shanmonster: (Default)
I just picked up my last paycheque and my record of employment from Tim Horton's. I think that means I'm officially finished with them. Woohoo!

And I also might have myself some temporary part-time work as a librarian's assistant. That would be good. Here's hoping....

Just when I think my plague is getting better, it kicks me in the ass again. I woke up with asthma attacks and a sore throat. At least I feel a bit more mobile today than I did yesterday. I biked all over downtown running errands, but couldn't quite make myself bike out to a grocery store. That was a bit more effort than I felt capable of expending.

I figured out the weird glitch with my dance shop. Now there are books, posters, and costuming up just in time for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa. I'm not terribly keen on the complete costumes. They're more in the way of Hallowe'en outfits than dancewear.

[ profile] snowy_kathryn has been busy for the past two days marking Religious Studies exams, and has been sharing some of the real howlers with me. Let's just say that "defecate" does not mean the same thing as "deify," and using it thusly creates high comedy.

Unchecked spell-checking aside, I am appalled at the lack of basic grammar and sentence structure I see in the works of university students. Honestly, how did they make it past elementary school without a rudimentary sense of how the English language works on paper?

I will be leaving for Toronto at 10:30 tomorrow morning. I sure hope I can start gaming early tonight, or else the session won't last very long. I typically game until about four in the morning, but I don't want to do that tonight. I need a modicum of awareness to make it through tomorrow's dance travails with any sort of knowledge retention.

And now for a couple of links....

Paedo hid under girl's bed: "A paedo seduced a girl of 12 — then lived in her bedroom for THREE MONTHS without her mother finding out." Ok, how is this possible? Shouldn't the family have heard giggling, extra toilet flushes, or something? Was this guy a super ninja, or what?

Mostafa Tabatabainejad: A UCLA student gets tasered numerous times by police (once is enough to incapacitate). The attack was captured on video by several people. Here's one clip. I mean, when you get tasered, you lose muscular control, and it is often impossible to stand up. So why are they tasering a non-violent handcuffed man and insisting he stand up, then tazering him again and again when he can't/won't? By the way, Amnesty International condemns the use of electroshock weapons as torture. I don't know what I'd do if I witnessed something like this. When bystanders insist the police share their badge numbers, they are also threatened with tazering. Who do you call to help when the police are the attackers (thanks, [ profile] chrysippvs)? I can't help but hope someone tasers these cops over and over again, while telling them to stand up.

How I could have killed my wife, by O. J. Simpson: This takes the WTF cake.

Deer assault case presents unusual issues: Yet another story of someone having sex with roadkill, but this time, with strange philosophical ramifications.

Mike Tyson to Be a Prostitute: Anyone want to find out if this is true or not? Just ask Heidi Fleiss for the new rentboy....

Free Hugs: "Sometimes, a hug is all what we need. Free hugs is a real life controversial story of Juan Mann, A man whos sole mission was to reach out and hug a stranger to brighten up their lives" (thanks, [ profile] littlekeltie).
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I kept waking up in the middle of the night, struggling against sleep to get up and make the sandwich for the poor customer who'd been waiting by the sandwich bar so very patiently.

Then, as I was about to push myself out of bed I'd realize, what the fuck? I'm in bed in the middle of the night. I don't need to make anyone any godddamned sandwich!

Today is my last day. Last day. LAST DAY! Yeehaw!

A couple of somewhat interesting things happened at work over the past couple of days.

One regards a co-worker, Julia. Over the past month and a half, she went home early for about a third of her shifts. She has epilepsy, and suffers from several different types of seizures. She also has some sort of throat polyp, which occasionally swells up and makes speech painful or impossible.

Or so she says.

The night before last, she approached me while I was on break.

"Do I look as bad as I feel?" she asked.

"Uh, actually, you look pretty good. Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. My stomach really hurts, I have diarrhea, my head is spinning, and my arm is numb and tingly. I'm going to go in to the emergency room."

"Oh wow. That's pretty bad. Maybe you've got a flu."

And so off she went to the hospital.

About two hours later, one of our regular customers came in and ordered a sandwich. While I made the sandwich for her she asked, "I thought Julia worked this shift."

"She's feeling sick, so had to leave early."

"Oh. That's interesting," she said. "She's at bingo."


Fast forward to last night when Julia walks into the store halfway through her shift in street clothes, then informs the supervisor that she won't be coming into work anymore.

She just up and quit without notice.

There were a couple of times when I was feeling ill (like that time my foot was so very painful that even standing put me on the verge of tears) and put in a request to go home early, but Julia put in a request afterwards, saying that she felt like she was going to have a seizure. Seizures win out over any ailment I may have had (which is perfectly understandable). But now I can't help but wonder if she was faking those, too.

Some of what happened yesterday was just plain entertaining, though. There was the man with the handmade purse saddle bag made of saddle leather with a really great brass clasp. I commented that I have a bag almost exactly like it, and that started him up. His came from New Brunswick, he said. Well, so do I....

And the next thing I knew, he was singing made-up songs about coffee and purses and telling me how people at the Shakespeare festival in Stratford were offering him $600 for his saddle bag.

He was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. I smiled, nodded, made him his coffee, and busied myself with all sorts of coffee shop tasks to appear too busy to converse with him further. But that didn't end matters. He took a seat at a distant table, and sang to me from across the store.

And then there's Barnie. He's a co-worker of mine, and was covering me on my break. He's a nice guy, and very quiet. As I showed up from the end of my break, he had just started up two pots of coffee. He saw me, then went over to drive-through so I could resume storefront work. A few moments later, I heard another co-worker yell, "Omigosh!"

Barnie had neglected to put a pot under one of the filters, and coffee was pouring inexorably onto the counter and floor.

Later on, I saw Barnie and said, "Next time you start some coffee up, you might want to consider putting a pot under it."

The look on his face was priceless, and I got to hear the normally quiet boy guffaw loudly, with a huge, incredulous grin.


Oh yes, and then there was the moment when a customer came up to me, said, "Yeah, I'd like a large .... Shantell?!?!?!"

I looked up, and we both did literal double-takes, with the stereotypical slight backward stagger and all. It was Babs, an old friend of mine from New Brunswick who I hadn't seen for about a decade. So who knows? He might be showing up at my party tomorrow, too.

Small world, ain't it?

Link time!

Custom MP5-K: I'm no gun nut, but this is gorgeous.

The Children's Crusade: Funniest IM transcript I've seen in ages. Fundamentally different from my own ICQverts.

Farce of the Penguins: "What Happens In Antarctica... Stays in Antarctica." Featuring Samuel L. Jackson. Oh yeah, baby!

Monocopter: Looks heavy and unwieldy, but oh-so-fun!

Pennsylvania letter carrier attacked by squirrel is taken to hospital: "'In about 230 years of postal history, I bet it is not the first, but I've personally never heard of another squirrel biting,' said Steve Kochersperger, spokesman for the Erie district" (thanks, [ profile] gha5t).

Now for some much-needed dance drills....
shanmonster: (Da Vinci ShanMonster)
Supervisor (female): All men always think they're right. Don't you think?

Me: No more so than women. I think it's a human condition.

Supervisor: *grunts in surprise*

Me: I mean, pretty much everyone is fond of their own opinions. For instance, you believe you're right when you say all men think they're right. And you're not even a guy. Right?

Supervisor: *looks confused and wanders off*

And on that note, I think I'm off to bed. Toodles, all!

The Dream

Oct. 27th, 2006 12:10 am
shanmonster: (Peeking)
I'm in a house haunted by a violent, terrifying ghost. I walk with utter trepidation, as I know this ghost relishes scaring people to death. Slowly, step by step, I creep my way through the hallway. Finally, I happen upon a closet. I look inside, and there is the ghost. He's watching tv, and is completely unaware of me.

A sharp and unintended sudden gasp comes from me, and it scares the (un)living shit out of the ghost, who screams and vanishes.

Later on, I feel really bad because I find out the ghost has summarily been voted out of the haunted house by Simon Cowell.

Then I wake up.


Work was mostly uneventful, but here's an example of one of the not-so-nice customers I get.

I finished my lunch break and came out to the counter. There was a small line-up, so I went to the other cash. "Can I help you?" I asked an elderly man standing in the queue.

The man sauntered up, smiled, and said, "I knew if I waited here long enough that someone would eventually help me."

There had been only one person ahead of him, and that person was only getting a coffee, so he hadn't been waiting long. I smiled noncommittally at him.

"Can I take your order?"

"I'd like a bowl of chili, and nothing else."

"I'm really sorry, sir, but we're out of chili at the moment. Is there something else I can get you?"

"What? You're out of chili? But you're always supposed to have some." He was still smiling.

"Unfortunately, the last batch was was burnt, so a new one was put on. I'll go find out how far along it is for you, though." So I went back to the kitchen where the reconstituted freeze-dried chili was only halfway liquefied.

"Sorry, sir, but it's not going to be ready for quite a while. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No. I'm afraid I'm just going to have to take my business to the other Tim Horton's." He paused meaningfully. "Your competition."

My inner voice said, "Oh, fuck off. Do you think my hard-worked-for minimum wage lets me give a shit about where you eat your freeze-dried, reheated chili, you passive-aggressive old shit?"

But my outer voice said, "Sorry about that, sir. Have a nice day."

And you know what? I meant it. I hope he got his chili and liked it. Maybe it'll make that smile of his genuine, instead of camouflage for a nasty personality. But I sure as hell don't care if he ever buys so much as a Timbit from my store.

Oh yeah. I made one dollar and two cents in tips today. Woohoo!
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
A lot of the people I work with are highschool kids. For the most part, they're good workers, but a couple of them are pretty slack. Today, I had to work with one of the slackest, and also probably the most incompetent. I'll call him Jenga, because it's damned close to his real name.

Jenga is pretty new at work, but he's not that new. He's worked at the doughnut shop for about three weeks on a part-time basis, long enough to get all the basics down. But today, he showed he couldn't even do that.

Today was his first time on drive-through, the busiest, craziest part of the store. On a busy day, we have three people working drive-through. Today was one of those days. It was crazybusy, and Bob's job was to take the people's money and give them their orders.

Now the drive-through window opens by means of a beam. When a worker interrupts the beam, the window opens. If nothing blocks the beam, the window closes. Pretty simple, right?

Not simple enough for Jenga. While I was on coffee-making autopilot, I watched him get his head, his arm, and once, his torso get slammed in the window. "Jenga!" I said. "Put your hip on the edge of the counter. That way you won't get slammed." And then I demonstrated the very simple technique to him.

"Oh, right!" he said, completely ignoring my advice and getting another body part jammed once again.

Although he worked on drive-through for about four hours tonight, I don't think he ever figured out how not to get munched by the window, although I did see him experimenting with the beam, figuring out how it worked part-way through his shift.

While the other drive-through worker and I worked our arses off, Jenga goofed off, helping sporadically, but getting in the way most of the time. Every time he passed something out the window, he jostled me with his arse. I realize the workspace is pretty tight, but it's not that tight. And I was handling very hot liquids. As the night continued, as Jenga bashed me with his big old butt, and as I heard him say "Ow!" every time the windows munched on his arms, I grew crankier and crankier.

Partway through incompetently taking an order over the intercom system, he fucked off to go do something else. What he'd typed in was just plain wrong, and I had to ask the annoyed customer for their order for what was about the third time.

And then he started the horseplay. While a co-worker poured boiling water into a mug for tea, he stood behind her with an empty cardboard box over her head.

"No, Jenga!" I said. "That's dangerous. She has boiling water. Put that away."

He moped his way off into the kitchen to torment some poor soul back there.

Later, as I worked my butt off some more and watched him standing around like a big dolt, I asked if he could fetch some more coffee filters, as we were running out.

"Yeah, sure!" he said, and left.

When he returned some time later, no filters were to be seen.

I reminded him about the filters, and once again he left. Once again he returned without filters.

The third time I asked him, I knew it was pointless. But I asked him, anyway. I ended up going to get them myself, which slowed the production line down, but what could I do?

Another time, my other co-worker asked him to put on some fresh pots of coffee. He fucked that up, too. How is it possible for someone who's worked at a coffee shop for almost a month to not know how to make coffee? I'm perplexed.

A few times during the night, I was the only one working on drive-through because Jenga was AWOL. And I was much more efficient and speedy than when he was "helping" me.

The tips we received at drive-through were divided evenly three ways. I think they should've been divided in half, with none going to him. In fact, I think he should pay us all the tips he'd earned as restitution for all the mental anguish he put us through tonight. I realize he's new to drivethrough, but that doesn't explain the utter incompetence of him across the board. He's on par with the grocery store cashier who asked me what corn on the cob was a while back, and with the packers who like to put canned goods and bottles of bleach in the same bag as my bread.

If it were up to me, I'd fire his ass.
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I gave my notice. I feel sorry for the manager. The place is understaffed, and it just got worse with my retirement. The manager looked like she wanted to cry. She wants me to stay on part-time, but that would just be silly when I could make more money doing part-time work through a temp agency from time to time. She may have talked me into working one extra day, though.

I got to come home an hour early tonight because it was creepingly slow at work. But no one's home. Where is everyone?

And that Jillina workshop in Ajax? Well, apparently it's in Toronto, which is much better. And it would seem I've scored a ride. So if I get my registration done in time, I've got another training date for next month. Excellent....

The gym tried to kill me today. My shoulders are so wussy. They don't look wussy. I look pretty buff through the shoulders, but the muscle is just decoration, as far as I can tell. Overhead lifts just about kill me. What's with that?

I just about broke [ profile] f00dave's mind the other day when I told him Napoleon's middle name was Taurus.


Get it?

And now for a couple more links:

Haunted Paper Toys: Fun stuff you can print out.

Custom Prosthetic Designs: Before and after pictures of horrifically maimed people who get a whole lot prettier with a bit of help. Check out the nose section. He should work on Michael Jackson....

Tongue Piercing Brings on 'Suicide Disease': Good thing the cure is simple.
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
A lady bought me half a litre of chocolate milk the other night at work.

This woman is a regular customer. She's friendly, huge, and very annoying. I don't think I've ever had the displeasure of hearing anyone else giggle the way she does. With her constant simpering, she's like a parody of a cartoon character. Each night she orders a litre of chocolate milk and between 3-6 doughnuts/muffins. She is accompanied by a quiet Jack Sprat-type, who always gets a couple of cookies and a large double-double with milk. He's the bastard who stole a coffee during Octoberfester.

Anyhow, when she orders her milk, she likes to get two large containers (500ml apiece). The other night, we were all out, so I brought her four 250ml containers. I think she was shocked when she saw four containers, even though the amount of chocolate milk remained the same. She froze, stuck her bottom lip out like a gloss-covered plank, and said, "I suppose I can drink all those."

She supposed wrong, because when she left, she'd abandoned two unopened cartons on her table.

I guess this takes the place of a tip.

And now I go in to work. I've been called in an hour early. Here's hoping they can let me leave an hour early, too.

I give my notice tomorrow. I give my notice tomorrow.

shanmonster: (Da Vinci ShanMonster)
I give my notice in just a few more days. Hell, maybe I'll give my notice on Thursday instead of Friday. That's a whole eight hours less of working at the coffee shop. Wow....

After two weeks of the garbage gloves being stored away from the ice, they've once again gravitated back. They just can't stay away. This time, the ice scoop was actually touching them. Gross me right the fuck out.

That being said, today wasn't too bad. Well, except that up until 9 o'clock tonight, I only had 22 cents in tips. I finished the night with a whopping dollar twelve, and eight cents of that was pennies I picked off the floor.

Since starting this job, I've become a much better tipper.

Tomorrow, I'd like to finish organizing my dance studio space, so it will be ready and waiting for me to fill it with my dancing self. Once my job is over, my life begins anew. Goodbye doughnuts, hello gym, kwoon, and dance studio(s). That little bit of pudge which has re-emerged on my gut will shrink back down as my training time goes up. And I'll be sewing and designing and dancing and kicking and punching and drawing and writing and thinking and modelling and photographing more. Good. I've missed my buff and creative self....

I have another dance gig lined up. This one's not until February 17th in Stratford. I'm thinking of doing a sword dance. Maybe I'll resuscitate the sword routine I did in Moncton a couple of years back. That was a good one, and I think I can do it even better, this time around.

Or maybe I'll work out something with double daggers. Or maybe I'll do both (at the same time?!). Yikes.

I'm freaking myself out now. There are only so many blades I ought to dance with at once, don't you think?
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I think I may have drooled all over my arm in my sleep. Sexy.

And I got stuck working window at drivethrough again yesterday. In the blowing snow. People were reluctant to roll down their windows, so I had to lean out the window freezing my arms off waiting for them to finally roll their windows down enough to take their frikkin' coffee. So I had a sore back and ice-encrusted arms.

I finally finished Another Roadside Attraction, and aside from a brief blip of interesting plot and a scattering of clever similes, I really didn't enjoy reading it. I've since also finished reading Anthony Burgess's take on Sophocles' Oedipus the King. I enjoyed it a whole lot more, although I need to reacquaint myself with a few Greek theatrical terms. It's been a long time since I studied drama and Greek tragedy. Hard to believe I built a university degree around it....

In other news, I received a spam entitled "Fathher fuckking second-best dauughter!" ostensibly from Warren Ellis. Thanks for the spam, dude.

Now for some links:

Steampunk Laptop: Missing a stroke could be painful (thanks, William Gibson).

Pelican Eats Pigeon: I watched a chicken eat a hummingbird, once. It was much quicker.

Artist Draws 'Clean' Graffiti from Dirty Walls: "A British street artist known as Moose creates graffiti by cleaning dirt from sidewalks and tunnels -- sometimes for money when the images are used as advertising. But some authorities call it vandalism."

Symbollix: Moose's website.

Artist Seeks Compensation for Berlin Wall Graffiti: Fat chance, I think.

Woman joins small club of ‘consecrated virgins’: A 43-year-old virgin dedicates her virginity to God. "Dating wasn't working," she says. Honestly, at this age, she's likely to remain a virgin, anyhow. Dedicating her status doesn't seem like such a sacrifice at this point.
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
Work was mucho sucko thanks to an unempathetic supervisor. She sent a feverish worker with laryngitis out in the rain to take out the garbage (why didn't she send someone not sick, like me?). Apparently, she sent the same sick woman out to do it yesterday, too.

And she had me work window at drivethrough, something I find extremely stressful and painful. First of all, due to my ADD, I have an almost impossible time listening to my headset, listening to the people around me, and keeping track of the text on the monitor in front of me. Secondly, the window has been set up for someone substantially shorter than I am, so my back is killing me from the repetitive and very awkward twisting and bending I did. Thirdly, even though I was working my arse off to the absolute best of my ability, she kept sniping me with comments like, "You need to speed up," "You're taking too long," and "You need to get on the ball." And she also kept telling me to do things I had already started doing.

It took every bit of my self-control not to lay into her.

To top it off, I didn't even get any of the tips our team collected at drive-through.

I give my notice in a week and a day. That means I work three more weeks and one day.

Damn. That's too far off.

Hopefully, she won't be the supervisor for any more nights that I'll be working. The other supervisors are much easier to work with, and understand the value of empathy and just how inefficient micro-managing is.

I don't think she means ill. When she's not working, she seems to be friendly enough. I just think she's a shitty, shitty supervisor.

Ah well. Here's a joke to make you smile:

This woman goes into a funeral home to make arrangements for her husband's funeral. She tells the director that she wants her husband to be buried in a dark blue suit.

He asks, "Wouldn't it just be easier to bury him in the black suit that he's wearing?" But she insists that it must be a blue suit and gives him a blank check to buy one.

When she comes back for the wake, she sees her husband in the coffin and he is wearing a beautiful blue suit. She tells the director how much she loves the suit and asks how much it cost.

He says, "Actually, it didn't cost anything. The funniest thing happened. As soon as you left, another corpse was brought in, this one wearing a blue suit. I noticed that they were about the same size, and asked the other widow if she would mind if her husband were buried in a black suit. She said that was fine with her. So, I just switched the heads."
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
Once upon a time, before the World Wars made it unfashionable, Kitchener was known as Berlin. The city is home to the largest Oktoberfest outside Germany. Oktoberfest began yesterday, and it can kiss my ass.

It's not bad enough that the streets are filled with drunken yobs in lederhosen and feathered caps. Customers yesterday were acting full-moon fucked-up, and they weren't even drunk. I blame Oktoberfest. Here are a few of the things which happened during yesterday's doughnut-serving stint:

- an Asian guy was purchasing his coffee when a regular (a nice old man) grabbed at his wallet. An altercation ensued, causing a big scene which made plenty of customers leave out of sheer discomfort.
- overall increased rudeness of customers (no doubt pissed off by Oktoberfest)
- a group of loiterers on the sidewalk outside the store windows blocking access to a pregnant woman, telling her off and making her wade off into oncoming traffic. When approached by a supervisor, say "It's a free country," to which she responded, "Yes, and this is private property."
- Customers lying about how much money they paid so they can abscond with an additional twenty-five cents in change. So petty!
- Another regular makes a large order of mostly food and one single coffee. Shows up a few minutes later to say, "Where's my coffee?" I'm almost positive he'd already taken it, but make him another. A couple of minutes later, I walk around to clear tables and see two coffees on his table. Fucker.

What the hell, people?

At least I have today off. At least [ profile] f00dave got a good job (w00t!). I'd give my notice right now, but if I can hold off just another week, I won't have to pay for my uniform. So I'll give my notice for the first of November. Freedom awaits, and then I can get back to good work (like teaching dance, teaching fitness classes, performing, and completing my costuming book).

And now for some links:

Treatment 'to neutralise all flu': "Scientists say they are developing an entirely new way of providing instant protection against flu." Here's hoping it works!

Fire Bible: Book-burnings, anyone?

Pierce Your Ride: Car body modification.

Marijuana may stave off Alzheimer's: "New research shows that the active ingredient in marijuana may prevent the progression of the disease by preserving levels of an important neurotransmitter that allows the brain to function."

Teeth improve memory: Don't forget to rush your teeth (and smoke that doob).

Teenagers 'smoke to ease labour': Stupid, stupid teens.

Sea monster's remains found on Arctic island: No mention on whether or not it was near Hrothgar's meade hall.

Animal bordellos draw Norwegians: "Neither Denmark nor Norway has a prohibition on sex with animals, as long as the animals do not suffer." It sounds a whole lot nicer than North American chicken batteries and crammed, inhumane abbatoirs.

Nightmare Photoshop Contest: Cool stuff!
shanmonster: (Da Vinci ShanMonster)
I biked to work in the pouring rain, and when I got there, found out I'd just missed the call that said I could stay home. A replacement was coming in for me at 5. Since I was already there and it was insanely busy, I said I'd stay the two hours until my replacement showed up.

I'm not sure why it is, but any time I've felt really sick while at work, I get better tips. Maybe people feel sorry for me and are trying to finance my medical care. Who knows?

Anyhow, I have a meme to share with you, courtesy of [ profile] zeuberwench. This is a very cool meme. Ready?

The first five people to respond to this post, will get some form of art, by me, about them. I make no guarantees about quality or type, but I will assure that I will give it good effort and that the art will be individual to you, so if you get a mixed CD or some sort of painting doodle, yours is the only one like it.

The only catch, of course; as with most memes, if you sign up, you have to put this in your own journal as well.

Now that's good memeing!

I'm off to make some hot chocolate now. Real hot chocolate, not that stuff from a mix. It's just the thing when you're sick with a nasty cold....
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
ShanMonster on little sleep is a klutzy ShanMonster. Today I dropped two cakes and spilled two double-doubles (minus the coffee, thankfully) on myself.

I'm not usually a clumsy person, but when I'm tired, I move with all the grace of a baby learning to walk.

I remember this one time a few years back when I was suffering from whiplash compounded by a migraine and a terrible head cold. I hadn't been sleeping well because of the pain. I was doing some beadwork, and decided to get up and walk to the other room with my basket of beads. Somehow, I managed to step in my wastepaper basket. I tripped and fell on my back. My feet shot up in the air, showering me with used tissues, and my basket of beads fountained all over me.

For a brief moment, I considered bursting into tears, but then I decided it would be more enjoyable to see the humour in it.

I wish I had a video. I was rolling around on my back, rocking with laughter, covered in snotty paper and seed beads.

So yeah. Nothing that bad happened today....

[ profile] f00dave and I had our housewarming party last night. Let's see if I can get the attendance roster down pat:

- Me
- [ profile] f00dave
- [ profile] snowy_kathryn
- [ profile] real_bethy
- [ profile] miami_pony
- [ profile] nefariusdeeds
- [ profile] valkryor
- [ profile] joncanuck
- [ profile] fuzzpsych
- Dharlene
- Sheldon
- Raveet

We ate food, played a DVD version of Trivial Pursuit, watched Enter... Zombie King, sampled a horrid Asian beverage (grass jelly drink), and I did a bizarre impromptu dance (fuelled by [ profile] snowy_kathryn's very electric jello) to Tina Turner's opening credits of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.

We made a video of both the grass jelly and the dance. The former is far more entertaining than the latter. The Mother F*cking Chicken Dance remains my masterpiece. For a while there, I was ranked higher than Paris Hilton on Google Videos Top 100. Go me!

To all those who couldn't make it, I'm sorry you missed out on all the fun. But there will be more shindigs, if I ever get a weekend off again. It looks like I'll be dancing (not chicken dancing) every weekend for the rest of this month....
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
Unless you drink your coffee black from Timmy's, get a stir stick and your cream/sugar/milk on the side, or ask that your drink be stirred with a straw. The spoons used to mix drinks are kept in ice (for health reasons).

However, the garbage gloves are once again hung directly over the ice in the back room (not for health reasons, but sheer convenience).

If you've seen the garbage I handle at work, you know that you don't want to have its drippings in your coffee. If you haven't seen it, consider this your warning.

This has been a public service announcement courtesy of a disgruntled coffee shop worker.
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
It's not as bad as I thought. It's a bit worse. )

In other news, last night, I gave myself a lobotomy. my vampire Dark Ages game, of course!

I love being horrid to my characters. It's so cathartic!
shanmonster: (Dance Monkey Dance!)
My tortured thumbnail from the other night has taken a turn for the worse. The bit that was stabbed (right in the nail bed) fills with pus every hour or so, and until I can relieve the pressure by pulling the nail away, is absolutely excruciating. It makes work very difficult, as the thumb is my money handling thumb. Yesterday, a customer tried to be cute by yanking away the money he was handing to me just as I was taking it. I almost screamed as the ten dollar bill pulled against my thumb.

Yeah, really funny, dude.

And right before close, I went to check on the status of the iced cappucino cups. There were far less than I anticipated, and a sharpish piece of metal jammed itself full speed right in the sweet spot. On the pain scale of one to ten, this was a ten and a half. I managed to run to the back room before collapsing against a wall and grasping my thumb. I almost started bawling, but after a few moments, the pain subsided to something manageable, and I was able to resume my customer-serving skills.

I cut my thumb nails short this morning. It seems to have helped somewhat.

In BETTER news, I seem to have found an excellent series of exercises calculated to improve both my balance and ankle strength. I do a series of balance exercises on the Bosu ball(s). First, I stand in mountain asana. This causes an enormous amount of involuntary shimmying, but, if I concentrate, eventually I can stand stock still. And that's when I start doing one-legged stuff....

Oh yes, and the elevator has become my new dance practice space. I live on the 16th floor. When I first started drilling, I decided to focus on glute shimmies. My left arse cheek is the more adept of the two. I could do about 8 rapid squeezes between floors. My right butt cheek could only manage four or five. After about a month of practice, I've improved my right glute squeezes to eight or nine squeezes between floors.

My new elevator drill is the Egyptian ("knee") shimmy. I hadn't realized how inconsistent it was until I started trying to shimmy at a regular rhythm for 16 floors. Let's see how much better it is in a month's time....
shanmonster: (Da Vinci ShanMonster)
[ profile] angamainyu has posted some of the photos from our shoot last week. As always, they're awesome! Take a look (NSFW).

Yesterday was one of those rare occasions when something interesting happened at work.

One of our regular customers is a man who appears to be homeless. I think he lives off whatever he can carry on his bicycle, and that he sleeps behind the doughnut shop. He seems to be a really nice guy. Anyhow, around 7:30 yesterday morning, he came up to me and said, "There's a half-naked man in the bathroom who's been there since 9 last night."

And indeed, there was (which doesn't say much for the people who are supposed to check the bathrooms every half hour....)!

The bathroom was a disaster area. Garbage and clothes were strewn about everywhere. The man was either crazy, drunk, strung out on drugs, or a combination of the three, and he refused to vacate the premises. Indeed, he had turned it into his own private laundry facilities, and had been washing his pants in the toilet and attempting to dry them with toilet paper. His pants must have been absolutely soiled, because they had turned the water black, and filthy water was everywhere.

The bathroom was cordoned off with the "closed for cleaning" sign until a cop came to escort him out around 8:30-9 am.

So the next time you see one of those innocuous "closed for cleaning" signs, think about what really might be happening.

Aside from that, yesterday was just another coffee-pouring day, albeit one where my brain actually allowed itself to daydream. With other jobs, this would make me feel guilty. But somehow, I don't feel bad that I'm thinking about my upcoming butoh and tahtiib workshops while I'm pouring an extra-large double-double with milk.
shanmonster: (Dance Monkey Dance!)
Last night's DJing session went fine, although the crowd at the Renn isn't exactly a lively one. I mostly played hard, stompy industrial club tunes which appealed to the male dancers. The set after mine played gothier stuff, which brought out the female dancers. At one point, during my one "easy-listening" song (Delerium's "Flowers Become Screens"), a very drunk and flaming guy approached the DJ booth.

"Um, excuse me."


"Can you play music that people who aren't here can dance to?"

This just about broke my brain. Drunk logic always astounds me. After a bit of quizzing, [ profile] wildelf discovered that he in fact wanted to dance to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cindy Lauper.

And then a glam-looking blonde showed up. "Excuse me," she said. "Is there a theme to tonight's music?"

"Yes," said [ profile] wildelf. "Old-school goth."

"Oh! Then can you play some Billie Holiday?"

Surprised, Th'elf said, "Oh, uh, I'm afraid I don't have any with me. Anything else?"

"Ok, then, how about Elvis?"

My eyebrows raised. "Elvis isn't at all old-school goth."

"Then how about some Roy Orgeh, Orbeh, uh, Roy Orby...."

"Roy Orbison?" I asked.

"Yeah! Him!"

Th'elf said, "That's definitely not old-school goth. We don't have any of that."

"Oh, then what's old-school golf?" (Yes, I'm sure she said 'golf.')

"Stuff like The Cure, Bauhaus, The Mission, Sisters of Mercy," said Th'elf.

"You mean like 80s stuff?"


"Well, I don't see how you can call that old-school golf. Fine, then. If it's 80s, I want to hear Madonna."


I'd forgotten this aspect of DJing.

[ profile] snowy_kathryn and I just got back from the medical clinic, where we both received bad news regarding our feet. About three months ago, Kathryn cut her foot on a broken beer bottle. We removed glass from her foot, and when it didn't seem to be healing properly a month later, she went to a doctor who told her it was normal. It is nowhere near normal. There's a huge, red, hard painful lump on her foot, and she's always experiencing stabbing pains in it. He said that any glass in her foot would be "absorbed by her body."


The doctor today didn't even look at it when he gave her his first professional opinion: "I don't know why you'd think there's glass in your foot."

Because she had a bunch of glass stab into her foot, dolt.

But when she insisted, he decided to send her for xrays, and of course there's a big piece of glass deep in her foot, amongst bones and scar tissue. And now she has to go in for complicated surgery to remove that glass.

And as for me, well, I'm just plain doomed, because I have a bone spur. Apparently, nothing that can be done for it aside from taking painkillers, icing it when needed, and avoiding anything that sets it off (which apparently includes both walking and sleeping, because it hurts like a bitch when I lie down. Sitting is ok, though).

I saw the spur on the xray. My heel, instead of being nice and round, has a nice, sharp, pointy bit stabbing out. It's the source of the mysterious, and not insignificant, foot pain which began Monday night.

The doctor told me that the spur was likely caused by repetitive movement, so I should quit dance. But how can my dance, which is much lower in impact than regular walking, be causing my bone spur?

I am not quitting dance. I'll quit my job (which is certainly harder on the feet: I'm constantly walking, twisting, and standing on concrete) before I'll quit dance. Now, more than ever before, I must find a different job--apparently one with less movement.

I need to do more research on this bone spur thing. Do you have bone spurs? How do you work with 'em?

And contrary to Kathryn's beliefs, pizza will not cure our feet.
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I don't often post about work, because it's generally so very, very dull.

But today was especially hellacious. Just a few minutes into my shift, I had Tim's special sauce blorp all over the crotch of my pants. I was spackled with white goop. It was just as gross and suggestive-looking as you'd think.

I'm expected to do a gazillion things at once. No sooner do I start one when I am expected to do three other tasks. And as a result, I have dozens of half-finished projects which all need to have been completed an hour ago. And all while dealing with customers, some of whom are consummate arseholes (like the two little old men who said they wanted a cheese croissant while pointing at a maple danish. "Do you want the cheese croissant or the maple danish?" I asked, gesturing clearly to both in turn. "Definitely the croissant," they said. "You're sure it's the croissant (and I pointed) and not the danish (pointing again)?" "Oh yes." And then when I gave them what they asked for, they had the nerve to say, "Young people. They never listen." Because of course they really wanted the danish. Aaaaaaugh!).

Oh, and then I discovered that my pay stubs aren't pay stubs, but pay cheques. All this time, I thought I'd been getting direct deposit. Good thing I found my old "stubs." Now I can go to the bank and get a cash infusion.


So now I've fired off my bio for the dance programme tomorrow, only to get an email saying never mind, there's no room for a bio, after all.

And now I must sleep, because I have to get up in six and a half hours.

Jesus, Mary, and doughnuts!
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
For the first time, work was interesting. I got to practice at least a little bit of my first aid skills.

Early this morning, a mentally handicapped woman had a bad fall while waiting in line. I think she tripped over someone's foot. She did a face plant, and laid on her belly howling in pain. I ran over from behind the counter, got her calmed down and lying still, and found out where she was injured. Her mouth was bleeding pretty bad, and I think her arm was broken. I was relieved by another first aider shortly thereafter, then made sure the EMTs had been called, and then I ran and got the first aid kit and cleaned the blood off the floor.

Then I washed up and went back to serving coffee.

I felt sorry for the poor woman. She's one of our regulars, and was obviously in a lot of pain. I hope she's ok.

I was commended for my speedy response by the manager, but it's not like I did much. I hope that after I get my Class C first aid certification later this month that I can volunteer with St. John Ambulance as an instructor and get a lot more training and experience. I hate feeling helpless/useless when someone gets hurt.

And then on my lunchbreak, I discovered an unintentionally-hilarious essay a co-worker had written and left on the table. I've excerpted the best part, warts and all:

A Few Words on Pansexuality

Homophobia is a bad word as bad as Homosexual, Hetrosexual, Bisexual and so on and so forth.

The term is derived from our closest primate cousins, the bonobo monkeys. Incidently, the phraze 'make love not war' is also attributed to the bonobos. If for instance, two bonobos want the same banana, instead of being aggressive and fighting over said banana, they are more likely to make love (have sex) and then share the said banana--if only we could follow their example more closely, we would all be better off.

And now for your daily link dose:

[Floating bed]

Designer creates floating bed: If you have lots of piercings, I don't recommend you hide under this bed.

Woman comes home to find house cleaned: Stuff like this never happens to me (thanks, [ profile] gha5t).

Obsessive Compulsive Cat: Floosh.

The Autistic Human Camera: This guy is amazing.

Sexy Lean Latrine: Not your everyday urinal (possibly NSFW).

July 2017

232425 26272829


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 03:50 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios