Magnanimous 50¢

Went to one of the conveniently places Mac’s that’s a short walk from my res, feeling in need of a bag of chips and maybe an Arizona.

It’s late, but nice out, and I’m tempted to go on walking, past this macs and maybe onto the next one.

I don’t, and I’m glad  I did.

When looking for my Arizona, I moved back from the chip selection at my back so that this baby faced guy to get past me, and he says while walking towards and past me, as if continuing a conversation:

“I really like your sweater–”

Because He was looking at me I said Thank you, and he continued with

“Yeah, it looks like it’d be really warm, it is warm isn’t it? Thanks”

and continued walking.

I thought, okay, baby faced, and a rather high (if sort of scratchy) voice, probably younger than I thought. I was thinking MAYBE University, more likely High School. Very likely he’s high.

Now I was thinking that, well, it’s possible he’s in university, but it’s more likely he’s either in high school or middle school. Very likely high.

I was smiling at the compliment because, high or not, compliments are nice, and he looked cute.

I know I just finished saying he was most likely pretty young, but he had a face of someone you knew was going to be cute if you gave it a few more years.

Maybe his voice would sound nice after Puberty as well, I was sort of thinking, but he had some acne, so perhaps the voice issue was from smoking so much, or maybe he had a cold, or maybe he was just that high.

So I grabbed a bag of chips and two Arizona’s (one for later) and brought it to the counter, where the baby-faced, high voiced kid had finished buying whatever he had ought + orange juice (“Hey, where’s my orange juice? I can’t find it!” The cashier pushes the orange juice in bag towards him. “oh”) and I notice that he’s left behind two quarters.

The Cashier slides the change to the side but pauses when the kid speaks up.

“Oh, no, that’s for her…”

I felt like laughing in his face, because he sounded like he was being the nicest (and possibly flirtiest) guy out there.

Yeah, in a tone one would use for giving up a $10, he says:

“Oh, no, that’s for her…”

Baby faces, high voice, and I still don’t know if that’s a confirmation that he’s high, or that he’s really young to think that 50 cents is generous, or maybe he’s really high out of his mind, but I bought my chips and Arizona’s with a small smile and a non-verbal conversation with the cash register guy…

He means it’s for you, eh?

Yeah, I know, you keep it.

Sure? He’s being very generous…

Yeah, go ahead. I can go without his magnanimously given 50¢

Really.

Yeah, I’m sure I’ll survive.

🙂

😀

I’m still giggling about it, and part of me wants to meet that guy again… when he’s high or not, because it was really friggin funny XD

Especially since the parting glance between Cashier and I was a mutual

Look at him eh?

I know…

Sleepy Ponderings 2… ANGER

The guy called again..

Last night… or rather this morning. For those confused, read this small blurb

Same, frigging number… what the hell???

AND… where the hell is he calling from?

I think he’s stupid as hell, but at the same time, I’m not going to give out his number… but where the hell has an area code of (250)???

AND… I was looking at the call log of my phone… looks like he tried calling about 5 days ago.

How many times can you call the same wrong number?

And why do you have to do it so early?

This morning he called me TWICE.

At TOTALLY different times.

ONCE at 2am…

ANOTHER time at 4am.

WHAT THE HELL?

I am absolutely baffled.

I just looked up where area code (250) is…

British Columbia. 

British frigging Columbia

This makes no sense to me.

WHO is he trying to call? He called five days ago once, yesterday twice, this morning twice

And I have a Toronto area code.

Is he trying to call someone in Toronto?

And not realizing at all that he’s missing by about 5-6 hours away?

Since I’m in frigging Ottawa?

Toronto OR Ottawa, frigging long way away

This is just BAFFLING to me. Even if I knew specifically what city in BC he was in, the difference is still huge! And he called five times.

How can you cal the same wrong number so many times?

And at totally ridiculous times???

I don’t understand this…

My frustrations at being woken up at such ridiculous times knows no bounds, and my anger early this morning at my phone going off was immense and soul crushing.

WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AT 2 AM??? 4AM? SERIOUSLY?

This anger was translated from my frustrations last night, resolved as I finally went to bed, and dug up again as Placebo’s ‘Pure Morning’ (funny, now that I think on it) rang out and warring states of my mind groggily woke up.

One part says I should just hang up.

The other says no… pick it up.

It might be important.

For those who have read my other posts, you may guess I’ll be referring to Insanity and Sanity.

Well I have to mention now that IF I had listened to Sanity, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.

I wouldn’t have had that moment of “Oh shit, it’s the guy from yesterday” calm before the storm thought, before he said the EXACT SAME THING he said before. But at that early a time, any angry rants had to muddle through the thick screen of shouldn’t-I-be-asleep-right-now? fog. People have joked about fog before, talking about how it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I remember a Scooby-doo episode where he cut out a fog cookie from the air and ate it.

This fog, at that time, was too thick for that. You would need an axe to even dent this fog. And the conversation was done too quickly for such actions to be taken my inner rant maker, my inner angry child.

“…Hello?”

“Oh, um, I think I have the wrong number”

“… Yes, you do. Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, uh–“

*click*

And so I hung up and spent a good couple of minutes being angry at myself for not yelling at him. Then the fog of tiredness came up and knocked me out with it’s solidness.

Two hours later, Pure Morning started twanging and then drumming me to wakefulness, and this time I listened to Sanity’s first bit of advice, and hung up immediately.

I now recognize the assholes number.

Of course, this being the second call that early in the morning, Sanity was now agreeing with Insanity, ignoring the niceties that you should observe when on the phone, and was urging me to pick up the phone and ask why, exactly, he was calling ANYONE at that time of the day, and then swear at him until HE was the one to hang up.

The next time he calls, IF he calls (hope he doesn’t for the most part), I hope I’m aware enough to ask who the hell he keeps trying to call.

Oh, and one other obvious question.

Insanity Strikes! Passively… Why am I doing this?

Insanity tries to influence your life in many ways, and most times what Insanity suggests you do you will NOT do because you know, logically, that it’ll get you in trouble. Or it’s weird. Or it’ll be embarrassing and beyond how weird you’re willing to be.

Especially in public.

The crazy ideas will make you smile, either as you are thinking it or as you think on it later, but you will recognize it as a crazy idea or thought. Insanity will be barking out these ideas, spewing them like a unicorn spews rainbows to tap dance upon, pantomiming them in your daydreams until that muscle in your face that you never consciously use starts twitching. Then Insanity will point out that you actually developed an eye twitch, and you may or may not follow the suggestion to tell your friend excitedly that that ACTUALLY happened.

It is in this way that we can join forces with Sanity to keep out of jail or a padded room.

But it is when Insanity suggests things in a more passive way is where you have to watch out.

Do you know what I mean? That passive idea from Insanity that isn’t so hard that you have to go out of your way to do, or is private enough that you don’t see why you don’t NOT have to do it.

Take my morning for example.

I’m getting ready to leave for home for the Christmas break, have another 2.5 hours until I have to leave to have a LOT of time to wait at the train station… And this is after having a shower and finishing pacing and making sure that anything spoil-able in the apartment doesn’t have the chance to go off…

So I rolled out of bed and texted my Mom to not call to make sure I’m up (something that we established last night), gathered up all of the things I need to take a shower and went to the bathroom.

As a side note, I had to gather up everything because after the beginning probation period I set, my bathroom co-user has failed phenomenally in displaying the right amount of sanitary sense. He leaves thousands of tiny little nasty hairs on the floor of the shower, is gross with the soap bar at the sink and suds up a ring around the entire sink and on the floor… and he also, for some reason, hides the shower spray and the toilet bowl cleaner behind the toilet. I’m not leaving any of my soaps, shampoos/conditioner/body wash or towels or bath mat (for the shower) within easy access.

But I had my shower, cleaned myself up, dried myself off, and was going to put back on my pj’s… why? Because I was too lazy to grab clothing, and my pj’s were clean enough.

But apparently not, because after finishing putting on my pajama pants, I was about to put back on the shirt I had decided on as a pajama top when I decided to give the sniff test.

The sniff test, for those who are denying that they do it, is the test to see if your shirt actually smells that bad. For me at least, the sniff test has three levels.

One is that I’m checking if it’s something I’ve already washed but forgot.

Two is checking if that shirt I’ve already worn is fit to be worn again.

Three is to see if it is something I’m fine sleeping in. I don’t have any designated sleeping shirt except for the few shirts I have that are hole filled and kind of grungy shirts that I keep hold of for sentimental reasons. Like my SkyDome t-shirt. It will never really be the Rogers Centre in my mind. Never.

But the shirt I had slept in last night no longer passed the third sniff test, and so I folded it up in my bath mat with my soaps and whatnot, wrapped my towel around my torso, and made the short walk back to my room.

Here is where Insanity suggests, passively, disinterestedly, offhandedly, in such a way that it seems totally logical… the idea that has me writing this up now.

“Why do you have to put a shirt on now?”

Well, I don’t.

Not really…

And by NOT putting on a shirt it means I can procrastinate putting together an outfit for a while.

If I put on a shirt now, it mean I have to decide on an outfit so that I don’t have to change shirts later if I really want to wear different pants.

And it’s not like it’s cold…

When Insanity gets logical like this, you know it’s channeling your procrastinating mindset, and it’s enough to get Sanity to agree… even if reluctantly.

So here I am, writing this up while I’m in the mindset, while I have no shirt on (because I know that some reading this are wondering), listening to tunes on Grooveshark, and wondering what Lexy will think of this if she ends up reading this during the time I’m on the train.

Part of her, I’m sure, is embarrassed that I’m writing a post on this, without a shirt or bra or anything on (That’s a lie… I’m wearing a necklace), and yet part of me is also wondering if she’ll end up saying something witty about this post when I next see her face-to-face… like maybe “Nice shirt… glad you have one on…” or perhaps “I see you’ve bundled up” or something even more vague that wouldn’t suggest to the rest of the family or anyone else listening that I was at some point going topless.

I feel like the song I’m currently listening to (Warhol’s Portrait of Gretzky by Hawksley Workman) works pretty well with how weird I’m feeling right now…. because I’m still not really seeing a problem with being naked up top.

And if anyone wants to know what Sanity says on this subject right now, she’s pretty fine with it… not really thinking it’s okay that I’m writing a post about it (Insanity approves), but since I’ve locked my door and aren’t parading around sans shirt in front of an open window, this isn’t exactly a BAD idea, or an embarrassing one, or one that will haunt me for the rest of my life…

Wow that has a possibility of coming back and biting me in the ass. Perhaps this post will become the written equivalent of a meme. I don’t know.

If anyone’s wondering what kind of thoughts I’ve had since being topless for this amount of time….

There’s a lot more of a breeze/air movement in my room than I thought.

My necklace pendant keeps tapping me. (it always did that, I’m just noticing it more)

The chords of my headphones are taking a page from my necklace, but to the side.

I wonder what it would be like if I had hair as long as it once was before I first donated hair a couple of years ago.

You notice the stray hair stuck you your chest/stomach (from your head) a lot quicker. It’s just more obvious.

You notice the recently dyed purple hair even more. (I got streaks to the lower layers of my hair… I don’t think I ever ended up mentioning this)

You look down a lot more often, and wonder why.

I wonder if I would feel more awkward about walking around without a shirt or bra if I hadn’t gone to Rangers and had a roommate who took off her shirt as soon as she was inside.

I wonder if this would feel more awkward if I hadn’t ever played strip poker or never went skinny dipping.

I wonder if someone more self-conscious than me would have stopped writing this after a little while to go put  shirt on.

Thought: Jeez, the chair back is cold

Thought: ACK! Shiver of DOOOOOOOOOOOOM….

Stretching  is weird.

It’s actually a bit colder than I thought it was in my room…

Thought: I wonder if any of my roommates will ever read this… hm. Whatever.

And now I have to go finish packing. Read Lexy’s latest post HERE, because it’s significantly more serious than this was, and a good warning to people who have dogs and buy treats for them.

I may write another blog post or two while on the train. I don’t know. Depends on if the train wifi is going to crap out again.

CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME!

Oh, and while I’ve written about how Insanity has suggested  I go outside without pants on (painted on pants… use the paiiiint DON’T DO IT!), I won’t ever go outside casually without a significant piece of clothing (ie. a shirt, pants, shoes [in winter]…). To the family, if you were wondering, this is just an odd experience for me. Mom, that text you got from me? The one that says “hahaah, I’m feeling really odd right now… can’t wait to be home,” doesn’t that ‘odd’ have a whole new meaning now? Have fun with that 😀

In Your Pants

My sister reading this after November will read the title of this and think i am talking of the game “In your pants” where you add that to the end of book titles. This game doesn’t always work, for those of you who want to try it, but for many books it works. I learned of this game from the vlogbrothers, specifically from John Green. One of my friends is reading a rather religious sounding book for one of her classes… “The Hand of God”(in your pants). Other examples that I can think of are “The story of E. E. Cummings” in your pants. “Storm Warning” in your pants. “Thief of Time” in your pants.

Just walk around your house and look at book titles with this thought in mind, you will find some funny ones.

But no, this post is about a different matter.

I’ve mentioned in other posts that I dislike people thinking that they’re fat (as in disliking the thought, not the people though they can get irritating), but I recently had an experience that made me think a bit hypocritically.

I was going through my clothes, mainly my skinny jeans because I wanted to wear a particular pair of boots, and was noticing that one or two didn’t fit. That was okay, as they were rather small on me anyway.

I went for my light blue skinny jeans, and it was alright, I shimmied into them and used the belt loops to tug them a bit higher–

ZTCCHHHHHT

That is the sound that DOOM makes. Coincidentally, that is also the sound jeans make when they rip.

The back of my pants, thankfully, didn’t rip, but I just about ripped the belt loops off.

Not just the belt loops though. The fabric that they were attached to. There’s a square little bit that looks like I was trying to cut around it and gave up halfway through.

You can’t rip a pair of pants while trying to wiggle into them without having some unsavory thoughts.

Aside from a mantra of swear words, I was also thinking… other things.

Oh my god I just ripped my pants… Seems like you did. Yes

I am so FAT! Yep. Fatso, fatty fatty fatso~! You aren’t fat.

Oh my god, I’m never going to be able to fit into any of my pants…. Nope! Never! And you’ll have to wear skirts all the time too! Shut up! You aren’t fat. Calm down. Think rationally.

I’m going to rip all of my pants when I try to get them on, I will never be able to wear my boots! NOOOOOO! No you won’t, but hey, a bright side is that a fatty like you will get big boobs! Quiet! You won’t, skinny jeans are the only things you have that are at that fits and is slightly too small stage.

I’m going to have to buy new pants… HAH! But you’re poor aren’t you? Buy more paint sets instead. We can paint on clothing instead. No one will notice! Just wear different pants. Calm down. 

I’m poor… I hate pants shopping… Don’t forget that you also have to buy really big bras too, since now that you’re turning into a fatty you’ll have bigger boobs! Go pants shopping now! You heard the other one, skinny jeans is all you have! I didn’t say that! You DO have other pairs of pants. Calm down already, you’re wasting time. You have to go meet friends.

Oh jeez, I DO have to meet them in–HOLY SH*T I’M LATE! Dooon’t wooorrry…. Your friends won’t care. Just bring out the paints and you’ll be ready to go I’m telling you, NO ONE will notice if you walk out with painted pants. Just do it.. Don’t paint yourself. It isn’t good for your body. Just put on that new pair you got last time we were at home. 

Oh right, I DO have those pants… Paint is cooler! Just get changed already…

That went on for a while, even as I was walking to the bus station. Insanity was certain that it would be fun to tell the friends that the pants were actually painted on, and Sanity was putting her foot down and it seemed as though she had pre-recorded a mantra of “Calm down, calm down already, calm down…” with random points of body self-esteem boosts throughout.

Occasionally I found myself wondering how cool it would be to paint one of my pants all whacked out colours, and Insanity suggested bleach as well, and I was well and truly distracted until I actually reached my friends and blurted out what Insanity suggested.

Hey guys, I just ripped my pants!

There was silence, and then they sort of leaned to one side and looked as if they were looking for me to have a huge split down my ass or something.

Sanity and I caught up on the conversation after our shock that I had actually started a conversation like that and hurried to assure than that no, I didn’t walk all the way here with ripped pants (Insanity giggled and told me that my friends thought I would do that. “They must have a GREAT impression of you!“), but had ripped the belt loops when I was getting changed.

Still, thoughts about fatness floated through my head even as I was thinking about how I know I’m not fat and am in fact very comfortable with my body in almost every situation… It was just this pants situation that threw me.

It was ridiculous in my pants.

Ghost Busters are in Art History

Here’s a link

To the right, there is a tiny picture, click on the middle of it.

it should pop up on the left side of the screen, click on that.

It should bring up another window. Zoom it in to the windows, you can just click on the top grey bit where it says 200%.

Do it, I’m serious.

You will see a ghost.

If you haven’t gone and clicked on the darn thing, I’m serious, you’re missing out on the hilarity of a tiny sperm ghost.

This is the picture called “master of flemalle” merode altarpiece, google it if you want, and in Art History class we’re looking at it right now.

That little ghost sperm is the symbolic whatever you wanna call it, for Mary getting impregnated by God, and by the little ghost holding a cross I laughed so hard at seeing it as literally the ‘holy ghost’…

Just wanted to share some art history fun 😀