I am completely unimpressed at the over abundance of mosquitoes in the land that is not flowing with milk and honey; Winnipeg.
This morning on the bus, a ride which is typically quite productive as I sleep for a good twenty minutes, I was more than annoyed at the hoards of mosquitoes swarming around my body. There was not a chance of me catching a wink on this bus ride. Being really sleepy, I still attempted to sleep as I was kept up last night by two pests of a different species; boys. Obviously I'm kidding, I love you boys I'm glad you kept me up :)
Anyways, it was impossible thanks to the un-ceasing attacks to my flesh by some ugly little insects. There were two worst parts to this scenario:
1. The locations on my body at which these damn insects chose to infest. During my bus ride this morning, I was the un-grateful recipient of two bites on my left foot, one bite on my right foot, one on my right index finger and one on my left cheek. Thanks mosquitoes, that's reallllllllllllly classy of you.
2. The fact that, even though I was completely stressed out by the level of itchiness on my body, I could not scratch adequately due to the overweight, middle-aged woman sitting next to me.
Yet another morning of negativity for me. I'll blame it on working at General Scrap. If I didn't work there I would not have had to wake up that early, and catch that particular bus with those particular (and choosy about their choice locations of biting) mosquitoes, beside that particular woman. General Scrap strikes again. After today, only three more days... well two.. I think I'm coming down with something and will end up calling in sick tomorrow :P ... Shame.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Magic Sheets
There is something about the sheets on my bed at this very moment. They might be magic.
My family has always prioritized bed sheets matching the color scheme of the bedroom. For example, when I was younger, my room was yellow, I had yellow flower curtains, a yellow flower bedspread and of course, yellow sheets. Then I moved to the room next door in order to live in solitude and wanted to paint these new walls of mine yellow (I guess I like yellow walls?), but I wanted to have red "things", So I had red curtains, red sheets, and a red bedspread. After that move, I moved right back to the old room where, in the meantime, my sister had painted the walls a wonderful, pleasing to the eye, combination of blue's. She had blue curtains (bad choice) accented with white sheets and bedspread. After she went and got herself married, I took over and resumed the same color scheme. Then I went to Australia and my loving mother did some touch-ups in the room and bought me new sheets; some blue, some white. She also bought me new pyjamas which was a thoughtful gesture on her part... The pyjamas obviously matched the color scheme of the room; white and blue. That's my mom for ya.
The white sheets are special.
See, the first time I put those sheets on my bed, I knew something was different about them. I knew they weren't just sheets, but something more, indeed something out of this realm. No, that's a lie, but really... they are incredible. When I wake up in the morning all I can think about is the sheets on my bed. The thoughts that run through my head are, no, not "I want to stay in bed", but "I need to stay between these sheets". They are so silky (but not silk), soft (not flannel), pretty (they aren't [insert something funny that I can't think of here]) ... Just all around amazing. I can't even find the words to describe the magnitude of their splendor. If only everyone could have a snooze in my bed to experience these sheets. They really make getting out of bed at 5:25am quite the feat. Today that was definitely the case... I lost though. My mom got me out of bed at 5:40. Thankfully I have something to blame that on, the sheets.
Now I'm at work eating the jujubes off the reception desk because I didn't have time to have breakfast and my tummy feels yucky because of it. Blah.
My family has always prioritized bed sheets matching the color scheme of the bedroom. For example, when I was younger, my room was yellow, I had yellow flower curtains, a yellow flower bedspread and of course, yellow sheets. Then I moved to the room next door in order to live in solitude and wanted to paint these new walls of mine yellow (I guess I like yellow walls?), but I wanted to have red "things", So I had red curtains, red sheets, and a red bedspread. After that move, I moved right back to the old room where, in the meantime, my sister had painted the walls a wonderful, pleasing to the eye, combination of blue's. She had blue curtains (bad choice) accented with white sheets and bedspread. After she went and got herself married, I took over and resumed the same color scheme. Then I went to Australia and my loving mother did some touch-ups in the room and bought me new sheets; some blue, some white. She also bought me new pyjamas which was a thoughtful gesture on her part... The pyjamas obviously matched the color scheme of the room; white and blue. That's my mom for ya.
The white sheets are special.
See, the first time I put those sheets on my bed, I knew something was different about them. I knew they weren't just sheets, but something more, indeed something out of this realm. No, that's a lie, but really... they are incredible. When I wake up in the morning all I can think about is the sheets on my bed. The thoughts that run through my head are, no, not "I want to stay in bed", but "I need to stay between these sheets". They are so silky (but not silk), soft (not flannel), pretty (they aren't [insert something funny that I can't think of here]) ... Just all around amazing. I can't even find the words to describe the magnitude of their splendor. If only everyone could have a snooze in my bed to experience these sheets. They really make getting out of bed at 5:25am quite the feat. Today that was definitely the case... I lost though. My mom got me out of bed at 5:40. Thankfully I have something to blame that on, the sheets.
Now I'm at work eating the jujubes off the reception desk because I didn't have time to have breakfast and my tummy feels yucky because of it. Blah.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Bilingual? ... Ex-bilingual is more like it.
If I was blogging on myspace I would set my "current mood" to depressed and the emoticon I'm sure would be the frown with a tear.
My resume says I'm bilingual, hence me having a job where I need to speak French... quite frequently. This should be a good thing, a great tool and a ticket to good pay. The problem at this very moment is that I'm becoming ever more aware of my disintegrating French skills. I might have to retire that segment of my resume all too soon. This makes me sad.
This morning I was on the phone with a man from Montreal and he was trying to order two new scrap bins (yeah... scrap bins.. I work at General Scrap, these are the kind of conversations I have). Things were going fine, but then he was giving me his contact information and he said it en Francais (naturally, as the conversation took place in French) and then tried to repeat it in English for me. This = tragic. He totally thought that I didn't understand his phone number in French, which I clearly did, but the fact that he thought I couldn't, means my grammar was that horrible he could tell I was a passe French speaker who's accent was sub-par.
Barf.
Maybe I should go back to uni in the fall and jump on the Language courses. My English could use some help aswell. *Sigh*
My resume says I'm bilingual, hence me having a job where I need to speak French... quite frequently. This should be a good thing, a great tool and a ticket to good pay. The problem at this very moment is that I'm becoming ever more aware of my disintegrating French skills. I might have to retire that segment of my resume all too soon. This makes me sad.
This morning I was on the phone with a man from Montreal and he was trying to order two new scrap bins (yeah... scrap bins.. I work at General Scrap, these are the kind of conversations I have). Things were going fine, but then he was giving me his contact information and he said it en Francais (naturally, as the conversation took place in French) and then tried to repeat it in English for me. This = tragic. He totally thought that I didn't understand his phone number in French, which I clearly did, but the fact that he thought I couldn't, means my grammar was that horrible he could tell I was a passe French speaker who's accent was sub-par.
Barf.
Maybe I should go back to uni in the fall and jump on the Language courses. My English could use some help aswell. *Sigh*
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
The latest at General Scrap...
So as all of you know, my current employment lies at General Scrap.... unfortunately. To re-cap, I arrive to a dark office, shut off the alarm, turn on the lights, brew the coffee and sit down at my computer, such as I am doing right now, for about 1.5 hours until the next person gets here.
This morning things haven't really gone that smoothly though.
Seeing as it is 6:30 in the morning and usually when I get to my office door I have been recently awoken from a 15 minute nap compliments of the smooth roads and gentle rurring of the lovely public transportation that so humbly carries me from Glenway to Portage Avenue every day... or not at all yet I still manage to fall asleep, without fail, chaque matin.
So this morning I get on my bus, fall asleep, get off, get some coffee at 2nd cup because I'm actually feeling extra tired, and head up to my office. I sit down on the ground, rummage through my purse, eventually find my keys and open the door. I turn to my right, open the alarm panel and then I freeze... It hits me that I, for no apparent reason, forget my alarm code today. So I, idiotically, punch in something that is somewhat like the code, but is actually two numbers off and then the siren starts BLARING. It actually sounds like a police siren however, for my listening pleasure, it is right inside my office.
I bust out of my office scrounge in my purse, once again, for my authorization number with the phone number to the alarm company and of course, my cell phone. I frantically phone the company and am like,
"Hi!! I set off the alarm in my office!!"
The dispatcher replies completely monotone, "Your name and address please."
I give it to her.
"Your authorization number please."
I give that to her too.
"Actually we don't have your address or authorization number on file. Are you sure you have the right alarm company?"
So at this point I'm mostly freaking out who knows why, I'm clearly not attempting to rob General Scrap, but I just feel panicky... I think it was the blaring siren that was still ultra loud even from behind a closed door.
"Yes, I am sure," I reply to her.
"Okay, I'll try again."
... waiting...
"Okay, what was your number again?"
I give it to her but I'm like frik lady, could you take any longer? The cops are going to roll in any second. My imagination went slightly wild here and pictured cops storming up the stairs with their guns drawn and little me curled up against the wall outside of the office on the phone with the damn alarm operator.... she would have gotten an earfull, I'll tell you that much.
Anyways, after a little while her mood finally lightens and she's like "Okay everythings alright!"
... but the siren is still going...
Little did I know, all I had to do was punch in the right code and it would turn off... so I did just that and sure enough, it worked like a charm.
Now I'm sitting at my desk, wide awake, but still glad to have coffee, not so glad, however, that I work at General Scrap and that I unintentionally escalated my heart rate for the entire day, I'm sure.
...
What would you do for a ching-dong-woo? Would you... work at General Scrap, start at 6:30, set off the alarm, and then be bored all day? ... After much consideration... No.. I don't think that I would... not even for a ching-dong-woo.
This morning things haven't really gone that smoothly though.
Seeing as it is 6:30 in the morning and usually when I get to my office door I have been recently awoken from a 15 minute nap compliments of the smooth roads and gentle rurring of the lovely public transportation that so humbly carries me from Glenway to Portage Avenue every day... or not at all yet I still manage to fall asleep, without fail, chaque matin.
So this morning I get on my bus, fall asleep, get off, get some coffee at 2nd cup because I'm actually feeling extra tired, and head up to my office. I sit down on the ground, rummage through my purse, eventually find my keys and open the door. I turn to my right, open the alarm panel and then I freeze... It hits me that I, for no apparent reason, forget my alarm code today. So I, idiotically, punch in something that is somewhat like the code, but is actually two numbers off and then the siren starts BLARING. It actually sounds like a police siren however, for my listening pleasure, it is right inside my office.
I bust out of my office scrounge in my purse, once again, for my authorization number with the phone number to the alarm company and of course, my cell phone. I frantically phone the company and am like,
"Hi!! I set off the alarm in my office!!"
The dispatcher replies completely monotone, "Your name and address please."
I give it to her.
"Your authorization number please."
I give that to her too.
"Actually we don't have your address or authorization number on file. Are you sure you have the right alarm company?"
So at this point I'm mostly freaking out who knows why, I'm clearly not attempting to rob General Scrap, but I just feel panicky... I think it was the blaring siren that was still ultra loud even from behind a closed door.
"Yes, I am sure," I reply to her.
"Okay, I'll try again."
... waiting...
"Okay, what was your number again?"
I give it to her but I'm like frik lady, could you take any longer? The cops are going to roll in any second. My imagination went slightly wild here and pictured cops storming up the stairs with their guns drawn and little me curled up against the wall outside of the office on the phone with the damn alarm operator.... she would have gotten an earfull, I'll tell you that much.
Anyways, after a little while her mood finally lightens and she's like "Okay everythings alright!"
... but the siren is still going...
Little did I know, all I had to do was punch in the right code and it would turn off... so I did just that and sure enough, it worked like a charm.
Now I'm sitting at my desk, wide awake, but still glad to have coffee, not so glad, however, that I work at General Scrap and that I unintentionally escalated my heart rate for the entire day, I'm sure.
...
What would you do for a ching-dong-woo? Would you... work at General Scrap, start at 6:30, set off the alarm, and then be bored all day? ... After much consideration... No.. I don't think that I would... not even for a ching-dong-woo.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Chapter Five
HOT.
1991.
So, who didn't have an outfit that they wore every single day when they were young? I sure did. This was it. My favorite outfit. The one that I wore every single day, without fail. This is what the outfit consisted of:
- Multi-coloured, lace-up sneakers.
- White long-john's with small pink flowers on them.
- Black spandex shorts with one neon green and one neon pink stripe down either side.
- Striped long-sleeve shirt with an umbrella in the upper left hand corner.
Everyday ladies and gentlemen. Every single day I would wear this combo. I remember one specific weekend my parents went away and a babysitter resumed the position of fill-in authority for myself and my sisters. This babysitter found it ridiculous that I wore this outfit every single day and decided that she needed to take action [who did that deb think she was!?]. So, she decided to hide my long-john's from me. Of course my sisters joined in on this, why wouldn't they want to pick on their littlest sister? I was so outraged over the misplacement of these long-john's. I remember actually throwing a fit over it; tears were let loose and vocal chords were definitely strained. This outfit meant the world to me. Who knows why. I think at the end of the weekend she gave them back to me, she probably didn't want to risk putting her position of babysitting four girls in jeopardy by the youngest giving a horrible to report to the parents upon their return. Figures.
I'm not sure how long my infatuation with this four piece suit lasted for, I hope not for an entire year however I do know that it wasn't a short amount of time. My question to my parents is, why would you not have put an end to this after one single wear?
Why on earth do parents let their children do ridiculous things.. or rather... WEAR ridiculous things? Maybe it's just mine. At any rate, I think I look put-together and well-dressed. Or not at all. All I can say is, am I ever glad that I grew out of those clothes. Goodness knows I'd still be wearing that same outfit to this day. Yikes.
- Multi-coloured, lace-up sneakers.
- White long-john's with small pink flowers on them.
- Black spandex shorts with one neon green and one neon pink stripe down either side.
- Striped long-sleeve shirt with an umbrella in the upper left hand corner.
Everyday ladies and gentlemen. Every single day I would wear this combo. I remember one specific weekend my parents went away and a babysitter resumed the position of fill-in authority for myself and my sisters. This babysitter found it ridiculous that I wore this outfit every single day and decided that she needed to take action [who did that deb think she was!?]. So, she decided to hide my long-john's from me. Of course my sisters joined in on this, why wouldn't they want to pick on their littlest sister? I was so outraged over the misplacement of these long-john's. I remember actually throwing a fit over it; tears were let loose and vocal chords were definitely strained. This outfit meant the world to me. Who knows why. I think at the end of the weekend she gave them back to me, she probably didn't want to risk putting her position of babysitting four girls in jeopardy by the youngest giving a horrible to report to the parents upon their return. Figures.
I'm not sure how long my infatuation with this four piece suit lasted for, I hope not for an entire year however I do know that it wasn't a short amount of time. My question to my parents is, why would you not have put an end to this after one single wear?
Why on earth do parents let their children do ridiculous things.. or rather... WEAR ridiculous things? Maybe it's just mine. At any rate, I think I look put-together and well-dressed. Or not at all. All I can say is, am I ever glad that I grew out of those clothes. Goodness knows I'd still be wearing that same outfit to this day. Yikes.
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