I was in my second year of journalism, a mere 19-year-old who had just started my first internship at the Westmount Examiner. It was a really exciting time – I was finally seeing my name in print. I went “on assignment” and covered Canada Day events in Westmount Park, the Montreal Fringe Fest, and I got to meet some of the borough’s most celebrated characters who have since passed away. It was about a month before Christmas and my editor Wayne sent me to cover the Toy Tea, an annual toy drive that took place at Ogilvys and collected new, non-violent toys for kids who were spending the holidays in one of the many battered women’s shelters across the city.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was walking into. I was still at the stage of my budding career where I got butterflies before interviews and would find myself rehearsing my introduction repeatedly in my head (“should I say ‘hello, I’m an intern with the Examiner’ or ‘I’m a reporter with the Examiner’?”). But from the moment I stepped off of the elevator onto the 5th floor of Ogilvys, and could hear the faint sound of little ones signing “Jingle Bells,” I was hooked.

That was 11 years ago, and now, I anxiously await my Toy Tea invitation to kick-start the holiday season. I often go solo, enjoying being absorbed in my own little wonderland, but I’ve brought friends and their children. In years past I’ve collected toys from my generous co-workers and this year my mom added a bagful of goodies to my own heap.

Beautiful Tudor Hall is always bustling with students from the local schools who turn up to sing and entertain, and gobble the sweet treats on the long table in the centre of the room in-between “sets.” Santa and Mrs. Claus are there with their jolly smiles while moms proudly show off their impeccably dressed babies, who are decked out in holiday dresses and little V-neck sweaters. Giant glittery white and silver snowflakes float above the heads of singing children and the “oohing” and “aahing” of proud parents and grandparents.

But the very best part of all: the room of toys that is possible because of local Montrealers’ extreme generosity. Each year the walls of toys seem to grow wider and taller, and the list of shelters benefiting from the cause also lengthens. Representatives from these battered womens’ institutions are always at the event, including some of the moms whose children will be receiving toys. Everyone comes together, from the girls of Sacred Heart to the mayor’s wife, all in the name of celebrating the holidays together. For that one snippet of time, with the carols and rum balls and tea in porcelain cups, all is right and peaceful in the world. It’s one of those incredibly feel-good events that is really about the true spirit of the holidays, and I am proud to be on that guest list every year!

And when things get hectic throughout the year, I dream of my little Christmas cocoon, tucked away on the fifth floor of Ogilvys department store, where the only thing that matters is being kind to those around you…

1- NO MORE DOUBLE SPACES AFTER PERIODS PEOPLE. This is an OLD RULE. It’s the most AGGRAVATING thing as an editor to correct spacing after every single gosh-darn period. K’thx.

2- I love how fashions and fads resurface time and time again. I’d love to wear a pair of keds, crimp my hair, and roll up my short sleeves. And if I had kept all my running shoes from high school (Converse, Sketchers and Vans) I’d have THE coolest vintage shoe collection – instead I have to pay ANOTHER $40+ a pair!

3- I never learned how to tie my shoes properly (I take two loops and tie em in a knot). Or drive standard. Or see those stupid pictures where you have to go up reeeally close and stare forever and then suddenly, as if miraculously, some random image appears (it never worked for me!)

4- I think they should do “good news” stories… sprinkle in more inspiring, happy-ending news to offset the depressing nature of news reports today.

5- Nothing is more annoying than a drippy coffee cup… either it incessantly drips non-stop or it doesn’t.

I interrupt this week’s regular blogging schedule to bring you this special presentation…

Someone VERY special is celebrating a birthday today. Not only is she my husband’s cousin but she’s one of my sweetest dearest friends. She’s one of those incredible people I instantly connected with. From the moment we met we could sit and talk for hours, long into the night after evenings of drinking and dancing and singing Oasis in the downtown streets, chatting over Starbucks soy lattes and overcooked Bagel Bites, laughing and sharing curled up in bed, on the couch, or even a park bench.

This birthday girl is a true gift from the heavens, an angel on earth who is wise beyond her young years, someone with the most beautiful free spirit who is compassionate, brilliantly creative and smart, and she’s more fun to be around than anyone I know. She has friends in cities across the world, which isn’t surprising given her dynamic, beautiful personality. She’s got the sense of style of a true fashionista and a presence that can light up a room. Even if I hadn’t married Mike I know I would have somehow found my way to her.

So happy happy HAPPY birthday to my cousin, my dear sweet friend ASHLEY!!!!!!! I love you!!!!!! xxoo

Here I am, sitting in the cafeteria on Concordia University campus, admiring the students who suddenly look like babies, with their fresh skin and tired eyes and bushy-tailed optimism. They wear sweatpants tucked into Uggs and Con U hoodies, hair disheveled after a long night of studying, partying, or a little bit of both, filing in to fill their coffee cups once, twice, three times. They talk about politics and social issues with hope in their voices. They debate grown-up topics that they now know about, and you can tell they have a certain sense of pride in having this grown-up knowledge.

I am thrilled to be a freelance journalist. When I was a student here (some-odd) years ago, it was exactly the dream job I had imagined I was working toward. I write about topics that interest me, I meet so many incredibly cool people in the industry, and I feel privileged and extremely lucky to have achieved those goals I so loftily set what seems like long ago. However, I can’t help but feel a little envy for the fresh brood of university students who have their whole lives in front of them. The road still forks in so many directions – the choices are practically endless. Do you think they realize that?

I hope they keep that bright-eyed enthusiasm. We need them to. I feel like I’m not too cynical (yet), however there are so many people I went to university with who were fired up in school and have settled into complacency in adult life, ladies and gentlemen whom I envisioned doing major things after graduation (and, well, haven’t). That’s not to say everyone has become suits or work horses today – in fact, some of my quieter friends from Concordia are the ones who today are leaving their mark on the world. But there are so many lofty goals we set for ourselves in college, and then once we have that diploma, real life settles in (as does the 9-to-5 grind) and not much else.

But sitting in this cafeteria on Loyola campus, hearing the group of boys next to me contemplate why Canadians don’t vote, wearing their worn smoker’s jackets and scarfing down endless plates of breakie before starting their days, or watching the group of girls who are studying over open books and papers and laptops and calculators, helping each another understand the subject matter, gives me a sense of hope. I hope those boys continue to question the workings of our government so our politicians have to remain accountable, and I wish those girls many more collaborative projects where cooperation and patience are what define them.

They have a long road ahead of them, and the sky’s the limit for these bright youngins. Thank you, Concordia University students, for continuing to give me hope, as you always did, even when I was a student (some-odd) years ago…

No one can ignore the incredibly tragic rise in teen suicides lately. The worst part is, it isn’t really a rise – it’s just hit our radars more recently. According to the Kelty Patrick Dennehy Foundation, suicide is the second leading cause of death for teens in Canada and the third leading cause of death in the US, suicide and attempted suicide has increased 300% in the last thirty years, and teen/youth suicide rates have tripled since 1970. But we’re talking since 1970! Someone was following these trends. And what – we only realized at the end of 2010, three decades later, that this is something we need to pay attention to?

I think one of the most devastating instances of this took place in Ottawa just a few days ago – after the city announced plans to start bringing awareness to youth suicide, 14-year-old Daron Richardson, daughter of Ottawa Senators assistant coach Luke Richardson, killed herself. It was a shocking blow to obviously her family but also the city as well as the NHL, an utterly sad example of why the city needed to start paying more attention to this problem. But why do we always wait till it’s too late? Teen suicide isn’t anything new, especially if they’ve been tracking the stats for so long. It’s like waiting till there’s a gaping hole in the ozone before reevaluating products and packaging, or dismissing the risks of women taking hormones until the numbers of health problems and even deaths is too high to ignore any longer.

I knew people who committed suicide when I was growing up. And it always seemed to be the people whom you never expected to take their own lives. I saw teens struggle in middle and high school – we all did. Hell, I even felt those moments of dark despair – it wasn’t always easy being almost six feet tall and weighing a mere 100 pounds soaking wet. And my problems were minimal compared to what other kids had to go through, yet I hit my fair share of low points, and I can’t imagine how scary it must be when you can’t shake off those depressed feelings that I somehow seemed to escape.

Suicide was a problem ten (plus) years ago when I was a student, and only now is the media really shedding light on this youth problem… only now are government officials working ever-more diligently to create initiatives to help curb the staggering numbers. I ask you again: Why do we have to wait till it’s too late?

In 2007, 508 youths committed suicide in Canada, with many more attempting it.

Do you hear that media outlets and politicians??

1- Have you ever read the lyrics of a song and realized you’ve been singing it wrong for years? No, it’s not “Might as well face it, you’re a dick with a glove,” “Hold me close, young Tony Danza,” “Let’s pee in the corner, let’s pee in the spot…light” or “Oh Canada, we stand on cars and freeze.”

2- It’s so annoying when you sit back-to-back with someone on the metro and they have one of those ginormous fur-lined hoods. If they have lice (or something worse) it’s a very short jump to my head (geez, thanks Dad for making me a germophobe!)

3- I want a reality show, and why shouldn’t I have one? There’s one for the Kardashians, the Hof, Sarah Palin, Bob Saget, etc. etc. etc. It seems like anyone and everyone can get a show these days. And I’m WAY more interesting than watching Tony Danza try to teach an English class and not cry (ok, maybe not…)

4- I’ve had some very strange nicknames in my lifetime, and they go in order like this: Bunny (what my Uncle Tippy called me) or Choo-chee (what my grandfather called me), Cox in the Box (I got that in 3rd grade and, believe it or not, it wasn’t supposed to sound that dirty), Grover or Skeletore (in middle school), COX (as Mr. Backes, my high school newspaper teacher, would call me) or Canada (as my high school history teacher Mr. Bluhm called me), Sunshine (which, oddly enough, two different coworkers randomly called me at two different jobs), and baby (or “YOU,” depending on my husband’s mood).

Isn’t it ironic how the nights when you really don’t wanna get all dolled up and go out end up being the most unexpectedly fun and memorable evenings ever? And when when you try to recreate great memories they never seem to compare?

Or what about when you’re worried about something and it turns out WAAAAY less awful than you were anticipating?

I am pondering these things because this morning I went to the dentist and got news that I’d been avoiding hearing for months: “It’s time to get your wisdom teeth pulled.” Yep, all four. Someone is going to rip things out of my face that have ROOTS. I’m not happy about it, to say the least. I just keep telling myself that people get teeth pulled every day. And everyone keeps telling me it’s not that bad. I’m just thinking about the good drugs, and that they’d better have a lot of em! But I don’t wanna be like David After The Dentist either (“is this going to be forever?”). I have always feared getting my teeth pulled… and labour…  they’re things that almost every woman endures but they’re also touted as being the most painful!

Let’s just hope this is one of those things I’m exaggerating in my head (insert encouraging comments here…)

I am by no means a “sporty girl,” but I have faithfully followed my Miami Dolphins since the Marino era and I’ve been a huge UFC fan from the beginning. I also grew up being force-fed hockey, both by watching it on TV with my family and attending endless games my brother played in (but I only recently started regularly following the Habs). Athletics, especially professional sports, is cut-throat. So, too, is journalism. So I know a little about tooting your own horn – when you’re fending for yourself in a highly-competitive industry, you’ve gotta stay ahead of the pack, and that means doing your job with confidence. Without having confidence the reporter will never get the scoop or convey it properly, and the athlete will never score. It’s that simple.

But what about the cocky athletes, the ones who boast and brag every chance they get, the ones who make big bucks and love to flaunt it? The likes of Deion Sanders, Mohammed Ali and Sean Avery come to mind, not to mention douches like Josh Koscheck. I suppose professional sports are a big part athletics and a small part putting on a show… it’s those athletes we love to hate who gain the most attention. But is this really the way different sports organizations want to gain fans? Should the UFC encourage Koscheck to “up the DB factor” so it adds hype to his impending fights? Or is it just about making money in any way possible, meaning organizations are indifferent about whether fans are watching a sport because they love the players or hate em?

I, personally, admire the athletes who play with grace and dignity, who are grateful for the opportunity to participate in professional sports and treat their fans with respect. I’m the biggest Georges St-Pierre fan there is, and his ideologies about Mixed Martial Arts are admirable (as anyone can see when he’s coaching fighter-hopefuls on The Ultimate Fighter). I think P.K. Subban is a great example of a young hockey player with spirit and respect (and I’m not big on our supposed hero Crosby – I think that little whiner has gone over to the cocky side), as well as guys like Brett Favre, who play with their heart and soul, and the Mannings. I’d prefer to idolize the athletes who feel lucky to be in their respective sport, not entitled. I like the players who lead by example rather than with an iron fist and a mischievous smile. And I think that if a certain sports association decided to solely recruit the big-mouthed, pain-in-the-ass athletes, it would be the least popular sport out there (although this is quite the opposite when it comes to wrestling, which I really can’t stand… maybe I should save that for another blog topic…)

1- Why haven’t they created instantly-drying nail polish? I love when my nails are painted, especially in bright colours (which show marks more), but they take so darn long to dry. I have to wait till at night to paint my nails (because I’m doing less stuff) and then when I go to bed I get sheet creases (just like you said Karen and Sandra!)

2- Three songs I could listen to forever: Coldplay’s The Scientist, The Beatles In My Life, and Elton John’s Yellow Brick Road.

Three songs that make me wanna DANCE: Haddaway’s What Is Love, Montell Jordan’s This Is How We Do It, and Cindi Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

Three songs that bring me back to my school days: Straight Up by Paula Abdul, Until I Hear It From You by the Gin Blossoms, and Ridiculous Thoughts by The Cranberries.

Three songs that make me tear up: Coldplay’s Green Eyes (our wedding song), Garth Brooks The Dance, and You’ve Got A Friend by James Taylor (and my dad).

Three songs that I love singing the crazy words to: We Didn’t Start The Fire by Billy Joel, One Week by the Barenaked Ladies, and Miami by Will Smith.

Three songs that remind me of friends: I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond, and I’m Yours by Jason Mraz.

3- The toilet paper should feed from the top, not underneath. If I come to your house and it feeds from underneath, I’ll switch it.

4- I like that you liked my like.

5- I hate when bathrooms are situated in the middle of a room – this week I was at a government office building and the bathroom was literally in the middle of the room, not to mention it was this huge singular tiled room that would pick up the sound of a pin dropping. Needless to say someone must have thought I was sick because I flushed about three or four times to muffle the sound of my peeing. Who designed it like that?

We’ve all seen the show on TLC called Sister Wives – it profiles a polygamist family, which includes Cody, the husband and master douchebag, and wives Meri (whom he married first), Janelle, Christine, and most recently, Robyn. Between all of em them are 13 children.

Hmmm I don’t know where to begin here. Let me just say that I think Cody is THE MAN – he has somehow convinced these women that “love should be multiplied, not divided,” which probably wasn’t that difficult given the fact that some of the wives grew up in polygamist families themselves. Personally I think it’s a HUGE JOKE. I’m a pretty open-minded person, and if they had different reasoning for deciding to live this lifestyle, I might be more tolerant or understanding. But Cody is this goofy guy who reminds me of a surfer dude with six brain cells who likes to be “controlled” by women and, at the same time, likes the idea that he doesn’t just control one wife but all four.

I actually feel kinda bad for the wives too, who all have to share their husband. I know that they chose this lifestyle, but when wife number four starts to come into the picture, each of the other three admit to feeling jealous. You shouldn’t have to share your husband. A wife deserves to have a husband all to herself. Somewhere along the way it seems that either their families or DB Cody convinced them that this was a good idea. I mean, don’t they look at a husband and wife (in a singular relationship) who are walking along, hand-in-hand, and have each other all to themselves, and feel envious?

And what about the kids? My gawd – how do they explain to their friends that all 13 of them have the same dad but different moms, ALL of whom live on their little compound (they have a giant house where each wife has her own “living quarters”)?

This is one of those blogs where I know I might lose readers because I’m expressing a strong opinion on this show, but personally, I think Sister Wives is a complete farce. It mocks everything that marriage stands for. I think this dink Cody gets to sleep with a different woman every night and get away with it because his wives don’t know any better (or choose to ignore the obvious weirdness that is their lives). I think the women are sad and need to be told that they can get a man that is ONLY theirs – that they don’t have to sacrifice a singular marriage, that they’re “good” enough to have one husband all to themselves. And I think those 13 kids are going to grow up with a distorted view of what marriage is.

I think marriage can take on a lot of different forms – man and woman, woman and woman, man and man… but again, this is one-on-one, not a household divided into different sections based on the number of wives someone has. And although I may watch this new TLC show, it’s more like looking at an accident on the side of the road where you can’t help but stare… like Speidi or squished roadkill – you’ve gotta look but it doesn’t mean you like it.

Geez, what’s next TLC – a show about Sarah Palin???