Melancholia

Melancholia

Monday, February 28, 2011

16 Hours Sequel or Return of the greyHound of Hell

A couple posts back, (16 Hours - Coming Soon), I mentioned that I would continue the chronology of events. Now that I have sat my substantial butt down to do said task, I cannot for the life of me remember what else there was to say. Except that the potential-TV-movie-that-never-was, "16 Hours", or what I like to think of now as "The greyHound of Hell", had a significantly less dramatic sequel, "Return of the greyHound of Hell". All Christmas long, I whined about having to take the bus back to the big city, to which everyone responded "Don't worry! What are the chances that something else will go wrong?" I think, like most sequels, the plot here is rather predictable. Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, Greyhound fucked up again. The bus broke down, in, you guessed it, the mountains. Our bus driver wasn't as douchey, and the wait was less, (1.5 hrs, as opposed to 3.5 hrs), and there was no incitement to riot, but breakdown in the mountains with very limited communication we did.

Never again.

So I returned to this glorious city in time to celebrate the new year. Oh joy of joys, we stopped in on the pseudo-in-laws and then spent the rest of the evening drinking way too much at an unremarkable pub, with Not-Even-Mediocre Underage Band as the soundtrack to my not-even-mediocre evening. I think the highlight of the night, was being "randomly" chosen to receive a door-prize I did not buy a ticket for: fondue and chocolates. Or, the highlight could have been receiving a squeeze of the ass while in a group hug. Perfect time to launch such an assault, as there could be no proof of who did it. But I'm pretty sure I know who it was, and might I just say...Ew.


February holds the wedding anniversary of my sister and brother-in-law. They have now been married for a whopping 11 years! Hard to believe in one way, because I can't believe 11 years has passed since I was my sister's Maid-Of-Honour. But not so hard to believe because they were together for a lot longer than that. My sister married her high school sweetheart you see. So I've known my brother-in-law since I was about 11 years old. That's a long time. We really hit it off, because I had the maturity of an 11 year old, and he had the maturity of...well, a guy. (No offence to any male reader out there). So whenever he would come over, we would usually gang up on my sister and tease her. It was great times.

Things have changed, somewhat. The day I realized he was not a fluorescent-pants-wearing-superhero, (early 90's dork-fashion), and was actually just a dude, was pretty devastating. It was when he broke my sister's heart. They broke up for a year and in that time, he had a new girlfriend. It was a strange feeling - I actually felt betrayed. They eventually re-united, but I'm not sure if that was a good thing, since they don't seem very happy together. No kids yet either, which puts the pressure on me to give my parents the grandchildren they want.

Thanks to Quiet Girl and her MIXCD Exchange project, I've been spending time lately making playlists for people and bringing back the Mixed CD. So I made a couple for my sister and brother-in-law for their anniversary, with the theme of love, of course. I called it "Beautiful Collision" after one of the songs on the CD, by Bic Runga. (And if you do not know this song or this artist, I encourage you to check her out. Unfortunately, I was unable to find a video for the actual song "Beautiful Collision".)

The rest of January and this month of February have pretty much been a blur. I know that life is passing me by, but as of yet, I haven't been able to do much about it. Really hoping for the clarity required to make positive change in my life this year. I shall start with a commitment to a running program. It starts at the end of March and goes for 10 weeks. At the end, the participants are to take part in a 5K. Sounds painful.

1 comment:

A. Opstein said...

Hey! That dig about male maturity was... well... okay, you're right.