Friday, May 29, 2009

If I had a pair, I'd wear sunglasses at night so I could, so I could...

(... keep track of visions in my eyes!)

Dear Globlets,

I'm not supposed to be doing this right now but I keep thinking about it and intend to keep this post brief.

Why, in Cat's mane, is it so hard to get sunglasses? Why do they ALL have to be those big "fashionable" ones? Why can't I just have nice sunglasses that can fit my face but also help protect my eyes from the sun? Even the sporty ones are stupid looking, most of the time. I've been trying on sunglasses everywhere and can't find any decent ones. Plus, I refuse to pay over $25 for a pair. I keep breaking them; why would I pay $300 for sunglasses that will break just as easily as $15 ones, should they get stepped on? My favourite sunglasses that I had a while back were from a dollar store! I dropped them in front of me and CRUNCH! I immediately stepped on them. The ones before that were mauled by a dog, and I think there was another pair but they must not have lasted very long since I can't remember them, and then I found my last pair broken when I took it out of my bag the other day.
The sun gives me a headache if I don't have sunglasses! But I don't want to look like I have fly eyes. Big ones don't work on me! Ask Fi. She'll tell you I look like a dork. I also don't want bright red flashy sunglasses with flames, either. I just want simple ones. Not too big, not too small, not too flashy, not too dull. I don't want to look stupid, basically, is what I'm trying to say. Why is this so hard?

That's it.
I've decided.
I'm going to go buy a visor...

Will breathe like this from now on: KHHHHHHHHkkkk KKHHHHHHHkk KKHHHHHHHHHhhkkk KHHHHHHkk KKHHHHHHHHHk

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


Song of the Glob: Go West by The Petshop Boys (because West = left) (Village People did this too)

Dear Globlets,

Do dodo dodo do do do dooooo dodododoooo dodododooo!

And in other news...
I met Tentacles in person for the first time ever and I was not kidnapped, drugged, raped, beaten to a bloody pulp, murdered, cut up into chunks, put in a body bag and dumped in the Fraser River! That was a plus. I refuse to have any kind of relationship with someone who does that. I had a really great time with him and due to recent NAGGING I've decided to write about it. Just kidding. I wanted to write about it anyway. It's definitely epic enough to share.

I had things all planned out: My dad would come pick me and my brother up from our grandparents' in the morning, take us out for breakfast at the IHOP because Vancouver Island is completely IHOPless, he'd drive me into town to meet Tentacles while he and my brother hung out and did stuff elsewhere. Little did we know, some idiots were running around Vancouver for no reason other than to, well, run. They were causing major traffic problems around town.
I already think running is weird but running for the sake of running when you could run to raise money for or awareness of something instead... I don't get.
My dad said he'd take me to Metrotown where I would then take the skytrain to meet Tentacles at the "Whale Station." I took the skytrain all by myself for the first time! =O I'm a big girl now!

Some texts I received:
"Meet me at the station."
"I just got here."
"I can wait. How long?"
"Go left when you get to the top I'm on a bench. Hit me if I have my eyes closed."

Now that I reread the last one, I understand a little better but when I read it the first time I thought he meant that once I got off the train, then I should go left. I arrived. To my left I saw seats but no Tentacles. If I'd continued left, I would have gone onto the skytrain tracks and died a most horrible, gruesome death. I followed all the other people. There was a big space filled with people going up and down the several staircases that led out of the space and I went UP the one to the street. UP. UP. UP. I looked around because I went UP and I realized that the text message said something about UP. UP I wound UP and still no sign of Tentacles UP there. There was, however, a whale. I called him UP and said I couldn't go left, and when I went UP and looked left, there was no Tentacles. I told him I was by the whale and he didn't know what I was talking about. I told him to find me. So he did. He completely missed the whale fountain that was straight ahead from the stairs that I came UP on. It was silly-awkward for a few seconds but then we walked and it was good.
...UP! Left...

He seemed to be incapable of making a decision about where to walk so I decided that we would walk, and I quote, "in a straight line" until he decided which way to go. Yup, a STRAIGHT LINE. There were many straight lines...
It didn't work. I ended up deciding where to go anyway, but that was all right.

At one point we were distracted by a herd (yes, a herd) of pigeons. We discussed them and attempted to interview the brown one because we were curious as to why the hell it was brown and all the others were not. Then we decided to catch one. We agreed to CORNER one.
"You go this way, I go that way!" ... "OKAY!"
We grew closer and closer and closer and they were being cornered more and more and more and we were going to get it, get it, get it and we almost had it, had it, had it and then all of a sudden! it flew up at us! past me and I squealed! and I was embarrassed because of it...
And this is how I learned that pigeons in Vancouver could fly. Who would have thought? Seriously, though, the fact the a pigeon was a bird and therefore had the ability to fly didn't cross my mind for a second. It was not even a possibility. Why would a pigeon fly? WHY?! Really, whose idea was that!?
I was reminded of the time I was walking with Fi and her sister and they saw a cute bird they wanted to catch. They suggested I catch it because I am "lowest to the ground" and I "don't have to reach very far," and because I simply had to bend down ever so slightly to get the bird... because I'm so short. It wouldn't have even seen me coming. <3

Tentacles and I went for Chinese after I introduced him to Blenz's strawberry Fruitchillos which he enjoyed. They're good. I like the apple and mango ones a lot too. I ordered the food at the Chinese place because he didn't know what to order. I ordered some ginger pork thing and as it turns out, he doesn't like ginger. Silly boy. I ate too much. Silly girl.

We be'd silly together and walked in more straight lines and decided that if he wears chaps, then I wear the sexy nurse outfit.
Later, a fly decided that it wanted some human female action and dove down my shirt, between my boobs, and then out of my shirt. Tentacles wished he'd been that fly for a second.
Oh, and we also almost had sex in an alley on top of a hobo and some random mattresses that were lying around. Yeah, it was a close one.

In the end, I learned that birds can fly, flies can dive, paper can be frogs, no to ginger, yes to strawberry fruitchillos, walking in straight lines with Tentacles is awesome, they have special fields for sexually confused soccer players on roofs of buildings, roofs is spelled "roofs" and not "rooves" for some reason, unlike "hoof" and "hooves", and the idea that dots, squares, and stripes, are the shit, is felt mutually.

Right now I'm super tired and could have made this post slightly funnier but my brain is turning to mush, and the zombies won't like it if it's like this.
I want a nap. But I have so much to do. Crap.

Do dodo dodo do do do dooooo dodododoooo dodododooo!

Monday, May 11, 2009

I'm cutting down on my daily intake of bullshit.

Song of the Glob: Scummy by The Arctic Monkeys

Dear Globlets,

What is generosity?
To me it means giving something without expecting anything in return, without fuss, without making faces or sighing about it, without making the other person feel guilty about receiving something, without making it seem like the act is a burden. One should be aware and cautious of their own reactions towards others' generosity, always. One should be courteous. Generosity is not talking about how generous you are, can be or have been. Far from it.

I'm tired of talk. Talk is about as cheap as buying love.
I'd been fooled into thinking one thing was another thanks to talk. It was low and scummy and it came naturally from that person. One can profess love, one can profess to have changed and to plan on changing, to be forever seeking the truth and the ways to become a better person, and they can profess to want to make you happy... but that's all just talk. Unless you say the appropriate things, you had better act on those ideas. I heard some of these ideas and I believed them. I believed that that person was trying because they said they were. Months passed and little changed. Little was learned. But they would say they were trying to. I find it hard to believe. Asking about it afterwards or apologizing, especially for things they don't understand or without knowing what they did wrong, repeatedly, is far too little too late in my mind.

I'm tired of bullshit. From this experience I will take with me a low tolerance for it and a heightened awareness of it. I refuse to take it. I refuse to lower my expectations to ridiculous levels. I refuse to accept certain things easily. I refuse to forgive and forget more than what is reasonable. I believe in second chances, even third chances, but not 5th, 9th, or 24th chances. I am more aware of what I want now and, unfortunately for you boys, I've raised my expectations and standards even more. Just be my friend, otherwise... good luck, 'cause you'll need it if you want more.

I'm tired of money and its false importance. It's not always false, just in some circumstances it is. I hate money, I really do. I hate people with too much of it and I hate it when people don't have any of it. Please note: this is a vague statement and does not refer to all members of these two classes. I hate what it does to people. I hate it when it gets put first, above all things. I hate it when it is misused, which is often. It's such a shallow thing. Money is cheap too. It's what you use when you want to take the easy way out.

I don't ever want to be thought of as easy. If giving generously, with your 'generous heart' is your way of expressing love, care and affection, you can buy yourself a bimbo like they have on TV. I don't see generosity there. Gold-digger? Marry her for her beauty and she'll marry you for your money and you'll have children in the suburbs with a big house and a dog and she'll have an affair with the pool boy or your best friend/brother/neighbour or all of the above, and you'll have an affair with the secretary and your kids will know and be forever screwed up and when they're teens, the boy will be emo and do drugs and be anti-social, constantly listening to heavy death metal screamo shit and the girl will be a slutty cheerleader that always gets what she wants, and the parents will never understand them and then they'll feel like they've failed as parents which they have. (Dog bless stereotypes)
And you'll all go to church together.
Where you will hypocritically cling on to your beliefs because it feels good. It feels safe. It feels familiar. Because it's what you've been taught to believe since day one. Because the truth is too painful to bear. Because you're too scared of being wrong. Because you want to be special.
But who are you to claim that we are superior and have more rights than anything else?

And now it goes back to generosity. The day Christians cease to proclaim their generosity and charity of faith or in the name of their god or whatever it is they constantly say, without expecting a comfortable post-judgement place in the golden morgue that is their heaven where only they will be saved BECAUSE of all their good deeds... is the day a Christian understands generosity. Will you still be Christian if you're not doing something good for, or in the name of, your god, I wonder? I don't know the rules. (You've all got different ones anyway. It's amusing how Christians/Catholics can never keep their story straight even though their religion was born of the same book.)

Why be generous if you don't get anything out of it, right?! Oh, wait. Something about that statement is wrong...

Be good because it's good to be, not because god will like it or because you'll go to heaven. You selfish bastards.

Aw crap, it ended up in religion.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Get a job!... Well, okay.

(Don't know if I used this photo already, but it's fitting... so there!)

Dear Globlets,

I am so tired. I have a job! And that is why I'm tired. No more sleeping in (especially when I need a shower in the morning), no more waiting 'til I'm hungry to eat, no more knowing what day it is (yes, there have been times when I was capable of this), but most importantly: NO MORE BEING BROKE ALL THE TIME! It's good. I got paid the other day with a sexy cheque of three hundred sexy something dollars. I take showers at night sometimes so I don't have to worry about time in the morning.
I got some shoes and tops and dresses. I have an excuse: they're for work, except for my orange shoes because they're high-heeled sandals. You need close-toed shoes when working in a kitchen so when a knife falls on your toe and your toe is falling off, it's okay! Because you know that the shoe will not let your toe roll around on the kitchen floor and have a piece of sausage or carrot be mistaken for your toe. Oh, the embarrassment when you show up at the hospital, foot bleeding and missing a toe, and you hand the doctor or nurse your toe which you kept in a Ziploc bag with some ice... only to find that you're asking them to sew on a carrot to your foot. Or a chunk of zuchini... but if that's something you can mistake your toe for, please go see a doctor immediately.

One of the pairs of shoes that I got, I wore to work one day. I hadn't worn them before and, well, that was a mistake. Wear your shoes at home before you go to work where you plan to spend 4 hours on your feet. Not even halfway there I called up my mom and she brought me my runners. So grateful. Here's a picture of what they did to me:

Hey, yeah! You're welcome for the images! No problem! Hmmm... now I'm worried they may be too yucky. Well, only look once.

I haven't worn shoes other than flip-flops and my runners since then. I can't. Bastards. I really want to wear my new shoes! Even with a bandaid it hurts. Bastards. Plus, the bandaid comes off easily. And you know what else? Nothing. I just wanted to say 'bastards' again.

So, about my job... It's $9/hour, Tuesday to Saturday, 10AM to 2PM. Now, don't get all fussy with me being fussy about not being able sleep in. Mornings suck and I need time to get ready. For the longest time I couldn't eat anything in the morning before work. I still have trouble but the last two mornings, I've had a decent breakfast: toast + REAL (fucking!) Kraft Mayonnaise + basted soft egg. A tea before food helps too. And I usually have a mocha so I don't fall asleep at work and end up cutting up non-required raisins for pecan tarts and slicing tomatoes for a pizza I was never supposed to make. They don't even serve pizza.

What do I do there, then? I take people's money and give them food. I make sandwiches and bake stuff like pecan tarts (which I love and so does my brother, surprisingly). It's a really cool place. Very small. I had asked something about something "being in the back" and my boss laughed and told me that this was it, it was all here. The kitchen is basically the size of a regular kitchen, just with a bigger island. They make all kinds of stuff there... lasagnes, chicken Florentine, scones, squares, tarts, cake loaves, muffins, soups, sandwiches, omelettes, etc. If there's something not in the deli, someone will make it for you. But don't expect cabbage rolls just because you ask for them. A sandwich, however, is doable. I don't do coffees much yet but I probably will soon. I can make the drip coffee ($2.00 and free refills all day). I clean the tables and do the dishes and get very warm when the oven is on and/or the dishes are going in or out of the dish sanitizer thingy... I get at least one free facial every day. Too bad it's not desired whatsoever... especially when your face is coated in a light layer of sweat and you have to help a customer. They look at you like you're Nicholas Cage in 'Adaptation.'- He sweats profusely when he's nervous. (Minute 4:05)

That's all for today, kids! And, that thing about cutting off one's toe... don't try that at home.
Try it at the mall!
It'll freak the crap out of people! :D