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Back in 2005, I went to France for Christmas. It was awesome, except that the man sitting next to me on the plane was sucked out of the aircraft via the toilet. The man was sitting next to me when we departed from Montreal that cold December night, but once the plane had reached cruising altitude he went to the washroom, and didn’t return. Ever. He didn’t even come back for the things he had stashed away in the overhead compartment.
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The other day, I caught 2.0 trying to plug a mouse into a cd drive. Not a real mouse, bozo. Our wireless computer mouse needed a battery recharge, so I suggested that he use an old-school tailed mouse to get by for a few hours. That’s when I caught him trying to use the cd drive as a USB port, which shouldn’t come as a surprise, because when I first started this here blog? There was a lot of confusion.
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I have two worst-case vacation scenarios in life: Disney World and cruise ships. I mention this because I’m on a break from school this week, and people seem disappointed that I haven’t exercised either of those options to relax. If I were taken hostage by a nefarious street gang, either of those scenarios could be used as a merciless means of torture. Let’s discuss my reasons for avoiding cruise ships. (I believe Disney World is self-explanatory.)
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Some of you have heard this story before. Some of you have not. Enjoy.
Several years ago, long before 2.0 came into my life, I lived in a large apartment building that overlooked the Halifax Common. I shared the building with a man I liked to call Hot Wheelchair Guy (because he was hot and he rocked a wheelchair). He lived just up the hall from me. One day, when checking my mail in the lobby, I saw Hot Wheelchair Guy getting into the elevator, and I decided it would be the perfect time to get an up close, face-to-face look at him – to confirm hotness. I waited for the elevator doors to close behind him, and then made a break for the stairs. I ran past the first floor apartments, past the gym and pool, and headed into the stairwell. I took the stairs three at a time. I ran incredibly quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I beat the elevator up to the second floor. But because I didn’t know just how fast I could move, I also didn’t know that I had arrived on the second floor before the elevator.
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I’ve been super duper busy in recent months. That means I haven’t been around here very much, and I suck at keeping in touch with all of you. I’ve been feeling bad about that, so I’ve come up with a solution to get us through these last few months of baking school. A way for us to get a little closer, or at the very least, make you think I care about you. On occasion, I will be sharing some gems (stupid stories) from an old blog that I’m dismantling. Know that I’m here for you (sorta).
