Tag Archives: Personal

I’m Alive.

Yes, I know. I mean, I’ve been busy. I know I haven’t returned your calls or emails in the form of comments or messages. I meant to–really. I didn’t forget about you.

What have I been doing?

I’ve been busy working at my school, fixing computers and things. I know, it’s like a real job, still a student job but more legitimate than running the swan ride and falling into the lake this summer.

I’ve been studying. You can’t take a life-long nerd out of school for a year and not expect her to kick ass when she gets back. I’ll just brag about my A, A and A+ on my three half-year classes this December. Yep. I’ll brag. Deal with it.

I’ve been Model UN-ing. Debating. Pretending I know things about economics and looking snazzy in my suit from Sears.

I’ve been going on mini-trips to Montreal. Two. I can now order my food en francais.

I’ve spent as much time as possible with two beautiful people that were my best friends first semester. They were here on exchange, which is the worst but best situation at the same time. We wasted no time, taking in hockey games, the best brunch places, and some silly nights at Philthy McNasty’s. I miss them tons.

I rode a full-sized horse for the full time. I figured I deserved it after spending the summer getting ponies ready for kids to ride.

I’ve been cheating on you. I’ve been supporting another WordPress blog, but as an eAmbassador for my school. I told you, you can’t take the nerd out of the girl (no, shut up you perverts).

I’ve said goodbye to my beautiful dog who passed away last month. It’s odd, I was devastated but I really felt like it was his time and I’ve made peace. He gave us years of happiness and sometimes a little frustration, and he was there for me during my year of nothingness when I started this blog. Thanks, little guy, I’ll always miss you.

Oh, and I also discovered Reddit. So, that kind of took over my brain for a while. Excuses, excuses, I know.

So, there it is. You are caught up. I hope this will spur me on to post more, since I love just kind of throwing my ideas out there and getting whatever feed back, good or bad. (Hopefully good, though. You know how it is on this internet thing here.)

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Irrelevant photo for your entertainment.

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Grown-ups drink wine, right?

I have forced myself to be a wine person over the past year.

My parents are not wine people. My turned-out-to-be-batshit-insane step-aunt was the only wine person in our family, until, well she left the family via batshit-insane methods.

For some reason,  I associated wine with people who are grown up and successful. How am I going to hang out with my fancy educated friends and go to fancy educated dinner parties if I don’t like wine? What will I bring? Rum? It is delicious.

After stopping at the little kiosk at the front end of Loblaws a few times, one of the few non-LCBO ways to buy liquor in this over-regulated province, I finally decided I was a red wine person. Yes. White wine is gross. It stains less, but it’s gross.

It’s been a long journey of cringe-worthy beverages, but I think I’ve finally developed an actual taste for it. Yes! A small, useless success in a world of unfairness.

To be fair, I’m still at the point where my measure of taste is “does it make me gag or not?” but I’m getting there.

Simply a little window into the neurosis that invades my life.

Cheers.

Obligatory Summer-is-Over Post

I left after class today to catch the bus, and apparently the temperature dropped 15 degrees between 2 and 6. Oh my god.

I actually miss my summer job. Not the whole repetitive thing where you stand in the sun for 9 hours and yell at children, but all the friends I made. Corny, I know.

Things I learned this summer:

-children + turnstiles = the most frustrating thing you can ever imagine.

-if you work with farm animals all day and then get on the subway, people will move because you probably stink.

-the TTC will sometimes make you want to yell at everything and everyone. You should probably just get off the subway when it’s stuck at the station for 40 minutes and do something more useful with your time, like walking.

-at the same time, getting stuck with people you just met at work on the subway forever is a great breeding ground for new friendships!

-don’t ever try to make your hair look nice before work. HA.

-starting school will be bittersweet, and you’ll miss all your friends that went back to school like crazy.

TTYL, summer. It’s been nice.

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I got used to napping under trees this summer.

Signs of Growing Up: Part 1 (Embarrassing photos included!)

I am old enough to realize that worrying about if my bangs will sit properly or not is not worth my time. I had a revelation and then I found some scissors.

Goodbye, high school hair.

And because I love to humiliate myself on this blog, now is the time for an awful photo montage (well, not really a montage) documenting the journey of my frustrating bangs over the last 4-5 years or so. Here you go:

This was probably the best my bangs had ever looked…EVEN THOUGH I COULDN’T SEE A THING. (ft. giant nose zit. Thank god grade 11 is over.)

But then they did this….

…so then I retaliated with some bobby pins…

…and then eventually gave up.

Then some pictures were posted where my forehead looked like this

So I did this!

Now I feel like an adult who can actually see out of both eyes.

A milestone, really.

Where did that week go?

I suppose it’s good that the days and weeks are just flying by, since I can’t wait to start at my new university this fall and get back into nerd-mode. The blog is taking a hit, though! Sorry guys. My 8 hour workdays turn into 12 hours with the commute. I get home at 10:30 some nights and go right to bed so I can get up at 7am the next day. *sob*

A long winded explanation for a disappointing blogging schedule. Ah, so cliche.

Anyway, how about an update on the past week?

Last last Sunday was the pride parade in Toronto.

I have never seen so many happy, smiling people on Yonge street in my life. The pride parade falls on the last day of pride week, which is one of the largest gay pride festivals in the world.

I love it. People from all walks of life come out to show their support for the LGBT community; even the Toronto Police decorate their cruisers and take part in the fun!

Cue the bad iPhone photos (but hey, at least I got a good spot in the crowd!)

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I have discovered my new beer replacement. I hate beer. I know, sue me. I should be kicked straight out of Canada, right?

I hate going to bars and being the only one to not order a pint of Keiths. Gin and tonic, please? Yes, that’s what I said.

In comes Strongbow. Oh, dear, glorious cider. Not bitter at all. Finally, something that I can order and enjoy with a meal at a pub!

I went to the LCBO to pick up a bunch. Three different LCBOs were completely out of Strongbow. What? Apparently their warehouse is empty! WHAT?

I suppose I should have taken the free one that guy offered me on the RT. His LCBO bag exploded and the cans rolled everywhere, I offered him an old shopping bag I had in my backpack. A good deed for a nice can of cider sounds like a deal, but I was too modest.

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I got a little too drunk at a bonfire after work on Sunday night. The last text I sent my boyfriend (who is in another province for the summer) was a picture of an empty subway car on my way home, and then I didn’t respond to anything else. Whoops, didn’t mean to scare the crap out of you, sorry.

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I kid you not, the caption was “All alone.” What is wrong with me?

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Last Wednesday I got bit by a pony. There is now a pony-mouth-shaped bruise on my thigh, and now I know not to tighten the saddle so abruptly. Lesson learned.

The worst part is that I now realize that covers more than a week! Ahh!

Tip of the Day

If your black Vans sneakers look really cute with your shorts at work but are kind of uncomfortable, don’t wear them.

The devil’s shoes.

Your feet will not eventually “get used to them,” nor will they stretch out enough. They already made your toe bleed once, so stop.

You will seriously injure some tendons in your ankle while making a short sprint to the ferry (or the washroom to beat the lineup, I can’t remember) and you’ll be limping for an estimated 4-6 weeks.

Not days, weeks.

You’ll have to wear your blindingly-white and bulky New Balance sneakers anyway, after you get injured.

Heed my warnings for a pain-free summer. I’ll be limping my way to the subway for the next month or two.

Summer 2k12 in style

Cars, Beautiful Cars

A little known fact about me (well, maybe not little-known to anyone who has ever had to wait for a cab with me outside a bar while I drunkenly call out car models that pass by) is that I love cars. I can identify car makes and models by the shape of their headlights, I think car shopping is one of the most interesting things in the world, and I once ended a relationship because the guy I was dating mixed up a Hummer and a Tahoe. It was more of a tipping point, you know, the “straw that broke the camel’s back” since I’m not that cold-hearted, but still.

It’s not like I grew up in a world of antique car shows or even a world where my parents bought more than one car every 15 years. My friends’ parents all drove Sunfires and Corollas.

I’m sure it all spawned from listening to the dinner table talk, where my autobody-shop-working dad told stories of hilarity about rich people who kept wrapping their Corvettes around poles and whatnot. Do you even know how much paint costs for  a Bentley?!? Here’s a hint: Watch out for poles when backing your 150 thousand dollar car up.

So I took a passive interest in cars. It’s not like I sat there with flash cards every night trying to memorize the slight differences between a Blazer and a Jimmy, but I still knew that your parents drove a Ford Winstar, not a Dodge Caravan you idiot.

I even had my own dream car growing up! A very specific one, too:

Although, I would have to update those rims.

I remember almost crying when we got a flyer in the mail advertising the new 5th gen Mustang. The front grill! What did they do? Oh my god!!

Crying over pictures of cars? Normal 12 year old girl behaviour, right?

I learned to accept it eventually.

Although I can out-do, or at least keep up with, any of my macho guy friends when they talk about cars, sometimes my knowledge makes for an embarrassing moment.

Every industry has its own slang, I presume. Sometimes you don’t realize that maybe not everyone grew up learning about cars from a blue-collar father who worked in a body shop. Not everyone.

In grade 11, I rolled into my math exam looking extra frazzled, I suppose. There is a certain amount of frazzled-ness appropriate for writing an exam on advanced functions, but I guess I surpassed that because everyone was asking me what happened.

“My tranny died,” I replied.

The night before my car had broken down (at 11:30 pm, no less. I didn’t do so well on that exam.) Apparently the radiator went bust and the transmission seized since it was getting no fluid. I pulled over quickly so the transmission turned out to be okay, but at this point I was still under the impression I was going to have to pay 3 grand to fix a car that was purchased 3 weeks before.

My curious friends looked at me with blank stares on their faces and said nothing.

And that’s when I realized that to the minds of 17 year olds with bankers as parents, a “tranny” is not a transmission.

Oops.

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I’m looking forward to the Canadian International Auto Show this week. There’s something about shiny new cars that I’m able to sit in that makes me so happy. It’s the small things in life, isn’t it?

If I can somehow spin a post about the CIAS without making it some boring bueller-like “look at this car, now this one, this one, this one is black, this one is pretty” post, you’ll be seeing that soon.