Spa deals

So I sort of have this addiction to online shopping for spa deals.  In the past, I never would have purchased anything online.  I still don’t really, for actual products because I need to see them before I buy them.  But spa deals are different because it’s a service, not an item.  And so I sometimes go a little overboard.  My friend told me earlier this year about Onespout.com, which gives you links to a bunch of deals from various sites like Teambuy and Groupon.  And upon hearing this information, I lost of bit of control.

I’m not a big spender, in that I don’t splurge too often, and I like to find a good deal.  For someone like me, these sites can be disastrous, because they offer you savings and percentages off luxuries that you didn’t think you would be able to afford.  I remember one time going to get a pedicure, something I would do maybe once a year, and I overheard two other customers there talking about how it’s something they do at least once a month.  Really?  Even in the winter?  Who’s looking at your toes in the winter?  But if you can afford it I guess, then why not?

My problem is I’ll buy them and then not use them for months later.  Which really defeats the purpose of saving money on them, since I wait so long before I make use of them.  I still have a Teambuy for a haircut and a pedicure which expires next month.  I better get on that.  It’s a bit of an odd combination, I wonder if they’ll do my toes and my hair at the same time?  I’ve heard that Pink Lime is a good place, so we shall see.  Sometimes I don’t really have time to use them because the places aren’t open late and I work during the day.  But I will figure it out.

I often run into difficulties with all these accounts.  I’m not so good with remembering passwords.  I forgot my Teambuy one and it took a while, getting help from customer service, to actually get it reset.  And then I want to use one of the ones I bought and I can’t remember if it was a Groupon or an Indulgeliving or a Socialshopper deal.  How does one keep track of these things?

It’s often difficult because when I see a good deal, I just want to jump on it right away.  I recently saw one for some sort of hair smoothing treatment.  And then I remembered I had already purchased a hair smoothing treatment that I’ve yet to use.  I guess I should use that one before I buy another one?  But I mean some of these deals only come along every so often, if I don’t buy it now, maybe it won’t be available again when I really do need it?  No, I have self control.  I can wait.  But if it’s not available again when I do want it I will be upset.

It’s actually not that much of a problem really.  I have been using the ones I’ve bought and they have been worth it.  And I actually haven’t bought as many as I’ve made it seem.  And I haven’t purchased one in a while.  I can’t actually remember what or when the last one I bought was.  Well, since it’s been a while, maybe I’ll go check the website now and see what’s available…

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Last Friday Night

No, we didn’t dance on table tops or take too many shots. We didn’t drink at all actually. It was just one of those girls night out type of things where we didn’t really have much of a plan as such. Well we sort of did, but it sort of fell through.  So we made it up as we went along, which turned out to be a whole lot better.  Given that last week was short in terms of work, we were still exhausted by the end of it.  Don’t get me wrong, four day work weeks are great, I wish I could do them all the time.  But somehow it was still stressful.

We had planned to watch a movie on Friday.  We decided on “What’s Your Number?” even though we heard it got bad reviews.  But hey, typical story line, hot guys, minimal thinking involved.  So why not?  The thing about movie times is that they’re always a major inconvenience.  They’re either too early or too late.  Never a nice, normal, in between time.  The movie was supposed to be playing at 7:25pm.  So we needed a quick dinner.  This turned out to be a good thing, as it allowed me to try Japadog for the first time.  I liked it.

When we got to the theatre to purchase our tickets, the movie was not listed.  I began to think I was crazy but I had sworn I read that it was playing there.  Using my blackberry, I checked the website, and the movie was conveniently no longer listed.  But I swear it was listed the night before.  My friend confirmed this.  I think Scotiabank and tribute.ca are just conspiring against me to make me think I’m crazy when I’m really not.  But yeah.  There were other movies, but not ones we all wanted to watch at that very moment.  So we decided to hell with movies, we’ll go do something else.

My friend suggested True Confections.  It was a bit of a walk from the theatre, but it was worth it.  On the way, we passed a huge skunk.  I am terrified of skunks.  Never been sprayed and I hope to keep it that way.  I ran across the street in the opposite direction to get the hell away from it.  When it’s dark, they seem to appear out of nowhere.  You never know when or where they may be lurking.

So yes, True Confections.  Since we didn’t indulge in drink that night, instead we indulged in food.  There were four of us and we each ordered cake.  Well, I ordered pie, cause I like to be different.  My friend and I shared pecan pie and lemon heaven cake, while my other friends shared pumpkin cheesecake and tiramisu.  Since we ordered things to share in that manner, my friend remarked that it probably looked like we were on a lesbian double date.  She said this rather loudly, so I wouldn’t be surprised if some people actually thought that we were.

The rest of the night was filled with a bunch of random and hilarious comments and inside jokes, that when heard partially or out of context, would likely be taken the wrong way.  I can’t repeat them here, you wouldn’t get it, they’re inside jokes.  All I know is I haven’t laughed that hard in a really long time.  As I mentioned, we didn’t drink.  We didn’t need to.  I’m pretty sure people at the place thought that we were crazy or on something or maybe both?  We did get a few weird looks.  Well, maybe more than a few.  But we didn’t care.  We had our cake and we ate it too.  We had good food and good company and that’s all that mattered.

So did we go out and party after we left?  No, we went to my friend’s place and watched food network and Criminal Minds.  Neither were my first choice, but that’s okay.  It’s hard for me to watch food network without getting hungry.  Okay, impossible.  Even though we’d just had desserts.  And I can’t watch Criminal Minds without thinking of Dharma & Greg.  And then I just think “Why are you so angry Greg?  Don’t be angry.” (I’m not actually sure what his name is on the show).

On my way home that night, there were of course drunk people around.  Also, teenagers smoking at the bus stop, thinking they looked cool.  The trip home, always eventful.  But I was very content with my night and my desserts.  I didn’t have to worry about a hangover the next morning or not being able to remember things.  All I had to worry about was how am I going to work off all this cake and pie I just ate?

I hate my phone

I’ve been saying this a lot lately.  I think I’ve probably said this about every phone I’ve ever had.  I don’t know why but they all seem to hate me.  Maybe it’s not the phones.  Maybe it’s me?  Am I the problem?  I never like to admit that I’m the problem.  But I will allow that it may be a possibility, however slight.  It’s not just phones that hate me, it’s pretty much all technology.  I think I’m fairly competent, as much as the average person more or less.  Although the world has become very tech savvy, so maybe a little less competent than the average person?  Yeah, that sounds about right.

I have a blackberry.  Yeah, that pretty much says it all, right?  It’s all about iPhones now, or so I’ve heard.  But it took a while for me to even get a blackberry.  I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t even get it until a few months ago.  Prior to that, I had a flip phone.  With no internet access.  I honestly don’t know how I survived.  Then my dad got a new blackberry through work and gave me his old one.  And then my life went to hell.  Well not really, but I became a little obsessed shall we say?

The blackberry gave me, for the first time ever, internet access from anywhere I happened to be.  I remember one time I was at Oakridge waiting in line for my mexi fries at Taco Luis.  When I came back to my table my friend said “Did you just tweet about it while you were waiting in line?”.  I did.  Because I could.  In the past, I would have had to wait until I got home that evening, sat in front of my computer, and then tweeted about the fact that I didn’t know that Taco Luis had opened up a second location at Oakridge.  Thank God I had the blackberry to allow me to do it right away.

The greatest thing about it is that it allows me to pass the time while commuting.  I take public transit.  Everywhere.  All the time.  It’s about an hour and a half commute each way for me to and from work.  In the past all I could do was text people, but a lot of people are asleep or at work or school in the morning.  And so now I can opt to post on Facebook and Twitter an obnoxious amount of times instead, therefore not disturbing anyone at such an early hour (I have had a couple people complain that I send them texts at too early an hour).

So why do I hate my phone?  Did I not mention that it’s a blackberry?  It freezes.  All the time.  And I mean ALL the time.  I went to Rogers last week and told the guy about the many problems I was having with my phone.  His response was “Yeah, blackberries are like that”.  He was extremely unhelpful and wouldn’t even look up my account until I bothered him to, and when I expressed interest in maybe getting a new phone he didn’t even bother to show me anything they had and just made me feel stupid instead.  I had similar problems when I was with Bell.  Is it me?  Why are technology and the people who represent it so against me?

There was once a day when I did not receive any text messages from anyone.  Even though I had sent a fair amount.  Not only was no one texting me first, they were not even replying to my messages.  I thought everyone was ignoring me.  But I realized some people were still responding to my facebook messages.  It took me a while, but the next day I finally realized that they weren’t ignoring me, my phone was just not receiving messages for some reason.  And it made me realize just how much I rely on my phone for updates and important information from people.  But after that I also became paranoid.  If I didn’t receive any new texts for a certain period of time I wondered, is my phone broken?  Or are people actually ignoring me this time?  But I didn’t want to seem like a sad, desperate person, calling people and asking them to text me just to make sure it was working.

But the worst thing so far, was the blackberry outage last week.  Or should I say blackberry outrage?  I know I was outraged.  My internet and apps were out of service.  No more facebook and twitter updates while on the bus.  No more being able to quickly Google something that I think of while away from a computer.  Okay, so it doesn’t actually sound like that big of a deal.  But it was still frustrating.  I mean we pay for the luxury of this service, and thus have a right to complain.  I remember overhearing another girl on the skytrain last week while she was on the phone.  I heard her say “Oh my God this bbm thing is killing me!”.  I was glad to know I was not alone.  But then I saw a man with a blackberry checking the News1130 website without any issues.  And that made me angry.  Why was his working while mine wasn’t?  Was News1130 more important to him than Facebook was to me?  I think not.

The problem has now been fixed, but my phone still craps out on me, freezes, gives me late notifications, and randomly shuts down.  I’m not going to deny that I may have dropped it once or twice, but it was giving me problems long before then.  But I’m trying to stick it out and make things work between us.  It’s sort of a love hate relationship.  I hate it but I rely on it and we do have our moments.  According to the Rogers guy it’s another 15 more months until I can get credit for a new one.  It’s likely I will not last that long but it will have to do for now.  They say that diamonds are a girl’s best friend.  But my blackberry is mine.  Even if it is a backstabbing bitch at times.

My dad is probably reading this

So I’m one of those people who has this obsession with social media.  I don’t know why, but there’s just something satisfying about updating my facebook and my twitter an obnoxious amount of times.  It’s a problem, I know.  But nevertheless I continue to do it.  Some people have family members on their facebook while others wouldn’t dare accept their friend requests.  I fall into the latter category.  I don’t have to worry about my mom, as she doesn’t understand facebook or twitter and has referred to herself as “computer illiterate”.  My dad, on the other hand, is a different story.

When my dad first got facebook, he asked me when I was going to send him a friend request.  Jokingly.  Or so I thought.  He would ask why I didn’t want to be his friend.  I’m not sure what my response was, I didn’t really have a good one.  But I figured he wouldn’t use it much and would forget about it.  But I guess I was wrong.  I had my settings set to “friends of friends”.  And it just so happened that we had one mutual friend.  And so the inevitable happened, he sent me a friend request.  I declined it.  I had to.  I just couldn’t have him seeing everything I post, let alone having them fill up his news feed.  It was for his own good that I chose the ignore him.

And then there was twitter.  My tweets are usually pretty much the same as my facebook statuses, just shortened sometimes to meet the 140 character limit.  Yesterday, my dad said to me “You’re on twitter?”.  And I asked why.  And he said he was following me and proceeded to read out a couple of my recent tweets from his phone as I looked on in horror.  I pulled out my own phone and proceeded to read over my last few tweets to see if there was anything bad in there.

At this point I’m not sure what to do.  Do I censor myself and only tweet what I think my dad would find appropriate?  Do I continue to post whatever the hell I want even though I know full well he will be able to read it?  Do I create a separate twitter account and protect my tweets so that he can’t access them?  Do I shut down my account and stop this mad obsession with social media once and for all?  I don’t know.  I’ve never been good at dealing with these tough life decisions.

I don’t think anything I post is actually really all that bad.  It’s pretty clean for the most part.  I mean I have the occasional suggestive status update, but then who doesn’t?  My dad was concerned that future employers would be able to see my posts.  But I’m not planning on being a doctor or a teacher and I’m generally not that inappropriate with what I say, so I think I’ll be okay.  When my dad worries about me I know that it’s because he cares.  The fact that I so frequently post about every random thing in my life actually gives him the opportunity to keep tabs on me if I’m vague about where I’m going and what I’m doing.  Sometimes I don’t let him know but I let the social media world know.  The social media world which he is now a part of.  So it’s actually beneficial for him.  So dad, if you’re reading this, you’re welcome.

The night bus

Translink sucks.  Well yeah, that’s nothing new.  And I won’t get into that right now because then I’d just go on and on and not shut up about it.  But one of the many reasons as to why translink sucks is the lack of transportation at night.  Bars close at 2 or 3.  The Canada Line stops running at 1:15.  How does that help anyone?  If they would only make it run 24 hours we would all be a lot happier and a lot safer too.  But alas, it will not happen.  I have the unfortunate circumstance of living in Richmond.  Since cabbing from downtown is crazy expensive, I opt for the night bus.  The sad thing is I still have to take a cab after the night bus.

The night bus is not the best place to be.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.  It only comes every half hour and rarely comes on time.  When it finally arrived on Saturday night, the driver got up from his seat and waited a while before opening the doors.  Never mind that it was damn cold outside and that we were all waiting and eager to sit.  And when we did get on, some asshole complained that it was too hot on the bus.  And proceeded to open all the windows.  He opened one near me, and then went over and sat in the opposite corner.  Thanks for that.

Another annoying thing about the night bus is that it gives passengers a false sense of time because of the route that it takes.  Once it gets going and finally makes it into Richmond, you think, great, we’re almost there!  But not so.  The N10 takes this long detour because it goes by the airport.  If you were to fall asleep & wake up you might wonder where you are because the route is so unfamiliar.  I wouldn’t recommend falling asleep regardless, for your own safety.  There are a lot of weird people out there.  A lot of them tend to congregate on the night bus.

Some people on the night bus, drunk or not, tend to want to talk to and get to know the people around them.  I am not a huge fan of this.  I’m not a very social person in regular situations during the day, and a bus full of drunks late at night would not be the time nor place to change this.  This one guy purposely sat very close to me.  Lucky for me, he apparently lost his jacket somewhere at the front of the bus and went to go retrieve it.  Oh, but he came back.  And then proceeded to complain about how “these girls don’t want to talk to me”.  I was glad when he left.  I also remember an Australian guy on the bus, not because of his accent, but because of his hair.  He had these long, flowing, golden locks.  Quite frankly I was jealous.  The guy beside me asked him where his accent was from, to which this other chick replied “wait, you actually can’t tell?”.

On that Saturday night bus ride, I also met this 17 year old who was, for lack of a better word, interesting.  I don’t even remember what he was talking about, but he went on and on about a variety of topics.  Apparently he had gone out just cause he didn’t feel like being at home and was looking for a 24 hour Shoppers Drug Mart so he could develop the pictures on his camera.  The whole time he was talking I kept thinking, you’re 17!  My brother is 17 and he would never be by himself on the night bus at 3am.  And thank God for that.  I don’t even want to be by myself on the night bus at 3am.  If my brother was bored he’d probably watch TV, or you know, go to bed if it was 3am, like a normal person.  I think this guy may have been at some friend’s party earlier, but where would they have gone?  He wasn’t drinking and couldn’t have gotten in anywhere.  He also had the weirdest hair.  I can’t even describe it but it wasn’t good.  I think my friend likened it to Hanson.

Another individual on said bus was this guy in about his 30s who was going home after working security at some bar.  He said he was going to go home and play star craft and drink alone, and leave again for work the next day.  He and the 17 year old discussed star craft and video games for a bit.  My friend remarked as to how if this is what guys are like, she would rather be alone.  I wholeheartedly agreed.  It wasn’t like he was depressed about going home to play star craft and drink alone.  He was excited about it.  Proud of it.  I mean good for him, I guess.  But sad for women everywhere.

It’s annoying going out late and having to worry about how you’ll get home.  But a car wouldn’t help because it’s not like I would be driving downtown.  Someone once said the problem is that I live in Richmond.  Maybe.  But even if I could afford it, would I want to live downtown?  Maybe I would somehow feel like I’m missing out on the ride home?  As awful as it is, sometimes finding your way home at night is half the fun.  Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself in order to make it through the ride.