Climbing buddies of my Vancouver past.

We are the Champions has taught me that if you’re a yoyo legend, you could monetize your face by printing it on t-shirts to sell online, and your merch shop would be so popular that things sell out!

I would not want to see my face on someone’s shirt; thus, I won’t be picking up this under-appreciated hobby. For royalties, though, I could accept my face being printed on underwear, assuming I won’t ever have to see it. Do whatever you want with my face as long as it’s out of my face.

Continue reading “Climbing buddies of my Vancouver past.”

Competitive showboating.

Years ago, when I first lived in Victoria, an acquaintance updated his Facebook status to something like, “Come and see me wear a beard of bees in front of the Legislative this Saturday at noon!”

Obviously a joke, except a few days later, he updated his Facebook profile photo. The new picture was of him in front of the Legislative with the promised bee beard. This is probably why our friendship never took off: I had missed out on a life-altering event of his. He could never forgive me.

Of course, there hasn’t been that kind of stuff happening this year. Instead, we have to stay home and watch whatever our streaming services provide us. Netflix just released a docuseries, “We are the Champions” to remind us of when people used to have fun.

Cheese rolling.

Yann accused this of being something I would be into. He is devastatingly wrong. I hate getting injured, and I can’t think of a more promising opportunity for injury than cheese rolling. The last time I fucked myself up, I couldn’t work or ride a bike for two weeks or climb for a month. I can deal with the pain, but the boredom is intolerable.

On the note of Yann being wrong about me, he apologized for buying a full-sized hairdryer to replace the travel-sized one of mine that he broke.

“I don’t care,” I told him.

The new one is hot pink and has a retractable cord that’s already whipped me in the arm. It’s punk.

“Yea, but what if you want to travel with it?”

“Do you think… I am a person who goes travelling with a hairdryer?”

Anyway, it was a gift. I usually let my hair air-dry for three hours instead of blow drying it. I call it paleo hair styling.

The second episode of the docuseries featured a chili pepper eating contest. I could probably chomp down a jalapeño, but I wouldn’t go any further for a cash prize of $1,000. I’m not enough of a masochist.

So, I googled for more unique competitions to determine which ones I’d have a shot at winning.

Continue reading “Competitive showboating.”

Ask me about my cherry tree.

We have a cherry tree outside our place. Last year it was just a tree. No cherries. Naturally, I’ve been going around bragging about my new cherry tree even though I wouldn’t touch the cherries. The tree has some sort of infestation of the insect variety. A friend told me yesterday, “It’s a bad year for Gypsy Moths.” 

I think she meant good: they’re clearly well-fed. Apparently, I have a friend who is an authority on Gypsy moths. Meanwhile, I can barely identify trees.

Unlike me, small critters are finding the cherries to be edible, so the tree has been attracting House Finches (I’m not good at identifying birds either: I had to google) and squirrels to ogle at. Squirrels are among the cutest animals to watch eat. This cherry tree may not provide me with fruit; instead, it provides me with entertainment.

I love our new cherry tree.

Oh, and I have a job.

Continue reading “Ask me about my cherry tree.”

Getting familiar about the family.

I’ve now been separated from the outside world for a month. I started quarantining a week before most stores in Victoria–including my now-former workplace–closed for the pandemic.

In that time, I’ve come to realize that for the past few years, I’ve been a dialed-back version of myself. I’ve trained myself to not do anything too far off from social norms as to not further alienate myself. My deafness already makes people uncomfortable, so I can’t afford to be weird on top of that! But, after a month without outside exposure, I feel the eccentricity creeping back into me.

Continue reading “Getting familiar about the family.”

Job insecurity.

I had an interview last Thursday. It was for the same job I’ve had for the past year. The exact same job. This is what the job market has come to.

In the 70s, employers had to beg for workers.

In the 80s, I don’t know, because I don’t appear to have a family member who tried to break into the job market that decade. I assume it was the same as the 70s, but with more hairspray and shoulder pads.

In the 90s, you needed a resume, but you were able to list “married” as one of your qualifications as my mom did.

In the 00s, this Millennial had an argument with her mother about whether “married” and “non-smoker” were descriptors appropriate for a resume. Jobs in the 00s required that you include a cover letter and fill out an application form, AND thank a potential employer for taking the time to even consider you.

2010? You definitely need connections.

Now that we’re at the beginning of the third decade of the millennium, we need to convince our employers to keep us on. I’m not opposed to this idea, though, as there are definitely people who have flown under the radar doing the bare minimum without making a sack-worthy misstep. I’m tired of picking up the slack. Too bad I’m only mostly sure that my employer doesn’t see me that way, which stresses me out. I should have brought snacks to the interview.

If I don’t get the job I already have, it’s because I didn’t bring donuts. No donuts, no job.

A donut with a single bite taken out of it rests on a white plate. The circle with a slash symbol is shown overlapping the photo.
A donut stands between me and the job not of my dreams, but reality.

Continue reading “Job insecurity.”