Mostly, it will be a rant about how much I hate people, but then I will say how excited I was to watch a friend's daughter singing on stage and following her dreams of performing. I will talk about how close it was for me to be in jail right now for assault and go on to say how fun it is to ride a city bus. I can describe all the healthy, vegan foods I've tried recently. However, I currently want to puke because I ate Mexican street corn, a jumbo corn dog, deep fried cheese curds with maple bacon gravy, Coke and a deep-fried, bacon-wrapped Twinkie.
So many things have happened lately, but I kind of just want to focus on the last 48 hours, more or less. First of all, I am living in a 15 by 20 foot box in London, Ontario, in an area of questionable repute. I know I said I'd focus on the last 48, but just to give you an idea of my neighbourhood - I can get serviced at the local Tim Horton's for (I'm guessing) around $45 and I have had to step over or around people who are self-medicating for mental issues that I'm lucky enough to have under control (at this time) without the use of a needle. I never hear gunshots, at least. Knives are the weapon of choice here as I understand it. As soon as I hear gunshots, I'm out. I'm fairly confident in my ninja skills when it comes to running away from a knife-wielding, weirdo. Not as sure of my Superman, bullet-dodging abilities.
Here I am, a County girl in the city, trying to get back to the person I used to be; or the woman I wanna be... maybe just to feel comfortable with the female I am. First of all, I really want to like people. I envision myself having coffee dates where I discuss opinions (eg. where to get the best breakfast), current events (eg. the local Abused Women's Centre's refusal to be associated with a pole dancing demonstration) and make up new words or phrases (like "mansplaining" and "Listen here, Lady") with other eclectic, and open-minded individuals wearing Craft Brewery logos and deck shoes with brightly coloured socks. I want to touch people's faces when I greet them. Kiss them on both sides of their cheeks like my Quebecois friends! I want to rub their heads and laugh and joke about it. Rub their backs while they cry over lost loves and dead pets.
But y'all motherfuckers are so hard to like sometimes! Fuck. And, quite frankly, your hands are gross. Don't touch me.
Ergo, I spend most of my time in my little apartment learning new languages with Memrise.com. Check it out if you have not! I'm into Turkish and French right now. Feeling pretty confident that I can describe my needs in France: "J'ai trop aime les gateaux et le chocolat"; and order a drink in Turkey: "Efes, lutfen. Yarasin!"
Today, I decided I would tempt the fates and try to enjoy the beautiful fall day with a bus ride downtown and a pedicure. Side note: I love getting a pedicure at Diva Nails on Adelaide! It is relaxing to listen to employees chatter away in whatever language they are speaking. I don't have to speak to anyone unless I want to. They make my feet look and feel great while I enjoy a massage chair (massage without human contact = genius!) for about twenty bucks.
I proceeded to wait for the #20 - the bus that stops in front of my place and goes west to downtown. Now, the last time I took this bus, I put my $2.75 in the little thingy and the bus driver handed me a transfer. So, today, when I got on the #20, I put my money in the little thingy and waited for the driver to hand me a transfer. When he didn't, I attempted to take one for myself.
Well. If the nasty old prick didn't try to slap my hand!! What am I? Three years old? "Don't just help yourself," he says. I pulled my hand away like the bad girl I was. But, I tell ya, if that sonofabitch had actually connected... I had visions of grabbing him by the goddamn throat and stuffing every fucking transit into his miserable mouth. Customer service, London Transit Commission! It's a real thing and it keeps passive-aggressive, misanthropes like me from abusing your self-righteous, transfer-hoarding bus drivers. How the hell am I supposed to know that I'm not allowed to touch the transfers? There wasn't a sign, cause believe me, I checked. My 24-year-old daughter had to explain it to me this way, "Nobody tells you how to be an adult. You have to learn through bad experiences."
This is the most unfortunate thing I've ever heard, but it is sooooo true! And, it describes my life thus far. I'm often too afraid to try things because what if I do it wrong? My hand will get slapped. I'll be a disappointment. I'll lose everything. What if I forget that person's beans with their brisket platter? They'll never forgive me. Their night will be ruined because of me. They will say how awful I am on Tripadvisor and our ratings will go down. What if I offend someone because I said "cunt" on facebook?
I really don't give a flying fuck about that one actually. But, it briefly occurs to me that lots of people don't like that word. Well... don't be a cunt about it. I don't like the N word, either, but I don't have the right to say it OR the right to be offended by it. I have a cunt of my own, and could be described as one on occasion, so I figure it's my word to use whatever way I want. Cunt with chips, Cunt flaps, cunt hear what you're saying, slap in the cunt with a buttered brick. Whatever.
Lastly, I had a great time at the Western Fair. Yeah, it's expensive as all hell and a huuuuuuge waste of money. But, I took my nephews on the weekend and they thought it was great. I even went on a ride for the first time in... thirty years maybe? Always trying to get out of my comfort zone and try new things, in spite of the chance I'll get my hand slapped. New things like deep-fried, bacon-wrapped Twinkies. Which wasn't a mistake, but certainly wasn't the life-affirming event I had hoped it would be. I'm easily amused, clearly.
As I was leaving, I saw a guy wearing a shirt with a Canadian flag that said, "Fit in or fuck off". Sigh. So, this douche is the main reason I stay inside all day and read books. I'm glad we all have a right to our opinions. "I do not agree with what you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it." The internet tells me Evelyn Beatrice Hall said that - Fuct if I know. Either way, douchey t-shirt guy describes his ideal world as one in which everyone shares the same beliefs. But, I can tell you that's not where I want to live. I want to hate/love people, while eating leafy greens on top of fried cheese and speaking Turkish with a French accent between a nasty old bus driver and a barista with great tattoos and hairy armpits.
