Final

Well, I just finished my pre-final, for the lack of a better word. It is the final two days before the real final that covers exactly the same subject matter. My average thus far has been hovering in the low 90's. My pre-final mark was a paltry 79%. I have no one to blame but myself... and videogames. I got home at about midnight on Friday, I had had a few beverages in a loud bar after work. With my ears still ringing a little bit, I knew I couldn't sleep, so I made a cup of decaf tea and decided to turn on my rooommater heretofore untouched (by me) PS2. There was Grand Theft Auto in the machine, and we got to know each other until 3:30AM. Then when I woke at 8AM, we got to know each other better until I was late for my lunch plans. I could mention all the hours I played, but that is boring. Suffice to say, a lot, and at detriment to my life and my studying. With the ding in studying left my bragging rights for when I go back to work. Poo. I hate videogames, and yet I am quite certain that I have started a cycle that I have no control over. I hope this game is not a long one, or that I get bored of it soonisher, until then my tan will fade, my friends will grow more distant, the bags under my eyes will grow purple and I will hate myself just a little bit.

Now, about that mission I promised to talk about. I met a girl a few weeks ago. She reminded me of the days way back when when I contemplated lesbianism. Lesbianism, like my trysts with vegetarianism both ended with something in my mouth. Vegetarianism, with a Big Mac; lesbianism with a cock. Anyway, I got a girl crush. I gave her my number, but she didn't call. She told me she needed female friends, and that she worked at one of the local strip clubs. The mission was to faux-stalk her. I had a few plans with a few people that Thursday. I was going to a movie with my friend Ferg, then going to hang with James. They are both loud and impressive lads. Ferg is an ass, he thinks the mission was to bed him, it wasn't, but could have been. So the plan was get someone to go with me to that stripclub and accidentally run into the girl.

The plan was a bust. Ferg was dead tired and a pansy, so I didn't ask him. And James made me dead tired by the time I left there. Even so when I asked him, the look his girlfriend gave put the kybosh on that whole affair. So, I have yet to see the girl again. But hopes were high. Now I am snubbed. Maybe I will try the mission again soon.

Secret Mission

There is a secret mission. I will discuss it tomorrow, when it passes or fails. I predict a fail. But hope for me.

I truely wish it so, since I started carpentry a year ago the frequency of my stories has gone way down. I do not find my life as fun and exciting. I guess the lifestyle of waking up at five in the morning and being in bed by ten will tend to fuck up the more party girl lifestyle. And my new burst of a itsy bitsy bit of writing may be related to me being in school right now. I would have more to say if I wasn't kept so poor. Being in school for my apprenticeship training has me living off a palty $315 a week. Which is barely more than my fixed expenses, so that said, I go out when it is free or less than $2. I am glad I already had a football and no one charges me to kick it in the park, otherwise my life would be sitting on a couch looking at a wall. Oh, and some studying I guess.

Gosh darnit.

edit

Mmmm sacril-icious

Jesus was a carpenter. I am going to be one. I have been looking for a job (rather lazily) for the last month. Today is Saturday, and I start on Monday. I have researched enough to know that I will be in a lot of pain for the next month. I am looking forward to it. Especially since I am going to a fancy little pool side engagement party this afternoon and have discovered that none of my swimsuits fit. A bunch of manual labour will do me a lot of good.I am starting out pretty green. I am sure that there are girls who have done a lot more than I have. I have built a wall, a table, a few things in shop class (where I was just girly enough to have asked for help sawing wood because my puny arm muscles made for long work of getting through a log. The learning curve ( I hope will be pretty steep).Looking for a job was kind of tough. I think that for the first time in my life, I experienced sexism. It made me a little sad, but also more resolute. There were quite a few people who looked at me when I handed in a resume, then looked at the resume and said "Oh, this is for you?" I didn't know that I could get other people to hand out my resume for me. I should hire some bums to do it for me next time.It sucks going from being near the top of my field to the very bottom. I was a waitress before, and every time I applied for a job, I got a job offer. But you have to start somewhere, I guess.The place that I am working gives me some creeps. They have been in the business for decades upon decades, so that speaks well for them. My problem is that the guy in the office was one of the people who were surprised that the resume was for me. He told me to call the next day so he would have an opportunity to see which of the crews needed someone. I didn't. Instead, I decided I didn't want to work for someone who gave me the creeps. So a few days later, another guy called me. I guess he needed someone. And since I still hadn't found a job, I went to an interview with the guy. It was at a Mormon Church way on the other side of town. I drove all the way over there to meet with him. He asked me if I was interested in apprenticing. I said yes. So he said that the only way to tell if it would work out is to give it a try. He handed me papers to fill out and told me to come Monday.I found it weird that that was it. This guy was odd. He was not loquacious. Every bit of information I got from him was pulled. I asked him what time. He said "Seven AM."I asked him what I should need, he said "A belt and a hammer, we will supply a hardhat"He never mentioned what I would be making. The guy at the office had asked what I expected to make. I told him. I don't know if I will be making that or not. I guess we will see.PS. Spell check isn't working, so anyone feel free to tell me where I fucked up. I could do it manually, but I suck.PS (x2) If anyone has something that I should know, feel free to tell me. Charitable knowledge that will make my life easier is eagerly accepted.

You Sexy Tool

The last post before the first day of work…
Let us talk about tool shopping. Heck, tools sure can be sexy. I fell in love with a hammer. I think we may be getting married in a few months. As it was, I went for the second best. There is a fancy little sucker that weight only 15 ounces and it’s made of titanium. She was only $330. A sexy little beast called a stiletto. Well, according to that it is only $249.95, but that is American. If I cared enough I would do the translation, but I don’t. I can’t wait for my $50 hammer to break. I went to go visit my cousins framing crew and one of the guys had one of the fancy stiletto ones, and swinging it compared to my hammer was night and day. I suspect mine will kill my arms and shoulder. We will find out tomorrow night, won’t we?
A friend of mine told me that a new tool belt is like a new baseball glove. Only the unsavvy would see fit to use them. I am proud to say that I got the oldest one in the books, I got it repaired. It is so old. So at least I won’t look geek in all regards. I went to go pick it up at the leather workers. While the guy was looking for the hammer holder that needed fixing, this diva chick walked up, probably to pick up some heels. When he put my stuff on the bench, the girl asked me what my thing was. I told her that it was a piece of my tool belt. She asked me “That looks pretty hardcore, what do you do?” I exaggerated a little bit and told her “I am a carpenter.” Tee hee.
She gave me the very first “You go, girl!!” in my whole life. It really lightened my day. Even if I am not really that close to being a carpenter, sometimes a little white lie just feels good.
I wish I had a project this weekend so I could bust up some stuff.
Anyway, I am beginning to suspect that I am getting too excited. I will surely be let down if I let this continue, so I am going to watch some depressing romantic comedies and go to bed.

Workit Like the Machine You Are

I think I fell in love today. I am pretty sure it is illegal for us to marry, but I would love to. My love is called (I will edit its name in later, I forget, tee hee). He is used to level the ground. He is also a machine. But let me tell you, WHAT A MACHINE!! He works on a remote control, and when I walked along side him, he sent tremors through my body. The most noticeable tremors were through my naughty bits. My very neglected naughty bits. I really like the jobbie. It made me feel competent; which is odd because I know practically nothing about what I am doing. I was in my glory when I was following simple instructions while all alone. I got to do all sorts of stuff. Like fill up holes. Seems like there were and awful lot of holes. Sometimes I had to fill them up with a shovel, but more fun was filling them up with the Cat. I am pretty sure that they noticed I was a girl. I had one guy say, “What do you want to be in the trades for, when you could be a model?”
Awww, I love fake flirting.
I also think that I was offered a lap dance.
It is really good for the ego to be the hottest chick on the block. Never mind that I am the only girl on the block.
At the end of the day, the boss guy (who is not creepy at all, YESSSSSSSSSS, he is just terrible at interviews apparently) told me, “It is not often that ladies show up for work. And I don’t think it has ever happened that a lady has smiled so much, or looked like she was having as much fun as you were.”
I think he was watching me use that remote control. I love it, biggest vibrator in the world. Mmmmm.

Karma won't let me sleep

My friend Eric, of the last post, is moving to Alberta this month. So, he had his house up for sale and hand booked 16 viewings in one day. I had to work the day of the multi-viewings, and I also had to sit around and gnosh and have a bevy or two; so, I didn't get home until 1am the next day. Even though it is 2 hours later where he is, I still gave him a call to see how it went. He was sleeping or something, whatever it was, he didn't answer the phone. The jackass. I felt bad for trying to intrude upon his sleep at 3am.
That is ok, beacuse karma got me back hardcore a few hours later. I was nestled all snug as a bug in my bed, quite unconscious when...
THE FIRE ALARM GOES OFF!! I tried to ignore it. I tried to sleep through it. Eventually I began to suspect that there might actually be a fire so I put on some pants and a shirt and waddled over to get my jacket. I stepped into the hallway. There were all sorts of men running around in the hallway trying to turn off the fire alarm. Apparently, I was in no danger of catching on fire, so I could go back to bed.
When I returned to my bed I noticed that it was 3am. I guess that was karma getting me back for trying to wake up a friend.
What is worst is that when Eric woke up at 9:30am (7:30am my time) he decided to call me 5 times until I picked up the phone and told him I wanted to sleep. He is a very nice boy, so he did let me sleep. Until 8:30am, when he decided to call again.
I have learned my lesson, Karma and Eric will get me back if I try to make a very early morning call.

Call out

Sometimes, people see a bit of cool and they need so much to be attached to it. I have a friend like this. After an entire weekend of hearing nagging about not being mentioned in this little blog that gets 2 readers, I have decided it is time to succumb.
Eric, this one is for you.
Eric is a friend of mine that has been begging me for weeks to tell stories about him, and until he does something story worthy, this is as close as he is going to get.
Eric, you are lame.
P.S. I love you. I am smitten.

Tracking Drunks

Like most corner pubs, the one attached to the restaurant attracts many people who spend a lot of time there. We see the same faces just about every day, and for many hours of every day. I always assume these people have no lives outside of the pub. They do not have homes, friends or families. Their lives exist only in the context I see them in.
This theory of them having no lives was sadly proven today. There was this guy who comes into the pub darn near every day at around 2pm, we will call him Drunk. Drunk doesn't usually leave until 8pm, and always has a pint in front of him. Today, I was out for dinner and as I was leaving the restaurant, I saw a taxicab pick up him and his flat of beer up. I was amazed. I didn't know that it was possible to drink so much in the pub and to have a flat at home as well. He must be a professional.
I was also amazed that I was right about his outside life. He drank, anywhere, anytime.
So, we drove towards home. And pulling into the parking lot of the building I live in, I noticed the same cab. I was strangely excited. There was no way he could possibly live in my building!!
And he doesn't. Well, not quite.
He opened the door to what I have always assumed to be the storage shed (semi detached from the building) and stepped inside.
Now I am so curious about this man. How do I find this stuff out? I want to know about... well, I am not so sure about what it is that I want to know, but I do.