Yay.

Okay, so now Richer/Dubreuil

Sure, for some Simpson/Sale may seem like the safe choice. Too safe. It's too easy. They're pretty. They're smooth. They're flexible. Yawn.

I find I'm kind of liking how Richer and Lemieux are doing. They still look like hockey players, except now they're hockey players who are figure skating. So I'm going to throw my hat behind Richer/Dubreuil. (and my hat in front of Domi as he skates by)

And it's starting to get physical in the stands.

We've been asked to clear out the arena after the show each night so that the Gardens can be shut down as soon as possible. This is complicated by the skaters who want to be accessible to their fans, and sometimes will linger at ice's edge gathering crowds like a rolling snowball. So we just have to wait it out, try to keep the fanball from growing, and disperse them as soon as we are able.

Two weeks ago, one guy was bound and determined to roam the arena to pick it clean of any famous personnel he could flush out. So I headed him off after he had Kurt sign a literal stack of glossies. The man wasn't about to allow me, a commoner, to get in the way of his eBay business, and kept walking around me like I was invisible and hadn't spoken to him at all. When that didn't work out for him, he started to argue with me to let him pass. When that didn't work out for him, he started to push through me. Luckily a very large and polite security guard arrived at that moment, put his hand on the guy's shoulder and said "It's time to go sir. This way."

Last week, though, this guy would have been pleased. My section is in the corner of the arena, and I don't know if the production crew ran out of boards or just didn't care about securing my section after doing the rest of the arena, but my section has a gap between the seats and the walkway in front of the seats. I've worked how many days without incident?

Then, last week, I pivoted and stepped towards the seats to show a group of people where they can sit -- and WHOOSH! I was hip deep in the gap between the seats and the walkway. The group I was helping converged on me, as did the other volunteers in sight of my disappearing act. I just lay my head down on the steps I was now conveniently eye-level to, and swore a blue streak in my mind from the pain. Millions of hands helped haul me out of the hole, and I was inundated with questions as to my health.

What did I do?

Pivoted around again, much more carefully this time, and tried again to show the group where they can sit.

I knew I could stand and I knew I could walk, so I knew I would just be dealing with a very large and ugly bruise. And, well, I was right:


I have another one the size of my hand on my shin, but it isn't quite so camera visible (and I haven't shaved my legs in quite a few weeks so why subject you all to that).

The next day, the production crew found time to fix the gap. Go figure.

I'm hoping for Duguay/Underhill

So Sunday was my first night volunteering. Basically I stand at the bottom of my section of seats holding a sign to direct people to the right place. And during the show, I jump on people who try to film or take pictures. Most people put down their cameras when you tell them to. Of course, some argue "People over there are taking pictures!" Well, if I were their section volunteer, I'd be all over them too. But you drew the short stick, I'm your section's volunteer, sucks to be you, put the camera away.

I'm very proud of myself, actually. No sarcasm. No sniping. I've been handling disgruntled audience members with tact and apologies. "I'm sorry for the miscommunication, but the person who told you that you could show up two minutes before we go to air and still have a seat ice-side was mistaken. We can fit you in back here." "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but this is a television show, not a sporting event, so there are in fact no refreshment booths open at the Garden this evening." "I'm sorry for the confusion, but try as I might I just can't champion your inflated sense of entitlement". (<-- just kidding on that last one.)

And you thought I couldn't do tact! (don't deny it)

Food Basics = A - OK by Me

Watching the cashier at my corner Food Basics grocery store ring through my purchases today, I piped up when cereal bars I thought were on sale for $1.99 rang through on the till at the regular price of $3.19. The cashier called for a price check twice, but no one came to her till. A little line of customers waiting to continue on their day was forming behind me, and gosh how I hate when people hold up the line when I'm in it, so I told the cashier I'd just pop back into the aisle myself to see if I had misread the sale price (in which case no price check would be needed and we woudn't have to wait any longer).

When I came back, I told the cashier that I had in fact misread the sale and that the rang-through price was correct. When I thought they were on sale, I had picked up two -- but since they aren't on sale, I told the cashier I only wanted one now.

She asked if the wrong information was in the aisle. I explained no, the information was technically right, but the brand lined up over the sale listing wasn't actually the brand that was on sale. I had just grabbed what was sitting on top of the sale listing without checking brand names.

The cashier told me that the manager wanted to give me the sale price anyway. "For both?" I was intrigued. The cashier nodded. Well throw them back in the pile, I gushed.

What a pleasant customer experience. I just had to share.

Drumroll please...

.... I got it!

I am now a (volunteer) audience assistant for CBC's Battle of the Blades. (www.cbc.ca/battle/index.php)

Hockey players and figure skaters. It's like I'm living my brother's and sister's dreams. Wait a minute -- I'm part of a tv production, so it's my dream too! A trifecta!

There is no pay. But they will give me subway tokens, so at least I'm not out any money. And the company hires from within -- and they consider volunteers "within" -- so if I play extra nice and helpful and don't push any jerk audience members down Maple Leaf Gardens' stairs for giving me guff, I may be able to parlay this into more than subway tokens.

I think it will be fun. And I know it will get me out of my apartment two nights a week until the end of November. Maybe I can meet Ron Maclean. That would be cool.

What Have You Done For Me Late-ly?

I know what you’re thinking. You were there for me for the bathtub. You were waiting with me for the sink. But what about the important stuff? What about the reason why you visit my blog in the first place? My parents will be home from China any day now, and I have every confidence that the first thing my mom will do – other than try to earn back the love and respect of the yappy, hairy four-legged children whom she boarded while gallivanting in the Far East – is check in here to find out: Am I working?

No. No I am not.

But I’m close. Well, as close as I ever was once I moved to T.O. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that my options have not yet been exhausted. So, I guess I’m not “close” as much as I am “not farther away”.

“You’ve got to acc-cen-tuate the positive, e-lim-inate the negative...”

There’s been a general lack of interest on the part of employers in the resumes I’ve sent out for a variety of office jobs as well as production jobs. About a week and a half ago I did have what I guess would pass for an interview-ish meeting for a production job. Of the two people I was supposed to meet, only one was there for most of it. And he mainly wanted to know how I knew the person who passed on my resume to them. When he found out she was a friend of a friend and we hadn’t actually ever met, that largely ended the questions – they apparently mainly wanted to know how much it would pick her off to not hire me, given she was above them in the pecking order. So I was not surprised when I got an email a few days later saying they already had someone else in mind, “sorry for the trouble.” However, that’s the way it goes.

I had another interview today, just for a volunteer job, but it would be for a show running over the next two months, which would serve as a good entry to the production company ... but I shall not jinx it by discussing it here.

(but you could cross your fingers for me even though you don’t know exactly what you’re hoping for)

The Magic Number is 21...

Twenty-one days later -- my bathroom is done.

I had forgotten that bathrooms come with sinks. I actually walked past it this afternoon to wash my hands in the bathtub like I had been doing for the last week (after living two weeks without a bathtub -- no, I haven't forgotten that!).

I didn't even share with you what had happened yesterday, because I was a bit too ticked and tired.

I asked the manager (or, who I had always thought was the manager -- but wait for it) on Monday when the plumber was planning to come back. Nothing. Called her again yesterday -- she told me to speak to the manager because she had been speaking to her everyday and the manager obviously needs a different push. Uh, I thought she was the manager. No. Turns out she's just some onsite ... I don't even know what.

Fine. So I called the woman who is actually the manager. I honestly and truly really hadn't intended to be confrontational or angry, but then the woman said "Okay, do me a favour and a write a note to --"

Well I just lost it. I cut her off and said "No! No, I'm not going to do anyone a favour here when no one is doing any work here. And if I write a note, it is going to be the landlord and tenant board of Ontario" (I don't even know if there is such a thing!) I said I was calling her to find out what is the problem with getting my bathroom finally finished and what is she going to do to ensure it happens, because I reached my limit of patience last week after two and a half weeks of being at the bottom of the to-do list. I said people are quick to remove fixtures from my apartment, then content to leave me with nothing in their place.

And then she passed the buck.

This whole time, the maintenance man says it's the plumber's fault. The plumber says it's the onsite whatever she does' fault. The onsite whatever she does says it's the manager's, and now the manager is saying it is the owner of the building that is holding up the work.

I told the manager I don't care anymore who has to do what -- it's been three weeks and I now expect it to be over. That I wasn't going to talk to anyone else about it ever again and if something still needs to be said in 24 hours, it will being said to the landlord and tenant board. (again, as far as I know, an empty threat.)

But voila: Sink.

Now, I was disappointed when I saw the sink they brought in to put in. It wasn't as nice or large as the perfectly fine one they took out for no damn reason:


But I saw the light of resolution. I let them put the smaller sink in, and locked the door after them as they left.

Nobody knock on my door for at least a month. I am not answering it.

On a plus: I discovered a little doughnut shop at the end of the block that sells iced cappaccinos. Not as good as Tim Hortons' ... but then the nearest Tim Hortons is a 20 minute walk. So, I intend to chalk this little corner doughnut shop up as a welcome discovery.

There's also a pizza place that sells pizza by the slice next to the doughnut shop.

And finally, I kind of accidentally stumbled upon how to tune in five more channels on my television (now I have eight -- nine depending on the time of day). AND -- most importantly -- I've rigged it so that I can even tape shows. I've spent the past few months having to choose what show I wanted to watch most if two or more were on at the same time ... and it was killing me.

So, final judgement: A good day.