Splitting Hairs

something i thought about on saturday night while preparing to go to the embassy: (anyone who has ever lived in london will stop for a moment here to be horrified by the fact that i went to the embassy and actually put on makeup/nice clothes to go there. get over it and keep reading)

i was complaining to lori that as i get older, i have to start plucking hairs out of my chin. and of course I don't notice them until they are long, curly, and--let's be honest--bear a close resemblance to pubic hair. i usually remember when i am rubbing my chin for some reason (pondering life's great questions perhaps?) and then i feel these coarse little hairs protruding from an area that was once smooth as a baby's bottom. then i'm all paranoid about it thinking, just because I didn't notice them, doesn't mean no one else has.

so on the bright side, though i am slowly growing a beard, i have also picked up quite a few eyebrow hairs in my old age. this almost makes growing a goatee worth it, having spent the better part of my lifetime addicted to dark brown eyeshadow and an angle brush in an attempt to make my super-thin, sparse eyebrows look normal.

i've included this picture of my new beautiful eyebrows. i have spared you all a shot of my hairy chin.

you're welcome,
sbg

5 Minutes of Me

4:49
So strange that Cracker should post a message about dreaming about me, when I had a dream about Fuel last night. Mike was trying to get me evicted from the building (I came to visit someone I guess) and I was freaking out and we were both screaming at and insulting each other. It was weird. Maybe it would have been better if there was a Magic Bus in it.
P.S. I can't believe she still has the dog.

4:53
I bought a T-shirt on Wednesday. It made me really happy because it seemed so encouraging. If stores are selling T-shirts, that means there is an end to this fucking weather somewhere in sight. I am wearing it today, under a sweater of course. Fucking wind chill.

4:55
I think it was Tuesday that I realized I am totally addicted to people being interested in me. I'm like a dog--anyone shows me the least bit of interest and I'm hamming it up, running to get the ball and do tricks. I think it's probably pretty pathetic, but to be honest, I'm not the least bit disappointed in myself. If I was, I guess I'd be a cat.

4:58
The last excruciating minute. Lots of pressure to make this interesting. I think instead, I'll just ride it out.
...
...
...
Hmm... still 4:58.
....

4:59
Bye.

~sbg

Renoucing the Scale

I forgot that I promised McKinley the story about why I renounced my scale, so here it is: My friend Sonia made me this Weight Loss Tracker in Excel because she and I made a plan to eat healthy, work out, and lose about 2 pounds a week (read: New Year's Resolution). Anyway, after a slow start, I was actually eating quite healthy: fruit and nuts for snacks, salad every day for lunch, fairly sensible dinners. Plus, I'm going to Pilates 3 times a week and the gym 3 times a week. So I step on the scale, feeling quite proud of myself, only to discover that I have gained weight. I was so pissed. Maybe it's muscle, maybe my dinners weren't as sensible as I thought, maybe a million things. But I decided then and there to renounce my scale. I was proud of my progress and that scale threatened to derail all of my good feelings. Though I never thought I would be one of "those" people, I actually feel good just knowing that I'm being active and not pigging out (except for the occasional 2 lunches--old habits die hard). Losing weight is no longer the goal. Maybe I'll always be chubby, but if I quit smoking, I could end up living longer. Which may or may not be a good thing... I'll keep you posted.

If this was a movie, or I lived in a high-rise apartment, I would have thrown my scale out of my window and watched it fall in slow-motion until it crashed into a million pieces. If this was a comedy movie, it would have hit another chubby person.

weight ain't nuthin' but a number,
~sbg

To Make a Long Story Short(er)

I was writing staff biographies at work recently and thought, "I wish instead of writing these standard bios --he worked here, he did this, blah blah blah-- we could tell a story about a person that sums up who they are as a person." Since it's not likely my boss will go for this idea, I thought it might be a fun exercise for the blog. Just for you. Well, a few of you anyway.


Max Fabulous
Max goes into Tim Horton's and orders a steeped tea.

Chick behind the counter: We don't have any.
Max: You don't have any? Like, you ran out?
Chick: We don't have any made.
Max: Well, can you make some?
Chick: (Sigh) You'll have to wait. It's going to take like 10 minutes.
Max: No, actually, it takes 4 minutes. And yes, I'll wait.
Chick: (Bigger sigh + eye roll)

Chick reluctantly attends to her job, getting steeped tea ready and turning on the timer. 4 minutes flashes in red. She looks over at Max to see if she has seen the timer. Max is smiling smugly. Chick turns around.

4 minutes later...
Chick: (gives Max the tea) Sorry about the wait.
Max: (not smug anymore, but glowing with the satisfaction of being right) No problem.

And that sums up Max's personality in a nutshell. Asks for what she wants (especially steeped tea), points out when you're wrong, is slightly smug when she's right, but at the end, still a very nice and polite young lady.


McKinder
At J's house, probably the second or third time we met. J and the boys leave McKinder and I alone at the house while they get food or something. Within 10 minutes, she and I are on the ground, listening to Bohemian Rhapsody and singing at the top of our lungs, likely the start of the landlord's case for J's eviction. For the next hour or so, we sing songs and dance. By the time the boys return, we're basically best friends.

That sums up McKinder's personality to me because it really doesn't take long to fall in love with her. And anyone who's been to karaoke with her knows she puts her heart into every song and it's totally infectious.


The Bean
(Note: This is less of a story and more like the perfect Bean day)
Meet at Red Room, order Pad Thai and Fried Tofu. The Bean always encourages me to eat more. Literally, I could be opening my mouth to say "No, I'm full" and she'd shove a piece of the tofu in my mouth on the "No". Next, go to Chapters. Grab way too many books and then sit at a table across from each other and make notes, read funny/interesting parts to each other. Random guys come up to us, seemingly to ask a question, really because people are just drawn to Bean. She talks and entertains them much longer than they deserve. Then, a movie. When we went to the see Rent, we left the theatre making up our own words to the tune of "Seasons of Love". When we went to her house, she made me still more food and we changed into our pyjamas ridiculously early to watch the movie. The Bean also is highly supportive of naps.

This is a perfect Bean story because she's up for everything, can make anything fun, and likes to feed me. At more times than I can count in a Bean day, we're laughing and trying to out-joke each other (i.e. challenge each other's spaces). And contemplating punching someone in the face.


I'm stopping now, because it's been like an hour and I'm not sure anyone other than these 3 people read this blog anymore. If anyone else wants their personal story done, let me know.

~sbg

Short Stuff - A Retrospect

-- Note: I'm never going to be a superblogger like McKinley. I guess blogging is not one of my superpowers, as it were. But it is a part of my latest Life Plan (this would be Life Plan #4080, or something ridonkulous like that) so I decided that I would start with this, which I wrote on August 30, 2005 at 8:34 PM. I have no idea why (it's pretty random). Enjoy this compliments of the new and improved sbg--


SHORT STUFF

After a lifetime of wishing I had grown just two more inches, I’ve decided it’s time to face the facts: Puberty has (long)passed and I’m irrevocably short. But instead of cursing my mother (i.e., damn her pint-sized side of the family!), I resolved to put on my 5-inch heels and start looking at the advantages of a smaller stature. Perhaps I didn’t get short-changed after all.

I’m a renter, and part of my lease is not smoking in the apartment (it’s a basement). Since I’m also a cheater, I don’t actually go outside, I sit in the doorway so I can still see the TV (did I mention I’m also a couch potato?). Keeping my legs bent, I can fit horizontally in the doorway quite comfortably. It’s the kind of position that is only an option for the vertically-challenged.

Here’s another thing: If I ride the Greyhound and am lucky enough to get two seats to myself, I can actually lie down and get a decent rest. Handy for 2-hour trips, a necessity for anything longer.

It comes in handy in the romance department too. While my 5’5” and taller friends worry about the man of their dreams being shorter than they, I would be hard-pressed to find a man (who is not a “little person”) shorter than I. So I can wear all the high heels I want and probably still only skim the shoulders of the average man.

My tall friends also tell me they hate to be with a group of short women, because they feel like gigantic beasts. While I feel a little bit like a freak show walking around with my girlfriend who’s 5’10”, I must admit that her height might make me appear small and dainty, which isn’t a bad thing.