(no subject)
I'm back from Toronto. I was supposed to get here and go straight to work from the bus station, but I don't feel good. Uncharacteristically, I called work to see if they thought they could get by this evening without me, and my boss says "I can cover your cooking shift, but I really hope you can make it in at eight." I forgot about the meeting tonight. I really do feel like shit so I will take the shift off. I wish I could go relax though. I know that trying to sleep with the knowledge that I have to get back up and go very shortly will only frustrate me.
They took my shit! The people who sat closer to the front of the bus than me on the way to Toronto were kinda slow getting off the bus, and by the time I got outside my big bag was not with the rest of my stuff. It seems that after he unloads your luggage the driver pays no bit of attention to it and allows just whoever to walk off with it. I didn't know that. In a few days I can file a claim with the bus company. I am very inexperienced and ignorant when it comes to stuff like paperwork, so I don't know exactly what it is to "file a claim," but the form has spaces next to dollar signs so I hope that means they might reimburse me.
I don't own very many clothes, and since I was packed for a five-day trip, I lost most of my wardrobe. This includes my favorite hoodie, my only decent pair of jeans, seven pairs of my best socks, and all the boxers I wasn't wearing (and unfortunately I was only wearing one pair of underwear because apparently I don't know how to plan ahead). I also lost my fancy leather shaving bag which contained all of the items I use to clean and groom myself, and all of the cigarettes I had gone out of my way to purchase ahead of time for cheap so that psiphi and I could have some cushioning in our finances. Oh yeah, and my only towel (yes I'm that poor).
So it kinda sucks. About forty-five minutes ago I thought that it might be nice to go out later and hook up with somebody. It'd be nice to get some good chemicals going and alleviate some frustration and some feeling-like-shit. Usually that isn't like me to just put it up for grabs like that, I prefer physical contact in the context of real emotion (whatever that emotion may be) and real respect, but it sounds like just the thing. So, what am I gonna wear? Oh yeah. Rats.
Vacation was cool though. I didn't dwell on the misfortune there like I'm doing here. We had enough of everything we needed and a pile of videogames sitting beside it. There were plenty of things to be happy about. Mojo is soft. Usually when I visit she takes a day or two to get used to my presence or remember me or whatever, but this time I tried a new approach. Upon arrival I was talking to psiphi going up the stairs, and as soon as I saw Mojo I cut off and said "Wow Mojo! You got even prettier?" I think it worked. She blinked slowly at me with those cat-lovey-eyes, and within the hour she needed to be petted by me. What a charmer I am. I can't take all the credit though, she is a pretty kitty. Also soft.
Psiphi took me to this place where he used to work (not new) and had a caretaker friend of his help him show me the rest of the building (new). That shit is huge. It's a very big multi-purpose building donated by an alumni of the university we were visiting. I got to go around and scope the whole shit. On the second or third floor there was a space I'm told is a four-star restaurant. It was mad late so it wasn't a restaurant anymore, just a kitchen and a floor. The atmosphere was kinda understated; not what I expected from a 4star floor at all. But it was my first time in a fourstar place and I guess when you don't know what to expect you should expect to be surprised. I was all excited to dash into the kitchen but the line was all steamtable. I located the prep area and that didn't seem capable of supporting a highly rated kitchen either. Weird. Either they had a hidden prep area or they have secrets I cannot fathom.
--::to be fair, the above was written last night before I noticed I was too wasted to wrap up. the following follows as thus::--
The guy with the keys (his name was Tom; he was cool, i just can't work him into the story) determined that I was "in the industry" (food people like that phrase) and led me deep downstairs to the hugest kitchen I've ever seen. Sub-basement Level 6 (or something) had a bevy of dishwashers that covered more area than the space I pay rent for. I whipped my eyes around 360 degrees, then dashed for the area that'd most interest me. Passing coolers bigger than my home's kitchen, I found the baking area. It was all the same equipment I'd used at my old bakery, just four times as much of it. No marble table? And then my tourguide followed me so I regretted that I hadn't rushed the fire machines.
Still, it inspired romance and grandeur. That night I dreamed of a kitchen overstuffed with burners and temp gauges, with those giant spatulas and tongs everywhere. Stainless steel as far as the eye can see. Ahem.
We definitely made the gelato run. Spriite made sure that'd happen. Y'know, I had made a mental note that this one particular place made the best ice cream I'd ever had. It seemed simple when I thought I'd be swimming in money that we could take one extra luxury run. I was pleasantly reminded that describing it as the best ice cream I've had was a piss-poor understatement. The second-best ice cream I've ever had doesn't deserve to be called ice cream. It's in the texture and the flavor. I had the Oreo mix put on top so I could dig through to the caramellina english toffee blend. I want to buy everyone I love an ice cream cone from this place. Srsly.
Aside from that, I could try to describe the rest of the time we spent wigging out, but y'know, ya had ta be there. You know how it is. Dawg. You feel me.
And then guess what. Greyhound has found my bag and forwarded it to my own local bus station. Everything's there. Psiphi told me about 25 minutes after he found out about the mishap that he had a feeling I'd get it back. I think we both silently wished that it would happen in the next couple days. After another day or two I had given up hope, but I think psiphi made the wave-collapsing decision for me, and I hope I can thank him enough. I'm trying to wrangle 2 round-trip shots at Toronto as compensation for my botched vacation. If it goes as hoped, I'll spend the first ticket next week (no-can-do this week cause of thanksgiving) to deliver psiphi the smokes I meant to deliver last time. This should allow him to loosen his belt. And the second will be spent on vacation as it was intended. Some good food, recreational activities, and maybe a new hat.
Well, I guess I should wrap up while I'm capable. It's been a pleasure.
They took my shit! The people who sat closer to the front of the bus than me on the way to Toronto were kinda slow getting off the bus, and by the time I got outside my big bag was not with the rest of my stuff. It seems that after he unloads your luggage the driver pays no bit of attention to it and allows just whoever to walk off with it. I didn't know that. In a few days I can file a claim with the bus company. I am very inexperienced and ignorant when it comes to stuff like paperwork, so I don't know exactly what it is to "file a claim," but the form has spaces next to dollar signs so I hope that means they might reimburse me.
I don't own very many clothes, and since I was packed for a five-day trip, I lost most of my wardrobe. This includes my favorite hoodie, my only decent pair of jeans, seven pairs of my best socks, and all the boxers I wasn't wearing (and unfortunately I was only wearing one pair of underwear because apparently I don't know how to plan ahead). I also lost my fancy leather shaving bag which contained all of the items I use to clean and groom myself, and all of the cigarettes I had gone out of my way to purchase ahead of time for cheap so that psiphi and I could have some cushioning in our finances. Oh yeah, and my only towel (yes I'm that poor).
So it kinda sucks. About forty-five minutes ago I thought that it might be nice to go out later and hook up with somebody. It'd be nice to get some good chemicals going and alleviate some frustration and some feeling-like-shit. Usually that isn't like me to just put it up for grabs like that, I prefer physical contact in the context of real emotion (whatever that emotion may be) and real respect, but it sounds like just the thing. So, what am I gonna wear? Oh yeah. Rats.
Vacation was cool though. I didn't dwell on the misfortune there like I'm doing here. We had enough of everything we needed and a pile of videogames sitting beside it. There were plenty of things to be happy about. Mojo is soft. Usually when I visit she takes a day or two to get used to my presence or remember me or whatever, but this time I tried a new approach. Upon arrival I was talking to psiphi going up the stairs, and as soon as I saw Mojo I cut off and said "Wow Mojo! You got even prettier?" I think it worked. She blinked slowly at me with those cat-lovey-eyes, and within the hour she needed to be petted by me. What a charmer I am. I can't take all the credit though, she is a pretty kitty. Also soft.
Psiphi took me to this place where he used to work (not new) and had a caretaker friend of his help him show me the rest of the building (new). That shit is huge. It's a very big multi-purpose building donated by an alumni of the university we were visiting. I got to go around and scope the whole shit. On the second or third floor there was a space I'm told is a four-star restaurant. It was mad late so it wasn't a restaurant anymore, just a kitchen and a floor. The atmosphere was kinda understated; not what I expected from a 4star floor at all. But it was my first time in a fourstar place and I guess when you don't know what to expect you should expect to be surprised. I was all excited to dash into the kitchen but the line was all steamtable. I located the prep area and that didn't seem capable of supporting a highly rated kitchen either. Weird. Either they had a hidden prep area or they have secrets I cannot fathom.
--::to be fair, the above was written last night before I noticed I was too wasted to wrap up. the following follows as thus::--
The guy with the keys (his name was Tom; he was cool, i just can't work him into the story) determined that I was "in the industry" (food people like that phrase) and led me deep downstairs to the hugest kitchen I've ever seen. Sub-basement Level 6 (or something) had a bevy of dishwashers that covered more area than the space I pay rent for. I whipped my eyes around 360 degrees, then dashed for the area that'd most interest me. Passing coolers bigger than my home's kitchen, I found the baking area. It was all the same equipment I'd used at my old bakery, just four times as much of it. No marble table? And then my tourguide followed me so I regretted that I hadn't rushed the fire machines.
Still, it inspired romance and grandeur. That night I dreamed of a kitchen overstuffed with burners and temp gauges, with those giant spatulas and tongs everywhere. Stainless steel as far as the eye can see. Ahem.
We definitely made the gelato run. Spriite made sure that'd happen. Y'know, I had made a mental note that this one particular place made the best ice cream I'd ever had. It seemed simple when I thought I'd be swimming in money that we could take one extra luxury run. I was pleasantly reminded that describing it as the best ice cream I've had was a piss-poor understatement. The second-best ice cream I've ever had doesn't deserve to be called ice cream. It's in the texture and the flavor. I had the Oreo mix put on top so I could dig through to the caramellina english toffee blend. I want to buy everyone I love an ice cream cone from this place. Srsly.
Aside from that, I could try to describe the rest of the time we spent wigging out, but y'know, ya had ta be there. You know how it is. Dawg. You feel me.
And then guess what. Greyhound has found my bag and forwarded it to my own local bus station. Everything's there. Psiphi told me about 25 minutes after he found out about the mishap that he had a feeling I'd get it back. I think we both silently wished that it would happen in the next couple days. After another day or two I had given up hope, but I think psiphi made the wave-collapsing decision for me, and I hope I can thank him enough. I'm trying to wrangle 2 round-trip shots at Toronto as compensation for my botched vacation. If it goes as hoped, I'll spend the first ticket next week (no-can-do this week cause of thanksgiving) to deliver psiphi the smokes I meant to deliver last time. This should allow him to loosen his belt. And the second will be spent on vacation as it was intended. Some good food, recreational activities, and maybe a new hat.
Well, I guess I should wrap up while I'm capable. It's been a pleasure.