Hello 2010, Goodbye Defective Thoughts

A new year is upon us, and as 2010 is sure to bring exciting experiences and possibilities, there will be one fantastic staple missing from your favourites folder.

I quickly learned the fun of detailing the outrageous details of my life on this blog, and am thankful all of my loyal readers who enjoyed following alongside me on my weekly adventures and accounts of the truly defective people I was forced to be surrounded by. 2009 was a crazy year..you got to read about my 5 jobs, 2 months of travelling, Indigenous Rita McNeil, doctors office observations, countless Art Gallery submissions, many housesitting gigs, and lest we forgot the eye witness reports into the lows of retail employment. It was a challenging year, but I was happy to make the best of it and share my "stories" with you all.

Though I love Defective Thoughts and all its glory, I feel like its time to close this turbulant chapter in my life and enjoy 2010 and all the exciting moments it may bring. It will be a difficult transition not having DT as my outlet for venting on such as issues as why the cafe employee and her battered soul feel it is a bright idea to cut her hair and spike it into frosted tips, or to share workplace stories such as the other day, I was getting annoyed with a near by coworkers exhagerated use of a "loud mouse and track ball" that I snuck into her cubicle at lunch time and switched it out for a quiet model. "I don't remember my mouse being black?". Poor Tish Kwan.

I thank you again for your witty comments and support over the past year, and I hope you will find comfort in a new and upcoming blog that is similar to this one (as if).

But, for some last time bliss, here is a top 10 list of 2009's moments... Enjoy!


Toughest Moment: Convincing Home Outfitters to employ me.
Funniest Moment: Watching Indigenous Rita McNeil self destruct.
Greatest OMG: Explaining to my Mom that I didn't need to check into rehab for eating a box of chocolate liquers.
Biggest Releif: Getting a job interview.
Ooopsie Moment: Accidentally knocking over my future Home outfitters manager's coffee all over her desk in my interview.
Rockbottom Moment: Sept 2009, contemplating transfering to the Bay downtown.
Most Fantastic Day: Beach Days in Croatia.
Best Quote of 2009: "You can't afford to have a bad attitude.. Its a recession" -Home Outfitters manager.

Once again, its been a slice, I hope you have enjoyed, who knows where I would be today had I not used DT as a ventilator.. I might be in the Psych ward right now.

I hope you all feel entertained, much love.

Xoxo
B

Deck The Halls!

I know how disappointed my loyal readers must be right now.. so many days.. so few posts. Have no fear my sweets, I'm back.

Today was my final day shift of community service, aka. last day of retail work. Since giving in my notice of resignation two weeks ago, things have been running pretty smoothly at work, for example, I can now rest easy after reprimanding customers for rude behavior because I know that I won't be fired, or.. I can stir the emotional pots of my fellow co-workers and suffer little to no consequences. When I arrived this morning, I was first greeted with the cheerful booms of Christmas music rumbling over the intercom.. celebrating the birth of Jesus seven weeks in advance..I don't even celebrate my birthday that early! I took this as a sign that God was making one last attempt to worsen my final day in retail by forcing me to listen to Christmas music for 8 hours straight. Props to Allah for you always knowing how to press my buttons. This just made me even more grateful for finding a new job, one that doesn't force these magically delightful sound waves on my ears... "who could handle listening to this at work from now until the actual holidays?" I pondered. I learned that the depressing drones I work with will have to. I quickly decided to make the best of my day, and was even singing and whistling along to the joyus melodies of Elvis, Beyonce, and even Jsimps' versions of all our favorite seasonal tidings to spite the coworkers around me who would be stuck with them forever. Greg, the newbie employee, slash disappointment to the human race grumbled in anger as we were forced to work together today.. my multiple requests for our separation were promptly ignored by my manager. I soon realized that the Christmas music was perhaps an emotional trigger to his battered youth, when he asked me when I stopped celebrating Christmas. "You mean when did I stop believing in Santa?" I replied. "No, like when did you stop decorating a tree, and opening presents, and celebrating with your family?" he asked. "... Umm, I never did?" I replied with a confused slash condescending tone. He then told me that when he was six his mother "killed Christmas" and he hasn't celebrated since. After further inappropriate prodding, he explained that his absent father left them with little money, and thus they couldn't afford the holidays. "Not even the holiday spirit?" I asked. "Not even the tree" Greg replied. At this point my retail bestie, slash Polish second grandmother spoke up, further cementing the reasons why I attached myself to her hip over the past few months, "You know, absent father or not, trees can be cut down from the wilderness for free." She then started discussing how she would prefer if they played Christmas music of the "Reggae" variety instead.. her personal favorite. Little did I know, this kind of music actually existed, and when it came on the intercom soon after, we danced to the Reggae as we upstocked duvet covers.. me at the top of the ladder, and Polska at the bottom.... too bad Greg was such a scrooge, he just got to watch how much fun Christmas could be.

Overall, my final day was quite a success, and I promised to return for a shopping spree to visit my few favorite peers, and chat with my unfortunate foes for prime blogging material. As a farewell gift to myself, I made sure to drop a few stray seeds of fabricated gossip upon my departure, something tells me that Trashy and Sarah's seemingly solid friendship won't make it through the weekend... Whoopsie!, Oh B, You the F'n best.


B

Sighting!

Which Calgarian, turned Vancouver enthusiast was spotted canoodling with the cast of Twilight last night? She was spotted at the Twilight Eclipse wrap up party at the local Aquarium, sipping on complimentary Grey Goose whilst rubbing shoulders with the blood sucking wannabe Vampires.

I wonder what she would think if she read this story a mere couple months ago when the two of us openly bashed the Twilight series like it was the Swine Flu's evil twin. No news reports have surfaced as of yet, but lets hope she confronted Kstew in the bathroom and punched her in the face like we both fantasized about doing should we ever get the opportunity.

..Story developing.

B

Don't Hate Me

B, checking in!
My apologies for the lack of posts on DT, and I don't have any amazing excuses as to why.. perhaps my finger tips are just on vacation? That, or the fact that I am simply too overwhelmed with my "occupation" and in turn the hunt for a new occupation that has been occupying my mind. That, or simply the thought sharing with you all about how "Trashy" has wiggled her way into the limelight at work, or how my unstoppable love of Mars bars has led to petty theft.

On a lighter note, lets talk about the exciting holiday season approaching.. that being Halloween! I want to hear all about your costumes.. or most importantly, what you all want B to B for the big event!?!

I consider ALL suggestions!

Sleep well,
B

Sports Highlight

OK, so any sort of reference to athletics as been less than void from DT's pages over the past year.. that was until I heard that Rosedale's own, 526, was competing in an 8km sprint, through the streets of Victoria, British Columbia this weekend. In fact, this berry picking enthusiast is missing a homestyle Thanksgiving dinner for the cause..

Let's all wish 526 good luck..sorry for BBM'ing you into the wee hours last night, some of us choose alcohol as our hobbies!

B

Thanks JC

News Flash!
VD is back to her outrageous blogging ways.. new city, new stories, new adventures.. So exciting!
Click HERE HERE and HERE to access her blog, for instant laughs. Now, enough blogging for one night, 90210 and MP aren't going to watch themselves!

B

Trimming The Fat

Good evening readers, I hope you are all getting excited for Thanksgiving, and to any Americans who might be reading this, disregard any future comments about turkey, over eating, fat trimming, or anything festive for that matter.

This Thanksgiving, I propose instead of listing those (boring) things we are thankful for, we take a good hard look at what might be standing between ourselves and mediocre-complete happiness, and find a way to cut these toxic inconveniences out of our lives... or, in festive speak, Trimming The Fat. Let me tell you about one of my "toxic inconveniences" which may better explain how fat trimming in life will lead to a fulfillment only realized after trimming excess, or better yet, over kill. For example, a new employee at work, lets call her "Trashy", decided that during her third shift she would report me to management, for taking breaks longer than I was supposed to. Too bad for Trashy, that I had HR and Management wrapped around my under-worked finger months ago. "Excuse me? I'm not entirely sure where you get your information from, but we are allowed 30 minutes breaks, and I take 30 minute breaks.. but thanks for your concern" I responded, after hearing her chatter from behind a pyramid of merchandise, which for some reason she figured I couldn't hear..around?.. or through? I'm not quite sure. Yes, she was completely right about me abusing break time, as I took well over 40 minutes for lunch, but this newbie needs to pick her timing.. and her battles.. As further punishment, I gave her the silent treatment for the rest of the day, except of course for when I passed her on the way out to the parking lot, and told her to "have an amazing Thanksgiving." Its not my fault that she is such a joke. Lets hope Trashy is reviewing the days events and learning from her mistakes as she lays awake in her trailer tonight. I know she lives in a trailer park because the first day I met her, she was telling a crowd of senseless employees about how the wind was so powerful the previous night, that it was shaking her house and keeping her from sleeping. "Wow, I didn't know a house could literally shake and not fall apart?" I asked, prodding at the issue, in hopes she would further elaborate on the unacceptable living arrangements she seemed to eager to chat about. "Well I live in a trailer park" she replied. Yes please! is exactly what my insta-grin communicated when I heard this.




As the big holiday approaches, I will continue to trim the unnecessary annoyances from my life in hopes that all that will be left, is the delicious turkey meat (aka. eternal happiness), or at least, over snipped morals.

B

Why You So Obsessed With Me?

I'm loving the hits coming into Defective Thoughts as of late.. before you know it DT.info will gain even more momentum, which I of course would use to leverage myself into the World of reality television, where we all know I belong.


Summer is over, vacations have ended, and let's hope your tired office/lecture eyes are finding their way here, where they belong. As you know, your feedback is the fuel to this fire.

B

Jesus, Take The Wheel

6am: I woke up this morning, feeling somewhat enchanted, unusually enthusiastic, and ready to work some magic in the retail world... if only I knew what my day had in store for me.

6:45am: Cruisin' down the freeway listening to my happenin' beats, getting all "pumped up" for my big day at work. Today is a "shipping" day, meaning we all have to stock all the new merchandise by 11am.

7:00am: I arrive at work, and make my way to the staff room to place my fantastic perishable lunch in the staff room refrigerator. The door was locked, with a make-shift sign taped to the door, looking like something had escaped from the recycling bin and found its way onto the wall. To my shock and horror our managers decided to "shut down" the lunchroom due to "unacceptable messiness".

7:05am: Rage and disbelief rip through the coat room like a tsunami, and the faces of our employees begin to turn red, even Sarah's. Poor Chiko, a 65 year old grandmother (also with perishable lunch in hand) continued to wrestle with the door handle, not quite sure how to register the sign, or the situation. I knew right away this day was going to be epic. Perhaps epic enough for my swift termination.

8:30am: By this time, I had managed to recreate the ugly up-leading to the French Revolution. "They are forgetting that they need us to finish this project in four hours people! We actually have all the power." I wasn't too upset about the lunch room closing, more about the fact that they neglected to put up a new schedule for the upcoming weekend. Don't they know I have fantastic engagements to attend?



9:00am: Myself, and the rest of the employees (except for Chiko, who at this point was completely unaware of the revolution buzz I was igniting) had slowed our progress down to a slug like crawl. In fact I thought up a few games we could all play to help kill the time, and neglect the work.

10:00am: At the morning meeting, during the ridiculous lecture referring to the lunch room closure, our manager boasted "We were both here for 17 hours yesterday!" I knew this was a lie, because they say it everyday. Knowing what time they both started, I put up my hand asking what was going on in the store at 2am. Later, the conversation morphed into another lecture about how irresponsible we all were as employees, and that our behavior was disgraceful. Again, I tested my fate and put up my hand. "Speaking of responsibilities, when is the next schedule going to come out?" This definitely got the party going, and again was lectured on my attitude problem.

Its amazing how fast time flies, when your organizing a retail coup. My manager, Jason took me aside to try to get some insight on why today's pace was so slow, clearly identifying who was in charge. Side note: Jason has the most atrocious breath I have ever encountered, so bad that I have actually gagged right in front of him during conversation. Keeping my distance from the path of his air sewage, I explained that moral seemed a little negative, but that I had no other information.. keeping my cards close.

The day ended, with the lunchroom unsealed, merchandise left askew, and employees high on revenge, all in all leaving me feeling quite positive about the days events. If I'm not happy with my job, why should anyone else be? On my way home, I asked myself if it was too late to get into religion. Those devoting their lives to JC always seem so happy and positive... whats with that? All I want is to let Jesus take this steering wheel and drive me home, and of course, find me a new job, and transition me into my next phase of life. Maybe if I invested more time in God as a youngster, he would have a plan for me.. and then I could always just wonder what "God's plan was" in times like these. Until Jesus takes the wheel, Ill have to continue running my makeshift coup at work, and become God to those around me.

B

Co-Worker Profile: Hurricane

Being that I spend nearly 40 hours every week selling toasters, popcorn poppers, and glamorizing curtain rods, I spend a considerable, embarrassing amount of time analyzing the personality hiccups and genetic "oopsie!'s" of my co-workers. These are their stories...

Hurricane:
She walks like a Hurricane, talks like a Hurricane, and looks like a Hurricane, and therefore, Sarah, is now named Hurricane. She rather enjoys following up statements with overly exaggerated rebuttals, or better yet, her own original set of catch phrases. Instead of replying to comments or statements with B's classics, "great", "cool", or "that's fantastic", she chooses to make my blood boil, using phrases such as "righteous!", or "so uber!" Its times like these I need to retract the exacto blade back into its holster before it gets splice happy and I get sent to prison. Didnt Hurricane read DT's list of whats hot and not for 2009? The "U" word was banished 7 months ago! Hurricane is the type of defective who moves someplace new, yet never shuts up about her prior stomping grounds, being Ontario, because "everything is better in Ontario." Really? Than why not take your Category five lameness back where you came from? This afternoon, and every afternoon since I've known her, she has complained that groceries are "outrageously" more expensive here in Alberta than in Ontario. In fact, you can buy a twelve pack of romaine lettuce back in her mother land for only one dollar. The scenario that sent her into this hysterical tizzy?.. earlier at Safeway, she went to by some "blue grapes", and they cost six dollars per carton. "My grandma back in Ontario has a blue grape bush in her backyard, I could get them for free there!" -- "Maybe thats because nobody knows what a blue grape is", I grumbled. I asked her why produce was so much cheaper in Ontario, and she replied "Umm because they grow it there.. geeze!".. I then said, "really? Even in the winter time?" At some point she segweyed into a story about how her boyfriend and her had bought 12 steaks from CO-OP for $15-20 last night, contradicting her earlier arguments. Again, I snarled under my breath that I think she got tricked into eating dog food, and mistook it for steaks. If you think Hurricane sounds idiotic now, wait until you hear how when her roomate was in Italy, she got a real Louis Vuitton bag for only $5o..AND it was real.. because the man at the BOOTH told her so.

B

Blind Item

Which 'living in sin' Lethbridge resident is planning to up and move to Victoria at the end of September, seemingly skipping out on her lease? Sources suggest she plans to sell the entire contents of her apartment on 'kijiji' over the next few weeks, until the apartment is empty, to cut down on moving costs. At this time, the moral-less character will sneak into her silver Kia in the middle of the night, leaving the house key, damage deposit, and her dignity behind as she speeds into the night.

Let's hope your on Karma's good side, K.

B

Co-Worker Profile: Becky

Being that I spend nearly 40 hours every week selling toasters, popcorn poppers, and glamorizing curtain rods, I spend a considerable, embarrassing amount of time analyzing the personality hiccups and genetic "oopsie!'s" of my co-workers. These are their stories...

Becky
The Beckster, (Rebecca) is a simple girl, and by that I mean she is dull, yet entertaining in a sad kind of way. Her dark roots grow long and wild into the bleached birds nest that is the rest of her hair. She is a University student, and makes it impossible for you to forget it, as she often brings a large stack of texts books into the lunch room, and studies what I imagine to be the page numbers and exciting photographs. The bag has a "University of Calgary" logo on the outside, and I reckon she got this bag in first year, yet continues to use it as a further reinforcement of her academic achievements. One day I overheard her tell another employee that her name is "Becky", and that she hates it when people call her "Rebecca." Being well aware of her timid, shy personality, I have been calling her Rebecca ever since I overheard this conversation, always emphasizing the "BECK" portion, maybe she will take that as a hint that she needs to stop bleaching her hair. I often wonder if she will ever tire of her apparent excitement everytime she runs out of change in the cash register, and gets to hear her depressing voice over the intercom system requesting more.


B

B, The Mentor

Today, as I was polishing the sides of a faux leather ottoman, in an attempt to get back onto the good side of my deranged boss who is suddenly hell bent on canning my 'desperate for cash' self, a teenage boy interrupted me, with a pen in hand, asking for some loose leaf. After questioning his reasons for the paper (out of sheer boredom), I learned he was planning to jot down his contact information for my manager, who he was also seeking in order to apply for a position. "Do you have a resume with you?" I asked. "Well, I don't have a resume, but I can just write down my name and number for you to give her" he replied with soon to be shattered confidence. "You know I think you might be more successful if you had a resume printed from your computer" I informed him, and soon began explaining what a resume was, and how to make one, clearly filling in the gaps for a student that clearly fell through the cracks of the public education system. Normally, I would have just ignored the fact that he wasn't going to get a job, and get back to my faux polishing.. but for some reason I felt like I needed to take this poor soul under my "wing", perhaps in hopes that one day he could take over my position, and I could have a real person job instead. I explained that he should go online and look up resume templates, and then type his actual information into the blanks to create a semi-decent beginner resume, and then return tomorrow to hand it in. "Our manager will be more likely to hire you if you follow those steps" I emphasized. As his grim face turned and wandered away I began to feel like I had my first real mentoring experience, but then I started to realize that perhaps I am a terrible mentor, being as I myself have an entire team of mentors, and my life is in shambles. I am now anticipating to wake up to my protege being found dazed and confused in a ditch by the authorities, suspecting that he had just been returned to Earth by aliens, straight from an episode of the X-files.


B

2009, Two Thousand Fine

Good evening readers, I hope you are all enjoying your Indian summer!

September has arrived, and for most, another school year is about to begin. Being a recent graduate, this is my first school-free September, since 1990. Sure, I am relieved to be finished with school, and released from the hell known as final exam period, and making "never to be used" flashcards- however I was hoping for a little more structure for my first fall out of University. I was feeling quite down in the dumps as of late, seeing my graduation photo as I run out the door everyday, name tag in toe, but then, one day as I was stopped at a red light on my way to work, I focused in on the drivers license of the car ahead of me, it read: MY2CATS.. and strangely, ever since, I have felt much better about the rocky path my life has been following in 2009. I figure, despite my hatred of retail, and daily verbal thrashing for failing to reach my quota of new credit card sign ups, I will soon have the monetary partner to get moving in the right direction. Just sprinkle in a few weekend vacations, new apartment, and fresh job, and Ill be cruisin' right into 2010. For starters, I will work on convincing the Bridal registry's employee to set me up for a personal gift registry, called say: A Celebration of Brett, and my spirits will get the boost it needs to carry me through!

B

FML?

So I am sitting in the lunchroom, next to another co-worker. On his way out, he switched off the lights.. Am I THAT invisible? ...fml?

B

New Feature

As you all know, I love feedback... and we also know that as of late you all are lazy in the comment department. So, I have made things a little bit easier for you. For each blog posting, you can decide if you think it is funny, odd, or lame city, just check a box below each blog posting...

B

Mobile Moment

Why did I just have to spend five minutes of my life convincing my brain dead manager that drinking tap water is not only safe, but not equivalent to drinking drain-o? "Well if I die its your fault" she responded. She has the type of defective personality that seemingly believes that displaying limited education leads her audience to believe she leads a glamorous lifestyle. "All I drink is bottled.. So I don't even know how ill react". I had to bite my tougne when she took some ice cubes from the lunchroom freezer.. And again when she said that thirty percent of 30 was three.

B

Blog City

Here is the newest installment to appear on the blog line. Four Litre Chocolate Milk, written by one of DT's loyal readers, and Calgary's tallest chocolate milk addict. Peculiar yes, funny.. you will have to read.

I am not traveling anywhere, I am not having a quarter-life crisis, I've never attempted suicide, and my life is not particularly interesting. However, sometimes mildly humorous events happen, and a few of them deserve some small pocket of existence in the middle of cyberspace.



Enjoy enjoy enjoy,
..but always remember your favorite blog

B

Seen

Which out of control Britney mega-fan was seen at the Hamilton concert mingling with the popstars management team? After snapping a few photos with his new besties, my guess is he got to meet her security crew as he made a second attempt to slip more notes under Britney's hotel room door.


How much is bail, P?

B

Tweed, Gotcha!

I do apologize for my lack of blogging as of late, as I hate to admit, I have been putting in some serious hours at the hellish destination I call work. When I am not occupied figuring out how I can act like a toaster expert, I am spending the remainder of my time doing "summer things" and looking for a new job of course. Everyday that I am at work, and am approached by a customer, I ask myself if this is the one that will send me searching for some scrap paper to scribble down my notice of resignation.

Today I had a fairly successful information interview with a contact who works in the field that I am interested in bombarding with resumes, and ideally, a position for me, fitted with a more than ridiculous salary. My contact instructed me that he would be wearing jeans and a "tweed" jacket, which I could use as clues to identify him in the unfortunately circus-like coffee shop downtown. I arrived early, and found a seat facing right at the main doorway, glaring at each and every person that entered, trying to decide if what they were wearing counted as tweed, and soon enough I was distracted by how confused I was about what tweed actually was. I determined that it was something that looked like a hybrid between twine, and brown... the colour. "Is that what detectives wear?" Before I knew it, I was ignoring all incoming candidates who didn't resemble Sherlock Holmes. At one point, I had to move to a different table, because a small group of "young adults" aka. "yolts" sat next to me. I didn't want them to witness a blind-interview with a ridiculously desperate graduate. If they were anything like me, they would sit in silence, watching, and insert quiet gasps of disapproval and enjoyment. Thankfully, upon his arrival, he quickly picked me out of the crowd of business suits, and scenster jumpers and our meeting began. He insisted on buying me a drink, and I soon shuddered with frustration when I asked the "barista" for a Raspberry Happy Planet juice, as I assumed he quickly realized that only kids ordered juice.


Overall, it was positive experience, and if all else fails, I can simply survive via setting up three info interviews everyday... for the free food and drinks.

B

So, There Is A God?

I almost swerved into oncoming traffic when I heard the delightful news that a mini-Seinfeld reunion was in the works! The characters from my favorite show, Seinfeld, will be in a 5 episode arc of one of my new favorite shows, Curb Your Enthusiasm, coming this fall! BBBee excited!


B

Halifax Is The New Black?

It has been a recent observation of mine that my fellow peers and family members have been flocking to Halifax like its going out of style.. or perhaps, is coming into style. DT correspondent, 642, is already on the scene, and reports this week from Halifax that it is "AMAZING", and time has been well spent devouring Atlantic lobster and the maritime accent laden beaches. Perhaps I should spend less time contemplating the pro's and con's of going vegetarian, and more time raising money to buy plane tickets to follow my journalistic curiosities. For now, we must settle for the feedback of those DT readers who haven the big Heazy as their vacation destination.


B

Pop The Corks!

August 4, 2009 is a very exciting day for all Defective Thoughts readers! Starting today, the site has has its very own domain name on the WWW, and all you loyal readers have much less to type in the address bar! You can now reach my blog at:

www.defectivethoughts.info

Yes, yes, I know, ".info" isn't the most glamorous domain name, but some reject emo in the making has already snapped the ".com" gem up, and we all know I don't have the financial means to put in a bid for it! As in life, I have been trying to take some thrifty routes, and made the $1.06 leap on the .info train! Make sure to make the necessary edits in your favorites folder!

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!
B

Take A Guess!

So I just dropped $1.06 on my blog.. Can anyone guess what the money was for? Its very exciting! Post your guesses below, as the news will soon be revealed!

Have a good day,
B

In My Favourites

I would like to share with you one of my favorite new websites, perhaps not new to the internet, but new to my e-radar, and thus, the definition of new. Im sure many of your parents have signed onto facebook, wreaking havoc on your life in hilarious ways. This site, Oh Crap, My Parents Joined Facebook has pretty funny stories, and of course, screen shots highlighting the reason why all should fear the day that their parents send you a friend request.

Enjoy,
B

Mobile Moment

I have officially set up my online blogging profile, and like the Twitter account I never had, this blog will soon become even harder to resist. Keep coming back for many mobile updates!

Talk Soon, B

The Wave

It seemed as if I had found myself in a somewhat bearable summer routine these past few weeks at my new job at a housewares department store, until of course today happened, and I suspect that this mounting anxiety is wearing the strength of my "working retail" camels back quite thin. There's nothing more motivating to make a life change then rolling and stacking carpets at 9am on a stat holiday, especially when your missing out on a fantastic daytime party across town. I was standing there, staring at the mound of carpets left to be sorted and rolled up thinking "as if this morning could be any worse" when a panicked customer slash human/lassie hybrid ran up to me, trying to stutter out a panicked tale of how the plumbing in the washroom had gone all poltergeist on him. Mere moments later, I watched in awe as water came seeping through the floor boards of the wall surrounding the disaster zone, and a tidal wave of thankfully clean bathroom water came hurdling towards the carpets department. It is usually moments like these that I flee the scene, and act shocked when I stroll by later, after the clean-up tasks have been assigned. After hour three of operation water mop-up my rage-o-meter was reaching alarming territory, and I was beginning to have flash backs to the breaking point of many of my other infamously hideous working positions, however in past positions, I've usually got a few months of experience under my belt justifying the resignation paperwork. I was missing TStew's Mexican themed party for an afternoon of water mopping, and I contemplated sneaking away from my post for just a couple margaritas and chimmichangas in Briar Hill. If it werent for the holiday wages, and fear of living in the red I would have busted out my miracas and hit the road. However then I thought back to all the painful things I had endured all year long... Indigenous Rita McNeil, four months without cotton, door to door harassment, and now, a river of pain, flowing all over the place I now make my buck. I've made it this far working in places I would prefer to set on fire, and with people I personally believe should be locked up with the key melted down into worthless pennies.. I can't give up now. I swallowed my angst, did my best to bite me togne, when.. for the first time in my life I saw a woman, whose hair clashed with her umbrella, and mopped on.


Tomorrow is my big day off, and I can gurantee my resumes will be hitting the scene at record pace, in a continued attempt to free myself from these occupations I swore off when I was 21. Oh how naive I was!

B

I, Scream

Can they hear the screams? I find myself asking on a surprisingly regular basis. Perhaps the underlying theme of 2009, are the monsters from my past continuing to wriggle their way back into my present and I find myself consistently rivaling my old ways. As mentioned in a previous blog posting, I am slowly trying to piece together some kind of new life, post graduation, and despite the impossibly horrible reality that I have been dipping my feet in some familiar mud pools along the way, I'd like to think I am moving in the right direction. Applying for another retail job was the furthest thing from what I wished to be doing, yet before I knew it, I quickly found myself ripping open the plastic pouch that contained my freshly folded work uniform, from a local Home furnishings store. The pay was borderline acceptable, and my full time status was exactly what I needed to make my dream come true. Not matter what anyone tells you, money can, and does buy happiness.


This afternoon, I was preoccupied reading the boxes of toasters and blenders trying to educate myself on the in's and out's of small kitchen appliance culture, when I was distracted by the sounds of a hillbilly accent, often heard in shopping malls outside of the downtown core, yet not common enough to disregard. Knowing how much time I had to kill before my next break, and knowing the likelihood of humor that would be attached to this accent, instantly attracted me to this crime against grammar. I soon spotted a tall man, in a wife beater, with armpit hair so long it could be braided curiously prodding at a Margarita mixer. "Do you need any help sir?" I desperately asked. "Heavens no" he replied, which at first got my spirits down, until of course he completed his frail sentence. "Its just this shop is so different, I've never been to a place like this one here." Likely in response to my inquisitive facial expressions, eager for more juicy gossip to later report on this blog, the man continued.. "You see here, I'm from the north, the far north, son.. so far north, that their 'aint no north." To condense, and spare my readers from the most ridiculous conversation I have ever had, this man and his wife came down to the "big city" for a summer vacation, and this was their first ever visit out of the north, since "the north was a desert". Whatever that means. I put my useless knowledge of permafrost and facts about the actuality that the north is much like a desert aside. The man then asked how much I was making per hour, and after I reluctantly revealed my "going rate" he chuckled, and replied, "You can't survive off that son, you need to come back up to the north with me" where they will "make me 30-40 dollars per hour."

I had to bite my tognue, at first I thought, "could I just disapear into the night, up to the far north, and live like a King?" Yes, of course I would miss summer, and daylight for most of the year, but I would be rich, and I would live in the most fabulous ice house ever, designed by me, but built by the locals. Then I snapped back into reality, and realized that if I followed this family up to the north, this could be me in five years, arriving at a dumpy mall, thinking it was just so amazing, and worst of all, just like this man, I would mistake the Margarita mixer for a crock pot.


B

Who Hearts DT?

Looks like Defective Thoughts needs some hits from the southern hemisphere!

Keep reading, B

Gum Isnt Glue

Today I learned numerous life lessons, most of which the majority of the population understood many years ago in grade school. In an attempt to be more proactive on the employment front, I decided today would be an nice afternoon to walk downtown to drop my applications for the City of Calgary at the employment drop box. I envisioned a nice stroll along the river, and perhaps I would treat myself to some kind of summer snack along the way. After spending a considerable portion of my day weighing the pro's and con's of registering for a twitter account, I got into my summer cloths and was out the door, ready for my adventure to begin. Not being discouraged by the rumbling black clouds in the distance, I began my trek downtown. Well, one thing led to another, and around the time that I was furthest from any kind of indoor retreat the downpour began. I was forced to fold my resumes into my clothing to protect the precious non-waterproof computer ink, which divulged my oh-so precious skills and ambitions. I spent the next thirty minutes attempting to navigate the plus-15 walking system, rationalizing that "all walkways MUST lead to City Hall." It wasn't long before I gave up on my sense of direction, and returned to the streets. Upon reaching my destination, in worse condition than a cat being swept away by a polluted river, I was quite enthused to see my City working cousin "LiTea". "Don't mind my appearance" I shamefully insisted. I wanted her to know that I wasn't expecting a face-face interview wearing flip flops and my summer wear, and that instead I was using the anonomys drop box which thankfully concealed the applicants fashion sense, or common sense.

After spending a delightful moment discussing my chances of landing any of the positions posted, and weighing the likihood of me getting the one that paid $125,000, we started chatting about how much fun my stampede season has been. I explained my financial situation, and how I basically had been living the life of a homeless person since returning to Canada. "I have like $100, all of which was loaned to me." I admitted. It was around this time that my flip flop broke into two pieces, and I almost began to cry. This is when I learned the fact that gum doesnt work like glue. It was all LiTea's idea, and I shamefully gave it a shot, which was a huge disaster. "How am I going to get home?" I wailed. LiTea suggested I stop over at Winners downtown, but I admitted I didn't bring money, a strategy I've been using lately to help curb my spending habits. This of course was one of those emergencies, that I didn't think actually would happen. I told LiTea to go back to her office, so there was zero chance of her being associated with a soaking wet, barefooted peasant. We bid farewell, and I began to shuffle out of City Hall, wondering how far I could drag my one foot inside a disintegrated flip flop. It was about 2 meters, and then the sandal flipped upside down almost causing me to slide into a gutter. It was about this time that I wish I was at home eating the small fortune of crispy mini's I purchased last night. I took out my blackberry and dialed my father, instructing him that I could be found outside City Hall in a gutter, in the exact opposite situation he would hope to find his only son to be in.

On a lighter note, I have an interview with a large home furnishings and accessory store on friday, a place I applied at in hopes that I could use the discount to furnish my future apartment- a place that will likely never exist at this rate.

B

My Life In Shambles

Its been just about one week since I have arrived back in Canada after my traveling adventures overseas- and like most travelers out there, you know that returning back to your normal life back home can be quite depressing, compared of course to the exciting weeks you just spent in a different country. My trip has left me "financially strapped" to put things lightly, and perhaps the worst culture shock I experienced over the past few months, was having my debit card declined due to "insufficient funds" at Safeway, shamefully resulting in me leaving empty handed. One might think that being at the self checkout counter might be less humiliating, until of course you have to inform the oh-so helpful staff member desperately trying to figure out why the transaction wont go through, that you need to surrender the basket of groceries to her, and that you wont be running to your car for an alternative payment option.

As the days passed on, and the weather put a hex on my original activities I had envisioned for my week, those being catching some rays in the backyard to reclaim my Croatia color which was scalded away by the African sun, I began to realize that the homeless person lifestyle I had come to know and love for its acceptance overseas simply wouldn't cut it back home. I needed a plan. I immediately consulted an episode of "Til' Debt do us Part" for guidance, and unfortunately this catapulted me into marathon of "Bulging Brides", not a complete waste of time, but sufficient enough to mention. What I did learn from the fraction of educational content included, was that I needed to outline a set of goals, and eventually, tackle the actual execution of efforts. I compiled a small list of goals, obviously descending in order of likeliness to come to fruition.

1. Prepare a relatively healthy meal for dinner.
2. Search the internet for prospective part time jobs.
3. E-mail my resume to the family computer, so I can use the printer to deliver my resumes.
4. Perhaps put my relationship with Tivo on hold.
5. Have a garage sale of whatever I need to sell to the pay off my debts to Visa.
6. Become an intermediate Tennis player.
7. Secure full time employment.
8. Move out by September 1.

After completing the list, I began to get stressed out. "As if any of these are possible" I groaned. I pulled myself together, and began gathering enough change from around desk drawers and table tops in my room to purchase some polysporin for my mysterious "yet to heal" wounds still lingering from my travels. I wanted to call 311.. my own version of 911, as it frankly answers all of my prayers, and has been rather helpful in past predicaments. I remember less fondly, around two years ago as I was frantically driving around an Industrial park in Calgary, disturbingly close to missing a job interview. My immediate reaction to being lost was to call 311. "311, How can I help you?".. "Hi, I need some help, I'm lost, I have a job interview in 4 minutes, can you help me please?" Being quite unhelpful the woman explained to me that it wasn't a personal emergency service, and that she couldn't help me. "Could you just look up the number of the interview office, and tell them that I am coming but might be late!" I reasoned, in a last ditch attempt to solve my problem. I cant remember if she responded, or simply hung up, but typically this route of crisis managment works wonders.

Since the completion of the list, X many days ago, I have begun to pull together the strength to at least prepare to get prepared to start getting the wheels of my future in motion, and despite discovering new excuses every day to prolong the period needed to recover from jet lag, I am slowly getting myself back on track.

B

The First Of Millions

On The Road

I figured I should take a break from playing connect the dots 
with my bed bug bites to update my fantastic blog site. 
Our time in Jordan has sadly come to an end, and unfortunatley, 
we are back in the Cairo airport waiting for our flight back 
to Istanbul, aka. Our sanctuary. "We better not have to 
leave the gate" we snapped, after landing in Cairo. 
Our flight from Amman was quite uneventful, except for our 
flight attendant who was shamelessly hitting on Cam the entire 
time. He first made his "love at first sight" emotions clear, 
when asking at the begining of the flight if we were stopping 
in Cairo or transiting through. He begged Cam to stay in Cairo, 
and when hearing that we were Canadian he insisted he could 
come to Montreal to be with her. We thought that was a pretty 
random city until we opened the flight operations guide and 
saw that EgyptAir flies direct to Montreal, its only Canadian 
destination. After burning a hole through her shirt for the 
duration of the flight, he blessed us all with three free 
juice boxes.. One of the cheapest offerings we have received 
for marriage to date. "Do whatever you need to to get us into 
first class" I insisted. We had to settle for the orange juice.

During our four hour layover, we decided that we needed to 
convert our remaining Jordanian Dinars, so that we could 
have one final craptastic egyptian mea in the terminal. 
They had no currency conversion office on our side of the 
terminal, so we sent Lindsay back through customs to do 
the task. I stood and watched as she handed off her passport 
and boarding pass to a security guard, and then disapear into 
the hustle and bustle. As time pased on, and Linds didn't 
reappear, I began to think about how long I had to wait before 
going back to Cam and sounding the alarm of Linds' new missing 
persons status. I feared Cams reaction at our foolish plan of 
seperating and Linds vanishing through reverse customs alone, 
without her passport. What seemed like centuries later, Linds 
reappeared, currency in hand, I thanked Allah, and we were on 
our way. Almost immideietly after this, I had to pull Linds 
away from the burger king cashier counter, as she was demanding 
more free ketchup with alarming desperation. "Can I trade you 
this bbq sauce for more?!" She desperatley cried. Upon hearing 
the rejection, Linds wailed "but four just isn't enough for
 both of us!"

B

Hot In Here

I think that if one more person follows up "wow, I am excruciatingly hot
right now" with, "but, at least its a dry heat" I might be in arabia jail
faster than anticipated. Our tour guides first mistake was telling
me that the city on the opposite side of the river was in Palestine, as my
first intention was to find the pedestrian bridge across the casually
mentioned.  We are in Aqaba, Jordan, and despite the air condition-less
hotel stay we had last night, things are fantastic! I woke up at 3am thinking
that I was transformed into a piece of pottery, and being finished in a kiln.
The AC had decided to start pumping hot air into my room, and apparently
into the entire hotel. I marched down the the lobby to insist on getting a
new room, but to my disappointment no one was working. Shockingly my
first thought was not to go back to sleep, but instead to steal internet time,
"if no one was working, no one could charge me" I reasoned. I then
considered sneaking up to Cam and Linds room to sleep. On their spare
couch, but felt too guilty waking them up at now four am.
I went back to my room and sat in front of the opened mini fridge until it was
suitable to head back to sleep.

We are next heading to a bedouin village to sleep in 
the desert, and there I can test my true fear of the 
Desert Camel Spider.

B

Our Time In Prison

Today is our first full day in Jordan. Our final days in Egypt were quite plesant, and filled with rather interesting activities. We climbed the highest mountain in Egypt, and were guided by a local bedouin, who I am certain was an escaped mental patient, and thinking back- I think we were lucky to have made it through the experience in good condition. We were followed up to the summit the entire way by bedouin with camels, preying on the weak members of the pack, offering to take them for an unreasonable at best price. They would target the lallygagers at the back of the group, or those deemed to be "too unhealthy" to summit the peak, and as they were quite blunt, it made for some akward encounters: "your body wont allow you to succeed ma'am." The next day we checked into an all enclusive resort in Nweiba, on the Red Sea. I've never been so excited to have a plastic braclet around my wrist ever in my life. We instantly hit up the swim up bar for drinks at 11am, before unpacking. Perhaps not a wise choise with our snorkeling arrangements a few hours later on. Cam and I chose snorkeling, and Linds decided to test her fate with scuba diving. Our guides took us out on their boat into the Red Sea, and showed us how frighteningly close they could take us to Saudi Arabia. "Just let me touch it!" I demanded. We had a fantastic time out in the sea, and I used up my camera battery taking underwater pictures and videos. We also got to see sting rays swimming below us. On the way back to shore they let us take turns driving the boat, except I was barred from doing so after it was realizied that I would likely steer us into hostile fire in an irrational attempt to add another country to my "been there" list. The next day our creepster guide dropped us off at the ferry port at 11am for in his words "an unscheduled ferry to Jordan", which ended up leaving at 6pm. He was in a hurry to get started on his nine hour journey back to Cairo. His selfish act meant we were essentially held in a minimum security prison for seven hours, mingling with Egypt's worse. Not to mention the infestation of flies. Knowing that we were just down the road from our all enclusive paradise was nearly too much to handle, and the three of us were placed on suicide watch when we were spotted getting a little too close to the rotating ceiling fans. Our new tour guide was likely not impressed with his tour group when we arrived off the boat, but luckily from the looks of it, he will be much better than our previous one. We were relieved to hear he has a wife, and likely won't be trying to get me out of the picture so he can persue Cam and Linds as Mo did on an hourly basis.

B

Mummy Train

Today was our last day in Cairo. The entire group was quite sleepy, as we spent the evening prior on an overnight train from Luxor, and I suspect the train driver was a trainee who definetly needed the practice. The train continuously came to abrubt screeching halts throughout the voyage, and we were convinced a derailment was imminent. "He better have run over scores of animals last night to justify those skills" I insisted. Though I must be truthful in admitting that our lack of sleep could be the direct result of Cam, Linds, and I pulling off all of our bedsheets and wrapping ourselves into mummy outfits to scare the pants off our fellow passengers. All explinations aside, we were tired the next day and our trusly defective tour guide "Mo" whisked us off to the Cairo citadel. This tourist site was actually quite impressive and we all enjoyed the cooler temperatures, due to the thickest layer of smog me, or my lungs have ever seen/enhaled. Perhaps the highlight of this day was at the Citadel, was when Mo began lecturing us about the Gihad (sp?) in a suprisingly supportive tone. Mo then dropped us off, slash abandonded us at Cairo's main market place, and we spent the next few hours fending off the locals, and took a cab back to the hotel for an afternoon nap. Later that night I opted out of an evening dinner and whirling dervish show for and evening of MTV Arabia and apple fanta, as there is only so much whirling a person can tolerate.

At this very moment were are driving via semi-AC'ed bus to the Sinai penninsula to go to Nweiba. Here we are scheduled to clim Egypt's highest mountain, which is the site where the 10 commandments were first learned. We intend to see if we can break all 10 before reaching the summit.

B

Slow Poke

Ok, so clearly I suck at updating my blog, and I put all the blame not on laziness, but on proper access to the net. Plus a twist of laziness I suppose. However, on our many bus rides I have been writing my blog entries into my Blackberry, and I will upload them as soon as I have longer then 20 minutes on a computer. Fellow tourists continue to pace past me, staring at me with those disgruntled eyes, wanting to e-mail their loved ones and such. Not cool. However, this works in favour of my readers, because now my blog entries will have an enhanced "direct from the field" edge.

Right now I am in Jordan, and loving it. Highlights include the Dead Sea, Petra, and "camping" with the Bedouins, which was a tad of a challenge, but, their is plenty of blogging to describe all that mayhem. I will seriously upload them in the next day or two, so keep checking back!!

Miss YALL-Forgive my tartiness

B

Sudan Hot

Since arriving in Egypt, our tour has kept us quite busy, visiting temples, museums and other non-such things. The extreme culture shock from Cairo that I was experiencing was quickly replaced with triple extreme heat exhaustion. I am never usually one to complain about heat, but it is relentlessly hot, all the time. For example, I have been applying sunscreen at 6am on a daily basis, and temperatures have never been below 40C, unless of course it is first thing in the morning, like today, when it was 38C when we began our Donkey trek, at 6am. My life here entirley revolves around proximity to shade, water rationing, and my newfound reliance on AC to survive. Our tour guide is now completley on my bad side for saying that I am too lazy in Egypt, and for mocking my daily stints with heat stroke. After leaving Cairo, we headed south, via train to Aswan, and spent a lot of time touring the Egyptian temples around the area, including Abu Simbel, which happened to be on the Egyptian/Sudan border, which was disturbingly sweltering hot in every way. It is best compared to when you open your oven to check on your delicious baked goods, and you jump back from the wall of flesh burning heat that wafts into your face.. all the time.

Now.. enough e-complaining for one posting. Last night we took a tour-organized horse-carriage ride around Luxor, and Linds, Cam, and myself squished ourselves into one cabin, much to the dissaproval of the general population. Most locals assume that I have two wives, and continuously give me offers to purchase one of my extras. The highest offer as of yet, for Cam, is 2 million Camels and one fish. I always ask them to bring me the camels, so I can inspect the sturdynes of their physique, and general re-sale potential before I make any rash decisions. This usually puts an end to things. Our carriage cut off the main streets and entered an incredibly busy pedestrian market. It was slightly unpleasant, because all the locals had to dive out of our way clutching their babies and goats and we baracadded down the narrow alleyways, pretty much a scene right out of Robin Hood. Probably the highlight was when a local chicken farmer thought it would be a great tourist moment for us, if he snatched a live chicken out of a cage by its neck, and shove it into our faces. I was first alerted of this crime against the cluckster when I heared it sqwacking a few carriages ahead. As he came running towards me, all I could think of was "Avian Flu!", and burried my face into the lice stained fabric of the carriage. Thankfully our driver whiped him with his horse stick before he could do anymore mental damage to my already fragile state. After this atrocity, we continued to smile uncomfortably to the locals we were displacing, and they simply stared back with their American hating eyes.

Tonight, we are taking a night train back to Cairo, and then further connecting to the Red Sea coast where we were promised an all inclusive resort by our incredibly imcompetant slash racist slash creepster tour director.

B

Welcome To Cairo

Our flight to Cairo was an eventful one, mostly because the three of us were so excited for the next lag of our adventure! Mid way through the flight, we were discussing the fact that we were arriving in Cairo the same day as Barack Obama. "Maybe we will see his plane fly past us in the sky" Linds foolishly imagined. "I bet he will hold a sign in the window wishing us a good trip" I sarcastically replied. As you may know, I am a bit of a skeptic.. however, I have been eating my words on a number of occasions since being on vacation. As we landed, I was preoccupied with trying to learn Arabic, when Linds grabbed my arm with incredible force. "OH MY GOD BRETT!" I looked at her with confusion, expecting her to claim her camera was missing, when really, it was tied safetly around her wrist. "AIR FORCE ONE IS RIGHT OUTSIDE!" Sure enough, well pulled up to Barack Obama's plane at the gate. We began snapping pictures like riduclous school children who just saw Hannah Montana. I believe we may have even been escorted off the plane, and the stuarts began to tidy it for the next batch of travellers.

Our excitment quickly came to a halt, when we experienced culture shock like no other in the Cairo airport. We somehow ended up in the Sudan quarantine line, and had a hell of a time trying to buy Visa's for entrance. After we got our luggage we spent a dredful three hours finding our way to our hotel, a hotel which we never bothered to write down the address or contact information for. I would elaborate more, however the wounds are still to fresh for me to recount. However, all I will say it that it involved a corrupt taxi service, vehicle abandonment, and me having to argue with the rip-off taxi leader via our drivers cell phone about how much money we had to pay. I believe I stopped bardering when he said "If you dont like this price your driver will bring you and your luggage to me, and we will have a little chat about it at my office."

B

"I want the tapes"

My apologies for lack of writing, and to be honest, I have no excuses, other than being to frugal to pay and arm and a leg for internet access.

After our train ride to Zagreb, Croatia, we flew to Istanbul, to meet up with Linds who was arriving from Calgary that same day. We did a warp speed tourist visit of the city, as we only had three days before flying to Cairo. On our first night, Linds and I headed for dinner at a restaurant in the main tourist district of Sultanahmet. After our delicious dinner we wandered the streets for a while, making some random, yet exciting stops on the way back to our hotel. We of course headed straight for the four seasons to make friends with the security staff, so when we were discovered in the future for making use of their pool facilities, things might go a little smoother. We got back to the hotel around midnight, and watched some ridiculous movie as we fell asleep. Around this time I was jolted awake with the realization that I had lost my sunglasses, and that I had left them on the table of the restaurant in Sultanahmet. "Dammit!" I wailed, jostling Linds from her semi-coma. "I left my stupid sunglasses at the stupid restaurant-I have to go get them!" After we debated where they could have gone, I got out my shoes and insisted that I had to run back to get thm, before the restaurant closed, and they played the "who are you" card had I gone back the next day. I spent 20 minutes darting through the streets of Istanbul, leaping over mounds of trash, and avoiding sqirly street children chasing me with water hoses. "I hate my life, hate my life, hate my life" I kept repeating over and over. When I finally arrived at the restaurant, there was no sign of the sunglasses, but they were quite helpful, and said, that If I really was certain I had left them there, I could return the next day to review the security tapes. I insisted that this was nessisary, and bid farewell. On the way back to the hotel, I pondered how long it would take the girls the realize I was missing if someone kidnapped me. I even created an escape plan for the inevitable.

The next day, as Linds and Cam toured the Aya Sophia, I headed back to the restaurant and abruptly interrupted a staff lunch, with my relentless questions about the whereabouts of my sunglasses. "If you are absolutley certain you left them here, we can review the tapes Sir," they offered.. "Get the tapes" I replied. I meant business. They took me into a dark cellar, and began reviewing the footage from the night before. There is nothing worse then watching your entire one hour dinner on a TV screen from a previous time, in front of 4 employees. I sat there glaring at my sunglasses, placed just at the edge of the table.. waiting and waiting for the moment we left. As we got up from the table I started freaking out "Leave the glasses Brett! Don't take them!" and sure enough, just after I shooed away a stray cat, I reached for my sunglasses and we headed out. The manager switched off the camera, and gave me an evil glare, "so, you werent certain then were you?" Before I could respond he motioned towards the door, and I shamefully exited the building.

That night I was just falling asleep, and was creepily watching Linds write in her travel journal, and get ready for bed. As she went to put her sunglasses into their case, I saw her shaking it, trying to figure out what was inside. She slowly opened it, to reveal my sunglasses. She sat there staring at them, trying to comprehend how this happened. She slowly turned and looked at me, likely to check if It was too late to stash them into my suitcase. We both burst out laughing. I was mostly relieved that I no longer had to buy new sunglasses from a street vendor, because I could envision the argument over UV protection being intense.

B

Planes Trains and Automobiles

Things have been very fast paced the last little while since leaving Dubrovnik. We took a short yet vomit enducing bus ride through the winding hills of Bosnia to Mostar. Here, we had some delicious "Burek" which is a pastry-ish snack filled with potato and spinach, which was delicious, and we became fast friends. At one point, Cam and I ordered so much Burek at a restaurant, that we sent the server into a tizzy. "But..but.. I just gave your food to the girl" she whimpered with confusion. "Oohh, no thats just for her, we very hungry miss". We spent the next hour force feeding ourselves the five heaping platters of pastries in an attempt to hide our failure. We happened to be sitting at the same table as a British man, working in Sarajevo who quickly understood how foolish we had been, and kindly informed us that it would be OK if we asked for a doggie bag, which would come in handy whilst trying to fend off the stray cats. Our time in Bosnia was delightful, quite different then our routine in Croatia, which consisting of swimming, eating Pistaccio gelato, and creating home made sangria (sp?) in the evenings with our newfound Australian, British, and NZ friends. "We are all from the Commonwealth!" we exclaimed with glee one evening, likely the to shudders of the other tourists who were sitting close by. In Sarajevo, we were blasted with +15C weather, however the incredible sights made up for the climatic reality check.

After our night in Sarajevo, which included a delicious dinner at the Brewery, and unfortunatley the discovery of some type of insects in our beds-which ultimatley led to Cam sleeping in her suitcase, and I, wrapping myself into my sleeping bag.. we then boarded an overnight train to Zagreb. This 10 hour train ride was a rollercoaster of emotions, yet overall, in my opinion, was a delight. We managed to snag our own cabin, a term I use loosely, and we spent a solid 30 minutes devising a plan to convince any incoming passengers to leave, "how to we make a sign to communicate Infectious diseases?" we pondered, and decided to tell anyone who may try to smoke that we were both asthmatic with zero tolerance policies. Luckily, the train was eventually abandonded, likely because the locals knew the implications of travelling via train through rural Bosnia. It was eventually just us and the Gypsies, playing their flutes and devil music in the cart next to us, and once they lept from the train, likely to avoid the ticket guard, it was just us. We were startled awake three times during the ride, and by "startled" I mean with the presense of fire arms, on the authorities of course. "Do they want our passports or tickets!!?" we mumbled under our breaths, as we riffled through our bags in fear.

Eventually we arrived back in Zagreb, Croatia in one piece, and spent the morning migrating from one coffee shop to the next, until it was time to board our flights to Munich, and eventually Istanbul, where I am writing this post.

Tomorrow we are off to Cairo, to begin our tour of Egypt and Jordan. I will make a much better effort to relay the hilarious stories that have followed me on my travels.

Until next time,
B

Dubrovnik

I am still in Dubrovnik, having a fantastic time. We are staying in a great apartment, with excellent proximity to multiple beaches, and fancy hotel pools, which we have been making a habit of sneaking into. Yesterday, our fantastic hostel owner, who loves us, and a pair of Australians who we have been spending out time with, decided to take us out in his car and give us the "Local tour" of the region. He took us up to the high hills that surround Dubrovnik, which were used by the Serbians to attack Dubrovnik in the Yugoslavian war in 1991. I saw the most amazing views I have ever seen in my life, as we overlooked the entire city, and could see the coastline for miles in all directions. We got an excellent birds eye view of a concert being put on in the Old Town, to which the mayor arrived in a helicopter, which we could see approaching and landing from our vantage point. Around this area there were many wild donkeys and goats, which are condidered by the locals to be heros from the Yugoslav war. We drove all around this region looking at the battlefields and remains of many small villages and buildings that were never repaired. I will try my hardest to post some photos soon.

Today is our last day in Croatia, and I am sad to leave, however early tomorrow we are heading to Mostar, Bosnia, which should really be interesting. It is a small town in Southern Bosnia, and is allegedly the hottest town in the world.

B

Beware

After loading up on a riduclous sum of watermelon tic tacs, and nutella anythings, Cam and I once again headed for the night ferry port, eager to hit the high seas back to sunny Croatia. Our time in Italy was a delight, and we spent many hours eating delightful Italian food, and perhaps even more on the beach, in an attempt to even our my ridiculous waist line tan which I aquired in Split last week. It actually looks like I am wearing a dark brown belt around my waist, which as of late looks as if it is made our of aligator skin.

Our night ferry was delayed two hours, and frankly, I dont wish to speak of it, because the horrid memories are oh too fresh to recount. All I will mention, is that although we found some delightful indoor seating to sleep in, we were surrounded by a 50plus person tour group, who insisted on reenacting some kind of riot scene from a movie, which included a riot scene. (Insert movie title here.) This continued for a number of hours, in which I had a minute rage session, and participated in repremanding a 75plus grandmother, would simply wouldnt shut up. Its been a while since I have "shhhed" a person, and never have I done it with such enraged volume before.

However, as we awaited the departure of this doomed ferry ride, we struck up a conversation with a nice Croatian couple would were next to us. We told them of all our travel plans, and they gasped when they heard we were heading to Bosnia next. "Why would you go to that place?!!" the man questioned, as if we had told him we were sailing to the moon. After explaining that we wanted to see the scenery and Sarajevo, he replied "Not nice, nothing to see.. and too many Muslims!" We forced out an akward chuckle in response (which by the way are my specialty). He immideitly followed that up with: "Your not Muslims are you?!"

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Going Overboard

My deepest apologies for the lack of time and attention that I have put into the blog these days, as I have been quite occupied with travel arrangements and sightseeing. In addition to this, internet access has been limited at best.

Our time in Split, Crotia could not have been better, we basically allowed our days to revolve around ice cream, wine, and beach time, and narrowing down the best "UV hour" was pretty much the most stressful encounter we faced. We were lucky to stay in a great private apartment, which a kitchen, living room and bedrooms, so we were quite spoiled. It was nice to be able to make our own meals and hang out in front of the TV for a bit when we needed to unwind. Upon reviewing the future weather forecast for coastal Crotia, we decided to take a ferry to Bari, Italy in order to dodge some rain and follow the sunshine. Being the frugal travellers that we are, we decided to purchase the cheapest tickets possible, those being "deck seats", and feeling guilty about the added costs of spontneously sailing across the Adriatic, I insisted we take the overnight ferry to save on accomidations. That of course was mistake number one, of many.

Our boat left at 11pm, and was to arrive in Italy at eight the next morning. Cam and I raced up onto the ferry deck, eagerly anticipating the outdoor camping adventure we had in store. After spending a ridiculous amount of time laying our our sleeping bags right at the front of the boat where no one else was, and organzing our boat snacks, we were ready for our peaceful night under the stars as we sailed away into the quiet night. As we fell asleep we gasped in disgust at the other deck mates who chose to sleep indoors, "they are so dumb I cant even stand it" I remember mentioning, "Who wouldnt choose to sleep outside under the stars?" Numerous ship staff walked by giving us strange looks. We discussed how jealous they likely were at our campfire setup. "Sucks to be working", we joked. Cut to three hours later, say at 2 am, when we were shaken awake by the high seas which ferosiously attacked our mother ship. Our sleeping bags, now inflated like kites, were erratically flapping in the air, occasionaly whipping against our defenseless bodies. Our faces burned from the continued splashes of sea water, which were turning our flesh into delectable salt licks. I looked over at Cam, who had curled into a fetal position so tight, that I couldnt tell where were head was. I watched as the gale force winds mercelessly pounded against her which relentless force. "Cam!, Wake up! Its me", I felt the need to identify myself, so she wouldnt confuse me with Jesus Christ coming to take her away to a better place. "Im dying" she replied. "We must go inside! Immidietly!" I insisted. Cam slowly revealed her face, still, with visible caution, as part of her still believed that the evil hurricane wind had morphed itself into an identical version of myself.

We gathered the remains of our belongings, which had not yet been swallowed into the sea, and scurried indoors, and found a small remaining space directly next to the ships primary elevator. The next morning, we headed to the breakfast cafeteria to discuss our most recent brush with death, only to discover that almost the entire population of "deck" ticket holders, had created a shanty town inside the restaurant, which apparently, was allowed. As we sipped our boiling hot tea peering out the windows with pure rage, we watched as the well rested squatters awoke from their delightful sleeps. "Just slept like a rock", I overheard. I wanted to explain that we almost became rocks at the bottom of the Adriatic Sea, to this delinquent. I kept my "Genius without a cause" attitude to myself, and continued to glare out the window.

After this dredful experience, we quickly learned that deck seats dont exclusivley insist on the outdoor deck. We wondered how much money the ship staff bet on how long we would last outside for.

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Special Announcement!

I would like to wish JM a very special Birthday in Paris, I wish my funds would allow for a quick flight over to France to wish you Happy Birthday!

Have a Fantastic Day!
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Be A Star

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Good Luck To All,


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Quick Recovery

After a 2:45am wake up call this morning in Istanbul, I headed to the airport to catch my flight to Zagreb, Croatia. When I arrived, thankfully to blistering heat, I decided that I should really put some effort into making use of the public transit system. Always a mistake.. always. I immediately met a Croatian local, who guided me to the appropriate bus to take me downtown, which was a good start. Unfortunately my luck ran out.. quick. Upon reaching the hub of tram lines, I began deliriously lost on the transit system, and spent 2 hours zig zagging my way around the city. I probably asked a dozen locals where I was, via pushing my blackberry in their faces, and highlighting the name of the street I was looking for. Every different person pointed me in a different direction, via a different tram route. Things were not looking well for Croatia, and at one point I wanted to throw myself in front of the oncoming tram.. Then, like I would imagine a religious awakening to be, I caught a glimpse of the road I needed, and fought my way off the tram. Success!

The girl beside me is chewing her gum so furiously that I must abandon this post, but will update you all tomorrow of my days events. I have already been to the tourist center, and plan to put the three maps I stole into good use. There are many walking tours on the horizon. Tomorrow's goal is the learn how to say Hello in Croatian, but as many of you may know, (as I was warned by BatGirl, aka, Amer,) this language is impossible to follow. In fact, I am certain that it is gibberish. Seeing the word "Kjzowj" is completely normal. Try to sound that out, it makes Mandarin look like child's play. Wish me luck!

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Billion Dollar Bay-Day

Last night my tour of Turkey came to an end. Throughout the trip, the American traveler and I spent much more time together, simply because had we not joined forces, the seniors most definitely would have eaten our brains. As the days went on, we became very fond of one particular elderly couple, who eventually adopted us as their "vacation children", and we promptly became a temporary family for the rest of our journey. This incredibly wealthy couple, NYC socialites, who hit it big in the Property Development industry in the States, were pretty much the most fantastic vacation parents. We spent every day together, breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and exchanged sweet nothings as we toured the sites of Turkey. It was a normal occurrence for us to be sitting on the bus, and 'ma and 'pa would holler over to us: "Look Kids! Did you see that!" This scenario was pretty much impossible to beat. They invited us along to help them pick out lavish Turkish rugs, and emeralds and diamonds as "souvenirs" for their real children. Last night, the final night of our tour, they invited us to accompany them on a "farewell evening" an offer which we knew would be impossible to refuse. The glorious day began with a sea cruise of the Bosphorus Bay, and immediately after they whisked us up to our hotel roof top lounge for martini's. It had panoramic views of Istanbul, and the Bosphorous waterway. Our chatterboxing was momentarily muffled by the arrival of a guest via the heli-pad. Afterwards they insisted we head to the Four Seasons for a poolside dinner and "walk of the grounds." They told my vacation Sister and I that since their children refused to travel with them anymore, that they wanted to have a special evening with us. This couple was so fantastic, that at one point, they insisted to our server that the pianist must "quiet down" as he was making it difficult to enjoy the meal. The only downside of the evening, was when 'ma and 'pa told Cee, my vacation partner in crime, that they would look into finding her a publisher for her "allegedly fantastic" personal blog. I regretfully kept my mouth shut about how envious I was, yet lost my opportunity to sell my stories to the world.

We said our goodbyes and thus ended our final night in Istanbul, and I must say it was unforgettable. My original plans of holing myself up in the hotel with room service, Fanta, and the BBC were most definitely eclipsed by this luxurious night out on the town.

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Turkey Continued

I am continuing my travels through Turkey, hopping from one city to the next, and am very impressed with every city we visit. My friend just asked me where I was today and I drew a blank.. a complete blank, which is always a scary thought. I know that I am in the lobby of a hotel, someplace in south central Turkey wishing I could translate the screaming communications between several school children who have infilatrated the hotel. Two nights ago we were at my favourite destination so far, Kusadasi, which is a beach town on the Aegean Sea. We stayed in the most fantastic hotel ever, which was perched right on the beach, and I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks below from my sea view bedroom. The hotel had a beautiful infiniti pool overlooking the water, paired with a lake-style dock over the sea. Despite our 6pm arrival time I immidietly hit the docks, hoping that would be the true indication that my summer had arrived. At dinner, around the time when I mistook an elderly gentlemans small heap of bright coloured medication for "micro mini eggs," pestering him for the details as to where he "found those gems" in the buffet line (evidently "at the pharmacy" is where.) This is also when I scanned my dinner mates as to whom was going to join me for an after dinner swim. Every single person thought I was delirious for even suggesting such a crime. "Its barely even May for heavens sake!" One dastardly woman sneered. "You must be mad!" So around 9pm, after dinner hour was over, I headed for the pool, towel in hand. The Health Club attendant looked on in horror as I passed her by on my way out the door to the pool. "It's only open until 9:30!" she cried, in a final attempt to save me from my fate. In the corner of my eye I could see a crowd accumulating at windows all over the hotel. My fellow travel mates got up to look from the restaurant, which overlooked the pool to see if I was actually insane. I knew at this point I had to just jump in, despite how cold I knew the water surley would be. I dove, well, gracefully threw myself into the frigid water, trying to look as if I was doing so willingly. I could see Nelly and Jenny jumping up and down from their 8th floor bedroom, as flashes beamed from their cameras. I dunked my head under the water to mask my frozen cries for help. Several challenging laps later, when It looked as if the crowds had thinned, and the flashing had subsided, and made a made dash for my hotel room.

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No Shorts Allowed

Last Thursday, Science Girl and I thought we would tackle the streets of Istanbul, attempting to hit up as many Turkish tourist destinations as possible. Slightly put off course by the seemingly imminent violent riots in the area, we found ourselves diverted to a deliciously appealing mosk. Upon entrance, we realized we were both dressed in shorts and clearly two slutty to be welcomed. How could we be so silly? We pondered. I remembered earlier in the day when we were picking out our most outrageous outfits.. "Ill wear shorts and runners if you do!?" we planned. How foolish we were. Determined to get in where we werent allowed, we scurried down the to market place, and purchased two pairs of matching sweat pants from the discount rack for 5 Turkish Lyras.. aka, free. We went back to the Mosk and put on our new pairs of pants in front of a distubringly large audience of onlooking tourists.. "Look at how frumpy we look!" cried Science Girl with bursting excitment. "I like the racing stripes'' I replied. We eagerly walked back up the marble steps to the mosk, feeling so delighted about how non-slutty we now were in our matching clothing, clearing purchased from the lice district. When we entered we were enraged to see the Mosk was under construction, and all there was to see was a white piece of dry wall with sketches of what "you would see" if it werent there. ''Well I guess we really didnt need the pants'' SG said with a defeated sigh. "Do you think the street man will let us return them?" I pondered.

Not to have the experience go to complete waste, we exited, and poceeded to put on a fashion show for our own cameras in front of the mosk..to show case the fantastic new/used wardrobe we had aquired. We then hit the cafe's for Cappy, aka Cherry juice, and some sort of vegetable dish which I have yet to learn the name of. We disrobed from our pants and tried to leave them behind on the table. Much to our disapointment, after we left and thought we had escaped them scott-free, a server caught up to us, returning the devil purchases. We both tried to act relived at their return, and sent him on his jolly way. "OK, maybe we need to find a trash bin?" I suggested... and so is the story of the sweatpants- which eventually hit the pavement.

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