The Case of the Missing Sugar Packets

I watch a lot of TLC…that will be the topic of a future post. One of my favourite shows is My Strange Addiction, it’s hard not to become mesmerized at people addicted to sleeping with blow dryers or eating dish detergent. I always joke that I should have my own TLC show, but I would cringe if I was on this show.

But today I realized I could be on My Strange Addiction because I, Alyssa Ashton, have an addiction to stealing sugar packets.

Borrowed sugar from various places…I can’t reveal my sources.

I’m not cheap, but I refuse to spend money on buying a bag of sugar. So instead I steal sugar packets. Like a thief I check all around me before grabbing a handful of packets and stuffing them into my purse. Unlike a normal thief I don’t have to run away because there is no detectors for stolen sugar.

I pathetically even steal sugar from work. My old workplace use to get coffee delivered once a week. I never drank the coffee but I did pilfer many bags of sugar. I mean it was a huge container full of sugar packets that no one used, I was just doing my citizen’s duty to ensure nothing went to waste. You know the landfills are filled with waste already, we must control our garbage levels.

I even make friends get in on my addiction, requesting they ask for extra sugar packets when we go through the drive through at Tim Hortons. I’m surprised the Tim Hortons servers don’t question why we ask for two sugars in the coffee, plus five bags of extra sugar. Or that they don’t call an ambulance since clearly this would send us into diabetic shock if we consumed SEVEN bags of sugar.

Now people, mainly my old housemate, ask me why I don’t pay the $3 for a bag of sugar. My response, because this is free. Plus it allows for portion control. The other day I was making a glazed balsamic sauce and I needed one tsp of sugar. So I poured my sugar packet into my tsp and guess what, it was exactly a tsp. What luck and now I know how much sugar goes in my tea everyday.

I realize this may not be a strange addiction, maybe my pathetic addiction is a more apt title for my disease. But no matter how pathetic it is I will still continue to borrow sugar packets from whatever coffee shops I frequent.


Me and Balls


So you may have noticed I didn’t include athletic as a possible adjective for me. And there is a good reason for that, I don’t have any athletic capability. As a child I played soccer and like to think I was quite good, but then I grew up and had a rather large epiphany.

I don’t like balls near my face.

I tell people this and they laugh very hard thinking I mean it in a different way. And I mean really that’s not very pleasant either. But I mean I do not like balls that are thrown at high speeds coming near my face. I was always the kid who got hit in the face by some sort of ball. I remember in grade five I got smacked in the face by a soccer ball at recess and then walked around all day with a large red mark on my left cheek. It was horrible. Kids made fun of me!

As a result I cringe any time I see someone throwing a ball near me. All those people who play football with one person on one side of the street and the other person on the opposite side… yeah I hate them. Because inevitably I somehow get hit or have nightmares that I will get hit. So I am the girl that sees someone playing football across a street and I glare at them and run for my life through the danger zone.

Despite my large fear of balls I have somehow joined a softball team. I have no ability to throw a ball or catch one, but it is time to get over this fear. I cannot live my life running from balls.

So here begins my journey of getting over my fear and welcoming balls back into my life and near my face. I’m sure much hilarity will ensue from this project.

Awkward Alyssa

Do you remember back in elemntary school – and unfortunately sometimes in high school and university – when they made you go around the circle and give an alliteration for your name. Like Magic Mark and Nice Nicole.

I always struggled with this game…what A word suited me best.

Amazing – Not a great first impression if I said this about myself. I would be that full of herself girl for the entire year.

Artsy/Artistic – People would expect me to be good at Art, which I’m not. Those who can’t do, write about it.

And these were the only two A adjectives I could come up with. But as I grew up and endlessly tripped over my own feet, giggled at inappropriate moments and failed at having normal conversations, I realized I had the perfect word for me. AWKWARD

So that’s what this blog is about, all the awkward things I do.

What’s to come: that time I fell over on the bus on top of a girl and why I don’t like balls.