Friday, July 9, 2010

The Corruption That Is

Undoubtedly, you've by now noticed I have very strong opinions. But...who says they have weak opinions? I'd think most people feel their opinions are strong.

So, let me reword that: By now you've most likely noticed that I like to babble about what I personally feel is morally right or wrong. This entry will not be any different as far as my passion and conviction on the subject matter is concerned.

What is the subject matter you so cautiously ask?

I don't care whether it's true or not. Having Juicy written on your ass = Gross

I am offended by the idea that sweat pants can be anything more then sweat pants. For clarity's sake, I am putting yoga pants under this category too.

I get it...they are really comfortable. Most things made out of 40% spandex and 60% cotton are comfortable. It breaths and stretches. Yay! But uncomfortable are your other clothes that sweats seems like the best option? How hard is it to wear something that, god forbid, has structure and buttons.
I'd probably be happy too if I was this flexible.
But seriously're not in yoga class.
Put some real pants on.
..and shoes.

I don't care who makes them. It could be Lulu Lemon, Juicy "Couture" or a J. Lo tracksuit, it's still totally unacceptable to think that going to work, to a club or to the mall in sweat pants is okay. It's not's an affront to my fashionably sensitive nature or, you know, my eyes.

Why do I feel so strongly about this? Several reasons.

  • For one, there are so many options of clothing to wear, especially for women, why choose the lowest common denominator?
  • Secondly, jeans are comfortable. Just slap some on instead.
  • Thirdly, I see beautiful girls who have an abundance of clothes and style options open to them because they are not hindered by excess weight (like myself), odd body proportions (such as big hips, large bust, short legs or wide shoulders) and can pull off any style and they choose sweatpants. That's just a slap in the face to all those who work hard just to look average everyday and put the extra effort into finding clothes that fit and compliment. Step it up a notch, ladies/gentlemen. I haven't given up on getting dressed and giving a damn every morning, neither should you!
There is no justifiable reason this woman couldn't be dressed beautifully.
Also, I'm kind of stressing about how low these are riding.

I'm willing to be lenient in certain scenarios. Obviously if you're actually working out, going to work out or coming back from working out, you're in the clear. Though, it wouldn't hurt to change at the gym but I know that's not always ideal (public showers = heebie jeebies). If you're sick and are forced to go out and get cold medicine/emergency ice cream to help get better, I'll let it slide too.

So, the next time you are getting dressed and are overcome with the need to slouch your way into some yoga pants take a deep breath and remember that fashion isn't purely functional. It's a way to express yourself. If lazy and apathetic is the message you think the world needs to hear from you, you might as well stay home. We got all the lazy and apathetic people we need.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Excuse me, your geek is showing....

Okay, I'm going to admit something.
Are you ready?
Maybe you should sit down...
Can I get you something to drink? What?! No, I'm not just looked thirsty is all.
Fine, alright, goes.

Sometimes...I am a total nerd.

Like...full on nerd.
I know, I's hard to understand but one day you will come to terms with the fact that someone as cool, fashionable and nice smelling as me understands the world of cheeto-dust covered, Dungeon and Dragon-ing, dice rolling, basement dwelling, lol-ing nerds.

Nerdicus Americanis in traditional battle ensemble.

I'm not one of those hot girls that play video games that men would pay to play Xbox with. Oh, you've never heard of that? I'm not making it up, check it out.

Nor am I science or technology nerd. I don't give a shit about new technology. My cell phone is three years old and I am only considering getting an iPhone because you can play Robot Unicorn Attack on it. Never heard of that either? Jeez, you must live under some rock that doesn't not have wi-fi. It's exactly what it sounds like: ROBOT UNICORN ATTACK!

I just kinda, sort of like nerd culture. I like all culture. Goth...Emo...Punk...Prep...whatever. But I definitely know too much nerd stuff for my own good.

Like, where is Wonder Woman from? Themiscrya, duh! And I didn't have to wiki or google that...I just knew. I not only know where she's from but have opinions (plural) on her new costume!

Hera Help Us!

I don't really read traditional comics with heroes and villians and such. I read web comics. Lots of them. Too many to list or even remember. And reading web comics means that I pick up all this nerd lingo through osmosis. It's just a part of the territory. If I want to get the punchline, I have to know the subject material.

Nerd Litmus Test - Did you laugh at this comic?

I know what RPG, PAX, SDCC and all those other acronyms mean. I am well informed about yiffing, slash fiction and cosplay. Do I partake in any of these? Nope...but I sure as hell know them.

I'm a total meme whore. So, what kind of nerd am I? Why, kind sir or lady, I am an internet nerd. And proud of it! Maybe this isn't such a surprise to you...I mean, I have a blog for christ's sake.


P.S. I totally wish Charlize Theron would play Wonder Woman in a movie. Seriously.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Train Ride

I enter the train at Churchill Station. I'm running late from work to home and wondering if dinner will be ready. As I get on the train, I notice there is an ETS (Edmonton Transit System) officer on it, standing at the front. He seems to be casually chatting with a younger, heavier man. This man, who reminds me of my elder's adopted son vaguely, has a mushroom cut which is blowing my mind cause the last one I recall seeing was in grade 4.

The next station the guard gets off and three people, the young guy included, let out a sigh of relief. They don't seem to know each other but all bond instantly on the fact that none of them had a bus ticket or transfer and had the ETS official been checking, could have easily given them all a hefty fine.

The young guy is laughing, as is another man near his age who looks almost albino his hair is so blond with matching eyelashes and eyebrows. Yet, for such a weak looking complexion, his cheek bones are strong. He says that he was pretending to be asleep, hoping they wouldn't bother him. The heavier guy says he tried to look really interested in his paper, a free local magazine. They share in that feeling of almost being caught and the joy of not being caught. A woman, who is older and in dingy clothing, is laughing too but talking over them both. She's somewhat obnoxious in her talking, mentioning other times she's almost got caught. I get the feeling she's enjoying being apart of something. Maybe she's lonely? Maybe she's just that type who talks constantly to anyone willing to listen. I don't know.

I sit down behind them and turn down my MP3 player to eavesdrop more closely. I don't care that they didn't pay. I used to do that all the time and have recently done it accidentally a few times (forgot my bus pass). I remember the little rush of fear and adrenaline when an ETS official stepped on my train car. I can tell all three don't know each other. They're sitting in separate areas and go back to their own world, except the old woman. Let me correct that. She's most likely 45 years old...50 tops. But she looks 60. She has weather beaten skin and looks as if her being alive is just a combination of several lucky incidences of getting away with something. She is still talking, clinging on to that momentary bond they had all created and not willing to let it go.

Another stop. This time two ETS officials get on. They start at the back of our train car and begin their inquisition for tickets. I hear them, right away. So does the blond guy.

I panic a little bit. I can't find my ticket in my purse. But soon enough it reveals itself, tucked into a corner and I can breath easy again.

Whatever bond these three strangers had is gone completely. As the next stop comes up, the almost albino struts off casually, but quickly. Not even warning the two others that the guards are approaching. He is gone and the two officials are getting closer. I hear the "Can I see your transfer or ticket please?" approaching me from behind. But the woman doesn't. She is in her own world still. A never-ending obnoxious yapping that no one is listening too. The heavy set man suddenly become aware of officials asking for tickets and not long after, so does the woman. A guard asks for mine, which I quickly supply and then moves on.

The heavy set man and the woman are sitting parallel on opposite sides of the aisle. I watch, wondering which one is the guard going to ask first. Thinking about how short lived that victory was for who ever gets asked. We're at a stop and the woman has stood up to get off the train. The guard chooses her. As she walks off toward the nearby exit the guards howls, "Ooohhh no you don't. Where is your ticket?". She already seems to know the answer and the woman doesn't lie but she's on the defence.

"I don't have any. I was just riding....", I hear her crass voice fade as the door close.

This time, the heavy man is alone and he's not breathing a sigh of relief. He just got away again. There is no one to celebrate with and no comradery as he goes silently to the next stop.

I think about the randomness. I think about every little variable. If I hadn't noticed the guards and had struggled to find my ticket when they asked me, it would have brought them both precious seconds. If she would've stopped talking and took a minute to look around her, she would've had time to escape. If he was the one to get up, hastily, in an attempt to slip away, would the guard have asked him for his ticket? Or did the woman's dingy clothes, dilapidated face, and drab hair fit the profile of someone who didn't (or couldn't) pay?

I don't feel bad for her nor do I feel happy for the two men for getting away with it. I didn't look for any meaning. I just accepted it as it was. Completely random and absurd.

Lucky? I don't think so

I win. A lot.

I don't mean to brag, but I am working on a thought or a point.

I win all kinds of contests. Raffles, draws, writing and whatever else. I end up going to quite a few concert for free and have honestly resorted to winning my way in when I felt a show was too expensive.

People tell me that I am lucky which I have acknowledged that yes, it probably seems that way. But I join a contest almost every single day. Twitter contest, blog giveaways (when they actually apply to Canada for once), radio contests, online contests, draws in stores/malls, etc. And I don't just join once and hope I win while crossing my fingers. I read the rules and if I can join more than once, I will. I'll sit by the phone with the radio on waiting for me cue to call.

For example, a local radio station of mine has a point system where you can get points through "Blurb Words" they say over the air or send in their emails. With those points you can enter draws, bid on items (such as CDs or band memorabilia) or a market where you can buy things with your points. It's fun and awesome and I totally play the odds. If there are two shows I want to go too, I pick the one that will most likely (in my opinion) have fewer people interested in going and therefore less people entering the draw. If each ballot is worth 1000 points, I use all the 1000s I have saved up. I don't always win, but I often do. I also don't tell other people about contests, because every person who enters is my competition. Unless it's a prize we can share, I keep it to myself.

I'm not lucky. I'm just good at winning.