Turns out I can't play guitar while sitting on a swiss ball

I alluded to this in my last post but I decided not to include it because I thought I would veer so far off course that I would no longer have any idea where I was going and then I'd have to get back on track and get back to the point of the story and then finish it, well, understandably, it could have been a very, very long story (kinda like that sentence).

So I decided to save the side story and make it into it's own thing... that way I can really do this story justice. And justice it shall have. In my last post I said I dropped my rickety old 4-track multiple times and then it didn't work so well... Turns out, there's a huge back story (surprised? Probably not.).

I bought the 4-track so I could record a spoof song for my brother (Grow Your Own Hay, oh yeah!). I had never recorded anything before, so my knowledge was limited at best. There was a lot of manual-reading and chin-rubbing going on. I managed to get a (very) basic understanding of how it worked and was considering starting the recording process. That was about the time I started dropping the thing.

I was slightly panicked because I really needed to get the project finished (and started!) but I didn't want to spend any more money doing it. So I called my Mr. Fixer Friend. He fixes everything for me: desks, guitars, tables... ... my broken heart (he's my real-life-Gary!). Normally, our conversations go like this:

Him: Hello?

Me: Daaaaaaaaaaaaa-ve... !!

Him: Hi Heather. What's wrong?

Me: It's just that I dropped my guitar and now it has a big gouge in the neck and I don't know what to doooooo!!

Him: I can take a look at it and we can fix it. Okay?

Me: Okay... are you sure you can fix it, I mean, it's a pretty big gouge??

Him: I'm sure it'll be fine. Don't worry, we'll fix it.

Me: Okay... thanks Dave!

So when I dropped my 4-track and it no longer appeared to be working, I called Dave, in my normal state of panic. Our conversation went like this:

Him: Hello? (he sounded really sick)

Me: Hi Dave. Are you okay?

Him: I'm really not feeling well.

Me: You don't sound like it.

Him: Mmmm.

Me: So... you know... the reason I'm calling...

Him: Yes?

Me: Daaaaaaaaaaaaa-ve... !!

Him: Uh-oh. What's wrong, Heather?

Me: It's just that I dropped my 4-track and now it doesn't work and I don't know what to doooooo!!

Him: Oh. Okay.

Me: Okay? What?! Don't you think you can fix it, I mean, it's just a 4-track, right?

Him: I don't know; I can try but I can't guarantee anything.

I was speechless. I can't really recall the rest of the conversation, but I think it's safe to say 'disappointed and distraught' are very good descriptors of how I was feeling. We got off the phone and I continued to mope around the house and, in general, be bummed out. Whaa... I can't do my project!

A few hours later, Dave called me back. He was feeling much better and had time to consider it (and call people who knew stuff about it) and he wanted some details: how high did you drop it from, was it plugged in, did the plugs jam into the jacks when it fell, etc. My responses: Pretty high, like 2 feet! Yes it was plugged in and yes the plugs did jam into the jacks... yeah, it pretty much fell right on the cords, jamming them right in there.

Conversation not withstanding, he said that he would open it up and look and at the very least solder any loose connections, maybe replace an input jack or two and *fingers crossed*, it works. Whew... see, now that's what I wanted him to say in the first place! Even though he didn't guarantee success, I was still really happy and optimistic.

So I went to work the following Monday and we were discussing our weekends around the lunch table (thanks guys!). It was my turn and I started telling the above story. But instead of saying I was mopey and bummed out, I said... and I quote "Worst friend ever." Well, The Token Skeptic jumped all over that.

"Really? He's the worst friend ever just because he couldn't fix something for you?" "Yes, yes he is" and then I told everyone the part about how he called me a couple hours later and told me he could fix it (see, optimistic!). Of course she rolled her eyes (and possibly squinted) at my flaw-gic... but that's pretty much standard. This was roughly 8 months ago.

The other day, I was conversing with The Token Skeptic and I mentioned Dave. And she said "Don't you mean the worst friend ever?" and I was like "What?!? No!!!! Dave is ... great... ... he's a ... great friend..." By this time, I could tell by the look on her face that I was missing something. I start thinking real hard but have no idea how she would be led to believe that Dave is the worst friend ever. And then I recall the lunch time conversation and I burst out laughing and say "Yeah, that's right... that Dave. Worst friend ever!"

P.S. Dave you are not the worst friend ever. You are a great friend and I love you very much.

P.P.S. My sink is leaking.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations!!

You were genetically modified to suck!

I'm not very technologically savvy... maybe even technologically retarded. Challenged, pardon me. It's not that bad; I have friends that know what they're doing.

One of these friends has his own website and blog and everything. He told me that I should also blog. My immediate response was "But that's on the internet and I don't know how that works". So he told me how: go here and make an account, download this and type. My response: "Sounds complicated". His response: "It's not. It couldn't be easier." I brushed it off with my non-committal "Sounds interesting", which he took to mean that it sounded interesting and so he started explaining how pings work and how I could ping better than anyone else... or something. I can't recall. I really didn't understand that part of the email.

So a couple months later, someone else said I should write down my stories and since I'd recently become addicted to Cracked, I decided the blog idea wasn't that far-fetched and I'd give it a shot. I went through my discarded emails and found the one outlining how to make it happen. I still have no idea what pings are...

Yes, yes, I do want pings, so long as you're offering and so long as they're free.

So once I started up my blog my friend asked if I'd like his blog to have a link to my blog, I said sure. Within minutes, a link was up. (Thanks Brain!) Since I have no idea how to do that (that's on the internet and I don't know how that works) I'll return the favour, the low tech way. http://www.trepaning.com/blog/. You're welcome. You may have just recruited three new readers. I can say three with confidence because I have four readers and one of them is you.

**UPDATE** I have now figured out one part of the internet; Brain's blog now has a working link on the sidebar. Oh yeah.

**UPDATE** I may have in fact recruited a fifth reader... it's questionable whether or not he will actually read it, but since it's my brother, I can only hope! :)

Hmmm... other technology that I don't understand...

Well, I still refer to the flat screen TVs/monitors as the "new" kind... even though you can no longer purchase CRT versions anywhere... Except for maybe the local pawn shop or crack house. I realize they're not new anymore, but I just can't seem to get past it. I think I should buy one of those new TVs and then maybe I'll stop making that slip.

I got my first cell phone for xmas 5 years ago. After I opened it and gave Dad the totally cliché response "Oh, cool!", he informed me that he had taken the liberty of charging the battery, so I could use it right away. Aw, thanks Dad. I continued to hold it and say "pretty" a lot. Finally, a 12 year old took it out of my hands, turned it on and started showing me how it worked. Wow... when I saw the colours on the screen... you should've heard me - I tell ya, it's like I'd never seen TV before. I had, I just had never seen one so small and with a screen so flat! Fairly certain everyone in the room laughed at me. For the rest of the night.

I've started recording music. I got myself a 4 track (the cassette, analog version, not the new, digital, fancy kind), but after I dropped it a few times and it stopped working so well, I decided to feed the music into the computer. I say 'I decided', but really, I called a friend of mine complaining and he told me that's what I should do and then told me how to do it. I followed his instructions and then I figured out the cords and the program and now I can record straight into my computer. Amazing. (Thanks Brain!) I've since ditched the 4 track and have upgraded to the least digital, least fancy computer-music-interface-thing money could buy.

When I first played a Wii, I was blown away by the cordless controller and amazed by the fact that you just point it at the TV and it knows what you're doing. I had no idea how the TV could "see" the Wii remote, let alone tell the Wii what you're doing with it... yes, I did say that out loud and yes, I was shown the sensor bar, completely separate from the TV. Okay, so it's not that smart... And apparently neither am I...

Hey - you don't believe in wearing sweat pants out of the house... some of us like to have a good time!!

I'm chronically honest. I am pretty much incapable of lying. Why? I don't really know. It makes me feel like I'm deceiving people and the guilt brings me down. I'm truely honest to a fault. Luckily, that, however, is my only fault.

When I was growing up, my mom always told me that if I lied about something I would get in more trouble than if I told the truth in the first place. Because she would find out if I lied. At the time, I thought this was complete bullshit. Ya right, Mom, you're going to ground me, regardless. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize that she was right (just don't tell her I said that!). Do something wrong and admit your mistake and the other person involved will appreciate your honesty (although will still be disappointed). Lie, and they find out, well now, that's grounds for dismissal. Or so I assume. I really haven't found myself in that situation before. Why? Because the guilt brings me down and I always fess up before anyone has any opportunity to 'find anything out'.

However, every so often, I decide that my guilt complex has held me back far too much in life and I throw caution to the wind and do dishonest things. So far, Karma, Murphy's Law and/or the Spite Gods have struck me down everytime I decide this is a good idea... thrusting me back into my "honest to a fault" default. Bastards.

A few weeks ago, I was celebrating my birthday. I went to a pub and got nice and liquored up and then decided to go to a club to dance... well, the club was one skytrain stop away. I get to the station and go towards the ticket machine with the intention of paying (because not paying would be dishonest!)... and my friend says "We don't really have to pay, do we? I mean, it's one stop!"... and I started to say "Oh, yes, yes, we do." But then I said "You know what, it's my birthday and I don't have to pay on my birthday, let's go!!!".

We start riding the escalator up to the platform, I felt pretty confident... and then the guilt started getting to me. Halfway up the escalator, I turned to my friend and whispered "...There's a cop... at the top...". Her response: "No there isn't. You're paranoid". So as the escalator reached the top, I see a lady standing there, in a uniform that can only be described as cop-like. She looked me in the eye and said "Ticket, please".

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't tell her the truth and say I didn't have one... so I start searching, in vain, through my empty pockets, even going so far as to open my coat and look inside...

...as if I'm one of those "street vendors" that carries watches inside the coat, but instead of watches it's valid train passes. There weren't any. My friend looks her straight in the eye and says "I'm drunk. I didn't think to buy one" so the nice lady says "Okay well, go and buy one". So we did. No harm, no foul. Things don't always work out like that.

I go to school. I go to school in the evenings basically next door to my work. I park at work, because it's free. But the other day, I was really running late so I decide to park at school. I mean, I was running so late, I had to eat my dinner in the car. Not too bad, everyone eats while driving right? Ya, sure. But my dinner was a pork chop. I'm serious.

Anyway, a friend of mine goes to school with me and she tells me that for the past 9 weeks she's been parking at school and she doesn't buy a ticket because she figures that the stall has been paid for for the day. And she hasn't gotten a ticket so far, so she figures her logic is sound. So when I decided to park at school, that was my thought process.

However, when I parked, I realized that would be dishonest, so I should just pay for a ticket. But I had like 50 cents in cash and parking is $4. I could put it on my VISA, but that seems like an ordeal and I'm running late, so I'll just throw caution to the wind and go to class. Afterwards, I come out and see a little something on my windshield. Dammit.

I owe $57.70 for parking illegally; $47.10 if I pay within 7 days. All that because I was running short on time (heaven forbid I'm almost late for class!) and didn't have cash. I did go there with the intent to park illegally, but then the guilt brought me down and I was going to pay, but all those other circumstances forced me to be dishonest. Bam!! Spite-God-Powers initiated.

Moral of the story, it's a bit easier (and cheaper) just to fricken pay. Why? Because there won't always be a nice skytrain cop at the top that's willing to accept "I'm drunk" as a reason for dishonesty.

Big thanks to "EliseArt" for providing illustrations

That t-shirt is so fricken bright, there's gotta be a battery pack attached.

I have a tendency to fall in love with guys with whom I have absolutely no hope of them loving me back. It's dangerous territory, but in my defense, these guys tend to be people that I've never met; I have no idea what they're actually like. I'm not sure that helps my argument... In fact, I'm fairly certain it hinders it. Hmmm... no wonder I'm single. It's heartbreaking, yet, I continue to do it. I'm probably bringing this on myself.

In my defense, again, this "love" isn't actual love... Mostly, I "heart" them and just lack the vocabulary skills necessary to express my feelings without sounding like a stalker. So, by default, I call it love, because that, (apparently) is the least stalker-ish word I know... I should probably start reading the dictionary again. Or maybe a thesaurus this time.

Guys I love and have absolutely no hope in reciprocation:

1) Guys that are dead

2) Guys that live on the other side of the world

3) Guys that are married, in a relationship, or just plain "happy" (damn them!)

4) Guys that find me repulsive

My #1 #1 (i.e. the guy I love the most that happens to be dead) is Elliott Smith. Oh, if only he was still alive... I'd stalk the hell out of him! Okay, probably not, but I do think he's a musical genius and absolutely beautiful. I really wish I'd had a chance to meet him (or at least see him from afar) while he was still on this earth. *sigh*.

My most recent #1 #2 (i.e. the guy I love the most that happens to live on the other side of the world) is Xavier Rudd... he lives in Australia. Dammit. I also think he's a genius and beautiful, although not as much as my fav... sorry Xavier.

I had an opportunity to see Xavier recently - although it didn't result in a marriage proposal, he did look in my direction at least twice! And if paying good money to see him from afar and to have him look in my general direction is what I can get, then I guess I'll take it.

My first #1 #3 (i.e. the guy I love the most that is married/happy) was Jack Johnson... I was devastated when I realized that he was married... what is that shiny thing on his left ring finger?? *gasp* *sob*

I just realized all my "loves" have been musicians... Hmmm... I must have a non-musical one...

My most recent #1 #3 is this guy that works with a friend of mine. He doesn't quite fit the criteria, because I have, in fact, met him, but it's not like I know him, so I'll still use him as an example. He's quite the specimen; if you looked up "a ten" in the dictionary, his picture would be there. I held a torch for him for awhile and was convinced that the next event we were both at would be the time he realized how amazing I am. I attended the event, so did he. He didn't profess his love for me. And then his wife and children showed up... and they looked happy. Dammit!

I don't know who is my #1 #4 is... (i.e. the guy that I love the most that finds me repulsive)... Honestly, I can't think of anyone who I was (or am) in love with that actually finds me repulsive (or, more accurately, has told me as such). It's just my go-to reason for why they don't love me back (... I must be hideous...).

Okay, I must love things other than musicians.... Well, recently, I've become an internerd (blog: case and point); I used to laugh at people like me. So it probably won't come as too much of a surprise that my most recent loves are on the internet. Like the others, I don't know them and have no idea what they are actually like.... but I do heart them regardless. I had three favorites, but two of them left me for greener pasteurs, so that leaves me with one... but he's my favorite anyway, so it works out.

He writes articles for Cracked.com (The Bucholz Discharge... awesome!). He's witty and smart and seriously funny. He's also a huge jackass, which some may consider a bad thing, myself, I find it endearing. Also, I'm a jackass, so I think we'd get along. And... according to a post of his, he's Canadian. Bonus!!! All Canadians know each other, right? Maybe all hope isn't lost.

With my luck he lives in Halifax, is married and finds me repulsive. Fucker.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing the illustrations!

I have a no-hawk

So I went to a concert on Friday with a good friend of mine. And it seems that every concert we go to together has some amusing anecdote associated with it. This is no exception.

It started out well... we met up, went for dinner and a drink, then headed to the park for the show. Then we drank in public, stood in a very large line up and finally went in. Place was pretty full, but there was still a place for me to put a blanket down..  and have good seats! Sweet!

The opening band was already playing when we got in; I have no idea who they were but they were good. The main act went on stage and put on quite the show. All that aside, I didn't get much face-time in with the band, because I was too busy watching Benjamin.

I don't think that's actually his name, but that is what I'll call him for the rest of my life.

You see, it was an outdoor venue and Benjamin, the security guard, was behind this fence, close to the stage. He had a little walkie-talkie and every time he saw someone breaking the rules he got out his walkie-talkie and someone higher up (a manager, or perhaps someone a bit taller) came out and got the situation under control.

As far as I'm concerned, Benjamin has a couple strikes against him; namely:

1) He's a narc

2) He has a faux-hawk

3)... well, #3 is the point of this story, so I won't give it away...

You may be wondering why I was so busy watching a guy that tattle-tales; to be honest, it was the walkie-talkie. I always wanted one of those. Actually, I said 'to be honest', but then I lied. It had nothing to do with the radio. (Though I have always wanted one.)

I see two people (guy & girl) walk over to Benjamin to ask him a question. As they walk up, Benjamin looks straight at the girl's crotch and then into her eyes as she asked the question. That's not the worst part. The worst part is the look of disgust he had on his face when he looked at her crotch! Then, the guy talks to him and Benjamin did the exact same thing. Except the look of disgust changed to a look of intrigue. He liked what he saw...

I was pretty sure I was the only person who just witnessed this event, until my friend bursts out laughing and says "Did you see that??!?!". For the rest of the night we watched him. Everytime we caught Benjamin violating someone we would burst out laughing, and say things like "He just Benjamin'd that guy!", along with fist-bumping and high-fiving. Quite the spectacle.

Well, we decided that we had to be fair and give the guy the benefit of the doubt... maybe he's not a crotch-watcher, maybe his name isn't Benjamin. So to test our theory out, my friend (sitting on the blanket) stretches out, opens his legs and points his Benjamin at the security guard. After a few moment of Benjamin ignoring my friend's advances, I got distracted and looked away. A second later, my friend bursts out "Did you see that??!?!?". "No! Did he look?!". "Yes, but keep watching he will do it again...". "Will he now? Did he like it? huh?". "Just keep watching....".

Sure enough, Benjamin's eyes dart over and look directly at my friend's crotch. Burst out laughing. And again. Even more laughing. And again. Can't hardly breathe at this point... I swear he looked over at least a half dozen times. By the end I was laughing so hard but managed to get out:  "He Benjamin'd you! Ha ha ha" and go for a fist bump, but he leaves me hanging, I guess it's not as funny when it's your crotch that is being watched. My friend feeling violated enough for one day, put a backpack between his crotch and Benjamin's gaze.

You're easily amused by things... have you seen my monkey?

So, I'm going to a concert tomorrow night. I'm really excited about it!!! But I didn't want to go alone... so I managed to convince a friend of mine to go with me (yes, the same friend from a previous post... My apple tastes like parsley).

So, anyway, I convinced him to go with me and since it's tomorrow night we're in the planning stages of actually executing this adventure. And, yes, it will be an adventure. Planning things like when to meet, where to meet etc. So I suggest we meet around the time the gates open (6pm) and go for some dinner and drinks. Well, because, I need to eat and drinking, although not required, is highly desirable. So this is what I suggest and I don't hear back from him.

Until this afternoon. I'm walking through the lab on the way out the door when I check my phone, I have a text from him. I read it. I burst out laughing. Everyone within 3 metres, turns, looks at me (yes, still laughing) and asks what is so funny. Nothing... Ba hahahahahaha...

I leave the lab, walk out into the hallway (yes, still laughing) and continue to get weird looks from everyone in the hallway. I get control of myself. His text, and I quote, there is no improvisation at all here... this is straight from his mouth (or hand?) to your ears (or eyes?)... this actually happened.

Text:

Umm Heather, if we go for a drink(s) should I wear quick drying pants, or bring a pair to change into????

Big thanks to "EliseArt" for providing illustrations that I can crop and use at will. :)