Ball of yarn

So here I am, listening to my CBC Radio 3 podcast, and wondering when I should head out to start my pierogi-making extravaganza with my Polish friend. My life has a strange, frustrating and interesting vibe for me right now. I got a job, so I can't bitch about that anymore- but I miss the boy. Until I can make my way back to him and try to do that whole settling down routine, I am forced into a pseudo single life. I get invited out to dinners, parties, and movies as people pity me and try to set me up with Ottawa boys against my will. Sometimes it is fun- other times just odd. Last night after work, I went for dinner and drinks with co-workers. One is an aging outspoken hippy who left her domestic life behind to pursue a single life and be a career woman. She tries to push me into socializing and speaking to strangers. The other person is a flamboyant sarcastic guy who I swore was gay--I just found out earlier that day that he has a death grudge against my group co-worker as they dated for a short while then had a huge fight at work and have hated each other ever since. Awkward. I drank with these people, listened to mr. flamboyance talk about wanting to kick my friend in the junk, sat through a movie which they talked through, then was pulled into wandering through a park in the middle of the night, to try to find the river and smoke some weird blends. Strange times, but interesting all the same- when you don't know anyone in a city you jump into situations you normally wouldn't get into. As I got dropped off with them yelling "ARE YOU EMBARRASSED OF US?? KISSES!!!" I could only shake my head and smile. This is outside of my comfort zone, and I will be glad to be back with my boy- but in the meantime I will try to enjoy this weird life.

Pay dirt

Dudes! I totally got a job! I work for the man, the big man, the man who rules society with a stick of justice. Okay, so maybe the stick of justice requires many forms and applications before it can even warn about coming down on Mr. Joe Against-Legislation, but I am there, fueling the paper bonfire that makes that stick come down! Sorry about all the stick talk- I had to abandon the boyfriend as I wasn't able to get a job in God's country/pit of nothing land. As much as I cannot relate to tractor-town, I am actually trying to go back to be with my man. Argh. I am weak! More stories to follow- I must deposit my first pay cheque now. Woohoo!

Still here, in case you were wondering...

Yep, still trying to be a grown up, so far it isn't working, except for all the cooking I've been doing. I find the more the weather stays in the -40's, the more spicy ethnic food I make. I've been writing a lot of government tests, which are hard to take seriously. The last time they contacted me with an open position was a year and a half after I wrote the test. After I submitted my security papers, they had a hiring freeze.

My friends try to pry me out of the house (where I spend my spare time playing Warcraft, I know, I know... ) and it turns into a gong show. I went over to my buddy's house pre-concert and we ended up drinking a bottle of screech and smoking some pretty disgusting cheap cigars. After that we wobbled out to the bar and we all swayed about to the screeching and bass guitars. Suddenly we realized we were the only ones left in the bar, and I realized that my two girlfriends had been in the bathroom for probably half an hour. My buddy theorized it was due to them fighting over his sexual attentions. I remained skeptical at this point, but wasn't super clear on how to form my argument into sentences. We adjourned to the outside to smoke more cheap cigars. I return inside when I hear my drunken bathroom friend screeching that she has been abandoned. This was not the case- the sound guy then tries to chat us up and get us into his van. His van is called the "Spin"ster, has flames painted down the sides, has no heating or side window. It has a blanket between the front and back area. The back area consists of two futons and a giant Hulk Hogan poster. This seemed sketchy to me, but we climbed in. Bathroom friend turned grey with nausea (drink+exhaust funneling into vehicle) and we eventually convinced him to let us the fuck out before there was vomit everywhere. We departed. Vomit ensued. I suffered the next day, and have since stuck to video games and studying for more government tests. The End.

Dentist's offices (and also clowns) are hella creepy

So everybody hates the dentist, it's a given. My dental office, however, has gone the extra half-marathon to trick your brain into thinking that you are actually at a spa. They have a special greeting person before you even get to the desk. You can choose from a variety of beverages while you wait. The receptionist android (I refuse to believe she is human) squeaks in a delighted voice that she is looking forward to my continued oral health and it has been a pleasure to help. (wtf! they must give them drugs). There is a tv and headphones attached to the dental chair, they numb your gums with a gel and massage them before doing anything nasty, and at the end of all of this, they gave me a carnation. As the girl approached me with a flower, the first thing in my mind was that she was trying to sell me flowers, so I gave her the crook-eye as my signal to bugger off. She saw my apprehension and assured me that she "wasn't trying to do anything creepy, she was just giving me a flower". My crook-eye was downgraded to a skeptical raised eyebrow, and she backed away after dropping the flower beside me. (Hiss!) I shall now read the lovely saying attached to the flower: "Every challenge contains within it the seeds of its own solution". Thank you Dental Centre, you have now given me a reason to live AND a beautiful flower (and a frozen mouth filled with drool).

Oldness=crazy

If my parents are a study in how I will age, I should probably off myself by the age of 40. My parents are nearly 60, and what they have evolved into terrifies me if that is a reflection of my future self. It seems as though their view on life and motivation to stay mentally active has diminished to such an extent that it appears to me like they have an early onset of dementia. But perhaps they have always been this way, and I have just grown apart from the redneck ways?

My mother has always been a church secretary, and her passion for lists and making bullet points of her day has become a large part of her daily life. She keeps three lists of what she intends to accomplish in a day. One is kept on the calendar on the fridge, on which she dutifully crosses off the day once it is complete, and the others are on pieces of paper which reside on the kitchen table and on her person. As she is alone most of the time (hermit tendencies) she has taken to an ongoing external monologue repeated as a sort of chant throughout the day. Here's a sample: "..Went to the mail, cashed the cheques at the bank, went to the store, will have to make lunch, lay down, make some coffee...." She also directs her continuous cycle of daily duties to my Dad who has pretty much switched off his hearing and thought processes. My Dad feeds into this behaviour by asking the same questions over and over. He's like some sort of obese human goldfish. I feel like I am communicating to them across a large canyon where they are sitting in lazy-boy chairs on their side watching television evangelists and I'm on my side screaming out information from scientific papers that look like party streamers to them. Then they pat me on the head and try to feed me some fried chicken.

This post was brought to you by the correct pronunciation of height and date (not heighth and dateth), tomato/potato (not tomata/potata), dialtone (not dialatone) and my Dad asking me to pull his finger.

What it is bitches

Back at ya. I deleted all my angsty love life posts as it was just pathetic. You won't believe it, but I guess I get a little emotional when I'm dumped. This was shocking for me as I always was proud of my robot-like emotional capacity. Aww... tin lady has a heart. Anyway, what's the haps on the street? I'm getting old, I'm white, unmarried, looking for a job.... turned on yet? I am. I'm actually helping my parents move right now which is super awesome because they actually stalk me. This very minute I hear my father shuffling about looking for me as I hide from him in the basement. It's this little game we play. I'm all "you're annoying, stop monitoring me" and my parents are all "we love you, let's play shuffleboard!" and then I throw sand in their eyes and run away. Well, flashback to teenage years, here comes the Dad, gotta hide what I'm doing on the computer. PEACE!