmas, hope you survive!

-Following a recipe. Seriously, cooking is easy. Add a dash of this, a smidge of that, and taste constantly...baking is about texture and the right amount. I have the attention span of a chipmunk and yes, shiny things distract me. I hate following a recipe mostly because I tend to mess it up.

-Decorating the cookies...so after eating the batter (which is pretty yummy) and taste testing icing until my tummy hurts, I have to actually decorate the cookies. By this time, all I can smell is sugar, my stomach is lurching and I remind myself that I do, indeed, like these people.

-Packaging the cookies- After I iced them, sprinkled them and made them look pretty, I throw them in a tin or on a plate hoping they will still look pretty when I deliver them...nope, never works out. The cookies look like a first grade project gone horribly wrong. My inner four year old is on crack.

Anyways, I'm going to head out and start to cook.