Canadian Tire. Just Tires Today, Thanks.

Was SUPPOSED to go to the Thrift Store today to work.

(Bless me Thrift Store, for it has been 13 days since I’ve done a shift.)

My routine on Thrift Store day, is to stop at the Tim Hortons and get a tea and something gross to eat before heading in. Everything was fine, until I came OUT of the Timmies with my hands full of a LARGE tea and goobey stuff, and noticed my car seemed to look TIRED.

It was all LEANING over and slumpy.

Drivers side front tire was FLAT. Again. ( Yes, the same tire that did the same thing in the Awesome. Shit. post I wrote in November.) So, I call CAA.

I wait on the phone for 30 minutes for CAA to just pick up. Because it’s all the snowy weather up here and I’m sure they are busy as shit with people in ditches and stuff. Highways closed, school buses cancelled, blowing snow, and all that rot.)

Texted the Boss Lady to tell her I was going to be late.

Anyway, they came 45 minutes AFTER that. And the Handsome Garage Man in the flourescent orange suit from the garage gave me PROPER shit for even trying to drive on the tires in the first place. Told me I should have my husband make sure I have all my insurance up to date and that I have a will in place. What was I thinking?

(Mainly I was thinking I was told that the front ones were winter, and the back ones were all season when they went on… and what the fuck do I know about tires? This explains the fucking smack up on Sunday a little better though. And there IS no husband, thank you.)

Anyway, Handsome Garage Man put the sad looking donut wheel on, gave me explicit instructions on how to drive very very very slow straight to the garage and get some proper snow tires.

(Even though he was brutally honest, I guess I must have needed to hear that shit today.)

Home was closer than the garage. And, seeing how the garage I went to put those tires on in the first place, I figured a different place would be better. I totally called Canadian Tire.

They had tires. And if I could get up there NOW, They could fit me in ASAP.

Mary Mudder o’ Gawd, Yes, I’ll be right there.

Crawled my donut drivin car up to the CT, and wandered around buying shit I don’t need for an hour.
The Beautiful Man (not to be confused with the Handsome Garage Man…) texted me back and forth, encouraging me not to buy things like an Axe, or a Potty in a Box. He also texted at one point:

“If the Tire Police find you, tell them your HUSBAND sent you!” (which is a running gag about not being allowed into CT unescorted.)

Then I teased him mercilessly about the word HUSBAND, because… well, we both have issues with marriage. Yuck. And, it was the second time it came up today… The husband should get insurance and all…
Anyway, after about an hour, they paged me over the intercom to come to Automotive. (I felt like a real rock star hearing my name over the Canadian Tire loud speaker system. Ya know’s yer a player when dat goes down, eh.)

The tires with all the fees and blaa blaa blaa came to $530. But I have winter tires now.

Oh, and I was HOPING to get a fuck wad of Canadian Tire money from this… But I guess you don’t get that when you purchase actual tires at Canadian Tire.

Where's Ma Money, Bitch?

Oh, and $31 worth of shit in my hour of browsing. But all of it went on my credit card, so what-the-fuck anyway.

Didn’t make it to the Thrift Store at all for my $53 dollar shift.

Dear Universe: I am OPEN. I am LISTENING. Can you PULEEZE be exceedingly clear on what it is I am to be learning from this week? Kay, Thanks. It’s been a long ass week, and it’s only Tuesday.

Love, Gracie.

Sweatin’ With Gigi. Bitch, You Lucky I Love You.

I have this friend, Gigi.  She IM's to me last night over Facebook: “Hey, wanna come to Kick boxing with me?”

And I’m like “Holy Fuck Balls”

Gigi: LMAO

Grace: You are going to kick my ass aren’t you?

Gigi: No I’m not. You have pads. And you will burn serious calories.

Grace: (could give a shit about burning calories) I haven’t cleared my car or my driveway yet. I am still in jammie pants. (It was a shitty snow day. And also 4pm when this convo started.)

Gigi: I’ll pick you up.

Grace: You KNOW what sort of serious asshole I can be, right? What do I have to do?

Gigi: Yes! Wear comfy clothes, and do what we’re told to do.

Grace: hahahahhaa (what we’re told to do. Good lord, woman.) So we just follow along?

Gigi: It’s more of a workout than sparring.

Grace: That’s good, because I have a coldsore right now, and if you punch my face or kick it, it will explode and give everyone herpies. hahahahah

Gigi: LMAO. So, that’s a yes?

Grace: YES. But I warn you. I will sweat through my T shirt and stinnk up the place and everyone will know it’s me, and that I’m with you. Maybe this will start my period that I’ve been waiting on for 7 fucking days.

Gigi: Yeah!

Grace: okay ummmmm… do I wear shoes for this?

Gigi: I wear my vibrams and yoga pants

Grace: I don’t know what vibrams are… but it sounds like it could help my period come on too. hahaha. What the fuck are vibrams and why would you lend them out? Isn’t that kind of personal?

I learned that these are vibrams. They give me the creeps. I was not putting my toes into those. *shivers*

Oh hells no.

Upon arriving, the kickboxing lady, we discovered, couldn’t get in town due to the bad weather. So instead, the fellow who was stepping in had us doing other things..

Horrible things.

There were stations. Each station wanted you to do 50 of something. laps, jumping jacks, high kicks, throwing some impossibly  heavy ball onto the ground and then PICKING IT BACK UP. Then there were the steroid speed crunches, and side crunches, and some ridiculous half sitting legs in and outty crunches.

And then there were the Kettle Bells. DANGEROUS looking mofo’s.And you swing these things around onto your arm, basically. In 3 different sets of 50.

Also, I have no training, and very little instruction was given.

Yeah. Bashin’ Mah Radius wit mah homie Gigi.

This effin blog is long enough. We did the circut for almost an hour (I totally said “eff this” and like an asshole, watched all the others work out while I sat and wheezed. I maybe PERSONALLY lasted 30 minutes.)

Today, my effing thighs are asking me to please kill them.

Gigi and I had a good laugh after. “What a great work out! I lost my dignity, self respect, my bladder, the ability to walk down stairs or sit on the toilet, and a good friend!”

I love you Gigi. Don’t ever do that shit to me again.

I do YOGA for a reason.

Namaste, Mofo. Namaste.

Grace.

Booze Delivery Is An Asshole.

Today, I wasn’t supposed to deliver booze. But, my girl friend who runs this shit up here said:

I LOVE YOU

And like a total Disney Princess, I fell for the bait.

The Beautiful Man was with me for the running around, which was good. He kept me sane. (Or alternately, gives me permission to lose my fucking shit. )

There were only 3 runs I did. $15 in earnings.

The last run, the liquour store overcharged me. But I didn’t catch it till I got to the building where the guy who was buying the liqour pointed out that the charge was about $10 too much. So, I take all the shit back, thinking about the gas I’m wasting getting back. To find the liqour store closed. It’s Sunday. Ofcourse.

So back to the guys building. I’m about to eat $10, because even if I bring the reciept back to the liqour store tomorrow, they are gonna say “yeah, sure we overcharged you.” I’m upset.

Then I turn into the building. Well, I TRY to turn into the building, but the car decides it wants to drive straight.

STRAIGHT into an ice covered planter centre thing. BAM.

Snow all up my hood. Crunchy noises.

I pull back, pull up to the front. Go inside with booze to lose $10. The Beautiful Man gets out and looks at the damage.

There is damage. I have cracked the grill, and the bumper is crushed. Okay. It could have been worse.
I do not cry. Because I still have to drive to my friends house to put all the things in her hands and not deliver booze anymore ever.

So, let’s recap.

Up early on Sunday, on one of the rare occasions The Beautiful Man and I get to have no kid sleepovers.
 No lazing around.
+$15 in earnings
+$3 in my single tip of the day.
-$6 in gas.
-$10 in getting overcharged at Liqour Store
-$250 in car repairs (estimate.)
= $248 in the hole for being on call and running for booze delivery , instead of cozy in bed making smoochy faces with my lover.

Assholery.

Draggy Assed.

I am TIRED. TIIIRRREEED!

Uh. So, normally in my world, THIS time of year is DREAM time. By this, I mean, sleep is screwy anyway, and I spend lots of time in lucid dreams… Going to sleep is no problem. STAYING  asleep is a definate challenge.

I’ve been going to bed at ‘normal’ time… for me, that’s anywhere between 10:30 and 11:30… but I’m waking between 1 and 4am. And then, I LAY THERE. This would not be so bad if I didn’t have to get up in the morning and GO places. By the time the 7am alarm goes off, I’ve drifted back to sleep.

And then what happens is I’ll convince myself in a half asleep dream state, that there is NOTHING in the world I REALLY need to do, so I can turn the alarm off and go back to sleep.

UGH.

I dreamed about the Thrift Store last night. That it was a junk yard, and the Ex Man and Boss Lady were really going separate ways and dividing the business, and they were both wanting me to come with them into their new ventures. It was frustrating. There was so much stuff to sort through before they could go, but there was a big push to leave, a deadline. Like, they couldn’t afford to stay, or had to leave. They were trying to sublease it to someone, but the property wasn’t suitable for anything else.

I suggested they ask some mechanics.

ANYWAY. Have I mentioned I’m TIRED. So effing Tired? Just all around draggy ass?

Haven’t been to the Thrift Store (in waking life,anyway.) since Saturday. We had a few days were the town was literally shut down due to blizzard.

Also, haven’t done any hair art this week. My arms hurt too much from all the shovelling. Its been long hot baths this week.

Grace. Tired Grace.

Booze Delivery And The Beautiful Man.

It’s a Booze Bottle, in the snowbank. My camera is an asshole, but I suppose it’s okay for a booze bottle to be blurry.

I was having not-a-coffee with a girlfriend, just before shitmas, yammering about my layoff at the thrift store. And, she comes back with “You can help me with the booze delivery business I manage.”

I want to help her. And it sounded good. I’m thinking “hey, maybe the Universe is trying to give me a SIGN!”

I did a few days of training with her, driving around town making her laugh. But it felt all wrong. It feels all wrong. I’ve done a few days  – one on my own, and New Years Eve I did a few deliveries before the snow storm got so effing bad that I had to back out.

It’s not worth the effort. And one of the last stop I did, there was a big sign on the apartment complexes door saying “oh, hey, we’ve got bedbugs. Like, lots of them.” and the dude that I was delivering to had 6 empty cases for me to take with me. Which I imagined were laden with bedbugs.

Fucking fuck. Oh, and he stiffed me .95cents, because he didn’t have it, and the alternative was to take the 12 pack of beer back to the beer store, NOT get paid for the delivery, and be out the gas it took to drive it there, and back…

Anyway. Boss Lady asked me if I could come to the store for possibly 2 days a week. I say possibly, because Boss Lady isn’t sure there will be much business, and not much business means not much pay for Mz. Gracie.

So, anyway. ALSO.

The one I’ve been referring to as “A Beautiful Man” has been in 

my life one way or another for almost 2 years. He has turned into “THE Beautiful Man.” We did New Years together, and I actually DRANK. Might be all the time I was around the liquour and beer stores, and it was only a half a glass of sparkling white.  But I hadn’t had a real drink since July. And that last real drink was half a glass of red.

ANYWAY. Can I still consider myself polyamourous when all my amour is poured into The Beautiful Man?

 Dunno. But I’m all stupified with Love and Shit. It feels good, now that I’ve let go of the Fear.

We can ponder more on that later. Right now, I have to pee.

Grace.