I’ll try being nicer if you try being smarter!

Archive for July, 2007

From the mouths of elders

Kids are overrated for saying blunt, unexpected things. If you really want to be shellshocked, you’ve gotta get into a conversation with an old person. They’ve seen it all, and they don’t care anymore, which makes for some great sound bytes. The following is a classic example.

The boyfriends grandma came out with the announcement last week that she is moving five hours away. Which is weird, cuz she’s getting older, she lives on her own and has a new grandchild on the way, and is moving farther away from her family whereas most people move closer when they age. But she’s an extraordinarily independent woman (she got divorced at 60, and took back her maiden name) so I have no doubt she’ll fare just fine.

So we went over to her house for a last meal before she leaves, and consumed platefuls and platefuls of dumplings and yummy Hungarian chicken. During this meal the topic of conversation was the move, among other things. Some of the classics she came out with:

  • “I cannot stand to live near my daughter. She is a liar.”
  • “I’m going to die soon. I need a change.”
  • When we explained to her that yes, we’ve been together seven and some years now, but no, we aren’t getting married because it’s too damn expensive and it doesn’t make a difference anyways, her response was, “Good. Marriage is just a piece of paper. Stupid.”
  • When we discovered a picture with someone we didn’t recognize and asked who it was, she goes, “My sister. Give that back!”     Us: “You have a sister?”   Her: “Sister. Give that back.” She then hurriedly stashed it into an envelope and flung it into a box.
  • “The cheaper apartment was near a funeral home. No way I’m living there.”
  • “I’m not taking my phone with me. It has too many buttons. They are all programmed to people who are now dead.”
  • She doesn’t have any female grandchildren, so since this new grandchild is supposed to be a girl, we asked if she’d come back for the birth. Her answer: “No. I will be too busy. She will still be a girl in a few months. I will come then.”
  • “I don’t know why my daughter can’t get herself together. I did when I got divorced, and I was sick in my head! She has no excuse. She’s just crazy.”
  • “I’ve seen all of Toronto. Nothing to see, so I move.”
  • “Stop eating now. I want some for tomorrow. Here, I take it away.”

She’s awesome. Seriously awesome. Although it took me three years to be able to even know if she was speaking English or Hungarian, now that I understand her english, I’m going to miss talking with her.

Universal Truth #648

When you are standing in line somewhere, and the person in front of you is wearing a t-shirt that has the Taz (from Disney?) on it……you’ll be in line for about three times longer than you had first anticipated. You just will be.

Not an indicator of intelligence, efficiency or speed. In fact, a bad sign all around.

Fat? Get friends to serve you!

So I’m on an ass de-expansion plan. Some people call it a diet, but I don’t, cuz diet’s don’t work. I do believe that ass de-expansion plans work though. This one seems to be.

As part of the above described plan, I am limiting my intake of alcohol and bad foods. So last night, when the girls got together and we decided that wine was in order, we decided to veto the actual dinner part. We would get our calories through the wine, you see. So we did. But as drinking tends to do, it made us snacky. We wanted to eat something. So, we asked our host, ‘Bitch! Feed us! We don’t care if you have no food, find something dude!’

So, she did. My lovely friend (who is a different person than aforementioned awesome friend in this blog) served us food. It was even healthy.

She served us…….moldy cantaloupe.

Yeah. I mean, it didn’t allow me to get completely sidetracked off of the ass-reduction plan, since nobody really wants to binge on moldy melon. Nobody. Lovely friend, if you are reading this, the next time you serve me something moldy (knowingly!) I will throw it at you.

Love, Talea.

Doo dee doo doo – Twilight Zone

Your Score: Sad Cookie Cat

61% Affectionate, 46% Excitable, 60% Hungry

You are the classic Shakespearian tragedy of the lolcat universe. The sad story of a baking a cookie, succumbing to gluttony, and in turn consuming the very cookie that was to be offered. Bad grammar ensues.

To see all possible results, checka dis.

Link: The Which Lolcat Are You? Test written by GumOtaku on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

This is so damned appropriate, it scares me. Months ago, when awesome friend and I were working for a horrible company run by horrible asshole boss, she was showing me all these random pictures of things. And there was this one that I went positively APESHIT over. I loved it. I put it on my desktop and explained it to everyone, I loved it. One might say,  I hearted it.

It spoke to me. I loved to repeat it’s saying. And ladies and gentlemen, it was the picture ABOVE!!! I took the test, and the picture came back to me. The circle of life. I heart it.

Impatient Talea

If you asked anybody who knows me to describe me in one or two words, you might hear ‘blunt’, ‘sarcastic’, ‘opinionated’, ‘devilishly good looking and charming’, ‘neurotic’, ‘appreciator of bad TV’. What you would NOT hear is the word ‘patient’. Nope, that would definitely NOT make the list.

I am impatient. To the nth degree. I want what I want, and I want it five minutes ago. I am also impatient in the sense that I have no sympathy or time to waste on people who are clearly subpar to me in the intelligence area (please note, people probably wouldn’t describe me as modest either). I have no patience for stupid questions or stupid people. I have no patience for traffic jams or fat-asses who plunk their girth down in the middle of the escalator, preventing me from going past.

My impatience has made today particularly trying. It started off with a lady of signifcant mass blocking the escalator when I was trying to get upstairs. NO! Move over. Get out of my way, I have places to be. I’m sure you do too, but Starbucks and McDonald’s will serve you whether you get there at 9:00 or after. I however, have to report to work. Have some damned respect and take a side, you ass-monkey.

Second, we had an office rented out to a guest client. For some reason, it was locked and I could not open it, though it appeared that the key fit. I ran around like a maniac, looking for my boss who was nowhere to be found. I went into the washroom and found her there, with her hair absolutely soaking and wearing half a face of makeup. I explained the situation, explained people were getting testy about not being able to get in and she just told me to push the door harder or turn the key the other way. NO! Do your job, dry your damned hair and fix this! YOU are the manager. Not me. It isn’t my job. I don’t have the patience to be your shield…..I will not be thrown into situations to literally cover your ass.

Here’s an example of my impatience for impossible things: No, I cannot make three sets of photocopies for you of an 85 page document, when it has three different sizes of paper, some double sided, half of them stapled and you want half of them replaced with photocopies anyways in the next twenty minutes. NO. This is IMPOSSIBLE. And by the way, it’s fucking photocopies. Please calm down about it. And do NOT come up to me and go, “I know you haven’t had your lunch yet, but please……” Please what? Please have the balls to finish the sentence. I dont have the patience for your pansy ass way of trying to be bossy.

I dont have the patience to explain myself. Especially not on the phone. When six other lines are ringing. Trust me, I don’t have the number for New York head office. Don’t call back, inform me I’m being ‘not very helpful’ and then tell me it’s hard to believe that I don’t know the number. Cuz I will yell at you.

Yeah. Do It. I Dare you.

I will inform you that you are not listening to me and that I actually don’t even work for the company you are calling, I just answer their phones. I dont have a fucking clue as to what they even do. It could be a coverup for some intricate mob thing. I dont know. I dont care. Leave me the fuck alone and find the New York number yourself.  Yeah, and if you call back a third time? I’ll hang up on you. How do you like that, eh? I know, it’s ‘not very helpful’.

I also don’t have patience while waiting for my $4 coffee. I broke my little diet thing (cuz of all the idiots I dealt with earlier) and ordered an over-sugared, over-fatty, over-priced drink at the Starbucks downstairs. About seven drinks came up before mine, though I was the ONLY one waiting at the counter. I’m sorry…..I’m impatient. I can’t be held responsible for telling the barista at the espresso machine that if my drink isn’t the next one up, I’m taking all three of the drinks currently sitting in front of me, whom all appear to be abandoned. Make my drink, I’m the only one here. What are you DOING back there??? I didn’t pay you $4 so I could have the privilege of staring at you while you dick around.

  

Me: “I swear to God, if you ask me to photocopy that fucking thing ONE more time……”

The lesson for today? Take your stupidity elsewhere! I don’t have the patience for it. And tonight, when I go to the gym, all you idiots will totally be my motivation.

Memories of my poorer days

I just moved in to an apartment with a BEDROOM. Yes, a real bedroom. With a door. And a bed. And a comforter. And a set of sheets. And yes, this IS a big deal. Because I haven’t had a bedroom, or a bed to put in it for nearly three years.

I’m in my early twenties (coming close to mid, mind you, but I will hold on to that ‘early’ definition as long as I possibly can). I haven’t had a lot of time to build up my personal wealth, especially since I was in university for four and a half years. So little things still appear as huge luxuries to me sometimes, especially in light of the things I lived with/without for the last seven years.

I decided to put a list together of them, for comical value:

  • In my last month of first year university, I lived on expired Easter chocolate that was on clearance at the grocery store, and package after package of 99 cent hot dogs. That’s right. Twelve hot dogs for a buck. I couldn’t afford the buns. Just the dogs. Weiners and chocolate. For a month.
  • I joined the university newspaper solely to eat free. I didn’t really do a fucking thing during the two years I was there. I’m not sure anyone noticed, but they did keep ordering Hawaiian pizza just for me.
  • I went for four years without buying paper towel or kleenex. These were luxury items I simply could not afford to waste my money on. I have no idea how I lived without them, but I did.
  • My bathroom fan broke in third year university. I couldn’t pay to have someone come in and fix it. So I tried to fix it. It didn’t work. So then I removed it from the ceiling, packed it up in a box and sent it on the Greyhound bus all the way to my parents place 3,000 kms to the west, so that they could take it somewhere and get someone to fix it. Yeah. Poverty.
  • I skipped orientation weekend at university in first year because it was $80. I certainly couldn’t afford that, and my parents weren’t paying for it either. Because of this, I had pretty much no friends for two years. Fucking $80.
  • My boyfriend lived in a different city than me for four years. For four years, I drove back and forth on the weekends. I couldn’t actually afford this. So I put my name and number up on the RideShare board and drove totally random people back and forth on weekends in exchange for gas money. I mean, nobody tried to kill me, but looking back, it wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did.
  • I participated in those stupid psychology tests that paid you like, $6 for 20 minutes of work. Being a guineau pig was not above me.
  • I lived without cable for 3 years. It was hell.
  • I froze my fucking ass off for four years, since I couldn’t afford to turn up the heat and I had the draftiest room in all of history. I was constantly walking around in sweaters, slippers and a dress I crafted out of my blanket.
  • One night I got really depressed and thought I’d really splurge and go to 7-11. So I did and went wild and bought a flavoured coffee and bag of chips. Then, I was going to drive around in my shitbox car until I felt better. But then I couldn’t, cuz my shitbox car didn’t have any cupholders and it was a stick. I didn’t have enough hands to hold my drink, switch gears and steer (which was harder than you think, cuz shitbox car had no power steering).  I had to sit in the parking lot of the 7-11 until I finished my coffee. I burnt my tongue. It sucked.
  • If I was at the grocery store and wanted something that cost more than $1, I begged my roommate to split it with me. If she refused or wasn’t there, it didn’t go in the cart.
  • I had the ugliest, stupidest, most uncomfortable backpack of all time for three years. Because it was free. My dad won it at some stupid raffle and gave it to me. I couldn’t get another one. I only replaced it after I got a complimentary bright yellow backpack for participating in a conference. It was equally as ugly, but less painful and just as free.
  • I went two years without a haircut. Hairdressers are a ripoff. Couldn’t afford it.
  • My mattress was such a piece of garbage (because I bought the cheapest one there was…it was like, $99) that I had to buy a piece of mattress sized plywood and stick it underneath, to stop the mattress from almost hitting the floor with sag when I lied on it, and to stop it from groaning like the earth was opening up and about to swallow you. It was fun getting the plywood home, being that I drove a very small car and the plywood only fit if I shoved it all the way to the front windshield. This meant I had to drive looking THRU the steering wheel, not over it, and I had absolutely no way of looking out any mirrors. I have no idea how I didn’t die.
  • I would wait in line for like, 20 minutes to save a tenth of a penny on my gas.
  • For the last four months of first year, I lived in a room with a family on a very hilly road. The driveway was so steep that when I parked shitbox car there, it honest to God rolled backwards and onto the street. So, I had to park the car on the bottom part of the driveway under the sidewalk, meaning the owners of the house couldn’t get their car out of the driveway in the morning. So, for four months, I got up every day at 6 AM to move my car onto the road (cuz in Ontario, for some reason, you cannot park on the street overnight), just in case they needed to go somewhere in the morning. I did this every day, cuz I couldn’t afford to fix my parking brake. Stupid shitbox car.
  • I spent hundreds of dollars in oil, cuz shitbox car had a constant oil leak. I couldn’t afford to fix the leak, but I could afford to buy three dollar bottles every few days. Stupid shitbox car.
  • In first year, I left my lights on in the parking lot in the middle of winter. Since I had no friends (see above, not being able to afford orientation weekend), I called my boyfriend in the other city to freak out to him. I was 17 and had no idea what to do. He got his friend to drive him the hour and a half just to try and boost my fucking car, cuz I couldn’t afford a tow truck to take it to the garage. His friend was so nice that he brought me a new battery, but couldn’t install it cuz the bolts on the old one were rusted on. Stupid shitbox car.
  • For the past three years, I have lived in apartments with no bedrooms. No doors. Bachelors. It sucked.
  • I took a job working at a wastewater treatment plant. Fancy way of saying, ‘when you flushed the toilet, I greeted it at the other end in my hip waders.’

Enough said. Ah, memories of poverty are funny. Stupid shitbox car.

Harry Potter is mocking me!

Like every normal, literate human today, I am a fan of Harry Potter. I have no problem admitting it. I’m not a freak about it, I’ve read each book once and I genuinely love them.

So I was all excited today to go buy the seventh book (which is SO bittersweet, cuz then what?).

Imagine my surprise and glee when someone knocked on our door this morning. It was Canada Post, delivering a copy! I thought that Dumbledore must have been smiling down on me or something. Then I realized that it’s cuz we just moved into this place and the last resident had pre-ordered her copy a good while ago.

Now, I am stuck with a book that I desperately want to read, but a law that says I can’t open her mail. Plus, the threat that she may have only moved down the street and could show up, demanding her book. And you probably don’t want to mess with a Harry Potter fan who ordered the book that far in advance.

My plan is……I dont know. I don’t have a plan. Just a serious, serious dilemma.

Suggestions?

Signed, truly confused. Sigh.

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