headlights and highways: a special spot in hell.

(Room mate's blog, about how people assume we're married while we go out in public.)

headlights and highways: a special spot in hell.: "Three days ago my roommate and I visited the MCC Furniture and More store in the hopes of finding a tacky phone to hook up to our buzzer. No..."

Scoot-A-Loot

So if I stop posting on this blog abruptly, it's because my scooter's tire has fallen off while driving, I've flipped face first over the handle bars, and am now currently dead in the morgue.

I've had my scooter for almost two years, and it has done it's job, poorly, but still has gotten me around. If you don't know me, I'm a spur of the moment, impulse, spend all my money at once kind of guy. One week when my parents were camping I decided I was done with walking, and decided to buy a 50cc scooter. It ended up being $2500. Now ask me if I had the money to pay for that. No. I didn't. I maxed out my credit card, and financed for a year. Why would I do this to myself you ask? Well I'm an idiot, that's why.

Back to the point. Don't ever buy a scooter. Unless you like being soaked to the bone every day, and sometimes forgetting to wear gloves and your hands are then beaten to death by hail at 50km/hr. Anyways, today I noticed that my front wheel was making an odd noise while driving. I then proceeded to look down at my wheel and it was wobbling back and forth. Why does God hate me? What did I do to deserve a scooter that falls apart every other month? Is this scooter not meant for me? Where was he when I forgot to put oil in it, and the tranny died? Where was he when the starter broke down...3 times? Where was he when scoot broke down at the mall on Christmas Eve? Merry fucking Christmas. Where is he every single time I make a right turn and have to smack the rear light? Which might I add, when doing so people must think I'm smacking my own ass. Where was he when I had to kick start it so much I now have arthritis in my ankle? Well, he was nowhere to be found. And I'm going to have a limp for the rest of my life.

The amount of money I have put into fixing this shit box has added up to a whole new scoot. So let me repeat myself, don't buy one! Also, the dealership I bought it at went out of business due to bankruptcy/fraud only a couple months after purchasing it. Then I was transferred to a new location, and that one went out of business just months after that. Now I have to get it driven in the back of a truck to Langley. FML, so much. Wish me luck so I don't die by scoot! =)

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Here's some pics of the stupid bitch.

Apartment Living

Do I live in a ghost town? Am I the only person living in this apartment building? I think the preconceived idea I had in my head moving into this apartment was that it was going to be exactly like the t.v. shows Friends, or the Big Bang Theory. Why don't I have a neighbour that barges into my house every hour or so? Why don't I have a sexy woman across the hall? Since I've moved here I have not seen a single soul in the hallways OR the elevator! Is it weird that I want an awkward elevator moment with some random in the building? Maybe it is... But regardless, I still want a good story to share! The only person I have ever encountered is the RiverDancer living above me. I guess I haven't actually encountered RiverDancer, but I hear the water/feet moving at a rapid, alarming rate at all hours of the day (minus the water).

If you have ever seen The Big Bang Theory, you would know the awesome laundry room conversations they have. So last night I decided to do laundry, for the first time living here, and maybe I would find my new bff4l. Not only did I miss the time frame of when we're allowed to wash our clothes, between 9am-10pm, by two minutes. But on top of that I didn't even see a single living organism. Not even once. What's with all the false advertisement on television shows about apartment living? If I knew I'd be moving into a ghost town, maybe I would have decided to reside elsewhere. I'm just kidding. I love it here. I especially love it when my room mate opens the bathroom window while getting ready, and proceeds to tell me there are creepers creeping from across the street, and they had just finished a drug deal. I love Abbotsford.

On a totally unrelated topic, I just got back from the casino, yes I know it's 1pm now... I don't have a problem, don't worry. But I lost the $20 dollars that I put in. I'm pissed. Why am I so bad with my money? Do I need to gamble? No, I need to buy food, pay rent, gas, and cat food. Dumb. Roulette- 1, Taylor James- 0.

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P.S.- I don't have any recent Facebook pictures. Sad.

Starbucks

Work. Starbucks. Pretentious folk. I feel like I need a vent. A good hearty vent. Let me just start this off with the fact that I have gauged ears, double zero to be exact. Not only do the Mennonites in town judge me because I have them, but some customers have been visibly repulsed by them. Since working at Starbucks I swear I have at least one person a day who asks, "Did that hurt to do that to your ears?" My reply, "I hate you, don't talk to me." Of course it did. Just imagine shoving a tapered piece of plastic through you ear to stretch the skin, then proceeding to hold it there until it heals. Please don't ask me about them if you are already on the verge of projectile vomiting over the counter. Topic one complete.

Topic two. $3.42. When you come into my store yelling $3.42 at me, expecting me to understand what the fuck you're saying/want, you most definitely deserve a slap to the throat. You're lucky that I have worked for the company for some time now, and have remembered the prices to most drinks, and that a tall latte is $3.42. Oh, also asking me when I'm making your drink, "Do you know what you're doing?", every single time you come in, does not only make me want to give you a decaf shot, a lougey, and a smack across the mouth, it makes me hate you. I tell you every single time that you come in I'm a supervisor, have worked at Starbucks for almost two years, and that I would hope by now I know how to make a tall latte because of those reasons. You, sir, do not make me a happy barista.

Thirdly, do not tell me you want a regular coffee. Nowhere on our menu boards does it say the size 'regular'. When I ask you what size you would like, do not tell me a regular AGAIN and start to get angry at me. I do not know what a regular is to you. Do I know you? No, I don't. So please stop saying regular repeatedly to my face, thanks.

#4. Security Boy Stalker. I don't know how you do it, but you always seem to find a way to lurk up behind me in the mall, where ever I may be, and strike up awkward conversations. I have no interest talking about feminism, and gypsies with you. Also, Security Boy Stalker, I know you have no reason to hang out at the garbage cans outside of our store, and act non challant. Please stand else where and protect the mall public from teenagers.

Fifthly- Please brush your teeth, your breath smells like a Komodo Dragon.

Don't get me wrong, I do have a lot of things to vent about with my job, doesn't everybody? But I also love and value working at Starbucks. I love the regular customers who come in every day, but it seems with every amazing regular there is 5 horrible customers. We need to fix this problem. Some of these vent topics could be possible solutions. Aka a smack the the throat.

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Latest Facebook picture. (Merry Lou made a disgusting drink, I don't remember all what was in it. Except for the java chips at the bottom of the cup I discovered as pouring the bev out.) This is me enjoying it thoroughly, as you can see.

Coffee is my Saviour

I feel like a zombie right now. So I decided to take a break from studying and have a little photo shoot with my coffee (Christmas blend from Starbucks). Since I have a midterm tomorrow, I will be up all night, possibly dying from heart palpitations due to the copious amounts of caffeine I have ingested. All in the name of university. 50 more pages of reading to go! Canadian democracy will be the end of me. Also the obese person that lives above me who needs to learn that it's not appropriate to river dance at midnight. That too, will be the end of me. Ican'tdropout,Ihateriverdance,Iwanttosleep. /Rant completed.

Alcohol, School, Procrastination

Why hello there bloggities, my name is Procrastination, nice to meet you. Maybe two hours ago I realized that I have a poli sci exam on Wednesday. Really? Are you kidding me? Where have I been? Oh yes, highly intoxicated since New Years. Anyways, how did I already get to this point of procrastination? In all of my classes I haven't even taken the slightest gander at my text books. They have been tucked away in my school bag for the past month, neglected. So in the next two days-ish I will have my nose tucked in the pages of Canadian history text, acting like I give a shit. Canadian patriotism at it's best. Just watch me, I'll be the next Stephan Harper..Wait, that is our prime minister, right? P.S. I've only been to one out of the five classes of my poli sci class. Why am I an university drop out?

I've figured out the root cause of my procrastination, and that would be my down fall in life currently. Friends. I hate them. They always want to hang out. Horrible friends I have... Bah! They need to stop being so awesome, and stop making me feel like I have to see them every day. Moderation, why didn't I learn you as a life skill as a child? Thanks Mom..

So, let us jump to another topic. What have I been up to as of late? Well lets see here. I've been to 3 separate birthdays in two days. This past Friday I went to a restaurant on Commercial in Vancouver called Havana. It's a go to place for a group of friends and I to drink gallons of mojitos in a short period of time. We enjoy it. Then we ended up loitering the streets for a bit. Good fun. When I got back into town I hit up Phoenix Lounge for another friend's birthday. I danced for an hour, and just about passed out on the D.floor from exhaustion. That's normal, right? Saturday. A different group of friends went to Vancouver to a club called Joe's Apartment. Don't go there unless you want to be eye fucked by a platoon of hipsters with 6 million facial piercings swaying back and forth to shitty music and taking up all the room for me to dance. (That sentence needed no punctuation due to my anger.) Then I ended up leaving Hip-ville to a friend's house for awhile, but later decided to go out again to a bar called Bayside. Now this was a treat. We ended up sitting at tables right beside a big group of Mexican guys. Get this.. They thought I was Jamie Oliver.. Yes, the naked chef. Really? Like come on! Anyways. I ended up getting a double tequila shot, and a corona out of them. Stereotypical? Maybe. But they were nice. So 330am rolls around, and I ended up crashing at the same friend's place.

I worked the next day. I think a little bit of me died inside from being how hung over I was. I couldn't even eat my spicy chicken burger I bought from Wendy's! The outrage. But yes, I need to relax for a bit, grab hold of 'dem reigns and get back on the school bus. If they'll let me back on...

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Now lets review some pictulas from the night's events, which seems like we didn't take that many. Regardless, here's a few goodies.

Moving

I hate moving, I hate moving, I hate moving. It's the 4th time this year that I've decided to move myself. This time around I'm in an apartment... stairs...elevators...BAH! I'm happy with myself because I've signed a year lease and I'll be staying here for that year. (except for when I go to Peru)

So now that all of my possessions are in the house, minus Chairman Meow, I feel relieved. I love my apartment, I love where it's located, and I love my room mate! All I have yet to do is nail my paintings up in my room, and grocery shop for the dreaded first week's move in. I hate having to buy condiments, but I should be used to it since it's MY FOURTH TIME! On another note I think I'll post pictures of the apartment when everything is done and set up.

PS- Smoking.. So I had a hiccup and smoked last saturday.. Saddening, I know. So today is my 4th day of not smoking..for the second time. But I'm happy for this second time around because I'm pretty sure I have strep throat, so there has been no cravings!

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Here's the recent photo from Facebook. (Roosters in Pitt Meadows, where I smoked myself silly.)