The voices in My Head

Sometimes I get anxiety over the dumbest things.

Example:
I was waiting in line at Subway during the noon rush today. It's Friday and many people are "eating fresh" these days so the queue was long, weaving through two sets of ropes right to the door. The man in back of me was in such deep conversation with the guy next to him that I had the time get through both sets of ropes and up to the Subway Sandwich Artist before he noticed.
The entire time a little voice inside my head was screaming, "MOVE!!!!"
I kept looking back, willing this man to see he could move up and bridge the gap between us.
"MOVE UP!!!!" I screamed in my head.
I began to worry about the annoyed faces of the people behind him, wondering if someone would get bitch and ask him to keep the line moving.
I kept expecting that normal social order would collapse and hungry Subway patrons would stampede this ignorant non-mover and crush his bones into the yellow linoleum floor.
When it was finally my turn the SSE asked me what I wanted, I mumbled my order and took another look over my shoulder. The man stood there another moment then FINALLY moved through the rope lines and took his place approximately 18 inches away from me.
Immediately, all was right with the world once again.

See, I told you it was dumb!


************

T-Minus 10 hours 'till lift off.....
feudally Deeeeeeeeeeeee
Arch, AYE!!!!!

Reality Bites

Take a look at this.
Sociological experiment or capitalizing on the potential volatility of people's emotions regarding Race?
You be the judge.

I Heart Hippies

No matter what is said on other blogs about these guys, you can't help but love their infectious energy, light-hearted attitude and general good humor through the first legs of Amazing Race 9.
I mean, they jumped out of the bushes and scared the Hell out of those creepy frat boys. They can't be all bad!!!
Conclusion: The Hippies must stay!!!!

Arch, Aye!

T-minus 4 sleeps until we once again travel to the land of Braveheart, shortbread cookies and Scotch.
The only land where P can get his beloved pint of hand-pulled 80 Shilling.
The land where fish and chips were born.
The land that begat golf.
The land where cars share the road with sheep.
The land of castles.
The land of islands in the sky.
The land of mountains so beautiful and awe-inspiring they made me cry.

Though my roots are not Scottish, I feel a great pull to the land of P’s childhood. The History, the architecture, the Pubs……..

Only 5 days ‘till we’re in Edinburgh again!!!!

Arch, Aye!!

In Her Shoes

Today was the first Spring-like day we have seen in Kanuk Land for some time. Though we had a relatively mild Winter by Montreal standards, this afternoon's +7 degrees celsius was like a breath of tropical air for the soul! So P and I decided we would hit the bricks and pound the pavement Saturday style: walking the downtown streets, peppered with stopping in to various boutiques, shoe shops and even a toy store.

Everything was going swimmingly until the shoe shopping... You see, I have a love/hate relationship with shoes:
I am a girl, therefore I love them: shiny shoes, shoes with bows and flowers on them; pink shoes, brown pumps, Mary Janes, strappy sandals, these amazing little black numbers with a rhinestone dragonfly lovingly shaped out on the straps......
*sigh*
Alas, I am doomed to walk the earth with Sasquatch-like clown feet, therefore I must apparently also walk the earth in sensible UGLY shoes. Therein lies the hate part.

We went to Winners and Payless, which are always a gamble. Sure, in the rows of shoes marked sizes 6 to 9, they had some pretty cute stuff. Once we got to the 10+ section, the pretty ones were gone. Flowered flats my aunt Pauline would love were abounding, but no cute shoes were to be found. Picture if you will a lush, beautiful forest turning into a deep, dark, dank pit of dead branches with creepy-crawlies where nothing beautiful could ever gorw and you will have some notion of what it was like.

We went to Tony's Shoes on Greene to check out the merchandise. P was there 5 minutes and found a great pair of brown leather shoes for $20. I kept picking up shoes and asking, "Do you have this in a size 10?" only to get my hopes dashed three times in a row when the poor salesman came back from the store room empty handed, shaking his head pitifully at me.
Only once was his quest fruitful and even then, the size 10 strappies he brought back for me were tight and pinched so much I could barely get around the store and back without whimpering.

Needless to say, we came home without any shoes for this Ginner.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.... Tomorrow, I hit the Quartier Latin to ask the drag queens where they get their size 12 heels!