Booze & Cigarettes

As per my usual morning routine, I've been up since the crack of dawn, going for a run and a bit of ellipticizing with a couple of weights thrown in for good measure. It took everything out of me, since Thursday was the last time I'd set foot in a gym.

I felt like all the Indian food I'd had last night (which didn't make me feel as sick as it normally does) was still sitting in my stomach just challenging me to push myself a little bit harder, I gagged but nothing came up.

I was crunched for time since I had to get back to my apartment to wait for the electricians, so I didn't get too crazy but I definitely felt the effects of a weekend filled with booze and cigarettes.

My room was beyond messy so I did a bit of cleaning before I hopped in the shower, even going so far as to vacuum the dinigh room, the front hall my room and do a quick sweep of my bathroom. There's nothing I hate more than looking like a slob to complete strangers.

On wonky immune systems

I've probably mentioned it before, but if not or you're a new reader, I am allergic to almost everything: dairy, the peel on apples, grass, birch trees, cats, dogs, melons, hopefully not wasps, (but I've only been stung once or twice and my arm swelled up to twice its size), hay, horses, etc.

My hand is really itchy today, probably another errant allergic reaction which is just par for the course this week. It seems that my eye just decided to swell up out of the blue on Monday night, thus putting a wrench in my plans - because I'm not a team player and can't entertain when one of my eyes in swollen shut, I need my depth perception!

It's probably related to my roommate's boyfriend's pet menagerie that sometimes makes an appearance when I'm not around. It just reminds me of the day when this stupid girl brought her cat on the bus in a carry-on metallic purple bag with a heart-shaped air vent and then sat down next to me.

My hand swelled up and got really red and itchy, there were hives and it was super. When did it become acceptable to tote cats around, it's not like they're missing out on anything when you leave them at home...

On solid food

I've been really sick for the past week or so (my standard once-a-year bout of tonsillitis/strep throat) that meant I was on a strict liquid diet because I could barely swallow my own saliva, let alone soup, smoothies or whathaveyou. Which really sucks because not only am I starving, I'm also dehydrated which makes for a rather unpleasant combination.

All of a sudden I was having hot flashes for real (menopause? - it's an inside joke more than anything else and definitely not to be repeated to my mother because as we all now know, menopause is a serious ailment and not a laughing matter) and finding myself short of breath on my three-floor trek to the nice washroom (I'm a germaphobe - but I don't believe in Purell either) so I kinda clued in that something was up. Also, I have zero interest in food anymore.

I still had to finish my conversation with The Engineer so I headed over to his place after I went shopping (I was too sick to go to school, but nothing keeps me from shopping, except sleet but that's where the internet comes in handy) and his first comment was "I think you have a problem" to which I was just like "Whaaa?" and he smiled and casually continued on with "Well, the last couple of times I've seen you you've been wearing sweaters, and I think you're addicted" but it's true, I love sweaters; the more grandfatherly, the better.

I explained to him it's because almost every other article of clothing that I own is dirty so I had to go shopping. And I had wanted this sweater forever but I never got around to buying it, so when I saw it on sale for 40% off I had to take it. Then I had to wait for The Pansy to finish up her classes for the day so I ended up buying a book to pass the time along with a smoothie for sustenance, and shampoo/conditioner because I was out.

Then The Pansy showed up and we made our way across the pedway to The Bay to pick up some mascara, because we're always arguing about who has the shorter lashes and her retort is always "It's just my amazing mascara! You should try it" so I bought it, and $30 later I must say I'm impressed.

I also bought some denim shoes, because I love denim - but not when it comes to jean jackets, shorts, or vests, and some black raw jeans from Sweden as well as a watch (that I've wanted for 2+ years, new mitts, because my old gloves were crazy small, and some WESC tees (limited, yes!) and a hoodie, because black-on-black is totally my steez right now.

Ed: I totally forgot about this purple Artful Dodger tee and the Dim Mak hoodie I'vea wanted for ages!!!

After I ran through my little list, I was totally out of breath and he called me a shop-a-holic which I couldn't really deny at this point and even my shopping partner in crime (a case of the pot calling the kettle black, no?) agrees.

We chatted briefly while we waited for the pizza, because I can't argue on an empty stomach, but I was feeling really sick and could barely eat more than two bites and one wing so I settled for carrot sticks. We talked it out started watching a movie but I was so tired that I just ended up spending the night, although no hanky-panky ensued (see: "I could barely swallow my own saliva").

I got very little sleep partly due to the hobo family reunion in the alley behind The Engineer's place and partly because my throat was quickly becoming so swollen and filled with phlegm that even talking was becoming an issue. I looked and sounded disgusting but The Engineer thought it was cute and wouldn't let me leave offering to make me tea and soup what seemed like every twenty minutes and because I was sick I found it to be rather endearing/cute instead of annoying/clingy.

Are you still with me? Good, because I almost forgot what the point of this post was:

That I'm no longer sick and I'm back on solid food, at least in theory. I'm still sick enough that coughing too hard will cause me to throw up but I can speak again (yay, more witty banter!). But my throat is still crazy sore all the time and I sound like a pack-a-day smoker when I wake up - hot.

"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"

Every sorority has its reputation

...and we're collectively known as the girls who don't put out. Which is fine by me, because we're also the fun party girls, and the surprisingly smart ones too, but it sucks for the boys that think we're loose just because we like to drink.

Last night we played a quick football game with the boys of Kappa Sigma which I had originally pegged to be a friendly pickup game but which actually turned into the mother fucking Super Bowl. There was yelling and I'm sure someone was near tears and it wasn't nearly as fun as I had made it seem. My team ended up losing by one touchdown.

We decided to hit up some frat houses after our game for some beer, there was a brief mention of quarters but we were hungry so we trotted across the street to the Phi Delt house and chowed down on free burgers and met some of their new rushes and after an extended recess we headed down the street to our former haunt, which had been bought out over the summer by a franchise of 'neighbourhood bars'.

At first we were sitting upstairs but we realized that we didn't really want to pay for all of our drinks that night so we moved downstairs even though that meant less seating for everyone.

One of our rushes kept casually pointing out guys she was digging and then I'd turn around and be all like 'Oh hey! It's James/Elliot/Paul or Todd (who stopped me and hugged me and asked if I remembered him - the answer was a regretful 'no, but I'd like to') she was pretty impressed that I had such hot friends but she declined my offer to introduce her.

One our our girls (The Christitute) spotted me for a pitcher because she was toting around a C-Note from selling some books earlier in the day which was just the beginning of the night. Once the pint glass was empty boys were offerning to top me off on a fairly regular basis and we floated between our table, the Phi Delt table (although some of them were ignoring us because of awkward hookup shenanigans) and the Delta Upsilon table after they showed up.

We vowed to close down the bar but we had been drinking heavily since about 8 (pm) and by 2 am we were ready to call it quits. I had assumed TC was going to be entertaining so I left her to her own devices and opted to leave with The Roadtrip Queen and Manitoba (our new roommate who may be rushing), but she left with us. When we got home we ended up finishing off TC's casserole and gossiping until The Drama Queen (another one of our new roommies who may be rushing. She's a drama student, not a bitch in case you're wondering about the name) got home and retiring shortly thereafter for some late-night booty call action.

I remembered this morning that one of the DU boys had asked me for my blog address so I'm assuming he's checking out what I wrote about him/his boys. I was still a little bit drunk when I woke up this morning so I'm going to drown my sorrows in coffee and cigarettes.

Really, I'm not high maintenance...

It has come to my attention that my self-proclaimed 'adorable quirks' are actually a manifestation of my ridiculously spoiled upbringing according to one Ms. Ah-bby who accompanied myself, The Christitute and Angela to Calgary for the Stampede a couple of weeks ago.

I'll admit it, I'm an only child, but you know what, I don't really think I was spoiled - by my parents at least; aunts, uncles and various other relatives don't really count because that's kind one of the perks of the job.

This all started on the Saturday morning before the pubcrawl, because there were 4 girls that needed to shower, and one bathroom in which to do it in. Because we're not like sorority girls in the movies, we all opted to take separate showers, and thus arises the first somewhat prissy move on my part.

I can't shower in a damp shower, the shower itself needs to be bone-dry before I'll even set foot in there, unless it's a dire emergency (I'm thinking like a "I need to neutralize some sort of acid on my skin"-type scenario here). It totally creeps me out, and I've always had an aversion to excessive moisture. To this day, I don't even like walking outside after it has rained, until it is dry.

I think originally, TC was supposed to shower first but she was a smidge hungover and over-tired so she kinda slept in, read: fell back asleep in her towel.

I eventually exit the shower and let Ah-bby know it's free, and proceed to check my email in just a towel.

"Do you want me to leave or something?" she asked quietly, obviously discomfitted a bit by her extreme proximity to my towel-clad self.

"Uh, no" I cautiously replied "Don't take this the wrong way, but I can't towel dry myself off either. I prefer to air-dry" I said in all seriousness.

"Uh huh" came her incredulous reply "Right"

"I'm not a priss" I exclaimed in what was probably my mostwhiny/needy voice ever.

Fast forward to breakfast, which TC's mom was kind enough to prepare for us so that we could prepare for the all-day drinking extravaganza that lay ahead of us.

TC's mom had made blueberry pancakes, breakfast sausages, eggs, and something else I think but I just grabbed a handful of blueberries, some sausages, and some eggs because I'm not very fond of pancakes (I'll eat them every once in a while, but they're not my favourite).

She kinda of looked at my plate and asked if I wanted something else, I told her I was fine, she offered a bagel, and I declined.

The TC pipes up from the backyard "Mom, [Gingerbread] only eats Montreal-style bagels" (which is very true, but it's no biggie, I really just wasn't in the mood for bread, and I really didn't need anymore prissy chips stacked against me - plus a bagel is your whole daily recommended intake of grains)

"What about toast" she prodded.

"Uh, ok. Do you have brown?" As I thought to myself "This definitely isn't helping my case any..."

I then lightly toasted my toast, because I prefer the bread to be lightly browned, and bit off all the crusts, but only because I eat them last for some reason...

...but now that I've tallied it up myself, I'm beginning to think that Ms. Ah-bby was right, although I'd describe myself as very particular. I don't expect people to do things for me in certain ways, I'm more than comfortable doing it myself. I don't usually pitch a fit if something's not exactly to my tastes either, I just like certain things done my way.

And I don't think I should have to change that, so there!

Homeless people have dietary concerns too

I forgot about this one exchange I had with a homeless man yesterday.

My supervisor for the promotion that I'm doing was micromanaging me so to spite her I gave samples exclusively to the homeless for a good half hour. I approached this one homeless guy and offered him a chocolate, he took it.

Two seconds later he's tapping me on the shoulder.

Hobo: What's in this?
Gingerbread: It'sa hazelnut truffle
Hobo: I can't eat this, I'm allergic to nuts
Gingerbread: (at a loss for words)

It's just funny, it never occured to me that he might have food allergies.

On the topic of nuts, I hate peanuts. I know that they are legumes, but I hate them nonetheless. I was pretty hungover on Thursday morning, so much so that I didn't go to class because I didn't want to risk throwing up along the way. I was sitting in the living room watching the View and Pancake decides that today is the day she's going to make peanut butter cookies.

Boo!

When I say I hate peanut butter, I actually mean I abhor peanuts and peanut products; always have for some reason. When I was a kid, I would refuse to ride in a car with someone who had just eaten peanut butter. To me, the smell of peanut butter is akin to the smell of vomit. I had to clean a peanut butter coated bowl the other day and I nearly threw up about four times.

Needless to say, the overpowering smell of peanut butter cookies combined with my hungover state resulted in me having to run to the bathroom, except that I forgot that the upstairs bathroom was still out of order. Seriously, how long does it take to fix things around here? I made it down to the downstairs bathroom with seconds to spare...and proceeded to miss the toilet entirely and puke all over the floor.

Alcohol: 1

Gingerbread: 0

Observations about our neighbours

The female neighbour doesn't seem to have a job, unless you count bossing around your Peurto Rican houseboy and toking away in the backyard while your child plays under a camper van (true story). Her husband is also similarly lacking in a job, although maybe he travels for work who knows, because we rarely see him (I'm talking wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line up).

They employ some sort of all night security team to guard their valuables, possibly due to their heightened paranoia from all the weed they smoke. I don't even think they walk their own dogs (I think it's just one dog now since the other appears to have either died, or is permanently confined to a kennel in the basement). There's also the matter of the two campers that are alternatingly always parked in their driveway. Methinks perhaps its a mobile meth den.

The most interesting part of the story is of course that despite the fact that they have this garage with garage doors on both sides and ample room for two cars (they own at least three, plus their staff have two cars), they choose to park their two most expensive vehicles on the street. On any given night, either the Jag or the Escalade are parked on the street, not even under a street light either. Who parks a Jaguar S Type-R on the street?!? Do you want your car to be vandalized/broken into. You live next door to a sorority house that gets pranked a lot. On any given night there are drunk university students on the prowl. We got our driveway repaved and for about three weeks there were large chunks of concrete sitting at the end of our driveway within a stone's throw from the parked Jag.

Maybe the reason they employ a security team is that the wife wouldn't even be able to run after the culprits since she's been pregnant for what seems like two years. She does have one child, although he hasn't been around as of late either. Her child is kind of like Will from Days since he hasn't aged in the 2+ years we've lived next door. I'm pretty sure it's a boy, but this is just speculation here.

Long story short, we're pretty sure our neighbours are drug smugglers or something of that nature.

conspiracy theorism is tiring work,

Misery loves me

...I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me (song lyrics, not an act of desperation).

Wow, I'm in a shitty mood today, and I actually just want to wallow in it. I'm kinda sorta being courted by this guy, and I'm just not feeling it. You're nice and all, but I just don't like you in that way. So when you obviously can't tell that I'm in a shitty mood and you try and crack wise with me, it just makes me angrier...and when you sidle up to me - you're just invading my personal space.

Maybe I should just be upfront with you about this, but I'm so much better at being a bitch; I've gotten pretty good at scaring people away.

I just got back from Vancourver and I'm already in need of another vacation. I'm so inexplicably anxious/stressed-the-fuck-out that I have a wicked case of heartburn. At this rate, I don't even feel like getting out of bed tomorrow, but I have class, work and a social engagement. Although I can probably skip out on that pretty early without anyone noticing.

Want to come to a pity party?

Hung Up

So I'm minding my own business in the Knowledge Common after I finished writing my exam and I hear someone's really loud cell phone go off. I look around because I only know of one person with that ringtone (Madonna's Hung Up) and who do I see? Waffle! I confront her and we laugh. I'm so bored and I have 1.5 hours to kill before work.


i'm out for now, team gingerbread

posted by team latte at 1:49 PM 0 comments links to this post
I wear my sexual practices on my Nalgene bottle...

Overheard at work:

Meghan (on the subject of eggs and placenta): I would never eat anything that just fell out of my vagina!

Gingerbread: What if it was a roasted duck?

Meghan: Well did it cook in there or was it just put in there?

Gingerbread (to two regular Thursday night patrons): It's really dead in there, I wouldn't pay cover...

Blonde: Well that's ok. I really love OASIS, and I love dancing! (bobs head to the music and runs off screaming)

I have an exam in 3 hours and instead of say, venturing into the campus bookstore to buy the book for this class (before you jump all over me for not having the book and trashing that girl that didn't have a coursepack in my gender class; I know we have a book for this class, I just never bought it. I've actually gone to all but two days for this class), I'm going to a tattoo parlour with Pancake. I've been meaning to get a consultation for a tattoo I've been wanting to get for years, and since I'm a giant baby, it's taken me as many years to work up the courage to do so.

In an attempt to distinguish my Nalgene from every other one out there I went to buy some stickers yesterday afternoon. I didn't really have anything in particular in mind and ended up buying two from a sunglasses company and I got one random. I didn't even really read it when I was in the store. I really like clear stickers with just the writing in colour, so I put my new Choda Sport Apparel sticker on, and show my handiwork to my roommates. I'm sitting there thinking about it and patting myself on the back for a job well done when it occurs to me what the term 'choda' means. Suddenly, I'm not feeling so smart. I'm exactly like my mom, which is scary; this is something that my mom would do (she once wanted to put a gay pride rainbow on the back of her car thinking that our neighbours just really liked rainbows). I'm pretty sure Choda Sport Apparel isn't a real company and I feel like a total douche.