Off the record/ On the record.

I'm just going to go off the record here for a minute.
I love summer. I love essentially everything about summer. For example, it was a stupid work day, but I still feel great! I sat outside on my lunch break, walked an hour-and-a-half home at a leisurely pace (which is totally my new thing to do. Why did I walk so fast for so many years? Where the hell am I ever going in a hurry?). I am going to spend the evening making a salad with kick-ass shit I got from the chinese grocery store, then I might read the paper on the porch or watch Three 6 on MTV if I feel like it. See? Perfect.
Really, there's only one thing about summer in Calgary that truly, genuinely sucks.... The surplus of blue-collar workers. There's construction workers and road workers and city workers everywhere, working without shirts on and whistling at the ladies. Even the ones that aren't working, such as the rig workers, are out and about, on patios drinking Kokanees and wearing their Quicksilver caps backwards... It's like a fucking douche-festival everywhere I go, all the time.
I guess I'm glad that the uneducated fucks of the world have somewhere to go during the day, but the fact of the matter is, most of these guys dropped out of high school at the same time as the 7-11/McDonald's/Tim Horton's guys did, and they make double what those guys do.... The only difference is that your local fast-food worker doesn't get the day off when it rains, and would get fired for making gross-ass comments to girls walking by. I don't usually hear many noises coming from the the millions unfinished condo projects in my hood in the mornings, but it the afternoon, the whistles are unavoidable. I'll never understand it. Like, really guys? I just walked for an hour and a half. I'm unshowered, and in my work-clothes. You're whistling at a sweaty hobbit that just got off of an eight-hour shift of examining hobos. Do you really want to have me go over there and make out with you or something? Oh, wait. You still do. Sick.
Look, I'm sure that there are some really decent blue-collar guys out there, I'm just unsure of whether or not I've ever met one. Someone help me out, because I think I'm a careerist.


Okay, I'm going back on the record now. You know what I've really been itching to hear for a couple of days now? A good set of dancehall classics from the early 90's. Like, Shabba Ranks and Patra and Buju Banton and Supercat. The weather gets hot, and my mind sails off to fucking Jamaica circa 1993. The only problem is, the kids around here aren't advanced enough to know how to bust out to dancehall. Alana says that it's funny to watch people on the floor when dancehall comes on, because they pull out dance moves that nobody has ever seen them do before, and try to act natural. The chicks are popping their white asses awkwardly while the guys do this shrinky little dance where they pull their arms up to their bodys and do pelvic-thrusts. What people don't realize is that trying to dance to dancehall without actually knowing how to dance to dancehall is like trying to program a computer when you don't even know how to e-mail.
....I'm not even trying to pretend that I know how to throw my back out. It's totally okay to get on the floor, and I'd encourage it, but your only option is to joke-dance the entire set (which is way more fun anyway).

Make sure to wear breathable fabrics tomorrow guys, 'cause it's gonna be so, so hot when you're out on the scene... See you on the dancefloor, I'll be the one fanning myself rapidly.

~sarah p.

eta- You know? I just thought of something. I know some pretty rad guys that work at indoor blue-collar jobs. Tradesman are okay, I think. Maybe it's just guys that work outside that I don't like. I don't know. When I was a kid, there were some workmen that were in my alley for a week or so. I caught them peeing on our garbage cans several times, and I think it tainted me. Someone should introduce me to some guys that are both awesome and outdoor workers, and maybe I'd change my mind (but probably not, because there's no such thing).