Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts

Vague and Mysterious 

Thursday, April 21, 2011 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Urban Dictionary defines Vaguebooking as the following:

1. An intentionally vague Facebook status update, that prompts friends to ask what's going on, or is possibly a cry for help.
2. An intentionally vague Facebook status update, that prompts friends to "Hide" future updates by the perpetrator.
3. Intentional or unintentional vague or ambiguous facebook status message, which people have no clue as to what the heck you are talking about. Also included is posting fragmented song lyrics without stating the artist.

You know the status updates I'm talking about. Everyone has at least one friend on their list that is a professional Vaguebooker. You sign on, and your home page is riddled with some variation of the following:

Wondering if it was all worth it...
That was probably a mistake.
I wonder if he knows?
Ooh I want you I don't know if I need you but I'd die to find out*
Can't believe this is happening!
Life sucks!
This too shall pass.

It's likely that friend who spends way too much time on the interwebs and feels it necessary to post things about themselves in hopes of getting an affirming response. Maybe it's an attempt to be mysterious. Maybe it's an attempt to be clever. I don't know what your intention is because you are being VAGUE. Vaguebooking is like vanity license plates for your car. You understand your angle, thinking that other people will too, but they won't. And they probably don't care. You just wasted your money on something vague.

I have a confession, internets.

Last night I strayed from my usual nonsensical (yet delightfully hilarious) updates and I Vaguebooked. I changed my status to "No wonder I'm singing!" I was not being intentionally vague. I had been listening to Hillsong's Sovereign Hands in which one line says "No wonder I call you Saviour/ No wonder I'm singing!" That was my goal, but I was certainly not clear. Fortunately, I have great friends who called me on my error and made me see the light. Thanks, women. I, Amanda Marie, Vaguebooked, and I apologize.

I now realize how easy it can be to drown in the murky waters of Vaguebooking.

However, all is not lost. I have an idea. Let's start a revolution of sorts, internets. Let's call out our Vaguebook friends. Let us not stand for anything less than clarity. Let us rise above the confused masses and reclaim the art of clear and concise status updates. The next time you encounter a vague status update, do not ask what they mean. Do not inquire as to how you can help. Simply post the link to the following video and let this glorious man do all the talking.




What's the best or most vague update you've read recently?


*100 internet points to the person who can name the song without using Google.

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What I Don't Get About Dudes 

Monday, April 4, 2011 - Posted by Amanda Bast
I grew up with older brothers and a father who are by definition "dudes". They're men. And manly men, too. As a result, I usually get why dudes do what they do. I get why flatulence is hilarious. I get why they need things said straight up. I get that they don't understand mind games that women like to play. I get why punching is sometimes better than talking. I even get that when a guy is staring off into space and a woman asks him what he's thinking about and he responds with, "Nothing," that it is the truth and a completely valid response. Dudes can idle. Like a car. Turn their thinking mechanism off while still sit there and look like they're running. It's miraculous.

Last night as a bunch of us 20somethings were playing some "friendly" dodgeball, I realized something about dudes that I don't understand.

Dudes can't take it easy when they're playing sports.

As I watched all of these strapping young men (and one old brown dude*) whip rubber balls at each other (and at me) I noticed their intensity. I noticed their focus. And I noticed that not one of them had a smile on their face.

It was terrifying.

I've taught many a gym class and have seen this on a smaller scale. Sweet little boys suddenly turned into competitive monsters as soon as you put an elephant skin ball in their hands. When they're tiny, it's still cute, watching them struggle to get the ball to the other side of the gym. But once they grow a couple of feet, add a bunch of muscle and some facial hair and their voices drop an octave or so, it suddenly turns from cute to startling. These men, whom I spend time with on a regular basis, whom I trust, whom I know are gushy little teddy bears inside did not even notice me writhing in pain on the ground. They thought my bruises were kind of funny. They lost any bit of sweetness that I know they have as soon as we put them in the gym with some balls.

I don't get it.

Gentlemen, please explain this transformation to me. As I ice my bruises today, I'd really love an explanation.



*you'll hear from him in the next few weeks

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What is IT? 

Monday, March 14, 2011 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Gordon Ramsay is not a good looking person. You may describe him as someone with a "face like a half chewed caramel*". He's just not a handsome guy. He is also rude, obnoxious and vulgar. He does not appear to be a very tenderhearted individual. He tells people they suck and makes them angry on a daily basis. That's his job.

But.

Gordon Ramsay is an exceptionally attractive individual.

Contradiction? I don't think so. There is something about this man that is oddly compelling. Magnetic, even. Think about it. He has multiple TV shows and books, he is highly regarded in his profession, he is married, he has children, he's extremely successful. Yet, he generally carries himself as a complete jerk. How is a jerk so successful? Why do people value his opinion? Why do others in his field look up to him? It's not his looks, it's not his demeanor, it's certainly not his politeness that attracts people to him. I would say it's not even his raw talent that got him to where he is. Before he started cooking he played professional soccer and would have made a name for himself if it weren't for a knee injury. Talent is not the answer here. It is none of these things.

Internets, Gordon Ramsay has what I like to call "IT".

"IT" is extremely difficult to define. People with "IT" are usually well liked. Or they could be despised. They could be nice, sweet, charming and lovely. They could also be mean, manipulative and obnoxious. People who have "IT" know people. They easily build relationships. They can just as easily tear them down. They make connections. They're usually leaders. They get things done. Or they could totally slack off. When someone who has "IT" talks, people listen. It's nearly impossible to describe what exactly is "IT", but it's always easy to point out someone who has "IT".

Here is a list of people who have "IT":

Oprah. You might not enjoy her, but she's successful for a reason. Because she has a good show? No, sometimes it's terrible. Because she asks good questions? Someone else writes those for her. Because she's selfless? Mmm maybe not so much. Because she's friends with Dr. Phil? No. Definitely not. She has "IT".

Jeff Winger. Have you ever watched Community? This character is the definition of "IT". He doesn't try very hard, but people notice him. He's not a go-getter but he gets things done. He can be a giant sarcastic jerk, but people stop to listen to him. He's the leader of the pack. He has "IT".


Charlie Parker. He was a jazz musician who got into fights, did drugs and frequently showed up to gigs without an instrument. He did everything wrong and was probably horribly frustrating to work with. But when he was doing his thing, you better believe people took note**. I can almost guarantee he had "IT".

Tommy Pickles. His shirt is too small for him. He can't walk very well. He has no hair. Phil and Lil are clearly the cute ones. But Tommy most certainly has "IT".

Rob Bell. Have you ever seen the man speak live? You can't take your eyes off of him. But waaaaait a second here! Rob is stirring up so much controversy in the Christian world. People are accusing him of all sorts of really horrible things and condemning him. I know all of these things. But he certainly has our attention, doesn't he? I never said he was right, I never said he was wrong. I just said he has our attention. That's because he has "IT".

I've only given you six examples of people who have "IT". For the purpose of this blog, these examples  are celebrities of sorts, but I bet you're thinking of someone you know that has "IT".

Your turn. Who else has "IT"? And what is "IT", exactly?



*I adopted this phrase from a guy I worked with. Fairly descriptive. Kind of gross.
**It's a pun, you idiot. (That's for you, Chap.)

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Hogar Dulce Hogar 

Friday, February 25, 2011 - Posted by Amanda Bast
I returned from Mexico on Monday night. You might be expecting a long heartfelt post, but nope sorry. They might slip out sometime in the future. Let me sum up the trip by saying this: it was wonderful. It ripped my heart apart, pieced it back together, and ripped it apart again. I miss those kiddies like you wouldn't believe. And it will be a long time before I eat that many corn tortillas again.

Instead, I present you with a list of things that I've observed over my past four trips that are unique to Mexico. Or at least my version of Mexico. I love this place with a passion, and these things are only some of the reasons I love it in all it's quirky and awesome glory. Here goes:

Weird Brand Names
Bimbo: bread, cookies, cakes...basically anything baked. Bimbo also sponsors a soccer team, so people wearing Bimbo jerseys are a common sight. At the beginning of the trip, one of the guys didn't believe me when I told him this fact. Guess who ended up looking like a true Bimbo.


Boing - delicious, delicious juice


Dolores Tuna - if you don't get why that's funny, then you don't watch Seinfeld.


Scented Toilet Paper
In Mexico you can't flush toilet paper. The pipes are too small. Now I know you're thinking "but sometimes my....larger than toilet paper....how...?" Yes. Exactly. It doesn't make sense to me either. So there is a wastebasket* for your used toilet paper. You can imagine that it doesn't smell the nicest. The solution: scented toilet paper. Now the washroom smells like used toilet paper and potpourri. An interesting combination. Reminds me of those times in high school when the dog food factory in town used to fling open its windows and the smell mingled with the manure from the Menno fields nearby. Just a note: 1 bad odor plus 1 passable odor does not equal a good odor.

Pedal Flush Toilets
Seriously now. This is a stroke of brilliance. No one likes flushing public toilets. I use my foot when possible. I bet you do too. So why not make the flusher a pedal FOR YOUR FOOT? I can't believe we haven't all caught onto this by now.


Delightful Beverages
Dear Coca-Cola Canada,

Why don't you carry Manzana Lift?

It is the best of the best of soda pops. Why does Mexico get this delight and Canada does not? I'll have you know that Canada is rather fond of apples. We have cider and butter and many different varieties of the fruit in our grocery stores. So why not give us the pop, too? I don't drink pop while I'm in Canada, but while in Mexico, my beverage of choice is Manzana. Think of the business you would gain!

Also, since you're kind of a big deal, could you pass along a message for me? Can you just let the Mexico City airport know that I don't appreciate their security measures? After I've gone through security checks and spent 8 bucks on pop at the duty free store, can you please tell the nice people to not take away my Manzana? I waited until I was through security and spent more money just so I could take it on the plane with me, but they confiscated it. I was angered and outraged and saddened that I didn't get to share the goodness of Manzana with my friends back home. So just pass that along for me, mmmkay? Thanks.

Spicy Bland Food
I love Mexican food more than any other food, I think. I love tacos. I love quesadillas. I love taquitos. I love enchaladas. I love sopes. I love gorditas. I love that weird rice juice stuff. I love cactus. I love jicima. I love jalapenos. I love cilantro. I love guacamole. I love mole. I love it all. Mexican food tends to be spicy, but here is the funny thing. The food, pre-spicy goodness is very bland. Corn tortillas are very literally made from corn flour and water. Bland. They add the spice afterward. If you hand a Mexican a piece of fruit covered in chilies, they will enjoy it, while we would turn up our noses. However, if you put black pepper on a dish, someone from Mexico would tell you that it's much too spicy. Black pepper. Too spicy. Mexican food is more about intense heat rather than intense taste.

I hope this has given you a tiny glimpse into the little parts of Mexico that only someone like me notices. The next time I go to Mexico, upon return I'm filling my suitcase with fifty pounds of apple pop.

*I think that's the first time I've ever used this word

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hygienic revolution 

Wednesday, November 12, 2008 - Posted by Amanda Bast
This morning I sent an email to someone in charge:

"To whom it may concern,

I am a fourth year student here at the university, and I've noticed something over the past few years I thought I would share in light of the ecoli outbreak. When I have paid a visit to the UC washrooms, I've noticed (on more than one occasion) staff from hospitality services wearing an apron when they enter a stall. These are the same aprons they wear when preparing food.

I'm not saying that wearing an apron in the washroom is a cause of ecoli contamination, not by any means. Guelph hospitality services has an excellent reputation, but isn't it important to look at the little things like this? I do realize that it is impossible to be 100% sanitary at all times, but I really think this is a simple issue that needs to be addressed. As a student, it is important to know that hospitality services have our best interest in mind.

Thank you for your time and consideration."

This afternoon I got two responses. The first:

"Thank you for your email. We will follow this up. David B."

The second:

"Hi my name is Chris and I am the manager of C6 foodcourt. I thank you very much for your observations regarding aprons being worn into the public washrooms and I agree with you. Today we have informed all staff to make sure when using the washroom they are to remove their aprons before washroom use. We are making every effort to increase awareness among our staff regarding food safety and we thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. Please do not hesitate to approach me directly in C6 if you have any further concerns. Sincerely, Chris"

The world is a little cleaner thanks to me, and this feels like an accomplishment. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go wash my hands.

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things that kind of suck, but not really, and some helpful solutions 

Wednesday, October 22, 2008 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Problem: Starbucks ran out of soy milk
Why it kind of sucks: Milk makes you wheezy and irritable.
Solution: Buy a tea and complain loudly so they give you a free beverage coupon.

Problem: not being able to wear your clogs because they are getting repaired.
Why it kind of sucks: you are stuck wearing ugly running shoes. Clogs are much more stylish.
Solution: Socks and sandals (seriously, this is more stylish than my running shoes).

Problem: your prof wants to meet with you at Second Cup to discuss your paper topic.
Why it kind of sucks: Just plain awkward because it seems date-like.
Solution: sign up for a time in between migrating Sean and Quiet Craig, so the awkwardness of meeting the prof is outweighed by the awkwardness of encountering both of these two outside of a classroom setting.

Problem: you wear a new angora sweater to school
Why it kind of sucks: you discover that you are more or less allergic to angora and you are stuck wearing it for at least nine more hours. Also, it sheds it's pink fur all over your black backpack like nobody's business.
Solution: only wear sweater outdoors. As soon as you get inside a building, remove sweater and itch arms for the entire length of the class.

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getting down to brass tacks 

Friday, August 15, 2008 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Here comes a serious post, but I feel as though I need the internet to know my seriousness and excitement. Ready, internet? Here goes!

I find summers away from civilization, and some of the people I love most (Mom, I said some, not all!), are times of moderate to extreme loneliness, but also the best learning experiences ever. I'm definitely not complaining about my situation because I absolutely love living up here for two months. It feels like a vacation from real life, which is kind of nice. Being alone forces me to sit and think and just...be. With God.

Something I've learned this summer is about plans and timing. Five months ago, I basically had my life planned out and it was all neat and tidy and great. Then God threw someone into my life that completely changed all those plans (for the better...way better). So then, I planned a new little future. This one is slightly less neat and tidy, and I didn't know what to expect, exactly. But then God decided to stray from my line of thinking and throw in some long distance stuff. I didn't want to have to deal with someone far away in North Bay, but I had no choice. So...again, my plans changed. I didn't think they were better, but I figured it was only for a year, so I could deal with it. THEN, God decided to change my plans AGAIN! and totally made things extremely exciting and stressful for a few days. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, "how rude!" A transfer from North Bay to Brantford while the main character is overseas...means calls and emails and more calls and more emails scrambling to find a new place to live, and work out new arrangements. I'm happy to report that the place we found is beyond amazing, and involved way too many coincidences for them to be merely coincidences.

It's amazing to be able to clearly and unmistakably see God working in my life. It's kind of funny, when I really think about it, because I know that God is always moving, but sometimes He likes to throw things right at us and bonk us in the head with his Grace. It's like he's saying, "Helloooo! Remember me?" While I don't think it's a bad idea to plan, it's always good to be reminded that our plans may not necessarily happen the way we think they should. But let me tell you, it sure is exciting and comforting and exhilarating and terrifying and amazing to know that my plans absolutely SUCK compared to what God has lined up for me...

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Fascinating. 

Wednesday, January 30, 2008 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Oh baby, the world is getting weirder by the minute.

I'm getting good marks again. Frankly, it's starting to freak me out. I can't figure out why I'm suddenly good at school. Fascinating.

Professors are people too. I've had a conversation (extremely brief, but still I talked to him) with a prof, and an amusing email exchange with another one. You laugh, but this is a first for me. Fascinating.

The guy who started a conversation using a Kit-Kat is the grand poobah of all things improv at Guelph. Anything improv at the university is because of him. There are weekly improv workshops that are open to anyone. These workshops fit perfectly into my schedule. Fascinating.

This just in: The Haus boys are slacking in the hlog department. Not so fascinating.

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things that don't make sense 

Tuesday, October 30, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
People who post pictures on Facebook of themselves making out with their significant others. No one wants to see that. Just the logistics of the actual process don't make sense to me. Isn't it awkward taking a picture of yourself with your eyes closed? How many times did you have to kiss and click to get a good picture?

Why does a can of peanuts need to say "may contain traces of nuts" and why does a coffee cup have to say "caution, contents are hot"? Are we really this dumb, people?

Brett Favre is a football player. His last name is pronounced FAR-ve, even though the 'r' clearly follows the 'v'. Should it not be FAV-re?

It is illegal in Mexico to have a flag displayed anywhere. The only flags allowed are governmental.

Fergie, why do you spell in your songs? This is not Reader Rabbit, no one cares.

Adults who have Kitchener Rangers memorabilia and wear/bring it to games. These are skinny young teenage boys who play games on Friday nights folks. They are not superstars.

Celebrities - what's the big fuss? I just don't get it. I really don't. Also girls who leave comments on celebrity blogs. I just don't understand this. At all.

People who dress differently in order to be an "individual". There is a huge group of you "individuals" and you look quite similar to me.

Internet lingo, especially "ur". If you insist on using this, at least add a space. When I see "ur" I think "eeer" in my head. This is silly. It does not take much longer to type "you are" or "you're" or "your".

Oh, that reminds me. We learned the difference between "their", "there" and "they're" in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. It boggles my mind that UNIVERSITY STUDENTS still cannot distinguish between the three. I admit that I don't always have perfect grammar, but at least my writing is somewhat correct.

My dear people, I have to tell you that you did not "seen" me. You saw me, perhaps, or you may have seen me, but you definitely did not seen me. That is impossible.

Malt has gluten in it. Maltol and maltitol do not. Rice Krispies have malt in them.

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the bitter end of sweet summer 

Sunday, September 9, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Yesterday we went to Niagara Falls. It was my first time in the daylight (last time was at midnight in November). I think I had more fun taking pictures of tourists than I did of the falls. Here are some of the best:

greasy ponytail, pink shirt and a giant WEDGIE.

My dad wore his tourist hat. This lady is wearing a tourist hat, clashing clothing and GOLD.

Standard Niagara pic

Maja and Faja

We went to the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum, and I took special note of this:

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Bon Jovi and the like 

Wednesday, May 2, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Dear (insert 50+ year old rockstar's name here),

You're old. You need to let go. Things will never be like they were in the 80s. I don't care if you still have a full head of hair. It's dyed blonde, and spikey. No normal sixty-year old man has naturally blonde and spikey hair. It's just wrong.

I would like to address your clothing choices as well. Tight pants are not in unless you are female or emo. You are neither, so give yourself some room. Your much younger wife won't be so grateful when you can't impregnate her with your love child, so do her a favour and wear some Dockers, like the rest of your age bracket does.

I also think you can't sing. You look like you're in pain, and it sounds like it too. Voice lessons won't help you. Neither will organic tea and honey. You'll be doing us all a favour if you just give up.

I hope you take this advice to heart, and step down gracefully. We all remember you, and we still love your music. Quit overdoing it.

Regards,

Amanda

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success 

Friday, April 27, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Today I went to IKEA with my parents. I didn't wear my mom's pants. That is an accomplishment for some of us.

I am happy to report that the rumors are true. There are two -yes TWO - different kinds of gluten free cake in the freezer at IKEA. Torte, actually. Mmmmmmmm next time I'm taking a c-c-c-coolah.


I bought a pillow. I also noticed that there are large numbers of good lookers at IKEA. Lots and lots. The only downfall is that they are all with girlfriends or fiances picking out furniture to start their lovely catelogue lives together.


And now, some fun with grammar:

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Shopping 

Monday, April 9, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Why I hate it:

1. extremely tiring
2. I can never find anything
3. undressing and redressing then undressing and redressing is annoying
4. sales clerks ignore me because they think I'm a preteen
5. preteens are irritating
6. clothes are either ugly and horrible, or cute but don't fit
7. toooooo expensive
8. I get lost in department stores
9. long walk to the washroom, which is usually in the department store which is a problem (see above) and they are usually giant sketch-fests and smell of old ladies and diapers
10. the music in "cool" stores is dance-y, and it's no fun to start a dance party by yourself

sidenote: my cousin had a baby girl! Little Chloe! Shopping for baby clothes is fun. I either need to shrink a whole lot, or have children. Then shopping would be fun again.

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Swerve 

Wednesday, April 4, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
On the drive to school today, I ended up behind a bus. This bus, as I have discovered on previous drives to school, stops every few feet, so I switched into the left lane to avoid the inconvenience. The car behind the bus decided he didn't want to be behind this bus, so he swerved to the left. The bus was pulled over, and I was in the left lane, so there was adequate room for the car, however, the bus had its left blinker on, and started pulling away from the curb. If you haven't noticed, on the back of buses there is a great big yield sign. Meaning, stay the heck out of the way when the bus has its blinker on. It's the law. But no, this car decides to pass the bus regardless.

So as you can imagine, the car is sandwiched between me and the bus (approaching a red light, nonetheless). He spazzes out and starts swerving remarkabley close to the Bastmobile. Holy crap, I freaked out. In my state of panic, I groped for the horn, but ended up turning on my blinker instead. Yes, my blinker. That sure showed him. He's lucky he didn't hit me, or I'd have turned on my four ways.

On the way home from school, there was a dog walking on the side of the road in Conestogo. I told him to go home, but he did not listen. Instead, he walked out onto the road behind my car, and in front of oncoming traffic. I could not see the dog, but I did see the SUV swerve. The dog came out unharmed on the other side, but he was once again in the path of oncoming traffic. More swerving, but the dog skittered away, safe. I watched this whole ordeal through my rear view mirror, and was yelling the whole time. I hope he made it home ok.

I hate that feeling. Being trapped somewhere, and watching something potentially harmful happen, and have no way to stop it. And you can yell and freak out and get mad, or hope the other cars will swerve. But it all seems rather useless. You have the best intentions, but yell as loud as you may, the guy in the car isn't going to hear your blinker, and the dog isn't going to listen to your pleas to return home.

I've discovered that this feeling occurs more often than I would like it to. I see people I love sandwiching themselves into unsafe situations, as if they are sitting and waiting to get crunched. And I turn on my blinker.

I see people I love running around like lost puppies, looking for a safe haven, but skittering away when what they find is only danger and uncertainty. And all I do is look out my rearview mirror and yell at them with my windows rolled up.

I want to do something, I really do, but my car keeps going. I can't do anything. It makes me feel angry, scared, and totally helpless. I want to cry sometimes. But I can't do anything but keep driving and have faith that they will be taken care of.

It's a funny thing, this driving to school. It's provided me with much more insight than I would have ever imagined. As I continue to drive along, you probably won't hear me yelling, but trust me, I am. Loudly. I am praying and I have faith that you will make it home ok.

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The first ever blog written that mentions Starbucks 

Sunday, March 18, 2007 - Posted by Amanda Bast
Today I thought it might be a lovely idea to take my little self over to Starbucks for a drink and a little uninterrupted study time. I find studying at home especially difficult, and since librarys tend to make me antsy, I opted for the Starbucks in Chapters.

Apparantly Starbucks on a Sunday afternoon is the place to be - it was packed! I really had my heart set on a chai, so I decided to take my chances on finding a seat. The Starbucks staff were who you would expect to be working at Sb's - the metro guy with one pierced ear, the funky artsy girl, and a cute indie rocker-esque bearded guy. Metro guy took my order and was smiley and super douper, the bearded lovely smiled with plenty of eye contact, and funky artsy girl messed up my order, and I felt like a HUGE jerk correcting the order from non-fat milk to soy. I wanted to apologize and say that I wasn't in fact a snob, but that milk makes me wheezy. But really, I don't want to say that, what if she yells, "Grande soy tazo chai for the wheezy kid!" when my order is up? Yeesh.

I found a spot on the purple couch next to a blonde girl deep in a book. There was an old guy by the window to my left and a guy most likely in his mid-thirties but single and on the prowl. He knew everyone. He chatted it up with blonde girl, clearly trying to make an impression. Blonde girl was upset about leaving her Yorkshire Terrier at home because she was afraid he'd run off one day. The guy (later I found out his name was Dan) suggested some sort of an alert system for the dog to push with his nose to let blonde girl know he was ok. A cute attempt at trying to make her feel better, but I don't think she was impressed. Then a friend of blonde girl's showed up and they discussed their puppies some more. As they got started on organic food for the dogs, I had to stifle my laughter.

I tried not to laugh again when the old guy came up to Dan and told him half his life story. I love older people who talk to anyone. My mom always gets stopped by these people in the grocery store. I hope I'm one of those people when I'm old.

One of my favourite pasttimes seems to be sitting and watching people (in a completely non-creepy way, of course), and then analyzing them. I noticed several groups of people at Starbucks:

1. the classy, I read this highly intellectual book for my own pleasure and cognitive stimulation and feed my dog only the finest of organic food and dress posh to sit and drink my grande-mocha-choca-latte-frappe-no whip-non-fat-shaken-not stirred coffee, while wearing dark rimmed glasses and thinking about how wonderful my Starbucks life is

2. the hippy bookworms with funky clothes and crazy hair who only drink Starbucks because it's fair trade

3. the parents who bring their children to Starbucks, and feed them cupcakes while they sit and read (I have issues with this...would it kill you to pay attention to your kid?? I could write a whole blog on this topic alone, but I digress.)

4. students who are so clearly students (ie, UW/WLU sweatshirt, gross hair, huge coffee, backpack, textbook) that it makes me feel at home

5. Paul McIllwraith

The beauty of sitting and observing is that you realize how similar people actually are. It doesn't matter if they're in Starbucks, at a concert, or a rollarskating rink, there seems to be a desire for community, to belong, and to know that someone is listening. I think within any subculture, there is the guy who is everyone's friend, the old man, the blonde girl, the parents, the kids, the hippies, the students, and the in-betweeners. Its just a matter of when and where these people's lives happen to cross that makes the difference. I think next weekend I'm going to study at an old folks home to see what fascinating things go on there.

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