Tag: Vancouver

Forget Jebus.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

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!

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Unlocking the secret of mouth-watering. Or not.

~ Lkvy ~ 4 Comments

I’ve been off the bike for over a week and off the walls for about as long. With three days off work, I should be scratching that itch. Alas, the itch comes from the healing tattoo on the back of my right thigh. If you’re an Instacrapper, the new ink can be found on jessparetattooer’s account: it’s the Tiger Lily.

Alternative, low-impact plans for my extended weekend:

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Sailing into the face of danger in the name of vacation.

~ Lkvy ~ 4 Comments

I’m still around. But, I wasn’t for a while. Yann and I–like everybody else–had to scale back our vacation plans for the year. We still wanted to leave town, so the obvious option was to spend a week on the mainland, where there are more people, and consequently, more infected people.

Our vacation included a few non-vacationy activities. I got my hair cut, skin pumped full of pigment, and made a trip to Ikea.

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Confections and infections.

~ Lkvy ~ 4 Comments

I was able to track Ed’s every move through WhatsApp upon his arrival in Vancouver. His first bite of Canadian food came from Tim Horton’s which is a chain fast food/coffee shop that many Canadians are somehow proud of.  Their donuts are mediocre, and their employees are always poorly trained and often are entirely befuddled when it comes to serving deaf customers.

But, a donut is still a donut. When Yann and I find ourselves at Tim Hortons, he already knows my order. When I order myself, though, the cashier usually passes out from the complexity of having to read an order off the screen of a smartphone and requires medical attention. It’s a lot to tolerate just for a glazed chocolate donut.

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