-- “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!