Hot People Cut Their Losses

So, I never got that coffee date, and really I wouldn't mind except for the absolute DRAMA that went along with never getting that coffee date.
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Dear Single Men: If you don't really dig seeing a girl again, do not - I repeat - DO NOT immediately add her to Facebook. This gives her the impression that you are interested in her. Trust me. I've been there. Recently.

But if you do, and then she subsequently asks you for a coffee date, there are three acceptable responses.

A. Accept the coffee date since, hey, she may end up being the love of your life (please do not misunderstand - I do not want to be the love of anybody's life right now - certainly not when I'm only going to be living in this vicinity for another three weeks, max...I'm just trying to get across that it really probably wouldn't be SO bad to accept the date).

B. Say up front that you had a great time the other night, but you're just not that into a date right now (this, while initially hurtful, is probably your most gallant option).

C. Do not respond to the message, and several days later quietly delete her from your friends list (this is your second most gallant option, because while it will result in 3-7 days of false hope and incessant facebook-checking, at least you're not technically leading anybody on.)

The WRONG thing to do is to accept the date and then provide her with a phone number that does not actually belong to you. That is just hurtful. I'm OBVIOUSLY speaking in hypotheticals here and am not bitter in any way.

Love, Miss T
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Since I had kind of a shitty week, I thought I would indulge myself in a little bit of retail therapy. By shopping for bathing suits. Clearly, I am a genius.

So, while I have been riding my bike pretty regularly over the summer, and managed not to fail at getting up the biggest hill on my ride yesterday (it only took me two months!), I discovered today that there's still quite a bit of butter on my body. These pictures speak for themselves (Warning: I decided some months ago that the next bathing suit I bought WOULD be a bikini, so...yeah...avert your eyes if you wish).
I guess this isn't so bad except that I tend to do things other than stand perfectly still with my arms up slightly trying to hold a camera out of the way of the picture. I hate to think of the rolls and folds that might result if I ever leaned forward. Eep. More work on the bicycle is in order, I suspect.

Also - I never EVER thought I would curse my breasts. Sometimes they like to peek out of tops that I thought were work appropriate and suddenly make them work inappropriate, but they've never done anything terribly harmful to me. I suspect, though, that if I were to wear any of these bikini tops (most halter ties), I would have a half-inch-wide trench dug into the back of my neck due to the weight of my very ample bosoms. The suit on the bottom right actually made me afraid they might try to escape out the bottom. Say hello to my underboob.

I actually tied everything quite tightly for this shot, so you can see how little support this top had, leading me to the conclusion that nobody makes a bikini top with boob support for the affordable department store shopper.

Yergh. Cearly, I came home empty handed. In the meantime, I've decided that the next few weeks are going to involve much more intensive bike riding, possibly a trip to a much fancier bathing suit store (I already had a very serious chat with my visa on the bus ride home), and also some deep contemplation about whether this actually is the summer for a bikini.

As for coffee dates, I'm sure this wasn't my last chance ever.

Hot People Remember the Important Things

Ok - so I may have to take something back I said in my last post. I've had some fun in New Brunswick.

But here's the thing - I have the capacity to drink like a sailor. This does not mean that I drink like a sailor every day (because I do not). Nor does it mean that I should exercise that capacity every time the opportunity presents itself (although I do perhaps a little too frequently). It's amazing, though, what a little liquid courage will do for you (or in Saturday's case, at least a bottle and a half of wine's worth).

As we all know, I have issues with meeting people. When sober, the idea is enough to make me stay home and watch chick flicks. However, recent reports suggest that drunk Miss T was dancing up a storm with half of everyone at Le Club (I'm being French again...can you tell?). Obviously, meeting people was not an issue for me last Saturday. Some girls from work that we happened to meet there even commented on it. They suggested they didn't know I had it in me. I didn't know I did either. In fact, I didn't know I had it in me until my roommate informed me sometime midway through Sunday afternoon (post-four hour nap).

It is very important to note, though, that I distinctly remember most things about the night - the IMPORTANT things, I should say. I have no idea how we got from my roommate's sister's hotel room to the bar, but I definitely remember dancing with this man.

I have no idea when or why we left this bar to go to another bar (actually I do - it had to do with a med student my roommate met and wanted to introduce to her sister), but this remedy to a garden-variety high heel problem (see, I'm not the only one who can't hack it!) was imprinted in my memory long before I turned on my camera midway through breakfast as a means of not falling asleep in my Banana Blast pancakes.

I do not remember that the band was awful, but I do remember that some creepo followed us from the second bar back to the first in the hopes of winning the affections of one of the twins..."whichever one was single". Charmant. Good hair, though.

And I do not remember how long it was between when I wedged myself between two men at the bar (very proud of myself for this courageous move) in an effort to make new friends, and when one of them found me on the dance floor. But I do remember that I felt pretty effing awesome to know that he was looking for me, and I felt really retarded every time I asked him what he did for a living...I think by the end of the night we had reached a total of seven times.
Do you think it affects my chances at a coffee date later? Hope not.

***Also Happy Birthday to my cousin, who may not be reading this, but turns 19 today and gets to enjoy all that night life has to offer.

Hot People Don't Need to Share Everything

I was in my favourite city last weekend to visit friends, go to a house party, and more or less just bust out of here, when I asked my friends I hadn't seen in a while what they thought of the blog. Most of the responses were pretty positive, but one friend asked me about the frequency of posting...he seemed to think I had a schedule. Another friend corrected, telling him that the thing about blogs is you only write them when stuff happens.

And that's the problem with living where I live. My roommate calls it No Funswick and she's more or less correct. To put it into perspective, one of the more popular drinking establishments here is called "Cougars." To put it into even better perspective, our cougar-clubbing expedition did not include a stop at "Cougars." Yeah...that's where I live.

As much as I loved going to Calgary, and back to Halifax, it really wasn't good for me because when I returned here I realized how much I would much rather be just about anywhere else. But, for my friend who wanted more posts, I'll illustrate why I go for quality rather than quantity. Here's my last few weeks in the port city:

Happenings:

Work - this is actually going quite well. It's not actual work so much as a work term required in order to practice as a professional in my field. If this was not going well, nothing would be.

Bike Rides - continued failed attempts at getting up hills. I started this because I was going to ride in a charity bike tour (because hot people do nice things for other people) but decided instead that hot people don't embarrass themselves by attempting to ride 96 km when 20 km is a challenge, nor do they find themselves lost, alone and dehydrated on the sides of country roads. Therefore, I ride only because my roommate reminds me of my hotness goals and that bike riding is my only form of physical activity - and also because going downhill is the shit.

TV - most days I watch it. I'm particularly partial to the offerings on Slice, and Law & Order: SVU reruns.

Finding neat stuff - I realized yesterday that the ditches on the sides of the roads are full (FULL!) of wild strawberries. I ate one the other day and it was really good. I am a full-on daughter of nature. I also found $3.25 in change on the corner where the bus stop is, and nobody around to claim it. Somebody's lost bus change is now my load of laundry. Score. Today I found a cat's eye marble embedded in the dirt path to the grocery store. In my elementary school days, this would have been a prize of value second only to one of those super jumbo marbles. I'm not sure why marbles were such a prize at the time, since none of us actually knew how to play marbles. I only ever used them in our marble run, which, while awesome, did not require "special" marbles like a cat's eye to function properly.

Musings:

Is straight hair hotter than curly hair? I can have both, but straight hair requires much more work. Fewer people have really curly hair (uniqueness is hot, yes?), but I always get more compliments when my hair is straight. Is that just because it's a different style, or because it's hotter?

Is it cool that I'm a bit of an outdoorsy type (see Finding Neat Stuff: wild strawberries)? Is that a universally attractive feature, or does it appeal only to the similarly outdoorsy? Because seriously...I'm pretty proud of the fact that I know a bunch of different types of birds and butterflies, can tell you most of the time what berries are edible, and am pretty awesome at starting bonfires. I think the fact that I'm the resident bug-killer in our apartment takes away from any hotness I might have (perhaps I should start refusing...hehehe!), but I'm really not sure about that other stuff. Is reeling in a three-pound bass by myself something I should brag about? Would it be better to be more demure?

How the crap am I going to get out of here? I'm moving again (to Ottawa, this time) in a month and a half and I really haven't a clue how I'm going to get there. U-haul? Van? Rental car? Sell my stuff in a yard-sale? Stick it on the side of the road? Thumb my way? Help!

AND - is it ill-advised to look for jobs out west solely because I think I'm hotter there? My friend is moving to another city, one where his girlfriend lives, but the GF is actually his fourth-place reason for moving (meaning that really she's his first reason, but he wanted to have other very good reasons also). Hrmm...
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And now you understand my dwindling post frequency. Although THINGS are happening, and I'm having actual THOUGHTS, I'm not sure any of them are really worth writing home about. Unless you found my marble story REALLY interesting...