I bought an elliptical for my apartment, in the probably misguided attempt to exercise more. It was sitting in my hallway all weekend, after struggling with my friend to bring it up the two flights of stairs to my floor. I decided last night that I would finally get it set up. Thought it would take maybe half an hour…that was at 8:30. By 10:00, I was sitting on my floor amidst Styrofoam, plastic bags, and parts of the elliptical that weren’t labelled with the numbers but really should have been, because how am I supposed to know what #42 looks like when the diagram is clearly much smaller than the actual machine? At one point I spent 10 minutes looking for a nut that I lost in the disarray, a fact that made me dissolve into hysterics at the amazing “that’s what she said” opportunity (yes, I was alone). When I finally succeeded in piecing the elliptical together, 2 hours and 15 minutes later, I hopped on to give it a whirl. But the little knobby things on the pedals hurt my feet and the machine itself felt weird, so I got off it pretty quickly.
This purchase may not have the effects that I intended…
Love Struck People Are Annoying
On a normal day, I’m not entirely fond of happy couples. Some may say that I’m jealous, and those people would be correct. But on early morning subway runs when it’s really crowded, and I’m exhausted and more prickly than usual about love, that last thing I want to see is a happy couple wrapped up in the throes of love – and each other – kissing rather loudly than I really think is necessary ever. And I couldn’t even move away from them because I was sandwiched in and no one would return my exasperated glances, which I thought would allow me to make a connection with someone and we could laugh about the disgustingness of this PDA, but apparently no one else seemed to care. And my husband was, like, all the way up the car so I couldn’t even use that moment to bond with him, although if I was in the position of the McKisserson’s with my husband, then I probably wouldn’t stop at kissing. But I would at least try to be a little more discreet.
Side note – there was a girl handing out frigging fliers for a bridal show on the weekend. Do I HAVE a ring on my finger, young girl? No. So move along. Thanks.
Swimming in Niagara Falls Is Not Recommended
(Does this LOOK like a place where you should challenge your balance on a frigging railing?!)
So apparently people are just dying all over the place at Niagara Falls. The latest victim being an international student from Japan or something, which…ok, it’s sad and stuff for her family because they probably thought she could get them green cards once she was over here, and also for the friend that saw her go over because you KNOW she’s going into therapy when she’s older. But come on. How the hell are you falling INTO Niagara Falls? It’s not like you can’t see them. It’s not as though you’re just walking and then all of a sudden you fall in, like “oh my, where did this HUGE 7th wonder of the WORLD come from? I did not see it whilst I was walking – I must have been distracted by the mist and the hoards of people and all the SIGNS!” There are railings for a reason. Yes, they are pretty. However, they are also there to prevent people from slipping and falling into the watery abyss below. So if you’re climbing over those safety railings to see better (because this natural phenomenon IS quite difficult to see from behind a, like, 4 foot railing), you’re sort of putting your own life at risk. Not to mention that there are signs. SIGNS. Why are those even necessary? It should be common sense that you don’t scale a railing that is designed to KEEP YOU OUT and prevent your death. And now people are saying that the railing should be bigger. WHY?! So we can accommodate the idiots that think climbing to the edge of a fucking waterfall is a smart idea? Truthfully, I think that if you’re going to do something that stupid, maybe you deserve to plunge to a watery death. Or at least a watery accident. But that’s just me.
First Impressions Are (Hopefully) Not Always Correct
I had to get my, um, everything renewed today as I was unaware that having a car and a license and, you know, HEALTH meant that I had to keep all my registrations updated. Essentially, I couldn’t drive, couldn’t go to the doctor, and had an expired vehicle. Oops. I spent the entire evening rectifying this situation at Service Ontario in Toronto, where, had I not known better, I would have thought I was at an immigration office because of all the foreign people yelling out in languages that I could neither understand nor identify. And there was a rather obnoxious smell in the air. But my questionable mood changed when I was told that I was ‘very photogenic’ by the nice man at the counter, who I know was lying because have you SEEN my pictures? And then another counter man (yes, I had to see two, that’s how screwed up my stuff was) asked if I was a singer. I could have kissed him (except not because…ew). I was feeling pretty good about myself until the security guard told me to exit the doors – right in front of me – by turning the handle and pushing. That’s when it hit me – did they think I was special?!
Love,
Bella
