Wanted: Ghost hunting gang
By: Nadia Tudhope
Spooky month has been decidedly unspooky so far. Where are the Halloween decorations, the fun occult-themed clothing, the sense of impending dread that has nothing to do with midterms? Why is nothing haunting my home? No one has even pretended to be a zombie in my presence, and that’s the easiest possible way to scare me (see also: needles and trying to make me touch something made of velvet). We are coming up fast on Halloween, and there is nothing supernatural or scary in the air; it’s like it’s November already, and we skipped right past the fun spooky stuff into the most morose month of the year.
I made a vow in the summer to be really invested in spooky month this time around, especially since the last few have gotten less and less “Halloweeny” every year, but apparently no one else got the memo. So my solution: go looking for the ghouls myself. If you’ve always wanted to be part of a Scooby Gang, are also feeling disillusioned by the lack of general uncanniness this October, and/or come with your own ghost-hunting equipment, please hit me up so we can chase some spectres while the pumpkins are ripe.
Move back or get off
By: Darien Johnsen
Here’s a revolutionary idea for all you transit riders out there: did you know you can actually stand at the back of the bus? Yup, just up those two tiny steps — you just lift one foot up, put it on the first step, then the other foot, put it on the next step, and you’re at the back of the bus! There’s even little handles dangling down for you to hang on to. It’s great because you can see over the tops of everyone’s heads and out the front window. It feels like you’re in a cool spaceship or something. What’s even cooler is that you’re making room for more people to get onto the bus. You don’t have to cuddle up near the driver, breathing down his neck and preventing new riders from getting on, making them wait half an hour for the next bus. You can actually look around and think critically and courteously about your environment and the people around you and then act on it. Wow! Crazy!
Sincerely,
Someone who almost wet their pants last week waiting for the next bus because five people couldn’t take two steps to the back of the bus to make room for new passengers.
IKEA on a Sunday
By: Carissa Wiens
IKEA on Sunday is the first day of my period: I argue with my partner about the wood stain of a bedside table, my only desire is to get under the silky covers of the on-display bed, all I want are four $1 hotdogs with extra mustard, the screams of children prompt me to scream louder, and I always forget my tote bag.
IKEA on Sunday is my deep-sleeping nightmare: slow walkers stay on the left side; fast walkers bump into my shoulder; price tags are absent from the products I want, giving me the time to realize that it’s definitely out of my price range; and nuclear families in puffy vests fantasize about their suburban dream home together.
But, IKEA on a Tuesday morning is realizing there’s an extra slice of cake in the fridge: soccer moms who drive massive SUVs are at their “mommy n’ me” clubs with their screaming babies; the 9-5ers do their kitchenware shopping online; the employees greet me with a smile, not a shrug; and I never have to weave around people.
The modern love letter is a text
By: Chandy Dancey
Am I the only one who thinks being good at texting is actually really attractive in a significant other? I’m probably exposing myself as a child of the internet right now, but I feel like relationships involve a lot more texting than calling these days, especially if both parties have full-time jobs or it’s long distance. This is important stuff, people! I’d like to think it really just comes down to communication skills. I mean, what extinguishes the embers of love quicker than not being able to maintain a text conversation with your love interest because they only ever reply with short, abrupt messages? Ask yourself: can you accurately portray your empathy and humour through text? Do you only ever reply to one part of a long message? Are you chronically forgetting to text back? Now I’m no Dr. Phil, but you may have bad texter syndrome, and it could be killing your love life.