A Skewed View

Hey, look at what they have at Walmart: Neato basket carts. Perfect for the shopper who isn't buying enough to bother pushing a full cart, but is lazy enough to not want to carry what they are going to buy. You can see I found my popcorn popper! And got snuggly slippers too: Best of all, on my way back to the subway I popped into an optical store on a lark cuz my prescription has changed and I'm tired of having to squint even when I'm wearing my glasses. Not only did I find two pairs that I liked, when I asked if either of them were on sale for Boxing Week (thinking maybe that would help me decide), the owner gave me one hell of a deal if I took both of them! (since I'm into declaring percentages ... 60% off!) Yay. One pair is kind of a everyday sort of style and the other is a little snazzier and I've never had two pairs of glasses with the right prescription at one time so that I can decide which pair I'm "in the mood" to wear. I'm quite exc...

-- for some last minute Boxing Week sales. Pray for me.

Oddly, I decided to get up early and partake of Boxing Day sales today. There were enough usually expensive items I needed that I decided to do a sweep of Eaton Centre and get it over with. So my alarm rang at 7 a.m. About an hour later I got up, after an indepth debate with myself regarding how much do I really need material goods. This was my Christmas season weather this year: I trudged out into the rain, and chose the streetcar downtown rather than subway. I actually prefer the streetcar. There's no labrynth of underground tunnels to get to the train, and no transfer of lines required. One seat, and I'm done. It wasn't that crowded... Everyone else was taking the subway, no doubt. I wasn't sure what to expect crowd-wise at the mall... I'd say it was on par with any December day at WEM. I've never been to Boxing Day WEM. December day WEM is annoying enough. About three hours later I was done. I walked to specific stores to compare prices, then returned to the...

Merry Christmas! SnowDeb adds: Ditto.

I do not want to be one of “those customers”. I truly don't. But when I sent my Xmas presents out on the 10th to be sure they'd get to Medicine Hat in time, I admit it, I did not accommodate for the 11 days they are going to stay sitting in Mississauga according to the electronic tracking. And why would my packages just pit stop there? Afraid of the weather. I see no fine print on my receipt saying "if packages don't feel like getting chilly, we won't force them to travel". In fact, I kind of pay a federal service to force them out into the cold to make them travel. They’re packages! They’re easy to pick up and move around. They, by definition of inanimate existence, can’t fight such manual manipulation as grabbing them, tossing them on a truck, and driving them where you want them to go. Canada Post Customer Service Lady actually said I "shouldn't expect mail delivery if the weather is bad". Hello?! Excuse me?! Don’t expect mail serv...

The Carnivore Cupcakes were delicious, and in no way E-coli-y.

I saw this recipe in a magazine a few weeks back, and haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. They’re like Meatloaf Cupcakes. Well, when I put it that way, it’s downright unappetizing. But put it in your own appetizing way, and you too won’t be able to get them out of your minds. So, as with most things in my life, I had to wait for the overwhelming urge before I’ll stop thinking about what I want to do, and just go do it. (Hmm. Explains my relatively sudden exit from Alberta. Go figure.) Tonight was the night. I hauled my flat butt (flat from sitting on a couch for days on end) to the grocery store armed with my shopping list and picked up what I would need for Carnivore Cupcakes. Hey – that’s what I’m going to call them! So here is the Before: Lest you be unable to believe your own eyes, here is the evidence that I put the Before together with my own two hands. Literally. Mmmm, mushing meatloaf ingredients between my fingers to combine. Followed later by a scalding hot hand wash...

Yesterday morning I woke up after only 4 hours of sleep for no reason. Asleep, then poof, wide awake. I was so choked. I turned on the tv to watch the morning news because a few days earlier it cheered me up to see all the traffic snarls that I was not a part of, but all it did was make me really hungry because the segment was on some breakfast diner that was having an anniversary of some kind. So I went to the MacDonalds that is two blocks away. Waste of my time, frankly, cuz after sucking back an egg mcmuffin and hash brown (which I had to wrap in a few napkins to sop up excess oil first), I was still hungry. But by then I was sleepy again, so I lay down on the couch and snoozed. BUT the MacDonalds was giving out flyers that the Olympic Torch was passing by it today at about 7:30 in the morning. I wasn't going to get up that early again ... but what else do I have to do? Got a little teary as it passed. I was pretty tired.

A friend sent me another picture from the wrap party. As I looked at it, and recalled the good times, I was struck by something really unusual. See if you can spot it: I'll give you all some time to guess...

I had been staring at my apartment for a few weeks now, wanting to dress it up for the Christmas season. But as with cleaning my apartment, I usually spend a lot of time staring and planning the event until my subconscious is sick and tired of going through the motions theoretically, and creates a compulsion on my part to rise from my lazy butt and just do it. So my subconscious finally threw its hissy fit tonight. It's a little busy, sure. But I got rid of most of my furniture when I moved, so I have few spare locations to set up a tree, and my beloved Puff. So I had to use a random box -- but how un-Christmassy is a random box? Solution? Gift wrap it. =) (of all the things I sold or donated or threw out when I moved, I kept this silver tinsel boa at the box's base. I'm an odd little girl.) My bookcase always needs something to dress it up. Tacky? Perhaps. Care? Not me. Heh. Speaking of tacky... This below actually turned out better than I had suspected it would when I ha...

About two weeks ago, I was strolling past a grocery store, content at having found a sweet doll to send to my best friend's new daughter -- when I was bitten by a dog. An English bull terrier. You know, a Spuds Mackenzie dog from the 80s beer commercials? I was walking towards it, thinking what an odd looking head these dogs have, and how people think they are so violent, but this one looks sweet. (ha ha, right?) It was tied to a post outside the store and as I walked past, it jumped up like it was greeting me. No growl, no bark. Just up on its hind legs, pawing in the air with its front legs like it wants a head scratch or other affection. So I stepped closer to pet it -- and CHOMP! It dropped down and went straight for my shin! Bit right through my jeans into my flesh. Thing is, when I backed away, it again just sat there calmly. It wasn't being aggressive. It wasn't straining at its leash. It obviously was just stressed and scared about being tied up with all...

Me and the lovely Ms. Underhill. No, I don't have her permission to post this. I have chosen to interpret the Producers' request to only post pictures for which I've received permission to pertain solely to the photos and videos which may be compromising to the celebrity... ...which is why this picture is so narrow: Celebrities in compromising positions have been cropped out. (I think I'm singing. I think.)

"I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens. And high school girls with clear-skinned smiles, who married young and then retired..." So Stephane and Marie-France were not to be. Although perhaps we did have them one week longer than we would otherwise have had them. That's something. I really enjoyed watching the finale. I haven't ever been one to watch shows like this, actually. Not a fan of any of the [Insert Nationality] Idol[s], So You Think You Can Dance [What Makes You Think I Care One Way or The Other] or Dancing with the Stars [I've Usually Never Heard Of]. I don't think I would have watched this show had I not been involved with it. But that's the way it goes. It's been picked up for a second season, and let me tell you, even if I'm not working on it again (although I'd like to be), I will be watching it now. If only to see if Stephane and Marie-France will return for a guest episode. Now the fun part -- th...

Sure, for some Simpson/Sale may seem like the safe choice. Too safe. It's too easy. They're pretty. They're smooth. They're flexible. Yawn. I find I'm kind of liking how Richer and Lemieux are doing. They still look like hockey players, except now they're hockey players who are figure skating. So I'm going to throw my hat behind Richer/Dubreuil. (and my hat in front of Domi as he skates by) And it's starting to get physical in the stands. We've been asked to clear out the arena after the show each night so that the Gardens can be shut down as soon as possible. This is complicated by the skaters who want to be accessible to their fans, and sometimes will linger at ice's edge gathering crowds like a rolling snowball. So we just have to wait it out, try to keep the fanball from growing, and disperse them as soon as we are able. Two weeks ago, one guy was bound and determined to roam the arena to pick it clean of any famous personnel he could flush o...

So Sunday was my first night volunteering. Basically I stand at the bottom of my section of seats holding a sign to direct people to the right place. And during the show, I jump on people who try to film or take pictures. Most people put down their cameras when you tell them to. Of course, some argue "People over there are taking pictures!" Well, if I were their section volunteer, I'd be all over them too. But you drew the short stick, I'm your section's volunteer, sucks to be you, put the camera away. I'm very proud of myself, actually. No sarcasm. No sniping. I've been handling disgruntled audience members with tact and apologies. "I'm sorry for the miscommunication, but the person who told you that you could show up two minutes before we go to air and still have a seat ice-side was mistaken. We can fit you in back here." "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but this is a television show, not a sporting event, so there ...

Watching the cashier at my corner Food Basics grocery store ring through my purchases today, I piped up when cereal bars I thought were on sale for $1.99 rang through on the till at the regular price of $3.19. The cashier called for a price check twice, but no one came to her till. A little line of customers waiting to continue on their day was forming behind me, and gosh how I hate when people hold up the line when I'm in it, so I told the cashier I'd just pop back into the aisle myself to see if I had misread the sale price (in which case no price check would be needed and we woudn't have to wait any longer). When I came back, I told the cashier that I had in fact misread the sale and that the rang-through price was correct. When I thought they were on sale, I had picked up two -- but since they aren't on sale, I told the cashier I only wanted one now. She asked if the wrong information was in the aisle. I explained no, the information was technically right, but ...

.... I got it! I am now a (volunteer) audience assistant for CBC's Battle of the Blades. (www.cbc.ca/battle/index.php) Hockey players and figure skaters. It's like I'm living my brother's and sister's dreams. Wait a minute -- I'm part of a tv production, so it's my dream too! A trifecta! There is no pay. But they will give me subway tokens, so at least I'm not out any money. And the company hires from within -- and they consider volunteers "within" -- so if I play extra nice and helpful and don't push any jerk audience members down Maple Leaf Gardens' stairs for giving me guff, I may be able to parlay this into more than subway tokens. I think it will be fun. And I know it will get me out of my apartment two nights a week until the end of November. Maybe I can meet Ron Maclean. That would be cool.

I know what you’re thinking. You were there for me for the bathtub. You were waiting with me for the sink. But what about the important stuff? What about the reason why you visit my blog in the first place? My parents will be home from China any day now, and I have every confidence that the first thing my mom will do – other than try to earn back the love and respect of the yappy, hairy four-legged children whom she boarded while gallivanting in the Far East – is check in here to find out: Am I working? No. No I am not. But I’m close. Well, as close as I ever was once I moved to T.O. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that my options have not yet been exhausted. So, I guess I’m not “close” as much as I am “not farther away”. “ You’ve got to acc-cen-tuate the positive, e-lim-inate the negative ...” There’s been a general lack of interest on the part of employers in the resumes I’ve sent out for a variety of office jobs as well as production jobs. About a week and a half ago I...

Twenty-one days later -- my bathroom is done. I had forgotten that bathrooms come with sinks. I actually walked past it this afternoon to wash my hands in the bathtub like I had been doing for the last week (after living two weeks without a bathtub -- no, I haven't forgotten that!). I didn't even share with you what had happened yesterday, because I was a bit too ticked and tired. I asked the manager (or, who I had always thought was the manager -- but wait for it) on Monday when the plumber was planning to come back. Nothing. Called her again yesterday -- she told me to speak to the manager because she had been speaking to her everyday and the manager obviously needs a different push. Uh, I thought she was the manager. No. Turns out she's just some onsite ... I don't even know what. Fine. So I called the woman who is actually the manager. I honestly and truly really hadn't intended to be confrontational or angry, but then the woman said "Okay, do me a favour ...

Yup. Seventeen days later, and the bathroom is still not done. A perfectly good sink was removed in order to access the tiles that need to come out in order to replace the tub. Then ... never returned. I called the manager on Wednesday to find out where the sink went and why -- a week after the tub was complete -- was it never put back. Nothing. So I called again on Friday, at which point she swore she thought everything was finished. She got the plumber back by that afternoon -- with a second hand, small, filthy sink that he was going to install in place of the large perfectly fine sink he had removed seventeen days ago. No. NO! I have waited this long. It will not have been for a second hand, small, filthy sink! When the manager was there, I questioned the plumber about where the old sink is, why it was removed in the first place, and what happened to the new sink that I saw in my front room when the tub was being replaced. He admitted that they had bought a new sink (...

Turns out, they did get it almost done on Tuesday. I wasn't going to take a picture until it was all done ... but of course, once it was "almost done", I fell to the bottom of their to-do list and haven't seen them since. Still ... So there is a tiny patch in the corner, and of course the gaping chasm between the tub and the rest of the floor. And no sink. Tuesday they said they'd come back the next day to fix these little oversights, and to give me a sink. Colour me surprised that no one showed up yesterday (*see "fell to bottom of to-do list"). I was trying to hold off on cleaning the place until everything was done, because I knew if I didn't then I'd just have to do it twice. But oh good gravies how I could not take one more milli-second living amidst the omnipresent layer of fine dust and random debris. So yesterday when it became clear no one was going to come finish the job, I hauled out the Pine Sol and a bucket to wash down the whole bat...

Uh ... yes, okay, I see the right side of the wall is patched. And ... uh ... there's more crap sitting in the tub. But it is still not me sitting in the tub. 11:30 a.m. on Monday. No maintenance guy. Because he popped his head in half an hour ago to say that he won't be working on my bathroom today because he has to finish the other suite -- people are moving in to it tomorrow. Meaning I have no backup bathroom as of right now. I said to the guy "So now I'm screwed." "No," he says "I'll finish tomorrow." (side note: look at what is left. do YOU think he'll finish tomorrow?!) So I say "Okay. So tomorrow I'll have a sink and I'll have a tub I can bathe in." "Yes" He says. "Okay." What am I going to say? "Thank you." "So I'll try to do it tomorrow." He just had to keep talking. "Wait. You'll TRY?" "No, I'll do it." It's like he spoke out loud whe...

Basically, the tiles were destroyed and the old tub was taken out and the new tub was put in by 3 p.m. on Wednesday. It is 11:30 a.m. on Friday, and this is as much of a new tub as I have. The maintenance guy worked until maybe 5 p.m. on Wednesday (for about two hours after the plumber had removed the old tub and put in the new one). Showed at 11 a.m. yesterday, worked for, I'd say, two hours. Left. Returned between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m. (because he wasn't here when I went grocery shopping, he was when I came back) and worked until 6 p.m. So that's, what? Three hours on Thursday? Four if he showed up the second I left for grocery shopping. He just dropped off some stuff a second ago, and left again. He and the superintendant both say how much they want to get the tub and sink installed so I can "get back [my] apartment". But I have severe doubts that the above can be turned into a working tub and sink by the end of today ... so I guess I spend the weekend walking down...

First, they have to destroy the tiles around the old one, to get at it: Then they pull the old tub out through my bedroom closet, apparently: So this is what a bathroom without a tub looks like, for anyone who is curious. AND note, it would appear that upon seeing my bathroom sink, the plumber decided it best to replace that sucker too. Which may or may not be a good thing. I can't see from the packaging what the new sink is going to look like. I kind of liked the old sink. It was wide and shallow, which perhaps is an odd thing to like in a bathroom sink, but I did. Now, you can't really tell because of all the crap that is in it, but this is my new bathtub: One would think that the first thing one would do with a new tub is NOT use it as a garbage receptacle for broken tiles. Could easily explain how the old tub got damaged to the point that it had to be replaced in the first place. As you can see, my bathroom is still non-user-friendly. When I first arrived, my toilet was n...

One of the six television channels I get without cable shows documentaries on various wildlife on Saturdays (thus the musings on elephants last week). Today's was on whales stranding themselves on shore, and trying to figure out why they would embark on this suicidal mission. The theory in some situations was that, best as they can tell, sonar testing by the navies of the world drive whales to flee the water, possibly to avoid whatever the sonar is doing to their insides. The documentary had footage of a pod of dolphins and a pod of whales frantically avoiding an ship that was known to be testing sonar, heading like a tidal wave towards the shore. The heads of two of the whales who actually did beach themselves were given a CT scan, and the brains were shown to be damaged. They note that this did not prove the direction of the causation (did the sonar damage the brain thus preventing the whale from recognizing it was heading to the beach, or did the fury of the retreat and sub...

Just as gosh darn adorable as the days when my mom would cut my bangs before sending me off for school pictures and use christmas ribbon to tie back my hair. (seriously mom, I know we had some lean years ... but just how darn expensive were bobblers back then?)

Just a few hours short of ten years ago, I was sitting in my newly purchased KITT, on the upper level of WEM. I had just come out of a movie and was pondering how the next morning I was going to be 30 years old. I sat and I sat and I thought and I thought, and I just could not summon the angst one sees in all the television shows and movies about my impending age. I had no great ephiphany while sitting there, until boom! It hit me! If I was sitting there, almost 30, that would mean ... one day I'd be almost 40. I drove away, satisfied that I had had some kind of emotional reaction to being 30. And poof. Like some psychic vision come true, here I am. About a day away from being 40. And still ... no angst. I don't even feel any great attachment to the knowledge that this means I will one day be 50. Well, okay, just typing that out right there, there was a twinge. But I don't anticipate it is going to mean a whole lot to me. I've come to terms with the fact that...

I've been pretty lazy and lethargic this weekend. The heat has come, and brought with it my overpowering desire to nap every few hours. Mercifully my bedroom stays the coolest room in my apartment, but that means that my bed beckons me almost all day. That being said, it's not too bad. A few cool showers, sitting with a bottle of frozen water behind my neck, sticking my feet in a basin of ice water ... it's not too bad. I have started talking back to my tv, though. Well I guess it isn't technically talking "back", because it isn't like the tv is talking "to" me in the first place. Yesterday I was watching a fascinating and tear jerking documentary exploring the possible causes of elephant rage. It started by showing footage of an elephant herd tearing apart a village apparently for no reason because they weren’t looking for food. Turns out the villagers had “accidentally” killed one of the baby elephants earlier in the day, and had dragged the ca...

Today was a rather casual Friday for me. I spent almost all yesterday online checking out websites of Toronto production companies to try to determine where to send one of the three scripts I have completed. It's not as easy as it sounds. I need to choose companies that have made movies similar to the ones I've written, so that I know they are in the market for my kind of stories and tone. Basically I took note of any company that says they will read anything. =) Most of today was spent in frustration over the fact that my freezer will not keep my ice cream frozen. That has to be one of the most awful kitchen occurences. Well, it's a close second to the fact that, in an attempt to reduce the temperature in the freezer, I turned down the only dial there exists in my appliance - namely the temperature dial in my fridge. So now I have squishy ice cream and frozen solid skim milk. But I did get fantastic news! Check out my icky gag-inducing tub: From that perspective, it just l...

With seven days to go in my 30s, my thoughts go to 25 years ago, the last time I spent an extended period of time in Toronto. I was 15 years old, on an academic exchange with a junior high in Scarborough, and obsessed with Michael Jackson. And obsessed with my hair, actually. I wore my hair curled in a specific way, always carried a comb and mirror, and constantly checked that the curl was "just so". So much, in fact, that my first night at my billet's house was spent sneaking into the bathroom, quietly curling my hair "just so", then laying stiffly in bed so as to not mess my hair -- all because I wasn't sure I'd have enough time in the morning to do my hair properly... but that's not the point of this post. Within days of when I was supposed to move here, Michael Jackson died and became the hottest gossip item, just as he had been in 1984. (I didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign for my move.) Much has changed since 1984. My hair ca...

Today was Service Ontario day. Monday was supposed to be Service Ontario day, but it would appear a passport is required and my passport did not accompany me on my travails on Monday. So, today was Service Ontario Day. And by that, I mean I applied for my Ontario driver's license today. I still walk past signs with the Ontario logo on it and think "oh god I'm in Ontario". Never once was that a goal of mine. Never. I often now flash back to when I was in Toronto 25 years ago (ouch) as a naive small town grade nine girl and the comments the kids from Toronto would make. Like when we were back in Pincher Creek and walking someplace. As soon as the kids from Pincher would hit a curb, we would automatically step off to cross the street. The kids from Toronto would be confused - left behind on the curb because they would never think of just stepping off to cross a street in Toronto. As they rushed up to catch up with us, they exclaimed "Hey! No one runs you o...

I have never had such a view from my balcony before. I think ever since I moved out of university residence, I've had a balcony in my apartment. But never a balcony like this: At night, I just have sky and city skyline in front of my balcony. (well, I have them in day too, but they're more sparkly and twinkelish at night) I've taken so many pictures over the last few weeks, few of which came out very nicely. One day perhaps I shall become a skilled enough photographer to adjust my own exposure times and aperature ratings -- but until that day, I must take what my camera gives me. The last few nights in particular, the moon has been quite spectacular -- and last night, the full moon travelled through quite the obstacle course of cloud cover: Simply had to share.