Thanksgiving is technically tomorrow, but I’m working so it won’t really feel like a holiday. It’s been a lovely fall weekend around these parts though, and I’m grateful for the downtime to recharge my batteries (both figurative and literal). Our Thanksgiving dinner will be a potluck feast tomorrow evening, and I will be making cookies tonight to bring in addition to my usual contributions of mashed potatoes, roasted garlic and canned cranberry sauce (which I love). And Diet Coke, but I’m not sharing that.

2011 is going by in a blur. It’s hard to believe we’re already in October – but it DOES mean that this time next week I’ll be in friggin’ London England with Heather and Renee. I started packing on Friday, and have only repacked once so far. I am awfully excited about our adventure – only 6 more sleeps!

In honour of tomorrow’s Thanking Day, here are the things I am thankful for:

• My home and everyone it contains
• True friends
• Being employed in a job that does not suck
• Living in Canada
• Having the opportunities I have
• This Diet Coke I’m drinking

It is good to be.

thankful for skeletal ringmasters

“Wow! You must be rich!”

What? It’s 7:30 in the morning and I’m exhausted. Just give me my Diet Coke. Why are you telling me I’m rich?

“What was that?”

“You’re the girl with the bike, aren’t you? You must be totally rich! You have a motorcycle and a nice car; you’re rich!”

Seriously, what? I AM in the McDonald’s drive through, aren’t I? Or am I just dreaming my whole morning routine and this is some kind of bizarre dream universe in which I am rich that just feels really real? Confused. Tired. Give me my caffeine. You are usually snooty to the extreme with barely a terse word to throw my way in between your eye rolling at my ridiculousness; why the sudden need for conversation about how much money you think I have?

I tried to convince her that  no, seriously, I am not rich at all but she wasn’t buying it. I was startled at how much more attentive she was to my needs now that she thought I was rolling in phat lootz, but beyond the fawning and admiration at my dripping-in-jewels person, I was annoyed. That’s rude, yo. Even if I WAS rich – which holy crap I am so not rich at all – commenting on how rich I am and insisting that I am, like, sooo rich! is inappropriate as hell. If I was rich, I would not be in drive through buying breakfast, okay? I would be on a beach somewhere, having nude people service me from head to toe and also pouring me Diet Coke in a solid gold pimp goblet. I would not be sitting in the driver’s seat of the dented, 7-year old Mazdabator while on my way to a job that is presently terrifying and stressful. I fully acknowledge that I am fortunate to have the things I have and the freedom to do what I do, but I wouldn’t consider that rich – and especially not in the pure dollars and cents way she was drooling over. Rich in love, yes. Rich in opportunity, rich in freedom, rich in boobs. Yes. All those things. Money? Not by a long shot.

I miss the nice Chinese lady who always scolds me for not coming through drive through more often. The money grubbing swing manager can just suck it.

brb. shooting second.

Everyone knows how Steve Jobs changed the world, and how his company is forever stamped on the face of the future (as dictated by handheld gadgets that allow us to fling cartoon birds at pigs). Whether you’re a fan of the products, a casual user, a neckbeard who refuses to use anything but Android or John Hodgman, Apple has seeped into our subconscious and culture. Love, hate, admire, or fear – you can’t deny that Steve Jobs was a visionary who played the game of thrones and won (then died).

There are a thousand websites out there dedicated to Steve and how he gave us the future in a neat little package, and I suppose this is another one. I admired his passion, stage presence, and black turtlenecks. I use and love the products, and always look forward to the next slice of Apple pie. Steve’s Apple gave and will continue to give us a lot – up to and including a wicked dance party:

All these songs and more have made it on my Happy Times playlist. Steve may not have made these commercials personally, but it’s all just a part of the legacy he left behind.

Rock on, Steve.

I am a human being with opinions, which I will share with you now.

On the iPhone 4S:

They’re not going to be for everyone, but one will be for me. There are three reasons I would upgrade my current iPhone 4 – a faster processor (check), a better camera (check), and more space (a very surprised check). I had planned on upgrading if either a processor or camera upgrade was announced, and both are coming PLUS the surprise addition of a 64GB model. Do you have ANY IDEA how many apps I could put on a 64GB phone? A lot. A LOT of apps. This pleases me.

I have a factory unlocked iPhone 4 purchased with the intent of selling it (possibly stateside) when the next version came out, because I’d be eligibleish for a hardware upgrade at that point. My Grand Plan is right on track, and I’ll be attempting to renegotiate my contract with Rogers in exchange for a new phone. At least, that’s the theory. Whether or not things go my way is entirely up in the air. I will attempt to reserve a phone when they hit the web on Friday and go from there.

What to do with my current phone, though? Logically, selling it makes the most financial sense and would offset the cost of the upgrade. However, the thought of keeping it is pretty enticing as well – factory unlock = traveling fun times. I’m getting a UK sim card next week so’s I can flood your Instagram with pictures of Domo wearing wellies in a queue, and it’d be awfully nice to have worry-free data while in the US. I could get a pay-as-you-go sim with data, and go hog wild with the downloadin’ while in America. HMMM.

First World Problems, you are ridiculous.

At least the body shape is the same, so I can keep all my cases. If only I knew where my Hipstamatic case was.

I’m not even going to try getting the iPhone 4S until I return from London (TEN MORE SLEEPS), but iOS 5 comes out next Wednesday and I am excited for that.

On tacos:

I like tacos. This is no secret. Vancouver was once a desert wasteland of terrible Mexican “food”, but now we actually have some decent options to get you through your taco craving. Which is the best, though? It’s all a matter of opinion, so here is mine:

Value, taste, drug references: Chronic Tacos wins hands down. They’re my favourite taco joint (heh), and they’re opening more locations all the time. I’m a big proponent of finding “your dish” at any given restaurant, and once I found mine at Chronic I didn’t look back. I am in taco lust with their battered fish options, they have fantastic salsa, and they serve Coke on tap. The Chronic on Broadway is my favourite, but there’s also one at 4th and Burrard and another on Granville at Nelson.

Authenticity, taste, sign that means “fucking tacos”: La Taqueria on Hastings at Homer and Cambie at Broadway is delicious, there’s no doubt about that. They serve a wide variety of authentic taco goodness, including a number of really good vegetarian options. However, La Taqueria is not my go-to taco place for two reasons: their portions are fairly small, meaning you could spend $30 on tacos on a particularly hungry day and also their restaurants are TINY. It’s always busy in there, so it’s not ideal for a group or anyone looking to lounge over their food. Still, if you’re looking for tasty good times and want something more traditional, check ’em out.

Location, thrill of eating from a truck, cookies: TacoFino Cantina. There are two trucks – the orange taco truck that lives by the VAG from 11-3pm on weekdays, and the blue burrito truck that hangs out on Burrard at Dunsmuir.

To be perfectly honest, I’m not crazy about TacoFino. Their fish is done tempura style, and I don’t like it – all I can taste is the deep fried. Chronic also fries their fish (they do have a grilled option), but it tastes like delicious fish and not mega oil 8000 supreme. I just can’t get past the tempurriness of it all, even though everyone else adores TacoFino and you likely will too. I encourage you to discover your own favourite (the only topic on which my word should ever be taken as law is the never going ass to mouth), as my distaste for tempura is probably insane and not at all indicative of the awesome that awaits you at TacoFino. Besides, it’s not like I won’t be going there at all – they have a spicy chocolate cookie that is INSANELY GOOD and I will go there as often as I possibly can to eat of the cookie deliciousness. Until I make my own (and hell, probably even then).

A word of warning: I’ve only ever been to the blue burrito truck, which only sells burritos and the fish taco. The orange taco truck sells all the tacos, but no burritos. Plan your truck eatings accordingly.

So, there. I hope you will be able to sleep easy tonight, now that you are filled with my opinion of the new iPhone and Vancouver’s taco options. I know I will.

you are getting FABULOUS

I had my eye on this app for weeks, and finally grabbed it yesterday:

Vocabador

Device: All
Genre: Vocabulary training
Price: $1.99

It’s a vocabulary learning tool disguised as a game. Create your character, then take on other vocabadors in the ring as you battle your way to an expanded vocabulary. I LOVE words and think Mexican wrestlers are pretty awesome – so when you put the two together, it is a good time:

el zappo is a rudos luchador and I WILL UNMASK HIM

Yes. Awesome. More please.

I don’t really need vocabulary training what with being a walking thesaurus and all, but I like being continually reminded of my towering intelligence by facing off against a fictional masked wrestler in a word definition-driven “ring”. Plus, you get kicked in the face if you get an answer wrong. This app is awesome.

I generally like what I do, but sometimes I am slapped in the face with the flaccid, pee-dripping dong of truth: I am not suited for training. It’s not that I don’t get the material, or that I have trouble verbalizing instructions or even that I hate presenting – rather, it’s because I fucking hate stupid people.

I am not known for my patience, and that annoyance goes from 3 to I’m going to explode and take you all with me in a matter of seconds. I realize that some people just don’t get it, or they’re bad with computers, or they’re in a medically-induced coma to relieve brain swelling, but I can’t handle their non-compliance of my explicit instructions. I am fortunate enough to “get” things very quickly, and can turn that “getting” into useful information for others .. but if I have to tell you how to do something nine times and you’re STILL clicking on the left menu instead of the top menu, then I hate you and start dripping with contempt and incredulous superiority. It’s frustrating, and maybe it’s all my fault – maybe there’s a better way of saying “click the ‘open calendar’ button on the menu at the top of the page; it’s about half way across and right next to the buttons that say ‘day’ ‘week’ ‘month’ ‘year'”. Maybe I’m accidentally speaking in tongues again. Or maybe you just have no business being in a job where you have to work with computers doing dead simple things that you just. don’t. get. no matter how many times you’re shown.

It’s times like these that I question my accidental career as a technical trainer. I love the documentation side of things, and most of the time I don’t mind the training (I’ll never love it, but it’s better than a lot of other things I could be doing), but my patience for hand-holding and catering to the lowest common denominator is lacking. I’ve been told before that I am not nearly as patient and understanding as I should be to those who aren’t as quick as I am, and I’ve tried – oh lord, how I have tried. It’d be nice if, instead of complaining, they flipped the situation – let’s say you’re the in-house expert on sharpening pencils, and you’re showing me how to sharpen my own pencils so I can be self-sufficient in the art of pencil sharpening. Pretend we’ve had multiple conversations and training sessions on pencil sharpening, and you wrote me some step-by-step instructions for me to print out and leave by my desk, and you gave me some quick tips that’ll make pencil sharpening as easy as possible. Pretend you’ve spent probably ten+ hours on helping me learn how to sharpen pencils .. and for some reason, I still don’t get it. I’m still putting the eraser end in first each time, or using a pen, or trying to sharpen the pencil with my teeth. Pretend my boss is asking you questions as to why I’m still doing this wrong, even though you’ve got above and beyond to help me figure it out. Pretend my lack of understanding is creating work for others, as everyone has to pick up my slack. How do you feel? Are you frustrated and baffled? Do you think I’m some kind of idiot? Are you upset because you’ve done everything right, but I’m still doing it wrong and now management is involved because you’re being blamed for my failings?

Yeah.

herf derf derf

I have made a Momentous Decision:

I am not going to blog about brussel sprouts.

That doesn’t mean I am not still obsessing over brussel sprouts and the sprouty going-ons of the past 10 months, but simply that I won’t be airing my thoughts here .. just  yet. Perhaps one day soon I shall wax beautiful e-poetry about brussel sprouts and how they gone done me wrong (I walk a fine between miss and mistrust), but it shan’t be today.

Instead, today will be about feet.

I am seriously worried about my ability to do as much exploring in the UK as we have planned. My feet, while miles better than they were several years ago, are still finicky appendages of doom. I had my heart set on repairing my favourite (and most comfortable) black boots, but that effort imploded in a fiery ball of terrible customer service and frustration. An entire weekend spent searching for an adequate replacement ended in tears, and I am at a loss. All the shoes I have are fine for work or mild walking adventures, but there’s nothing I can wear to explore a new city that won’t leave me in agony at the end of the day. What am I gonna do? The best I can hope for is to lessen the inevitable pain, but even that seems unlikely at the moment. I am frustrated, annoyed and worried. I have vast amounts of envy for people who can wear whatever shoes they want without having to literally plan their day around the amount of time they’ll have to spend on their feet. I loathe my broken feet. I would like to punch them, but that will probably make things worse.

Still, my non-stop worrying about feet and brussel sprouts can’t mask my excitement at being only 12 SLEEPS from our trip to London. I can’t *wait*. Adventure! Friends! Two whole new countries to be inappropriate in! Squeeee! Even if I’m gonna hurt, it’s going to be SO FUN.

i'm gonna have fun despite you, foot