Drug Raid

I thought once I moved out of my ghetto house*, I wouldn't have to worry about the police showing up at my home anymore. Well that was certainly naive of me. Let me just preface this story by saying: it turns out marijuana is illegal. I mean, I knew that, but it's one of those things that's so common it doesn't really seem like it's illegal. You know what I mean.

A couple weeks ago my roommate and his girlfriend invited me to smoke some pot with them out on the back step. They do this regularly and couldn't believe I had never been high before. I had nothing better to do so I joined them. They told me I was smoking a watermelon blunt and that I would want to remember this so I could tell any future weed buddies about my first time. I'll also need to know it for when I write the chapter in my memoirs called "Where it all went wrong", a chapter which will begin "So I applied for a job at Walmart...".

I failed at smoking pot. All the inhaling and holding it in and breathing out was terribly complicated. My inability to master Smoking 101 equaled no high. No huge loss. I went back to whatever I was doing and they went to eat Twizzlers and watch Supernatural.

Three days later, they were at it again. But this time a police officer showed up. After telling them a complaint had been made, the officer took their names and information, then searched my roommate's room and confiscated his remaining stash. Although I was home at the time, I was oblivious that all this was going on (I was in my room watching Criminal Minds). As soon as the cop was gone, my roommate filled me in. I saw his girlfriend eye me the way one might eye a nark and it occurred to me they may think I had turned them in. I was quick to blame our neighbours. Their house is very close and fumes could easily waft in their direction. I convinced them that was the most logical explanation. And we all agreed that the call must have come from the house next door, a transitional home for young people with physical disabilities learning how to live independently.

So to sum up, I just narrowly avoided being added to the Halifax Police list of troublesome drug enthusiasts and I may have started a war with our physically disabled neighbours.

*I use the term "ghetto house" not because of the house's physical location but because I had to keep a lock on my cutlery drawer and homeless people often came over to take baths.

Watching People

Job interviews are painful. Don't worry; I didn't have one or anything. I just witnessed one and it made me cringe. I was on my lunch hour at Tim Horton's and there was a woman there interviewing a man for some job. From the bits I heard I couldn't determine what kind of job, but I recognized all the boring, horrible questions. "Tell me about a time you worked as part of a team". "Describe a situation where you acted in a leadership role". I hate these questions so much. I'm always thinking, "I'm bored. Are you bored? Can we talk about something else?" I think I'd rather be asked inappropriate personal questions. "Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Saviour?" "On average, how much alcohol do you consume per week?" "You're not planning on getting pregnant, are you?"

Anyway this particular interview was interesting because after the interviewee left, the woman at the next table, who was sipping tea with her elderly mother, leaned over and started asking the interviewer what she thought of him as a candidate and the interviewer actually told her, and then they discussed him briefly, and then the woman started pitching her own daughter as a more suitable candidate. Can you do that? Is that something my mother might do? Just another thing to add to my list of worries.

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Fun Activity: Going to a corn maze! Last week I went with my parents to the Valley to visit my grandparents and other relatives. The definite highlight of the trip was a visit to an adorable farm in Wilmot with an incredible corn maze. It was a beautiful sunny day and I had a blast racing through the corn. We split up into two teams. Team A, my mother and my cousin, completed the maze quickly and enjoyed fresh apples and blueberries at the exit while they waited for the far less successful Team B which included me, my father and my aunt who took turns arguing about following the direction of the sun. Once we all finished the maze, there was a wagon ride around the farm. It's the most fun you can have in the country. The owners said they were planning on having the maze open at night leading up to Halloween. Can you imagine how fun that would be?! If you could deal with the fact that running through a corn maze at night almost guarantees you will be terrorized by a homicidal scarecrow, you'd be fine.

Crimewatch

So the South End Sleep Watcher is still on the loose. For those not familiar with this infamous case, there's some weirdo (see photo) going around the south end of Halifax sneaking into women's bedrooms and watching them sleep. When they wake up, he runs away. Based on this police sketch, I suspect Ben Affleck. So far, he has sleep-watched at least 14 people. He is becoming quite famous. People are planning to be him for Halloween (the Sleep Watcher, not Ben Affleck). One night last week I woke up three times to check and make sure there was no one watching me sleep. It's just so creepy! A&E runs Criminal Minds marathons on the weekends so, of course, I watch every episode and imagine that the South End Sleep Watcher has evolved into the South End Strangler. Hopefully he'll be caught soon and punished for his crimes (the Sleep Watcher, not Ben Affleck).


Today's Good News/Bad News

Bad News: I bought some chips from the vending machine in the staff room but after eating a few, I decided they were poison because they smelled like paint.
Good News: I was still hungry so I bought a chocolate bar and the machine gave me two!
Bad News: I feel sick now, possibly because I ate some of the poison chips, possibly because I ate both the chocolate bars.
Good News: I kept the remaining poison chips as evidence. They're in my locker at work. If I don't make it, please avenge my death.

Summer into Fall

I keep meaning to update the ol' blog, but it's just that I'm so busy doing important, interesting things. I'll write soon. In the meantime, enjoy these photos from my vacation home.


Krista and I having an algae fight at the beach.


Here we are frolicking in the surf. Clearly one of us misinterpreted the photographer's directions. Krista's doing "Baywatch Barbie" and I'm doing "I just stepped on a razor clam and then got struck by lightning."

Now enjoy these photos from my new house. This place would be great if it weren't for the four other people who live here. I've lived here three days now and there doesn't seem to be any stand-out assholes, so I'm sure we'll all reside here happily together.

Rich in Love

It seems the recession is affecting women's taste in escapist fantasy. Men who are filthy rich have always been popular fare but I found this list of today's top selling Harlequin romance novels and it's very telling. It features one millionaire, three billionaires, but not one single cowboy! (Unless Valentino is a cowboy. I'm going to assume he's not.) Sure, cowboys are a sexy treat when times are good, but when the economy's in the crapper every girl wants herself a proper billionaire.

1. The Sicilian Boss's Mistress
2. The Greek Millionaire's Secret Child
3. Billionaire Extraordinaire
4. Valentino's Love-Child
5. The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin
6. The Tycoon's Rebel Bride
7. The Moretti Arrangement
8. Billionaire Doctor, Ordinary Nurse
9. The Maverick's Greek Island Mistress
10.Temperatures Rising

Number 8 on the list, "Billionaire Doctor, Ordinary Nurse" is by the same author as last month's bestseller "Spanish Doctor, Pregnant Nurse". Maybe I could get a job at Harlequin going through books changing the word Spanish to Billionaire, and Pregnant to Ordinary.

"The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin"? How could that not be good?

Shorty Doesn't Live Here Anymore

It seems my nine month ordeal is nearly over. On Saturday Shorty and girl Shorty packed their bags and the landlord came to collect his keys. Tomorrow Shorty returns to pick up the rest of his belongings. When he leaves, I call the landlord who sends someone to change all the locks. I never thought I'd see this day. I sure will miss the little scamp.

Shorty got Served

Two Sheriffs stopped by today to serve Shorty his Notice to Vacate orders. It's about time! He has to out by Sunday. Shorty told me he intends to comply with the orders. I'll believe it when I see it.

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