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Posts Tagged ‘City Life’

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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.

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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.

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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!

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Seeing as it’s my last day in the circus, these are just some of the sound bites I’ve overheard today.  For serious.  Real quotes:

 

“Turn around, spread wide.  Here’s your Christmas present.”

 

“Ahh, shit I’m bored.  I really bored if I’m talking about going home on a dogsled with huskies.”

 

“Whoo hoo.  My criminal background check actually came back positive!”

 

“Anybody got a bottle of wine we can crack open?”

 

A: “You guys want to see something warm and fuzzy?”

B:  “Put your pickle away.” 

 

“I just turned up the heat on that chicken.  You’re in there now.”

 

“It’s smooth and silky and wrinkly.  It’s a very heavy kind of underwear.”

 

“Fuuuuuck!”  Numerous times, followed by much banging of random things on desks.

 

“Shiiiiiit!”  Same as above.

 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

 

“Incompetent boobs.”

 

A:Do not be on the internet if he’s around.”

B: “What are they going to do, fire her?”

 

“I think the grinch really did steal Christmas.  We’re the only one’s left in this morgue.”

 

“Kiss my grits.”

 

“Can I come with you to Barbados?  I’ll wash the floors with my tongue.  Anything is  better than this.”

 

“I need to wet my whistle. It’s not working properly.”

 

A: “Isn’t that a fire harzard?” Referring to the massive stacks of desks and chairs that line the halls in the dungeon.

B: “It doesn’t matter.  We’re on a gas line and will blow up anyways.”

 

“I’m supposed to have numbnuts in that day.”

 

“Suck my manachos!”

 

“No offense dude, but you’re just fucking lazy.”

 

“Did you know that cows can walk up stairs but not down them?  Can you imagine the farmer that figured that one out?  ‘Oh, shit, my wife is home! Go, go, go!’ Mooo. Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

 

“The men in this place are sooooo stupid.”

 

“Your pickle’s looking a little dusty.  You should take it home and polish it.”  Okay, I lied.  That’s from last week, but it’s so good I had to include it.

 

Today there is a massive snow storm outside.  It’s snowing so much you can barely see your hand in front of  your face. Most of the city has been sent home early, but not us, of course. I’ve just heard that they have literally closed the entire building that I’m in, and sent the employees home.  But… here we are, surfing the net amongst occasional yelling and screaming.    

Whooo!

At least it will be my last trek home from this place.  

Ironically, this morning my alarm didn’t go off and it was the first time I was ever late for this job – on my last day. The subway was delayed due to fires and transit signals that were not working with the weather conditions.  Go figure. I’m going to take a wild guestimate and assume it will take me in the area of 3 hours to get home.

On another positive note, apparently I’m not as invisible as I thought.  Today I received a goodbye lunch and gift, complete with cake and all.  Surprisingly, I have no negative comments about it.  It was actually quite nice and tasty. I also scored a bottle of booze yesterday.  Who knew? I’m pretty sure it was re-gifted, but no complaints here.  I’ll take a free bottle no matter how it comes.

And that concludes my work in the circus!!  It hasn’t hit me yet, and most likely won’t until Monday.  

Seventeen days until eternal sunshine.  Yessssss.

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And so the countdown continues…  today is the last Tuesday of my transit commute and working at the circus.  Weeeeeee! To celebrate, let’s reflect on yet another random transit story.

Yesterday’s weather was pretty wishy-washy.  It started off as quite a warm day for December, although very windy and rainy.  Some where in between 9 and 5, the temperature literally dropped 10 degrees.  The wind never let up, so therefore, the commute home was, for lack of a better phrase, goddamn fucking freezing.

Since the day started off warm, all I had with me was a broken umbrella, and an ‘I’m in denial that it’s actually winter‘ coat.  The station that I wait for my last bus home is sort of covered, and sort of not.  It just so happens that the area where my bus stops gets a massive wind tunnel.  This resulted in about 100 people huddled together, trying to find the best direction to stand in order to block the freezing wind. I was at the front of the huddle, since I had missed the previous bus by a split second.  The wind was so crazy that my long hair actually stood up straight, as if I was being electrocuted. When it wasn’t standing up straight, it was flying into the faces and/or mouths of the people huddled around me. Lovely.

One dude beside me was a regular, as I’ve seen him many times on the way home. He had on a big, puffy warm coat.  I tried to use my super-strength mind power to get him to come and give me a big hug to keep me warm, but to no avail. I counted about 20 buses that entered the station that weren’t mine. Each time a bus would enter the station, the crowd would gasp with anticipation, and then let out a loud fuck/shit/crap/jesus/dammit sigh and hope that the next one would be ours.  Finally, the 32 entered the station and pulled up to the massive crowd.  

It’s interesting that every time I gain some faith in my fellow commuters, they always manage to let me down, big time.  The bus pulled up to us and suddenly everyone from behind started pushing. The bus driver caught on and refused to open the door.  

So picture this…  

I’m at the front of the crowd.  Therefore, I’m being pushed into a door that the driver won’t open. Finally, he gives in, and the herd pushes on. I practically flew onto the bus, and since the bastards kept on pushing, my purse got lodged in between a few of them.  It stopped me in my tracks, so I turned around and started yanking.  I snarled, but it wasn’t effective.  Then I resorted to,

‘Gimme my purse!’

The pack of dogs eventually let up. At the same time I yanked with all of my mighty muscle power, and I fell backwards onto the bus driver.  

‘Fucking savages,’ was the only thing I managed to blurt out.

I mean, what on earth do they think will be accomplished by acting like a bunch of wild animals?  Ya, it’s cold.  We’re all cold.  If these people would have acted in an orderly fashion, we would have piled onto the bus faster.  But, you know, this is too much to expect from big city slickers.   

Four.

More.

Days.

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So, get this.

I finally gave my notice the other day at work.

Weeeeee! Now I can gloat proudly and openly.

Awesome.

Anyhoo, I was hired through a temp agency.  It was my first time going that route, and will definitely be my last, if I can help it.  I always felt the agency was a joke. They were never really clear on details, I never received any kind of hand/rule book, which resulted in me calling them a million times to find out very basic information, such as, when I get paid and so on. I also called once asking if they can place me somewhere other than my current location, thinking, hmmm, I don’t know, that’s their job.

Right?

Instead I got the third degree, and never heard back about any sort of effort in placing me elsewhere. This royally pissed me off, among other things.

Okay, getting to the point, I swear it.

So, after I gave my notice, my creative director called the agency to get them started on finding my replacement <insert evil laugh here>.

At some point yesterday a coworker pulled me aside and told me to come and read an email.  The email gave some detail about the agency and stated that they had found his resume on Workopolis, and that he might be interested in a proofreading/graphic design position at so and so location.

It just so happens that my coworker is with the same agency, and… surprise! they already placed him at that location, which he has been at for months, as a…

Wait for it…

Graphic designer.

Seriously?

I mean, they are the ones that administer his pay cheque every week. That’s organizational skills at its best. Really. Don’t they keep track of these things?  Don’t they have a database? Or at the very least, an excel spread sheet?

Wow, what a concept.  Rocket science, that must be it.

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Today’s Special consists of some mental notes for the day:

Mental Note #75690

Three day old pizza is not good, no matter how hungry you are or how much creativity you put into reheating it.

Mental Note #488

People like this should have their mouths sewn shut or need to be destroyed.

Example:

Girl A:  Like, oh my god, what is that all about?

Girl B:  Like, I know, right?

A:  Totally.  Like, I don’t even know what, like, communications and PR is.

B:  Whatever, right?  Like, who needs that stuff anyways, right?

A:  Yeah.  I mean, like, screw them, right?

B:  Yeah! Hee, hee, hee.

A:  Hee, hee, hee.

**This was an actual conversation I overheard on the subway today**

It has taken me some time to accept that there are many idiots that walk the face of the earth and be sort of okay with it, mostly. But seriously, it’s probably not wise to announce your lack of intelligence so openly.

Mental Note #3

Larry David rocks my socks.  For serious.  Not only is he the creator of Seinfeld, but also, Curb Your Enthusiasm still rises as one of the few shows that can actually make me laugh out loud.

Mental Note #5521

The next driver that honks at me as I try to balance myself while sliding across an intersection will have a nice impression of my boot on the side of their car.

Mental Note #768

The dude that lives below me is either,

a) a drug dealer.

b) someone that enjoys strange orgy parties while blasting Elton John and Metallica within a ten minute span.

c) someone that is addicted to one of those loud, active video games such as dance, dance, revolution.

d) someone that screams and becomes overly excited for no apparent reason.

Mental Note #988

My coworker is smarter than the average bear.  She caught onto my plan of signing up to bring in ‘Christmas goodies’ on a day that I will no longer be working.  Damn you!

Mental Note #91

The next stranger that feels the need to tell me to ‘smile’ will get an earful from me. I’m not going to walk around with a damn perma-smile, because, well, that’s not me. If you don’t like my face, then don’t look.  Deal with it.

Mental Note #66571

Cafeteria Xmas lunch is good for my taste buds, but not so much for my stomach. Ugh.  Pain.

And that concludes my ‘Mental Notes’ for the day. 

Fin.

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