10,000

It seems like a lot of writers have been using the word "myriad" a lot lately.

Hmmm.

Do words go in and out of style?

I read Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself to Live recently, and he used the word in almost every page.

That's a lot. A lot a lot.

The Curious Incident of the Gum in the Open-Concept Office

When I left for my lunch break, I'm sure there were five pieces of Ice Breakers in the box on my desk. When I returned, there were four.

Intrigue.

More shocking is how interesting I find this. Who took the gum? Were there really five pieces there to begin with? Are my eyes deceiving me, or my coworkers? Is my life really this dull?

More shocking news: the piece of gum that I'm chewing right now tastes like salt.

Weird.

Sunshine, lollypops, rainbows...

It has finally stopped raining! Life is good again!

More importantly, I can finally go grocery shopping. As my foraging usually takes place either in various markets in Chinatown, or at whichever ten-minutes-from-my-apartment grocery store I feel like browsing through, rain prohibits me from restocking my shelves.

For a normal person, going a week without buying any groceries isn't a big deal. However, I am a weakling so I tend to buy groceries in very small quantities, several times a week, and in general, my fridge is pretty empty anyway.

Also, my summertime diet (aka. I make no money so feel the need to feed myself on less than four dollars a day (usually three)) involves not buying anything that is not on sale, with the exception of produce. So, in a given week, if the Chinatown produce doesn't look too great and nothing of interest is on sale at No Frills, my fridge might look like this:

- Milk
- Cheese
- Watered down juice
- One pita
- Cold perogies
- Hummus
- Expired salad fixings
- Blueberries
- Leftover macaroni and cheese
- Various condiments, sauces and salad dressings

Not exactly a feast fit for a king, now is it? Maybe for one meal, but imagine these contents slowly dwindling over several days worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner.

If it starts raining before I get home tonight, I may actually starve.

Stuff White People Like

Unless you have been living under a rock, you are already familiar with Stuff White People Like, so I will spare the introduction. Sometimes the entries by former Torontonian Christian Lander are a little beyond my scope as a young, white person, but more often than not they are LOL funny. However, sometimes, his topics and descriptions of white person personality traits fit me to a T. Sometimes, it's actually chilling.

The two most recent entries really could have been titled, Stuff Melissa Wilson Likes.

See:

#104 Girls With Bangs

Many people associate this type of haircut with children and people looking for the most efficient way to get hair out of their eyes. But for white people, this simple haircut makes a bold declaration by saying that the wearer is artistic, deep, and has probably dated a guy in a band you like...For white people, the haircut-with-bangs is an important symbol that a female has completed her transformation from a nerdy girl to a cool woman.

Read full entry.

That is my exact haircut (albeit, my bangs have gotten kind of shabby because of the next SWPL entry) and I got it for the first time when I started university.

#105 Unpaid Internships

White people view the internship as their foot into the door to such high-profile low-paying career fields as journalism, film, politics, art, non-profits, and anything associated with a museum. Any white person who takes an internship outside of these industries is either the wrong type of white person or a law student. There are no exceptions.

If all goes according to plan, an internship will end with an offer of a job that pays $24,000 per year and will consist entirely of the same tasks they were recently doing for free. In fact, the transition to full time status results in the addition of only one new responsibility: feeling superior to the new interns.

Read full entry.

I am currently putting in 40 hours a week for zero dollars an hour at This Magazine. However, I do not fetch coffee or dry cleaning and I rarely photocopy, so I can feel superior to the Devil Wears Prada-esque interns out there. Though, I think this feeling makes me even whiter.

There are others, but I think I will stop at these two, because I am beginning to feel less unique by the second.

Barack Obama made me a mixtape

Today as I was walking to work, I passed by a couple twenty-somethings sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that said (something like), "Smile, and have a nice day!"

It was a nice thing to see in the morning. I smiled and told them the same.

More things that make me smile:

Barack Obama

Cute Animals

Baby nephews that I haven't met yet, but are probably very cute

Cactuses that I have yet to kill.















And Bo Burnham

Cocaine and NYC? Seriously?

Dear Steven Page,

What the hell are you doing, man?

I've got to find the right hook

Bloggers left and right are being offered book deals.

Where's my fucking six-figure book deal?

Food network host sets Guinness record for flapjack flipping

599 pancakes in an hour!

See, now this is the kind of news that I want to read on a Friday morning. Nice, happy, "oh, well look at that!" cheerful kind of news. I don't want to read about global warming or famine or AIDS or about the myriad soldiers killed overseas. I do read about these things because I care about what's going on, and want to stay informed, but I would much prefer if the most scandalous thing that was happening in the world was some obese small town in Washington trying to usurp Winnipeg from it's Slurpee throne.

A couple weeks ago, I read a story in the Globe about a baby beluga who was sick, but has made an excellent recovery. It was lovely.

I should probably just switch to tea, anyway.

I have my Moneen University travel mug with most of the time. Usually it's just filled with water, or sometimes iced tea/weak fruit juice/whatever non-water substance I have in my fridge. However, sometimes, I'll decide to treat myself to some coffee and I always ask that they simply fill my mug and charge me what's fair. Clearly, I'm doing this to reduce the amount of waste produced and not so I can con some poor barista into charging me for a small for twice the coffee. (note: the mug probably holds the same as a large Tim Horton's cup.)

It really bothers me when 1) Clerks argue with me over the size of the cup and the price of the coffee and 2) when the clerk spends precious time trying to discern the caffeine-capacity of my mug.

Once at McDonalds (this was my punishment, I'm sure, for even setting foot inside a McDonalds) I asked if, in my combo meal, I could substitute a small iced coffee ($1.39) for my medium soft drink ($1.69). I was told yes, but I would have to pay extra. When I questioned why I would have to pay extra to substitute something that actually costs less than what I was paying for, two employees and a manager had to get involved. In the end, I got my small iced coffee, but they actually measured out the amount in another cup, and then threw the plastic away. (note: the coffee filled my not-that-large mug to the brim.)

Then yesterday, I was at Starbucks and asked for my coffee politely and said that they could charge whatever they thought the correct fancy-named equivalent was, though I told them that previously I'd been charged for a "tall" to fill my cup. This clerk spent two full minutes trying to decide the volume of my cup, and measured it out with a paper one (though, this was not thrown out) before deciding that, in fact, I was correct with my "tall" guess.

This bothers me on several levels. First, I know the insane markup placed on drinks, and I am positive that the extra few millilitres of coffee that may find their way into my cup will not break Starbucks' bank. In fact, I might go as far as to wager my beloved mug that the paper/plastic cup itself costs more than the beverage inside it.

Second, I don't feel as though I should be inconvenienced or argued with for being ecologically responsible. It's not like I'm walking in there with a Big Gulp, and it's not like I'm asking for a discount for bringing my own cup (though I know a few shops that offer one), but I'd like for them to at least measure by eye and estimation so that I don't have to waste my time waiting for them to debate the correct mode of action, especially when it only makes their job harder.

At a certain point, isn't it easier just to go with the flow?

I realize I've been complaining in this blog a lot, so here's something that I have no reason to complain about:

Seven ways to get off the bottle by Melissa Wilson

so long!

Two dreams about Boston Pizza is two too many.

I have my notice today.

It was a good job, and there are a lot of things that I'll miss, but screaming matches with the kitchen and making sure the cutlery is perfectly parallel to the napkins will not make that list.

Sidewalks are for pedestrians

Dear Toronto cyclists,

I really admire you. I love that you are choosing to take an eco-friendly trip to work every morning, that you're getting more exercise than the average Canadian. I am also a little jealous that you have the courage that I lack to brave the mostly-bike-lane-less streets of Toronto admist the non-bike-friendly BMWs and Civics. I am too afraid, which is why I walk, and stare longingly at cyclists each time they pass. One day I hope to overcome the fear of being hit by a car, and join your ranks.

However, to all the cyclists who insist on biking on busy Queen West sidewalks: you should count yourselves lucky each time you pass me and I don't kick something into your spokes. I walk so I don't have to worry about getting flattened by a vehicle, not so I can play Frogger with ignorant cyclists.

I'll make you a deal, I'll keep lobbying for more bike lanes in the city if you, the biker, stick to them.

Sound good?

Yours,
Melissa Wilson