Goings Ons

Where do I begin? Well, the past couple/few months have been a bit of a whirlwind. Between working too much, doing my school project and having a full social calendar, I haven’t had much time to write (well, aside from my school project, that is).

I guess that’s the best place to start. As you may or may not remember, I was having a hard time getting my school project off the ground. I finally got the okay from my professor to quit writing and re-writing my proposal and actually do the project. You could say I was pretty pleased.

In August, I carried out the sampling and then spent the next couple months analyzing the data, researching and writing the paper. I submitted the first draft just about two weeks ago.

After which, The Boy, asked me to come down to the pub for a celebratory drink. Shortly after I arrived, he said something cryptic to the bartender and before I knew it, two champagne flutes were placed in front of me; they were quickly filled with a bubbly nectar.

I was shocked and surprised and, quite frankly, tickled pink. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. I basically swooned right off my chair. When I came to and thanked him for it, he simply said “You did a big thing today; you deserve it”. I didn’t remind him that it was only a first draft and that I haven’t actually graduated yet.

Work has been super busy for the past couple months and will be insanely busy for the next couple months; it will take over my life. The only light at the end of the tunnel is solace in knowing that when it’s all over, I’m getting on a jet plane to some place and spending a week drinking way too much. Stay tuned for that one!

I’ve still managed to spend a ridiculous amount of time with The Boy; I even went to my first minor league baseball game and a couple minor league hockey games. Now, I’m, by no means, a sporty girl, but these games have proven to be a very good time. I even bought a team scarf.

My niece is growing fast; she changes every time I see her. She’s walking and starting to talk. The running joke in the family is that she’ll be graduating college before I do. Did I mention my family are assholes?

Thanksgiving was a success; The Boy came for dinner (I cooked) and met most of my family. It was nerve-wracking but we both made it out alive. Christmas is next on the list, and providing he comes for dinner, he will meet the rest of my family. We’ll see if he’s still around, or if he runs screaming from the building.

I’ll let you know how it pans out. Probably in February when my life resumes normality.

This Particular Boy–part 1

So, as you know, there’s this particular boy I’ve been spending time with lately. And because you’re all so incredibly nosey, you want to hear all about it. And because I’m so incredibly accommodating, I will tell you all about it.

I’ve technically known him for a couple years, but we only started having consistent conversations in the last 8 months or so. I met BigBoy, or BB, at my local watering hole; he was often there when I was there. I attempted to make conversation with him on a couple of occasions and was met with, what can only be described as, indifference. I chalked it up to him being the strong, silent type.

One day, I was successful in luring him into conversation; I was convinced we were going to be friends. Or at the very least, two people that would talk to each other while occupying a spot at the same bar. But the next time I saw him, I was met with the same indifference. I drew the only logical conclusion.

BB ended up getting a job as a bartender at this establishment. I was sure that I would eventually win him over since he was required to have contact with me. But it turned out he wasn’t required to have contact with me at all. He’d simply leave my drink-getting-duties up to the other bartender, which naturally further convinced me of his dislike for me.

Several months ago, BB ended up moving in with a friend of mine. I was having drinks with Mutual Friend at the pub one night and he invited me back to his place after closing; I agreed to go. He said “When BB gets off work, you’ll be there… I’m sure he’ll love that.”. I drew the only logical conclusion.

Things started slowly changing; around the time BB moved in with Mutual Friend, we started having nice conversations really consistently. One night about three months ago, I was at their place, BB and I were having an in-depth conversation about guitars (we both play); Mutual Friend fell asleep on the couch. The following conversation ensued:

BB: So, what’s the deal with you and Mutual Friend?

TWG: What do you mean?

BB: Well, sometimes I come home from work and you’re here, and Mutual Friend told me the other day that you came over and it was just the two of you.

TWG: Yup.

BB: Soooooo…?

TWG: Noooooo.

BB: No?

TWG: Nope. It’s not going to happen and I’ve told him that about a thousand times.

BB: Yeah, I know.

TWG: You know?

BB: Yeah, I’ve been around for a dozen of those thousand times.

TWG: Right.

BB: But you can understand why I’m asking…

TWG: I… guess… (I didn’t)

Since then, we started spending more and more time together and have had a nice conversation of the “What are we doing, where is this going” variety. And as of recently, we even put the nice little “Boyfriend/Girlfriend” label on this relationship.

Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Relationship. These are things that haven’t happened in over a decade for me.

You could say I’m a little out of my element. You could say that, at times, this whole thing completely freaks me out because being in a relationship has become such a foreign concept for me.

You could also say I am enjoying myself immensely.

School Sucks

As you may or may not know, in addition to working for a living, I’m also in school. Sort of. I’ve been working on a bachelors degree part time for a long time; I’m finished all my classes, but still have a graduating project to do.

There are only so many steps associated with this process.

Step 1 – Pick a topic

Step 2 – Write a proposal and have it accepted

Step 3 – Carry out project

Step 4 – Write report and have it accepted

Step 5 – Graduate

But every step, takes way longer than it has to.

Six months later, we agreed on a topic. I started writing the proposal and it took 8 months (and 6 submissions) to get any feedback from my professor; when I finally did, it wasn’t exactly how I anticipated it.

So I did. And then…

So I did. And then…

I’ve actively been stuck in Step 1 and Step 2 for over two years. I’m beyond frustrated, which is why I have writer’s block and why you get a rant instead of a post. You’re welcome.

I have a blog?

Holy crap – I think this is hands-down the longest dry spell I’ve ever had with my blog.

A lot has been going on around here. I’ll try to give a brief rundown on what’s been going on… I’m sure most of these will require their own post. We’ll see if that happens.

First off, I’ve been working away at my school project – it’s been a struggle for the past year and it’s only gotten worse in the last 3 months. The good news is, I’ve finally gotten the green light to go ahead with it, so I’ll be starting that next week. And it will overtake my life for the next however-many-months.

For too long, I’ve been working too much; I recently decided I need more balance in my life and, as a result, have made huge efforts to maintain a social life with friends and family. Good, in theory, but it makes me stay up too late and have no time for writing.

But I have a feeling that minimal overtime will soon come to an end – it’s a big year at work and the to-do list will eventually catch up to me and I’ll be living there again. Such is life, I guess.

There’s also the summer factor, which also contributes to the social life factor. With the long days of sunshine, it’s much easier to not even think about going home until well after dark. And with the long days come short nights, so I’ve found its much easier for me not to get home until sunrise. It’s happening more and more. Which makes the next day rough and unproductive.

Yet worth every minute of it.

Now that I’ve put that in writing, it doesn’t seem as though it’s enough to warrant such a stretch of non-writing. I guess there’s no real excuse.

 

Except there might also be a boy involved.

Independence Day

Several years ago my mother told me that the reason I’m single is because I’m too independent; she said that I don’t need a man, that there isn’t anything I need or want in my life that I can’t get myself. Naturally, I disputed it, but she had a retort for everything I threw out there.

Naturally, I dismissed it, but since then I’ve wondered if she’s right. Maybe independence isn’t a desirable trait; maybe I need to be more dependent. But then I started thinking about the alternative.

Take my stepmother, for instance; my dad does everything for her. Her responsibilities in life consist solely of cooking dinner and cleaning the house; dad works, pays the bills and even takes her shopping.

It’s to the point where if anything were to happen and my dad wasn’t around anymore, I’m pretty sure she would not be able to function in the world.

This. Happened. I could not make eye contact with the cashier while she handed back one of the twenties as change.

All things considered, I don’t think my problem is a bad thing. Besides, I’ve also realized that I can’t do everything myself; I do need help. Take that, Mom. 

In September 2012, I bought a new TV. When I got it home, I took my old one off the TV stand, plopped it down on the floor and set up my new one.

Fast forward to September 2013:

It was still sitting there for a few reasons. First, I’m lazy. Second, I’m weak. Third, I have a bad back. All these reasons made it so that I literally couldn’t pick it up, get it into my car and bring it to the recycling depot.

Fast forward to last month:

I did, however, make some progress; I asked a neighbour friend of mine if he’d be willing to help me get it out of my house. Fortunately, he said yes; unfortunately, it took him 3 weeks to make it happen. He was apologetic but I told him that it was a drop in the bucket compared to how long it took me to even ask for help.

Fast forward to yesterday: he came over and took it to the recycling depot with me.

21 months later, I finally have two square feet of floor space back.

I got laryngitis again

You may or may not remember a post from a few months back when I got laryngitis. Well, it happened again. And this time not entirely due to my own stupidity.

I recently went on a business trip (first one – it was terrifying!). The first day in Ontario, I developed a scratchy throat; luckily nothing materialized throughout my 3 day stay. I returned home Wednesday night and also noticed a scratchy throat; I attributed it to dry airplane air. Friday night, I went salsa dancing and once again noticed pain in my throat. I chalked it up to me being thirsty from dancing up a storm.

After leaving dance, I stopped off at my local watering hole and met up with some friends; we then went back to one of their houses and continued the festivities until far too late.

I woke up on Saturday feeling off; I wasn’t hungover (as these stories typically end), since I hadn’t had much to drink. I felt like I had the beginning of a cold; the sore throat had finally materialized. When my stepmom called, I realized that I didn’t have full use of my voice. A telltale sign of what was to come.

I went to my folks place for dinner, but had to leave fairly early because I was feeling and my voice was getting increasingly worse. I may or may not have made the mistake of singing in my car on the way home.

On Sunday, it was ten times worse; the laryngitis was in full force. When my mom called, I could barely squeak out a conversation. Later that day, I needed food, but didn’t have the energy to cook (if I had food), shop (to go get food) or anything. I decided to order some take out, but realized that I literally couldn’t. I went down to the restaurant with everything they could possibly ask me written down on a piece of paper.

Monday was fortunately a holiday and fortunately my voice started resembling normalcy once again. Unfortunately, the cold had reached mammoth proportions. Overall, a great way to spend a long weekend.

I set myself up on the couch with all the drinking implements I could need throughout the day. I was laid up the entire day, racked with coughs, body aches and fever.

I pushed myself to go to work today, partially because I have great work ethic (*cough* LIAR *cough*), but mostly because my body physically couldn’t stand another day of lying around.

I barely made it halfway through my day before I tapped out and went home. So although I haven’t spent the entire day laid up, I’ve spent the better part of the day doing absolutely nothing.

Four days and counting; hoping tomorrow is a better day. Wish me luck, folks!

The Battle of the Ants

I live in a basement suite, so I get my fair share of creepy-crawlies creeping and crawling through my place. Naturally, I have patience for some more than others.

Every year in April or May, the ants come out looking for food. Every year in April or May, I make sure to remove anything resembling food from the area around my front door (that’s where they tend to come in). Every year in April or May, despite my efforts, I have a trail of ants coming through my house. Sometimes just one here or there or sometimes a mass infestation if I neglected to remove all the things resembling food in time (like my collection of empty bottles, for example).

This year, I was certain I was in good shape. I’d returned all my empties months ago, I spring-cleaned the area where my plants live, so any dirt, debris and sticky stuff was gone. So when I saw the first of the ants, I didn’t think too much of it. But one became five and then five became ten.

The battle of the ants had begun. I was thoroughly cleaning my floors, when I was bleaching them, I noticed all the ants were congregated in one area right by my front door. I vacuumed the mat in front of my door, but then minutes later saw ants crawling all over it again. I lifted up the corner was shocked at what I found.

Literally* hundreds (*not literally) of ants milling about! I began pulling out anything and everything in that area in preparation of cleaning the shit of out it all. And that’s when I found it.

Months ago (obviously), a small candy cane fell off my table unnoticed and landed amongst my reusable shopping bags; it then became the coveted food item all the ants in the neighbourhood sought. They were obviously all talking about it based on the congregation I found.

I cleaned it all up, bleached the area and it appears as though I’ve once again reigned supreme in the battle of the ants.

It’s only a matter of time until they prove me wrong once again.

Practical jokes really aren’t that practical

There are three of us at work that share an office; one of us may or may not get picked on much more than the others. I could reminisce for hours about the shenanigans that go on on a daily basis. It’s really quite fun.

I was talking with one of my officemates the other day about practical jokes. Throughout the duration of our conversation an instance started slowly coming to my mind. It was rolling out of the fog; the fog of suppressed memories, of course.

I was just promoted to supervisor; I was still in the awkward transition stage. So much so, one of my friends said to me “Heather, you really seem out of your element. Don’t worry – you can do this!”. Which was both reassuring and also troubling since everyone could see that I was obviously struggling.

Not long after, another “friend” came to talk to me.

I got back to work and forgot about it. I ended up going into the lab to talk to someone; I was trying to tie up a loose end before I left to go to school.

I finished my tasks, got cleaned and packed up and left for school. I got to school and was waiting for the class to start.

That’s when it all came flooding back. I was so weirded out I didn’t pick up on the obvious queues: the awkward pat on the back; the people snickering in the lab.

I Stole Someone’s Childhood

A couple weeks ago, a friend called me up and said “Let’s go out!”. Even though I had an event the very next morning (well, noon) that required drinking, I said okay, sure that I would nurse all my drinks and be home at a decent hour.

We met up at our usual place; she proceeded to nurse her drinks and I did not. We then moved onto our next destination and ran into a bunch of people we knew. At one point, it was getting late and she had a dentist appointment the next day, so she called it and went home.

At least that’s what should have happened; I stayed behind without a second thought. It was someone’s birthday party and one of my friends had won a door prize. He gave it to me.

I’m not sure he knew just how happy it made me. I do love door prizes after all. I was getting ready to leave when one of my friends was all “Come on, Heather, we’re going to my place”. I think I put up a little bit of a fight, but then, sure enough, found myself in his apartment chatting it up with his girlfriend and getting another drink dropped in my hand.

He announced that we were going someplace else. I said I had to go home, but he convinced me to go. It may or may not have been very easy seeing as I was pretty intoxicated by this point.

I found myself at this party, where I knew no one and everyone knew everyone. Ordinarily, I might find that situation awkward, but not that night.

I made my rounds meeting people, a few of whom I remember the names of, a few of whom I do not. At one point, the host said “It’s late, everyone has to leave”. All his friends we were like “No – not yet… blah, blah, blah”. I gathered my door prize, my coat and purse and tried to make my way out of the confusing apartment building and onto the street so I could get a cab. I managed to do that and found myself hitting my pillow at 4:30am, completely hammered. So much for my plan.

Morning came all too fast and I found myself completely hungover; since I paid $60 for a ticket to the wine festival, I dragged myself out of bed, hit the showers and staggered around waiting for death, while trying desperately to get ready, make myself presentable and put my game face on.

I succeeded, or at least, I thought I did.

I was on the bus waiting for my friends to board at their respective stops and I felt like complete shit. My first friend boarded and then a couple stops later, the next one. They were positively chipper and chatting away. I was concentrating on not throwing up.

After a few questions regarding what I got up to the night before, the cat was out of the bag.

Apparently my game face is transparent because she said “I knew something was off with you but I didn’t know what!”. We went for lunch where I pushed a salad around my plate and drank about a litre of liquids.

We made it to the event and the moment of truth came; I got the first taste of wine in me and thankfully knew I would be okay. We spent two hours at the event, then met up with friends for more drinks, then went out for more drinks. By 11, the girls were tapped out, so we went on home.

The next morning, I unloaded my door prize winnings and found something in the basket that I didn’t recall being in there when I got the thing.

It’s a picture. Of a little boy, just getting off a school bus. There’s a date handwritten in mom-writing on the back “1988”.

The boy looks vaguely familiar; I think I might have met him at that party. But 26 years later and the amount of alcohol I consumed that night, I don’t know who he is.

All I know is, I’m pretty sure I managed to steal a picture of someone’s first day of school.

That White Girl’s Comeback

As I’ve said on here before, all my life I’ve heard about just how pale I am. Between my last name and my colouration, I’m the butt of many “why aren’t you tan” jokes.

I’ve grown accustomed to it; so much so that after a tropical vacation I already know my response to the above question.

A couple weekends ago, I was able to off-load some of the ammo. I was able to reciprocate just enough to feel powerful. Let me replay the situation.

I ended up at my local watering hole. I found myself a seat at the bar with a bunch of rowdies surrounding me. I may or may not have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A heated discussion ensued. A heated discussion that would have driven many-a-people insane for the rest of the night. A heated discussion for which I happened to know the answer. This may or may not have garnered me a seat with them.

As I was conversing with a girl within the group, the guy that invited me over was having a discussion with the waitress. I’m not sure of her heritage (Italian? Greek?), but in the dead of winter she has colouration. Not a lick of sun has been about and she’s positively olive.

The guy beside me proclaimed something.

Not even knowing the basis of the conversation, I leapt on the opportunity.

Me: I’m sorry – you’re going to be as tanned as Maia?

Whitey2 – Yep!

TWG – Got some Irish in ya?? I call your bullshit!

W2 – What?

TWG – Look at you – you will NEVER be as tanned as Maia!

W2 – Sure I will!!

TWG – Where are you going?

W2 – Maui.

TWG – And how long will you be there?

W2 – A week.

TWG – Yeah. You’ll be red if anything.

W2 – What??

TWG – How much Irish you got in you exactly?

W2 – I’m full Irish…

TWG – Yeah, you’re not coming back tanned.

He questioned how I knew such a thing. I told him he had no idea just how White I am.

It was surprisingly fulfilling.

 

P.S. Dear Anonymous – I find it unfair that you seem to know who I am and I have no idea who you are. Reveal your identity. Please?!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Here’s my version of a Valentine’s Day post. Enjoy!

Being chronically single, there are definitely times where I really yearn to be with someone and then there are times where I’m thankful for being alone. I’m sure the same can be said for people who are in relationships as well.

For me, both of these extremes become very apparent when I’m sick. I spent the better part of this week sick at home, so it became very clear in my mind just how much (and how quickly) I can flip flop on this particular subject.

For example, when I was at home laying on the couch wishing for death, the only thing that could make it more bearable was some juice, or soup, or something. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have someone come and take care of me.

I was too sick to fend for myself. This actually happens more than I care to admit. There have been so many instances that I’ve developed a coping mechanism. I don’t like to drink juice full strength; I like to water it down. It’s easier on the stomach, if that’s not doing so great.

So I set up shop on the couch; I grab my tetrapak of juice out of the fridge, a glass and fill up a 1L container of water. I bring all the things to the couch and fill up my glass as I need. I do need to get up from time to time to refill my water, but much less than if I actually had to fill my cup up every time. In fact, if I invested in a larger measuring cup, I could reduce those trips down even further. Food for thought.

I’m still pretty much fucked if I need to get something to eat, but let’s just say, I got reserves.

On the other hand, when I’m disgustingly sick and things are coming out of places that no one needs to see, I’m fairly happy that I live alone.

But those instances are usually few and far between, besides realistically, the person I’m with better be okay with holding my hair back and cleaning up some puke when I miss the toilet. Or the bathroom altogether.

But nothing makes it hit home quite like it did the other night. I was very sick; in a lot of pain, had a pretty bad fever and a terrible cough. Plus I was covered in hives (an unrelated, yet agonizing, matter).

Even though I drugged myself up to “get a good nights’ sleep”, I still woke up constantly with scratching or coughing. Or alternating between kicking the blankets off and then scrambling to get them back on because I was shivering. And if that wasn’t enough, rolling over caused enough pain from my massive body aches (and probably hives) that I actually groaned audibly.

My first thought was that I hoped my upstairs people couldn’t hear me and/or weren’t being woken up by my agony. My next thought went to what it would actually be like if I was in a relationship; what if I was sharing my bed with someone. Times like these, I know one thing is certain.

Meh – small price to pay to have someone bring me soup, right?

Adventures in online dating: Part - Oh… I get it…

I found this in my drafts – I wrote it several months back, but since I’m chronically single, it still applies.

Hooray for being timeless.

I think I’ve finally figured out a reason, if not the reason, why I’m still single. Meh – who am I kidding there’s clearly a laundry list of reasons…

You know the dating technique where you trick someone into liking you by being not yourself and then dole out your true self in single-bite-size-servings so that, given enough time, you eventually become yourself, but it was done so gradually that the person you’re with didn’t realize just how weird/crazy/needy/sarcastic/(insert undesirable trait here) you really are until it was too late and they already like you and have already come to accept your character flaws?

Turns out that may be a problem, if not the problem, with … … well... me. I think that honesty is the best policy.

Allow me to explain my most recent epic fail. *Update – since this is not so recent anymore, I’m sure there’s more to come… Who am I kidding, I have some in reserves.

Although, my POF account is hidden and I’m not showing up in the general populations’ searches, I do log on, view profiles and email people. Not super frequently, but often enough.

I did this recently and started chatting with an attractive young man, who coincidentally enough, shares the same, uncommon (in the western world at least), name as Thailand. We’ll call him Thailand 2.0, or Thai2 for short.

I decided not to hold this against him, even though, more often than not, I cringe when I meet a prospect with the same name as my ex. Or my brother. Or my father. Sorry – but I got a thing with names!

So we start doing the whole email exchange thing. Back and forth for an hour or so every night. This lasted a few nights when one day Thai2 asked me what I was doing. I said I was at home, relaxing, doing some writing.

Something no one ever does is ask what exactly I’m writing. He does. I explain that I was writing some “short stories”; he asked what kind.

Something no one ever does is ask for my blog address. He does.

I wanted to discourage him, but I didn’t know what to say. My first thought was “No – I only share this with really good friends, or complete strangers and you’re too in between” which seemed like a ridiculous thing to say out loud. I settled with  “I don’t know about that…..” He sent me his website in exchange, so I sent him mine with a “don’t judge me!” disclaimer. He said he wouldn’t.

His website is themed around wine and is very professional and appropriate. And…  yeah… you’ve seen mine. A little while later, he asked who does my “artwork”.

A little while after that, he pointed out a specific post he liked. A post that was quite old. A post that happens to be in my “top posts based on nothing list”. I looked at the random list and hoped he wasn’t working his way down.

Let’s just say that list of posts has some… …  unsavory links. Links that my readers and friends enjoy, but maybe don’t portray me in the best light. That maybe aren’t super becoming of me. Or worse yet, are exactly as becoming of me.

He must have found them because he stopped replying to my emails. I should’ve known he was judging me. Better sooner rather than later, though, right?

Right??

Wet pants are the worst

As you may or may not remember, I’ve had a tendency in the past to accidentally spill drinks. And by accidentally spill drinks, I mean, accidentally dump entire pints of beer into the laps of unsuspecting friends. Check out the old post – it’s a gem!

Well… it happened again. Let me paint you a picture.

The night started off innocently enough – regular Friday night routine of going out for dinner (a.k.a soup) with some friends. A drink or two was had. Another friend had wanted to meet up for drinks; when one of my friends at dinner got wind of it she said she would also be interested in going out.

So we met up at the local pub and had a few more drinks. This pub is notorious for shutting down early (some would call it an old folk bar and they would be right), so we moseyed on down the road to the next pub to get a couple more before the last-last call. Which is part of the routine for “one of those” Friday nights.

In general, I’ve been known to attract weirdos and my friend happens to be quite the looker. Those talents combined, we always have an interesting night when we head out; this night was no exception. We weren’t sitting at the bar for very long before some dude came over from the other side to chat us up.

You could say I was feeling a little jealous of the attention, or lack thereof. You could say that maybe, just maybe, I wanted in on the conversation. You could also say I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings.

It’s no surprise that things got out of hand and drinks were spilt.

I totally had this coming.

Palindromes have ruined my life.

I was at my work party a couple nights back and was having a conversation with a friend; I may have been a couple drinks deep when I told her a little known secret. She found it to be very weird and her immediate response was “you need to write a blog post about this”. So, to make my friend happy (yes, I am a people pleaser), here it is.

My friend later forwarded me a facebook post that her friend posted the following day.

“Does it bother anyone else that the word "symmetry" isn't a palindrome? What a waste of an opportunity."

I had a good chuckle. Anyway, back to the story… My brother is three years older than I am; when I was about six years old, he came home from school and told me he learned about palindromes.

Mom

Dad

Noon

Pop

The list goes on… but my all-time favourite (yes, one that I learned that day and still continues to be my favourite to this day) is racecar. I’m not sure why. Probably because my mind was completely blown. I may or may not have had to write it down to verify the fact. C’mon, I was six, give me a break!

Since that day, I’ve loved palindromes. There was even a time where I knew I loved them, but couldn’t remember what they were called.

It’s one thing for a six year old to love something like palindromes. It’s another thing to have palindromes completely take over a six year olds’ life. It another thing altogether to have that same control still be present in a 33 year old body.

Once I learned what palindromes were, I started doing something; something that can really only be classified as OCD. You see, my mom worked mornings and I was in charge of setting an alarm, answering the phone when she called and getting us ready for school (yes, I’m the younger sibling). But for some reason, this new found responsibility manifested in an obscure way.

I still do it to this day and I don’t know why. I started trying to convince myself that I needed to stop this behaviour, so when I passed the palindrome on my alarm clock, I’d stop. Yes, I used to go all the way around just to get the ‘perfect’ setting. But it always ended badly. I wouldn’t sleep well, and once I fell asleep due to pure exhaustion, I would oversleep and I’d be late. It had nothing to do with the fact that I: stayed up too late, drank too much, ate right before bed, was stressed out or the hundred other reasons why I didn’t sleep well.

No, clearly it’s because I didn’t set my alarm clock to a palindrome. I know it’s irrational, so I’ve tried to steer away from it; tried to regain control of my life. After all, two out of three of my current alarms are not set in palindromes. But I realized at my work party, that it still affects my life.

I bought a 50/50 ticket; when the draw was happening, I scanned my tickets to see if I had a palindrome.

I’m willing to look past whether or not it’s a “true palindrome”. I will accept if the last 3 or 4 digits (the ones that count) are a palindrome. Turns out, I had one and was pretty convinced I’d win the 50/50 because of it.

I didn’t win. Because I never win 50/50 tickets. But…

The winning ticket was a palindrome!!!!

Fuck! So, my irrational rationalization is now justified. I’m pretty much doomed.

Getting old

I woke up the other day and suddenly realized that I’ll be 34 in a few months. Thirty-fricken-four. I don’t feel that grown up. I have a blog, for fuck sakes!

 

So I may have started having a “holy crap, I’m in my mid-30’s” crisis. I quickly decided that being where I am in life is an okay place to be. It was okay last week, what’s the difference now?

 

But then, strange things started happening. Things that can only mean that I am in fact getting old.

 

First, I got onto a pretty full bus the other day; since I was only going a few stops, I pulled up the nearest piece of pole and got comfy. Well, as comfy as you can be standing on a bus full of people. Then, it happened…

Girl: Would you like to sit down?

ThatWhiteGirl: Um, no thanks, I’m good.

Girl: Are you sure?!

TWG: Totally.

Only old people get offered seats on the bus. And sometimes not even.

 

Next, I took a friend to get a facial on her birthday; she mentioned to the esthetician that it was the first facial for both of us. She eyed my crow’s feet suspiciously and said “really?”. As we were leaving, I said that it was so nice and that I should have started getting them sooner. Her raised eyebrows indicated that she was thinking the same thing but for very different reasons.

 

Then, I was chatting with a couple work folk and we were discussing a particular intersection; I mentioned that a gas station was on the corner. I was shot down pretty quickly; the other two were convinced there was no gas station. I was adamant that it was there and a Circle K store was attached to it. They didn’t even know what Circle K was.

 

This invoked a comment from one of my co-workers. “Were you buying your slurpees from there back in 1972?” Um. Thanks. Do I look old enough to be buying slurpees in 1972? My other co-worker informed him that I wasn’t even born yet. Thanks for having my back, Term.

 

Lastly, I was going through the drive-thru the other day and had this gem of a conversation with the cashier.

Cashier: $8:35, please.

TWG: On debit, please.

(we’re Canadian, leave us alone)

Cashier: Does it have the tap function?

TWG: Nooooo.(in a “I’m totally sure” kind of way)

Cashier: Just thought I’d check, it makes it easier.

TWG: I know! I saw it once and it was so fast. It’s pretty cool!

Cashier: It is.

TWG: I don’t even know how you get one…

Cashier: Oh, it comes on newer debit cards.

TWG: Really?? Cuz I just got this thing a little while ago.

Cashier: Are you sure it doesn’t tap?

TWG: Ummmm… I. Don’t. Know. (I spot an vaguely familiar icon on the card) Hey look, the thingy!!

Cashier: Yeah, that’s probably where you tap it… Try it next time…

TWG: Okay – thanks!!!

I stopped understanding technology and I was never very good at it in the first place. This is the beginning to the end, folks, beginning to the end.