Game Days

Have you ever become obsessed with a video or computer game and spent an entire day playing it? For many of the men I know, this question is a rhetorical one – of course you have!! In fact, I’m pretty sure that I know of one or two people (I won’t name any names of course) that pulled several all-nighters trying to reach the next level of Halo.

I myself have recently rediscovered Roller Coaster Tycoon, and it’s so mind numbingly wonderful! I had completely forgotten what it was like to spend an entire day not having to worry about any kind of responsibilities. When your major concern is not being shot, killed or bankrupt and you finally emerge eight hours later, I have to say that I feel like I’m emerging from what feels like a theraputic coma.  There is something so stress-relieving in staring at a computer/tv screen all day, lost in an imaginary world. It’s no wonder my teenage brother locks himself in the basement for hours on end, only to emerge for dinner or a bursting-full bladder.

I have no idea why I thought that this would be a great or interesting topic for my blog but let me know what you guys think – do you love video games or are they just a waste of brain cells??

Secret Admirers No More

So now I feel really bad. On Tuesday after work I left a note to the secret note leaver saying hi and thank you for the notes but I have a boyfriend (and I don’t want you to get in trouble for leaving me these notes) so could you please stop. This morning I came in and found a note saying “OK. I’m sorry for everything.” And now I feel so bad! And knowing me (cuz I know me pretty well) I’m probably going to feel guilty about it all day. I mean, I’m sure he’s a nice guy and everything but A. I have my Craig, B. I don’t know who this guy is or anything about him, and C. If I asked who he was then I was just going to feel awkward every time I passed him in the hall. Perhaps I could pass him on to someone else?? Is anyone out there currently seeking a secret admirer who speaks Spanish?? (He included a little Spanish in his notes).

Speaking of Spanish, if you’ve never seen those Trigon commercials on YouTube, you should totally check them out. So cute! Check it out!

Secret Admirers and Stalkers

For those of you that haven’t been updated, I’m still at Weddingbells and still loving it! Plus, now I have a super cool other intern to hang out with (Madeleine) – and we buy lots of delicious lunches and snacks together. Man, I hope this internship isn’t the death of my waistline! Anyways, back to the original reason why I’m writing. So what do you do when you get to work everyday and find notes on your desk from a secret admirer? And then I started thinking… what is the difference between a secret admirer and a stalker? I mean, because apparently they both watch you and admire you from afar soooo…..??? Is a secret admirer someone who you know (but you just don’t know they like you) and a stalker is a stranger? Or is there only a line drawn when the person who is admiring you is taking photographs of you doing mundane tasks and building you a shrine in their closet? Hmmm….. perplexing. Let me know what you think.

p.s. Neala said, but for some reason didn’t post, that she thinks that a stalker follows you wherever you go whereas a secret admirer only watches you when you are around them. Which I agree with and now feel silly for not coming up with it sooner.

The Bedford Cafe

At the urgings of a very dear friend who enjoys words more than any other woman I’ve ever met, I have decided to also use this blog to share some ridiculous stories with you. Although these stories have nothing to do with publishing, they are so ridiculous that I can’t help but share them.  

It was Valentine’s day 2007. I was on exchange in Denmark and my two girlfriends and I, having nothing better to do for the V-day weekend, had decided to take a short trip to Hamburg Germany which was only a 5hr train ride away.  After spending the day roaming the pedestrian streets that surrounded our hostel, we decided that we were going to go out for the evening and get our party on! (because what else do you do when you’re single and it’s valentine’s day AND you don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s valentine’s day??) We had no idea what kinds of bars or clubs were in the area so we figured we’d start walking and stop at the first place that looked good. Well the first place that looked good was a  small corner pub called the Bedford cafe.  We sat down at the bar and ordered some beers (I couldn’t tell you what, but knowing us we probably ordered something German – except Neala who at the time refused to drink beer).

Within the first five mintues, Joanna (being the chattiest of the three of us) had already found a conversationalist in the man sitting next to her. He was about thirty and was well dressed but looked quite in need of a shower. He had begun to tell Jo of the economy in Germany and touched on politics and schools and some other topics that always seem to crop up when you’re talking to strangers from other countries.  Just before twelve the bartender informed us that the cafe would be closing but that a bar next door had just opened if we were interested. We were. The conversationalist invited us all to go back to his place for a cup of coffee. Now, we were three single twenty-somethings on valentines day and as kind as his offer was we informed him that we were a little more interested in getting our drink on.

He argued that he was a nice guy and that we had nothing to worry about in going home with him. He proceeded to prove his point by relating a story of how he took some drunken girl home from a bar one time and did not rape her.

Umm… Pardon?

So apparently he had met this girl at a bar, thought she was really into him and took her home with him. She was too drunk to walk of her own accord so he did her the honour of carrying her into the house and placing her on his bed. When he went to touch her (I’m assuming sexually) she yelled at him. Disappointed but not deterred he went into the kitchen and boiled some water for tea. He asked her if she’d like some – she said no. He drank his tea in the kitchen and then went back to the bedroom again to see if she was in a better mood. When she refused all of his advances he decided that he was tired of her rudeness and called her a cab. He shoved her in the back seat, found an address in her purse and told the driver to take her there.

And this long winded story about a girl that he did not rape was how he assured us that he was in fact, an upstanding fellow.

We swallowed the last of whatever we had in our hands and left. Needless to say, we did not take the non-raper with us.