Crunch time

I've already eaten the 24 delicious chocolate days til Christmas from my advent calendar and it's only December 1st. I can't have chocolate lying around and not eat it!

The newlyweds stopped by to visit me at Wal-mart to gloat about their Caribbean cruise. They promised me a souvenir. I hope it's a cabana boy.

I spoke too soon about doing really well in school. That project (a presentation) I was supposed to do that required real work was really boring and time-consuming so I decided not to do it. To keep up appearances, I asked the teacher if I would be able to present my (non-existent) project later on. She said no and looked like she was ready to argue her position but I just nodded and tried not to reveal that this was the best news I'd heard all day. I wondered how long it would be before I resorted back to my old slacker ways. I held out for three months; that's pretty good. Just scraping by is my specialty. The next two weeks are going to be hellish.

Libraries 101

I thought my days of spending the afternoon in the Killam working on group projects were over but no, that's what I did today. This is the first assignment we've had that's going to require actual work so I'm not very happy about it. I've been enjoying the leisurely pace of this course. It's almost the end of the term and I've passed in every assignment, on time and done reasonably well. I haven't been doing this well in school since the early 90's.

Our class now has an intense rivalry going on with the second year library students. I'm not sure exactly how it started but they snubbed our pub crawl, then we didn't participate in their Halloween potluck and now they're boycotting our class t-shirts which read "Library Technicians are best bound in leather". The only time we manage to come together is when we have to do stuff with the Library Studies Masters students at Dal because we all really hate those snobs. They think they're so cool because they get to be librarians and we're only going to be library technicians. These get-togethers are supposed to be networking opportunities but we usually just gossip amongst ourselves. Librarians are a catty bunch.

Friday's library tour of Mount Saint Vincent went more smoothly than the one last week of the science and technology library where one person had a panic attack and someone else fainted. Community College is rough.

Happy Anniversary

Halloween is over and I pretty much missed it. I just didn't get into the spirit this year, but according to the word on the #1 bus, Halloween at King's was the most awesome it's been in three years. It's good to hear things are finally getting back to normal after our departure.

Work was incredibly boring Wednesday. Luckily I was drunk for most of it. I certainly don't approve of workplace drunkenness; I just had too much wine at Janet's birthday lunch. Given the nature of the work I do, I'm sure the only consequence was that the sweaters weren't folded as neatly as they usually are. Also my co-worker Lynn, who was high on Benadryl talked me into going out back to search for the guy she likes which I normally wouldn't have done. We didn't find him, but we did chat with a foul-mouthed Quagmire wanna-be and took candy from a toothless truck unloader. The girl covering for us said we were gone half an hour but I don't think that's true.

I finally have a Wal-mart stalker. It was starting to get embarassing; pretty much everyone here has at least one stalker. Toby from electronics has an elderly woman. Lynn from ladieswear has a middle aged man who brings her coffee. Noelle from ladieswear has a teenaged former employee who was recently fired for being stoned on the job. Harley from electronics has a group of skanky love-sick teenage girls. My stalker is an "artist" from Montreal. He came into the store on Saturday at 8am with a knapsack full of drawings and asked me to watch them while he went to the washroom (probably to do some crack). When he came back he wanted to know which drawing was my favorite. I found most of them disturbing but finally settled on one of a little girl sitting on Santa's lap. He autographed it for me and included his email address. I told him I had to leave and he didn't have an outburst or stab me so I count it as a positive encounter.

As a testament to my impeccable timing, I was on lingerie duty last week when the infamous Phone Pervert finally made a personal appearance. The Phone Pervert is just the latest in a string of weirdos we deal with on a regular basis. We suspect he's too cheap to pay for phone sex so he gets his kicks by calling his local Wal-mart and asking naughty questions disguised as wardrobe questions. Normally he gets a polite apology that we don't have what he's looking for but he really hit the jackpot when he struck up a conversation with the new girl in the infant department. Nadine, a frumpy girl with a face like a Siamese cat and a knack for boring me to death with stories about her mother-in-law, actually turns out to be quite the freak and talked to the Phone Pervert for half an hour asking detailed questions and offering suggestions. This excited him so much he decided to come in in person, where I was lucky enough to be the one fielding his questions about groin restricting undergarments. I think he was pleased with my calm professional demeanor and left with a slimy smirk on his face. I hightailed it back to the fitting room where my supportive co-workers were concealed in the back room still recovering from fits of hysterical laughter.

It was one year ago that I was first hired at Wal-mart. If I'm very, very good, I'll get a 30 cent raise. I feel I'm owed much, much more.

My crappy apartment is your crappy apartment

I no longer have any houseguests. Mary Stovepipe was here last Friday night and my friend Tina has been here since Sunday. Both received subpar treatment. Tina is just returning from a 2 year stint in England and is having trouble readjusting to our Canadian ways. After class today, I came home to the sounds of British radio and the smell of curry. It was like being back in the old country. We reminisced about all our wild and crazy times in England. We met when I became hopelesly trapped in a sketchy shower stall at a London hostel. She responded to my calls for help. Since we were both Maritimers, we formed our own tour group and managed to visit lots of English points of interest, despite both being wildly incompetent with directions. She was also kind enough to call me from the hostel lounge whenever my Mediterranean stalker had given up and gone home for the night. So that was convenient. She had such a great time visiting me here that she has decided to head over to Ireland at the the soonest possible opportunity.

I'm a Barbie girl

I have drastically cut back on the amount of hours I work at Walmart to accommodate my learning to be a librarian. I now only work two or three days a week, but I think somehow every crazy person in Halifax got a copy of my schedule because they all show up when I'm working.

I almost got into a fight yesterday with a man who came into the store to buy an umbrella for his daughter. He refused to even consider the Barbie one because, according to him, she presents a negative body image. I wanted to slap some sense into him but we're not allowed. He tried to trick me into saying bad things about her, but I'll defend Barbie to the death. Barbie is like the hot friend I never had, and I don't think these parents are doing their kids any favors by not letting them have Barbies. Some of these same people have no problem with Barbie's fashionable new competition, Bratz, whose heads are bigger than the entire rest of their bodies. Obviously that's a much better body ideal for young girls to aspire to. At least they're flat-chested. To keep the peace, I told myself that this man was obviously misinformed and had no way of knowing how little girls think. I blame the damn feminists.

I got yet another visit from CrazyPants, an older lady who comes in every day looking for the same pair of pants which we don't carry and never have. I always spend 10 or 15 minutes with her searching for the elusive pants and listening to her chatter. When she's satisfied we don't have them, she bids me farewell and I wave good-bye knowing the search will continue tomorrow. There's always old people coming in looking for things that haven't been produced in decades. One gentlemen came in looking for pajamas made of long underwear-type material because his were wearing out. Hoping to figure out what he was talking about, I asked him where he got his last pair. He told me he got them from the door-to-door peddler and together we estimated that that was around the late 1940's.

I had to postpone my lunch break on Tuesday. I lost my appetite after we caught a couple in their 30's having sex in the men's fitting room. Apparently it's like the mile high club for poor people. I hate thinking about ugly Walmart people having sex! Gross!

Cheeseburger Eddie, who is in charge of store security, recently busted a mother-daughter shoplifting team. The scoundrels stole a suede jacket right out from under my nose. The nerve! I'm always completely oblivious to any illegal activity going on around me. I always mistake the security guard's increased presence in my department as an interest in me, but it's usually all about the thieves. But anyway, just think how much it would suck to have to go to jail with your Mom. This particular duo ended up not getting charged, which is unfortunate, because I especially like when the cops escort them out. It's always interesting and sad to see how they react to the walk of shame down the main aisle, and also the cops are usually hot.

On a questionably more positive note, I finally got an answer to a workplace mystery involving my co-worker Mel. Mel is a nice person, but I wasn't sure if Mel was a nice woman or a nice man. Today I saw Mel come out of the women's washroom. That solved, I don't think there's any potential for me to learn anything new at work.

Not just for nerds anymore

I'm into my third week of library school. So far, so good. I take courses with wild titles like Descriptive Cataloguing and Acquisition and Circulation Procedures. Not everyone's idea of a good time but I'm just enough of a loser to find it interesting. My classmates are not as nerdy as I expected. The majority seem quite normal. We look much like your average university class.

I went to see the program director about transferring credits so that I could skip the Intro to Literature course. When he found out I had an English degree he said that I should probably be teaching the course. We both laughed, but I think he was actually serious.

In all of the classes everything is very fact based and there's a right way to do everything. As an English major, I'm used to just making shit up. But that crap won't fly with this crowd. There's no eccentric intellectuals here. Just sensible, hard-working folks. Thank god I still have all the nut jobs and dope fiends at Walmart to keep me entertained.

On Fridays we go on field trips to different libraries around the city. This week we're going to the medical library at the QEII. Everyone was very disappointed today to learn that we would not be visiting any prison libraries. Our teacher said she didn't know much about them either except that when the special alarm sounds, there's a room that you're supposed to run to and lock yourself in. I think that sounds pretty fun, but I have to admit I'm picturing the hot guy from Prison Break.

Overall, the program does not seem like it will be overly challenging but that's fine by me. It's unfortunate that it's two years but I think I'll definitely stick with it. The shame of me being a community college drop-out would be too great for my family who already speak in hushed tones about my stretches of unemployment and my continued association with Walmart.

Oh the fun I had!

Last night Eastlink joined forces with The Rolling Stones to make sure I had an absolutely miserable night. Eastlink helped by making sure they sucked so that I couldn't get on the internet to get information on the havoc my other nemeses, The Rolling Stones were causing. I left work at 10:30 not knowing exactly how I was going to get home because my regular bus route was closed down for the concert. I got home at midnight having crossed paths with every drunken concert lunatic in the city, each one of them wearing a wet garbage bag that they purchased from Walmart earlier that day after I told them that, yes, I was positive we were sold out of ponchos, rain jackets and splash pants. Who are all these people who live in Halifax and don't own a rain jacket? And just in case I could possibly have been a good sport about all this, it was still pouring rain during my entire trip home. So that was fun.

Road to Novalea

I've successfully moved into my new apartment and I love it. There are still a few minor inconveniences to work out but for the most part I'm all set. I was without internet or tv for a few long days because my parents, my landlord and I are all clueless about all things technical. Thankfully, Dave came and fixed everything in about five minutes. So now I'm happy and connected to the world again. Thanks Dave!

The trek from Bayfield to Barrington Street and eventually to my new home on Novalea Drive was a grueling one. My father decided we needed a bigger vehicle than my uncle's truck so he went into town and drove around til he saw a big van, waited for the driver and said "That's a nice van". The guy said "Do you want to borrow it?" Dad said "Sure." The problem of there not being enough seats was quickly resolved when the same guy lent us an old recliner equipped with its own seatbelt to put in the back of the van. The recliner was in no way attached to the van so if we were to have an accident, you could spend the time you were flying through the air wondering whether the Lay-Z-Boy strapped to your back would cushion your fall or crush you to death on impact.

Walmart continues to slowly whittle away at my life force. I worked on Sunday and then actually volunteered to come in on the holiday Monday. If someone wants to give me $12.20 an hour to put away clothes, I won't argue although I think I may have developed a repetitive strain shoulder injury from folding about a million pairs of jeans. I keep coming back for more though. Mostly I'm drawn to the drama. With Back to School, a long weekend and recently having been open for business 64 hours straight, everyone is at their breaking point and there's bound to be an explosive fight in the next couple days. I don't want to miss it; I might even be in it. On Saturday a customer shopping for pajamas for his wife got fed up and handed me his cell phone so I could find what she was looking for. We had a long talk about pajamas, her recent surgery and how useless her husband was. One of the newly appointed managers walked by as I was chatting away to this woman as if we were old friends. To avoid her wrath, I gestured to the owner of the cell phone but he had wandered off to the electronics department. She glared at me and then hurried off with a look of purpose, probably to report me to someone more important. This was the same day I showed up 45 minutes late and wearing jeans on a day that wasn't Friday. I've now alienated most of the managers. Hopefully I'll be fired any day now.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

As I feared, my cousin decided to move all of his stuff out of the apartment. He came on Sunday and pretty much cleaned the place out. My typing is making an echoey sound as I write this. My parents came in the same day to bring me a few essentials to get me through the next two weeks. It was kind of like Christmas receiving a bunch of furniture and appliances donated by a slew of relatives eager to get rid of their old junk.

First I opened a set of dishes, untouched since my uncle packed them neatly into a box when he moved out of his first apartment in 1962. All the plates have metal on them, being from the pre-microwave era, so I have to remember not to put them in the microwave, which isn't hard because I don't have one anymore. In the bottom of the box of dishes, there was a decorative iron and ceramic coaster that says "Maine: The Pine Tree State" and has a map and pictures of Maine landmarks. It's one tacky piece of crap but I felt bad separating it from the rest of the kitchenware so I hung it on the nail above my sink where the clock used to be. It may just be me being overly sentimental, but I think the dishes are happy to be back in action after a 44 year dry spell.

I also got a new bed, straight from my sister's room. It's really awesome if you like big wooden headboards covered with animal stickers (I don't.) Its looks aside, I was happy to have any bed at all. After a long day of moving stuff, I hopped into it. Unfortunately, it couldn't support my tremendous weight. The box spring slid off the frame and it and the mattress crashed to the floor.

The itchy green couch is no longer here. It got dragged out the door and tossed in the dumpster out back. It's true that it smelled funny and there was a big hole in it, but as I sat watching tv last night in a lawn chair, I was tempted to go see if it was still out there. The slightly moldy lawn chair was not the only thing that made my tv-watching experience less than satisfying. Let's just say I can be thankful that the tv is fairly light and has a handle on the top because CTV will only come in on the north side of the room and if I want to watch Global I have to move the tv to the far south side of the room. Luckily there's never anything good on CBC because I can probably only get that in the bathroom.

My aunt contributed a set of lamps labeled with the names of dead people. She scored these from the nursing home after some of my grandmother's neighbors checked out.

I would describe the decor as creepy minimalist retro.

Walmart is da bomb!

My mother sent me a newspaper clipping about a Walmart store in Quebec that evacuated all the customers after a bomb threat was called in but had the employees stay to look for suspicious packages. The article said that several of the employees found the experience traumatic. I think I would find it relaxing. Being in a potentially life threatening situation would be a fair trade off for an hour or so of peace from the customers, their unruly children, stupid questions and unreasonable requests.

"I'm going to Sobeys" is now code for "I'm quitting" in our Walmart fashion department. That's the last thing our co-worker Dominic* said as he left for his 15 minute break. We never saw him again. The manager didn't believe us when we told him and seemed more concerned that the remaining 4 of us weren't working hard enough. Dominic's sudden departure made a lot more work for me, but I salute him and his final fuck you to Walmart. It warms my heart to know that I work in a place where if you mysteriously disappear during your coffee break everyone just assumes you quit. God forbid you should be lying bloody and beaten in a ditch somewhere.

Due to our depleted workforce, the store was in a disasterous state when I went into work on Sunday. I knew the manager would ask me to stay longer so I made a point of staying out of his way. With 15 minutes left of my shift, I heard the jingling of his keys so I ducked into a more obstructed aisle and hid behind a table. I did this very quietly, having just removed my shoes figuring I may have to make a stealthy escape. He paused near where I was hiding as if he sensed my presence but there's no way he could have seen me. He continued on his way and it took me a minute or two to realize that my shoes were gone and that he had taken them. Fortunately I found them soon after in the shoe department. It is possible that he didn't notice that they were expensive Clarks of England shoes, the likes of which we don't sell at a shithole like Walmart or more obviously, that they were worn. Or he may just be messing with me, in which case I'm extremely embarrassed.

I continue to be unimpressed with the heartiness of my colleagues. Those who don't quit are always leaving early with mystery ailments. Yesterday Leanne* who I work with put on a terrific show for the manager with real tears and complaints of nauseousness. So that big whiner got to go home. As soon as she left, I began feeling sick myself. An hour later I was certain I was deathly ill. I bought a thermometer during my lunch break. I figured my temperature would be about 102, maybe even 103. It was 98.1. How disappointing! Having no hard evidence that I was sick and lacking the acting skills of Miss Crybaby McGoHome, I felt obligated to stay. There's probably some horrible fungus poisoning us all. A lawsuit might be the only way to get decent money out of Walmart.

I haven't done anything fun in almost a week. Luckily I got an email indicating this weekend holds promise. Can't wait!

*All names have been changed to protect the losers who work at Walmart.

I hate moving

I'm just waiting for the word from my new landlords saying I can move into my new place. I fear it won't be until August 31, by which time my cousin will have come and collected all of his belongings from my current subletted apartment. And unfortunately pretty much everything here belongs to him, including the bed, TV and all the dishes. The end of August could be an interesting time for me. I envision myself sitting on the floor in this empty room with nothing but my computer. Maybe my blog will get updated more often.

My new place is on Novalea Drive, deep in the north end. It's a one bedroom basement apartment in the home of a newly married couple who seem nice enough, but you never know who's going to turn out to be a creepy pervert. After seeing that Oprah special report on surveillance, I'll be sure to check the place for hidden cameras, just in case. My parents came into the city last week to help me find a place. My father decided we should drive around the vicinity of the NSCC campus looking for places to rent. Mom said people aren't going to see us driving around and run out offering to rent us apartments. But Dad got the last laugh because that's exactly what happened. We saw a For Rent sign and Dad went to check it out but before he even got to the door, the guy in the next house over popped his head out the door and said "Are you guys looking to rent a one bedroom apartment?" I liked it so that's where I'll be for the next year.

My aunt, cousin and her boyfriend came to visit Thursday. We had a great day wandering around Halifax. There was a brief moment of panic when a hornet flew into my cousin's shirt and she proceded to run around flashing all vehicular and pedestrian traffic on Spring Garden Road. The situation was not made better when her boyfriend hit her in an attempt to kill the bug but only succeeded in making the incident into a Jerry Springer style spectacle with running, screaming, nudity and a physical assault. Her mother told her that was what you got when you wore such low cut tops.

Then it was on to Buskerfest at the waterfront where we saw an impressive Xtreme martial arts show by Team Ryouko from Toronto. They did some very cool kicks and flips that made me ashamed that I can't even do a summersault without hurting myself. We also caught a performance by Bike Boy, an Australian guy who managed to turn a five minute stunt into a 45 minute show. I guess that's what Buskers do though. Some people seemed a bit put off by his dark sense of humor and one mother frowned when he threatened to burn some of the children with his fire baton. But he had most of the audience hooked with promises of a spectacular final stunt, interrupting his innuendo laced monologue only to directly insult the unfortunate "volunteers" he pulled from the crowd. But I'll give props to anyone who can juggle a chainsaw, a knife and a flaming stick while standing on a bike balanced on top of a 22 foot pole.

NSCC and me

I've been accepted into the Library and Information Technology program at NSCC. I'm not too sure how I feel about it yet. I may be doing it for all the wrong reasons, but that doesn't mean it won't turn out well. Basically, I'm alleviating the stress of paying back my student loan by getting another one. I don't know what kind of people sign up for this course but there's a possibility that for the first time in my life, I'll be one of the coolest kids in my class.

Work is mind numbingly boring these days. I spent 45 minutes the other day sitting on the floor repackaging underwear. Although I must say that working in the lingerie department was a welcome change from the frantic pace at the ladies fitting room. If I have to tell one more woman she doesn't look fat in a bathing suit, I'm going to lose it. I don't know why they're asking me anyway. I wouldn't ask a stranger in Wal-Mart how I looked in a swim suit. And I'm a terrible liar too. I've tried to come up with a handful of vague but encouraging responses that I can use in most situations. People who look good, know they look good. If you have to ask, you probably don't.

The men's fitting room is much less hectic and men are much more docile shoppers than women in general, but you will get the occasional pervert asking you to measure his inseam. So right now I'm happy to be assigned to the lingerie department. I invented a game to help make putting boxed bras away fun. It's called "Guilty" and works like this: I take a quick glance at the model on the bra box that I need to return to the shelf and pretend that she's commited a crime(because so many crimes are commited by smiling women wearing only bras). Then I go through the aisles of boxed bras as if they were a police line-up and try to identify the suspect. This process takes a long time and makes my very simple job a bit harder. But unfortunately, the game is getting easier and less fun now because they've all become so familiar to me. I feel like I know them. I've named some of them. I might be going crazy. I think I'll let the madness take me. It'll be easier that way.

I tried carrying snacks around in my vest as tasty entertainment and to keep my morale up but fruit flies kept following me. I hate my job.

My Sad Story

Tired of looking for a job, I went and checked in with the good people at Wal-Mart. Since it seems like all my current options are undesireable, I decided to go with the devil I know. I should start work by the middle of next week. I can't wait! At some point, I think I said that I actually enjoyed working at Wal-Mart. Well that was when I thought I was leaving... for good. I feel like the naive farm girl from the Midwest who's gone to Hollywood to pursue her dream of being an actress and ends up doing porn instead. Not that I had a specific dream in mind when I came here, but if I did, it wouldn't have included a "How may I help you?" smock and name badge. At least this time, instead of the shapeless, unflattering smock, I'll opt for the marginally sexier vest. I guess it will just be until September. Hopefully, I'll get into my course at NSCC and by some miracle, will really love it. As I left my interview today, the Wal-Mart personnel manager uttered that dreaded phrase: "You'll fit in in no time". If by that she means I'll start making poor lifestyle choices and develop an obsessive fondness for Michelina's frozen dinners, I sincerely hope she is wrong. I just narrowly escaped last time.

Extra long weekend

I decided to go home for the long weekend. So I did on Friday, now it's Wednesday and I'm still here. One of the benefits of being unemployed, I guess. Everyone here has just been too busy to take me back to Halifax and wasn't too anxious to pay for the bus trip so here I remain. I would have packed more underwear if I'd I known I was going to be here so long. I'm now thinking I was crazy to move into Halifax and live in a little apartment and pay rent just at the time when Bayfield comes alive and is at it's most beautiful. Halifax is great and all but it can't compare to an adorable seaside community in the summer. However I have friends in Halifax and the same can't be said for here. I plan to be back in the city by tomorrow afternoon.


We opened the ice cream stand today. So far business has been good. The locals have been asking for weeks when it was going to open, since it's the only source of entertainment in Bayfield besides the beach. I've been trying to sample all the flavours before I go. Here's a few of them.


My brother Mark was also home for the weekend from Fredericton. We all got to meet his girlfriend Emilie from Montreal, who seems lovely. She liked my father's homemade apple cider and ate every edible part of the lobster, so my parents deemed her worthy.

My father didn't mention to me that he had started beekeeping again so I got a bit of a shock when I was wandering through the woods and came upon two very busy hives. He's a fairly experienced beekeeper and the hives are well maintained but occasionally I still worry about them swarming.


Graduation was last week so my sister is now officially free from high school. She seems pleased. Prom was also last week. Krista's radioactive pink dress cost her five times as much as my prom dress. I hope she enjoyed it. Here's her and boyfriend Jeff, pre-prom.

Uncle Jesse takes Halifax

The ladies at my gym are all aflutter this week at the possibility of running into John Stamos of Full House fame who is filming some movie of the week in the bar under our gym. You'd think it would be mostly people who grew up in the 80's with childhood crushes on Uncle Jesse who would be most excited but today I saw women in their 50s and 60s putting on an extra coat of lipstick before they headed out in the hopes of...I'm not exactly sure. I guess something about the all female environment of the gym makes women go a bit crazy.

There always seems to be some kind of illness making the rounds at any given time, but I never really think about it unless I actually see someone who looks sick. Today there was this woman at my gym who should definitely not have been there, coughing and sneezing all over everything. I decided I should go wash my hands as soon as possible since she was touching everything, so I finished my workout and took a swig of water. When I looked up, sick woman was looking at me funny. Then I noticed I was drinking out of her water bottle, proving to me once again that the more you try to avoid something the more likely it is to end up in your lap. So I bought her a new water and crossed my fingers that she doesn't have anything too serious.

I've been enjoying living by myself this past month but I knew it would just be a matter of time before I started talking to myself. It seems to be inevitable. I now verbalize the internal pep talks I used to give myself and give a running commentary of everything I'm doing. Also, with the absence of anyone to tell me to clean up, I tell myself. Someone suggested I get a cat for company. But I think talking to a cat is weirder than talking to yourself. Plus I'd have to be a lot crazier than I am now to take on the burden and curse that is a pet cat. The best thing about moving out of my parent's house was getting away from that cat. If he could just mind his own business that would be fine, but no, it's always "Meow, meow, I'm not hungry and I don't need to go outside. I'm just going to get all up in your personal space and stare and meow. Meow! Meow!". Why can't he be like other cats who look at you like you're garbage and then run away. That I could handle.

For more on what I'm doing, see Janet's blog.

Halifax

Well I'm back in the city and settling into my new place on Barrington. It's still a bit sparse but I'm trying to girl it up a little. I finally have the internet now. Things I still don't have include a key to my mailbox, a job and any idea what's wrong with my sink. The sink works fine but it makes a sound like a cat choking on plastic. For the past three nights it gets going at around the same time and every night I get up to investigate. Three times might sound like a lot of times to be tricked by the same sound but it really, really sounds like a cat.

Now the job search begins. I'm not looking forward to it and have been putting it off. Janet has done more in the way of finding me a job than I have so far. I've been spending my time reading in the Public Gardens and shopping for outfits. But I'm pretty well out of money and that's a strong motivator.

Hardly Workin'

With only 1 day remaining as a Wal-Mart Fashion Sales Associate, I'm enjoying my job more than ever. Absolutely nothing can dampen my mood at work. On Monday, I dropped a bureau on my foot. No problem. Yesterday my car broke down on the way to work and I had to run along the Trans Canada with my lumberjack lunch to arrive at work 20 minutes late covered in sweat and dust and sporting a crack whore inspired hairstyle, but I sang all the way. I just love quitting jobs. I've quit 3 in the last nine months. People I haven't even spoken to before are sorry to hear I'm leaving. My leaving seems to have started a mass exodus at the Antigonish Wal-Mart. A lot of the people who work there have been there since it opened and many of them are curious about my future plans, I think, to work out their own exit strategies. They ask me questions as if I'm some kind of expert on quitting shitty retail jobs and moving to the big city. I impart what wisdom I can.

I will miss it though. For all my complaining, I did actually enjoy working at Wal-Mart. If it weren't for the stretches of boredom and craptacular pay, I could work there forever. The people are delightful and fun to hang out with. I'll always remember spending New Year's smoking pot with my teenaged colleagues. Actually I don't remember that very well even now. But there will be plenty other fond memories.

I'm headed into Halifax on Friday. My cousin has agreed to sublet me his apartment on Barrington. So hopefully that will work out.

Dreams of Summer

I handed in my letter of resignation last Saturday. It was a bold move because I still have no plans for the future. Maybe the fact that a week from now I'll be unemployed will be enough to motivate me. I spent a lot of time yesterday trying to decide what I should be doing. Should I continue living here? Move to Halifax? Where will I work? Should I try to get a job at Mary Stovepipe's ice cream barn? It must have been weighing on my mind because the answer came to me in a dream that night. I had a wonderful dream where I lived in our travel trailer on the beach and worked as an actor with the local theatre company. By day, I took in the sun, the sand and the waves and had drinks with interesting tourists. By night, I performed a supporting role in a crowd-pleasing murder mystery. And in those first few glorious, naive moments when I first woke up, I congratulated myself for having come up with such a stellar plan. And then it slowly dawned on me that not only am I not an actor, but we sold the trailer from my dream eleven years ago. And that's why I hate dreams.

Our living room reeks of skunk. We're not really sure why. The popular theory is that the cat brought something into the house that was sprayed by a skunk. My father has offered a $10 reward to anyone who can find the source of the smell and $20 if they can get rid of it. My mother can't smell so she's not too bothered and I don't really mind the smell of skunk but it's driving my father crazy. To appease him, we all spent a couple of minutes searching for bodies of kitty's victims. Since the cat learned how to open the basement door, the "gifts" he used to leave on the doorstep now end up hidden throughout the house. And that's why I hate cats.

Stolen chocolate tastes better

Work was pretty boring yesterday, but it wasn't without its perks. I was out back in the Claims department where we keep all the stuff that people have messed up and we can't sell, and there was a entire cart full of delicious abandoned Easter candy. Chocolate bunnies with broken ears, chocolate chickens cracked down the middle and tons of 'accidentally' opened bags of chocolate eggs. So I grabbed a couple handfuls just to keep up my strength. What are they going to do? Fire me? I'm pretty sure you only have a problem when you take things you don't even want, so I'm in the clear.

I went to the dentist Wednesday to have moulds of my teeth made so I can have them professionally whitened. Anyone who's had braces knows the joys of mould making. First they put a cold metal tray filled with disgusting pink goo into your mouth. If you're lucky, the goo starts to harden before it slides down the back of your throat. A wad of paper towel ready in your lap for when you drool, and baby wipes to get rid of the excess goo that has mysteriously gotten all over your face. It was all fun until the dental hygientist went to take the trays out, and they wouldn't budge. She was visibly concerned and reassured me by saying things like "Wow, that's really stuck in there" and "This hardly ever happens". I was pretty sure she was going to pull my teeth right out with the mould. But it did come out eventually but she really had to put some muscle into it. We were both very relieved and she seemed glad to see me go.

Sim Pathetic

I’m having a very lazy Sunday. I spent most of the afternoon playing The Sims 2, a highly addictive computer game. Actually it’s the kind of game you can play really intensely for a week and half or so, but then you get really bored of it and never want to play it again. I’m not quite at that point yet though. The point of the game is to create a family, build them a house, get them jobs and so on. It’s like real life but quicker. It sounds boring but I can’t get enough of it. You’re supposed to guide your people to make either wise or stupid life decisions but if you don’t, they just do what they want. I forgot to exit the game when I was playing it yesterday and left the two bachelor roommates I’d just created unattended. I came back a half hour later to find that they had not showered and had burned down half their kitchen, but they had also fallen madly in love and were in the process of adopting a baby. It’s kind of creepy when a game plays itself.

My father is keeping busy outside Frankensteining his apple trees. With the unusually warm winter, his other two favorite hobbies, making maple syrup and checking the status of his wood pile have been suspended. So all of his agricultural attention has been focused on the orchard. I was made to take a tour today and hear about what each tree started out as, what different varieties of apple branches he’s grafted onto it, and what the new apples will taste like. We also have cherry, pear and peach trees and he’s thinking of "branching out". (I’m practicing to be a Live at 5 anchor.) While he’s an amateur fruit mutationist, he’s confident this new venture will yield a mighty fine crop. I’m pretty sure it won’t, but still, I’d be wary of ordering up fruit salad at my place this summer. You might end up with a heaping bowlful of cherpples and pearches.

"I wish I could quit you"

Another day has passed and I still haven't quit my job. I really intended to today, but I just didn't get around to it. They'll be so sad to see me go. I worked the day shift today which was good because I didn't have to attend the evening meeting which inevitably concludes with the Wal-Mart cheer. A more uninspired and degrading "cheer" I've never heard. One line that gets a particularly lacklustre response is "Who's Number One?!!"(The correct answer is "The Customer!") What little enthusiasm we had fades at this point and people start leaving because although there's quite a mix of people who make up the Wal-Mart staff, the one thing we all have in common is our mutual hatred for the customers. I'm definitely going to quit tomorrow.

Creatures of the night

Encouraged by the nice spring weather we've been having lately, I decided to resume running. I wasn't as out of shape as I thought I would be. My running days were unexpectedly cut short last season when I was unable to overcome my fear of bats. The only time I had to run was in the evening and since I live in the middle of nowhere, I basically run in the woods. The woods are full of mosquitoes, and therefore bats. I don't mind one or two swooping down at me, but the final straw came one night when they were particularly active and numerous. I stopped to take a drink of water and one swooped close enough to touch my hair. I took off at full speed towards the house, but to my horror it followed along right behind me, screeching all the way. I finally reached the house. Now to be fair, the blood-thirsty cries of the terrifying beast actually turned out to be the hissing sound my water bottle made when I squeezed it. (It was dark and I was paranoid. Don't judge me.) Nevertheless, my running career ended in early October. So anyway, it's good to be back at it.

I was abandoned at Wal-Mart last night. Normally, I have a car so I can drive home but we were short on cars yesterday so my parents said they would pick me up. Unfortunately, 10:30 is really late by their standards and they never though of me. On the plus side though, I got to observe the after hours inner workings of the store. One reason I was so intrigued with Wal-Mart was the Natalie Portman movie ‘Where the Heart Is’ where a pregnant, homeless teenager lives in a Wal-Mart for 2 months by hiding in the washroom at closing time and clearing out in the morning. I always thought it would be really cool to live in a department store and just have the whole place to yourself. In reality, though, Wal-Mart is never closed as I learned yesterday while waiting for someone to pick me up. Shortly after we all leave at 10:30, the nighttime crew begins to show up. These are not people you would want to run into in a dark alley. If you thought the daytime Wal-Mart workers were a bit rough looking, you should see the night crew. They make the daytime staff look like the cast of The O.C. They clean and stock shelves but they also make obscene pages over the intercom. One guy's sole purpose seems to be the capture of the roughly 5-20 squirrels that make Wal-Mart their home. They seem to have a pretty good time, but I 'm kind of dissappointed that I'll never get to live in the Wal-Mart.

Singing Machine

Well, I actually didn't win the lottery. But I did notice that I only ever buy lottery tickets when I don't have any money. I guess that makes sense.

I'm reading a really good book right now called White Oleander by Janet Fitch. Corie recommended it a couple years ago but I only just now got around to reading it. It's about a girl's experiences in foster care and her relationship with her imprisoned mother.

I stopped by the Nova Scotia Community College campus in Halifax this week to check it out. I applied for the Library and Information Technology program, so that's where I'll probably be this September. It seems like something I'd be interested in. I still don't know what I want to be. I had a dream last night that I was a cop. My partner and I responded to a call about a crazy man with a gun. It turned out to be Nick Lachey who sang in response to all our questions and during the shoot-out that followed. He took 10 rounds to the chest and didn't miss a beat. I had to do all the shooting because my partner only had a water gun. I've stopped trying to interpret my dreams; it's futile. However, I think this one means I want to shoot Nick Lachey. But who doesn't?

Unlucky

I bought a lottery ticket today using the unlucky numbers from 'Lost'. I'm pretty sure I'm going to win. I was a little concerned that just playing the numbers would bring bad luck but I already work at Wal-Mart and live with my parents, so really, how bad could it be. I'm willing to take my chances. Apparently in a recent $110 million Powerball lottery in the States, so many people used those numbers that they would each only have won a few thousand dollars apiece if those numbers had come up the winners. Also, a man in England who had been playing the lottery faithfully for 12 years using his family's birthdays decided to ditch his usual numbers in exchange for the infamous 'Lost' numbers. He ended up losing out on £100,000 when 5 of his 6 regular numbers won. I wonder if he's still a fan of the show? Probably. The show is addictive; it can ruin your life but you just can't stop watching. Anyway, check back next week to find out how much I won.

Baby Days

I put in another fun day at the Wal-Mart today. Just as I was getting used to wearing my fetching bright yellow and blue Wal-Mart smock, today they hand me a t-shirt promoting Wal-Mart Baby Days and strongly suggested that I wear it since I work in the infant department. The t-shirt is size extra large and I could easily make myself three t-shirts from the material it contains. Enormous, unflattering shirts seem to have become the common thread linking all my recent jobs. The purple monstrosity I was given to wear at Curves was extra large so I slit it up the side and wore it tied at the hip, slutty cowgirl style. However, I think Wal-Mart would frown on that. My life goal right now is to get a job where I can wear my own clothes. I don't think that's asking too much.

Getting started

I was finally peer pressured into starting a blog, so here it is. It won't be interesting nor will it be updated regularly but at least I have one. Enjoy!