The Legoland Convention

Today started off quite nice with a visit from Donkers (one of my favorite guys), with whom I went to the Berry Festival in Abbotsford. (Aside note: The berry festival was just a cityish street market and the whole time we were only given one free berry...and it was a raspberry at that - my least favorite).

When I came back, I had to go down and clean the gym yet again. Yes, the grossly disgusting P.S. Jones gym. Zenon was there, though, cleaning one of the side rooms and keeping me company. It was all going fine until he brought out a blanket he had found in the room. It was covered with dust and looked like it had been there a thousand years (well, at least for a long time). He brought it to me, pretending to throw it on my head, which I was so grateful that he didn't. I took it from him though and threw it into the garbage bag I had. Then I walked over to the other side of the room where he had come from, and there was something on the floor that had not been there before. I looked down, hoping it was not what I thought, and managed to say, "That's not a..." And Zenon was like, "Yes, it is." It was a dead mouse. One that had clearly been in the blanket he had been carrying and just fallen out. Now, I am not a screaming kind of girl (the kind that can be made fun of throughout the entire Spiderman movie), but I did most definitely let out a girlyish horrified sound of some sort. Not just at the fact of seeing a dead mouse, but because of the fact that I had touched a blanket that a dead mouse had been in. Fortunately, Zenon came to my rescue and threw it outside for me. As I thought about it after, I decided that it is quite appropriate for guys to be the heroes and not the girls. I just don't think that it is in us, despite our ambitions of grandeur. Sometimes, we just need to be rescued.

Then tonight I went down to the cafeteria and there was a new guy working there. He looks like he has not ever left the 80s. Tight blue jeans. A tucked in and bagged out black shirt. Long wavy blond/brown hair. And a big mustache. He's not even that old. And he is super quiet. His name is Alan, that much I found out. I do quite like interesting people.

There was a group of kids at dinner...about four little boys. Little boys are definitely my favorite. They all sat at the high chairs gulping down their food. They were probably about 8 or 9. And as they were finishing they looked at the clock. Then one boy (obviously the ring leader) was like, "Okay guys, it's 6:00. That means we have one hour for our secret " " and he made the quotation symbols with his hands, clearly not disclosing their secret plan. Then they syncronized their watches or something. And then they took turns leaving, saying that they were going to the washroom...and never coming back. It was pure genius. Oh how I love little boys. That was the most entertaining part of the day.

I also decided tonight that I am too nice. Not nice in a friendly kind of way with people I care about. But nice to complete strangers who I have no obligation to care about. You know when someone is trying to bend the rules or get away with something that is not allowed. Well, whenever that happens (and it happens quite a bit with my job) I become all nice and apologetic and am like, "I am sorry, you can't do that because..." instead of just saying, "No, you can't do that." I mean, either way the person is going to be ticked that I said no. Why should I be so nice about it? I noticed tonight that this is the main difference between Gord (the pirate cook) and me. He doesn't bother being nice. And I do. But seriously, are they even going to remember the nice girl or the mean cook from their brief visit at Summit?

And that was my day so far.