This afternoon, some of my female colleagues and I went on a spa trip to Sweet Grass Spa to use up some of our leftover extended medical benefits. I booked a 90 minute swedish massage, as did most, while some booked manicures. This place normally requires a membership (that is apparently along the lines of $5000 a year (!?)), but they have recently opened to the public. The whole experience, similar to their website, was lacking. Service was weak, my massage was not nearly hard enough (despite me asking for it to be harder many times -- pervvy minds look away), and the food was horrible. I ordered a "Quinoa and Cured Salmon Salad", and when it came, there was no Quinoa in sight, just lettuce with a few slices of cured Salmon (for the low price of $14). The wine wasn't spectacular either. The UV Steamroom was half broken.
Overall, I'm sticking with my tried, tested and true, The Elmwood Spa. Joshua is a hot hot RMT there, and he, more than once, made the thought of turning over cross my mind. Roar.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I am a size 4
As those who of you who follow me on twitter know, last week I went on a fun date with Crooked Star. I had a massage, and was contemplating canceling the date as it was late, but then he suggested something I couldn't turn down -- "Would you like to come to Holt's with me and help me pick out my sister's Christmas gift?". He immediately heard the excitement in my voice when I said "yesyesyesyesyes", and cautioned me that this was only date number 8, and since I was a bad girl for the last few dates (read: grumpy, hungover and a bee eye tee sea ach), Santa isn't getting anything for me. That was ok with me, still fun to play and try on things. Holt's wasn't a huge success (it is IMPOSSIBLE to pick out for a girl you have never met, and all the things he was initially picking out were $600+ which was too much). So we go to Aritzia.
Now, let me start by saying I LOVE Aritzia. Everything there fits me so nicely, and I almost always want to buy every single thing I try on. We walk in and see an awesome boyfriend jacket and I tell him he must buy immediately for le soeur. Then the store clerk comes over and asks Crooked Star if he needs any help. The boy is trying to pick out a size and says his sister is about my size. Ok. That's fine. The girl looks me up and down and says "What size are you?" I say "a four." She looks me up and down AGAIN and says "no you aren't, I'm a four." This prompts me to look her up and down, and see that she is a twig who is most definitely a zero or even less. Her legs were skinnier than my arms. Twigs that I could snap. I shrug it off and say "well I'm usually a four in Aritzia clothes, but in designer clothes I'm a fatty for them so usually about a six or eight". She then says "Oh yes, Aritzia sizes are sized huge, so you probably are bigger". Lovely, merci beaucoup. Boy then asks Twig to try on jacket (big mistake on his behalf). Twig then removes her sweater, only to have a mesh see through american apparel tank on underneath, with only a lace mesh see through bra. I can't stop staring at her breasts, and even though Crooked Star claims he didn't notice them, I'm sure he couldn't either. Twig then puts on the size four, and voila, it's too big. Quel surprise. Puts on a two, still too big. Have a sandwich.
This is an absurdly long story, but it begs me to ask what the fuck is with the competitive nature of girls? I think it was obvious I was on some sort of date with this guy, and the girl continuously was trying to make me look bad in front of him. I see her every time I go in there (Bloor street, orange hair, even oranger face), and I am tempted to ask her what made her do that? Is it her own insecurity? Is she desperate to compensate for her retail job by making other girls feel bad? Guys are dicks enough as is, I don't understand why girls need to compete. We are on the same team, it's us against them, and we need to teach boys that other girls won't let them get away with wandering.. Not let them know that they can cheat anytime they want because there is an orange skinned retailer around the corner. People cheat, because they can.
And I am a four.
Now, let me start by saying I LOVE Aritzia. Everything there fits me so nicely, and I almost always want to buy every single thing I try on. We walk in and see an awesome boyfriend jacket and I tell him he must buy immediately for le soeur. Then the store clerk comes over and asks Crooked Star if he needs any help. The boy is trying to pick out a size and says his sister is about my size. Ok. That's fine. The girl looks me up and down and says "What size are you?" I say "a four." She looks me up and down AGAIN and says "no you aren't, I'm a four." This prompts me to look her up and down, and see that she is a twig who is most definitely a zero or even less. Her legs were skinnier than my arms. Twigs that I could snap. I shrug it off and say "well I'm usually a four in Aritzia clothes, but in designer clothes I'm a fatty for them so usually about a six or eight". She then says "Oh yes, Aritzia sizes are sized huge, so you probably are bigger". Lovely, merci beaucoup. Boy then asks Twig to try on jacket (big mistake on his behalf). Twig then removes her sweater, only to have a mesh see through american apparel tank on underneath, with only a lace mesh see through bra. I can't stop staring at her breasts, and even though Crooked Star claims he didn't notice them, I'm sure he couldn't either. Twig then puts on the size four, and voila, it's too big. Quel surprise. Puts on a two, still too big. Have a sandwich.
This is an absurdly long story, but it begs me to ask what the fuck is with the competitive nature of girls? I think it was obvious I was on some sort of date with this guy, and the girl continuously was trying to make me look bad in front of him. I see her every time I go in there (Bloor street, orange hair, even oranger face), and I am tempted to ask her what made her do that? Is it her own insecurity? Is she desperate to compensate for her retail job by making other girls feel bad? Guys are dicks enough as is, I don't understand why girls need to compete. We are on the same team, it's us against them, and we need to teach boys that other girls won't let them get away with wandering.. Not let them know that they can cheat anytime they want because there is an orange skinned retailer around the corner. People cheat, because they can.
And I am a four.
Monday, December 28, 2009
02 01 2010
A bit of change coming up in my life on this day. I move into a new apartment, much bigger and better than the shoebox I currently call home. Beyond my move, there is an even more important move happening on that day. He is finally moving to California.
After the many conversations, threats to my heart, etc etc, it is finally happening. I uncovered this after a drunken encounter with his good friend, in which said friend decided to be a total sleaze and try and put his hand up my skirt. This happens to me on a regular basis, where, for some reason when wearing dresses it seems to be interpreted as a call for hand up skirt. I'm wearing tights for christ's sake. Sleaze-bag. It was definitely unnecessary for me to email him after this encounter to tell him his friend is a dirtbag that I will never sleep with. This was after my work holiday party, and 239208 too many shots of whiskey, so who can blame me. However, what this did was open the flood gates of communication with him again. It was nice. We emailed back and forth all of Saturday night, and it was comforting to hear what was going on in his life at that time. Including the wee bit of news that he was finally moving. The timing couldn't be better.
Things with Crooked Star are going quite well, and this might finally be my chance to get over him finally and forever and be with someone else, without the worry of going back to him as always. It's a shame it takes someone leaving the country to forget about them, but it's also damn convenient. Never will I ever have that feeling in my heart, stomach, throat, toes, when you have the dreaded run in. Even worse, with someone else, a very pretty (yet bimbo-y) someone else.
What ever will I blog about once he is gone?
After the many conversations, threats to my heart, etc etc, it is finally happening. I uncovered this after a drunken encounter with his good friend, in which said friend decided to be a total sleaze and try and put his hand up my skirt. This happens to me on a regular basis, where, for some reason when wearing dresses it seems to be interpreted as a call for hand up skirt. I'm wearing tights for christ's sake. Sleaze-bag. It was definitely unnecessary for me to email him after this encounter to tell him his friend is a dirtbag that I will never sleep with. This was after my work holiday party, and 239208 too many shots of whiskey, so who can blame me. However, what this did was open the flood gates of communication with him again. It was nice. We emailed back and forth all of Saturday night, and it was comforting to hear what was going on in his life at that time. Including the wee bit of news that he was finally moving. The timing couldn't be better.
Things with Crooked Star are going quite well, and this might finally be my chance to get over him finally and forever and be with someone else, without the worry of going back to him as always. It's a shame it takes someone leaving the country to forget about them, but it's also damn convenient. Never will I ever have that feeling in my heart, stomach, throat, toes, when you have the dreaded run in. Even worse, with someone else, a very pretty (yet bimbo-y) someone else.
What ever will I blog about once he is gone?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The wandering eye test
We all know it. You are in the middle of talking to your boyfriend, friend, husband, girlfriend.. then all of a sudden a girl wearing less clothing than you walks by. What once may have been staring you directly in the eyes has now been diverted to this subject of interruption. Somehow we have been brainwashed into thinking that this is completely acceptable, because it's just what guys do. Really? Is that really a valid excuse? It starts with a stare, then it leads to all other sorts of wandering. If a boy is with me, talking to me, in my presence, then he should be paying attention to me, not the random girl walking by.
He used to always do this to me. We would be talking and I would notice I have temporarily lost his eye contact and it is now directed towards whatever girl is walking by (half the time they weren't even THAT hot), and it would be for a very noticeable 2-3 seconds... staring. I just convinced myself not to be high maintenance and to just accept it. Sometimes I would even say "oh she's pretty eh?". WHAT WAS I THINKING? This is not okay. Maybe after years and years of dating, when you are finally trusting each other, but at the start? THIS IS NOT OKAY.
So let it be a lesson to you, boys, if you are on a date with me and your eyes are starring at someone else, you will not be getting a date number two.
Am I overreacting? Am I becoming a high maintenance b with an itch? Comment, thoughts!
He used to always do this to me. We would be talking and I would notice I have temporarily lost his eye contact and it is now directed towards whatever girl is walking by (half the time they weren't even THAT hot), and it would be for a very noticeable 2-3 seconds... staring. I just convinced myself not to be high maintenance and to just accept it. Sometimes I would even say "oh she's pretty eh?". WHAT WAS I THINKING? This is not okay. Maybe after years and years of dating, when you are finally trusting each other, but at the start? THIS IS NOT OKAY.
So let it be a lesson to you, boys, if you are on a date with me and your eyes are starring at someone else, you will not be getting a date number two.
Am I overreacting? Am I becoming a high maintenance b with an itch? Comment, thoughts!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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