Wednesday, June 30, 2010

My first date!

I recently watched a great movie, Cyrus (watch the trailer), about love lost and new love found... and I am currently eating a whole tub of freezer-burnt ice cream which, stereotypically, is reserved for sad occasions when love just doesn't work out. I'm in a good relationship right now, so I'm not feeling sad about that (I just have no self control and the Ben & Jerry's container just looks so small and manageable!) but it got me thinking about past loves.

Isn't it funny how you could be so completely obsessed and 'in love' with someone and honestly feel that you will die if they don't love you back? You think about what your life will be like, what your kids will look like, what vacations you may or may not go on. It's funny when you think that this is it. This is the person I will love for the rest of my life! I am giving up from here on in because I have discovered my soulmate and my path has been laid out! It's especially funny to think that way if you're 9. What the heck do you know when you're 9? Not much. But boy you can be convinced otherwise.

There were only 2 Ukrainian boys in my grade at Ukrainian school: Roman and Oleh (see Arson-io Hall Post for more on Oleh and be aware that Danylo didn't join our class until much later). I wouldn't even dare consider the older boys (scary! they might try to touch me!) so it was between those two. Roman was great. Great in that he was so easy to make fun of. This boy literally wore sweatpants every day of his life. I remember in Grade 8 he wore jeans and we all got excited. It was a big day. But then Olanna quickly pointed out that no, they weren't jeans, they were sweatpants with a jean print. I'm pretty sure someone pantsed him after that. We were awful to him, be he was just such a weirdo nerd that no girl considered him a potential mate. Oleh, on the other hand, was lazy and had beautiful, flopsy blond hair and the roundest face that just screamed 'Eastern Europe!' What sensible girl wouldn't want that? Well boy oh boy, I wanted it. I pined for him for 7 years. 7 YEARS! I waited, year after year, thinking that someday he would be my husband. Or something like that.

Anyhoo, when I was in Grade 10 he passed me a note during Ukrainian school. It said some asinine thing about the book we were reading like: "Man, 'Woodland Song' is so boring, right?" It was the sweetest thing I had ever read in my life. This was my chance. I had to be funny and cute and beautiful if I wanted to secure him as my lifemate. It was all down to the response note. I picked a special purple pen that I had gotten for my birthday and I wrote back "Yeah. I'd rather be dead. How was your day at regular, school?" And with that open-ended question I opened the gates to a multi-week back-and-forth-note jaunt. Every Wednesday night at Ukrainian school we'd pass notes, jokes, drawings. He sat in front of me and it felt so special. I didn't want to be a cheap whore so I waited for him to make the move. I mean... come on. He was passing me notes! Asking me things about my life! OBVIOUSLY he wanted to ask me out. It was the next step. And I waited with baited breath. I couldn't wait for Wednesday nights.

THEN. One day he passes me this little message "So... there's someone I really like." SHIT MAN. This was it. I could see my wedding dress. He's finally gonna tell me he likes me. "Is she in this class?" I ask coyly, smiling to myself. Ohh... I'm so coy, I'm such a catch, I think. I bet he's gonna kiss me after the class, before his mom picks him up.

"No," he responds, "but she's Ukrainian. Guess who it is."

Well, then. I was now drowning inside myself, feeling like I was melting into my chair... into oblivion. I couldn't feel my hands. At that moment I knew I would die alone. While simultaneously thinking of horrible ways to kill myself, I kept up my funny/cute demeanor and listed off every single Ukrainian person I could think of (boys included). When none of them fit the bill, I looked up at our teacher, Fr. Peter, who was teaching us religion, and it clicked. It was his daughter. MY BEST FRIEND. "Is it Mary?" I asked in disgust.

"Yeah. Isn't it obvious" he replied with his stupid fat face and ugly yellow hair. And then it became VERY obvious. All that time that he was asking me about things that Mary and I had done over the last few weeks, thinking he had a keen interest in my social life, he was just USING ME for this disgusting game knowing that I would tell her and build the bridge for their everlasting happiness!
After class I was supposed to walk home with my friend Vanessa, but I forced her to walk the extra block and a half to Mary's house. I walked in and RAN up to Mary's room. "We need to talk. ALONE" I said. So we locked ourselves in the bathroom while Vanessa and Mary's mom called up to us, asking us to come out. I remember this as being a very traumatizing situation, but I don't think that Mary felt the same, no offense to her. I cried, poured my heart out, telling her that this boy that I had loved had used me to get to HER. And she was only in Grade 8. What the hell.

Well on Friday, Mary had a special visit. After school, Oleh had walked all the way from his school to her house (a fair distance) and asked to speak with her. Just to be clear, they had probably only said about 5 things to each other in the many years they had known each other. So they were basically strangers. Her mom invited him in. Mary was doing something upstairs so she took her time coming down and he was left alone with her mom and two visitors: a prominent Ukrainian TV personality from the show Kontakt (who later was charged with child molestation) and some other weird priest, who were passing through Ottawa. It was in front of these three people that he asked Mary if she would go on a date with him on Saturday night. Mary, not knowing what to do and not being overly sensitive to my raw, demolished feelings, said yes. And since he asked her in front of her mother, she was told "Only if you go with a chaperone."

I got a call about 5 minutes after he left asking if I'd be willing to go on their date with them. I was upset and confused, but how much crying can you really do about such things? Plus, I was obviously curious about how it would go and this gave me a first-hand chance to spy on the date by BEING PART OF IT. We met at her house on Saturday and it was probably the most awkward thing in the world. He didn't want me to be there, I didn't want her to be there and she just felt weird about the whole thing and didn't really like him to begin with but was curious that he was interested in her. It was winter so we walked along the canal to the mall downtown and I was basically the only one talking. I was bent on showing him that I was WAY more fun than Mary and was still hoping that maybe he'd fall in love with me because, hey, it's almost like he and I were on a date, right? Except that the person he was in love with was accompanying us. Also, she had boobs, which I think trumped any joke or tight shirt I was trying to impress him with.

Nothing happened on the date. He held her hand once when he insisted that we climb up the canal wall instead of taking the stairs about 25 feet away and helped hoist her up, (which was obviously his big 'move'). I climbed up myself without his help, not that he offered. Mary remembers feeling that it was an 'erotic' moment for her when she touched his hand but then she was quickly disgusted (child of a priest... what do you expect?). The stores at the mall were all closed so I tried to convince them we should climb up the escalator the wrong way for fun but they weren't having any of it cause they were both so nervous about impressing each other that they'd rather sit in silence. So we went back to her place and read girly magazines and no one talked and then he left. When he asked her out again three days later she lied and said she wasn't allowed to date and that was that.

I guess it made me realize that he wasn't that great. I mean, the date sucked and he was boring. I guess I had really only liked him on paper, as many of us do, until we get to know the other person and what they truly have to offer. Whatever. You win some you lose some, you go on traumatic dates with your best friend and the love of your life and you survive.

Here's to love!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Cats are way better than catcalls.

Man. Some girls get cat-called all the time when they are walknig down the street. I guess they are just super hot or something. I just don't get it.

Today, I was riding my bike to the library in the bike lane, thinking about videos I could make about my cats when this guy leans out of the passenger window of his cargo van and yells:

"You're slow!"

My quick-witted response to this was:

"WHAT? ... oh..."

Then they passed me again and kept yelling "WHAT?! ... WHAT?!"

At least they didn't tell me I was ugly. Though they basically implied it. Awww phooey!

PS: Doesn't this "girl" kind of look a little bit like me if I was a man? Pretty much.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Sophia Through the Looking Glasses

IT’S SUMMER TIME. It’s that time of year when you might consider going to an amusement park to feel the thrill of life again. Here’s an amusing little story about a time when my brother and I were stuck at an amusement park in Maryland (with some silly pictures of random people on roller coasters):

During my high school years my dad toyed with the idea of moving to Washington. He started a school of Theology in Ottawa and was considering moving it there (this story is getting pretty exciting, right?!?). So we went to Washington where he had a lot of boring meetings with boring people. Going to the JP2 Center (aka: Pope John Paul II Cultural Center) was just not cutting it for us entertainment-wise, so my dad figured that he could unload us at a Six Flags Amusement Park in Maryland for an entire day. Alex (my brother) and I didn’t have any choice in the matter so we went. My parents found coupons that would give us admission for $10.00 each. They gave us $80.00 thinking this would be plenty for admission, lunch and dinner and said they’d be back at 10pm when the park closed. Off they went!

We got to the ticket booth and realized that our coupons were expired. The admission was actually $25.00 each, which, with tax left us with only $20.00 for the rest of the day. This was pre-cell phones so we couldn’t call our parents to come back and give us more money. Whatever. $20.00 seemed like it could potentially be enough. Unless you are a stupid idiot and buy a funnel cake for yourself when your sister is in the bathroom 2 minutes after you get into the park, which is what my brother did. So now we were down to $13.00 for the whole day, and it was only 10am.

After the funnel cake fiasco, we decide to go on the one and only water ride. My logic was that we would get wet, but the summertime sun would dry us off and it would be no big deal. We got on the ride and got wet. Soaked. Wet running shoes are the worst thing ever. Then the temperature dropped from 30 degrees to 10, and of course… we didn’t have any jackets.

Our second ride… BOY OH BOY… it looked amazing. It was one of those old-timey, rickety roller coasters that looked like it had been built in 1910 and sounded like it was collapsing underneath you. I’m scared to death of this thing, but we get into the last car and sit and wait while everyone is pulling down their safety rails. From the long line of cars ahead, you could see this park employee leaning over and saying something to everyone:


He kept droning on and on to each car, one by on, coming closer to us. He was a spindly old black man with a thick Maryland accent. He comes up to us and leans over:

“T’sake ovhh…yah glehhhhhhhhhssssssisssssss…” he says slowly. I look at him. He looks back: “Tsake ovhh yah glehhhhhhhhhssssssisssssss”. I still don’t understand him, so I just turn away and stare ahead. He gets right up in my face and says it again: “T’sake ovhh………yah glehhhhhhhhhssssssisssssss…” The ride stars moving…slowly. I don’t know what this man is saying but it’s freaking me out. Then he starts yelling at me: “Tsake ovhh yah glehhhhhhhhhssssssisssssss!!!! Tsake ovhh yah glehhhhhhhhhssssssisssssss!!?!!?!?!” And now he’s running beside us! This crazy, angry, black man is yelling at me and I am terrified. “T'SAKE OVHH YAH GLEHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then I figure it out. TAKE OFF YOUR GLASSES. In a crazed panic (the ride has started to take off) I take my glasses off and throw them over the side. I look over at my brother and say “what did you do with your glasses?!?”. He opens up his hand and shows them to me. “I’m holding them you idiot.” Needless to say my glasses were not in the best condition when I found them. The arms were completely bent down where someone had stepped on them. I straightened one arm, but the other just snapped off. I didn’t want to break them any more so we decided to get a locker to keep them for the day. It cost $4.00 to rent one, and $1.00 everytime you wanted to open it. Now we were down to $7.00.

I’m blind without my glasses and so is Alex. After a lot of yelling, I put my trust in him and he lead me over to the other side of the park where the more exciting rides were. Then he yells “SHIT.” One of the lenses from his glasses had randomly popped out and he had stepped on it. This is a fucking nightmare. So we decide to go back to the locker and put his glasses in there too. Now we are both blind and wet and walking around and it is fucking CRAZY. We keep bumping into people, who in turn get mad at us, and we have no idea where we are going. Unless we hold hands, we kept losing each other because I can’t see him and if he turns left I loose him in the crowd of bright summer t-shirts and khaki shorts. And I am NOT holding his hand. So we somehow get back to the locker and pull out his glasses with the one lens. We now only have $6.00 left for the rest of the day. If this was a movie, you'd probably see us both overcoming the odds and becoming the best of friends, riding on one of those magical carousels together, thinking that all of this had been put in place by fate to make us stronger siblings. But instead we were two angry people hating each other more and more by the minute in a place that was designed for happiness.

The rest of the day was spent fighting over the one-lensed-glasses, going back and forth. We looked like a couple of retards. He would take the broken glasses, look at a sign and say, “Let’s go there” then I would grab the glasses from him and say “Where?” and he would point somewhere and then we’d both get confused cause only one of us could see through one eyeball at a time. It was ridiculous! Also, we only had 6 bucks. We were starving. Hot dogs were $3.00 each, which we could afford, but we needed to have $1.00 to get my glasses out of the locker at the end of the night, so we couldn’t each have a hot dog. And being the loving siblings that we were we wouldn’t agree to share one. Instead we got a box of Tiny Tim’s donuts for $5.00 that made us nauseous.

We finally found one ride that we really liked. The wait was basically an hour each time you wanted to ride the 3 minute thing. Somehow, in my brother’s blindness, he had bumped into a garbage can that was blocking the handicap entrance. It was around the side where no one was watching and we figured out that if we went through the garbage can hole and jumped a railing we could get on the ride without the wait. So we did this about 10 times until a security guard caught us. He yelled at us, and I couldn’t see where he was coming from so I jumped down and fell onto the garbage can and it spilled all over my legs. Then we ran off into the dark.

The park ended up closing at 9pm, not 10, and our parents didn’t show up until 11. We were the only people waiting in the parking lot for two hours besides a huge, 20-person Indian family that had also been given the wrong pick-up time and were playing a massive game of kick the can with a can of pepsi. Eventually their Winnebago showed up and we were by ourselves. I'm pretty sure that's when we started crying. When our parents finally came, they were so tired they could care less that we were A) still wet, B) very cold and getting sick, C) starving or D) that I smelled like garbage. My mom said “You spent all of the $80.00?!? That was supposed to be safety money!!! I didn’t think you’d spend it all!!!” And my dad said “For God’s sakes… where are we going to find a welder in DC!?!” Anywhoo… that park was ridiculous. Needless to say, I was not amused…

But THIS is amusing (It gets good after the first minute):!

Also, this is the crap roller coaster I broke my glasses on: The tag line is : "Experience the Terror of Timber." Piece of shit.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Arson-io Hall

Sometimes, before people get really annoyed and tired of me, they will tell me I am “On fire!” cause I’m just throwin’ great jokes out left and right all over their faces.

Well one time, I was NOT on fire, but I was almost arrested for arson.

As a good Ukrainian girl, I had to abide by my parents and go to Ukrainian school for 7 years. And it was like real school. We had History, Language (which is like English… except you learn how to conjugate crazy words in weird ways), Culture, Religion and Literature. These were all taught by the parents of kids in the Ukrainian community or by old, newly immigrated Ukrainians that couldn’t get real jobs. My friend Marika K’s dad fell into both of these categories and taught the “Culture” class and would try to explain things like how pottery was made in 3000 BC by some nomad Ukrainian tribe. To show our appreciation for his vast knowledge of our great tradition we would pretend to die, one by one, and keel over onto the floor from our desks while groaning in pain (my idea of a great joke!). Otherwise we’d throw tiny scraps of paper onto his back while he was turned around at the chalkboard and we’d see who could get the most on him. Marika K would always be the loser in that game cause she was a pussy and didn’t want to throw garbage onto her dad.

In elementary school we went to school on Saturday mornings, but once you got to grade 9 you went on Wednesday nights (informative!). When all the years of schooling were done we had to give an oral exam to graduate. This sounds easy, but you basically had to have 5 possible 10 page essays ready in your brain for each boring subject, IN UKRAINIAN, and the teachers would interject and ask you things and you had to be able to talk about this crazy shit like you actually knew it. So I passed, obviously, cause I’m fucking awesome and I totally cheated on this one thing but whatever cause then I got a 94% and it counts for an OAC credit so I got a super high average when I graduated high school even though I got a 54% in Finite Math. DIS.

So after the test was done I was all excited cause no one had realized that I had totally duped all the teachers. These two boys in my class, Oleh and Danylo, were waiting outside. They had already done their tests, so I asked them if they wanted to go to the corner store to get some celebratory candy. And they were like “yeah”.

So we went outside and around the school. The corner store was a half block away and you had to cross the back basketball court to get across the field. As we were walking across, Oleh tells us to stop. He’s holding his notes (2 pieces of paper with scribbling on it) and tells us he’s going to burn them with the lighter his sister brought back for him from her band trip to Paris. Danylo, the other kid, is like “Yeah man. Awesome. Burn that shit. It's gonna be so great”. And I’m like “What? That’s fucking stupid. Don’t do that. Save them and sell them to a kid that has to take the test next year. Come on you douchebags, lets get this candy!!!” But it was obviously 2 against 1 so he lit the two pieces of paper on fire. They slowly burned about 1/3 of the way down when Oleh got bored of it so he dropped them into a puddle on the ground. We made sure it was out and went our merry way. No harm done.

EXCEPT- when we got back to the school there was a police car outside. When we got into class the head Ukrainian teacher, the principal of the school and a police officer were standing at the head of the class. “Who started the fire” the principal yelled. Who was it?!?

So, I’m obviously thinking this is bullshit and there is obviously a misunderstanding, and I tell them what happened. This makes the boys mad so they tell the teachers that it was all my idea. And the police guy tells me that they are going to give us each a fine for minor arson and that the school board has been notified and they are considering shutting down the entire Ukrainian school program. Great. This has obviously gotten way out of hand, so I tell them that I really had nothing to do with it and that I just wanted to go get candy and that I don’t even LIKE these guys, that they were just the only ones around to go with me and that I told them that their idea was fucking stupid…but no one believed me...

So, long story short, I had to write a letter to the Ottawa/Carlton schoolboard apologizing for my actions, a letter to the Heritage minister in charge of the ethnic school programs for the region, and a letter to my Ukrainian school principal to go in my "permanent file". And then I got in a really big fight with Danylo’s dad because he thought that his son was innocent and that I was marring his family name.

Luckily we didn’t have to pay any fines, but I did have to pay the price of INJUSTICE!

If you, for some reason, want to learn more about ancient Ukrainain pottery, go here and LEARN.:

Oh, and PS: I was the valedectorian of my year at Ukrainian school. On Fire!!!!!!!!!!

Remember this song:

Thursday, June 3, 2010


So this one time a few summers ago, I got a weird phone call out of the blue from some random asshole I don't know. I had no idea who he was, and still don't. Here's a long (and maybe boring) detailed account of that conversation. I was unemployed and, after waking up at 1pm, I spent the afternoon talking to Jonathan (my cat) so I was pretty out of it when I got this call and just thought "fuck it... this is better than talking to Jonathan cause he's getting boring" (sorry Jonathan). It's basically word for word from what I can remember so just be aware that I am sitting on my bed in my pajamas bullshitting through all of this:

I picked up the phone. It's an unlisted number. I don't know who is calling me (I’m in red, he’s in blue):


“Hey, Sophia.”

“Hey…how’s… it … going?” (So far I still don’t know who this is. I don’t recognize the voice, but maybe I’ll figure it out in a bit. The guy on the line obviously knows me. He knows my name.)

“It’s going good. Real good. Ya know, just dickin’ around. No big deal. Gettin’ shit done. So listen, I was just wondering if I could ask you a favour.”

“Umm… sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Les. Anyways, so I put in this application for a job and I’m wondering if I can use you as a reference?”

“Umm, yeah, maybe… sorry,... WHO is this?”

“It’s Les! Les from Capri?! Come on Sophia, what are you having a brainfart or something? Jeez. Who is this? Haha… I can’t believe it. Your fuckin' crackin' me up”

So… Just to be clear, I have NEVER met anyone by the name of Les. Nor do I know anyone that has ever worked at “Capri” which I assume is Capri Films or something. So basically, I don’t know who the fuck this is, but he seems to really know me and thinks that I am, like, his best friend or something. He then goes on about a 'Rachel' that I am also aparently supposed to know… Anyways, it’s getting a bit weird. So then I start thinking that maybe I DO know this person and maybe I’ve just blocked him out from my memory for some reason and maybe I really am having a “brainfart” (his words) and I’m just being really rude by not acknowledging him. Actually HE is becoming more rude by the minute and I can’t seem to convince him that I don’t know him. Plus he got my phone number from somewhere, so what the fuck is going on?!? A normal person might have thought “I’m just going to tell this guy that I don’t know him and hang up” but no… I say:

“Cool. Glad to hear Rachel’s doing well.”

“Yeah, so anyways, fuck Rachel. But yeah...I applied to this job at Starz Media and I gave them your number so the guy might call. He’s probably not gonna call. I’m like almost 100 percent sure he’s not gonna call cause my interview went really fucking great so he’s probably not gonna have to check up on me or nothing, but if he for some reason does call, ya know… with their company policy or something, just give them a good reference for me. Cool?”


“So like, tell them I’m fuckin’ awesome and shit and a rockstar and that I’m gonna fuckin blow them out of the water if they hire me and shit. Tell them that, okay? Just don’t fuck it up. Tell ‘em I’m good, okay?”


“Okay? Good. Alright, well good then. So I guess I’ll see you later. Thanks. I’ll tell Rachel you said hi.”

“Yeah. Do that. Okay bye ...Les…”

“See ya, Sophia.”

And then I hang up. And I sit there thinking about everyone I’ve ever met and trying to place this guy. WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?

The phone rings again. Out of habit I pick it up without looking at the caller ID, still in a daze.


“Hello, is this Sophia?”

“Uhh… yes. Yes it is”

“Hello, my name is Walter, I’m head of HR from Starz Media. I’m just calling about a former employee of yours, a Les Williams”

Oh fuck. It’s the fucking guy. From the job interview. Fuck. What do I do?Well, fuck it… might as well just go with it.

“Yes. Les. umm... yeah... I hear you’ve had an interview with him. How did it go?”

“Oh fairly well. He’s a bit of a character, but he seems to have the credentials. Now, we were just wondering if you could tell us a little bit more about him and what his duties entailed at Capri?”

“Yes, well… what did he tell you about his former employment? Just curious to see how former employees look back at the experience, heh…heh…”

“Well he said he quite enjoyed working there. You were his… Project Manager, it says here?

“Yes. Yes I was. Indeed. Project Manager. Managed a lot of projects.”

“Oh, which ones?”

“Oh.. you know… this and that… here and there… hard to remember them all, but yes. SO, back to Les. He’s quite a guy.”

“Yes, so how was he in the work place.”

“Well he was punctual. And always finished his projects on time. The projects that I was managing. You know.”

“Oh, so he had a creative hand on the projects? I thought he was just a PA?”

“Well yes, of course. He was just a PA, but you know… we at Capri like to give people we trust more responsibilities.”

“So what shows did he have a creative input on?”

“Oh, well… he didn’t really, umm… I mean he brought us coffee and sometimes he would make it flavoured. Hazelnut Vanilla. Or Something… That kind of thing…creative you know. But also he made sure the paperwork was organized and all. Just general stuff.

“Right, and what about his character?”

At this point I’m getting a little tired of this, but I’ve been going so far, I can’t stop know. So I figure, Fuck you Les.

“His Character… well… sometimes he’s a bit much. A little aggressive if you ask me. Sometimes he just doesn’t listen and keeps talking. And he’s a bit over-eager. You know how it is when you’re just starting out. Trying to get your hands into everything and get ahead in the business.

“Yeah, I remember those days… haha… been awhile hasn’t it?”

“Yes. I know I’m over it. It’s funny how kids can be so excited, then you do it for 25 years and it’s just another day on another job.”

“I hear you. I definitely hear you. So are you still at Capri?”

“Me? Oh… uh… no… it’s… you know… it’s been tough with this recession. They had to let a lot of the senior staff go because we weren’t getting enough new projects. But not a problem. I’m just taking it easy. Enjoying my time off with my kids.”

“Oh, that’s good. How many kids do you have?”

“Two. A girl and a boy. 7 & 9.”

“It’s good to have some time off during those formative years. Are you going on any trips this summer”

“Yes.. I think probably to the east coast. My husband’s family is out there, so, you know. It’ll be nice to be back there.”

“Oh! My wife’s too! That’s great. I would kill to have some vacation time this summer. Well listen, It’s been a pleasure talking to you and I hope you find some work sometime soon. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. All the best.”

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine. Take care.”

And that was that. I had just bullshitted through two conversations with complete strangers and I think it went pretty well.

The phone rings again. Walter is calling me back. I can’t do this a third time so I let it go to voicemail. Here’s his message:

“Hi Sophia, it’s Walter from Starz Animation again. So great talking to you earlier. I just really appreciated your honestly. It’s rare to find someone that gives an honest reference. I don’t think we’ll be hiring Les for the position after all. But, I was just thinking about your lack of work and realized that we need someone, a project manager actually, for a new show we are starting in a month. I don’t know if it conflicts with your vacation, and I know it isn’t as exciting as film, but animation has its benefits and well, give me a call and we can discuss. We need someone with your years of experience. Thanks and take care!”

Obviously I couldn’t take the job because he’d figure out that I’m not in my 50’s with two kids and a husband, and he’d easily find out that I didn’t actually work at Capri EVER so, shucks. Would have loved to have had the job. Sometimes honesty does pays off. Except when it doesn't get you any money. Then it doesn't pay at all.

A regular day at one of my previous jobs.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

My favourite living Baboon!

Probably the worst thing about my Grandma is that she spits on you a lot when she talks cause she lost her teeth in the war. So annoying! Thanks for nothing Grandma!
(That's her in the top right corner of the photo.)

Hair Today, No Man Tomorrow:

When I was 7, my Grandma (aka Babunia in Ukrainian, or as my brother and I lovingly refer to her: Baboon) was babysitting us and she was telling me some random story about God knows what while preparing dinner. But, I wasn't in the same room as her. I was in the bathroom around the corner brushing my hair because five minutes prior she had told me I looked homeless and that my hair was "ughhhh, I don't know, not good cut".

Usually it doesn't matter if you are in the same room as her while she tells you her stories as she doesn't normally require a response to anything because she just talks endlessly about anything and everything and could care less about what you have to say (I know I sound mean, but she honestly DOESN'T STOP), but this time she kept asking me something and I couldn't hear her. So, she told me to come into the kitchen.

I went in and continued to brush my hair while she told me some story about how my uncle George fell off the refrigerator or something when he was three and how I should probably not let my 4-year old brother go on the refrigerator. Thanks. Good advice. Then she asked me to hand her the potatoes, so I put my brush down onto the table and handed her the bowl.

All of a sudden she looked over at the hair brush sitting on the table, then at me, and with sheer disgust and conviction she says to me, her 7-year old granddaughter, "Keep that up and you'll never have a husband."

Old People! Good stuff... Guess I'll never have one of these guys!


High Schools = Not Cools

So, there's a high school across the street from my house. Since I've been 'working for the government' these past few months, I've spent a lot of time at my house 'enjoying' the company of these lovely teenagers. Here's a Pro/Con list about them:

(I wrote it down real quick on a pad of paper. Just kidding! It's just the popular font 'comic sans' which only gives the illusion of handwriting. Surprise! Also, I have put exclamation marks on the pros because they are positive and serious periods on the cons because it means I mean business! I mean... I mean business. Also there's a dynamic, slanted separation line because, hey! Let's have some fun!)
Click on the list to make it bigger.

Okay, so they are all just Cons (which is what these children will all grow up to be anyways! DIS.) but whatever...

Here are photos of me vs them. I feel like I would win.