Happy 2007 to you all!

Well, that went fast. I'm not sure if I can mark 2006 down as a good year or not--overall, I'm ambivalent. There were some amazing times, and some really crappy times. So, basically, like all other years. I'm looking forward to moving out in a few months, and dreading having to face cold, hard reality. I'm thinking that 2007 will be interesting, and full of the usual rollercoasters of emotion.

A few highlights from 2006:

• spiking my coffee cup on the way out of my last exam
• graduation day and the following (and final) communal nap at 10 Stanley
• my trip to Europe

Wow. I hope I can come up with more for next year. Well, I'm sure there ARE some... I'm just too lazy to consult archives and my journal at the moment. But these ones stick out to me right now. So there we go.

take it from me, there's not much to see in this void

Just got back from coffee with an old friend from high school. Good to catch up with him, but it was a little random because we were never that much more than acquaintances at school; I'm finding that since I've graduated and moved back home, people you used to sort of know are suddenly interested in chatting and being all social. But the really rando thing was that we ran into two girls who used to be really close friends of mine. I hadn't spoken to one of them in probably three years, and the other girl last I ran into exactly a year ago, boxing week sale shopping. So there was the awkward chatting, which is always a good time. It's poor timing; I was just feeling positive about the way my life is going, and now I have to see people who make me think about the trajectory my life was taking five years ago. Al's in teacher's college, just like she planned, and Maryse is still pursuing that physio degree (or so I gathered... she didn't do too much talking). I never wanted to be back in the 'Saugs, working at the local watering hole, but here I am.

I guess it's all for the best though. I don't really have a handle on what else I could be doing at this particular moment, life being what it is. And I have a goal in mind, and I'm almost there. It's just a case of reunion syndrome, when you want to have something wildly impressive to tell lapsed friends so they can realize how much better your life is than theirs.

peace on earth, etc

Hey, Merry Christmas to all! First, allow me to explain my week and a half of absence. My computer decided that it wasn't going to speak to my keyboard any more, essentially. I calmly considered the situation, and then threw a hissy fit. And now, here I am on a brand new computer, with a snazzy flat LCD screen. I actually got talked out of the faster computer by the salesman (he wasn't too impressed with me. I think when he asked me what I was using it for and I said, "You know... typing... stuff...." alarm bells went off in his head). Anyway, people think I'm crazy when I anthropormorphize my machinery, but I set up the new one while the old one was still in the room, and now the old one refuses to work at all. We set it up in the basement and were planning on hooking it up to the internet so I could transfer my music, but it's being withholding. So once again, I am starting from scratch. My brother is convinced that he can get the old one up and running again (at least to the point where I can get my files off it), but he is stymied as to why it's so moody. It refuses to turn all the way on now. It let me open the cd drawers and get my DVDs out, and some of the power lights turn on--just not the main one. I'm telling you, it has a personality. And it's real mad at me.

So what have I been doing with myself for the last eleven days, you ask? Nothing of vital importance. Last weekend Jo and I went up to the Hammer for some quality Toni time. You can zip over to Toni's blog for pictorial evidence. Then I worked a bunch, finished my shopping, and, you know, generally did my thing. I tried to get the entire TJ's staff to say "It's a Christmas MIRACLE!" whenever anything good happened, and "THAT'S not very CHRISTMASSY!" whenever something bad happened, with limited success. I did manage to get my extended family to accuse everyone else of ruining Christmas every ten minutes. Ahh, family gatherings.

Laptop guy and I had a nice conversation about books (this was after I tried to convince him that the wings he'd just eaten had come from my pet chicken, Fluffy) on Thursday night. Doug and Charlie swung by and we went out for late night coffee when I finished work. Then we played poker Friday night and I was sooooo close to winning. Closer than I've ever been before! But stupid Charlie, who's USUALLY bluffing, started getting some good hands. I may never get over it.

Anyway, that's me, updated for the last little while. Not thrilling, but I promise to try and have some adventures in the new year. Maybe I'll even start this week. Get a running start for 2007, as it were.

things you shouldn't say to your mother while she can still return your Xmas presents

ME: (helpfully) I don't think that garland works. (beat) It looks like you were drunk while you did it.

MOTHER: (long pause, dirty look) Well, get in there and fix it, then!

ME: No! You sober up and do it!

warning: work rant

It's a Christmas miracle! My faith in humanity has been temporarily (very temporarily--expect me to be bitter again by tomorrow) restored! I got a table of four hockey dads and their five sons. They weren't TERRIBLE, at first (although Daniel was going to murder me because of the five chocolate milkshakes he had to make), but there was a definite vibe of "ignore the waitress while she stands there politely because we need to discuss HOCKEY, and that is much more important than anything else" coming off them. At least one of the dads is a regular, although they usually sit on the bar side; I only recognized him because the son both badly needs a haircut and also whizzes around the restaurant on those roll-y shoes whenever they come in. Seriously, although I'd like a pair of those shoes myself (it'd be a disaster because of my questionable balance), they really are MENACES. Suddenly, the whole world is a roller rink, but without the fun disco music. And at least you know what you're getting into when you walk into a roller rink. In a restaurant, balancing a tray of drinks, you don't expect a ballistic child to come at you out of nowhere.

Anyway, when they finally got down to the serious business of ordering wings, the dads were all shouting down to the other end of the table about sauces and whether or not their offspring would eat the wings if they were done in such and such a way. The kids merrily ignored them, of course, but the adults managed to place their orders with a minimum of fuss. Off I go. About ten minutes after said wings arrive at the table, another round of beers has been delivered, etc, one of the dads turns to me and says, rudely, "Uh, are the kids getting THEIR food soon?" Blankly, I stare at him. "You didn't order any other food for the kids," I say, confused. He glares at me and bites out, "Well, I THOUGHT you would have ASKED them. Get them some chicken fingers and fries. And can you make that FAST?" So I order his two kids some chicken fingers--the other three kids are, as expected, sharing their dads' wings. I went back to the table to inquire about drinks, and the guy actually says to me, "No, I'm fine. I'm just worried about my boys' food," as if I were deliberately starving his children! "It's on its way," I say, smiling grimly. Ooooh, was I ever mad. When the food did arrive, he bellowed down the length of the restaurant for his sons, who had scarpered off to play games in the bar.

Anyway, to get to the restoration of my faith, the dads all paid separately, and the one who left last tipped me nearly thirty percent and said, "Thanks very much. And, by the way... the rest of us knew he didn't order any food for his kids. Sorry about that." You see, class? Good CAN exist in a restaurant. And thus, a killing spree at the local TJ's was narrowly avoided. I never know what to say to people who apologize for their friends, but it certainly is appreciated.

In other news, one of my coworkers is clearly insane. Laptop guy has been working on a paper and presentation about dinosaurs for the last week or two (pretty much the entire FOH staff knows him and will chat to him now), which has prompted Nicky to treat us all to her theories. Namely, that she doesn't believe in dinosaurs, and that whatever fossils we have are just wrongly re-assembled modern-day animals. This has prompted ME to try and explain science to her in escalating tones until I have a headache and need to leave the room. Even laptop guy (cult member, remember?) says there's too much evidence NOT to believe in dinosaurs. I suspect he believes something about god creating them for some mysterious purpose, but at least he admits they existed. Nicky believes in aliens, but not dinosaurs. And here's another scary fact for you: she's a supply teacher. You kind of have to wonder what the world is coming to.

you say I'd be better off dead, well, I know

It has been officially mandated that the servers wear Christmas "cheer gear" for the next few weeks. I am suspending my ironic detachment (and dignity) for the next little while and I am going to WIN that fifty bucks. I fully intend to wear headbands with antlers, mistletoe, bells, tinsel, or all of the above. Christmas earrings? Check. I wonder if I can find a pair of elf ears?

In other thrilling news, I finally spoke to Sundeep on Friday. Have I explained this bizarre factor of my life to you? I feel like I have not. This guy named Sundeep used to have my cell number, and since I inherited it, I have been fielding calls from confused men who speak to me in Arabic. It's gotten to the point that I assume, when I see an unfamiliar Toronto number come up on my call display, that I'm about to get harangued in heavily accented English for Sundeep's new number. But now, I have it! I don't know why I'm so excited; really, it means that instead of explaining in my most put-upon voice that no, this is no longer Sundeep's number, I'll have to slowly read out his new one--more work for me, pretty much. But somehow it also feels like I've regained control of something, and established real ownership of my phone.

Spent most of today hungover. I went to My Apartment last night with two of my coworkers--well, one is actually one of my bosses--who turned out to be insane party animals. I'd claim to be too old to party like that until five am, but they are five and fifteen years older than me, respectively.

I was feeling pretty low energy at work today, and then an encounter with a table of assholes put me into a really filthy mood. One of the kitchen guys, who is slightly creepy, even on a day when I'm in a good mood, is one of those massager-types. You know, the kind of person who is really touchy-feely, and will decide that the best possible way to soothe an bad temper is to get all shoulder-massagey and huggy and etc. I was pretty much going to kill him. When I'm that angry, I feel like I'm giving off sparks. Why would you want to touch someone who clearly looks like she's going to flip out and murder everyone near her? I'm not a very physical person to begin with, but touch me when I'm in a bad mood and you risk maimings and death. Everyone else had the sense to be frightened of me.

I like feeling that I fit in at a place, and for the most part I don't mind my job. But I can't wait until April, when I'll be elsewhere entirely. My 24th birthday present to me will be my letter of resignation and a truck rental to haul my stuff away to the big city. I wish I had enough financial security to get my very own apartment, all to myself, but reality says no. Stupid expensive Toronto. My first place will probably only be until Jo and Toni can join me, anyway.

it's racially stereotyping day here at TJ's

They had me train someone at work last night! It was very exciting. We weren't too busy (well, we weren't THEN... after all the other servers left I had a late rush and got smoked), so I tried my best to impart my storied wisdom. She used to hostess, so she knows mostly everyone (and she knows more about the restaurant biz than I did when I first started serving), but it was still really strange to try and explain all the things I do habitually. Plus, she's only 18, so she knows next to nothing about alcohol. But apparently the manager told her to pay especial attention to me because she could learn a lot.

I didn't notice how much darting around and weaving I do until I had someone try and follow me through it all. I kept scooting off and losing her. I had a plan to introduce her to my tables as my parole officer, but I never got around to it.

Why would a guy think I'd email him at freestylin_playa_4_realz (or something like that)? Honestly, boys, put a little effort into NOT coming across as a wang.

Best line of the night was when my trainee was commenting on how non-ethnically diverse our staff is, and Chris started listing off all the minorities who work there, and ended with, "And what about Michelle? She's TAN." I laughed about that for like five minutes. It's probably only funny to Jo, who's met her.

to save you from your old ways

Hilarious and random night. I had picked up Martin's cocktail shift, which entails working the five booths in the bar until the dinner rush is over--usually a pretty short and sweet shift. The bartenders, however, decided to show their love for me by playing a practical joke on me. They stole all the stuff out of my servery and left me ransom notes. It WAS really funny, but now I have to exact bloody vengeance.

Anyway, since I finished up at eight thirty on a Saturday night, a trip to the big city to hang with Jamie was in order. I ended up going to a metal/goth/80's/new wave rock bar (Velvet Underground, in case you were wondering) with him and three of his friends, who all turned out to be hilarious cut-ups on the dance floor. I've seriously never seen guys get down with their bad selves like those guys were. I really wish I hadn't been driving, because getting smashed and outrageous with them would have been awesome. As it was, one of them treated us to his tres un-PC views on women, the homeless, and stealing bikes all the way from the bar until I dropped him off.

The only thing was, we were dancing right beside the speakers all night, so I'm having some trouble hearing right now. And I'm sure I'm in for quite the headache tomorrow. But other than that, it was exactly what I needed to bust me out of my doldrums.

of course I'm narcissistic--I'm a drama grad!

I've been thinking quite a bit about egos lately. A friend of mine said something in passing (on his MySpace page, no less... but I don't want to digress into the irony) about blogging about your day to day life and thoughts being narcissistic. And then there's the sharp blow to my sense of self worth (re: that boy problem) that I received recently. The thing is, I know I'm vain, and I probably put a greater value on my own thoughts and talents than everyone else does, but I like to think that the fact that I KNOW that helps me keep it in check. If I'm wrong, please don't tell me about it quite yet--I'm feeling a little fragile today, so let's postpone the discussion of my various faults until another time.

The thing is, though, my particular blend of ego and insecurity makes me flip rapidly between thinking that he's just hesitating because he's missing the cues that I think I'm practically shouting (because who wouldn't go for fabulous me, of course), and feeling completely rejected for being crazy/fat/slutty/boring/hideous/socially inept. You see? I make no sense.

To digress momentarily, this new Blogger beta thing lets you put labels on your posts, and on the function it says "e.g. scooters, vacation, fall." Scooters? What? And while I'm digressing, I cannot stop grooving to the Scissor Sisters' "I Don't Feel Like Dancing." Seriously. Grooooving. It lightens my mood considerably.

And we'll throw it back to our field reporter in the wilds of Susan's brain. Actually, you know what? To hell with that. I'm going to go shower instead, and I'll continue my meditations on egos another time.

this used to be the life but I don't need another one

I am sleep-deprived and hopped up on caffeine, which is much like being drunk, but more uneven. I'm oscillating violently between being completely zoned out and extremely hyper. It is ROUGH over here. I've been on a five closes a week schedule for the past month, and then they throw me on a lunch shift. Luckily it wasn't busy, because bad things would have happened. As it is, I got kicked out of the kitchen because I was telling really bad jokes and giggling to myself, and my boss claimed he just couldn't deal with me. This is what three cups of coffee and no sleep does to me.

Okay, so in today's Star there is a review of a documentary (which I wanna see) called Fuck. I noticed recently that they've pretty much given up on the whole "f---" thing they used to do in the paper. When did that go? I mean, not that I'M offended by it, or anything. But I did read the paper in elementary school, so I'm just wondering if it's entirely appropriate. Swearing is like drinking. You want to do it when you're technically too young for it, but then the shine goes off it when you can do it whenever you want to. I mean, you still do, but some of the glamour is gone. I don't even watch my language around my parents anymore--really, just around my cousins. And I mean, I TRY with Toni's kid sister, but pretty unsuccessfully ("Fuckin'... ... uh, I mean, frootin'.... Damn.").

I guess I can be pretty old fashioned about kids sometimes.

I feel like I'm waiting for some kind of sign to tell me I can stop waiting and life will really start. But what, precisely, am I waiting for?