I want to apologize if you still troll these waters to kill time. I've got nothing for yous. I'm waiting for something to happen too, but the creative stuff is inexplicably out of the picture and I don't know why.
It sucks. I think a lot and try to come up with something but it ain't working.
I'll be back. Promise.
July 11, 2007
July 06, 2007
When Food Goes Bad
Last night we went out to eat. I was starving and cranky so I tried not to talk too much lest I scare off everyone around. I really wanted pasta too, and was excited to open the menu and pick my fare after a quick scan. Somebody suggested the restaurant where the logo has a mule on it, I won't name the offending establishment. I hadn't been there since high school so didn't have an opinion on their food and readily agreed. I just wanted to gorge, I was already in such a bad mood.
I know now why I don't go to that restaurant. The menu is horrible and so was the food. Their pasta selection is as much a disappointment as your report cards used to be and after turning and flipping the menu over about 6 or 7 times I finally settled on the pizza. If I can't have something I want then pizza should at least be somewhat OK, right? Pleh!
I'm still pissed off enough about wasting money there last night that I felt a public service announcement should be made this morning. If bad food pisses me off then spending my hard earned savings to pay for the bad food makes me even more angry. Curses to the stupid mule, I will never eat your crappy offerings of "food" again. How you're still in business I do not understand. If I could I'd flush your sorry ass down the toilet. I had to resort to toast last night when I got home since I was still hungry and know that toast, at least is more enjoyable than the swill you make. I hate you.
I know now why I don't go to that restaurant. The menu is horrible and so was the food. Their pasta selection is as much a disappointment as your report cards used to be and after turning and flipping the menu over about 6 or 7 times I finally settled on the pizza. If I can't have something I want then pizza should at least be somewhat OK, right? Pleh!
I'm still pissed off enough about wasting money there last night that I felt a public service announcement should be made this morning. If bad food pisses me off then spending my hard earned savings to pay for the bad food makes me even more angry. Curses to the stupid mule, I will never eat your crappy offerings of "food" again. How you're still in business I do not understand. If I could I'd flush your sorry ass down the toilet. I had to resort to toast last night when I got home since I was still hungry and know that toast, at least is more enjoyable than the swill you make. I hate you.
June 25, 2007
Don't Send... Yet
What do you do when a co-worker has been grating on your nerves as delicately as grinding the gears heavily while shifting in that brand new ride? Maybe your jobs mesh with each other like jellyfish tentacles drifting in the ocean, occasionally making contact with each other, touching base, a neighbourly ''how d'ya do'', barely a relationship. But when there is contact, there is a need. From one to another, and you try to acquiesce. If only so to push off and enjoy the freedom of swirling about in your own little dance again. What can I say, some jellyfish are nicer than others. I can't explain the jellyfish analogy, it just seems like something I need to talk about. Perhaps the toxicity of something so innocuous looking might play a part in this account. Maybe not. Who really cares?
So it could be the hormones, although I have been told that being knocked up has made me much more mellow than usual and I tend to agree. Just last week the cashier rang my bread up 30 cents more than what the posted price was and I let it go, just didn't bother to correct her beeping machine's mistake. Any other time and I would've pointed it out and then manage to wrangle an extra 30 cents off my total bill just because it's the principle. Then call out the store manager, make him cry and then do a jig of principle in his puddle of sorrow. Then walk out with a voucher for free groceries for a year. I'm a tough customer like that. All for 30 cents.
Back to the point. I'm finding that there are certain people who raise my blood pressure effortlessly either through their stupidity, ignorance, laziness or condescending nature. OK, I concede that they piss me off on any regular day of the week but lately, I'm approaching the point where I may turn green and bulgy, lose my verbal skills and then grow all gigantic-like which causes my clothes to disintegrate all over the place except for the articles required to cover up the no-no bits. Say hello to maternity underwear!
This may never end, remember my problems with the attention span thing? So let's get back to the co-worker du jour who is the focus of my anger. She sent an email today scolding me for work undone. For her, mind you. It's not for my lack of work ethic, I've just got a ton of crap to shovel and for a goodly stretch of time (haha, goodly..) there was just me to do the work of several people. I'm not really complaining about that in itself because it's a common situation for many people and I accept that, as dumb as it may sound. But hey, there is only so much one person can do in a day, so my job is invariably about putting out the fires followed by trying to catch up and maybe chip away at the steadily leaning tower where my in-box and any available desk space should be located. Which means, I've got to prioritize. And mind you, if I'm going to entertain the idea of maternity leave in a couple of months, somehow I've got to shove my hand up my ass, pull out a magic wand and make those piles disappear. Even as they grow. Think Tetris. I've never beat that game so what the hell am I to do here?
So we've reached my point. Finally. Without burning bridges, raising shit, getting petty, throwing a tantrum and getting fired, here's how to respond to a not so subliminally condescending email from a person who already sits on the list of people you'd like ______ (ad lib time!). You hit the reply button and write an angry missive detailing exactly what you want to say to them. Curse words and insults need not be filtered, be as stupid, immature and irrational as you want to be while conveying the message of why you haven't gotten back to them yet. Bring up the fact that she's dumb and smells like poo and her momma's so______ that ______ (again, ad lib time!), and maybe you want to make mention of that nasty mess in her mouth they usually apply modern dentistry to, if only for the sake of everyone else around with working eyes. Perhaps you want to rub her face in an emu's butt and make her smell the emu's fart and then call her names like Emu Buttface and Emu Fartbreath. You get the point, childish as it is.
Then you don't send.
After you deal with some real and urgent stuff, you come back to it and edit yourself a little. But you don't send. After you go pee for the third time in an hour because the baby's head, which has been down since 6.5 months enjoys juicing momma's bladder constantly, you edit some more. Everytime you get up to do something, complete another task and let the minutes and your anger tick away you return back to that email and whittle it down until it becomes just another workplace reply; a bland, emotionless and dishonest auto-response that bears no resemblance to your original rant.
Hi Co-worker,
I've got a lot on my plate at the moment but rest assured your request has not been forgotten and I will get to it as soon as possible.
Thank you,
Stinky T
But at least this way you applied some self-therapy (that sounds kind of dirty!) as well as getting to keep your job for another day... so that you can write more angry emails that never get sent to the people you cherish at work.
So it could be the hormones, although I have been told that being knocked up has made me much more mellow than usual and I tend to agree. Just last week the cashier rang my bread up 30 cents more than what the posted price was and I let it go, just didn't bother to correct her beeping machine's mistake. Any other time and I would've pointed it out and then manage to wrangle an extra 30 cents off my total bill just because it's the principle. Then call out the store manager, make him cry and then do a jig of principle in his puddle of sorrow. Then walk out with a voucher for free groceries for a year. I'm a tough customer like that. All for 30 cents.
Back to the point. I'm finding that there are certain people who raise my blood pressure effortlessly either through their stupidity, ignorance, laziness or condescending nature. OK, I concede that they piss me off on any regular day of the week but lately, I'm approaching the point where I may turn green and bulgy, lose my verbal skills and then grow all gigantic-like which causes my clothes to disintegrate all over the place except for the articles required to cover up the no-no bits. Say hello to maternity underwear!
This may never end, remember my problems with the attention span thing? So let's get back to the co-worker du jour who is the focus of my anger. She sent an email today scolding me for work undone. For her, mind you. It's not for my lack of work ethic, I've just got a ton of crap to shovel and for a goodly stretch of time (haha, goodly..) there was just me to do the work of several people. I'm not really complaining about that in itself because it's a common situation for many people and I accept that, as dumb as it may sound. But hey, there is only so much one person can do in a day, so my job is invariably about putting out the fires followed by trying to catch up and maybe chip away at the steadily leaning tower where my in-box and any available desk space should be located. Which means, I've got to prioritize. And mind you, if I'm going to entertain the idea of maternity leave in a couple of months, somehow I've got to shove my hand up my ass, pull out a magic wand and make those piles disappear. Even as they grow. Think Tetris. I've never beat that game so what the hell am I to do here?
So we've reached my point. Finally. Without burning bridges, raising shit, getting petty, throwing a tantrum and getting fired, here's how to respond to a not so subliminally condescending email from a person who already sits on the list of people you'd like ______ (ad lib time!). You hit the reply button and write an angry missive detailing exactly what you want to say to them. Curse words and insults need not be filtered, be as stupid, immature and irrational as you want to be while conveying the message of why you haven't gotten back to them yet. Bring up the fact that she's dumb and smells like poo and her momma's so______ that ______ (again, ad lib time!), and maybe you want to make mention of that nasty mess in her mouth they usually apply modern dentistry to, if only for the sake of everyone else around with working eyes. Perhaps you want to rub her face in an emu's butt and make her smell the emu's fart and then call her names like Emu Buttface and Emu Fartbreath. You get the point, childish as it is.
Then you don't send.
After you deal with some real and urgent stuff, you come back to it and edit yourself a little. But you don't send. After you go pee for the third time in an hour because the baby's head, which has been down since 6.5 months enjoys juicing momma's bladder constantly, you edit some more. Everytime you get up to do something, complete another task and let the minutes and your anger tick away you return back to that email and whittle it down until it becomes just another workplace reply; a bland, emotionless and dishonest auto-response that bears no resemblance to your original rant.
Hi Co-worker,
I've got a lot on my plate at the moment but rest assured your request has not been forgotten and I will get to it as soon as possible.
Thank you,
Stinky T
But at least this way you applied some self-therapy (that sounds kind of dirty!) as well as getting to keep your job for another day... so that you can write more angry emails that never get sent to the people you cherish at work.
June 04, 2007
Garden's In
It's been a busy weekend but Mr. Stinky and I made time to put in our garden for this year. He did most of the sweaty yardwork, mowing, edging as well as washing the car and front of the house. A little elbow grease goes a long way. We picked up a few flats with different types of annuals, nothing crazy fancy... I prefer the hardier types that don't require too much fussing about.
I did the weeding, put down bone meal and pruned the overgrowth to make room for my annuals. I wish perennials were showier for longer periods of time. Alas they're not but I like that they're super low-maintenance and will keep growing no matter how much you deadhead, prune or mutilate them. Well, except for the rose bushes, those got some extra TLC. My tulips may be reproducing, they seem to be more dense this year. I've given up on my daffodils and crocuses, my feeling is that they got dug up and eaten coz there were no traces of them this spring. Oh well. I think next year once things settle down a little bit we'll start a little vegetable garden. My thumb is getting greener every season!
My garden toad also made his return, or at least I think it's the same one. I had one last year too and would see him occasionally, this year he's bigger. I named him Doody coz of his cappuccino colouring and the fact that he looks like a pile of turd. Hopefully he likes what I've done this year, I left plenty of shady spots for him to lounge under. I love working on my yard, things look so much neater and nicer once you've spent some time on it. Besides, Mr. Stinky and I work well together it's a great way to just hang out. I'll let you see how the yard looks once things fill out. Who'da ever thunk I'd like gardening??
I did the weeding, put down bone meal and pruned the overgrowth to make room for my annuals. I wish perennials were showier for longer periods of time. Alas they're not but I like that they're super low-maintenance and will keep growing no matter how much you deadhead, prune or mutilate them. Well, except for the rose bushes, those got some extra TLC. My tulips may be reproducing, they seem to be more dense this year. I've given up on my daffodils and crocuses, my feeling is that they got dug up and eaten coz there were no traces of them this spring. Oh well. I think next year once things settle down a little bit we'll start a little vegetable garden. My thumb is getting greener every season!
My garden toad also made his return, or at least I think it's the same one. I had one last year too and would see him occasionally, this year he's bigger. I named him Doody coz of his cappuccino colouring and the fact that he looks like a pile of turd. Hopefully he likes what I've done this year, I left plenty of shady spots for him to lounge under. I love working on my yard, things look so much neater and nicer once you've spent some time on it. Besides, Mr. Stinky and I work well together it's a great way to just hang out. I'll let you see how the yard looks once things fill out. Who'da ever thunk I'd like gardening??
June 01, 2007
Standing Up
An obviously pregnant woman gets on a crowded subway and the only people to offer her a seat are a couple in their senior years even though she feels the eyes of many other seated people flicker briefly in her direction before eclipsing into feigned sleep or ignorance.
She's young, stable on her feet and doesn't mind standing. She doesn't demand to be treated like a delicate flower and have everyone jump up to "rescue" her but she was taught to offer her seat to those who might need it. She thought it was a common courtesy everyone knew of and practiced at least from time to time. She was wrong.
She would never, no matter how heavy and tired she was with child, make her grandparents stand while she enjoyed the comforts of sitting and for that reason among others, refused the generous offer by the couple who really had no business standing in a crowded train in the first place. It's not because she thinks she's better than them, there is no self-righteousness in standing but they needed to sit more than she did and she couldn't pretend away that need.
A loud, inward sigh resonates within her body when a nearby seat finally becomes vacant only to be filled immediately by a younger female who then looks directly at her and smiles sweetly. How does one interpret that?
It's not herself whom she pities but the depths into which a large portion society appears to have fallen. How can things change so much from when she was younger and things were different... or at least seemed to be so. In a few short months she'll bring a child into such a world and she doesn't know if instilling the lessons of morality, etiquette and the virtues of wearing a white hat will bear meaning in the "Me first" matrix we live in. She realizes it's maternal anxiety, the mother hen instinct wanting to protect and hopefully not smother, but if we are to lead by example and the world is full of walking examples which ones will our future progeny follow?
She's young, stable on her feet and doesn't mind standing. She doesn't demand to be treated like a delicate flower and have everyone jump up to "rescue" her but she was taught to offer her seat to those who might need it. She thought it was a common courtesy everyone knew of and practiced at least from time to time. She was wrong.
She would never, no matter how heavy and tired she was with child, make her grandparents stand while she enjoyed the comforts of sitting and for that reason among others, refused the generous offer by the couple who really had no business standing in a crowded train in the first place. It's not because she thinks she's better than them, there is no self-righteousness in standing but they needed to sit more than she did and she couldn't pretend away that need.
A loud, inward sigh resonates within her body when a nearby seat finally becomes vacant only to be filled immediately by a younger female who then looks directly at her and smiles sweetly. How does one interpret that?
It's not herself whom she pities but the depths into which a large portion society appears to have fallen. How can things change so much from when she was younger and things were different... or at least seemed to be so. In a few short months she'll bring a child into such a world and she doesn't know if instilling the lessons of morality, etiquette and the virtues of wearing a white hat will bear meaning in the "Me first" matrix we live in. She realizes it's maternal anxiety, the mother hen instinct wanting to protect and hopefully not smother, but if we are to lead by example and the world is full of walking examples which ones will our future progeny follow?
May 28, 2007
Randomosity
> I don't care how old and therefore entitled you feel, or how poor your grasp of the English language. A lineup is universal; get thee to the back of it.
> Mr. Stinky says I still take his breath away, it's pretty much instantaneous when I sit on him!
> Mr. Stinky says I still take his breath away, it's pretty much instantaneous when I sit on him!
> Blatant ignorance bugs the hell out of me. How some people can live in a complete vacuum of awareness and not see anything wrong with that is beyond me.
> A grown man slathered in layers of kiwi pear lotion can smell deliciously wonderful in a nonsexual way. But I'd still have him for dessert.
> Going with the flow is my specialty but sometimes you need structure and organization. My idea of fun isn't being set adrift in the open waters and waiting for something that may or may not happen. That's called a waste of time.
> Being in the company of males is indubitably funner than females in almost every single way, especially when alcohol is the centrepiece on the table.
> I won't hold you back from living in denial but don't play the victim when this is obviously what you've chosen to do. My role isn't to be your enabler.
> Achieving the state of duplicity while amongst the company of men is the coolest when you're treated like a lady but also as one of the guys. The dirty, bawdy pigs... I love 'em!
> Being Asian doesn't automatically mean I want the baby to be male. I don't care what it is as long as it's healthy because I don't plan on an exchange or refund anyway. Should it come out crippled, sickly, deformed and retarded I will not rejoice just because it's got a penis.
> I felt like such a tool when my dad started telling me about the family cruise being planned for November, and I thought he was extending the invitation to us but he only wanted someone to go feed the cat and scoop her poo.
> When someone with big, black nostrils is talking to you it's never a good idea to become fixated upon their gaping nasal passages. Doing so will make you stare, realize you're staring, make conscious efforts to not stare, which results in a hypnotically, magnetic bond between your eyes and said nostrils. Then you need to exert Herculean strength to keep a straight face whilst staring and try to hide the mysterious appearance of tears in your eyes. Hopefully the other person brushes off the strange facial twitches and flaring nostrils as your usual, odd manner and takes those gigantic black holes away before you dissolve into uncontrolled laughter and tears.
May 25, 2007
Night Screams
So it's not quite as enchanting as coyotes singing but last night we had a moment. It's getting warmer now so I had the ceiling fan on and the windows opened while I slept. I love fresh air, but you know that already. As far as sleeping goes it was quite noneventful, a snoozefest if you want to throw in some extremely non-funny comedy. It's not even comedy, forget that last bit.
It was a quiet night, only a couple of chirps from random birds and insects. In the early hours before the sun came up Whiskey and I were jarred from our slumber by two very shrill but short screams. Whiskey bolted from her warm spot, ran to the end of the bed and perched at the corner where it's closest to the window to wait for the next bit of action.
Meanwhile, I laid in my fort of pillows - I need a whole bunch to keep me from sleeping on my back and pinching off the inferior vena cava, a no-no for beached, pregnant whales... although these same pillows seriously impede my efforts to get up and out for my midnight pees - trying to figure out what was going on outside.
A cat? A bunny? A small dog? Probably not a dog since they usually aren't let out of the house at like, 3am to wander the streets. And it didn't quite sound like the scream of a cat, although I suppose if I was being attacked, my screams of terror wouldn't sound like what I'd expect either.
Attack? Who said attack? That's just my assumption since I can't think of any other reasons for the shrieks which ended as quick as they began. I'm also going to assume that there was a coyote or other wily predator involved... doubtful that we have anything bigger in our area. A drunken, bald and ugly flasher perhaps? Uncle Bobby? Goose?
My conclusion is that predator (coyote) got a very surprised prey (bunny) quite quickly and that's why we only heard the two short screams. There was a pause... let's say coyote clamped down to make sure dinner was done and then a series of grunts that faded into the night.
Whiskey was on guard until the alarm went off this morning, no doubt to protect her juicy yet defenceless mistress should the boogeyman set his sights on an easy meal while I happily drifted back to sleep, wallowing in a sea of pillows. I have just stretched a 5 second story into an essay. Wanna come over for a slumber party? We'll tie up a bunch of bunnies out back and listen to the sweet sounds of twilight massacre, oh jolly fun!
It was a quiet night, only a couple of chirps from random birds and insects. In the early hours before the sun came up Whiskey and I were jarred from our slumber by two very shrill but short screams. Whiskey bolted from her warm spot, ran to the end of the bed and perched at the corner where it's closest to the window to wait for the next bit of action.
Meanwhile, I laid in my fort of pillows - I need a whole bunch to keep me from sleeping on my back and pinching off the inferior vena cava, a no-no for beached, pregnant whales... although these same pillows seriously impede my efforts to get up and out for my midnight pees - trying to figure out what was going on outside.
A cat? A bunny? A small dog? Probably not a dog since they usually aren't let out of the house at like, 3am to wander the streets. And it didn't quite sound like the scream of a cat, although I suppose if I was being attacked, my screams of terror wouldn't sound like what I'd expect either.
Attack? Who said attack? That's just my assumption since I can't think of any other reasons for the shrieks which ended as quick as they began. I'm also going to assume that there was a coyote or other wily predator involved... doubtful that we have anything bigger in our area. A drunken, bald and ugly flasher perhaps? Uncle Bobby? Goose?
My conclusion is that predator (coyote) got a very surprised prey (bunny) quite quickly and that's why we only heard the two short screams. There was a pause... let's say coyote clamped down to make sure dinner was done and then a series of grunts that faded into the night.
Whiskey was on guard until the alarm went off this morning, no doubt to protect her juicy yet defenceless mistress should the boogeyman set his sights on an easy meal while I happily drifted back to sleep, wallowing in a sea of pillows. I have just stretched a 5 second story into an essay. Wanna come over for a slumber party? We'll tie up a bunch of bunnies out back and listen to the sweet sounds of twilight massacre, oh jolly fun!
May 17, 2007
Morning Breath
When Mr. Stinky is away Whiskey sleeps in his spot on the bed right beside me. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement because not only does she not get kicked in the course of the night I can reach over anytime I want to pet her, thus earning me loud, rumbling purrs.
This morning when the alarm went off, I shut it off and rolled over to say good morning to her. Ms. Dopeyface looked at me and then let out a big, stinky yawn. As I commented on her mad case of halitosis she demonstrated how much a human's opinion, even the gatekeeper to the big, white box in the kitchen means to the feline race.
She bent over and started licking her lady bits.
This morning when the alarm went off, I shut it off and rolled over to say good morning to her. Ms. Dopeyface looked at me and then let out a big, stinky yawn. As I commented on her mad case of halitosis she demonstrated how much a human's opinion, even the gatekeeper to the big, white box in the kitchen means to the feline race.
She bent over and started licking her lady bits.
May 15, 2007
Sometimes You Gotta Wonder
Was that a kick or an unreleased fart?
The sensations can be quite similar.
What, you don't?
The sensations can be quite similar.
What, you don't?
May 11, 2007
Ima Stupid People
This one's for Shuster and T-J.
Today at lunch, Clueless asked if I wanted to go run some errands with her after we ate. There were a few things at the nearby store on sale that she wanted and seeing's how it's a nice day I agreed. Our summer student, Candy had lunch plans but wanted instant noodles which are also on sale so I said I'd pick some up for her. She said she wanted 6, four in chicken flavour and two in the vegetable. No problem.
Two minutes later I drew a blank. I asked her if it was four veggies and two chickens and she corrected me but said that she wasn't picky; any combination of those two flavours were fine. I wrote down what she wanted so I wouldn't forget and stuck the note on my wallet. Foolproof.
As soon as Clueless and I arrived at the store I headed straight for the instant noodle section and grabbed four veggies and two chickens... so I wouldn't mess it up, I told her. We spent some time milling around the store checking out everything else before it was time to head back. At the cash, I dumped the packages on the counter and pulled out my wallet. That's when I noticed the handwritten note... the same one I had personally recorded not an hour ago and realized that I had gotten exactly the wrong number of each flavour.
What's a girl to do? Grabbed the offending two veggies, hurled over my shoulder to the girl that I'd be back in a sec and ran to go make the exchange... with a huge, long line up bearing witness to my idiocy and knowing that they'd have to wait that much longer to pay and get out. The story has a happy ending, but dude, how dumb to screw up one simple task.
And sure, we can justify the scrambled brains on my condition but in the end, stupid is as stupid does. I can only shake my head and roll my eyes to the heavens. At myself.
Today at lunch, Clueless asked if I wanted to go run some errands with her after we ate. There were a few things at the nearby store on sale that she wanted and seeing's how it's a nice day I agreed. Our summer student, Candy had lunch plans but wanted instant noodles which are also on sale so I said I'd pick some up for her. She said she wanted 6, four in chicken flavour and two in the vegetable. No problem.
Two minutes later I drew a blank. I asked her if it was four veggies and two chickens and she corrected me but said that she wasn't picky; any combination of those two flavours were fine. I wrote down what she wanted so I wouldn't forget and stuck the note on my wallet. Foolproof.
As soon as Clueless and I arrived at the store I headed straight for the instant noodle section and grabbed four veggies and two chickens... so I wouldn't mess it up, I told her. We spent some time milling around the store checking out everything else before it was time to head back. At the cash, I dumped the packages on the counter and pulled out my wallet. That's when I noticed the handwritten note... the same one I had personally recorded not an hour ago and realized that I had gotten exactly the wrong number of each flavour.
What's a girl to do? Grabbed the offending two veggies, hurled over my shoulder to the girl that I'd be back in a sec and ran to go make the exchange... with a huge, long line up bearing witness to my idiocy and knowing that they'd have to wait that much longer to pay and get out. The story has a happy ending, but dude, how dumb to screw up one simple task.
And sure, we can justify the scrambled brains on my condition but in the end, stupid is as stupid does. I can only shake my head and roll my eyes to the heavens. At myself.
May 07, 2007
P-Something
I'm popping one out sometime in the second half of August.
I've become an awkward beachball of a creature. I have now joined the ranks of millions of women before, around and after me to get knocked up and stretched out of shape.
There you go, that should hold you for awhile. Here's hoping all goes well, it's been fairly easy thus far.
Damn you Holden for being so eerily intuitive, is this (one of) your superpower(s)? You're 2 for 2 if I recall correctly, first this, then that.
I've become an awkward beachball of a creature. I have now joined the ranks of millions of women before, around and after me to get knocked up and stretched out of shape.
There you go, that should hold you for awhile. Here's hoping all goes well, it's been fairly easy thus far.
Damn you Holden for being so eerily intuitive, is this (one of) your superpower(s)? You're 2 for 2 if I recall correctly, first this, then that.
May 03, 2007
It's Only Thursday?
I'm tired, I'm so friggin' tired all I want to do is sleep. I took the day off yesterday because I was too exhausted to roll out of bed and slept in 'til late morning. Then I was alert for several hours before succumbing to the afternoon nap. If you thought that was enough I went to bed at my regular bedtime and slept until it was time to get up this morning for work.
I'm sitting here being a drowsy, useless lump because it's 11am and I've barely done any work. I can't blame it on the weather because it's super nice outside. Guess I'll take a walk for break, get some downtown "fresh" air and dial the volume on my iPod up. Hopefully that helps.
I'm sitting here being a drowsy, useless lump because it's 11am and I've barely done any work. I can't blame it on the weather because it's super nice outside. Guess I'll take a walk for break, get some downtown "fresh" air and dial the volume on my iPod up. Hopefully that helps.
April 30, 2007
Moon Theatre
Mr. Stinky and I went shopping. I saw something in a store that looked interesting and told him I wanted to try it on. He moaned something pitiful and told me he'd wait outside. I'm used to his sudden bouts of tiredness, you should see it. His eyes all of a sudden become bloodshot, his face gets all haggard like he hasn't slept in days and he physically deflates into a helpless little blob. It's quite interesting, the morphology of defeat.
So y'all know that I have a butt of which I'm proud to own. I can admit that I've checked out my apple of a heiny more than once, we don't all hate our rears. I guess one of yous needed proof, or wanted to admire it too. Whichever the case, while I was trying on a skirt (which I didn't buy coz it was just OK) I heard a woman's panicked voice asking where her blouse was. Why the hysteria? Some people just like to make a scene is all. As I was bent over pulling the skirt down the drapes to my fitting room wooshed opened and I stood face to face and ass with Ms. Hysteria and her 5 year old son.
So y'all know that I have a butt of which I'm proud to own. I can admit that I've checked out my apple of a heiny more than once, we don't all hate our rears. I guess one of yous needed proof, or wanted to admire it too. Whichever the case, while I was trying on a skirt (which I didn't buy coz it was just OK) I heard a woman's panicked voice asking where her blouse was. Why the hysteria? Some people just like to make a scene is all. As I was bent over pulling the skirt down the drapes to my fitting room wooshed opened and I stood face to face and ass with Ms. Hysteria and her 5 year old son.
She didn't close my drape upon realizing her stupidity, just stared at me and bleated some more about her missing blouse. I was mass mooning the entire store too, in case you forgot. I didn't adjust the skirt because, what was the point by then?
Fitting rooms are small, it was obvious her blouse wasn't in there with me unless it had somehow shrunk into the pretty pink thong that was now on show and tell. I hope her son got a good look, I hope he asked her lots of interesting questions afterwards too.
A saleslady had to come close my drape because while she stood there like an idiot asking me the same retarded question repeatedly, all I could do was stare back in annoyance. A tumbleweed rolled by... or maybe just a dust bunny. Whatever.
Honestly, how do some people function in society? She had no manners, not an ounce of decency and her overall behaviour just floored me. Oh well, I suppose expecting people to be "normal" is too much to ask for these days. At least I have a nice ass. She must've been mesmerized. And jealous.
April 23, 2007
Flipped
I have this weird oddity of putting my underwear on inside out.
I don't know why or how it happens as I usually check before slipping them on. That's right, I said "slipping them on". Sexy aren't I?
But then I'll go somewhere and use the washroom, only to discover too late that once again the seams are facing out.
I have no explanation for this phenomenon, it's not an everyday thing but it occurs often enough and over a long enough period of time that I felt it should be shared.
Sorry for the imagery.
No I'm not.
I don't know why or how it happens as I usually check before slipping them on. That's right, I said "slipping them on". Sexy aren't I?
But then I'll go somewhere and use the washroom, only to discover too late that once again the seams are facing out.
I have no explanation for this phenomenon, it's not an everyday thing but it occurs often enough and over a long enough period of time that I felt it should be shared.
Sorry for the imagery.
No I'm not.
April 18, 2007
Meany
There’s a person I have regular contact with, and I’ve always associated her with me ending up in a fiery hell. Even today, all morning and most of the afternoon everytime I thought about my feelings towards this person it would invariably end with “I’m so going to hell”.
This person is physically handicapped but mentally fine. I only see her a few days a week but it’s enough to rub my nerves raw and most days if I don’t avoid her I try to ignore her. I know it’s completely rude but it’s the only way I can deal with the situation without being labelled discriminatory or politically incorrect. As much as I bathe in the freedom of being unPC, we know that there are always limits as to how much you can express freedom of speech, thought and anything else out there. I know that. So do you. And when you read about what I think of this person you may still think that I have a thing against special needs people. But I don’t. To me they’re still people, just sometimes visibly different in some way.
So this lady bothers me because it is my belief that she plays up her handicap. She frequently shifts from happy to depressed in the span of minutes according to the level of attention meted out to her. She has a habit of calling, seeing and phoning people up several times a day, dismissing the fact that most of us are bogged down with work and busy, to ask them if she could ask them a question, then profusely apologizing for being rude followed by begging to please keep it between us. You could spend 10 minutes with her trying to figure out what exactly it is she wants and come out of it having gotten nowhere. She needs the attention to feed itself because there really isn’t anything she wanted in the first place other than the person’s sympathy. Almost 5 years I've known her and we've never once had a conversation that went anywhere.
She will stand at the doorways of offices, sigh deeply and wait patiently until someone looks up to ask her what’s wrong. Then she will sigh some more, wave her hand at you and pitifully tell you that she doesn’t want to talk, or that it’s nothing, or that she’s very upset before wandering away to find someone else who might be more comforting. I see her as a person who does nothing but waste my time by using her handicap as a crutch to garner charity and so I try not to engage in her little game by ignoring her whenever possible.
But then a lightbulb went off and now I feel justification in my distaste for her. Sure I’m still going to hell but that’s for a multitude of reasons, not for any one specific thing. I shouldn’t feel guilty for not liking this person because it’s not her difference that bothers me, it’s her personality. OK, there’s still a little bit of leftover guilt because for some reason there's an arcane rule that if you feel an iota of negativity towards a person of special needs, that’s just extra wrong because you must be looking down on them. But on the whole, I couldn’t care less about her disability. I now realize that I saw past it eons ago and what we’ve got left is just a clash of personalities. And you could say that perhaps her attitude stems from her lifelong handicap and therefore, indirectly I’m still a horrid person but I believe that somewhere, we need to draw that line in the sand and make a decision. I won’t wallow back and forth any longer about my guilt, her bothersome nature and the way I should treat her. I have the right to feel the way I do and be civil to her when she’s up while walking away when she makes a show of being down.
She is the boy who cried wolf and I’m finally able to see that. I won't be damned because I'm unwilling to play the game.
This person is physically handicapped but mentally fine. I only see her a few days a week but it’s enough to rub my nerves raw and most days if I don’t avoid her I try to ignore her. I know it’s completely rude but it’s the only way I can deal with the situation without being labelled discriminatory or politically incorrect. As much as I bathe in the freedom of being unPC, we know that there are always limits as to how much you can express freedom of speech, thought and anything else out there. I know that. So do you. And when you read about what I think of this person you may still think that I have a thing against special needs people. But I don’t. To me they’re still people, just sometimes visibly different in some way.
So this lady bothers me because it is my belief that she plays up her handicap. She frequently shifts from happy to depressed in the span of minutes according to the level of attention meted out to her. She has a habit of calling, seeing and phoning people up several times a day, dismissing the fact that most of us are bogged down with work and busy, to ask them if she could ask them a question, then profusely apologizing for being rude followed by begging to please keep it between us. You could spend 10 minutes with her trying to figure out what exactly it is she wants and come out of it having gotten nowhere. She needs the attention to feed itself because there really isn’t anything she wanted in the first place other than the person’s sympathy. Almost 5 years I've known her and we've never once had a conversation that went anywhere.
She will stand at the doorways of offices, sigh deeply and wait patiently until someone looks up to ask her what’s wrong. Then she will sigh some more, wave her hand at you and pitifully tell you that she doesn’t want to talk, or that it’s nothing, or that she’s very upset before wandering away to find someone else who might be more comforting. I see her as a person who does nothing but waste my time by using her handicap as a crutch to garner charity and so I try not to engage in her little game by ignoring her whenever possible.
But then a lightbulb went off and now I feel justification in my distaste for her. Sure I’m still going to hell but that’s for a multitude of reasons, not for any one specific thing. I shouldn’t feel guilty for not liking this person because it’s not her difference that bothers me, it’s her personality. OK, there’s still a little bit of leftover guilt because for some reason there's an arcane rule that if you feel an iota of negativity towards a person of special needs, that’s just extra wrong because you must be looking down on them. But on the whole, I couldn’t care less about her disability. I now realize that I saw past it eons ago and what we’ve got left is just a clash of personalities. And you could say that perhaps her attitude stems from her lifelong handicap and therefore, indirectly I’m still a horrid person but I believe that somewhere, we need to draw that line in the sand and make a decision. I won’t wallow back and forth any longer about my guilt, her bothersome nature and the way I should treat her. I have the right to feel the way I do and be civil to her when she’s up while walking away when she makes a show of being down.
She is the boy who cried wolf and I’m finally able to see that. I won't be damned because I'm unwilling to play the game.
April 05, 2007
Boogerific
Today after lunch as I stood at the sink brushing my teeth, another woman made use of the other sink. I don't know her name since she's not in our section but I see her regularly. She must be the most miserable person on earth because in all the time we've worked in the same vicinity together I have never seen her smile once. She actually walks around with the most dour expression on her face, like she's got a permanent pickle up her butt. I don't think she has any mien other than perpetual pissed off, remember that whole "don't make faces coz your face will freeze like that" saying? Yah.
Anyway, back to the story. So I'm busy making those neat, little circles on my teeth when she turns on the tap, leans into the sink and hocks out a loogie. Mmm. Then she blew her nose into her hand.
She must've made a handful because from the squishy, soggy sounds I determined that the boogie chambers were definitely full. You know at the height of cold and flu season when you're hesitant to blow your nose in public because of how gross you know it's going to sound? And the sheer volume of nose goo which means several Kleenexes are necessary for one blow absolutely guarantees that it will be an insufferably painful minute for everyone around? This was one of those. I was quite shocked, as it's not an activity I'm used to at the sinks, and very grossed out. You know how easy it is to gag with a toothbrush in your mouth? It's extra easy when you're subject to gag-inducing, nasty nose blows. I couldn't even feign nonchalance and turned my back fully to her so that I could continue brushing my teeth while staring at the wall tiles. If I had to listen to her Sound of Mucus at least I could avoid accidentally catching a glimpse with the wayward peripheral vision that always seem to get HD sharp when disgusting stuff is happening around me.
I was trying so hard not to vomit lunch through my toothpaste that I lost track of where the neat, little circles were going and just kept brushing away mechanically willing her to finish up and go away. I think she started to take in water with her mouth and expressing it through her nostrils for that extra deep clean. I lost my vision momentarily as the sounds of her swishing and burbling away overcame me but I prevailed and never once turned around.
She finally finished and left the washroom. I summoned all my powers to not look into her sink for whatever leftovers might be there and locked my eyes straight ahead. I managed to spit, rinse, clean my sink and leave the washroom without looking but the sounds of her snotcapade lingers. I hope we never meet in the washroom again, it's enough that I have to see this severely morose person on a daily basis. I really don't need to be audience to her evacuations as well.
Anyway, back to the story. So I'm busy making those neat, little circles on my teeth when she turns on the tap, leans into the sink and hocks out a loogie. Mmm. Then she blew her nose into her hand.
She must've made a handful because from the squishy, soggy sounds I determined that the boogie chambers were definitely full. You know at the height of cold and flu season when you're hesitant to blow your nose in public because of how gross you know it's going to sound? And the sheer volume of nose goo which means several Kleenexes are necessary for one blow absolutely guarantees that it will be an insufferably painful minute for everyone around? This was one of those. I was quite shocked, as it's not an activity I'm used to at the sinks, and very grossed out. You know how easy it is to gag with a toothbrush in your mouth? It's extra easy when you're subject to gag-inducing, nasty nose blows. I couldn't even feign nonchalance and turned my back fully to her so that I could continue brushing my teeth while staring at the wall tiles. If I had to listen to her Sound of Mucus at least I could avoid accidentally catching a glimpse with the wayward peripheral vision that always seem to get HD sharp when disgusting stuff is happening around me.
I was trying so hard not to vomit lunch through my toothpaste that I lost track of where the neat, little circles were going and just kept brushing away mechanically willing her to finish up and go away. I think she started to take in water with her mouth and expressing it through her nostrils for that extra deep clean. I lost my vision momentarily as the sounds of her swishing and burbling away overcame me but I prevailed and never once turned around.
She finally finished and left the washroom. I summoned all my powers to not look into her sink for whatever leftovers might be there and locked my eyes straight ahead. I managed to spit, rinse, clean my sink and leave the washroom without looking but the sounds of her snotcapade lingers. I hope we never meet in the washroom again, it's enough that I have to see this severely morose person on a daily basis. I really don't need to be audience to her evacuations as well.
April 03, 2007
Unwritten Truths
Sometimes therapy is served by the mere writing/typing of what I really want to say instead of really making those feelings public. Sometimes you realize that to open the can of worms really does make things messier than you want them to become.
Something happened last week which enraged me. On the anger meter you might be able to see "pissed off" if you squinted really hard backwards into the horizon on a clear, sunny day. I banged out what I wanted to be made known but had the smarts to not post it because in the end all I needed to do was put it down, even if it was only for myself. Don't worry, you probably wouldn't have understood it if I did publish as roughly 40 of the 50 words were of the no-no kind, linguistically... you might've instead thought I was chanting some x-rated cheer or something.
Besides, sometimes when shit like that happens you inevitably get questions from people asking what it was that made you so angry in the first place but by then your fire's died down to embers and it really wasn't as monumental as while the situation was going on. Then you've created a situation where you've got more questions than you want to answer and not much hot air left with which to blow. My attention span to most everything is extremely short-lived, it probably wasn't worth the two aneurysms I gave myself last week. I need to reconnect with my teenaged self who couldn't care two shits about anything or anyone. Disconnect.
Something happened last week which enraged me. On the anger meter you might be able to see "pissed off" if you squinted really hard backwards into the horizon on a clear, sunny day. I banged out what I wanted to be made known but had the smarts to not post it because in the end all I needed to do was put it down, even if it was only for myself. Don't worry, you probably wouldn't have understood it if I did publish as roughly 40 of the 50 words were of the no-no kind, linguistically... you might've instead thought I was chanting some x-rated cheer or something.
Besides, sometimes when shit like that happens you inevitably get questions from people asking what it was that made you so angry in the first place but by then your fire's died down to embers and it really wasn't as monumental as while the situation was going on. Then you've created a situation where you've got more questions than you want to answer and not much hot air left with which to blow. My attention span to most everything is extremely short-lived, it probably wasn't worth the two aneurysms I gave myself last week. I need to reconnect with my teenaged self who couldn't care two shits about anything or anyone. Disconnect.
April 02, 2007
Deny All You Want
What you have isn't a mere sinus infection, a persistent chest cold, bronchitis, post nasal drip or allergies. What you've got is a good case of stupidity and denial going on because you're a smoker. Yah you stinky, hacking piece of trash, you're an idiot if you think those cancer sticks aren't killing you one by one while you greedily suck in your addiction every hour of the day.
OK, so maybe you were diagnosed with any one of those afflictions but that's only because you smoke. All those lovely poisons you're sucking back only serve to enhance and speed up the condition we'll all eventually face called death, however yours is a daily malaise you "just can't seem to understand or shake" which will most likely take you away in a horrible and painful fashion in the end.
Oh wow, am I being a little harsh? I sit across the hallway from a lifetime smoker who is constantly "sick" and spends her day trying to tuck her wet, sloppy, slimy lungs back into her chest after every coughing spasm which racks her body breathless and leaves the rest of us, her audience retching at the sounds we must endure. She's on the phone with clients who must listen to her physically choking on her own phlegm, her hands when she remembers to cover her mouth, are just a breeding ground for all things gross, wet and germy. Then she comes into my office needing information, touching my pens, my monitor, breathing all over me and slurping her insides back in again as yet another fit of coughing overcomes her smoke-filled body.
I know of another smoker who proudly showed me his how-to book on how to stop smoking the day he bought it but the bookmark never made it past the introduction. He reeks of burning garbage after every trip outside which is about once an hour and snapped at me about nagging him when I asked once how his resolution to quit was going.
Hey all you smokers who think it's your own thing so the rest of us needs to butt out, here's the thing: if you didn't litter your butts everywhere, stink up the air for the rest of us, tax our health system because your habit just happens to make you incredibly sick, resulting in a bereaved family left without a mother or father then by all means, smoke yourselves crazy. That bad boy/girl image you thought you'd cultivate? Only in the movies. The raspy, sultry voice you thought you'd use to pick up? Sexy burned up and turned into nasty an entire tobacco plantation ago. If you don't subject me to your disgusting illnesses and sounds then I really don't care how you live your life. But since we've got to sit in our offices and listen to that shit 5 days a week, 8 hours a day I think that it is our business. We didn't ask to be your audience or receptacles of germ spreading, some of us just want to do our work in relative peace and quiet.
OK, so maybe you were diagnosed with any one of those afflictions but that's only because you smoke. All those lovely poisons you're sucking back only serve to enhance and speed up the condition we'll all eventually face called death, however yours is a daily malaise you "just can't seem to understand or shake" which will most likely take you away in a horrible and painful fashion in the end.
Oh wow, am I being a little harsh? I sit across the hallway from a lifetime smoker who is constantly "sick" and spends her day trying to tuck her wet, sloppy, slimy lungs back into her chest after every coughing spasm which racks her body breathless and leaves the rest of us, her audience retching at the sounds we must endure. She's on the phone with clients who must listen to her physically choking on her own phlegm, her hands when she remembers to cover her mouth, are just a breeding ground for all things gross, wet and germy. Then she comes into my office needing information, touching my pens, my monitor, breathing all over me and slurping her insides back in again as yet another fit of coughing overcomes her smoke-filled body.
I know of another smoker who proudly showed me his how-to book on how to stop smoking the day he bought it but the bookmark never made it past the introduction. He reeks of burning garbage after every trip outside which is about once an hour and snapped at me about nagging him when I asked once how his resolution to quit was going.
Hey all you smokers who think it's your own thing so the rest of us needs to butt out, here's the thing: if you didn't litter your butts everywhere, stink up the air for the rest of us, tax our health system because your habit just happens to make you incredibly sick, resulting in a bereaved family left without a mother or father then by all means, smoke yourselves crazy. That bad boy/girl image you thought you'd cultivate? Only in the movies. The raspy, sultry voice you thought you'd use to pick up? Sexy burned up and turned into nasty an entire tobacco plantation ago. If you don't subject me to your disgusting illnesses and sounds then I really don't care how you live your life. But since we've got to sit in our offices and listen to that shit 5 days a week, 8 hours a day I think that it is our business. We didn't ask to be your audience or receptacles of germ spreading, some of us just want to do our work in relative peace and quiet.
March 26, 2007
Life on the Boulevard
He's there everyday. Walking his short, little route up and down the boulevard in front of the plaza. He's the walking advertisement for one of the stores there, wearing his ridiculous shoulder placard, holding another sign and waving to the passing traffic with his free hand.
I wonder who he is and why he's there. Without fail, everyday that I go home on the bus he's walking the beat and trying to sell a product. In all kinds of weather he's a constant, even if the temperature isn't. On the weekends when we happen to drive by he is there like a robot traversing the same path, up and down waving to the passerbys.
He's not old but he looks worn. Probably in his 30s although being outdoors all the time doing an uninteresting and dead-end task would surely age anyone. He's got the frizzy, straight-haired, rocker mullet which by daily examination, seems like the only kind of style he could do anyway with that hair type. He's got a sad, resigned smile that never leaves his kind-looking face as he waves automatically to people zooming off to more important jobs and careers.
I've watched as his grassy trail turned from glossy green to threadbare yellow, finally becoming just a crooked little compacted, muddy rut bearing testament to his constant patrol. Now that it's getting warmer he's veered off his well-worn tracks to advertise on the grass next to it, no doubt to save his shoes from the melting mud. I look at his life, stamped out in a 50 foot length and wonder where he came from and why he's doing this.
As dumb and pointless his job may seem to be, perhaps he's racking up business for the little store in the plaza. Maybe he's a super rich guy who's doing this because he likes to be outside and wants a stress-free life. Who knows what his motivations and thoughts are, it could be all he could find to make ends meet. But if you think about it, we're all in the same boat. Looking at the big picture, we're pretty insignificant even though we try to make a dent in the span of our extreme finiteness. Our footprints only remain for so long until they're swept away, his are just more obvious for now.
I wonder who he is and why he's there. Without fail, everyday that I go home on the bus he's walking the beat and trying to sell a product. In all kinds of weather he's a constant, even if the temperature isn't. On the weekends when we happen to drive by he is there like a robot traversing the same path, up and down waving to the passerbys.
He's not old but he looks worn. Probably in his 30s although being outdoors all the time doing an uninteresting and dead-end task would surely age anyone. He's got the frizzy, straight-haired, rocker mullet which by daily examination, seems like the only kind of style he could do anyway with that hair type. He's got a sad, resigned smile that never leaves his kind-looking face as he waves automatically to people zooming off to more important jobs and careers.
I've watched as his grassy trail turned from glossy green to threadbare yellow, finally becoming just a crooked little compacted, muddy rut bearing testament to his constant patrol. Now that it's getting warmer he's veered off his well-worn tracks to advertise on the grass next to it, no doubt to save his shoes from the melting mud. I look at his life, stamped out in a 50 foot length and wonder where he came from and why he's doing this.
As dumb and pointless his job may seem to be, perhaps he's racking up business for the little store in the plaza. Maybe he's a super rich guy who's doing this because he likes to be outside and wants a stress-free life. Who knows what his motivations and thoughts are, it could be all he could find to make ends meet. But if you think about it, we're all in the same boat. Looking at the big picture, we're pretty insignificant even though we try to make a dent in the span of our extreme finiteness. Our footprints only remain for so long until they're swept away, his are just more obvious for now.
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