I previously posted about the jackasses at my workplace cafeteria who hold up the cashier line when they buy a one dollar can of coke with an ATM card.
This posting is similar.
First up is the "LMF's" ... otherwise known as lingering mofos.
Sometimes there will be a couple of people in line ahead of me buying coffees. These people know each other and work together. So naturally while in line they'll be chatting about work related stuff, which is fine...while they're waiting in line that is.
The problem occurs when they finish paying. They'll walk over to the coffee counter, the area that has the sugar, milk, lids,etc. They begin to prepare their coffees while continuing their stupid conversation. Inherently then the coffee prep will move at a much slower pace. Also, they'll zone out anything else that is around them, including other people waiting to use the same little bit of space around the coffee counter.
To make matters worse, sometimes they'll decide to continue their little discussion after their coffees are ready, lingering at the counter and blocking access to others.
If that doesn't make me rage-y enough, there are also the MMF's, the microwave mofo's. I'm not sure who are worse, so i'll let you decide.
Often I will bring a lunch that requires re-heating. So, the cafeteria has several microwaves for everyone to use. However, the microwaves are stacked horizontally and vertically beside each other. The problem occurs when MMF's throw their slop into the microwave (i won't even touch on those asses that heat up stinky fish lunches), start it up, and then just stand there immediately in front of the microwave they're using.
When they do that, they're blocking access to the other empty microwaves. So if someone wants to use one, you have to ask them to "excuse me" (which is ironic) so i can heat up my effing tender vittles. Here's a tip to you people. Back the hell up and clear the area so others can use the microwaves. You don't have to stand guard for the two minutes and thirty seconds right in front.
And the worst MMF's are those who commit their crimes when the cafeteria is packed and all microwaves are in use. They'll stick their food in the machine, turn it on, then walk away for a few minutes to maybe get cutlery or buy a pop (with an ATM card no doubt). Perhaps they'll stop to chat with someone they know (maybe at the coffee counter) and next thing you know, their food is ready and they haven't returned to take out their goddamn food while 5 other people are waiting to use a microwave.
To all you people. Smarten up. Be considerate. Think about others in general, and in these types of situations in particular.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Unpredicto
As they say about life, it's not the destination that matters, but the journey. I happen to agree with this philosophy, and therefore try to employ this whenever possible.
So, when the weather's nice, a few of the guys i work with will usually take a walk to the Tim Horton's nearby after lunch. It's a nice way to get a bit of fresh air, a little bit of exercise, and a cup of this country's national identity.
To make our little excursion even more interesting, the boys and i will regress just a little bit to a simpler, earlier time. A time when men were men. A time when women didn't vote. A time when cholera wiped out millions of people.
See, on our short walks to T-Ho's, we bring a small rubber ball. As we walk, we vigorously throw said small rubber ball against various brick walls. The idea is that you try to put a spin or a bounce on the ball because the next guy has to catch it after you've thrown it. The nature of these small balls is that they'll often take unpredictable bounces (thus the name of our game), throwing off how the guy anticipates he'll catch the ball.
As a result, this little game is inherently dangerous. Maybe, just maybe, the guy trying to catch it will lunge and possibly fall, which provides us a tremendous amount of entertainment. Sometimes one of the guys wears what appear to be tap dancing shoes, because often when he lunges, the shoes will slip on the concrete, and his balance gets all buggered up, increasing the chance he's going down.
One time, when we were at the busy intersection leading to the Tim Horton's, I threw the ball diagonally through the intersection to see what would happen. Carnage and death did not ensue, as that was not my intent, so i'm not exactly sure why I did that.
But the point is, we are all grown men, playing a silly little game.
We've relayed the details of this game we play to girlfriends and females we work with, and they think it's stupid and childish.
I find that very interesting.
I'm guessing they wouldn't say that if their boyfriends were people like Derek Jeter, Chris Bosh or Sidney Crosby, who are also grown men playing children's games.
Gee, I wonder why that is.
So, when the weather's nice, a few of the guys i work with will usually take a walk to the Tim Horton's nearby after lunch. It's a nice way to get a bit of fresh air, a little bit of exercise, and a cup of this country's national identity.
To make our little excursion even more interesting, the boys and i will regress just a little bit to a simpler, earlier time. A time when men were men. A time when women didn't vote. A time when cholera wiped out millions of people.
See, on our short walks to T-Ho's, we bring a small rubber ball. As we walk, we vigorously throw said small rubber ball against various brick walls. The idea is that you try to put a spin or a bounce on the ball because the next guy has to catch it after you've thrown it. The nature of these small balls is that they'll often take unpredictable bounces (thus the name of our game), throwing off how the guy anticipates he'll catch the ball.
As a result, this little game is inherently dangerous. Maybe, just maybe, the guy trying to catch it will lunge and possibly fall, which provides us a tremendous amount of entertainment. Sometimes one of the guys wears what appear to be tap dancing shoes, because often when he lunges, the shoes will slip on the concrete, and his balance gets all buggered up, increasing the chance he's going down.
One time, when we were at the busy intersection leading to the Tim Horton's, I threw the ball diagonally through the intersection to see what would happen. Carnage and death did not ensue, as that was not my intent, so i'm not exactly sure why I did that.
But the point is, we are all grown men, playing a silly little game.
We've relayed the details of this game we play to girlfriends and females we work with, and they think it's stupid and childish.
I find that very interesting.
I'm guessing they wouldn't say that if their boyfriends were people like Derek Jeter, Chris Bosh or Sidney Crosby, who are also grown men playing children's games.
Gee, I wonder why that is.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Do you like my gitch?
So it was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Dani was Grandma-Sitting and I was home alone with Jones (our small black furry child with the busted tail who wears no pants but has the best set of teeth on the planet, feline or otherwise) about 3pm.
Jones is an indoor cat, but sometimes she likes to quietly meander our 10th floor hallway. She usually just sits out there for a few minutes then comes in, but we will prop the door open just a bit so we can keep an eye on her.
On this ocassion she was out for just a couple of minutes when I began to prepare to take a quick shower, which involves the shedding of clothing, a necessary step for one to wash one's self. While giving Jones a couple of more minutes of freedom, I decided to quickly sit on the couch and check a couple of emails.
So, I'm on the couch in my gitch, almost naked. Remember, Dani is away for a few days. Just then I notice the front door of my condo opening up completely (as it was propped open just a bit for Jones), and guess who walks in..two women!
"Thank you Jesus!", i exclaim in my head.
For obvious reasons, I didn't get up, and they enter my condo. The first one, a young woman about 25 or so, smiles at me and says "hello".
Now, the male mind is an amazing thing. Instead of freaking out that two strangers have just walked into my place when i'm nearly nude, I instantly think this is a great porno scene so I decide to "go with it."
"Hello", I say back.
I can now see the second woman behind the first, and realize that perhaps this porno scene is the kind you'd see on the 4 dollar rack at the adult movie store, because the second woman is about 146 years old.
So what happens next? Well, they walk right in and start taking off their shoes of course.
By this point, I'm thinking they still haven't noticed i'm in my gitch. Makes sense, because they probably could only see the top half of me since i was sitting on the couch and the breakfast bar was blocking their view.
Just as I was about to point them in the direction of the bedroom, the younger woman stops and says.. "we're here for the open house."
Wah wah wah.
See, my neighbour is selling her condo and was having an open house. My door was propped open for Jones, so these women thought my place was the open house, which explains why they were so casual when they walked in.
A good story, but an unhappy ending, literally.
Jones is an indoor cat, but sometimes she likes to quietly meander our 10th floor hallway. She usually just sits out there for a few minutes then comes in, but we will prop the door open just a bit so we can keep an eye on her.
On this ocassion she was out for just a couple of minutes when I began to prepare to take a quick shower, which involves the shedding of clothing, a necessary step for one to wash one's self. While giving Jones a couple of more minutes of freedom, I decided to quickly sit on the couch and check a couple of emails.
So, I'm on the couch in my gitch, almost naked. Remember, Dani is away for a few days. Just then I notice the front door of my condo opening up completely (as it was propped open just a bit for Jones), and guess who walks in..two women!
"Thank you Jesus!", i exclaim in my head.
For obvious reasons, I didn't get up, and they enter my condo. The first one, a young woman about 25 or so, smiles at me and says "hello".
Now, the male mind is an amazing thing. Instead of freaking out that two strangers have just walked into my place when i'm nearly nude, I instantly think this is a great porno scene so I decide to "go with it."
"Hello", I say back.
I can now see the second woman behind the first, and realize that perhaps this porno scene is the kind you'd see on the 4 dollar rack at the adult movie store, because the second woman is about 146 years old.
So what happens next? Well, they walk right in and start taking off their shoes of course.
By this point, I'm thinking they still haven't noticed i'm in my gitch. Makes sense, because they probably could only see the top half of me since i was sitting on the couch and the breakfast bar was blocking their view.
Just as I was about to point them in the direction of the bedroom, the younger woman stops and says.. "we're here for the open house."
Wah wah wah.
See, my neighbour is selling her condo and was having an open house. My door was propped open for Jones, so these women thought my place was the open house, which explains why they were so casual when they walked in.
A good story, but an unhappy ending, literally.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Bamboozled
This is one of those things where everyone says "oh we know it's wrong but what are you gonna do about it".
I was watching the weather report on tv the other day, and they were forecasting the weather for march 17, st.patrick's day. well, tv tries to be cute so they often will add a visual icon beside a day of note like this one. in this case, they added a dancing leprechaun, complete with red nose and buffoon-like shit-eating grin.
Let me just say this. If that day was, say, the start of February, which is black history month, what dancing animated icon would they put in then? How about chinese new year? or hanukkah?
why is it that it's ok to lampoon irish culture with a silly stereotype but not others?
I was watching the weather report on tv the other day, and they were forecasting the weather for march 17, st.patrick's day. well, tv tries to be cute so they often will add a visual icon beside a day of note like this one. in this case, they added a dancing leprechaun, complete with red nose and buffoon-like shit-eating grin.
Let me just say this. If that day was, say, the start of February, which is black history month, what dancing animated icon would they put in then? How about chinese new year? or hanukkah?
why is it that it's ok to lampoon irish culture with a silly stereotype but not others?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Steve
I was questioning whether or not I should include the name of the person I'm writing this entry about. But then I realized that this person, Steve, would never, in a billion years, ever read this.
Never. Ever.
But i'm not going to use his real name anyway. I just feel better about it. Rest assured however that Steve is a real person.
Steve is a nice older gentleman. He is probably just north of 60, articulate, intelligent, opinionated, and knows a hell of a lot about a lot of little things. This man knows his shit. Problem with your ducts? Steve will tell you that you'd need to re-install the flange capacitor hub module accelerator. Or something like that. Point is this. Steve is good at one thing, and that one thing is his job.
The problem is, that not too long ago, Steve lost that job. I'm not sure why, but I do have my theories.
Steve is also a solitary man. From what I understand, he's never been married, has no family and he's lived alone for a very long time. That, combined with the fact that men can be men, things might go unchecked. In Steve's case, those unchecked things are likely psychological.
At any given time, you might look at Steve, who would be sitting alone, and Steve would be having a little chat with himself. He'd be in full conversation mode, albeit at a relatively hushed whisper level. Which tells me that although Steve clearly has some noggin issues, he's also aware that in public places he needs to conceal these little chats.
If Steve was in the middle of one of these conversations and someone walked by and said "Hey Steve", he'd break out of the trance immediately and come back to this world, and he'd say hello back. He'd be polite and talk about the weather, and find out how your wife is doing, and wonder if you ever got that duct problem taken care of. Then, after you walked away, in about 10 seconds he'd slip back into that other reality.
I feel bad for Steve, I really do. I don't think he's got much money to live on, and when I look at him I think it's just sad. How did he become this way? What were the origins of this creeping schizophrenia? Was it because he's been alone all these years? Is it getting worse because he lost his job? I really do feel awful about it.
So, the other day, I saw Steve at a local pub. He was the same, as he always is. I felt bad for the guy as I usually do. So, as i was paying my own tab, I asked the bartender to buy a beer for Steve on me, and I quickly left before he knew I'd bought him a pint.
The next time I saw Steve, I chatted with him for a while. It was the same basic conversation I always had with the man. I actually completely forgot I had bought him that beer, but later I realized he didn't acknowledge it at all, making me wonder if the bartender had gotten him one. Not that i expected anything in return, but it seemed odd. In any event, when leaving, i bought Steve another pint without him knowing.
A few days later i ran into Steve again. We chatted about the weather and ducts. But this time i wondered if he'd say "thanks" for the two pints I had bought him, as i had confirmed with the bartender that he was given the beers on my behalf. I didn't want him to buy me pints back because the guy doesn't have much. But yes, I did want him to acknowledge it. You know. It's just common courtesy. A quick "thank you" and that's the end of it. I'd even take a "hey you dumb asshole this whole thing has been a charade and I'm actually not crazy at all and i didn't lose my job and i've got a billion dollars in my pocket and I tricked you into buying me two pints of beer."
But nothing.
Steve can go blow it out his ass.
Never. Ever.
But i'm not going to use his real name anyway. I just feel better about it. Rest assured however that Steve is a real person.
Steve is a nice older gentleman. He is probably just north of 60, articulate, intelligent, opinionated, and knows a hell of a lot about a lot of little things. This man knows his shit. Problem with your ducts? Steve will tell you that you'd need to re-install the flange capacitor hub module accelerator. Or something like that. Point is this. Steve is good at one thing, and that one thing is his job.
The problem is, that not too long ago, Steve lost that job. I'm not sure why, but I do have my theories.
Steve is also a solitary man. From what I understand, he's never been married, has no family and he's lived alone for a very long time. That, combined with the fact that men can be men, things might go unchecked. In Steve's case, those unchecked things are likely psychological.
At any given time, you might look at Steve, who would be sitting alone, and Steve would be having a little chat with himself. He'd be in full conversation mode, albeit at a relatively hushed whisper level. Which tells me that although Steve clearly has some noggin issues, he's also aware that in public places he needs to conceal these little chats.
If Steve was in the middle of one of these conversations and someone walked by and said "Hey Steve", he'd break out of the trance immediately and come back to this world, and he'd say hello back. He'd be polite and talk about the weather, and find out how your wife is doing, and wonder if you ever got that duct problem taken care of. Then, after you walked away, in about 10 seconds he'd slip back into that other reality.
I feel bad for Steve, I really do. I don't think he's got much money to live on, and when I look at him I think it's just sad. How did he become this way? What were the origins of this creeping schizophrenia? Was it because he's been alone all these years? Is it getting worse because he lost his job? I really do feel awful about it.
So, the other day, I saw Steve at a local pub. He was the same, as he always is. I felt bad for the guy as I usually do. So, as i was paying my own tab, I asked the bartender to buy a beer for Steve on me, and I quickly left before he knew I'd bought him a pint.
The next time I saw Steve, I chatted with him for a while. It was the same basic conversation I always had with the man. I actually completely forgot I had bought him that beer, but later I realized he didn't acknowledge it at all, making me wonder if the bartender had gotten him one. Not that i expected anything in return, but it seemed odd. In any event, when leaving, i bought Steve another pint without him knowing.
A few days later i ran into Steve again. We chatted about the weather and ducts. But this time i wondered if he'd say "thanks" for the two pints I had bought him, as i had confirmed with the bartender that he was given the beers on my behalf. I didn't want him to buy me pints back because the guy doesn't have much. But yes, I did want him to acknowledge it. You know. It's just common courtesy. A quick "thank you" and that's the end of it. I'd even take a "hey you dumb asshole this whole thing has been a charade and I'm actually not crazy at all and i didn't lose my job and i've got a billion dollars in my pocket and I tricked you into buying me two pints of beer."
But nothing.
Steve can go blow it out his ass.
Old World Vulture
Toronto band Old World Vulture played Neutral recently as part of CMW and I was there. Great show guys. To the uninitiated, you can get a feel for the band by checking out this skillfully edited short promo vid here.
OWV features that pal of mine Devin who I had a gay encounter with in the ocean I mentioned in a previous entry. Devin couldn't be that gay though because he's married. Although, so was U.S. Senator Larry Craig.
Anyway, Devin's wife Kerry said I was a groupie because I was standing right near the front. I guess it's cooler to stand in the back, near the bar. That way i could feel like a record company executive looking for The Next Big Thing. Of course, I'd be even cooler if i was way way back in the club, but i couldn't because there was a couple there making out. All night.
So i was hanging out near the front, just to the left of the stage, depending on your perspective. It was funny how this weird horseshoe shape formed in the crowd of people watching the band. Nobody was actually standing right in front of the stage watching them play. They all sort of stood back to create this semi circle, because i guess it's not cool to do stand right in the front. See, OWV is an indie band, and by extension I will assume that people in attendance were fans of indie music. That explains the semi circle then. In theory, Indie people are cool. And if you're right up front watching the band that closely, i guess you come across too eager, which is uncool.
Having said that, infamous DJ and new music afficionado Alan Cross was at the venue last night, which is very cool.
OWV features that pal of mine Devin who I had a gay encounter with in the ocean I mentioned in a previous entry. Devin couldn't be that gay though because he's married. Although, so was U.S. Senator Larry Craig.
Anyway, Devin's wife Kerry said I was a groupie because I was standing right near the front. I guess it's cooler to stand in the back, near the bar. That way i could feel like a record company executive looking for The Next Big Thing. Of course, I'd be even cooler if i was way way back in the club, but i couldn't because there was a couple there making out. All night.
So i was hanging out near the front, just to the left of the stage, depending on your perspective. It was funny how this weird horseshoe shape formed in the crowd of people watching the band. Nobody was actually standing right in front of the stage watching them play. They all sort of stood back to create this semi circle, because i guess it's not cool to do stand right in the front. See, OWV is an indie band, and by extension I will assume that people in attendance were fans of indie music. That explains the semi circle then. In theory, Indie people are cool. And if you're right up front watching the band that closely, i guess you come across too eager, which is uncool.
Having said that, infamous DJ and new music afficionado Alan Cross was at the venue last night, which is very cool.
My Gay Devin Moment
Devin is a pal of mine. We once wrestled mostly nude in the surf at a resort in the Caribbean. It was sort of like when those two cartoon dogs are eating spaghetti and they realize they're eating the same piece, which brings them snout to snout.
Devin and I came snout to snout in that surf, but as far as i remember there wasn't any spaghetti around.
See, we were out swimming in the beach, and there were these big waves that would knock you clean off your feet. It was fun, but neither of us expected the end result would be a bizarre homosexual encounter. One particular wave came crashing in, and it knocked me into him, or him into me, and we both got flipped over a few times. Next think you know it's just like this.
Devin and I never spoke of it again.
Devin and I came snout to snout in that surf, but as far as i remember there wasn't any spaghetti around.
See, we were out swimming in the beach, and there were these big waves that would knock you clean off your feet. It was fun, but neither of us expected the end result would be a bizarre homosexual encounter. One particular wave came crashing in, and it knocked me into him, or him into me, and we both got flipped over a few times. Next think you know it's just like this.
Devin and I never spoke of it again.
People Piss Me Off
This edition of PPMO comes to you from my work cafeteria.
Look. We're all busy people at work. We want to take full advantage of our lunch hour. This is why many companies install a cafeteria with discounted prices on sub-par quality food. We have been hypnotized to think this is a benefit to us, but in reality, it's to keep you in the building so you'll get back to work faster. I know because I took one Organizational Behaviour class in university, in which i scored a 61 as i recall. So therefore i am an expert.
Anyway, in my case, I usually bring a lunch, lovingly prepared by my girl Dani. And recently, I bought a giant case of 24 cans of club soda specifically so i can drink what i want at lunch, as the cafetorium (as i like to call it) doesn't sell soda in cans. This also means i don't have to wait in any annoying lineups in the cafeteria, allowing me to quickly get to the business of consuming my tasty morsels of food.
So far so good right?
However, each morning i always always forget to go to the effort of reaching into the kitchen cupboard to retrieve a club soda. As a result, I must purchase a cold beverage to wash down my kahuna burger at the cafeteria, which, in lieu of soda as stated above, is Coke zero.
Now, I like to think that i am generally a patient person. I'm not the most patient, but i'm not about to behead someone for eating up 4seconds of my time either. So, now i'm in the lineup at the cafetorium. Usually there are about 9 people in front of me, because of course, with the busy lunch rush at noon, the cafetorium manager has wisely decided to put only one person on a register, of which there are two.
So, what in particular Pisses Me Off in this instance, aside from what i've already described?
It's the people who are buying a coffee...or a stupid ass green tea.. or a pop....with a goddamn debit card.
Now, I'm gonna go way out on a limb and assume the other employees at the company i work for are not working for free. Let's pretend that they're at least getting a decent living wage. I know they must be, because unlike me, many of them wear ties. And nobody's gonna wear a tie to work if they're not getting paid for it.
So, my question is this. If you wear a tie and get a regular pay cheque, can't you string enough scratch together on a daily basis to buy a discounted can of pop for one dollar and five cents?
I'm thinking yes.
I have nothing against debit cards. I have one myself. But i only use it for purchases in certain instances where the value is a hell of a lot more than a buck-five. And, when i do use it, i usually maximize the process (and amortize the bank's service charge) by getting cash back, perhaps at the supermarket (where i buy the cases of soda i'm too lazy to retrieve for my lunches).
So to you people: Plan your day just a little better. Stop worrying about how straight your tie is in the morning and organize your daily financial expenditures. Put together a spreadsheet together every month if you have to. In the very least, reach into your sofa cushions and pull out a buck-five in pennies and nickels. Because here's the thing. You're pissing me off.
Now i know what you're thinking. You're thinking that maybe for some people it's the only option. But no. You're wrong there sir. About 16 feet away from the cash register, just outside the cafetorium, within the building that we all work in, there's a bank machine. Yes! A bank machine! And not one of those nasty independent machines you see in nightclubs and convenience stores that charge you 9 bucks to pull out 5. It's clean and it's operated by CIBC. And guess what else! Many of the employees at the company i work for are setup with accounts with CIBC, which suggests to me , that there is absolutely no service charge for them to retrieve money from there, prior to coming into the cafeteria to Piss Me Off.
Wouldn't it make more sense to pull out say 20 bucks from there, instead of holding up the line in the cafeteria and getting a service charge from that debit card machine?
Then again, if i put in an extra 7 seconds of effort every morning, and reached into the kitchen cupboard, and pulled out a can of club soda, I guess this blog entry would never have been written.
Look. We're all busy people at work. We want to take full advantage of our lunch hour. This is why many companies install a cafeteria with discounted prices on sub-par quality food. We have been hypnotized to think this is a benefit to us, but in reality, it's to keep you in the building so you'll get back to work faster. I know because I took one Organizational Behaviour class in university, in which i scored a 61 as i recall. So therefore i am an expert.
Anyway, in my case, I usually bring a lunch, lovingly prepared by my girl Dani. And recently, I bought a giant case of 24 cans of club soda specifically so i can drink what i want at lunch, as the cafetorium (as i like to call it) doesn't sell soda in cans. This also means i don't have to wait in any annoying lineups in the cafeteria, allowing me to quickly get to the business of consuming my tasty morsels of food.
So far so good right?
However, each morning i always always forget to go to the effort of reaching into the kitchen cupboard to retrieve a club soda. As a result, I must purchase a cold beverage to wash down my kahuna burger at the cafeteria, which, in lieu of soda as stated above, is Coke zero.
Now, I like to think that i am generally a patient person. I'm not the most patient, but i'm not about to behead someone for eating up 4seconds of my time either. So, now i'm in the lineup at the cafetorium. Usually there are about 9 people in front of me, because of course, with the busy lunch rush at noon, the cafetorium manager has wisely decided to put only one person on a register, of which there are two.
So, what in particular Pisses Me Off in this instance, aside from what i've already described?
It's the people who are buying a coffee...or a stupid ass green tea.. or a pop....with a goddamn debit card.
Now, I'm gonna go way out on a limb and assume the other employees at the company i work for are not working for free. Let's pretend that they're at least getting a decent living wage. I know they must be, because unlike me, many of them wear ties. And nobody's gonna wear a tie to work if they're not getting paid for it.
So, my question is this. If you wear a tie and get a regular pay cheque, can't you string enough scratch together on a daily basis to buy a discounted can of pop for one dollar and five cents?
I'm thinking yes.
I have nothing against debit cards. I have one myself. But i only use it for purchases in certain instances where the value is a hell of a lot more than a buck-five. And, when i do use it, i usually maximize the process (and amortize the bank's service charge) by getting cash back, perhaps at the supermarket (where i buy the cases of soda i'm too lazy to retrieve for my lunches).
So to you people: Plan your day just a little better. Stop worrying about how straight your tie is in the morning and organize your daily financial expenditures. Put together a spreadsheet together every month if you have to. In the very least, reach into your sofa cushions and pull out a buck-five in pennies and nickels. Because here's the thing. You're pissing me off.
Now i know what you're thinking. You're thinking that maybe for some people it's the only option. But no. You're wrong there sir. About 16 feet away from the cash register, just outside the cafetorium, within the building that we all work in, there's a bank machine. Yes! A bank machine! And not one of those nasty independent machines you see in nightclubs and convenience stores that charge you 9 bucks to pull out 5. It's clean and it's operated by CIBC. And guess what else! Many of the employees at the company i work for are setup with accounts with CIBC, which suggests to me , that there is absolutely no service charge for them to retrieve money from there, prior to coming into the cafeteria to Piss Me Off.
Wouldn't it make more sense to pull out say 20 bucks from there, instead of holding up the line in the cafeteria and getting a service charge from that debit card machine?
Then again, if i put in an extra 7 seconds of effort every morning, and reached into the kitchen cupboard, and pulled out a can of club soda, I guess this blog entry would never have been written.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
People Piss Devin Off
This one was inspired by that half-man, half-minotaur monstrosity known as Devin.
Apparently People Piss Him Off when he's walking to work along busy Queen West.
I'll let him explain in his own words:
"Every morning I walk to work and I get to an intersection. I start to cross. When I get to the other side, there are a bunch of people waiting to cross the other way. And there are always a few who just stand in the middle of the sidewalk even though me and 6 other people cant get through!"
It's another example of ignorant self-centred people who seem to feel the universe revolves solely around them. The net result of this type of situation potentially is that Devin could get his sorry ass run over by cars driving through the intersection.
My recommendation to you Devin is this. As you approach the hordes of jackasses blocking your way, pull out a small knife and start waving it around like you're a crazy person. Drool if you can manage the saliva.
I wouldn't recommend actually stabbing someone, although I'm sure your hotshot lawyer wife would get you off not unlike former Tory MP Rahim Jaffer's recent legal troubles. Instead, just wave the blade about, and watch the red sea part. Then, laugh and laugh and laugh.
Apparently People Piss Him Off when he's walking to work along busy Queen West.
I'll let him explain in his own words:
"Every morning I walk to work and I get to an intersection. I start to cross. When I get to the other side, there are a bunch of people waiting to cross the other way. And there are always a few who just stand in the middle of the sidewalk even though me and 6 other people cant get through!"
It's another example of ignorant self-centred people who seem to feel the universe revolves solely around them. The net result of this type of situation potentially is that Devin could get his sorry ass run over by cars driving through the intersection.
My recommendation to you Devin is this. As you approach the hordes of jackasses blocking your way, pull out a small knife and start waving it around like you're a crazy person. Drool if you can manage the saliva.
I wouldn't recommend actually stabbing someone, although I'm sure your hotshot lawyer wife would get you off not unlike former Tory MP Rahim Jaffer's recent legal troubles. Instead, just wave the blade about, and watch the red sea part. Then, laugh and laugh and laugh.
Scamp I'd like to introduce you to Jones Pt.1
Isn't it funny when people talk about pets, they classify themselves into categories. People will say "i'm a dog person" or "i'm a cat person". Strange that. It's like we have to pick a side, and by extension, our choice apparently tells us a lot about our selves. I mean, we have about fourteen categories of sexuality nowadays, so why do we only have to choose one when it comes to pets?
Me, i've always thought of myself as a dog person. Scamp was our dog growing up. Don't ask me what kind of dog he was. He was small, with some black fur and some brown fur. Maybe a little white fur under his chin. See, we got Scamp from the dog pound way back in the olden days. He was only ten bucks. But man did that dog have life, and he brought a lot of happiness into my family. Sure he was a pain in the ass sometimes..and his ass was sometimes a pain if you get my meaning. But he was our dog.
We had Scamp for a long time. I guess he was pretty happy living with us, because i think he made it to about 16 or 17. Then the awful day came when Scamp just got too old, and my dad had the terrible task of taking him to be put asleep. Who would have thought a small animal would have brought such pleasure to a family. We had brought hundreds of other small animals into our household over those years, but we ate those small animals at thanksgiving, christmas and most sundays.
I also once had a pet lizard. A salamander in particular. He didn't last long. One summer night i was in the backyard with him as he swam around in his little bowl of water. Problem was i forgot to bring him inside and the next morning was a very very hot morning, turning his aqua paradise into a cauldron of boiling death.
Then came Megan. Megan was a rat. Yea Yea I know. But she didn't look like a rat. Certainly not one of those black subway rats. In fact she was beige and looked more like a guinea pig. She would sit on my shoulder and try to make out with me. Seriously. She'd stick out her little rat tongue and try to lick around my mouth. Seriously. I'd only let her do that after i'd have a couple of glasses of wine though.
Flash forward to 2009. Dani and I decided to take a walk over to the humane society. A time when the president of the humane society wasn't water-boarding the animals. It was a good time. So anyway, we walk in and tell the woman we're interested in some kind of low maintenance creature because with our lifestyles, we're just much too selfish to have any real responsibility for another life at this point.
We walk around some and look at a billion cats of all sizes, ages and races. Okay species. Then the woman suggests this one kitten, about a year old, and brings us over. The cat's name is Zeppelin. I could visualize it's original owner. About 50, long hair, stuck in 70's arena rock. I was close. Zeppelin was found wandering around in Pickering. She was black, had a weird smunched up flat face and piercing yellow eyes. It's like she came directly from Hell. I liked her immediately.
But we walked around some more to check out the other choices, much like you'd select the best cut of steak at the grocery store. After a while though, both Dani and I kept thinking about that little black kitten Zeppelin. She was odd. Different. Unique. And, her tail was busted. The end of her tail was crooked for some reason. We'll never know why, but i'm hoping it was at least an interesting story. Perhaps one day when cats learn to talk we'll find out.
To be continued...
Me, i've always thought of myself as a dog person. Scamp was our dog growing up. Don't ask me what kind of dog he was. He was small, with some black fur and some brown fur. Maybe a little white fur under his chin. See, we got Scamp from the dog pound way back in the olden days. He was only ten bucks. But man did that dog have life, and he brought a lot of happiness into my family. Sure he was a pain in the ass sometimes..and his ass was sometimes a pain if you get my meaning. But he was our dog.
We had Scamp for a long time. I guess he was pretty happy living with us, because i think he made it to about 16 or 17. Then the awful day came when Scamp just got too old, and my dad had the terrible task of taking him to be put asleep. Who would have thought a small animal would have brought such pleasure to a family. We had brought hundreds of other small animals into our household over those years, but we ate those small animals at thanksgiving, christmas and most sundays.
I also once had a pet lizard. A salamander in particular. He didn't last long. One summer night i was in the backyard with him as he swam around in his little bowl of water. Problem was i forgot to bring him inside and the next morning was a very very hot morning, turning his aqua paradise into a cauldron of boiling death.
Then came Megan. Megan was a rat. Yea Yea I know. But she didn't look like a rat. Certainly not one of those black subway rats. In fact she was beige and looked more like a guinea pig. She would sit on my shoulder and try to make out with me. Seriously. She'd stick out her little rat tongue and try to lick around my mouth. Seriously. I'd only let her do that after i'd have a couple of glasses of wine though.
Flash forward to 2009. Dani and I decided to take a walk over to the humane society. A time when the president of the humane society wasn't water-boarding the animals. It was a good time. So anyway, we walk in and tell the woman we're interested in some kind of low maintenance creature because with our lifestyles, we're just much too selfish to have any real responsibility for another life at this point.
We walk around some and look at a billion cats of all sizes, ages and races. Okay species. Then the woman suggests this one kitten, about a year old, and brings us over. The cat's name is Zeppelin. I could visualize it's original owner. About 50, long hair, stuck in 70's arena rock. I was close. Zeppelin was found wandering around in Pickering. She was black, had a weird smunched up flat face and piercing yellow eyes. It's like she came directly from Hell. I liked her immediately.
But we walked around some more to check out the other choices, much like you'd select the best cut of steak at the grocery store. After a while though, both Dani and I kept thinking about that little black kitten Zeppelin. She was odd. Different. Unique. And, her tail was busted. The end of her tail was crooked for some reason. We'll never know why, but i'm hoping it was at least an interesting story. Perhaps one day when cats learn to talk we'll find out.
To be continued...
Meat on a string
When i visit my parents and my mom makes her usual fabulous roast beef, i regress just a little and do something my brother and sister did when we were kids.
After the roast beast is cooked, we snip off the string that sorta holds it all compactly for cooking . I actually wonder what would happen if you cooked the meat without that string. Maybe it would flatten or deform itself in the cooking process, which of course would not be so palatable. Then again, who's kidding who. We're eating an animal's muscle tissue. But I digress.
So we bust out some scissors and pull of this thick string which as been tied tightly into the meat for the entire process. So when you take it off, there are not only little delicious morsels of roast beast attached, but roast beast juice absorbed by the string.
We'd pop this string into our mouth and chew on it, getting all the bits of meat and literally sucking out the juice. Then, when all the goodness was gone, you'd take the string out of your mouth which would be just a husk of its former self. Dry, meatless and sad looking.
But when that meat on a string came off the beast...outstanding, albeit in a Hobo'esque sort of way. Think of it as meat spaghetti.
it was delish. thanks Mom!
After the roast beast is cooked, we snip off the string that sorta holds it all compactly for cooking . I actually wonder what would happen if you cooked the meat without that string. Maybe it would flatten or deform itself in the cooking process, which of course would not be so palatable. Then again, who's kidding who. We're eating an animal's muscle tissue. But I digress.
So we bust out some scissors and pull of this thick string which as been tied tightly into the meat for the entire process. So when you take it off, there are not only little delicious morsels of roast beast attached, but roast beast juice absorbed by the string.
We'd pop this string into our mouth and chew on it, getting all the bits of meat and literally sucking out the juice. Then, when all the goodness was gone, you'd take the string out of your mouth which would be just a husk of its former self. Dry, meatless and sad looking.
But when that meat on a string came off the beast...outstanding, albeit in a Hobo'esque sort of way. Think of it as meat spaghetti.
it was delish. thanks Mom!
Movie Review: UP
Now i'm not usually a fan of spending hard earned money to sit for two hours to watch a goddamn cartoon.
Unless said cartoon entertains my ass.
Examples of this are rare, but fortunately i can add the disney "film" UP to this list. Others include the lion king, one of the shrek movies and ...well that's all i can remember at the moment.
Hollywood's getting real smart about writing these. They're taking the kill two birds approach, where they realize people like me don't want to watch cartoons generally. But kids do..and kids can't go to the movies by themselves anymore (wow times have changed) so, they're writing these stories with adult themes - too subtle for kids to understand, while throwing in the obligatory cartooney stuff. Smart marketing - appeal to the child in the child, and the inner child in the adult.
Anyway, i was pleasantly surprised by UP. It was well written, looked fabulous in HD and those tricky bastards convinced me i was watching real people and not a billion files of data in some complex computer software. Granted, i probably started off discounting it because it was a cartoon after all.
But i'm guessing those sneaky mofos producing these things know that too.
Unless said cartoon entertains my ass.
Examples of this are rare, but fortunately i can add the disney "film" UP to this list. Others include the lion king, one of the shrek movies and ...well that's all i can remember at the moment.
Hollywood's getting real smart about writing these. They're taking the kill two birds approach, where they realize people like me don't want to watch cartoons generally. But kids do..and kids can't go to the movies by themselves anymore (wow times have changed) so, they're writing these stories with adult themes - too subtle for kids to understand, while throwing in the obligatory cartooney stuff. Smart marketing - appeal to the child in the child, and the inner child in the adult.
Anyway, i was pleasantly surprised by UP. It was well written, looked fabulous in HD and those tricky bastards convinced me i was watching real people and not a billion files of data in some complex computer software. Granted, i probably started off discounting it because it was a cartoon after all.
But i'm guessing those sneaky mofos producing these things know that too.
God is in your head.
so in the toronto star today, a revolutionary idea - a supposition that God doesn't exist!
my God..er, i mean, my Golly.. can it be?!
well, apparently about 150,000 years ago, us humans got smart enough to realize that one day, we'd all slither off this mortal coil.
that shit freaked them mofo's out.
so, to make themselves and future generations feel better, they made up God! well. some kind of primitive God. some kind of deity. Some kind of wonderful (an excellent yet flawed 80's film i might add).
turns out that when humans started believin in some kind of God, we essentially obtained a philosophical purpose. When that started happening, the chemical serotonin was released into the ol noggin, which relieves stress. Subsequent rituals and ceremonies added more serotonin, all the way up to the point where Father O'Malley boinks little Billy and the Church replies by saying that God Works In Mysterious Ways.
Don't get me wrong. I think the notion of God is basically good. God is like a giant white-bearded tylenol that helps comfort people, and how the hell can you knock that?..oops..sorry God..how the heck can you knock that?
In fact, i believed in God until that creepy head vampire in 28 Days of Night (masterfully played by Danny Huston) replied to one of his soon-to-be-victims who, in her terror, says "Oh god!".
Huston looks to the sky, perplexed by her statement, looks back at the girl and says:
"God? No God."
That's some cold shit.
my God..er, i mean, my Golly.. can it be?!
well, apparently about 150,000 years ago, us humans got smart enough to realize that one day, we'd all slither off this mortal coil.
that shit freaked them mofo's out.
so, to make themselves and future generations feel better, they made up God! well. some kind of primitive God. some kind of deity. Some kind of wonderful (an excellent yet flawed 80's film i might add).
turns out that when humans started believin in some kind of God, we essentially obtained a philosophical purpose. When that started happening, the chemical serotonin was released into the ol noggin, which relieves stress. Subsequent rituals and ceremonies added more serotonin, all the way up to the point where Father O'Malley boinks little Billy and the Church replies by saying that God Works In Mysterious Ways.
Don't get me wrong. I think the notion of God is basically good. God is like a giant white-bearded tylenol that helps comfort people, and how the hell can you knock that?..oops..sorry God..how the heck can you knock that?
In fact, i believed in God until that creepy head vampire in 28 Days of Night (masterfully played by Danny Huston) replied to one of his soon-to-be-victims who, in her terror, says "Oh god!".
Huston looks to the sky, perplexed by her statement, looks back at the girl and says:
"God? No God."
That's some cold shit.
"When i'm 65"
or however that stupid-ass song goes..
my point is that i guess i've got some kind of psychological illness, because i never feel a day over 25. i think i'm perpetually stuck in thinking i'll never get old(er), but apparently i will, according to Science anyway.
i still like to discover new music. i still like video games. i still like horror movies. and i still like going to schools at recess and playing jumprope (ok scratch that in case da fuzz get the wrong idea). so, what the hell is wrong with me?
maybe i should start wearing funny looking clothes and listen to "toronto's lite favourites" on chfi. maybe i should live in some cookie-cutter big-box-store suburb, and maybe i should just grow up and have 3 kids - a boy to start, then a girl, so the first boy can take care of said girl, then another boy so he can maybe make the nhl so i can realize my own failed pro hockey dreams.
maybe.
my point is that i guess i've got some kind of psychological illness, because i never feel a day over 25. i think i'm perpetually stuck in thinking i'll never get old(er), but apparently i will, according to Science anyway.
i still like to discover new music. i still like video games. i still like horror movies. and i still like going to schools at recess and playing jumprope (ok scratch that in case da fuzz get the wrong idea). so, what the hell is wrong with me?
maybe i should start wearing funny looking clothes and listen to "toronto's lite favourites" on chfi. maybe i should live in some cookie-cutter big-box-store suburb, and maybe i should just grow up and have 3 kids - a boy to start, then a girl, so the first boy can take care of said girl, then another boy so he can maybe make the nhl so i can realize my own failed pro hockey dreams.
maybe.
"The problem with Scotland...is that it's full of Scots"
One of the greatest movie lines ever. It's from either bluebeard or blueface or macbeth or ..no it was braveheart i think..
in it, the king of england shares his thoughts on Scotland, and subsequently mentions that if Scots won't get out of Scotland, then the English will "breed them out" by enacting some medieval rule where English lords and such can have their way with Scottish women at their own leisure. Sounds good..if you're an English lord.
But i write this post based on the report that Crackers like me will eventually go the way of the dodo bird in this town in the not too distant future. Are you a cracker too? How does it make you feel? Do you feel threatened?
Well, to be honest, in one small way i do feel threatened. But before you slap those Three- Letters-Between-J-And-L on me, it's not what you think. I happen to love the diversity of this city. Really. I mean, where else can I eat some hot-ass Roti one day and then some hot-ass Beef Vindaloo the next? Well, besides Jamaica and India.
It's just that in some hard to understand way, i feel like one day us Honky's are gonna get what's comin to us. Payback for the hundreds of years of crap we unloaded onto various other races around the globe. And, maybe we deserve it. Maybe we need to experience what others experienced to balance the scales. Sure we have offered compensation to Native people (here in Canada and elsewhere in the world). Sure we have instituted affirmative action. Sure they produced the Cosby show in the 80's.
But what do you think? If you feel at all threatened in any innocuous way, are you in fact a racist?
Or, are you just human?
in it, the king of england shares his thoughts on Scotland, and subsequently mentions that if Scots won't get out of Scotland, then the English will "breed them out" by enacting some medieval rule where English lords and such can have their way with Scottish women at their own leisure. Sounds good..if you're an English lord.
But i write this post based on the report that Crackers like me will eventually go the way of the dodo bird in this town in the not too distant future. Are you a cracker too? How does it make you feel? Do you feel threatened?
Well, to be honest, in one small way i do feel threatened. But before you slap those Three- Letters-Between-J-And-L on me, it's not what you think. I happen to love the diversity of this city. Really. I mean, where else can I eat some hot-ass Roti one day and then some hot-ass Beef Vindaloo the next? Well, besides Jamaica and India.
It's just that in some hard to understand way, i feel like one day us Honky's are gonna get what's comin to us. Payback for the hundreds of years of crap we unloaded onto various other races around the globe. And, maybe we deserve it. Maybe we need to experience what others experienced to balance the scales. Sure we have offered compensation to Native people (here in Canada and elsewhere in the world). Sure we have instituted affirmative action. Sure they produced the Cosby show in the 80's.
But what do you think? If you feel at all threatened in any innocuous way, are you in fact a racist?
Or, are you just human?
People Piss Me Off
so... i had the misfortune of having to wait for a streetcar the other day in downtown toronto.
like most people, i find the whole public transit thing awful. i don't mind the subway so much, but streetcars or buses...what's that they say about riff-raff? look, i'm no elitist and certainly no millionaire, but it's the ignorant folk that make my hair itchy. and ignorant folk come in all classes, races, shapes, sizes and discrete brown paper packaging.
the other day while waiting for a streetcar, there was the usual orderly lineup of about 13 people. the obvious unwritten rule is if u r first at the stop, you are first to get on the vehicle, increasing the chances you'll have a seat on board. (i should note that i also refuse to line up at all. i'd rather embrace my individuality by hovering elsewhere other than the line up, and foregoing any kind of immediate chance for a seat).
so anyway, just as the streetcar is pulling up, out of nowhere this middle aged woman waddles up, looking full of attitude, and bypasses the entire line and walks first onto the streetcar. when the first guy in line mildly protests, she glared back at him in the "you-dont-talk-to-me-like-that!" sort of way.
clearly this woman had some false sense of entitlement, and i was secretly hoping it would turn into a confrontation of some sort, but sadly, it did not.
what makes people think like this? how in their right minds do they feel they can act this way? anyway, feel free to post your own stories of this nature..and maybe, just maybe, one of these assholes will read it and smarten the hell up...
like most people, i find the whole public transit thing awful. i don't mind the subway so much, but streetcars or buses...what's that they say about riff-raff? look, i'm no elitist and certainly no millionaire, but it's the ignorant folk that make my hair itchy. and ignorant folk come in all classes, races, shapes, sizes and discrete brown paper packaging.
the other day while waiting for a streetcar, there was the usual orderly lineup of about 13 people. the obvious unwritten rule is if u r first at the stop, you are first to get on the vehicle, increasing the chances you'll have a seat on board. (i should note that i also refuse to line up at all. i'd rather embrace my individuality by hovering elsewhere other than the line up, and foregoing any kind of immediate chance for a seat).
so anyway, just as the streetcar is pulling up, out of nowhere this middle aged woman waddles up, looking full of attitude, and bypasses the entire line and walks first onto the streetcar. when the first guy in line mildly protests, she glared back at him in the "you-dont-talk-to-me-like-that!" sort of way.
clearly this woman had some false sense of entitlement, and i was secretly hoping it would turn into a confrontation of some sort, but sadly, it did not.
what makes people think like this? how in their right minds do they feel they can act this way? anyway, feel free to post your own stories of this nature..and maybe, just maybe, one of these assholes will read it and smarten the hell up...
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