Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Eye See You

Every morning on the way to work, gazing out my window, I see the ‘religious nuts’ standing on the corners of Commercial street, Awake in hand, hoping to have a chance to sell their goods to the lost ones frolicking the streets in sin.

There have been times when our eyes have met and managing a half smile, I quickly avert my eyes. It is awkward every time, and I dread those moments, thanking the heavens I’m not on foot because I just don’t think another conversation on whether or not the earth is going to erupt in a flaming ball of Armageddon in the year 2020, would be beneficial to either of us, especially so early in the morning….

I do admit to having a certain admiration and appreciation for their dedication, for this is what their church tells them to do their calling. They obviously believe in it, and are literally standing for it, in the pouring rain, while people drive by, fascinated by every thing but them… What are they thinking as they stand there? Do they feel awkward? What is it they feel?

Anyways, the whole point is that I had a chance to put the shoes on my feet for an hour or so yesterday... Long enough to shift the ol’ perspective a bit.

Some of the things I noticed while standing on the street, showing people how to get to the conference centre were, oddly enough, not quite so different than what I myself portray every morning on the way to work. The averted eyes, the sudden interest in all things street – stop don’t walk, buildings, trees and oh my god, look at that – a light post! I did get eyed up and down by a couple of snots and had an awkward moment with some of the locals… hey baby. Wink wink… Um… yeah!

But sadly, the majority of people walking down that street did everything in their power to avoid me and whatever I was selling, and I was merely giving directions!

It wasn’t a great feeling standing there by myself, grasping my brochures and trying hard not to stare people down. I felt alone and ignored and shunned and it sucked. Then I got thinking about people who stand on the street for other reasons…I thought about what it would be like to not be so blessed with a job and a roof over my head, food on my plate, and what some of them must feel when they are standing there on the street, alone, ignored, shunned and thinking everything just sucks.

This isn’t one of those pity parties for the poor or whomever. I’ve just been stuck in my bubble again, looking out one-sided. But apparently, I needed my bubble popped. And popped it was. It was a reminder to be more accepting, less judgmental and be more aware of the different shoes people may be wearing. I still have qualms about being force-fed my religion, or giving money to someone who is clearly headed over to the liquor store only to destroy her life even more... but sometimes I do jump to conclusions and can be ignorant to what’s really going on. And maybe I should have these little reminders for this exact reason…because we are just people tryin’ to live our lives, whatever our lives may be.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Salt, Pepper & a Rub of Oil

This evening I cooked a lovely dinner: steamed broccoli with a creamy cheese sauce, wild rice and baked salmon… Ain’t that nice? I even baked grabbed a bunch of fresh dinner buns from the market because who has time for the art of bread making, I say?!

Figuring out how I would do the salmon took a fair bit of time, would it be a citrus, would it be a sweet caramel glaze… Neither apparently, because I was out of lemons and the horrific brown sugar concoction I whisked up would not even satisfy the neighborhood stray, so I sent it on its way swimming in subterranean bliss. Instead, we settled on simplicity: salt & pepper and a rub of olive oil. Works every time. I am proud to say there were no flames and nothing burned. Yay me!

It was like, magic.

That is, until someone decided to ram their fork into the fish and then shove the fork in their gaping mouth, only to return to dip one of them fresh dinner buns from the market into the creamy cheese sauce, slop that shit onto the floor and mosey on.

I flipped. Out. More so on the inside. But nonetheless.

The queen bee was en-fuckin-raged… And she had quite the time trying to control herself from picking up the pot, buzzin' around and painting the walls.

This is so unlike her…she really is not a raging maniac…really. But these little things keep on piling up and they are starting to take their toll, causing hissy-fits and making her think all kinds of silly little thoughts and question her last threads of sanity.

All I would like is some appreciation…is that such an absurd and foreign desire? To feel loved and appreciated… I’m no Mother Teresa out there saving the world or anything, but I do care about the little things, and I wish you would too.

It would be nice to know that you appreciate when I cook for you and don’t jump the gun by diving in post-baked with a sudden urge for munchie-madness. It would be nice to come home and have the dishes done once in a while. It would be nice to have the bed made and the clothes picked up and the shoes put away and the toilet put down and the mirror free of toothpaste splatters and floss mush and the stinky shower curtain closed and the clutter that is staring back at me from every angle and every corner like the monster under my childhood bed, put away! Once in a while.

Even though you might not care, or should I say, obviously don’t care about the state of your environment; to put in a little effort sometimes, would be really nice. It might even make me want to do those little things for you more often.

Sigh. I am a demanding, psychotic, obsessive-compulsive, raging maniac.

Brought to you by your friendly neighbourhood P.M.S.

That's all folks!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


Ok, I am working on steam here, wondering what I am doing up so late on a Tuesday night. Not exactly “working”, but good lord woman it’s nearing twelve o’clock! (So late, I know!) But here I am, fighting to keep my one eye open, contemplating toothpicks to delay having to go to bed only to wake up again and when it comes right down to the nitty-gritty: about to lose my freakin’ mind. Or have I already. I suppose some would say this is highly debatable. Damn, girl, you start off so well in the beginning, and then things just spiral out of control!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Pick It Up

Shit happens. But would I like to step in it? The answer is NO.

Dear lazy irresponsible brain dead dog walker,
You should be ashamed of yourself. Luckily for me, I missed your best friend's fecal pile by about an inch and a half, but some other poor sap was wearing it for breakfast, while you escaped unscathed!

What I would like to know is what the hell were you thinking, as you stood there casually watching that ripe ol’ turd plop right out of your dog’s derrière, onto the sidewalk of all places? Where, not just dogs, but people walk? Incredible! Keep it up. I dare you. One day, your timing won’t be so sweet.

Your friendly neighbour down the street.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Hair No More

I finally did it. After months and months of waiting for a so-called "temporary" hair dye to wash out, and another few weeks with an additional color that was supposed to turn out close to my normal blond (but did absolutely nothing), I went to the salon and had a professional fix my hair. Rather than an all over bleach job and then fixing that mess, she added foil highlights throughout my massive head of hair in hopes of gradually growing out the brown and bringing back the blondie. This is going to be a process. It was also high time for a real change so she took a good chunk of length off the bottom and added some layers. My intention was to grow it long but it was just too damn boring and really needed a facelift. Now it is just below my shoulders and literally, a weight has been lifted. It looks and feels fabulously fresh and I am happy to say I will never again attempt to try any kind of do-it-yourself hair at home.

#1. There is no such thing as "temporary" hair dye.
#2. Brunette to blond without help is asking for a disaster.
#3. Highlights good. All over color bad.
#4. Having someone shampoo your hair is a mini vacation.