Yes, my Annual Oscar Party took place on Sunday night.  Yes, I was the only one there.  No, I didn’t mind.  In fact I think I prefer it that way – I didn’t have to share the snacks.

Let’s see . . . where to start?

First off, I hit “Hair & Make Up” (aka my bathroom) about 5:30pm Eastern.  For those of you not in the know, this is a solid 3 hours before the Oscars started and before we have Sunday dinner in these parts.

Once I was dolled up, I donned my finest full length gown.  It was a vintage emerald green satin number that I wore 13 years ago on the night of my 1996 work Christmas party, which was when Willie and I started dating.  True – it doesn’t hang quite as nicely now as it did then, but surely I get some points for the fact that the damn thing still fits.

Then it was time to head downstairs to put the finishing touches on dinner, and amuse the boys.  Mission accomplished.  They love whenever “Ms. Crazy LaRue” comes for dinner.  I often wonder “does this amuse them or scar them?”  I suppose only time will tell.

Then a quick kitchen clean up, packing of the lunches, gathering of my completed Oscar Nomination Ballot Form and Oscar Bingo sheets.  The boys were tucked in for the night and Willie was relegated to the bedroom TV.  Let the snacks show begin!

First up was the sushi – nothing fancy, just a few Cali rolls.  After all, I did just hoss down a plate of ham & scalloped potatoes for dinner.

All washed down with gingerale.

I decided to forego the cheese tray this year and went with this instead.

That’s right folks – Lemon Meringue pie!  A brilliant substitution.

It was at this point (about an hour and a half into the show) that I opted for the comfort of my pajamas for the remainder of the evening.  For obvious elastic waistband reasons.

And yes, I did hang in there to the bitter end.  Which, may I say, was bitter?  In fact I thought the whole show was a big – “meh”.  Kinda boring.  No big moments – neither embarrassing nor heart warming.  Although I did like Sandra Bullock’s speech and was glad Jeff Bridges and Christoph Waltz won.

And for the first time in years I got a bunch of the winners right.  Of the 13 categories I made predictions in, I got 10 correct!  This is unheard of, I assure you.

I’m not going to review the whole show or the outfits for you.  There’s plenty of sites out there that do that for a living and frankly, I’m not getting paid and you likely don’t care.

But what I can say, is that my party was fantastic and was worth the sleepy Hollywood “Hangover” I had Monday morning.

Next year I’ll be keeping the guest list the same.  I think there’s something to be said for an exclusive party.  Although I just might buy myself a strip of red carpet.  I think it would really add something magical to my Family Room that night.

Did you watch The Oscars?  Have I inspired you enough to host your own “Oscar Party For One” next year?  Is the name “Ms. Crazy LaRue” fitting or should it just be “crazy”?

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P.S.  I’ve managed to land an interview with a certain Blogger and hope to post it for your reading pleasure tomorrow.

Hint:  This person is opposite to just about everything that I am.  Curious now???

I’m sorry, but you’ll have to tune in on Tuesday for my Oscar Party details.

Sheesh – you’re so demanding!  I was up watching the show till the wee hours.  Do you people want a quality post or not?  Okay then.  You’ll just have to wait.  It will be worth it.  There will be pictures.  I’m just saying.

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Blogging can be hard work.

It’s often difficult to come up with something witty or meaningful day after day.  You can get easily discouraged.  Sometimes you wonder “is it really worth it?”  or “what the heck am I trying to accomplish here?” sometimes even “should I go on?”

But then you get a comment.  A comment from one of your Readers like this one I received the other day;

“i very adore all your writing style, very useful.  don’t quit and also keep penning due to the fact it simply just good worth to read it, looking forward to looked over a whole lot more of your current web content, goodbye!”

And suddenly . . . it’s all worth it again.

Thank you Asian Spammer.  You’ve given me, and probably the thousands of other Bloggers you sent this same message to, a reason to go on.

Thank you.

Since I’m a big time celeb/Hollywood aficionado, this Sunday evening I will be hosting my Annual Oscar Party.  You’re all invited.  Please be sure to RSVP in a timely fashion because I’d like to make sure I have enough eats & drinks on hand.

I’ve held this party for the past few years and in it’s prime, I had a total of 1 person attend.  That being me.

I do invite Elle and Willie every year, but so far they’ve failed to show up.  And why?  I don’t know.  I’ll run down the itinerary and you can let me know where I’m going wrong.

Of course there’s the formal attire.  I like to wear something full length and with heels.  After all, this is the Oscars people!  I also like to be dressed a few hours before the Red Carpet portion of the evening commences, which in my timezone, means just before dinner.  I think the boys enjoy seeing a glamed up Mom cooking and loading the dishwasher.  Or at the least they find it strangely amusing.  It’s just something they don’t see every day and I like to keep them on their toes.

Full make up and an up-do simply goes without saying.  I’m just saying.

There will certainly be snacks served.  I’m big on snacks.  This year I will be serving a tray of cheese, crackers and yumyum pickles.  There may also be some salmon & cream cheese or a perhaps even nachos and guacamole.  All washed down with gingerale.  I mean, I like a good flute of champagne as much as the next Nominee, but it is Sunday night after all.  I have to get up for work in the morning and these Oscars do tend to go late into the night.  We don’t need The Only Girl all relaxed and messy before the Best Supporting category even airs.

At some point after 9:30pm EST, I give myself permission to change into pjs.  They’re much more comfortable than the full length satin number I’m planning on previewing that night and seem slightly more apropos for lounging on the couch late into the night in front of the TV.

Tissues will be supplied because there is inevitably a tear-jerking speech or two that will warm my heart and cause me to leak.  Likely something about an actors wonderfully supportive mother, or an award winning directors wonderfully supportive wife.  Which leads me to pretend that I am that wonderfully supportive person and then I get all choked up picturing myself in the audience trying to graciously accept the kudos in front of the entire Academy.

I have already completed my Nomination Ballot  Form and will be sure to report my success rate compared to the actual winners.  Don’t hope for much – I usually get these things wrong.

Now, I implore you.  Who wouldn’t want to come to this party?

What time shall I expect you?

If you’re having your own party, no matter how big or how small, be sure to send me pictures of your outfit and your snacks so I can post them, along with my own, next week.

This winter has been very mild.  Which is odd and quite unexpected because I live in Ontario.  Part of “The Great White North”.  Apparently the USA received all our snow this winter and frankly, I hope you get it again next year.  No offense intended, but we’ve had our share over the years.  Your turn.

In fact we’ve barely had ANY snow this winter.  Cold temperatures, sure – hence our backyard ice rink – but not too much of the Devil’s Fluff.  In fact, the other day I noticed my daffodils starting to peep their heads up in my garden.  Unheard of this early in the year, I assure you  (love you Global Warming!).

But what the mild weather HAS brought is mud.  Dirty, yucky, messy mud.  Which is pretty much impossible for boys to stay away from.  When there’s no snow balls to throw, apparently you use mud instead.  When there’s no snow to walk through, you walk through mud instead.  Even if your Mother threatens you within an inch of your life every morning to “STAY OUT OF THE MUD”.  But they don’t listen, do they?!  Noooooooo.

So I’ve just washed their winter coats and gloves AGAIN.  For the THIRD time in as many weeks.  Fortunately their boots can just be hosed off.  But honestly boys – STAY OUT OF THE MUD – or I’m going to stop cleaning your stuff and you’re just going to have to go to school looking like this.

(source: Google Images)

Would you rather have snow or mud?  Would you bother cleaning their coats and gloves every week or just let them be muddy?  Would you like to live somewhere tropical where it’s gorgeous weather 12 months a year or do you like the changing seasons?   Can I send you one of my Mud Monsters?

So remember when I stated on my “Meet Me” page that I typically post everyday, Monday to Friday?  Well, I didn’t take into account that from time to time a full time job or a nasty stomach bug would keep me from my keyboard.  But yesterday it did.  And trust me – it was a much wiser choice for me to be in the bathroom than at the computer.  But I’m back.  And about 2 pounds lighter.

No further details will be shared.

You’re welcome.

Which is why I’m joining Meredith over at (Flash) Pasteurized in her weekly feature “Take Me Back Tuesday”, except that it happens to be on Wednesday.  This is where we revisit a photo from back in the day.  Today, of course, we’ll be revisiting a particularly curious photo of yours truly.  And just so you know – I’ve managed to unearth some real beauties – we could be doing this every week for the rest of 2010.

This week we are going to visit a 16 year old Cher to see what she was up to.  No, I will not be disclosing what year this is.  Bloggers are notorious for their mad math skills, and I don’t need you all figuring how very old I am.  Suffice it to say, I was 16 at some point during the 80’s.  That might help explain a lot about this picture.

Let’s review this photo in detail, shall we?  We’re going to start at the bottom and work our way up.

• Let’s just get the elephant in the room out of the way – why was I wearing Richard Simmon’s satin striped shorts?!?!?!  I have NO idea.  Apparently they were in fashion at the time.  I had several different colours.  I don’t remember Richard being around in those days, so I can only assume that’s when he got his start and the shorts just stuck with him.
• Why am I posing in the garden in the first place?  I think it might have involved trying to get a good pic to send a long distance boyfriend at the time.  Why else would anyone pose in the garden?  And I’m not even sure this resulting picture can be categorized as good.
• The blinding white legs?  Yes, I’m fair, but I’m going to go ahead and blame this on bad lighting.
• The crop top?  I had a cute figure back then, and apparently, a nice set.  I can only assume I was comfortable accentuating it.  Not so much now.
• And now we get to the hair.  Ah, the hair.  The only light I can shed on this style is that it was the Princess Di days, and I was crazy mad about her.  The short feathered flip was my weak attempt at replicating her beauty.  Clearly that’s where it stopped.
• And finally, heavy on the eye make-up much???  I have no excuse.  It was the 80’s.

Laugh at yourself and the world internet laughs with you.  Go ahead, folks.  Laugh.  There’s plenty more where this came from.

Well, well, well. What can I say? As a Canadian, it can officially be said that my people RULE at hockey! Olympic gold for the woman AND for the men? Wow. Of course I’d love to rub it in, but since we Canadians are polite and well mannered, I’ll just let that opportunity pass in favour of saying that yesterday’s game was great. Very close, very tense, and really exciting to watch (love you Sidney Crosby)!

But what gets me every time is when the camera pans over to the loosing team – whoever it might be, and in whatever sport – and you see their sad, disappointed faces. Of course it breaks my heart and I start to tear up right along with them. Damn my sensitive side!

But now it’s all over. Over! What will we watch on TV tonight? What will we talk about in the elevator and around the water cooler at work every day? The Olympics were a real family viewing event in our Living Room every evening and I’m going to miss it.

I am, however, going to continue to wear my red mittens.  DON’T try to stop me!

Will you be missing the Olympics tonight or are you glad it’s done with?  Do you wish you had a pair of Canadian red mittens like I do?  Have you been recently overcome with the desire to take up an obscure and dangerous winter sport?  Do you find yourself appreciating full length spandex body suits more than you did 2 weeks ago?  Do you frequently find yourself shouting “HARD” in inappropriate places or at inappropriate times?

Leave it for me in the comments.  I’ll read it later when I’m back from Speed Skating practice.  Look out 2014 – here I come!

I work in an office building.  My company occupies the entire floor I work on.  Actually, the entire building.  In the centre of my floor are the elevators, kitchen, bathrooms and the hallway.

Today we will be discussing the bathrooms.

There’s a women’s, a men’s and a separate handicapped washroom.

No one that works on my floor at the moment is handicapped.  So except for an occasional visitor, that washroom doesn’t get used – by handicapped people.

Instead, the male population of my floor have turned this washroom into the poo-room.  As in . . . the washroom of choice for when they have to poo.  And I use the term “male population” here because, as we all know, women don’t poo at work.  Unless there’s some kind of rare extreme emergency or unpleasant stomach bug.

As I navigate my way around the floor throughout the day, I frequently walk through the centre hallway, thus passing by the washroom area.

I would like to direct the following open letter to the men of my floor;

Dear Male Coworkers,

When I see you coming out of the “Handicapped Washroom” I know exactly what you’ve just finished doing.  I suppose you think you’re “sneaking” in there for a nice mid-day poo, but then you forget to also “sneak” out and instead just fling the door wide open and saunter into the hallway.  Often right into my path.  With your stink trailing behind you.

Yes, I may return your friendly smile and head nod, but make no mistake -  I’m WELL aware that you’ve just finished wiping poo off your ass.  And I am no longer able to view you in a professional capacity for the remainder of the day.  That’s why I sometimes cancel our meetings.  The vivid mental images make it too difficult for me to concentrate.

Please just use the regular men’s washroom. That way your poo breaks are less obvious.

Thanks,

The Only  Girl

Seriously, do you know a male that is discrete about his poo or is it just something they’re not capable of doing?

Well, well, well . . . all you Readers might be really good at reading blogs and writing blogs, and leaving witty comments, but it appears that you all SUCK in the technical blog design department.  Most specifically, the correction of disappearing sidebars.  Not one of you could come up with a solution to my problem (this one here).  Very, very disappointing.  Apparently you only specialize in the Funny.

But in a moment of clarity, I had an idea.  I had seen the same blog design firm’s button on several of the sites I read, so I fired off an email to Bloggy Blog Designz describing my rather unpleasant sidebar situation.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear only a few hours later????

A very delightful email back from the very knowledgeable Jenna describing what she thinks the problem might be and how to fix it.

And she was bang on!  Bang on I tell you!

And since I now know that none of you are very technical, I’m going to grab this opportunity to  make myself sound much more brilliant than I really am.  Ready?

You see, it turns out the problem was the result of an open <div> tag in the html of a post I did a week ago.  Actually (more impressive techy talk coming . . . ) the open tag was embedded in the poll plugin I used.  ha ha ha!  Can you believe that?!  An silly old open tag!  Who knew!

As promised, I gave the solver of the problem her choice of prizes from my list.  And she’s going with “a shout out and link on my soon-to-be-fixed sidebar for a week”.

So that’s where you will find Bloggy Blog Designz for the next 7 days.  Over there, on the upper right of my page.  Just click her button to get to her site.  Give her a visit, check her out.  Treat yourself to a little somethin’ somethin’.

I, on the other hand, am going to sleep like a baby tonight knowing that all is right with The Only Girl again.  Thanks for nothin’ Bloggies.

The phone rang at 6am yesterday morning.  Which is always unexpected and immediately followed by a rude awakening, rapidly increased heartbeat, and often a stubbed toe.  But I ran to answer it nonetheless.

It was my Mom, calling to tell me my Brother had just called her.  My only Brother.  Actually, my only sibling.  Whose wife was expecting their first baby.  A baby that was scheduled to make it’s very anticipated and very long awaited debut on March 25th (give or take).  A baby that would be my very first ever niece or nephew.

Well that’s a bit of a lie.  I inherited 3 nephews and 1 niece when I married Willie.  And as much as I love those kids (now ages 14 – 21), I never had the pleasure of being around when they were born.  So this expected baby would be my very first, blood-related and newborn niece or nephew.

The phone call was to say that said Baby was not playing by the rules, and had decided to make it’s worldly entrance a month sooner than expected.

Which on my end of things, resulted in a very fast shower, a “won’t be in today” call to the boss, instructions to Willie to get the kids off to school, the longest 2 hour car ride EVER, lots of hugs, only a few tears and much happiness.

May I present my brand new niece, Emily Grace . . .

1 month premature

4 lbs 11 oz

Perfect.  Healthy.  Beautiful.  Loved.

Congratulations B & L!

I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left the hospital.  I’m clearly very in love already.

The Only Girl finally has some company and there’s a lot of pink girlie stuff to be purchased.  Do you think she’s too young for her very own feather boa?

Okay.  Now I’ve really done it.  I’ve broken my blog.  I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but it’s definitely broken.

When you land on www.TheOnlyGirl.com or click on “Home” across the top of my page, you will notice that my sidebar disappears from the right side of my screen and jumps down, way, way down, to the very bottom of the page.  And YET!  If you click on any of the other pages across the top (Meet Me, Email Me, etc.) or on a specific blog post, you will see that the sidebar comes back to the right side where it belongs.

But why is it hiding on my “Home” page???  Why oh WHYYYYYY?  (shakes fist to the heavens in sheer and utter frustration)

I’m reasonably technical – like maybe a 7 out of 10 – but this one has me stumped and I’ve spent far too much time trying to figure it out.  So I’m putting out a proposal to all you clever Bloggies.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

If you can solve my problem, or at least refer me to someone you know that can, I’m willing to offer up a reward.  You can have your choice of any one of the following;

• a shout out and link on my soon-to-be-fixed sidebar for a week
• full use of our backyard ice rink for the remainder of the winter
• 5″ x 7″ colour picture of me and my Haley Ga
• a blog award to display anyway you please
• loan of my pink feather boa for the month of March
• my ticket to the Olympics Closing Ceremony

(okay, maybe I’m lying about the last one, but all the others are for real)

Okay – I’m waiting.  I’ll be checking my email all day.  Help me.  Puh-leeze.  I’m begging you.  Begging.  Can’t you hear my desperation?