It's Canadian Thanksgiving all over again. Oh yes it's that time of year to give thnaks to all those things we don't pay appreciate to year long, so we need this one day a year to remember that hey I'm thankful I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and a lovely hue of pink for my eye shadow. Yeh right.
So what am I thankful for this year? On a personal note I'm thankful for the health of my family and the strength that help us get through losing my aunt. I'm thankful my mum is happy and she smiles a lot more these days. I'm thankful for my awesome friends who make time for when I have time. I'm thankful for the new friends I've made and the great times we have coming ahead. Thank my stars for my newest and favoritest homie who's always got my back, even when I'm not paying any attention what so ever in class. Oh I appreciate you all.
What do I have to be thankful for being a human and a Canadian? Well as a human we can't be thankful for much. There are war all over, there's tons of political unstability. The markets are crashing left and right. There's tons of choas in North America, will we even see the face of the next century? Seems so doubtful.
Right now I'm definatley greatful and thankful for all that I've gotten and hope for better days for the rest of the world.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Life of and underapaid waitress.
If I didn't have to make car payments, pay insurance, pay my phone bills and my tuition then I would definately opt against working. Since that's not the case, I waitress at my parent's Greek restaurant.
You know as if life isn't bad enough for waitresses, our bright, intelligent customers make it that much worse. I'm not a social butterfly so in my case, waitressing takes effort you know? Like I actually have to put a smile on my miserable face and I actually have to put on a hint of sweet on my voice. I must say I really do make an effort. Then why do people find it that they have to put in the EXTRA effort to be horrible as possible? Do people come to their work place and treat them like total shit? Dude my job is to get you your food and make sure that during your half an hour to forty five minutes of eating I keep the refills coming. Don't treat me like you bought me in the 1900s from some slave trader. I bust my ass around the restaurant for your two dollar tip, I sincerly don't need you to be a difficult jackass as I accomodate to all your needs.
You know you expect people will be more understanding, I mean don't get me wrong for every cunt giving me a hard time I get a sweet old lady who I really want to serve because she's got more manners than the jackass' whole family put together. But really I truly wonder what goes thru the head of a moronic customer as they ask to see my manager because they're on their rag.
P.S Note to the men out there, thanks for making up for your wives. I swear women need to chill out, I'm sorry your husband looks at me the wrong way, perhaps you should stop being such an uptight wench. Also a super big thanks to all the girls and women out there who appreciate thier own kind and are genuine and nice.
Good freaking night.
You know as if life isn't bad enough for waitresses, our bright, intelligent customers make it that much worse. I'm not a social butterfly so in my case, waitressing takes effort you know? Like I actually have to put a smile on my miserable face and I actually have to put on a hint of sweet on my voice. I must say I really do make an effort. Then why do people find it that they have to put in the EXTRA effort to be horrible as possible? Do people come to their work place and treat them like total shit? Dude my job is to get you your food and make sure that during your half an hour to forty five minutes of eating I keep the refills coming. Don't treat me like you bought me in the 1900s from some slave trader. I bust my ass around the restaurant for your two dollar tip, I sincerly don't need you to be a difficult jackass as I accomodate to all your needs.You know you expect people will be more understanding, I mean don't get me wrong for every cunt giving me a hard time I get a sweet old lady who I really want to serve because she's got more manners than the jackass' whole family put together. But really I truly wonder what goes thru the head of a moronic customer as they ask to see my manager because they're on their rag.
P.S Note to the men out there, thanks for making up for your wives. I swear women need to chill out, I'm sorry your husband looks at me the wrong way, perhaps you should stop being such an uptight wench. Also a super big thanks to all the girls and women out there who appreciate thier own kind and are genuine and nice.
Good freaking night.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Ode to International Men
From now on everyday I will write an ode to specific international men. The criteria to be featured in this part of the blog? Not much that is if you ask a smart woman. A Greek's set in stone jaw, a Roman's chiseled calves, and a Brit's sophisticated air. Gosh, if only we could combine all of them into one and make the perfect male. Since that isn't happening any time soon, due to the bans on cloning and what not, let's learn to be happy with what we have and appreciate our international men.
Today's ode goes out to the Italians. The caramel complex, the sexy windblown hair, tighted fitted jeans, the hard thighs that hide beneath the denim and that gorgous smile. I'm hard pressed not to be bias in this category. How can one not fall head over heals for an Italian at every glance?
The best quality of an Italian man? His passion and his love. Stereotyped as it may sound, it's world reknown that your Italian man will love you back twice as more. He'll give back not only with what's in his pants, he'll use his head and get sensitive and be caring. This seems to be lost on many women these days. They feel gone are the days of the quintessential Italian. I, however, beg to differ. I just can't get enough his Italian ways.
They can talk you out of your pants, out of your shirt and into their apartment in about five seconds flat. They'll dress better than you do on your finest night and their self-confidence is freakishly appealing.
Not to mention, the Italian football team. Anyone woman in thier right wouldn't mind being roughed up by these men. God-like? Off course. With those thighs and those calves it's hard to not make comparsions. Take me now, oh please, take me now.
So girls, make your trip out to Italy and have your pizza and pasta, just make sure you don't fall too hard for these fine, fine epitomes of awesome.
Fabio Cannavaro? Definately enough said.
Today's ode goes out to the Italians. The caramel complex, the sexy windblown hair, tighted fitted jeans, the hard thighs that hide beneath the denim and that gorgous smile. I'm hard pressed not to be bias in this category. How can one not fall head over heals for an Italian at every glance?The best quality of an Italian man? His passion and his love. Stereotyped as it may sound, it's world reknown that your Italian man will love you back twice as more. He'll give back not only with what's in his pants, he'll use his head and get sensitive and be caring. This seems to be lost on many women these days. They feel gone are the days of the quintessential Italian. I, however, beg to differ. I just can't get enough his Italian ways.
They can talk you out of your pants, out of your shirt and into their apartment in about five seconds flat. They'll dress better than you do on your finest night and their self-confidence is freakishly appealing.
Not to mention, the Italian football team. Anyone woman in thier right wouldn't mind being roughed up by these men. God-like? Off course. With those thighs and those calves it's hard to not make comparsions. Take me now, oh please, take me now.
So girls, make your trip out to Italy and have your pizza and pasta, just make sure you don't fall too hard for these fine, fine epitomes of awesome.
Fabio Cannavaro? Definately enough said.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
How Ridiculous is this?
Yeh how ridiculous is this?!?!?!?!?! I'm the only idiot who even pays attention to my own stupid blog and blogger would like to lock it. How does that even make sense? It's not controversial, it's not even logical. It's an irrational collection of my more than demented thoughts. Why take that away from me? I'm honestly offended that my stupidity is being censored. Oh gosh. *sigh*
Anyways I'm continuing. They're going to pull my wisdom teeth. How much fun does that sound? Here's the deal there's a one percent chance they may mess up two different things. Firstly, they can knock out the nerve that controls feeling in my lips and teeth or they can do something, which will cause chronic sinus problems.
Anyways I'm continuing. They're going to pull my wisdom teeth. How much fun does that sound? Here's the deal there's a one percent chance they may mess up two different things. Firstly, they can knock out the nerve that controls feeling in my lips and teeth or they can do something, which will cause chronic sinus problems.
Think it'll be a good look for me?
Monday, October 6, 2008
Cut my chains.
Have you ever felt chained down? Like a lot of weight has been chained to you and you've been thrown over board? While Captain Sparrow might find it funny, you struggle to keep afloat. Well imagine losing some of the weight now? Well I feel like my chance at keeping above water just got a little better. I think I'm finally moving on. Like really moving on. Not holding on to things or people who make drowning sound so pleasent. To be honest I'm in a pretty good place in my life right now. Work seventy hours a week, go to school, have six classes...yeh exciting isn't it? I don't have time for whirlwind romances or love. More importantly, I don't even have enough time to sit down and breathe. Though detrimental in the long run, it helps me keep my mind of stuff. Keep my mind of problems that weigh me down. Makes me forget about those god awful chains. I like it like this for now. And you know when that whirlwind romance does come my way, I'm going to trip it and it'll fall flat on its face. Because guess what? I'm so not into it. I'm tired of boys and the fake stupid "I love yous". I'm ready for something more real, more concrete. Something that I can touch. So here's to a life with less confusion and struggle.
Let's see how long it'll last this time around.
Let's see how long it'll last this time around.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
What do you do when your car starts giving off smoke?
Right before you get on the bridge, you ask? Well, you keep on going and pray to whatever holy power you believe in that you'll make it to school before you car explodes in a fiery mess. Oh yes!
Friday morning something of the sorts happened to me. As I slowly made my way towards the bridge in the morning rush something quite disturbing happened. A cloud of smoke arose from the hood of my car. Fearful, I turned down the music pounding my speakers and told my racing heart to calm down. I definately heard something break under that hood but the car was still, thankfully, moving. As I approached the bridge I was counting on the car to stall and make me the person everyone was angry at for stalling traffic on a Friday morning. Thankfully, I got over that bridge, only to have my car completely die at a busy intersection. I quickly flicked on my emergency lights and began sobbing. Suddenly it clicked! Put the stupid thing in park and try starting it again. Oh please, oh please just start damnit! And just like that my partner in crime awoke and cautiously with tears in my eyes and not too much hope in my heart, I continued my journey toward school. The car was definately overheating, in fact, the gauges were indicating explosion in the near future. With countless stalls on the way I finally got my car parked in stall number 200. Thanks my lucky stars.
Later when one of my classmates checked the damn thing for me, they told me I had definatley bursted a hose.
The moral of this story, call your mother while your car is stalled at busy intersection, whilst you sob and ask what you should do. It'll score you a down payment for a new car in no time. Now the search is on to find the next leading car in my life's story.
Friday morning something of the sorts happened to me. As I slowly made my way towards the bridge in the morning rush something quite disturbing happened. A cloud of smoke arose from the hood of my car. Fearful, I turned down the music pounding my speakers and told my racing heart to calm down. I definately heard something break under that hood but the car was still, thankfully, moving. As I approached the bridge I was counting on the car to stall and make me the person everyone was angry at for stalling traffic on a Friday morning. Thankfully, I got over that bridge, only to have my car completely die at a busy intersection. I quickly flicked on my emergency lights and began sobbing. Suddenly it clicked! Put the stupid thing in park and try starting it again. Oh please, oh please just start damnit! And just like that my partner in crime awoke and cautiously with tears in my eyes and not too much hope in my heart, I continued my journey toward school. The car was definately overheating, in fact, the gauges were indicating explosion in the near future. With countless stalls on the way I finally got my car parked in stall number 200. Thanks my lucky stars.
Later when one of my classmates checked the damn thing for me, they told me I had definatley bursted a hose.
The moral of this story, call your mother while your car is stalled at busy intersection, whilst you sob and ask what you should do. It'll score you a down payment for a new car in no time. Now the search is on to find the next leading car in my life's story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
