ttc and monty python's flying circus collaborate to frustrate riders

waiting...waiting...waiting at Queen East and Carlaw for a Victoria Park streetcar...the one that goes up Kingston Road to Vic Park--where me mortgage waits to be signed (arrr matey). I wait some more. 25 minutes later i ask a Neville Park driver "yo, what up?". he says, very nicely, get on and i will take you up to Kingston Road...maybe you can catch a car there". oh happy thought--maybe i can catch a street car.
at kingston road i wait. i wait some more. i wait with a gathering crowd. i call ttc--you know the number 393 INFO. i listen to the message. no disruption of service for the vic park car. fine. i press "0". i listen to more "better way" propoganda. i press "o" again. a young woman answer's the phone saying that she is here to help. oh happy day.
"hi" i say, very nicely. "i've been waiting for a Vic Park car for over 35 minutes now. your recorded message doesn't mention any problems...what's up?".
"i can't help you here" she says, "let me transfer you to information about routes" i get transferred. I tell my short tale of woe to a woman in "information".
"i can't help you here, let me transfer you to the people in information who know where the street cars actually are (as opposed to say, where they are supposed to be?)". I start "but isn't that who i'm already speaking t--" transferred again. a girl. i start my story...
"i just spoke to you" she says, snottily.
"well i got sent back to you" i say, still kindly.
she says "i don't know personally of anything that's wrong, i can't help you. you need to talk to customer service (do I!)"...and she transfers me to customer service where a very perky young man tells me he can't help me at all. and transfers me somewhere else...where you ask?
"i've already talked to you--twice" she says before i've even got two words out. "you have to talk to customer service"...and i'm shot off into the ether again. back to customer service. where it rings and rings and rings. no one wants to talk to me. after 20 rings, i hang up.

derek's dad is a little bit evil

true story: derek's dad had derek and i convinced that david carradine's lawyer had called him (d's dad) and wants to have a few words with us about my blog. when i got the call from derek about ammending my blog i was at the bank applying for a mortgage. the loan lady said "what's wrong?" i said "i'm about to be sued by david carradine" i said, lifting my hands into the choppy chops kung fu hand sign "do you think this will affect my eligibility for a mortgage?". she smiled politely pulling together all of her papers and pulled away from her desk. she said "i'll get back to you".

mr. shapton pulled a funny. he's a bad bad man. i told derek i might kick him in the shins next time i see him.

it's hard to get in shape when you really don't want to

i like being unemployed. sorta. i like my couch. and alias dvds. and sleep. and my cat. kylie's ass no longer holds sway and i move to the dark side.

i'm all bloat-y

the pie-eyed roary gilmore once reemed out her ex's current girl for using the word "bloaty" but i have to say...today i understand bloaty. kylie be damned i'm retaining water like the Hoover Dam.

also, in my state of PMS, i am perusing a fashion mag that landed on my desk and the fall fashions, as stated by Flare, are horrendous for short upside down triangle-shaped people. oh yeah, sign me up for skinny jeans and heavy school-girl plaid jacket...maybe with some bulky shoulder pads--that would be so frikkin' hot! why don't i just wear flat shoes and get myself a page boy hair cut while i'm transgendering to fat short boy from Ennismore. What in the name of all that is slimming is happening!!

unemployment update
turns out i'm not so good at the not going to work (she says from her old desk at the office she left two weeks ago but has come in to do some freelance work on site) because she (that's me) is not entirely too sure about what to do with herself at home.

derek shapton said so

dear readers (all two of you)...sorry about the delay in the posting but i have been out of town and out and about. i went up to georgian bay where the water is clear and really frikkin' cold to go swimming with a dog named rocky. anyhoo upon returning i found mail from various sorts saying "what's up with the lack of posting?" so here i go. i also got one complaint that i never talk about my friend derek shapton. derek, this one is for you...

*this is fiction*
i was at the movies last night with C-man, derek shapton, his lover and partner KS (i have no permission here to use real names, except for his) and their friend M. we saw a movie and then went to the roof of the park plaza for a drink, which was very cool--and david caradine was there; you know Kung Fu, and Kung Fu the legend, and of course Bill from Kill Bill. Anyhoodle Mr. Carradine was in a jocular mood and when passing by our table picked up Derek Shapton and challenged him to a kung fu off. Shapton gamely accepted. The first few minutes they just circled each other, sizing each other up and occasionally exchanging the stink eye. Carradine, at one point in the dance said to derek "when i'm done with you tin man, i'm taking your woman". KS took a sip of her mojito. We talked briefly about how much she likes Toronto and and wondered where Carradine's main residence is situated. Derek Shapton, enraged, flew through the air like a squirrel reaching for a hydro line, landing squarely on David Carradine's chest--where he sat. to catch his breath. and think abou this next move. i ordered another manhattan and waited...

Derek Shapton sat atop David Carradine where they continued their deep and penetrating gaze into one another's eyes. and then David Carradine nodded to Derek Shapton, accepting that the young and fiery photographer-about-town would not willingly be getting off his chest. In the end, david carradine embraced derek shapton and whispered in his ear "you are my kind of man" and then he left.

*this is not fiction*
on his way past our table, David Carradine gave C-man a light punch in the shoulder and exited the bar.

today, well tomorrow, is the first day of the rest of my life

or will be after i file my expense report for the last two months, file my benefits claim, complete the performance review of my two favourite employees, meet with the designers for the pitch on our new logo, email the communications strategy to our new VP of whatever THEN I will kiss my boss hard on the mouth, run through the office wearing nothing but my puma's and and ankle socks out on to queen street east where i will hail a cab to take me home. i hope the cab doesn't have leather seats...sigh...

yes, today is the last day of my employment (insert Sinead "oh oh oh" here). and i am happy. manic happy which tells me i'm also totally freaked out. but it will be fine - this i mutter under my breath all the day long.

and then tomorrow will start and we will see how that goes.

kylie-watch 2006
also on friday or maybe next week Kylie 2: Electric Boogaloo will begin. i'm less worried about my ass at this very moment, because i can't see it. what is disturbing is my wee little pot belly. and i'm jiggly. so part of kylie 2 will be the de-jigglefication of me. is there a way to measure that?