[about 20 minutes into a conversation between three girls]
"Guys, I have big news. But I want you to be more supportive than my parents were when I told them."
I wonder what she could possibly be doing that her parents wouldn't understand and agree that we would certainly be supportive.
"I'm gay. Just kidding. I'm going to run a marathon."
I don't think we knew what to address first, the fact that she managed to convince us for about 4 seconds that she was gay and her parents were against it, that she made a horrible joke about homosexuality, the surprise that she was going to run a marathon or the shock that her parents were not supportive of her running a marathon. However, we successfully overlooked most of the facets of that statement and went with unquestioning support of the marathon.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The best headphones ever
"Wow, these wireless headphones are fantastic. They sound exactly as if I were playing my music out loud."
They were watching the hockey game - loudly - and had set me up with earphones so I could continue to listen to music instead of feigning interest in the hockey game while actually planning out what I wanted to do after the hockey game is over.
5 minutes later, the game had quieted down for a commercial and I thought, these headphones are too good to be true. As I took them off, I realized everyone was looking at me, and sure enough, I had my earphones plugged into the wrong port.
Now they are connected properly but, you know, the sound just isn't the same.
They were watching the hockey game - loudly - and had set me up with earphones so I could continue to listen to music instead of feigning interest in the hockey game while actually planning out what I wanted to do after the hockey game is over.
5 minutes later, the game had quieted down for a commercial and I thought, these headphones are too good to be true. As I took them off, I realized everyone was looking at me, and sure enough, I had my earphones plugged into the wrong port.
Now they are connected properly but, you know, the sound just isn't the same.
Stress
You know you've been stressed when you open the fridge to grab a bag of milk, and not only is it still in the grocery bag it was in when you bought it, but there is a box of fabric softener sheets in it as well.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Hunger
I've been known to get a little bit touchy when I need to eat but sometimes I forget just how much.
It's one of those things where, once you get to know me well enough, you know that at a certain point, it's best to just stand back until I have been fed, or risk suffering my wrath - typically some form of demanding we eat immediately.
As one friend put it, "by then, I don't want to get too close - I just want to feed you with a slingshot or something!"
He does have a point.
It's one of those things where, once you get to know me well enough, you know that at a certain point, it's best to just stand back until I have been fed, or risk suffering my wrath - typically some form of demanding we eat immediately.
As one friend put it, "by then, I don't want to get too close - I just want to feed you with a slingshot or something!"
He does have a point.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Me and manual labour
"Did you need a hand with anything?"
"Not unless you like manual labour."
"What do you have to do?"
"I'm going to take this ice pick, and this axe, and chip away about 3 inches of that ice over there."
"And you intend to do this by yourself?"
"Yes."
5 minutes later, while he is chipping all of the ice away, and I am looking pretty useless, he laughs to himself. "I can't believe you were going to try and do this on your own!" "I'm a determined girl." "I hope this isn't your permanent job." "Oh no, I'm a student."
I leave out the part about intending to do something like this once I graduate anyway.
Finally we are finished, and he teases me a bit more - something about trying to pick up guys by letting them watch my pathetic attempts at physical labour. He catches me chuckling and I admit that he knows me far too well already.
"Not unless you like manual labour."
"What do you have to do?"
"I'm going to take this ice pick, and this axe, and chip away about 3 inches of that ice over there."
"And you intend to do this by yourself?"
"Yes."
5 minutes later, while he is chipping all of the ice away, and I am looking pretty useless, he laughs to himself. "I can't believe you were going to try and do this on your own!" "I'm a determined girl." "I hope this isn't your permanent job." "Oh no, I'm a student."
I leave out the part about intending to do something like this once I graduate anyway.
Finally we are finished, and he teases me a bit more - something about trying to pick up guys by letting them watch my pathetic attempts at physical labour. He catches me chuckling and I admit that he knows me far too well already.
Hours of operation
"What time am I working until today?"
"I don't know, what day is it?"
"Wednesday."
"8pm."
...My management style at its best.
"I don't know, what day is it?"
"Wednesday."
"8pm."
...My management style at its best.
Singleness
I was reading this article titled 10 Reasons It's Great to be Single, because sometimes articles like that thoroughly entertain me. However, the only thing I found particularly entertaining about this one was at the top, directly underneath the title:
Related Content:
Asexuality
How to Find a Husband
Harsh, eh? God forbid single people would just like being single!
If you would like a genuinely funny article, check this one out with comebacks to the question, "Why are you single?" Always makes me smile. Partially because it is a well-written article. Partially because when I originally posted it on facebook, it was followed by a hilarious debate of comments between guys who just wanted to date me, and a number of ridiculous but serious comments from various people including several guys, several of my female friends, one of the guys' moms, and one guys criticizing the seriousness of the other comments. I would reprint it, but once it started to get really out of hand, a few of the best comments got deleted by their authors.
Related Content:
Asexuality
How to Find a Husband
Harsh, eh? God forbid single people would just like being single!
If you would like a genuinely funny article, check this one out with comebacks to the question, "Why are you single?" Always makes me smile. Partially because it is a well-written article. Partially because when I originally posted it on facebook, it was followed by a hilarious debate of comments between guys who just wanted to date me, and a number of ridiculous but serious comments from various people including several guys, several of my female friends, one of the guys' moms, and one guys criticizing the seriousness of the other comments. I would reprint it, but once it started to get really out of hand, a few of the best comments got deleted by their authors.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Terrible at multitasking
We were looking for an address in the middle of nowhere and my friend kept swerving over the line as he drove.
"Do you want me to drive?"
"No no, I'm just thinking."
"Do you think better on the left side of the road?"
"Do you want me to drive?"
"No no, I'm just thinking."
"Do you think better on the left side of the road?"
We're going to Candy Mountain!
"This had better be freakin' important. Is the meadow on fire?"
I have a close friend named Charlie, and this is basically how I intend to speak to him for the rest of time. Make sure to watch the whole thing.
"Shun the non-believer! Shun!" "Shuuuuuuuun-ah!"
I have a close friend named Charlie, and this is basically how I intend to speak to him for the rest of time. Make sure to watch the whole thing.
"Shun the non-believer! Shun!" "Shuuuuuuuun-ah!"
Broke into the old apartment
I truly hated my last apartment.
Hate would almost be an understatement, it was a dive to beat all dives, it was just plain horrible.
We thought it was a great deal at first. Huge living room and balcony, 2 large bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, great location overlooking the river, could it get any better?
Seriously, does that not sound fantastic?
Until we moved in. We lived there 6 months, and during that time, there was 2(.5) floods in our apartment, and a major flood in the building. Everything that produced water in our apartment leaked. The .5 flood was a pipe in the kitchen that we caught early enough to have a bowl under so it doesn't really count. Flood #1 was our shower, which leaked into the wall and the hallway flooring, completely destroying the parquet. A week after we moved in. When did they fix it? Literally, the day we moved out. They actually had the nerve to ask us not to step on it as we moved all our furniture out of the place.
Flood #2 was in the second bathroom. The toilet leaked. Badly. The wall around it is basically ruined, and we essentially did not use that bathroom for the duration of our stay there.
The balcony was used as storage, as the solid cement "railing" was too high to actually see over, and the spiders out there were terrifyingly huge.
There was absolutely no ventilation, the kitchen had no natural light, the place was a haven for thieves, and it constantly smelled of... I don't even want to know.
For a month in the summer they drilled on the cement balconies for no apparent reason. No matter where the drill was in the building, it sounded like it was in my room, or at the very least, directly outside my window. I work 11-11 most of the time. It started every day at 7.
Once they had a scheduled power outage. It was supposed to be 9-5. It was actually more like noon-10. There was absolutely no emergency lighting - apparently windows to the sun and moon are sufficient in their minds. I was afraid to go out at 2pm because it was so dark in the hallway I was afraid I would get mugged - we had to take flashlights with us all day!
Finally, we moved. And on moving day I said good riddance. Everyone asked how I could not be even a little emotionally attached, and I wasn't. I hated everything about it but the fact that I was finally on my own. I also liked that it was parked next to a beach, but that had nothing to do with the place itself.
Months later, my roommate shocked me by saying he missed the place. "It had character," he said, "and you could do anything you wanted there." This was true, though I was absolutely sure they would charge us for something. The previous tenants had left it in awful shape and there was no inspection since it was a lease take-over. He was right, though. Now we live in a gorgeous place with carpet, white walls, a dishwasher, washer, and dryer, and no spiders. Other than a few flaws, it is very pleasing. But we can't through pieces of the floor at each other. And we can't paint equipment on the floor in the living room. Nor tromp through all the rooms with our shoes covered in mud partially because we don't care, partially because we don't want to get the dirt already on the floor on our feet. I remember I used to wear flip flops indoors at all times. I guess it really did have character.
Hate would almost be an understatement, it was a dive to beat all dives, it was just plain horrible.
We thought it was a great deal at first. Huge living room and balcony, 2 large bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, great location overlooking the river, could it get any better?
Seriously, does that not sound fantastic?
Until we moved in. We lived there 6 months, and during that time, there was 2(.5) floods in our apartment, and a major flood in the building. Everything that produced water in our apartment leaked. The .5 flood was a pipe in the kitchen that we caught early enough to have a bowl under so it doesn't really count. Flood #1 was our shower, which leaked into the wall and the hallway flooring, completely destroying the parquet. A week after we moved in. When did they fix it? Literally, the day we moved out. They actually had the nerve to ask us not to step on it as we moved all our furniture out of the place.
Flood #2 was in the second bathroom. The toilet leaked. Badly. The wall around it is basically ruined, and we essentially did not use that bathroom for the duration of our stay there.
The balcony was used as storage, as the solid cement "railing" was too high to actually see over, and the spiders out there were terrifyingly huge.
There was absolutely no ventilation, the kitchen had no natural light, the place was a haven for thieves, and it constantly smelled of... I don't even want to know.
For a month in the summer they drilled on the cement balconies for no apparent reason. No matter where the drill was in the building, it sounded like it was in my room, or at the very least, directly outside my window. I work 11-11 most of the time. It started every day at 7.
Once they had a scheduled power outage. It was supposed to be 9-5. It was actually more like noon-10. There was absolutely no emergency lighting - apparently windows to the sun and moon are sufficient in their minds. I was afraid to go out at 2pm because it was so dark in the hallway I was afraid I would get mugged - we had to take flashlights with us all day!
Finally, we moved. And on moving day I said good riddance. Everyone asked how I could not be even a little emotionally attached, and I wasn't. I hated everything about it but the fact that I was finally on my own. I also liked that it was parked next to a beach, but that had nothing to do with the place itself.
Months later, my roommate shocked me by saying he missed the place. "It had character," he said, "and you could do anything you wanted there." This was true, though I was absolutely sure they would charge us for something. The previous tenants had left it in awful shape and there was no inspection since it was a lease take-over. He was right, though. Now we live in a gorgeous place with carpet, white walls, a dishwasher, washer, and dryer, and no spiders. Other than a few flaws, it is very pleasing. But we can't through pieces of the floor at each other. And we can't paint equipment on the floor in the living room. Nor tromp through all the rooms with our shoes covered in mud partially because we don't care, partially because we don't want to get the dirt already on the floor on our feet. I remember I used to wear flip flops indoors at all times. I guess it really did have character.
Divorce frame
I remember one time around Christmas, I was waiting in line with a friend and about a thousand people crowded around us, and I started admiring this photo frame that resembled one I had bought my parents a few years ago.
I started excitedly recounting the story of the frame.
"Remember that time in high school, we were shopping for an anniversary gift for my parents, and I had picked out a frame that was very white and fancy, and you said it was more appropriate for a 25 year wedding, and I said that I didn't they would make it that long anyway, so we picked a different one, and then my parents got divorced?"
After the lady in front of us in line stopped laughing hysterically, I think mostly at the way I had told the story as if it were a story that I remembered fondly - and in some ways, I did, I stood there, with no real explanation, because how can you explain that kind of indifference?
I started excitedly recounting the story of the frame.
"Remember that time in high school, we were shopping for an anniversary gift for my parents, and I had picked out a frame that was very white and fancy, and you said it was more appropriate for a 25 year wedding, and I said that I didn't they would make it that long anyway, so we picked a different one, and then my parents got divorced?"
After the lady in front of us in line stopped laughing hysterically, I think mostly at the way I had told the story as if it were a story that I remembered fondly - and in some ways, I did, I stood there, with no real explanation, because how can you explain that kind of indifference?
Need a doctor
I'm pretty sure I have cholera, or the plague, or something. Tuberculosis. Something obscure, that there's pretty much no way I have.
I need a doctor. Badly. The worst part is, I technically have one. But I am really uncomfortable with him and I have no faith in his ability to diagnose me. I mean, not to be picky or anything - I really don't think I am. But I've gone in to discuss medication that they have put me on there, to be told that they have never given me that medication and they don't know why they would for those symptoms. To the point where I had to produce a copy of the prescribed item with their name on the bottle to prove it.
I've also had back problems so bad that I could barely stand up for more than 10 minutes, to which they informed me that I was fine. And he once asked me, "Do you date?" to find out if I was sexually active - which was fairly awkward until I realized what he was actually asking me.
That essentially sums up the only 4 times I've been to a doctor in the past 12 or 13 years, so basically, I'm better off on my own than going to this place. As a last resort, an emergency clinic or hospital.
However, I am here, and I am more ill than I am letting on (in spite of being very dramatic about the whole thing), and it's not an emergency, but I worry, and I have nowhere to go. So I am here. I am speculating about unrealistic illnesses I could have because I want to believe that all I have had is a cold. And the flu. For a month and a half. When I typically only get sick for maybe two days, once every couple of years. But the idea of waiting two hours in a clinic to be assessed by someone who is probably more competent than my doctor but I will likely never see again, and will probably just put me on something I could pick up at a drug store to ease my cough, is not particularly appealing.
On the bright side, a French doctor's clinic about 25 minutes away in the other end of town has said they may be able to take me on as a patient. They said they will call me back. In a week. If they have space. Here's hoping.
I need a doctor. Badly. The worst part is, I technically have one. But I am really uncomfortable with him and I have no faith in his ability to diagnose me. I mean, not to be picky or anything - I really don't think I am. But I've gone in to discuss medication that they have put me on there, to be told that they have never given me that medication and they don't know why they would for those symptoms. To the point where I had to produce a copy of the prescribed item with their name on the bottle to prove it.
I've also had back problems so bad that I could barely stand up for more than 10 minutes, to which they informed me that I was fine. And he once asked me, "Do you date?" to find out if I was sexually active - which was fairly awkward until I realized what he was actually asking me.
That essentially sums up the only 4 times I've been to a doctor in the past 12 or 13 years, so basically, I'm better off on my own than going to this place. As a last resort, an emergency clinic or hospital.
However, I am here, and I am more ill than I am letting on (in spite of being very dramatic about the whole thing), and it's not an emergency, but I worry, and I have nowhere to go. So I am here. I am speculating about unrealistic illnesses I could have because I want to believe that all I have had is a cold. And the flu. For a month and a half. When I typically only get sick for maybe two days, once every couple of years. But the idea of waiting two hours in a clinic to be assessed by someone who is probably more competent than my doctor but I will likely never see again, and will probably just put me on something I could pick up at a drug store to ease my cough, is not particularly appealing.
On the bright side, a French doctor's clinic about 25 minutes away in the other end of town has said they may be able to take me on as a patient. They said they will call me back. In a week. If they have space. Here's hoping.
Recycled phone numbers
About 5 months ago, I canceled my phone plan. I usually do at the end of each summer, as I work a seasonal position where I use about 1200 minutes a month, and my regular phone is on a discounted work plan so it's hard to switch it back and forth. Plus, then the staff can't call my phone at 7:30am on a Saturday 2 months after we closed down operations because they think the weather might be good enough to warrant re-opening.
Anyway, one of my friends who worked for me a couple of times in the summer called me about a month ago. "I just found out the hard way that you no longer have that number," he said, "some guy answered and it was very confusing."
I imagine this is likely because I used to let other people answer my phone all the time, but anyway.
At the time, we laughed, and I seriously considered calling the guy who had my old number assigned to him, knowing that if he is getting calls now, he will be getting hundreds of calls come early May. And some of the staff probably won't believe him if he says he has no idea who I am.
Since then, I've heard of more people calling this guy. My mom, for instance, among others. People program new numbers in their phones and never take them out, I guess.
The question now is, do I call this guy, and suggest that he changes his number while it's still not too much of a hassle? Or do I ignore it, knowing he is going to be really pissed off in a couple of months that he got the most called number ever? He may not even believe me, and then I will feel like a jerk for calling. And maybe it won't be that bad. However, if I were him, I would want to know. What do you think? Would you want to get a call from the previous owner of your phone number telling you that you might want to change it? Or would you just think they were crazy?
Anyway, one of my friends who worked for me a couple of times in the summer called me about a month ago. "I just found out the hard way that you no longer have that number," he said, "some guy answered and it was very confusing."
I imagine this is likely because I used to let other people answer my phone all the time, but anyway.
At the time, we laughed, and I seriously considered calling the guy who had my old number assigned to him, knowing that if he is getting calls now, he will be getting hundreds of calls come early May. And some of the staff probably won't believe him if he says he has no idea who I am.
Since then, I've heard of more people calling this guy. My mom, for instance, among others. People program new numbers in their phones and never take them out, I guess.
The question now is, do I call this guy, and suggest that he changes his number while it's still not too much of a hassle? Or do I ignore it, knowing he is going to be really pissed off in a couple of months that he got the most called number ever? He may not even believe me, and then I will feel like a jerk for calling. And maybe it won't be that bad. However, if I were him, I would want to know. What do you think? Would you want to get a call from the previous owner of your phone number telling you that you might want to change it? Or would you just think they were crazy?
cat
My cat is into eating plants. Right now, she is trying to eat a fake plant. Just wanted you to know.
go me!
I am so excited right now I don't know what to do with myself.
Well, the cold I have is demanding enough as it is so I guess I will just tend to that but seriously, I'm pretty excited.
A work opportunity I've been wanting to explore for awhile is likely going to come to fruition this year, coinciding with my graduation from university. It should be fantastic. The only thing I'm going to miss is having the opportunity to work for someone other than myself in a non-minimum wage job. The grass is always greener, right?
Well, the cold I have is demanding enough as it is so I guess I will just tend to that but seriously, I'm pretty excited.
A work opportunity I've been wanting to explore for awhile is likely going to come to fruition this year, coinciding with my graduation from university. It should be fantastic. The only thing I'm going to miss is having the opportunity to work for someone other than myself in a non-minimum wage job. The grass is always greener, right?
sick
I woke up this morning in a bad state, yet again.
Runny nose, coughing, it wasn't pretty.
The phone rings, of course, about 10 minutes after I wake up as I am still lying in bed. I already know who it is.
"Hello" I say, quickly realizing my voice is not in the same condition it was last night; it's far worse.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, my voice just sucks - I feel fine."
We discuss our plans for the day, then I get off the phone and stumble into the hall, then go to blow my nose as my roommate opens his door.
"That was very feminine of you," he says, and I am reminded that we have gotten far too comfortable around each other.
Runny nose, coughing, it wasn't pretty.
The phone rings, of course, about 10 minutes after I wake up as I am still lying in bed. I already know who it is.
"Hello" I say, quickly realizing my voice is not in the same condition it was last night; it's far worse.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, my voice just sucks - I feel fine."
We discuss our plans for the day, then I get off the phone and stumble into the hall, then go to blow my nose as my roommate opens his door.
"That was very feminine of you," he says, and I am reminded that we have gotten far too comfortable around each other.
Monday, February 11, 2008
How to save for university
I went by to check on my staff the other day, not that they really even need me to.
My brother, who is 15, is on staff, and when I arrived (which, if you can actually believe it, they seem to look forward to), everyone was in good spirits.
I walked into our kiosk and one of the girls was inside, along with my mom, who was waiting to pick up my brother after his shift. The girl smiles and says, "You'll never believe what your brother did today! He made a tip cup that said University fund on it."
At this point, my mom, who never fails to surprise me, says, "Like he is ever going to university!"
The girl continues, "The worst part is," she says, "he had to come ask me to spell university because he didn't know how."
I couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes, until my brother walked up to us, wondering what we were laughing at. "I heard you had a little trouble spelling university!"
He laughs. "I know, the other guys wouldn't even tell me - they said that you can only go if you know how to spell it!"
"You know it starts with a K, right?"
He pauses, contemplating what I have said as he is not sure if it is a joke or if the whole day he has had University spelled incorrectly on his tip jar.
We all burst out laughing as he realizes the truth.
But you know, he probably would have gotten a lot more tips if it had been spelled incorrectly.
My brother, who is 15, is on staff, and when I arrived (which, if you can actually believe it, they seem to look forward to), everyone was in good spirits.
I walked into our kiosk and one of the girls was inside, along with my mom, who was waiting to pick up my brother after his shift. The girl smiles and says, "You'll never believe what your brother did today! He made a tip cup that said University fund on it."
At this point, my mom, who never fails to surprise me, says, "Like he is ever going to university!"
The girl continues, "The worst part is," she says, "he had to come ask me to spell university because he didn't know how."
I couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes, until my brother walked up to us, wondering what we were laughing at. "I heard you had a little trouble spelling university!"
He laughs. "I know, the other guys wouldn't even tell me - they said that you can only go if you know how to spell it!"
"You know it starts with a K, right?"
He pauses, contemplating what I have said as he is not sure if it is a joke or if the whole day he has had University spelled incorrectly on his tip jar.
We all burst out laughing as he realizes the truth.
But you know, he probably would have gotten a lot more tips if it had been spelled incorrectly.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
romance
I used to work for this guy who was terrible when it came to romance.
I remember about 5 years ago I was working, and his pseudo-ex (read: they weren't officially dating but they were unofficially semi-dating after having broken up the year before) was there as well because we were short on staff. During a quiet moment, she turned to me and said, "Do you think (boss) will get me anything for Valentine's day?"
I don't remember how I responded but I imagine it was something reassuring like, "I don't know, he's not really the Valentine's day type - but maybe he will!"
An hour or so later, she had gone home and my boss was standing where she had been earlier that day. He turns to me, having no idea of our earlier conversation, and says, "So, do you think she'll notice if I don't get her anything for Valentine's day?"
I almost smacked him. I don't think he got her anything, either. Although I definitely told him to.
I remember about 5 years ago I was working, and his pseudo-ex (read: they weren't officially dating but they were unofficially semi-dating after having broken up the year before) was there as well because we were short on staff. During a quiet moment, she turned to me and said, "Do you think (boss) will get me anything for Valentine's day?"
I don't remember how I responded but I imagine it was something reassuring like, "I don't know, he's not really the Valentine's day type - but maybe he will!"
An hour or so later, she had gone home and my boss was standing where she had been earlier that day. He turns to me, having no idea of our earlier conversation, and says, "So, do you think she'll notice if I don't get her anything for Valentine's day?"
I almost smacked him. I don't think he got her anything, either. Although I definitely told him to.
Monday, February 4, 2008
LOLBYOBTTYLBBQ
My roommate and I like to make fun of internet lingo during our downtime by combining acronyms and sending them to each other from opposite rooms. Usually after a few of these I have to come out because I am laughing so hard he can hear me, and the use of LOL (the only one I ever use) is so strange when you are either not laughing, or laughing so hard the person you are saying it to can hear you. It reminds me of when I had a friend on webcam that kept saying "lol" but wasn't even smirking, which compelled me to complain constantly that he wasn't actually laughing. Even worse are those who actually pronounce "lol" out loud. I'm sorry, you can't SAY 'laughing out loud'. Either you are laughing out loud, or you aren't. If you are, you can't say it. If you aren't, you aren't. I realize that "lol" has morphed in a way that it means "somewhat amused" or "I want this statement to sound light-hearted or humourous," but honestly. "Lolz" is even worse. I pretty much have to remove myself from those situations to conceal my immediate urge to vomit.
I love grammar
I would like to address the somewhat random issue of grammar and spelling.
I am somewhat of a spelling geek, and I am obsessed with grammar, though admittedly, my grammar has its flaws. I don't use spell check, I don't like acronyms, and I usually spell things correctly. If you find any spelling errors (or typos), feel free to let me know, because it bugs me to know they exist, and I don't always proofread. Don't correct my grammar, you will drive me insane, and I like my style, in spite of the fact that it doesn't follow all the standard rules. There are some things that bother me (for instance, when people use "anyways" instead of "anyway"), and others not so much.
One habit I have is to not capitalize my titles. Not only do I not like to create titles to begin with, most of my writing for the past five years has been in French, in which they only capitalize proper nouns and the first letter of titles, so I typically do that or do not capitalize at all.
The grammar obsession is more of a strong interest. Sentence structure and forms, tenses, and verb conjugations weirdly interest me. I get excited when things change in translations, or when you find words that exist in some languages and not others.
Also, I'm Canadian, so you are going to notice a lot of references to kilometres, litres, labour, and polar bears.
I am somewhat of a spelling geek, and I am obsessed with grammar, though admittedly, my grammar has its flaws. I don't use spell check, I don't like acronyms, and I usually spell things correctly. If you find any spelling errors (or typos), feel free to let me know, because it bugs me to know they exist, and I don't always proofread. Don't correct my grammar, you will drive me insane, and I like my style, in spite of the fact that it doesn't follow all the standard rules. There are some things that bother me (for instance, when people use "anyways" instead of "anyway"), and others not so much.
One habit I have is to not capitalize my titles. Not only do I not like to create titles to begin with, most of my writing for the past five years has been in French, in which they only capitalize proper nouns and the first letter of titles, so I typically do that or do not capitalize at all.
The grammar obsession is more of a strong interest. Sentence structure and forms, tenses, and verb conjugations weirdly interest me. I get excited when things change in translations, or when you find words that exist in some languages and not others.
Also, I'm Canadian, so you are going to notice a lot of references to kilometres, litres, labour, and polar bears.
work and the internet
Frig, I love this whole blogging thing but the whole thing makes me paranoid.
Mostly because I want to talk about things I shouldn't talk about. My job. My whereabouts. Things I do that make me a good target for theft. Disastrous relationships. Feelings.
I suppose I can talk about some of those things. My job, for instance. I am self employed, so no one will ever reprimand me for talking about it. I can't get fired. But I could lose business contacts, and contracts, and I could unintentionally make my business associates look bad, something I would never want to do. I could inadvertantly make myself sound unprofessional; though my professional actions and the thoughts in my head are very different. I roll my eyes in my mind all the time, but I don't often show it.
It's something to think about, for sure. As I realize this blogging world is so much bigger than I ever imagined it to be, I also realize that this must be a very common issue. Where do you draw the line? People who know me well enough to know most of these stories also know I have the traits to accomplish everything I could ever want to accomplish in the business world. However, those types of things do not necessarily transfer well through the internet, even though they could theoretically need to for the sake of my well-being.
Mostly because I want to talk about things I shouldn't talk about. My job. My whereabouts. Things I do that make me a good target for theft. Disastrous relationships. Feelings.
I suppose I can talk about some of those things. My job, for instance. I am self employed, so no one will ever reprimand me for talking about it. I can't get fired. But I could lose business contacts, and contracts, and I could unintentionally make my business associates look bad, something I would never want to do. I could inadvertantly make myself sound unprofessional; though my professional actions and the thoughts in my head are very different. I roll my eyes in my mind all the time, but I don't often show it.
It's something to think about, for sure. As I realize this blogging world is so much bigger than I ever imagined it to be, I also realize that this must be a very common issue. Where do you draw the line? People who know me well enough to know most of these stories also know I have the traits to accomplish everything I could ever want to accomplish in the business world. However, those types of things do not necessarily transfer well through the internet, even though they could theoretically need to for the sake of my well-being.
Expensive bowling is for suckers!
My roommate and I went bowling tonight.
It was an odd night to begin with. I have hardly been home for the past 5 days and we have seen each other even less, but it seems to make us like each other all the more. Certainly, we were both in awesome moods. I was cooking fajitas and singing the time warp as he loudly watched a movie in the living room - the banter flowing, the cat getting harrassed. Later on, he appeared in the doorway to my room with the proclamation that we were going out. He knew I wouldn't be in the mood for drinking so he proposed a different plan than usual: bowling.
I was less than enthusiastic until he reminded me that there would probably be dance music, and then it was decided. I quickly checked to make sure it was open and we were off. 45 minutes later, we were three games in, and it occured to me.
"You know, we could completely recreate this atmosphere at home on my wii and save ourselves $14 next time! In fact, we should find someone else with a Wii and a tv, set them up like there is two bowling lanes, set up dance music and black lights, and have a Wii bowling dance party!"
I thought it was the greatest idea ever.
"Yeah," he replied, "Until the end of the night, when we have destroyed two tvs and our window, with gaping holes in the wall."
He does make a good point.
It was an odd night to begin with. I have hardly been home for the past 5 days and we have seen each other even less, but it seems to make us like each other all the more. Certainly, we were both in awesome moods. I was cooking fajitas and singing the time warp as he loudly watched a movie in the living room - the banter flowing, the cat getting harrassed. Later on, he appeared in the doorway to my room with the proclamation that we were going out. He knew I wouldn't be in the mood for drinking so he proposed a different plan than usual: bowling.
I was less than enthusiastic until he reminded me that there would probably be dance music, and then it was decided. I quickly checked to make sure it was open and we were off. 45 minutes later, we were three games in, and it occured to me.
"You know, we could completely recreate this atmosphere at home on my wii and save ourselves $14 next time! In fact, we should find someone else with a Wii and a tv, set them up like there is two bowling lanes, set up dance music and black lights, and have a Wii bowling dance party!"
I thought it was the greatest idea ever.
"Yeah," he replied, "Until the end of the night, when we have destroyed two tvs and our window, with gaping holes in the wall."
He does make a good point.
My new roommate Lola, apparently
We keep getting these letters from the Hydro company addressed to a name I don't know at our address.
I thought it was strange, because I had signed up for hydro at this address before we moved in, and we have had hydro for 4 months without receiving anything at all - not totally strange since it is billed localled, but strange considering it would be weird to have signed up exactly in line with the billing cycle, and someone else is obviously still getting a bill.
So, today I opened the most recent one - addressed to Lola something-er-rather. It reminds her to pay her outstanding bill which is for this address, starting the day we moved in. Weird.
I call the hydro company. They ask for my account number. "Well that's the weird thing," I say, and explain the situation. He puts me on hold. He tells me they have someone named Lola (last name absolutely different from mine) that signed up for this address on Nov. 1. I explain that my name is not Lola, that I also signed up for this address on Nov. 1, and that I am definitely the one living here. And, the previous tenants nor the landlord are named Lola.
10 minutes later, he has transferred everything to our name and I will be expecting a bill in the near future. Though I really wonder who this Lola person is and if she has any electricity.
I thought it was strange, because I had signed up for hydro at this address before we moved in, and we have had hydro for 4 months without receiving anything at all - not totally strange since it is billed localled, but strange considering it would be weird to have signed up exactly in line with the billing cycle, and someone else is obviously still getting a bill.
So, today I opened the most recent one - addressed to Lola something-er-rather. It reminds her to pay her outstanding bill which is for this address, starting the day we moved in. Weird.
I call the hydro company. They ask for my account number. "Well that's the weird thing," I say, and explain the situation. He puts me on hold. He tells me they have someone named Lola (last name absolutely different from mine) that signed up for this address on Nov. 1. I explain that my name is not Lola, that I also signed up for this address on Nov. 1, and that I am definitely the one living here. And, the previous tenants nor the landlord are named Lola.
10 minutes later, he has transferred everything to our name and I will be expecting a bill in the near future. Though I really wonder who this Lola person is and if she has any electricity.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
my dog ate my homework
I'm kinda peeved right now because I checked the bus service to my event awhile back to make sure it wasn't like a 2-hour trip on Sundays, and it was thirty minutes, but I had a staff complain it was more like 75 minutes - and he lived right by me, and claimed to have used the same website as me to find it. Naturally, I was somewhat irritated, since he had to be lying, one of the things I truly can't stand in staff - and my standards are pretty low.
So here it is...
Worst excuses I've actually heard for missing work
I need an emergency hair cut.
I accidentally knocked my phone off the hook and my ride couldn't buzz my apartment.
I've been on a drinking binge with my mom for the past 5 days (more unfortunate than anything).
I have to watch the Superbowl (wrong day).
I got too much sun, and now I have symptoms exactly like a hangover.
My other work called me and asked me if I wanted an extra shift last night and I said yes.
I would have booked it off but I figured you wouldn't have wanted me to call at 2am last night.
So here it is...
Worst excuses I've actually heard for missing work
I need an emergency hair cut.
I accidentally knocked my phone off the hook and my ride couldn't buzz my apartment.
I've been on a drinking binge with my mom for the past 5 days (more unfortunate than anything).
I have to watch the Superbowl (wrong day).
I got too much sun, and now I have symptoms exactly like a hangover.
My other work called me and asked me if I wanted an extra shift last night and I said yes.
I would have booked it off but I figured you wouldn't have wanted me to call at 2am last night.
Friday, February 1, 2008
I just love coffee!
One thing I love about people is how some people insist on asking a thousand questions about the most mundane activities, while others will watch the most ridiculous scenes and not say a word.
Most people are some variation of the two extremes.
I'm a pretty strange person, and I love to talk, but it irritates me like nothing else when people do strange things for attention and then call attention to it, so I won't usually offer an explanation as to my activities unless one has been requested.
So, when I purchased twelve 1-litre containers of half/half creme, 9 bags of milk, and two containers of whipped cream at midnight, I thought... I wonder if the cashier is going to say anything.
He did. "You must really like coffee." Like anything less than 700 people could consume all of this before it expires.
I'm tired, so I acquiese, but quickly realize he has to be being ironic; there is no way he thinks this is actually for me. "Yes. Um, no. I run a coffee shop. I'm in charge of the milk and creme."
Makes sense. He then proceeds into a rant about how tomorrow he has to help his female friend break up with her boyfriend. Harsh. I'm sleepy. I'm trying to get out of here with 30 litres of milk products. Let me go.
Finally, he is done with me, and I am on my way. And now it is time for me to sleep.
Most people are some variation of the two extremes.
I'm a pretty strange person, and I love to talk, but it irritates me like nothing else when people do strange things for attention and then call attention to it, so I won't usually offer an explanation as to my activities unless one has been requested.
So, when I purchased twelve 1-litre containers of half/half creme, 9 bags of milk, and two containers of whipped cream at midnight, I thought... I wonder if the cashier is going to say anything.
He did. "You must really like coffee." Like anything less than 700 people could consume all of this before it expires.
I'm tired, so I acquiese, but quickly realize he has to be being ironic; there is no way he thinks this is actually for me. "Yes. Um, no. I run a coffee shop. I'm in charge of the milk and creme."
Makes sense. He then proceeds into a rant about how tomorrow he has to help his female friend break up with her boyfriend. Harsh. I'm sleepy. I'm trying to get out of here with 30 litres of milk products. Let me go.
Finally, he is done with me, and I am on my way. And now it is time for me to sleep.
Getting it up
After reflecting on my ability to lift the board and frame that is used to lock our new coffee kiosk.
"Oh I was thinking about it, and I don't think I'll have a problem getting the wood up by myself."
Awkward silence.
"Oh I was thinking about it, and I don't think I'll have a problem getting the wood up by myself."
Awkward silence.
Emergency squirt bottle
I am going to be working at some outdoor coffee and taffy kiosks for the next few weeks. Today, we had set up the first taffy stand, and then went to the second to start cooking the taffy needed there. We realized after starting the batch, that we would need butter before it reached a certain temperature to prevent it from boiling over and exploding everywhere. I ran out in a frenzy because I had only about 15 minutes to find somewhere and return. I realized, on my way, that I would also need a squirt bottle. I had no idea how I was going to produce these two items in 15 minutes.
Shoppers Drug Mart. Of course. Butter was even on sale, and I bought a tiny squirt bottle for $6. My phone started to ring, "hurry, it's getting close!". I notice a dollar store next door. I think, if I get in and out of there really quick, I could probably get a better squirt bottle for $5 cheaper." I run through the store like a maniac, grab a squirt bottle, run to the cash. "How are you?" asks the cashier, sensing my impending doom or possibly just being polite. "Pretty well, tired... yourself?" "Good." "I can't imagine people often come running in at 9pm because they have an emergency requiring a squirt bottle." I comment. "You'd be surprised," she responded, as I took off for my car. I made it back just in time!
Shoppers Drug Mart. Of course. Butter was even on sale, and I bought a tiny squirt bottle for $6. My phone started to ring, "hurry, it's getting close!". I notice a dollar store next door. I think, if I get in and out of there really quick, I could probably get a better squirt bottle for $5 cheaper." I run through the store like a maniac, grab a squirt bottle, run to the cash. "How are you?" asks the cashier, sensing my impending doom or possibly just being polite. "Pretty well, tired... yourself?" "Good." "I can't imagine people often come running in at 9pm because they have an emergency requiring a squirt bottle." I comment. "You'd be surprised," she responded, as I took off for my car. I made it back just in time!
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