If you are reading this for the title- you are gross.
Like, mega gross.
Like Stop-reading-my-blog-you-fucking-pervert-blog.
Ok, so in my 20's I went through this new phase where I actually became friends with my parents- like suddenly they were no longer only on this earth to yield to my every whim and were actual people who had thought and feelings that went outside the realm of me. It took some getting used to, thats for sure, but overall they became my best friends (stop barfing) and things changed.
Casual swearing became acceptable, as did frank shit talking, but in the midst of all these new developments, one thing remained the same- I still just cannot watch movies that have sex scenes in them with my parents comfortably.
ever.
Even the insinuation of sex makes me pretty uncomfortable around them.
This is not uncommon right? I mean most people i speak to share this inability to watch 2 people going at it while sitting on the couch sharing popcorn with mom and dad- because it is weird.
but why? obviously I am not the one having the sex, and we all know about sex at this point- right?
Anyways- one of life's mysteries to ponder over your weekend.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Yum Tum in my Tum
So this morning I realized that it is October this week. Dear time, please slow down- I am so incredibly overwhelmed in the best way possible by the constant passing of minutes, days weeks, months...eeeeeeeeeeee.
So people, what you should be doing today is getting your grubby hands on a ticket to the Toronto Underground Food Festival- because I went on Saturday night and had Super.Food.Orgasm.
Here’s the lowdown, This past Saturday was the first of hopefully many events to come. You pay 5 bucks at the door (but you MUST pre-order tickets as they sell out fast) and then are treated to a bevy of booths boasting foods that will blow your mind. The foods themselves are about 2-5 dollars per plate and there were 4 custom craft breweries and 1 Vineyard represented- I can only imagine the roster will grow with the event itself.
The event is at the Brickworks- Holy crap have I rekindled my love for that spot- the other weekend I did that mega hike over to it and wandered around it a bit and then got to be there Saturday night. It is a seriously cool venue- there are so many relics and preserved areas of the grounds.
Anyways- let’s get to the food because you should all know what I ate.
So, we began with a trio of vegetarian rice- one was a spicy eggplant, one was a lemon lime rice and one was a coriander rice. To say this was the highlight of the night would be untrue but it was ok- maybe took a spot that pork could have filled but cest la vie.
Next we got into an inordinately long line for what promised to be grilled cheese. When we finally got to the counter, it turned out that you could get some kind of sandwich, a tamale and a ticket for a grilled cheese which you had to stand in another long line for. We got all 3 and took our food to the next line to wait and eat.
Sandwich- pulled meat with coleslaw on a Portuguese pastry bun. This was fucking good.
Tamale- made with chocolate- tasted like Chalva. Don’t know what Chalva is? Consider yourself lucky.
In the middle of our line we ran into friends who were also at the event and they were kind enough to bring us Chorizo tacos in line. Hel-a-good.
The Grilled cheese was a Cornbread grilled cheese with ample cheddar smothered in guac, sour cream and cilantro- this dish received mixed reviews among my friends- some of whom really didn’t enjoy- I thought it was amazeballs.the sweet bread with the tangy cheese and the toppings- a full mouth experience.
Next up was the dumplings. Like a dim sum esque dumpling stuffed with bacon and an egg- American fusion maybe- dare I make that assertion?
I know this is going to sound stupid but the yolk was like heaven- I think cooking an egg is an art form- to make the yolk of perfect consistency is a big deal- too runny is gross, too cooked missed the mark but a perfect egg is like yellow delish. This yolk had some texture but also ran into your mouth and contrasted with the bacon (um, always there should be bacon in shit) and the fried dumpling- So good.
THEN, we had a pork belly sandwich called the Auld Spot- pork anything is fine by me any time, any day.
At that point, despite encouraging from my co-eater, I had to tap out- I literally looked pregnant and my belly was a firm solid. But, by that time there were no lines and the venue had cleared substantially- although some fares were sold out at this point, we both noted that if we came again (which I would have loved to in 2011 but alas the next 2 dates- October 22 and November 19th are already occupied for me)we would come later.
So run, don’t walk tot he following website http://yumtum.ca/ and get your tickets before they sell out- your tastebuds will thank you- for reals.
So people, what you should be doing today is getting your grubby hands on a ticket to the Toronto Underground Food Festival- because I went on Saturday night and had Super.Food.Orgasm.
Here’s the lowdown, This past Saturday was the first of hopefully many events to come. You pay 5 bucks at the door (but you MUST pre-order tickets as they sell out fast) and then are treated to a bevy of booths boasting foods that will blow your mind. The foods themselves are about 2-5 dollars per plate and there were 4 custom craft breweries and 1 Vineyard represented- I can only imagine the roster will grow with the event itself.
The event is at the Brickworks- Holy crap have I rekindled my love for that spot- the other weekend I did that mega hike over to it and wandered around it a bit and then got to be there Saturday night. It is a seriously cool venue- there are so many relics and preserved areas of the grounds.
Anyways- let’s get to the food because you should all know what I ate.
So, we began with a trio of vegetarian rice- one was a spicy eggplant, one was a lemon lime rice and one was a coriander rice. To say this was the highlight of the night would be untrue but it was ok- maybe took a spot that pork could have filled but cest la vie.
Next we got into an inordinately long line for what promised to be grilled cheese. When we finally got to the counter, it turned out that you could get some kind of sandwich, a tamale and a ticket for a grilled cheese which you had to stand in another long line for. We got all 3 and took our food to the next line to wait and eat.
Sandwich- pulled meat with coleslaw on a Portuguese pastry bun. This was fucking good.
Tamale- made with chocolate- tasted like Chalva. Don’t know what Chalva is? Consider yourself lucky.
In the middle of our line we ran into friends who were also at the event and they were kind enough to bring us Chorizo tacos in line. Hel-a-good.
The Grilled cheese was a Cornbread grilled cheese with ample cheddar smothered in guac, sour cream and cilantro- this dish received mixed reviews among my friends- some of whom really didn’t enjoy- I thought it was amazeballs.the sweet bread with the tangy cheese and the toppings- a full mouth experience.
Next up was the dumplings. Like a dim sum esque dumpling stuffed with bacon and an egg- American fusion maybe- dare I make that assertion?
I know this is going to sound stupid but the yolk was like heaven- I think cooking an egg is an art form- to make the yolk of perfect consistency is a big deal- too runny is gross, too cooked missed the mark but a perfect egg is like yellow delish. This yolk had some texture but also ran into your mouth and contrasted with the bacon (um, always there should be bacon in shit) and the fried dumpling- So good.
THEN, we had a pork belly sandwich called the Auld Spot- pork anything is fine by me any time, any day.
At that point, despite encouraging from my co-eater, I had to tap out- I literally looked pregnant and my belly was a firm solid. But, by that time there were no lines and the venue had cleared substantially- although some fares were sold out at this point, we both noted that if we came again (which I would have loved to in 2011 but alas the next 2 dates- October 22 and November 19th are already occupied for me)we would come later.
So run, don’t walk tot he following website http://yumtum.ca/ and get your tickets before they sell out- your tastebuds will thank you- for reals.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Quick Question
I wonder how many people have gotten into crazy car accidents because they found a spider crawling on the inside of their car.
This is what I was thinking last night as I drove home in the dark along Mt. Pleasant with a spider crawling right over my head in my car.
I am totally not scared of spiders. Sure, if there was a tarantula lying in my bed, I may feel differently but for the most part- unless they are huge and black and ooze green when you crunch them to death- the regular house spider doesn't faze me.
Maybe it was Charlotte's web all those years back that created this soft spot for them- but I always feel like they are my creepy crawly helping friends and my "need" to kill them is solely dependant on the lack of any other options.
But, nonetheless, there is just something unsavory about having them in your car- and especially on your roof- they could just drop into your hair, your shirt- ug that is such a gross idea- I am now itchy- must pause.
Ok, back. Anyways- so even if you, like me, are not terrified by spiders, how can you not watch where they crawl to in your car- and if you are watching the spider, you sure are not watching the road- right?
When I saw the little dude last night my initial reaction was to pull over- except that I was driving on the farthest lane from the side- did I even think to look and see that I would not be merging into other cars? Oh no- I just went for it not taking my eyes of Spidey for a second- i killed him with a CD case (thank god i still keep old technology handy) and went about my merry way when I realized how reckless i had just been.
So, if this was my reaction and I don't hate spiders, I can only imagine the panic of someone who does. Hands off the wheel, cursing up a storm and shrieking like a manic panic-mode.
Solution: Spiders, stay the fuck out of the car- you don't even have a license.
This is what I was thinking last night as I drove home in the dark along Mt. Pleasant with a spider crawling right over my head in my car.
I am totally not scared of spiders. Sure, if there was a tarantula lying in my bed, I may feel differently but for the most part- unless they are huge and black and ooze green when you crunch them to death- the regular house spider doesn't faze me.
Maybe it was Charlotte's web all those years back that created this soft spot for them- but I always feel like they are my creepy crawly helping friends and my "need" to kill them is solely dependant on the lack of any other options.
But, nonetheless, there is just something unsavory about having them in your car- and especially on your roof- they could just drop into your hair, your shirt- ug that is such a gross idea- I am now itchy- must pause.
Ok, back. Anyways- so even if you, like me, are not terrified by spiders, how can you not watch where they crawl to in your car- and if you are watching the spider, you sure are not watching the road- right?
When I saw the little dude last night my initial reaction was to pull over- except that I was driving on the farthest lane from the side- did I even think to look and see that I would not be merging into other cars? Oh no- I just went for it not taking my eyes of Spidey for a second- i killed him with a CD case (thank god i still keep old technology handy) and went about my merry way when I realized how reckless i had just been.
So, if this was my reaction and I don't hate spiders, I can only imagine the panic of someone who does. Hands off the wheel, cursing up a storm and shrieking like a manic panic-mode.
Solution: Spiders, stay the fuck out of the car- you don't even have a license.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Oink oink my fellow riders.
So, as my fiancé noted this morning as we rode the rocket together (like, the subway- did that sound sexual to anyone else?) I write a lot about the subway. The truth is that the subway emphasizes the most horrible qualities in people so it would be negligent for me to overlook what awful things said people do.
But the true climax of the experience can be found at Bloor Station. I will forget the most certainly fake blond in cheap wannabe leather who shoved her way into me at St. Clair station, I will ignore my total embarrassment for the short and angry dude at the same station who bellowed out that he needed to get off the car as the doors were opening (that is why subways stop, stupid) and pay no notice to the guy who spent the whole 10 minute ride giving me dirty looks after my vocal fiance asked him to move in a bit more to accommodate all the people throwing elbows into my back (sigh- my hero) and I will focus instead on why we should all, collectively be ashamed of ourselves.
Dear people,
If you have been to Bloor station in rush hour, then you know the drill- half or more of every single person on every single car gets off here and for everyone that disembarks, there is someone waiting to get on and continue south. so the doors open, people rush like mad cattle off the train, the people who are waiting to get on often begin the shoving too and if you touch only 10 people in this whole charade, you are a lucky one.
All the while a voice on the intercom tells you to wait for people to get off the car before loading on, to wait for the next car which is seconds away instead of swarming the one present, to follow some kind of line procedure as to not concuss your fellow man, and to walk one way on one side and the other way on the other side so that you don't have to smash your body into everyone else in the entire station.
Um, who else is totally embarrassed that despite the fact that;
a. we are all, for the most part, professional adults in the station during this time and we should be able to maneuver around one another in some kind of respectable manner without the guidance of an intercom
b. there is a fucking intercom and we still can't get it right
c. there are even policemen and guards around and we STILL can't get it right.... oh and don't even get me started on these police man guard people- why are you even there? Do you actually do anything besides talk to the guard next to you???? Thats.not.helping.
SO.BAD.
Everyday without fail people behave like monsters and without fail manage to subsequently make the whole process longer by inserting their stupidity.
People, what is the matter here?
Is there not some way we can manage to all get off and on the subway without elbowing my boobs? Call it selfish but just don't want to be trampled anymore.
Yours Truly,
Jane.
PS. If you were on the subway at around 8:20 this morning and thought it would be cute to do all the above mentioned atrocities, a special fuck you to you my friends.
But the true climax of the experience can be found at Bloor Station. I will forget the most certainly fake blond in cheap wannabe leather who shoved her way into me at St. Clair station, I will ignore my total embarrassment for the short and angry dude at the same station who bellowed out that he needed to get off the car as the doors were opening (that is why subways stop, stupid) and pay no notice to the guy who spent the whole 10 minute ride giving me dirty looks after my vocal fiance asked him to move in a bit more to accommodate all the people throwing elbows into my back (sigh- my hero) and I will focus instead on why we should all, collectively be ashamed of ourselves.
Dear people,
If you have been to Bloor station in rush hour, then you know the drill- half or more of every single person on every single car gets off here and for everyone that disembarks, there is someone waiting to get on and continue south. so the doors open, people rush like mad cattle off the train, the people who are waiting to get on often begin the shoving too and if you touch only 10 people in this whole charade, you are a lucky one.
All the while a voice on the intercom tells you to wait for people to get off the car before loading on, to wait for the next car which is seconds away instead of swarming the one present, to follow some kind of line procedure as to not concuss your fellow man, and to walk one way on one side and the other way on the other side so that you don't have to smash your body into everyone else in the entire station.
Um, who else is totally embarrassed that despite the fact that;
a. we are all, for the most part, professional adults in the station during this time and we should be able to maneuver around one another in some kind of respectable manner without the guidance of an intercom
b. there is a fucking intercom and we still can't get it right
c. there are even policemen and guards around and we STILL can't get it right.... oh and don't even get me started on these police man guard people- why are you even there? Do you actually do anything besides talk to the guard next to you???? Thats.not.helping.
SO.BAD.
Everyday without fail people behave like monsters and without fail manage to subsequently make the whole process longer by inserting their stupidity.
People, what is the matter here?
Is there not some way we can manage to all get off and on the subway without elbowing my boobs? Call it selfish but just don't want to be trampled anymore.
Yours Truly,
Jane.
PS. If you were on the subway at around 8:20 this morning and thought it would be cute to do all the above mentioned atrocities, a special fuck you to you my friends.
Sorry about your penis.
So, is it just me or is anyone else totally put off by the fact that today is September 20th????
- I don't think I am ok with that. Dear Time, Please slow down- yours Truly, me.
I have offish busted out the boots, the hats, even the decorative scarves and packed away all my summer gear (although, not too far as I will need it for my month long vaca- what what).
Anyways- point I am getting at is that fall is here. Just in case you are seasonally challenged.
So donned in full jacket, boots and warm accessories, I spent a most wonderful long weekend on the town.
Thursday night one of my oldest friends got married so my fiance and I took Friday off both so that we could enjoy the night and so we could tackle a bunch of wedding stuff that needed to get done.
So, one thing we needed was our marriage license so we had to head tot he most romantic place in the universe- the government offices. There we were greeted with a waiting room full of people either signing up for a wedding or to change their birth certificate- the ultimate setting for romance.
Some lady decked out as a clown- at least, i think she was trying to look like a clown...possible that she just actually looked like that- unfortunate, but possible.... anyways- some lady got all our stuff together and just like that we have a license to wed- it is a pretty crazy idea if you think about it- if we had but 3 other signatures on that paper, we would be husband and wife- it is merely pen ink separating us from matrimony...
Anyways, after our ultra romantical jaunt we had an appetite (for love- just kidding) so we meandered over to the Eaton Center to check out the much anticipated new food court.
So here's the deal. It's a food court, but a mega awesome one. Some highlights in food include, Big House Smoke Burger, Liberty Noodle (nomnomnom), Urban Herbivoire, Amaya and Aroma. There were so many nice healthy options.
Too bad there were not so many nice healthy people to go with it. Zoom in on the McDonalds lineup as it swirls around the entire circumference of the room as if there isn't another McDonalds on the top floor of the mall and 2 blocks away respectively. I promise that the Big Macs taste the same on every floor.
Zoom in on the fatty bombatty sitting beside the salad bar stuffing her face with KFC. Really? KFC- a whole bucket to yourself? Would you like a side of bacon with that? Some lard dipping sauce?
Obviously I darted straight over to the Urban Herbivore (I realize how off this will sound but they have the best Tempeh). Here's the thing- I just don't believe that if you are lining up to eat at a vegan friendly salad bar, that you should be a total dick face. Again, the food court proved me wrong because I got yelled at by a grown man who claimed he was in front of me in line- I mean, sure, when you step in front of someone in their line you are technically in front of them, so he wasn't wrong per say- but he was also totally wrong.
So anyways, I can only say that Eaton Center is a total gong show. I don't dare set foot in there again soon for fear of sanity lost.
So I was going to post a whole other blog, but while I am on the topic of douchebag men, please let me fast forward to Sunday. Sunday was spent hiking down to the Brickworks with one of my very best friends. Me and her love going for walks together in our neighbourhood as we always seem to have several hours of things to discuss so suggesting this hike seemed like a great idea- it was. This is a seriously nice hike- highly recommended.
Anyways- to get there, and back, you can go through my most favorite of waling paths, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery. `So we are in the cemetery and whilst it is a walking path enjoyed by many, and whilst there were an abundance of loud children on bikes anyways, I tend to try and keep my voice low as to be somewhat considerate of the sanctity of the dead.
So the Cemetery is comprised of roads that you can walk down and although they are true roads with 2 lanes I don't know that the "rules of the road" really apply- so when we found ourselves walking on the wrong side with a bicyclist about 2 minutes away, we figured that, like a normal person, he would just go right around us since the whole rest of the road was void of cars.
But no. Alas he instead chose to verbally harass us as he flew by almost nailing us right onto the lawn- and not to worry stupid dick, not like that lawn is sacred or anything- who shouldn't have to jump on the burial site of Sir Thomas to avoid you?
I watched this South Park episode recently that was about the correlation of small penises to anger. All I can conclude with is that this guy and the food court guy were mighty angry. Just Saying.
- I don't think I am ok with that. Dear Time, Please slow down- yours Truly, me.
I have offish busted out the boots, the hats, even the decorative scarves and packed away all my summer gear (although, not too far as I will need it for my month long vaca- what what).
Anyways- point I am getting at is that fall is here. Just in case you are seasonally challenged.
So donned in full jacket, boots and warm accessories, I spent a most wonderful long weekend on the town.
Thursday night one of my oldest friends got married so my fiance and I took Friday off both so that we could enjoy the night and so we could tackle a bunch of wedding stuff that needed to get done.
So, one thing we needed was our marriage license so we had to head tot he most romantic place in the universe- the government offices. There we were greeted with a waiting room full of people either signing up for a wedding or to change their birth certificate- the ultimate setting for romance.
Some lady decked out as a clown- at least, i think she was trying to look like a clown...possible that she just actually looked like that- unfortunate, but possible.... anyways- some lady got all our stuff together and just like that we have a license to wed- it is a pretty crazy idea if you think about it- if we had but 3 other signatures on that paper, we would be husband and wife- it is merely pen ink separating us from matrimony...
Anyways, after our ultra romantical jaunt we had an appetite (for love- just kidding) so we meandered over to the Eaton Center to check out the much anticipated new food court.
So here's the deal. It's a food court, but a mega awesome one. Some highlights in food include, Big House Smoke Burger, Liberty Noodle (nomnomnom), Urban Herbivoire, Amaya and Aroma. There were so many nice healthy options.
Too bad there were not so many nice healthy people to go with it. Zoom in on the McDonalds lineup as it swirls around the entire circumference of the room as if there isn't another McDonalds on the top floor of the mall and 2 blocks away respectively. I promise that the Big Macs taste the same on every floor.
Zoom in on the fatty bombatty sitting beside the salad bar stuffing her face with KFC. Really? KFC- a whole bucket to yourself? Would you like a side of bacon with that? Some lard dipping sauce?
Obviously I darted straight over to the Urban Herbivore (I realize how off this will sound but they have the best Tempeh). Here's the thing- I just don't believe that if you are lining up to eat at a vegan friendly salad bar, that you should be a total dick face. Again, the food court proved me wrong because I got yelled at by a grown man who claimed he was in front of me in line- I mean, sure, when you step in front of someone in their line you are technically in front of them, so he wasn't wrong per say- but he was also totally wrong.
So anyways, I can only say that Eaton Center is a total gong show. I don't dare set foot in there again soon for fear of sanity lost.
So I was going to post a whole other blog, but while I am on the topic of douchebag men, please let me fast forward to Sunday. Sunday was spent hiking down to the Brickworks with one of my very best friends. Me and her love going for walks together in our neighbourhood as we always seem to have several hours of things to discuss so suggesting this hike seemed like a great idea- it was. This is a seriously nice hike- highly recommended.
Anyways- to get there, and back, you can go through my most favorite of waling paths, the Mount Pleasant Cemetery. `So we are in the cemetery and whilst it is a walking path enjoyed by many, and whilst there were an abundance of loud children on bikes anyways, I tend to try and keep my voice low as to be somewhat considerate of the sanctity of the dead.
So the Cemetery is comprised of roads that you can walk down and although they are true roads with 2 lanes I don't know that the "rules of the road" really apply- so when we found ourselves walking on the wrong side with a bicyclist about 2 minutes away, we figured that, like a normal person, he would just go right around us since the whole rest of the road was void of cars.
But no. Alas he instead chose to verbally harass us as he flew by almost nailing us right onto the lawn- and not to worry stupid dick, not like that lawn is sacred or anything- who shouldn't have to jump on the burial site of Sir Thomas to avoid you?
I watched this South Park episode recently that was about the correlation of small penises to anger. All I can conclude with is that this guy and the food court guy were mighty angry. Just Saying.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Thoughts for today.
If I am allergic to Strawberries am I also allergic to strawberry flavored filling?
I wish I could wear crop tops more often
I laughed really hard at the girl in my gym class who mouthed the words and made gestures to every single rap song that was played as she pumped iron (oh, and she is white)- then I realized i was also gesturing- do you think this means we should be friends?
I had a really crap few days and love the friends who have been my pillars- friends make you rich, in people, which, if you were trading in the black market would make you actually rich.
I am venturing out to play dodgeball tomorrow- in the event that I break my hands (even though they said we are only using a nerf ball) here is how it went- I came, I saw, I played, I got out. My fiance has assured me that dodgeball is a game where you are only as good as your best player, not as bad as your worst. That's reassuring.
Happy hump day.
I wish I could wear crop tops more often
I laughed really hard at the girl in my gym class who mouthed the words and made gestures to every single rap song that was played as she pumped iron (oh, and she is white)- then I realized i was also gesturing- do you think this means we should be friends?
I had a really crap few days and love the friends who have been my pillars- friends make you rich, in people, which, if you were trading in the black market would make you actually rich.
I am venturing out to play dodgeball tomorrow- in the event that I break my hands (even though they said we are only using a nerf ball) here is how it went- I came, I saw, I played, I got out. My fiance has assured me that dodgeball is a game where you are only as good as your best player, not as bad as your worst. That's reassuring.
Happy hump day.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I waste so much time
My hilarious sister sent me a hilarious page this morning- Please love:
iwastesomuchtime.com
If you don't laugh out loud, you have a bad sense of humor.
iwastesomuchtime.com
If you don't laugh out loud, you have a bad sense of humor.
Monday, September 12, 2011
A violation of the code.
So what you may already know about me is that I really hate centipedes. I found this out when I found them in my home and watched them scuttle across rooms at the speed of light with their ridiculous 400000 legs- not an accurate amount of legs but still.
So this summer I made a deal with myself to buck up and grow a pair- I mean, not literally obviously, because that would be gross, but I swore I would not hire another exterminator in 2011. I stuck to my guns.
I also felt that I had made a silent pact with the Centipedes in my house- I will not kill you in a mass genocide, you will stay out of my sight. We can live together in the same house without interacting- after all, I don't care much for small dark corners in closets so I thought it was a great arrangement.
That was until I met the super-centipedes and now I feel more terrified than ever and saddened to learn that my cherished Centi-pact is null and void. Now I have to start killing you all again (read: getting my fiance to kill you).
I have seen 3 this summer prior to last night. 2 in the sink- i killed them by drowning- and by accident really. And 1 on a wall that I just left alone to go back to wherever it was hiding and not return. My.Bad.
So last night I got home super late and was trying hard to wait up for my fiance who had been delayed on the flight home from his Stag trip- because, oh ya, we are totally getting married soon- so I am sitting up in bed, watching some TMZ when out of the corner of my eye I see a really fucking big Centi running across my windowsill. I remained calm, breather deep until the little bugger leapt off the sill- this thing seriously jumped off the sill onto my bedroom floor.
Are.You.Shitting.Me?????????????????????????????????????
Do they pump iron in their spare time too? How can they jump? How is that possible?
And, of course, where did he run to once he landed??????? Under my bed- and then I barfed (I didn't barf really).
This is so not ok. Around my bed was WAY off limits to my Centi co- habitants. Truce is over bitches and just like last summer, I will attack you with bleach and shoes and I will be ruthless.
Super Centi or not- I am about to go apeshit on your leggy little bodies.
Be warned. It is on.
So this summer I made a deal with myself to buck up and grow a pair- I mean, not literally obviously, because that would be gross, but I swore I would not hire another exterminator in 2011. I stuck to my guns.
I also felt that I had made a silent pact with the Centipedes in my house- I will not kill you in a mass genocide, you will stay out of my sight. We can live together in the same house without interacting- after all, I don't care much for small dark corners in closets so I thought it was a great arrangement.
That was until I met the super-centipedes and now I feel more terrified than ever and saddened to learn that my cherished Centi-pact is null and void. Now I have to start killing you all again (read: getting my fiance to kill you).
I have seen 3 this summer prior to last night. 2 in the sink- i killed them by drowning- and by accident really. And 1 on a wall that I just left alone to go back to wherever it was hiding and not return. My.Bad.
So last night I got home super late and was trying hard to wait up for my fiance who had been delayed on the flight home from his Stag trip- because, oh ya, we are totally getting married soon- so I am sitting up in bed, watching some TMZ when out of the corner of my eye I see a really fucking big Centi running across my windowsill. I remained calm, breather deep until the little bugger leapt off the sill- this thing seriously jumped off the sill onto my bedroom floor.
Are.You.Shitting.Me?????????????????????????????????????
Do they pump iron in their spare time too? How can they jump? How is that possible?
And, of course, where did he run to once he landed??????? Under my bed- and then I barfed (I didn't barf really).
This is so not ok. Around my bed was WAY off limits to my Centi co- habitants. Truce is over bitches and just like last summer, I will attack you with bleach and shoes and I will be ruthless.
Super Centi or not- I am about to go apeshit on your leggy little bodies.
Be warned. It is on.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Beauty Queen
Something awesome about my face is that without warning, and without reason I will sporadically break into hives.
Have you ever had a hive? They are the pits. An allergic reaction of sorts, they are small white welts that form, grow and become surrounded by redness- oh, and they are super itchy too and the more you scratch them, the bigger they get- oh, and if that were not enough, they usually dissipate and leave a small whitehead in their place. Fantastic.
And so, although I am actually not allergic to much, I seem to develop hives on the regular- for what reason? unknown. Maybe to make me feel like a super freak walking around with white welts all over my face while I itch ferociously in public all day long.
Dear hives, must you appear on the day where my unwashed hair looks like a matted hot mess- and by hot mess I mean not hot at all, where I went to the gym and they had no air conditioning so that my face is still beet red from the heat and I decided to wear no makeup? I needed that boost of beauty so thanks for that.
The End.
Have you ever had a hive? They are the pits. An allergic reaction of sorts, they are small white welts that form, grow and become surrounded by redness- oh, and they are super itchy too and the more you scratch them, the bigger they get- oh, and if that were not enough, they usually dissipate and leave a small whitehead in their place. Fantastic.
And so, although I am actually not allergic to much, I seem to develop hives on the regular- for what reason? unknown. Maybe to make me feel like a super freak walking around with white welts all over my face while I itch ferociously in public all day long.
Dear hives, must you appear on the day where my unwashed hair looks like a matted hot mess- and by hot mess I mean not hot at all, where I went to the gym and they had no air conditioning so that my face is still beet red from the heat and I decided to wear no makeup? I needed that boost of beauty so thanks for that.
The End.
Vote me instead.
So every morning as I walk to the subway and get tot the doors, I am greeted by 2 familiar faces- the people who hand out those daily newspapers like Metro
Anywho, they stand by the doors of the station and happily pass out papers to anyone who wants one (and although I enjoy those papers, I never accept because I would just hate to be the douchebag who opens up a newspaper on a full car of people crammed up against each other- seriously, if you do that, you deserve to fall into a sweaty mans armpit). For the most part, these people get ignored- I like to say a polite "no thank you" just to acknowledge them so that they don't feel like invisible losers- although they are usually quite happy and cheerful despite having people walk by them.
So, this morning a bit further than where the Metro people stand there were 4 other people who began harassing you the second you got close to them- a good 20 steps from the subway station doors. They were campaigning for come woman (which is a testament to how hard I was listening to what they said- some woman) from the PC party who was standing off to the side greeting us as we ran into the station politely or not so politely avoiding eye contact with her solicitors.
Um, what kind of shenanigans is that? I don't even understand what that is all about. Is that an actual campaign method?
Let me just sort this out in my head for a second. Someone actually thought it would be a good idea to try and introduce a political candidate to people who are rushing to work on a Friday morning (or any morning for that matter)? Why don't they just have this lady knock at each of our doors early morning on Monday and blow trumpets in our ears and throw confetti in our faces?
Who appreciates this?
And moreover, who took the time to actually "meet" this woman and not have her shouting her name after you with a painfully fake smile as you whoosh past her hoping t catch the super subway? I wonder how many connections she felt she had made by mornings end. What a weird ass time to try and meet the people? In human rush hour.
Whoever you are, lady who is running for the PC vote, your campaign managers should be shot.
Anywho, they stand by the doors of the station and happily pass out papers to anyone who wants one (and although I enjoy those papers, I never accept because I would just hate to be the douchebag who opens up a newspaper on a full car of people crammed up against each other- seriously, if you do that, you deserve to fall into a sweaty mans armpit). For the most part, these people get ignored- I like to say a polite "no thank you" just to acknowledge them so that they don't feel like invisible losers- although they are usually quite happy and cheerful despite having people walk by them.
So, this morning a bit further than where the Metro people stand there were 4 other people who began harassing you the second you got close to them- a good 20 steps from the subway station doors. They were campaigning for come woman (which is a testament to how hard I was listening to what they said- some woman) from the PC party who was standing off to the side greeting us as we ran into the station politely or not so politely avoiding eye contact with her solicitors.
Um, what kind of shenanigans is that? I don't even understand what that is all about. Is that an actual campaign method?
Let me just sort this out in my head for a second. Someone actually thought it would be a good idea to try and introduce a political candidate to people who are rushing to work on a Friday morning (or any morning for that matter)? Why don't they just have this lady knock at each of our doors early morning on Monday and blow trumpets in our ears and throw confetti in our faces?
Who appreciates this?
And moreover, who took the time to actually "meet" this woman and not have her shouting her name after you with a painfully fake smile as you whoosh past her hoping t catch the super subway? I wonder how many connections she felt she had made by mornings end. What a weird ass time to try and meet the people? In human rush hour.
Whoever you are, lady who is running for the PC vote, your campaign managers should be shot.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Where have all the good people gone?
Last night I went to dinner with my grandfather and family. My grandfather is the cutest man alive- seriously, so amazing.
The thing about a Jewish grandfather is that their restaurant choices are surprisingly limited to only restaurants that are extremely busy and full of other like- older people who flock in hoards for their 2 seatings of 5:30 and 6:30 respectively. Of course, everyone is old and loud and pushy and has brought with them all of their old friends and family plus all of their young family too- so it was not to our surprise that when asked where he would like to eat- my grandfather chose the ever popular Mi-Vah-Mi in Thornhill.
Some background- Mi-Vah-Mi is a Middle Eastern restaurant specializing in huge portions and fast service. So if you ask for a modest order of a vegetable skewer, you can expect a huge bowl of salad with a skewer the size of an arm with a ginormous helping of side dish- they are readily available with take our containers as many of their patrons enjoy both a dinner and tomorrows lunch all at the same time.
Anywho- we got to the place at 6:00 and as expected, it was jammed to the tits with everyone and their grandparents. Amongst the shoving and horking into napkins that get tucked into sleeves you must forage through the crowds to put your name down with a young girl who looks borderline suicidal at the thought of one more fucking person in the line that is long out the door. We do and then squeeze back into the abyss of the crowd and begin to wait.
And this brings me to the highlight of my evening.
Dear you Phillip Seymore Hoffman lookalike motherfucker,
Having spent the past 20 something years dining at various establishments just like Mi-Vah-Mi, I have witnessed my fair share of pompous idiot people who do really fucking annoying stupid things. You take the absolute cake. I have never been so personally offended by another person in my whole life. And if it wasn't enough that you made me sick to my stomach- even the suicidal hostess who, I am sure, has seen the absolute ugliest of people come through her restaurant- said you were the worst she has EVER seen. So congrads on that sir. You should feel very proud of yourself.
I immediately hated you when we first encountered one another. Your bratty ass child was tugging on your shirt as we walked in to put down our names and you were obnoxiously telling her to "stop pulling on daddy's expensive top" thanks for letting the entire restaurant know how "expensive" your top was. I was happy to share in that knowledge. (ps. sorry that your "expensive" top was a zip up sports shirt- you must be a classy sort)
Then you left the restaurant with your kids- maybe because they were so incredibly obnoxious and needed a "time out" and returned shortly sans children- your VERY bland and blond wife asked you where the kids were and your answer was- "I locked them in the car"- "what"??? said your wife "ya, I locked them in the car" you replied. "um, you can't lock your 7 and 8 year old kids alone in a parking lot in a car" she said to you as you raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Shocking, I know loser. Do you let them babysit each other too? What a good parent you are sir. Your mom would be proud.
And she would be all the more proud of you for shoving by me, my fiancé and my elderly grandfather on your way to go spend 20 minutes harassing the hostess. Not to worry you piece of shit, I didn't need those toes.
Asking the poor girl every single time she passes by you if you are next to sit down doesn't make you next to sit down. Of course, this guy for sure thought he was THE MOST important person in the restaurant, nay, the world as he pointed to the same empty table about 6 times asking if they could sit at it while she patiently reminded him that it was for a reservation. res-er-va-tion- a hard concept, I know.
He then proceeded to get his whole families order in line shouting over the crowd that he wanted a breaded chicken cutlet. Um, with all due respect (that's a lie), you are fucking fat sir. A little salad wouldn't kill you. But again, happy to share in his families order. I would not have felt totally satisfied with my dining experience without knowing what they were ordering.
All the while his 2 kids are hanging off the bar with their grubby hands and putting their faces all over everything. How many times must someone come over and tell you that they cant do that before you stop them? Apparently, about 6. You have to just kind of feel bad for kids like this. I mean, how could they possibly be normal and well- mannered when they have been raised by a total pig?
It was a pleasure to wait another 10 minutes and let them sit before us. My fiance, ever kind and totally about to loose it on this dude, told the hostess to just give them our table that we had been waiting 45 minutes for just to get them the fuck out of the way. I think everyone in line was grateful.
Notwithstanding the fact hat he was seemingly so desperate to sit- he first had to know who his waiter was- presumably so he could adequately prepare to harass him too.
All I can say is poor waiter. I felt his pain.
Although the man promised to have a "very quick meal" while trying to finagle a table from the hostess, they managed to sit for well over an hour right behind us leaving me to block out his horrible voice from my ears.
Now, when you want to take something home for free- you should be sure not to fucking eat it first. But again, you probably need some kind of basic human intelligence to think about that so no surprise that he called the manager over at the end of his meal- right in front of my table, obvi, to complain. His complaint- he finished his gravy- wanted second fried chicken piece to go- but wanted more gravy for free in his to-go bag. I'm pretty sure the manager just wanted him out so she aquiessed and I'm sure he thought his comment about how he spent a good amount on the bill made it happen- um, pretty sure the most expensive entree is 19 dollars- big spender.
The whole experience was equally hilarious and annoying and just reminded me of several dorks I went to high school with that likely didn't get laid until they got married, made enough money to afford a average house in Thornhill, bought a big screen TV and Lazyboy and a cheap but still environmentally offensive SUV and now think they are ballers because their very average blond wives rides them every other week.
I salute you sir on taking the cake, and fried chicken, as the worst person I have encountered ever. CAn't wait to meet your kids in 20 years.
The thing about a Jewish grandfather is that their restaurant choices are surprisingly limited to only restaurants that are extremely busy and full of other like- older people who flock in hoards for their 2 seatings of 5:30 and 6:30 respectively. Of course, everyone is old and loud and pushy and has brought with them all of their old friends and family plus all of their young family too- so it was not to our surprise that when asked where he would like to eat- my grandfather chose the ever popular Mi-Vah-Mi in Thornhill.
Some background- Mi-Vah-Mi is a Middle Eastern restaurant specializing in huge portions and fast service. So if you ask for a modest order of a vegetable skewer, you can expect a huge bowl of salad with a skewer the size of an arm with a ginormous helping of side dish- they are readily available with take our containers as many of their patrons enjoy both a dinner and tomorrows lunch all at the same time.
Anywho- we got to the place at 6:00 and as expected, it was jammed to the tits with everyone and their grandparents. Amongst the shoving and horking into napkins that get tucked into sleeves you must forage through the crowds to put your name down with a young girl who looks borderline suicidal at the thought of one more fucking person in the line that is long out the door. We do and then squeeze back into the abyss of the crowd and begin to wait.
And this brings me to the highlight of my evening.
Dear you Phillip Seymore Hoffman lookalike motherfucker,
Having spent the past 20 something years dining at various establishments just like Mi-Vah-Mi, I have witnessed my fair share of pompous idiot people who do really fucking annoying stupid things. You take the absolute cake. I have never been so personally offended by another person in my whole life. And if it wasn't enough that you made me sick to my stomach- even the suicidal hostess who, I am sure, has seen the absolute ugliest of people come through her restaurant- said you were the worst she has EVER seen. So congrads on that sir. You should feel very proud of yourself.
I immediately hated you when we first encountered one another. Your bratty ass child was tugging on your shirt as we walked in to put down our names and you were obnoxiously telling her to "stop pulling on daddy's expensive top" thanks for letting the entire restaurant know how "expensive" your top was. I was happy to share in that knowledge. (ps. sorry that your "expensive" top was a zip up sports shirt- you must be a classy sort)
Then you left the restaurant with your kids- maybe because they were so incredibly obnoxious and needed a "time out" and returned shortly sans children- your VERY bland and blond wife asked you where the kids were and your answer was- "I locked them in the car"- "what"??? said your wife "ya, I locked them in the car" you replied. "um, you can't lock your 7 and 8 year old kids alone in a parking lot in a car" she said to you as you raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Shocking, I know loser. Do you let them babysit each other too? What a good parent you are sir. Your mom would be proud.
And she would be all the more proud of you for shoving by me, my fiancé and my elderly grandfather on your way to go spend 20 minutes harassing the hostess. Not to worry you piece of shit, I didn't need those toes.
Asking the poor girl every single time she passes by you if you are next to sit down doesn't make you next to sit down. Of course, this guy for sure thought he was THE MOST important person in the restaurant, nay, the world as he pointed to the same empty table about 6 times asking if they could sit at it while she patiently reminded him that it was for a reservation. res-er-va-tion- a hard concept, I know.
He then proceeded to get his whole families order in line shouting over the crowd that he wanted a breaded chicken cutlet. Um, with all due respect (that's a lie), you are fucking fat sir. A little salad wouldn't kill you. But again, happy to share in his families order. I would not have felt totally satisfied with my dining experience without knowing what they were ordering.
All the while his 2 kids are hanging off the bar with their grubby hands and putting their faces all over everything. How many times must someone come over and tell you that they cant do that before you stop them? Apparently, about 6. You have to just kind of feel bad for kids like this. I mean, how could they possibly be normal and well- mannered when they have been raised by a total pig?
It was a pleasure to wait another 10 minutes and let them sit before us. My fiance, ever kind and totally about to loose it on this dude, told the hostess to just give them our table that we had been waiting 45 minutes for just to get them the fuck out of the way. I think everyone in line was grateful.
Notwithstanding the fact hat he was seemingly so desperate to sit- he first had to know who his waiter was- presumably so he could adequately prepare to harass him too.
All I can say is poor waiter. I felt his pain.
Although the man promised to have a "very quick meal" while trying to finagle a table from the hostess, they managed to sit for well over an hour right behind us leaving me to block out his horrible voice from my ears.
Now, when you want to take something home for free- you should be sure not to fucking eat it first. But again, you probably need some kind of basic human intelligence to think about that so no surprise that he called the manager over at the end of his meal- right in front of my table, obvi, to complain. His complaint- he finished his gravy- wanted second fried chicken piece to go- but wanted more gravy for free in his to-go bag. I'm pretty sure the manager just wanted him out so she aquiessed and I'm sure he thought his comment about how he spent a good amount on the bill made it happen- um, pretty sure the most expensive entree is 19 dollars- big spender.
The whole experience was equally hilarious and annoying and just reminded me of several dorks I went to high school with that likely didn't get laid until they got married, made enough money to afford a average house in Thornhill, bought a big screen TV and Lazyboy and a cheap but still environmentally offensive SUV and now think they are ballers because their very average blond wives rides them every other week.
I salute you sir on taking the cake, and fried chicken, as the worst person I have encountered ever. CAn't wait to meet your kids in 20 years.
Friday, September 2, 2011
It's your captain calling, don't answer.
So I am being inundated at the moment with life spam and it is totally freaking me out.
It has been years since I received an email prompting me to consider the merits of Viagra or Liposuction but mere seconds since I was harassed by some other medium in some other way.
Case in point, as I was about to compose this blog about what happened to me yesterday on the phone- which was actually less spam and more the weirdest weirdo ever contacting me- to be explained further in a second- so I 'm writing, my WORK phone rings at my desk, I answer and am greeted with a steam engine whistle blow from my "captain" who is calling to alert me that I have won a prize- probably a ship related prize- although I hung up before finding out...
Um, dear fake automated captain, who listens to this crap- really?
If you are going to try and lure me into some kind of schemey trip thing- can you at least fork up the time and money for a real captain? How can I be expected to feel special and excited with a computer? AND- you stupid fucking captain, how many times will you call me in life before I am sure to know that I have not just randomy won a prize to a contest I never entered or knew about. You kill me.
Anyways, so back to what happened the other day with my phone- so, got a new phone- exclusive for work- brand new- no one knows my number. So I get this text at 7:45am "yo".
who "yo's" at 7:45???
Either way I don't write back but then get another message saying "who is this"
UG- amongst my ever growing list of pet peeves is when someone calls you (or texts you) and asks who you are- um, you called me asshole.
So of course I write back "who is this?"
heres how the rest goes:
HIM: I asked you who you were- I don't recognize this number
ME: You have a wrong number. Thank you.
HIM: You can at least tell me your name- maybe I know you
ME: You don't. Please stop texting me and delete this number
HIM: oh, now I know who this is, a bitch- have a nice life.
Ya, that really happened.
So, to my "yo" in the morning friend, and to the fake captain- please leave me alone. I'd rather get solicited to 1-900 number any day of the week via email that I can delete than have to actually answer to your equally obnoxious nonsense.
thanks.
It has been years since I received an email prompting me to consider the merits of Viagra or Liposuction but mere seconds since I was harassed by some other medium in some other way.
Case in point, as I was about to compose this blog about what happened to me yesterday on the phone- which was actually less spam and more the weirdest weirdo ever contacting me- to be explained further in a second- so I 'm writing, my WORK phone rings at my desk, I answer and am greeted with a steam engine whistle blow from my "captain" who is calling to alert me that I have won a prize- probably a ship related prize- although I hung up before finding out...
Um, dear fake automated captain, who listens to this crap- really?
If you are going to try and lure me into some kind of schemey trip thing- can you at least fork up the time and money for a real captain? How can I be expected to feel special and excited with a computer? AND- you stupid fucking captain, how many times will you call me in life before I am sure to know that I have not just randomy won a prize to a contest I never entered or knew about. You kill me.
Anyways, so back to what happened the other day with my phone- so, got a new phone- exclusive for work- brand new- no one knows my number. So I get this text at 7:45am "yo".
who "yo's" at 7:45???
Either way I don't write back but then get another message saying "who is this"
UG- amongst my ever growing list of pet peeves is when someone calls you (or texts you) and asks who you are- um, you called me asshole.
So of course I write back "who is this?"
heres how the rest goes:
HIM: I asked you who you were- I don't recognize this number
ME: You have a wrong number. Thank you.
HIM: You can at least tell me your name- maybe I know you
ME: You don't. Please stop texting me and delete this number
HIM: oh, now I know who this is, a bitch- have a nice life.
Ya, that really happened.
So, to my "yo" in the morning friend, and to the fake captain- please leave me alone. I'd rather get solicited to 1-900 number any day of the week via email that I can delete than have to actually answer to your equally obnoxious nonsense.
thanks.
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