British comedian Avery Edison (@aedison) was detained by Immigration officials at Pearson Airport last night. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have any idea what to do with trans people. Begin horribleness.
Here you go. Let’s boost the signal people. I’ll try and add details as I get them.
I know I’m lucky, but I’m currently having challenges. Which is why I haven’t posted here for weeks.
My office just moved from a 5-minute walk from my home to a 40-minute subway ride, which I never budgeted for, time-wise or financially.
My job is insane. I work for a “movie unit” at a major TV network in Canada, and I’m a coordinator for national advertising for much of the movies advertised on TV in this country. Movie release dates change every day, and part of my job is to keep up with that and all that implies. I’m responsible for like a zillion dollars a year in advertising revenue, and it can be very stressful and not much fun.
I love my husband, but sometimes it feels like he lives a charmed life. I’m jealous because he gets to play and travel for his job. He’s away right now, staying at a luxury resort in the Rocky Mountains. Going on sleigh rides and having snowball fights for money.
West Virginia is the most neurotic state, Utah is the most agreeable and the folks of Wisconsin are the country’s most extroverted, a new study says. Take TIME’s test to find out which state most suits you
I got North Carolina.
Apparently all this time I should have been living in South Carolina…?!
You belong in California!
I am not a third generation (Southern) Californian for nothing, yo.
To stop or remove yourself from a situation where you have consumed a lot of alcohol and can’t remember if the word is “abort” or “deport” and then everyone laughs at you and proceeds to use the word for the rest of the day.
This post will be all over the place. Kind of like my frame of mind in recent days.
I’m watching “Under the Dome” on TV because I love the book and Stephen King in general. But the show is nothing like the book, except for the fact that there’s a dome over Chester’s Mill. (Oh yeah, and some of the chapters have the same names.) It makes me annoyed, but I keep watching because I’m loyal. And bored.
I’ve read all the “True Blood” books. The TV show started off great, but now it makes me stabby. Great casting vs. a ridiculous plot that makes me want to punch things.
I recently moved to be closer to my office and now it’s moving. I’ll have to pay over a thousand dollars a year in transit fees that I haven’t budgeted for.
Random things that add up to full-on petulant foot stomping.
The National played a free outdoor concert in Toronto as part of NXNE a week ago. Being fans (Jason more than me) we decided to take a stroll up to check it out. The time on the website was wrong, and when we got there, they were halfway through their set and the place was a madhouse. We stuck around and listened to a few songs and then decided to meander home.
Just across the street from the concert, there was a street preacher yelling, “If you don’t believe in God, you’re going to Hell!” As I passed him, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Yes, you. You’ll go to Hell.” I looked right back at him and defiantly said, “YOU DON’T KNOW ME,” without skipping a beat, and kept on walking.
I find it curious how a man who literally doesn’t know me from Adam can condemn me to hell. Even more curious is he wasn’t the first “man of god” who’s condemned me. The irony is I do believe in God. I guess the jokes on them.
I guess I look like a sinner. Whatever that means.
It fell from on top of the fridge, hit my head, then bounced off my foot and shattered all over the kitchen. My feet were bare, and to exit the kitchen, I had to walk over the broken glass. (I guess I could have put a towel down, but I think I was in a wee bit of shock.) I just walked over the glass. And there was a lot of glass.
Other than one small cut on TOP of my foot, I am unscathed.
I hate to be a “sad-sack”, but today has been difficult. My Gam passed on Mother’s Day last year, and I was very close to her. Plus — without giving away too much information my family would not want me to share — my Mom’s also having a hard time. And I’m not a mother. And that’s its own thing. So, to distract myself, I went to the salon.
Let’s backtrack. I don’t have much real jewelry. I have my engagement ring, my wedding ring, and my diamond earrings. The earrings were a gift from Jason a few years ago. And I have not taken them off since.
Back to today. I got home from the salon and noticed I was missing an earring. I promptly FREAKED THE FUCK OUT. WHY ME, LORD JESUS! NOT TODAY! NOT TODAY, YOU BASTARD! It was bad and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And then… the salon called. They found my earring. And then there was much of whatever the opposite of wailing and gnashing of teeth is.
I’m not sure what fate is trying to tell me. Or if fate even exists. All I know is that I lost something and then it was found. And life is strange and awesome. And diamonds are like boomerangs, I guess.
There’s a job at my company that I might apply for. It’s with the Marketing Department. And I know I’d be great at it.
But here’s the thing — I’m kinda scared. I have this thing with rejection, in that I’m terrible at it. And I become an awkward crazy person when I’m in an interview situation. I crumble like a chunk of feta cheese.
I job shadowed recently and I got so nervous, I walked into the men’s washroom. And I’m a woman.
But I can’t be held back by my silly fears. What’s the worst that can happen? (Lots, I suppose.) But WHATEVER. Since I don’t have a middle name, it can be “Failure”.
Do assholes wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and say to themselves “I’m going to be the BEST asshole I can be today!” Make a “to do” list of all the terrible things they’re going to do to good people? Do they have asshole support groups or special asshole discounts for The Gap?
Part of me wants to cut assholes down to size, like an asshole-smiting superhero. Because I easily could with a few words and a look. But I won’t, because that would make me like them.
So I patiently wait for logic to visit me, rub a cat, and write a Tumblr post.