Saturday, February 28, 2009

Mild trauma.

In the sidebar of my horoscope page:

In Today's Newsletter

Chelsea Clinton Chelsea Clinton

"You want to haggle over the price of your French Dip?"

Last night at the bar, I was feeling antsy.

Perhaps it was the long post-break week back at school. Perhaps it's that I'm hitting the home stretch for second semester— and, holy crap, first year. Perhaps it's the lack of concrete summer plans. Either way, I was enjoying the fact that my typical Friday shift was going to be shaken up a bit with a couple of live bands and a small art show.

It was as the guy was setting up his paintings that I eyed a few of the works- multiple layers of acrylics with the textures and colours working in an appealing abstract fashion. Yet almost all of the pieces included a firm representation of some kind, often stenciled in. Some of the canvasses were particularly vibrant that contrasted with some of the images' suggested morbidity.

I liked them.

It was as the band was wrapping up and I saw the tip jar overflowing that I decided to give in to my impulse. I wandered over to the artist as he was moving one of his paintings to cover the blank wall from where he'd just taken down and sold one of his other canvasses- a tall, long piece with towering silhouettes of trees against an orange and burgundy sky that I had watched the patrons admiring all night.

"So, how much are you selling these for?" I asked.

After a chat about the pieces, I pulled out some of my tip money and pointed to one of the medium-sized pieces, full of vibrant greens and yellows layered with incandescent oranges with white human silhouettes in the foreground- four men climbing an incline with a flag (Iwo Jima photo-esque) with another figure diving off into the multicoloured oblivion.

I walked proudly back to the bar with my canvas. My co-workers were initially confused but ultimately enthused by my acquisition. I put it on the bar next to me as we sat down for a drink after a busy night and a long close. Scotch in hand, I admired the canvas. It's my first piece of art that I've bought for my apartment.

As I made it home, tired from the shift but happy from the serendipitous art find and the Glenfiddich, I remembered that today is Sam's anniversary. While it made me sad to think of her, I know she'd be proud that I put some extra money in a student artist's pocket and enjoyed a good scotch. It's not Bailey's and Count Chocula, but I'll save that promise for another time.

Now, I just need to find a place for the painting...

Monday, February 16, 2009

Reading week =/= Reading

Since Friday, I have:

- Gone to see Jim Cuddy at Winterlude.
- Left Cuddy early to go to an all-ages metal show at Maverick's and see Adrian play.
- Left the metal show to drink beer away from 15 year-old Kanata kids.
- Ran into John Sergeant. Reminisced.
- Had the annual Valentine's dinner at Mamma Teresa's with the usual suspects...
- Likely been banned from Mamma Teresa's.
- Watched "Knocked Up". For the first time. Don't judge.
- Wondered why the single best scene of the film was cut out.
- Made chocolate pudding.
- Locked myself, the keys, and my phone in the apartment of a friend that I'm looking after.
- Consoled myself with chocolate pudding.
- Within 20 minutes, acquired Sasha to help me jimmy the lock with a right angle and a Shoppers Optimum card.
- Used the serendipity of our hooliganism to catch up on life over coffee.
- Had an impromptu dinner date at my place with Tejas after ditching her at coffee because of the apartment debacle. Finished the chocolate pudding for dessert.
- Went on a sexy skating date on the canal with Glo.
- Embarrassed myself on the canal with my utter lack of skating abilities.
- Ate beavertails to ease the pain of failure.
- Added copious amounts of Bailey's to my and Glo's hot chocolates to forget my epic skating fail.
- Went to a fantastic rock show at Zaphod's.
- Got double shots by accident thanks to Glo talking about my boobs... and a well-placed grab.
- Drank pints and enjoyed fantastic company in the window booth of the Brig.
- Spent the last third of the night trying to convince a friend that he should, despite his new relationship in TO, accept the married couple's offer of a threesome. Mumbled something about area codes. Was the picture of morals and grace. May have said "if I were your girlfriend, I wouldn't be upset... in fact, I'd be impressed. I'd probably high five you."
- Walked home with the Sarge. Compared winter trenchcoats.

So now it's Monday and I'm actually going to work. I'm going to be a diligent student and mark ALL of the first year papers and start pursuing my 20 years later story (because apparently I can't do "20 years ago, Meg was getting potty trained— a retrospective"...) I will finish up my MRP research and bibliograph (yes, now a verb) to my heart's content and be a picture of academic accomplishment. I will even pull out my reading glasses.

... well, until I head out for pints tonight.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Oh, right. Blog.

So it seems that I'm no better at keeping a blog than before.

I thought that maybe I had matured and I could commit to a steady, loving relationship with a blog. Maybe not daily, but at least weekly. But, as per usual, it was a couple of weeks of fun and I stopped returning his calls. I had better things to do, like watch "How I Met Your Mother" and stare at shiny objects for indescribable lengths of time.

And so, I would like to issue the following statement:

Dear Blog,

This time, I promise to make things work.

I promise to make time for "us", to share the stories of my week that will enrich our relationship. Like the date I went on last week where the singer at the pub took off his pants before performing. Or how last week at karaoke a prof got tanked and told everyone, mic in hand, that they should go home and get laid because sex is awesome... and proceeded to do the splits during "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". Or how this week I had a friend puking in the back of the bar while I tried to do cash out and somehow managed to help her hydrate, throw up, and balance the till all at once. Because these are the things you need— nay, deserve— to know.

Yes, I know you've been hurt by me before, so we can take this slowly. Let's start weekly and just see where it goes...



PS: Just don't get too close right now, I seem to be in the midst of illness and would hate to pass it on to you. But don't worry, I've been eating lots of Jell-O and watching loads of Pride & Prejudice (the Colin Firth version, obviously) and thus am hoping to be back in good health in no time at all.