Living with Type A

to do list

And by Living with Type A, I mean how you can better support your Type A significant other or friend. Once you understand us, you’ll realize we’re always right.

Firstly, a point of clarification: Type A is not OCD. I will be covering OCD in a different entry.

Important Motivators of Type A Folk:

1) Perfection – Who cares if this is technically impossible? We are forever haunted by the possibility and will compromise our health and sanity in the pursuit of nirvana, which any Buddhist will tell you is possible.

2) Efficiency – Type A people don’t like people or objects, but especially people, that get in their way of getting things done in a timely manner. Don’t judge, just get out of their way and no one will get hurt.

3) To Do List – Nothing is more thrilling than crossing off an item on the To Do List, second only to closet organizers. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but if it is not captured on a To Do List, it is not worthy of your time and attention.  Once you realize this, your life will thank you.

Failure to meet any of the above three objectives may result in stress, shortness of breath and night sweats. But don’t worry, this is just a temporary blip on the path to perfection.

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The Present

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PresentI’m glad I wore a sweater tonight. Mind you, I was uncomfortably hot and perspiring most of the evening but I knew the night would cool down and I would be cold and wishing I had worn a sweater.

Although most of the evening I wish I had not worn a sweater, I am now glad I made the sacrifice in the past to preempt my potential future discomfort, which is now the pleasantly present, and the past is but a fleeting memory of inconvenience and pit stains.

I shared my musings with a friend.

“Oh, I just brought a cardigan that I could layer on top when I get cold,” she said. “And I’ve been the perfect temperature all night!

And with that, my present was uncomfortable yet again.

Why smart women love chick lit

Sabrina (57)

In honour of International Chick Lit Month, and my favourite chick lit novel, Why I Love My Gay Boyfriendwhich also happens to my own novel, I attempt to demystify why smart women love chick lit.

1. Guilty Pleasure – women like to know that someone is unluckier and clumsier than them but so darn loveable at the same time!

2. Intrigue and Giggles – a one-stop shop for torrid affairs, silly humour and exclamation marks!

3. Happy Ending – get the guy, get revenge, emerge victorious.

4. Female Indulgence – there’s a girly girl in all of us and chick lit is unapologetically for women.

5. Light Fun –  we work hard and we work a lot. At the end of the day, there’s only so much room in our brains.

Which is why, as a courtesy, I’m ending this list at 5.

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A High Five Moment

I possess both the privilege and ignorance to believe there is nothing better than all-day Sunday brunch. When we found a nearby parking spot across from the brunch place…well, this was worthy of forsaking any sense of cool and celebrating with a high five.

While paying for parking, I noticed the brunch place looked ominously dark. I ran over to check. An employee was smoking outside and informed me with well-restrained satisfaction that the restaurant had just closed. He added unnecessarily, “I saw you high-fiving when you found that parking spot.”

I was disappointed more so by my loss of cool than loss of brunch. Was parking really that sparse in Toronto or were we really that obnoxious?  In any case, I suppose I’m glad we could provide some form of entertainment.

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The Pick-up Artiste

I think I could start a lucrative business consulting to men on how to properly approach and pick up a woman. I have been on the receiving end of varied attempts ranging from laughable, to laughably sad to sadly psychotic. The one I will share skews on the laughably psychotic side.

A man ran up to me on the street one day, exclaiming how much he loves my hair. We will call him Federico.

Bella, I’m a hairstylist,” he said, assuming this gave him permission to stroke my hair. He insisted that I be in his next hair show and that we exchange numbers. At this point I’m convinced he’s the next hairstylist superstar and not heterosexual. I was mistaken.

Federico incessantly stalked me via text and v-mail, demanding to see me, his communication void of hair shows, bellas, and flamboyant flair, if you will.

One would think it is common knowledge that attempting to pick up a woman by pretending to be a gay hairstylist and engaging in predatory stalking activity will result in failure and possible arrest.

But alas, there is a very broad market in need of help – a very broad, unstable and potentially dangerous market. Run and hide ladies, run and hide.

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A good electrician

While a shoe addict is wired to see life as a series of shoe-wearing opportunities, a writer is wired to see her life unfold in metaphors.

Unsolicited, my realtor had set me up with an electrician to install pot lights, assuming I needed them.  Maybe my lighting situation was just fine the way it was.

I called the electrician several times but he never called back.  Annoyed, I left a message asking if he was still interested. He texted me back to say that he was busy and that I should find someone else.

OMG, did my electrician just dump me over text?

My life suddenly felt void of light. I asked friends but no one knew of an electrician that was free. I started to get worried. Was I ever going to find an electrician?

As my desperation started to mount, a friend recommended her old electrician. Sure, she had always complained about him, but I had no other options. The day before he was scheduled to come over, I received a weird cancellation voice mail from a stranger. Suspicious, I called my electrician. He didn’t realize it was me and answered. Embarrassed, he stuttered through an incoherent excuse.

“So, are you not coming over tomorrow?” I could hear in the background that he was at another job.

“It’s not going to work out,” he responded.

OMG, did my electrician just get his contractor buddy to call and dump me?

He said he’d call back to reschedule but never did. I was starting to feel very insecure about my condo’s ability to attract electricians.

Desperate, I took to the Internet and was shocked to see how many electricians that were available. Or were they? Many were not interested in my condo but I finally found one.

Could he have smelled a little better? Yes. Could he have adopted a speaking instead of a yelling voice? Yes. But he was respectful and decent and got the job done.

And that is the end of the metaphor because while I may have settled for an electrician, there are some things in life you just don’t settle for. Like a bad glass of wine, of course.

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Little Black Dress

Hello lovelies

My closet has never met an LBD (translation for male readers: Little Black Dress) that it didn’t like. It’s a veritable LBD pimp – it’s never said no to an LBD I brought home. My closet houses a coven of 17 LBDs and they all live together in harmony. They bring me so much joy that my credit card and I have decided we will continue to make beautiful LBD babies.

My mom saw me wearing one such LBD and thought it prudent to advise me that its time is limited as one cannot wear a mini-skirt after a certain age. Although this wisdom was no doubt received from Emily Post’s Etiquette circa 1952, my harem of LBDs were offended at their suggested impending demise. I bought a pair of hot heels to make them feel better. After all, my LBDs do need something to play with.

I don’t propose to be a fashion expert, despite the disproportionate amount of my salary allocated to staying in fashion, but the LBD is the single best clothing investment you can make. I’m so convinced of this that I’ve multiplied my investment 17 times over. I don’t propose to be an investment adviser either, but if it makes you look and feel fabulous, it was money well spent my friend, no matter what your age.

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My (brief) time as a supermodel

As it was of no relevance or interest to me, I had not taken note of how many young, attractive women there were at my office until our National Sales Meeting. There was a large IT conference that was taking place at the same hotel and it was rife with Bill Gates-esque looking men. They looked like they all carried pocket algebra calculators and attended superhero conferences in costume. No doubt they also had an IQ double the size of mine and would soon rule the world.

One night, one such individual approached me and, enthused to the point of madness, declared that only supermodels worked at my company. Later, in the elevator, clones of this individual mobbed me to enthusiastically tell me where I worked. I felt like the ambassador of Victoria’s Secret secret supermodels.

Never before had men been so excited to speak to me. And never before had I been so struck by the power of relativity. This is the supermodel version of Einstein’s theory of relativity: the measurement of female attractiveness is relative to the nerdiness of the men observing said females, and is magnified by the likeness and size of opposing forces.

But as fleeting my time as a supermodel, I may as well revel in it. After all, these are very, very smart men.

Attempting supermodel-dom

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A Love Letter to Pinot Grigio

Oh Pinot Grigio, how I love you so. You make me so witty and clever, if not to anyone else, then at least to myself.  You’re even good for me when consumed in healthy amounts!  And even though I never actually consume you in healthy amounts, at least I know I have that option should I choose to exercise it.

I admit, I do stray every so often for a Sauvignon Blanc or a nasty shot against my better judgment.  But I will always return to you.  Please know that even though my liver may not always accept you, my heart always will. Pinot Grigio, you are kind, benevolent, magical, and I love you.

Forever Yours,

Sabrina

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