ick.

waitressing/bartending is coming to me fairly easily so far. now working three jobs, i am a little more tired than i usually am, but i am happy. serving is fairly simple: if i smile, ask questions, am kind, quick and energetic, both the patron and i leave satisfied. lovely! obviously this doesn't work for absolutely everyone: some people are just sad. some people might be having terrible days. some patrons might not know their own assholery...and some patrons do, and abuse it, because they're just plain, old shitty people.

last night i had my first notable encounter with the impossibly-rotten...granted, i had a great night otherwise: j.y. came by for a laugh at my serving self, i met so many hilarious sailors (the tallships are here in halifax) and it was retro night (!!!), which meant i got to sing along with some of my guiltiest pleasures (please cue aha's "take on me"). despite the night-long laugh, all of the retro-boogie dance parties and surprise visits in the world could not have suppressed my anger with one particular incident.

a group of young guys came in (as they usually do) and nothing really stood out about them other than they all wore buzz-cuts and polo t-shirts. they were all fairly easy to deal with in the beginning and though their tips were lackluster i kept returning to their table to check on them. around the end of their time at the bar, one of them requested i come with the drink. my head then thought, "ha haaaaaaaaaa sooooo creative, so debonaire! he must have sat thinking THAT ONE up all night! oh, barf. i love that i can be reduced to a drink accompaniment: pay for the drink, get a jb for free! no, no, no thanks. pull down your collar." my mouth then said, "haha! no, i'm sorry i do not come with your drink. enjoy." and i walked away to serve someone else.

i wasn't bothered by the comment; i'd heard it before. i was bothered by the large group of male friends around said popped-collar patron just staring down at me from their seats to witness my reaction. i felt momentarily vulnerable and it was uncomfortable. i was thankful to see the group move from their table to the dance floor.

a couple of favorite customers of mine from last night were seated along the edge of the dance floor. these guys were great! they were incredibly nice and easy to please. they offered me no lame pick-up lines and shook my hand at the end of the night. cute. anyway, i made my way to the edge of the dance floor to serve the favorite folks. i successfully convinced them to order another round and just as i was about to turn away to make their drinks i felt an enormously painful pull on my buttocks. it felt like someone grabbed onto the whole thing and just PULLED for a second. it hurt, i was offended and i was superMEGAPISSED. i immediately swung around to see what creep belonged to the disgusting hands that grabbed me and when i saw creepy buzz-cut pop-collar man, i chased after him. i wasn't quick enough; the crowd was thick and i had a tray of empties in one hand. i searched for a bouncer, kept my eye on the dirtbag, and said, "ah, hi. that guy just grabbed my ass. i'm not alright with that." i saw him run over to sludgebucket and i walked away from there, i only assumed everything would be taken care of (meaning: turdburger would be asked to leave).

the rest of the night went well. things got busier, calmed down, no problems. i was still feeling pretty gross having had a big part of me picked up, pulled away and put back again. just because it sticks out does not mean it's for touching. a body is like a powerline in that only those trained and confirmed perfect for the job should be let anywhere near powerlines. without the right credentials and training, those touching the powerlines could severely burn themselves, electricute themselves or damage the line itself, potentially cutting power from those needing it. unless a person has been confirmed as an appropriate sexual partner, touching and grabbing is a no. inappropriate, unwarranted touching oppresses, victimizes and hurts. it is scary and it makes the victim feel completely objectified. if some sort-of jackass can't seem to care for the aforementioned reasons why inappropriate touching sucks, he or she can scrape the bottom of the barrel and just worry about him or herself: gasp! you mean i might get kicked out?!

anyway, things slowed down. the music was getting slower and last call was wrapping up. i was cleaning tables when the bouncer i had approached earlier came over to me. he explained that although the young man had indeed been asked to leave he was also "just a twerpy kid". i was confused: just a twerpy kid? he was old enough to enter, yeah? we're taught in elementary school the "body" song ("my body's nobody's body but mine"). the bouncer explained, "well, he was drunk and he's pretty young. i don't know if he knew any better. you girls can come to us if anyone ever gets aggressive with you or offends you." i was shocked. i WAS offended. is there a level of sleaze of which a patron must adhere to before i search for external help? this seemed ridiculous. i explained to him that i was INCREDIBLY offended and had the guy not escaped my grip i would have asked him to leave myself. the whole reason why the bouncers are there are to help, and no doubt they do, but the main reason why i scrambled to find this particular bouncer was because i trusted he could help me. help me, he did, ass-man was kicked out (and, from what the door-girls tell me, the bouncer was not too polite about it), but i'm not sure what he was getting at by telling me what i already knew and already felt. maybe he doesn't gauge a pinch on the bum reason enough to kick out a "poor twerp"...so what is reason enough?

i've been taught not to put up with crap. have patience, sure, but not for crap (for the record: crap, in this case, means anything unpleasant, unfavorable, uncomfortable, useless and smelly). the waitresses training me do not put up with crap. they encourage waitresses to see a bouncer about any out-of-control, uncomfortable situation of concern. the bouncers, all of them, seem sweet and true-blue to what the waitresses say: they ARE here to help...but i feel that we shouldn't even have to deal with situations that require their assistance and that when we do, we shouldn't need excuses for the offensive behaviour of others. while certain forms of assault are certainly of a greater concern than others, there should be no mental table-of-contents and grading-scheme for each individual physical boundary pushed. ultimately, i think the bouncer and i saw eye-to-eye by the end of our conversation (even despite m.j.'s "beat it" pounding in the background) and we understood one another a little better after weighing both sides.

he was trying to explain to me that by offering a defense for the snotchomper, he was attempting to make me feel better or less scared that ass-grabbery would happen again. i suppose that's fair. "he's just a twerp, he's drunk, you're better than him." i wasn't afraid that it was going to happen because my anger level was so high that i am sure had anyone else tried anything fresh there'd be teeth to sweep. i was afraid that everyone was under the impression that it's not such a huge deal to be grabbed. he felt obviously sorry that i'd been under that impression and we cleared it up and both got back to work...but something still feels icky.

home stretch

"these are twisted times when trust and truth collide,

when a stranger's love could make your heart explode.

i want to give it all back! if i could give it all back

i'd send a thousand suns to warm your worthy lungs.

i don't wish for this alone."

[from hey rosetta!'s "a thousand suns"]

the time has come, friends and followers. dad is scheduled to be dismissed from the hospital on tuesday.

_ahem_

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THANKFREAKINGTIMEANDPATIENCEANDHAAAGHHHHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

more on this later. for now, please feel joyful with me.

dang.

ha-ha-haiku for the sun.

toasty-bright light-ball

your vitamin d rays ran

and were missed too long.

you make your return

skins pinken, grins grow, eyes squint

toes sit stuck with sand.

tolerable lakes

fill up with noise-junked fam'lies

i don't mind a bit.

if you come back soon

do not invite your wet friends

you know who they are.

numero deux.

the only place where summer can truly be felt lately is at my place of work. days at the centre are not nearly at demanding as usual because not very many kids signed up for summer camps/sessions. thanks to the decline in enrollment i was driven to search for a second job. i've been digging, pounding, calling, e-mailing, writing, flinging and grinning for the majority of this week (i know it's only wednesday, but i'm impatient) and today i made a successful connection. my last resume (of the day) was eagerly thrust into the waiting hands of a manager-on-duty for a notoriously beer-involved bar in halifax. turns out he's from eskasoni and is very familiar with my hometown. we joked around for a bit, had a quick chat regarding my dire lack of bar-related work experience and he sent me on my way, promising to call me within the next few days. i turned on my (high) heel, began a brisk strut down the street and dug around for some music. once my headphones were in, though, i noticed that my tunes had some sort of skipping/hollering quality to them that i never noticed before. i took out my headphones, the skipping/hollering sounds grew closer and the noises seemed to have a raspy/breath-y quality. the manager-man from eskasoni had been chasing me down the street. once he caught up to me, he informed me that i'll begin my new job tomorrow evening at midnight. wahoo! wish me luck, internet-friends. if you know me well enough, you know how clumsy i am and how badly i'll need your luck.

happy list

today's happy list included:

- a morning met with a brand new brown (and green!) mug. gratitude shout out to j. y...coffee tastes so much better when sips come with cheeky grins.
- a mega-relaxed day at work with mega-cool new and old kiddies, brand new markers (YESSSSSS! you have no idea how thrilling new coloring supplies are to me now) and a fantastic lunch chat with a co-worker re: falling out of moving planes (he's tried it!).
- the best break yet: when i visited dad, he was sitting up on the side of his bed, enjoying a glass of gingerale. bliss.
- my loving mother sending me off to dance class with a mars bar and an apple. that was lovely.
- modern dance class featuring live percussion and rusty, sweaty jb. i am going to hurt in the morning and i am going to love every wince.
- songs on the busride home.
- coming home to an apartment tidied by one little sister.
- emails!
- the perfect banana: sort-of green, snappy, a little bitter and fairly firm. tasty!

that is all.

a eulogy for a favorite mug.

yesterday, brown mug smashed its way to ceramic heaven.

brown mug cost me $0.50 at the salvation army across the street from my former apartment on york st. the mug has accompanied me on moves from york street to the goody shop, from the goody shop to forest acres, from forest acres all the way to halifax and has even tagged along for various bring-your-own-drinking-devices parties and gatherings.

brown mug helped me through the grossest hours of the morning pre-work and class. it has met the lips of countless friends and a handful of significant others. brown mug always treated my friends and family well and held tight to whatever liquid goodness it was asked to briefly home.

brown mug was, sometimes, the most able body to stop tears and fears. armed with hot tea and a safety handle, brown mug never asked questions or gave me any lip if my hands were probably too unsteady to hold it.

brown mug was great! i was sure i was going to grow old and wrinkly with my little mug. i planned on living a long life with my super-duo relaxing team of mug and mets t-shirt. now, sans brown mug, it's time to let go of past assumptions and uneducated guesses. i think i'm now ready to accept any clean mug as my own. still, i will look back fondly at various appearances brown mug has made in my memory.

a letter of thanks

dear canada,

happy birthday! you've got 142 years of life behind you and you're still looking fairly sharp. despite your rulers' tendencies to swipe work away from the folks in my hometown and turn chubby cheeks away from many a starvin' marvin, i still like you. you are vast! you are diverse! you've got a pile of brilliant people living amongst your land-y bones! there's something about you that makes me want to stick around for years to come. don't get me wrong, i think our established free-love, open relationship is beneficial for the both of us; while i gallavant past your borders and experience the elements of which you simply cannot provide (and i do not hold this against you), you take a much-needed mini-break from one more person who tends to shower for 20+ minutes. a fraction of your resources are held and one of your inhabitants comes back loving you all the more. really, canada, i have a lot to thank you for. considering today is your day of birth and you had a rocky, drunken start (merci, john a. macdonald) i feel appropriate expressing a list of developments, features, folks, histories and memories of which i am grateful for. keep in mind, canada, that this list is of my own heart and there are many other things of which to express grace for. without any further digression, thank you for the following:

1. the music churned from one end to the other. from wintersleep, omnikrom, the guess who, the tragically hip and the tom fun orchestra, you keep me in a constant state of canadian sing-song.
2. with thanks for your music i also thank you for cbc and all of its websites, updates, song banks and articles.
3. cliche: maple syrup is awesome. nice choice on the flag.
4. thank you for the literal land you carry. it's pretty wild how a person can travel only between newfoundland and new brunswick and still encounter many a diverse terrain. rocks, sand, forests, bogs, beaches, fields, tundra, lakes, cliffs and mountains keep you lovingly pock-marked. try your best to keep your bumps, lumps and soggy parts the way they are.
5. for alden nowlan.
6. for your drama and theatrical literature.
7. for the countless, caring faces, goodness and brilliant features in the people who live here.
8. thank you for cape breton island. really, it's something special. i don't know if i'll ever manage to check out every nook and cranny but i'm thankful the nooks and crannies are in volume enough to feel that way.
9. thank you for passionate scenes and many an opportunity to enjoy them. the aforementioned music and theatre departments are lovely but so are the people who consider themselves to be sports nuts, mountain climbers, fine artists, botanists, fisherfolks, writers, academics, dancers, photographers, back-packers and countless other exciting elements ready for digging hands and feet. thanks for enabling a sticky pick and combination of nearly everything.
10. thanks for fresh air and a relatively peaceful environment (in comparison with some of your neighbours).
11. socialized healthcare and education are generally kept in good shape 'round your parts. bravo.
12. for letting us enjoy what you have to offer. i'm sorry so many of your natural resources are abused and i'm sorry for my terrible shower habits. i will try to change.
13. thanks for an often ridiculous, mostly hilarious and occasionally offensive history. it's too bad not every single canadian can experience a history class with dr. michael dawson.


there are some things, canada, that i'd like you to change. you treat your aboriginal communities poorly. women still have not reached a favorable level of comfort, safety and fair-treatment within your borders. your elections are irritating and invasive and i don't like that you've stuck your fingers into violent situations overseas. too many people live on your streets and eat nothing of nutrition. in certain places you've got some drug and violence issues needing stopping and i hear that saskatchewan is nothing special. despite my distaste for celine dion and the irvings, you've got a strong hold on my heart and i'll love you until you die. you're a dainty 142 years young so i pray i'm long dead before you are. either way, let neither of us race to the finish line, i still have too many things worth discovering about you and thanking you for.

sincerely and severely,
jb