This brings me to my first rant of the day. I think that common courtesy has evaporated from this planet. (Don't even get me started about people who don't offer their seat to seniors on the bus). Basically my day consists of rejection, followed by more rejection. I mean I understand that some people may be legitimately busy and not have the time to hear me out, that's not what pisses me off. What bugs me is the fact that if you walk by me and I smile and say "No worries, have a nice day" how fucking hard is that to acknowledge me? Smile back, say thanks, or maybe even (god forbid) tell me to have a nice day back? Anyone that says that our generation is a group disrespectful prats hasn't been unfortunate enough to come across a suit who has not had their Starbucks fix, or is late to diddle their secretary. Did your mother teach you that sticking your hand in someone's face was an acceptable substitute for a simple "No thank you?" Thankfully, I believe in Karma. I hope that their lattes are made with whole fat milk rather than skim, and that they get a nasty case of the clap from their office shenanigans. It's thoughts like those that keep me smiling.
Work did go well this week. I'm good at what I do. What that is...I'm not entirely sure yet, but I will get back to you. By the end of my first five days, I was rocking a pretty impressive sandal tan, had lost a fair amount of faith in the inherent goodness of people, and was ready for the weekend. I barely had 45 minutes to get home from Stephen Ave, which would have been sufficient time if I would just go and get my damn driver's license. Instead, I had to rely on Calgary Transit, which is about as fast as a special olympics hurdler. I got fed up long before the bus arrived so I decided to save myself the hassle and take a cab home. Between the trip home, and the trip back downtown an hour later, I spent a good quarter of what I had earned that day, but I honestly could not be bothered to care.
S and H were already at the Unicorn and had a pitcher in front of them by the time I got there. We got a couple more glasses for when N showed up, which was a few minutes later. I'm not really big on beer, I have to be in the mood for it. I actually started liking it out of necessity while I was traveling, as it was usually the cheapest thing at the hostel bar...aside from the wine in a foil bag. We decided to try the Wildrose raspberry beer, something that I had been excited for and while initially it tasted great, it left what can only be described as a taste reminiscent of detergent in my mouth.
I think that my alcohol tolerance has drastically lowered since all of the foreign kids went back to their respective countries. Partying with them kept me on my toes. Although I don't really see why light weights complain. I mean, you save loads of money at the bar, what's there to gripe about?
Again, I digress. The four of us headed down to FC for the MSTRKRFT show that night. Security seemed tighter than usual for a concert, which is kind of ironic, seeing as for the most part it was just a bunch of scene kids, whose only crime would be wearing their pants too tight, or being too fucking trendy. I don't know the name of the first DJ, but he wasn't bad. There was hardly anyone on the dance floor when we got there, so we chose to grab another drink and people watch. There was definitely not a lack of material that evening, and watching people just generally make asses of themselves was good enough entertainment until Smalltown DJs came on. I personally really like these guys, they usually dj at Hifi every Thursday night and performed at BSD this year. While their set wasn't mind blowing, it definitely was good and was enough to get the four of us out onto the floor.
Shit really didn't get going until 12:30 or so when MSTRKRFT came on. At that point, anything you had that resembled personal space quickly disappeared. I had insisted that we hung out near the front of the stage, which meant that we were entrenched with all the hardcores. For the most part, everyone was pretty chill, aside from the drunken shirtless asshole who kept throwing himself on me, or the persistent prick that kept trying to grab S's ass. If you are a male and you are reading this, saying "hi" is a much better alternative to copping a feel, but I'm just putting it out there. For the majority of the night, I had to keep grabbing S and move her beside me, while telling the said asshole to go fuck himself. Maybe women are just more adept at reading lips, but I really can't see how that would be confused with "I'm just playing hard to get."
The set was amazing, and kept us going until 2:15 or so, when we were all spent. The loud music, flashing lights, and lack of water was enough to slow us all down. Apparently, they only spun for another 15 minutes, but we were all ready to pile into a cab and head home. I slept for a solid four hours before the guy that mows our lawn decided to do the edging by my window at 8 am.
I love being awoken mid-hangover.
It builds character.
----
0 comments:
Post a Comment