Welcome to Mercury Retrograde!

Ever notice that four times in a year, all communications go haywire? The subway stops running (moreso than usual), you accidentally reply-all saying YAS to afterwork drinks, or your date tells you he wants to see you again but you interpret it to mean he doesn’t want to see you again, and then months later he says you ghosted him when you thought it was his fault?

Well, my friends, that is called Mercury Retrograde. It’s when four times a year for several weeks, mercury, the mighty ruler of communication, travel and electronics, appears to be traveling backwards in the sky. And it is not friendly.

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Me, during mercury retrograde

The final mercury retrograde of 2017 runs from December 3rd to 23rd. Perfect! Let’s end this already shitty year with a disastrous bang.

It’s already hit me so far. On Thursday night, I was driving my brand new 2017 Chevy Cruze when something popped up on my display.

“Why is my car telling me to check my oil when I literally just changed my oil?” I asked.

My friend leaned over. “Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s the Check Engine light. That’s not good.”

My heart sank. I literally bought a new car in May for the sole reason to avoid the dreaded reoccurring Check Engine light that kept popping up on my 1992 Dodge Colt. This was supposed to mean no more problems. So how can I be six months into owning a new car, and already be having an issue with it?

So, the next day, I ditched out of work and brought it to the dealer. Which is the worst, since the dealer has the same coffee machine as we have at work, so the coffee tastes like being at work.

I was ready to yell and scream about how my brand new car should not be having problems. But they were really friendly, and they fixed it.

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Life would be better if dogs were mechanics

Now I’m still worried that I may have bought a lemon, and that I’m probably going to be screwed after the warranty is up. Hopefully this was just a manufacturing defect that was caught early, and it will be smooth sailing from here.

This is just the start of Mercury Retrograde….let’s hope nothing else wild happens.

Stay safe out there and make sure you double-check any emails you write!

I ran into an online friend IRL

In this world of Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat, I have a solid network of friends: My online friends, and my real life friends. My real life friends are the people I met in school. We go out for drinks and go dancing and moan about our lives together. My online friends discuss the Leafs and CFL football with me and like all my photos on Instagram.

Twenty years ago, I was heavily into Livejournal (oh my god, was that really 20 years ago??? I feel so old!). I made six really close friends who, after the death of LJ, followed me to my various online social networks and we’ve stayed friends ever since. They almost know me better than my current IRL friends, because they were there with me through school, bad boyfriends, and work dramas.

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This was totally us

Last weekend I was shopping with my mom and we decided to stop into Taco Bell for some grub. I walk right in and stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting inside was one of my old LJ friends! I now have her on Facebook and Instagram, where she likes all my photos and shares all my memes. I had never met her IRL before, and she doesn’t live in my area, so it was quite a surprise. I was hit with this confusion: do I go and say hi to her? Will she even recognize me from my selfies? She was with her family, and I was like, do they know how active she is online, or does she hide her online identity from them the way I hide mine?

Thankfully, as I was having a crisis, she called out my name and waved me over. We had tacos together and caught up. Yes, it was totally awkward. But it was still a pretty cool experience. I felt like I was meeting a celebrity. This was a person who I only knew through Instagram selfies and Facebook rants, and now I was meeting her in person and she was the exact same person online. Even weirder, she was with her husband and two children, and I felt like I knew them as well, because she posts so many pictures of them.

It’s definitely a small world. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me, either. Still, it was pretty cool and I’m glad I got to meet her. And it’s proof that Taco Bell brings everyone together.

 

 

 

 

Prompt: The Accidental (?) Boob Grab

Prompt: Tell us about a time someone accidentally grabbed your boobs.

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Okay. So there I was, walking down Bay Street, heading back to work after lunch. I was late, of course, because I had to pause to visit the LCBO on my way back. I was rushing like Usain Bolt to get back to my desk before my boss decides she prefers my desk to be empty, which caused me to dart in between the slowpokes. In front of me, a man was talking with a lady. They were so engrossed with their conversation that they were not in any hurry to get anywhere and clearly were in my way.

I rudely darted in front of the man so I could pass them at the light. The light was red. As I took a step forward, he took a step forward. Our bodies collided. Instinctively, his hand went up to pat my shoulder as he apologized. Accidentally, his hand landed riiiiight on my boob.

It was not a soft graze. It was a full on, palm flat against my breast. But it was totally accidental. Which is what made it so hilarious. Especially the look of horror on his face as he realized what he did.

The light turned green and I bolted forward. Both humiliated and amused.

 

Job Interview Nightmare #76

This job interview was the worst. And I’ve had a lot of bad ones.

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The job posting I applied to was for a start-up looking for a content editor. Writing deals for the website and publishing content? Awesome, that sounded like something I could do! My confidence was at an all-time high as I left the door.

I hadn’t had a job interview in awhile, so the professional black blazer I wore was a bit snug as I buttoned it up. But, oh well, it would do.

I sat down with the CEO and the Content Manager. Right away, they ask how my CSS, Java and PHP skills are, along with another list of random acronyms I’ve never dealt with in my entire life.

“I thought this was for a content writing job?” My voice squeaked. None of that was in the job posting. If it had been, I wouldn’t have applied. And if I had those skills, they would have been in my resume. Did nobody look at my resume?

“Sorry, we are looking for these particular qualifications,” the CEO said. “You are probably not the right fit.”

I stood, stunned, and gathered my untouched writing portfolio from the table. Just as I leaned forward, my stomach expanded slightly, and the button on my blazer popped off.

Like, it literally popped off. Flew up in the air, landed on the table, bounced, hit the floor, and rolled into the corner.

Everyone stared at the button, watching it. Horrified, my face flushed, I shook hands, thanked them for their time, and ran out of the room without collecting my button. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge that it happened, it hadn’t happened.

Two days later I got a call from the Content Manager. “We found someone for the content editor position you interviewed for, but another writing job has opened up at another app we are working on. We would like to offer you the job.”

I think they felt sorry for me. I took the job.

I wanted to get my button back.

 

 

 

These Things Only Happen to Me: Rolling Fruit Edition

It’s the Tuesday after a long weekend. On my way back to my desk from the kitchen, I’m carrying two mandarin oranges and a cup of tea. I casually stroll past my crush’s office, planning a sexy smile and wave if he looks up from my desk.

But no, Crush1 (yes, he is one of many) has his back turned. Half asleep and unprepared, an orange slides from my hand. I watch in horror as it rolls and rolls and rolls across the hall. Please bypass his office, I beg the errant orange. Please don’t roll into his office!

The orange hates me. It rolls into his office.

From the hallway, I watch as my fruit rolls to a complete stop under his desk. Crush1 is completely oblivious.

I’m frozen. I have two choices.

a) Run away back to my desk and hide in shame. Pretend it never happened. After it starts to rot and smell funny, he’ll look down and find a random orange and have no idea where it came from.

b) Rescue my orange!

I’m not known for making the smartest decisions. I decide to go after the orange. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to get sick from the pungent stink of a rotten random fruit. I’m also worried for his sanity. What’ll he think, random people are hiding oranges under his desk?

I creep into his office. So far, so good. His back is still turned to me. Maybe he won’t notice if I bent down, snatch the orange, flee to my desk, and-

“What are you doing!?”

Dammit. Crush1 has spun around and sees me creeping into his office.

“My orange.” I bend over, snatch it, and wave it in the air. “It rolled.”

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If you need me, I’ll be under my desk. Laughing and crying.

These things only happen to me, I swear.

 

 

 

 

Awkward Subway Moment #4382

I swear the most awkwardest things in the world always happen to me.

I am literally this all the time:

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The other day, I was on the subway rushing home after work, crammed into a subway car. We stop at a station, and the guy standing in front of me tries to get off the train.

But he couldn’t. My scarf had gotten stuck in the zipper of his backpack.

(I was wearing a scarf I bought in Ukraine, that looks like this:)

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Somehow, one of the tassels got right into the part of the zipper, and he couldn’t get off! He was literally trying to drag me off the train with him. I tried desperately to pull it out, but it was really jammed in there. The more I panicked, the harder it was to pull it out.

The doors closed, and he missed his stop.

By the next stop, we both managed to get it out and he got off at the next stop. But I was absolutely MORTIFIED.

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At least the guy was really really really nice about it. I’m surprised he didn’t punch me in the face.

Too bad he wasn’t cute. That would’ve been quite a story, right?

“How did you two meet?”

“On the subway. My scarf was so attracted to him, it didn’t want to let him go.”

Winter Jays

The mid-January blahs are starting to hit me.

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My solution to escape the frigid cold?

I went skating during my lunch hour at work.

I’m one of those people you hate – I love winter. I love the crisp air, the frostbite that burns my cheeks, and the fact that everyone else is usually hiding.

Some of it sucked, though. The wind was burning my eyes, so they were watering, and I nearly slammed into a dozen kids on the ice. I had to pull on sweatpants in the changeroom surrounded by random tourists, and did I mention I don’t actually know how to stop on the ice?

The best part about today?

I WAS JOINED BY ACE!!!!!!!!!!!

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ACE!!! The Blue Jays mascot!!!

Literally the highlight of my week. MONTH.

Look at his fancy moves:

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There’s a lesson in this. Get outside and do shit. You never know who you might run into!

 

 

 

Or Perhaps

At work I received the RANDOMEST spam email ever.

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From: cauliflower please

Subject: …enjoy!

Message:

banking on eating well…

or perhaps

the cauliflower will be devoured one flowerette per day…

We will be boiling the leaves and roots, and rediscovering all manner of wild veggies!

—-

Okay now. Settle down, Mr. Cauliflower Spambot.

I get it that there’s been issues in the news lately about the soaring price of cauliflower. This e-mail probably has something to do with that.

Things I love about this e-mail:

  • poetic formatting
  • the title asking me to enjoy! As if I wouldn’t enjoy random vegetable poetry!
  • hilarious title (cauliflower, PLEASE)
  • dramatic pause of the second line (OR PERHAPS!!!)
  • random usage of ellipses
  • flowery language (devoured one flowerette per day…)
  • suggestive ending (rediscovering all manner of wild veggies!)

I’ve read this email/poem 10 times already today. I seriously can’t stop laughing. I actually printed it out and pinned it to my wall.

What does it even MEAN?!!?

It almost sounds like some kind of threat.

Maybe I’ve stumbled onto some kind of covert spy instructions.

My mission, if I chose to accept it, is to devour the cauliflower, boil the leaves and roots, and find out where the gold is buried.

#ThereMustBeAStoryInThereSomewhere

Movie Review: The Big Short

I work with securities lawyers. Which is pretty weird, I must admit. Example: returning back to work after christmas break, instead of being asked “Hey, did you see the Star Wars movie over the break?” I was asked “Hey, did you see The Big Short?”

No. I did not.

So I finally went out and watched it. And loved it.

The 2008 recession hit me hard. It actually completely changed my life, so I’ve always been obsessed with everything that happened back then. Do I understand it better after seeing the movie? No. But it did educate me a bit, especially with all the celeb cameo appearances dumbing down the financial mumbo jumbo, like explaining what a mortgage-backed security really is and why it all became so volatile.

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Steve Carell’s scenes gave me chills. His acting was downright haunting, and in between all the shaky-camera work and the moments of “Wait, the economy is going to crash by HOW MUCH??”, it was almost like watching a horror movie. Maybe because, as Ryan Gosling says to the camera at one point, “This actually happened.”

There’s nothing spookier than that. This actually happened. It fucked up so many lives.

“The Truth is a lot like poetry. And most people fucking hate poetry.” (a quote from the movie)

Happy New Year…from the Hospital

Picture this: it’s New Year’s Eve in Toronto. Lineups at the LCBO are long and patrolled by security guards and the Royal York Hotel lobby is filled with revellers checking in to the hotel, their hair done, their suits and dresses hanging in their arms, all ready for a booze filled night of dancing waiting up ahead.

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And then there’s me. Sprawled across a plush mattress on the 17th floor of the hotel with a cool, damp cloth compressed over my forehead. My nails are covered in glitter and my red lace dress waits for me in the walk in closet that is larger than my apartment. In one hand, I hold a ticket to the NYE gala starting in an hour downstairs. In my other hand is a note scribbled by a walk-in-clinic doctor just a few hours ago with instructions that I am to give over to a nurse in the emergency room.

I’ve hit plenty of lows in the past year, let alone my entire life, but this has got to be the lowiest-low of them all: being sent to the hospital on New Year’s Eve.

A lot of people I know hate New Year’s Eve. But it’s my second favourite night of the year, after Halloween and the Pirate Cruise night. 2015 was one of the worst years of my life, and while it would be fitting to spend it wasting away in a cramped waiting room, that’s not the chapter I wanted to end the year on.

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Here I am stepping out from 2015’s shadow and into the blinding brightness of 2016. (Or wait, is that my migraine?)