New Year’s Resolution(s)

Wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve been here…

My new year’s resolution has been to write music. This has been somewhat of a challenge, since I’ve never before in my life written anything other than essays and lab reports (and the occasional blog), but  it’s going decently well. I’ve found that the less happy I am, the better my writing gets (so I’m well on my way to becoming Adele Swift), so it’s been a weird year so far.

Second new year’s resolution, that I just made like 5 minutes ago, is to start blogging again. Hooray! (screams nobody)

I’m in the middle of training right now (I work for hover.com) so as part of training I have purchased my very own website! There’s no hosting just yet, so it’s just a blank page of redirections (www.katiepearsonmusic.com) but it’ll be a thing soon. Promise.

I guess that’s my third new year’s resolution.

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Spam, spam, spam, scammers and spam

So I have a thing about spambots, as you may have noticed (seeing as “spam” is one of my most-used tags). Recently I’ve been searching for apartments, as my lease is up as of July 1st. I’ve made the big decision to move out on my own, sans roommates, but I’m beginning to regret that decision, as it’s nigh impossible to find a good, affordably-priced apartment suitable for one occupant in a major metropolitan city (as I’m finding out). I don’t blame the cost of utilities, location, demand, or any other factor for that difficulty more than I blame spambots.

Every time I find an affordable bachelor or one-bedroom apartment in a desirable location (i.e. not Scarborough), I begin a conversation with the person who posted the ad. (I should mention that I am searching online classifieds, and am probably just asking to be scammed.) Here is what it looks like when I email the poster:

Hello, my name is Kate and I am interested in renting your apartment at [location]. Are the utilities included? Is a July 1st move in date okay? And when will you be available this week to show me the unit?

Thanks so much!

~Kate

And this is the general email I’ve gotten in return (from about a dozen different people, at this point, and I’ve only been searching for just over a week):

Hello,

I got a contract job in an engineering company/missionary service/consulting firm for a construction project/religious retreat/big huge job deal thing as part of the structural engineers/dalai lama/royal anteater to build a highrise building/eat some moon pies/pee on boats in London, United Kingdom/Kuala Lumpur/Africa. I am a Building tech specialist/June bug/circus clown, so my accommodation period in [wherever, who even cares] will be about 4 years, so that’s the reason why i am renting out the unit. I do not intend to make profit out of it all i want is to find a good and clean person to take good care of the place/keep the apartment tidy/fill it with bees. I`m the owner of the unit and it is furnished but if you want you can make use of your furnitures and help keep mine in the storage locker which is situated both in the unit and in the building and these does not attracts any funds. [what does this even mean?!]

The monthly rent that am requesting for is $600/$550/$400 and some cheese and these rent is to service the bills which includes all utilities (water, electricity, Internet, cable, 1 parking spots, air conditioning, dishwasher, garbage disposal, microwave, refrigerator, stove, laundry in-suite, washer and dryer) the monthly rent you will be paying includes all this and they will be taken care of as soon as you pay your rent/give me all your money.

Everything in this unit is functional and in good working conditions. Once you started staying in the unit and there is any case of any repairs which is as a result of normal faults like leakages, you will get in touch with me and i will get it fixed, i am in possession of the keys to the apartment which makes hard for you to view the unit [unless you are Superman and have x-ray vision]. You can move into the unit when you receive the keys [NO REALLY??] but the only problem is that am the only person who has the keys but i hope that we will be able to reach a compromise on this. [in plain speak: give me money and hope like hell that I’ll give you keys.]

TERMS AND CONDITION:
~The lease is month to month , 6 month or 1yrs and can be renewed ~It can be rented furnished or unfurnished ~ You will have to take good care of my unit ~Utilities are included in the rent ~Pets Allowed Any further questions please contact and get back to me for the pics and address of the unit. Thank you for your interest and i`m awaiting your response/money.

Thanks.

A lot of the time, the sign off paragraph is loaded with attempts at inducing guilt. “I am haveing for hard times trusting those that wouldst rent of my apartments” and that sort of thing. As if I’m the one that might swindle the person who has six hundred of my dollars and much of my personal cheese collection. As if, after sending them money on good faith, I might somehow get keys to this magically cheap apartment and… what? Never pay them rent again? Which would be hard to do in the first place, seeing as they don’t own any apartments in real life anyway.

These scammers must think they sound convincing, but I’ve yet to find one with a functional grasp of English sentence structure, let alone a convincing reason why they’re asking for money to be wired via Western Union to MALAYSIA or TEXAS, USA. I even had one scammer tell me “Moreover,i would have love to show the apartment to you in person because you have every right to see the apartment you are renting because a lot of fake landlords are on the internet but my friend who ought to handle the deal on my behalf is presently running a management course in Australia.” That is copied and pasted directly from my email.

I am simultaneously frustrated by and amused at the scammers I’ve found while trying to find my next home. While they’re certainly not helping me find a place to sleep/store my useless crap, they’re at least entertaining me (albeit in the least entertaining way possible) while I struggle. So, thanks?

The Boy

There comes a moment in every relationship, just before it starts, where the pending couple is essentially in limbo. They’ve established interest, sort of, and all their friends are now watching and playing “will-they-won’t-they” to see whether the relationship will develop. This is one of the sweetest moments of the relationship, filled with shy courting and covert glances, before it turns to the maudlin, mawkish mush that causes everyone in a fifty foot radius to avert their eyes lest they vomit from the atrocity. During this period, the female (if there is one) refers to her potential partner (if he’s male) as The Boy. This is because he can’t quite be referred to as “boyfriend” yet, and the female usually gets tired of constantly referring to him as “that guy, YOU know…” or “the guy I just met” or “that guy I’m always telling you about, really, you should just assume from now on that I’m talking about him because honestly I’m not thinking of much else right now.” It gets shortened to The Boy, as in, “The Boy walked me home the other day!” and coupled with inane squees from the female conversationalists.

Why am I explaining this?

I’ve found a Boy 🙂

Tumbling like woah

OH HAI GAIS

I finally decided to start a tumblr account. I will be chronicling my fashion choices in the hopes that the threat of public embarassment will be enough to make me actually make an effort with the image that I put out in the world.

Check it: http://uncomfortablyuncool.tumblr.com/

The title pretty much says it all.

(Limping) Life Lessons

Last Monday my left foot decided it’d had enough of this crap and stopped working. More specifically, it developed shooting pain from the fascia to my heel. Naturally, I assumed the worst (plantar fasciitis) and all trips to the clinic and x-rays have so far proved inconclusive. I’ve been limping all week – even Tuesday, when I worked a double – and I’ve learned things about how the world views people. I’m just not sure what the things I’ve learned mean.

For example: With a limp, most people actively ignore me. Panhandlers, buskers, solicitors, those annoying money-gatherers from Sick Kids, even guys who were about to catcall. All silenced when they notice my uneven gait.

The people who don’t ignore me stare at me, as if they’re trying to diagnose me with their eyes. (If only.)

I also learned that if you walk with a limp, with a double-scoop of Honey Crunch on a sugar cone, at 10 p.m. by yourself on a Friday night in February, people are really going to look at you funny.

The Bestaurant

That was the basest pun I have ever written. You now as reader get to make the choice whether to be awed by its majesty or stop reading right now because I’m obviously the worst person ever.

Now that that’s overwith, I’d like to elaborate on my nomination for the Bestaurant. It’s the place I work now – a restaurant aptly named “93 Harbord” – and it is quite easily the best place I’ve ever worked. (Except for that one time I worked for the CBC, that job was cushy as hell. What other national broadcasting station will give a 15 year old her own office??)

Anyway, now that my days as Maeby Bluth Funke are over, I’m working off my little tootsies at a restaurant curiously no longer titled Cafe Metaforia. It’s a Middle Eastern/Moroccan restaurant owned by a jovial, charming man who likes to sit down with his guests over a plate of dessert that he made himself and has offered on the house to people he likes (and sometimes people he just likes the look of). I’m working right now as a hostess/bartender, as training to become a full-time server, and even so my tipout has often been higher than the tips I was making at my old bar. My boss is there every single day, in the kitchen and out on the floor, and it’s pretty much a guarantee that he will have a conversation with every single person in the restaurant by the time he leaves. His personality, his business acumen, and not to mention his delicious menu are the reason there are so many repeat customers – I’ve even seen return visitors in the two weeks I’ve worked.

But I have to say the number one reason why this is the best place ever is the free food that front of house staff are given at the end of the night – a night which, by the way, is over by midnight at the latest. Kitchen staff always prepare too much food when the restaurant opens, which means by close, the servers and I are treated to couscous, rice, or quinoa piled high with tagine, kebabs, biryani, or whatever melange the staff has simmering still by the time the guests have left. Sure beats half priced cheeseburger springrolls at Joe’s.

How I feel…

…when I think about my poor stolen bike. It’s been almost 2 months, but I’ll never forget you, Rusty…

I feel ya, bro.

RAWR

THIS IS A THING

ENJOY IT

 

BETSEY JOHNSON SAYS IT'S TASTY TUESDAY

 

Wednesday comic!

Like a Tuesday comic, only Wednesdayer.

My sister was only 6 at the time.

So I told you I would post part 1 later. This is part one! This is why little girls should avoid asking big sisters (with little to no censor buttons) why boys are boys and girls are girls. Little girls should ask mommies who have experience with this question. Actually, come to think of it, my mom was similarly blunt with me. Maybe not so anatomically specific, but certainly blunt… that probably explains a lot.

FINALLY

I got my computer back. I left it at my parents’ house when I left after Christmas and that was two whole days ago. Which means I a) just finished hyperventilating, b) desperately need to answer about an hour’s worth of emails, c) obviously am procrastinating on that and d) am late for Tuesday Comic once again.

My sister thinks I’m gross. She’s right.

This was drawn back in the days of Biology at U of T, which were soon thwarted by OrgChem as a prereq to every other upper year class ever. I had intended to become a medical illustrator and discovered that many illustrators with Bio backgrounds were chosen over those with Fine Arts degrees. Then I failed Chemistry and went back to English, the end. (Also, yes, it does say “pt. 2” and I will issue pt. 1 soon. BECAUSE I CAN.)