85% Cocoa

I usually try to avoid the downstairs bathroom at work, only using it in dire circumstances or when the mall is dead (usually Monday to Wednesday in the morning or on Saturdays before work). I've mentioned it before but dirty bathrooms and kitchen sick me out and I'm very ritualistic (read: anal-retentive - no pun intended) about their use.

In busier times, I'll make the trek up to the third floor if only because I prefer to pee in peace, and it smells better up there (weak gag-reflex). The third floor is supposed to be closed to the general public, but I'm above reproach.

Friday, at around pm, I made the mistake of assuming that since the mall was relatively quiet, that the bathroom would be relatively clean but that was not the case. I rounded the corner only to be met with a line - at least it didn't smell like a baby's soiled diaper but I hate busy bathrooms. Going to the bathroom is a rather leisurely experience, and I don't like being rushed. There was one stall that was rather ominously unused and the woman ahead of me confidently strolled in, only to be seen slinking out seconds later completely aghast - I don't even want to begin to speculate. Another stall quickly opened up and I moved up in line.

The next stall that opened up was my least favourite, the one directly in the middle of all the action. I didn't really want to use it but I'd already waited in line, and the reason I was in that bathroom in the first place is because I was pressed for time. A girl, slightly younger than me, emerged and casually washed her hands subconsciously fixing her makeup in the bathroom mirror. I took about two steps into the bathroom and my eyes fell to the bowl. In it, clinging precariously to the walls, were two ice cream scoop-sized balls of poop that were so dark they resembled an 85% cocoa chocolate bar.

I muttered a few choice swear words and booked it out of the bathroom. At this point I really needed to pee and I was running out of time so I ran up three flights of stairs, fighting the urge to puke. Once I returned to work, 15 minutes later, I relayed this experience to my co-workers who were equally horrified. I expressed concern that this person could just make a mess in a busy bathroom and exit the stall nonchalantly as if nothing was wrong. I understand that the toilets in that bathroom are flawed and have an unnaturally long shelf-to-bowl ratio that frequently causes toilet paper to stick, but still.

Then, I admitted that if that had been me, I either would have wrapped my hand in about a rolls-worth of toilet paper and nudged it free, or stayed in the stall until the coast was clear. A few nodded in agreement, except for the Pansy who was absolutely appalled. I tried reasoning with her that she picked up the dog's poop and that it's not like it would be with my bare hands, but she wasn't having any of it and we left it at an impasse.

On the Internet

Obviously ny internet connection chooses to go down after I've vowed to post every day...

Moot

Preface: In honour of NaBloPoMo I'm going to be posting daily until the end of November, at which point I'll resume my haphazard posting schedule. If you're new and have discovered my blog via the randomizer, welcome! Feel free to catch up by reading the archives, and if necessary, refer to the cast of characters.

I sent The Engineer a message yesterday:

"Just so you know, Conrad and Nancy finally had sex, so we're in the clear"

because we had made an agreement last year around the end of Season 2 that stipulated that we could start seeing each other (and by default sleeping together) again if the two characters from Weeds consummated their relationship. I only really made the deal because I knew I would win (or lose depending on your perspective) but since I didn't really want to get back together, I counted it in the victory column.

It's been over a month since we last talked, mostly because some information came to light and I didn't really know how to deal with it without both incriminating myself (and looking batshit crazy in the process due to the questionable provenance of said information) and flying off the handle, so I just ignored my instincts and poured my rage out onto the treadmill. It worked for a while, but it was just a temporary fix (that makes my knees hurt). I can't really sleep and it's been like that for a couple of days now, meaning that it's time to break the silence.

I want to talk to him, but I don't really know what I'd say. So for now, I leave the ball in his court as I formulate some sort of cohesive script to present in an off the cuff manner. It's a moot point anyways, but I just wanted to start a dialogue, because I know he won't let me have the last word, that's just not who he is.

You Can Take the Girl Out of the Ghetto

...but that still doesn't mean you're immune from crime. I popped into the gym for a run and some free weights only to find the TV missing in action. Not a huge deal since I don't work out with the TV on, but odd nonetheless. 45 minutes and three phone calls later, my workout is once again interrupted, this time by the arrival of D (from the management company) with the cops.

It seems the mysterious disappearance has more to do with foul-play and less to do with renovations.

The sad thing is, that everyone who lives in my condo could easily afford to buy a new TV if necessary, so I just don't get it...

Analogies and Not So Bedtime Stories

I don't exactly know how we got on the subject but somehow over the course of the night we started talking about bestiality. I think it was because she said some sort of sex act didn't count and I jokingly asked her if she though that having sex exclusively with animals made you a virgin, and she said yes (I disagreed). I pressed on and asked why, and she replied simply that it didn't count.

This launched a huge philosophical discussion that ended with a burst of laughter and my scenario

"Well what if a horse rapes you? Is that the same thing as a tree falling in a forest?"

Apparently it is.

Then that lead to a discussion about bestiality vs. other sexual fetishes/disfunctions etc. and I had to vocalize my qualms with some of her preferences in the bedroom.

Open mouth, insert foot

On personal upkeep

Airquote: What happened to your hair?
The Pansy: I got a haircut
Airquote: (recovering quickly) It looks nice
Team Gingerbread: Good one

On music

Airquote: Britney Spears is the epitome of white trash - she eats cheetos, walks around barefoot, and gets knocked up!

Awkward Moment of the Week

This girl I went to high school with sent me a message on Facebook regarding our relationship in high school


My possible responses:

1. Did I? I honestly can't remember because that was six years ago!

2. Uh, you were weird - but seriously it's cool. Water under the bridge

3. Not just weird, but awkward too

4. Uh (runs away from computer and ignores message)

5. Well, you kinda were but not in a bad way - I don't think anyone could ever forget you. Besides, I'm kind of a jerk store a lot of the time so it's no biggie.

I think I'm going to say #5...

Boyz 'n' the hood

Just another Tuesday night, hmmm?

I'm on my way home with Hawaiian Delight and Philly, on what could only be described as the better of the two buses we can take home at that hour when on walk two very drunk and lecherous guys. At first we don't really notice because for the most part, they've kept to themselves and we just catch up on old times and talk about shoes we're excited about next season since we're all shoe-obsessed.

The visibly drunker of the pair uses our animated excuse as an opportunity to lean over Philly and tell him (and the rest of us) "to just shut up, and keep our voices down". We're all semi-surprised and weirded out but we comply, it's a long bus ride home and it's not really worth either getting kicked off the bus or into a fight with someone who's got nothing to lose.

We all just listen to our iPods and glance back and forth occasionally. The drunk guy slurs something at one of his friends and furtively glancing in our direction whilst making obscene hand gestures, pausing briefly only to hit on me and drink more alcohol kindly provided by his friend, much to my disgust.

Sufficiently weirded out, we opted to get off one stop early and stopped for some food only to encounter a homeless man passed out on the floor of this establishment in a pool of his own vomit bleeding from both the mouth and nose.

Lovely. Paramedics were called and we ate our meal in shock, then continued on our way home.

The Great Boob Debate

Sexual Harassment Sundays@Work

Team Gingerbread: Will you finally admit that your boobs are way bigger than mine? Yours are like small honeydews and mine are like large oranges...
The Pansy: Whatever, our boobs are the same size!
Everyone else: (incredulous)

I got the impression that The Pansy still felt that we had the same sized boobs so I had to prove my point by having her try on a shirt that I had just tried on and then emerge from the changerooms to be judged by our coworkers who, by now, are now used to our theatrics.

It really never gets old, unlike your lady friend

The Archaeologist has confided in us about his lady problems/asked us to myspace stalk his lady friend in order to suss out our initial impressions of her.

Somehow along the course of our interrogations - it really was like 20 questions - it came to light that this lady friend in question was 30*. Really not a big deal, except that The Archaeologist is 22 (and still lives at home). I'm all for the older woman-younger man shenanigans, I only hope that when I'm thirty I have a man friend who is in his early twenties, but I'll pick on any perceived insecurity.

My new favourite game as of late has been to make fun of their age difference:

Team Gingerbread: Oh why did you rip that bartending school poster down?
The Archaeologist: Isn't it obvious (motioning towards the haggard poster)
Team Gingerbread: Oh, are you saving it for S so that she has something to do after retirement?

Team Gingerbread: Yeah, you should probably hit that before S goes through menopause.

The Archaeologist: Just you wait till tomorrow night when I get gnarly, and you'll see how long I can last!
Team Gingerbread: Save that for S why don't you?

and I think it's getting out of hand. TA is actually getting quite annoyed with the constant burns and subsequent high-fives. I think I'm just trying to get as much ribbing in before he leaves.

I suppose this is my little way of saying 'I'll miss you'

...either that or I'm a bitch.

*For the record I'm hard on any of my friends who engage in a may-december romance, regardless of gender.

"Pomegranate!"

Yesterday, we celebrated the return of the pomegranate juice blends at Starbucks, because we have no lives.

I'm half a Volvo shy of living in the suburbs.

I also managed to reveal that I had a pseudo-boyfriend (The Archaeologist's terminology, not mine) to my stepmom, who then informed me that she already knew.

"Is this the same boy with whom you were 'studying' (air quotes implied) with at 8 am that one morning?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Yeah, I've been a parent longer than you've been a bad liar"

Hypothetically speaking (of course)

What would you do in this situation? Leave your enlightened responses in the comments.

Say you had a certain friend (The Pansy) that has been crushing on another friend (The Gentle Giant - although the way he's been playing the situation you're beginning to reconsider 'friend' status) since forever and say she finally had the courage (read: an entire bottle of wine and gin&tonics in the hotel bathroom) to do something about it.

He follows her lead and the rest is history as they say. Keys are fetched, arrangements are made to split a cab home (although neither of them live even remotely close to each other - she later claims it's because she 'couldn't find us' - a total lie as all three of us had functioning cell phones on us), and it quickly becomes apparent that I may not be able to retrieve my jacket from her apartment - but sacrifices are sometimes made when friends really need to get ass. He tells her he wants to hang out a bit so they hit up the dance floor. She wants him to dance, he says he doesn't roll that way so she dances by herself but he quickly joins her. Hands are going everywhere, asses are being ground into laps and necks are being nuzzled.

He kisses her and then says "OK, lets go". They head outside and have a cigarette and he fills her in on 'the rules' against interoffice romances blah blah blah (insert more shit about him being a giant pussy here). "It could be our little secret" is her somewhat incoherent drunken response. He replies that people always find out and she replies that it shouldn't be a big deal if they just act like adults about this.

She proceeds to tell him that she thinks that 'he's so fucking hot' and he chalks this up to the fact that she's 'just drunk'. She rebuts that she, in fact, had thought so ever since the first day she met him, to which he replies 'that's rad'.

To be honest I didn't really assume anything about their liaison, as I hadn't really seen either them the entire night but I figured something would come of it (I'm hardly one to just to conclusions, but it seemed like the next logical step).

I continued to get my drunk on while they partied it up at the casino, with The Gentle Giant intermittently trying to peer pressure her into smoking a J with him (lame cubed!) and eventually making their way to a cab after 'his little good luck charm' wins him some money. She invites him to come over again, and he finds them a cab and he holds open the door for her, closing it behind her to get in on the other side. Although they are both in the back seat, they are not sitting next to each other but he tells her to 'come over here' and grabs her hand and holds it the rest of the ride home.

They pull in behind her apartment, and she hands to cabbie her credit card to cover their fare and he won't let her pay and tells her he's just going to head home, since he's really tired. She tells him that he can sleep at her place he says "no, I don't want it to happen like this". The Pansy gets her credit card back and slams the door in The Gentle Giant's face and storms into her apartment to call me and rehash.

It was super awkward the day after but things are back to normal after she kind of ambushed him (my suggestion) and reiterated that she wasn't just drunk (I gave her a bit of script for this one) and that she did in fact fancy him. He replied that he 'just couldn't do it' and that 'the whole secret thing just wasn't his style' and that was that, or so it seemed.

He's made it a point to 'coincidentally'* go on break at the same time as her for the past week and a half. The two days they didn't eat lunch together were flukes because the other one wasn't working that day. Each time he pretends to be surprised to see her in the food court (despite the fact that he's been eye-fucking her from the line at whatever place he's eating at that day - she caught his a eye a couple of times and he pretended to not see her) and accuses her of stalking him (Laguna Beach-style flirty fighting?) while inviting himself to sit down at her table and proceeds to eat lunch with her.

So what is a girl to do? What should her next move be? I personally think she shouldn't have to make the next move and that 'the ball is in his court'. Does she have a right to be mad (she wasn't mad at first but he's sending mixed messages. That and the fact that I revealed that both myself and another girl were kinda pissed about the way the The Gentle Giant is (not) dealing with the situation)? Should she get drunk and confront him? Also, (although this may not be his doing, because he was literally the last one to find out that she liked him more and more people have found out about her massive crush this week) even one of the other managers has teased her about her crush and seems to be ok with the concept of them hooking up.

Thoughts?

*And by 'coincidentally' I mean he actually did a looksee into our store to see if she was on break, an then quickly scampered into the food court several times already (at least 3 days in a row now).

The Husband Game: Redux

The background story

Team Gingerbread: Hey, look it's your husband!
The Pansy: Um, that's The Goth Girl's boyfriend dude...
Team Gingerbread: Oh, that's awkward. Thank God she didn't hear me...

Team Gingerbread: BarelyLegalBoy was trying to talk to you...
AirQuote: I was trying to be nonchalant
Team Gingerbread: Uh, you ran away. That's actually the opposite of nonchalant

"...and Potent Potables for $100, Alex!"

So I'm about to leave work and we're performing the perfunctory bag checks.

"Yo, look in my bag!" I call out to whoever is listening

"...and before you ask, yes that is a copy of Martha Stewart Living and a block of fudge in my bag" I spit out preemptively

"Ooh, fudge! Can I have some?" asks The Goth Girl

"Uh, no." I reply quickly

"Come on, I gave you juice" she pleads, "I love fudge"

"I know, but you don't want this, trust me..." I say as I try to reason with her, but she persists and I give in "Fine!"

"Ew! That is so gross!" "I think it's coating my mouth!" and "Whoever made that should be shot, then pissed on!" were just a few of the choice phrases that came out of her mouth as she quickly gulped down a 500mL bottle of water in the back room.

"Uh, who made that for you?" piped up The Pansy, quickly adding "Was it The Engineer?"

"Uh, no. I don't really want to have this conversation with you..." I trailed off

"Are you going to blog it - or tell me later?"

"Uh, no. That's not necessary. Ok, bye!" I yell as I trot out of the store to get tacos (not a metaphor)

In truth, I actually got the fudge from The Engineer's mom (well she gave it to him and he gave it to me). He doesn't like fudge (probably because he's only had his mom's terrible fudge, and has nothing good to compare it to - erroneously assuming that all fudge tastes like hot ass, which is not the case) and gave it to me because I heart fudge and I was stressed about exams and shit.

Moral of the story fudge (like pizza and sex) is not good even when it's really, really bad.

The King of Awkward

...but I still think he's cute.

The Producer: (exiting) Oh, hi. What's up?
Team Gingerbread: (holding up an empty bottle of Windex) I came to get some more of this
The Producer: Likely story
Team Gingerbread: No, you're right. I normally stroll around with an empty bottle. It's a good conversation starter. (rambling) Seriously, me and the Windex, we're tight. Windex is my homeboy (cringing - seriously, this is the best I could come up with?)
The Producer: (laughs)
The Producer: There's always an awkward silence when you come over here for stuff. It's like we had a one-night stand and have no idea how to act around each other.
Team Gingerbread: (stunned/thinking about what it would be like) - silence -
Team Gingerbread: Yeah... (awkward banter about our torrid affair ensues)

I was so flustered by this exchange - partly because the three girls he works with were standing a few feet away from us (eavesdropping), and partly because I've kinda been crushing on him and he's totally scene - that I totally over-analyzed the fuck out of [the conversation], and called a friend to rehash on the bus all the way home.

Lookin' Good

This guy casually strolled by the store yesterday in a Lakers-themed track suit with a stuffed tiger rocking horse casually tucked under his arm, as if to say "Oh, this old thing? Yeah, I'm just chillin' with my girl and helping her move stuff"

Totally random.

In other news, three of us were caught blatantly checking out this guy from the urban store down the hall - I'm talking mouths agape, head bobbing, full body check out here.

The second time he walked by the store, I got tricked into looking outside (I though I was supposed to be looking at something else) so while he was casually strolling down the steps, I was staring out into the hall all intensely and standing there with my mouth open looking hot (right!).

The third time he waved as he walked by with a smug smile on his face.

The one with the awkward conversation

That included (but was not limited to)

• The Archaeologist telling me that he waxes and was concerned about ingrown hairs (um, ew!)
• the fact that The Archaeologist is potentially involved with a girl who allegedly has a boyfriend that lives out of town (likely story, she's just not that into you dude)
• the 'Penis in the muffin' story, also courtesy of The Archaeologist
• The Archaeologist bitching about how he doesn't feel certain people are working enough (not my problem!/tell them, and not me)
  

The facts of life

When I came back from my break at work today, The Pansy told me a rather troubling story. It seems that one of our coworkers (The Cave Dweller) isn't exactly versed on the birds and the bees.

She had called in sick from work on the previous day, and upon being asked for further details it came to light that she had been feeling really nauseous and tired as of late. She told us that she had called her mother who had jokingly angrily questioned if she was pregnant to which she replied "Um, no I don't think so..."

Obviously The Pansy then asked her if she was sure.

Her answer astounded me.

"Well my boyfriend said that if he pulled out, I wouldn't get pregnant!"

(The Pansy and Team Gingerbread in the shrillest voices possible)

"Um, are you kidding me?!? You know that doesn't work right?"

"Uh well we've been doing it for 2 years and I haven't gotten pregnant so far..." The Cave Dweller rebutted.

"Uh, that doesn't really mean anything you know" and "Didn't you have sex ed in school?"

"Uh, no. We had it in grade 7 but I got kicked out of the class for laughing"

"Typical. This is the kind of stuff you cover you know!"

After about 10 to 20 minutes of sheer stupefaction we decided that we'd have to educate her ourselves. I didn't really think it was possible for people to not be completely informed about this stuff in this day and age, but apparently so.

I've always kind of joked about how this girl lives in a cave (she hadn't heard of myspace) but this is outrageous.

On sexual proclivities and non-dates

Overheard at work (by customers):

"Ok, so I slept with a dad...whose son was 4 years younger than me, so what?"

and

"How old do you think he is, 15?"

"Yeah about that, he's perfect for you"

"I might like them young but they have to at least be legal! Young & Legal are my two prerequisites."

because we're classy like that.

In other news, non-date #2 (aka. just friends) went down last night and included a rather chaste homework portion of the date, pizza and all three episodes of the new season of The O.C. - which I'm having a hard time getting into, but perhaps it was the company.

[Ed. We also managed to cram in the entire second season of Weeds without any hanky panky]

So far so good.

Sometimes my lack of resolve astounds me...

[Ed. 2 This is for The Pansy to distract her from saying 'I told you so']

Still fighting it

"I don't want to be in a relationship" I said.

Relationships take too much effort, and I'm lazy.

and yet somehow, here we are.

I have a non-date tonight with a certain gentleman, despite what The Pansy thinks ("Dude! You're so in a relationship!") we're just friends - for now at least.

In other (possibly) unrelated news, I finally went to the doctor for my insomnia because it's actually starting to affect my day to day life way more than usual.

The results, a government high; I got 30 mg of Oxazepam [Serax] (which made me so junk sick that I actually called my mom, we never talk, to see if this was normal - apparently it is, which means no more Serax for me) and 2 mg of my old standby Clonazepam [Klonopin].

and I'm still awake at 2:45 am and counting...

Conversations with The Archaeologist

The Pansy: Can I tell him who you like?
Team Gingerbread: (in a huffy tone) Fine, whatever!
The Archaeologist: Is it the black guy from the urban store? Because everyone likes him so that's a given...
Team Gingerbread: No, not quite
The Pansy: She thinks he's cute, but that's not it
The Archaeologist: Is it the new kid from two stores down?
Team Gingerbread: Which new kid, the festively plump one?
The Archaeologist: Yeah, that's him
Team Gingerbread: Isn't he only 16?
The Archaeologist: No, I'm thinking of the other one
Team Gingerbread: Well the 16-year-old is cute, but no.
The Archaeologist: (bitterly) It's not [redacted] is it?
The Pansy and Team Gingerbread laugh
Team Gingerbread: Uh, no. That's more her scene, pointing at The Pansy, who shrugs it off.
Team Gingerbread: No, it's the other guy from the urban store
The Archaeologist: Isn't he dating [one of the managers]?
Team Gingerbread: Um, we're not talking marriage here, I'm just saying I think he's cute. I'm still just looking from afar.
The Archaeologist: He is pretty good looking...
Team Gingerbread: [TA] I'm not having this conversation with you!
The Archaeologist: No, it's fine. I'm a metrosexual, I'm comfortable talking about this...
Team Gingerbread: Well, that's great, but I'm not

-scene-