One of the major perks of living in a nice hood is that garbage day can be pretty exciting. I was riding my bike home the other day and saw, what I thought, was a giant cat toy/castle. I went over for further inspection and thought, there is a possibility that this is some weird sex bench. Why would a cat toy apparatus have shag carpet on it. I wasn’t sure I was willing to gamble with that type of potential cleaning job for a thing my cat would probably ignore. Garbage day brings people out to the Glebe. On my way home from work I saw a guy with a holding thing/receptacle attached to his bike going through people’s tossed stuff scoring some decent material. My favourite garbage day story is when I was just about at my apartment and I saw a line of elderly people slowly walking down the street with their roller carts looking out for scores in the garbage. But there were enough of them that I definitely felt this was a planned outing. At some point their activity director had written Garbage Foraging Day Trip to the Glebe on a white board. May or may not include lunch, depending on what you find. Pretty industrious.

I had to run down to Shopper’s a couple nights ago as I realized my cat had run out of food and the vet was closed, so I couldn’t purchase his super fancy, expensive cat pate. On occasion, when feeling sassy, I spray some chemical nightmare, fancy smelling perfume on me at the entrance of Shoppers. On this occasion I spotted the perfume, Happy by Clinique, which I wore throughout high school (probably to desperately convince myself I was happy? I was not). As I was spraying it on myself, 2 shoppers employees (and their random friend) came to check up on me. I politely said no I was fine and started to turn away when one of them gave me a weird look. As I wondered if she was really that annoyed with me for sampling a tester I realized I was walking away with the giant silver lid for the perfume bottle. I laughed and went, ah right, won’t be needing that and then looked seriously at the three of them and said or maybe I needed it for my collection…Good recovery, you perfume top stealing weirdo. Thank god they laughed.

My first day of vacay I figured I’d relax at the parents and float in the pool sipping on prosecco. That night I was going to have a couple drinks with a friend in CP. My Mom asked how I was going to get home. Uber. How everyone gets home when there is no bus of any kind. Imagine my surprise to find out there is NO UBER IN THE VALLEY. There is a huge drinking culture there and no way to get home (except for like one cab who I think also deals drugs, but I’m speculating). There is a massive market there to be tapped people! I had to call DAD to get home. Or Mr. B to the other person I was with. It’s cool. I’m just a 33 year old pub crawling with my mate, who has to call my Dad (her former teacher) to get home. No biggie. When he walked into the bar we were at we were doing some girlie, sweet shot. #adulting

My car shit out, basically right at the start of my staycation. Murphy’s law. Let’s stay home and do fun day trips with the car, we will save money. Well fuck off. I took the car in today and left it. Walked half way back to my house (think Carling/Kirkwood to the Glebe), but was so covered in sweat that I decided to Uber home. I knew I only had enough space on the ol’ card for one Uber ride, so returning to pick up my car would be an adventure. My significant other thought I should just call a cab. A cab? How do I even do that? Do I punch numbers into my texting machine instead of letters? What about a bus? A bus? How do I know where they are going? I used to take buses after concerts when I was in high school, to get back to the park and ride and I believe twice we ended up at the airport when it was the bus’s last stop. I can easily organize myself on a tube or metro but busses, not so much.

Fuck it’s been humid. Like crazy humid. I walked about 15 minutes the other day in the early morning sun (from my mechanics because I don’t know how else to get around) and when I realized I was sweating from my inside elbow folds. When I got home my bra was soaked. I realized that perhaps the padding in my bra was for hot days just like this, so it can soak up all that sweat and make your boobs look bigger. Then I thought I should just use some soaker pads from the meat department at work, the same pads they use to soak up raw meat juice, just shove them into my bra and walk to my heart’s content. I think there could be a market for hot day breast soaker pads. From chicken breasts, to lady breasts, we keep you from sopping through? Ok the punchline could certainly use some work.

I went out for breakfast with a friend who was going on about short weather being the best. I haven’t owned shorts in years, I just wear like yoga pant capris. So when I found a pair of biker short shorts today I put them on to test them out. I texted her immediately to let her know that I had tried wearing shorts but after 3 steps my vagina ate them.