Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘City Life’ Category

What happened?

Dear Whoeveryouare,

Hmm. Well, okay. Obviously, I’ve been slacking big-time with this blog.  I blame two jobs instead of myself cuz, hey, that’s the way it goes.  In the meantime, I’ve started another blog (because somehow that made sense to me) purely for ventilation purposes.  Check it out, whoever you are:   http://allergictoyou.wordpress.com/

I’ll be back, eventually.

Love,

Silentorchestra

Read Full Post »

677_corn_character

Oh, public transit, how I missed you so.

Well, not really… but, you know.

Some things I’ve experienced lately on the brilliant red rocket:

a) Now, I know I’ve expressed this multiple times, but really, I just can’t get over it.  Eating on public transit gives me the heebee geebees.  Not the granola bar kind of eating… more like… corn on the cob kind of eating.

Yes…

Corn.

On.

The.

Cob.

Really? Wow. Thank you, random woman, for an amusing, yet repulsing subway ride.  She mashed up that corn like it was nobody’s business.  I’m talking, big, juicy chomps from left to right.  Corn pieces in her teeth and all. Buttery salt dripping down her face and onto her pants.  Buttery hands slathering the germ infested pole.  Buttery fingers in her mouth.  Finger licking good.

b) Last night I witnessed a man take off his shoes, place his feet up on the seat and attempt the daily crossword. After getting over my initial disgust, I wondered why someone would voluntarily show off their dirty white socks.  Come on now.  At least wear brown or black. The nerve of some people.

c) Sometimes I feel that people are on transit so much that they forget they aren’t actually in their washroom.  This goes for nail clippers, make-up appliers, eyebrow pluckers, and…

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Flossers.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Please, please fling your plaque at me. It would go great with my outfit.

Luckily I don’t venture into the wild without my trusty book, which in turn acts as a fabulous shield to this type of nonsense.

d) Now, this one is not technically public transit… but it involves a car, which is a method of transit, so I’ll let it slide.  At the gas station, as I was inside paying for gas, my friend was approached by two random bums who smelled like ass roses.  They asked her for money, to which she replied…

Friend: Ugh… I don’t really have any.

Roses: Do you have debit?

Wow.  Beggars are really moving on with the times, huh? Debit?!

Since they didn’t want to seem to leave the surrounding area of the car, she ended up giving about two dollars worth of change.

Roses: Don’t you have any more?  You got a five?

Wow.

Enough said.

Read Full Post »

south-park-canada-on-strike

It’s like another South Park episode waiting to happen.

I’m not a big fan of strikes.  It happens constantly in this city.  This time it’s city workers.  Yup folks, that means garbage pick up too.  It’s only day two and there are already piles of garbage forming.

One of the issues is that the strikers are also picketing the drop off sights… so… where the hell are people supposed to put their waste? By-law workers are actually cutting open garbage bags to get names and addresses of people that have illegally dumped their trash. Many of the public garbage cans have been taped over… with the hopes that people will carry their garbage with them.  Where to, you ask?  Uhm, I’m not sure about this one, but maybe there is a magic garbage fairy that I’ve yet to meet.

Why the strike?  Something about 18 sick days… and that’s when I stop listening and get angry.  First off, be happy you even have a job in this shit recession.  Secondly, the past 5 jobs I’ve had didn’t even offer sick days.  You’re sick, sucks for you – no pay. So the fact that people out there still get sick days makes me jealous. And last but not least, you work for the city and probably get paid a killing… again… jealous.

So to top all of this off, the LCBO feels like they also need to go on strike.  I guess they’re competitive. For those of you that aren’t Canadian… LCBO – Liquor Store.  We are not so lucky to have alcohol sold at gas stations, supermarkets or convenience stores.  Although we do have beers stores and private wine stores… but not close to me.

This strike is supposed to happen Wednesday.  I figure there’s going to be a lot of pissed off alcoholics roaming around the city.

Their strike reason – hiring more casual /partime workers than fulltime workers.  Uhm hello, welcome to the rest of the world.  Every other private business has been doing that for eons.  It’s about time you caught on. Jesus.

Morons breeding morons… that must be it… or… rocket science? Brain surgery?

I don’t know.  What I do know, is that I’ve been back in this city for a month and a half and I’m already back to my cynical, sarcastic, annoyed self.  I could ramble on and on about why… but I feel this post is satisfactory for now.

Got to save some of the juicy stuff, you know?

Well, time for me to take a nice stroll on a hot day, past mounds of stinky garbage so I can stock up on my booze.

Fun times.

Read Full Post »

Something I’ve been wondering lately since summer weather is finally approaching…

When did it become okay for girls to wear shirts as dresses?

Am I missing something here?

Although I’m not a fan, and would not be caught dead wearing them, I can tolerate shirts with stretchy 80’s tights.

Mostly.  It’s taken some getting used to… but… mostly.

But ladies, please.

I realize it’s warm, although I do not believe this justifies wearing the shirt minus the 80’s stretchy tights.

Seriously.

What gives?

I do not want to see the bottom of your ass cheeks, nor do I want a peep show as you sit spread eagle on transit.

So listen up Britney wannabe’s – cover that shit up, you look like a cheap hooker.

Read Full Post »

Funny-Cartoon-Posters7

Dear Silentorchestra,

What’s going on here? You said you were on top of things again.  Where have you been. Dude, wtf?

Love,

Blog.

****

Dear Blog,

Ya, I know, I know.  Moving from one country to another, adjusting, maid of honour duties, family affairs… these things have taken over as of late, but I’m back on track this time… promise?

Love,

Silentorchestra

****

Dear Silentorchestra,

Whatever, man. That’s what you said last time.

Love,

Blog

****

Dear Blog,

I know, I know. But this time is for real. I swear it.

Love,

Silentorchestra.

****

Dear Silentorchestra,

Okay. Last chance woman.

Love,

Blog.

Read Full Post »

Last night, after a treacherous highway drive in a fresh blanket of snow which included everything from cars to ambulances spinning and swerving every which way, I decided to walk home rather than wait for the bus.  

I figured the bus would take longer and I was correct, as I beat it to my place. It’s never as cold outside when it snows, and despite my extreme hatred for winter, it actually looked kind of pretty.

I guess my temporary mood change has to do with the fact that I’m leaving in five days, so I figured I can risk some snow appreciation for about five minutes.  I threw on my hood, shoved my ungloved hands in my pockets, and braved the horizontal blowing snow.  

The sound of my boots crunching in the white stuff overpowered my ipod tunage. Suddenly, I had a mad urge for Oreo’s. A fresh coat of snow and the feeling of boots hitting it always reminds me of the creamy, middle part of an Oreo.  Mmmmm.  

The sidewalks were deserted, assuming that no one else was crazy enough to take a stroll in sideways snow, except for the random wacked out dude who ran past me singing at the top of his lungs.

The wind never changed it’s direction, which was aimed directly for my face, but I didn’t care.  My face was soaked and my eyelashes were coated with icy snow, but I kept going like I was on some sort of Arctic mission. Surprisingly, I felt quite peaceful walking alone in the fluffy white stuff.  

By the time I got to my place, my temporary love for snow had ceased, mainly, because I was freezing my ass off. I paused as I passed the lobby mirror and laughed.  I wish I had my camera, but to give you an idea, I looked quite similar to this:

abominable_snowmanOkay, I’m sure I didn’t look as bad as the abominable snowman, but it was close, I promise.  By the time I got to my apartment, the snow had melted away, along with my short appreciation for winter. I cranked up the heat and drank many-a-hot chocolate with a ton touch ‘o rum.  

 See – I’m not all that horrible, mostly… sometimes.

Incase you missed it or skimmed by too quickly or didn’t catch the bold italics… FIVE days until I breakup with winter.  Ahhh, and what a glorious day it will be.

Read Full Post »

As I sat there trying not to stab my eyeballs out while listening to an extremely high volume decibel of Christmas songs (not the nice ones, you know, the one’s that SCREAM cheese and make you wonder how on earth these people ever entertained the thought of making an album), I’m shot dirty looks because I’m a ruiner.  That’s right.  Apparently, I may have ruined Christmas Eve.  

Why, you ask?  Because I’m a grinch? Possibly, but I try to fake niceness and whatnot for the sake of other Christmas lovers and family.  

Instead, I’m a ruiner because I didn’t move the car.  Yep, that’s right.  It snowed like 8 trillion centemeters over the past week or so, and then rained.  So slush had taken over.  Olympic size swimming pools of slush.  Everywhere.  My feet have been wet for 24 hours.  No matter what I do.  So there I was, in the basement frantically gift-bagging presents last minute as always and I’m told that I need to move the car, from the street to the driveway, before the plow comes or it will block me in (with all that slush?) and make a mess.  I exclaimed that it didn’t really matter, you know, since slush is not the same consistency as cement, and I was okay with dealing with it.  Anyhoo, after much frantic worrying re: slush,  I gave in and moved the damn car.  The plow had just passed, but I moved the car anyways.  I was too late and was reminded of that about 20 times. I’m pretty sure everyone heard about it, including family overseas.  Even though the plow went down the entire pool of a street, it still looked exactly the same.  But, I was too late, and therefore mysteriously caused the mess on the street. Ruiner! In her defense, the slush eventually froze and it did make a slight mess, but you know, whatever.  It was livable,  and the world didn’t end, so it couldn’t have been that terrible.   Anyhoo, I was forgiven eventually… it’s a Christmas miracle! 

I also discovered that my Eastern European side of the family has some entertaining, strange pet peeves.  For example, a cousin of mine can’t stand the smell of the fridge when it’s open.  So much so, that she literally plugs her nose, holds her breath and covers her mouth every time it’s open.  She’s worried that the fridge smell will waft into her body and turn into germs. If she has to open it herself and can’t hold her breath for as long as it takes her to make a decision, she will close the fridge, leave the room and then take a gulp of fresh, fridge-smell free, germless air.  

Cuz believes that one of my pet peeves is worse.  Every year the cousins do the dishes before present opening.  I either wash, put away, or supervise. Last year I got to supervise, which was awesomesauce, but this year the other Cuz was sick, so I opted for washing. Never, ever, do I dry.  

Our conversation went a little something like this:

Cuz:  I can’t believe you’d rather wash than dry.  You’re nuts.

Me:  Ya, well, you know, I can’t stand the feeling of a wet dish towel.

Cuz: Why?

Me:  Ew. Wet cotton.  Cotton.  Ew.  I can’t even touch a cotton ball.  It freaks me out.  Way out.

Cuz:  So you’d rather dip your hands in nasty food water and touch a germy sponge?

Me:  Yep.  I’d rather lick the sponge than touch a wet dish towel.  

Cuz:  Ewwwwww.  So gross.

Me:  Well, obviously I wouldn’t actually lick the sponge.  I just don’t like wet cotton, or cotton in general. 

Cuz:  Well do you wear cotton?

Me:  Sometimes, but I try not to get 100 percent.  I don’t even like cotton sports socks.  They give me the heebee geebees. 

Cuz:  That’s so much weirder than my fridge problem.  

Me:  I suppose.  But you’re the one who thinks fridge smell changes into germs that float up your nose and infect you.

Cuz:  Ya, we’re a weird family.

Me:  Yup.

Other than that Christmas was rather uneventful.  I still found myself spending the majority of the time driving from one city to the next.  I stayed overnight where I hadn’t in years (due to past drama), being in the spirit of the season and all.  It was drama free, but still relatively uncomfortable.  You know, that type of uneasiness where you feel the need to raise your hand to go to the washroom, and half expect a hall monitor to pop in and tell you that you’re sitting on the toilet wrong and to stop using so much toilet paper.  

All and all, it was nice to chill with the fam.  One of the highlights, as per usual, were my niece and nephew and their crazy holiday excitement.  My 5 year old niece proved that she can speak and pronounce french better than any adult I’ve ever seen (I literally almost cried, she was so damn cute). And then, the most darling 3 year old nephew ever, ran down the stairs buck naked with his schlong swinging to and fro, and then continued to plaster his face with red tinted chap stick.  Ah, the kiddo’s… always a source of good entertainment.  

And now, back to my countdown… one week until I break up with winter.  Weeee!

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »