Monthly Archives: March 2015

Downtown Dreams, Jane Fonda & Wristy Minaj

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Big Day Out

Getting a day off with little to no plans is unheard of. My number one plan was to sleep in but of course the neighbours decided to demolish their house at 8 am (minor renovations) that penetrated even my ear plugs. I got up and realized it was day one of my juice cleanse and all I had in my kitchen was two peppers and some kale which would create a taste-like-shit concoction. So I begrudgingly grabbed my grocery bags and went to WORK on my day off to get my supplies. When I got home I lined up all the fruit and veg on the counter, reciting each one off in a Scottish accent, completely reenacting Renton getting off the junk in Trainspotting, the Sick Boy Method. I have been living on my own now for so long that, almost daily, I will conversations with myself, usually in different accents, so acting out movie scenes by myself in the kitchen felt like a natural progression.

After my juice I decided to clean the house – yay! Then vaccumed up for iphone charger and practically lit it on fire – boooh. House cleaning turned deadly. After that, for funsies, I went to look at an apartment downtown to see what my dreaming about living DT really looked like. Well it looked like was a small box with low ceilings and a patio that overlooks another buildings patio, shown to me by an old Maritimer. It was a bit depressing but I guess the reality is that apartments are stupid fucking expensive and when we plan to move our asses to be closer to work, we will not be able to afford food. This is all. Just kidding but that’s what it seems like. Work to pay rent and that’s all. Blech. Reality blows balls. I want a giant space where we can roam free, have our own studies with a mutual den, with creativity invoking high ceilings and a charming mantle with heritage quirks everywhere but with a brand new kitchen and remarkable bath tub…for under $1000. Is that too much to ask for?? I know. I know. I will never be satisfied with my life is what everyone is thinking right now. Well, you know what? I think your right. Moving on.

I had to return my DVD’s to the VIDEO store today and I decided I love the Glebe video but dislike everyone that rents there. The lady in front of me told the shop keeper all about her international charity organization that she runs and keeps her very busy which is why she hadn’t been there in so long (with a posh, fake British accent) and I rolled my eyes a bit. Then a guy pops in to get a DVD he asked them to hold and he wanted it just to see scenes from a place he had traveled to recently. Douche. He then proceeds to talk about how he travels for about 6 months of the year and he had heard how terrible our winter had been this year. Fuck right off. I was almost a full blown jealous depressed sac when I got to the counter and the owner asked me where I worked. I was like what? A grocery store. He told me good food was very important and I wanted to die a little. Why did I ever think I could fit into this community? Man. Sure I love the dirty hippie bakery BUT on the way to get my ridiculous vegan chili sprinkled with armpit dandruff and gluten free muffins sweetened with sweat, I pass at least 3 restaurants I can’t afford a glass of wine at. And then when you peruse apartments here it’s a one room cupboard in the chic Glebe neighborhood, $1800! What the hell. I could go on but instead have made peace with the fact I will never be a Glebite, Glebe obsession phase complete.

I went to get my hair cut today. Yay! It was a new place, recommended to me by a friend. As soon as I walked in I smelled dirty diapers and saw a child so was immediately unimpressed and upset about having to sit next to a small thing staring at me. (This same Mom and child, whose husband came soon after, all gathered into the hair washing area to be with someone getting their hair done, it was so weird. I couldn’t even relax during my weird conditioning brain massage). I walked into the salon looking pretty homeless and shleppy drinking my juice, feeling like, this is how a celebrity would do it. My hairdresser came to get me and she was exactly a Vietnamese Nicki Minaj. Her pleather pants made me feel a little terrible about my ass the whole time. She was awesome actually. Even when I sat there analyzing how terrible everyone looks at a salon, sopping wet hair, running make-up, glasses off and head popping out of a garbage bag, like a homeless jack in the box (bag). And there is nowhere to look but at yourself while a perfect Asian 15 year old does your hair. Anyhoo, she was very nice, I liked her. She was so quick wristed with the hair brush and dryer that I wondered if she had other side talents that made her more money. I told her my hair could not and would not ever take a curl so she told me she would curl it and she did! I have no idea how to replicate anything she did but my hair looks amazing right now! It’s so curly I feel like Farrah Fawcett or vintage Jane Fonda. If there was ever a time for me spontaneously create an 80’s aerobics video, today would be the day. I told her how amazing a job she did and how it was going to be totally wasted on me going home, drinking tea and watching DVDs by myself. I wondered if I could sleep sitting up tonight so that I could preserve the hair fun for one more day. I didn’t think I could sleep without my head touching anything. So I took selfies all the way home until my phone died. Yay temporary vanity!

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Bachelorette, Promotions & Porn

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Well I am living the bachelorette dream. House to myself, I can walk to work and I can be as messy and spread out as I humanely possible. It’s fantastic. I haven’t cooked a proper meal since Hennie left. I have been subsisting on frozen dinners (like good veggie/gluten free ones), toast, more toast and alcohol. I’m within walking distance to one of my favourite pubs as well. What awesomeness is this. Anyways, I don’t think I can keep it up though. I have forgotten what vegetables look like. I’ve put on at least 5 pounds. One night after coming home from the pub I was hungry and the only thing I had was refried beans and pasta so I put those together and covered it in ketchup, oh boy, good times. Bachelorette life!

I haven’t been to the Glebe Video since University. But I was still on file when I went back last week! Not on a computer system file but in an actual physical binder full of sheets of names. Back in Uni when we went in, we were high as kites and the owner commented on how good we smelled. Then, as I recall, we rented an early Ewan McGregor “art film” (porn) which was just weird (exactly why we rented it). It’s odd now when you have actual human interactions with someone when renting movies. Not just clicking stupid things in Netflix. Someone is actually going to pick up the DVD you are renting, discuss it with you and tell you about the director and what else he did. I knew this would happen so I put back the seriously crap videos, like the probably terrible Disney film starring Jon Hamm’s penis. I knew I would be judged High Fidelity style on my choices. I got an international film (that looked like porn), a Canadian film (starring Riggins from Friday Night Lights) and a modern classic British film (Pirate Radio-LOVE!). The gentleman behind the desk hand wrote my receipt while telling me all about the director of the film that looked like Euro smut and told me all about the other movies he did. He said the film was a raunchy romp and kind of winked at me. I nodded like I knew completely what he was talking about and pretended I wasn’t feelng awkward out by the smut comments. The whole experience felt right. Even when I walked into one of the little rooms featuring British Films and a couple was having the most quiet dry, boring conversation about film techniques. Then as I gauged how much I disliked the people being arty dicks my stomach made noises like my intestines were mauling my colon. I left the room because it was too awkward and pretentious to bear. But regardless of that, great experience!

So I got the manager position at my work! Yay!!! I waited with bated breath for the e-mail that announces it to everyone that works for the company, like EVERYONE! I hadn’t seen it by the time I left work that day so I hoped it was the next day. The day of my interview, walking to work, all I did was picture the e-mail, announcing in lights that I got the job. It was a big deal. So when I arrived at work the next day, at least three people laughed at me and then repeated my last name as I walked through the store. And I was like, what? Sure we ALWAYS make fun of my last name, everyone all the time. Buttrum. Body part and an alcohol. I kept in blatantly for comedic purposes, it gets a laugh. But something seemed different. So as I sat down to to read my e-mails, there it was, the announcement. Disappointment number one, she shared the e-mail to announce another girl’s promotion as well, not just me, wtf, where was my individualized glory! But even worse, when I opened it, I saw it immediately, the announcement that Angela Buttram had got the job. Oh jesus christ on a cracker. As if my name wasn’t bad enough, it went from body part and an alcohol to anal in one letter. Come on!!! There is no better way to rain on one’s promotional parade then to make them the laughing stock of the store and change their name to a weirdly worded rough sexual act. Ah life. After I read it one of my staff quickly ran in to warn me but I told them it was to late, I had seen it. My announcement e-mail dreams shattered, by one letter. Fuck.

Anyways, to back track a bit, my interview way amazing. I was channelling a confident, business savvy she goddess while going through my powerpoint presentation! I did not even know I had powerpoint on my computer until a week ago! Yay! But it’s a program for dummies so I could figure it out and added pictures and made it look half fancy. I was SO stupid amazing in my interview that at one point someone asked how I would accomplish it all and I think I glared at them and smuggly responded, “just watch me” and then in my head I did a Trudeau inspired pirouette. So of course I power killed the interview and got the job with flying colours. Then the next day I started to panic. I was looking at my power point thinking, I promised so much, SO much in that interview that now it was sinking in what I actually needed to accomplish. Where was the confident ball sacky she hero now? I talked myself off a ledge all day (I was overtired) because I was genuinely concerned that I had promised the moon to everyone and realized that I was not an astronaut nor a planet fisherman. I think I will even out, I think it will get better. Right? RIGHT?? No, it’ll be fine…?

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Ewan in the Pillow Book