Last night I walked around Queen West for a slightly obscene amount of time with a camera in my face to help a friend shoot a short film that will be played on the show room floor of some new condos that are being built. I am currently prepping my hand for all of the autographs that I will no doubt need to sign after this “airs”. Cameras kind of make me nervous…actually it is the person looking through the lens of the camera, looking at me, that makes me nervous – I don’t care if they are my friend or not. It’s actually ridiculous how I become so aware of every part of my body when a camera is on me. Apparently, I also randomly become a little pigeon-toed when someone tells me to “just walk” while a camera follows. My friend never said anything to me, but as I was walking, I couldn’t help but look down at my legs/feet and think “what the fuck is going on down there right now?” I am not sure when I started feeling so weird around a camera. When I was little I couldn’t get enough of them – I would literally go into annoying little girl pout modes when one of my parents would turn it off (and they would be dead to me for at least 20 minutes after doing so). There is footage of me when I was 10 or 11 and my mom says “Nikki, I have to turn it off, it’s late” and my response was to make some ungodly, spoiled, little-girl sound and proceed to say “but it’s my friend”. Yeah, I made friends with a video camera….but I was kind of a weird kid. Often times you would find me shunning my Barbie dolls to play with crayons and I would pretend that the crayons were people. I am sure my parents regretted not giving me up for adoption every time that they would dish out money on dolls that look like people so that I could play with $1.50 worth of crayons and pretend they were people. Karma is a bitch though, so I will probably end up having a kid that has an imaginary friend until they are 50+ (I think they also refer to that as schizophrenia).
Unless you are me, then they are for pretending they are people…and shit.
Might be going back to the Patch this weekend. A “friend” from high school (more so a friend due to being friends with Shane) is having his Jack and Jill this weekend and Shane asked me to come back so I figured, what the hell, might as well. Dad wants to come pick me up to feed his addiction to Duff’s Wings (I think he loves that place more than me) so at the very least I am getting a free meal out of coming home and there is nothing I love more than a free meal (that is a lie, but, whatever).
Dad wants to take me to the driving range while I am home. Pretty sure that it is going to rain, so I will humour him and say yes. Actually, I will go regardless because some quality time with my pops is always good and there is really only four ways to obtain this. One, as I already mentioned, is eating wings at Duff’s. Two, is while in a vehicle driving to or from Toronto. Three, is watching the Habs play and four is on a golf course (or watching golf, because sometimes he takes my interest in seeing a cute player as interest in actually watching the game). Truthfully, I don’t mind golf. You get to be outside, it’s a form of exercise and smacking a ball can be kind of therapeutic. I think that I take my hatred of watching it on TV out on the actual game – that and the people who just love it so much and feel the need to fill me in on every detail. My dad is obsessed and pretty much every guy I have ever dated has been obsessed. A golf season is like a relationship – at first it’s exciting and you’re doing well, putting forth all of your best moves, having a great time and then somewhere along the line your moves aren’t so hot anymore, you go into denial, blaming it on everything else around you (“the wind kept taking my ball to the left” – no fuck tard, your shooting took it to the left). Then you realize that you can’t get back to where you started so you start to settle on a streak of averagness that you have been able to maintain (consistency is key, right). You think all is calm but then it starts to rain and throws off your game again, but this time there’s no going back. Naturally, you make a few more attempts at getting it back to the way it was but then you start to resent it and don’t even want to play anymore. This is what I like to call the end of the season. So you pack it in and hope for a better season next year. BAM! They are one in the same thing, trust me on this.
Title: Set Fire To The Rain- By: Adele