Hot Tie.

The cost wasn’t a barrier to getting on a seaplane to Vancouver, but an expired photo ID nearly held me back. I assume one needs to update their main piece of ID every five years so they don’t age out of their photo. Although now two years past expiry, my ID is still two years newer than my passport.

Cursory online research says it’s how one stays enrolled in the Medical Services Plan. However, it was not a problem when I ended up in the hospital last June. I’ve also had several doctor’s appointments since it expired, so I can only imagine I’m still enrolled in the Medical Services Plan. I don’t want to update my ID for three good reasons: it costs money, it takes time, and my photo is weirdly gorgeous.

That may be why the Harbour Air service agent made a small fuss. I pulled out my other IDs, including my recreation centre pass, to appease her. To my relief, the neighbouring agent took my side and ushered the first agent to print my boarding ticket.

Continue reading “Hot Tie.”

Halloween is not on December 31st!

Jordi remarked that my complexion looked a bit tan. I’d just spent three days under the pouring rain on the mainland. I think my skin is starting to change hue from carrot juice overconsumption. The big bottles of the Bolthouse juices have been on sale. Each bottle contains the juice of 39 3/4 carrots, as determined by the Carrot Council of Canada (CCC). I may have gone through five bottles last week: 198 3/4 carrots.

Continue reading “Halloween is not on December 31st!”

Forget Jebus.

A month ago, Kristen texted me requesting my improv acting skills—a skill I did not know I had. This was to take place at Vancouver Community College, and I’d been looking for an excuse to visit the mainland. I didn’t realize that the date was right before the long weekend when everybody’s hyped about crossing the Strait of Georgia to get to the island or vice versa. Good Friday enthusiasts are no good.

Alright, I’ll leave before the long weekend ferry rush. Still, travelling to the ferry terminal right after work didn’t float my boat, and it’d been a while since I’d taken the seaplane. That was the plan until a co-worker pointed out Helijet was having a sale: $137. I’d never been in a helicopter!

Continue reading “Forget Jebus.”

Halfway there.

I’m officially middle-aged. Let the cloud yelling commence!

But, no, I am more likely to sit on a park bench with my lightly creased middle-aged friends drinking peyote juice, giggling all the way to death’s doorstep.

Let me get a few grievances out of the way:

-My birthday was yesterday. Not enough people congratulated me on my life being half over. If this was you, please hang your head in shame.

-November is easily the worst month of the year. Cold, rainy, and mostly dark. If it was you who invented November, go fuck yourself.

-BSOs. $300 isn’t pocket change, but it can not reasonably be used to purchase a bicycle. BSO = Bicycle Shaped Object. Don’t have bicycle money? Buy a skateboard: they’re safer and more reliable than BSOs.

-$9 for one pound of strawberries at Fairway Market? It’s still a better deal than BSOs, but I guess bananas are the only fruit I’ll eat for the foreseeable future. 79 cents a pound, bitch.

-It takes almost two hours to get to White Rock from the Tsawwassen ferry terminal by bus. 35km! Probably faster to get there by skateboard.

Continue reading “Halfway there.”