Every year I go as a cat for Halloween. Black ears, black whiskers, black tail, and a black nose. Easy, simple, and cheap. One year my friend Whatever made such a big fuss that I wear a different costume, that I decided it wasn't worth the hassle to hold my ground. Boy was I wrong.
I didn't really think it through. I grabbed a roll of duct tape from the kitchen drawer and started wrapping my leg. If I couldn't go as a black cat, I was going to go as a duct taped cat. Brilliant. Turns out that I didn't have enough tape. Picture how cool I was going to Canadian Tire with tape up to my thigh. How do you even explain that? I just let it slide and tried to act normal. "Hey buddy, what are you looking at?"
Another thing I didn't think about was how I was supposed to pee. We went out and it was a long time before I could take the costume off. Have you ever tried to bend in duct tape? It doesn't work in case you were wondering. It also doesn't trap in heat, so if for any reason you decide to wrap yourself in duct tape, make sure to bring a warm jacket.
Freezing cold, tired, having to pee, and not being able to bend... make sure you have a way to get out of the costume. Basically, your only option is to cut yourself out of it. Make sure you haven't been drinking too much and neither has your friend, so when he or she comes at you with scissors, the person is safe to cut you out of it. Hopefully you're not shy either because you'll be naked and have weird bendy foldy marks from being squished. It's not cool, no one should ever have to see that. Just sayin'.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
How you know you're in the ghetto
First, you go through a short section of semi nice houses that all have security alert signs. All of them. It’s amazing. Then you start noticing houses that have peeling paint, no gardens, boards in some windows. There are broken down cars in the driveways and lawns, young women with strollers, chain-link fences, and flags in the windows instead of curtains. Most of them are Calgary Flames flags. I once saw a black toilet seat intertwined in one of the fence links. Who does that?
There’s one section of the ghetto that has a trailer park with the homes practically sitting atop one another on the corner of two busier streets. For some semblance of privacy, people put up blue, orange, grey, and green tarps along the fence. There is a scruffy shih-tzu that is tied to a yellow rope when it’s nice out. And I’ve yet to figure out what lives in a chicken wire cage, with a tunnel contraption. It runs 12 feet in the air and is hooked up to another larger cage. The dimensions are too small for a small dog, but the mesh is too big for a rabbit. I have no idea. Maybe it’s a boa constrictor.
There are also no big name stores in the ghetto. Not even a Safeway. There might be a Tim Hortons, but I haven’t seen one on my bus route. There is however a black sign with neon writing that offers 2nd and 3rd mortgages on homes. This is kind of sad. So is the amount of litter. It’s pretty gross.
I once saw a group of younger “rough” men wearing matching black bandannas in different ways. I told Sea, and we think they might be gang members or something. She offered to drive me home when I work the late shift. People get killed here by gangs practically every week. Last week some couple were killed in a restaurant in the North East. I work in the north east. Gotta love the ghetto.
There’s one section of the ghetto that has a trailer park with the homes practically sitting atop one another on the corner of two busier streets. For some semblance of privacy, people put up blue, orange, grey, and green tarps along the fence. There is a scruffy shih-tzu that is tied to a yellow rope when it’s nice out. And I’ve yet to figure out what lives in a chicken wire cage, with a tunnel contraption. It runs 12 feet in the air and is hooked up to another larger cage. The dimensions are too small for a small dog, but the mesh is too big for a rabbit. I have no idea. Maybe it’s a boa constrictor.
There are also no big name stores in the ghetto. Not even a Safeway. There might be a Tim Hortons, but I haven’t seen one on my bus route. There is however a black sign with neon writing that offers 2nd and 3rd mortgages on homes. This is kind of sad. So is the amount of litter. It’s pretty gross.
I once saw a group of younger “rough” men wearing matching black bandannas in different ways. I told Sea, and we think they might be gang members or something. She offered to drive me home when I work the late shift. People get killed here by gangs practically every week. Last week some couple were killed in a restaurant in the North East. I work in the north east. Gotta love the ghetto.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Dirty, nasty, pervy Heidi
First, let me say that I’m not proud of myself and as a disclaimer, it wasn’t my fault. I had no idea. Second, this has nothing to do with the entry from yesterday.
I finally got a job (hooray!) at a popular restaurant here in Calgary. Stoked, I flipped up my hair, wore something cute and went to orientation. Awesome. On my way inside, I noticed a brown haired fox of a man, sitting in his car perusing some papers. Wow. He wore a white dress shirt, a blue tie, and his hair was spiked cool. I bet he was also there for orientation. He must have been about 23 or 24. I’m such a cougar.
Inside, they had a huge table set up with name tags to mark our places. The hot guy sat next to me and we chatted for a bit. Breath Heidi, breath. Someone asked him if he was a student, and he explained that he just finished school, which fit in well with my age estimate. I wondered which degree he got. Probably business or some nerdy degree involving equations. I’d ask him later. Anyway, we watched some videos and filled out some forms, which is when I leaned over to scope out his birth date.
This is also happens to be when I almost died. Turns out Hot Guy was born in 1990. WHAT THE EFF?! Was that an 8? Like, 1980? Leaned over. Nope. Sick. Gross, he was younger than my brother. Ew. In fact, he graduated at the same time as my grade 12 students this spring. Sick. My skin crawled and I wanted to run away to boil myself. Since that moment, I stopped talking to him. Maybe that’s mean, but I was convinced I was probably going to jail. In fact, I thought the police (the mind reading kind) were probably waiting for me outside the restaurant to arrest me for being pervy. Maybe the media would be there too to film a dramatic take down.
Fortunately, there was no dramatic take down. We’ve been working together for a couple of weeks now, and I still can’t talk to him. Every time he speaks, I imagine him holding a soother. Nasty. I thought about swearing off men all together just to avoid this ever happening again.
In my defense, he looked older. He was dressed up and mature.
I finally got a job (hooray!) at a popular restaurant here in Calgary. Stoked, I flipped up my hair, wore something cute and went to orientation. Awesome. On my way inside, I noticed a brown haired fox of a man, sitting in his car perusing some papers. Wow. He wore a white dress shirt, a blue tie, and his hair was spiked cool. I bet he was also there for orientation. He must have been about 23 or 24. I’m such a cougar.
Inside, they had a huge table set up with name tags to mark our places. The hot guy sat next to me and we chatted for a bit. Breath Heidi, breath. Someone asked him if he was a student, and he explained that he just finished school, which fit in well with my age estimate. I wondered which degree he got. Probably business or some nerdy degree involving equations. I’d ask him later. Anyway, we watched some videos and filled out some forms, which is when I leaned over to scope out his birth date.
This is also happens to be when I almost died. Turns out Hot Guy was born in 1990. WHAT THE EFF?! Was that an 8? Like, 1980? Leaned over. Nope. Sick. Gross, he was younger than my brother. Ew. In fact, he graduated at the same time as my grade 12 students this spring. Sick. My skin crawled and I wanted to run away to boil myself. Since that moment, I stopped talking to him. Maybe that’s mean, but I was convinced I was probably going to jail. In fact, I thought the police (the mind reading kind) were probably waiting for me outside the restaurant to arrest me for being pervy. Maybe the media would be there too to film a dramatic take down.
Fortunately, there was no dramatic take down. We’ve been working together for a couple of weeks now, and I still can’t talk to him. Every time he speaks, I imagine him holding a soother. Nasty. I thought about swearing off men all together just to avoid this ever happening again.
In my defense, he looked older. He was dressed up and mature.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Chocolate cravings
My period is two weeks late. I'm not concerned at all, which is one of the benefits of getting no action. Most women out there would be freaking out and buying pregnancy tests and calling their girlfriends for advice. I get to drink chocolate milk, eat a Caramilk bar, and relax.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Mexico Trip Decoded: part two
12) Carlos and Reuben
When a man kisses your hand and tries to win your heart, you shouldn't call him Carlos when his name is Reuben. Whoops :S
13) Touching Mexican Ass
Shame on you for what you were thinking, I pet a baby donkey! It was fluffy and had long lashes. Ha.
14) Flashing the Zebra
Turns out sunscreen should be applied all over, not just on your shoulders and nose. We sat in the sun for two hours and I got one of the worst burns in my life. Not only was it Valentines red, It was a weird pattern. Because I sat was sitting in my bikini top (hey old dudes can wear neon speedos) and shorts, the shadow of my bust and the bend in my stomach left some sweet contrasting, white, wavy lines to complete the valentine love theme. I looked like a zebra. I think I saw a child run away. I wished I had aloe vera.
15) Boat Stilettarita
This is a condition in which one loses balance and is not sure if that can be attributed to the rocking of the boat, the margarita, or the stilettos she is wearing.
16) Mexican Turkeys
This is what they call pelicans. They're everywhere and they're ugly. Disney picked the wrong animal to deliver babies to doorsteps. Ew.
17) Quicksilver chocolate cheesecake on wheels
I'm too ashamed to explain this one.
18) 15 American minutes
This is different than 15 Mexican minutes, which generally are equivalant to 25-40 American minutes.
19) Wrinkly old man chicken skin
I held a gargantuan iguana (if you can imagine) and it had a creepy flap of scaley skin under it's neck that felt like wrinkly old man chicken skin might feel like. Five doses of Purell didn't make the creepiness go away, but it did minimize it.
20) Butter on the pillow
The chocolate mints on our pillows looked like the butter packets we encountered at meal times. I switched them when Genuine wasn't looking... she figured it out.
21) Duck in towel maneuver
The dining room was super fancy shmancy. Our waiter Wendal (Denzel Washington's nephew?) placed cloth napkins on our laps and cut parts of our meal. It was intense. When biting into the duck, I encountered some creepy chewy bit that elicited a gag response. I nodded and smiled as Wendal said something and then quickly spat it into my napkin when he wasn't looking. This reminded me of Lucky. I did that when we went for dinner once: he was embarassed because the head guy busted me. Come to think of it, Lucky hasn't taken me out for a nice dinner since.
22) The wheeze
This is embarassing. When I start laughing really hard I can't get enough oxygen, so I start wheezing. This in turn makes me laugh harder, which makes me wheeze even more. This happened to me in the hallway because something Genuine or I said was hilarious. I started wheezing and had to lean against the wall for support. Genuine took off around the corner giggling. One of the staff was sincerely concerned and tried to help me. Embarassed, I wheezed more dramatically. I think he was waiting for me to collapse.
A similar thing happened when Mocha and I went for a blizzard. I should explain that on a flashback Friday.
When a man kisses your hand and tries to win your heart, you shouldn't call him Carlos when his name is Reuben. Whoops :S
13) Touching Mexican Ass
Shame on you for what you were thinking, I pet a baby donkey! It was fluffy and had long lashes. Ha.
14) Flashing the Zebra
Turns out sunscreen should be applied all over, not just on your shoulders and nose. We sat in the sun for two hours and I got one of the worst burns in my life. Not only was it Valentines red, It was a weird pattern. Because I sat was sitting in my bikini top (hey old dudes can wear neon speedos) and shorts, the shadow of my bust and the bend in my stomach left some sweet contrasting, white, wavy lines to complete the valentine love theme. I looked like a zebra. I think I saw a child run away. I wished I had aloe vera.
15) Boat Stilettarita
This is a condition in which one loses balance and is not sure if that can be attributed to the rocking of the boat, the margarita, or the stilettos she is wearing.
16) Mexican Turkeys
This is what they call pelicans. They're everywhere and they're ugly. Disney picked the wrong animal to deliver babies to doorsteps. Ew.
17) Quicksilver chocolate cheesecake on wheels
I'm too ashamed to explain this one.
18) 15 American minutes
This is different than 15 Mexican minutes, which generally are equivalant to 25-40 American minutes.
19) Wrinkly old man chicken skin
I held a gargantuan iguana (if you can imagine) and it had a creepy flap of scaley skin under it's neck that felt like wrinkly old man chicken skin might feel like. Five doses of Purell didn't make the creepiness go away, but it did minimize it.
20) Butter on the pillow
The chocolate mints on our pillows looked like the butter packets we encountered at meal times. I switched them when Genuine wasn't looking... she figured it out.
21) Duck in towel maneuver
The dining room was super fancy shmancy. Our waiter Wendal (Denzel Washington's nephew?) placed cloth napkins on our laps and cut parts of our meal. It was intense. When biting into the duck, I encountered some creepy chewy bit that elicited a gag response. I nodded and smiled as Wendal said something and then quickly spat it into my napkin when he wasn't looking. This reminded me of Lucky. I did that when we went for dinner once: he was embarassed because the head guy busted me. Come to think of it, Lucky hasn't taken me out for a nice dinner since.
22) The wheeze
This is embarassing. When I start laughing really hard I can't get enough oxygen, so I start wheezing. This in turn makes me laugh harder, which makes me wheeze even more. This happened to me in the hallway because something Genuine or I said was hilarious. I started wheezing and had to lean against the wall for support. Genuine took off around the corner giggling. One of the staff was sincerely concerned and tried to help me. Embarassed, I wheezed more dramatically. I think he was waiting for me to collapse.
A similar thing happened when Mocha and I went for a blizzard. I should explain that on a flashback Friday.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Mexico Trip Decoded: part one
1) "One More"
There were six flights of stairs to get to get from our stateroom on the cruise to the place where they serve the most delicious (and may I say unlimited!) food. That's 111 steps up and 111 back down. So, doing this three times a day for meals... plus more (lets be honest!) Genuine and I averaged about 1000 steps a day. I think my muscles seized for the first half of the week. Muscles burned in places I didn't know I had them. When we got to the second to last floor, we'd say, "One more." Feeling over confident one day, I tried to run up all of them. That was dumb. I almost died.
2) "Personal Space!"
This is what I shouted in my sleep when Genuine unknowingly cuddled up to me in the night and put her arm around me. Freaked me right out. It was particularly alarming because Genuine is super shy and reserved. I'm used to sleeping by myself. Nothing could have prepared me for the midnight snuggler attack. Genuine still can't believe she did that. Next time I'm bringing pepper spray.
3) "Sad face to the right"
There were so many stairs and hallways that we had to get creative. Genuine's friends were on the eighth floor in the hallway which had the sad mask. At the sad mask, we needed to turn right and then stop at the bum painting. Our room was on the floor with the buildings and magic eye painting to the left. Our room was infront of the second to last red jube jube light.
4) 8560, 8558, 8565, 8570
The first three are the wrong room numbers. 8565 housed a man who seem perplexed as to why we were at his door. We weren't sure what we were doing there either. Another time I tried 8560. The housekeeper made fun of me. He didn't even bother telling me it was the wrong room, he just laughed.
5) Swan Slug
Our housekeeper made us a swan out of towels. It was amazing! Excited, I touched it. The neck fell over and it turned into more of a slug. I tried to fix it, but had no success.
6) Solarium
This is where Genuine and I met up for our late night hot dog and pizza ritual. The wind blew really hard and we accidentally flashed the goods. I was glad to be wearing undies.
7) "Does it come with a husband?"
In Mazatlan, we went to a fancy shmancy diamond shop where some dude pressured me to buy a ring. I asked him if it came with a husband and he said something about being willing to marry me if I bought the ring. I asked him if he was planning to go back to Canada with me, but I can't remember what he said. Genuine and I booked it.
8) Ice Box Hill
There is a hill in Mazatlan that is made of rock and before the area had electricity, people from a nearby area would bring loads of ice to put in the cave to keep food cold.
9) Catarpillar
I saw a toddler with a green booger that kept getting longer, it crept out of her nose and made me want to vomit. Kids are gross.
10) "It's getting colder Jack"
This was us making fun of the movie, "Titanic". The hallway to our stateroom was on a lower deck and it was significantly colder than the other floors. The narrow halls looked the same as the movie.
11) "We should have sniped them from the top."
Genuine and I soaked up some rays while reclining on the deck. Music played, and a warm breeze swept over us. Peace. That is... until two old dudes in neon speedos rocked their packages and big bellies over to the pool. Shudder. How can you not stare?! Our eyes were fixed on the glowing beacons of brightness. Double shudder. Words cannot explain, it had to be seen to be believed. Afterward, it occured to us that we could have taken a photograph from the above deck.
There were six flights of stairs to get to get from our stateroom on the cruise to the place where they serve the most delicious (and may I say unlimited!) food. That's 111 steps up and 111 back down. So, doing this three times a day for meals... plus more (lets be honest!) Genuine and I averaged about 1000 steps a day. I think my muscles seized for the first half of the week. Muscles burned in places I didn't know I had them. When we got to the second to last floor, we'd say, "One more." Feeling over confident one day, I tried to run up all of them. That was dumb. I almost died.
2) "Personal Space!"
This is what I shouted in my sleep when Genuine unknowingly cuddled up to me in the night and put her arm around me. Freaked me right out. It was particularly alarming because Genuine is super shy and reserved. I'm used to sleeping by myself. Nothing could have prepared me for the midnight snuggler attack. Genuine still can't believe she did that. Next time I'm bringing pepper spray.
3) "Sad face to the right"
There were so many stairs and hallways that we had to get creative. Genuine's friends were on the eighth floor in the hallway which had the sad mask. At the sad mask, we needed to turn right and then stop at the bum painting. Our room was on the floor with the buildings and magic eye painting to the left. Our room was infront of the second to last red jube jube light.
4) 8560, 8558, 8565, 8570
The first three are the wrong room numbers. 8565 housed a man who seem perplexed as to why we were at his door. We weren't sure what we were doing there either. Another time I tried 8560. The housekeeper made fun of me. He didn't even bother telling me it was the wrong room, he just laughed.
5) Swan Slug
Our housekeeper made us a swan out of towels. It was amazing! Excited, I touched it. The neck fell over and it turned into more of a slug. I tried to fix it, but had no success.
6) Solarium
This is where Genuine and I met up for our late night hot dog and pizza ritual. The wind blew really hard and we accidentally flashed the goods. I was glad to be wearing undies.
7) "Does it come with a husband?"
In Mazatlan, we went to a fancy shmancy diamond shop where some dude pressured me to buy a ring. I asked him if it came with a husband and he said something about being willing to marry me if I bought the ring. I asked him if he was planning to go back to Canada with me, but I can't remember what he said. Genuine and I booked it.
8) Ice Box Hill
There is a hill in Mazatlan that is made of rock and before the area had electricity, people from a nearby area would bring loads of ice to put in the cave to keep food cold.
9) Catarpillar
I saw a toddler with a green booger that kept getting longer, it crept out of her nose and made me want to vomit. Kids are gross.
10) "It's getting colder Jack"
This was us making fun of the movie, "Titanic". The hallway to our stateroom was on a lower deck and it was significantly colder than the other floors. The narrow halls looked the same as the movie.
11) "We should have sniped them from the top."
Genuine and I soaked up some rays while reclining on the deck. Music played, and a warm breeze swept over us. Peace. That is... until two old dudes in neon speedos rocked their packages and big bellies over to the pool. Shudder. How can you not stare?! Our eyes were fixed on the glowing beacons of brightness. Double shudder. Words cannot explain, it had to be seen to be believed. Afterward, it occured to us that we could have taken a photograph from the above deck.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Flashback Memory Friday: How to be cool
When I was in grade four, my friend Kelly and I brought tie dye shirts to school. We hid them in our bags along with some sweet belts and make up. We weren't allowed to wear any of this, but we were oh so grown up and sexy. Picture a t-shirt dress cinched with an elastic butterfly belt and paired with pink lipstick. Our white socks were rolled down because that was cutting edge cool. And we were cool.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Some people should eat breakfast others should press mute
I showed up to my first day of work on alcohol day. This was a good sign. However, it was a false one. I lost where the door to the kitchen was and had to go to the bar to ask how to find it. No I wasn't drinking yet. A guy, I'll call "Grouch", chastised me for being where I wasn't supposed to. Great first impression. The rest of the day he snarked at people. I think he scared most people. Maybe he forgot to have breakfast. He pushed past another new person and indicated that she should shoot herself in the head. He even made a hand gesture of a gun going off. Gulp. Welcome to work.
Part of our training involves sampling alcohol beverages. We tried eight of them and it was beautiful. Until Grouch came in. People got quieter and their heads hung lower. Perhaps they were secretly hoping he wouldn't notice they were there. I don't know what overcame me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to stick my tongue out at him and make a face. I was dead meat. Bye bye Brookes, game over. He stood there, his face frozen. Pretty sure my heart stopped. Way to make enemies with the mean guy on the first day. Then he smiled. I breathed again. Maybe he liked the challenge of someone not taking his shit.
The day was pretty good otherwise. Although I ate too many bread sticks.
________________________________________
Last night I talked to Lucky for an hour. I had to pee. So I did, but I didn't mute it. He didn't notice the trickle nor the water when I washed my hands. I was almost scott free until he asked why the phone echoed. Was he on speaker phone? Er.... not exactly. I think I'll go back to using the mute button.
________________________________________
More to come regarding Mexico adventures! Sooooo much to tell including: "Flashing the zebra", "the snuggler", and "Solarium". Ew, and possibly "the caterpillar".
Part of our training involves sampling alcohol beverages. We tried eight of them and it was beautiful. Until Grouch came in. People got quieter and their heads hung lower. Perhaps they were secretly hoping he wouldn't notice they were there. I don't know what overcame me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to stick my tongue out at him and make a face. I was dead meat. Bye bye Brookes, game over. He stood there, his face frozen. Pretty sure my heart stopped. Way to make enemies with the mean guy on the first day. Then he smiled. I breathed again. Maybe he liked the challenge of someone not taking his shit.
The day was pretty good otherwise. Although I ate too many bread sticks.
________________________________________
Last night I talked to Lucky for an hour. I had to pee. So I did, but I didn't mute it. He didn't notice the trickle nor the water when I washed my hands. I was almost scott free until he asked why the phone echoed. Was he on speaker phone? Er.... not exactly. I think I'll go back to using the mute button.
________________________________________
More to come regarding Mexico adventures! Sooooo much to tell including: "Flashing the zebra", "the snuggler", and "Solarium". Ew, and possibly "the caterpillar".
Friday, October 17, 2008
Guest Blog: Life lessons and Future Shop
Everything I Need To Know About Dating I Learned At Future Shop
Yodell/Mocha here. Filling in for HB while she's off having fun in the sun. Am tempted to write all sorts of insanely jealous things. But being that I'm mature, responsible, and you know, such a good friend, I will pout silently, here in my grey rainy Langford.
When HB asked me to guest-blog, I didn't know what to write. On my own blog, there is no pressure. It's mine, and I can write what I want. But on someone else's blog, there's so much pressure. What if I turn off their readers? So, I thought, what can I tell you? HB suggested a dating story. Now, those are few and far between. But, then it occurred to me, I'm so great at helping you all learn valuable life lessons. I do have one dating story that can teach you all some very valuable life lessons :) So, here is my story about Rocky (not his real name, but it's close).
Life Lesson #1 (LL.1) - Don't go to Future Shop to meet guys.Hate to generalize here, but, well, I will. They're either skinny and nerdy, or creepy. Or a combination of both. Enter Rocky.
LL.2 - Learn how to say "No, I don't want to give you my number."Practice this at home in front of the mirror. Don't stand in shocked silence for 3 minutes, and then blurt "Sure, why not." Really doesn't send out the "Eww, I find you creepy" message. In fact, quite the opposite.
LL.3 - If you were foolish enough to give out your number, screen unfamiliar numbers.If a call comes in from an unfamiliar number, let it go to voicemail!! For goodness' sake, don't answer it on the second ring just because you almost never get calls on your cell phone.
LL.4 - If you were idiotic enough to answer your phone, be extremely busy for the next 6 months.So busy that you don't even have time to pee, let alone go on a date the next afternoon!!
LL.5 - If you, at age 19, have to pick him, at age 32, up downtown because he lives at home and can't get his parents' car for the afternoon, warning signals should IMMEDIATELY sound in your head.Go directly home. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
LL.6 - Learn how to slap. Really hard. With either hand. Ambidexterity is important.That way, if he grabs your hand 45 minutes after making your acquaintance, you can let him know what you really think.
LL.7 - Always, always, ALWAYS have an escape call planned.Don't be forced to resorting to drinking lots of coffee and then calling your family from the bathroom. It's really not cool. Especially if there's someone in the stall next to you.
LL.8 - When your date-from-you-know-where is over, resist the urge to say "We should do this again sometime."You shouldn't. You won't. It's not cool to leave any room for doubt.
LL.9 - Avoid Future Shop like the plague for at least 6 months afterwards.Actually, I avoided his specific Future Shop for over a year. I still get a creepy crawly feeling in my tummy when I go there though. Thankfully, I live in Langford, and can just go to the one out here :)
I hope you've found these lessons as helpful as I have. With any luck, if you follow these tips, you should have a 100% success rate in not picking up men at Future Shop! I hope they serve you well blog world!
Yodell/Mocha here. Filling in for HB while she's off having fun in the sun. Am tempted to write all sorts of insanely jealous things. But being that I'm mature, responsible, and you know, such a good friend, I will pout silently, here in my grey rainy Langford.
When HB asked me to guest-blog, I didn't know what to write. On my own blog, there is no pressure. It's mine, and I can write what I want. But on someone else's blog, there's so much pressure. What if I turn off their readers? So, I thought, what can I tell you? HB suggested a dating story. Now, those are few and far between. But, then it occurred to me, I'm so great at helping you all learn valuable life lessons. I do have one dating story that can teach you all some very valuable life lessons :) So, here is my story about Rocky (not his real name, but it's close).
Life Lesson #1 (LL.1) - Don't go to Future Shop to meet guys.Hate to generalize here, but, well, I will. They're either skinny and nerdy, or creepy. Or a combination of both. Enter Rocky.
LL.2 - Learn how to say "No, I don't want to give you my number."Practice this at home in front of the mirror. Don't stand in shocked silence for 3 minutes, and then blurt "Sure, why not." Really doesn't send out the "Eww, I find you creepy" message. In fact, quite the opposite.
LL.3 - If you were foolish enough to give out your number, screen unfamiliar numbers.If a call comes in from an unfamiliar number, let it go to voicemail!! For goodness' sake, don't answer it on the second ring just because you almost never get calls on your cell phone.
LL.4 - If you were idiotic enough to answer your phone, be extremely busy for the next 6 months.So busy that you don't even have time to pee, let alone go on a date the next afternoon!!
LL.5 - If you, at age 19, have to pick him, at age 32, up downtown because he lives at home and can't get his parents' car for the afternoon, warning signals should IMMEDIATELY sound in your head.Go directly home. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
LL.6 - Learn how to slap. Really hard. With either hand. Ambidexterity is important.That way, if he grabs your hand 45 minutes after making your acquaintance, you can let him know what you really think.
LL.7 - Always, always, ALWAYS have an escape call planned.Don't be forced to resorting to drinking lots of coffee and then calling your family from the bathroom. It's really not cool. Especially if there's someone in the stall next to you.
LL.8 - When your date-from-you-know-where is over, resist the urge to say "We should do this again sometime."You shouldn't. You won't. It's not cool to leave any room for doubt.
LL.9 - Avoid Future Shop like the plague for at least 6 months afterwards.Actually, I avoided his specific Future Shop for over a year. I still get a creepy crawly feeling in my tummy when I go there though. Thankfully, I live in Langford, and can just go to the one out here :)
I hope you've found these lessons as helpful as I have. With any luck, if you follow these tips, you should have a 100% success rate in not picking up men at Future Shop! I hope they serve you well blog world!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Guest Blog Cheapskate Tuesday: Heidi is my inspiration
Cheapskate Tuesday Entry- By Special
What does it mean to be a cheapskate? I think in order to be a truly effective cheapskate you have to be doing things that make you standout. For instance, I have called Heidi 99% of the time and she has called me once. Now, I understand that her situation is pretty limited being here in Calgary, however, the essence of being cheap isn’t really wearing off on me. Yet.
Being a cheapskate isn’t a one day a week thing. It’s a daily thing. A lifestyle. Brookes finding someone to fund her entire trip to Australia wouldn’t be enough. She’d have to suggest taking the crew out to dinner with the money she saved, wrinkle her nose at anyone ordering anything over $12 or $13 and then to top it off giving the waiter/waitress $50bucks on a bill that came to $47.23 and saying ‘keep the change.’
That’s cheap.
Scrooge was cheap.
Fact: Heidi is on a free trip right now in Mexico. All expenses paid. How is this possible?
Fact: She ‘makes’ her own holiday gifts. Easter, Birthday’s. Yes, Christmas is not exempt.
Fact: She has duplicate Airmiles’ cards which she has given to choice family members so that they can collect airmiles for her.
Fact: She doesn’t believe in a thermostat or heat. I don’t think she knows just how cold it’s going to get here in Alberta {For example, she opened the sliding glass door ALL THE WAY and it’s minus 4 outside, she said, “I’m glad I don’t pay the heating bill.”}
Fact: Heidi has not had a regular job to go to since June. She’s worked, but she hasn’t had a regular position.
I’ll bet that slowly, the image of Heidi being a cheapskate is starting to enter your brains. You’re thinking, like I am, that wow, my friend really is a cheapskate and I should be paying attention if I want to save more money.
What’s the cost of this though? I’ll warn you in advance that if you indeed want to become a cheapskate it’s not enough to let the next guy pick up the tab.
Having made my case for Brookes being a cheapskate let me make a case for the total opposite.
Brookes is always available to talk about things. You can call her up and if she’s busy she’ll call you back. Doesn’t matter what it is. She’ll make you cookies {even if I prefer the dad’s oatmeal chocolate chip} for any old occasion.
That’s rich.
Mother Theresa was rich.
Brookes it seems has a knack for always having time to do things. Even sleeping. I guess it’s fair if she’s a little cranky when you call her at 10am when you KNOW she only went to be 4 or 5 hours ago. She just, won’t answer the phone.
Fact: Brookes picked up the tab for her own coffee instead of letting me buy it for her when I was down in Calgary.
Fact: Brookes managed to pay her rent without having a regular job to go to.
Fact: Brookes always has money for Starbucks.
Fact: Even though she makes her own gifts, she’s really good at it. I wouldn’t ever think twice about getting a gift from her that was hand made. It’s good quality. You can’t put a price on quality. Like the coffee cup I got. I would have paid a great sum of money for that cup. Instead, I got it for free, and Brookes paid.
Fact: Brookes donates her own blood and brings people flowers. Albeit, useless ones that get tossed on the kitchen table. However, it is the thought that counts here. I’m not speaking from experience.
It appears that Brookes might not be as cheap as some of her jokes. She just knows how to save money. If there were different levels of being a cheapskate, Brookes is maybe a level 2 with 1 being low and 5 being high.
Brookes it seems has plenty to go around.
She just knows when to chince out.
What does it mean to be a cheapskate? I think in order to be a truly effective cheapskate you have to be doing things that make you standout. For instance, I have called Heidi 99% of the time and she has called me once. Now, I understand that her situation is pretty limited being here in Calgary, however, the essence of being cheap isn’t really wearing off on me. Yet.
Being a cheapskate isn’t a one day a week thing. It’s a daily thing. A lifestyle. Brookes finding someone to fund her entire trip to Australia wouldn’t be enough. She’d have to suggest taking the crew out to dinner with the money she saved, wrinkle her nose at anyone ordering anything over $12 or $13 and then to top it off giving the waiter/waitress $50bucks on a bill that came to $47.23 and saying ‘keep the change.’
That’s cheap.
Scrooge was cheap.
Fact: Heidi is on a free trip right now in Mexico. All expenses paid. How is this possible?
Fact: She ‘makes’ her own holiday gifts. Easter, Birthday’s. Yes, Christmas is not exempt.
Fact: She has duplicate Airmiles’ cards which she has given to choice family members so that they can collect airmiles for her.
Fact: She doesn’t believe in a thermostat or heat. I don’t think she knows just how cold it’s going to get here in Alberta {For example, she opened the sliding glass door ALL THE WAY and it’s minus 4 outside, she said, “I’m glad I don’t pay the heating bill.”}
Fact: Heidi has not had a regular job to go to since June. She’s worked, but she hasn’t had a regular position.
I’ll bet that slowly, the image of Heidi being a cheapskate is starting to enter your brains. You’re thinking, like I am, that wow, my friend really is a cheapskate and I should be paying attention if I want to save more money.
What’s the cost of this though? I’ll warn you in advance that if you indeed want to become a cheapskate it’s not enough to let the next guy pick up the tab.
Having made my case for Brookes being a cheapskate let me make a case for the total opposite.
Brookes is always available to talk about things. You can call her up and if she’s busy she’ll call you back. Doesn’t matter what it is. She’ll make you cookies {even if I prefer the dad’s oatmeal chocolate chip} for any old occasion.
That’s rich.
Mother Theresa was rich.
Brookes it seems has a knack for always having time to do things. Even sleeping. I guess it’s fair if she’s a little cranky when you call her at 10am when you KNOW she only went to be 4 or 5 hours ago. She just, won’t answer the phone.
Fact: Brookes picked up the tab for her own coffee instead of letting me buy it for her when I was down in Calgary.
Fact: Brookes managed to pay her rent without having a regular job to go to.
Fact: Brookes always has money for Starbucks.
Fact: Even though she makes her own gifts, she’s really good at it. I wouldn’t ever think twice about getting a gift from her that was hand made. It’s good quality. You can’t put a price on quality. Like the coffee cup I got. I would have paid a great sum of money for that cup. Instead, I got it for free, and Brookes paid.
Fact: Brookes donates her own blood and brings people flowers. Albeit, useless ones that get tossed on the kitchen table. However, it is the thought that counts here. I’m not speaking from experience.
It appears that Brookes might not be as cheap as some of her jokes. She just knows how to save money. If there were different levels of being a cheapskate, Brookes is maybe a level 2 with 1 being low and 5 being high.
Brookes it seems has plenty to go around.
She just knows when to chince out.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Bonus entry: Navy Seal
Ok, I know I don't usually (ever) post twice in one day, but today is an exception. I almost died. I'm not kidding.
Special took me to the airport and helped me pick a seat. Maybe you don't know this about me, but I get really nautious if something smells bad. For example, I used to do homecare and had to stop eating breakfast because I didn't want to chunder on my client. (I dry heaved every time I had to change him.) Also, I don't take the garbage out because I almost blew chunks in the garbage room. Sea witnessed this and made no qualms about being the garbage person in our suite. I also didn't change my nephew's crap diapers. This is my favourite kid in the world, I'd do anything to look after him. Except this. I tried once, but I had to phone my mom to come do it. I don't know what it is, I'm ultra sensitive to smell. Anyway, back to my story: Special helped me pick out a seat specifically as far from the back of the plane as possible. There's no way I'd survive sitting next to the washroom. NO way.
Turns out I ended up sitting next to a guy who's breath smelled *exactly* like ass. I'm not even exagerating. At first I thought he was farting, but then I realized the smell came when he opened his mouth! Can you imagine?! How is this even possible?! Did he have fecal fries? Shudder. Double shudder. Triple shudder and a shake. What could I do? "Hey buddy, can you hand me your barf bag, because with breath like yours, I'm going to need it?" No way! Besides, what would I do if he tried to engage me in conversation?! Ew. I would die. Right there.
I needed a plan. If I offered him a mint, he might decline or worse yet, try to use that as a stepping point to chat. With an hour long flight I couldn't risk it. Next step. I needed to avoid talking to him at any cost. Ok. I started writing in my jounal. This is effective because it seemed like I was engrossed in something important. Maybe I was a student writing a paper. Maybe I was an author in the middle of an inspiration. Maybe I was writing my deepest darkest secrets in a jounal. Maybe I was Maybelline. To further solidify the "don't talk to me" vibe, I put my MP3 headphones on and leaned as far away from his seat as possible. Perfect. Not sure what the lady on the other side of me thought, but it didn't matter at this point.
Unfortunately, this didn't stop the smell, it just prevented him from interacting with me. Plus McStinkerson was exhausted and kept yawning. I hoped he'd get a coffee from the cart to wake himself up a bit. No dice. I needed to go deeper. I needed to be tough. Navy Seals are tough. GI Jane was tough. So I watched him from the corner of my eye and whenever he yawned I held my breath. Mission Impossible music played in the background. I heard it. I held my breath for as long as I could while the bum-breath-funk disipated. Then: "Pahhhhh! Wheeeeeze! Pahhh! Wheeze!" Inhale. Exhale. I played it cool like I wasn't really gasping for air.
I thought of writing a note on a peice of paper and ringing the bell for the steward. I'd smile sweetly and hand over the note, which would read: "Please! The dude beside me has breath that smells like pure death, please insist that I move to another seat! I'll give you a quarter." I'd even draw a frowning face with tear drops under the eyes. If she didn't like my drawing and shot me down, I could be in a worse situation. I scraped that idea.
The smell was unbearable. I even took my barf bag out and kept it under my journal just in case. I prayed. I prayed that God would help me not to throw up. I just ate pizza and I knew the acid in my stomach would have turned the cheese rancid. No one wants to sit next to puke girl. Besides, it was imperative that I keep the barf bag for cookies. Be strong, you can do it. Navy Seal. Navy Seal. I started laughing. Hysterically. People were staring. This only made me crack up more. Try hiding insanity. "Gasp! Hahahaha. Gasp! Wheeze! Hahahha!"
Focus. Stop it. Focus. I got some water from the cart. I thought maybe it would settle my stomach and help me calm down. Instead, it disolved the pizza bread in my stomach making me feel queezier. Not good. Not good at all. Maybe I should get up. Seatbelt sign went back on! Shoot. Wait a minute, the plane was going to land soon! So close. So close. I sweated. I honestly did. Hold together soldier, hold on.
I made it! The plane stopped, the lights came on. McStinkerson stood up and created the most beautiful metre of distance that has ever existed. I claimed honourary Navy Seal status for my tenacity and assiduousness.
Special took me to the airport and helped me pick a seat. Maybe you don't know this about me, but I get really nautious if something smells bad. For example, I used to do homecare and had to stop eating breakfast because I didn't want to chunder on my client. (I dry heaved every time I had to change him.) Also, I don't take the garbage out because I almost blew chunks in the garbage room. Sea witnessed this and made no qualms about being the garbage person in our suite. I also didn't change my nephew's crap diapers. This is my favourite kid in the world, I'd do anything to look after him. Except this. I tried once, but I had to phone my mom to come do it. I don't know what it is, I'm ultra sensitive to smell. Anyway, back to my story: Special helped me pick out a seat specifically as far from the back of the plane as possible. There's no way I'd survive sitting next to the washroom. NO way.
Turns out I ended up sitting next to a guy who's breath smelled *exactly* like ass. I'm not even exagerating. At first I thought he was farting, but then I realized the smell came when he opened his mouth! Can you imagine?! How is this even possible?! Did he have fecal fries? Shudder. Double shudder. Triple shudder and a shake. What could I do? "Hey buddy, can you hand me your barf bag, because with breath like yours, I'm going to need it?" No way! Besides, what would I do if he tried to engage me in conversation?! Ew. I would die. Right there.
I needed a plan. If I offered him a mint, he might decline or worse yet, try to use that as a stepping point to chat. With an hour long flight I couldn't risk it. Next step. I needed to avoid talking to him at any cost. Ok. I started writing in my jounal. This is effective because it seemed like I was engrossed in something important. Maybe I was a student writing a paper. Maybe I was an author in the middle of an inspiration. Maybe I was writing my deepest darkest secrets in a jounal. Maybe I was Maybelline. To further solidify the "don't talk to me" vibe, I put my MP3 headphones on and leaned as far away from his seat as possible. Perfect. Not sure what the lady on the other side of me thought, but it didn't matter at this point.
Unfortunately, this didn't stop the smell, it just prevented him from interacting with me. Plus McStinkerson was exhausted and kept yawning. I hoped he'd get a coffee from the cart to wake himself up a bit. No dice. I needed to go deeper. I needed to be tough. Navy Seals are tough. GI Jane was tough. So I watched him from the corner of my eye and whenever he yawned I held my breath. Mission Impossible music played in the background. I heard it. I held my breath for as long as I could while the bum-breath-funk disipated. Then: "Pahhhhh! Wheeeeeze! Pahhh! Wheeze!" Inhale. Exhale. I played it cool like I wasn't really gasping for air.
I thought of writing a note on a peice of paper and ringing the bell for the steward. I'd smile sweetly and hand over the note, which would read: "Please! The dude beside me has breath that smells like pure death, please insist that I move to another seat! I'll give you a quarter." I'd even draw a frowning face with tear drops under the eyes. If she didn't like my drawing and shot me down, I could be in a worse situation. I scraped that idea.
The smell was unbearable. I even took my barf bag out and kept it under my journal just in case. I prayed. I prayed that God would help me not to throw up. I just ate pizza and I knew the acid in my stomach would have turned the cheese rancid. No one wants to sit next to puke girl. Besides, it was imperative that I keep the barf bag for cookies. Be strong, you can do it. Navy Seal. Navy Seal. I started laughing. Hysterically. People were staring. This only made me crack up more. Try hiding insanity. "Gasp! Hahahaha. Gasp! Wheeze! Hahahha!"
Focus. Stop it. Focus. I got some water from the cart. I thought maybe it would settle my stomach and help me calm down. Instead, it disolved the pizza bread in my stomach making me feel queezier. Not good. Not good at all. Maybe I should get up. Seatbelt sign went back on! Shoot. Wait a minute, the plane was going to land soon! So close. So close. I sweated. I honestly did. Hold together soldier, hold on.
I made it! The plane stopped, the lights came on. McStinkerson stood up and created the most beautiful metre of distance that has ever existed. I claimed honourary Navy Seal status for my tenacity and assiduousness.
El gonesa
Justo wantedo to leteh tu knowesa I ama goingo a Mexico untileh la 2o of Octobera. No entrios untilah I getio backo. Fiesta pour mia.
PS Supereh caliente copos sittingo nexteh to mia.
PS Supereh caliente copos sittingo nexteh to mia.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Triscuit confession
I put the box of Triscuits back in the cupboard even though there are only two and a half crackers left.
_______________________________________
PS I am no longer losing my mind. I will definitely blame caffeine for yesterday's insanity. How did I forget about number six?
_______________________________________
PS I am no longer losing my mind. I will definitely blame caffeine for yesterday's insanity. How did I forget about number six?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Losing my mind
It's 4:16 am and I'm losing my mind. Last week Sea suggested something and I shrugged it off. Now it is plaguing me. I can't sleep. However, I could probably chalk that up to the frap I had at Starbucks (a grown up made it). Anyway, the idea was ridiculous and I immediately dismissed it, now it replays in my head like an Abba song. I'm going insane. Ahhhh!!! What do I do? Do I take heed of my older sister's advice? Do I listen to my mom? Perhaps it's an effort by higher powers to brainwash me. There's colossal risk involved. The unknown is gargantuan. Maybe it's conceivable. Maybe there could be triumph. Maybe it would be the best decision of my life. Maybe it's just Maybeline.
I could totally go for one of those balls that you shake and something flips up and says, "Yes" or "no". Although, my luck it would probably say, "Maybe later." Ha. Too bad I think Ouija boards are devil creepiness, because I could go for one of those right now. However, I'd probably need another set of hands and my sister's sleeping. I could wake her up, but she'd probably kung fu me or throw a high heel into my eye, which reminds me of a CSI episode. Shudder.
Ok, I'm going to roll a di. If it is 1 or 2 I'm going to assume yes. If it is 4 or 5, I'll assume no. If it's 3, it means I need to go to bed and stop fretting about this. I'll do best of three. Here we go....
(rolling....)
4
(rolling....)
5
Phew. There's my answer. Nothing like making important decisions with red dice that say, "Shelly's Casino".
________________________________
PS I totally rolled the di again and got 2 twice! Does that mean I should go for it? I rolled again and got a 3. That means I should go to bed. Ok, one more time: 6. Shoot, I forgot all about six. What the heck is six supposed to mean?!
I could totally go for one of those balls that you shake and something flips up and says, "Yes" or "no". Although, my luck it would probably say, "Maybe later." Ha. Too bad I think Ouija boards are devil creepiness, because I could go for one of those right now. However, I'd probably need another set of hands and my sister's sleeping. I could wake her up, but she'd probably kung fu me or throw a high heel into my eye, which reminds me of a CSI episode. Shudder.
Ok, I'm going to roll a di. If it is 1 or 2 I'm going to assume yes. If it is 4 or 5, I'll assume no. If it's 3, it means I need to go to bed and stop fretting about this. I'll do best of three. Here we go....
(rolling....)
4
(rolling....)
5
Phew. There's my answer. Nothing like making important decisions with red dice that say, "Shelly's Casino".
________________________________
PS I totally rolled the di again and got 2 twice! Does that mean I should go for it? I rolled again and got a 3. That means I should go to bed. Ok, one more time: 6. Shoot, I forgot all about six. What the heck is six supposed to mean?!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
My life with slugs
Someone told me if you lick a banana slug, it will make your tongue go numb. I always wanted to try it, but the nastiness outweighed that desire.
I ran from the police. The reason why isn't important. It was dumb. I cut through the woods with two friends and scaled a ten foot fence. I fell and landed on a slug. I felt remorse for it. I was wearing a green hoodie that belonged to my friend. It was slimy after.
At university I learned that the maximum recorded speed of a slug is 0.064 mph. Tuition dollars at work.
There is an old man who used to hunt slugs in the dark. He scoured the walkways with a bucket of saltwater and a device to pick them up. He counted them. It was late.
A boy made me cry once. It was dramatic. I bawled my eyes out on the floor next to a slug. I didn't even care.
Fernando bought copper tape to surround the base of her cabin because she finds slugs in her closet.
I like watching slugs, they're peaceful. Their eyes are mesmerizing when they move in and out or wave around. The slime is majestic and reminds me of Saran wrap.
I ran from the police. The reason why isn't important. It was dumb. I cut through the woods with two friends and scaled a ten foot fence. I fell and landed on a slug. I felt remorse for it. I was wearing a green hoodie that belonged to my friend. It was slimy after.
At university I learned that the maximum recorded speed of a slug is 0.064 mph. Tuition dollars at work.
There is an old man who used to hunt slugs in the dark. He scoured the walkways with a bucket of saltwater and a device to pick them up. He counted them. It was late.
A boy made me cry once. It was dramatic. I bawled my eyes out on the floor next to a slug. I didn't even care.
Fernando bought copper tape to surround the base of her cabin because she finds slugs in her closet.
I like watching slugs, they're peaceful. Their eyes are mesmerizing when they move in and out or wave around. The slime is majestic and reminds me of Saran wrap.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Cheapskate Tuesday: How to save on your phone bill
It's 11:33 pm and I just got off the phone. The person was wondering why I hadn't posted yet. No pressure.
Sea doesn't have long distance on her home phone plan. So, how am I supposed to contact people back home without cashing in my RRSPs?! I once ran up a bill to Africa calling Whatever. It was $700, I thought it would be $70. I could sell drugs. I live close to the ghetto, this could actually work.
Today I came up with the perfect plan. It came to me by accident. Today I unknowingly called Lucky while he was in class:
"Hello?"
"Hey Lucky!"
"Hey beautiful, intelligent, princess!" (Ok, maybe he didn't phrase it exactly like this)
"Hey, I just called to let you know that I think you're awesome. You're the best. That's all I have to say, I just wanted to let you know."
"Aww, thanks girl. Hey, I'm just in class, why don't I call you back later?"
"Sure Lucky."
"Thanks again for the nice message, I'm so glad we're friends."
"Bye."
"Later."
See how that worked? 10 points for a thoughtful call that made his day, and another 10 points for getting him to call back and talk for an hour.
_______________________________
Other blog entry updates:
1) Special suggested that if the cat dies while she is at home with me, that I just go to the mall. He said not to come back until it's dark. Just run from the problem. This is the best idea yet: my sis would think Ducky died while I was out. Brilliant.
2) People now e-mail me when they change their sheets.
3) Black hasn't called me again. He thinks I'm peeing when I talk to him. So does Special.
Sea doesn't have long distance on her home phone plan. So, how am I supposed to contact people back home without cashing in my RRSPs?! I once ran up a bill to Africa calling Whatever. It was $700, I thought it would be $70. I could sell drugs. I live close to the ghetto, this could actually work.
Today I came up with the perfect plan. It came to me by accident. Today I unknowingly called Lucky while he was in class:
"Hello?"
"Hey Lucky!"
"Hey beautiful, intelligent, princess!" (Ok, maybe he didn't phrase it exactly like this)
"Hey, I just called to let you know that I think you're awesome. You're the best. That's all I have to say, I just wanted to let you know."
"Aww, thanks girl. Hey, I'm just in class, why don't I call you back later?"
"Sure Lucky."
"Thanks again for the nice message, I'm so glad we're friends."
"Bye."
"Later."
See how that worked? 10 points for a thoughtful call that made his day, and another 10 points for getting him to call back and talk for an hour.
_______________________________
Other blog entry updates:
1) Special suggested that if the cat dies while she is at home with me, that I just go to the mall. He said not to come back until it's dark. Just run from the problem. This is the best idea yet: my sis would think Ducky died while I was out. Brilliant.
2) People now e-mail me when they change their sheets.
3) Black hasn't called me again. He thinks I'm peeing when I talk to him. So does Special.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Who's driving me home?
Let me introduce you to my bus drivers:
1) Newbie: Guy who goes the wrong way, backs up the bus, and asks us (passengers) which way to go. Super nice... but kinda scary.
2) Madam A. : Lady who is type A. Every hair is in place, her clothes are pressed, she adjusts everything often ie the garbage can, the mirrors, the tickets, the mirrors, the garbage can, the tickets. Efficient.
3) Mr. Go-Stop McChatterson: He's young and eager. It's gas pedal or brake. Yells out the window at people. For the most part friendly.
4) Mr. Cruise Control: It's tempting to sleep on this bus. He drives at an even speed. Slows down and speeds up gradually. Sometimes he cruises right pass our stops. He seems surprised every time.
5) Mr. FANtastic: First indication he was different- sign on the bus read, "Go Flames Go!", instead of the destination. He wore a Flames Jersey and held a portable radio, which rattled off the details of the game. I could have paid with a cracker. After a while, he pulled over, got off the bus and smoked. FANtastic drank an amber liquid out of a cloudy plastic cup with a lid and a straw. It was either apple juice, urine, or beer.
6) Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver: OK first, let me premise this intro with the fact that I had just come from a stressful but successful interview (I got hired!). I was wearing my new black and white dress with a cute thin purple and fuchsia belt (thanks Mocha!). Before I caught the bus I stopped at Starbucks to get a venti hazelnut iced coffee. What a refreshing way to celebrate! Once I stepped onto the bus, Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver looked me up and down and licked his lips. LICKED HIS LIPS! Ewww! I was too overcome with shock and the desire to boil myself and wear a parka that I didn't come up with a chastising remark. He continued the creep fest by eyeing me in the mirror. He sealed the deal as the Blacklisted bus driver when he slammed the doors on my arms, and caused my entire beverage to spill on the grass . The nearest Starbucks is a 40 min bus ride away. Sniff.
I'm crossing my fingers for Madam A. or Mr. Cruise Control tomorrow, but I'm bringing my parka just incase.
1) Newbie: Guy who goes the wrong way, backs up the bus, and asks us (passengers) which way to go. Super nice... but kinda scary.
2) Madam A. : Lady who is type A. Every hair is in place, her clothes are pressed, she adjusts everything often ie the garbage can, the mirrors, the tickets, the mirrors, the garbage can, the tickets. Efficient.
3) Mr. Go-Stop McChatterson: He's young and eager. It's gas pedal or brake. Yells out the window at people. For the most part friendly.
4) Mr. Cruise Control: It's tempting to sleep on this bus. He drives at an even speed. Slows down and speeds up gradually. Sometimes he cruises right pass our stops. He seems surprised every time.
5) Mr. FANtastic: First indication he was different- sign on the bus read, "Go Flames Go!", instead of the destination. He wore a Flames Jersey and held a portable radio, which rattled off the details of the game. I could have paid with a cracker. After a while, he pulled over, got off the bus and smoked. FANtastic drank an amber liquid out of a cloudy plastic cup with a lid and a straw. It was either apple juice, urine, or beer.
6) Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver: OK first, let me premise this intro with the fact that I had just come from a stressful but successful interview (I got hired!). I was wearing my new black and white dress with a cute thin purple and fuchsia belt (thanks Mocha!). Before I caught the bus I stopped at Starbucks to get a venti hazelnut iced coffee. What a refreshing way to celebrate! Once I stepped onto the bus, Pervy-Blacklisted-Bus-Driver looked me up and down and licked his lips. LICKED HIS LIPS! Ewww! I was too overcome with shock and the desire to boil myself and wear a parka that I didn't come up with a chastising remark. He continued the creep fest by eyeing me in the mirror. He sealed the deal as the Blacklisted bus driver when he slammed the doors on my arms, and caused my entire beverage to spill on the grass . The nearest Starbucks is a 40 min bus ride away. Sniff.
I'm crossing my fingers for Madam A. or Mr. Cruise Control tomorrow, but I'm bringing my parka just incase.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
From Karl to Kiddo
I miss Karl.
Today I went to Starbucks in Safeway, which is second rate to begin with. There was a crumpled paper sign on the counter that read, "back in 15 minutes." Are you kidding me? Five minutes later, an eleven year old boy entered the bar and peered up over the keys of the cash register to take my order. His voice was void of deep tone or squeak. Twenty five cents says he had no armpit hair either. Poor Johnny didn't know how to ring in the beverage, so I got a deal on a drink that was made wrong.
I added more cream and pined for Karl.
Today I went to Starbucks in Safeway, which is second rate to begin with. There was a crumpled paper sign on the counter that read, "back in 15 minutes." Are you kidding me? Five minutes later, an eleven year old boy entered the bar and peered up over the keys of the cash register to take my order. His voice was void of deep tone or squeak. Twenty five cents says he had no armpit hair either. Poor Johnny didn't know how to ring in the beverage, so I got a deal on a drink that was made wrong.
I added more cream and pined for Karl.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Ever wonder...?
Ever wonder what the difference between 23 and 26 is?
26 is the correct bus I should have taken, 23 was the one I actually got on. 23 is now dubbed "the man bus", because only men take it. A whole busload of them. I know this should sound like a dream to a single girl like me, but when all those men come from the industrial area after work and smell like sweat, B.O., and McDonalds it's not a dreamy place to be. Shudder. An hour and a half of magic.
Ever wonder what the people above your appartment were like?
I found out. Turns out I live in condo unit #315, not #415. I tried to open the lock of #415 and some old dude in a robe came out and looked at me like I wanted to be charged with breaking and entering. I muttered something about, "Wrong floor!" and ran away. That looks innocent.
26 is the correct bus I should have taken, 23 was the one I actually got on. 23 is now dubbed "the man bus", because only men take it. A whole busload of them. I know this should sound like a dream to a single girl like me, but when all those men come from the industrial area after work and smell like sweat, B.O., and McDonalds it's not a dreamy place to be. Shudder. An hour and a half of magic.
Ever wonder what the people above your appartment were like?
I found out. Turns out I live in condo unit #315, not #415. I tried to open the lock of #415 and some old dude in a robe came out and looked at me like I wanted to be charged with breaking and entering. I muttered something about, "Wrong floor!" and ran away. That looks innocent.
Friday, October 3, 2008
How to botch an interview
This method is tried and true.
1) Walk for 15 minutes in wind that is so strong it makes your nose run. This helps make an impressionable hair style.
2) Wear black jogger capris, ballet sneaker crossover shoes, and a cute, but average top. Wear this to a trendy establishment where fashion matters.
3) Having a runny nose, make sure to blow it. Not inside, but outside the building, unintentionally in front of the manager's office- the one with the tinted windows.
4) Don't research the company you're applying to. The less you know the better.
5) Be thrown completely off guard when you discover the manager is smokin' hot and might actually double as an underwear model.
6) When he's talking to you, notice how beautiful he is.
7) Since you just missed what he said, mutter something and hope it fits.
8) Because you don't know anything about the company, play the BC card. You're from BC and they don't have that company there.
9) He informs you they do.
10) Get nervous, mix up your words. The more senseless ramble the better.
11) Wonder how tall he actually is and check the ring finger.
12) When he asks you what you could bring to the company, tell him you're funny. Don't explain how this is relevant. And make sure not to actually say anything funny during the interview.
13) Replay the BC card and talk about the weather. Tell the Calgarian that you're actually looking forward to snow because you're from Victoria and you haven't really had a "real" winter. Snow is pretty much like taxes, so he'll love this.
14) When he asks you for your faults, don't actually come up with one (which looks wonderfully unprepared) but tell him that you have many.
15) Wonder why the interview was so short and don't shake his hand on the way out.
1) Walk for 15 minutes in wind that is so strong it makes your nose run. This helps make an impressionable hair style.
2) Wear black jogger capris, ballet sneaker crossover shoes, and a cute, but average top. Wear this to a trendy establishment where fashion matters.
3) Having a runny nose, make sure to blow it. Not inside, but outside the building, unintentionally in front of the manager's office- the one with the tinted windows.
4) Don't research the company you're applying to. The less you know the better.
5) Be thrown completely off guard when you discover the manager is smokin' hot and might actually double as an underwear model.
6) When he's talking to you, notice how beautiful he is.
7) Since you just missed what he said, mutter something and hope it fits.
8) Because you don't know anything about the company, play the BC card. You're from BC and they don't have that company there.
9) He informs you they do.
10) Get nervous, mix up your words. The more senseless ramble the better.
11) Wonder how tall he actually is and check the ring finger.
12) When he asks you what you could bring to the company, tell him you're funny. Don't explain how this is relevant. And make sure not to actually say anything funny during the interview.
13) Replay the BC card and talk about the weather. Tell the Calgarian that you're actually looking forward to snow because you're from Victoria and you haven't really had a "real" winter. Snow is pretty much like taxes, so he'll love this.
14) When he asks you for your faults, don't actually come up with one (which looks wonderfully unprepared) but tell him that you have many.
15) Wonder why the interview was so short and don't shake his hand on the way out.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Tee hee hee... confession
I pee while I'm talking to people on the phone. I also eat, blow my nose, or fart. This is courtesy of the mute button. It's fantastic. Except for the one time I accidentally forgot to take the person off of mute and she thought I hung up. Whoops.
If I need to use the washroom I don't want the person on the phone to hear the special trickle (or fountain, depending on the day) nor the flush. One time Lucky heard me urinate and hung up. He lectured me that this is gross, which is why it made it to my list of things not to do in front of guys. I figured it could be extended to people in general. Anyway, the trickle (or fountain) could be explained as water running (washing dishes maybe?), but the flush always gives it away, which is why it's important to mute. Last week I used the mute procedure on Black. Sorry buddy, I guess we're better friends. This is what I did: I know Black likes to explain things "thoroughly" so knowing I had to pee, I just asked him something that would launch a monologue. Perfect. Insert mute. I've also learned that the speaker needs to know I'm still there and paying attention. Therefore, it's important to unmute it every so often to say, "Hmmm" or "Yeah." I used two of them and Black never knew a thing...
If I need to use the washroom I don't want the person on the phone to hear the special trickle (or fountain, depending on the day) nor the flush. One time Lucky heard me urinate and hung up. He lectured me that this is gross, which is why it made it to my list of things not to do in front of guys. I figured it could be extended to people in general. Anyway, the trickle (or fountain) could be explained as water running (washing dishes maybe?), but the flush always gives it away, which is why it's important to mute. Last week I used the mute procedure on Black. Sorry buddy, I guess we're better friends. This is what I did: I know Black likes to explain things "thoroughly" so knowing I had to pee, I just asked him something that would launch a monologue. Perfect. Insert mute. I've also learned that the speaker needs to know I'm still there and paying attention. Therefore, it's important to unmute it every so often to say, "Hmmm" or "Yeah." I used two of them and Black never knew a thing...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
It's not like I want the cat dead
It's five am and I can't sleep.
I'm staying with Sea and she's got a gray cat with green eyes and a broken purr. She's 18 and her name is Ducky. Ducky follows her "mom" around the house with a wretched meow that sounds like a regular meow with dying batteries. Sea likes to talk to her and buy her weird cat food that says something about hairballs on the label. I don't get this. I'm not a cat person so I don't get mushy gushy gross about an animal that licks itself and wants to cuddle with me. If I had a boyfriend who could lick his armpit or any other "area" there's no way he'd come near me for a snuggle. Somehow pet lovers are ok with this. For some reason picking up feces, spending money on cat food, getting fur on one's clothes, is a worthwhile trade-off. I don't know what that trade-off is. Companionship? Maybe it's an ego boost to feel unconditionally accepted by a pet.
I have an irrational fear that Ducky is going to die while I'm at home and Sea is at work. What if Sea holds me responsible or secretly resents me?! This is why I need to pre-emptively come up with the correct compassionate response. Instinctively I would suggest getting a new cat, perhaps a gray one from the SPCA. Apparently this is the wrong response. Whatever suggested getting flowers the same colour as Ducky. Something tells me they'd look more like flowers of doom. Maybe I could get her a Build a Bear cat. Forget it, that's lame. I've got nothing. Maybe she'll croak while I'm in Mexico or home for Christmas.
I'm staying with Sea and she's got a gray cat with green eyes and a broken purr. She's 18 and her name is Ducky. Ducky follows her "mom" around the house with a wretched meow that sounds like a regular meow with dying batteries. Sea likes to talk to her and buy her weird cat food that says something about hairballs on the label. I don't get this. I'm not a cat person so I don't get mushy gushy gross about an animal that licks itself and wants to cuddle with me. If I had a boyfriend who could lick his armpit or any other "area" there's no way he'd come near me for a snuggle. Somehow pet lovers are ok with this. For some reason picking up feces, spending money on cat food, getting fur on one's clothes, is a worthwhile trade-off. I don't know what that trade-off is. Companionship? Maybe it's an ego boost to feel unconditionally accepted by a pet.
I have an irrational fear that Ducky is going to die while I'm at home and Sea is at work. What if Sea holds me responsible or secretly resents me?! This is why I need to pre-emptively come up with the correct compassionate response. Instinctively I would suggest getting a new cat, perhaps a gray one from the SPCA. Apparently this is the wrong response. Whatever suggested getting flowers the same colour as Ducky. Something tells me they'd look more like flowers of doom. Maybe I could get her a Build a Bear cat. Forget it, that's lame. I've got nothing. Maybe she'll croak while I'm in Mexico or home for Christmas.
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