Wednesday, October 31, 2007

My friends are my friends because....

Lately, I've been thinking about my friends. How funny they are, how nice they are. How much I like them.

Here are just a few examples of why I like my friends.

:: Erin ::

Upon moving into a new apartment in London, Erin came over and got the grand tour. The closet in my bedroom was weird. It was deep, yet the floor of the closet only went back about a foot or two, then raised up to a crazy waist high platform that carried back a good three feet or so. We look at each other, and both say at the same time "Do you think there is a dead body in there?"

:: Jen ::

Just today, I was gushing to Jen that there was a devastatingly good looking man in our boardroom having a meeting with my boss. Her reply was "What are his shoes like?" A very important question in my books. Glad she's on the same page.

:: Chris ::

I left my office best friend Chris behind in London. In a recent email, he says:
"Are you still drinking like a fish or have you met that special man and looking forward to children now….lol." He knows me well.

:: Mary Jane ::

Well, there are too many funny things that MJ says and does. But to pick one out. We were out at a club drinking, and stumble upon a pair of boxers on the floor. We giggle some, and start to walk away, when a guy sitting on the nearby couch asks MJ to pass him his boxers. She looks at him, and with the straightest face, answers "Well, are they clean???"

:: Sophie ::

In my many emails with Sophie, now that she is living in Slovakia, you can imagine that we often say "I miss you!!!!" My favourite version of this was:
"HHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAI'm listening to "I've got friends in low places"....reminds me of you. omg, melissa i love you in a non sexual way. I'm so happy to have you :)"
I nearly peed my pants at my desk. Then I asked her if she had been drinking.

:: Charlotte ::

Well, she says things like "chuffed" and "trousers". And she does not have an English accent. I mean, how can you not smile when someone says "He was all chuffed up with himself over it"???? And because she was always an active participant in many crank calls to our friends (and several to her boyfriend).

I have many more moments I could share, but it could get a bit redundant.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Sounds of the Season

Sniff. Sniffle. Snort. Sniff sniff, wheeze.

The month of October has been quite mild and pleasant to the delight of most residents of Southern Ontario. Ever so slowly, though, the fluctuating temperature of warm-not so warm-a little chilly-back to damn near hot has brought about a case of the sniffles to many people who ride on the subway. (Including myself these past few days.)

Listening to the sniffles is like listening to the oh-so-dreaded nails on a chalk board for me. In fact, my biggest moment of high school bitch involved a girl named Kelly and her sniffling nose. (Now, I really wasn't a high school bitch. I wasn't really cool enough -- uhh, or mean enough -- to be one of those... Sometimes though my humour is mistaken for bitchiness. This situation was a neat little combo of both.) There I sat, studiously listening to my English teacher--not passing notes and giggling with Liz and Derek, I swear--about The Stud Horse Man (it's a real book, check it out. Actually, don't literally check it out. I do not recommend reading it.) My concentration had been broken for near a month due to poor Kelly's cold. Every day. Sniff sniffle sniff. Not once did she bring along tissues. Not once did she stand up to get a tissue from the teacher's desk.

Her sniffling grated on my nerves. Finally I could take it no longer. Derek, Liz and I had joked around many-a-lunchtimes that one of us should just get up and put the box of tissues on her desk. Drop the big hint, you know. We thought it was a pretty funny idea, but did not think any of us would actually do it.

Until......I was about to scream.

I understand we all get colds, we all get the flu. We all get a case of the sniffles and sometimes do not have a tissue handy, so the only thing to do is sniff that snot back up. What I do not understand is why you would purposely not wipe your nose, why you would not use the tissues available to you for that specific purpose.

I did it. I stood up, and with the stealth of a cat, I moved to the front desk and picked up the tissues. Kelly sat one row over, and one seat back from my desk. So I was not going out of my way to put the tissues on her desk. I was not walking around the room to a desk on the opposite side of the class. While now, I am sure it was obvious what I was doing, I felt at the time, I was not.

She looked up at me with big glassy eyes, and quickly averted her gaze. Embarrassment, shame. I don't know. But thank the good lord the sniffling stopped and she used the tissues. I suspect a handful of my classmates were happy I did it.

Surprisingly, I did not get in trouble for this. Was it mean? Can I count this as my official 'high school bitch move'? Should I track down Kelly and give her my apologies?

I keep a travel pack of tissue in my purse. I suffer from a rather regularly stuffy and/or sniffley nose myself, so I always want them handy. I'm sure that someone out there is grossed out by me, wiping away at my nose in public, and wants to rant about it too. I send my apologies good sir--or good lady. But I'd rather you be able to look away and not see me wiping than you not being able to block out the sound of the sniffles.

Do you know how tempted I am to hand out tissues around town? To record the sound of someone sniffling and play it back to them and ask them how they like it? Oh dear, now that is mean. I would not do that. At all, ever. But hand out a tissue. Yes.

So if you ever happen to be on the subway in Toronto, and some girl hands you a tissue because you are sniffling away...chances are it might be me.

Monday, October 22, 2007

It's Monday

Ms. Claassen,

It's Monday. I'm sitting at my laptop stumped of what to blog about. Trying to think of something funny for your benefit....

I have not put any new holes in the walls (well, not any serious ones) nor have I spilt any grainy substance all over the floor lately. (Please note, that I am still sweeping up the damn rice.)

Let's see.......

I went home for the weekend, to take care of my stepdad, as my mom had to go away, and he's just had shoulder surgery. I'm a good daughter. I decided to take advantage of being back home and catch up with some friends.

Saturday night found us at the local bar, drinking overpriced pints (HELLO!!! $6.50 for a bloody pint of Keith's!!! I don't even pay that in the city!!!) (Ranting is now done). Charlotte saw a couple guys she knows from Hamilton, and they joined our table. Chit chatting, joking, awkward know the regular kind of evening with people you don't know.

The Bruce was spruced for Halloween. Buddy in his white shirt decided it would be a good idea to steal some of the decorations. In particular, the mummy hanging from the ceiling. It's about as long as a foot. Maybe two. I don't know. But he shoved the mummy down his pants.

Enter the dirty joke.

"Wow, I was ready to call you daddy....but I guess now it's mummy..." I even winked when I said it.

He did not laugh.

Inappropriate joke, yes. Unexpected joke, yes. Funny joke, YES!!!!

Gah! Why are these people not laughing at my jokes these days???

I'd say I'm beginning to doubt my wit and humour, but honestly, I'm just doubting these people.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

One and Two


A noise of downtown I am getting accustomed to is the fire engine and police sirens. Who knew there were so many dire situations in a day?

My boss said one day, when there was an excessive volume of sirens, "I've been here for 5 years and I've never read about any actual fires. I think they just put the sirens on to get attention."

I said "Well, you know, it's because all the fires are on the 13th floor."

He didn't get my joke. C' was funny.


Does it make me weird somehow that I find glee in seeing the mice at the subway station??

To see them running along the tracks before the train comes, their coats so surprisingly shiny, puts a smile on my face. I like to know that even along the grit and grime of the subway tracks, where people carelessly throw their trash, where people get whisked away every 5 to 8 minutes, little creatures are living their own little world.

Granted, I'd be happier for these little mice if they were running free in a field of grass, or borrowing in a barn. But it's the city.

Yeah, I like mice.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Last week I....

1. ...Suffered from mis-matching my clothes and not really caring too much about it. Woops. Not very sleek or stylish in my new city flair. Sometimes I enjoy mis-matching though. It makes me feel cool and unique. I think I do it more often than I should.

2. ...Spilt rice all over the kitchen and dining room floor. I have inherited a giant bag of rice from my old roomie Erin. Seriously, five pounds of rice for me, that comes in a cloth zip up bag. I am coveting that rice bag right now and want it for my lunch bag, since I lost mine in the move. Thursday morning I made my move on the bag, which is currently sitting atop the dishes cupboard. I mounted myself on the stool, reached up, unzipped....and suddenly it was raining rice. Who knew the rice would not be in a secure plastic bag inside the cloth bag?? Not me.... I think my roomie is going to kick me out. First the hole in the wall, and now rice. I told her as I was cleaning up, "No remember, if you see something small and white, it's not a maggot..."

3. ...Was phone-flirted with at work on Friday. A supplier and I had set a meeting up for training on our internet site where suppliers submit pricing for approval. I had thought it was a telephone training session, he had thought it was an in-person training session. He called over in the morning to ask about parking, and a very flustered me said that we can do it on the phone, it will only take about 20 minutes or a half hour. He said he was going to be downtown for lunch anyways, so he can just pop around. Still flustered, I put him on hold to find out about the parking. There is none available. I reiterate to him that it's just as good on the phone, and then that way he's at his desk with his computer in front of him etc. He accede's to the phone training instead. We reschedule for Monday, to which I say I'm open all day, so whatever suits him is just fine. And he says..."I'm flexible. Well, not really my body. Just my schedule..." How could I not laugh at that?? Then he stumbles on his words and says that came out wrong, I carry on laughing and say that's ok, and then he starts laughing too. Phone-flirt?? I think so.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Dearest Roommate

On this Thanksgiving Monday, I left my grandparents house mid-afternoon with the intent of seeing to some housekeeping issues in my apartment. Such as hanging up some pictures in my bedroom.

My grandfather--the handiest of the handymen--had recently provided me with some good screw anchors for hanging up pictures. You know the kind, plastic things that butterfly out behind the drywall. He also gave me a drill bit, that would make the perfect size hole to put these anchors in. Fabulously easy.

I started to turn the bit. By hand, mind you, since grandpa didn't give me the actual drill. But still, hammer it in a bit, throw in a bit of muscle, and I'm turning that bit round and round, making progress with my hole. Round and round I'm turning, and I think sheesh, when am I going to get to the gap between my wall and Jen's wall?? Ahhh...finally the drill bit eases and I think I've found it. I raise a little on my toes to get a look in the hole and what do I see?? Light. I see light.

I put a hole in the wall clear through to Jen's bedroom!! Opps.

Quickly finding my way into her room, I see that a small crack has formed in the paint, and an actual chuck of paint has fallen off. Hmmm....some of the mud has sprinkled out across the bedspread. What to do, what to do.

Stroke of genius!!!

I rummage through my craft box for my white glue. Grab a tissue from the bathroom. Douse the tissue in glue and stick in in the gaping whole in Jen's wall. Success!!! Now to find the large piece of paint on the floor. Got it. Cover the back of that in glue, stick onto the wall....just like a puzzle, really.

Ummm....doesn't fit like a glove. I managed to mangle the wall some, it is pushed out and no longer flat. Now how do I fix that!?!?

I'm currently waiting for the glue to dry. I might try to put a cloth up against the wall and hammer the bulge back in. We'll see how it goes.

Jen has not yet arrived back from her parents. But when she does get it, I think I'll suggest she hang a picture there. Sans the butterfly anchor.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Well, there were really only two weddings, and no funerals. That might have been a bit hectic. Two weekends ago, my brother got married, and this past weekend, my friends Gillian and Dan got married. And good news for a girl like me, both weddings were open bar. The Best Man at my brother's wedding, his gift to them was the open bar. Nice friend!!

Top Ten list of the Top Two Weddings (in no particular order)

1. My brother's speech to the Bridesmaids: "Jen told me I had to give a toast to the bridesmaids. I wasn't really sure what to say, so..." he reaches into his tuxedo jacket pocket, and pulls out two pieces of toast. One for each of the ladies. Then he literally sat down and took a sip of wine. Smooth, Mike, smooth. I can see why it took ten years for Jen to marry you.

2. My brother likes to cut the rug on the dance floor like no one would believe. While he lacks rhythm and grace, he still likes to shake his groove thang. There were times it was just Mike on the dance floor, wiggling about, smiling like the drunken fool. Typical wedding music being spun by the DJ, my roomie--who kindly posed as my date--and I decided it was time for a Conga line! Mike was easily persuaded to join, in fact, took the leading position. We snaked, kicked, giggled, and tripped our way around the room. I steered Mike towards my table so I could pick up my beer, and like a good brother, he obliged. After all, what are big brother's for? Nearing the end of the song, I glanced back over my shoulder to see that nearly everyone in the room had stood up and joined in! Did not expect that to happen! I feel that the conga line made it officially a wedding. Though thank heavens there was no chicken dance....

3. Lovely Laura, as I like to call her, has been a long time friend of my mother's. They met when we were just kids, and she's been in our lives ever since. As an impromptu speech, she took to the podium, and began a nice toast. What started off as a happy, thoughtful toast, full of comments like "I'm so happy for you guys," "I feel so blessed to be in your lives" turned in a hyperventilated stuttering of "I feel like it's one of my own kids getting married" and "oh fuck, I'm drunk and I can't finish saying this". She stumbled back to her seat, and cried on the shoulder of the poor gentleman who was seated next to her. Poor Laura, overwrought with emotion. Ahhh...she's a dear woman.

4. My niece, Marlee, is 16 years old. Though she's got the figure of woman a few years older. Sly little girl, wearing a dress cut to there. Her date, whose name I have forgotten, could not keep his eyes (or hands) off of her. Marlee was seated at my table, along with my sister and brother-in-law Brian. Boyfriend and Marlee continually kiss each other, gaze lovingly into each others eyes. Jen leans over to me and says in a hushed tone, "Do you think they do it?" I giggled and said they better not be, or I'll kick his ass. Her reply was to pay attention to their hands, and when the disappear under the table, if her eyes glaze over, we'll know. My roomie is a perv.

5. I had a dress situation. I bought this really cool dress. It's a giant wrap around skirt, made from old sari silks. You can wrap it around all these different ways, as a dress and skirt. Very cool, I tell you. Very cool, that is, until you are struggling with a two year old child who is missing nap time and not wanting to get her photos taken down by the lake, and you realize that with each and every move you make, the dress is coming loose and slowly sliding down your front. I thought it was just a momentary thing. Until I realize that this problem is going to occur through out the entire evening, and ladies would keep coming up to me, tug up the back of my dress to no avail because my bra was showing...It's a shame it's such a pretty dress, because I'M NEVER GOING TO WEAR IT AGAIN.

(Moving on the next wedding)

6. Speech from the Groom, introducing his side of the wedding party. When he got to Dave, he seemed kind of stumped on what to say. "Next is Dave, he's been my friend forever, and he's my cousin. He's just great... [pause] I don't know if all of you out there know Dave or not, but well, I'd recommend you put him in your wedding party anyways, cause he's great to have around." I know Dave, it's true. One of the best laughs I've ever heard.

7. It was a small town wedding. If you know me, you know I love small town. As easy as it might be, I just can't get the two step down pat. (Yes, I know, it's two steps. But it doesn't work well for me. Hush now.) Roger, who is 'one of the guys', (and Dave's older brother, they share the same great laugh), has a keen knack for two stepping. We've danced before, with him twirling and whipping me around the dance floor, and me giggling, getting dizzy and thinking I might barf. The wedding was no different. I sidled up to Roger, and requested a dance later in the evening. He seemed a bit taken aback, but honoured my request. After we two stepped, I got harangued by my friends boyfriend Mike. He gave me the serious eye, and said that Roger was creepy. I'm pretty sure he was telling me not to go for Roger. I think I had my classic WTF look on my face, and laughed. Roger is not creepy. Weird yes, creepy no. Mike looked at me funny, said ok, and walked away. At the end of the night, Roger came to say bye, asked if I was still in London. I told him I moved to Toronto, and he looked a bit disappointed. Hehehe, maybe Mike had overheard something and thought he was taking a preventative act. Who knew I'd get the cock block from Mike?

8. I seem to suffer from dyslexia every now and then. Muddle up my word. Early in the evening, I was talking to Tara about Gillian and Dan. But instead of saying Gill and Dan, I called them Jan, and we thought that was quite hysterical (remember, it was open bar?? Everything was quite hysterical). Ha! Must've stuck in Tara's head, because when she got up to give a toast, she called them Jan... I think I'm the only one who found that actually funny.

9. When the wedding was over, the party was just starting. Being that I was the date to the Maid of Honour (seriously, folks, the only 'dates' I've had lately are with girls. Is the good lord trying to tell me something here!?!?!) (Erin -- my old roomie -- was the maid of honour. At the time when the invites went out, she was not dating her current lover, Keith, and suggested we go together) (Um, I love side notes in case you can't tell) and friends with most of the wedding party, I had an in to the after party. Also had an in to the after party because it was happening in my hotel room that I was sharing with Erin and Lara. Dave sweet talked the catering staff and scored us several bottles of wine. See, he is handy to have around! We filed back to the hotel, realized there were no cups, and in true party fashion, we cracked open the wine and just passed it around and around the room, taking sips (ahem, gulps) one at a time. I haven't done that since before I graduated from university. Oh the good times...This story would be a lot better if someone fell off the bed or something. I just really like that Dave scored us all that wine.

10. And finally, I had a dress situation yet again. After deciding I would not be wearing my very cool sari wrap dress, I decided to wear this other dress. It's brown, it's a wrap, it's cute. So cute, that Erin chose to wear it on her first date with Keith. A date that they got a little frisky a little later on in the evening. After I found out that Keith would likely be attending the wedding (not as Erin's date, haha...sucker), I thought to myself, well hell, I can't wear the dress now. This dress has a reputation that I can't keep up with!!! Poor Erin, I'm just kidding.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

A Call to Duty

Dear Ms. MacWhatsYourName,

I was writing to complain about the current state of your Blog – Kickin’ it in the SWO. Reading your blog had become a part of my daily route, a moment I looked to forward to each day. It has become a source of amusement for me. A treasured break in the daily monotony of my life. And while I understand the disruption in your commentaries do to your recent relocation, I’m disappointed to find that a month later, you are still neglecting your duties.

Please note that I shall be forced to find another blog should your abandonment continue.


Ms. Claassen


Dear Ms. Claassen,

Please be advised that I have consulted with my public affairs department in regard to your concern. They have informed me that there have been other complaints about my apparent neglect of the ever-so-popular blog, Kickin' It in the SWO. Regardless of the fact that I am making all of this up, I can assure that my attention will return to my blog in the very near future.

While I have been dissuaded by the fact that I can not log on to my blog from my new place of employment, I have been struck in a moment of glory that I can write a post on email and send it to myself at home, to later post in the evenings. Sheer genius takes time, Ms. Claassen, and I thank you for your patience while I figured this out.

In the mean time, might I recommend you peruse some of the blogs I have listed on my blogroll. I rather enjoy the writing style of Little White Liar, however, like me at this time, she does not post very often. Pioneer Woman, on the other hand, is an avid poster, and quite amusing. I learned a lot about farmers sticking their arms up cow's butts from her blog.

Thank you for taking the time to draw this to my attention. As a gesture of my appreciation, please find the attached gift certificate to my favourite restaurant, Chez Melissa, which is valid for a free meal. The head chef, Melissa, is a wonderful cook, and her dishie, Jen, sure knows how to make things sparkle!


*NB: If the attachment does not come through, you are invited to randomly show up at Chez Melissa. Should the staff be unaware of the situation, and not allow you entrance, shake your fist at them and give them the evil eye. This will ensure you the best seat in the house.


Ms. MacWhatsYourName,

Thank you for your prompt reply on this matter and for the gift certificate for Chez Melissa. I was fortunate enough to had have the pleasure of being served breakfast there and was quite impressed. I look forward to my next visit.

In regards to exploring alternative blogs, I will be sure to check out your recommendations, however I already have ample experience with farmers sticking their arms up cow’s butts as I have spent the better part of my life on a farm.

Ms. Claassen