Friend Resume, Part Deux

Well, Dear Readers, you asked for it! (Or maybe I’m just pretending you did? Whatever.) Here it is, for your reading pleasure, my very own Friend Resume! Hopefully this means we can be friends for real now and hang out sometimes. I’ll make quiche …

Sarah Porter


To become your friend. Perhaps not your best friend, but who knows? Maybe we have lots in common? Maybe we will even plan trips together and go on double dates all the time? And play board games!

Skills and Experience

Organization and Communication

  • I am an excellent colour coder and love the recreational use of excel.
  • I have over 10 years of experience in planning Theme Nights and hosting small parties which I like to call “Gatherings” (you know, for the sophistication factor).
  • I always text back within 6 hours unless I am out of town, in which case I have already let you know I am out of town and have set up an out of office on my voicemail.
  • I use the Facebook ‘Like’ button sparingly so that when I do use it you know I am being sincere.
  • I am a wonderful listener and very rarely let on when I am judging you.
  • I’m definitely not interested in your significant other. Like, at all.
    (But that in no way reflects on you and your taste. I’m just very happy with my fella. No, your partner isn’t awful (well …) … Can we just avoid this topic until we’re both drunk?)

Hobbies (or, Things We Might Have in Common)

  • Crafts and Pinterest Nights
  • Board Games
  • Baking (and eating)
  • Writing/Blogging
  • Super Cool Things (Doctor Who, Marvel Comics, Harry Potter … you know, awesome stuff)
  • Reading and Starting Book Clubs that never actually amount to anything
  • Drinking Beer
  • Hiking

Friendship History

The Board Game Peeps                  November 2013 – Present
We play board games. Perhaps you can join us? Unless you’re super competitive in which case we can only hold it on nights that you are busy.
In the interest of full disclosure we don’t actually call ourselves ‘Peeps’ … I don’t really know why I’m saying it now. 

Former Chapters Co-Workers    September 2009 – Present (Kind of …)
I mean, sure, we don’t hang out very often now but that’s because I moved … probably. Back in the day we hung out all the time!

The “A Team”                                       January 1997 to April 1997
(no, not that “A Team” … I am referring to the popular group in Elementary School)
I was one of the “Cool Girls” in school for almost four months! That was definitely a record for a socially awkward and kinda chubby tom boy …

Julia Porter                                           April 1987 – Present
We basically have all the fun! And our Mom only forces her to hang out with me half the time, the rest is because she actually wants to!
Ok. Maybe 75%….

Or you can just call my Dad!

Esteemed Blogger Friends! Now it’s your turn! Please share with me your best Friend Resume either in the comments or on your own blog so I can find out if our Friendship can continue or if we are doomed to remain casual blogging acquaintances. 

Angry Doppelganger (Now That’s a Blog!)

I have spent many years practicing and perfecting my Angry Face. I kid you not, Dear Reader, I have invested many hours of my life tirelessly in front of a mirror, scrunching up my nose just so and narrowing my eyes in the most menacing way possible. It’s been a long road but I am finally proud of it!

Or, at least I was.

Late last week I I was having a bad day and sent Kevin a picture of myself seated in my office, my brilliant Angry Face displayed in all of it’s glory. My mood instantly cheered and I was delighted as I waited to find out his reaction to my sheer rage.
(In the past people have always laughed when I got angry. In my 28 years I can count on one hand the number of times my “Angry Face” has been taken seriously and usually that’s more because of the words spewing from it than the narrowed eyes and grim expression.)

Rather than the impressed and slightly terrified text response I had been expecting Kevin sent me a picture in return and it turned my whole world upside down.

My anger was instantly forgotten.

At first I was devastated to learn that I have an Angry Doppelganger out there in the world, that my face is not as original as I had always believed. I was resigned to the fact that I would need to go back to the drawing board and once again practice making facial expressions like a normal person. But after a few days of comparison and, I’ll admit, a fair amount of sadness I began to cheer up.

Now that I have had time to reflect I realize I could not ask for a better doppelganger and all is right with the world.

I am armed with my Angry Face always at the ready, able to be summoned up whenever the occasion calls for it and comfortable with knowing that while it is wholly unoriginal at least it’s a pretty great copy.

Perhaps I have finally found my long lost twin? My family did always joke that I was adopted ... Perhaps it's time to look deeper into my roots.

Perhaps I have finally found my long lost twin? My family did always joke that I was adopted … Perhaps it’s time to look deeper into my roots.

Valentine’s Day: A Story of Love and Humiliation

My all-time, number-one favourite Valentine’s Day Memory also happens to be one of the most humiliating memories of my life. (Yes, I know that’s weird.)

This memory lacks the deliberately awful jabs that were so evident in my baseball encounter but it still has all the hallmarks of a terrible experience. Crowds of people? Check. Unnecessary (albeit unintentional) cruelty? Check. Feeling vulnerable? Check.

So prepare yourself dear reader, this is going to get good.

This Valentine’s Day, in the lovely and not nearly futuristic enough year 2015, marks the 10 Year Anniversary since ‘it’ happened and I am actually rather fond of retelling the story. I’ve told it hundreds of times and have really turned it into a near perfect performance. I know the best moments to pause and I have the sad yet nostalgic smile down to an art. Heck, I even know the exact second to let a tear quiver in the corner of my eye. (Alas, knowing this hasn’t helped me to produce the tear. I have unfortunately never been able to cry on command.)

I just wish I could go back and tell my 17 year old self how great this memory would become because at the time I certainly didn’t see any humour in the situation.

Let me paint the picture for you, dear reader. I am 17 years old and in my final year of high school. My three closest friends are all lovey dovey and annoyingly happy with their significant others who they have been dating for ages and were totally going to marry and love forever and ever. Everyone else in my social group is with someone whether seriously or ‘just having fun’.

I am the only one who is single.

Still, that didn’t bother me overly much. Sure I felt awkward being the fifth (or sometimes seventh) wheel on our super awesome Friday Night Movie Nights but I’ve always possessed enough self-deprecation that it’s never been hard to laugh at myself and brush the worst of it aside.

Until Valentine’s Day.

Unbeknownst to me my darling besties were all quite concerned about my single state. Imagine, being alone on Valentine’s Day. Alone. Unloved. Unwanted. It was a serious tragedy.

Which is why in their love for me they decided to cheer me up in what I am sure seemed like a good idea at the time. (You know, kinda like how it seems like a good idea at the time to tie a rope around your waist, stand on a skateboard, and have your friend drive you around the neighbourhood really fast. Road rash may not last forever but the YouTube video certainly will.)

So here I was on Valentine’s Day, single and ok with it, working my afterschool job at Taco Time with another good friend (who also happened to be in a relationship). The restaurant was completely full, busy with all of the couples clamoring for their tacos (no euphemism intended). And then in walks my friends, boyfriends in tow.

The six-some stood right up next to the counter, edging between tables of people to get as close as possible and presented me with the ugliest stuffed heart pillow (purple and pink and red and just plain hideous) and then all looked at me with identically pitying glances.

Just to give you an idea, this is kind of what the pillow looked like, only uglier ... So. Much. Uglier.

Just to give you an idea this is kind of what the pillow looked like, only uglier … So. Much. Uglier.

My best friend at the time took the lead, offering me a sad smile. “Sarah, we wanted to let you know that just because no guy loves you doesn’t mean that we don’t love you. Thank you for being you!”

I promise you, dear reader, with no word of exaggeration that the entire restaurant went quiet as she spoke, her voice carrying in the silence. All eyes turned on me as I blushed furiously and accepted the Heart Pillow. Then the snickers started. Then laughter took over. Even my co-worker had to run into the back room laughing so hard she almost peed herself.

I was humiliated and left to stand there at the counter helping customers as people at their tables sat and pointed or just stared, the same pitying expression in their eyes that my friends had carried with them. My friends all left, eager to get their dates started now that their errand was complete.

I went home and cried that night huddled alone in my room watching ‘Titanic’ and cuddling my dog, still burning with humiliation. It was awful.

It’s been 10 years and the memory is now coloured with humour and fondness instead of the dread that it used to inspire. It is still so fresh and vivid in my mind.

Dear reader, you could not pay me to be young again.

Disclaimer: I spoke to my friends the next day and they were all genuinely horrified to find out my reaction to what they had honestly thought to be a kind gesture. What can I say? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Oh, Titanic. Has there ever been a more romantic movie? You know ... aside from the whole tragedy of the sinking boat and all of the people who died.

Oh, Titanic. Has there ever been a more romantic movie? You know … aside from the whole tragedy of the sinking boat and all of the people who died.

Obsessively Un-Obsessed

Let me just start off with the following disclaimer:
OCD is a serious mental illness. It is not a joke and it can be extremely debilitating for those who have it. I am in no way making light of this and am only referencing my own experiences.

Ok! With that out of the way, let’s begin!

I have mild OCD which I chose to deal with the same way I deal with all of the problems in my life, through a mixture of sarcasm and self-deprecation.

My OCD tendencies have been around my entire life. They do not cause me to wash my hands until they bleed, I do not have to repeat all of my actions until I reach the magic number, and I don’t obsessively clean my house (much to my Mom’s disappointment, I’m sure. Whatever, dusting is overrated.). Still, these tendencies affect me every day and I have spent the last 20 years of my life learning how to adapt to situations that are outside my control. It isn’t always successful but I manage.

Because of this I have decided (or, more specifically, I have been told to by my Dad) to write a new category in my blog about Funny OCD Situations that occur in my life.

For my intro to this category I would like to tell you about something that I have done my entire life and have only recently learned is a “compulsion” and thus is part of my OCD. It’s amazing what a different light the label has shed on a habit that I always just considered mildly quirky.

I plan conversations.

I don’t mean I think of the occasional witty remark I would like to casually drop while having coffee with a friend. No. I literally plan out entire conversations in my head and then completely flat line when the conversations don’t go as I imagined them to. Often I even continue on with my script even though it has no relevance to the current conversation and I just keep going as if the person said their “line”. It’s a manipulative trait and I’m not exactly proud of it, but to be honest until about one week ago I didn’t realize that this was something unusual. I honestly thought everybody did this.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not do this for every conversation I have (though I do it more often than I should admit). I am typically the type of person who speaks before they think which can often land me in trouble. But for big conversations, or conversations with people I am not 100% comfortable with, or even conversations I think would be cool to have I will often (like, really often) plan everything down to the last detail, knowing ahead of time exactly what inflection to use and memorizing the perfect moment to raise my eyebrow.

Sometimes it works out brilliantly and I am able to predict people enough that they say what I have written for them in my head, or at least a suitable variation. These are wonderful moments and I am able to come across as witty and delightful (or serious and pensive depending on what I was going for).

Most of the time it fails miserably and I end up being a giant weirdo who spouts nonsense and wiggles her brow expectantly.

Alas, it is something I have always done, and it is something I imagine I will continue to do. Still, knowing now that it is not “normal” I will make an effort to do it less.

Or, if all else fails, I will learn to hand out the script prior to having the conversation so at least my friends can follow along.

Non-Alphabetized DVDs break my brain.


No, I’m Not Dead Yet

This one time an entire restaurant of people thought I was dead.

It was my first birthday away from home and my family decided to uphold the tradition of going to Red Robins to celebrate. Ever since I was 5 my family went to Red Robins on my birthday. This tradition lasted for 15 years, with my first birthday away from home also being the last birthday I ever went to Red Robins.

It wasn’t that the food at Red Robins was that great, though I did always love to challenge my dad to see which of us could finish the “Big Mouth Burger” (I actually won a few times. Though I’m not sure if this is something I should be proud of?), and the bottomless fries were delightful. No, the reason I loved Red Robins was because of the fuss they made on your birthday. The wait staff would all come out and sing to you, forcing you to stand on a chair for the whole restaurant to see. When I was younger, and far less heavy, they used to let me sit in the chair and would hoist me up on their shoulders. I was always a strange mix of mortified and elated, and it was one of my favourite things about my birthday.

We had all planned it out for weeks, and I can’t tell you how touched I was that my family was going to celebrate me. My brother, sister-in-law, boyfriend and I all went out in Edmonton and the rest of my family went to the Victoria location, bringing with them a picture of me as part of the celebration.

I obviously wasn’t there for what happened in Victoria, but by all accounts (my Dad) it was both hilarious and awkward. My Mom proudly displayed the picture of me, and was all too happy to tell the waitress (who happened to be an old coworker of mine) that my family was celebrating my first birthday away from them. The waitress understood that I had just moved, but the rest of the staff who came out to sing were bewildered and a bit disturbed to be singing to a picture (they didn’t notice the cell phone in my Mom’s hand, where she had me on speakerphone so I could hear my cross-province serenade).

Allegedly one of the waitresses was actually near tears.

I still firmly believe that my family should have let the staff believe I was dead instead of trying to explain why they would bring a picture to a restaurant and force a bunch of 20-somethings to sing to it. Perhaps they could have gotten something free out of it? But alas, explain they did.

This is probably one my favourite birthday memories, and I wasn’t even there for it. Oh well, at least I was there in Spirit.


Hopefully they choose a bigger picture for my actual funeral. One likes to be noticed.