A Lapse

It’s been a few days since I last blogged (sorry), although it hasn’t been for lack of interest but largely lack of time. I also have something a bit big going on (good big!) that I need to hold off on posting about for the moment and that certain something is part of the reason why I’m so busy right now.

Anyway, here’s a little recap of what’s been going down between Wednesday and today:

• Celebrities seen in person: 3
• Delicious potluck dinners had with friends from high school: 1
• Dreams that involved Buffy characters: 3
• Dreams that involved Rob Schneider: 0
• Instances I realized it was too damn cold to wear open-toe shoes anymore: 3
• Instances I didn't care because my open toes are too darn cute: 2
• Conversations with my parents: 2
• Times I heard “don’t just think outside the box, there is no box”: 3
• Times I wanted to start kicking nuts: 3
• Career decisions made: 1
• Tears shed while laughing at Jon Stewart’s performance at Massey Hall: 7
• Lovely guests that had to endure our Futon From Hell: 2
• Times Jim from Martha Apprentice was captured making his ‘I’m disgusted’ face: 4
• Times Martha kicked ass by overruling the boardroom nominees: 1
• Instances I overheard a conversation that included “It’s been a while since I took biology, but I’m pretty sure that birds get a visit from Aunt Flo too”: 1
• Drinks had: 17 (AA anyone?)
• Weight Watcher Points Consumed: I AM FUCKED?

All caught up?

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Yarg!

Yesterday when I was walking home, this little skeezy guy was taking out his trash and felt the need to cat call me.

“Mmm mmmm,” he said, making exaggerated mouth smacking noises, “Looookin’ gooood. Mmmm…Yahhh,” as he eyed me up and down very obviously.

*Insert yacking barf noise here.*

For the record, I was not “lookin’ good.” I was carrying heavy bags of Diet Pepsi for the addict at home, feeling very sweaty and pissy from my walk and was trying to push myself through the thigh burn. It was the end of a humid day, a day that involved me spilling some of my Lean Cuisine pizza on my top and cleaning some miscellaneous dirt from under my fingernails with a thumbtack. I was not a heavenly vision and really just wanted to get home, unnoticed and unoggled. His comments, while supposedly positive, only made me feel more gross and annoyed.

Even worse, the remarks were coming from a man that looked to be my height (men who are my height = gross, perverted, dirty midgets) whose hands had just been making busy with GARBAGE. Ooh baby.

What is it that these men expect us to do when we they say these things to us?

Do they think we’re flattered? Do they think we’ll turn and be like “Hey, thanks! You’re not so bad yourself – wanna go for a drink sometime?” I’d bet that they actually know that it makes most of us feel weird and they get off on our repulsed reaction because, for them, at least it’s a reaction. These dudes probably get ignored by women on a regular basis and will take anything they get, even if it’s negative.

I think next time it happens I’ll stop and ask.

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We Suck

Tuesday = weigh in day. Today, my friends, I sadly report a gain in my girth. A 1.4lb gain to be exact. Yesterday I sneaked on the scale and was down .2 lbs, but not this morning. All the different techniques to step on scale (feet close together, feet far apart, feet making a ‘v’) didn’t make the weight go away.

The main culprit for this sneaky gain was probably the gourmet meal Patrick and I enjoyed late last night:

We began with an appetizer of savoury salt & vinegar chips that danced in our mouths like bold, crisp butterfly wings. Our entrée was a feast for the both the eyes and palate. Boiled to perfection, we dined on the finest hotdog weiners, nestled in fluffy white Wonderbread buns. Each hotdog was garnished with delectable Heinz products that were purchased at a charming convenience store in the neighbourhood. Always the food connoisseur, Patrick added whimsy to his meal in the form of generous amounts of mayonnaise. For dessert, we were treated to a mouth-watering handful of chocolate chips that melted in our palms with delicious excitement. The meal was complimented by a bottle of intensely rich, oaky red wine that was not only a treat for the taste buds, but also the wallet (eight bucks!). All this was enjoyed in the reclined position on our couches while watching the heroic and meaningful adventures of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD. 5 Stars.

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The TTC Has Become My Sworn Enemy

Pretend you have some place to go. Some place new. Some place that you absolutely must be at by 2pm. Pretend you rely on the Toronto Transit Commission. If you’re me, this means that you need to leave wayyy earlier than you should because, without fail, the TTC will FUCK YOU OVER.

Ways in which the transit system tried to sabotage me today:
* Had to wait for my connecting subway for about 5 minutes (average is about 1 to 2 minutes)
* The fucking subway STOPPED SERVICE and unloaded everyone at Runnymede Station. Once we all got off the subway, we had to wait about 7 minutes for a new one to come get us
* The subway did an exaggerated pause at Old Mill station. Sitting us there for 4 minutes (average is about 15 seconds)
* Got to my transfer station (Islington) and SURPRISE! I missed the bus I intended by catch by 2 minutes
* Had to wait 20 minutes for another bus
* Once the bus came, the driver went on his break. In other words, I got to stand there, looking at my watch every 2 seconds while waiting for the bus that was idling right in front of me to get a driver
* Because the subway was ‘double filled’, so was the bus. This meant that every other stop had people ‘dinging’ to get off. This = time

The end result? I reached the doors of my intended destination with 6 minutes to spare (ie: exactly on time, but god, did I ever stress out). Had I had my way with all the early-leaving, I would have got there half an hour early, but would have spent that time in the lobby preening my hair, thinking of nice things to say and calming the fuck down.

I need a car.

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