Dear Future Me:
You know what? Shit’s stupid sometime. My new job, which is amazing (and also my excuse for not having updated in forever) has been screwing up. Hilariously. And I don’t want to talk to much about it (because it’s the internet, and I’m paranoid) but basically: my old boss never filed the paperwork to terminate me, so my new job couldn’t file the paperwork to hire me. So I don’t actually officially have my job yet.
I tried to get an ECOpass, and couldn’t, and then I tried to terminate myself from my last job, which ALSO didn’t work, then I cried a bunch, and then I asked my HR person if I could please please please get paid, because, you know, I feel like that’s reasonable. Anyway, the pay thing will probably work. Which is nice. I guess.
Then, I went to get my passport, and somehow in the process I misplaced a page of the application. I could definitely fill it in memory, but didn’t have a spare copy. So I asked the nice girl at the desk if she could print me one, and she said she “didn’t have access to it”, ‘it’ being the internet. Seriously? I call shenanigans. Also, apparently I can’t use any pages from their application, because it “looks suspicious”. WHAT. THE. HELL.
And then I walked back to Ontario from Gatineau, because none of the buses were running in the direction I was going. Golden.
In better news, I’M FUCKING GOING TO FUCKING ENGLAND FOR FUCKING CHRISTMAS. This is awesome, for several reasons: one, I’ll be in England, and two I won’t be with my family! You might think I’d miss the warmth and friendliness of my kin during the holiday season, but you’d be stupid. The WORST time to be with your family is at Christmas, especially when they’re crazy. Did I ever tell you about the year that Christmas was almost ruined by turnips?
No? That’s because it’s not even fucking noteworthy.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. They are amazing, crazy people. But you know what? They are amazing crazy people all year long. We can get together some random Thursday and have dinner and experience family togetherness and then we can all piss off, and there isn’t any stress to speak of. I spent last Christmas breaking up with my boyfriend and hanging out alone with the Gorg’s cat, and that was probably the third best Christmas ever.
So, England. At Christmas. Unless the guy I’m going to visit gets a girlfriend in the interim, at which point: too bad, I’m sleeping on the floor. Relationship ruined.
Otherwise, I’ve started the second level of swing dancing! And it’s awesome! Except that one of the guys in our class is the Trololo guy.
TERRIFYING. But fun! Like singing without moving your mouth.
Anyway, I’ll keep you posted about all my adventures.