Excuse me but can I touch your breast?

I was on the bus the other day and was grateful to find a seat, which is fairly rare when you're catching the bus at Tunney's Pasture. I sat down, exhaled, looked around, and was confronted by an all too familiar face sitting directly in my focal point. I didn't know the guy, but the look he gave me was way too familiar. He gave me the good ol' "I'm gonna tell you my life story for the duration of this bus ride and you're going to be too polite to ignore me." look.

There's a reason I haven't been to Toronto in over 5 years, beyond the fact that I have kids and obligations now. The last time I was there, I was constantly exposed to whatthefuckery.

First day there: Well to preface, I had arranged with a guy friend that I would be staying at his place for part of the time so I could save money. He didn't live in the most convenient location but I wasn't about to turn my nose up at free lodging. Unfortunately I conveniently forgot that I had once hooked up with this individual years earlier and didn't stop to think that he might perhaps be carrying a bit of a torch for me even after I gave him the post-coital "I'm enjoying being single" talk. Anyway, I had asked him if he had a couch I could crash on. He said he did, I was welcome to stay, blaw blaw blaw. What he failed to mention was that his couch was also his bed. His only bed. I was totally not into this guy and thought he understood we were just friends. Apparently this was a complicated concept. So...I basically had to sleep with my arms crossed and legs balled up under my chin. I never had experienced someone trying repeatedly to raise my face to theirs by tipping up my chin. It's not pleasant. And meanwhile I'm gritting my teeth, being polite and asking him not to. I don't want to offend him, I'm too cheap to get a hotel. Maybe if he understands that we're JUST FRIENDS he'll back off and he can act normal. I resorted to telling him that the medication I was on deprived me of my sex drive and it was pointless to try. Boy did that backfire...he considered it a challenge and put his efforts into overtime. So after a night of asking this guy to back off until he finally got the point (took around 5 hours) I realized that no amount of hints, subtle or obvious would get this guy to stop humping my leg. I packed my stuff and checked into a hotel. Screw it. I would pay $200 that I hadn't originally planned on if it meant getting away from this loser.

Day 2: I arrived at my hotel and it was beautiful. Nice view, close to the TTC and far away from couch/bed boy. I rested up, read the "complimentary" newspaper, revelled in my freedom and decided to get a bite to eat. As I wasn't familiar with the area, I gave in and went to McDonalds. This one had tables with stools facing out the window, so I could see passersby. One fellow passed by (in the direction away from the door to McD's) and our eyes met, so we gave each other what I thought was a perfunctory, polite smile. The next thing I know, buddy's sitting next to me. I didn't even see him turn around! I've got a mouthful of burger and I'm clearly trying to read more of the paper and he starts in on his life story. I'm nodding and giving half hearted answers to his increasingly invasive questions when he finally gets to the point. He's down on his luck, his horse farted in his face, now he has pink eye, his mom said he's ugly, he lost bigtime in an arm wrestling contest, could he borrow fifty bucks? I'm not the most tactful or discreet person, I just point blank said hell no. He of course, wouldn't let it go, had to know why, as well as why was I such a bitch? I stated the obvious, I don't know him, I'll never see the money again, I didn't invite him to my table and most of all, "I'm eating my supper and I'd like it to be in peace." It went around like this a few times until he finally gave up and left, but my dinner was thoroughly ruined.

Day 3: I decided to mosey over to the Horseshoe Tavern where I used to work and visit with my friends who work there. I was sporting a bag with The Pixies on it. I'm sitting at the bar, talking to my friends and this fucking hipster wannabe is sitting a few stools down and OF COURSE has to bother me. He was making lame jokes I guess in an attempt to engage me in conversation.  After noticing my not-so-subtle eye rolling, he breaks into the "You like The Pixies?" in this doubtful tone. "Yup." Sip beer. "Name ONE song." he snivells. At that point, I wasn't about to play this shitheel's game. I said "You know what? I'm here talking with my friends, enjoying my beer and you're sitting there acting the fool. Fuck off and get a life." He sheepishly took his verbal spanking and said "Fair enough." It shut him up for a while but he spent the rest of the night pointing me out to strangers and regaling the tale but with him being portrayed in a much better light. Another wtf night.

Let me just say that I'm not exaggerating any of these tales. I really am that much of a bitch and I really just wanted to be left alone.

My last night there almost redeemed the trip by way of a Mudvayne concert but even that couldn't fully cheer me up as I ended up having an argument with my friend (which I surprisingly didn't start). I could almost see the storm cloud that was following me around at this point as I walked towards the bus depot. I calmed down, ate some breakfast and went outside for a smoke. I'm sitting there, smoking away when this girl around my age sits beside me on the curb and asks for a smoke. I didn't have many left and told her as much. She then requested the rest of my cigarette when I was finished with it, which I found kind of odd but whatever. I can spare some cigarette dregs if you're that desperate. I held out the butt to her and she instantly transformed into her true form. "Can you put it on the ground? I don't want to catch your germs." I asked her how smoking the rest of my smoke wasn't germ catching when handing it over was? "Oh well the concrete will sterilize your germs." I gave this face O_o  and watched as she smoked my sterilized cig butt. Then...I remembered my whole trip to Toronto and all the stupid I had encountered and I suddenly knew what she was going to say next and I was ready for it, tired of every wacko in the fine city of Toronto approaching me and branding me a sucker. "Hey can I borrow fiv-" "Get the fuck out of here. Get lost, we're done." Scared, she backed away and vamoosed. Afterward I was mad at myself for swearing at her but I had had enough by that time.

In retrospect, I was an angry young woman, perhaps distrustful and jaded but then again, I was a lot bolder and rude-r back then. And it was Toronto. To shed some light, I'm from Ottawa. I live in Nepean. I was raised in Stittsville. The weirdest thing that I encounter is when I find dead animals in my backyard. Maybe in my previous 4 years of living in Toronto I was lucky and managed to avoid most of the mooches, desperate boners and germaphobes but they were out in full force that fateful February 2006.

So going back to my original thought, I was on the bus and some guy gave me "the look" that I learned to spot in Toronto. In the split second of that smile, I said to myself, "Fuck that" and stood at the back of the bus. Sorry, but being physically comfortable isn't worth hearing about some stranger's sad and lame tale. I just don't have the energy even now.

Wow, I'm really jaded...stranger = crazy. Says a lot about me. Anyway if you're that lonely person and you find yourself saying to a complete stranger "Ah this weather reminds me of living on my uncle's farm the year I was molested by a jersey cow", you might want to think about seeking help. And I'm sure we met in Toronto.

Oh and nobody asked to touch my breast (well maybe couch/bed boy did but I blocked it out) I just thought the title fit.

Evolution of personal taste

I recently found myself begging a friend to go to NKOTB with me. I don't know why, but I feel this sense of owing my younger self things...like I owe my 12 year old self the fact that I'm seeing them up close for the first time. Sort of a bucket list of things to do before I die.  Now I have to go, she's bought tickets and I have to sit through the Back Street Boys. I mean, both "bands" suck, their music is dated and corny, and yet they are a sure thing to make a few bucks for the industry. I'd be happier if the BSB weren't involved but it'll be a good time, I'm going with one of my most favourite people from the good ol' days. I just find it funny when I see gals who still love them. Hopeless romantics.

And then I turn around and listen to darker stuff, mostly Skinny Puppy, Wumpscut and obscure (to the mainstream audience) bands. On occasion, I do pause to wonder how I got from "there" to "here" musically.

Pull up a chair, I could talk about music for hours.

I'll give you a list of music, and I'm sure you'll see an evolution, though it might not make sense, some species skip others. NKOTB; Vanilla Ice; C&C Music Factory; then I made a very drastic jump to Metallica due to being friends with the only 3 banger girls in jr. high (you know who you are). That led to Guns n Roses, which gave way to Blind Melon. The next logical step was to examine my older brother's CD collection. He had all sorts of posters on his wall of hair bands...Cinderella, White Snake, I'm not even sure if he listened to that stuff, their band members just looked bad ass (to the standards of the early nineties, anyway). I stole his Red Hot Chilli Peppers albums, the rest of the Metallica albums, he introduced me to The Gandharvas (who I still love very much even though they're now defunct), and of course, Nirvana. My mother religiously bought the National Enquirer, where Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain were featured on occasion. I noted that Courtney had a band, so I checked out the album, "Pretty on the Inside." That made way for my obsession with L7 (Can I Run is an amazing track). Then came Alice in Chains, Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. (I am really putting dates on my lifetime).

I would be taken backwards and introduced to the Sex Pistols, and somehow that led to Nine Inch Nails. It kinda stopped there for a while. I met my soulmate in Trent Reznor.  I'll skip the showtunes part because that came from being a band geek at school. But then I'd buy metal magazines and would see a picture of a cool looking band, read the review, buy their album and go from there. Some newer friends I made in my last year of highschool got me hooked on Tori Amos...another soulmate.

During university I worked at two of the most famous live music bars in Toronto: Lee's Palace and the Horseshoe Tavern. Pretty much every Canadian band got their start at either or both venues. I loved working there...getting paid to watch live bands, keeping my ear to the door of the next big musical phenomenon. If I hadn't moved back to Ottawa I'd probably still be working at least at the Shoe. I still have friends who work there and I'm itching for a visit.

After that, many of my influences came from boyfriends...mostly metalheads and punks but I have them to thank for a lot of what I had on my ipod.

That being said, I'd like you all to take a minute of silence...my ipod died a few days ago. Long live the pod.

I wonder what's to come and how I'll find it...

Honourable mentions must go to Mr Bungle, Faith No More, Dog Fashion Disco, Frank Zappa, Mudvayne, Tool, The Residents, Gaga, Type O Negative, Rammstein, Sarah Brightman, many many many others...

Robot Chicken and the click clack of the infant swing

It seems like 20 years since those days when I lived on Holmwood, came home at 3am after a bender at the Dom, dating characters who should have been on a reality show, and relishing in the child-free life I led. My life was awesome.

Oh well.

Today was the twins' 2nd birthday party. I thought 2 would never arrive. Now we can actually take them places and I won't have a nervous breakdown, worrying about how many meltdowns could potentially happen. Well I'll *always* worry about that but at least I know they now realize what's going on around them a little more and they can enjoy things more cognizantly. I can't handle the public meltdown thing. I get extremely agitated and go into 'flight' mode and I just want to run away from the entire situation. But we took the kids to Cosmic Adventures on their bday and it was 99% stress free and I really needed that.

I can't believe it was two years ago when I was sleeping from 8pm to 12am, then from 5am to 6am and then up the rest of the day. Wayne slept from 12am to 5am (sometimes he slept in, wouldn't stop snoozing the clock, I had a baby on my lap and couldn't go get him, and I'd end up crying) then he'd nap for an hour when he got home. MAN that sucked. I thankfully had my parents helping me for the first two weeks during the day but after that I was on my own. On more than one occasion I'd phone my dad at 7am absolutely begging him to come over so I could sleep. I thought I was going to snap. We eventually found some night time sleep...I remember that night because I thought I was getting up at midnight but Wayne informed me they were asleep...so I got to sleep another 2 hours...then it got better...

I really don't miss those days...I was sitting outside in my backyard last night, enjoying the mild air and I began to remember why I didn't miss them, besides the obvious lack of sleep. During those first few months when I was up all night with the kids, I'd go out back for a smoke (I quit when I was pregnant but started up again. I've since quit) and I'd look at the houses around me, the stars above and I would miss who I used to be, what I used to do. I missed Wayne. While we lived in the same house, we only really saw each other in passing in those days. I'd have to say that those were some of the loneliest days of my entire life. I had two babies, but they were so young there was nothing beyond feeding, burping, rocking, and snuggling. If I didn't have the occasional outing with Cathy or Mimz I would have certainly gone off the deep end. Once the regular night sleeping came, our evenings started to free up a little and we could watch movies and go to bed at the same hour and for the same amount of time. We know each other again. People often credit me for raising twins but the credit really should go to Wayne, he's been such an amazing dad, really stepped up and I'm feeling incredibly lucky.

Now, I come inside from the backyard and my daughter (who should be in bed but is teething and stubborn) says "Hi Mom-MEE", spins in a circle and sings a song. Rideau St is far away. Watching Robot Chicken at 2am is ludicrous. I watch her spin her circles and realize that my life may be miles away from what I had envisioned, but it is nevertheless, just a different kind of awesome.