Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Outside the flower shop were tons of lush, brightly coloured flowers and plants, and leaned over them was a little old lady (let's call her Mabel). One wrinkled hand was reached out towards the plants while the other rested on her walker. Watching her lift that tiny flower pot was like watching a toddler do bicep curls with a microwave. After gingerly placing the tiny pot of flowers in her walker's basket, she reached out a shaky hand to another woman walking into the store. Mabel couldn't get her walker up the front step, so she needed someone to go in and pay for the flowers on her behalf. I wanted to elbow this woman into oncoming traffic and jump to the rescue of sweet old Mabel. She was so kind and soft spoken when asking this woman to purchase the flowers for her that my heart nearly melted right out of my chest and all over the sidewalk. Kind hearted elderly folks are a rare animal in Kerrisdale - most of my encounters with old people here involve stern, disapproving looks for doing things like smiling the wrong way.
I didn't get to buy the flowers for Mabel, but we managed to find some acceptable looking fake flowers for ourselves.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Today's bus ride was nothing like the rides of yore...but has it really been that long that everything (and everyone) have so drastically changed? I had barely stepped in the bus before the driver shamed me for getting on the express bus without the intent to go all of the way to the last stop. The 98B runs from downtown Vancouver to Richmond with stops at main intersections along the way for loading AND unloading. The bus ticket machine ate my ticket and when I asked for it back to transfer at 41st Avenue, he let loose about taking the express instead of "ANY. OTHER. BUS. Any of the buses behind me," (complete with a disapproving head shake). I ignored his unnecessarily rude comments and actually managed to secure a seat (with only ONE piece of dried gum on it! Yay!) When I sit in the front section, I like to keep my eyes peeled for elderly folks getting on, and sure enough at the next stop a lady who looked to be about 150 years old came shuffling on. I immediately jumped up and offered her my seat but she refused. She said that if I wasn't getting off at the next stop then she wasn't taking my seat and despite my persistence, she wouldn't cave. So then I had the treat of watching an old lady sway back and forth, nearly falling and breaking her hip with every stop and go pulse of rush hour traffic. After a nerve-wracking 20 minute ride of watching this old lady nearly die at the hands of gravity, I finally transferred. Even though my next bus smelt like puke that had been roasting on an old tire in the sun, there were plenty of seats and the bus driver may have actually smiled (gasp!) There was a woman in the front with a stroller and two more of her children were perched on the seats behind her. "Omigod, omigod, Tanner loooook, it's a KITTY!" squealed the little girl, and only 5 seconds later she howled "AAAHAHAHAAA. MADE YOUUUU LOOOOOK!" Apparently her stroller pushing mother wasn't in quite as good spirits as her daughter because she whipped her head around and said, "oh shut up..." So with my own spirits crushed and with some unidentified substance stuck to the bottom of my shoe, I unloaded the bus and walked home.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Amidst the stories, I couldn't help but sense the post-vacation depression she was feeling, especially when she told us about sobbing in the airport when faced with the reality of returning home. Everybody fears the moment when their vacation comes to an end and they realize, "oh shit, I actually have to pay for this vacation....and rent...and I have a shitty job...and I can't wander around barefoot and drunk anymore." And it's about at that moment that you burst into tears and feel the weight of the world crash down on you. And then the flight attendant comes over and tells you to get a grip because you're freaking out the children. I feel like I'm already entering into that sad phase and I haven't even left for my damn vacation yet! These days off are so dear to me, that I'm mourning them before they've even passed.
This will be the first time off work that Luc and I have had since December, so I'm determined to relish in the longevity of each day and cherish every extra second I get to spend in bed each morning. My stringent determination to enjoy every goddamn moment of blissful time off has given me pre-vacation anxiety. Last night I was vicariously experiencing the "back to reality" feeling you fight through after an enjoyable bout of vacation time. I could see myself at home, doing the laundry that reeked with the residue of great vacation, and that's when the feeling really hit me. However, I was mature enough to leave the table and cry my eyes out in the privacy of the women's restroom. Hopefully though, when the time actually comes, I can restrain my end of vacation hysteria, because if Luc has to endure a 5 hour drive with a wailing banshee, something tells me that this banshee just may have to walk home.
No, she's not a volunteer surrogate mother for her best friend's baby, she's just going to Las Vegas for 4 days. Poor girl. How will she ever cope?
Monday, May 18, 2009
- For maximum aisle blockage, park your cart diagonally, because people don't mind waiting while you decide if you need to save 50 cents by purchasing almost-expired cheese.
- Watch as your kids dip their hands elbow-deep into the bulk food items - other people don't buy that junk anyway.
- Let your kids eat deodorant. Why not?
- Bring your uncle, grandma, cousins, sister, sister's kids, sister's kids' friend and your sister's kids' friend's grandma...the more the merrier.
- Disregard stop signs in the parking lot to keep other drivers on their toes.
- Talk on your cell phone while driving your cart with one hand, consequently running into innocent bystanders.
- Whenever possible, walk in slow motion and linger unnecessarily in high-traffic areas.
- Tell your wife, in front of everyone, that she doesn't need any more cookies; embarrassing for her, but funny for the rest of us.
- Go into the '15 items or less' line with enough groceries to stock an army bomb shelter - that sign is really just a suggestion anyway.
- Crash into my car as I'm backing out, then ask if you can still have my parking spot.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Weirdo: "HA! Ha...hahaha...HAHA...HAAAAHAHA.."
Me: (slowly turning to my head to look at him out of the corner of my eye)
Weirdo: "HAAA...sounds like MY daughter!! Hahaha..."
Weirdo: (staring at me expectantly, clearly wanting me to respond to his comment)
Me: "Oh...um...how old is your daughter?"
Weirdo: (the bright expression on his face dropping) "Well....well I don't actually have a daughter. I....but....I mean..." (bursts out into awkward laughter and incomprehensible mumbling)
We arrive at my floor and I slip out before the doors are barely open.
Me: "OK then...have a good day."
Probably one of those "you had to be there" moments to see the crazy shine in his eyes, but noteworthy nonetheless.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Four jobs I've had
1. Snowboard Instructor - One time an 8 year old kid crapped his pants on the chairlift, somehow got it all over the outside of his snowsuit, then refused to ride the rest of the way down and walked instead, slipping all the while and leaving poo streaks in the snow. Other than that one time, it was a pretty sweet job.
2. Server - A slave to the hungry public...my Dad once told me "never get a job where you deal with people who are hungry"...he couldn't have been more right. Sometimes I still have serving nightmares.
3. Reception at a tanning salon - For one summer I worked under the terrifying reign of a psycho family, who misleadingly told me in the interview, "it's a really great place to work. If you work here, we treat you like family." Unfortunately, they were a dysfunctional family with major communication issues. But they were right, they treated me like one of them; they bossed me around, bullied me, and one afternoon one of the daughters said, "your hair looks like shit, you need to fix that. You look like you just rolled out of bed."
4. French & English Teacher - I worked at an after school learning centre for over achieving kids whose parents didn't want them around the house.
Four movies I can watch over and over
2. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Four places I have lived
1. Richmond, BC with my parents for the first 21 years of my life
2. Trois Rivieres, Quebec with 3 roommates while going to school
3. Ground floor suite of a house in Vancouver with Luc, our first place together
4. Our apartment in Kerrisdale, which would be perfect if only it had a patio
Four TV shows I love
3. Arrested Development
Four places I've vacationed
1. Germany, France, Austria, Switzerland and Italy (on one trip with my friend- we rented a car)
2. Cancun, Mexico
3. Waikiki, Hawaii
4. Los Cabos, Mexico
Four sites I visit daily
1. I Can Has Cheezburger
3. Look Book
4. BBC News In Pictures
Four places I would rather be right now
1. At my favourite restaurant, La Notte, eating a caesar salad and drinking some wine
2. On a cafe patio, under the sun, drinking a latte and reading my book
3. Lying in bed with Luc, knowing that we don't have to get up for work
4. At the movie theatre, watching the new Star Trek movie
Four people I am tagging
1. Chelsea, my only friend with a blog!!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Some things are outdated (like all three of the aforementioned items), some no longer fit and some are in such terrible condition I cringe just thinking that I actually wore it so long that it could get to that point of raggedness. I had three white tank-tops; one nice one for everyday wear; one average one for the gym; and one ragged piece of crap that is so stretched in some places that the fabric has worn thin to the point that it's nearly see-through. The latter fits into the "terrible condition" category. It's the kind of clothing that one would be embarrassed to donate to the local Army and Navy because homeless people wouldn't even dress their dogs in it. Somehow this sub-par tank top has managed to stay in one piece and remain in my closet, but finally, with an enormous amount of strength and willpower, I wrestled the beast to the ground and threw it in the garbage.
I don't know when it happened, but this evil genius of a tank top escaped the clutches of my trash bin and wormed its way back into my closet. And that is why when I was getting dressed for the gym this afternoon, I didn't pull out my gym tank top, but in my trembling hand I held this monstrosity of a garment, begging to be worn. I suppose my perfectly good gym tank top is crying tears of neglect as it is buried somewhere under banana peels and old diapers. I'm sorry gym tank top, I didn't mean to throw you away, and I certainly didn't mean to show up at the gym looking like a sumo wrestler was just power washed wearing my tank top. But I did.
Tuesday is no better than Monday because it's not like you can reminisce with things like, "man, I wish it were still yesterday so I could be sleeping in or drinking a latte in my underwear on the couch." Tuesday's yesterday is Monday, and we already know about Monday. Tuesday is just a boring day floating on the wrong side of Wednesday.
Thursday for most people is the, "yay it's Friday tomorrow" day, but for me, it's the day that Luc gets off work early, meaning I have to drive home alone. Buying a new, functioning stereo for the car has lessened the blow of my lonely commutes, but seeing the parking attendant's Cheeto smeared face doesn't compare to seeing Luc's handsome mug waiting for me after a long day.
Most people will probably say that Friday is their favourite day of the week, but that's not an option-- Friday is too obvious. It's the most glorious of all work days and everyone would choose Friday if they had the option, so they can't. I never really got the phrase TGIF until I got a full time job though. Now every Friday you can find me at 5:00pm, running around downtown Vancouver screaming it at the top of my lungs.
So Wednesday is my favourite day because it's the lesser of the evils, but it has some redeeming qualities that the others don't have. It's the halfway point, the day where you get home and say to yourself in disbelief, "it's Thursday tomorrow! It's nearly Friday! Already!" However, the most recent of reasons I hold Wednesdays so dear to my heart is because Lost and America's Next Top Model both air on Wednesday nights. I enjoy the juxtaposition of watching total trash reality television with girls that couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag followed by the complex, story telling genius of Lost. I like to adjust my viewing habits accordingly; during Top Model, my best friend, Kate, comes over and we make tea and sit cross legged in our workout gear, gossiping about what a psycho Tyra Banks is. For Lost, I usually throw on a cardigan, put on my glasses and pour a glass of wine to swirl like brandy while muttering things like, "yes, but of course, a time-space continuum."
Tonight is the season finale of Lost, but it's OK, my torrid love affair with Wednesday had to end some time. At least next week is a four day week - so it will almost be like Wednesday, dearest hump day, never existed at all.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Luc: "Wow...maybe you should take a picture and put it on your blog..."
Me: "Yeahh....wait. Are you being facetious?"
Me: "Screw you, I'm putting it on!"
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Landlord: "Luc...Luc, I wanted to talk to you about something, just listen, OK?"
Luc: "Yeah...sure, what's up?"
Landlord: "Luc, I know that you and Kristen argue sometimes, but Luc, it is never OK to hit a woman."
Luc: "Uhh..I think you..."
Landlord: "Please, just listen. It's never OK. There are no excuses for hitting a woman. You can get mad. You CAN get mad. But you never hit a woman, OK?"
Luc: (putting on his best 'serious' face and holding in laughter) "Yeah...OK, I...I understand."
Our landlord had heard us yelling and playing and chasing each other around and jumped to the outlandish conclusion that sweet, prairie boy Luc, the love of my life, was teaching me a lesson with the back of his hand. Ironically we ended up leaving that place because our landlord was too loud. By, "I live with my wife and baby", what he really meant tell us was: me and my 4-year-old daughter and my wife and my wife's sister and her 11-year-old son all live above you in a 2-bedroom suite....and another grown man is moving in with us shortly. He also failed to mention that his daughter had a pair of lungs on her like a howler monkey. Which she clearly inherited from Mama howler monkey.
Living at this new apartment has been great - I don't have to throw phone books at the ceiling at 3:00am anymore. And that, my friends, is luxury. But when I saw the moving truck, I feared that our upstairs neighbour held Luc and me in the same contempt as we had held our old landlord. Did she have to wear earplugs to bed every night because of us? Has she been spending nights, curled up in a ball screaming "shut the hell up" while cursing our names? Shortly after this bout of paranoia, Luc spoke to our now former-upstairs neighbour, and it turns out that she was supposed to move a long time ago but some arrangements had fallen through. So this evening, we will happily continue our ritual of drinking too much and beating the crap out of each other on wii boxing. Our old landlord never said anything to Luc about not virtually punching me in the teeth.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Fran: “Are you going to put that away somewhere?”
Fran: “Well don’t STEP ON IT!”
Me: (bewildered, looking down to see a card on the floor) “I...I didn’t see...I didn’t actually drop that...I didn’t notice...”
Fran: (slowly moving closer), “I SAAAID, PUT IT AWAY SOMEWHERE!!!”
Me: “What? I...I didn’t even drop it...I didn’t.....isn’t...isn’t that.....your.....job?”
Fran: “Put. That. Away. Don't just LEAVE IT SITTING THERE!”
I stood there stunned, feeling like I was being reprimanded. She was my great-grandmother and I was the defiant child. I wanted to talk back to this sour old bitty, but some instinct told me that I would surely be swallowed up and sent straight to hell if I talked back to a woman old enough to say things to Jesus like, “I remember you when you were thiiiiis big.” As I sheepishly reached for the card, she shook her head at me in disbelief and returned to the fiery dungeon beneath Shopper’s Drug Mart from whence she came.
What's your current obsession?
This blog; trying to "find my own voice" and post things that aren't completely boring.
What's your weirdest obsession?
Making up stories in my head - like when I'm on the elliptical on the 2nd floor of my office building, watching people cross the street and I make up stories about them and why certain people are together and where they're going, etc. Or lying to my friends and trying to make them believe ridiculous stories...but I always tell the truth after.
What are you wearing today?
I think I can be excused for my outfit-- I happen to be at home sick today (although starting to feel well enough to sit up for more than 10 mins at a time)...Luc's old, black U of S sweats and a blue, striped t-shirt with a cute little breast-pocket from Superstore's awesome clothing line, Joe.
Why is today special?
Because tomorrow is Friday and Friday is before the weekend and the weekend is the best time of the week because I don't have to work.
What would you like to learn to do?
Too much. I always write lists of things to accomplish...like learn to play the guitar, speak fluent German (I can get by, but I still get nervous about speaking in front of people), surf like a pro, cook really well....
What's for dinner today?
Not much of an appetite right now...I haven't been able to eat all day, but I've been toying with the idea of tomato soup for dinner.
What's the last thing you bought?
I went shopping last weekend and got a black cardigan, a sports bra, workout pants, a scarf, a black tank top and a grey t-shirt. What I was really looking for was a jacket or heavy sweater. Shopping FAIL.
What's your favourite weather?
Anything that can be seen here.
What's your most challenging goal right now?
Saving money for tuition...which involves avoiding these places: here, here and especially here.
What do you think about the person who tagged you?
You see, that's the sad part. Nobody "tagged" me because I don't have any friends who blog yet. Therefore, I have to read other people's blogs and take surveys like this and give them to myself. I think I'm going to change my "most challenging goal right now" to: not crying because I have no internet friends.
If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Well, if I still have to work after getting this amazing house, it would be one of those HUGE places right on Locarno Beach or Spanish Banks. If this house came with an equally wonderful trust fund, it would be in the French countryside.
Favourite vacation spot?
Nice, France. But for the all-inclusive hotel experience - Los Cabos. However, there are places that I've never been to before that I'm sure could blow both of those places out of the water.
What would you like to have in your hands right now?
The remote...Luc just got home from work and the TV is giving me a headache. But seriously, a large, Reese peanut butter cup blizzard from Dairy Queen. And a hot dog in the other hand. And an advance DVD viewing of the new Harry Potter movie...because I'm going to finish that hot dog pretty fast and I need something to put in my hand again.
What would you like to get rid of?
My hair. But I have a sneaking suspicion that underneath it all lies a misshapen head that would frighten young children. I wasn't given this head of uncontrollably thick hair for no reason - someone's clearly trying to cover something up here.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
A beach at an all-inclusive hotel where they have those beautiful, white canopy beds.
What's your favourite thing about the city you live in?
So easy: UBC campus in the fall, the mountains in the winter, the places to ride my bike in the spring (seawall, Steveston, tree-lined neighbourhoods), the beach in the summer, and all year round perks: great restaurants, tons of great concerts, good shopping, the Canucks and lots of family nearby.
If you had $150 to spend right now, what would you spend it on?
Do you admire anyone's style?
Rachel Bilson and my friend Henghameh ...and Lady Gaga for her bold originality.
Describe your personal style.
I really don't think I could, to be honest. I don't think what I wear fits into one category.
What are three live shows that you have seen?
Cats, Hula Performance at the Polynesian Cultural Centre in Oahu and pretty much every band that I enjoy listening to.
Now I'm supposed to tag a blogger friend to do this survey too....someone start a blog dammit!!!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
After listing a Bible's length of symptoms (yes, fatigue was one of them), I left with a bevy of prescriptions, one of them being a nasal spray. Nasal spray always arouses distinct memories in me-- specifically, one evening in the bathroom at our old apartment, struggling in silence with my new nasal spray. The look on my face could be described as nothing other than constipated frustration. I nearly had to wrestle myself to the ground while trying to muster the courage to spray that crap up my own nasal passage. I was in a state of such quiet focus, that I barely heard the "unnhh" from next door. But I heard it...and I listened hard for another. Unfortunately, I could only hear passing cars and no other discernible sex noises. Just as I was about to continue my battle with the nasal spray, I heard it: SMACK!! After years of hand slapping and ass slapping (in volleyball...obviously), I know the sound of a hand to bare flesh when I hear it - and this smack was not cushioned even by so much as a thin leotard. This was skin on skin. I practically fell over myself running to find Luc to drag him back into the bathroom so that we could listen to the neighbours having sex.
I'm not particularly proud of what we did that night (or the other nights when the ass slapping and "unnh" noises were so loud we could hear them over the tap running and our toothbrushes scrubbing)....however, Luc and I have been known to shout "BOO-YAH" and slap high-five in a game of "Never ever have I ever" when someone says "never ever have I ever listened to someone else having sex." So this is why I smirked at the sight of "nasal spray" on my sheet of prescriptions. I can't so much as look at a container of nasal spray without slapping noises echoing out of my ears. It really is a shame we moved though; the only noise we can hear in our new apartment's bathroom is the faint tinkling through the vent of the guy next door taking a pee.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Since I have no interest or knowledge in car electronics, I abandoned Future Shop for a distinctly female expedition: shopping for stuff I don't need. I bought a decorative scarf to wear with things like t-shirts and tank-tops, because that's the kind of Stuff White People Like; I got another sports bra so that I don't have to wear an old sweaty one when I forget to do the laundry; and I got some New York Fries in the food court, because what's the point of going to the gym if you don't have any fat to work off?
The most interesting part of the afternoon wasn't when Luc tried to show me how to navigate song folders and playlists on the new stereo, but rather my bizarre encounter with a peppy clothing store sales associate. Upon entering the store she gave me the obligatory, "hiiiiii, how's it going???", which elicited a half-assed smile and groan from me. This sedated reaction to a bubbly greeting usually ensures me at least a ten foot radius of browsing space. Maybe I don't shop enough and the purchaser-seller relationship has been restructured over the past few months, but it came as a shock to me when the girl asked what my plans were for the weekend. I stumbled over my answer, visibly perturbed by her needling into my personal life. "Uhhh...umm...I guess I'm watching the, uh, the hockey game tonight." She pressed on and asked where I was watching the game, whom I was watching the game with, and if I was going out afterwards. I crumbled under the pressure and ended up inviting her to watch the game at my parents' house and to stay for a sleepover...I think that was what she wanted, even though she declined my invitation. Luckily we had the new car stereo to muffle my tears of rejection on the drive home from the mall.