It hasn't been the best week.

i came down with a really bad chest and head cold and my work overpaid me last month by £400 thus deducting this month's pay. Bollocks. Nevertheless, these two factors didn't stop me from venturing out to attain what is rightfully mine by birth: a manicure and pedicure.

Now, i am by no stretch of the means a diva and only recently started getting manicures and pedicures a year ago with my best friend/fag, Bitter Queen. Manicures have been the one sure way for me to stop chewing my nails and picking at my fingers (a bad habit passed on to me by my Mom). Anyone who claims to know me, knows that i'm not too keen on pampering myself and making too much of an effort. Yes, it's true; these glorious looks are all natural.

Anyway, as i said, despite having the cold sweats and a chest full of phlegm, i walked (in the rain, of course), to get myself a mani and pedi.

And oh, how i long for the dirt cheap nail bars of Toronto where you can pay next to nothing and have an underlying sense of exploitation as the Asian/Eastern European ladies mercilessly file away at your nasty feet.

The "beautician technicians" of Scotland are well, Scottish. And like to talk away at you about boys and clubbing. Ugh. That's the thing with beauty spas - you're often surrounded by people who are more interested in self-appearance than self-awareness. Anyway, i digress.

Pedicures here in Scotland - or so it appears to me, seem more of treat than a way of life. Sure, Glasgow has nail bars where you can get a shitty French manicure for £10 by some slutty 19-year old but they don't do pedicures. Oh, the humanity!

BREAKING

Jan Ullrich was fired from his team, T-Mobile, after being implicated in a doping scandal and kicked out of this year's Tour de France!

The allegations have yet to be proved and he was still sacked by his team.

This means that either T-Mobile are tacky and shameless or they have been privy to some insider information regarding the doping allegations. Either way, it is a disgrace.

My poor German Kaiser (roll)!

This one's from the Heart, Bitches!

It is so hard to be away from your best friend when you know they are having a hard time. It is so hard to hear, "i could have really needed you yesterday". However, you would never know by his website (Bitter Queen) that he had a brutal day. Typical of him.

i have never loved a man as much as i love him. He is family. In Toronto, you make your own family. A vast majority of us who reside(d) in Toronto, are not from there and as such, your friends become extended family. i have known my best friend for 20 years and he knows things about me that i would never share with anyone else.

It's funny because we both had awful and brutal days yesterday and we both just wanted to be with one another. i can't make up my fucking mind about what to do in September.

Do i stay? Do i go back to Toronto?

Yes, i love Glasgow and all it has to offer (my British friends, concerts, wicked junk food, good tv, great music scene, European neighbours) but what is so wrong with wanting to be with friends - people with whom you have ancient history?

I'm starting to get fed up with Scottish lads - mainly because i haven't been successful at meeting any that i would fancy going out with. And the ones that i have met, that i did fancy and tried to chat up, scurried away from me with a look of terror and/or horror splashed across their mugs.

i asked a friend as to why this was and she gave me two very insightful answers:

1. Assume that British boys (the nice, well-brought up ones), are afraid of women and act accordingly.

and

2. British boys are afraid of women.


After i relayed my "chatting up" techniques - which, mind you, always worked in Toronto - my friend looked at me in the familiar gaze of horror and shock. I'm convinced that British people think i am some North American barbarian; unable to navigate the subtle social realms of this country. Admittedly, it is quite an exercise to recognise the subtle social behaviours that are recognisable to those that grew up within the culture. BUT i did not.

Anyway, my friend told me that although it was great that i am confident (or, at least, appear so) it can put off some men.

"Honey, that ain't Britain - that's the world", i said!

"No, no, no. Your techniques are like clomping boots; you need to be more like ballet slippers: subtle, soft, and open", she replied.

But you know what, it's not like i walk up to men and say, "FANCY A SHAG?!" I'm just myself and to be honest, i didn't think that i came across as being "bold" or "blunt". i would just walk up to some cute boy and start talking to him. THAT apparently is too much for the boys here who are afraid of women. APPARENTLY i am supposed to make myself available to him by making eyes with him and allow him to come to me. Get it?

What a load of bollocks.

Give me some outgoing, hard-working and confident Torontonian over some insecure, sniffling, upper-middle-class mamma's boy any day!

That's how i feel today, anyway.

i celebrated Canada Day in the typical mundane Toronto way: i went to see a film.

Being a Canadian living overseas really puts my home country in perspective, i think. i suppose i am like any other Canadian-born Canadian; living life in Canada without fully appreciating it. Maybe it's because i had never lived anywhere else and had to pay almost £1.00 for a litre of petrol (gas) or had to pay out of my nose for electricity. We really do have it good in Canada.

i love that Canadians - Torontonians in particular - are hyper aware of personal space; i love how Canadians almost always apologise when they bump into you; i love how Canadians are understated; i love how tolerant and non-violent we are. Obviously i've painted Canada with sweeping generalisations but for the most part, it would appear true.

Another obvious difference between Glasgow and Toronto is the bus drivers. The bus drivers here are fucking mad. It is no hyperbole when i say that they fly around the narrow streets like a bat out of hell. i've been on buses and feared for little old ladies because the bus drivers seem to throw caution to the wind and when little old ladies board the bus, it's just further enjoyment to see them being bashed about for the perverse drivers.