1am CTrain Ride.

Today I ran... not a sprint kind of a run... but a little more than a like jog, lets say... either way, enough to get me to sit for 10minutes afterward trying to catch my breath (I super suck at running).
Ranchmans does it to me ever time. Every fuken time I have to run for that Heritage Park Ctrain, and everytime I end up missing it and crying about it, or getting a ride with an old guy, or making a pathetic phone call to my roommates, or walking home. Boohoo me. But it happens.
Not today... I ran.... 2 minutes on (well maybe like 1min and 10sec) and like 4 minutes off, but I did it... and as the train pulled into the station, i tried to run the last stretch, up the escalator (so slowly though, i was done) and down the stairs (trying not to roll the whole way down)... .but i got there... first and prolly only time. Anyway, not the point of the story.

As I was sitting there resting from my unanticipated "moving" after having dranken a bit that night, I closed my eyes and listened to the bullshit conversation going on on the train. There was some old drunk guy just going on and on talking to himself and anyone that would listen. Talking about absolutely nothing, and repeating "I could skate circles around you" to random people.
2 stops later, 3 girls got on. Dressed night-club-esque. The guy looks up at them and says "hey ladies, you having a good night?". I guess one of them rolled their eyes at him and answered "it's not bad". To which drunken old fool said "the reason you guys aren't having a good night, is cuz you're all fat!". Haha, this caused ruccus on the train for the next 3 stops. A number of men stood u ready to fight this guy.. they threatened to throw him out, ect ect. Hillarious.

Buddy gets off the train. 3 new guys get on. Comment right away "that broad ain't wearing any shoes" says guy #1. "I can't wait till they all stop wearing pants and do it Lady Gaga styles" says guy #2. Then they proceed to sit down beside me and talk about random things, including how i'm being a loser and "blogging" while on the Ctrain. Those guys also got the address of my blog, so hopefully they're not too drunk to not remember it, and hit me up to say hi.

And to think. I coulda gotten into a car with a drunk driver tonight and died. But, if riding the Ctrain is my consolation prize. I'll take it. Hillarious!

Classy.

Today I filled in on a liquor sampling shift for my friend Gwyn. It's not a bad job to have. You hang out at a liquor store all the day with the liquor store staff. Shoot the shit, and get paid good money to ask people if they want to try a sample, while looking cute.
I took the "looking cute" thing a bit too far today. You see, I'm one of the "guys" kinda girls. I don't often dress girly or act all nice and flirtatious and shit... but I thought that I could wear my boots to a 5 hours shirt... (fine, it was 4.5 hours... but there was a walk to/from the CTrain involved).
Anyway.. I make it through the shift (sitting periodically, when there was no one in the store)... but was not about to go dancing (country dancing... I like to do that once in a while) afterward. Luckally, I had a feeling I'd my feet would be feeling this way... and so I brought back ups.
Punchline of the story is what I said to my new friends at set liquor store...
"you know how I know I'm classy?" "I wear a super cute outfit, and fishnets, but then put on skater shoes!"
ON YEAH... I rock.
Whatever, I looked cute at the bar.

I'm mean.

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not a nice person. The thing that most people don't realize it that I'm absolutely aware of the fact that I am not nice, pretty much, fairly often. The other fact that they don't realize it that 1. I either don't care, or 2. I don't feel bad about it.

I wish I felt worse when I'm "not nice" to people, but I really don't. Maybe it's because of the whole "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", kinda mentality, or just the fact that I'm a heartless bitch, but sometimes, only sometimes, I wish that I could fix it.

I told Sophie the other day that they should invent one of those machines that they use on dogs (those dog collars that zap the dogs when they gets "out of bounds" of their chosen spots) so that every time I say something overly mean that may hurt someones feelings, I get zapped. That would maybe make me be nicer or care more....

But the other question that I have is that if you're a friend of mine, and you're a sensitive person, and when evaluating things, you know I could make you cry, or would make you cry... why are we friends? Why would I be allowed to treat anyone that way without you calling me out on shit? CALL ME OUT ON SHIT. If I'm mean, and you're genuinely offended... let me know! If you do, chances are, I will eventually feel guilty and therefore want to apologize and change! Or at least make me be a little nicer... I don't know how else to fix my meanness... *shrugs*

Drunken Scategories / Roomies Night

After going out for drinks and wings, we decided to have a girls night in. We continued to drink, and now at a good medium of drink, we play drunken scategories... Now if you haven't ever met my roommates 1, you're missing out, and 2, we all have different personalities and our answers to different questions are hillarious.

As Kate is out for a smoke, and Sophie (after dancing around with Harley went out to join her) I decided to fill the world in on our dimented thoughts on certain topics. For example:

The category is : BAD HABITS and the letter is R... our answers:
Sophie : razerblades
Kate : rum
B! : reaming people out.

Doesn't that define a lot. I guess it does, in a funny, yet not so funny way, yet a hillarious way.

Example number 2.
Category: NICKNAMES... the letter is C. our answers:
Sophie : Cunt-bag
Kate : Cunt
B! : Cubby Bear

and people say I'm the fuken mean one! Shit, this just put something in perspective eh? I had "cupcake" (c/o Ellen back in the day) written down, but I thought that was too obvious, so I decided to change it, but little did I know that they would've turned the other way and chosen mean names... I just can't think that name is alright... Whether in Scotland/Ireland/England or Canada... it's just okay to me... I will prolly always chose the gushy route (believe it or not).

So as we continue to play drunken Scategories, hanging out laughing together and finding out what kinda stuff this game really reveals, I'll laugh about these answers for a while. Good random night during the week!