I had a stupid morning yesterday

that culminated in me picking my iPod up off the sidewalk, throwing my umbrella, and scream-crying "FUCK!" at the bus driving past me in the rain. Oh, and by the way, TOMS shoes + brand new We Love Colors red tights + accidentally stepping in puddles =

Totally ruined.

Les mots Français que bloggers are using wrong and it's driving me folle!

 image via bart's blackboard

Look, I don't know if this is an American thing, or an ignorance thing or a lazy thing or what, but for the love of Dieu, stop using French words if you don't even know they're French. I go fricking bananas when I see the following:

1. "or derve"
2. "fo pa"
3. "rendevu"
4. "swarey"
5. "walla" I see this one a lot. Are you kidding me?

*for the correct spelling, see the end of this post

I have literally seen all of these written in people's blogs. If you don't see what is wrong with that list, you are an offender. Please, just stop it. I'm not mad at you, I'm just disappointed.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be a meanie, and I'm also not a French expert. (frexpert?) In fact, I can barely speak the language at all. I understand that not everybody had the benefit of being forced to take French classes from grade eight to ten like everyone from my school was. But guess what...I don't use...oh, I don't know...random Swahili words that I don't know how to spell when I blog.

Just...stop it. Especially "walla". I hate "walla".

For the record, it's:

1. hors d'œuvre

2. faux pas

3. rendez-vous

4. soirée

5. voilà

Sorry for the twenty posts per day, I swear this one's short. Don't even click through.

I fixed Disqus comments, which may have deleted the most recent ones you wrote. SORRY! I'm going to try and import them, but just so's ya know, I have not maliciously deleted what any of you said! It was an accident!

That is all.

Please take note:

I've found a few pictures of my tattoos that were taken either from my post about who I get tattooed by or my interview with Danielle from Sometimes Sweet on Pinterest recently.

I know that you guys mean well by sharing pretty pictures, but please please ask me before you use my photos. And don't put them on sites like that, (weheartit, tumblr, etc.) they'll just get stolen and someone else will take credit. Read this thing Valarie Vargas posted from the Smith Street Blog about tattoo photos on the internet. JUST READ IT. I can think of a few specific sites that do this all the time.

I know that I have a tumblr account of my own, and I upload pictures to it every once in a while, but it's my choice as to where my photos go. I keep the best stuff here or not on the internet at all.

Anyway I don't want to rant, but please please ...

I suppose it could have been worse...right?

I don't get doing taxes. I don't understand the math, I never know what they need to know or what the hell is going on at H&R block once I get there. The questions they ask me seem to make sense but as soon as I leave it all flies out my ears. When it comes to all those t4s and what's important in all my scraps of paper, I am lost. And this is on the best of days.

Doing taxes is so stressful for me, and this year I managed to put it off until the very last minute. I believe April 30th is the deadline and today on the 26th, I finally gathered up the courage to just get it over with.

I got a ride to the nearest tax place from Ryan who was on his way to work. He dropped me off on the corner with my bag of 'tax stuff' and I was on my own.

Don't get me wrong, everybody at H&R block is always very friendly and very helpful but today they were asking me all kinds of things I didn't know the answer to that I should have known. I literally didn't know if I worked "for myself" or not; one of the first questions they ask you to determine which agent you have to talk to. What kind of idiot doesn't know if she worked for herself or not, you ask? Well, the kind who did piecework transcription for a post-doctorate student at UVic for a year...I thought it was kind of sub-contractor work, but then my paychecks came from the university...so it's confusing, right?

Right off the bat, though, I looked like a retard. And felt stressed out and embarrassed.

Then out of one of the little cubicles came a husband and wife duo. The husband was one of those "I'm the funniest guy at my office" kind of guys. Loud talking, but sort of well-meaning. He might have been a car salesman or an insurance agent. Obviously this guy had no social etiquette whatsoever, because the first thing he did was start asking me about my chest tattoo while I was sitting in the waiting room clutching my bag, cheeks still burning from the "do you work for yourself" conversation.

I mean...it was out of control inappropriate. And imagine all his lines spoken in a condescending talking-to-your-teenage-daughter's-friends tone, to add insult to my annoyance.

Him: Whoa, look at you! Where do you get your ink done?
Me: (wince) Mostly Tattoo Zoo.
Him: Tattoo...ZOO? What's that?
Me: It's on Wharf street...
Him: Ah yeah, I know the place.
Me: Hm. (looks away, hoping to dissuade more conversation)
Him: What's that on your chest there? A butterfly?
Me: It's a bee.
Him: Why did you get a bee on your chest?
Me: (shrugs, looks away with kind of a mad face)
Him: Oh yeah, you don't know, huh? (laughs) So are you gonna get it all colored in then? Like a bright pretty little yellow bumble bee?
Me: It's a honeybee.
Him: (super condescendingly, like it doesn't matter) Oh! It's a honeybee.

(Meanwhile, his wife is taking care of all the paperwork and business.)

Him: (looks me up and down...btw I'm pretty covered up, but my v-neck sweater and my mid-calf-length tights show the tattoos there) You got 'em all over ya!
Me: Yep.
Him: How does that happen? Do you just go there and say "Stick em on me!"?
Me: Well I work in a tattoo shop so...
Him: (laughs) That makes sense then. This might be out of the blue but do you get those guys to give them to you for free?
Me: (doesn't answer)
Him: And what does this one say? It looks like it's in Russian.
Me: It is. It says "bibliophile."
Him: What?
Me: Bibliophile.
Him: What?
Me: BIBLI...(sigh) book lover.
Him: It says that in Russian?
Me: Yes.
Him: So why'd you get that?
Me: Uh...
Him: I mean, it's kind of weird, you having Russian on your leg and all...
Me: Yeah well we had a guest artist where I work from Germany and it became a big inside joke and...then I got it tattooed on me. I guess...?
Him: That's good that it has a story, they all should have stories. And mean something to you.
Me: (silence)
Him: I see you have one on your foot there! What is that? A clown?
Me: (fake laugh) (I'm trying to be nice here but he's REALLY trying my patience at this point.) It's a party panther.
Him: A what?
Me: (I moved my shoe and showed him.) Party panther.


And then I felt a panic attack coming on. The place turned grey and I got tunnel vision.


Me: (Kind of rambling, trying to distract myself) And I have a party wolf on the other side. (I struggle hard to get my feet to move correctly, they're kind of numb and there's a disconnect between my foggy brain and the grey world where my feet are.)
Me: (I finally get my shoe off after three tries.) See?

And I don't really remember the rest of our conversation, and then they left. A young man, I'm certain younger than me then came out of an office and said he could do my tax stuff and we figured out that I did not work for myself, because my paycheck came from somewhere else.

I went into his office, shoved a pile of stuff onto his desk and hoped he'd just take what he needed and give the rest back to me like the lady did last year. Instead, he looked at each thing, asking me what it was, why did I bring it, etc. Stuff like the forms that told how much interest I didn't pay on my student loans and...I don't know, I just brought anything that looked tax-y. Then it came up that I graduated school in April.

Him: Was that April 2010?
Me: Um...
Him: Was it just last year that you graduated?
Me: Uh...I think...so...?
Him: Two thousand and ten?
Me: ...yes? Was it...yeah. Um...I think it was.

What the hell you guys? I couldn't remember when I graduated. Last year. I was in a crazy fuzzy headspace...so confused. Anyway I had forgotten to print off my tuition tax info and bring it in with the rest of my stuff because I was done with school FOREVER and never thought I'd have to think about it again.

Him: So you don't have it?
Me: Uh...nope.
Him: Well, can you just log on to the university website and print it out?
Me: Um...maybe.
Him: ...?
Me: I mean, I think I have the password written down...I don't really remember how to log in...
Him: ...?
Me: Uh...yeah I'll just...(I fumble in my bag for like a minute, pull out my dayplanner, and see that all I have written down from UVic is my student number.) yeah...maybe I can...I'll try.
Him: Okay well I'll just go to the other room and get more staples and you can use my computer to do that.
Me: Okay.

Ten minutes later...

Him: (Leaning on the door frame, looks up from iPhone) So...how's it coming there?
Me: (SO FRUSTRATED) I can't log in.
Him: Why don't you call them? Here's my phone.
Me: (In total panic-attack mode again) I can't. The website says it'll take too long to phone and they want you to e-mail them your questions and that's going to take too long. I'm wasting your time. I'll come back later. I have to go home. I'll just go home.
Him: Um...
Me: I can't do this right now. Can I just go? I'll just go home and come back later?
Him: Do you...want ... to ... make an appointment for tomorrow maybe?
Me: OKAY.
Him: I can see you tomorrow evening.
Me: Yeah sounds good see you tomorrow okay bye (I clumsily get up and walk straight out the door, not even checking if I was supposed to pay anything for that waste of his time...guess I'll find out tomorrow.)

I walked to the intersection, toward the bus stop...where my bus was just pulling away. So I walked all the way home. It took about an hour. And half way there I noticed something strange. I was talking to myself while I was walking.

Me: Fuck fuck fuck. It's okay. It's okay.(I realize I'm talking to myself out loud, feel like crying. Stop talking.)

But I eventually got home and figured it all out. Writing it all out made me feel better and gave you a little glimpse into my crazy. Tomorrow should be better. I'm prepared now. And I'm making Ryan come with me because there is no way I'm answering any question with "I don't know." tomorrow.

To hell with this day.

A message to you omnivores this Easter...

Peeps. I tried my first one last week, and only because somebody bought them for all of us at work and nobody was eating them. I felt bad. After one bite I realized why nobody was eating them. Those things are disgusting. They're like those horrible marshmallow strawberries from my childhood that always somehow ended up being in the grab-bags of candy I got from "the store".

Anyway, seeing as it's Easter Sunday (capitalization means it's a Big Holiday), I have something I need to get off my chest. It's about eating with omnivores, as a vegetarian.

My family eats meat. Most of my friends eat meat. I don't care. I made a choice not to eat dead bodies and that's that. I'm not better or worse than you for it. You're not better or worse than me either. I just have a message to the omnivores out there who have one vegetarian at their table...

DO NOT EAT ALL THE VEGETARIAN FOOD!

This is very common. A family plans a turkey dinner, with bacon in the potatoes, stuffing full of who knows what, cubed ham in the peas, beef gravy and ... oh yeah, there's a salad for the one vegetarian. I guess we can leave the chicken out of it like gracious hosts.

No problem. The vegetarian brought their own thing from home. Maybe it's a tofurky, maybe it's a special lasagna or spaghetti (?) or something...they just want to be included, to hang out with you, to be able to eat something nutritious and healthy, NOT JUST SALAD. They're covered, don't even worry about it.

Until...

Uncle: "Hey, is that tofurky any good? Mind if I try a bite?"
Vegetarian: "Uh, I guess not, go ahead."
Little cousin: "Can I try some?"
Vegetarian: "I guess..."
Uncle: "Ugh disgusting, how can you eat this stuff?" (Throws an entire slice in the garbage disposal.)
Little cousin: (spits it back out onto his plate) "Eww, it's like poison!"
Everyone else at table: (laughs)
Vegetarian: (sighs and goes back to the half-meal that's left over).

You guys, that is so rude. Everybody wants to know if the tofu hot dog tastes like a "real" hot dog. It has the same spices but is made from tofu. So it's different. You don't need to prove to all the other meat eaters that the tofu hot dog is inferior okay? It wastes food, and hurts feelings.

Ryan seems to encounter this situation a lot at work functions. There's him and one or two other vegetarians. Not even "difficult-to-feed" vegans. It's not hard to feed a vegetarian, trust me. But every single time he goes to a meeting, they order pizza. One pepperoni. One meat lovers. And one veggie. And guess what everybody eats first? The veggie one. And then him and the other two are left fighting over scraps while everyone else is "too stuffed" to even touch that last pizza.

I'm just saying, try to be sensitive to other people's dietary concerns. It's no secret that those three are vegetarian at the meetings, the others just don't even think about it.

So, in conclusion, if your family is having a big nice Easter dinner and you have vegans or vegetarians around, please don't eat all their food! And maybe try to keep the side dishes beef-stock and meat-free. Don't pour butter all over the veggies if there's a vegan.

Thank you.

Oh, and also? Peeps are gross.

OW, my feelings!

I'll just say it in screen grabs and youtube videos.

Oh Japan.

All these earthquakes. I never comment on huge disasters because it's already being said all over the world: so sorry, we're thinking of you, get well soon...hope that whirlpool works out for you.

I can't imagine what it feels like to have a 6 meter high wall of black sludge destroy everything I ever knew. Terrifying doesn't describe it. No word does. Devastation? No. It's worse.

Imagine being in a building that wasn't built to code in an earthquake. And you're on the fifth floor. Also? It's on fire and there's a tsunami outside. I mean...from afar the photos of burning apartment buildings are touching but really put yourself in there. Desperate, panic, you and your family are going to die. How can we sit here and watch and say "I pray for you." and feel good about ourselves?

Oh, well I also updated my facebook status. You know, solidarity.You go, Japan.

I saw people on tumblr being all like "stop talking about this boring tsunami", and am disgusted with all of you who feel that way. We're sitting here on our asses, comfortable and safe, peering into the private destroyed lives of thousands of people. The least we can do is be compassionate. 

I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel like I had to say something.

I am in no position to help, but if you are, please do. When these disasters occur, find a reputable place and donate your money. Donate your time, labor and love. I hear the Red Cross does wonders.

Thanks for listening.

I lost a friend today.

xoxo Bailey. I love you always. 

My Yesterday

Boss: Can you pick up some tacos from the truck down the street?
Me: Sure.
Boss: Oh, and some tortilla soup. No dairy. (He's vegan.)
Me: Of course.
Boss: And if they don't have the soup then some more tacos. But they better have soup or you're fired.

(Enter long and joking* discussion about the repercussions and legal actions that would be taken if I got fired.)

*I hope, ha!

Me: Please don't fire me.
Boss: Okay.

(I go to the taco truck and order food.)

Me: (Waiting for food)
(Super Fat Drunk Guy walks over.)

Drunk Guy: (Slurring to the point of intelligibility) How much for ketchup chips?
Taco Truck Guy: Two dollars.
Drunk Guy: I'm a shaman but I don't like to do it in the street. (Sways precariously)
Taco Truck Guy: Oh.
Drunk Guy: I'm waiting for a bus. (Note: there's no bus stop anywhere near the taco truck)
Taco Truck Guy: (To me) Here's your food.
Me: Yay! (I take it back to the shop)

Me: OMG you guys, you shoulda seen the super drunk guy at the taco truck. (does awesome impression of drunk guy, then opens the lid to make sure the soup is right before I hand it to the boss. It is but HAS CHEESE ON IT! DISASTER! VEGAN BOSS!)

Me: Crap. There's cheese on it! I'll be right back.

(I walk back to the taco truck)

(Drunk guy is still there.)

Drunk guy: YOU'RE MEXICANS.
Taco truck guy: ...Yeah?
Me: Um, sorry, I need this soup to not have cheese on it, my boss is vegan. No dairy.
Taco Truck Guy: Oh, sorry! No cheese! Yes. (Takes it back)
Me: Yes! Thanks. (Waits patiently)
Drunk guy: (Stumbles) Fucking chips. I had a hamburger.
Taco Truck Guy: ...yes. Chips. Do you want a taco?
Drunk guy: How much are they, ten dollars?
Taco Truck Guy: Six for six dollars.
Drunk Guy: I had a hamburger. You're an asshole. Shaman. It's dark then light and it changes my mood.
Taco Truck Guy: (To me) Here's your soup. No cheese! Sorry again!
Me: Thank you so much!
Drunk guy: GRACIAS AMIGOS. FUCK YOU MEX-IGOS. GRACIAS.  MEXICO.

(I walk back to the shop with the new soup)

Me: Okay. No cheese!

(I open the soup to check that everything's okay this time...but there's a big fat dollop of sour cream in it.)

Me: Nooooo! There's sour cream on it!
Boss: NO!
Me: (sigh) I'll be back again.

(I go back to the taco truck, giddy with the silliness of the situation)

Me: Hey, my soup has sour cream in it.
Taco Truck Guy: Oh no! So sorry!
Me: No, it's okay. I just need straight up soup with tortillas on top.
Taco Truck Guy: Yes. Sorry! No problem.

(I wait patiently)
(Taco Truck Guy hands me two bowls of soup with no lids on them)

Me: ?
Taco Truck Guy: You take two, sorry again!
Me: Thank you?


I walk back to the shop again, this time definitely sure about the dairy status of the soup because of the lack of lids I could see that there was nothing but soup and tortilla chip thingys in there.

I get to the shop and remember the door is a 'pull' type door. And my hands are full of two hot and red-colored soup. That spells disaster right? What would you do?

I, like a total idiot, forged ahead anyway and tried to just pull the door open with one of my soup-holding hands. Of course the door opened faster than I expected and the soup spilled all over me. Like  half a damn bowl of tortilla soup.

No, seriously, all over me. It splashed down the front of my hoodie. It got on my (very light colored) skirt. It even somehow got on the inside of my sleeve,  and on my back.

...and that's when I lost my mind.

It was like this, only times ten thousand.

Image from ragetoons.com

Urban Outfitters Ruined My Christmas

Just a quick note to let everybody know that I HATE Urban Outfitters
and they ruined my Christmas.

Here's what happened:

I ordered something for Ryan through their website. The item was listed as in stock. I also ordered two smaller items for his kids at the same time. Minutes after I clicked the "place order" button, I received an email saying that my order of three items had been placed, and would be sent out within two weeks, which was perfect timing for the package to arrive just before I went away on holidays. I was set.

Well...the package arrived yesterday. With the kids' stuff in it. But not Ryan's present.

I looked at the bill. It named all three items, but beside Ryan's gift it didn't have a quantity listed, whereas beside each of the kids' presents there was a 1.

I checked the website, and the item was still listed as "in stock". So I called their help line. The lady was very matter-of-fact and told me that they were out-of-stock, would never be getting more of the stock, and I shouldn't be angry because they never charged me for anything to do with Ryan's present. (I checked my credit card statement, and that was true.) My order had been canceled.

I asked when my order had been canceled, and she said it would probably have been immediately after I placed the order.

Yeah, okay, fair enough...except I received no notification at all that said anything had been canceled, or that I ordered something that was out of stock. So um, merry Christmas Ryan, you get NOTHING. And I literally found out the day before I take off for two weeks. It's like finding out on Christmas Eve that your present for a loved one isn't coming. I feel awful.

I put a lot of thought into this gift, and was feeling good about my planning and how I had everything ready for me to go away; bills all paid, all hotels and rides booked, Christmas presents bought...etc.

This totally threw me for a loop...I cried. Ryan went onto their facebook site to tell their "fans" about this b.s. and first of all he had to become a fan to write anything which he obviously didn't want to do, and secondly, the post he wrote went somewhere not on their wall...to the "other things" section or something.

So here I go, leaving town, leaving Ryan here to have Christmas without me...and he doesn't get any present from me.  

Fuck you very much Urban Outfitters.  

You suck.

no matter how hard you try not to...

...you will end up twisting your knee and/or ankle while trying to navigate this icy slush mess in gripless winter boots.

worst day ever.

Yesterday was a bust. 

It was cold out when I left the house. Not like, "I'm gonna die" cold. More like "gosh my fingers hurt after thirty seconds outside of my sleeves" cold. 

I always compare the weather here with the weather in central Alberta, where I grew up. The temperature is never as extreme. But here's the thing I have to remember: when I lived in Alberta things were different. I had a completely different lifestyle. I never ever walked 2.3km to get anywhere. And here I do it twice a day between the bus stop and my house.I never waited outside for the bus either. I had a car. They plow the roads in Alberta. They don't here. People know how to do winter in Alberta. They don't here. 

-9 degrees Celsius is really tough here.

I should have just stayed home; called in 'snow day'. Instead, I psyched myself up (literally telling myself "You can do this."), put on layers upon layers of clothing, and went about my day as usual. I waited at the bus stop for 25 minutes out in the blustery cold, but hey, it's winter right? Suck it up, buttercup. It was fine.

I got to work...which was totally dead so I left after a few hours. Victoria is like a ghost town when it snows and yesterday was no exception. And it was really starting to come down out there.

The 12:00 bus was super late, and when it arrived at 12:35 around thirty people got on with me. The bus was completely full by the next stop. I'm talking double decker full, which hardly ever happens. It holds over a hundred and twenty people. 

And, long story short, my twenty minute bus ride took four hours. 

The traffic was so bad. 

SO BAD

I'm looking at various news reports right now, and they're saying stuff like "literally countless traffic accidents occurred" because "police stopped taking calls for minor fender benders", they barricaded a bunch of main streets for "snow related closures" throughout the city, and along my bus route "a dozen or more vehicles were involved in a chain reaction pile up".

It was such a mess. 

After a couple hours on the bus with a hundred people, you start to make friends. I was lucky, I got a seat upstairs. There were probably forty people packed like sardines in the stand-only area downstairs. ("Standees", the bus driver called them.) Some people had to pee. I was really hungry though. Some people had packed whole lunches and stuff. My seat neighbor was eating a roast beef sandwich so I didn't ask to share. But if it were veggie...maybe I would have.

I read about a hundred pages in my book, stared out the window, laughed along with others' jokes about a hundred car pile-up that wasn't even funny, texted people about where I was now, and played an entire game of Tetris on my phone. And we still weren't there! 

It really doesn't sound that bad on the outside but...have you ever taken a city bus for so long you've wondered what happens if it runs out of gas? Have you ever been in traffic that literally took half an hour to go two blocks? It was mentally exhausting. It's really hard to explain...I felt so trapped and there was nothing I could do because that was my only way home. And I really wanted to be at home.

Finally, after almost four hours we made it past...nothing. Just all of a sudden the traffic was normal. It was so weird. Ryan told me he read that it was the traffic lights in the city themselves, and the ultra slippery roads that was causing people to slide, not be able to get going for an entire traffic light's length of time, and then have to stop again right away. That, plus the mass exodus of people trying to get home early and all the little fender benders...ugh.

When we made it to my stop, I phoned Ryan right away and shouted into the phone "I'M FREE!" but then had to hang up in a hurry because it was FREEZING out and my hand was too cold to hold the phone. I walked home. The wind was so strong my hood wouldn't stay on my head and I had to hold my hat down too. I thought my chin was going to get frostbite, and for the first time in years I wished I had worn a scarf. 

When I burst into the door twenty minutes later I was so exhausted and hungry, and my hands were so cold that I couldn't unzip my boots. I literally sat on the floor and just started crying. 

Terrible stupid day. 

-----

Hey, my coffee's ready. And it's my day off. And all I have to do today is lay under blankets and watch movies with my cat. 

Things are lookin' up.

oh snow!

Oh yeah, it snowed last night. And I am not really excited. At all.

(view from my window this morning)

Somehow over the past few years I've turned into a real weather wimp. It's this damn temperate island climate that's softening me up! I guess it's the lax attitude everyone here has about shoveling their walks, combined with the terrible winter drivers and the  fact that after a little teensy weensy bit of snow like this, the power keeps flickering on and off helps me with my fear and hatred of the stuff.

(view from my other window)

A couple years ago, when I lived near the university and was a full time student, I was shocked to arrive at school after it had been snowing for a few days straight to find that all classes were canceled! (WTF) There was maybe a foot of snow on the ground, but half the roads in the city were closed and I suddenly found myself with something I had only ever heard of in Alberta (where it snows ten months of the year)... A SNOW DAY! It really seemed ridiculous.

Nobody salts or plows the roads when it snows here. I've been on a fishtailing bus before. It's as scary as it sounds. At least in a car you have a seat belt in case you roll.

Do I even have a pair of winter boots?

OH it looks very windy out. I need like...a scarf and mittens and a hat too. What the? Yesterday looked like this:

I'm not ready for real winter right now!

-----

Meh, at least it's pretty, right?

(view from my other other window)

Advice to everybody: stay outta my way!

I don't know if it's stress, my chronic tooth pain or the change in weather or what, but  boy have I been a grumpy jerk lately. I feel like the world is out to get me, everybody  is a bunch of lazy mean rude idiots (except for me, of course), and nobody could possibly understand how hard it is to be me. I want to pick fights with everyone I know, lay around in bed all day and avoid all human contact. I'm angry, annoyed, tired and bitchy.

In short, I am being ridiculous, and I know it.

I've been trying to have a positive outlook, tell myself about the silver lining to every crazy person on the bus, etcetera, but it's not working. It's a serious case of super depressing humdrums.


Do any of you have any surefire cheer-you-up methods? Tell me! I need a serious pep-talk or something!

Oh, the bus. I hate you so much.

After work it is near-dark out this time of year. I'm usually mentally tired from talking to strangers and keeping up a happy face for eight hours. (Not that I'm not normally happy, it's just the off-days where I have to pretend.)

I then walk the five blocks to the bus stop and wait.

The crazies are always there; they don't take a day off. There's the staring lady, the moon-the-bus guy, the yells-random-things guy and the ask-for-change crackhead, and sometimes a surprise guest.

Then there are the 'normals' who are also there, waiting for the bus; the think-you're-looking-at-him-when-you're-actually-looking-for-your-bus-number narcissist guy, the openly-evaluating-your-outfit lady, the loud Cantonese speakers, the talk-on-the-cell-phone-about-personal-things girl, the stands-too-close-to-you lady and the impatient bouncy dude.

And then there are those who fall somewhere in the middle.

Are they on drugs? Are they mentally ill? Are they just extremely socially inept? Who knows?

One of those was on my bus today. A real winner.

Oh yes, he was gangster to the max. You know how I could tell? He had baggy pants, a big hood on his jacket and he listened to the rap music. Also? He was shout-rapping along with his iPod.

You read correctly: shout-rapping. It was top-of-his-lungs shouting things like "YEAH" and "UNGH" and all kinds of swear words and really super cool rhymes that I tried hard to ignore. It was beyond obnoxious. It was extreme rapping, y'all!

I was reading and listening to music and could actually do neither because I was so distracted by all the shouting. And it's not like he didn't know he wasn't alone; it was a pretty full bus. And he was sitting in the very back.

"RAP RAP RAP SWEAR WORD SWEAR WORD RAPPING SOME MORE SO LOUD"

Finally someone did the ol' turn-around-and-glare passive aggressive move. Well, that was what he was waiting for the whole time! He jumped at the chance to challenge the guy to a fight.

"What? What? You wanna fight? Let's go, bitch. What'cha looking at bitch? Huh? Turn around. You got somethin' to say son?"

"Yeah, shut up."

He said it! He said what we were all thinking!

OUR HERO

Well rappy mcrapperson was incensed by this provocation and shouted back all kinds of swearwords and threats and was not deterred.

"You shut up. BITCH. Why don't you go back to listening to your music?"

Well, the bus hero was not afraid of this punk's bad attitude. I was though. I phoned Ryan so he could hear some of what was going on. And be a witness in case we were all killed by this ridiculous tough guy.

"I was trying to," said the bus hero coolly.

"What? What'd you say?"

"There are twenty of us up here and I guarantee they're all thinking the same thing that I'm saying."

"Fuck you, man."

Then another guy turned around. "Shut up"

And another. "Yeah."

And that was when I turned around because I just had to have a look at this p.i.m.p. who deemed riding the Victoria public transit gangster enough to grace it with his presence. And it wasn't scary anymore because everyone else was turning around too! 20 against 1!

"FUCK YOU BITCH." Ah shit, he was glaring right at me. I smiled and waved and turned back to my book.

He didn't stop rapping for four more stops, but now it was interspersed with various insults and curses directed at some of us as well,. And then he shouted and swore his way down the aisle. I met his eye as he went down the stairs and I didn't break eye contact; it felt as though I were trying to bring on an attack from a bulldog.

He was younger than I expected. He had a spiderweb tattoo on the back of his neck. And he was hiiiiiiiiigh as a kite. His eyes were glassier than the bus windows.

What a gangster loser.

I hope when he straightens out he remembers being on a bus, shouting at strangers. I won't forget what he looks like. I hope I see him again when he's not on drugs.

Even though he was gone the aggression made the last 20 minutes of the ride home tense and uncomfortable for me, and I assume everybody else who sat through that. It's unfair to everybody for one person to be so disruptive and threatening. I wish I could say this was the first time I've had a bus ride like this, but as a matter of fact I can think of four other very recent occasions where I felt threatened and/or disturbed by other passengers.

What ever happened to 'social grace' or 'consideration'?

Trials and Tribulations of using the Smena

I was so excited to take photos with that Smena 8m camera I bought on eBay a few months ago. I bought a bunch of film, loaded it up and took 27 photos in a day and a half. I got creative. I double exposed some stuff, tried different lighting, different fields of depth...I used all the settings and dials and whatsits.

As I was waiting for the bus on my way to work I took the last picture. Which was perfect because I pass the photofinishing place downtown when I get off the bus. All I had to do was wind the film inside the camera, put it in its little plastic cylinder and give it to the person at the desk. The prints are pre-paid with this film, so everything after taking the photos was supposed to be easy and satisfying.

Well.

I started turning the little dial to wind the film.

I turned it, turned it, turned it.

Wind wind wind wind wind wind wind.

It didn't feel like anything was going on in there. But what do I know? Nothing about 1970s cameras from Soviet Russia, that's what. I thought that since I couldn't feel the winding actually happening, I would just over-wind the hell out of it to be sure that it's completely wound. That way nothing could possibly go wrong! Right?

Then I opened the camera.

The film was not wound.

I repeat, I opened the camera and the film was not wound.

I RUINED IT.

I slammed it shut and was all bummed out about it for the rest of the day at work, so I talked to the boss about it, who has a little more experience with film cameras than I do and always has to listen to my problems because I talk to him about them while he's tattooing and can't go anywhere for hours. He said that if I go into a darkroom I could manually wind the film up.

I went into the (windowless) bathroom, shut the door almost all the way, took the film out again and...
the entire roll of film came right out of the plastic casing! NOOO!

So, friends, that's where I gave up on the smena for now. I shoved all the stupid ruined exposed film back into the camera, slammed the back of the stupid thing shut and put it in my backpack. It's been there for two days.

Good thing stuff's going better with all my toy cameras because if it all went like that I'd just give up and go directly back to digital.

-----------------------------

Speaking of toy cameras, I found some really cool ones that look like little juice boxes so you can sneak them into kindergarten classrooms or diners or the back of minivans or whatever.

I really like the apple one.

See them all here.

be GONE spider corpses

What is it about my clothes that make spiders want to crawl around in them and die? I'd say on average I find one spider corpse per week in my clothing. Clean or dirty, in the closet, in the dresser or on the floor; it doesn't matter what I do. They sneak their way into my clothes and ... just die.
And what is killing them? The detergent we use? Should I be worried?

Or is our bedroom like some kind of elephant graveyard where the infirm and the elderly go on some kind of final quest to their ultimate demise?

I'd say the spiders are the second worst thing about living here, after having to take the bus because we are so far from downtown. There's all kinds of spiders and lots of them. House spiders, web makin' spiders, black widows (I haven't seen any of these yet). All the ones I've seen are big and hairy, and after Googling them I've learned that they all bite and they all have venom. Which is not cool. I'm honestly a little afraid to walk around our backyard for all the gigantic webs which look almost sturdy enough to catch me.

Today I washed the papa smurf costume we had stuffed in the toy room closet, because I'm considering wearing it on the 31st. If not I have a skeleton onesie that works just fine. Anyway I'm glad I decided to wash it because...yeah. Spider corpses as far as the eye could see.

WHY?

Any time I wake up in the middle of the night I do a mental survey, checking to make sure it doesn't feel like any spiders are on me. If my mouth tastes weird it's because spiders probably walked in it. I have to knock my shoes on the ground before putting them on to make sure there's nobody making a home in them. And I definitely have to shake out my t-shirts to get rid of the corpses.

Disgusting.

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE

Hey you.

Arachnid! Eight eyes. Spindle legs. Creepazoid. Yeah, you.



GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!

Wh..wait. Where do you think you're going?


Aw hell no. You can't fit in that crack...


Okay maybe you can.

Hey. HEY! I can still see you, you know.


Not cool.