Butter Tarts, German Club and Glamping

Number 1 superficial question I have now is: if I'm working out more, eating less bad food, how come I'm not getting thinner a.k.a toned? What the h? Not to mention, where is my package?Expected said delivery date was Monday and it was a holiday, and not a federal one, so where the heck is it? Canada from Ontario to the prairies has neither received a blizzard, snow squalls or freezing rain. Not to mention we are not experiencing a monsoon, a tornado, a hurricane or a flood. I can't figure out why it has yet to appear in my expecting hands. Canada Post, get to work already. I know the Olympics are on, but it has nothing to do with your working habits.

Speaking of Olympics and working habits, the last two nights I have been unable to diligently watch the figure skating competitions. I show up for work, I get the work done, I missed majority of the routines. Why do they have to be so cruel and schedule them during the times that I work??? According to D at work, I need a man because I was gushing about male figure skaters. Hello! A man's profession does not signify the manliness of a person. That's ridiculous. You can date meatheads all you want. Just because they're macho, doesn't mean they're manly.

Something else is bothering me, which I probably shouldn't blog about since it's none of my business, but I have a said friend named X to keep their identity especially secret whom is a model. Not a particularly tall one, but a well defined and good looking one. Apparently another said person named Y has a friend whom told him that they are gay. Don't gay people like hot girls??? I thought this was a standard, not a stereotype. Boy does X like not so attractive women, considering how good looking X is. Maybe it's a height thing. Maybe it's a closet thing. Either way, whether X is gay or straight, they should be more sexually attracted to good looking people. It makes me feel lousy about myself since I had once liked X and X had admitted feelings for me. I wonder if I'm also unattractive compared to X. That's preposterous. X was certainly straight when I liked X, so something must have happened when they left here. I can't believe how vague I'm being about this. How silly this sounds as if I'm in a epistemic philosophy class talking about so and so in hypothetical scenarios which are logically possible. X being gay equals attraction for homely people. That is definitely not a universal. I would use the symbolic logic symbols here, but I'm lazy. Maybe next time I blog, I'll do the work. It's not as if I have anything better to do.

So I'm working with a renaissance type co-worker who happens to do it all. M seems to think they're tall stories. I think on the other hand, that they're true, although how good they are at all these things is questionable. For one I can write. Example A: this blog and my other blog. Example B: I've had my comments published in National magazines before. Example C: I had a pretty decent grade average when I graduated university. How well of a writer I am, that is questionable. Secondly, I'm artistic. Art is anything really as long as it represents reality, which is in any case of Art, it's all achieved. How well the is representation is another matter entirely. I had this silly idea of staging an art show where I was going to to have the ultimate pure non-representational art exhibit by hanging blank canvases and either leaving the pieces untitled or named. I'm thinking that untitled would have been the more logical answer. And then I was going to have the opening reviewed documentary style and so on. Clearly it was silly, which I still think is funny and I still think it's a great idea. You heard it from me first. If this idea is stolen, it has been documented online that it is my idea, which will be dated by my post and the witnesses, if any who have read this blog. In this case, if this idea is used, I will sue you for stealing my idea. Good luck to you, if you think you can have it. Nuh uh. As a musician? I sing all the time. You know I also write songs too. Singing about my cat or how tired I am or something I'm excited about, is definitely music, therefore, I am also a musician. I also have a organ in the basement of which I can play the first 8 notes of White Christmas and possibly 26 notes of Bare Necessities. Simon Cowell, eat your heart out. I also am a photographer. I take some pretty snap shots once and awhile. I have this one I took almost two years ago now, and I really want to sell it and make royalties off it by selling it to Acrobat or Corel. Hell, it could even be a Microsoft background. That would bring in a fat paycheck for sure. Tall stories, I think not. What the real question is, how talented is this so aforementioned renaissance woman?

To bring this post to a close, I'd like to talk about M's preference for her butter tarts, the surprise of German Club and how much I did not like DSquared's Glamping which was not camping meets glamour, but trailer trash meets good design. Sorry Wellington Peach, I did not like the line. In fact I was disappointed by the whole thing. The only people I can think of who would actually pay for the Spring 2010 line would be all those people who buy Ed Hardy. Yup I said it. How they blended denim and plastic like that blew my mind. I'm thinking that the whole jean is denim and it has plastic overtop of it. Also that one plastic dress and how it draped was quite stunning. I'm sure it was made of pleather or PVC, which is NOT environmentally friendly. It releases toxins in the air just being PVC. I hope everyone else sticks to just plain denim and minimalism this season.

If you think I'm camping, forget about it. Even if I had the option of camping glamorously, I'd say no. Especially if I had to wear those heals. Practical? Heck no. Esthetically pleasing, heck no. Glamping, something thankfully that may never catch on, ever.

I'll Rub Your Fat Zones

You can tell where a headache is when it affects your vision. Like now as I write this, I have blurry vision in my left eye. I know that is where my headache is. I'd have to say that so far this week, it's been like a headache in my left eye.

For one, the amount of training at work is starting to get on my nerves. I just want to go to work and work with people who know what they're doing. You know why? Everything runs as smoothly as it can. There is still training this week and next week and it will probably take one more week after that before everything gets better. About the time that the training ends is about the time I move in. The days are long and the waiting feels longer. 18 more days. Ugh.

Someone I work with in the pool hall suggested that to get back at the Dots girls, I should go into their store and use their entrance to the hallway in the back so I can spend the least amount of time walking outside, even though walking outside is shorter. Considerably shorter. Apparently, we need to accommodate these whims since they were allowed in the beginning. I think I'm losing this one. I was going to do the suggestion, when I thought back to the smiley/frowny incident and I immediately wished I hadn't done it, so I'm thinking this will be the same thing. I will totally regret it right as I'm doing it and I don't like regretting things. Although about a month ago I found a frowny face from way back from the 1st of August and it made me laugh.

My soon to be future lover, who is yet to know this has not been present all this week and it makes me sad. And I want to ask where he is, but I don't want anyone to let on, which is entirely childish, but nonetheless I still won't ask, even though I really want to. So if perchance you somehow know my last name and read my blog, you should ask me out, because I would love to go on a date with you. How about this weekend? It's Valentine's Day. What about our anniversary being on that day? It's cliche, but at the moment, I think it's darling. I'm getting way ahead of myself here. I'm in that kind of mood.

Sadly, I'm still behind in Grey's, Private Practice and soon to be Vampire Diaries. There is just so much to do and movies I want to watch that are more important than TV. I can always catch up on TV because it's online. I look forward to the long weekend. A. I get to sleep in 3 days. B. I get paid to be at home and C. I can catch up on TV and maybe get another work-out day in. If only we had more long weekends.

Why I titled my blog as is, is because it's a lyric to a song I was listening to today. I was hoping "fat zones" meant lady humps and not lumpy lumps. Speaking of lyrics, I heard another great line yesterday along the lines of grabbing your butt and being like Tiger Woods and making a putt. It's possible this rapper personally knew Woods, or its coincidence or that they admire Woods' putting skills.

Please don't tell me your going to rub my fat zones, because the mood will change if you say it.

My Arms Are In The Air. I Can't Put Them Down Because I'm Awesome.

I've basically had nothing to blog about all week. Funny. I have done plenty of things, seen plenty enough to talk about, but tonight's event was worth blogging and blogging right when I got home.

So after working at the pool hall I went to M's and M's boyfriend's shooter party. I have to say that I was surprised that there wasn't anyone passed out or throwing up in the bathroom and that all her friends' were good looking and well dressed. I think her boyfriend was insulted that I thought all his friends were "boys", but I don't think he knows that I'm just about 24 and everyone else there was 19 turning 20. Which when it comes to guys, is a big difference. I'd have to say that I know guys my age that I wouldn't yet consider a man yet either. It's not insult, its a fact. I've been to university and graduated and did the bar and party scene when I was their age, so I feel like I've been there done that, and now I'm in a different stage in my life. It wasn't an insult, it's just a plain and obvious fact.

Now that I think of it, I've had a bunch of things I said this week get taken out of context. One work related, one work related, but not on a work subject and then tonight. Although the first two were extremely frustrating. Especially the second one. I really don't feel like going there because I'm over it enough that I don't want to talk about it. I've learned my lesson that you just can't tell certain people things. You think there's a vault and there isn't. I have serious trust issues. To the point that I call people spies. Although some people really are spies and my suspicions are correct.

I thought I would say more about the shooter party, but I'm not. Although this guy there said some very quotable and hilarious things. He rubbed me the wrong way in the beginning, but I've completely changed my mind about him. All I can think about is whether all 19/20 year old boys are all like this, or just these ones. I just can't remember. Although guys never really grow up or mature. My friend K is almost 40 and he says he finally feels like he's 30 years old now. But just 30, not almost 40. His life is a bit rough now, and I'm feeling kind of sorry for him. I was wondering why he was texting me three days in a row and now I know. And all I want to say is that its never going to happen. Don't dream on it because it's never going to change. I want to date an adult, not an adult boy.

I was thinking about how not awesome it would be if you never put your arms down. And then I made the mental connecting with the man who never laid down and always slept standing up for years. If he finally did lay down, he would die. I can't remember why, but I'm sure it can be searched online.

I was in a new area of the city tonight and I was blown away by the whole thing. For one, I didn't think the city was even developed on the side of the river. I just thought that after Attridge there wasn't anything. I then took some road that went to the psychiatric centre and then continued down the road which was leading nowhere. I then had horror thoughts that I was going to get attacked or pulled over. I then thought that when I was trying to turn around by doing a 3 point turn, that someone big and strong would push my car into the ditch that lead to the river and that I would die because no one would find me, because no one goes out there.

I'm totally tired and I'm sure all my thoughts are disconnected like some terrible essay I've wrote in the past. Although, it would pass as at least a 75 in high school, in university, it would fail if not be at exactly 50 percent, which is basically failing.

I'm awesome, but I'm going to put my arms down now.

It Works If You're In A Pinch

So a few times yesterday I wanted to blog, but I never had time. I certainly had something to say yesterday afternoon. At the pool hall around lunch time I get a phone call from Dots and the conversation went like this, "Can I get a thing of fries and can you open the back door for me?" "Can't you use the front door?" "I guess."

For one, it was only -14. Secondly, do I look like I want to walk to the back of the room to open a door for you because you're so much of a princess that you can't take the 10 seconds to put on your coat and the 25 seconds to walk outside over to us? No. Hell no. You can take your skinny 19 year old ass into the place like everyone else does. If you really want a "thing" of fries, you can work for it, since none of you little retail whores ever tips for anything I do over there. Am I your slave? You work at Dots. Lucky for these girls, I won't be working another day shift until July or August or something, so they don't have to worry their pretty little hungover heads that I'm going to tell them to use the front door again. What kills me is my boss doesn't give me the star treatment like these girls. I didn't even get a christmas card or a christmas party. F*** you.

Of course when the girls come over for their "thing" of fries. By the way, what's a "thing" of fries? Aren't things things that you don't know what to call them. The thing that they're referring to is an order. I'd like to order some fries, not can you make a thing of fries. For all I know, a thing of fries could be a bunch of things shaped like fries. Maybe I should cut wood into fry shapes and heat them up. Retards. To continue the story, my boss says my name and how I made them use the front door in god forgive me -14 temperatures. It's f***ing winter in the f***ing prairies. Of course it's cold. Move your skinny bitch ass somewhere else. How that one girl affords her coke working there is beyond me. But then again she looks like she needs to gain at least 15 pounds, so I'm sure she saves uses her money for food on coke. Whore. After that they shot me dirty little looks and apparently the coke whore was going to spit in my face. For one, she's a smoker, you're already outside, use the front door you lazy bitch. I thought I would be over this 22 hours later, but hell no. I'm going to be griping about this for a few months. I'm going to remember these stupid girls for at least a decade.

I don't know about you, but I hate when girls give me dirty looks. I just want to slap a bitch for giving me a dirty look. Had no one else been at that front with me, I would have reciprocated the look to them. In fact I would have said something, but I didn't because I'm a few years older and I'm better than those retail princess whores. Who in fact are not all that good looking so they really need to shut their mouths because they don't make much money either. I'm not bending backwards for people like them. Lucky for those girls, they won't be seeing me for a long time. I should go in their store and make a mess for them. It's not like they're that busy in the first place. Whores. Although I was looking pretty smug that I made them walk over outside. Bah hah!

Oh my god, I think I was miserable after that until about 6:15 pm when I finally got to my Christmas party for my other job. I found the party a little awkward. Later on, it didn't feel that way, but it did in the beginning. There's a 19 year old boy who has a crush on me, and I really don't like being around him because he's so obvious. At least if he was normal, or pretended he didn't because he knows I'm not interested then maybe his presence wouldn't piss me off or annoy me. I don't think it helps that everyone else likes to tease me about it. If I were them, I would too. Of course I would. I wouldn't hesitate. Not for a second. On his part, I think I would give up if someone was mean to me or acted like they didn't want to be around me. You can tell. It's like he wants to be ruined and damaged and I'm just not going to be that person. I've had it happen to me. I had it happen to me from someone I loved and trusted who loved me. He's just going to have to find someone else to destroy him. I think guys like being destroyed. So that they can carry this torch of pain from relationship to relationship, using the damaged card to either get laid or get out of things easily. It's weak. Really weak.

To bring the title into this post, part of our Christmas party was to have a comedy show after dinner, dessert and gifts. There was 3 acts and an MC. The first comic from my city did a bit about condoms in public bathrooms. Saying that whenever he goes to a bathroom it never fails for the condoms to say that they are federally approved by the government of Canada. So on his comic travels for shows, one small prairie town bathroom did not have condoms approved by the government. Use them at your own risk kind of thing. He then proceeded to say he wish he bought one. He thought that maybe some plastic wrap and an elastic band would come out.

And then hilarity ensued. The woman behind us whom my coworkers and I were making fun of earlier then said quietly enough so that not the comedian could hear, but just the people within ear shot "it works when you're in a pinch." So the 6 of us bursted out laughing at this. I laughed so hard I cried. If you had seen what this woman looked like. She looked nasty. The whole night she said inappropriate things all night, that lowered herself to nasty older woman. Seriously. If this woman says it works when you're in a pinch, then I believe her. I think I just won't have sex if it comes down to me using plastic wrap and an elastic band. Sorry, but no thanks. I can't imagine wanting it that bad that I have to stoop to homemade modes of contraception. I'm sure she's going to hell. I bet she's even aborted some babies of her own. I'm going to hell for saying that too.

Just because I said it, doesn't mean you have to try it. And if you think I'm going to walk to the back of the room to let you in, when the front door is open, you've got another thing coming.

He Said My Name and I Missed It

I think that says it all. That's how I feel like the whole day, by day I mean my working day went. And then after that it went fab. I looked at bachelor apartment. The only thing stopping me from getting it are my references. Leave it up to George to say previous things like "who wouldn't giving you a glowing review?" So nice. I'm sure it's mine, but I need to wait for the official. Although the manager and owner made it sound like a done deal. Too bad I hadn't learned that lesson the first time, because I would be moving into my dream apartment next Monday, but alas I'm not. Like I said, I missed it and I know that I'll hear another time, but it's that first time that matters most and the whole thing has gone to shite.

I thought I would be complaining more, but my current disposition has left me feeling optimistic despite the lessons I had to learn in the first place. I'm wishing I could go back in time and fix it. My heart hurts. Seriously. Still shedding tears on the should have been. This isn't a metaphor for my life is it? Aim and miss, end up settling, but it all turns out? God I hope not. I'm just sad that there is lack of lighting, the brown carpet and the fact that the room just isn't long enough. I'm sure some imagination, so esthetic eye will make the place 80% better than what it looked like today.

Currently Lucille has one arm over my typing arm and purring like a weirdo. It's pretty darn cute, but seriously odd. It soon will be just me and her and I wonder if the lack of space is going to make her go mental. I don't think so, as long as she has a window sill to sit on and my bed to lay, she'll most likely be fine.

I really just want to go on about my crap working day, but somehow I'm over the damn thing. Which is weird because there are some stupid little things that still enrage me like Chris, that woman complaining about walking across the street and there being no coffee and that fucking bag pipe on Friday afternoon after that horrible experience with a customer and stupid tuna sandwich. Suck it. They can all suck it. Every single one of those people can suck it. Although the bag pipe player does not need to suck it. He blows and he blows real fine. Tee hee.

Don't Forget the Limes (And the Salt)

During the day, usually into the afternoon is the time when I start hating on my present situation. For someone reason I can never see the positives in my life right now, just the negatives. Such as I wish I had a career or made more money. I now only have two single friends left which is making me feel lonely for being single. Not to mention how single I feel when I'm hanging out with a bunch of couples makes me feel like the odd one out. Although, I always think of the the regular essayist of Elle Canada Magazine, and how Tabatha is always single and her friends always set her up with weird people or need someone to fill an empty place setting for a dinner party and it makes me feel normal.

Or the fact that I'm super impatient and can't find any ads that interest me for a place. My heart is still set on the beautiful little apartment that I wasn't even considered for nor probably even glanced at *tear*. And all I want is that apartment and I still get choked up on it because I know I'm not going to find anything quite as nice and quaint as that one. I've seen some reasonable places, but they're all on the other end of the city and I'm so not interested in living that far away from where I already reside. I think I may have to give up on that one. My heart still lingers on its granite counter-tops, cherry hardwood floors, creamy tiles and the French balcony door.

It never fails when I'm hating on myself, that when I go work at the pool hall, I feel loads better about myself. People treat me like a human being- an equal. Maybe if I didn't have to wear a uniform that made me feel frumpy and unattractive, all the stuck up customers would shut their non-verbal judging mouths (at my day job that is). Regardless I have a great time, joke, laugh and just feel great. It's one of the reasons I can't let the place go yet, and I'm not sure when I will leave the place that feels so much like my working home, that I don't know what I would do without it.

Although I don't drink tequila, next time I order it, I can't forget the limes or the salt.