Over caffinated

I worked for a while in a cafe in the land down under, where I like to think I perfected making coffees. Lattes, cappuccinos, flat whites. Whatever you wanted, and I could make them pretty with designs on top, like this one...




It was here that I learned to not just like, but to appreciate coffee. I've always been a tea drinker, and found percolated coffee to be bitter and kind of gross (and I still do). Flat whites were my favourite. Upon returning home, my new found thirst for European style coffee was not quenched, as with the exception of Starbucks and Williams, cafe's serving these coffees were far and few between. Though they have been increasing in popularity.


So the point of my post today is not to tell you I was a fabulous barista, or that my love of coffee is less than 5 years old. Rather, it's to complain to a slight degree (SURPRISE!!!!). To ask for a flat white in Canada is like asking for a kangaroo. You just don't get one, as we technically don't serve them here. So I usually ask for a latte, with no foam. It's no big deal to not get the foam in there.


So here it is. My last day here, I decide to treat myself to a nice coffee and scone from The Little Red Roaster for breakfast. Delicious coffees and homemade baked good. Order my latte, forget to say no foam. And much to my disappointment, the lady making my coffee piled the foam in there. Hello!!! Did I ask for a cappuccino??? I sure didn't......Son of a b, I hate the frothy milk.


I know, I know, what the hell am I really complaining about, and why did I make it a post!? I'm just irked when barista's don't know the difference and make them all the same. Gah!!!

(Uhhh....better post to come later. Maybe.)

Unemployed Sloth

It's only Wednesday. I have officially been unemployed since 5pm on Friday.

It feels great, it feels panicky. It also feels like sleeping in is a great thing and who knew there was so much lame tv in the mornings???

I haven't really ventured too far this week, what with the packing that is supposed to be at the top of my list of things to do. So....I've pretty much been in my pj's all week long. Nice.

Today I met a low I don't think I want to meet again. Not only have I pretty much been wearing the same thing since Saturday, but today I had to run a quick errand....and by quick errand I mean I went back to the office to pick something up. And wore the shirt I've been wearing all this time. I am an unemployed sloth. It might even be a smelly shirt.

Hmmm....good thing I came home to a message on my answering machine saying I've got a job for Tuesday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woot woot!!!!!! With the place where I had the fiasco of an interview. WHO KNEW!?!?!?!?!?

Two Faced

My friends tell me I look like a sweet girl. A nice girl. So I often wonder what is it that makes me look like a sotty bitch instead. One who gets approached by a certain type of guy at the bar...

Picture it. Erin and I head to the classy bar in town (ahem, there are only a few in this city), as our last weekend before we each move. And as planned, we got all dressed up. Well, she wore a dress, I wore sassy long shorts and sleeveless/backless top. Me and a dress and booze--not happening unless it's a wedding. So there we were, all pretty and shit, sipping on our cosmo's, laughing at each other as we delve deep into a conversation of our sexual experiences. When who should walk over and seat himself at our table?

Mr. Nice Looking (notice...not good looking).

He says: Don't mind me, I just want to sit for a few minutes. If you want someone else to sit at your table, just tell me to get lost.

And then he looks around the room, literally ignoring us. How bizarre. Erin and I stare at each other with WTF looks on our faces. Can't really carry on our conversation, so we start to ask him a few things, thinking perhaps he's lost his nerve so we'll just be nice to him.

He doesn't really say much, yes and no answers. Perhaps he really did just want a seat. Ok. Then he asks what we are drinking, so we tell him. He thinks for a minute. He asks where our boyfriends are. We laugh, say our boyfriends were busy tonight. (We do not have boyfriends.)

He says: So what, you girls just out here looking for rich guys to buy you drinks and then take you out in their fancy cars?

Pretty much my chin hit the table. The waitress arrived at the perfect time because after that comment, I needed another drink.

And then he gets up and leaves. What the hell was that??????????????????

Do I look like a sotty bitch to you?

(That's me and Erin, in our apartment, pre-Mr Wanker.)

On the plus side, we left the classy bar, and went down to my fav pub, The Brass Door, which is just a little this side of sketch. True, we stood out like sore thumbs in our fancy clothes, but Jim McGuinly was singing his songs and strumming his guitar, and the bartenders know my preference for gin & tonic, Bombay, please. But best of all, my favourite hole in the wall draws a crowd of people without much pretense. Just a great, general crowd of people having a great time. No one there makes me feel like a sotty bitch, just the nice kid I am. Ahhh...I'll miss that bar.

Farewell, L-town.

A Mundane Array

Today I seem to be out of steam, but I still feel like blogging. Perhaps bullet points is best today.

• Have not heard yet from the interview I had on Monday. The half hour before the interview was quite a fiasco, and it totally threw me off my game. I went to the location where I was instructed to go by the recruitment agency, only to get there and be told I had to go somewhere else. When I got to somewhere else, I realised I was not told what floor and suite number to go to. I scrambled to find a pay phone (call me old school, I don't have a cell phone), and called up to the agency to find out what was going on. Turns out the company I was set to interview with made a mistake and contacted them early that morning to change things. I was interviewing with a company affiliated with the original. So A) I was flustered because I didn't know where I was going, B) I was flustered and annoyed that now I didn't know anything about the company I was interviewing with and C) I was just plain ol' annoyed at the miscommunication in the first place and now felt very unprepared. Not a good start to go into an interview with.

• I found out that the cost of a pay phone has doubled to 50 cents since the last time I used one. Eek!!! I guess I can no longer say 'Here's a quarter, call someone who cares.' Not that I really ever say that or anything....

• I have less than two days of work left. Yippee!!!!!! And I am trying my best to not get frustrated by the actions of my coworkers and managers. I am keeping in mind that I am out of here so soon, it's not worth it to get myself riled up over their silly actions. It's hard to do this, I tell you!

• This Saturday my roommate and I are throwing a dress-up party since we are both leaving town. I think this will be the first time that I will have worn a dress to a bar when it hasn't been New Year's. Hehehe, I believe martini's are going to be in order!

• What I can only suspect is due to reading Little White Liar's post yesterday about the fear of terrorism, I had a dream last night that sticks in my head today somewhat hauntingly. I was riding the train into the city, and a woman of middle eastern descent boarded the train. She was dressed in a western fashion, the only thing that made her stand out was her skin colour. Everyone eyed her up suspiciously, and she quietly made her way to a seat at the back, near the exit door to the next car. I was seated just a couple rows ahead of her. Individuals started coming up to her and saying slanderous things. I stood up and defended this woman, blocking people from reaching her. Pretty soon, it seemed like everyone on that train car was rallied up in front of me, and I was standing there holding onto the seats on each side of the aisle, barricading this mob. The few people in the seats behind me just sat there quietly, while this woman cried in fear. I kept yelling at the rush of people to leave her alone, it was not her fault. Eventually, the train came to a halt, and in the jolt, my grip on the seats released and the people pushed passed me. The woman saw this coming, and she struggled with the door to exit to the next car. She made it out in time before anyone reached her. This is when I woke up. I have not been remembering my dreams very vividly in this past year, but the details of this one won't seem to escape my memory.

• And now there is definitely no more steam.

Telemarket this!!

Number One reason it pays to sound like a kid on the phone when you're really an adult:

Telemarketers call and ask for Mrs. MacWhatsHerName. I always say, "This is Miss MacWhatsHerName." About half of the time after I say that, they ask for my mother, so I tell them she's not here.

And then they hang up.

Nice.

The Real Deal

Sweet!!! The recruitment agency has set me up with an interview with a posh hotel's corporate office!!! Interview Monday morning, will be sure to mind my p's and q's, not babble, not crack jokes, say all the right things. It will be glorious.

So that means, taking Monday off. Which means only four more days of work left!!! Woop woop!!!

On an unrelated note, my dear friend Emily has just moved to China for one year, to teach English. I had found an article in the past while that noted that Chinese officials are cracking down on illegal roadside stalls that sell pirated dvd's, blackmarket makeup....and puppies. Yes, puppies. So of course I forwarded the article to Emily. Now that she has arrived to China, her email to me to let me know she has landed safely goes as such:

They sell donkey meat on road side stalls, and you once told me they weren't allowed to use horns; well they never got the message all they do is honk and then cut each other off. It's odd.
And I have yet to find a puppy.
I must go now, but we'll talk soon.
xox
em

Ahhhh....she gives me the giggles. First of all, I wonder, people really eat donkey meat????? I have enough troubles with the thought of eating animals who don't reside on regular farms. But donkeys??? I could not imagine a donkey to have a nice...texture or taste. Hmmmm.... oh well, apparently someone likes it.

Happy travels Emily!!!!!

One Big Sigh

It seems that I over-prepared for this interview. Which, on one hand, made me feel extra confident in my abilities, but on the other, made me feel a bit annoyed.

I have not ever interviewed at a placement agency before. It was a whole new experience ~ one that I don't think I want to repeat.

I arrived in Toronto two hours early. I completely overestimated my time-frame. But that two hours game me time to lunch and read over my notes (a hundred times), so it was great that I was not feeling rushed. It was a beautiful day, I enjoyed the sunshine while sitting in a concrete park surrounded by skyscraping office towers. So different from my environment at home.

Bored of wasting time, I decided I would just head up to the 9th floor and hang out there with hopes they might be ready for me early. The receptionist ~ who was filling her time doing a word jumble* ~ kindly handed me a package to fill out, and she directed me to a quiet room off to the side. While completing this, I overhear in the office next to me a kind, yet slightly annoyed, female voice saying "Yes, I know you are desperate for job....something is going to turn up for you soon. I promise."

Deep breath, Melissa....deep breath. She is not saying this to you.

I try to ignore what I am overhearing and carry on with my package. After handing it back in, I am left to wait until about 2:10 for Jenna to come and fetch me. I'll be the first to admit, I am impatient; punctuality is something I value, and do my best to achieve. So when an appointment is set for a specific time, and the other party does not stick to it...my toes are tapping.

Regardless. Jenna fetches me and brings me around to her cubicle for the 'interview'. All we really discussed was my current position, what I want to do, what my target salary is, and confirmed my contact details. No "Tell me about a time that you had to deal with conflict" or "Where do you see yourself in 5 years". Just strait up details. Which, I guess is good, knowing my own interviewing skills. No room for slipping up on unnecessary information.

Once she has all this information in her computer, she says she'll grab someone to do the interview. Ahhhh, I think. Jenna was just the pre-interview gal.

But no. A lady with a smile that didn't cease the entire 5 five minutes we spoke came into the cubicle. I stood up to greet her, shake her hand and then reach for my purse thinking we are going elsewhere. She says I can sit back down, we'll cover everything here. She pretty much asks me the same questions Jenna did, smiling and nodding vigorously at me. She said my resume looks great, and someone will snap me up in no time.

Her smiling and nodding and encouragement made me feel better about this 'interview' I just came in for. But then it hits me. She smiles and nods and encourages everyone who comes through this door. I felt a slight deflation in my chest. She left the cubicle and Jenna started to ramble on about the procedure of what will happen next, explaining time sheets to me, and saying I should call her about 3 times a week to check up.

There was nothing mentioned about the posting I applied for. Just that there a ton of jobs coming in everyday in all kinds of industries.

Oh heavens above....please let this work out. Please place me somewhere decent with better pay than I am getting now!! I don't want to be the desperate person in that room, being told that something will turn up for me soon.

But. An interview is an interview, right? And like I said before, it's one interview for several jobs. It's a good thing. And I avoided the grilling of a typical interview which should make me happy. I just have to relax....and wait.



*Alas, I should not judge the receptionist for doing a word jumble out in the open. After all, I blog from work. Although I try to be discreet about it. But still...not judging....

Prepping

In 26 hours from now, I will be sitting across from a Jenna trying to hide my sweaty palms and calm the ants in my pants.

Job interview number one. After months of resumes I've finally had a bite. While it is not my first choice, right now it is my only choice. I got a call from a recruitment company, and I am gladly going in for an interview. While I don't necessarily know what job/company I am precisely interviewing for, the positive side is that I am interviewing for several positions available. One stone, many birds.

I must admit, I hate interviews. When I get nervous, I get chatty and honest. You might not think that is a bad thing, but let me tell you, it is. I can't stop blabbering on and say a lot of stuff I probably should not. I most definitely should not be cracking jokes. While it's great to make the interviewer laugh, I should realise I am not trying to make this person my friend, I am tyring to make this person hire me.

Last night, I was talking to Simon online.

Simon: So are you ready for your interview?

Me: Not really, I'm going to prep tomorrow night. It's not like I can review the details of the company, since I don't know the company I am applying for.

Simon: Makes sense.

Me: Maybe when I am at work tomorrow I'll write shit out. Be productive, you know...

Simon: Hey I know....wear the blue bikini to your interview.

Me: Simon.........

Simon: What??? It will work! I promise!!!

Me: It's not that kind of job interview.

Simon: I know. But I really like your blue bikini.

Somehow, I don't think this will help me. But nice attempt at helping me out. Rather, I've spent sometime this morning on monster.ca reading tips etc for interviews, and writing out what I need to expand on this evening. But thanks, Simon, thanks.

Verbal Spasms

It seems that I suffer from a neurological disorder that only appears when I am approached by suitable bachelors. And by suitable, I really mean when just about any guy approaches me to strike up conversation.

All intelligence and the ability to string together sensible sentences seems lost.

Saturday night I was invited to a bachelorette party. I didn't know the bride, however, my roommate to be, Jen, asked if I wanted to come along. Sure! Why not!?! How could it be anything but fun??

A bus full of ladies pulls up to my house to cart me off downtown. Full of giggles and glee, they gift me with an item they all have--a glow in the dark penis shaped straw. How can you have a bachelorette party without fake penises? You just can't. It's like it's the law of pre-wedding parties or something.

We arrive at the bar, penis straws in hand, and the rounds of drinks begin. We all toss aside the plain little black straws that come with our cocktails and sip away on plastic penises. So lady like.

The time came to dance ~ and we could not dance with out our special straws. So there we are, waving them in the air, having a great time. And this striking man comes over to me, I don't even know what he said, but of course it was about the straw. In what I think is humour, I tap the top of the straw like a mic and ask him to repeat the question. He stares at me, says "I'm not talking into that" and walks away.

Well sir, if you ask me about the penis in my hand, you are going to have to actually deal with the impending answer and the way I present it to you.

We continue dancing and drinking. Hours later, back on the dance floor, Jen excuses herself to the ladies room and hands me her straw for safe keeping. So there I am, keeper of the straws. And the striking man comes back over. I think to myself, "Sweet lord above, I have a chance to redeem my coolness!!"

But no.

He makes a crack about the straws, and asks why I now have more than one. And what do I say?? WHAT DO I SAY???

I say "Oh, it's 'cause my friend is taking a leak."

Really, I might as well have said "I carried a watermelon." Just call me Baby and assume the world is full of Johnny's.

Dear lord, will the verbal spams not end?? When will I say something reasonable to entice fine fellows into further conversations!?!?!?!


*On a side note, I would like to point out this is my 100th post :) If you are reading this, Thanks!!! And I hope I've made you laugh just a little! Hope you stick around for my 200th post!

Much like Peanut Butter and Tabasco sandwiches, It Just Wasn't Meant to Be

With much disappointment, I found out today the tickets to the soccer game fell through. My sister was not very explanatory as to why we didn't get the tickets, other than 'someone f*cked it up.'

I should have known when they announced that Beckham would likely not be playing, that it just was not destined for a kid like me to be in the near vicinity of such a fine fine man. Sigh....

(see look, Becks is angry about this too...)

Just as well. That saved me well over $100 (what with the ticket, the bus ride and the gallons of beer). Now I can go and buy some shoes or something.

Shoes are so much better in the long run.

Bend this!!

Bah!!! Just found an article on msn sympatico that reads Beckham will likely not be playing at the TO-LA game this coming weekend due to his ankle injury.

Not to say that the only reason I want to go the game is to see the beautiful Beckham, but really. Soccer really is one of the only sports I like. So yes, I am happily--and willingly--going to a match. Which I am paying too much for. I'm not an advocate of paying insane amounts of money to see sporting events, concerts, what have you.... But when my sister rang up and asked if I wanted to go with her and Brian, I said yes.

Reason number One: My brother-in-law Brian loves soccer more than what is normal. It has become something we bond over since I started playing and watching soccer on tv. So it would be great to actually do something with them outside of a pub or a family function.

Reason number Two: TO SEE DAVID BECKHAM!!!!!!!!!!!! Hehehehe...not just for his fine looks, but I think it would be pretty cool to see one of soccer's great men in action. Who knows if I'll get the chance again. And who knows if I'll ever agree to pay that much money to watch a game again!

Poor David. Fair enough to step aside with an ankle injury. I've been skipping out of my soccer practises and last game because I fell down the stairs at work and mucked up my shins. Cause you know, that's the same. My swollen and bruised shin prevents me from rec league where I pay to play, versus his ankle injury prevents him from playing a game he's being paid millions to play. That's totally the same.

Keeping my fingers crossed his ankle is better by Sunday.

Tools and Meat

First point in order: 16 days of work left.

Now for the rest.

Struck in a moment of genius, my roommate suggests an outing for last night. Why not take a tour over to Home Depot, and look at men. Not at cordless drills, not siding, not at lumber. But men. Hopefully good looking, strapping men with rippling biceps.

So we prettied ourselves up in a casual 'I belong at Home Depot' sort of way, and hopped in the car. The plan also involved grabbing dinner there, as many Home Depot's have a Harvey's built right in them. With grumbling bellies and wander lusting eyes, we pulled into the parking lot. Hmmmm....good looking guy pulling out of the parking lot. Should have gotten ready faster.

Once we quelled our case of the giggles, we emerged from the car and made our fake reason for coming. Checking out paint swatches and looking at bath fixtures. Right. And in all sincerity, I wanted to buy a new little tropical fern since mine died way back in February, and I had yet to replace it.

So enter we did. A quick scan of the front of the store revealed no Harvey's. To my utter disappointment and increasing hunger, dinner was put off. My opportunity of hilarity to order a nice piece of meat and a burger at the same time was gone.

We looked at paint samples. We looked at kitchen models. We strolled down the bathroom fixture aisle. And right there, our plan came to fruition. Insanely good looking guy coming down the aisle right for us. I'm pointing to a shower head asking Erin a random question about it, and stop mid question. He breezes past us, and I am at a loss for words. I feel the giggles coming back. I suppress them. Erin is watching him walk away with look of adoration on her face. Neither of us thought so far ahead as to how to get the attention of the good looking men we find at Home Depot. We've been foiled by our own lack of proactive planning.

And then he's gone. We blink at each other, smile, express how nice his arms were, and carry on to the next aisle. After making our way back to the garden area, and not finding any more men to admire, I find the plant I wanted and head to the check out.

Shining glory, there he is. His items are being swiped, he's reaching for his wallet. We pick up the pace and decide that if I go through the self-check out aisle we'll match him for time and can accost him in the parking lot. But the check out girl at his counter must have had a plan of her own. She was chatting him up, slowing him down. I swiped my item, inserted my five dollar bill. I slowly reached for my receipt. Check out girl is still holding him captive.

We realise we would look like idiots if we hang around the exit, so we walk out into the parking lot. Stop and look for traffic--a girl can't be too safe walking to her car. Or, stop and look for traffic to stall even more and wait for the man of our dreams to follow us out. Not working. We get to the car, Erin fumbles for the keys, we both keep looking back at the exit way. He's not coming out.

We look at each other and decide that next week, we are going to the Home Depot in the north end of town where there is a Harvey's and surely, there will be more than one good looking guy.