I got my eyebrows plucked (by mistake) for the first time in my 25 years of living. This travesty could have easily been avoided if I had been capable of deciphering “Do you want me to do your eyebrows?” for “Do you want me to pluck your eyebrows?” instead of “Do you want me to colour in your eyebrows?” (Seeing that I was in the midst of a NARS Cosmetics makeover session and NOT at a body hair removal clinic, I automatically assumed the latter instead of the former...I mean, can you blame me?!). Unfortunately, my failure to distinguish between those subtle nuances meant that I was forced to endure what seemed like an eternity of torture (the bitch claimed 2 minutes) in the cosmetic section of upscale Holt Renfrew while sitting right next to the busy De La Montagne entrance. Well, of course I was located next to the area with the highest amount of traffic. WHY WOULD IT BE OTHERWISE CONSIDERING MY LUCK?! Now that I’ve lived through the experience, I feel like giving props to my closest and bestest who ENJOY and thrive on the sadistic pleasure of manually pulling out hairs from their upper lip, armpits, big toes, legs, nose, testicles, you name it. Although I must admit: I do like to juggle a smooth set of balls. ;P


Speaking of smooth testicles:

Llife works in the funniest ways. The boyfriend gets handpicked, primped and preened complete with a free new haircut and M.A.C makeover (!!!) to be a “model” for the new LaSalle College campaign while getting paid for it. Simultaneously, I get selected by the YMCA to be a “model” for their new fitness campaign while sporting the dewy complexion of a red-faced cow transpiring in a sauna while huffing and puffing away up the side of Mt. Royal. Huh.


Speaking of transpiring cows:

I can’t think of a better way to finish a good workout than by voluntarily getting down on my hands and knees on top of scenic Mt. Royal and scurrying under 30 sets of sweat dripping male and female crotches and vice versa. Mind you, my rather short legs meant that I was literally riding on the transpiring backs of my 30 fellow Boot Camp sufferers...(much to the delight of amused but bemused passerbys, I’m sure).


Speaking of modeling:

Can someone explain to me why Redlite Afterhours would handpick 13 pictures highlighting their 13th anniversary, omit every single photo of those hot and leggy female models wearing nothing from head to toe but body paint and instead, opt to post up an unappealing close-up mug shot of a PIG?!? And then they wonder why people prefer to stay away from Redlite! (besides avoiding the ravenous snapping jaws of hungry Asian cougars in heat, that is)

*FYI: for those of you still in the dark, PIG is synonymous with DRE.

Life as an Academic Coordinator:

As though ploughing through 60 boring CVs a day isn’t tedious enough, I constantly get stumped by the abundance of potential English and French language teachers seeking work at GEOS and yet submitting their CVs riddled with a variety of language-related errors. I feel like taking the time to send back their CVs along with a note saying: “Talk to me once you can prove to me that you’re a competent HUMAN BEING LET ALONE LANGUAGE TEACHER by finding 8 of your own mistakes in your CV.” The worst part is that mistakes like “Voici ma lettre de preZentation” and “I am situaTION in Montreal” can’t even be considered as typos! And FYI: if you want to increase your chances of getting an interview, please address your CV to “Ms. Andrea Lee” and not “MR. An-dr”DOUBLE-E”-a Lee! Don’t remind me of that other idiot who accidentally sends me the draft version of his CV (complete with highlighted work-in-progress sections + italicized university and workplace names with question marks next to them...why?... because he can’t remember where he went to school or worked?! Ummm...SHADY)!


Crack Whores R Us

Now on to other superficially sad matters...my hair. Not that I ever really had a doubt, but Montreal hair technology just doesn’t live up to that of the Japanese because my attempts to recreate that same beautiful golden hue from Japan was replaced by the straw-y yellow washed out dye job of a Chinese crackwhore with bangs (or a FRINGE for my fellow UK friends). One of my teachers said that she couldn’t concentrate while talking to me cuz my hair was so bright. On the other hand, another teacher innocently said (with reference to this week’s rather gloomy weather): “That’s okay! To counteract the clouds outside, all we have to do is look at your hair and we see the sun!” (#$%$%^#$)

The Joy of ESL Students

Reason why you shouldn’t send a Japanese English-as-a-Second-Language intern out to Hallmark to help you select a card for a parting co-worker: