All things man made…

Today is my birthday!!! I baked a cake. But ate it all before today so I’m going to have to bake another one.

Double chocolate cake with vanilla flavored icing and trimming crumbs on top!

Wigs in general look like something the cat dragged under the sofa, played with, slept in and then discarded in its litter box! But this week, under pressure from my landlord and various bills piling up, I decided it was probably time to mend my hobo ways and find a better paying job!

So I donned my dead creature…

When you beat it use one of those foamy rubber floaters so you don't injure my head!

And ventured out into the way-below-zero temperature to hunt for the elusive job.

Markham, Ontario was my first destination. I got on the street car, hopped on the subway (yes I hopped! Can ya dig it?) and dozed off for most of the way to my destination. The North-South section of the subway transit system is in a U shape, with the bottom of the U at Union Station (they swear they didn’t plan this) and it’s right at Lake Ontario. From the north west at Downsview (where I got the dead animal on my head) to Finch Station in the north east (where my interiew was) the journey would take close to two hours. There are various stops within the city that make the journey interesting and a lot of the stations have very unique tiles which make them interesting to see.

In Markham they have their own transit company that charges  you all your gold jewelry for a trip  one way with a 2 hour transfer pass. I parted with my dowry and rode the Number 2 Bus to my destination. In Toronto (or Tronoh depending on who you are) the street cars, buses and trains are equipped with GPS systems that announce in a very calming and friendly feminine voice, which station/stop is coming up next. The bus driver in Markham must have had his jaws clamped shut by his dentist – and hopefully his dietician – because he grunted the stops. At first I couldn’t make out what the sounds were and it was all very confusing, but when I went to the front to ask him about my stop I heard the grunting noise and understood it’s source.

Which number?

In my excursions in the areas around Toronto I have found that many warehouse structures  were converted to office spaces and many people have their offices in those kinds of places. They’re usually located about 1/4 of a mile from the main street and are sprawling structures with no particular order used to number the spaces. Sometimes  Unit 17 is right up front and other times you have to walk all the way to the back, around the tucks and over the snow mounds to find what you’re looking for. I’ve found them in Scarborough, North York and now Markham. I hate these structures on principle. What? I’m an Architect (of sorts).

Snow hill blocking the view.

Just when my fingers had delivered their ultimatum – warmth or death – I found the office I needed to get to and rushed inside. The interview was a disaster, mainly because the interviewer had already decided she didn’t want me and sent me on my way within 5 minutes after speaking to her. Sigh. Ah well, there wasn’t enough oestrogen there anyway.

Back out into the cold it was for me, where I froze my ass off, used my transfer (didn’t have to turn in my tiara!) and got back to Finch Station and Rode all the way to the other side of town for a second interview.

How low can you go?

2 hours, a bumpy bus ride with a jamaican bus driver who sounded like the shrunken heads in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a 3 block trek through snow falling from the sky and mush squishing underneath… and I found myself sitting infront of an overdressed little man with too much gel in his hair and a HUGE faded used-to-be-gold ring dangling from his ear. Why do they do this to me?! ~~snicker~~ I was cold and tired and Unit 17 wasn’t where it should have been with those crazy warehouse buildings! So I answered his questions with so much less enthusiasm than I should have, but I’m not sure how passionate I should get about dispatch. Ah well! We’ll see!

I’m not sure if el wigo impressed anyone. The hairs just kept flying into my eyes! I could feel them bothering my forhead way into the night. I’m not sure how the caucasian sisters do it and I applaud them coz as soon as I got home that thing was OFF! I freed my tresses – such as they are -  and kept el wigo in a plastic bag where he will live till I need him again. Ugh. Yuck.

Breathe the free air again my friend!