Kids Say the Darndest Things

My 10-year-old son Aidan and I were routing through the multitude of women's clothing racks at a big box store which shall remain nameless but sounds like Mal-Cart.

I was on the hunt for a pink t-shirt to wear for the office "Get in the Pink" fund raiser in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Society.

Aidan was "helping" me look by picking out other t-shirts he thought were cool/funny/interesting that I should get. None of which were pink.

Aidan: "Hey mum, you should get this one!"

I turned around, and do you know what I saw? This...


Me [in a pretending to be shocked voice and trying not to laugh]: "What?!?"

Aidan [laughing]: "Or this one."


Me: "Ha. Ha." Ok this isn't funny anymore.

Aidan: "Maybe they have a "Little Miss Beautiful" t-shirt you could get."

Awwww. Now that's more like it.

Putting the "T" in Drive-Thru

Paul and I were driving back to my house following "Meet the Parents" (as in the actual meeting of my parents and not watching the movie "Meet the Parents" although I'm sure my story much like "Meet the Parents" but unlike "Meet the Fockers" could be parlayed into a blockbuster plot*) we decided to get a little pick-me-up at the local coffee shop drive-thru which "sounds like Jim Norton's".

Both of us were feeling a bit under the weather, and neither of us were in the mood for coffee (I know, weird eh?), so we opted for tea.

"Sounds like Jim Nortons" Drive-Thru Girl: Welcome to "sounds like Jim Nortons", can I take your order?
Paul: I'll have a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: A large coffee with milk?
Paul: No, a large tea with milk. What kind of specialty teas do you have?
Drive-Thru Girl: Aaaaaaaa...we have English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green Tea, (pause) Honey Lemon, Apple Cinnamon...
Paul (interrupting): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: Chamomile, Orange Pekoe, Peppermint (pause)
Paul (getting impatient): I'll take Apple Cinnamon.
Drive-Thru Girl: And we also have Chai Tea.

At this point, I'm laughing my ass off in the passenger seat. Paul repeats the Apple Cinnamon again, and we drive up to the window to pay.

After the regulatory 15 minutes cool down period (for the tea, not Paul) we open our respective cups, ready for the warming tea-ness to slowly invade our bodies.

Paul: Ew...that Apple Cinnamon is not as sweet as I thought it was going to be.
Me: WTF! This is coffee!

* Coming soon to a blog near you!

Do You Want Ice With That?

It's been a busy weekend.

[audience] How busy was it?

Well, let's see...

I asked my doctor to burn off an unsightly wart off my left hand which then grew into this huge red and purple boil-esque thingy that hurt like...that throbbed like...it was bad and probably deserves it's own postal code (or zip code for you Americans). And has since been covered up by many many band aids.

I hit my ass on the shower facet leaving a bruise the size of a grapefruit and making it difficult to sit at the best of times. And forget about wearing a thong - it makes me look like a crack-whore whose been booty shooting heroin.

I wiped out on my kitchen floor on a slippery unknown liquid-y substance, bruising both of my knees while racing to answer the door. Was horrified that the sound of my body crashing could make such a loud sound. Am starting diet this week.

I contracted the flu and just like Vegas, it ain't pretty.

And then I forgot to wash the conditioner out of my hair while debating whether or not to call in sick to work. Realized why my hair was flat, and my scalp was itching and casting off flakes into the stratosphere.

Yes, it's going to be another one of "those" weeks.

Fantasty With An "S"

Today one of my male coworkers [who shall remain nameless but if I was going to "call him out" I would say his name rhymes with Calvin] was going around the office, trying to sign up some people for this year's fantasy football league dealie.

Oddly enough, rhymes with Calvin was only approaching the has a penis and balls variety of staffers to see if they were interested. Hmmm...smells like sexism.

But what really got me was when a coworker of the penis and balls variety told rhymes with Calvin that he doesn't actually follow football (as in AT ALL). And rhymes with Calvin said, "That's ok. It's just for fun."

Oh r-r-r-r-r-r-really? Tomorrow, I'm gonna get me some of that kind of action. After all, if it's just for fun then they won't mind if a girl plays and then kicks their asses. Then I'll humiliate them by making them eat dirt and pee in their pants and say "Erika, you are the ever powerful ruler of fantasy sport games". Or something. That was just off the top of my head. It's not like I put much thought into that part or anything.

Failing that, I'll just start my own fantasy league. Just for girls. But without the sports part because let's face it, unless you're playing them, sports are so b-o-r-i-n-g.

Shrinking Violet

I always took great pride in the fact that I am 5"6 and 3/4's [I always stressed the "3/4's" part too]. I took solace being "tall for a girl". In my heels (which I ALWAYS have on my size 7 and 1/2 feet) I knew I towered to 5"10. Easily.

Yesterday I was filling out my passport application, and the answers to their very rude questions. I mean come on - asking a girl about her age AND weight...it’s dangerous territory. Not to mention the whole "what’s your hair color" question. What if you’re a color chameleon like me? Red usually but with occasional stints as a brunette.

I was literally sweating. One wrong answer and my passport could be denied. I decided I’d better double check on my eye color, so I asked my coworker Camey. She answered with a confident "Gray." Ok, good. That’s what I thought. Better double check on the height. Again, I asked Camey. She stood up, saying "You’re about the same height as me [with a hand measuring motion], so about 5"4."

WTF.

Horrified, I forced my coworker Evan to measure me. The proof was in the measuring tape. I am 5"4 and 1/2! I’ve been lying to myself for 10 years. All those times I told dates I was 5"6 and 3/4 - wrong! How is this possible? I mean, I was off by 2 and 1/4 inches. That’s more than a little bit. That’s quite a bit. My whole "kinda tall for a girl" identity is shattered. I’m a short little thing. Vertically challenged. Petite.

Today I couldn’t even bring myself to wear heels to work. I felt like an impostor. I decided to wear flats and embrace my shortness.

Perhaps I should weigh myself while I’m at it. Maybe I only weigh 115, and all these years I’ve been thinking I weighed 135.

G's Please

Today I was missing Paul like crazy. He was traveling from Norway to Italy and was incommunicado. When he did manage to email me, it was a one liner saying he missed me like crazy, he was going out to supper and would write later. I was [slightly] disappointed. I mean eating could wait, right?

So I went for a consultation/reality check with my coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother). I asked if I was expecting too much from Paul (to delay eating etc). Mary responded with a resounding "Yes! You're being a Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts." And then she bitch-air-slapped me back to reality.

We now refer to this term as the "G Quad". It's our code signal that someone (ok, ok, me) is out of control with her expectations. As Mary put it, "If I was away in Italy, you wouldn't hear from me at all." My argument, "But you're not my girlfriend." And then our took-a-turn-for-the-weird convo ended.

But really, is it my fault that Paul has created such high expectations in me by being the best boyfriend ever? Hmmm...are you sure? Right then.

I excitedly checked my email when I got home, only to find my inbox was empty. With "Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts" echoing in my head, I tried to be an understanding girlfriend. I was about to log off my computer when Paul signed in to MSN. He had stayed up to 1am (there's a 5 hour time difference) hoping I would be online and we could chat in real time instead of via email.

Where's Mary when you need another bitch-air-slap?

Up-Selling the Coffee Chain Way

This morning I stopped into my local Canadian coffee chain [which shall remain nameless...let's call it "ryhmes with Jim Nortons"].

The "host" as their male employees are called (which reminds me more of a parasite that's sucking its victim dry, much like Jim Nortons is sucking my wallet dry because I'm addicted to their coffee) repeated my order twice (large 3 cream, 2 sugar) in his best monotone voice before proceeding to mix up my caffine fix.

Host: [goraning] "Is that everything?"
Me: "Yes."
Host: "Would you like to try our muffin of the month with that."
Me: "Uhhhhh...what's the muffin this month?"
Host: [Looks around for visual reminders because he's not sure what kind of muffin it is and groans] "It's a pumpkin seed and cinnamon spice sorta muffin thingy I guess."
Me: [Keeping a straight face] "Wow. It's tempting since you made it sounds so appealing. But no."

It amazes me the volume of people who are able to hold down jobs in the customer service industry.