why do people like me?


So I was writing this post. And then I lost all of my work half way through. Fuck. Mother. Fuck. I feel like I could create a meme on myself right now that would say - "works as a blog specialist... writes own blog and loses all her work". Or something of that sort. But I’m not smart enough to actually make a funny meme. So I’m just going to move on.

The other day I was working out at crossfit, and Josh locked me in the gym because he had to go somewhere. Anyway, he trusted that I wouldn't burn the place down. So I was just minding my own business doing some power cleans, when all of a sudden this dude is standing at the door watching me. He was a builder having a smoke on his break, and he literally was just staring through the glass door being a creep. I even made eye contact with him, pulled a "what the fuck?" kind of face, and he still didn't go away. Eventually he walked off, but then a few minutes later he came back. And brought another guy with him. THE FUCK? What is wrong with people? My creep radar was going off the charts. And seriously, if you're staring at someone through a glass window, wouldn't you at least try to be a little inconspicuous? Guhhh.

I went and saw my Chinese medicine doctor the week after I got really drunk with my parents. One of the first things he said to me was "your liver's weak, have you been having excessive amounts of coffee or tea?".
"No, that's all been normal.."
"Hmm.. what about alcohol?"


Oops. Why yes, yes I have. My poor liver. It can't handle how bad ass I am. And by bad ass I mean a lightweight, because I didn't even drink that much. Plus it was just cider. It wasn't even hard liquor. Ughh. Sometimes I think that I'm actually really lame, and people just see past it because I'm nice.

But I'm not even nice... why do people like me?

Just kidding. I know I'm pretty good. At baking. And feeding people. Damn it. That's why isn't it? Food. That's why Rob says he hangs around me anyway. He's really sweet like that.

Oh and get this. After my appointment, I walked out onto the street and this guy comes past and says, "have a good massage?" like a creep. Seriously? You're going to ask me that? Mother of God. I hate people.

I'm riding my bike! And look at that, I'm not dead! I did almost ride over a kid on my first day riding to work, but that was his fault not mine. I don't have a bell on my bike and I'm not a fan of yelling at people so that's a bit of a problem. I want a horn. Just for something different. But I love my bike, it’s amazing. How stupid is traffic? You kind of feel like an idiot driving around after you realise how much quicker and easier it is to ride everywhere. Plus for most of my ride I can take the bike path so I don’t even have to worry about cars for half the ride. Booyah!

I ate ridiculous amounts of various Asian noodle soups recently. Jonathon and Rob were like “oh yeah, we’d like to see you eat all of that”. Suck it. I totally ate the whole bowl, broth and all. Jonathon was like, “yeah I’m actually pretty impressed…” I don’t know what it is with me and Asian soups, but I manage to eat it all. Every time. Without fail. It’s like I channel my Asian in me, and my stomach grows twice the size and my eyes go all squinty. Just kidding guys. Don’t freak out. I’m not racist. Apart form Asians and Americans but that’s because I am both of those things so it’s okay. Right? I love it how I just called Americans a race. That right there, is such an American thing to say.

We’ve been having this conversation recently that’s been causing quite a stir in our friendship community. If you had to pick three types of protein to be stuck on an island with, what would it be? Yes, I’m aware this question doesn’t really make sense. But just go with it. My top three are pork, duck and crab. My third one is always changing, but right now it’s crab. I think they’re pretty good choices. Fish could possibly be in there because I love Japanese food, but on a whole, crab is pretty freaking awesome. And pork, well, it comes in so many forms how could that not be in there? And duck is amazing all the time no matter what. Lindsay and Jonathon both thought my choice of duck was a bit silly. But that’s because they’re prejudice to poultry. Both of them had horrible experiences with quail as kids. This, I find hilarious. They both recalled stories of trauma and disgust when it came to the eating of quail. Lindsay’s involved a lady with one leg who was dating a family member named Wally, it all was kind of a disaster to begin with really. Anyway, from that point on she concluded, “fuck quail”. Jonathon’s was much more traumatic, basically it involved him having to kill a quail because his Dad told him he had to, and then he made him pluck the bird and gut it. Jonathon was about 6 at the time. I think it kind of scarred him for life. Their hate for quail has brought them closer together as a couple though. So that’s nice.

We spent the night over at my parents’ place on the weekend with Linds and Jon. They made Mexican food. It was a fiesta of the taste buds. We were all just sitting out on the deck drinking and talking, when Mum decides to whip out a box of stuff sort of dedicated to my achievements. This was in response to my last post writing about the participation ribbons I received in school. Well she thought it would be appropriate to share all the blue ribbons I won at school too. You’d think I’d remember some of them, but apparently they weren’t important enough memories. My favourite one was for coming first in cross-country. That is hilarious to me because I suck at running. I need to discover that runner again, delve deep into my childhood and unleash the 12 year old from within.

That sounds really creepy.

Anywho. The box also had some pictures of me acting from my theatre studies plays and performing in our musicals. And that’s when shit got real. Mum and Dad were like “did you know Bonnie performed?” No. No they did not. And that’s when they brought out the DVDs of my old high school musicals.

Fuck. My. Life.

It was kind of ridiculous. And everyone enjoyed it way too much. It felt like it was too stereotypical of a parent thing to do to actually be happening. But it did. And now I’ve had musical songs stuck in my head since then. Awesome.

Dad with his mouth full. Classic eating shot.
I did the WOD 13.3 on Friday. Holy balls it was terrible. 150 wall balls, 90 double unders and 30 muscle ups in 12 minutes. I managed to do the 150 wall balls and that was it. It was horrible. After I finished, I sort of couldn’t breathe, and then I went outside and sat on the curb. And then I kind of sobbed for a few seconds. Like actually cried from the work out. Apart from being physically exhausted, mentally I was a mess. It was this battle the whole time in my head, because wall balls are my most hated movement ever. So, that was embarrassing. Luckily I did it in private. But now I’ve written down so I guess it’s not private anymore! So that was interesting. I’ve never cried after a work out I don’t think? Or have I? Surely not. I’ve almost cried during, and I’ve cried from being injured. But now I feel like I need to make wall balls my bitch. Because really, a ball made me cry. That’s depressing.

You know what really annoys me? When I get home from the supermarket and I try to carry 6 bags of groceries into the house so I only need to make one trip. But in doing so, I make things like 10 times more difficult. And I have to awkwardly unlock the door, then shimmy my way in and in the process my handbag strap gets stuck on the door handle. My handbag getting caught on the door just makes me want to kill everyone. So then I have to reverse until it unhooks all frustrated, close the door, waddle my way up the stairs and then finally place all the shopping on the floor. And Rob’s just sitting there on the couch, and says, “need any help?” Every time.


It’s actually really amusing now writing it down. And I make it out like Rob is lazy, which he totally is. I mean isn’t. Uh. So awkward right now. But seriously, Rob cleans everything. He’s a clean freak. He complains about strands of hair that I leave on the ground. Like I purposely shed my hair in the first place. If I collected all the hair that I leave around the house I think I could make a wig out of it. Or at least a very convincing bun. Or some seedy toupee thing. How ridiculous are toupees? And they’re always so bad. Why? I should go into the toupee making business. I’m sure there’s a niche in the market for it… Not really. That’s a terrible idea.

Sometimes I do this weird thing where I think about what my funeral play list would be. Or on happier days what my wedding play list would be. Just kidding. My funeral would be awesome. But yeah. I don’t know why, but I’ll just be like “yeah, Tom Petty would totally be on my wedding play list.” Also ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’. And Bruce Springsteen. And Fleetwood Mac. And then I’d just throw in some Run-D.M.C. to mix things up a bit. You know how it is. I don’t even know if I want to get married though. One of my friends said she was contemplating getting married so she could get given a vitamix as a wedding present. Those things are like $900. Smart move. I think I would want a “we’re in a committed long term relationship and we want everyone to celebrate with us!” kind of party. That would be bad ass. And we could have a cake. And it could be a peanut butter and chocolate cake. Because we do what we want at our party. I don’t even care about the party anymore, I just want cake. Can you tell I’ve been thinking about cake a lot? It’s taking over my life. I need to bake some paleo dessert pronto. But my oven is kind of a smoke machine at the moment and I’m scared to use it. It’s my birthday soon. I’ve asked Rob to make me this cake. 

I don’t even care if it turns out like this.

I’m going to go eat something now. And watch Human Planet. I’m so obsessed with it. Tonight’s episode is on Cities Surviving the Urban Jungle. It’s what I look forward to when I come home from work. I have a cool life.

No comments:

Powered by Blogger.