Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Art of Patience

--> I have seen many storms in my life. Most storms have caught me by surprise, so I had to learn very quickly to look further and understand that I am not capable of controlling the weather. To exercise the art of patience is to respect the fury of nature. ~ Paulo Coelho

The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it. 

Some people would say that patience is a character trait I don’t possess. Perhaps these people have seen me smashing too many eggs?! Sure, I’ve been known to want what I want when I want it. I like to think I’m a goal oriented person who can become so hyper focused on achieving said goals that perhaps my behaviour may be interpreted as impatient. I will also point out that the people who consider me lacking in the trait of patience are non-goal oriented people. And can we really count them as people?! JK!! OMG!! Calm down, it’s just a joke at the expense of hipsters, so sorry that offended you.

Can we really consider this a person?
Anyways, to say I don’t posses the trait of patience, is a tad unfair. I mean how can character traits just be dichotomous constructs, it seems to me it makes more sense if they were conceptualized as falling along a continuum. Like we are all some degree of patient and inpatient.

And perhaps these hipsters (also referred to sometimes as people) would then retort, “Well Andrea, I think you fall pretty low on the patience continuum.”

Fair enough. And I bet those moments were I fall low on the continuum of patience just happen to be in response to something a hipster did. #JustSaying

For example, the hipster who invites me to dinner and then suggests we eat at a restaurant that I would never step foot in, like The Keg, sorry not a restaurant. Ok, if we consider the denotation of the word “restaurant”, I guess The Keg is a restaurant…

Restaurant: “An establishment where meals are served to customers”.

Despite the specific meaning of the word restaurant, I would still argue that The Keg is not a restaurant because I’m defining the word “meal” to mean some sort of nutrient giving food stuff as opposed to slabs of meat sawed off hormone filled cattle that for some strange reason aren’t considered appetizing enough that toxic chemicals are added to it just so the consumer gets high enough to actually think they are eating something good. I’m sorry I just prefer to get my toxic chemicals the old fashion way, through smoking.

Enthusiastic hipster eating at The Keg
Ok, chill the fuck out! I did not start smoking!! The thing is I actually don’t really feel like ingesting any toxic chemicals right now, this isn’t a new trend in my life, it has been going on for over 3 years and I don’t think it is showing any signs of stopping…which apparently doesn’t make me very popular to hang out with. Anyways, what was I talking about here…

Patience! Here is a definition from Wikipedia :

Patience (or forbearing) is the state of endurance under difficult circumstances, which can mean persevering in the face of delay or provocation without acting on annoyance/anger in a negative way;

Well according to Wikipedia I think we can consider me patient! You see I have great ability to endure (I’m still alive aren’t I?!) under difficult circumstances (i.e., being invited to The Keg by a hipster who doesn’t know what real food is).

Still not convinced?

How about the part where patience is defined as “not acting on annoyance/anger in a negative way” I’m pretty sure we can agree that me getting on my soapbox in the kitchen at work to inform everyone about the importance of a healthy diet cannot possibly be considered “negative”. And the definition doesn’t say I can’t counter annoyance/difficult circumstance with a well formed 20 minute educational monologue on food, now does it?!

Unless of course you consider “educational monologues” to be annoying …which if you do, I’m pretty sure means you are a hipster. I mean who doesn’t find education fun, especially when I’m talking?! Seriously, if you don’t respond to my 20 minute soliloquy on food with your rapt attention and adoration, that kind of makes you acting in a negative way.

Let me break it down for you. If you respond to my greatness (sometimes defined as an annoyance) in a negative way (i.e., you do not enthusiastically hang off every one of my words) that makes you inpatient! (or a hipster or both)

So I guess what this really show us is that hipsters are inpatient and I’m super patient because I endure hipsters.  

Glad we got that sorted out. Now I need to go eat some food (i.e., not anything sold at The Keg). I’m hungry.

Disclaimer: Please note, I do not have anything specifically against The Keg. I just take issue with chain restaurants that are known for their low quality food in general, which The Keg just happens to fall under. Why I felt the need to use The Keg as an example in this post? Well to be honest, I think I saw an ad for beer. And naturally that made me think of kegs…anyways, yeah, nothing personal to The Keg or all you people who “eat” there, I was just thinking about beer due to a very effective marketing strategy by Budweiser. So this is just a coincidence and not some hidden agenda of mine where I try to espouse my evil vegan ways on you. I swear! I eat meat, I like meat, I would just prefer to eat meat that is not contaminated. K? Cool. Group hug. 

Group hug courtesy of Budweiser.

Now who wants a nail gun with that burger?!

Thank you for your patience while reading this blog post.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Valentines Day: If it doesn’t seem like a good idea, it probably isn’t...

--> My iPhone rings. Ring tone is set to old phone (remember those phones that we used to plug in the wall? Yeah, it sounds like one of those.). It’s about the only ring tone I can tolerate except for when I hear it at 4a.m. because this was the one night I forgot to put my phone on sleep mode before I went to bed.

Now most normal people would be concerned that someone was calling them at 4am (like someone died or whatever). But not me, nope, my brain jumps to my list of friends I have living in different time zones that could be calling me because they don’t know that it is 4 fucking am in the morning! Who am I kidding. There is an app for converting time zone differences and the only person likely to make that faux pas would be me, 5 years ago, one beer away from total blackout. And obviously I’m not calling my future self unless of course I am calling my future self at 4a.m….

Winnipeg birth home (you can't see me bc I'm covered in snow!)
Anyways, I’m pretty sure I’m not calling my future self because if time travel (or bending or whatever it's called) were possible wouldn’t it make more sense if it went the other way? I mean shouldn’t I be calling my past self to warn me of some disaster I should avoid or whatever. Like “past Andrea” (which is current day Andrea?!) don’t go to work on xx day because that is the day an airplane crashes into your building. And no you don’t die, after all it is a float plane that crashes into your building. And it crashes due to engine failure and not because it is some key component of a terrorist plot because you live in Victoria and are not cool enough to live in New York. Regardless of all of that, your future self gets all super traumatized by the event which is kind of insane really when you look at your life already (current life?!). I mean how much worse can it really get?!

Well fuck, I guess I should answer that phone then.

It’s Paulo. Which is about as likely as me calling my past self. 

And the conversation goes a little bit like this:

A: Seriously? WTF Paulo?!

P: Meet me in Port Angeles tomorrow.

A: So when you say tomorrow you mean today?

P: of course.

A: Dude I have to get in a run tomorrow.

P: Yeah, I know. You run every day.

A: I take one day off!

P: Really? Well that’s disappointing. I kind of expected more from you...

A: (sigh) Why am I meeting you in Port Angeles?

P: Not important. Just be there at 9:45 am at the entrance to the waterfront park.

A: Is this like some Twilight thing? Did Bella and that vampire guy whatever have their first date on the boardwalk? And you want to reenact this on Valentines Day because you are seriously fucked up and have issues that you really should have seen a therapist about by now? 

P: No that's not why. And Bella and Edward did not have their first date on the boardwalk in Port Angeles. Bella and her friends were in Port Angeles buying dresses for prom…fuck you, it isn’t a Twilight thing. Just be there.

And Paulo hangs up on me. I think because he ran out of time and didn’t have another quarter to extend the call. Which makes me wonder where the fuck is he that he is using a public pay phone?! Do they even have public pay phones anymore?! Or maybe that was past Paulo calling future/current day Andrea with an important message for the future!

After that, I get up and go for my run so I can make the first ferry over in time for 9:45am meet up with Paulo.

Ok. Is it weird that I would just drop everything and go meet Paulo? And the answer is a simple no...and yes. First it is Paulo and he has permanent residency in the best friend tier so I kind of have to do what he says even if it makes no sense and has the potential to not make much sense later. I’m half joking. This is what I know. Paulo would do anything for me and I for him. And if he needs me to meet him it is probably for a good reason. Also, today is Valentines Day and I got nothing else planned that I couldn’t push back until tomorrow. Also, I may be a bit curious to find out if I'm in fact meeting a "past Paulo" who has an important message for me about the future. Like life and death important. (FYI - lack of sleep makes one do questionable things).

Some city in Syria that I wasn't born in.
So off I go. I buy my ticket to Port Angeles and get in line to go through security and that’s about as far as I get. Apparently, I qualify for extra screening on account of me being single, travelling alone on Valentines Day and my passport having a Qatar stamp in it.

As they escort me to a secure room located somewhere in the bowels of the ferry terminal they inform me that it’s nothing personal and that border security is always tightened on holidays, as these are prime target dates for Islamic terrorists.

A: So you think I am an Islamic Terrorist? (I kind of am impressed that someone thinks I can be a terrorist but mostly I just find this super hilarious and end up laughing a bit too much to be considered even remotely appropriate behaviour given the situation I'm in).

Border Security Dude (BS Dude): No one is saying that we are just taking you in for further screening.

A: Well I don’t think you would be taking me for further screening if you didn’t think I was an Islamic terrorist. I mean do I really fit the profile of a terrorist?

BS Dude: What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me you are a terrorist?

A: No! Dude! I’m a hot blonde girl, what about that makes you think terrorist? It might make you think about sex…wait a minute, is this what you do when you want to see the inside of a hot girl’s anus?! Throw out the whole “you qualify for extra screening” thing?!

BS Dude: Alright Ms. You need to calm down and stop saying the word terrorist so much, it’s not helping your case.

A: Case!?! I’m now a case?! Holy fuck, you are totally sending me to Guantanamo aren’t you?!

Obviously I don’t calm down and we finally arrive at the secure location where I will await my inevitable anal probing. And yeah, I’m kind of kicking myself for dropping the T-bomb so many times during that conversation. Will I ever see daylight again?! I wonder as they lock the door behind me.

I turn away from the door and check out the room. A row of very uncomfortable plastic chairs drenched in some very unflattering lighting conditions (i.e., fluorescent lighting) and no windows, just a small box of a room, which also happens to be painted white. And of course let’s not forget that the room contained other suspected terrorists.

Yes, there was also two drunk gay men in the room with me.

A: well it is a hot bed of terrorist activity in here!

Remember how I think I’m hilarious?! Yeah, well, apparently drunk gay men don’t think I'm hilarious. And as predicted with drunk gay men who don't find me funny, they get all in my face about me being gayist because I don’t think they could be terrorists.

And of course I have to defend myself.

A: I just think if you were terrorists you wouldn’t be drunk is all. It has nothing to do with you being gay.

Gay man #1 (GM1): Do you know how hard we had to work to get where we are today?!

A: I’m sorry? We’re being detained as potential terrorists how can this be considered an accomplishment?!

GM1: 30 years ago they would have never thought us to be terrorists!

A: Seriously dude, where you even born 30 years ago, you look a bit young.

GM1: We are middle aged. I am 32! And Raphael over here is 48! You must learn to respect your elders!

A: Fuck that, you’re not my elders.

GM1: There it is with your homophobia again.

A: Dude! I’m older than you. I’m your elder! (Respect that bitches!)

GM2: The young people of today. So disrespectful. They have no idea what hard work is, the hurdles we had to overcome to be considered equals.

A: Ok, this is ridiculous. How long do I have to be stuck in here with you people.

GM1: What do you mean by you people?!

A: Ok, do you really have to yell everything?

GM2: Calm down Francois, obviously this privileged princess doesn’t understand what adversity is, we cannot expect her to understand. There is no use.

A: Do you really think I look like a princess? Cool, because I was kind of going for the whole regal style thing today, like the way I did the curls and all. (I’m now distracted feeling up my hair).

GM2: I think you did a very nice job with your hair. I’m just sorry its attached to such a closed minded oppressive bitch.

A: Harsh…Ok, I just want to clear the air here, I think we may have got off on the wrong foot. What I meant by “you people” (I used air quotes) was not in reference to you being gay it is in reference  to the two of you being bat shit crazy. Which in all fairness, you are probably just coming off that way because you are both really drunk. I mean, I get a little cray cray when I drink. Friends? (we have a group hug)

GM1: I don’t think we can be friends but I will stop yelling at you.

A: Thanks. I’m just going to sit over here on this side and pray for an early death.

5 minutes later, I am retrieved by a morbidly obese border guard (MOBG) who happens to be clutching a Dairy Queen blizzard in his chubby hands.

A: Oh no, you are not going to give me a Dairy Queen blizzard enema are you?!

MOBG: There was a mistake in the screening criteria used to assess you.

That was MOBG's way of apologizing. Of course there was a mistake! Apparently under skin color they checked off brown instead of white. An honest mistake anyone with half a brain could have made, which to be honest didn’t exactly inspire me to continue on with my voyage into foreign territory. I mean if they can screw up my skin color they can fuck up my place of birth and the next thing you know they will be deporting me to Syria. Fuck that! Also, I had to get some real food in me, being detained for 20 minutes really burns a lot of calories, especially when you are being accosted by two middle aged homosexuals who are not terrorists and not because they are gay but simply just because they are really stupid drunk.

On my walk home I received a text from Paulo cancelling the meet up. Apparently he was stuck in a blizzard and couldn’t make it…now I will never know what message past Paulo had for me! Oh and the next time I decide to leave the country spontaneously it is going to be on a passport devoid of stamps from the Middle East, as apparently hot blonde girls don’t get away with anything anymore!

1929 - St. Valentines Day Massacre (Hey it could have been worse?!)

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Top 10 reasons this isn’t going to work out

 So yeah, you’ve met me. You like me (obvs). Who am I?  I’m that girl who is a little bit crazy (I prefer the term eccentric) but crazy in a cute and adorable kind of way. I can be super charming when I’m not sounding like an extra on The Sopranos. And I look like a put a lot of effort into my appearance when I’m around you. Yeah, you really like me BUT do I like you?

I'm the OG!
Excellent question!

First off, I woke up looking like this so don’t use that as an indicator of my feelings towards you. So putting aside how good I look, let’s focus on whether or not our beliefs and values mesh nicely together.

I recognize this could be a lengthy post so I have created a handy 10 point checklist to assist you in answering this very important question. After all, I don’t want people walking around thinking I like them when I don’t (awkward!).

So here you have it:

Top ten ways to make sure you and me never happen

  1. You’re going to meet up with me so you throw on that mustard stained sweatshirt that you’ve been meaning to launder for months…
  2. You show up late to meet me (anything longer than 5 minutes)
  3. And you don't bother to text me to let me know you would be late
  4. Because you don’t own a smart phone
  5. Because you can’t get a contract with a cell phone company because you have a really bad credit rating
  6. The place you suggest for meeting up for coffee is Tim Hortons
  7. You buy your “coffee” with cash
  8. You expect me to partake in drinking this high-temperature swill mixture
  9. You expect me to refer to the swill mixture as “coffee"
  10. You expect me to enjoy this experience and think we will be seeing each other again.

Ok. You’re laughing because you know this is a joke. After all there is no fucking way I would agree to meet up at a Tim Hortons for anyone!


And life is too short to spend time with people who like bad coffee!

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Save the date! Andrea vs. the lumbersexuals

-->
Join A and J on March 21, 2015, from 3p.m. – 4p.m. for the most exciting event ever: Andrea vs. the Lumbersexuals!!

What is a lumbersexual you ask and why am I against them?

Well first, a lumbersexual is a really hot guy that insists on dressing like a very well groomed and clean-clothed lumberjack (see photo). A lumberjack who has never actually cut down a tree or held an ax and probably has never left the city, which essentially makes this hot guy not hot because this lumbersexual thing is one of those fashion trends that should really have seen the inside of a slaughterhouse by now AND not still be thriving in the world where I live and breathe. 

Hot guy succumbs to scary fashion trend.
So why am I against this lumbersexual trend? If for some reason the above-mentioned paragraph wasn’t enough evidence for you, here is another important fact for you to consider:

It is simply unacceptable for a hot guy to have a beard and/or wear plaid. Mainly because I can’t possibly allow myself to even consider dating a guy who has a beard and/or who wears plaid.

Note: a guy that has an ax is cool but it isn’t enough for me to look past the beard and plaid (unless it is Rick Grimes and it is the zombie apocalypse).

Makes complete sense, I know. But why do I need to make an event out of this?

Basically we can blame J and the fact I don’t have cable.

See, J and I were out for coffee discussing my exciting dating life (read: non-dating life) and I was telling J that the lumbersexuals were infiltrating my dating pool and if they kept multiplying at the present rate I would be single forever.

J, being the forever optimist when it comes to my dating life, tried to provide some comforting words that ended up having the exact opposite effect on me.

J: Don't worry Andrea. This lumbersexual trend will be over come spring time.

A: Will it now?!?! (I think I shouted this…)

For some reason J’s words were the verbal equivalent of gasoline being thrown on the fire and before someone could say “this story makes no sense” my competitive spirit was ignited, which basically means I get all arrogant and shit. Yup, I turn nothing (casual comment on the possible spring time extinction of lumbersexuals) into a super big deal of a competition (e.g., outcome of competition is life or death!!).

So that’s kind of what happened (minus all the swearing). And yeah, I may have overreacted or something…

So on the first day of Spring we are going to see if this infestation of lumbersexuals is finally extinct. I say no fucking way and J disagrees. Not sure what happens if one of us wins or loses…I don’t think anyone is going to die…anyways…

What’s the criteria for extinction?

Within one hour, less than 10 lumbersexuals walk by a coffee shop. 

So if for some reason you feel like observing the possible (yet unlikely) extinction of the most ridiculous fashion trend since neon anything, and subsequent resurrection of my dating life (even more unlikely), come have a coffee with me and J. It probably won’t be as exciting as Jersey Shore (on account of me being sober and all) but if you are lucky you may get written into the blog post!!

Or if for some reason that isn’t your idea of a fun time (that’s weird), you could at the very least, dress like a lumbersexual and walk by the coffee shop between 3-4pm, so I don’t lose the competition. I really don’t like to lose even if it means the complete and utter annihilation of my dating life.



Pikachu would totally kick lumbersexual ass