A list of things I hate...because I am obsessed with making lists

1. Feeling frustrated over situations you can’t control
2. Pompous, tactless, asshole Current Affairs teachers
3. People who are thoughtless towards others
4. People who are intentionally mean towards others when the situation does not
warrant it
5. People who do exactly what you expect them to
6. Not having any plans for New Years
7. Having to constantly take care of my 26 year old sister, when I am only 23
8. People who don’t say please or thank you
9. People who do not appreciate things you have done for them/the time you have
sacrificed for them
10. People who do not follow through with things they said they would
11. Those that act like they are better than you
12. Those who only want to make plans with you/consider you a friend when it is
convenient for them
13. Money
14. Money
15. Money
16. Not having money
17. Nagging parents, to give you money, which you do not have
18. Fake people, and having to be fake back to them by proxy
19. Having too much time to think and over analyze (hence the reason for the list)
20. Plans that never work out (see: Montreal, Vancouver and most likely New York)
21. When your favourite show is a rerun
22. When you listen with careful consideration to someone’s problems and they do
not reciprocate your kindness
23. People breaking into my friend’s cars
24. Pancreatitis
25. Unappreciation
26. Being unlucky
27. Feeling like a stranger in your own family
28. Those that are mean to you and think its acceptable because people think
its ‘just the way they are’
29. Those that do not appreciate what they have (I’m sure I’m guilty of this
too, but I still don’t like it)
30. Regret

"All you people at the top don’t know nothing about it. We don’t give a fuck what the price is, so just leave us to our own devices, and we’ll leave you alone."


I’ve decided you really can’t please everyone. Especially miserable, horrible, self absorbed people, perhaps the most difficult of all people to please. In this specific case, I speak of my Current Affairs teacher. I suffered through a term of his constant harsh criticism (almost once reduced to tears), and worked hard to provide him a final project of which he may find acceptable. When he dubbed my group’s efforts as “competent” I found a glimmer of hope, because it had been nicer than any he had previously uttered. Alas, to no avail. I busted my ass all term

putting up with a fellow group member that loved to bust my balls over every little detail and put more effort into this one class than perhaps any of my others in that term combined. I was hopeful that all of our efforts would be deemed valuable in the end result and by extension, the received grade. Wrong again. Grades went up at midnight this evening and I received a mediocre grade for a project that the teacher and his high and mighty fellow colleague deemed “one of the better projects they had seen come out of this class than in the past.” You would think that if this were the case the grade would reflect as such. I pray for the grades of the poor bastards that have befallen before me. Did I mention it is mandatory (low and behold, this was news to me) to take his class again next term and do basically the same project all over again? I used to think that there was some sort of balance in the universe, that with hard work at least the end result made it worth while. I know now that I was clearly deceived and the world is more cruel and unusual than I had once so naively thought.

Sidenote: I got my second tattoo almost two weeks ago. The shading and colour have not been completed yet, but here's a pic of phase one :)

"Enough, enough bowing down to disillusion, hats off and applause to rogues and evolution"



As some of you may know, I have a theory or weird/unfortunate luck that tends to befall me. I like to throw said incidents up on the ol’blog for viewers to enjoy. This entry will prove no different in the weird factor. If you’ve read my previous posts, specifically the one regarding Matt Danko’s formal pot luck dinner party then you may already know about the person that was lovingly nicknamed (and not by me, I might add) Creeps, aka Mark. The short version of my former post is that I met him at said party and we chatted, but I felt that creepy vibe from him that girls seem to have a sixth sense about (you know what I’m talking about ladies). Before he departed he asked for my phone number and taken aback and unable to lie like the chump that I am, I gave it to him. He didn’t call and I forgot all about it. Until about 3 weeks later he called me while I was at work once, and another while I was out the door, both easy to get off the phone situations. This week, however, he has called twice more and I recognized the number and avoided. Perhaps this is the coward-like approach but if that’s so, then a coward I am. I just don’t know how to tell someone I hardly know not to call, it seems so mean. I guess not answering seems mean too, but I guess it depends on how you look at the situation, especially when today presented the weirdest aspect of this story thus far. I had a missed call on my cell from a 416 number that I didn’t recognize. So on my way back to the Hammer for my birthday festivities this evening (I’m 23 today!) The number called again, this is what happened:

Me: Hello
Strange Woman: Hello, is this Casey?
Me: Yes it is?
Strange Woman: You don’t know me, but I’m Mark’s Aunt, he’s been trying to get a hold of you.
Me (in my head): What the fuck?
Strange Woman: He just wanted to invite you to a party we’re having, we have them a few times a year, its on Saturday.
Me: Well I’m actually busy today and tomorrow because its my birthday today.
Strange Woman: Oh, happy birthday!
Me: Thank you (strange woman that I don’t know)
Strange Woman: Maybe you can come to the next one then?
Me: Um, sure…. (what the hell am I supposed to say?)
Strange Woman: Great, then Mark will call you ok?
Me: Ok…bye.

Who a) gets their Aunt to call a girl you met ONCE? b) Gets their aunt to call ANY girl? C) Gets their Aunt to call a girl who you’ve called multiple times with no answer? Let this be a lesson to one and all, when you don’t know the number that appears on your phone’s caller ID, don’t answer.

I covered the Electoral Assembly in Brampton and all I got was this blog:

http://www.tvo.org/cfmx/tvoorg/citizensassembly/index.cfm?page_id=87&action=blog&subaction=viewPost&post_id=2248&blog_id=101

"If I turn into another dig me up from under what is covering the better part of me. Sing this song, remind me that we'll always have each other, when everything else is gone."



Last Monday, the Journalism New Media students that signed up to volunteer for the municipal elections, headed to City TV to make a contribution. Or at least that was the idea. Originally we were set to arrive at 2pm, then 10:30am, then 7am. Why the dramatic time changes you ask? Good question. I still, after having experienced the event first hand, have no logical answer to this question. After a 5am wake up time and boarding the GO Train by 6:30 our classmates entered the City TV building at 7:30am. After being filed into a conference room we all waited, half asleep for our assignments. A few people were set off in groups of two to cover the larger candidates, such as David Miller. I however, was on my own with reporter Dwight Drummond, a camera man named Afredo (Alfie for short), tech guy Martin, and floor director, Shannon. We rode in the City truck to Kensington Market, not far from City’s Queen street building. We set up shop in a restaurant called the Supermarket. From that point on the day started to lose its luster. I believe we arrived around 9:30am and from that point on we basically sat on our asses. I went to the truck once to retrieve camera batteries. Dwight Drummond met us at the location and practiced for his noon run through and then we layed around, slept in restaurant booths and ate at a terribly bad (we all agreed on this fact afterwards) pizza place a short walk from the Supermarket, which doesn’t open until late afternoon. After the noon 30 second bradcast there was another practice at 3pm and we went to air at 6pm. I’ve never been so bored and on top of that so COLD in my entire life. The place was freezing, I felt like a human ice cube. However, the member in our riding, Adam Vaughan won the votes in ward and we were fortunate enough to be present for his 9pmish arrival to his victory party and snag the first on camera interview with him since the votes had been counted. There were a lot of people that had come into the Supermarket by then and the energy was high, so overall the experience was somewhat memorable for me. I would however, would have liked to have been of a bit more use and less bored out of my mind, but it’s all part of the learning experience right?

Note: today is the Incubus pre-sale for the February Toronto show, yahhhh!

"Has someone taken your faith? It's real, The pain you feel? Your trust? You must confess. Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?"

I consider it some sort of record that I haven’t had any annoying roommate stories until this day, the 29th of October 2006. I’ve always thought my roommate Connor was a tad bit strange. He eats spaghetti with his hands and says that’s how you eat Ethiopian food (but clearly spaghetti is not Ethiopian, and we’re in Canada, but I digress). He has also brought home a friend who quit smoking the day before and had since decided it would be a healthier life choice to start snorting tobacco or ‘Snuff’ as he called it. On Friday my friend Jocelyn and I ran into him at school and he had writing on this arm claiming a lack of available paper as the reasoning and has brought home free Muslim bibles from people he met on the street and so on.

But today was the most unusual and infuriating of all. I come in the door from Hamilton and walk into the bathroom, and to my surprise the bathroom looks like a small animal has been killed or someone has taken paint and danced around the room with it. My basement roommate, Scott and I, who actually share the bathroom, were both gone for the weekend. So I go up to the kitchen and ask Connor if Scott had been home and he says no, and I ask if Connor (who is in art fundamentals) has been in our bathroom with paint? Apparently he had! To wash up because his bathroom was occupied by another roommate of ours, Danielle at the time. He then attempts to claim that he had in fact cleaned it up. It was EVERYWHERE! The floor, the walls, the crevasses of the sink, the side of the toilet, on my tube of toothpaste, the mirror, the door frame, and its only a tiny bathroom! I literally had to scrub the walls and floor to get the majority of it removed, the rest is still there and I can’t get rid of it. What a balls thing to come home to, I always question the issue of karma in situations like this.

"Your moving fast, Don't get attached, I think you're hot but I love you not..."


I had an interesting conversation last night with Mr. Will Smith and we happened upon the subject of marriage, more so the issue of people getting married in their late teens/ early twenties. I don’t know if it makes my cynical, bitter or whatever but I just can’t understand people committing to a life together when their own has barely begun. Now let me say that I’m not against the idea of marriage and I do hope one day (although some days I have my doubts) that I will get married too. I also support the idea of long term relationships, in fact I hope to find myself in one of those one day as well. But I can’t understand the reason for the rush to the altar. If you’re in a committed relationship, perhaps living together and you’ve made the conscious decision to move forward in a life together, why not give that life a chance before you promise to spend the rest of your life with said person? I understand some people decide to get married young because of certain beliefs, perhaps their religion dictates no sex before marriage or as Will said some cultures like the Dutch are very traditional and believe that marriage is actually quite sacred. And in a way I agree, I think it is sacred and that’s why I think waiting is so important. Too often to people wind up divorced these days, I believe the statistic falls somewhere in the 1 in 3 range if Bridget Jones’s Diary gives accurate stats (and I’m sure it does, love that movie). Love is such a fickle thing in the sense that we seem to lost all rationality and believe in crazy terms like forever and always. Of course that’s the exact kind irrationality we crave, but how do we balance the irrational feelings of love with the responsible, good sense not to jump the gun?

"Choices always were a problem for you, what you need is someone strong to guide you, deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow, what you need is someone strong to guide you....like me"


So I was watching my nightly helping of my lovable TV host, Conan O’Brien and a few reasons were presented amidst this episode that defines for me, why I love him so much.

1. He used an example of going to get slushies at 711 (Mel, I’m looking at you here)
2. His never ending mocking of the whore the Paris Hilton is
3. His never ending mocking of the human stick that Nicole Ritchie is
4. And of course, the George Bush comments

Later on in the episode when Alec Baldwin made an appearance in which they made several references to debaucherous activities including a gentlemen wanting Alec’s hairy ass on his face. You just don’t’ hear things like that on any other TV show. God I love that man.

But during the break was a commercial that has spawned this entry and one that I cannot believe I have not written about sooner. 7th Heaven. How in GOD’s name (pun intended) is this ridiculous show still on the air? Not only are all the kids, cousins, grand kids, adopted kids, street kids, adopted-street kids-kid’s all grown up, but the show had a FAREWELL episode last season! I know this because I saw the commercial 100 times and rejoiced that it was finally going off the air where it should have gone since day one. I can only assume that some audience demand has brought the show back for what can only be their 75th season. To this end, I must ask, WHERE in the world are these people and WHY would they want to continue beating this dead horse any further?

"Wanna leave but I've got to stay, I'm wondering more everyday, Montreal to Hong Kong, Where have all the good people gone?" - Sam Roberts


This has been a most odd and unfortunate week. I can honestly say I’m glad to see its ends in exactly 24 minutes. For those of you interested in the strange and often crappy things that happen in my day-to-day life, please read further for your viewing pleasure. Let’s see where to begin. After spending the week feeling like I’m coming down with the cold/flu thing that everyone seems to be contracting, it has not yet surfaced to its fullest extent, so I’ve been feeling a bit run down. Not so bad, and the editing class is still a jumble of language and button pressing in sequence I don’t fully understand (as per my previous blog for those of you that have read it and chosen not to comment, Jeff and Brett I’m looking at you).



Fast forward to Thursday night at Mr. Matt J. Danko’s incredibly swanky and fabulous formal-pot luck dinner-soiree. A very classy affair filled with suits, ties and dresses. A lot of interesting illustration and other Sheridan kids among others were in attendance. Unbeknownst to me I meet in my mingling, Mark the apparent Buddhist. Better known to Matt and his friends as “Creeps” (I find this out later). I chat with Mark and Josephine (Jo) for a while before Mark says he will soon be leaving. I find he keeps returning to the spots I’m sitting but think little of it until he asks for my cell phone number and pulls out his cell phone to add it in. I panic and being the idiot I am, give him my right number. When I basically remove myself as quickly as humanly possible from the situation I find Matt and Jen to tell them what has transpired and this Matt tells me of their affectionate nickname for him. So apparently I’m only a magnet for creeps (a theory I will later prove further).

Saturday evening we all head out to the Whistling Walrus in the Hammer for Jeff Comer’s birthday party. We drink and get the birthday boy sufficiently intoxicated, the whole time conversing with Mr. Brett Lintott in hopes of wearing down his insulting exterior to the charmer and more importantly, the beer drinker we all know and love. The evening went along very splendidly until I got groped before our departure. Most unfortunate and there’s the creep factor again.

This morning I get a frantic call from a co-worker at Bluenotes asking me to come in early. I fly from the Hammer to Oakville to assist her in my parent’s tank-sized mini van because my car was being repaired. I pulled into a drive through spot and rushed in. I came out to the van, after the mall had closed to find a note under my windshield that read “learn to park asshole” on a white envelope written in orange pen. I looked around the parking spot in an attempt to figure out what I had apparently done wrong only to discover the front wheel of my passenger side barely touched the line of the spot, clearly still allowing people to park beside me (as I pulled into a drive through spot in the first place) and allowing enough room for people to get in and out of the vehicles with comfort. I was very taken aback and saddened by this douchebags note. Lastly, no Slainte for our typical Sunday evening socializing. Here’s hoping this week proves lovelier than the last. People suck.

“You're such an inspiration for the ways that I'll never ever choose to be…”

School has finally starting to go from poking-myself-to-stay-awake-boring, to sort of exciting. Our class spent our first substantial amount of time in the television reporting and editing studio today. It was kind of exciting to actually do something substantial. I wish I could say the same about my Editing class. I realize its only been a few weeks sof class so far but I’m ready to throw those damn machines across the room. Although, this brings to light the greater issue of my getting close enough to one to indeed, do that. We have four machines for 24 people and its impossible for everyone to get a turn. Not only that but two of them have been breaking down in the last two weeks, only adding fuel to the fire, as they say. Then there’s the typical nature of people, who hog them. This makes is quite an easy task to lose ones place or simply not understand the process at all. Fast forward to two weeks from now when our class will be tested on the material and have to perform certain edit functions on these machines in front of our teacher for marks. Cut to me hitting myself over the head with a blunt object in the vacant hope of avoiding the whole thing. *sigh Well at least I can drink and be social at Matt Danko’s formal potluck dinner this evening and forget about such troubles for at least one more day.

"I don't understand any of this" (this title is for you, Morgan)

I was informed this summer by Sheridan that I would be required to purchase or rent a laptop in order to accommodate my post graduate program. Fair enough, I scrounged up enough credit card space to make such a purchase and was met with the set back of finding after my many years as a PC user, that the only available option for me to purchase was a Mac Book. I'm not complaining about the lap top itself, it's pretty and fast and is indeed very convenient to have and I'm sure will prove most valuable. However, the transition from a PC to a Mac has been a most infuriating one for me. Certain programs must have the Mac



version downloaded and its harder to pirate software (not that I do that, because I definitely do NOT) from online sites when they only have the Windows versions available (as was the case of Mac Office that I'm hoping when I attempt to install it later today, Joel will have saved me from further searching for). I'm adjusting quite nicely now but the only problem I cannot seem to master is the downloading/viewing of Bit Torrents. I have downloaded the Mac version of Azureus at Calan's suggestion and can download the desired items at choice, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to view them. DivX and Quicktime both will not play them and I tried downloading an application that was supposed to help make them seen called VLC but sadly more of the same. So I ask those of you with any sort of computer geek knowledge, if they know how I may solve this problem, PLEASE GOD GIVE ME THE ANSWER! (Billy Madison)

On a side note, in response to Will's blog and his ridicule of Incubus I say this. Among his listed musical choices is DMX and Mudvayne. I feel these two bands speak for themselves in terms of his musical choices. Perhaps the Fresh Prince should have stayed in West Philadelphia with his music (although I use the term lightly). The tables have turned again Will! :)

(Side note: Being Batman would be the best job ever).

"Stand in the place that you work"

In a bizarre twist from my last entry in the blogging world I have somewhat gone through three jobs. it seems as though, despite my very sad belief that my illustrious career as a Bluenotes sales rep had come to an end, a strange change of luck came my way today. The 20 year old idiot manager called me:

Sandy: Hi Cassandra, its Sandy, I was wondering if you were free to come in tonight.
Me: Sure I can, for what?
Sandy: To work?
Me: Do I still work there?

Long story short, she was behind on work this week apparently so much so that she failed to inform me of my official hire on at Bluenotes. Of course as luck would have it, the day before I had an interview for a banquet hall called Otellos and was hired on for possibly THE worst job ever: parking attendant/dish washer. But with nothing else on the horizon I regretfully accepted. After receiving the phone call, I VERY happily took a breath of relief and called Otello's and informed Raymond that I cold not stay in his employ. He basically hung up on me but who cares, after all its not like I work for him :D woo!

So today I had an interview at a restaurant called Somewhere in Texas (I know, I've never heard of it either). And of course having everything worked out finally with Bluenotes and my typically bad luck with interviews, of course she hired me on the spot for the position of hostess (when I didn't really need one, I get one). So now I have suddenly two jobs and school.

I'm not sure I want to devote myself to either, as they both seem equal amounts sketch: Bluenotes the idiot manager and Somewhere in Texas the hardly occupied/never heard of restaurant. The restaurant also said they would probably want me to take out my industrial piercing for my shifts. What a pain in the ass. Since when did people care so much about ears? I mean I would understand if it was a facial piercing, but it seems a tad anal to me.

What a strange week, but when it begins and ends with no Canadian Tire on the horizon I can't help but take a breath of relief and smile.

"No, I'm serious. This is a serious exercise. It's like an SAT question. Which one is going to get to the hundred dollar bill first? The male-friendly lesbian, the man-hating dyke, Santa Claus, or the Easter bunny?"



Note: This is merely a movie quotation and does not reflect my views on anything. Thank you and please enjoy your stay.

So today was my much anticipated, first day of New Media Journalism at Sheridan. I like my class because it's not many people, about twenty. I'm a little intimidated by the work they said will lay ahead, and very long hours in the editing suites, television labs etc. They emphasized the fact these labs were 24 hours and suggested we try to avoid having a jobs if it was financially possible (who would have a job if it were financially possible not to have one? I ask you!) But so far there are no textbooks and Kenton Vaughn, teacher of Current Affairs gave us the title of a documentary to rent and encouraged us to watch tv, we also discussed the deeper meaning of the Spiderman Two scene where the passengers of the train can see his face. Not the usual first day, at least for me anyway. Despite the workload I'm pretty excited, I know it's only the first day but I feel much more interested by the material than I ever felt in my four years at McMaster, that school was so balls and boring.

I had a very lovely weekend, Melissa became my first over night guest at my new home in Oakville (I encourage one and all to make a trip out and see me god dammit!) and Saturday night I met some very lovely and hopefully new friends. I was a little weary of this whole moving out thing, I know it's only been a week since all six of us moved in but no one was talking much, mostly in passing. But today we inadvertently had a kitchen party and talked about the stupid things people should discuss like South Park, whether the Simpsons should have yet another season on air, Family Guy, Prison Break, etc. So tv then? Yah pretty much, but who cares? I think we're all pretty different from one another but not in such a drastic way that we wont get along. It may sound naive to say but I honestly don't think I'm going to have much difficulty living here or with these guys, I'm pretty excited about it.

As for the wretched and much dreaded job situation, I'm afraid to report yet not only have I not heard from my 20 year old cunt faced manager (please excuse the language). Not only has she not informed me of the potential ending of my employment but apparently she also does payroll as I was sad to find on Friday when I did not get paid. *sigh* Enter me phone stalking her and trying to get hold of what precious money I may have left so that I may live without being thrown on the street or starving to death. I love the fact that they hired me basically for August, right at that convenient peek period where everyone was hiring back to school students so now it will be all the more difficult to get a job. More of that classic unfortunate events for one Cassandra McBride I'm afraid. I have a few job interviews this week, so keep up the good karma that one of those pan out for me. But, as my pessimistic friend Brett has predicted,
none of them will. God I love that man.

Sidenote: I don't suppose anyone wants to go to Toronto Saturday to see John Mayer for a free show in Yonge and Dundas square?

Cassandra's A Series of Unfortunate Events

I’ve often gone through life with the belief that I am low on the ‘luck’ scale. I don’t mean this in a self pitying way nor do I seek to claim that ‘everything bad happens to me.’ But, in a somewhat smaller and perhaps less important to the lives of others, I believe that many unfortunate things happen to me. Here is an example of something that does not affect anyone but me, but how I end up screwed (and not in the good way). The following happened to me this evening at my new job, Bluenotes, which if you recall my previous blogs or know me personally, knows it was the gateway to rid me of my endless agony filled years at Canadian Tire. I was extremely excited to land this job and thought it a fortunate stroke of unusual luck…or was it?

Sandy (my TWENTY year old MANAGER, yes that’s right, 20 years old! Younger than me): So since you and a couple of others were hired as temporary help for the back to school time, I have to let a few of you go because I can only have twelve people on staff, so it’s down to you and Breanna.

Me: Oh ok. (Internally: Temporary, what the fuck? Since when? Why didn’t anyone TELL me that so I could have actively continued looking for another job, and WHY are you telling me this before you make the decision as who gets to stay).

Sandy: So, I’m just waiting to hear back from Breanna about her availability and whoever has the better availability between the two of you, will get hired on.

Me: Ok. (Panicking internally at the thought of going back to school and living on my own with NO job and everybody having already hired their post-summer students).

So, the point of this blog is, please pray that my bad luck ass doesn’t end up unemployed. Thank you!

Side note: I went for a walk this evening and saw a possum! How cute is that?
(please note: this photo is not the actual possum in question)

“When autumn comes, it doesn't ask, it just walks in where it left you last…”

In a time filled with various forms of celebrity couples: Vaughinston, Bennifer and all of the other stupid combo-couple nicknames, I have come to expect very little from the developments in celebrity relationships. Until this week, that is when my respect fell even lower.

I was signing out of my hotmail account when the MSN “Entertainment News” flashed up on the screen with a headline alluding to a developing relationship between the extremely talented, creative and a favourite singer of mine, John Mayer. And the blonde, idiot who cannot distinguish chicken from fish, divorcee, no talent bag of boobs and stupidity, Jessica Simpson (formerly of also horrible pop singer and former boy band member Nick Lachey for those of you who may have been living under a rock and have not had this pointless information rammed down your throats). This development, if found to be true, (that is if you believe People magazine), brings me the rage of a thousand suns.

I just cannot understand how these two people got together. Frankly, I expected more from John Mayer, I realize there’s something to be said for people needing to ‘get a piece’ from an attractive woman on occasion, but this relationship is going to turn everything he has worked for in his musical career and reduce it to the integrity of that shitty half hour spoof of a married life Jessica Simpson had with the disastrous ‘NewlyWeds’ series.

Please note: If you make a ‘reality’ television show about your marriage you WILL get divorced: Dave/Carmen, Travis Barker/Whatshername and Nick/Jessica. John Mayer writes and performs song with true elements of talent, creativity, sensitivity and true emotion. He contributed his writing skills to musical magazines and as I write this I’m listening to his song Something’s Missing and I ask myself how such a talent could associate himself with the likes of Simspson. Jessica Simpson probably needs help reading the label of her teeth whitening cream so she doesn’t get it mixed up with her peroxide. She is the embodiment of the stupidity depicted among female celebrities and the poor role models they present to young girls all over the world and to see her with John Mayer makes me truly disappointed.

-- “You see, Lainie, this is all we need...a couple of smokes, a cup of coffee and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks.”

-- “You got it.”

-- Reality Bites


This weekend really got me thinking about friendship, specifically the formation of new friendships and infiltration of certain friend groups. When you find yourself at younger age in middle school and high school generally, if you’re lucky, you find friends with reasonable ease. But once you enter your twenties and perhaps stumble across said people whom you find interest in, you attempt (in my case anyway) to present yourself as clever and interesting, hoping to form some sort of sarcastic, joke based friendship that may result in an eventual solidified friendship. However, as is common for the general antics of my life, it has not appeared as easy as I’d hoped. Take for example yesterday evening. Out at a bar with some people that I have just become recently acquainted with, attempting to strike up conversation.

Now before I go any further, I should make a side note: my very good friend Mel and I often have many inside jokes and things we say that I didn’t realize may appear odd or confusing to outsiders. It was first pointed out to me another very good friend (whom I miss very much), Dana when I asked why she said little when the three of us began to hang out all together. Her lack of understanding of the things we were saying resulted in her attempts to pretend that she did and that she didn’t mind it. Since I became aware of this fact I have made various attempts to explain certain things, and avoid doing it, but with time (at least I hope) the problem has solved itself. Carrying on…

So last night I played the role of Dana but this time the inside jokers were that of long time friends, Mike and Brett. Now I, the idiot that I am, attempted to try and fit into said conversation and laugh at appropriate times and position myself in a way to perhaps develop a better friendship with these two extremely humourous, clever, and interesting gentlemen. However, something that you might know if you’ve read any of Brett’s blogs is that he has no feelings. Now let me just say I don’t mean this as an insult and Brett himself I’m sure would tell you it’s merely fact. Insults and people’s words have no effect on him; they bounce from him like no ones business. Chris Chambers is also an example of this, he’s often try to tell me to be more insulting, less caring etc. and I wish I could, but alas I’m cursed and lack the ability to do so. So, in true form, Brett tore me apart in various insults from the sound of my voice, to my lack of knowledge of the goings on of his and Mike’s conversation. I have tried my best to take Brett’s words with a grain of salt, but since those circumstances transpired, I’ve been asking myself questions about friendship: how can you befriend someone gracefully? Or can you tell someone you would like to be their friend and have them a) take you seriously and b) (especially in the case of Brett and Mike) have them not mock you endlessly. (Stay tuned for the comments, I’m kind of scared to be honest).

Another friendship aspect I’ve been thinking about lately is how/if you can repair a friendship to which you find yourself unsatisfied? I’ve had a certain male friend I’ve known for many years, once a co-worker, and it’s always been a strange sort of relationship. But lately I’ve found myself feeling a bit mistreated, a friend considered last resort or second class to him. Now I wouldn’t want to rid myself of a friend of many years, but not wanting to continue on a path with very little respect being thrown my way, how does one repair the problem without causing a fight or ending a friendship? Perhaps writing a blog about it?

Late at Night I think about Max Weinberg, Apparently

So last night I was watching the summer re-runs of one of my favourite programs, Conan O’Brien when it occurred to me that his band drummer and leader, Max Weinberg of the Max Weinberg 7 has the sweetest job ever. If you think about it, the guy only has to play the drums for about a minute at a time at most and have a short and often humourous conversation with Conan after Conan approaches his desk. Of course, as is the nature of the show, sometimes inappropriate jokes are made about him but if you think about how much money that guy must get paid, who wouldn’t allow themselves to be the butt of a few well crafted jokes while racking in a crazy amount of dough for basically doing very little? It’s like a dream job, and he gets to wear a suit and look classy while doing it. I also wonder if Max would make more money then say, LaBamba the trumpet player, I’d assume so because the band is named after Max himself, but LaBamba also finds himself the butt of several (often homosexually referenced) jokes and the singing voice over for the very humourous Conan skit “In the Year 2000.” In such satirical working circumstances I have to wonder how much money Max would make in comparison to LaBamba and better yet, how they obtain these highly lucrative positions.

The Pros and Pitfalls of Choosing the Casual Path

The subject of casual sex, on a basic level, seems to be a fantastic idea: sex whenever you want, with a non-committal partner. But when further delving into this issue, it can present to be more complex. What if one party develops feelings for the other and ends up getting hurt? How can you have sex and its other wonderful lead ups with someone whom you do not have feelings of at least care, minor affection for? Are some people like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman when she utters the line (I’m paraphrasing here) “When I’m with a guy, I just do it.” And furthermore, to look at sex in that sort of way, is it even enjoyable? I guess we’re not looking at it from a prostitute perspective, so moving on. Is it possible to sleep with someone and feel nothing at all? It may seem obvious that the solution would be to be in a relationship. However, that is not a simple answer in itself for many reasons. Many broken hearted, pride protective people would rather hold on to their hearts without the horrible break up after effects. With this in mind, is there possibly a way to have casual sex mean something, without it meaning everything?

“She Called Out A Warning, Don’t Ever Let Life Pass You By…”

hope
v. hoped, hop·ing, hopes v. intr.
1. To wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment.
2. Archaic. To have confidence; trust.

It seems as though I’ve taken a page from my friend Jeff Comer’s book, in the thoughtful blog idea. I’ve always been intrigued by the concept of hope, and how much we strive to keep it, and how crappy our lives would feel without it. It’s amazing to me after numerous amounts of potentially horrible, life altering things that may happen in ones life that we are still able to hope for cliché ideas like ‘the best is yet to come’ and ‘good things come to those who wait.’ But how do we know? And if we happen to become lucky enough to obtain the objects of our hopes and desires, how can we continue to hope once we lose them? Where do we find the faith to keep hoping, and believing that things will get better? It just seems strange to me that we cling to something to unattainable, or possibly to something temporary and fleeting, as our hopes and desires obviously undergo a series change throughout our lives. I certainly don’t mean to suggest that I’m in any way against this concept myself, inevitably we all are, and I am of course conveniently side stepping the issue of religious faith because that is an entirely different issue and perhaps another blog regarding what I find odd about people’s beliefs.

The Day I Thought Would Never Come

Well kids, it seems the believed impossible has occurred. After a ridiculously long and horrible five years of crazy, shanty, toothless, illiterate yokels. I am finally, FINALLY able to quit Canadian Tire. With the September term at Sheridan looming, I’ve spent this summer attempting to get my ducks in a row. I found a place to live, paid my tuition, got a computer, but was starting to mildly panic about my job situation for two reasons:

1. I get crazy panicked and nervous during interviews
2. I had been living in the intense fear and anxiety that I would never actually be able to leave the absolute hell or the ‘red prison’ (as my friend and ex-co-worker Dana kindly referred to it).

I received a call from Bluenotes, a store in the Oakville Place Mall, and I was very excited. I enjoy shopping there, it had the potential for discounts and the obvious benefit of me being able to fuccccking quit! The very nice girl who interviewed me hired me on the spot and I honestly could not stop smiling for the remainder of the day.

So it seems it’s all coming together. I’m extremely excited but a little nervous. I know Oakville it’s practically a stone throws distance from Hamilton, but without my “posse” (what little one that may be), it may be a little lonely. But back to the job issue…

I WISH I could explain the absolute horror that has been my years at Canadian Tire. The retail establishment itself is not bad, it honestly is just like everywhere else. But I can only compare the managers of my store to that of completely irrational, ridiculous and often dumb people. Rules about uniform and not being able to wear a vest without long sleeves, hiding scanners and keys on you when you’ve accidentally left them somewhere so that you spring into a panic as punishment, and incredibly astounding amount of lies and gossip that I cannot even begin to comprehend.

My boss. There are no words. She may be the single most miserable person I know. I’ve never seen such a small woman carry so much rage and bitter evil hatred for others as she spews when the mood strikes her. The worst part being you can never predict when the mood will strike. When she decides it she can be nice and funny, you temporarily forget about the evilness until it rears its head at you. She’s the person I always walked away from wondering what she’d say about me when I wasn’t listening. After this 5 year egg shell limbo, I’m finally dancing my way out after much urging from friends Brent and Matt. And much doubt that I ever would from fellow employees. To them I say, fuck yah!

Creepy Customer of the Day:

Scary Black Man (I’m not racist I’m just giving the facts): What’s your name? Looks at name tag, oh Cassandra, do you know what your name means?
Me: Sigh (thinking, oh here we go), No…
Man: (While holding the hand of his small child, about five maybe). It means a beautiful flower that no one gets to see inside except for once a year.
Me: Awkward laugh....uh huh.
Creepiest. Customers. Ever.

Go Back to the Gutter that You Came From Biatch

If you know me, then odds are you are aware of two things: a) how much I dislike my current job and b) how crazy the people who shop there are.

Today was no exception. I’m walking around the boring department of Seasonal with my good friend Robert when a man and woman, both physically dirty looking, approach me with this week’s flyer inquiring about gazebos. The conversation went as follows:

Lady: (Insert bitchy tone here) There were two gazebos on the shelf when I was here earlier today and they told me I couldn’t get the sale price until tomorrow and now they’re gone. Where are they? They better not have sold when I was told I couldn’t have them for the sale price.

Note: Friday’s are the last day of the weeks sale and the afternoon/evening we activate the deal for Saturday morning, so customers often come in Friday night’s to beat the rush for items they really want. Both of which I told her. Also (and this is most important), she said both gazebos were on the shelf earlier, except the one is so large that is virtually impossible for it to have been in said place. Continuing on….

Me: Well Ma’am we did have this one (pointing to the one for 29.99) on the shelf earlier but I opened it for a customer and it was damaged so I cannot sell it.

Husband: Why were you opening it for another customer if it wasn’t on sale yet?
(Apparently we’re only allowed to let customers see/touch what is not yet on sale and nor any of the millions of other products that do not make it into the flyer).

Lady: They were both on the shelf before and they’re both gone!

Me: The other one does not have a home over there, because it is larger and more money.

Husband: What a scam (in an undertone)

Lady: No, both of these are 29.99

Me: No, this one is (pointing), the other, is larger and 209.99 not 29.99 and we have that one in stock if you want it.

Husband: What a scam.

Lady: This is ridiculous. This store is unbelievable. I was told I couldn’t have it for this price earlier and now its gone, this is fucking ridiculous blah blah (by this point I’ve drowned her words out and Robert and I exchange annoyed looks).

Husband: So you don’t have them even though you had two this morning. What a scam. Thank you.

At this point they depart and the woman is yelling loud obscenities about the quality of the store in general, making customers and fellow employees look at her oddly. And young Spencer in Housewares starts to do a stalky sort of dance as in impression, to which we all laughed of course. We have to get our kicks somehow.

My words will not do justice to the physically and conversationally ugly nature of this woman. To the right is an attempted likeness via my good friend paint (please note the black tooth, this is not for effect. She actually had one). I bet you’re glad that you don’t have to deal with crazies like this at your job. Come on Oakville interviews!

I Love Incubus More than You, A Blog in Dedication to Brett E. Lintott

So last night at Slainte the often humourous and always interesting Brett Lintott told me I should write a blog about why I love incubus more than others (as per my Incubus ring tone on my cell phone). As I am currently out of anything of interest in my every day life to report and no creepy customers because I haven’t been at work for a few days, I decided it would be a good attempt to try and write the recommended topic. Now let me just say first off that I don’t care if you don’t like Incubus. I don’t care if you disagree with me about what I have to say regarding their music, because the below shall be my opinions only and in naïve hopes of preventing a Chris Chambers comment about how he knows more about music and bands than me, I shall reiterate these are my opinions alone, to which I am entitled.

I am not going to spew a long winded history of the band and how they changed drummers a few years ago, the names of their numerous albums because any website could indeed tell you that and probably with more accuracy than I.

My first introduction to the band came about six years ago when a then-friend who was obsessed with music (and my friend Melissa for a time), played me the song, the Warmth from the album Make Yourself (1999). From that point in I took an active interest in their older and since released albums.

I’m not sure I can accurately explain what draws me to this band, of course the beautiful features of band front man Brandon Boyd with his stretched ear lobes and henna tattoos are attractive to look at, their lyrics and variation in songs allow a song for any mood. Allow me to provide some examples:

Thoughtful: I Miss You, Drive, Echo,

Nostalgic: Wish You Were Here, 11am

Angry: Pardon Me, Sick Sad Little Word, Circles

Frustrated: A Crow Left of the Murder, Zee Deveel

Erotic: Are You In

Excellent to sing out loud to: Have You Ever, Privilege, Stellar, Leech

Even in blog form, I feel that my distinct fondness and admiration for this band cannot be accurately described. Their lyrics can be angry, emotional, political and sometimes just rocking out and with the musical styling to back it up. This makes them my band of choice, hands down, no matter how I’m feeling. If you’ve never had the pleasure to see them live in concert (as I have several times) I highly recommend it in conjunction with their general awesomeness in CD and DVD forms. Listen to Incubus, do it right now.

Side note: Brandon Boyd also has a book of art work that is really interesting. It is called Big White Fluffy Clouds, I've always found the art work below extremely intriguing for some reason, check it out if you get the chance.

A Little Hometown Fun
My Recorded Adventures with Julia, no. 2

Yesterday I had the pleasure of discovering that a) Hamilton may not be as boring as I thought and b) you’re never too old to have fun like a kid. My good friend Ms. Julia Wilson and I headed of to the Confederation Park Wild Water Works; it was her first time there in many years and my first time ever, in fact. I highly recommend this summer time activity to all while the chance and weather is still available. Don’t want until you have your own kids and have to worry about running after them wiping their snotty noses before you venture back to this place that I assure you, is not only for the young.

The wave pool is really friggin deep, I was a little surprised at just how much, when Julia decided it would be “fun” to hold on to the bars on the side and ended up almost drowning ourselves, good times. The lazy river kind of smelled weird, but it was nice and calm with a few water falls and sprinklers conveniently located to push your friend’s tube under (which I had the pleasure of doing to Julia various times). The water slides were a lot faster than I remembered too, its funny when you’re a kid you’re so fearless and ready to do crazy shit, but when you’re twenty-two and flying down the water slide you start to fear for your life.

The best part of the water park, for me personally, is the weird people you encounter in your travels. For example, Julia and I saw a bunch of younger teenage kids near us and the one guy was missing teeth. Allow me to put this into perspective for you, I don’t mean a mere one or two teeth, but approximately five or six, the kid had NO front teeth it was like someone (perhaps his father though tragic it may be) took a shovel and knocked them out. It pained me to look at him. The weird thing was that somehow this trailer park kid seems to have had a girlfriend (or she was hanging all over him for just the day, its hard to say for sure). Somehow this guy with no teeth is the equivalent of a Romeo among his friends. How, I ask you is such a thing possible? It’s very unsettling to me that a guy missing half of his adult teeth can get a decent looking girl, is the male selection for girls out there really that slim? Perhaps this guy had a really tremendous personality but considering I heard him utter a phrase to the effect of: “who wants some of this?” I can only assume him to be somewhat of a douche bag and hold it more than likely the reason he lost those teeth in the first place.

The only thing I would have changed about our adventure out yesterday would have been the amount of a) lines and b) children. Both of which, unfortunately in places like that cannot be avoided. I do feel the establishment would have benefited for lines for a certain older age group or perhaps an adult time to have some separation from us and the kids but I’m sure this is unrealistic as it is a child-based establishment. In any event, I say it was an afternoon of aquatic hometown fun for under $20, you can always just knock the kids out of your way.

The Novel vs. the Film: The Inevitable Struggle for Quality in the Midst of Sensationalism

Recently I read the highly acclaimed novel-turned-film, the Devil Wears Prada. Having read the book in its entirety I’m not sure the contents of the novel lived up to the hype, but I digress. Last week, my friend Melissa and I went to see the film. Now of course there’s always the inevitable comparison when one has read a novel to compare its contents to that translated to the big screen, but the changes in this film seemed so blatantly Hollywood-esque and sensationalistic that I could not help myself but comment on it in my small corner or the Internet blogging universe.

A brief synopsis of the story line: A recent university graduate names Andrea takes a job as one of two assistants to one of the most powerful editors of a fashion magazine by the name of Runway. This girl is somewhat homely and rather uneducated in the lifestyle and general ins and outs of fashion. The story revolves around the incessant impossible demands put forth literally night and day by this crazy bitch of a woman and consequently how it deteriorates Andrea’s relationships with her friends, family and boyfriend. Why does she keep the job you ask? Apparently after a year of working for this woman she can get Andrea a job anywhere she wants; in this case Andrea is pursuing the goal of journalist for the New Yorker.

Note: if you do not want to know the end of the movie and/or book please stop reading now.

The novel while found to be somewhat boring in parts, strives to present a realistic view of relationships. However, the movie predictably strives for the “happily ever after” ending. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My first problem was found at the beginning of the movie when Andrea goes into the office at Runway and presents her boss (Miranda) with a resume for the job. In the novel, this and a small interview is enough to her the job. But in the film, Andrea of course presents one of those heart felt monologues about how hardworking, dedicated and generally how awesome of a person she is that is supposed to make you want to apparently cross your fingers the girl will get the job, which of course she does in both media forms.

While coming to live in the “fashion world” Andrea somehow stumbles upon a “smart hot writer” by the name of Christian, who of which incidentally, is not her boyfriend. In the novel they share a few flirtations and kisses (post break-up with aforementioned boyfriend). In reality, not such a big deal. In the movie Andrea gets drunk with Hot Writer and in her stupor (with of course her guard down because no one can just have sex without the seemingly growing trend of being under the influence of something in movies) they end up sleeping together. The next morning she discovers her dreamboat is in fact in partner with a competing magazine editor in France who are planning to overthrow Andrea’s bitch-ass boss. So of course she has to have regret and guilt post-intercourse, because generally when people have sex in movies it ends up being with extreme regret or on the verge of some sort of life altering news. Please note: NONE of this happens in the book. Why there always has to be some sort of bad guy in movies is beyond me. Moving on…

Towards the end of her one year mark, Andrea loses her shit on her boss and gets fired. She alas, does not achieve her sought after spot at the New Yorker. In the novel and in real life (as this book is based on true events) Andrea has to stick it out on her own and find her unemployed ass a job but miracle of miracles! In the movie, when you treat your boss like crap they still magically seem to step over the angry perhaps spiteful part of themselves and gives her an incredible reference. In a story that makes only one thing clear: this woman is supposed to be the most gigantic bitch on earth. If that is so, why would she magically have a change of heart? Not likely.

Last but not least, after a three year relationship (in the novel) Andrea grows to realize that she has unfortunately grown apart from her boyfriend and they decide to part ways, which has certainly been known to happen in real life. However, once again the ugly face of Hollywood rears its ugly head and the movie version of the couple (despite the fact she slept with someone else mind you!) stay together. I’m interested in the reason that Hollywood always seems to seek out the happily ever ending. Perhaps if more films existed where people didn’t stay together the sixteen year old tweens of future generations would be able to cope more easily with the harsh realization that their lives are not always going to end up with some guy wanting desperately to be with them forever. Call me bitter or crazy if you must (I’ve been called worse), but I believe there should be more room made for reality in movies, especially if the original work warranted such an ending.

Living It Up in the O-Town

This passed weekend I embarked on an experience of which I’ve never had before. I was all set to drive out to Ottawa to head out for a resort in the death defying experience of white water rafting. The trip was arranged by my sister so the trip consisted of myself, my weekend companion and good friend Ms. Julia Wilson and fourteen of my closest acquaintances.

The trip there was off to a rough start when my sister’s moronic boyfriend was two hours late for departure, the reason of which I could only deduce, that he had difficulty putting one foot in front of the other to make it into his car. That aside, Julia and I hit the rode with new friends (and couple) Alie and Chris. Driving up with them was fun, they were friendly, conversational and were able to do what I love most: crack jokes about Brent and another of my sisters incredibly ridiculous and overall bitchy friends, Krista W. (The apparent high school teacher with the social skills and manners worthy of a nursery school student). The car ride was a bit wearing, by the end of the seven hour excursion Alie and Chris’s incessant referral to each other as “babe” practically every time they addressed one another made my want to crawl out the tiny car window. But my confined moodiness aside we arrived at the Owl Resort on Friday around 9:30.

The task of setting up camp came next, and at such a late hour with no fire and obviously no light, we began the crazy task of setting up the tent, while holding our drinks. The tent made it up with sufficient ease (minus one burn hole from Julia balancing the cigarette, but hey it was her tent). Next came the air mattress, because really, who sleeps on the ground anymore? We cleverly (or so we thought) purchased an air mattress with a built in foot pump for quick and efficient set up. Wrong. Never EVER purchase this type of air mattress under the illusion that is ACTUALLY will inflate, as it most definitely will not. Despite these setbacks Julia and I managed to secure our shared love nest for the weekend and get to drinking.

It turned out that there was a big Laurier function at the resort this weekend as well so there was a band each night in the pavilion with kegs and dancing to cheesey 80’s/90’s cover music. After a few drinks it seemed like the best dance party of all time, I assure you. In the cruel light of day, I’m sure not so but nonetheless…

After a late night, the blazing sun of the early morning woke us grumpy ladies up at and early hour in time for the breakfast rush and headed out into the beach complete with paddle boats and an in lake slide. Finally it was time for the rafting portion of the Ottawa adventure.

With the geekiest lifejackets helmets and paddles in tow we boarded a school bus that took us to the Ottawa River. Cut to the hottest rafting guides you’ve ever seen, the boys look like they walked right out of an American Eagle advertisements (although slightly less homosexual looking).

The trip itself was amazing it was about a six hour run down the Ottawa River. We went nose first thought he first rapid and another groups raft flipped right over, our raft was all filled with water and it was awesome. You really have to hold on for dear life and paddle so you don’t fall out. I don’t really feel there is a way to do justice the experience in words. We took a break with the other rafting groups at the half way point and the guides offered us a chance to jump from one of the cliffs beside our resting point. Julia and I both did it and it was crazy! I wasn’t nervous when we climbed up but when the guide said to step down near the edge and I saw the drop my heart leapt a little. But I managed to suck it up and take the plunge (literally). Definitely something I would do again and refer to others.

Our guide Ben, looked and sounded exactly like actor Edward Burns (see the picture to the left, minus the gun of course), the similarities were uncanny. I’m sure this would be considered irrelevant to many of you, but it’s my blog and I’ll do what I want!

The rafting venture ended with a few more rapids and water and awesomeness, we had dinner on a pontoon boat and coasted back to the resort for a viewing of our trip in dvd form and of course, drinking. My sister’s friend Toni who literally makes every male life form fall all over themselves at the wink of her eye, met up with one of the guides, Shane. Shane led their raft and had a very seductive Irish accent.

Shane took us around the secret campground of shanty platform tent houses that the guides live in, but if you think about it, living in a shanty summer dwelling for the summer while you get paid to white water raft all day would totally be worth it. It might just be the sweetest deal of all time job wise, especially coming from the girl who works crappy nine hour shifts and meets random weirdos on her job (as the previous blog clearly indicates).

I’m not sure what the point of this entry actually is, just reminisce over the events of my weekend in the Ottawa River and actually doing something of substantial note this weekend, that everyone should go to the Owl Resort in Foresters Falls and I’m envious of the many people I seem to encounter in my life who have the sweetest jobs ever.

For the rest of the pics of the trip go here: http://public.fotki.com/kcmcbc2/

Crazy Shops Here

You know I’ve worked too long in retail when you decide to devote a blog entry to it. Nonetheless, here I go with one tale of the many crazy people that grace the walls of the ghetto Canadian Tire and one major complaint for the lazy bitches with no manners (I promise to explain this further).

So today I’m walking my usual route of the Sports/Seasonal department when a slightly older looking man with a purple shirt and dirty suspenders stops me. (Note: this isn’t weird to me as they all look like this man in various forms). He asks me for chlorine pucks for his pool, no problem. I show him where they are and he asks for a larger container. My very helpful friend and co-worker Robert offers to check for me. Then the crazy starts:

(For the sake of argument and throwing politically correctness to the wind, let’s call this customer “Crazy”)

Crazy: Do you have any life dreams or goals?
Me: Um...yah.
Crazy: Are you in school?
Me: Yes, I just graduated but I’m going back to school in the fall.
Crazy: Are you interested in investing to make some more money?
Me: (looks at him confused and annoyed)
Crazy: Most people work to live instead of working to have a lifestyle, my friend has a business that if you invest in you can (and here’s where he lost me) buy a pool and jump from your apartment balcony into it.
Me: ????
Crazy: Or have some of those solar garden lights that are so popular
Me: Uh…yah.
Robert returns, finally (yay!) I give him a look that says: this guy is scary and mouth “don’t leave me.”
Crazy: What’s your name? (looks at name tag) Oh Cassandra, are you online?
Me: Yah… I don’t give out my e-mail though… (looking scared).
Crazy: Well you should go to my friend’s website it’s a concept site, nothing for sale on it. (Tells me the name and address which I have already forgotten). He gives me a shanty business card which I threw out. Perhaps I should have kept it for this blog. He also assures me he’d bring me a more recent one next time he’s in the store and to tell my friends, etc. Fannnntastic.

I don’t know why it appeared as though I had any interest in anything this person had to say but apparently I unknowingly walk around with a sandwich board and ringing a bell that only the weirdos can hear.

The second thing happened to me last week that I’ve been thinking about for whatever reason, since then. This cute old man was shopping and he had one of those holes in his throat where you have to hold the voice box up to it to hear him speak. He asked me for something, I can’t remember what, but afterwards he held up his little voice box just to say thank you. Despite the effort it takes him to speak, he still made it to thank me when half of the jerky CT customers don’t even say anything before walking away. Kinda makes you think doesn’t it?

A Blog for All My Single Ladies Out There

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the whole concept of marriage or long term relationships, the generally stated couple factor. I’ve been thinking of how this world favours those who are in a couple. Not only do you get the potential benefits of being in the said relationship and the (I’m assuming best case scenario here I know) the support and caring of another person. However, and I don’t ask this question from an angry perspective but from a truly curious stand point: what about the rest of us?

What I mean is, some times being single can be difficult, not having that person to lean on or make you feel special, whatever cheesy relationship concept you’d like to insert here, but what about the ladies (and gentlemen) out there who are single and do not receive these obvious benefits: the anniversary gifts/cards, special outings, etc.

So if you don’t choose to date or spend the rest of your life with the wrong person, perhaps become one of those career types, or stuck in the “just haven’t found the right person” category, what are your rewards? If you choose to be who you are and that person is a single, what’s the benefit for not stringing someone along or simply having bad luck finding a significant other? Well I certainly can live with out gifts and cards in my life, what about the greater benefits (often financial) that come from being a “we” in opposition to a “me.”

If you’re single it is more difficult to get a loan (waiting for that career to take off can be a pain in the ass), tax breaks, and other benefits. There really should be some sort of tax break for being on your own and struggling with financial trouble, or for not settling for some mediocre life that you don’t really want.

A First Attempt at a Blog: Love, the Movies and Other Problematic Things

Before I say/type anything, I'd just like to draw attention to the fact that this is my first blog which contain any sort of substantial thoughts and/or feelings. So please go easy on me as you read whatever words follow this declaration. Thank you very much for stopping by.

So the down side of summer vacation, for me personally, is that fact that it gives you all this time to think. Thinking has always been sort of problematic for me because my mind seems to perpetually wander back to things past/painful events etc. One of which would be the feeling or allusive concept of love. I'm beginning to think that perhaps the television/movie industry has attributed to my feelings towards what love is, and belief that it exists.

Now, I should say that I do believe that love exists for people. My parents have been married for something like 25 years and despite their nagging banter, I know that no one else could put up with either of them the way they have put up with each other. But lately, I find myself watching certain television shows and/or films that leave me feeling slightly bitter or with an ere of ridicule. That not only are these characters undeniably in love but that you are some sort of freak for:

a) not wanting to get married and live happily ever after
b) not going to great lengths and obstacles in order to find love
c) the delusion that some sort of perpetual state of bliss actually exists

Now I know you're supposed to "suspend your disbelief" when watching movies but certain films seem stretch this idea reasonably thin. Allow me to provide some examples.



1. Pretty Woman - Richard Gere pays Julia Roberts to be his date/sexual play thing. They have sex on a hotel piano and somehow end up living happily ever after when Julia Roberts decides to give up a life of slutting it up and do the infamous "go back to school."

Somehow, millionaire Gere finds the prostitute endearing enough to fall for even though the movie gives the allusion that he could basically have any woman he wants. But instead of choosing a nice society woman, he chooses the prostitute with the prospective sexual diseases.

Now, call me bitter if you will but allow me to ask this question: Is this supposed to be some sort of representation of reality? I don't know about other parts of the world but I don't find any rich men looking to find love in the lives of prostitutes in Hamilton.

More importantly, if these two unlikely characters can find love together, what is wrong with you, the movie goer if you're in a less compromising predicament but still find yourself alone?

2. A Lot Like Love - Amanda Peet and Ashton Kutcher have a random sexual encounter on an airplane after eyeing each other in the airport before boarding. The story of these two character spans over roughly ten years (I believe). Because obviously if you meet someone on a plane you are going to see them again multiple times throughout your lifetime. Don't be ridiculous in thinking otherwise. They meet up the second time on a random city street in LA (even though neither of them actually LIVE there, but that’s of course irrelevant) and exchange phone numbers to prove that Kutcher's character will be rich and famous according to his "life plan." Peet's character randomly calls him up years later for a New Years Eve date (as she has recently been dumped. Note: being dumped is actually realistic). When she finds the receipt for the restaurant because of COURSE! She still has it! And wouldn't you know it? He's free for New Year's too!

The story goes on like this, Kutcher moves and so does she but they meet up a few more times and sleep together before that inevitable moment of realization that they will spontaneously combust if they don't get together forever (even though this was never a concern to either of them before said moment of enlightenment). Peet's character stalks him down in a rush against time (a possible looming wedding for him, no less) to that moment with the kiss and they feel the same way about each other and no notice that she stalked him down to his parent’s house and entered without invitation and the fact that she's slightly crazy.

So in short here's the recipe: meeting on a plane + living in different cities + seeing each other only a few random times in life = true love forever!

All I can think after viewing these two films and countless others is that, if it takes this kind of hoop jumping to find someone, and the women are beautiful like Julia Roberts, what hope to normal people have? And if you think about it in terms of reality, even she had to marry Lyle Lovett first.