Moot Point

You’ll all be relieved to know it was strep throat, because I am getting better from the strep throat medicine.

Other than that, I’m not posting because I’ve gotten amazingly boring.

I work all the time.

And I’ve descended into cloying couplehood, which is of course, awesome. But it’s also very dull. Or would be for you.



I’ll try to have a good adventure soon.

I know I held out on you all. And I’m not a holder-out. So, that unsavoury thing:

I was walking back to U of T from the pharmacy where I’d gotten my prescription filled.

There was a guy lying on the OISE lawn. I looked over. “Gee,” I said to myself. “His pants are awfully low. It almost looks like they’re undone.”

Then I said to myself, “Hey, why is he putting his hand there — Oh.”

My delicate sensibilities? Shocked.

I have two items of note:

One is that all concerned will note that I have diagnosed my recent reluctance to eat solid things as a side effect of having a throat so sore that it hurts to swallow. I left work early today and went to the doctor, having realized last night that I was in a lot of pain and oh, yeah, there were all kinds of swollen glands on the side of my neck.
I haven’t eaten solid food all day.
I couldn’t sleep until I checked a couple of online medical dictionaries to make sure I didn’t have non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma or something. (”Excessive sweating? I have been sweating a lot lately. Oh yeah. It’s been all hot out.”)
Long story short I have tonsilitis. (Such a childhood disease. Who gets tonsilitis when they’re 21?) The doctor thinks it’s strep, she did a test for it and gave me strep-killing pills. The only other thing it could be is mono. fingers crossed

The other is very unsavoury and actually I have a sudden reticence about posting unsavoury things on the internet. Apparently I only feel comfortable posting unsavoury things relating to my menses.
Sorry to disappoint you all.

I am going to go find some soft food.

Saturday was the worst shift I ever worked at the ice cream shop. The only thing that makes me want to avoid completely striking the night from my memory is that former Kid in the Hall Mark McKinney came into the shop.
I kept staring at him and he kept staring at me. He was probably staring because he knew I knew who he was, but I like to think it was because he recognized me. (We met once.)

I checked the schedule today; Ice Cream Boss took away another one of my shifts. I’m only working three days next week.
It’s okay, because I have the other job, but she doesn’t know that. I am working 21 hours. On shifts where the tip-out is weak.
(I was going to talk to her about my new job until she implied I was an idiot. Then, I didn’t really feel like I owed her a lot.)

In other news, my appetite is getting embarrassingly bad.
Wednesday, I had a nutrigrain bar, an ice cream, an avocado and brie sandwich, and beer.
Yesterday, I ate a nutrigrain bar, a Michelina’s lunch thing, an apple, two grilled cheese sandwiches with applesauce, some chocolate milk, and beer.
Today, I had a Vietnamese sub, two iced coffees, a big dish of ice cream, and a slice of pizza.

The thing is, after I ate each of these modest meals, I felt full. Stuffed even. Not able to consume another bite. I was starving before, but then? Full.

I’m not trying to lose weight, I don’t believe in diets even. It’s not like my metabolism’s slowed down because I don’t move enough. (I have a whole job where I’m constantly on my feet, etc.)

I don’t know. I think I’m losing some weight. It’s not exactly melting off or anything.
Should I be worried?

So, in the last two days, my ice cream shop boss has decided I’m incompetent. She gives night shifts to the people she thinks are “strong.” I have worked mostly night shifts since I started. Also, night shifts go faster and are more hours.

This week I worked four shifts: one day, two closing, and one ten-hour shift that runs through peak time.

Next week I am working four shifts: all of them are days. Every single one. Not a single close. Nothing later than nine.

Yesterday she told me that this weekend will be tough because we’re losing a lot of strong people who have supposedly been carrying me through all the hard shifts, and if I don’t know how to make all the desserts I should really learn to. (Note: there are only about ten not-very-complicated desserts, I have been working there for over a month. I am not a retard, therefore I know them all.)
Today, I went to check my schedule and I have all easy shifts.
I think this happened because I said something about night shifts being stressful. I think she took this to mean I couldn’t handle it.

Believe me, I can handle it.

It’s annoying because on the one hand I don’t actually care about this job (I have another, better job), but on the other hand, I am good to things and am used to approval by authority figures. Teachers always liked me as a kid, not because I sucked up (I didn’t), but because I was a good student. Previous bosses have always liked me. My new boss thinks I’m great. I’m a good worker.

It’s really probably a testament to how badly the place is run. But it still bugs me

What up. I have two jobs right now. As a result I am working every day from Monday to Sunday this week. (Schedules will soon be adjusted so that I don’t die.)

Also, I am taking this fairly challenging class that I somehow have to do a bunch of reading and write an essay for pretty soon. (In the next couple of weeks.) Then, exam! Then, moving!

Update on the calamitous moving situation: I have lined up a place for my stuff to stay and a place for me to stay, though not quite a way to get my stuff to the place where it’s staying. (Anyone want to help me move? It’ll be fun. I’ll give you chocolate.) The plan is to fly home for the 23-29th week (Sul will be happy about this) and then to come back and stay at my boyfriend’s house for a week. (I don’t think his parents are overjoyed, but they didn’t say no. And I plan to win them over with my easygoing ways, helpfulness and charm.)

Well, I have to go wash my work shirt in the sink. (Least glamourous ending ever.)

Love, Brenda

So I was feeling pretty low this morning. I knew that today is the first day of sugar pills, so I was pretty sure that my post-shower confidence that my entire life was going to fall apart was just the ol’ hormones talking, even as I was getting more upset. Maybe it wasn’t hormones. Maybe everything was really going horribly wrong. Yes, everything was falling apart and I couldn’t get a hold of someone I was trying to phone and it was clearly because they hated me and were avoiding me. This isn’t all in my hormone-riddled head, I thought.

Then I turned on the TV and the last half-hour of Ferris Bueller was on. As Cameron kicked his father’s car (”Who do you love? You love a car?”) I started to tear up.

Yep, hormones.

Tonight, the same waitress who introduced the which-cake-are-you game told me I look like Strawberry Shortcake. The cartoon character, not the actual cake.

Still.

Update on the Veet situation:

The results were not undesirable, but I did not achieve total smoothosity either. Perhaps because I didn’t use enough Veet cream? Will try again.

In other news, I am in a poor mood. For no reason. The culprit? I say hormones!