Ode to Public Transit

I'm sheeple. I came to that realization today. I'm just like everyone else in the daily grind, I'm a sheeple. Every day when I get to the ferry terminal I watch a herd of people running off of the ferry, bolt up the ramp and sprint as fast as they can to the waiting buses. I sit in a spot where I can watch the event, which I equate to a lower scale Running of the Bulls. Running of the Suits is what my twisted little brain has been calling it.

Today was different. I watched the Running of the Suits in my usual spot and smiled at the rush. Hey, it's amusing, you'd giggle too. I boarded the ferry as usual and sat in my usual spot. On the right, at the back, closest to the window so I can watch the Chemul get smaller as I get farther away and closer to home. I like watching it get smaller lately, the Chemul has definitely lost it's charm for me in the last couple of weeks. That's a whole other story though that we're just not touching it.

Anyway, as usual, I digress ... when my choppy, windy ride was done I started running for the bus. I became a player in the Running of the Suits. Only I'm running in pigtails, a toque and pink work boots. I'm a sheeple. A twisted one, but a sheeple nonetheless. All I could do was laugh at myself while I showed the driver my transfer slip and sit my chubby white ass at the back of the bus.

I watched a very young girl with a cane; listened to a conversation about the differences in Quebec versus France conversational French; saw a young couple display the fact that they are very much in love (blech); listen to art students discuss a new sculpture project and how they prefer photography and it's many avenues of creativity; and, was asked where I bought my eyelashes because they were great. Kind of fun to tell that poor overly made-up girl that they were mine with a little mascara, no fakies here. I sort of felt sad for her though, if you slapped the back of her head her face would fall off. Too much make-up is not a good thing.

So, today I discovered I'm just like everyone else. Only I'm the everyone else who sits and the back and watches the group, takes in the sights and sounds and behaviours of the other sheeple around me. Loves the older couple at the bus stop who hold hands while waiting for their bus that she passes every morning. Loves the driver who tell every single passenger to have a lovely day in her British accent when they get off the bus. Loves the gentleman who works at the ferry terminal who holds the door for me every afternoon. Loves the guy with the huge fro that stands about a foot off of his head and out passed his shoulders who listens to his iPod much too loudly while he waits for his ferry to Alderney Gate. Loves the chilly, salty air in the afternoon. Loves the city lights across the harbour. Loves the homeless man that smells like pee who asked me to marry him.

Loves the city.

I don't mind being the same as everyone else, they're all different just like me. All our own quirks and habits, experiences and lives. I don't want Alyson Metro Transit anymore, that would be one hell of a lonely ride.

Just a rant ...

I'm supposed to be working. Not doing a very good job of it though. I guess that's the problem with being trusted to get work done from home is that it's very easy to slack off. Truth is, I just don't have it in me to pay enough attention. I spent all weekend thinking about the stuff I had to get caught up on at work; spent Sunday trying to figure out what time I was going to get to work after my appointment with the school and the errands I had to run before I got on that ferry; and then, spent this morning thinking about either getting to work earlier than expected or running around downtown for a little while enjoying a crisp March morning in the city.

I opted for getting there earlier which was good because I spent the rest of the day getting caught up on emails, server back-ups, burning photo DVDs, taking meeting minutes, chasing inspection updates, scratching my head when trying to get my filing in order and making lists of stuff I have to move to the server in the morning before I update again. I still have to clean out my drawer and put my coveralls in the dirty basket to be taken to the cleaners along with the rest of some pics I have to file.

OH EHM GEE!! I am obsessed! Work. Good ole work. Here I am, at 21:19 hours on my work laptop trying to type up meeting minutes before I start updating a spreadsheet that will only have to be updated tomorrow when I get back to my little shipyard trailer. I think I'll give up and type up some of the notes before I forget how to read my swiftly scribbled, far from neatly written hen-scratch of personal shorthand. Other than that, I'm done. I don't get paid to work from home anymore so honestly, I'm going to lay on the couch and watch some guilty pleasure TV while I ponder other things. Things that don't involve the refitting of an oil rig. Excuse me, accommodation and supply rig.

The house is eerily quiet except for a few small noises. I can hear Chloe talking in her sleep. The hummm of my washer. The TV is mumbling away. The keys are clicking while I type. An odd tiny meow from the kittens. And every now and then, a whistle from my budgies. All that noise and I'm still finding it quiet. Weird.

I have to go grab the phone ... this quiet is driving me crazy ... I think I'm getting used to hustle and bustle of busy mornings getting the babies ready and out the door which is quickly followed by listening to strange conversations on the bus. Once the bus is done, it's the ferry terminal and smiling at the Tim Horton's lady while she makes my tea. They're getting to know me and my order but I'm thinking that's because I tip well. Then the ferry ride which is usually quiet but it's off the ferry and down the hill to the shipyard where I spend my days doing what I already listed in the beginning of this post. Once I'm in my trailer I'm surrounded by people and rush and conversation. The day ends and I either jump in the car with Superman where I stare at him singing along to music and wonder what happened to us and why I still feel so close to him even though we're no longer together and just clinging onto a friendship. If it's not Superman, it's the ferry that is followed by a half an hour wait for a bus to go get Little Miss and my Little Man. Conversation about their day and we're off to get Miss Lily. Home. Homework. Showers. Pajamas. Snuggles and bed lunch. Goodnight kisses and hugs. Retrieving cars from the floor and finding a good story for Miss Lily to read because she has to read the stories now. She's a damn good reader and much too smart for her age at times. Downstairs I go when they get in bed and snuggle in to watch TV or work or eat my face off. Maybe a phone chat. Check Facebook. Read stupid, vapid, shallow celebrity gossip. Then this happens ... the quiet. Most times very welcomed and other times, like tonight ... just nice, just right, just weird.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the laundry ...

Spreadsheets & Shit?

Oh my. Here goes another one. Nothing really happened the last couple of days. That doesn't sound quite right but seriously, it didn't. Little interesting tidbits of crud peppered between having my head down in spreadsheets or shit. Literal stinky baby diaper shit. Spreadsheets and shit. Why am I now singing that to the tune of Liquor and Whores?

Yesterday started with me learning that Karma has a sense of humour. I had the early morning rush on Miss Lily to get her tiny behind out the door to get to the sitter's so she could then get to school and, subsequently, me to the damn bus. They should really run every three minutes so I can slow down a little in the morning. No matter how early I get up or how much I get done the night before, I still end up running around like a fool in the morning. I should also have my own ferry. One that takes me right to work, drops me off on one of those pontoon things on the rig. Oh that'd be nice: Alyson Metro Transit.

Anyway, I digress from my point. In shooing Miss Lily out the door, I ended up having the brush check (hair & teeth). Teeth were good but hair wasn't so I gave her a speech about how it's important to always be washed with your teeth and hair brushed before she leaves the house. I helped her brush her hair and out the door we went. I may have been a little hard on her, we were both rushed, cranky and tired.

She got to the sitter's place; I got to the bus stop -- late. Sooooo, while sitting at the bus stop, Superman swung by and picked me up which was great since it meant Tim Horton's and a warm car with loud music to wake me the f**k up. What did I discover in the Tim Horton's drive through? I forgot to brush my damn hair when I got out of the shower. Ugh. Karma has a sense of humour. I made sure to give my girl a big hug when I got to see her.

It's getting late and I think I'm finally getting tired. Aside from that, I've had a long night last night with two very sick little people. Little Miss and Little Man both ended up at IWK emerge with horrible coughs and what sounded like fluid in their lungs. Ended up that both were perfectly fine aside from Little Miss having a double whammy ear infection but a 4am arrival at home wiped us all out. I did get to work from home today so I could stay home with them which was great. I love my job. I seriously love my job. Weird eh? I almost think I'd do it for free. Wait, I don't love it that much. I don't even love it enough to still do it with a pay cut. Maybe I don't love it as much as I thought I did.

Well, my babies are getting healthy again. They're all asleep and happy. Little Man woke up a little while ago but he's easy to get back to sleep when he's not feeling well, a toy car and some Tylenol. Easy as pie. Snuggles don't hurt either although I'm pretty sure they're more for me than him.

On that note, my battery on the laptop is dying and I'm too lazy to plug it in right now. Just to end this thing: I bought a brush at the drugstore next to shipyard and took care of the matted, wet, unbrushed shower hair.

Goodnight.

Chemul, Valentine's, DIRTY THIRTY!!

Holy crap. It's been way too long since I actually posted something. It's been since the beginning of October since something has been posted on this little blog o'mine. I've written quite a bit here and there, little diddies (ditties?) but nothing that was either completed or I was comfortable with posting. Odd for me, I'm a pretty open book.

So, where did we leave off?? GWAR/Lamb of God was amazing. Not much else I can say about it. Got some GWAR goo on me from the mosh pit, almost got sucked into a Wall of Death or Hate or whatever the hell it's called. Interesting to say the least. Bands were great and discovered that I do like Job for a Cowboy, they were pretty damn good.

Okay, what else? I got a job. Working a real job now, not just writing and working temp secretarial jobs. It's temporary for now but I'm loving it. I get to sit in a trailer at a shipyard and watch the day to day trials and tribulations of a small company (who I'm working for) take on a multi-million dollar refit of an accommodation rig. It's like an oil rig only instead of gigantic drill it has some gigantic cranes. I'm still not sure what exactly it does but I do now know what a flange is and I'm starting to understand the differences between all kinds of different pumps and motors. The boys got me some pink work boots and now I'm able to crawl around on the PSS Chemul. It's fun. It's more than just the paper pushing I was hired for. I'm seeing both sides of the job -- the office work and all the shit that goes with that and then the actual work/labour side of things and all the bullshit that comes with that part plus how it all ties together. It's long days but I'm sure it's going to be worth it at the end. Wheee.

Oh and I definitely love all my rig pigs too. hehehe

Miss Lily is seven! Little Miss is four already!! And Mr. Man, my little meatball turned two!! It's crazy watching them grow and become little animals. Today they were literally swinging from the curtains in the living room. Swinging. From the curtains. I was scrubbing the tub thinking they were dancing to the music I put on but no, they were Tarzan and two little Janes. The curtain rod bent and decided to break when I was trying to fix it so now my curtains are hanging up with tacks, looks great. I guess working with pipefitters all day made me bend a little harder than necessary. It's not a pipe, it's a flimsy piece of stuff. What the hell are curtain rods made out of anyway?

Other than climbing the walls, the babies are great. I couldn't ask for better and regardless of the amount of laundry and no matter how many dinkies and dolls I trip over on a daily basis, I couldn't ask for better monsters ...er ... kids.

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Rather it's Half-Price-Chocolate Eve. Not looking forward to it but I am at the same time. It's an over-rated holiday but an excuse to have ice cream cake with my babies. The three best Valentines I could ask for. Fun tinged with bitterness? Definitely. I've once again boarded the bitter bus but we're not going there.

I'm turning 30 in three days. Thirty. 30. Big birthday and I'm looking forward to it. Looking forward to The Dirty Thirty. That's all fine and dandy right now, but please, don't mention it to me Tuesday. I have a funny feeling I won't want the reminder.

And with that ... I'm tired ... goodnight readers ...

Fat Kid with Cake, Farting Bus Ladies & GWAR

Today was the day. Yesterday was supposed to be the day but I got lost and chose to get some supper instead of continue the adventure. Doesn't matter though because this morning I got up with one mission in mind: get my GWAR tickets. I didn't realize just what an adventure it would be but it sure as hell turned out to be an interesting one.

The day started out normal, just like any other morning of any other weekday. Miss Lily got up and ready for school; I showered and dressed. Little Miss and Little Man are visiting Big Cranky back in the Place I Don't Speak Of so, there was no extra rush today. It was nice, relaxed and I was damn wired about leaving the house. Miss Lily and I walked to school and once the bell rang I gave her a kiss, a hug, an "I love you" and watched her walk into her school before I bounced through the schoolyard and off to the bus stop. Seventeen minutes until the next bus came along and all I could do was stare at my watch.

I transferred buses and waited impatiently to reach the ferry terminal downtown. The ride seemed like it took the far side of forever and the guy beside me singing to himself made it a little worse but I made it. I skipped off the bus, took a deep breath and started walking. I thought I knew where I was going so I strolled happily thinking that within the next few minutes I was going to be holding those damn concert tickets. No, I was mistaken. That street is a lot longer than I had anticipated and the road that I thought I was going to find was turning out to exist only in my imagination. But I did come across a nice tourist couple who took their picture with me because they wanted their picture taken with a local.  They were very sweet and I was very happy to oblige although I'm not technically a local Haligonian but the friendly Caper part of my twisted personality came out and I told a little white lie so as not to disappoint.  That part doesn't come out that often anymore, seems I've been walking with jaw clenched and fists ready lately.  Not really sure why that is but it is what it is.  ... That was a lot of "is".

Anyway, once I left the nice tourist couple, I kept walking and believing more and more that I was dreaming this whole concert and there was no such venue.  I meandered into a Tim Horton's for a cup of tea and a pee before the trek continued.  The place was crowded with steel-toe booted/coverall covered men from the docks.  It was interesting to say the least.  The place smelled like coffee and hard work which was an oddly enjoyable experience.  I got my tea and started walking again but reached the end of the road with no sign of the road I was looking for.  Panic.  I really was dreaming this whole thing.  Why didn't I ask for directions in Tim's?  I guess hard work intimidates me.  Joke people, that was joke.

I turned my butt around and found a taxi parked on the side of the street.  I felt like a complete boob jumping in the car because I knew I was close but I was lost.  Totally and utterly lost.  The cabbie laughed at me, gave me directions and assured me that this place was not a figment of my imagination.  He also refused to drive me since I was so close.  That was a good thing though, saved me five smackeroos.  So, I started back towards Tim's and back to the end of the road.  I walked through one of the creepiest, longest, ominous pedestrian tunnels I have ever come across and popped out at a dock.  It felt like a gopher coming out of a hole.  I looked to my left and voila, there it was:  that foolish, well-hidden site.  Skip in my step again, I was home free...

Not so much.

I walked in and found a strange group of people setting up tables with highfalutin’ tablecloths, plates, silverware, etc.  I asked for assistance with finding the box office but they looked at me like I was a talking gopher.  I mean, I just walked out of a hole but I wasn't a zoo display.  They got me a manager who looked a little scared and I asked again where I could pick up tickets but was told very plainly that they don't have a place to get them.  There is no box office.  Huh?  My reaction was that of a tired, cranky and disappointed metal head. 

"Bullshit.  I called this place yesterday and it was YOUR administration that told me I could pick up tickets right here."

"For the wine and cheese event here this evening?"

Standing in my short sleeve t-shirt, tattoos on exhibit, I flung up my arms, "Do I look like I go to wine and cheese parties?"  Oooohhh sarcasm is a wonderful weapon.

This manager stepped back from me and replied quickly that I was misinformed and he was sorry but I'd have to get the tickets through the TicketPro website or the local large-chain grocery store. 

Then some acid spilled out of my mouth before I spun on my heel and tramped out of the place, "You might want to check your staff and make sure that they're damn well informed about these things before they pass on the wrong fuckin' information to people.  That way, people like me don't have to take four or more hours out of their day to get lost and find out they went to the WRONG FUCKIN' PLACE and end up spending even more time finding the right one!!"

I’m pretty sure my left finger was pointing while my right hand stayed balled in a fist at my side.  Interesting mental picture of myself.  I’m such a crab lately.  Hmmm … could be the raging hormones from my … nevermind.

Done.  Totally not the way to handle things but I was feeling a little extra cantankerous this morning.  Cantankerous is a fun little word isn't it.  I left that snotty place and headed back to the ferry terminal.  Walked the boardwalk this time though and enjoyed it.  Bagpipes, tourists taking pictures, kids playing on the little playground, the smell of beaver tails being made, the gentle sound of waves on the dock.  I loved Halifax for a few minutes.  Even stopped to sit and watch the harbour for a little while.  I stared at the shipyards across the water, watched the traffic on the bridge, the ferry making it’s crossing; enjoyed the sites and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 

I got to the bus where the only problem I had was the woman next to me with her gas issues (please people, don't fart on the bus) and I amiably went to that disgustingly large and intimidating grocery store.  Strutting myself directly to customer service, content again that I was finally going to get my tickets but I was Wrong.  (Typo on the capitalization of wrong but it works.)  The clerk at customer service was friendly and I restrained myself from swearing at him because he's going to the concert too and loves Lamb of God and GWAR.  He kindly explained that they only handle Ticket Atlantic and not TicketPro events but pointed me in the right direction.  We even had a nice discussion about how the administration at the concert venue doesn’t know what they're doing because they keep sending people there for tickets and providing the wrong information. 

I called TicketPro, they told me exactly where to go and the phone number of the place so I could call myself.  I called them too and they assured that they really do have the tickets and could pick them up any time before 4:30pm.  I'm sure the lady on the other end of the phone was confused by why I asked her so many times if she was sure that she had them, could she see them, could she hold them if she wanted to.  I was going to make sure she could smell them but stopped myself since that may be a little too weird.

By this time I had to go get Miss Lily at school.  I couldn’t believe that it really did take that amount of time for this adventure.  I picked up Lily and she was happy to come on another ticket retrieving undertaking with me.  Bus again, another bus terminal and transfer.  The box office.  The tickets.  We did it.  Miss Lily is a little upset that I won’t get her a ticket but I don’t think a concert that will have a mosh pit known affectionately as  the “Wall of Death” is an appropriate place for a seven year old.  The little girl does know every word to “Sick of You” and “The Road Behind” though.  Ahhh, my budding little Scumdog.  That’s not an insult my dear readers, that’s a compliment.

I now have my tickets for one of my favourite bands.  A band I have listened to for the past eighteen years, GWAR.  Check them out at http://www.gwar.net if you're not sure who they are.  YouTube them and watch some of their live stuff.  Theatrical.  Fantastic.  I am sooo damn excited and even more excited to share this concert with one of my best friends!  His favourite and one of my favs playing the same show. so who could ask for better?  Watching amazing, talented bands with a great friend is the best recipe for an intense and amazing night out.

Here I am, the fat kid with cake.  The rocker chick with her rock tickets.  Now just for the adventure for Megadeth and Slayer concert.  Awesome.