2007-03-08
When you said that you were falling apart, I thought you meant that you were falling apart.
So I've decided that my life is basically a series of stories.
And, as roomie apperently has a speech patern that makes it sound like every other word is a question, I have developed the habit of starting conversations with "and then!...." even if there was nothing that came before that sentence. Literally, the other week Connor and Meghan hadn't gotten their coats off before I started a story about a head-on chicken with "oh my God! and then!"
Today's story starts with "And then...I'm now known as the girl who fell off a toilet!"
This morning when I got to work I sat down to take off my soccer socks that I was wearing under my jeans. Silly me, I chose a toilet to use as a chair in the change room. Well, when I shifted my weight to take off a sock I jettisoned off the seat. The seat part was barely attached to the actual toilet. Not cool. I wasn't at all injured and didn't even hit the ground, but I definately fell.
So later in the day I remembered this incident and called the hotel operator to report the issue to engineering. She laughed at me for a good 5 minutes. And then, apparently, couldn't stop laughing enough to tell engineering what the problem was and had to call them back.
This all might have blown over if I didn't need to go up to the storage floor later in the day. This place is locked up tighter than fort knox. Only housekeeping, security and engineering have keys, pretty much. So I had to charm my way into getting an engineer to let me up to help with the ridiculous task of organizing the mish-mash of stuff that has been chucked up there in the last year.
So I go over to engineering and walk in and say "I need a favour". Joking, the head of engineering says "what are you going to do for us?" and I, idiot that I am, say "well, I can entertain you with a story about me falling off a toilet earlier today". Both engineers, at the same time, say "that was you?!?!". That's right, that's right, they all knew about the story. They were having trouble fixing the issue because there are always women in the change room and all of the engineers are men. I felt like going in and saying "does anyone mind if I entertain you with a story about me falling off a toilet on the upper level while engineering comes in for 5 minutes?" but if isn't fixed by next week then it's going to come to that.
Yesterday Roomie and I were supposed to go see Annie but roomie had a bad day so after an ice cream/wendy's nugets/pho/starbucks run I abandoned her to her malaise and went with heather to Annie. It was good, but long. Like, it was 2.5 hours long and it started at 8pm. What were they thinking? I would have told my kids that intermission was the end and that Annie wandered the streets looking for her parents until she was 16 and then got her GED,went to college and lived happily ever after working retail at the body shop or something.
It was funny, Heather and I were discussing our relationships in somewhat explicit detail amid a sea of kids in Annie t-shirts. It's not irony, but it sure is something.
Oh, and the title of this entry is apropos of nothing, I'm just obsessed with the song "classifieds" by The Academy Is...
I've made myself a pan of half nachos, half noodles-and-stuff and am watching leafs/sens.
I bought magazines today, and sadly the guy at indigo didn't look twice at my trifecta of Toronto Life, Details and Practical Horseman.
moi at 6:54 p.m.
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