Living Like A Rock Star

I am a cook. I am on way to becoming a chef...eventually. Unlike in the good old USA, in Canada you can't just go around calling yourself a chef after a few years at a culinary institute. Nope, you have to do a bunch of other crap after said culinary institute.

Whilst doing that bunch of other crap (normally called an apprenticeship) you pretty much live like a rock star. Not in the way you might think though. There is no tour bus, there is definitly not alot of money, but there is a lot of sex, drugs and rock n' roll. As little or as much of it as you want.

If any of you out there have had the pleasure of reading Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain then you know what I'm talking about. There was also a short lived TV show of the same name based loosely upon the book. It was an awesome show, only the TV gods know why it was cancelled. If anyone has seen the show, I'm somewhere between the creepy baker and the kick ass chick (except I don't cry...that part was so unbelieveable.) Haven't really decided which way to go on that one.

The life of a cook usually starts around noon-ish. Depending on how much you drank last night and what time your next shift starts. My shifts usually start at 4pm, so I try to be up around noon, get some stuff done, get all showered and at least semi-pretty and head out (on the bus of course, because cooks don't get paid enough to own cars.) So you arrive at work, usually to find that the lunch crew has left your station a total mess and there's a bunch of prep to do. If you're lucky you might work in a kitchen where people actually clean up after themselves and the owner is actually concerned about little things like health inspections, I however, do not work in that kind of kitchen.

I clean my station, do my own prep and if I have some extra time (which I usually do) I go find something to clean or organize. Cause I can't F-ing stand it. Cleanliness (as discussed in previous post regarding Roomies) is very important to me, and it's very important in a working kitchen as well. There are all sorts of nasties that can get into your food. There is also the disorganization, which I also can't stand. My first shift at this new job, I pretty much reamed out the owner for running such an aweful set up. Surprisingly he asked me to come back the next day. I just did my 3rd shift there last night. I've taken to making sure my station is F-ing spotless and the other stuff I'm going to do little by little every day until it's all freakin' shiney.

So what do I cook? Pasta, pasta and more pasta, and the occasional sandwich or hot appetizer. It's bloody easy, but we haven't been too busy yet so knock on wood. The last few nights I've gotten off around 10pm, perfect timing since this is when people usually start showing up at the bars. It also helps that one of my favourite pubs is right down the street. Strongbow here I come. So it's work, drink, sleep, repeat.

I drank a little too much last night though, and have succeeded in screwing myself for any chances of productivity today. And I have like 4 projects due this week for school.

But that's the rock star life.

Why I Hate Humidity

Ok, so there's many reasons why I hate humidity. It messes with my very curly, very red hair and no amount of product will get it to look normal. I walk outside and am instantly sticky and gross. The air is hard to breath. And oh, yeah, the worst part, I get pressure headaches.

This last one was a douzy. It started Monday evening, the air was pregnant with precipitation but it just wouldn't rain. It spit on us a bit, but the downpour would not come. I thought the night would bring some relief, get some sleep and it will go away. Not so lucky. I woke up Tuesday morning with the same incessant throbbing. Considering we were supposed to be doing sniff tests in my wine class that day, I decided to skip school and lay in bed. Got up, had some breaky, you'd think that would make it better but no. Took a nap, nope still there. Got off my butt and went to the baking lab I'm a TA for. Maybe the smell of freshly baked bread will help, um no. Get home, not really tired, headache is still nagging. Maybe a late night walk with TBear for some Timmy's will help? Yeah...a little...but it was the calm before the storm.

No, I don't like taking a bunch of unnecessary pills for a little pressure headache. It really wasn't that bad, just a persistent little bugger, so I didn't go on the hunt for any meds. That was apparently a mistake.

5am this morning rolls around and I wake up in excruciating pain. My head feels like it's going to explode, my stomach is doing flip flops, my not-so-great-as-it-is vision is blurry and I generally feel like I'm going to die. That's right folks, got me a migraine.

So I stumble out of bed and start searching for some meds, Advil, Tylenol, Aspirin, anything that will at least take the edge off. (I was prescribed actual migraine meds a few years back, but they're way to expensive so I never filled the Rx) I find a mostly empty bottle of Advil and down however many pills are in it (probably like 4) then stumble back to bed, assume the fetal position and try to get back to sleep.

Around 7am the sun comes up, my blinds do nothing! I hide under the covers trying to find some peace in my throbbing little world. Finally I fall back to sleep...sweet oblivion.

I woke up around 1pm (no I did not F-ing go to school today either, piss off), intense pain, gone, nausea, replaced by hunger, general mood...I don't feel like doing fuck all. Migraines take it all out of me, energy, drive, motivation...it takes it all. I barely mustered up the energy to make a cup of tea.

So, here I am, devoid of any energy or motivation, bored out of my gourd. I know I should do my school work, I know I should tidy my room and put my laundry away, I know I should do my work-out, I know I should take a shower and not be a ragamuffin...I also know that I just bought Sims3 and that cancels out any chances of productivity.

Scool Prepares You For Real LIfe...Which Also Sucks

Ack! It's been a while since I last wrote. Which I feel kinda bad about, now that I have 9 followers. Nine people like reading about my life, that's astounding. I'm actually quite boring and I don't write very well, you guys sure you don't need to get your heads checked?

I've been kind of busy lately. I say kind of because it hasn't been school or work or anything like that which has kept me from blogging. I've actually had plenty of free computer time where I could've written something. I just plain didn't feel like it. Mostly because the last few weeks have been pretty happy for me. When I'm happy, I don't feel the need to write as much. So here's what I've been up to.

I've been dating. LOL. I know, I said I wouldn't date anyone for a while. Men were to be Meat Sticks and Meat Sticks only. The Universe apparently didn't like that too much and has sent me a decidedly non-Meat Stick kind of guy to spend my time with. So what happened to the Meat Sticks then? Well Ata Boy hasn't been in touch in about 2 weeks, and GothBoyBand as well. I haven't got the time or the energy to chase boys (besides I don't chase boys, boys chase ME), so meh, oh well, you don't call, I don't answer.

So who's this non-Meat Stick then, you ask? We'll call him TBear. Nice guy, known him for a while, actually went to high school with him but didn't know him back then (he was all fat and nerdy lol). He's been on the periphery of my many circles of friends. He's good friends with my GirlRoomie, stood in her wedding and stuff, but he and I never really hung out much. Except when, and here's the funny part, he would come by occasionally to drop something off to GirlRoomie and if I was home at the time, we'd end up spending hours out on the porch just talking. About life in general. The conversation was never forced, never awkward, never held any of that sexual tension or anything like that, so I just thought, "Oh, what a nice guy," without having any intention of having any naked time with him.

Until recently. He came by about two weeks ago now to drop something off and we ended up out on the porch for a good 5 hours, just talking and laughing and having a great conversation. Then he came by the next day with a new BlackBerry case for me (my old one was torn to shit and he just happens to work at the Telecommunications store). So another long conversation ensued. We both chuckled at how the time seems to disappear when we get to chatting, and I suggested that we actually schedule some time for our conversations instead of him just popping by and poof! there goes the day.

So we did. And we ended up staying up all night. And I mean ALL night, till 7am. JUST TALKING. He never made a move, and neither did I. I was trying to gauge the situation. Was he attracted to me? (Well DUH!) What was he looking for? What does this mean? *gulp*

We ended up going out on a decidedly non-date. Just pints at the pub, no biggie. Then it became a date lol. Cause I kissed him, and he kissed me back and well, that was the end of speculation on whether or not there would be naked time. There has been lots of naked time in the past two weeks (and it's AWESOME btw.) There has also been a lot of talking time, and listening time, and tickling time, and chilling time, oh and an actual date in there too. Yes, a real grown-up date with dressing up and a fancy dinner. He wore a tie, and a jacket, and freakin' cuff links. I nearly died. He opens doors, pulls out chairs, offers me things before he has them himself. We take his dog for walks around the neighbourhood (he lives a few blocks over). He doesn't embarrass me in the least, and he has told me the same. Which, in listening to each other's stories has been a problem for both of us in the past: being embarrassed by the people we're dating.

So, when's the wedding? You're probably wondering. Well, this is the weird part. We're obviously perfect for each other (did I mention he's got a university degree in History?), we're very much alike in all the good ways (he said he'd never met anyone who had as many books as he does, until me!), we're different in all the right places (he's so preppy it's adorable, I'm all alterna-goth-chick), we totally bounce off each other (he has woken up my passion for fashion, I've inspired him to pursue more courses in academia), and the sexual chemistry is off the charts!

BUT--and this is a big BUT. He says he's not interested in being a "boyfriend." And at the same time, he wants our relationship to be monogamous. HUH? Basically you want all of the privileges of being my boyfriend without actually being my boyfriend. I find that kind of weird, and a little frustrating. Now I didn't want a boyfriend to begin with. Not until I started spending time with him. Now, I have no problems with someone not wanting to be my boyfriend, that's fine, really. But not being my boyfriend and then telling me I can't go play with the other boys in the schoolyard? That's F--ed up in my mind. It doesn't make much sense to me. He went on to explain that he just doesn't want the "expectations" that come with the "label." Un-huh...what expectations? I'm not sending out wedding invitations here buddy...I'm possibly going to the middle east in the spring and then possibly Scotland after that...not looking for a big commitment here. Anyhow, he talked about the "expectations" he's had to live up to with previous girlfriends and blah blah blah. I'm not those girls, and I tried to explain that. But he's not going to "get" it until he sees it for himself, I can totally see that. That whole conversation arrived at an impasse.

So I don't have a boyfriend, I have a TBear non-Meat Stick, and I'm not sleeping with anyone else.

Perceptions

"The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend."
~Henri Bergson

Had an interesting night last night. Went out for my "Welcome Home" party at the bar I frequent. Ata Boy was there, of course, cause he's always there. GothBoyBand was also there, cause well, he's usually there on a Saturday night as well.

GothBoyBand and I used to date, like 4 years ago. And I mean actually "date." Like he would pick me up, we would go out for a meal and some kind of entertainment then go back to my place and well you know. He was never my boyfriend, I knew better lol. He's not boyfriend material, never has been/will ever be. Case in point: He dumped me for a stripper. Not even really dumped, cause we weren't "together", he just stopped calling, and I knew why. It was fine, I had other prospects, and though it still stung a bit (of course, it always does), it was no biggie. I knew he was just being who he was and that's fine. But it was a little odd considering who I am, how I am, and that we had a good time together. His friends were...less than impressed. Which is always a good sign that you're doing something fucked up right? They hated her. They liked me lol. Simple as that.

But I digress...I just wanted to give you some background. So I haven't tapped that for about 4 years, haven't even really stayed in touch much. Just the usual "Hi, how are you?" at the bar. And that was fine, I didn't have much interest in going back there since I was all in relationship mode and whatnot. Now that I'm not however, different story.

So, I dragged him home and well, you know lol. And it was great. Even slightly improved from my memory. Improvements are always a good thing. Conversations insued afterwards. Odd conversations, but that's my fault.

I'm very curious, and I have a need to understand things, and people. We were talking and I started asking him questions, kinda deep questions, the kind of questions that delv deep into someone's character and help you to understand them as a person. Maybe I shouldn't be asking these questions of someone I would consider just a FB, but nonetheless I was asking, and he was answering.

Until at one point, he contemplated his words way too long. I asked him what the hold up was and he said that was afraid his answers may change my perception of him. Now, he doesn't have a clue how I perceive him, at least, I don't think he does, or else he wouldn't be concerned with my perception of him. I offered to tell him exactly how I perceived him to be, he declined. How typical. Anyhow, I eventually asked how he perceived me, because well, I'm curious like that. I had to rephrase the question a bit to get him to come up with an answer:

"If you had to decribe me to your best friend, what would you say?"

I got an interesting response. He elaborated.

I was a bit taken aback actually. Not because his perception was negative, but because it was pretty bang on. Not totally, that's impossible, but wow, ya I didn't expect that.

That in itself has changed my perception of him somewhat. I think I need to give him a little more credit, and not dismiss him as just a piece of meat.

He's still a bit cocky for my liking, and he's still not boyfriend material. But I have no problems perceiving him without his clothes on for the next little while and possibly showing him how right his perception of me really is.

Addendum: While proof-reading this I got the oddest sense of Deja-vu. Like I've written this before...but I know I haven't. Maybe I just need to stop going back to guys I've had in the past...even if they are amazing in bed.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

I live with two roomies, a couple, GuyRoomie (Approx. 35yrs old, divorced 2 kids), and GirlRoomie (25 not quite divorced yet, no kids). And they are SLOBS.

I've been gone for 4 months. You'd think they would've cleaned the downstairs bathroom at least once while I was gone. No such luck. There was actually MOLD growing in the toilette. Freakin disgusting.

Since I've gotten home, I've spent a lot of time cleaning. Now I'm not a neat freak by any means. I have a small bedroom and it tends to be a bit cluttered. I can be untidy, I leave my school stuff and jacket lying around from time to time. I am not DIRTY however. While I can live with clutter and untidiness I cannot live with DIRT. Dirt is my enemy.

So the Roomies are at the cottage all week which means that thankfully they are not undoing all of my cleaning efforts. However, they have neglected some things far too long (ie downstairs bathroom.) In fact I was horrified when I opened the dishwasher on Tuesday to find it full of dirty dishes. They left for the cottage on Sunday. SERIOUSLY!?!? Who leaves the house for a week and leaves dirty dishes in the dishwasher?!? And not just a few cups and a plate, no it was FULL. It was ready to be turned on, just needed some soap and turn the dial. Like WTF people? What the hell is wrong with you?

Since I've been home I have cleaned my room, which my Roomies thoughtfully left open to the two cats for the past 4 months (I'm allergic btw), the downstairs bathroom (which I am the primary user of) and the kitchen (including the microwave which I don't think has EVER been cleaned,) the stovetop and the floor. I would very much like to tackle the oven (freakin gross man!) but I lack any EasyOff at the moment, and the fridge but I'm afraid if I throw anything out the Roomies will get mad at me. And I'd like to tackle the front room, but unfortunately the big table which is in there is covered in their stuff and I have no idea where to put it.

So I have a dilemma. I want to talk to the Roomies about this. About how it's driving me nuts and how I seem to be the one doing major clean up every month or so because they can't be bothered to just do a little bit every day and how I'm not the one who cooks and leaves food out (they left food int he crockpot for a week once, A WEEK!), or dirty dishes etc. I'm not the one who piles boxes of empty beer bottles on the back porch, and I'm not the one who forgets EVERY WEEK to put the garbage and recycling out. And don't even get me started on the state of the back yard! (You remember in Jumanji when the vines and trees start growing in the house like everywhere? THAT'S what the backyard looks like!)

However, GirlRoomie owns the house. It's her house and I'm just a tenant. It's probably not kosher for me to tell her how to live in her own house. But the honest truth of it is that I don't know how much longer I can stand this and I may have to move out if things don't improve. And I know how much she likes my rent money. In addition to that, their uncleanliness is going to make them and me literally SICK. Not to mention GuyRoomie's kids that spend the weekend here every so often. There is MOLD in places where there shouldn't be MOLD. We have an ANT problem (duh). And there are so many DUST BUNNIES and cat hair TUMBLEWEEDS around I want to wear shoes all the time. Not to mention that the cats track kitty litter granules all over the place. It's GROSS! I HATE IT!

How do I bring this up tactfully without pissing them off? How do I get my point across without flying into a rage? I cannot just let it go and do nothing! I will go insane!

Essential Manners for Couples

Manners, a relatively simple concept that hardly anyone in this day and age seems to understand. Being polite and having good manners is something I value very highly in everyone, especially the opposite sex. My patience was tested just yesterday.

Ata Boy came over Tuesday night. He left Wednesday morning. Saying that he would be back later on that evening after I had finished my unpacking and cleaning to hang out watch movies and eat pizza. The day goes by and suddenly it's 7pm. No Ata Boy, no phone call, no Facebook Message, no MSN message. Hmmm. Interesting. Now, Ata Boy's cell phone is out of commission at the moment, except for the Wifi feature, which means that he can get onto Facebook and MSN any time he wants, but he can't call or send text messages.

Well 10pm rolls around and me, pissed, and a little hurt, gives up and goes to bed. Thursday rolls around, still no message from Ata Boy. Late Thursday evening, I finally get word from him, the usual "Oh sorry..." When asked why he stood me up and didn't bother to call I got the usual BS about his phone being dead blah blah blah. Cause you don't have a quarter to use a pay phone? Cause every single person you know doesn't have a cell phone that you could borrow for 2 minutes to make a quick call? SERIOUSLY? And Hello! What about Faceook and MSN?

Manners lecture ensued. And I told him quite frankly that I was not joking when I had suggested that he read this the other day:

Essential Manners for Couples by Peter Post.

Now Ata Boy and myself are NOT a couple. However, he desires to be, and frankly I won't spend any time with someone if they do not have the basics of common decency down pat. (A Major one of those is if you make plans and then you can't make it, you HAVE TO get in touch with the person. Otherwise you're just being rude and hurtful.) I have, therefore, chucked the book at him and he better damn well read it and smarten the fuck up. (Exact quote from his chastisement.)

This book is awesome, yes I've read it and as well as being very informative, it's also hilarious. It goes through all of the common troubles that couples have and the advice contained therein can be applied to all aspects of your life, not just your dealings with your significant other. I suggest that everyone read this, maybe then the world will be a little more polite.

As Emily Post said, "It really doesn't matter whick fork you use; it matters that you use a fork."

Homeward Bound

Home is where the heart is. Home is wherever you lay your head. home is where mom's house is. Home is where you grew up. Home is wherever you end up. Home is where your stuff is.

To me, home is where it SMELLS like home. I know it sounds weird. Home has a smell? Yes, it does. And I haven't smelled it in nigh on 10 years now.

What does home smell like? I really couldn't tell you. I don't have words to describe it because it doesn't smell like anything else. It just smells like home.

If I haven't smelled it in 10 years, how will I know it when/if I find it again? I don't know, I just will.

Smell is linked to memory in the most profound way. I remember what home smells like, like I remember someone's cologne. And just as when I smell that particular cologne and I remember that specific person, so it will be when I smell home again. My memories will come flooding back.

I've called many places home over the past 10 years. But only one has come close to my olfactory memory. I have lived in 7 different apartments in the past 10 years. All of them had a particular scent.

There was the first one. The two bedroom with hardwood floors and that bathroom so small you could take a leak, wash your hands and shave your legs in the tub all at the same time. (Can't say I ever did that though.) It was on the seedy West side, a block or so from a strip joint and behind one of those little Asian markets which contained untold wonders inside. It smelled like stale cigarettes and age. I moved to the apartment next door after a little while. It was cheaper, being a one bedroom. There was a leak in the ceiling inside one of the kitchen cabinets. Water from the apartment upstairs would trickle through a leaking pipe, filter down through layers of insulation and most likely asbestos to be collected in a little bucket and disposed of daily. Because of this the whole place had this sticky-sweet scent, musty and damp, and utterly gross. There was also a mouse, which lived quiet happily thanks to my ineffectual cat.

Apartment number three was down right rank. My aging dog who ate anything you happened to leave lying around (including pop cans, I think she thought she was goat trapped in a dog's body) was responsible for that. Fourteen year old dogs have the bladder and bowel control of new puppies, without the cuteness. I did my best, but it was quite rank.

After a few months of that and the inevitable death of my beloved childhood pet, I moved into a small one bedroom basement apartment. Small is an understatement really. My friends on the taller side of the spectrum had to duck in many places and my boyfriend couldn't stand upright in the shower.

After the little dungeon, I moved into the tower. I took the loft bedroom on the 3rd floor of a duplex which my FakeBro and his wife lived in. They were having money issues and had the extra space so I moved in to help them out. Me and my 4 cats. Living with their 3 cats, 1 dog and various other caged animals. My room did not smell good. 'Nuff said.

The tower made way to the walk-up. A very tiny 2 bedroom on the 3rd floor of a 100 year old building...with my boyfriend at the time. Who had a lot of stuff so I had to get rid of mine of course. That one smelled of food, all the time. Which was my fault of course cause I was cooking constantly (I was in culinary school at the time.) That place smelled awesome! But not like home.

The latest place I call home smells pretty good most of the time. I share a 3 bedroom house with my GirlRoomie and her boyfriend. My room smells like sandalwood, cause I burn the stuff all the time. The kitchen area generally smells like whatever vegetarian mush the Roomies are cooking (or had cooked 3 days ago and left out on the counter, yeah, they're slobs.) It's not tooo bad, but still not a winner.

The only one that came close was the tiny basement apartment. I was there for quite a while and though it was small, it was cozy.

It invariably reeked of me.