In an effort to save those I care about from biblical-length emails, and not turn into the crazy lady who talks to her cats, I've put my inner rants and ponderings into a blog in a narcissistic need to fill the cosmic void.
Although I am getting a woman paunch that could be confused for one but that's laziness, not pregnancy induced.
Anyways, I was chatting with GBack today and we were commenting on all the people who are about to explode (*ahem* JJ!!!!) or recently announcing their pregnancies and he commented on the fact that someone looked like they were getting the 'bump' which for some reason made me bristle. Not that they were getting the bump, but the use of that word. The convo went something like this:
GBack:I saw she was developing quite a bump...but I didn't want to say anything... best not to travel down that road
L: I hate that word
GBack: haha
L: no kidding baby bump - 'Yeah, that's quite the speed bump you've created on the way to your vagina alright'
It's a good thing he didn't have coffee in his mouth. He would have, like he has on other occasions, spewed it all over his monitor.
I came to a harsh, teary-eyed realization this am: my beloved feline friend, Spencer, will not always be with me.
While lying in bed this am with her snuggling oh so close to me for warmth, I took a few minutes to have a harsh reflection on her behaviour over the last few months and have started to see that she really is aging now. I've had a stool by the bed for her for the last 4 years but moving to the house made a huge difference in her as she was now forced to navigate 3 floors to get from snuggles in bed to food to litter box. She was a new cat.
But she's started to turn white around the muzzle. She's losing quite a bit of body mass. She moves much slower. She's much more needy. She snuggles up very close for body heat and readjusts when I roll over at night where she used to hiss, meow in complaint and move on for the rest of the night. She also grunts and groans and sleeps very soundly (probably a by-product of hearing starting to go). And she snores. LOUDLY. All things that are showing her age - a whopping 16 this past November 7th.
So today I decided to buy her a cat bed or two where she could curl up and have lots of padding. Like old people, the more padding around her tired bones these days, the better. Seems my lap's workin' out JUST fine for her ( ;o) ) but it's not always open for business. I went and got a traditional cat bed that is large enough for both cats to curl up in and then a second cat sack for her to curl up in.
She seems rather leery of it and just now, I realized why...it looks like a giant, plush condom. See what I mean? In the words of Gback 'Oye Vey'.
I'm not sure if I was never really one to get swept off my feet at grand gestures of presents or whatnot or if that's a new position since becoming an adult. Perhaps it's tied to the fact that we didn't have a lot of money growing up as kids and while I never really felt any hardship, I don't feel I missed out on anything because of some of the memories I have growing up. While money was tight, time spent as a family or with my brother wasn't and well, perhaps that's why I could care less what name my heel is walking over each day or the brand of car I drive (although don't get me started on Fords).
So when I do actually see something I like and want, I have very little impulse control not to buy it but I figure that as it happens less often than most, I can be forgiven.
When I moved into my house, my first Christmas was rounding the bend at this time of year. Amazing that I've been here now for almost two and a half years and amazing more than I've been here longer on my own (sans the med student) than I was with le ex. But I digress...it was at this time that the neighbour at the other 'corner' of our street put up star lights that hung as a curtain in their dining room window. Because they were on the corner where the two streets intersected, every time I went north on my street, I'd see the lights. I was enchanted.
I'm not sure what it is about stars and twinkle lights. I've wanted nothing more than to have twinkle lights in my back yard and then to see stars I could have in my house, well, I was sold. I remember begging le ex to try and find them, convinced they were an Ikea product, and to get them when we did one day stumble upon them. But he saw them as unsightly and expensive. I resigned myself to trying to think that they were tacky so I wouldn't want them as much.
Fast forward almost two years and not wanting to let the Ikea gods get the better of me, I was in the Toronto Ikea on a mission when I came across them once more. This time, without hesitation, I bought them. And as my street seems to be getting more and more like the Griswalds every year (WTF? Even *I*, lover of all things Christmas, have a limit and some neighbours reached it several strings of lights ago), I will turn on my simple lights and bask in the oddly greeny-cream glow.
I have had a few moments over the past few days to reflect on the golden cage that is my current employment situation.
The first came when I had to get a confirmation of salary for some banking purposes. I almost fell out of my chair when I opened the letter to see that since I started 3.5 years ago, I'm now up 25% in pay from what I made when I started. 25%. That also means I'm making more than double what I made at my previous employer whom I left to work here. That's...um...sick. And not sic as in cool, yo yo homey g. But sick - as in disgusting. And I have all of that to thank to my union who keeps negotiating ridiculous salary increases. On the down side, I actually end up paying them a fairly good little piece o' dough to keep me in those increases.
But do you know what this means? It means that pretty much the only place I can go to get comparable pay is to the government. And we all know how easy it is to get in there. And it'd have to be a 04 or 05 position. So really, I can't really afford to quit my job and go work somewhere else because of the pay cut I'd be taking. Now, if I had a sugar daddy to help me pay my bills so I could have the freedom to move, okay. But right now, on my own, I'm a little bit screwed.
The other came today when I went to buy fully licensed software for my new laptop. I knew that there were institutional rates for these things but I didn't know what the rebate was. So, I got Microsoft Office Professional 2007 and Adobe Acrobat Professional 9. Together, they retail for just over $1000 before taxes ($1040 at Best Buy, $1050 at Staples).
What did I pay? $50. $10 for Office and $40 for Acrobat. The woman who sold it to me did the whole breathing in between teeth thing and said 'yes, but....that's $40'. I didn't want to tell her...I'd even be willing to pay $50! Sheesh!
And yet there are still complainers at work...egads.
When I was married, I think I did the ostrich bit. I didn't really think that anyone I knew who was married or in committed relationships would have affairs. It seemed like something some shady 40-something business man did when he was dissatisfied with his home life. Like a Jon Gosselin type. Not that he cheated or anything - or maybe he did. I can't keep up with that J&K+8 crap anymore. Okay, I didn't ever anyways because as if this non-breeder would watch a show about a family with 8 kids. Puh-shaw. I don't think so. BOOOOR-RING!
Anyways, back to my point - yes, I have one.
What I didn't realize is that this isn't a phenomenon that is only for older generations. And I can't get over the number of people who are 'open' about it. Check any online dating site or personals section of any craigslist, and you'll see the 'attached and looking for just something physical because my marriage isn't giving me what I need but not looking to change my situation' postings. It floors me and it also crushes the hopeless romantic in me that there can be a happily ever after. Sure, speed bumps and curves along the way but still that two people can make it work long term. When did we as a society start condoning this behaviour of cheating? And so much so that there are now sites like Ashley Madison? Which, btw, was started by a man but he wasn't getting the female traffic to the site that he needed to make it profitable for the men to come so he decided to name it after a female to make it more friendly to women who were looking for an affair. Nice, eh?
Anyways, if you've never heard of Ashley Madison, you might want to Google it and take a look. I'd be lying if I said it didn't leave me a little bit sad and kinda jaded.
Yesterday I went to Canadian Tire and Walmart looking for replacement filters for my humidifier in my bedroom so I don't wake up feeling like I just slept in the Sahara. I didn't really pay much attention to the model but I know what it looks like and the filter. Couldn't be too hard, right?
Walmart, as usual, was a disaster. Okay, on to Canadian Tire where you know it's going to be bad customer service. It wasn't for a change but I still didn't see what I was looking for.
When I got home I more closely inspected my humidifier. No brand model or anything but there was...
a website.
So on I go, look through the products, find the PDF file of the manual with the model of the filter I need and then sent myself the link so I can print it off at work and look on my way home tomorrow (my new laptop with Windows 7 is still waiting for the new driver to come out from lexmark for my home printer so they can be friends).
And all so I didn't have to rummage through my paper file in the room across the hall (my home office). Seriously, what has my digital life come to when this seems easier...
Last night I decided to make Jambalaya that L taught me a few years ago. Each time it's an experiment as I try out different salsa's etc. The recipe calls for chicken broth and I thought 'got it, no problem' because I had like 4 containers in my lower cupboard.
So everything's cookin' away and I look in the cupboard and start hauling out the containers and each one is expired. And not just a little expired - one was even a year and a half past the expiry date. Errr....apparently I'm not into cooking lately.
Anyways, off to the grocery store I go (after turning off the stove and checking it three timestwice three times - might as well admit to my neuroses). On the way out, with 3 containers in tow (because I need to put new ones in to age appropriately in the lower cupboard), I thought to myself 'you know, this would be so much easier if I could have just sent a significant other (SO in the title of this blog post) to the store while I kept cooking or doing up the dishes.' And then I remembered how good le ex was at going to the grocery store and I started to chuckle. By far one of my favourite stories of him:
I was trying to make potatoe salad or something for a pot luck we'd been invited to and god forbid HE actually do the cooking for it. I gave him a list of things to get while I did other stuff around the house and on it was Miracle Whip. You know, mayonnaise with vinegar. My brother and I were raised on it so to me mayonnaise is bor-ring! As I got to the kitchen, I noticed it wasn't on the counter where a still-sealed jar could go. So I looked in the fridge. No Miracle Whip. I looked in the cupboard. No Miracle Whip.
L: "Um (le ex), did you get Miracle Whip?' Le Ex: 'L, there were only like 3 items on the list. Of course I got it' L: 'So where is it?' Le Ex: 'In the freezer' (inside voice: WTF?) I open the fridge and I don't see it. L: 'I'm not seeing it' Le Ex: (insert huge exasperated sigh as he stomps to the kitchen) It's right there. He points to Dream Whip. As in whip cream.
Now I'm not sure how he thought that I needed whip cream to go in a potatoe salad but he did. And back to the grocery store he went.
So now, as I had a brief moment of disappointment that I didn't have an SO to bail me out last night, I also remembered that they create just as much headaches as they solve, non?
So I'm done with the online dating thing because it's too time consuming. Right. Back to 'organic dating' as I'm calling it.
This is where I get introduced by friends to their single friends (*ahem* - I'm WAIT-ING! ;o) ) and I go back to actually introducing myself to men that I find attractive and follow up with the phone number giving blah-de, blah-de, blah-blah.
Tonight, when I had to stay at work for an event I COMPLETELY forgot about (love the unexpected 12 hr + days), I had the unexpected surprise of seeing a cute man who smelt nice. Now, we all know that smell is a big thing to me which is why the scent police was such a ego-damaging moment for me. It took said gentleman about an hour to work his way over to introducing himself to me (he had borrowed a pen earlier in the evening from me which is how I caught a whiff) and we ended up chatting for a good 10 minutes. We talked about work, education, goals in life in our careers...interesting stuff. And there were definitely moments of flirtation going on.
And then he did it.
He 'WE''d me.
As in he said 'I'm staying at a hotel because the house that WE're having built isn't ready yet.'
Don't get me wrong, I checked for a ring. I would never have flirted the way that I did if there had been one. But seriously? Why? What was the point of flirting with me like that? Hunh? To prove he still has it? For fun? Seriously? Why not just walk away after he borrowed my pen? Did he need to 'we' on me so that he didn't feel guilty about flirting - ie. 'I was upfront that I was in a relationship'.
Regardless, it got me thinking to how I've changed over the past few years. Before I met le ex, I was an 'I'. Then I too became a 'we' when we were together (which is just funny to type because there's no other way to put it). And now I'm a 'ME' (or 'I' if it's more grammatically correct).
But more than that...it's making me think about what happened to the 'I' and the 'me' when I was in the 'we'. While a relationship's about give and take, perhaps there was more giving in my 'we' than 'I' or 'me' realized was going on. 'I' am going to be congnizant of this fact the next time there's a 'we' so that 'I' doesn't loose sight of the fact that 'we' is really made up of two 'me''s.
I've decided to check out of the dating game for a little while. I'm too busy with work, being sick (still have this damn cold 4 weeks later), house stuff and well, just life things. It's a HUGE time demand and I'm just bored with it. Plus, and I still have to blog about them, I've had a few more dates since I last posted and I'm just done with craptacular dates. Last thing I need is to be bitter and jaded and if I keep going with the dating scene right now, I'm headed right down Bitter and Jaded Lane and will be cruising along at a nice speed.
So, this video cracked me up today:
I also put on a CD at work today and chair danced to this song by Macy Gray. Something about it is speaking to me these days because it seems there are a few disappearing gents who are playing the dreaded mind games with a few single gal pals which again, just listening to, puts me on the road towards Bitter and Jaded Lane. I love the lyrics (see below) because they seem soooo true. Definitely a 'he's just not that into you song'.
Why didn't you call me?
We went out one night Everything went right We got something started It was outta sight We had such a good time Hey! Why didn't you call me? I thought I'd see you again
By the phone I wait Staring into space Thinking about our first kiss Out on our first date We had such a good time Hey! Why didn't you call me? I thought I'd see you again
Why don't you call me again? And I'm gonna ask When I see you again Thought you would be my man, my lover, my friend I never thought it would end so quickly It would end
I've resorted to Hanging up on you I know you know it's me How else will I talk to you We had such a good time Hey! Why didn't you call me? I thought I'd see you again
Why don't you call me again? And I'm gonna ask When I see you again Thought you would be my man my lover my friend I never thought it would end so quickly We had such a good time Hey! Why didn't you call me? I thought I'd see you I thought I'd see you I thought I'd see you again
So, I promised myself I wouldn't blog about this until AFTER my birthday and seeing as how it's now 12:06, it's fair game.
I found out this weekend, courtesy of the smallest grapevine in the world (aka Ottawa), that le ex is engaged.
My first reaction was....
nothing.
Yes, nothing. I didn't feel anything. No sadness, no remorse, no jealousy. Nothing. This, to me, is truly a sign that I'm over him. However, this chased an exceptionally bad date on Saturday night (more WHMPC to follow) so there was a little 'oh, 'eff me. I can't even get a good date and he's already getting remarried?' but then I realized that it's a good thing I'm out dating and not settling. Not saying that he is or anything but you know, I'm sure my time will come.
Then about two hours later, it hit me.
What name is this new wife going to have? Her own? Zrudlo (which as far as I know he's still not using)? Or....ALBERTA?!?!?!?!?
While so many things were not great about the divorce, the only thing that ever really fired me up was the fact that he refused to change his name back because apparently 'he's worked hard to build his *ahem* professional retail store manager reputation on it'. I hope, truly hope, someone is the voice of reason and perhaps tries to talk him out of the merits of keeping my name given this new development.
But if not, I think the following evilly crafted and so wish I was less of a lady to actually have the cojones to send it email would to him may get the point across:
Subject: Congratulations
Dear le ex (I'd actually use his name but still like to maintain some anonymity on this blog),
I know it's been quite some time since we last spoke and I hope all is well with you. I just wanted to send you a quick congratulatory note on your upcoming nuptials. While I have yet to meet the lucky lady, I can't wait to have her join the Alberta family and am sure she will carry our name proudly. In fact, I don't think we even have anyone of her name within the family so she may be the first of that name as well - unfortunately not something you too can attest to as the first SA was actually born into our family, not married into it.
Anyways, congratulations and again, I look forward to welcoming her to the family!
L
Yeah, I know...I shouldn't. And I won't. But it would feel soooo good.
The online dating phenom has some weird things. I can add you to my 'favourites' list and you can add me to yours. All it does is tell you how long ago we last spoke. And can be used as a passive aggressive way of saying, 'hey, I dig you'. Yeah, I know, you're wondering with verbage like that how I can possibly still be single, right?
Well, now, there are these NEW features in the site. If you go to message someone or reply to a message that they have sent you, things you filled in in your personality tests while getting an account will show up. So, it'll tell me that both Joe Blow and I don't think that religion is very important. Or we both like to travel.
The best one I've seen was for a guy whose user profile name was Slightly Unbalanced. Yeah, he was done for before I even opened that message. This was the dating website's assessment of him:
Based on our personality tests we stronlgy believe Slightly Unbalanced is not a player.
This week I came down with a nasty cold. And because work is on high H1N1 alert, and I share an office suite with the guy who's been tasked with monitoring staff and student illness across campus, I decided to really get better before returning to work. I was in TO on Monday for work, feeling sick by Monday night and then full blown not getting out of bed by Tuesday evening.
I went to Starbucks Saturday morning for my first cup of coffee in half a week. I figure, if I'm going without, when I go back, it should be good. I parked further along in the parking lot as I went to South Keys and well, it was shopping day. So after getting my cuppa joe, I walked to my car. As I approached the door, I looked in. Here was the thought process that went through my head in about 3 seconds:
I know I had paper in the car but where did that Michael's flyer come from? Wait, what is all that crap in the car? Wait, what's all that stuff in the backseat? Who the 'eff breaks into a car and puts crap in it, aren't you supposed to take stuff out? Why is the car not unlocking, I'm pressing the button? Fuck, now how much is that going to cost me to get fixed? Locks not unlocking? Will it be under warranty? ..... Wait, why is that sound coming from BEHIND me?
(insert turning around of body)
Oh, there's my car. I wonder if anyone saw that....?
Now, I've had dates off and on with this guy that I've yet to blog about. The rules of blogging and dating state that you 1) never let a date, even if you're friends after, read the blog and 2) once a date is forever immortalized in the blog, he will never be a romantic potential again. So, because I still have dates here and there with the '26 year-old', he has not been blogged about. What he has taught me is that I shouldn't date younger men. Actually, le ex taught me that but the 26 yr-old has been reinforcing it. But sometimes, I lack judgment...
While trying to diplomatically say that I am not interested in the Uni-basher, I was also scoping out more profiles on the dating website. And lo and behold, I got a message from a new bachelor. But when I saw his age, *ahem* 24, I quickly sent him a message in return saying thank you for your interest but I'm old for you. He then replied that he's always liked older women because they are more mature, easier to talk to, etc. Knowing some of my younger, single friends, I can see a difference in our maturity levels as well so I took pity on him. We got to messaging, then MSNing and finally against better judgement, I agreed to go out for an impromptu dinner with him that night.
When deciding where to go for dinner, we tossed restaurant names back and forth until he finally said 'I don't really care where we go, as long as it's easy to get to by bus'.
(insert record scratch)
Whaaaaa? It never even occurred to me that he wouldn't have a car. So, being the oh so diplomatic one that I am, and because I'm amused by the situation and not really thinking he'd be a true dating prospect, I said, okay, I'll come pick 'your sorry ass up'. So I go to pick him up and we go for dinner at Casey's at Blair.
We sit down and he's the exact opposite of the Uni-basher from the night before. He's painfully awkward and shy (not so easy to chat someone up in person versus on MSN, eh?) and he finally broke down and one point when I said 'so, tell me more about you' with a response of...
'Well, I'm sure you can tell that I'm pretty nervous.'
At the same time that my heart broke a little for the guy, I also thought, 'I would eat you alive if I ever really dated you!!!' Needless to say, he was done for at that moment.
So I drove him home, said thank you for a lovely meal and was done with that. I now have GBack on speed dial to remind me of this every time I think I should give a younger guy a chance. And yes, I'm an ageist.
So it's been quite some time since I blogged. I have been busy at work, out travelling a little bit, sick, nurturing first date relationships, going on first dates. You know, it's not easy being me ;o)
A few weeks ago, I got a message on the dreaded online dating website from a faceless suitor. I call him faceless because his profile didn't have a picture. Still a little on the charming side, he and I exchanged a few messages on the site (like emails) before he sent a pic. And surprisingly, he wasn't bad looking.
We began texting, MSNing and even talking on the phone. After about 5-6 days of doing so, we met up on a Saturday night for a walk. He was relaxed and not overly dressed (he'd been out at a pub with friends for drinks just before our impromptu meeting). We went for a walk down by the Rowing Club and sat and talked. Over the course of the half hour we were there, he was rather touchy but you know, nothing inappropriate. Then, somehow we got onto the conversation of universities and colleges and he says...
'Universities don't do a good job of preparing students for real life afterwards. They're definitely not as good as colleges'
(insert record scratch)
Um, say what? Do you know who you're talking to? So we had the debate of the purpose of a university versus the purpose of a college and finally I ended the conversation but I could tell that he wasn't convinced and I was less than impressed. However, he seemed like a nice enough guy and I continued to talk to him over the course of the following week with date plans for that Friday to go see the 67's play.
Come Friday, he picks me up at my house and we head to the game. But it's raining. And, besides driving slower than my GRANDMOTHER, he also seemed allergic to using his windshield wipers. I'm a bit of a passenger seat driver (le ex couldn't find his way out of a wet paper bag and his driving observations of other motorists were also lacking at times) so I can't handle when I can't see out of the windshield and if for only the simple reason as the wipers aren't being used, forget working, well that just annoys the crap outta me.
We get to the game and while sitting at the game, he tells me stories of his life to try and show me how popular he is with his friends ('I'm the good guy everyone likes!'), how smart he is ('I'm someone people turn to when they need advice on things') etc. Now, granted, none of these stories were overly showoffy, just by then, I was starting toget annoyed but only because he kept touching me.
Now, I'm a very affectionate person with my mate and with my nephews. After that, I sort of get a little uncomfortable if my friends and family are overly touchy, the French try and kiss my cheeks, or people are just touchy with me. I'm an awkward anglo, I get and accept that.
Throughout the game, when there was a lull in the action or the conversation, he was constantly shoulder checking me. Like bumping in to me. It got to the point where I started to get really angry about it. As the game was finishing, we ran into a group of his friends. By this point, I know he's not getting a 3rd chance but all I can say is AWK-WARD as his friends sit there and scope me out and give him those knowing smiles. Uggghhhhhh.
So we drive for an eternity to Preston street where he pokes me in the side ribs as we're walking into the restaurant. I'm sorry but my love handles don't like poking. Even if I didn't have them to protect my ribs, my ribs wouldn't like them. We have a somewhat awkward dinner (by that point I was REALLY just hungry and didn't even care who I was eating with) and he at several points grabbed my knee and gave it a squeeze under the table and also rubbed my forearm. I sat, when not eating, with my arms crossed. Did he know NOTHING about body language?
The second to final straw came at the end of the evening when he, I kid you not, body checked me as I was doing up my zipper when coming out of the restaurant. WTF? Is he 5?
He slowly drove me home and I don't remember much about the trip as I frantically tried to see out the windshield between every 10 minute concessional wipe. In the driveway, as my hand pulled on the lever to open the door, he says, 'what, I'm not even going to get a hug good-bye?'
Dude, if she hasn't been returning ANY of your physical touches throughout the course of the evening, GET. THE. HINT.
So I gave him his damn hug and got out of the car. 10 minutes later I had a text from him that was a :o(. I sent a ? back and he said 'nothing, just being a brat'. WTF, are you really 5? So then he texted me 'so, how did I do tonight on my do or die date?' (Earlier in the week I had told him that the 2nd date is do or die because you've had your chance to be nervous, etc. and now you really have to step up your a game.) Not wanting to crush him on the drive home - god knows how that would have affected his inability to drive - I texted back 'what, the jury doesn't even get a chance to deliberate overnight?' He left it at that and the next day texted me. I told him the truth, that we were just better off as friends and I didn't feel the chemistry to which he said he was thinking the same thing.
Ugh....right.....
And that was Friday night. Which was followed by Saturday....
PS - while I know as a Fit driver I really shouldn't, and I don't know a LOT about cars but I can't help but think that what you drive and the colour say a lot about your personality. And sorry, but I can't take someone seriously who drives a slate blue Sunfire. Well, any colour Sunfire for that matter...
So, I'm at home sick with a nasty cold. I keep checking my temperature for a fever and I think the thermometer is lying. Regardless, the thought of getting up and showering and getting dressed even was too much, forget walking across the parking lot to my office.
So here I sit. Sick. Lonely. And weepy. Because that's how I am when I'm sick. I'm a cry-y, weepy, needy, love-wanting sap. And what better thing to do when you can't sleep any more and are waiting for the soup to cook? Blog! ;o)
Before I post some more WHMPC because, even though I swore off men recently, I've been out dating still and have to catch you all up on the trials and tribulations, I need to post this.
This speaks to the hopeless romantic in me, not a guy who's earned that as his nickname. And as I'm sure that there will be times where I will definitely waste some hair and makeup products as a result of that side of my personality, this morning, with kleenex in hand, it made me feel 10 times better than any loopiness resulting from over the counter cough meds.
Okay, so a few weeks ago I bemoaned the ineptitude of the idiots over at voice services because apparently my phone whose light wasn't flashing wasn't a phone that they thought they should support anymore.
And magically, the light started working again.
Well guess what...now the light won't STOP flashing, even when I don't have a message.
Okay, so most of you know that I hate, hate, HATE those stupid ribbon magnets that people put on their car for supporting troops, breast cancer, whatever. Not sure what it is about it but I hate them as much as I hate those bracelets that everyone was into a few years ago because of Lance Armstrong and then it took off to every cause - or profit making organization - got into having a coloured bracelet. I guess it's that whole affiliation issue I have...
ANYWAYS, I've seen a max of like 2-3 of these magnets on cars and am driven batty by them and one day just wanna go on a stealing rampage in a Walmart parking lot and then decorate one car with all of them (I won't mention *whose* car I'd like to do that to ;o) ). So when I pulled up behind this truck on the Bronson off ramp at Hunt Club, I thought I'd hit the mecca for that prank...and had to take a pic. God I love my phone...
Something about cooking and food lately has been leaving me feeling rather...
meh....
I'm not really into cooking which is surprising for me and as a result, I'm not really into eating. I have days of 'how little can I sustain on' because I'm just lazy, bored or just not in the mood to eat or cook. I think part of it is stress related too, as the work season of chaos ramps up.
So tonight, when I finally thought 'enough's enough, what can I eat' and I started to think that some peppered ham slices, a Babybel, glass of milk, banana and a yogurt chased by Doritos was a good idea, I opened up the cupboard to get out the Doritos and saw the new cereal I bought the other day.
And then it hit me.
Why have I never thought of having cereal for dinner before?!?!? After all, if it's part of the 'most important meal of the day' then there must be SOME nutritional value to it, non? Surely I can get away with having it for...DINNER!!!
So I had cereal with a banana in it (gotta keep the Chiquita plantation in business) with Doritos for dessert while I watched Hell's Kitchen.
A while back I blogged about the Gum Guy I went on a date with. I try not to be a soapbox preacher about many things but gum in blister packs is my personal crusade so when he reacted so defiantly about it, I was turned off and appalled.
But somehow, this bizarre date lead to the Gum Guy and I forming a friendship. Bizarre as it sounds, we chat on MSN, get together from time to time and occasionally chat too. We've not talked about the whole gum issue since the day it happened. And then I got a photo text from him today with only 'damn you' as the message. This was the pic:
I WIN! I WIN!
My mission to convert everyone into paper package/stick buying gum chewers is paying off.
I'd insert the tapping of my nose with my finger but well, it hurts, I don't wanna touch it.
So yesterday at rowing, I caught a crab. It's not a nice thing to catch a crab and this was probably the most violent crab I've ever seen anyone catch. It flattened me on my back and left me breathless with panic. The oar almost hit the woman behind me. And I jokingly said, 'that almost broke my nose'. It was violent enough that the woman in front of me patted me on the back and asked me if I was okay. And she's NOT the mothering type.
Fast forward about 5 hours and my face started to ache. A lot. By the time I left starbucks and got home, I thought 'geeze, you look like crap' because I looked really tired. And then I got up close to the mirror and realized that those weren't bags under my eyes but in fact, bruising.
I sat with some ice on my face and took some aspirin and thought I was feeling better.
And I was...until this pm.
My face, regardless of the tylenol Gback gave me, is throbbing. I'm seriously considering waiting a long time at the walk in clinic by my house to get it checked out. Could you imagine if I'd broken it?
For those that don't know, this is what it means to catch a crab while rowing:
But that was a pretty tame crab - this is more like the one I caught...
There was no slow mo trying to hold on to it (because sometimes you can do it and it's a 'leisurely' recline you have to do to avoid getting hit) but this was fast and hard, like that second video. Ironically, I was sitting in the same position in the boat as he was. Hmmmm....
This is also a good video so you can see how violent it can be:
But this one, takes the cake - at least this didn't happen to me:
I'm not sure what it is about the turning of the seasons in fall that really make me remark on the passing of time. Perhaps it's the beginning of the school year that my current job reminds me with a stiff smack in the face each year during frosh week 'Welcome Week' (because apparently parents freak out over their precious little ones being initiated into university life with drinking and drugs and sex and all that is wrong in the world - ugh hello, walk into any suburban highschool and you'll see 10 times worse, you just have to look!). Maybe it's the quickly approaching birthday of mine (35 days peeps - and might I also take this moment to tell you it's only 109 until Xmas). Perhaps it's the change in the season that is much more marked than spring to summer.
I dunno.
And maybe it's that I had coffee with Mexican Princess today after helping her adjust her chandelier where we reflected on the changes she and I have both seen in our lives and I know I've had probably the best two years of my life. But it really hit me today on the ball field as I played my last softball game of the season. Almost 60 games later and somehow, 4 months have passed. And while I'm excited to be moving on to something new and focus a lot of time and effort on it (rowing), where did time go? What did I do with it? What do I have to show for it? And will I make the most of the next 4 months before Xmas that always seem to pass in a flurry of activity between work and play?
I know...it's a little...deep...for hanging up my cleats and glove for the season but it just struck a chord with me today. And so I thought I'd share it with you and fill up the cosmic void with my moment of...
If I was a paying customer of the institution I work at, and I knew there were such wastes of payroll employed here, I'd ask for my money back.
We all know I rant about the parking office and my ongoing battles with them over parking tickets, parking passes and well, anything customer service oriented.
Today though, their reign as most inept customer service on campus has been toppled...by voice services. And I quote:
L: Hi, I'm having a problem with my phone. I'm having messages left but the flashing light on my phone isn't working to tell me there are messages. Apparently this has been going on for two days. Most Unhelpful Customer Service Agent Ever (MUCSAE): Oh, that's a known problem with the 470's. You should get a VOIP phone. L: Okayyyyyyyy....oh, you're referring to the model number.... MUCSAE: (insert exasperated tone) well, yes, you do have a 470, right? L: Yes. MUCSAE: well, you should get a VOIP. We don't have those kinds of problems with that phone. But if you want, you can try scrolling through the user options until you get to something in the menu that talks about indicator lights. L: Ugh, okay, but this problem just started this week. It was working fine before that. MUCSAE: Yeah, you should get a VOIP phone. It's only 90cents extra a month. L: But I was told I couldn't get a VOIP phone. When I moved down to this office a few months ago, they installed this other phone that I'd had in my old office and said they'd look into it and never got back to me. MUCSAE: Oh, you're in which building? L: Tory MUCSAE: There are tons of VOIP phones in Tory so I don't think that's an issue but I'll check to see if there's an issue with your area. You're in 1146 Tory. L: No, 421. 1146 is my phone extension. MUCSAE: Oh. Right.... *silence* MUCSAE: Okay, I'll look into that. In the mean time, you should get a VOIP phone. And you should check your voicemail often to make sure you don't miss any messages. *silence* (inside voice: *speechless* um. Wow. Okay. WASTE OF PAYROLL!!!) L: Okay, thanks. MUCSAE: No problem!
You know, I don't even think I need to comment on this. I think, my dear readers, that you are all smart enough to just grapple with the ineptitude that is voice services. So, again - wow...what a waste of payroll.
This morning, while stopped at the light at Bronson and after dutifully putting up my parking pass to avoid yet another ticket, I checked out the other cars/drivers around me. The vehicle in front of me had a bumper sticker in white with green writing. I know that bumper stickers are a thing of the past really and that people don't put them on their cars so when I do see one, I generally try to read them. This one read:
Try organic. For your body. For the environment. For a change. www.cog.ca
The irony? It was on one of these:
Yes, that's right - a Chevy Suburban. Right, do it 'for the environment'. You're preaching to me to eat organic when you're driving a vehicle that for the life of me on the GMC website I can't find the fuel efficiency specs on this puppy? For the sake of their gas tank, hopefully they believe in creationism.
I trekked down to the wonderland that is Tweed today to spend some QT with the fam. We did what we sometimes do on a Saturday with no other plans, wild-eyed children who are going stir crazy and raining cats and dogs to boot: we went to Costco in Kingston.
Costco, I've come to realize, is a strange place. On any given day, you can probably account for what, 60% of the products to be routinely in stock while the other 40% seems to be transient stock of whatever wasn't selling in another region or country. It's also the place where you stand, under the glare of flourescent lights, gently (or not so gently) elbowing your way to the nearest person in white clothing with a hair net because god forbid, you need that honey garlic sausage sample at 10:00 am more than the guy with 3 kids who's goin' back for 3rds. It's also the place where you go into a time warp as, like a casino, there are no clocks, no indication of life on the outside and you get caught up in the glamour and awe of the 18 L gar or Preggo spaghetti sauce that will never fit in your fridge but you urgently rationalize to yourself that you can just 'divide and freeze it' in enough tupperware to fill half your freezer, all to save 2 cents per oz. and then be shocked and shaken were a cart of a few simple items somehow costs you half of your paycheck. But they were all such good deals!
It's also the place that, given the fact I was in jeans and a sweatshirt today and it felt like a late fall day rather than the end of August, I found myself admiring not just the amazing mixtures of hallowe'en candy but also...
Christmas decorations.
The odd thing was, it didn't even occur to me that this was out of place. I think it was because of my attire (and everyone else's), the fact that no one in the fam commented, and the fact that again, there's no windows to the outside where not a tree in sight had lost a leaf. It could also be that I think warmly of Xmas year round so the fact that it's 117 days away is unimportant.
But then, after my drive back to O-town on cursed HWY 7, I went into my local convenience store for some doritos and Dr. Pepper. I then walked past this and stopped dead in my tracks to take a pic: W
T
F?
I was outraged. How dare MS push Halloween before even the start of the school year. Halloween is still 63 days away. Next thing you know, the Xmas decorations will be out.
It was only then that I realized I had in fact come [ ] that close to BUYING Christmas decorations this morning at Costco.
So, while I love Costco's ridiculousness and cheap Baby Bels and that once, in a former domesticated life, strived to recreate the holidays like my pal MS and all her minions, they have, IMHO, gone too far.
It's no secret that I have a smidgen of disdain for the parking office at work. They have, routinely, proven to me that the simplest of tasks are quite cumbersome to accomplish and to add insult to injury, their rudeness and lack of professionalism just shows where they place priority in their 'customer service', if you can call it that...
The latest run in with them resulted in a parking ticket being issued to me on yet another Friday. I had one back in May, my first in over 2 years might I add when, like this recent one, I forgot to put my pass in my window. Why did I forget? Well, I put up my pass when I'm in the left turning lane on Bronson every am and then take it down as I pull out of my spot. While it is a driving hazard, I also know that I can be a bit of an aggressive driver at times so I fully admit, bashfully, that I don't necessarily want my employer associated with my driving. It's a PR thing - saving them from a bad rap. Silly but I do it nonetheless.
So, when I got the turning light on that Friday and didn't need to stop, I forgot to put it up. My habit was broken. Now, if, in theory, the parking barriers were down and I was forced to swipe my pass to gain access to my lot, I would most definitely have remembered to put it up. But, as they always are these days, the barriers were not down and so I could just drive right in and park. I came out to a ticket on Friday afternoon, after a rather stressful day so it was my cherry on my sundae, and promptly had an email reminder from the parking office on the Saturday am in my inbox. Love the efficiency.
When I got my ticket back in May, I was a little upset. I did, at the time, in my appeal inquire as to the reason that the barriers were not in use - ugh, haaaalllooooo! They're there for a REASON! What I got back for response to that appeal was an overturn in the fee and a 'it's your responsibility chastisement'. No acknowledgement as to my issue with the barriers. So, when this ticket occurred, they got me fired up on the wrong day.
To start off, I went to put in an appeal using the link that was supplied in the Saturday morning email. The link was broken. (Insert fuel on fire.) Oh, you did NOT just send me, Communications Officer, a broken link to the payment and appeal website in an automated email! So when I did go to the parking site and find it, I inputted my appeal. I admitted to knowing better but gave my rationale.
But that wasn't enough. I was mad. So I sent an email to their inquiry box. It read:
Hello,
I recently received a parking violation for Lot 5 as I did not have my permit displayed.
While I fully admit to simply having forgotten to take it out of my cup holder and put it on display that day, I do not leave my permit on my dash nor hanging from my rear view mirror at all times as it is a visual obstruction and driving hazard. Therefore, I have to remember to put it up daily as I enter the parking lot. While I do my best to remember to put it up, and have only received 2 violations in as many years for forgetting to do so, this leads me to inquire as to another issue with the lots that I have provided feedback on before but have seen no resolution.
As a user of lot 5, I would also like to inquire as to why the barriers to enter this lot are not in use. When they are, I am forced to use my pass to enter the lot and it is an automatic reminder to display my pass which in turn results in a decreased chance that I will incur an infraction. Notably, the two infractions I have received in the past two years were this summer at times when the barriers have not be in use to enforce permit-holder-only access to the lot.
If users of the lot are required to use a pass to enter the lot, I believe we could save parking officers a great deal of time in checking cars for permits should access to the lots be limited, as it appears was originally intended when the barriers were put in place. Considering that parking is an ancillary service to the university, this would in turn be a cost saving and in fact, increased revenue generating action.
Finally, it should be noted that the email reminder I promptly received regarding my infraction contained an out of date URL by which I could appeal/pay my fine.
Best regards,
L
$5 if you can guess what I got.
Nothing.
For a full week and a day, I had no response. Nada. Nothing. Niet.
Then Tuesday, I come out to my car and low and behold, there's a security officer milling about near it. It was after 6 and the lot was fairly cleaned out. Sure enough, he was waiting for me. But not because I had violated parking regulations, but because there was a mystery duffle bag under my car. He was waiting for backup before removing it. This was only made better because I was walking out with M who, a few months back, was subjected to my 'you don't know what's in that bag - we're across from the US embassy - it could be a bomb' rant while in the Earl of Sussex one evening when she wanted to move to a table where someone had forgotten their backpack. Anyways, he wasn't there re. my parking ticket but it was just funny.
Fast forward to yesterday, I got this in my inbox:
Dear L,
Your violation (ticket# 30700306) has been: REDUCED Original value: $35.00 Current value: $15.00
Administrator Comments:
Miss Alberta It is your responsibility to visibly display your parking permit while in your assigned location on campus. This is indicated on the back of your parking permit. The violation has been reduced to $15.00. S/Cst K. Gallinger Shift Manager University Safety
Hmm, and my issue with the barriers? What about that? So, not only is the 'E'mployer wasting payroll on their salaries, apparently now I'm going to have to waste capital I 'I'ncome on this ticket.
Truth be told, I didn't expect even a reduction after the email I sent - really, would you do something nice for someone who slams you like that? I wouldn't. But that wasn't why I did it. I did it because I'm sick of nothing being done and my concern not being directly addressed.
Now, I've pretty much established through the help of GBack that I live in a bubble. Its not uncommon for me to get old news from him and it being brand spankin' new info. One of the things that I didn't know about was apparently that OCCrapo Transpo has bought double decker buses. On the way home from work the other night I saw one and was completely bowled over. So I did what I do - I D&S (drove and snapped):
A couple weekends ago, I decided to do a stay-weekend and just was a shut in in my house doing things that needed doing - like lazily watching tv and napping. ;o)
As is the case, I inevitably needed some human contact mid-Saturday pm so I got online and checked out a few profiles on everyone's favourite dating website. I hadn't been on in weeks - I was just too busy and not really in the mood for the 'first date' dance/courtship rituals so I'd avoided the site. But, being true to the needs of you dear readers, perhaps it was time to add to the WHMPC category once again.
Wikipedia Guy (or wiki wiki for Gback) messaged me Saturday pm. His message was kinda quirky and short (like him) and so I messaged him back. This resulted in a flurry of emails for days which eventually lead to msn, texting and, believe it or not, an actual phone conversation. By that point we'd made plans to go out on the Sunday of the long weekend and I was looking forward to the date.
It's no surprise to you all that I have a geeky side. Yes, I know, I try not to expose you to it but sometimes it creeps through. But this guy, no matter how geeky the conversation turned (from geography to tractors to weather!) he was able to keep up and continue the conversation without dropping a beat. In fact, in one email, he sent me the link to a Wikipedia article (hence Wikipedia Guy). When I told this to some colleagues, the open mouthed shock at perhaps the match made in online dating heaven was a little bit too creepy.
So Sunday came and when we finally got together, he was as interesting and comfortable to converse with in person as he had been through any other medium. We went and saw some buskers on Sparks Street and then the sound and light show on Parliament Hill. He took me home after and I waited for what I hoped would be a good night kiss in my driveway.
And what did I get?
Nuthin'.
Now I'm not sayin' that I want every first date to end in some kind of physical contact - that would just be GROSS! But, you know, I thought things had gone well and he'd already suggested getting together once he'd gotten back from his trip to Vegas the following weekend.
The following day, when I didn't have a text or email from him, I wrote him off. Yup, not interested. I gotcha. It's all good, I understand. No hard feelings.
And then he texted to say he had a good time and it was a good idea. We then texted throughout the day and chatted on MSN that night. Okay, maybe I'd been quick to react.
Throughout the rest of the week, before he left on his trip, we texted, emailed and chatted on MSN. We made plans for a get together of ice cream and sight seeing the following week when he returned from Vegas. He then went off to Vegas and I didn't hear from him.
Fast forward a few days to the next Monday, the day he's due home from Vegas. I get a text from him in the am all chatty chatty while he's waiting during the layover between flights. And then he's off on his flight and I am busy at work and with softball and I don't hear from him the rest of the day. I text him after my softball game that night to firm up plans for the next day. He doesn't answer my texts. In fact he sends me a text the next day saying he's off to Montreal for work for a few days. No apology for cancelling, no reschedule but still with the texts and emails. But they're starting to wane.
So I figure, one last chance. I'd like to see him and I can wait around for him to make plans or just take life by the balls and try and make plans. He either agrees or he doesn't - at least I'll know.
I fire off a text to him suggesting getting together that weekend if he has time. No response. In fact, no other texts from him. I then get a friendly email from him (we'd also had an ongoing email exchange - yes, I know...soooo much technology!!!) on other random stuff and commenting on how he forgot his blackberry charger. Um, can I say, BULLSHIT? But I reply with a friendly email, no suggestion of getting together, nada. Becasue at this point, it's time to move on.
I guess we were both on the same page. I've since not heard from him. And GBack lost the bet that I would - he owes me breakfast! WOOT WOOT!
So, maybe something good DID come out of it.... :o)
And, dear readers, as is the motto of Albertasauras...
When I started rowing, I never thought it would be the sport I would sustain the most injuries from on a consistent basis. But week after week, I came home with new bruises, scrapes, callouses and blisters to show off in moments of toughness. One of the places I've sustained the most injury has been to my legs - I have big calves that are not only a little chubby but also really muscular. They tend to hit the gunnels of the boats and causes bruises and even skin burns (think rug burn) on my legs. It's lead to quite a few interesting comments out of strangers and non-strangers alike. The first reaction is usually wide-eyed horror and then some sort of aghast comment re. 'and you choose to do this?'
The other thing that we were told when we started rowing is that it's near impossible to tip an 8 man boat. Well, at this am's practice, we proved them wrong.
A larger power boat had gone by and made quite the wake. While we should have been fine to just bob through it, we apparently had some nervous rowers in the boat who freaked out at the size of the wake and did what you naturally want to do - put your hand out to the side where you feel like you are falling to brace yourself. This was also the side of the boat where we were pitching heavily too so before I knew it, we were in trouble. My thought process went something like this:
Holy F*&K, this boat is going to flip!
Holy crap, it's easier to get my feet out of the shoes than I thought (for those who don't know, there are shoes that are screwed into the boat that we put our feet into - yes, ones size 13 men's shoe fits all so we all wear socks).
Ahhhh, that feels good (it was really hot, humid and smoggy on the water this am).
Holy F*%K! This is the Ottawa River I'm in! EWWWWWW.....
After the obligatory 'is everyone okay? can everyone swim? (bit late for that one, I know)' questions, we decided to swim the boat in to shore. Once we got into the weedy wading area, we had to turn the boat over, lift it over our heads to drain the water out (onto our heads) and then get back in, one by one, and row on.
By the time we got back to the rowing club, the master's level rowers were all waiting on the dock. Apparently, they could see the whole 'show' from the Rockcliffe Boathouse Restaurant across the river from where we flipped. Besides coming to find out how the hell we managed to flip an 8, they also came to take our coach (who was in the motor boat nice and dry, might I add) for a scotch. Ugh, where's my bloody scotch?
After I got home, I noticed that my leg seemed itchy and burning. While I at first worried I may have swimmer's itch, I think looked more closely. Apparently when I pulled out of the shoes, I scratched myself along the rigger of the boat. The photo was taken about 3 hours ago before my softball game (gotta love the cleats!)...
it's now turning purple....
Btw, did I mention I'm rowing again on Wednesday? ;o)
Okay, gremlins aside, I love my phone. And I love Telus. Yes, I admit it. Telus wins me over time and again with all their cute marketing. From the piggies to the iguanas to the meerkats to the frogs. I love them all.
But don't you think this guy needs to be the next Telus mascot?
He's a sea slug. Seriously...UBER cute.
Hey, think if I suggest him someone will give me free service for a year?
Yeah, I thought not too. Maybe I'd get a free calendar. 2009 calendar too - HA!
Okay, so I have gremlins in my cell phone. Yes, I did just get it a few short months ago and yes, they started showing up really quickly there after. Why have I not done anything about it? Because I can be the queen of procrastination, that's why.
One of the gremlins manifests itself by sending pics that are saved in my phone, in random texts, to someone in my contacts list. Poor M, hater of all things fuzzy, got a pic of my two cats lying in bed together the other day. I have warned most people that if they get random texts from me with pics, it's the gremlins, not me. I have also been very conscious not to take any pics that I wouldn't want on the cover of a newspaper with my phone.
But taking a break and reading one of my many blogs that I follow at lunch today, I came across this WHMPC story about someone who did something very similar. It's from the blog My Very Worst Date which thank GOD I'm doing soooo good compared to some of these horror stories...
One of my Very Worst Dates happened on my fourth date with a guy who was funny, warm and witty (plus all the shallow stuff: tall, blonde, great body etc). The first two dates had gone fantastically well. We had quite a bit of email and phone contact in between and were getting along really well. At the end of the third date, we had a lingering kiss. It was far as we had gone at that point though the festivities looked very likely to heat up on our next encounter.
For our fourth date, we went to a bar for drinks and tapas. Again, everything was going great. I make it a policy to never play around with my cellphone on a date but I was expecting an urgent work call. I explained this and he was fine with it so I had my phone, set to silent, on the table.
He excused himself to go to the restroom for what seemed like a long time. While he was away, I got a little ‘beep’ on my phone to let me know I had a message. It wasn’t work but a message from him. Thinking it was maybe a suggestive “can’t wait to kiss you again/you’re looking great” type message, I opened it.
I was nonplussed to find that it was a close up picture of his (not inconsiderable, I might add) fully ‘alert’ male member, clearly taken in the restroom because his suit pants could just be seen in the picture. That’s how close up it was! I like to think I am pretty open-minded but it came as quite a shock to me that some serious flirtation and a pretty intense kiss had prompted the X-rated photographic effort!
About two minutes later, he came charging back into the bar looking like he was about to throw up. Before I had a chance to say a word, he launched into a garbled apology.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I can’t believe I did that, I don’t know what I was thinking….What a stupid thing to do…What a stupid mistake to make…”
Ok so far, I thought.
Then, he continued.
“I sent it to the wrong person in my address book!”
There may be only one thing worse than a date you have only kissed but have high hopes for sending you shots of his penis from the bar restroom. That would be the date you have only kissed but have high hopes for sending SOMEONE ElSE his penis pix from the bar restroom while on he’s on a date with you.
