Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Not floored by my idea? Let me explain.
I'm not talking about your run of the mill delivery driver for pizza at 7pm before the hockey game, or a driver to deliver you a package in the mail or flowers. Lets get to it, I'm working with the real deal here.
The other day I wanted a Starbucks coffee. Not unusual since at least 3 hours had past since my last cup o' hot beanjuice. But I was at home. Without wheels. To get it would have meant walking 2 whole blocks in any direction. Not likely. The the idea sprung up, "I would pay someone to deliver me a Starbucks coffee!" Yes I am that lazy. And think others could be too.
You're about to get it on with someone and you have no condoms, saranwrap just isn't cutting it and you don't want to ruin the mood with a trip to Shoppers Drug Mart? Call me.
You want some mozza sticks from the land of Denny's but you're too pie-eyed to even be let in the doors? Call me.
You want a skinny vanilla 180 degree non foam sugarfree 3 pump latte? You're high maintenence but call me anyways.
You want strippers hand delivered to a bachelor party to add to the visual appeal? Call me and I'll carry them fireman style up the stairs to make sure not to disturb the lines of blow on their ass.
The point is, if you want it I can deliver it to you. Because people (me) are lazy as hell (me) and want stuff right now (me) and why not capitalize on the degenerate nation rather than judging and cater. It's all about supply and demand, baby.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Don't mind if the spelling is fucked up, I'm a bit shaky and in shock right now.
After the world's shittiest week of work where I almost found myself on the verge of walking out and quitting tonight was the night to go out and forget it all. The Daniel Wesley band was playing at the Grotto and I've been so excited all week to see them. So even though sleep deprived beyond any description I draaaaged myself into the shower and put a few minutes effort into makeup.
Jessica and I went to the Grotto and engulfed the music hungrily and I found myself swaying in a trance for 2 hours of sweet bliss. I took a shitty video feed to add for blogging purposes.After the band was done and we had our fill we decided that we were done for the eve and went to go to my car to start on the trek home.
But as we found ourselves getting closer to the block it was parked on we saw police tape surrounding the whole block. And glass eveywhere. Evidence of a fender bender or minor mishap for sure and I didn't think too much. Until I went to cross the police tape and round the corner to get my car and they stopped me.
Officer, "You can't go past the tape."
Me, "My car is parked right around the corner."
Officer, looking at where my car would be "You don't have a car anymore."
Rounding the corner I see that he is in fact correct. I do have a car, or what is a semblance of a car. But part of the roof is ripped off, the doors pinned, the wheels are sideways and there is glass and mud everywhere. It's at least 6 feet from where I originally parked it and the bumper and other assorted car parts are strewn many feet from it like they were shotput.
The backstory? Drunk driver. Speed through an intersection. Hit a minivan with people (they are hurt and in hospital) bounced off of them, smooshed my car to pieces, rolled the truck (then throwing him into the intersection) and the truck pretty much imploded. The truck had the roof ripped right off of it and was a heap of scrap metal. (The driver will live and is in thehospital).
I wasn't sure what to do so I did what any person would do. Freak out. But finally I did what I do in every situation. I found humour. I told the cops I was pissed off if only because I did the best parking job I've ever done and he ruined it. All four of them stopped the investigation to fall over laughing. They offered to sell my car back to me with new features such as a "downtown look" of scattered glass and "rooftop airconditioning" from the hole in the roof. We all had a laugh cause it's all you could do in the situation.
Mom made the point that life is alright, that's what insurance is for and it could be a lot worse. Me and Jess could have been in the car when it happened.
So for the next few days I shall be busy between getting the contents out of my car (i couldn't even trytonight with pinned doors and glass) dealing with ICBC and visiting with my parents who have decided to come visit so we can have a nice relazing Easter weekend together....which may now include car shopping after my second car write off in one year. At least this one isn't my fault.
Hope everyone has a good Easter!
UPDATE: Is it ironic that if not for my car he would have gone through the glass insurance building? And that it is the same building I insured my car at 8 months ago?
UPDATE: The police now think the truck lauched and started to roll over my car. So in essense my car was steamrolled. I finally get how annoying that is.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Fuck, I miss it.
At what point did I wake up and become scared of change? Was it a progessive step over time or did I subliminally anchor down roots and ties after a certain career/relationship/life stage?
I look back at the time when I was eighteen to twenty two and I made some of the worst mistakes during that period. I gained and lost friendships like paper, I tried it all-drugs,sex, mayhem. No regrets. I overhauled my career at least three times. Theatre school dropout, education major failed out, and community college reject. Housewife in training-not for me.
But I wasn't scared to take the steps. I moved places based on the proximity to the ocean, not based on condo prices. I would move based on a relationship, a glossy college pamplet or the dazzle of city lights. I made split second decisions. I zigzagged across this province like Carmen SanDiego.
And in the last five years....I'm just...here. Semi happy, quasi professional, and comfortable. And comfortable can be a ball and chain around your ankle. It's the time of my life where suddenly six months can pass and ....no major changes. Sometimes that's a great thing. Drama is overrated and excitement can just be drama with a prettier dress on. But sometimes I feel the need to break free and have the following conversation in my head...
Wanting Change Side: Why not. I've moved many a times before. And gained. I've learned, and GROWN through it. So how could it be a bad thing? Make the rash decison to move. Go to Australia. Go to Paris. Change your career. Do something to live and feel in a way that you haven't in a long time.
Rational Side: Moving or travelling is expensive and not a decision that is made in a day. I have a good job.
Wanting Change Side: A job that pays well enough to scrape by for the 50 hours a week I put in and the stress I deal with. Is THAT worth it?
Rational Side: I have friends here. I have student loan to pay every month. I have a place. I have a cat. I'm settled.
Wanting Change Side: The cat weighs less than 9 pounds and can be easily moved, items are placed in storage and I do not have a husband. I do not have kids. This is the time of my life where if I wanna up and go I should because maybe (hopefully?) one day in about 5-10 years I'll have those and be able to look back and be happy that I took that 3 month jaunt to Australia or moved to Vancouver/Seattle/London/whereverthefuckiwant.
Rational Side: It's not that easy. It's just not that easy.
So I go back to my day to day motions. Wake up, get the Starbucks coffee, listen to the songs on the radio, go to work, come home, nap, eat dinner, shower, watch tv, rinse and repeat daily. Pay bills, be a good citizen of society and get excited over bands when they come to town, the occasional binger with friends or movie coming out.
I'm scared that at 27 I've pigeonholed myself into a corner and am settling with 'content' rather than 'happy'. And it makes me look at websites or glamourous cities and savour blogs with jet setting lifestyles and think,
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Ever have that kind of date?
Yeah, I've had many of them. In fact, some would say I've become desensitized to bad dates.
There was the blind date who told me my education was crap because I didn't go to an Ontario University.
There was the date that was soooo boring and pretentious and judgemental I faked lesbianism part way through as my only means of escape.
There was the date where I giggled at his habit of fidgeting and questioned "Are you an ADD kid or something?" and he went straightfaced and explained how he has been on Ritalin for a few years.
And of course there was the date that made out with another girl in front of me!
But none of these prepared me for my date today.
K, long story short I have heard a few stories,both success and horror, in relation to online dating sites. I have done the quick browse as a guest. I have pondered and finally I took the plunge. Now despite my profile having specifics such as 'no children, drug free, 27-37, career focused' I have had a plethora of men in their fourties of men with children flooding my inbox.
But throughout the blurry pics and vague group shots I actually received a msg from a guy who was very attractive. Check. Career focused. Check. Down to earth, check. And wanted to meet me for coffee.
As we were to meet bright and early this morn to go for coffee I made sure to look my best. Hair straightened and nicest jeans to go with heels. Something that is presentable but nothing that would scream "maintain me!" And I met him for coffee. He was very polite and nervous but there was something different about him from the pictures he sent.
He was missing his front teeth. And then some.
Apparently all the pictures had been the closed lips sort of smile.
Call me vain, call me shallow, hell call me what you will but I knew in two seconds that it would not work out. I debated actually going "you know you seem nice, but I'm not gonna waste your time" but then realized how scarring it would be to have a guy walk upto me and after a glance tell me it wasn't gonna work before sauntering out the door. Nope, an hour and a half is what I was gonna give him.
Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty damn girl next door and am not completely vain when it comes to men. I think things like crooked noses add character and scars and things can make a person individual. But dental hygiene is something that is very important. There are amazing advances in dentistry now. Teeth are important for chomping on yummy things, that I know. In fact I strongly remember my friend Raffi having ingraining a little song about "You brush your teeth- ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!!!!!!!!! into my head like a druid chant by the time I was seven.
We chatted about travel experiences and weekend plans and I made certain not to give information that would be too personal. All the while I was trying my damdest not too look at the vortex of his mouth. Do you know how hard that was for 75 minutes? All the while he's telling me about how he just got out of a 5 year relationship and how excited he is to meet me. And I'm thinking how I'm never going to go out with him again. I'm a horrible person.
Needless to say when I came home I decided that a subtle reaction would be best so I deleted my lavalife account after yelling "Fie, fie on you Lavalife. I asked for for creme brule and you gave a floor twinkie!" and like the groundhog that saw his shadow I'm back to slink into my undating hole for another 6 weeks.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Cause you're gross enough that you don't want others to see you, but the second I feel pukey I revert back to a sniveling five year old that just wants her mom to get her gingerale.
What's worse, is the worst of it has come on a Friday! Not a Monday where I can call in sick and know my homegirl Oprah would understand.
Crappiest. Post. Ever.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
I was wrong.
Within the first ten minutes of arriving at the super posh hotel I was handed a drink....followed by a shot of tequila which I did with the (scary and powerful) Company President. Holy fuck toto, we're not on Campus anymore. We all laughed and talked and had a couple drinks. Then I heard the magic words which set the tone for the next 3 days.
All drinks are on us. (us being the company/expense account).
People looked around nervously as if 'is this for real'? It was. But being classy I decided that I would not take advantage of the generous offer. So I only ordered enough alcohol to fill a bathtub, NOT a pool. I'm good like that.
Night one....tequila shots with my main boss, tequila shots with peeps from the Victoria campus, having a conversation with the guys in the tech support aspect about Microsoft Access coding that would bore most to tears. Getting ushered out of the bar at closing. Setting 3 alarms to make sure that I would be at the conference for the 7:30 am sign up time.*
Conference Day 2- Group cheers. Lame. Company bonding games. Super lame. Singing the company's song. Shoot me in the face now. Networking with the bigwigs, meh not so bad. Later part of the day, actually having an interesting and informative meeting with the bosses from Head Office.That's what I'm talking about.
Post conference I snuck out and hit the downtown core of Funcouver for drinks and a swanky meal with one of my main homegirls. It's funny how even at one of the classier steakhouses (yes I'm a vegetarian) in the city we still managed to converse about anal sex and threesomes. I even managed to face my fear of escalators** and tackled Granville St. skytrain station which has the steepest escalator (and possibly the longest) in the world. But I did give up any shred of trying to maintain a sophisticated city gal demeanor when I started hyperventalating and white knuckled it up. Even the crazy guy behind me was giving me weird looks.
Back to the hotel with the good intentions of having one drink with my coworkers then retiring for the evening. Cute concept though, right?
Started out by hanging with the bigwigs. You know you're doing something right when you're sitting at a table with; Company President, Your Head Office Boss, Your Office Boss and 2 other Head Office peoples. Very nice, very nice. Then I ran into a couple of the partiers from other campuses who managed to kidnap me to their room for a drink. The next few hours got blurry, but this I can say...I saw a hotel room get trashed rock star style ***, we invented a new game called 'the elevator drinking ride', security didn't like the game as much, I consumed more shooters than humanely possible, I danced it up with head office people. ****I made it to my room after 3 am when I had another wakeup call at 7am. Fuck.
Day 3- kill me now. Debating sleeping underneath the conference table. Longest 4 hours of my life. Slept in the car on the way home. When home...dropped my bags and slept for 13 hrs straight. Now today I'm trying to catch up on blog readings, laundry and may even debate getting groceries.
* It's cruel fate to have drinks on the house and have it start at 7:30 am. Just cruel.
** Shut up we all have our own fears.
***I didn't trash the room and didn't condone it. But I have to say it was pretty freakin awesome to witness.
***Pics will be posted soon as words just don't do this post justice.