Cursed

So ... I recently posted about how work was less than stellar but that a new hire had the potential to change that. He was going to take about half of my work and bring some much needed experience and competence to our team.

He quit today.

No notice. No warning. He just won't be back, ever. Another place he had interviewed at took their sweet time in deciding who to hire, gave him a call today and told him to start tomorrow. This likely means that we won't be finding someone to fill this role until the new year and we'll just have to continue to make due with our thinning shreds of sanity.

Now, I get that people need to look out for themselves in their careers - but at what point do you actually take responsibility, stick to your commitments and not fuck people over? When will karma catch up to these wankers? Can I be there to watch?

Le sigh.

Read more...

Give Peas a Chance

Growing up, one of my signature issues was my utter disgust of peas. At the sight or smell of them, I would retch and howl and curse their existence. "They taste like sweaty socks!" I would scream and pout. It was true disbelief and shock when my parents would opt to serve them with dinner - knowing that a) I, Queen of the Family, disliked them and b) WHO could POSSIBLY LIKE PEAS?!?!

A few months ago, I was out having lunch at a pub when my dish was surprisingly served with the Green Pods of Satan. I ate everything around them, but by the time I finished the sorroundings, I was still hungry. Despite having already decided I would definitely not like them, my instinct to nibble all that was borderline-edible in front of my face kicked in, and I found myself popping a few in my mouth. And to my surprise, I didn't want to throw up. The opposite of that happened, actually. I gobbled my lifelong sworn enemy spoon by spoon.

Recently, I saw on Nigella Bites a tasty-looking recipe for pea soup. Very simple, economical, and oddly sensuous, as is all good Nigella makes. For the first time in 28 years, I bought peas - on purpose.

The soup is damn good - and my war with peas is officially over.

Read more...

Reason #93043 To Buy A Car

Just when you think the subway and its riders can't get classier, today happens.

So, I'm riding home and I spot a perfectly "normal" looking couple doing something in public - without shame or care - that I didn't think I ever dreamed of being exposed to.

Before I continue, let me assure any of my aunts who may be reading that they do not have to ban their underage children from seeing the rest of this post: The couple in question was not doing anything humpy.

No, no - if only we were so lucky. As everyone in the subway car looked on in disbelief, the young man held his girlfriend's head in his arms ... while he searched, found, and tried to irradicate (through flicking and squeezing) ... her head lice.

Say it with me:

HUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGHHGHHGH!
BBBBLLLLLLLAAAAAUUURRRRCCCCHCCHHHHKKKK!
RRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLFFFFFFF!

Read more...

Working For and On the Weekend

Oi. As Jacquelyn can attest, work has been pretty brutal the last little while. Sure, we got to hobnob with B-list Canadian stars recently, but besides that, it's been a Quarter Pounder of Crap with a side order of Fucker Fries and topped off with a McSuck Shake.

All in all, it's been a dish made by an evil man in red - and we've been choking on for some time.

In the midst of this, I passed my one-year with the company and was promoted to Account Supervisor, because I am just so gosh-darned super at working on the weekend and holding peoples' purses.

There is, however, a light. We just hired another Account Supervisor (starting next week) who can hopefully lighten the load enough for Jacquelyn and I to sneak off for secret mid-afternoon meetings at the bar and/or Holt Renfrew make-up counters.

In the meantime, I've been putting my spare change to good use:

Read more...