Car Breakdown 10/29

Was it all just a dream? Did last night really happen? It was Friday night and everything seemed to be going as planned. Look, there's my friend Gifty, she's often in my car (getting a ride since she doesn't have one of her own... yet)! And the tow-truck driver guy! He was there too! (Actually, he wasn't really there... not until 3 hours later!) And the little Security Guard... he - he seemed so curious like, like something very unusual had happened. Was it a dream? Or was it real? It was Friday night and everything seemed to be going as planned. Then, something called the gear shift got jammed! All of a sudden the car said, "Hey, if the gear shift's jammed, you can't drive me!" It turns out that none of this was a dream. It's what really happened!

So, I went out with a friend Friday night. I parked my car in the parking so she could get out and my gear shift got stuck! It was pretty annoying - here you have a car which starts and everything but I couldn't change from "Parking" to "Drive," struggle as I did. Eventually, I decided to get the car towed. I waited 3 hours before the tow-truck driver finally arrived. He didn't know the area at all so he had to rely on my instructions which he didn't understand that well because he didn't speak english that well. It was foggy as hell! He would drive, then hit the brake as soon as a highway sign neared by when it was already too late to change lanes to go the right way. Plus, his truck was old and I was freaked out that either it would break down or the car would get left behind.

He took the ramp for 401 east rather than west and then took the exit for 409 headed towards the airport from there. So here we were, at 3.30am in the morning, going around the airport terminal 2 in an old rusted tow truck which was falling apart with a car - MY CAR - precariously hinging on the back of it WITH nothing in sight thanks to the fog. I said my prayers then. I said God, get me out of this mess, oh please save me. He finally took Renforth drive down and miraculously made it to the 401 and going in the right direction! I finally breathed a sigh of relief and was calm enough to initiate some small talk.

I asked him where he was from. "Russia," he replied. "Oh really?" said I, "I have a friend who's from Russia. She taught me a few words but I only remember two of them: Priviet and da." He grunted to indicate that he did not find this the least bit amusing. Then, as if to scorn me further, he asked me which university I went to in Russian. "Huh?" He repeated in English, a smug look on his face which said, "Never pretend to know a language which you don't really know" though I'd never claimed to know it. We spent the rest of our drive in silence with me reiterating the directions every so often. He nodded his head with an expression that seemed to say, "I'm not the moron in here." I glared back with an expression that said, "Oh yeah?!?! Who got totally lost in the airport?" He suddenly turned into this middle-aged Italian man who waved his hand in my face and said, "It's not my fault that I'm not from around here."

I shook myself to consciousness. "Oh boy! It is late!" I thought. We finally pulled into the parking lot of the autoshop where we were leaving the car. My dad wasn't there yet. He showed up soon and I hopped into the van, eagerly awaiting my bed. I pinched myself hard. No, this wasn't a dream at all. It was all indeed real!

Do I have commitment issues?

What started off as one scrumptious meal at Salad King has turned into an at-least-once-a-week ritual at work. What strikes me though is that one of my co-workers always orders Hot Thai Noodles. I finally remarked on it today, "Don't you get tired of getting the same thing everytime?" His incredulity showed as he responded, "No, I'm faithful to my food." This got me thinking (Yes, Eddie, I am capable of doing that sometimes *insert glare emoticon*). Is your commitment to food reflective of your commitment in relationships?

Now I don't know my co-worker well enough to comment with any authority on how he acts in relationships but I will use my psych 101 knowledge and common sense to form a hypothesis. He is the second-youngest of 4 children and the only son. It seems that he has led a fairly sheltered life. The other day he thanked me profusely for accompanying him on his coffee break and how much he hated being on his own, i.e. he's the clingy sort in relationships. So I guess that perhaps his mannerisms in food can give one an insight into how they behave in relationships.

I rarely order the same thing at a restaurant. I love trying new dishes and get bored if I have the same thing to eat every day. What does that say about me then?

Salmon or goldfish?

Last night, while rummaging through the tons of badly scratched CDs that I keep on burning and not taking care of, I came across one of my favourite Ani DiFranco tunes.

And a few verses into the song came the part about me:
"They say goldfish have no memory
I bet their lives are much like mine
In their little plastic castles
There's a surprise every time
It's hard to say if they're happy
but they don't seem much to mind.

Yee-haw!"

Relistening to this song has left me very confused. I think we can say pretty safely that I'm a fish, but what kind of a fish am I, Salmon or goldfish?

(Hardy har har! <-- kind of like the laughing cues they have in comedy shows but dripping with sarcasm.)

(He insults himself in his blog.)

un poquito de poesía

He snores as he types this, lifting his tired eyes for a moment, slowly typing away with his exhausted fingers, forcing open his droopy eyelids.

Okay, my lovelies! Here's a poem for the faithful readers...

Grey skies and gloomy weather today
I'm walking Under a canopy of stone
With nothing but concrete in sight
Among a growing stampede of people
I'm carried forth on this blistery day
by the will of the hundreds who follow
by the stress of what is to come
by the relentless, freezing, cold wind
Rush, rush, rush is all I sense
People with little packaged minds
Who pay no attention to their bearings
Telling themselves "on, make haste, move on"
And all I can think of is the day to come
Pay no heed to that pigeon who flies
or the hungry, shivering men you pass
or the sun or clouds, just keep moving on
Run, run, around people, through red lights
Run to slouch on that empty seat for the day
Run to stare at that blank screen all day
Run to hear the sound of fingers typing away
What have I done to myself, I wonder
Is this the life that I wanted
Trapped in this big city of strangers
I've got only myself to blame.

Bah! Okay, this was very on the spur... I was going to complain about the "bitter bitter cold" in Toronto. Instead, I ended up complaining about work. How does that work? *scratches head in confusion*

How can you mend a broken laughter?

I realize that laughter is a good thing... it's better than crying, that's for sure. And I laugh a lot and I probably laugh in an annoying way too. But that doesn't take away my right to complain. So here goes...

There's this guy at work and he laughs really loud. His laughter reminds me of Janice from Friends. It's exactly the same laugh, just replace the nasal sound of her laughter with a deeper manly voice (and not nasal). It starts off fairly loud and then it gets even louder. And it's a long laugh - ha haha-hahahaha. All he needs to start doing is saying "Chandler Bing" before he starts laughing and I'd be certain I'm in some weird Friends parallel universe.

*Whines in an Al Green-esque tone* How can you mend this broken laugh(ter)?

Cars = bad

Today, while driving back from the video store, I witnessed a car crash. Well, I didn't witness it taking place, just the wreckage of one. It was so awful that I had to look the other way. I didn't pause to observe all that was there, to try and place the clues to determine what had happened. All I saw was the minivan that had knocked a traffic light over and the front engine portion of the van had been twisted and bent entirely into non-existence from the impact.

The fire truck was arriving as I drove past, then the ambulance, then a police car and another. The sound of every approaching siren reminded me of my mortality. I could've very easily been in that van, I could've been driving that van. I remember the first car crash I witnessed while driving; I didn't drive for weeks after that. And I don't want to drive now.

We don't realize the power we have when we get behind the wheel. I'll just have to keep reminding myself that it's better to arrive late than to not arrive at all.

Ein klein post en français

Beaucoup de personnes me demandent si j'ai un type préféré des hommes. Cette question-ci est difficile à repondre. Il n'existe pas une formule pour discerner les hommes qui m'interessent et ceux qui ne m'interessent pas. Mais peut-être qu'on peut s'apercevoir d'un modèle si l'on regarde au passé. Si l'existe, je le connais pas.

Toutefois, j'accepte que généralement, je trouve que les hommes de l'Amérique latine sont bels. Véridiquement, ce n'est pas seulement le physique qui me séduit. C'est aussi le personnage typique des latino-américains. Ils sont plus ouverts, chaleureux, passionés et spontanés et moins timides que les canadiens. En plus, la belle langue d'espagnol me rend "faible les genoux."

Il y a un homme latino qui travail au même étage que moi. Il est responsable d'administrer la rénovation de cet étage. Qu'il est beau! Son personnage, son visage, ses maniérismes, sa fesse - tous sont beaux. Mais il porte une bague a "son doigt du mariage." *sigh*

Où est l'homme de mes rêves, "mon chevalier dans l'armure brillante"?

Of Autumn Foilage and Nucular Science...

When I was young, we would often go for long drives, sometimes to escape the heat, sometimes to forget domestic quarrels, sometimes to see events around the city from the security of the car and sometimes just to escape the city noise for a bit of tranquility. We would pile into the car, armed with tapes of our music, prepared to battle over whose tape we would play. These family excursions, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, were quite special. It was a time for the family to bond, whether in silence only to utter a few sentences about the surroundings or whether animatedly discussing the events in our lives.

Time passed. For me, it was university that dragged me out of that nucleus; for my sister, it was marriage. And then yesterday, on Thanksgiving day, my mum insisted that we go out for a drive. Again, we all piled into the car. It was a quiet drive - my parents, my sister and her husband, and I. We marvelled at the lovely colours of the autumn foliage - red, maroon, yellow, orange, green... The fading sun lent a dim light that saved the colours from all mixing into darkness, a dying glow.

As I sat in the backseat of our minivan, I began to reminisce. It was like being transported back to when I was 8. I remembered how my mother would feed me with her own hands, how she would tuck me into bed with a hot-water bottle under my feet to warm me on winter nights, how she'd squeeze my hand when I put my hand in hers while walking.

When we got back home, I told my mum that I want to move out.

Alfredo, I hate you

Here's Georgette's account of the Black & Blue fest... Alfredo, HATE YOU FOR DITCHING ME!!! PUTO!

First of all why didn't you let me know that gay people really know how to party. Damn it was fun. To sum it up....
almost all males were topless and had beautiful worked out bodies, yum
other men wore costumes like leather s & M stuff or anything that showed off their tight ass
some wore just underwear or g strings
women wore the skankiest clothes I have ever seen, and therefor I felt like I was too conservative looking, but for next time I'm going to try and look like such a slut
the DJ's came from Montreal, Paris, Madrid and New York and were awesome all night long
There was a perfomance by Cirque du Soleil which was short but an eye catcher
People were high on drugs, kinda sad but hey it happens
Water was $6
People danced everywhere and all the time and it was full, full, full, thousands of people
Although I haven't been to Ibiza, this is what I would imagine it like, except with A LOT more skin showing.
I left a 8am since my feet were killing me, but it looked like people were planning to stay until 12 noon
Anyhow any other details you wanna know about let me know. If you plan on going next year and I happen to be around I will totally go with you since I don't celebrate Thanksgiving or anything. So we'll chit chat later, I hope you're using lots of your imagination ; )

*SOB*
OH MY FATE!!!

Just Lush!

There is a store in Toronto of Irish origins called Lush. Everytime I walk past it, my body tingles from head to toe as the heavenly melange of aromas from different soaps waft through the air straight to my nose. Ahhhhh! Orgasmic!

So I stay away from Lush now and for a good reason - it's expensive! If I walk into the store, I'd end up buying everything in the store.

And that's exactly what happened while I was in Rome. I had gone for my daily morning espressos (I always got two because they were so cheap) when my friend came running to me. "Come, come, you have to see this store!" She dragged me into a store called Fresh, the logo of which looked mysteriously like that of Lush. And it was exactly the same thing, only better!

Inside, on one end, there was potpourri which was very pleasant though on the strong side. I regretted buying that because I put it in my backpack and within hours, everything smelled of it. Smells are nice but only mild smells.

I'm tempted to talk about the delectable vanilla soap bar but that wasn't the highlight of my stop at Fresh. They had truffle-shaped soap bars garnished with actual chocolate curls. They looked so real that I wanted to eat one. The highlight of these sensuous treats was their chocolate truffle moisturizer made with REAL chocolate. It even smelled like chocolate.

I couldn't resist! I had to buy a bottle. I used it first a few weeks back, then forgot about it, and rediscovered it this morning. And now my hand and arm smells like chocolate and I want to bite it off! Christmas came early for Sal this year... I have my vanilla soap bar and my chocolate truffle moisturizer and you can't have any *sticks out his tongue*