Granny Panties

Ladies, we all have that pair of underwear we wouldn’t be caught dead in. You know, the full bottoms, or the granny panties or the ones you use when all your underwear is in the laundry. Well today, I flaunted them. Remember back when I said I was trying all these different avenues of employment, well today I went to a casting call for a well known underwear brand. Now, this was no sexy ensemble from La Senza or Victoria’s Secret, I’m talking about something you’d find in Walmart. So I trek to the East end of Toronto and end up at this studio loft space, I ventured up the stairs and feel like Im about to be murdered because the building is pretty sketchy. I find the casting room and fill out an information form. Now, I have never been to a casting before so I thought it was along the lines of a meet and greet, they just want to see what I look like sort of thing. Boy, was I wrong. A lady handed me a matching underwear and bra set and showed me to the change room. As I put on the ensemble I look in the mirror and think, “Jesus, this is what my mom wears” (Sorry Mom you’re beautiful and all..). Im talking a FULL support bra for when your boobs have gone down the drain, and high waisted underwear to hold in the undesirables. Now, if you know me, you’re aware that I don’t have the ideal model body. I’m the height of a hobbit, my hair is comparable to cousin It and I’ve got the largest bottom you’ve probably ever seen. But I’ll be damned if I did not walk out there in my granny panties and owned those like Beyonce would want me too. The panel of ladies who were casting the models said “Thats fits you well” then proceeded to talk in their secret language of French while I just stood there. They snapped a few pictures of me in my senior’s ensemble and told me I was free to go. I snapped a picture of this underwear crime but am having second thoughts of posting it on here..I wouldn’t want you to never come back.

PS, yes still unemployed

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Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is DEAD

 

Just kidding, the witch (aka Satan’s Spawn) did not die…but she did MOVE OUT. I’d like to thank my wonderful roommates for helping me endure this roller coaster that Satan’s child sprung on me. Last night her family came with her to move out all of her tainted belongings, and no Voldemort did not show his face, its celebration time people! What does this mean for me?

-I no longer have to blast annoying music at the top of my speakers to get her to shut her door, For example, I frequently used The House that Heaven Built by The Japandroids;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRVCtbfuDqw

-I no longer have to roll my eyes when I hear her coughing in her room

-I no longer have to watch any movies at full volume in my room at midnight on a school night

-I no longer have to talk obnoxiously loud on the phone about how I hate my ‘roommate issues’

-I no longer have to stop my drunken friends from trying to break into her room and sabotage her belongings (long live my wonderful friends)

-I no longer have to make gagging noises when I see her leave her bedroom

-I no longer have to pretend I hate country music (because thats all she played in her room so I went on strike for 7 months)

To sum it all up, my life will be a lot more relaxing in this house. My life as we know will now improve, that is once I get a job.

Tipsy Takes a Tumble

As a student, most of my weekends are spent in a typical fashion, either being slightly (not so slightly) intoxicated and/or recovering. I’d like to go back to October which I can proudly say is that last time I’ve had one of “those” nights. After a bottle of wine and reeking havoc on the subway, my friends and I (a large group of intoxicated girls) arrive at the bar. Whether I got into the bar, is irrelevant, but what happened after is the entertaining part. As we are walking back from the bar to visit the usual Smoke’s Poutine, I’m walking arm and arm with my friend, my six inch heels (go big or go home ladies) get caught in a streetcar track, and inevitably I go down. Now, I don’t simply just fall down onto the street, being arm and arm with my friend means I pulled her entire body on top of me while falling and of course twisted my ankle. Not to mention, I took my tumble in front of a police car who saw my obvious distress and put the sirens on, and drove over to my rescue. Im crying my eyes out on the street, have holes in my pants from falling, meanwhile my friends are shushing me so I don’t make an even bigger scene (the cops are already involved people this can’t escalate any further). My friends soberly confirm to the police men that I’m ok and its just a slight injury. Slight, as in my ankle is the size of baseball. Its clear now that I’m in a lot of pain, but you cannot come between a girl and her poutine on a night out. So, of course I hobble on down and get my poutine (rightfully so), and then let my friends half carry me, half shuffle me on our long commute home.

Waking up the next morning, I knew I was in trouble. Not only was my ankle every colour of the rainbow, but I kept hearing my mother’s nagging voice in my head “You’ll kill yourself in those shoes, one wrong step and your career’s over!”. To explain why my career would be in danger, its because I am a dancer. I’m in a university dance program, dance is my life. So it was a bit troubling that I could not walk at all, but I was also thinking, what in the world am I going to tell my professors? I made some ridiculous story about soberly falling off a curb and I had a doctors note to enable my non-participation in class for a few days while I recovered. It healed pretty fast, and my ankle is as good as new, but I can assure you I have not been that irresponsible since, well at least not in heels anyways.

PS this was back when I was single and not worrying about employment,

still unemployed. 

Furry Enemies

As you all know, I am severely unemployed. Therefore, I’m trying out a few different avenues of finding employment. This past weekend I went for an audition for a online dating service commercial. I know, I know, it is embarrassing, but apparently real people do these commercials. So, I spent a few days memorizing my lines and arrived at the casting on Saturday morning with a bit of nerves because I’ve never done anything like this before. As soon as I sit down in the waiting room, a small animal, a dog, runs over to me and jumps up on the seat beside me. If you’ve never met me, then you couldn’t possibly understand the significance of an animal approaching me. I am, anti-animal. Now, I don’t “hate” them, I’m simply petrified. No, nothing traumatizing happened to me as a child, I never had a pet so I didn’t grow up around animals. Every time I went to a birthday party as a child, my parents had to call ahead and ask them to put their pets away because their child is literally distressed at the first sight of any living creature. Now that your aware of my irrational fear of any living being that is not a human, I can continue. So, this dog is staring at me and I put my hand out to pet it like a normal person would, and it licks me. Im sweating. I’ve never been licked by an animal, this is horrible, why do people allow this on a regular basis?! THEN, the dog crawls onto my lap and lays down for the duration of my stay. Clearly, I’ve never had an animal on my lap before, so the whole time I’m thinking “it’s going to pee on me”, “Im going into the audition with animal pee on my pants”. No, it didn’t pee. I’m just a ridiculous human. Eventually, I had to PICK UP THE DOG (heart attack) and put it down so I could do my audition. Which went ok, but how confident can you be when using lines you would never say in your entire life, example “I want a real man”. As far as I know, I didn’t get the part in the commercial, so I’m still unemployed BUT I made a new furry friend right? Ew.

PS the dog was wearing this diaper/overall contraption, I had to take a picture.

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Tinderella

My hot topic of today is the infamous Tinder. For those of you who are unaware of what Tinder is, it’s either because you’re too old, or you’re happily in a relationship, since I am neither, I am shamefully/shamelessly a Tinder user. Tinder is a free dating app available on your phone. Tinder works by selecting a few of your Facebook photos, creating a short bio, and showing you ‘singles’ in your area. You are able to select an age range you are interested in and set your distance to show you people up to 160km away. Now I know your probably wondering what is the creep to normal person ratio? Its about 6:1, maybe even higher. The app works anonymously so you don’t have to worry about turning down the weirdos, you simply swipe the profile to the left if your not interested, and swipe right if you are. Once you and someone have mutually liked one another, you are seen as a Match, and have the option to chat. Now lets be clear, I am not on Tinder looking for love, but it is quiet entertaining. For example, Tinder has tried to match me with the likes of:

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And then there are some people who decide to Tinder drunk, or at least I really hope he was:

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And then the scum of the Earth come around,

IMG_0443

All in all, Tinder is a great time waster. But from my experience, do NOT leave your Tinder open around your friends because they WILL change your profile settings and make you appear as a Male looking for other Males. Its happened, I thought I broke the app before realizing someone had tampered with it.

Satan’s Spawn is my Roommate

In honour of my first Throwback Thursday, I thought I would entertain you all with a topic that everyone deals with, Roommate Drama. Now everyone has their own issues with roommates while living in student housing, but I thought mine is pretty unique and well RIDICULOUS. The story begins at the beginning of last summer, when I decided to break up with my boyfriend of 4.5 years. As break ups are concerned, it was very civil and I left the situation feeling very happy about my decision. As summer wound down to the end, I was looking forward to going back to school in Toronto and moving back in to my student house. The day after I moved back in, my roommate, who I now call Satan’s Spawn, whom I had lived with for 3 years, approaches me and says that we need to have an awkward conversation. She proceeds to tell me that over the summer break she has kept in contact with my ex, who my friends and I call Voldemort (Mom if your reading this Voldemort is the bad guy in Harry Potter), and they have now started dating. So, in complete and utter shock I politely ask her to leave my room so I can have time to think about this situation that is now my life. First off, WTF, secondly, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, third, HOW DARE YOU. Am I right? I took a few days to vent to my friends and family about how two of the world’s worst people are now together, and how I have to live smack dab in the middle of that situation. When I say we are roommates, we literally share a wall between our rooms so I can hear them giggle on the phone together (gag). I took a few days, and decided that she didn’t deserve any face time with me, so I wrote her a letter outlining obvious details such as: she’s horrible, he’s horrible, they belong together, don’t ever talk to me again, and that I will be civil and not burn down her room for the sake of the household.

Its now been seven months of this hellish living situation, but its almost over. Your probably wondering, has Voldemort dared to step inside this house? Have I seen them together? The answer is no, but for future notice, if I blog about beating up a guy, it’ll be him.

PS, found out they had hooked up while we were still dating

PPS, Still unemployed, also single?

 

Get me OUT of Here

As previously mentioned in my last post, I was invited back for a second interview the following day. Originally I thought I had applied for a receptionist job at a marketing firm, and it ended up being a sales position for a marketing company. Due to my current state of unemployment, I thought I was not in a position to turn away any opportunities, so I went. The second interview was to be conducted at the end of the day after spending a few hours job shadowing, I figured we would be attending some appointments with businesses and potential clients etc. PSYCH, was I ever wrong. To my immediate disgruntled surprise, I was now spending the day shadowing a door-to-door salesman. In freezing temperatures (and snow), I followed this salesman around listening to him pitch to seniors and any other unlucky folk who happened to be home, and stupid enough to answer their door midday. The whole time while making conversation with this man I was thinking HOW AM I GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS. Halfway through the day he tells me there will be a quiz at the end of our time together and that I should start memorizing some keys point, this is where out of pure frustration and frozen-ness I said that I was no longer interested in the position and that I had no idea what the position actually entailed, being the worlds most annoying human. We said our awkward goodbyes and I thanked him for the great experience of the day anyway. In summary, I learned that I need to ask what the job is before I agree to interview for it, and that I am still unemployed.

Interview 2.0

Yesterday I went on my second interview of my summer job hunt. Usually I’d like to think I’m prepared physically and mentally, geographically on the other hand is my issue. I arrive early as all professional young know-it-all’s do, and I decide not to regard the name of the building I’m entering. For fifteen minutes I wander aimlessly around this building looking for suite 330, which at this point is invisible. As I leave the building frustrated I pass by a room titled Recreation Room and see seniors asleep in front of a television. Unknowingly I had been searching for my entry level marketing job interview in a retirement home. As if the token smell of old people and seniors in walkers had not given it away sooner. Surprisingly, the interview went well and I was asked back for a second. But, I am still unemployed.

Interview Mishap

For my first post ever I thought I would start with an embarrassing story, what better way to introduce myself to the blogging world than that. Recently, I had an interview with a high end retail store in downtown Toronto. While securing this interview on the phone I decided to ‘memorize’ all of the directions instead of write them down which where in lies my issue. On that lovely Saturday morning I arrived at the office, rode up the escalator and proceeded into the elevator to go to the fifth floor. On my ride up, the elevator stops between floors, with pre interview nerves already in place this wasn’t a great start to my morning. I embarrassingly call my potential future employer and tell him Im stuck in the elevator, he tells me that I have gone into an elevator that  I needed security clearance to be in, and that he will try to get me out. One minute later I arrive at floor five and meet my potential boss, who does not crack a smile at my embarrassing first impression and proceeds straight to the interview. Believe it or not, the interview did go well, and I was invited back for a second where I then joked about taking the stairs next time, to which he once again did not crack a smile. I didn’t get the job. I am still unemployed.