Be Aggressive

Because I'm cheap, I refuse to pay $2 for the convenience of being able to take out money from another bank's ATM so I killed two birds with one stone and returned some library books on my way there - they're both within walking distance but I took the bus since I'm also lazy.

I got off the bus minutes later, I probably live around 10 blocks away from my bank, but it was my day off, and ambled to the cross walk. I probably could have made it across the road but that would have involved sprinting and that was a little too much exertion for my casual excursion. I slowed as I reached the edge of the curb and adjusted my bag, digging around for my iPod to change the song. I looked up because I sensed someone encroaching on my personal space only to find this aggro black dude standing just a little too close and mouthing something in my general direction.

I was a little startled but I really didn't feel like chatting (do I ever?) and quickly turned my gaze in the other direction - foolishly hoping that he would get the hint. I waited the obligatory 10 or so seconds and glanced sideways only to be met with his insistent gaze. Foiled again, I pretended to be looking for something in my bag (where is my Swiss Army knife when I need it?) as I casually turned up the volume on the iPod.

Then my aggressive black friend decides to turn his lurking up a notch and proceeds to talk (yelling, really) so loudly that I can actually make out what he's saying over my obnoxiously loud music (something about just wanting to talk with me, but maybe I'm not interested - gee, ya think?) as the light turns green ahead of me. I make a break for it and make it across the street in five quick strides as I'm left to wonder just what kind of woman succumbs to street-corner lotharios...

Ponycane - The Locksmith from Hell

The first time the lock jammed at work was sometime last summer, an isolated incident we thought as said lock worked after some sporadic tinkering and a little cleaning of the locking mechanism.

Until about November or December when it stopped working altogether once again. The store was open because we have two door and we simply posted a sign, blah, blah, blah but the second time it broke, a new locksmith came to fix it. We've cleverly nicknamed him Ponycane because he looks like Michael Bolton with a long blond ponytail instead of his infamous mullet, a cane, and about 30 pounds.

A bit of a lurker but he got the job done on time so who cares right?

Except the door kept breaking on almost a monthly basis from that point on, of course our locksmith friend is always the one who responds to our calls, no matter the time or day. Strange coincidence. It doesn't really help that we catch him staring at us longingly from behind the smudged pane of glass or that he's always trying to catch our eye.

He was supposed to actually replace the lock this time, so that we don't have to see him again, but he just opted to clean the lock out, drill holes in the ground (rather mysteriously) and carouse with his locksmith buddy who came over to lend a hand - and for what, so the door can break again in a months time, or so that Ponycane is ensured of at least one more encounter with the lovely ladies from our store...

"No, the pleasure's all mine"

Gross.

This has been the official week of the lurkers; it's as if they can smell that I'm newly single (of course in my commitment-phobe mind I was never really off the market, but I digress).

First there was the drunk guy on the bus on Tuesday, what an excellent way to cap off a really long day at work.

Then, there's the thug on the bus late Saturday night - because I was really in the mood to be hit on. I was so tired at that point that if he had said anything further to me, I would have probably cried.

and finally, there was the disabled guy with a walker at my bus stop on Monday - because apparently I give off approachable vibes when I'm listening to my iPod. Right. This guy was ballsy, I suppose because I've been told on numerous occasions that I'm not really the most approachable/accessible person under normal circumstances, so he gets points for that.

But seriously, I don't really want to chat with you, hence the removal of only one earbud when you approached me and appeared to be talking to me. The second there was a momentary laspe in conversation the earbud went back in again, only to have to take it out when you approached me once again to make sure I remembered your name (Brian). I was secretly hoping that we wouldn't be on the same bus because I had absolutely no interest in human interaction that early in the day.

Relief washed over me when your bus pulled up, and I made some half-hearted attempt at being pleasant and stated that "it was nice meeting you..." and then you were all like "No, really, the pleasure was all mine" in a really unnerving tone and you basically ruined my day.

Lurkers Anonymous

I was wearing my Harajuku Lovers sweater to work the other day because I had promised to wear it one day so that Cute 'n' Fresh could finally see the sweater that we always seem to talk about (because there is a matching watch - which I don't own).

The sweater is both totally atypical of my usual style and the type of thing that you can only get away with wearing once a month or so because people tend to remember it, so she had never crossed paths with me the other handful of times that I'd worn it.

I walked into work (late, I might add) and took off my coat only to be confronted by The Archaeologist who looked me up and down and then creepily said "You look good today. Like really good..."

A little perturbed, I went to the back room to get some blistex or cough drops and he leaned over and hugged me.

It's officially the last time I wear the sweater around him for a while.

Lurkers for hire

Because The Archaeologist cares what we think of his potential ladyfriend(s), he asked both myself and another one of our coworkers to lurk on his crushes myspace page and tell him what we thought (because we're both incredibly jaded and brutally honest).

He initially met her around Hallowe'en and she gave him her number but he was drunk out of his mind and forgot where he put it, only to find it months later in the 'pocket where you put a handkerchief' (aka. a pocket square, but whatevs).

He ran into her at the bar again and they chatted and he apologized for not calling her but he had lost her number, numbers were exchanged once again, blah blah blah.

The Archaeologist has a pretty shoddy track record with the ladies and borderline questionable taste (ahem, the manager at a competing skate shop - which, fyi, is probably against the rules) so when he told us she was attractive we intoned that 'we'd be the judges of that' and he then insisted that she looked like one of the models in the WESC catalogue (which is flase - they only look alike in the sense that both are women with blonde hair and blue eyes) and that we'd see for ourselves when she came in the next day.

But it seems asking for our opinions is like opening Pandora's box and once we get going, we just can't stop. It got to the point where he wanted us to stop but we couldn't and he had to excuse himself.

At least we warned him that we're total bitches and impossible to please...

I heart you

Ms. Sizzle is encouraging everyone to reveal their blog crush on Dec. 15th. This may be a day late but I finally figured it out.

(drum roll please)

and the winner is...Avatar over at Overworked & Underf*cked.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming

Stalkers 'R' Us

...I spent unfathomable amounts of time creeping on various people's (read: crushes) myspace/nexopia pages last night instead of studying.

I just though y'all should know that I'm officially sad.

That is all.

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.

Look away

So I have to walk by this African restaurant to get home now, and it seems that this creepy old guy has taken a liking to me.

At first he just followed me with his eyes, but today, he saw me approach, and actually came outside to watch me walk the final block home.

How terribly comforting - hopefully he doesn't get lippy.

That awkward [e]x-factor

So I had the good fortune of running into the 'love of my life' circa first year at the grocery store yesterday, dressed in my skate shop casual finest threads, clutching not one, but three! packages of bacon (it was on sale, and I'm a sucker for a deal, no matter how lame).

He, of course, looked fantastic, and was with a woman friend, I might as well have had a sign around my neck that read "I'm eating away my pain".

This is the guy that I had a brief rebound (his, not mine) dalliance with at the tail end of my first year in rez, and then it ended badly. I'm talking 'gets an honorary mention at the wedding'-type of embarrassing end to a pseudo-relationship here. Pretty much everyone who's heard the full version of the 'Dumpy Dave' story has ended up wincing, or on the ground gasping for air because they're laughing so hard.

That's officially the last time I stroll out of the house looking like a hot mess even if it's just a jaunt to the corner store.

Cooking with you - or I don't like you in that way part 2

The background story

Turns out skater guy from yesterday is also a vegan. I had pretty much been avoiding him since our awkward skate park chat yesterday

Skater Guy: So do you cook?
Gingerbread: (taken aback because this is totally out of the blue) Uh, yeah
Skater Guy: Cool, we should get together sometime and make some sweet vegan and vegetarian dishes
Gingerbread: (cringing) Yeah, that sounds like fun (Interior monologue - please don't look up my number in the work directory)

I also had to work cash/coat checkat my other job last night - coat check isn't exactly operation in the throes of summer, but whatevs. The show was mildly entertaining, but I always feel bad for artists when they get a poor turnout. Of course actually advertising for your show does wonders to the actual number of people who show up, but I digress. There was a ton of other stuff going on in Edmonton this weekend, including, but not limited to The Capital Exhibition and The Grand Prix, so loyalties were divided.

Last night at the bar pretty much cemented my decision to only take one shift a week next school year, because I've worked there for awhile (it'll be 3 years mid-August) and I'm getting kinda sick of dealing with douchebags and asshats all night long.

Ex. 1 (this is only an excerpt as this conversation about his aversion to stamps went on for at least 5 minutes):
Gingerbread: Sir, I just need to stamp you so that they know that you've paid/been checked off the guest list
Older Guy: Eh, I don't like stamps
Gingerbread: It washes off
Older Guy: I just don't believe in them
Gingerbread: Well, you'll just have to deal with it because it's our policy
Older Guy: (whining) But I'm not planning on leaving...
Gingerbread: Whatever, you don't have to be a baby about this. Go!

Ex. 2:
Gingerbread: Yeah, so it's $8 cover
College Guy: (in a huffy tone) I'm not paying $8. I'm [other server]'s brother. I'm just gettting a beer and leaving
Gingerbread: Alright (stunned, I've met you once - a year ago, a you expect me to remember that?)
College Guy: (Sighs and walks around the corner)

At least he apologized for being rude on his way out. I don't care about letting people in if you know them, just give me the heads up, you know?

I just think I should cut back on my hours at the bar before I actually start hating it. We're not exactly breaking up, just taking a break just to see what else is out there...

I don't like you in that way

The scene: Idle conversation towards the end of my shift

Skater Guy: So do you skate, or snowboard?
Gingerbread: Yeah, I skate. I've tried snowboarding, but it's not for me, plus I find all the snowboarders pretend to be all laid back but are actually super elitist asshats
Skater Guy: Yeah, no I get that. So do you want to go skating together sometime...
Gingerbread: No
Skater Guy: Oh, like we could hit up the park or something after work
Gingerbread: I don't do park, I just do street (goes back to hanging up bags)

Melts in your mouth, not in your hands

I ran into an old friend today (and by friend, I mean a guy who lived on my floor in rez) and somehow got talked into giving him my number, needless to say, I'll be screening my calls for the next little while.
The third day of my in-store chocolate promo went pretty well, and the manager seems to think I'm doing a good job, so bonus. I continue to attract both creepy old men and the barely-legal teen boys, score!


Seriously, I'm flattered that you'd like to pleasure me all night long, but maybe we could discuss this when you're not with your 5-year-old son. Maybe you have different parenting styles, but last time I checked propositioning the promo girls in front of your impressionable children isn't acceptable under even the most lax parenting style.


The nerve of some of these men is absolutely jarring.


While I'd love to take you up on your offer to "fuck the taste out of my mouth", I'll have to pass. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing to attract this legion of smut-mouthed followers, but I need to stop doing it.


The only other time I'd been verbally assailed to this degree was the night I wore my green M&M costume to the bar for hallowe'en.