When I was 19, the mother of my then-boyfriend pointed to my ears and went, “Ewwww.” She was not referring to my deafness; she was saying to my face that she thought my stretched earlobes were ugly. In hindsight, I should have had the guts to inform her that her bowl haircut was gross but not as appalling as her manners. Her manners, by the way, got her sacked from her job at a Christian bookstore as well as from Mrs. Fields’ Cookies.
That’s right: she was too rude for Jesus and baked goods.
I was 19 in 2002, and this was right around the time stretched piercings started going mainstream. It was still during a time when stretched ears were reason enough to be denied a job. It was not that having a hole in your earlobe that was the problem, but the size of the hole. How big is too big? If one jumps from 14 gauge to 12, would that person be rendered unemployable?
It was up to the company where to draw the line.
Continue reading “Life as a living canvas.”
Here are my nine most popular posts on Instagram from 2018:
I don’t like that my most popular picture was a… selfie. My parents deserve all the credit for creating my face. 35 years ago their deoxyribonucleic acids (that’s longhand for DNA) merged and 9 months later I happened. All I did was take a few snapshots at an arm’s length on the balcony on a sunny day and posted the best. (Besides, my coolest tattoos are on my lower half.)
Perhaps it was the thrill of seeing my hair out of braids? My hair didn’t do much growing this year, but I did.
Here are nine moments of glory from 2018.
Continue reading “365 days later.”
While I was taking time off work to recuperate from my injury, I got so bored that I dared to sort through my cache of important papers. I’m only partially organized in that everything was dumped in one small box, from my secondary school transcript to a jumble of tax papers from the last decade.
Canadians are only required to keep income tax records from the last six years, so it was time to get rid of some retro government documents.
I was shocked by how little money I made in my mid-20s. In 2008, my employment income was just under $13,500. This was the same year I took a three-week trip to Europe. I remember being told by my mother, “You are so lucky you have the money to travel! I can’t afford to travel!”
Continue reading “The reality of being a successful Millennial.”
The friends who were a part of Coach Mull’s grade 8 soccer team both read my last post. They both agreed that Coach Mull was a crusty dick, but my post evoked a stronger reaction from one of them
Continue reading “Gubernatorial delights.”
My employment at the bike shop has ended for the year. Until the end of January, I will be sitting in front of computer answering questions that may or may not be about bicycles. At this time of the year, the bike shop is essentially a ski shop anyway, and I find sitting on my buns answering questions online more pleasant than waxing endless skis. Outside of work, the seasonal changeover means my focus will shift from being a mediocre cyclist for being a mediocre gym climber.
Continue reading “Employment deployment.”
As of the 17th of October, I’ve been a fully law-abiding Canadian citizen.
Ok, that’s a lie: I’m still recklessly cycling around town without reflectors on my wheels (worth a $169 fine). Until it becomes too cold for me to ride to work, I remain a softcore criminal.
Continue reading “What’s in my medicine cabinet.”
The other day, while searching for the most dangerous gun I own, a hot glue gun, I found my stash of teenage-year photos. While my childhood photos are pressed onto sticky pages in photo albums on the other side of the country, and my adulthood photos on Flickr, the photos from my pubescence were in my closet sharing a box with the glue gun.
I remember getting rid of most of the photos in which I looked like a zitty goblin, but I still have all my student transit discount IDs featuring my official school portraits.
My ninth grade photo, in particular, has a little backstory:
Continue reading “The Divine Brat.”