Someday I'll fly away

It's inevitable that at some point you're going to leave your fly open by mistake. Because let's face it, we pull our fly up and down (or rather down and up) so many times in one day that it's bound to happen sooner or later. We're only human after all.

This has happened quite a few times to me. But also because I left it down on purpose and forgot to pull it back up when social circumstances called for it.

Incident 1-100
Cause: Tardiness
I hit snooze too many times and overlooked my fly in my hurry to get dressed and dash out the door for my 1-hour+ extravaganza journey to work/brunch with a friend/trip to the gym/etc. When this happens, I finish dressing in the metro or bus without a care for who's watching because I still have sleep in my eyes. I've also been known to take my inside-out T-shirt off and put it back on the right way upon arriving at the office.

Incident 101
Cause: Bloatedness
I'd undone my fly on a transatlantic flight because I always get bloated on such a long flight. When I stood on my chair to get my bag out of the overhead locker upon landing, I completely forgot my fly was still open. My jumper rose, revealing my open fly to anyone watching.

Incident 102
Cause: Overeating
I'd gone over to a friend's house for a dinner party and gorged myself as per usual on a scrumptious feast. When I got up from the table post-dinner, I completely forgot I'd opened my fly to ease my full tummy, revealing my open fly to luckily just the host, who was a little inebriated and high anyway.

Incident 103
Cause: Shenanigans
My boyfriend and I had been sneekily canoodling in the bathroom at a thanksgiving dinner. I came out of the bathroom first with a silly grin on my face and my fly proudly open to just one person who happened to be looking - a guy who'd asked me out on a date a couple of years ago and who I'd spinelessly turned down with the excuse, "I'm busy but I'll call you next week" and who I'd not called next week or indeed ever again.

Incident 104
Cause: Forgetfulness
I had a debrief with someone at work (which involved her sitting at her desk and me standing up, ie, my fly not far from her eye level). It wasn't until afterwards that I realized I must have forgotten to pull my fly up after my visit to the ladies' room. How unprofessional of me.

Tip of the day:
If you are prone to any of these causes, throw away all those grey overwashed knickers and instead wear a lovely pair of knickers every single day, don a cheeky smile, and you can get away with almost anything.

Like hundreds of peas in a pod

Now I don’t always get a good night’s sleep. But I try to increase my chances by opening the window a tad, putting the humidifier on and going to bed before midnight (ahem, I said I try). I would never dream of trading in my lovely queen size bed with its fluffy quilt and pillows for a coffin-like pod in a capsule hotel-come-morgue! If I lived in Japan that is.

And yet Japanese business men find them tremendously useful. If you work late and miss your last train home, a night in a capsule hotel is often cheaper than catching a taxi. And if you go for a drink after work and get hammered, a capsule hotel is a good place to pass out.

They give you a fresh change of clothes and before bed you can kick back in a lounge with other business men and watch sport on a giant screen TV. Hell, it’s like a vacation! When you go to bed later you can even continue watching TV in your pod if you feel like it, then set the alarm clock, lower the blind and drift off. In the hope that none of the guests pull up your blind and axe you to death. But I digress.

In the morning, you can have a shower and pick up your drycleaned suit, or even sometimes have a luxurious bath and a massage! Who needs to go home to the wife when you can have all this and more!

In fact, there are sometimes sections reserved for women with spa facilities attached. But careful, no fraternizing allowed! And usually, women book more for pyjama parties, than from being inebriated (not very classy), as Japanese apartments are so small.

I’m not sure what I would do if I was a guy on business in Japan faced with the dilemma of missing my last train home. If I was over 6 foot tall, I’d have trouble getting into the pod. And if I also happened to be a light sleeper, the other guys’ drunken snoring would drive me wild.

I might be tempted to put on a wig, spike the punch and join the pyjama party.

Cry baby

Why do the people we love most make us cry? Is it because they feel they can treat us any way they like because we love them? Or is it because we're too sensitive because we've let our barriers down through love?

I am confused.

No time, not enough sleep, stress of work or lack of, are all factors that can push us to the brink of despair. But if you care about someone, shouldn't they be the last person you take it out on?

It's like people who drink away their sorrows sitting at a bar spilling their guts out to a complete stranger. This is often easier to do because you know you'll probably never see that person again. In the case of the person you share your life with, it's often easier to not talk at all.

Relationships confound me.

One day everything's great. The next your partner would rather sleep, watch loud crap TV or play video games than spend some time with you. Is it you? Are you a bore? Or are you pmsing and taking it too much to heart?

I think guys like to pretend everything's ok. Suck it up. If a worried girlfriend voices her concern and asks why he's acting like she isn't there, he's most likely to think she's over-reacting. An argument will no doubt follow. After which he will proffer the ever-ready, "Would you like me to go?" Like that's going to work wonders.

You give everything and this is what you get back. One hell of a shitty weekend.

Now I will watch Desperate Housewives, drink tea, eat cookies and go to bed alone. Tomorrow is another day.

Good morning, good morning!

I hate mornings. Not just a bit but hugely. I'm a night person you see. I stay up late. I get up late. So my body goes into shock when my alarm clock goes off at 7:20. I mean 7:20! That's indecent!

The result is that I leave for work late. And not always looking my finest. Sometimes I don't get out of bed til 8:00, leaving me with a grand total of 15 minutes to spruce myself up. Haaa! Takes much longer than that believe me.

I've done some pretty strange things in my moody, sleepy morning state, as even though my body is eventually awake and out of bed, my brain stays in dreamland:

- Reaching for the toothpaste to cleanse my face instead of the face wash.
- Drying my hair then realizing I forgot to shampoo it.
- Eating a yogurt and throwing away the spoon instead of the empty yogurt pot.
- Opening the freezer to get the milk out.
- Trying to swipe my way into the metro with my keys.

Yes, this list is completely harmless. But when I'm still sounding slightly drugged hours later, things can get tricky.

There are plenty of foods to eat when you want a good night's sleep like turkey, bananas, wholewheat bread and oatmeal accompanied by a mug of warm milk. But I'm looking for food and drink to help me wake up. Properly. And not coffee as it gives me the shakes.

Any ideas?

I see

Today I decided I should go downtown and swap my glasses for another pair. Because the ones I purchased two weeks ago seem to be too heavy for my poor delicate nose. And the black and white design only goes with black. And I think they're too overbearing and not really me.

Last weekend I already went in to take advantage of their 30-day exchange policy. This policy, frequently advertised on TV, says that if you happen to change your mind it's not a problem! However, when I went in, the nice lady optician insisted I try out the new silicone nose pads she fitted instead. Okay then. But a week later, no joy.

This afternoon I returned and browsed the lighter frames and decided on a metallic blue low-key pair I really like. I sat down with a different optician to go through the paperwork.

"Just out of curiosity, could you try on the old pair and the new pair for me?" he said.

Obliging, I put on the heavy pair. Then the lighter pair. I look at myself in the mirror again thinking, yes, these are them.

"The first ones give you personality," the guy says. "Those are just blah."

My face drops.

"But it's completely up to you," he adds, getting the paperwork out.

I don't know what to say. I am flummoxed. My boyfriend thankfully jumps in.

"They're very stylish and all but not very flexible. And of course a bit too heavy." That is the point here after all.

"Well," the guy continues unfazed, "blah it is." Unbelievable. Not only is this guy rude but it seems he doesn't think twice about dissing glasses that he personally may not like but are still sold by the store.

I note the guy's own flash glasses that perhaps are his own attempt to make up for his complete lack of style and tact.

"I don't think you should have to rely on your glasses to give you personality," comes out of my mouth.

Ha! What a line! I thought of something to say! And not 20 minutes later! This is a first!

I leave the store with my new glasses on order, still basking in the joy of answering back. Then I plagued my boyfriend with, Do you really think they're blah, do you think they make me look blah, why wasn't that guy nice to me? for the next 20 minutes.

Cold knees

I have been inspired to write a post about Montreal bus drivers by Non-working monkey. Such an excellent advertisement for Montreal public transport is a rare thing in today's society. Please, check it out before you read on...

Yesterday it was particularly cold. Like -20 or something. My trip to the office includes two metro lines and a 15-minute bus ride. Alright, maybe I was a little late for the bus. But I ran from the metro platform, believe me I ran. I sprinted up the stairs, sprinted up the escalators, pushed through the crowds, and was literally just a couple of metres from the bus door when the bloody bus driver closed the doors and drove off. Why? WHY?

I was gutted. Completed gutted. And sweaty. And seriously pissed off. Another bus was innocently chugging away on the other side of the bus terminal with its doors open so I went over to see if it was heading in the same direction. "Yes, but you'll have to walk a way," the driver said politely, but with a bit of a grin. Did I mention it was -20?

Now I had two choices. Take yet another taxi, bearing in mind that I already took one on Monday, or brave the walk. Crazily, I decided to go with the latter.

The bus driver stopped at the closest stop and opened the doors. "Go straight then turn left," he said still grinning as I put my hat and gloves back on. Oh God.

The go straight part lasted a good 10 minutes, and the turn left part another 5. I thought I was going to die. I couldn't feel my knees anymore and my ears felt like blocks of ice.

Will it stop me from being late in the mornings? Nah, I'm a creative. Will it make me hate bus drivers even more? Oh yeah, bring it on.

Eternal embrace

Time: 18:10
Bedding: white, Alvine Stra from Ikea
Position: propped up on two pillows, with blanket tucked under chin
Dress: jeans, T-shirt, hoodie
Food: chocolate brownies
Accessories: phone

Yes. I have gone full circle. I am back in bed. With Alvine Stra. It has taken a while but I made it. People just don't understand my need. To stay in bed. Wrapped up in the covers. With you, my dear, familiar Alvine Stra. You truly are my favourite. I can't get enough of you.

Today I fell upon this photo and it caught my eye. Archaelologists in Italy have discovered a couple buried 5,000 years ago wrapped in an embrace. Ok, it's morbid, but beyond that, it's simply beautiful. They appear to be drinking in each other's gaze, their bodies entwined, holding each other.

I can't help wondering what happened to them. Did they suffer an awful death together as they were sleeping in their bed? Were they placed like this for their burial because they were husband and wife? Just what is their story...

Such a loving pose frozen in time has made me spend the afternoon occasionally glancing at the empty side of the bed.

Enough. I am a selfish being. I see something that touches me and I bring it home to me, Me, ME.

I have put my brownies aside, flung back Alvine and am off to the gym.