Who's the Worst Blogger in the World?

I think it's me. Certainly the laziest. But in my defense, I have started training for my new job, which does not leave me a lot of time to be blogging. You see, I had it all planned out: my hours are 3-11, so if I wake up by 10 a.m., I would get enough sleep, but still have at least 3 hours to accomplish something before I had to get ready for work. Now, I've managed the waking up part, which truly is something to be celebrated because anyone who knows me knows I love to sleep in. But by the time I make a coffee, breakfast, check my email, watch The View and What Not To Wear, I basically have to get ready for work. So the system has not been perfected yet.

So here's the recap of my life. On my first day of training, I was waiting in the lobby and I see this guy walk in who looks familiar. I sneak a few sidelong glances at him and realize it is my very first boyfriend, whom I have not seen in about 13 years. I dart outside to call one of my friends (she wasn't home), and he comes out and says, "I thought that was you...". The crazy part of this story was that I was just talking about him, wondering what had ever happened to him. Who would have thought that after a month-and-a-half together, then 13 years apart, we would end up in the same place? The funny thing is that when I was talking about him the few days before I saw him, I was telling my friend that the reason we broke up was technically because I was "square" (his words), but really because we had nothing to talk about (which was a problem that could not be overcome with making out a lot, since I was apparently so "square"). We chatted a bit, but I found that I still don't have much to say to him. And since I'm not interested in making out with him, I guess there's nowhere to go from here.

In other news, my trainer at work hates me. I've decided it's for one of 3 reasons:

1. She's a woman, so she's is totally immune to my charm
2. I ask her too many challenging questions. Every time I ask a question, she either says "We're going to cover that later" or "You don't really need to know that" or "Just follow what it says in the training guide". Which all translates to me as, "I hate you".
3. Because I'm black.

I really didn't want to have to pull the race card, but when in doubt... it's always right there for the picking. Anyway, I've made 2 friends and they totally see it too.

The worst part is that I really don't think I'm going to like this job too much. There are waaaaaay too many rules. They actually suggested that we buy timers so we don't exceed our break or lunch times. If I have to walk around with an egg timer on a lanyard, it's time to find a new job.

In other news, my driving instructor and I made up (read: he remembered he had to take me on lessons). Today we stopped at Tim Horton's and he tells me that he's trying to train himself to take his coffee black so he won't have to use so much cream and sugar. Then he says, "I guess I just have to get used to it. You know--Once you go black, you never go back!" Is he flirting, or is it just me?

sbg

Very Inappropriate Things

Thursday
I was on the College streetcar, reading a book, on my way to get a much-needed fix of Red Room and Rina. The driver turns on the microphone:
"Sorry folks, there's a lot of construction on College Street here, so we're going to be a little delayed."
Not a problem. Thanks for letting me know. More time to read, I guess.
"Yup, they're doing a lot of construction around here."
Okay then. Reading.
"I think this is the most construction they've ever done in this city."
Interesting. Can I read now please?
"Pot holes are popping up like crop circles around here."
Put bookmark in book. After a few blissful yet misleading minutes of silence, I open the book again.
"Oops, better not hit the police officer here."
Sigh. Bookmark.
"Hey, it's not raining over here."
Wow, the weather report right up to the minute.
"Ever wonder why it rains in the west, but then it stops in the east?"
Nope. I was wondering what my book was about though.
"Maybe we're closer to the equator, heh heh."
Hey, a live show. This is almost better than my very interesting book.
"Spadina next, Spadina. Coming right up. Spadina."
My stop. Unfortunatley, I'll never get to hear the end of his monologue, "A Streetcar Driver named Annoying".

Saturday
I was at my aunt's graduation ceremony at Canada Christian College. In the tradition of all graduation ceremonies, it was mad boring and mad long. So in keeping with my family tradition, my sister and I went outside to have a smoke (the tradition started when my mother and I did this at my sister's high school graduation, subsequently missing her receiving the diploma). So we're outside of the building smoking, trying to be innocuous, and this guy comes up to me and says, "Hi. I saw you before and I think you're very beautiful. Can I have your phone number so we can get to know each other?" Hello, Mr. Impropriety. We're at a graduation at a Christian college, for God's sake. If this guy saw me, thought I was attractive and thought, "What would Jesus do?", I don't think the answer would be "Treat this like a singles bar and go get her!" So I say, "Sorry, I have a boyfriend." He says okay and walks away. Then he stops a few feet away, turns back and asks, "Uh.. you have a boyfriend?" Uh... did I stutter? What did he think, that I had a boyfriend when he was in front of me, and got single when he was five feet away? Sorry buddy. But God Bless.

Monday
My mother came to pick me up from Steve's house, but decided to let me drive back. So I'm driving along and she asks me how Steve is doing. I say he's fine. She says she should have asked him herself becaue he walked me out but she didn't get a chance, blah blah blah. I say it's okay, he's doing fine. Then she starts saying how he's looking good, he's looking more manly (he hadn't shaved in the week I was gone) and that he looked like he put on a little weight. Um, okay Mom. Then she goes on and says how the weight looks good on him, how it fills out his face and stuff, and how it makes him look sexy. Uh, excuse me Mom, I just swallowed a little bit of vomit. So I revert to being fourteen and say, "Ew... Mo-om! That's sooo gross!" And she's like, "No, I don't mean it like that, I don't mean sexy, I just mean he looks more attractive. Not attractive to me, but just... oh never mind." Even though she's lived in Canada for about a million years, she still hasn't mastered the finer nuances of the Western phrase book. Like that you don't call your daughter's boyfriend sexy or attractive. Did I mention that my mom is afraid to say things to me now because she thinks I'm going to put it on the internet? Say what you want about the woman, but she does know me well.

Predictably yours,
sbg