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Posts Tagged ‘winter’

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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Yep.  If I was a story in the paper, that would be the best headline to describe me (thanks to mamatulip for the most accurate description of me ever).  

Why, you ask?

Well, I do have blonde hair and blue eyes, I have gone postal, and… here’s the best part… I am fleeing to a warmer climate for the winter.

That’s right boys and girls.  I’m outta here.  Big time.  Adios.  Later.  Ciao. 

I can barely contain my excitement.  

Where am I going?

If you’ve read any of my earlier posts, you should have some sort of idea.  If not, I’ll give you three guesses….

1) Florida?

Nope.

2) Mexico?

Nah.

3) California?

No.

Ready?

Wait for it….

Wait for it….

Ah, sweet Barbados.  

Yep.  That’s right.  I’m going back for 4 months to do some contract work for my mom.

Weeeeeeeeeee! 

I can’t wait.  Really, I can’t.  Today marks 1 month remaining of my winter.  

I just can’t hold it in anymore.

So. 

Awesome.

I give you all permission to hate me now.

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A couple things:

Thing A:  

Last night I flipped on the tv and caught the last 10 minutes of TMZ.  I’m not one of those people that loves celebrity gossip, because frankly, I could care less.  I really don’t understand the obsession, but hey, to each his own.  

Anyhoo, that’s not the point of this blurb.  The segment I caught was Gwen Stefani at the airport with her two kids.  She was holding the baby and the two year old boy was bawling.  The spin that TMZ used was that her two year old was bawling because now there’s a newborn, and Gwen needs to start paying more attention to her other child.  

As I watched, I sat there and wondered why they didn’t spin the most logical explaination (but then again, I suppose that defeats the purpose of the show).  

Did anyone ever think that maybe the kid was bawling because there are 8 million paparazzi in his face snapping photos of him non-stop?  Seriously. The camera man kept asking the kid what was wrong and each time he cried louder.

Come on, now.  Use that littIe thing between your ears.  

It’s called…

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Your brain!

I mean, honestly, these children of celebrities are going to be royally fucked up when they get older.  I really don’t envy that lifestyle.  I’ll happily sit with my privacy and Kraft Dinner, thank you very much.

Thing B:

Yesterday I broke down and bought new winter boots.  I tried to hold out as long as possible, but I can no longer sit at my desk with wet feet.  So there I was, checking out the bootage, and I noticed a woman trying to get in the door with a baby carriage.  She was struggling big time, while everyone just watched her, so, nice person that I am, I went to help her.  I started to open the other door, since she had one open already.  I figured it would be easier for her to push it through, right? So I stood there, my arms spread like bird’s wings and held both doors so she could easily get through. Instead of thanking me for my gracious deed, she gave me total attitude.  

This is what she said (in a totally nasty voice),

“Well fuck, I don’t need both doors open, you know.  You could have just held the one door.  Now I have to move the stroller over here.”

I just stared at her in disbelief and thought,

Seriously?  I’m the only person in this damn place that tried to help you and you give me attitude? I could have just watched you struggle like everyone else.  Shut your damn mouth, smile and say thanks.  It’s not that hard. Stupid bitch.”

Oh, general public, how you disappoint me so.

 

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So, last night was the first snowfall of the season (excuse me while I vomit – yes, I’m a mean one, Mr. Grinch – and loath winter and winter related activities).  

Anyhoo, I’m going to take action and declare a national holiday, which will take part on the first snowfall of the year.  I mean, there’s a holiday for everything else, right? Last year Canada declared some day in February ‘Family Day’ since there was no holiday that month.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining, I’ll take any holiday I can get.  But then I’d like to create one too.  

How do they decide?

I can see it now:  “Hey, you.  Pick a holiday, er… and stuff, eh?”

Why, for the first snowfall you ask?

Well, it’s almost guaranteed that a switch goes off the first time it snows, and people become complete morons (myself included). They forget how to drive, walk, and generally function as Canadians.  I mean, it happens every year people, and yet still, complete chaos takes over.  

Let’s use myself as a perfect example.  

This morning I woke up confused (mainly because I was out late – which is not common for me during the week) and fully clothed on my couch.  I rushed to get ready and magically somehow still made it out the door at my regular time, not taking into account a fresh coat of that yucky white stuff that blanketed the streets and sidewalks.  I noticed the bus approaching the stop, and like any other day, started to sprint uphill to catch it.  For about 5 seconds it seemed as if I was on a treadmill – going nowhere fast.  

And then, splat. Right in the slushy goodness.

Awesome.  

I figured Mr. Bus Driver would have laughed and kept going, but Karma seemed to be on my side, so instead he waited for me to pick my clumsy moron ass up and get on the bus.  To add to my glorious chilly, wet, morning, my commute increased to 2 hours, and will undoubtedly be the same on the way home.  

Hooray for winter. 

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‘Tis the season for winter coats.  As much as I absolutely loath winter (I can’t stress that enough, seriously), I do find joy, and mostly comfort, in a warm and toasty yet stylish winter coat.  Since big city slickers like to blend into, I don’t know, the concrete, with their huge colour selection of black, grey and the occasional brown, I try and mix it up with a different colour.  

Now, I’m not a complete coat snob (coffee snob – yes, coat snob – sorta), since I do own a black coat that gets plenty of wear of those nasty snowy/rainy days, or days where I feel my clumsyness oozing out and ready to strike with a fresh stain of whatever I get my hands on.

I just enjoy being different. I am an artist, remember. It’s imperative that I wear something different than everyone else, be it a piece of jewelry, (I sport a pretty sweet domino around my neck…always), a cool hat, or a funky something or other.  So, you know, stand out a little but not too much. Story of my life.

Where was I going with that?

Oh, yeah.

Winter.  Hate it.  Cold.  Coats.

My most favourite winter coat ever was a baby blue peacoat.  I wore it so much (and didn’t take care of it properly) that the lining is now literally in shreds, and not surprisingly still hanging in my closet, with the hopes that someday it will magically repair itself and/or I get off my lazy ass and get it fixed.  

Last year my coat was white and pretty damn awesome, but definitely not warm enough for my island-lovin’ blood.  So this year, thanks to mummy dearest (because you know, artist = broke-ass), I acquired a pretty sweet warm long white coat.  It’s a beauty. I was in the market for a red one, but hey, what can you do? No complaints here.  

There is definitely some serious thought that goes into wearing white. Especially with me, since I tend to spill or drop anything and everything (pretty much a guarantee here) and although this post may make me seem like some kind of high maintenance city slicker, I’m really anything but.  So for that reason, I carry a trusty OxyClean ToGo (much more effective than TideToGo, take my word for it) in my purse at all times, ready for that special embarrassing moment.  I noticed that when I wear this coat, I’m much more cautious of what’s going on around me, because, well, in all honesty, I can’t afford to buy another one.

Yesterday on my first bus, I chose to stand rather than sit next to a stinky man with a stinky backpack, so that the retched thing (the man and the backpack) didn’t touch me, and most importantly, my coat.  On my last bus, I scored a sweet seat and bounced to my tunage as the bus filled up to the rim. Of course, Girl-Who-Shouldn’t-Be-on-Transit-with-a-Beverage, stood directly overtop of me.  She loosely held the pole with one hand, and her napkin wrapped coffee cup with the other. This particular station the bus leaves from is full of twists and turns, so as it happened, of course, Girl-Who-Shouldn’t-Be-on-Transit-with-a-Beverage, twisted and turned with the bus.  At one of the twists a glob of coffee escaped, in slow motion, and missed my white beauty by a millimeter.  I gave her a look that said, 

‘You are soooo damn lucky that didn’t land on me and if you try and pull a stunt like that again it will be the last coffee you ever drink.’  

Apparently she understood, and held her coffee away from my coat.  Good. I’m glad my looks are readable, and I don’t have to subject myself as being know as ‘that crazy one’ on transit, mostly.  Only time will tell.

 

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