After google searching the name of my blog (because, lest you missed the header, I'm a narcissist) I discovered that my chosen title- "Wear Rags and Picking Sides" (seriously dude, read the header) - could be an artist turn of phrase indicating gang-war. Do-rags and blue flags, motha fuckas.
I am very, very white.
Showing posts with label Laugh Track. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laugh Track. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
HEIGHT OF FAME
I don't think I will ever be more famous than I am right now. On the internet. 1408 people and counting have decidedly "thumbs upped" my facebook status from last week, which apparently made its way onto failblog.
It's all downhill from here kids.
It's all downhill from here kids.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
"I Spoke Too Soon," or "The Horrifying Things That Happened Trying to Get to Belize"
From the mundane annoyances to the "Heads will fucking roll! Greyhound bus style" (and, to be clear, this I actually did text...back when I had a phone...more on that later...)
Wednesday Evening - my parents inform me that, to be safe, I really need to leave for the airport no later than 3:30, which really conflicted with the 2 hour wax I had booked for 2:15. Hard choice...
Friday, 3:40 - I managed to reorganize my appointments and make it out of the house in time to prove how sage my parents are: a huge traffic jam on the highway to the airport had some people stuck in traffic for 2 hours. My cabbie managed to cut that time in half by cutting through residential areas, though this left with me with the distinct impression that I was being abducted
Friday, 9:00 - Captain announces that we are going to be getting into DC a little later than scheduled: my 40 minute connection time has been cut down to 10 minutes by his estimated arrival time...
Friday, 9:50 - Emerge into the Washington airport. Flight departs in 5 minutes. It's in another terminal. I sprint in the hopes that they are holding it for me
Friday, 10:05 -They weren't. Go get in line at United's customer service behind 12 other people.
Friday, 10:30 - My flights for the next day are rearranged - I wont make my original flight to Belize, but there is one leaving that afternoon and I am booked on that instead, getting me in 4 hours later than originally. But no, because it was Air Canada's fuck up, they couldn't issue me a hotel voucher. Go back to the other terminal.
Friday, 11:00 - There are 30 other stranded people in front of me in line.
Friday, 11:20 - A stroke of luck! I get the last voucher for a Sheraton hotel room.
Saturday, 6:20 - I wisely opted to take the 6:30, rather than the 7:00 am shuttle that had been my original plan. Call Cam to make sure he'll make his flight.
Saturday, 6:45 - Wait in line line at United to get my boarding passes and check that my bag will be on the plane. I'm told that I have actually been switched to fly out on Continental, and need to go to the other end of the check-in to get my boarding pass there. And no, they can't access Air Canada's database to see where my bag is.
Saturday 7:05 - Have my boarding passes, but my flight boards in 40 minutes and I still need to go through security and change terminals. The line at security takes forever. I get chosen for the naked scanner. I leave a water bottle in my purse which requires my carry-ons to be thoroughly checked.
Saturday, 7:15 - on the train to my terminal. Where's my phone?
Saturday, 7:18 - sitting on the shuttle, it would seem.
Saturday, 7:30 - the lady at Dunkin Donuts will not give me cash back for my food voucher (which I only use 6 of 15 dollars) in the form of 2$ worth of quarters, which I need as the pay phones will not accept Canadian quarters (which are equivalent currency!!!!)
Saturday, 8:10 - Check at the flight desk. No, my checked baggage is not on the plane yet. But she's sure it will be fine. There's nothing I can do.
Saturday, 8:15 - on the plane, and you need to pay to watch anything on the TVs during a 3.5 hour flight
Saturday, 8:30 - flight is delayed. Possible engine trouble...
Saturday, 8:40 - I check to see if the delay will affect my connection. Departing Houston at 9:20? How many time zones over is Houston from D.C.?
Saturday, 8:43 - Dig out old itinerary. One time zone between Houston and D.C... 3.5 hour flight...
Saturday, 8:44 - Holy fuck - they checked me in on my originally flight out of Houston which, even without the engines falling the shambles, I would never have been able to make...
Saturday, 9:00 - I choose to ignore this for 15 minutes because, really, fuck, what's the point. But at length I inform a flight attendant. "What were they thinking?? Give me a second..."
Saturday, 9:03 - I can get off the plane now, but they have sorted out the mechanical difficulties and are about to close the doors. I'll stay...
Saturday, 9:15 - extreme winds have closed all but one runway, and there are some emergency landings that need to take place before we can take off
Saturday, 9:35 - emergency landing is in, "but there are 15 or 16 aircrafts before us, so we will be on the ground for a while..."
Saturday, 10:05 - survived the turbulence - now to enjoy my middle seat between two well-sized middle aged me who both like using 2 arm rests.
Saturday, 12:10 (Houston) - put on standby for the flight I should have been checked in on this morning...
Saturday, 1:30 - name called! Thank God! I literally scream that as I run up. One sec, the girl tells me, and goes and talks to a couple who said they would volunteer to depart at a later date. There is room for both of them on the flight, but if they opt to give it up to me, they forfeit the 600$ voucher they were promised for volunteering. Not a chance. "I'm sorry, no room on here for you"
Saturday, 2:00 - I am going to San Salvador tonight, over nighting there, and flying to Belize tomorrow morning. I just need to recheck my bag.
Saturday, 2:30 - bag is in Washington. It will get into Belize 2 hours after I do tomorrow
Saturday, 3:15 - I desperately search for replacement footwear - It was knee-high rain boot appropriate weather in Montreal! The only place available is a Crocs stand. My feet continue to sweat away in my Hunters...
Wednesday Evening - my parents inform me that, to be safe, I really need to leave for the airport no later than 3:30, which really conflicted with the 2 hour wax I had booked for 2:15. Hard choice...
Friday, 3:40 - I managed to reorganize my appointments and make it out of the house in time to prove how sage my parents are: a huge traffic jam on the highway to the airport had some people stuck in traffic for 2 hours. My cabbie managed to cut that time in half by cutting through residential areas, though this left with me with the distinct impression that I was being abducted
Friday, 9:00 - Captain announces that we are going to be getting into DC a little later than scheduled: my 40 minute connection time has been cut down to 10 minutes by his estimated arrival time...
Friday, 9:50 - Emerge into the Washington airport. Flight departs in 5 minutes. It's in another terminal. I sprint in the hopes that they are holding it for me
Friday, 10:05 -They weren't. Go get in line at United's customer service behind 12 other people.
Friday, 10:30 - My flights for the next day are rearranged - I wont make my original flight to Belize, but there is one leaving that afternoon and I am booked on that instead, getting me in 4 hours later than originally. But no, because it was Air Canada's fuck up, they couldn't issue me a hotel voucher. Go back to the other terminal.
Friday, 11:00 - There are 30 other stranded people in front of me in line.
Friday, 11:20 - A stroke of luck! I get the last voucher for a Sheraton hotel room.
Saturday, 6:20 - I wisely opted to take the 6:30, rather than the 7:00 am shuttle that had been my original plan. Call Cam to make sure he'll make his flight.
Saturday, 6:45 - Wait in line line at United to get my boarding passes and check that my bag will be on the plane. I'm told that I have actually been switched to fly out on Continental, and need to go to the other end of the check-in to get my boarding pass there. And no, they can't access Air Canada's database to see where my bag is.
Saturday 7:05 - Have my boarding passes, but my flight boards in 40 minutes and I still need to go through security and change terminals. The line at security takes forever. I get chosen for the naked scanner. I leave a water bottle in my purse which requires my carry-ons to be thoroughly checked.
Saturday, 7:15 - on the train to my terminal. Where's my phone?
Saturday, 7:18 - sitting on the shuttle, it would seem.
Saturday, 7:30 - the lady at Dunkin Donuts will not give me cash back for my food voucher (which I only use 6 of 15 dollars) in the form of 2$ worth of quarters, which I need as the pay phones will not accept Canadian quarters (which are equivalent currency!!!!)
Saturday, 8:10 - Check at the flight desk. No, my checked baggage is not on the plane yet. But she's sure it will be fine. There's nothing I can do.
Saturday, 8:15 - on the plane, and you need to pay to watch anything on the TVs during a 3.5 hour flight
Saturday, 8:30 - flight is delayed. Possible engine trouble...
Saturday, 8:40 - I check to see if the delay will affect my connection. Departing Houston at 9:20? How many time zones over is Houston from D.C.?
Saturday, 8:43 - Dig out old itinerary. One time zone between Houston and D.C... 3.5 hour flight...
Saturday, 8:44 - Holy fuck - they checked me in on my originally flight out of Houston which, even without the engines falling the shambles, I would never have been able to make...
Saturday, 9:00 - I choose to ignore this for 15 minutes because, really, fuck, what's the point. But at length I inform a flight attendant. "What were they thinking?? Give me a second..."
Saturday, 9:03 - I can get off the plane now, but they have sorted out the mechanical difficulties and are about to close the doors. I'll stay...
Saturday, 9:15 - extreme winds have closed all but one runway, and there are some emergency landings that need to take place before we can take off
Saturday, 9:35 - emergency landing is in, "but there are 15 or 16 aircrafts before us, so we will be on the ground for a while..."
Saturday, 10:05 - survived the turbulence - now to enjoy my middle seat between two well-sized middle aged me who both like using 2 arm rests.
Saturday, 12:10 (Houston) - put on standby for the flight I should have been checked in on this morning...
Saturday, 1:30 - name called! Thank God! I literally scream that as I run up. One sec, the girl tells me, and goes and talks to a couple who said they would volunteer to depart at a later date. There is room for both of them on the flight, but if they opt to give it up to me, they forfeit the 600$ voucher they were promised for volunteering. Not a chance. "I'm sorry, no room on here for you"
Saturday, 2:00 - I am going to San Salvador tonight, over nighting there, and flying to Belize tomorrow morning. I just need to recheck my bag.
Saturday, 2:30 - bag is in Washington. It will get into Belize 2 hours after I do tomorrow
Saturday, 3:15 - I desperately search for replacement footwear - It was knee-high rain boot appropriate weather in Montreal! The only place available is a Crocs stand. My feet continue to sweat away in my Hunters...
Friday, December 10, 2010
Yes. I am that smell.
I am, miraculously, sitting in the airport.
I woke up to K, calling me from outside my house. She only offered to give me a ride yesterday. Had she not, I would be asleep or cursing myself.
Yesterday I finished a marathon of marking - a seriously impressive feat, I may add, marking 146 exams in 2 days - and went to Ye Olde Orchard to have dinner and a beer with my fellow TAs, Claire and Kristin. I also invited the students from my conference, and three actually came.
Long story short, I was doing tequila shots at 2:00 am that were bought for my students and I (everyone else had left about an hour or so earlier), packing at 4:00, waking up an hour before I had to be at the airport.
My mother called me yesterday to assure that I would not "look sloppy" when I got off the plane - we are touring my dad's new business acquisition straight from the airport. I took much offence from this phone call.
And here I sit. Greasy. Hungry. A touch dehydrated.
And She Ra has peed all over herself.
Sorry fellow airport patrons.
I woke up to K, calling me from outside my house. She only offered to give me a ride yesterday. Had she not, I would be asleep or cursing myself.
Yesterday I finished a marathon of marking - a seriously impressive feat, I may add, marking 146 exams in 2 days - and went to Ye Olde Orchard to have dinner and a beer with my fellow TAs, Claire and Kristin. I also invited the students from my conference, and three actually came.
Long story short, I was doing tequila shots at 2:00 am that were bought for my students and I (everyone else had left about an hour or so earlier), packing at 4:00, waking up an hour before I had to be at the airport.
My mother called me yesterday to assure that I would not "look sloppy" when I got off the plane - we are touring my dad's new business acquisition straight from the airport. I took much offence from this phone call.
And here I sit. Greasy. Hungry. A touch dehydrated.
And She Ra has peed all over herself.
Sorry fellow airport patrons.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I am: A Teaching Assistant
This new addition to my personal biography is hilarious. I am TAing an American History class. I never took American History in high school, and I took one course in University. God love the competence of McGill University. What a leap of faith they're making.
My responsibilities include marking weekly reading summaries (which means I have to do the reading? Aw shit...), marking exams and essays, and heading up 2 tutorials (or conferences, as they are so loftily referred to at McGill) once a week. I am responsible for teaching a class, essentially. This is utter madness. Madness, compounded by the fact that I received the position late, so attended my first class on Monday, therefore missing two weeks of material and my first week's worth of tutorials. My fellow TAs took my missed tutorials for me, and handed me the stack of reading responses I was responsible for grading on Sunday. I didn't even receive the course readings until Monday. One of my students wrote "women were clearly inferior and thus wanted the vote." Check?
I have my first tutorial today. I did the readings for the class this morning.
My brother suggested I bring beer.
I am considering it...
My responsibilities include marking weekly reading summaries (which means I have to do the reading? Aw shit...), marking exams and essays, and heading up 2 tutorials (or conferences, as they are so loftily referred to at McGill) once a week. I am responsible for teaching a class, essentially. This is utter madness. Madness, compounded by the fact that I received the position late, so attended my first class on Monday, therefore missing two weeks of material and my first week's worth of tutorials. My fellow TAs took my missed tutorials for me, and handed me the stack of reading responses I was responsible for grading on Sunday. I didn't even receive the course readings until Monday. One of my students wrote "women were clearly inferior and thus wanted the vote." Check?
I have my first tutorial today. I did the readings for the class this morning.
My brother suggested I bring beer.
I am considering it...
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Freon = Pudding
My parents left today. They did so much to help get my apartment set up - it is going to be amazing when I can actually drag my act together and finish organizing it. They also kept me well fed and better liquored than I would have otherwise chosen to be during Training Camp (yes, we are still practicing every night). Last night, after sharing 2 bottles of wine 4 ways, my dad drove rather aggressively home - driving like a "Quebecer" in his words. "It's one of those Quebec things that just happens," explained my brother;" aggressive driving, talking like you're trying to simultaneously trying to spit and swallow, and poutine."
"Poutine does not just happen," Papa Black exclaimed, with more than a subtle note of disgust. This sound bite made me laugh out loud the rest of the night.
In addition to being helpful on many home fronts, my mother also did something entirely unhelpful. While trying to help defrost my freezer, my mum stabbed the Freon line in my fridge with a screw driver. I have no fridge, and my house is full of noxious poison, but I did get to eat pudding for dinner, so it's basically a wash.
"Poutine does not just happen," Papa Black exclaimed, with more than a subtle note of disgust. This sound bite made me laugh out loud the rest of the night.
In addition to being helpful on many home fronts, my mother also did something entirely unhelpful. While trying to help defrost my freezer, my mum stabbed the Freon line in my fridge with a screw driver. I have no fridge, and my house is full of noxious poison, but I did get to eat pudding for dinner, so it's basically a wash.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Chopper, M.A. in Flattery
"You didn't seem too large the last time I saw you."
"I'm athletic"
Where are you in-studio audience???
"I'm athletic"
Where are you in-studio audience???
ChezeBurge
I cannot speak/read French. At all. I can't decide how much energy to put into remedying this. The lovely Claire, my date tonight in the city where everyone is on dates, told me that it is cute that I am embarrassed about not being able to speak French. I think that my lack of French leaves me sounding conspicuously like Bobcat Goldthwait, when the streets are full of the romance language, or at least the English of skinny little French girls with their adorable lilting accents.
On another note, I looked around in vain for my in-studio audience today.
Scene:
I, peeling apart some much needed wax strips (I am sure my brother's friends think I'm some weird gay hippie, scorning heteronormative grooming standards), bump a mug of coffee I had at one time been enjoying; choas ensues.
I put the wax strips down on the coffee-free part of my desk, and jump up to grab toilet paper to mop up with. Getting the bit that landed on my laptop first, I then realize that the coffee free part of the desk was, in fact, magazines and a library book, and rush to get them out of the path of the coffee. In doing so, I stick my thumb and fore finger right on top of the exposed wax strip. Accordingly, I throw the book and magazines across the room and rip the thing off my hand. The wax, obviously, sticks to my hand, rather than the strip. So I rush to the kitchen to wash off the wax (because you can't handle toiletpaper with wax hands!). After a few minutes of scrubbing, I remembered the coffee seeping under my lap top. Shit. Ran back to finish what I started. Picked up my laptop to mop underneath. Left wax on both sides of it.
This comical scene almost makes me feel better about the fact that my laptop sustained damage to certain keys (q, w, a, z, p, backspace AND delete - is that supposed to be some poetic comment on living a regret-free life? Because I would like to slap whoever divined that across their stupid face) as well as the mousepad. And I do miss the days when my laptop could start up without a continuous and nauseating beeping sound. Oh yeah, and apparently my lap top thirsts to spread the word of ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// whenever a text box is selected. I feel like the mom from the Exorcist. The patient is sitting upside down, unplugged, with his battery removed. Hopefully he recovers over night. I considered rinsing the coffee with water, but I think that would lead to a "Little Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly" scenario... I guess she'll die? Oh dear...
On another note, I looked around in vain for my in-studio audience today.
Scene:
I, peeling apart some much needed wax strips (I am sure my brother's friends think I'm some weird gay hippie, scorning heteronormative grooming standards), bump a mug of coffee I had at one time been enjoying; choas ensues.
I put the wax strips down on the coffee-free part of my desk, and jump up to grab toilet paper to mop up with. Getting the bit that landed on my laptop first, I then realize that the coffee free part of the desk was, in fact, magazines and a library book, and rush to get them out of the path of the coffee. In doing so, I stick my thumb and fore finger right on top of the exposed wax strip. Accordingly, I throw the book and magazines across the room and rip the thing off my hand. The wax, obviously, sticks to my hand, rather than the strip. So I rush to the kitchen to wash off the wax (because you can't handle toiletpaper with wax hands!). After a few minutes of scrubbing, I remembered the coffee seeping under my lap top. Shit. Ran back to finish what I started. Picked up my laptop to mop underneath. Left wax on both sides of it.
This comical scene almost makes me feel better about the fact that my laptop sustained damage to certain keys (q, w, a, z, p, backspace AND delete - is that supposed to be some poetic comment on living a regret-free life? Because I would like to slap whoever divined that across their stupid face) as well as the mousepad. And I do miss the days when my laptop could start up without a continuous and nauseating beeping sound. Oh yeah, and apparently my lap top thirsts to spread the word of ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// whenever a text box is selected. I feel like the mom from the Exorcist. The patient is sitting upside down, unplugged, with his battery removed. Hopefully he recovers over night. I considered rinsing the coffee with water, but I think that would lead to a "Little Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly" scenario... I guess she'll die? Oh dear...
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