I totally rocked the comments on Jem’s post about piano skills versus computer typing skills. I also feel the need to brag about how many people agreed with me. Bow down and worship bitches.
Daily Offerings: May 2006 Archives
Have you ever had one of those days where you felt like no matter what happened you'd be in a good mood? Even if you woke up from a dream where you were a fugitive trying to escape to BC or your friend just told you that an ex is going to kick your ass if you say anything bad? That was me today.
Despite the fact that I had an right hour shift to look forward to this morning I could console myself with the knowledge that it would be my last shift as a smoothie whore. Even my horribly embarrassing encounter with the bench press last night couldn't get me down; I could hold my head high with the knowledge that it was all in my head and that I didn't really get my ass handed to me by the weights I had just imagination. That trainer never actually helped me save myself from that extra set. Nope.
To celebrate my mood I decided to remember to tell the university that I will be attending in September and that I really do love them and that I just missed their email and I'm not actually ignoring them. All in one long, run on sentence. I think they got what I meant. Moving on from there I continued to celebrate by treating myself to music books. Who doesn't love Mariah and Wicked? Separately they're enough to make almost everyone I know squeal. But together they're like some sort of super orgasm created to keep people addicted to it and not sex. Addicted I am. I spent the rest of my free time before work playing.
I think I'm going to miss the people who work around me. I'm also going to miss watching people. I'm definitely not going to miss all the uppity customers or staff. But you always get some bad with the good. The good is also something I can are whenever I want too. I work out here, have the contact information and I'm prepping myself for yoga in the park.
Then as my day went on my head started to pulse a little. Soon I was into a full on throb with the occasional trip over a chair or a box or my feet. Then before I knew it I had spent an hour on the chair in the back room trying not to die. So much for my good day. I started noticing things I hated about people. Like that one girl who thinks she's hot shit (she's not), and gets all rude when people don't hit on her. Had it not been for Alex coming to save me I might have killed someone. So to prevent any possible murders I'm going to sleep for 24 hours. Someone wake me up on Saturday.
Back in the day, holidays that involved fireworks meant something different to me and my friends than everyone else. Once I started hanging out with the right people in grade 10 I learned that there's so much more that you can do with fireworks than shoot them in the sky. You can shoot them at each other.
Every holiday we would inevitably end up at a park with a big field, roman candles in hand ready to do one of the most dangerous things we could do without licences and cars, short of dangerous assault with a deadly weapon. Although I guess you could get pretty deadly with a roman candle. Ask Rob. He learned the hard way that the shit shot out of those things bounces off stuff and burns though clothing. This is why fireworks shows just don't do it for me anymore – no one gets hurt.
My brain has reached the point where there is a dull throbbing at the front that is so strong I swear it has to be visible to anyone glancing at me. Not exactly a pleasant feeling. Luckily I have something to distract myself: the knowledge that my bank account is feeling just as much pain as my head.
Friday, spurred on by the fact that I have decided if I'm going to finish my year off and return to Waterloo to continue studies in Math, go to Mac for Business, UTM for Management, or UofT for Humanities, I decided that I would clear my mind the best way I knew how: shopping. Not that the intimate details of my relationship with Sherway need to be shared with everyone, but I can tell you that I ransacked h2o+, exchanged a horrible Abercrombie tshirt for my brother for a slightly less horrible, but still bad, pair of shorts, and treated myself to a Blackberry. You know, because everyone needs a Blackberry.
Yesterday was Recess. Matt had text messaged me and told me to go because he was hosting it and that he wanted to put me and my friends on guest list. So we went. I was impressed. As soon as it wasn't called a hop, the 14 year olds stopped going. Except for the one or two dancing with guys twice their age with half their brain cells, but those were easily ignored. The music was decent; techno song after techno song that could make you feel like you were high out of your mind even when you weren't.
Now I'm going to spend the rest of the weekend recuperating. My summer job starts Tuesday and I have a feeling it's going to break me. It was that, or have my bank account break me instead. I decided the ability to buy even more clothing pulls rank over my ability to walk. Really though, what's the point of walking if your outfit looks like crap while you do it?
Today I started the first day in my new fitness routine. Only, I started the first day for the fourth time because the last three times I ended up slacking off or finding something more entertaining to do than suffer through the pain of body building. Things like sleep, television, or watching the paint on my wall. That or work gets in the way and after a set of eight hour shifts I just don't feel like being back at the gym. I want to be as far away from smoothie making as possible.
So I went to the gym ready to conquer the Swiss ball and various free weights in an attempt to find a chest. All was going as planned. I made the Swiss ball my bitch, because everyone knows that abs are the most important part of your body. Unless of course you actually want to use your muscles; then they're only good for swimmers. Lucky for me that on top of trying to look pretty, I also pretend to swim once and a while. Unfortunately making the Swiss ball my bitch meant that any attempts to dominate free weights would fail horribly. Oh did it fail horribly.
Whatever progress I thought I made on the previous three times I attempt to start a fitness routine was gone. I didn't make it through half of the planned work out. Instead I spent my time panting and grunting as my shoulder twitched, my wrists spasmed and my chest thought about exploded. Lifting weights apparently violated their rights as muscles and they refused to cooperate. So after far too much pain, and even more annoying chit chat by the gym bunnies beside be about basketball and everything else to avoid actually lifting weights, I left. I'd pretend I'm disappointed with myself for quitting early, but I'm far too good at making my excuses for myself to let that happen.
Paramount Canada's Wonderland officially opened to the public on Sunday and Adam and I decided that since Eric was visiting and since Jeremy had never been on a rollercoaster (ever) we'd go get season's passes and attempt to stall the end of my youth just a little longer. So I somehow managed to get myself out of bed at 7:00 so we could go spend at least most of a full day screaming like girls on rollercoasters.
Since I drive way too fast for my own good, we had enough time to visit Nancy before she's off hanging out with people who are not me and still get to Wonderland before it opened. I was all dolled up and ready to take stupid pictures. Only there was one flaw in my plan. After walking away from my car I realized I forgot my camera in the backseat, and didn't feel like going back to get it. Every second longer would be a second when another hundred people could get into the series of lines we'd have to wait in. Looking at the lines snake around the front of the park I wished I had walked back to get my camera, just so I could show everyone.
With hideously awkward season pass picture taken, we walked off to conquer Wonderland. After all, the park had just opened and no one was inside. It was ours for the taking! We started small. Adam is a child and needed to go on Thunder Run because Thunder Run is awesome and so much fun and oh please god could we just go on Thunder Run once? So we did. Jeremy needed to start somewhere and Thunder Run was perfect.
Until we started going and he started screaming. Then he didn't stop screaming until we stopped at the end. After a second to recover there was a happy yelp and a stream of "oh god that was awesome but so scary but I loved it and let's go on a real one now" that came out so fast it was like someone was fast forwarding and old Disney VHS.
We continued this process, moving from ride to ride without any real lines, letting Jeremy get on, scream until his throat hurt and then jump up and down until we could start again. Everything was great, until we got into the line for Top Gun. Top Gun's line, which counted as a real line, was an hour long and had us surrounded by the TRASHIEST people in existence. It was either horrible groups of Growing Up Gotti with dirty teen 'stache or the most stereotypical white trash you can think of. By the time we got off the ride I was happy to run off to see the "School of Rock: Live in Concert" show that they were playing.
School of Rock just happened to star Erica, my favourite person from Cawthra, who belted her heart out for a tiny bit before doing the funniest choreographed dance routine I have ever seen in my life. At one point she did something that was so funny, it can only be describe as "Erica in a move."
The only thing that would have made the trip better would be having had my camera to take pictures of all the people we made fun of. Oh well, there's always a next time. Now that I have my pass again, you can expect a next time too.
You're on a very shrinking list of sites I link to. Of course I'm going to point your name out in credit. I love your site too much to do otherwise.
