I had an interesting conversation in the lab. Of all things some of the guys were talking about the local sports team, The Montreal Canadians otherwise known as the "Habs". I've been watching a game or two here and there so I could hopefully one day hope to hold my own in a conversation. From what one person said, "The Habs weren't playing their game... They were playing Boston's game." Then there was a lot of name dropping and zen like talks about "energy" and ... man, i have no idea. I decided to add my two cents. "Yeah, i saw the game on Saturday. They did seem to not have a lot of energy. Not to much hussle. But they have a lot of spirit, I think they're going to pull this thing off.... Ummm... Plekanec?"
One of the guys scratched his head and continued the conversation as if I had said nothing. I really don't get it. I don't get sports. I watched the game on Saturday, the names of the players don't really stick... I mean, to me they're smacking around this puck and half heartedly fighting each other. I guess it's entertaining enough. But people's passion for the sport will always baffle me. There's so much to remember, so many teams. But what really gets me is the pride that our city of Montreal feels at our success in Hockey. It really struck me when we were singing the national anthem. You know when you can feel the pride in people's voice? It was so solemn, I daresay not a single person in the Bell Center was off note. It was actually quite beautiful. And why? For a game! So we can say, "Screw you, Boston, we're good at Hockey! You may have the best universities but we have the best... Plekanetz!"
How does pride come into it? I mean, we didn't do anything. We watched people do stuff. Where's the pride in that? And while these athletes are training and risking injury to play a game, we sit back and celebrate them piously in our day to day lives; on clothing, on buildings, on the news (after talking about death and suffering overseas), on vehicles. The buses in montreal now have "Go! Canadiens Go!" on their marquees. Is 'Go' a french word now? If not it's illegal to display that publicly. And what's "Go"? Go where? And how can they be the Canadiens and the Habs??? Pick one!!!
It's not that I mind or anything. Hockey's fun enough. I just feel like a spectator when watching or listenning to the spectators and the fans. I wonder what aliens from another planet would think if they came here and saw people injuring themselves and exerting themselves for effectively no reason. They don't gain food, they don't teach, they don't help us understand anything about this crazy world we live in. And even stranger, the people around them applaud this and cheer them on AS IF they have done something. Of course, this post probably means nothing to other people. It seems as if everyone in the world is on board with the sensation that is hockey in Montreal. I'm the only one who doesn't get it.
There is one thing I'm looking forward to, though. The riot that will ensue at the end of the season! That's something i can get on board with. I mean, when cars are overturned and entire city blocks are ravaged by roving lunatics, at least people will be able to look back on the mayhem and say, "I contributed to that!" Now that to me is a basis for pride.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Ain't that a B?
As I get older and grumpier things seem to bother me more. This week, I'm somewhat disgruntled with the word "brunch". Oh, that word angries up the blood. I remember when I was just a young lad, that word was fun and somewhat quirky. I remember thinking to myself, "How clever! It's a mixture between the words breakfast and lunch."
But as I grow older, fun and quirky seems to be increasingly synonymous with pretentious and contrived. I came to realize no one really eats anything between breakfast and lunch. I suspect most people only get out of bed at 10am, or 11am on a weekend, the only day working people would be able to arrange to have so called "brunch" with someone. The result? Usually two unsatisfying meals between 11am and 4pm which invariably ruin your supper. Cereal as you rush out of the house, and a panini or some crap at 3pm. I wouldn't consider either of those meals a breakfast/lunch hybrid.
Brunch is sort of a no-man's land of meals. It's what you invite someone to when you don't want to commit to a REAL meal. And oh the things that restaurants serve at brunch. I can respect a good breakfast, pancakes croissant, various meats... But why call that brunch? It's just breakfast at that point. Hamburgers and other sandwhiches seem too lunchlike to be eaten at brunch. So to get that brunch feeling people order strange omelettes with goat cheese, capers and/or some odd vegetables that you normally wouldn't keep in the house. What a sorry alternative to a proper meal... Some omelette that tries too hard to be different with it's exotic cheeses and unconventional vegetables. Can't you picture it now? With it's odd colors and odors, the stink of it filling your every breath, a suffocating cloud you can't escape... With pieces of green and red stuff in it looking like a pile of fried puke. Disgusting. And people justify its existence by giving it a super cool, hipster name like brunch. Punk kids. They should call it... Brarf.... A clever amalgumation of the words breakfast and barf.
Sincerest apologies to anyone who I've invited out to brunch recently. I'm cured of that now. From now on the only meals MastaCSG eats are Breakfast, Elevenses, Lunch, Afternoon-Tea, Supper, Desert and occasional snacks in between. But not brunch. NEVER BRUNCH!!! And to anyone who will invite me out to brunch in the near future, I will go, but I won't call it brunch and I WON'T have an omelette. If you don't like it, why don't you grow a pair, and invite me for supper or breakfast?
But as I grow older, fun and quirky seems to be increasingly synonymous with pretentious and contrived. I came to realize no one really eats anything between breakfast and lunch. I suspect most people only get out of bed at 10am, or 11am on a weekend, the only day working people would be able to arrange to have so called "brunch" with someone. The result? Usually two unsatisfying meals between 11am and 4pm which invariably ruin your supper. Cereal as you rush out of the house, and a panini or some crap at 3pm. I wouldn't consider either of those meals a breakfast/lunch hybrid.
Brunch is sort of a no-man's land of meals. It's what you invite someone to when you don't want to commit to a REAL meal. And oh the things that restaurants serve at brunch. I can respect a good breakfast, pancakes croissant, various meats... But why call that brunch? It's just breakfast at that point. Hamburgers and other sandwhiches seem too lunchlike to be eaten at brunch. So to get that brunch feeling people order strange omelettes with goat cheese, capers and/or some odd vegetables that you normally wouldn't keep in the house. What a sorry alternative to a proper meal... Some omelette that tries too hard to be different with it's exotic cheeses and unconventional vegetables. Can't you picture it now? With it's odd colors and odors, the stink of it filling your every breath, a suffocating cloud you can't escape... With pieces of green and red stuff in it looking like a pile of fried puke. Disgusting. And people justify its existence by giving it a super cool, hipster name like brunch. Punk kids. They should call it... Brarf.... A clever amalgumation of the words breakfast and barf.
Sincerest apologies to anyone who I've invited out to brunch recently. I'm cured of that now. From now on the only meals MastaCSG eats are Breakfast, Elevenses, Lunch, Afternoon-Tea, Supper, Desert and occasional snacks in between. But not brunch. NEVER BRUNCH!!! And to anyone who will invite me out to brunch in the near future, I will go, but I won't call it brunch and I WON'T have an omelette. If you don't like it, why don't you grow a pair, and invite me for supper or breakfast?
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Holla Black Guy
I really like to sing. But of course, singing in public could be misconstrued as insanity. I try to limit the amount of singing I do alone in my apartment too, for fear that someone might hear me and think I'm crazy in the coconut. But when I'm walking home especially late at night when I feel no one is around to hear me, I sing like a madman, to the top of my lungs with songs playing on my Ipod. Now, inevitably, when I'm singing like some kind of lunatic someone will appear out of nowhere and give me a funny look. At this point I'm convinced that some people in the neighourhood have even chosen to walk on the opposite side of the road, giving me a wide berth while I embarass myself.
I used to be more reserved about it, but now... It's become a new way to be intimidating. I sing, and people flee. That makes me top dog in Cote St-Luc... Somehow. I've also put it into my head that no one would mug a Black guy walking down the street singing. It would be so awkward.
Me: "Few times I been around that track, but it's not just gonna happen like that cuz I ain't no holla back girl! I ain't no holla back girl!"
Mugger: "Give me all your money!"
Me (reaching for my wallet): "... I ain't no.... Holla..."
Mugger: "Shut up!!!"
Me: "... back..."
Mugger: "...."
Me: "... girl..." :-(
Mugger: "What the #$%^&* are you singing?"
Me: "Gwen Stefani... I don't usually... It was just.. on my Ipod, I got caught up in the moment... I didn't think anyone was listenning."
Mugger: "What kind of black guy are you?"
Me: "My taste in music is eclectic. Or you might say... Ecleftic... Get it? Like that old Wyclef Album. You know he did that song with Witney Houston.""
Then I imagine the mugger would just look at me and walk away kind of bewildered and annoyed.
Anyway, I find a good song is great way to start off your day. The theme song to this old TV show, A Man Called Hawk, gets me into a good rythm to face a day of... rythmlessness as I stare into a microscope counting microscopic cells. As I walk to the bus, I sing that and it puts an extra spring in my step and my countenance becomes 26% more badass, which would bring me up to 126% badassness by the time I actually get to work.
In fact I'm quite obsessed with this song and I spend a lot of time just whistling it. So I was whistling at the bus stop, sitting down inside the shelter on the bench. I really didn't want to stop whistling even when I noticed some dude approaching the bus shelter. I really didn't want to stop grooving. I had it playing on my Ipod, I was bobbing my head and everything. I had told myself, even if he walked into the bus shelter, I would just keep whistling and bobbing my head. Surely he would be too uncomfortable to stick around for too long.
But this guy, came into the bus shelter and while I was still whistling he sat down right next to me! My whistling slowed down and I kind of looked at the guy sideways. I really didn't know who was wierder, me for whistling that 1 minute song over and over again, or him for sitting down next to someone who was emphatically whistling a theme song from an obscure 80's tv show. I kind of feel it's only polite to give someone space while they sing/whistle.
Anyway, it became far too awkward to continue whistling. I was so jaded I think I even turned off my ipod. Badassness was reduced to 0%. Way to ruin a moment random stranger. Next time I'll sing a song with some good cussing in it. That will keep people at least 3 meters away from me I figure.
I used to be more reserved about it, but now... It's become a new way to be intimidating. I sing, and people flee. That makes me top dog in Cote St-Luc... Somehow. I've also put it into my head that no one would mug a Black guy walking down the street singing. It would be so awkward.
Me: "Few times I been around that track, but it's not just gonna happen like that cuz I ain't no holla back girl! I ain't no holla back girl!"
Mugger: "Give me all your money!"
Me (reaching for my wallet): "... I ain't no.... Holla..."
Mugger: "Shut up!!!"
Me: "... back..."
Mugger: "...."
Me: "... girl..." :-(
Mugger: "What the #$%^&* are you singing?"
Me: "Gwen Stefani... I don't usually... It was just.. on my Ipod, I got caught up in the moment... I didn't think anyone was listenning."
Mugger: "What kind of black guy are you?"
Me: "My taste in music is eclectic. Or you might say... Ecleftic... Get it? Like that old Wyclef Album. You know he did that song with Witney Houston.""
Then I imagine the mugger would just look at me and walk away kind of bewildered and annoyed.
Anyway, I find a good song is great way to start off your day. The theme song to this old TV show, A Man Called Hawk, gets me into a good rythm to face a day of... rythmlessness as I stare into a microscope counting microscopic cells. As I walk to the bus, I sing that and it puts an extra spring in my step and my countenance becomes 26% more badass, which would bring me up to 126% badassness by the time I actually get to work.
In fact I'm quite obsessed with this song and I spend a lot of time just whistling it. So I was whistling at the bus stop, sitting down inside the shelter on the bench. I really didn't want to stop whistling even when I noticed some dude approaching the bus shelter. I really didn't want to stop grooving. I had it playing on my Ipod, I was bobbing my head and everything. I had told myself, even if he walked into the bus shelter, I would just keep whistling and bobbing my head. Surely he would be too uncomfortable to stick around for too long.
But this guy, came into the bus shelter and while I was still whistling he sat down right next to me! My whistling slowed down and I kind of looked at the guy sideways. I really didn't know who was wierder, me for whistling that 1 minute song over and over again, or him for sitting down next to someone who was emphatically whistling a theme song from an obscure 80's tv show. I kind of feel it's only polite to give someone space while they sing/whistle.
Anyway, it became far too awkward to continue whistling. I was so jaded I think I even turned off my ipod. Badassness was reduced to 0%. Way to ruin a moment random stranger. Next time I'll sing a song with some good cussing in it. That will keep people at least 3 meters away from me I figure.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Save the rod
I know I make this point a lot, but it's good to beat children. I was on the metro today when some kid was apparently swearing at his mother. The mother was furious, but sadly she was also white. The punishment for her child was reflected in her whiteness, "When we get home, you will spend five minutes in your room!"
That's a punishment? It brings me back to the days of my childhood. Swift punishment in the form of spankings set me straight early on and I was for the most part well behaved. But my youngest sister. Oh man, did she used to get some harsh spankings. I'll tell you the sign of a true disciplinarian. When you're willing to spank your kids in public, that's going the extra mile. And my dad didn't care where we were. My youngest sister used to really act up when she went out and my dad would give her a good spanking, mall or no mall. My mom would make the mistake of waiting until she got home after saturday shopping to give my little sister a good spanking. My middle sister and I would see the car pull up in front of the house, Mom furiously dragging my youngest sister up to the house. We all knew punishment was imminent. And if ever you've been around kids, you know that they enjoy watching their siblings get punished. I've seen little babies marvel at their brothers getting yelled at. It's quite a spectacle.
My dad would shake his head in dissapointment. "Why does you mom wait until she gets home?" You see, when the punishment is delayed it creates an opportunity. Now the offending child can decide whether or not it is worth a day of misbehaviour in exchange for an eventual spanking at the end of the day. Usually the answer is yes, it is worth misbehaving for the day to get a spanking later on, if misbehaving is your bag. Why? Because the punishment in spanking is the shock of it, the humiliation of it. If you know the spanking is coming, it's not much of a punishment at all. Certainly a spanking is not painful. Certainly it is not as embarassing at home as it would be in public. I mean, at home, everyone's seen and enjoyed your spankings already. It's like... a rerun. A spanking is defanged without the element of surprise.
I remember my cousin telling me with a twinkle in her eye, about how she saw a black child misbehaving in public swore at his mother. That child's punishment was swift and severe. You've never seen an ass-whoopin' like this... Upside his head... Upside his nose... It was terrible I tell you... TERRIBLE!!! But, I'm relatively certain that he strongly reconsidered swearing at his mother again.
So when I see cheesiness like a mother telling her kid, "You will eventually have to spend 5 minutes in your room." I scoff. Ridiculous. Whup that kid butt for both of your sakes. Now I've had some pretty interesting conversations with people on the subject. I hate to bring race into it but, generally speaking, non-white people agree in beatings, and white people are against it. I know chinese people get some interesting beatings with bamboo sticks and fishing rods. My dad used to use the flip flops he'd wear around the house to spank us with. Relatively painless, but effective. Belts are also classic.
I've spoken to one white woman who was passionately against beating kids. Her argument was something to the effect that beating kids screwed them up somehow and spanking kids is a relic from old-fashionned religious beliefs. The passage in the Bible goes something like, "Save the rod and spoil the child." Amen. You'll notice such people are usually suckers for barely coherent articles that say things like, "Most of the children who were spanked as kids grew up to be violent, therefore spanking produces violence."
A note about studies like this. People who write such articles are usually idiots. Why? They can't interpret data. I mean, if one kid was spanked more than another, it probably means that he was always badly behaved, not that the spanking produced bad behaviour. It wouldn't be such a big deal, except if you look at society today we can see the effects of such negligent data aquisition. "So, don't spank your kids when they misbehave, give them groovy drugs such as ritalin!"
Now that I'm about to defend my PhD, I feel I have the authority to give the diagnosis for bad behaviour; Light your child's behind on fire! Give him a beating he'll remember and he'll thank you for it when he's older. Some people say the best punishment is the one that you never have to give. I say, the best punishment is the one you only have to give ONCE! That's how dad did it... That's how ethnic people do it. And it's worked pretty well so far.
That's a punishment? It brings me back to the days of my childhood. Swift punishment in the form of spankings set me straight early on and I was for the most part well behaved. But my youngest sister. Oh man, did she used to get some harsh spankings. I'll tell you the sign of a true disciplinarian. When you're willing to spank your kids in public, that's going the extra mile. And my dad didn't care where we were. My youngest sister used to really act up when she went out and my dad would give her a good spanking, mall or no mall. My mom would make the mistake of waiting until she got home after saturday shopping to give my little sister a good spanking. My middle sister and I would see the car pull up in front of the house, Mom furiously dragging my youngest sister up to the house. We all knew punishment was imminent. And if ever you've been around kids, you know that they enjoy watching their siblings get punished. I've seen little babies marvel at their brothers getting yelled at. It's quite a spectacle.
My dad would shake his head in dissapointment. "Why does you mom wait until she gets home?" You see, when the punishment is delayed it creates an opportunity. Now the offending child can decide whether or not it is worth a day of misbehaviour in exchange for an eventual spanking at the end of the day. Usually the answer is yes, it is worth misbehaving for the day to get a spanking later on, if misbehaving is your bag. Why? Because the punishment in spanking is the shock of it, the humiliation of it. If you know the spanking is coming, it's not much of a punishment at all. Certainly a spanking is not painful. Certainly it is not as embarassing at home as it would be in public. I mean, at home, everyone's seen and enjoyed your spankings already. It's like... a rerun. A spanking is defanged without the element of surprise.
I remember my cousin telling me with a twinkle in her eye, about how she saw a black child misbehaving in public swore at his mother. That child's punishment was swift and severe. You've never seen an ass-whoopin' like this... Upside his head... Upside his nose... It was terrible I tell you... TERRIBLE!!! But, I'm relatively certain that he strongly reconsidered swearing at his mother again.
So when I see cheesiness like a mother telling her kid, "You will eventually have to spend 5 minutes in your room." I scoff. Ridiculous. Whup that kid butt for both of your sakes. Now I've had some pretty interesting conversations with people on the subject. I hate to bring race into it but, generally speaking, non-white people agree in beatings, and white people are against it. I know chinese people get some interesting beatings with bamboo sticks and fishing rods. My dad used to use the flip flops he'd wear around the house to spank us with. Relatively painless, but effective. Belts are also classic.
I've spoken to one white woman who was passionately against beating kids. Her argument was something to the effect that beating kids screwed them up somehow and spanking kids is a relic from old-fashionned religious beliefs. The passage in the Bible goes something like, "Save the rod and spoil the child." Amen. You'll notice such people are usually suckers for barely coherent articles that say things like, "Most of the children who were spanked as kids grew up to be violent, therefore spanking produces violence."
A note about studies like this. People who write such articles are usually idiots. Why? They can't interpret data. I mean, if one kid was spanked more than another, it probably means that he was always badly behaved, not that the spanking produced bad behaviour. It wouldn't be such a big deal, except if you look at society today we can see the effects of such negligent data aquisition. "So, don't spank your kids when they misbehave, give them groovy drugs such as ritalin!"
Now that I'm about to defend my PhD, I feel I have the authority to give the diagnosis for bad behaviour; Light your child's behind on fire! Give him a beating he'll remember and he'll thank you for it when he's older. Some people say the best punishment is the one that you never have to give. I say, the best punishment is the one you only have to give ONCE! That's how dad did it... That's how ethnic people do it. And it's worked pretty well so far.
Monday, March 03, 2008
TGIF
I've been coughing for months. Around the winter months I do get a persistent cough which has been diagnosed as bronchitis one year, allergies another year. The point is, aside from being very annoying, it doesn't seem to be lethal and normally goes away on its own. It is this belief that saved me hours of waiting in the doctors office for them to tell me, "Oh, you have a cough caused by some ill-defined biological event. Let's call it... Greggitis and just give you some anti-biotics."
Every year people will comment on the cough, often encouraging me to see a doctor instead of blasting out atomized mucus infected with all kinds of microbes from my throat. Normally I refuse the suggestion, but this year I got a few other symptoms to go with the cough.
I first went to the CLSC. I waited for over an hour, and finally was told there were no doctors available. I did get to see a nurse though. The nurse told me I had a cough and I could see a doctor if it didn't get better. Thanks! That assessment was well worth the wait.
A month later, this passed Friday, I went to the Concordia Health center at the downtown campus. They have a walk-in clinic. I go downtown, take a number, see a receptionist and I'm told there's an hour wait. I finally see the doctor and hour and a half later and he basically guesses what's wrong with me. "Well, it's not bronchitis. USUALLY a cough like that might be caused by streptococcus. Normally I would take a mucus sample but it's Friday so... I'll just prescribe some anti-biotics." It's Friday?!? Have I been in the waiting room that long? Even so, whatever disease I have doesn't really care if it's Friday or not. What if you guess wrong doc?
Honestly, it's better than a kick in the pants at this point. I took the prescription and went to the pharmacy. I love the old myth that pharmacists can read a doctor's cryptic handwriting. Why do I say myth? Because I went there, showed them the prescription and the pharmacist there concluded that the doctor hadn't even signed the paper! I looked at it and said, "Isn't this slightly curved line his signature?" The woman said, "No, that's not a signature. Did you go to the Concordia Health Center? Who was the doctor you saw?" I couldn't remember his name. Well, remember would imply that he had given me his name, which he hadn't. This then resulted in an awkward situation of me describing the doctor who I went to see. "He was asian... either chinese or vietnamese...."
Clearly it was Friday and they weren't going to argue the point. So they made me a file and after about 10 minutes told me they didn't have the anti-biotic that was prescribed. Makes sense. Why would a pharmacy have antibiotics? I'd have to go somewhere else. But I'd make sure I got the doctor to make his signature more obvious. So I went back to the clinic. I didn't bother taking a number and just went directly to one of the receptionists. "Yeah, they said the doctor didn't sign this."
The receptionist was in a bad mood because apparently the clinic is busy on Fridays. I just look at her sitting there with a scowl. Poor lady. Life is so unfair, isn't it? There are sick people coming in and you have to do precisely what you were paid to do. So naturally she started to crab at me. "You'll have to take a number, sir."
As if I hadn't waited long enough in the waiting room to see the doctor in the first place, gone from there to the pharmacy and back just to get his signature. "No.... There will be no number taking. I've spent the better part of the day trying to get some antibiotics All I need is for the doctor to sign this paper that he should have signed in the first place and I'll be on my way."
She looks at the paper. "He did sign this!" I smiled, finally some progress, "That's what I said! Perhaps we can go to the pharmacy together and discuss with a pharmacist whether or not the doctor has in fact signed this paper."
She was getting very agitated, "I'm sorry Sir, it's Friday, and I'm stressed, and there's people here and you'll have to take a number."
"You want a number? Here's a number. 5... As in 5 seconds before I tear this motha f*#$@# down!!!" Yup, it was time for some angry Black man stuff, on the last day of Black History Month no less! How appropriate. I was about to get ethnic when a women who seemed a lot busier than the cranky receptionist accomadated me (politely, who would have figured?) and got the doctor to put a little stamp on the prescription with a legible version of his name. It took about 10 seconds. The cranky receptionist got that look on her face where you could tell she resented having the wind taken out of her sails. Like the woman who helped me went over her head or something. She looked like, "When that b**ch gives people excellent service, it makes me look bad."
So I go to a pharmacy, they make me a file. Two of them start arguing over what a particular doctor's name is on a prescription, I'm not kidding. Then more waiting. A pharmacist approaches me, "Mr. Gregg?" She's holding a huge bottle. "So, you should take these antibiotics twice a day for 3 months."
I raised an eyebrow, "3 months? That's... strange."
Her: "Yes. And the prescription is renewable 3 times."
Me: "And what exactly did the doctor say I have? That zombie virus from Resident Evil?"
The woman finally decided to stop and think for a moment. I could see the gears turning in her head. "Now let me think. Have I ever prescribed so many antibiotics before? What will happen if someone takes antibiotics for 1/4 of a year? Think back to pharmaceutical school. Ah yes... One day marijuana will be legal. It makes the pain go away. My hands are huge."
Lady! Focus! Snapping out of her drug induced reverie, the woman finally realized she had misread something and gave me the correct amount of pills to be taken for 1 week and not the previously prescribed 12 weeks. Her excuse, "Yes, his handwriting is difficult to read."
And it was Friday. Well thank goodness your incompetence only extends to dealing over the counter drugs, many of them potential hazardous to a human being's health. I hope I never have to have surgery on Friday. What if I hadn't said anything? And then people wonder why I don't like seeing doctors. The hours that I spent just to get some anti-biotics, talking to dozens of people who really, really don't care. They're just going through the motions of getting people in and out of their lives as fast as possible. Is that a consequence of free health care? I dare not speculate.
You know, I'm one of the few people who enjoys going to the dentist. Man, I went to the dentist the other day, I was in and out in less than 30 minutes. Dentists are usually funny, and they get the job done! My teeth were sparkling like a rapper's bling after he was done. And he was super excited about the thing he used to clean my teeth. "This is like a sandblaster. It contains a saline solution with baking soda. It's really efficient and reaches plases the other rubber polishers can't. It makes other polishing techniques look like a joke!" He kind of looked like William Stryker from X-men 2. He was funny and enthusiastic... A truly excellent service.
Contrast that with medical doctors? "You have a cough? Whatever... Antibiotics might help. If not I don't know what the f**k you have anyway. Maybe you have a cough.... If antibiotics fail... Meh..." Lazily scrapes a pen across a piece of paper.
Me:"Excuse me doctor are you sure you've signed this?"
Doctor: "I may have signed it. I'm a doctor not a calligraphist. Now please leave. It's midterm time and there's a bunch of students in the waiting room who want to defer exams and they can't do it without my pseudo-signature on a piece of paper."
Oh well, at least I seem to be getting better... I mean, I'm still coughing but... The doctor really gave it his best guess. I'm sure everything will be okay. I exagerate to vent my frustration, but the doctor was a nice guy and whatever... I can only imagine after a day of seeing students with minor to non-existant symptoms you must get pretty jaded. I know doctors work hard in many cases and it's probably a thankless job just like most jobs. I'd also like to point out that I dealt with 4 receptionists that day and 3 of them were really nice. I just never feel justified going to doctors. It's almost like I'm bothering them or something. Like they want some more challenging diseases to diagnose. "A cough? You're a Pussy... I'm not even going to diagnose this, there are people with real problems. Let me fill out a prescription. How many 'S's in placebo?"
Every year people will comment on the cough, often encouraging me to see a doctor instead of blasting out atomized mucus infected with all kinds of microbes from my throat. Normally I refuse the suggestion, but this year I got a few other symptoms to go with the cough.
I first went to the CLSC. I waited for over an hour, and finally was told there were no doctors available. I did get to see a nurse though. The nurse told me I had a cough and I could see a doctor if it didn't get better. Thanks! That assessment was well worth the wait.
A month later, this passed Friday, I went to the Concordia Health center at the downtown campus. They have a walk-in clinic. I go downtown, take a number, see a receptionist and I'm told there's an hour wait. I finally see the doctor and hour and a half later and he basically guesses what's wrong with me. "Well, it's not bronchitis. USUALLY a cough like that might be caused by streptococcus. Normally I would take a mucus sample but it's Friday so... I'll just prescribe some anti-biotics." It's Friday?!? Have I been in the waiting room that long? Even so, whatever disease I have doesn't really care if it's Friday or not. What if you guess wrong doc?
Honestly, it's better than a kick in the pants at this point. I took the prescription and went to the pharmacy. I love the old myth that pharmacists can read a doctor's cryptic handwriting. Why do I say myth? Because I went there, showed them the prescription and the pharmacist there concluded that the doctor hadn't even signed the paper! I looked at it and said, "Isn't this slightly curved line his signature?" The woman said, "No, that's not a signature. Did you go to the Concordia Health Center? Who was the doctor you saw?" I couldn't remember his name. Well, remember would imply that he had given me his name, which he hadn't. This then resulted in an awkward situation of me describing the doctor who I went to see. "He was asian... either chinese or vietnamese...."
Clearly it was Friday and they weren't going to argue the point. So they made me a file and after about 10 minutes told me they didn't have the anti-biotic that was prescribed. Makes sense. Why would a pharmacy have antibiotics? I'd have to go somewhere else. But I'd make sure I got the doctor to make his signature more obvious. So I went back to the clinic. I didn't bother taking a number and just went directly to one of the receptionists. "Yeah, they said the doctor didn't sign this."
The receptionist was in a bad mood because apparently the clinic is busy on Fridays. I just look at her sitting there with a scowl. Poor lady. Life is so unfair, isn't it? There are sick people coming in and you have to do precisely what you were paid to do. So naturally she started to crab at me. "You'll have to take a number, sir."
As if I hadn't waited long enough in the waiting room to see the doctor in the first place, gone from there to the pharmacy and back just to get his signature. "No.... There will be no number taking. I've spent the better part of the day trying to get some antibiotics All I need is for the doctor to sign this paper that he should have signed in the first place and I'll be on my way."
She looks at the paper. "He did sign this!" I smiled, finally some progress, "That's what I said! Perhaps we can go to the pharmacy together and discuss with a pharmacist whether or not the doctor has in fact signed this paper."
She was getting very agitated, "I'm sorry Sir, it's Friday, and I'm stressed, and there's people here and you'll have to take a number."
"You want a number? Here's a number. 5... As in 5 seconds before I tear this motha f*#$@# down!!!" Yup, it was time for some angry Black man stuff, on the last day of Black History Month no less! How appropriate. I was about to get ethnic when a women who seemed a lot busier than the cranky receptionist accomadated me (politely, who would have figured?) and got the doctor to put a little stamp on the prescription with a legible version of his name. It took about 10 seconds. The cranky receptionist got that look on her face where you could tell she resented having the wind taken out of her sails. Like the woman who helped me went over her head or something. She looked like, "When that b**ch gives people excellent service, it makes me look bad."
So I go to a pharmacy, they make me a file. Two of them start arguing over what a particular doctor's name is on a prescription, I'm not kidding. Then more waiting. A pharmacist approaches me, "Mr. Gregg?" She's holding a huge bottle. "So, you should take these antibiotics twice a day for 3 months."
I raised an eyebrow, "3 months? That's... strange."
Her: "Yes. And the prescription is renewable 3 times."
Me: "And what exactly did the doctor say I have? That zombie virus from Resident Evil?"
The woman finally decided to stop and think for a moment. I could see the gears turning in her head. "Now let me think. Have I ever prescribed so many antibiotics before? What will happen if someone takes antibiotics for 1/4 of a year? Think back to pharmaceutical school. Ah yes... One day marijuana will be legal. It makes the pain go away. My hands are huge."
Lady! Focus! Snapping out of her drug induced reverie, the woman finally realized she had misread something and gave me the correct amount of pills to be taken for 1 week and not the previously prescribed 12 weeks. Her excuse, "Yes, his handwriting is difficult to read."
And it was Friday. Well thank goodness your incompetence only extends to dealing over the counter drugs, many of them potential hazardous to a human being's health. I hope I never have to have surgery on Friday. What if I hadn't said anything? And then people wonder why I don't like seeing doctors. The hours that I spent just to get some anti-biotics, talking to dozens of people who really, really don't care. They're just going through the motions of getting people in and out of their lives as fast as possible. Is that a consequence of free health care? I dare not speculate.
You know, I'm one of the few people who enjoys going to the dentist. Man, I went to the dentist the other day, I was in and out in less than 30 minutes. Dentists are usually funny, and they get the job done! My teeth were sparkling like a rapper's bling after he was done. And he was super excited about the thing he used to clean my teeth. "This is like a sandblaster. It contains a saline solution with baking soda. It's really efficient and reaches plases the other rubber polishers can't. It makes other polishing techniques look like a joke!" He kind of looked like William Stryker from X-men 2. He was funny and enthusiastic... A truly excellent service.
Contrast that with medical doctors? "You have a cough? Whatever... Antibiotics might help. If not I don't know what the f**k you have anyway. Maybe you have a cough.... If antibiotics fail... Meh..." Lazily scrapes a pen across a piece of paper.
Me:"Excuse me doctor are you sure you've signed this?"
Doctor: "I may have signed it. I'm a doctor not a calligraphist. Now please leave. It's midterm time and there's a bunch of students in the waiting room who want to defer exams and they can't do it without my pseudo-signature on a piece of paper."
Oh well, at least I seem to be getting better... I mean, I'm still coughing but... The doctor really gave it his best guess. I'm sure everything will be okay. I exagerate to vent my frustration, but the doctor was a nice guy and whatever... I can only imagine after a day of seeing students with minor to non-existant symptoms you must get pretty jaded. I know doctors work hard in many cases and it's probably a thankless job just like most jobs. I'd also like to point out that I dealt with 4 receptionists that day and 3 of them were really nice. I just never feel justified going to doctors. It's almost like I'm bothering them or something. Like they want some more challenging diseases to diagnose. "A cough? You're a Pussy... I'm not even going to diagnose this, there are people with real problems. Let me fill out a prescription. How many 'S's in placebo?"
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Facebook Woes
Facebook can be a dangerous place. I added an application the other day. Buy and sell your friends. It seemed harmless enough. Actually I guess it didn't. I was reluctant at first, but eventually decided, "What could possibly go wrong?" Seemed like a fun idea, you could barter your friends for virtual money. Shortly after adding it, I lost interest in it and it was forgotten with all the other unused Facebook applications that make their way to the bottom of my page.
One morning I received email notification that I had been bought for 561$! That seemed like good enough news. Which one of my friends thought I would be a worthy purchase? Hopefully a good looking lady, maybe Jen who has a history of adorning my wall with virtual tokens of her affection.
Alas, my buyer was none other than Travis Moon. Who the bloody hell is Travis Moon, you may be asking? That's what I asked. I went to the profile of this person, and their profile picture was that of some anime character. It may have been sailor moon. But at the time it didn't concern me. What did concern me was the individual in question, a stranger interested in anime, was interested in both females AND males. Some random gay guy bought me!!! For 561 virtual dollars no less!
Of all the lousy luck. Not that I'm homophobic or anything. Gay people just scare me is all. You might say I have a phobia of homosexuals. (I kid, I kid. Some of my best friends are gay! (shout out to all my gay peeps!!! Simon Bourque HOLLA!! (I kid again))).
But this facebook incident is totally innapropriate! And somewhat insulting. 561 dollars? I'm worth at least 5K. What if I were to go online and virtually buy some random woman cuz I thought she was hot? I'd be a stalker and a pervert and this ,that and the other! I wouldn't be able to get away with purchasing hot woman strangers! Why should gay men have that prividledge? It's a total double standard. The application should have come with a warning. "Warning: You could be purchased by a man interested in having carnal relations with other men."
Needless to say I removed the application immediately, but the question still remains. How many people are out there on facebook getting an eyefull of MastaCSG? And what are their intentions? And if their intentions are unwholesome, is it really so much to ask that I get purchased by Zoe Saldana? Or Jessic.. Jen Lee? Oh, the internet. Where else could I be subjected to such a bizarre situation? Aside from prison.
One morning I received email notification that I had been bought for 561$! That seemed like good enough news. Which one of my friends thought I would be a worthy purchase? Hopefully a good looking lady, maybe Jen who has a history of adorning my wall with virtual tokens of her affection.
Alas, my buyer was none other than Travis Moon. Who the bloody hell is Travis Moon, you may be asking? That's what I asked. I went to the profile of this person, and their profile picture was that of some anime character. It may have been sailor moon. But at the time it didn't concern me. What did concern me was the individual in question, a stranger interested in anime, was interested in both females AND males. Some random gay guy bought me!!! For 561 virtual dollars no less!
Of all the lousy luck. Not that I'm homophobic or anything. Gay people just scare me is all. You might say I have a phobia of homosexuals. (I kid, I kid. Some of my best friends are gay! (shout out to all my gay peeps!!! Simon Bourque HOLLA!! (I kid again))).
But this facebook incident is totally innapropriate! And somewhat insulting. 561 dollars? I'm worth at least 5K. What if I were to go online and virtually buy some random woman cuz I thought she was hot? I'd be a stalker and a pervert and this ,that and the other! I wouldn't be able to get away with purchasing hot woman strangers! Why should gay men have that prividledge? It's a total double standard. The application should have come with a warning. "Warning: You could be purchased by a man interested in having carnal relations with other men."
Needless to say I removed the application immediately, but the question still remains. How many people are out there on facebook getting an eyefull of MastaCSG? And what are their intentions? And if their intentions are unwholesome, is it really so much to ask that I get purchased by Zoe Saldana? Or Jessic.. Jen Lee? Oh, the internet. Where else could I be subjected to such a bizarre situation? Aside from prison.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Lying using Body Language
I ran a little experiment the other day at the bus stop. I noticed across the street that there's a little girl who waits in her apartment building until the bus comes. But she really comes out at the exact second that the bus comes. Knowing that this bus isn't necessarily a bus that comes the exact minute that it's supposed to I wondered to myself how it is that she knows exactly when to walk out of her apartment building, since she is unable to see the bus coming.
There was only one possible way she could do this. She must actually observe the body language of the people, ie me, waiting at the bus stop. When we begin to shuffle around and get our bags together she knows it's time to catch the bus. Smart kid. While we're freezing our butts off, she's inside warm, safe and comfortable.
So I tested my theory. One day I was the only one at the bus stop. And yes, she had been waiting inside for about 5 minutes. I was waiting with my hands crossed in front of me. I saw the bus coming and thought to myself, "Play it cool Chris. Don't flinch a muscle." The bus drew nearer and nearer, the girl apparently oblivious to its approach. A few seconds before it reached the stop I grabbed my bag and got on. The girl then ran outside, but alas it was too late. The bus driver, like all bus drivers did not have pity on the young lady, despite the rather cold weather. Though she looked at the man with despair in her eyes, he had no intention of missing this green light. She kind of pulled herself together and acted like it didn't matter, salvaging a few shreds of dignity from the completely avoidable situation. We drove off, and she was left there.
Another giant leap for science. Hypothesis confirmed. This morning, I saw her at the bus stop, bright and early OUTSIDE of her building with the rest of the scum. At least the weather was nice.
There was only one possible way she could do this. She must actually observe the body language of the people, ie me, waiting at the bus stop. When we begin to shuffle around and get our bags together she knows it's time to catch the bus. Smart kid. While we're freezing our butts off, she's inside warm, safe and comfortable.
So I tested my theory. One day I was the only one at the bus stop. And yes, she had been waiting inside for about 5 minutes. I was waiting with my hands crossed in front of me. I saw the bus coming and thought to myself, "Play it cool Chris. Don't flinch a muscle." The bus drew nearer and nearer, the girl apparently oblivious to its approach. A few seconds before it reached the stop I grabbed my bag and got on. The girl then ran outside, but alas it was too late. The bus driver, like all bus drivers did not have pity on the young lady, despite the rather cold weather. Though she looked at the man with despair in her eyes, he had no intention of missing this green light. She kind of pulled herself together and acted like it didn't matter, salvaging a few shreds of dignity from the completely avoidable situation. We drove off, and she was left there.
Another giant leap for science. Hypothesis confirmed. This morning, I saw her at the bus stop, bright and early OUTSIDE of her building with the rest of the scum. At least the weather was nice.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
A Bachelor's Life
I think it's been about two year's since I've been living on my own. I must say it's been pretty sweet so far. Oh the joy's of being a swinging bachelor.
I remember what it was like living with family. When I would go to the kitchen to have some cookies, I would have to be considerate of others and have 3 or maximum four. Since moving out on my own, there is no limit. I open up the bag and eat those bad boys right out of the package. Recently, I've even decided that it's extremely cool to put a layer of vanilla icing on Chips Ahoy, before eating them... and sometimes after. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and have potatoe chips, chips ahoy with icing and milk. And like most bachelor's I realize there's nothing wrong with having eggs and toast for supper. And if dinner comes out of a can every once in a while, it may be ghetto, but it normally saves me the trouble of cooking. I mean, who am I trying to impress? The goal is to maximize eating time, and minimize the time I spend being productive.
Of course, being a bachelor isn't all cookies and cream. I have to clean things on occasion. Oh that dreaded day when I realize I'm down to my last pair of underwear. On rare occasions it will mean that I will go and buy more underwear. But more often, it actually means I will have to do laundry. Of course I do it in a stupid man way, dumping colors and whites all into the same batch. What do I look like? Someone who's not lazy? I'm convinced that the whole concept of seperating your laundry was invented by racists. The technique has served me well thus far except on one occasion when I really decided to push it and put in some burgundy bath mats with my whites. That was easily one of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life, and this coming from someone who has mixed coca-cola and milk! Yes, living on my own means I can mix that which I have been told is unmixable, since I was a kid. Whites and colors! Coke and Milk! Nuts and Gum! Grapefruit and Cheese! The sky's the limit!
Ah yes, wandering around my "crib" (I often call my apartment my "crib") wearing little more than a housecoat, slippers, jogging pants, a t-shirt and that sweater thing that's so comfortable, singing whatever song comes to mind. There are no parents around, so I don't have to watch myself when I'm gettting really into a rap song. I rap the curse words too! Whatever is base and derogatory is not only acceptable but almost required at that point.
I'm the king of the land
I eat dinner that's been canned!
And if you don't like it!
I don't give a (Look around to make sure no one is watching).... DAMN!!!
I watch whatever i want on tv. You know what that means... You know... when it's late at night? 10pm? That's right, Sabrina the Teenage Witch on YTV. No one around to judge me. Or I could pop in a dvd from my vast, vast VAST collection of cartoons. vast...
It occurs to me that this bachelor life of mine is something akin to Peter Pan and the Lost boys. All of this freedom and the most rebellious thing I do is watch an episode of star trek at 3am... and usually fall asleep. Or photoshop my face into the poster for A Bug's life.
I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into the life of MastaCSG. For some of you it may have been frightenning, for others it may become something for you to strive toward. But if ever you find yourself at home wondering, "I wonder what Chris is up to?" you now have the appropriate imagery to jump to whatever conclusions you find least disturbing.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Not so fun wall
Facebook used to be the bees knees. Now, I get as much junk there as I do on my email accounts. The thing that is most frustrating about facebook is I don't know if people send me these things conciously or just in passing. Apparently, a friend of mine gave me a hug at some point. Was I ACTUALLY hugged? Or was it an accident, something that occured while my friend was adding an application? Or was it some kind of MASS hug. I see here that I have the option to "hug everyone". What's the point? So impersonal.
The really sad part is, I was originally kind of happy to have received a hug before I realized that it may have just been some kind of collateral affection incurred by the click of a single button. Then I wonder if I offend people by not responding. I dont' want to respond to affection that may not have been specifically intended for me. Someone else apparently "punched me in the face". What a load of garbage.
But among the things I refuse to take part in are these mass bounty hunter projects we get on the internet. "My friend has gone missing, please forward this email and maybe we'll find her." WHAT??? Who am I? Boba F**king Fett? If someone is missing, grab a cutlass, a whip, some binoculars, one of those funny hats with the alligator teeth on them, and go look for them. I'll even go with you. But a half assed email campaign demeans us all. Why? Mainly because I can't take anything I receive on my Fun Wall seriously. I mean... "My best friend went missing... If you have any heart, please forward this to everyone and we'll have a chance to find her." Beneath that I receieved a "Friendship Beer," from someone I never talk to, and above that I have a forward from someone saying if I forward there message, some starving kid will get 10 Euro.
You know how to get 10 Euro's to a starving kid in Africa? You send them 10 Euro's. It's actually surprisingly easy and RARELY has anything to do with spamming your friends and aquaintances. And if you had the time to take a picture of some meandering broad, why didn't you take the opportunity to shackle her down then and there? And how do I know these forwards are legit and not something akin to the many, "If you forward this 1 million times Bill Gates will give you his hard earned money, cuz he's stupid like dat!"
It's become far too easy to "interact" with people and not have to lift a finger. If you want to give me a hug, find me and hug me. If you want to give to charity, give to charity. If your friend has gone missing, then call me up and say, "My friend is missing... tonight... WE HUNT!!!" But I'm getting too old and jaded to sift out actual relevant concern from run of the mill time wasting. I want YOU to interact with me in the real world. If you have a friend to find, let's fine her. If there are hugs, and punches to be exchanged, let's rumble. Charity is nice, but it involves giving stuff, money or time... But please use the funwall/superwall sparingly, and only for BS that you're assuming I won't read.
The really sad part is, I was originally kind of happy to have received a hug before I realized that it may have just been some kind of collateral affection incurred by the click of a single button. Then I wonder if I offend people by not responding. I dont' want to respond to affection that may not have been specifically intended for me. Someone else apparently "punched me in the face". What a load of garbage.
But among the things I refuse to take part in are these mass bounty hunter projects we get on the internet. "My friend has gone missing, please forward this email and maybe we'll find her." WHAT??? Who am I? Boba F**king Fett? If someone is missing, grab a cutlass, a whip, some binoculars, one of those funny hats with the alligator teeth on them, and go look for them. I'll even go with you. But a half assed email campaign demeans us all. Why? Mainly because I can't take anything I receive on my Fun Wall seriously. I mean... "My best friend went missing... If you have any heart, please forward this to everyone and we'll have a chance to find her." Beneath that I receieved a "Friendship Beer," from someone I never talk to, and above that I have a forward from someone saying if I forward there message, some starving kid will get 10 Euro.
You know how to get 10 Euro's to a starving kid in Africa? You send them 10 Euro's. It's actually surprisingly easy and RARELY has anything to do with spamming your friends and aquaintances. And if you had the time to take a picture of some meandering broad, why didn't you take the opportunity to shackle her down then and there? And how do I know these forwards are legit and not something akin to the many, "If you forward this 1 million times Bill Gates will give you his hard earned money, cuz he's stupid like dat!"
It's become far too easy to "interact" with people and not have to lift a finger. If you want to give me a hug, find me and hug me. If you want to give to charity, give to charity. If your friend has gone missing, then call me up and say, "My friend is missing... tonight... WE HUNT!!!" But I'm getting too old and jaded to sift out actual relevant concern from run of the mill time wasting. I want YOU to interact with me in the real world. If you have a friend to find, let's fine her. If there are hugs, and punches to be exchanged, let's rumble. Charity is nice, but it involves giving stuff, money or time... But please use the funwall/superwall sparingly, and only for BS that you're assuming I won't read.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Gone Post-Al
Every week i need to assign a short answer question to the students in the genetics class. It has always been the worst part of my job, particularly this year. It seems they go out of their way to give me the most incoherent, wrong answer they could muster. It's like a challenge. "Chris, I dare you to fail me... I DARE YOU!!! Yeah, i wrote that genes were something you wear on your legs! I did that!"
I received a short answer question the other day where by the student tried to define what non-random mating is. I should be understanding. There is no crime in not knowing something. Or is there? When I read this particular answer I thought back to the previous week when I assigned the question in the first place. I openned the chapter we were studying to the very first page and asked a question based on exactly what is written. All they needed to do was copy that information out of the book, they didn't even have to read the chapter. But that's not all, so desperate was I to make the question easy for them, I actually told them the answer. "This is the answer class! It's in your book! Write this! You can copy out of the book, or you can write down what I'm saying right now!"
So I sit down to correct these questions and I go totally nuts. Wrong answers??? VERY WRONG ANSWERS??? How is this possible?
Non-random mating. The answer in the book: "Individuals may mate at random or they may mate preferentially with close relatives, or preferentially with individuals with similar or disimilar traits.
Among the answers I received from students, "Non random mating... When people mate outside of their own subgroup...ie.. When a Russian mates with a Chinese."
Russian mates with... Sub... group??? What the bloody hell is this??? Man, I marked up his page with some good sarcasm and condescending rhetoric. Then I got even angrier when I realized he would never read what I wrote cuz it was the last class. Sometimes I feel like emailing this guy. "Are you mental? Did you do this just to provoke me? I gave you the answer you stupid piece of s**t!"
I'm also pretty frustrated with the buses. The 162 is one of the most foul buses to drive the roads. It should come every half an hour and it can't even commit to that! I mean, fine, there was a snowstorm last week. Yet, this week, I still find myself waiting for a bus for at least half an hour. And I stand there, staring into the horizon hopefully thinking to myself, "It hasn't snowed in days. The streets are clean... I can't live like this." Then the bus pulls up, busdriver scowling. Don't scowl at me! I know this bus starts it's route just down the street. There's no reason for you to be late, and every reason for me to pummel you until I'm satisfied that your physical pain is proportional to my emotional pain resulting from waiting for your sorry behind for so long. I pay 65$ a month for this s**t, so get your mother f**king act together and drive. I mean... why?!? Why even give out bus schedules. Just give out little pamphlets. On the front it would say 162 Bus and then you open it up and it says, "F**K YOU!" No times, no street names... Just a sincere expression of the true intention of all bus drivers, in two simple words. Hell, I'd even keep it in my pocket, so when the bus actually does show up I can say, "Hey! You're right on time!" And show him the inside of the pamphlet. Then he would nod and smile and we'd be on the same wavelength for a change.
But perhaps the thing that really got to me last week, was when I had been working all day, and at around 8:30 at night, I decided to get a little something to eat. The Loyola campus where I work, has no significant restaurants. There is the vermin infested greek place, dagwoods and subway. Then finale, there is a little diner called new moon. I hate them all. But, i need to eat, no? So I go to new moon, figuring I'll get something quick. I order some hot dogs. For half an hour I wait, while these morons are chatting with each other, looking at me with big smiles on their face and telling me, "It won't be long sir!"
It won't be long? It has been long! And when i get up to ask them about my food, the cashier, as if she forgot I was sitting 2 feet away from her becomes animated, "Where is this gentleman's hot dogs?" The guy who made them for some reason decided to pack it up and put it on top of some shelf instead of the counter where the food is distributed. They give me the food and I gave that old lady such a dirty look... Half an hour... for a few f**kin' franks!
I'm the kind of person who tries to find meaning in everything. I try and justify the fact that in any given week I literally spend hours, standing in the snow, fretting and fuming, or in a restaurant waiting for ironically named, fast food. As for students, i always thought I was super patient... But when they can't just regurgitate what I said in plain english...
I wish every second of my life was packed with action!!! Constantly stimulated like James Bond... You never see him waiting around. Or Chev Chelios from Crank. All the productive things I could do with those many forfeit hours... You know what I need? A car! I could drive to the beginning of the bus route to see exactly what it is that happens between the terminus and my stop that results in a 15-30 minute delay. Then, when I find the bus parked there, with a bunch of bus drivers, reading comics or doing God knows what, I would smash the bus to bits so they would actually have an excuse to be late. Then I could run over the dumber portion of my students... repeatedly!!! Then I would turn New Moon into a drive thru. Just put the pedal to the metal and drive right through the front of it. "That's the old school s**t!" I'd declare.
I received a short answer question the other day where by the student tried to define what non-random mating is. I should be understanding. There is no crime in not knowing something. Or is there? When I read this particular answer I thought back to the previous week when I assigned the question in the first place. I openned the chapter we were studying to the very first page and asked a question based on exactly what is written. All they needed to do was copy that information out of the book, they didn't even have to read the chapter. But that's not all, so desperate was I to make the question easy for them, I actually told them the answer. "This is the answer class! It's in your book! Write this! You can copy out of the book, or you can write down what I'm saying right now!"
So I sit down to correct these questions and I go totally nuts. Wrong answers??? VERY WRONG ANSWERS??? How is this possible?
Non-random mating. The answer in the book: "Individuals may mate at random or they may mate preferentially with close relatives, or preferentially with individuals with similar or disimilar traits.
Among the answers I received from students, "Non random mating... When people mate outside of their own subgroup...ie.. When a Russian mates with a Chinese."
Russian mates with... Sub... group??? What the bloody hell is this??? Man, I marked up his page with some good sarcasm and condescending rhetoric. Then I got even angrier when I realized he would never read what I wrote cuz it was the last class. Sometimes I feel like emailing this guy. "Are you mental? Did you do this just to provoke me? I gave you the answer you stupid piece of s**t!"
I'm also pretty frustrated with the buses. The 162 is one of the most foul buses to drive the roads. It should come every half an hour and it can't even commit to that! I mean, fine, there was a snowstorm last week. Yet, this week, I still find myself waiting for a bus for at least half an hour. And I stand there, staring into the horizon hopefully thinking to myself, "It hasn't snowed in days. The streets are clean... I can't live like this." Then the bus pulls up, busdriver scowling. Don't scowl at me! I know this bus starts it's route just down the street. There's no reason for you to be late, and every reason for me to pummel you until I'm satisfied that your physical pain is proportional to my emotional pain resulting from waiting for your sorry behind for so long. I pay 65$ a month for this s**t, so get your mother f**king act together and drive. I mean... why?!? Why even give out bus schedules. Just give out little pamphlets. On the front it would say 162 Bus and then you open it up and it says, "F**K YOU!" No times, no street names... Just a sincere expression of the true intention of all bus drivers, in two simple words. Hell, I'd even keep it in my pocket, so when the bus actually does show up I can say, "Hey! You're right on time!" And show him the inside of the pamphlet. Then he would nod and smile and we'd be on the same wavelength for a change.
But perhaps the thing that really got to me last week, was when I had been working all day, and at around 8:30 at night, I decided to get a little something to eat. The Loyola campus where I work, has no significant restaurants. There is the vermin infested greek place, dagwoods and subway. Then finale, there is a little diner called new moon. I hate them all. But, i need to eat, no? So I go to new moon, figuring I'll get something quick. I order some hot dogs. For half an hour I wait, while these morons are chatting with each other, looking at me with big smiles on their face and telling me, "It won't be long sir!"
It won't be long? It has been long! And when i get up to ask them about my food, the cashier, as if she forgot I was sitting 2 feet away from her becomes animated, "Where is this gentleman's hot dogs?" The guy who made them for some reason decided to pack it up and put it on top of some shelf instead of the counter where the food is distributed. They give me the food and I gave that old lady such a dirty look... Half an hour... for a few f**kin' franks!
I'm the kind of person who tries to find meaning in everything. I try and justify the fact that in any given week I literally spend hours, standing in the snow, fretting and fuming, or in a restaurant waiting for ironically named, fast food. As for students, i always thought I was super patient... But when they can't just regurgitate what I said in plain english...
I wish every second of my life was packed with action!!! Constantly stimulated like James Bond... You never see him waiting around. Or Chev Chelios from Crank. All the productive things I could do with those many forfeit hours... You know what I need? A car! I could drive to the beginning of the bus route to see exactly what it is that happens between the terminus and my stop that results in a 15-30 minute delay. Then, when I find the bus parked there, with a bunch of bus drivers, reading comics or doing God knows what, I would smash the bus to bits so they would actually have an excuse to be late. Then I could run over the dumber portion of my students... repeatedly!!! Then I would turn New Moon into a drive thru. Just put the pedal to the metal and drive right through the front of it. "That's the old school s**t!" I'd declare.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Hello!
Montreal always amazes me. Every year you would think that it's the first time we've ever had a snowstorm. For the past two days now the bus has just decided not to come. And you'd think I would have the good sense to go wait for the bus, the old unfaithful 162, with my Ipod earbuds firmly secured into my ears. But instead today, for some reason, I just walked out and waited for the bus leaving myself vulnerable to all kinds of... socializing.
So this guy comes up to me with a big grey moustache and stuble, the slight smell of alcohol wafting from him. I just knew, deep down in my soul, that whatever hapenned next was going to be good. I really did. I was so excited to hear what was going to come out of this guys mouth. Let me tell you, he far exceeded my expectations. He immediately starts cursing and swearing, "Where's the bus? You know, there's a bunch of people at home not doing anything. Why not pay them to clean the f**kin' streets? Hello!" He ends 45% of his sentences with the word Hello!, said in a sarcastic way. "I mean, I work every day! How is that fair? Pay some people to clean the f**kin' snow! Hello!"
I just smiled and nodded. He continued, "I'm not racist or anything but..."
YES!!! I was right! The moment someone says they're not racist or anything you KNOW they're going to go on an incoherent racist tirade. I'm such a nerd, I'm thinking, "I can't wait to blog about this guy!"
So where were we? Oh yes, "I'm not racist or anything BUT!!! I hate when Arabs tell me what to do. I go into this guys house for work, he tells me to take off my shoes! With that rag over his head and... Back in my day you'd never hear people on the bus talking arab! If I take off my shoes, who's going to protect me if something falls on my foot? A f**kin' arab?? F**k no!!!"
BRILLIANT! And he just kept going, "Listen...I don't care if you're black or white...." That's a relief, otherwise whatever you were about to say might have come out wierd and awkward.
"...But back in the day when i was in jail, there would be some white people, and like two black people... Now! There's like... 150 black people in jail! I mean... I don't do anything but I sometimes end up in jail. Man I really gotta piss..."
So he walks out of the bus shelter and pees on a tree. Grood... That's some good blogging material. Or is it? He comes back to the bus shelter, by now we've been waiting about half an hour, and then some old lady comes, and they start cursing together about the terrible bus system. She says she might just take a cab. The old man says, "Oh, if you call a cab, remember, I'm your son!" She says, "My son?? How old do you think I am? This guy (points at me) could probably be my son, though."
Agewise maybe, but even this old drunk must have noticed I'm black, even if he's not racist or anything. So finally a bus comes. It's the 105, not the bus we're waiting for. Nevertheless, the drunken fool decides to start complaining to the bus driver about how it's ridiculous, yadda yadda, we pay so much for bus passes, don't they work? Why don't they hire more bus drivers? This driver just shrugs his shoulders. What could he really say?
"F**k the bus!" the drunk said. And I was inclined to agree with him. Another 105 bus comes. "F**k!!! I'm going to high jack the bus and tell him if he doesn't change the number to 162 I'm going to beat him... You know.... Like Speed? With Sandra Bullock??? Hello!! I don't care... What are they going to do? Put me in jail? Fine! No rent! Free Food! Hey... don't worry about it."
I wasn't worried at all, but some of the ladies at the bus stop worried when the 105 stopped and he actually started yelling and screaming at the bus driver, "Hey what's going on with you guys? I've been waiting here for an hour! Where's the 162?"
The bus driver says in french, "there's a lot of snow sir, I don't know if you've noticed."
Instant swearing! The drunk starts cursing the guy's mother and all bus drivers, gives him the finger. The bus driver then puts the wheel of the bus in that neutral position then he stands up and says, "Why don't you come here and say that?"
The drunk keeps yelling and the bus driver keeps egging him on. Wow, he would have killed that drunk. He was a pretty fit bus driver. In the distance I could see the 162 coming down the street, while these two idiots really look like they're going to start fighting. People start getting off of the 105. "F**k your mother! You bus drivers are idiots! Is this a joke? Then they call me ignorant. Hello!"
Bus driver says, "You think you could do better? Why don't you go get a job application you homeless so and so..." Then finally he drives off, realizing the drunk really isn't doing anything to hinder him.
Anyway, finally we get on the 162 and the drunk curteously lets everyone on before him. I make my way to the back of the packed bus while he continues his inebriated ramblings. Finally someone shouts out, "No one is listenning!" To which he responds, "That's good. I like talking to myself." Well, that's that. Honestly, I liked that little idiot. He was a lot of laughs. Goodnight, Sweet Prince.
Then some white guy in a red coat gets up and starts rapping some song about how nobody should f**k with him and he's a soldier or something. As he leaves, an older white man says, "Rap music is an amazing embellishment (what?). It all started with Shaka Khan. (Is it a full moon tonight?)" Then he goes on a little rant.
Long story short, it took me 1 hour and a half to get home, when I could have walked it in 30 minutes.
The End
So this guy comes up to me with a big grey moustache and stuble, the slight smell of alcohol wafting from him. I just knew, deep down in my soul, that whatever hapenned next was going to be good. I really did. I was so excited to hear what was going to come out of this guys mouth. Let me tell you, he far exceeded my expectations. He immediately starts cursing and swearing, "Where's the bus? You know, there's a bunch of people at home not doing anything. Why not pay them to clean the f**kin' streets? Hello!" He ends 45% of his sentences with the word Hello!, said in a sarcastic way. "I mean, I work every day! How is that fair? Pay some people to clean the f**kin' snow! Hello!"
I just smiled and nodded. He continued, "I'm not racist or anything but..."
YES!!! I was right! The moment someone says they're not racist or anything you KNOW they're going to go on an incoherent racist tirade. I'm such a nerd, I'm thinking, "I can't wait to blog about this guy!"
So where were we? Oh yes, "I'm not racist or anything BUT!!! I hate when Arabs tell me what to do. I go into this guys house for work, he tells me to take off my shoes! With that rag over his head and... Back in my day you'd never hear people on the bus talking arab! If I take off my shoes, who's going to protect me if something falls on my foot? A f**kin' arab?? F**k no!!!"
BRILLIANT! And he just kept going, "Listen...I don't care if you're black or white...." That's a relief, otherwise whatever you were about to say might have come out wierd and awkward.
"...But back in the day when i was in jail, there would be some white people, and like two black people... Now! There's like... 150 black people in jail! I mean... I don't do anything but I sometimes end up in jail. Man I really gotta piss..."
So he walks out of the bus shelter and pees on a tree. Grood... That's some good blogging material. Or is it? He comes back to the bus shelter, by now we've been waiting about half an hour, and then some old lady comes, and they start cursing together about the terrible bus system. She says she might just take a cab. The old man says, "Oh, if you call a cab, remember, I'm your son!" She says, "My son?? How old do you think I am? This guy (points at me) could probably be my son, though."
Agewise maybe, but even this old drunk must have noticed I'm black, even if he's not racist or anything. So finally a bus comes. It's the 105, not the bus we're waiting for. Nevertheless, the drunken fool decides to start complaining to the bus driver about how it's ridiculous, yadda yadda, we pay so much for bus passes, don't they work? Why don't they hire more bus drivers? This driver just shrugs his shoulders. What could he really say?
"F**k the bus!" the drunk said. And I was inclined to agree with him. Another 105 bus comes. "F**k!!! I'm going to high jack the bus and tell him if he doesn't change the number to 162 I'm going to beat him... You know.... Like Speed? With Sandra Bullock??? Hello!! I don't care... What are they going to do? Put me in jail? Fine! No rent! Free Food! Hey... don't worry about it."
I wasn't worried at all, but some of the ladies at the bus stop worried when the 105 stopped and he actually started yelling and screaming at the bus driver, "Hey what's going on with you guys? I've been waiting here for an hour! Where's the 162?"
The bus driver says in french, "there's a lot of snow sir, I don't know if you've noticed."
Instant swearing! The drunk starts cursing the guy's mother and all bus drivers, gives him the finger. The bus driver then puts the wheel of the bus in that neutral position then he stands up and says, "Why don't you come here and say that?"
The drunk keeps yelling and the bus driver keeps egging him on. Wow, he would have killed that drunk. He was a pretty fit bus driver. In the distance I could see the 162 coming down the street, while these two idiots really look like they're going to start fighting. People start getting off of the 105. "F**k your mother! You bus drivers are idiots! Is this a joke? Then they call me ignorant. Hello!"
Bus driver says, "You think you could do better? Why don't you go get a job application you homeless so and so..." Then finally he drives off, realizing the drunk really isn't doing anything to hinder him.
Anyway, finally we get on the 162 and the drunk curteously lets everyone on before him. I make my way to the back of the packed bus while he continues his inebriated ramblings. Finally someone shouts out, "No one is listenning!" To which he responds, "That's good. I like talking to myself." Well, that's that. Honestly, I liked that little idiot. He was a lot of laughs. Goodnight, Sweet Prince.
Then some white guy in a red coat gets up and starts rapping some song about how nobody should f**k with him and he's a soldier or something. As he leaves, an older white man says, "Rap music is an amazing embellishment (what?). It all started with Shaka Khan. (Is it a full moon tonight?)" Then he goes on a little rant.
Long story short, it took me 1 hour and a half to get home, when I could have walked it in 30 minutes.
The End
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Most Important Criterion of All
This Saturday I was killing sometime, openned up MSN to discover they had finally chosen a sexiest man alive for 2007. I clicked on the link expecting to see my name, picture and reasons why I was so sexy when I see Matt Damon's ugly mug, beady eyes and all as sexiest man alive. I was somewhat irate. Is Matt Damon actually a good looking guy? I mean, is it just because I'm a guy that I can't see it?
A friend of mine, who I know has a thing for Matt Damon was pleased by this news. I told her that Matt and not Masta had been voted (chosen) sexiest man a live. She then went on to list certain criteria that were necessary for one to be voted sexiest man alive. Among those criteria was not being a thug rapper. Another was being fairly old, around 40 years old.
But she had missed the most important criterion of all... BEING WHITE!!!
My racism sense was tingling the moment I saw Matt Damon with that ridiculous simper on his face. Were there any non-white sexiest men alive? Just one... Denzel Washington some 10 years ago. For over two decades they have been choosing sexiest men alive, and only one of them was not white. I went on to tell my friend that People's Magazine was racist and so was she for supporting their non-ethnic choice of sexy men. The list is also inherently discriminatory towards the deceased. What kind of a world is this? She then argued that there are few ethnic people in the media as good looking as their most popular white counterparts.
I was outraged and embarked on the awkward and confusing mind trip that was rating the super hunks. I first looked at the list from People magazine in disgust. Even if they're going to pick old white guys, where's Captain Picard on this list? Where's Blair Underwood? I guess they discriminated against him because he has a moustache.
Then I decided to think of non-white people who should have made the list. Aside from myself, I think Tyrese... I think that's his name... The black model? Or am I thinking of Taye Diggs? He's a good looking man, no? What about that asian guy who played Seraph from the Matrix? Ummm.... The Brown Guy from Heroes is pretty good looking.
There! You can see my outrage. 20 years of sexiest men alive, and they haven't included Tyrese the black model or the asian guy from the matrix. Eff People Magazine! But I suppose that generally speaking if there's a black guy or an asian guy in a movie or TV show they are present, mostly, to be the black or asian stereotype. Black guys are around to be criminals in movies. Even Denzel! How many images of Denzel Washington do we have of him getting dragged away in handcuffs, riddled with bullets or brooding passionately in a jail cell? Oh man, does Hollywood love to see Denzel Washington's characters get in trouble with the law. Not the sexiest images, but Denzel was sexy enough to overcome it. As for other black people, they're usually portrayed as thuggish criminals, not really the good looking super hunks/knights in shining armour, who save the day and get all the ladies. Or these days doctors... Either way at some point you see them covered with blood.
Contrast that to the people on the sexiest man alive list... When you think of the white guys on the list, you immediately think of them in suits. I know I do. Several of them were in Ocean's 11, 12 and 13. Brad, George, Matt. They all got to wear nice suits. Bernie Mac and Don Cheadle were in these movies too, but Don Cheadle was some kind of engineer and where as Brad, George and Matt were in suits, seducing women and being stylish in casinos, Don Cheadle was somewhere digging a tunnel or stealing some device. Not so sexy. Meanwhile George and Brad were living it up. Where are they in this picture, by a pool or something? NOT in some freaking mine? Big surprise. I can see Don Cheadle in talks to do this project,
Don: "Cool! Ocean's 11? Do I get to wear suits and go around carousing in Casinos and hotels?"
Producer: "No... You'll be in a dark dank tunnel, while the white people are topside, making sure everything runs smoothly."
Don: "Man... This is some bulls**t!!!"
So we have miners, criminals... Black men in dresses anyone? Big Mama's House, Tyler Perry movies, Eddie Murphy movies... In fact, not only is martin lawrence wearing adress but he's holding a gun too! Not only is he demasculated but stereotyped as well!!
I'll continue to do my homework to see how I can become the second Black, sexiest man alive. This is definately something that has to change in our world... Starvation, aids, crime, poverty should all be put on the back burner while we adress this issue.
A friend of mine, who I know has a thing for Matt Damon was pleased by this news. I told her that Matt and not Masta had been voted (chosen) sexiest man a live. She then went on to list certain criteria that were necessary for one to be voted sexiest man alive. Among those criteria was not being a thug rapper. Another was being fairly old, around 40 years old.
But she had missed the most important criterion of all... BEING WHITE!!!
My racism sense was tingling the moment I saw Matt Damon with that ridiculous simper on his face. Were there any non-white sexiest men alive? Just one... Denzel Washington some 10 years ago. For over two decades they have been choosing sexiest men alive, and only one of them was not white. I went on to tell my friend that People's Magazine was racist and so was she for supporting their non-ethnic choice of sexy men. The list is also inherently discriminatory towards the deceased. What kind of a world is this? She then argued that there are few ethnic people in the media as good looking as their most popular white counterparts.
I was outraged and embarked on the awkward and confusing mind trip that was rating the super hunks. I first looked at the list from People magazine in disgust. Even if they're going to pick old white guys, where's Captain Picard on this list? Where's Blair Underwood? I guess they discriminated against him because he has a moustache.
Then I decided to think of non-white people who should have made the list. Aside from myself, I think Tyrese... I think that's his name... The black model? Or am I thinking of Taye Diggs? He's a good looking man, no? What about that asian guy who played Seraph from the Matrix? Ummm.... The Brown Guy from Heroes is pretty good looking.
There! You can see my outrage. 20 years of sexiest men alive, and they haven't included Tyrese the black model or the asian guy from the matrix. Eff People Magazine! But I suppose that generally speaking if there's a black guy or an asian guy in a movie or TV show they are present, mostly, to be the black or asian stereotype. Black guys are around to be criminals in movies. Even Denzel! How many images of Denzel Washington do we have of him getting dragged away in handcuffs, riddled with bullets or brooding passionately in a jail cell? Oh man, does Hollywood love to see Denzel Washington's characters get in trouble with the law. Not the sexiest images, but Denzel was sexy enough to overcome it. As for other black people, they're usually portrayed as thuggish criminals, not really the good looking super hunks/knights in shining armour, who save the day and get all the ladies. Or these days doctors... Either way at some point you see them covered with blood.
Contrast that to the people on the sexiest man alive list... When you think of the white guys on the list, you immediately think of them in suits. I know I do. Several of them were in Ocean's 11, 12 and 13. Brad, George, Matt. They all got to wear nice suits. Bernie Mac and Don Cheadle were in these movies too, but Don Cheadle was some kind of engineer and where as Brad, George and Matt were in suits, seducing women and being stylish in casinos, Don Cheadle was somewhere digging a tunnel or stealing some device. Not so sexy. Meanwhile George and Brad were living it up. Where are they in this picture, by a pool or something? NOT in some freaking mine? Big surprise. I can see Don Cheadle in talks to do this project,
Don: "Cool! Ocean's 11? Do I get to wear suits and go around carousing in Casinos and hotels?"
Producer: "No... You'll be in a dark dank tunnel, while the white people are topside, making sure everything runs smoothly."
Don: "Man... This is some bulls**t!!!"
So we have miners, criminals... Black men in dresses anyone? Big Mama's House, Tyler Perry movies, Eddie Murphy movies... In fact, not only is martin lawrence wearing adress but he's holding a gun too! Not only is he demasculated but stereotyped as well!!
I'll continue to do my homework to see how I can become the second Black, sexiest man alive. This is definately something that has to change in our world... Starvation, aids, crime, poverty should all be put on the back burner while we adress this issue.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Punk Kids
I was about to take the metro the other day when I saw some punk kids attacking a poster with a metal pipe that they found somewhere. "LOOK AT THAT!!! RIGHT IN THE FACE GUY!!!" It was sunday night. Poor stupid kids... They can't have a very happy homelife if sunday night is juvenile vandalism night.
Last week I had to start going to work a little bit earlier, and I ended up taking the bus with the high school kids in the neighbourhood. You know what's fascinating? The meticulous way that kids sort their marijuana. They have a little case, and they often seem to be manipulating it somehow. I never quite understood what they were doing. Removing the seeds? If only they were that focused on positive things like... homework. The day after I saw that display, there was a guy who got on the bus smelling of weed and playing his DS.
I was just thinking about back in the day, there was a news story about some american kid who went to Singapore and decided to spray paint one of the cars. The punishment for that in Singapore is to beat the transgressor with a ratan stick. I have one at home. It must have really hurt. And somehow this turned into international news, whereby the kids parents tried to get him out of his just desert. I'd love to have heard the conversations between the kids parents and the owner of the car.
Parents: "Couldn't our son just apologize?"
Car Owner: "Of course he can apologize. After he gets his ass demolished and I'm compensated for damages."
I was so happy when he finally got his beating. And you know what? If you read the story, it seems that he really took it like a man. He should be proud. It's a shame that the best discipline he received in life was from an inanimate rod instead of his parents. Seriously though, the kid did have a really tough life. I don't think that means he should be exempt from caning. In Singapore, if you are on Death Row they don't even bother caning you. You're just hopeless. The kid should be grateful they even thought he was worth beating. I think there are some kids in Canada who would benefit from a good beating.
Last week I had to start going to work a little bit earlier, and I ended up taking the bus with the high school kids in the neighbourhood. You know what's fascinating? The meticulous way that kids sort their marijuana. They have a little case, and they often seem to be manipulating it somehow. I never quite understood what they were doing. Removing the seeds? If only they were that focused on positive things like... homework. The day after I saw that display, there was a guy who got on the bus smelling of weed and playing his DS.
I was just thinking about back in the day, there was a news story about some american kid who went to Singapore and decided to spray paint one of the cars. The punishment for that in Singapore is to beat the transgressor with a ratan stick. I have one at home. It must have really hurt. And somehow this turned into international news, whereby the kids parents tried to get him out of his just desert. I'd love to have heard the conversations between the kids parents and the owner of the car.
Parents: "Couldn't our son just apologize?"
Car Owner: "Of course he can apologize. After he gets his ass demolished and I'm compensated for damages."
I was so happy when he finally got his beating. And you know what? If you read the story, it seems that he really took it like a man. He should be proud. It's a shame that the best discipline he received in life was from an inanimate rod instead of his parents. Seriously though, the kid did have a really tough life. I don't think that means he should be exempt from caning. In Singapore, if you are on Death Row they don't even bother caning you. You're just hopeless. The kid should be grateful they even thought he was worth beating. I think there are some kids in Canada who would benefit from a good beating.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Soul Restoration?
I was watching some entertainment news show a few minutes ago and was SCANDALIZED to hear that some animal protection group has a vendetta against Ellen Degeneres. As the story goes she took some dog into her home and then gave it away, which is against the rules. So they took the dog away from the family who Ellen had given it too.
Subsequently Ellen wept on her show, begging for them to return the dog to the family who had grown to love it so much. When asked how he felt about the situation the dog licked its nuts and then took a dump on the carpet.
Honestly... Maybe I'm just mean but... This is a story? There are stray cats all over the place. Ellen is crying because she feels responsible for the family's suffering. Get a life! You can aquire a new and better dog! That can do tricks, guard the house, say I RUV OOO in a doggie voice. It would save babies from fires like the littlest hobo and solve crimes like Scooby Doo. The dog they were crying about was barely the size of my fist. I can just see them winning some court case and following the judges ruling, he would strike his gavel, unwittingly hitting the dog on the head and smashing it like mound of jello.
Also, Oprah has somehow "burned out" her thyroid. I don't know what that means but she "came out" publicly about it. Then she said something about how she had to take a few months to "restore her soul". I love how Oprah is too rich and divine to take a vacation anymore. Everyone else in the world takes some time off. Oprah restores her soul. I guess they just needed a phrase that could encompass the virtual nirvanna that she attains when she's taking a bath in liquid gold, burning candles made from humback whale oil and eating saussages made from the meats of 17 endangered species.
All this to say, I think Oprah and Ellen are some terrific ladies, but I don't think these people should be using their television program to talk about their personal problems. I'm sure Ellen is very upset about this dog, but I don't think that warrants an international display of tears. And I'm sure Oprah isn't feeling so good, but she could just buy a new thyroid. In other news 45 civillians were killed in South Darfur when the cease fire was broken. 45 souls! 45 thyroids! I imagine some of the kids in those parts of the world would be thrilled to come into possession of Ellen's dog. It's probably tastier than what they usually eat... nothing!
Subsequently Ellen wept on her show, begging for them to return the dog to the family who had grown to love it so much. When asked how he felt about the situation the dog licked its nuts and then took a dump on the carpet.
Honestly... Maybe I'm just mean but... This is a story? There are stray cats all over the place. Ellen is crying because she feels responsible for the family's suffering. Get a life! You can aquire a new and better dog! That can do tricks, guard the house, say I RUV OOO in a doggie voice. It would save babies from fires like the littlest hobo and solve crimes like Scooby Doo. The dog they were crying about was barely the size of my fist. I can just see them winning some court case and following the judges ruling, he would strike his gavel, unwittingly hitting the dog on the head and smashing it like mound of jello.
Also, Oprah has somehow "burned out" her thyroid. I don't know what that means but she "came out" publicly about it. Then she said something about how she had to take a few months to "restore her soul". I love how Oprah is too rich and divine to take a vacation anymore. Everyone else in the world takes some time off. Oprah restores her soul. I guess they just needed a phrase that could encompass the virtual nirvanna that she attains when she's taking a bath in liquid gold, burning candles made from humback whale oil and eating saussages made from the meats of 17 endangered species.
All this to say, I think Oprah and Ellen are some terrific ladies, but I don't think these people should be using their television program to talk about their personal problems. I'm sure Ellen is very upset about this dog, but I don't think that warrants an international display of tears. And I'm sure Oprah isn't feeling so good, but she could just buy a new thyroid. In other news 45 civillians were killed in South Darfur when the cease fire was broken. 45 souls! 45 thyroids! I imagine some of the kids in those parts of the world would be thrilled to come into possession of Ellen's dog. It's probably tastier than what they usually eat... nothing!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Harry Potter and the Order of the Geeks
Man, I'm so excited for this Harry Potter book next week. It's sad really... I have a bad history with these books. Every single one of them has been ruined for me. I always know who dies, before they die. Last week the COVER of the gazette had as a headline, "Is main character X really dead?" How pathetic are we that the ending of the 6th Harry Potter book is front page material for the local newspaper?
Anyway, these books have left us wondering who the unlucky bloke is who will end up getting killed in the conclusion of the series. I'm hoping it's Hagrid. What a jerkstore. For 6 years he's been endangering the idiot kids by exposing them to unnatural, dangerous creatures.
Hagrid: "Hey kids! I found a new creature. It's a radioactive, bladed, fire breathing horse. It emits gamma radiation."
Hermione: "Doesn't that cause cancer?"
Hagrid: "Does it ever!!! But it's so cute!!!"
SLIC'D Takes his head clean off, first chapter. That'll learn him.
There are also theories going around that Neville is the one the prophecy speaks of and that he might bite the bullet when he and voldemort engage in Wizard fisticuffs. I think that would be an interesting twist.
Perhaps neither harry nor Neville will die. I think a great twist would be to see a noble sacrifice by Snape. Harry becomes defence against the dark arts teacher at long last and survives for a semester, breaking the bad luck that has come with the position for so many years.
Then there's so many other seeds that she's planted. What's going on with the Giants? The Centaurs? The House Elves? What will happen to the dementors? Are the beloved characters that we lost in previous books really dead?? Is Snape Harry's father??? Hermione Harry's sister??? Cedric Diggory is actually Cedric the entertainer??? So many possibilities. Next week I will find out.. and hopefully none of you jerks will ruin the ending for me.
Anyway, these books have left us wondering who the unlucky bloke is who will end up getting killed in the conclusion of the series. I'm hoping it's Hagrid. What a jerkstore. For 6 years he's been endangering the idiot kids by exposing them to unnatural, dangerous creatures.
Hagrid: "Hey kids! I found a new creature. It's a radioactive, bladed, fire breathing horse. It emits gamma radiation."
Hermione: "Doesn't that cause cancer?"
Hagrid: "Does it ever!!! But it's so cute!!!"
SLIC'D Takes his head clean off, first chapter. That'll learn him.
There are also theories going around that Neville is the one the prophecy speaks of and that he might bite the bullet when he and voldemort engage in Wizard fisticuffs. I think that would be an interesting twist.
Perhaps neither harry nor Neville will die. I think a great twist would be to see a noble sacrifice by Snape. Harry becomes defence against the dark arts teacher at long last and survives for a semester, breaking the bad luck that has come with the position for so many years.
Then there's so many other seeds that she's planted. What's going on with the Giants? The Centaurs? The House Elves? What will happen to the dementors? Are the beloved characters that we lost in previous books really dead?? Is Snape Harry's father??? Hermione Harry's sister??? Cedric Diggory is actually Cedric the entertainer??? So many possibilities. Next week I will find out.. and hopefully none of you jerks will ruin the ending for me.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Masta and Vrej on Isaiah Washington
Vrej says:
queer
MastaC$G says:
?
Vrej says:
hmmm So i dont get ostracized for the q word, eh? Interesting
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah washintong claims he wasn't even calling the gay guy queer. But other guy who only seems gay. Rather... He said, "you can't treat me like a faggot."
Vrej says:
yep
MastaC$G says:
effin' right you can't treat him like a faggot.
Vrej says:
nor a bitch
MastaC$G says:
eff grey's anatomy.
MastaC$G says:
I like the old stereotype, though. He can be all dignified and calm, spouting out lines about medicine... But when someone crosses him...
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah Washington: "I ain't no bitch, motha f**ka... You think I'm some kind of f**kin' faggot, f**k?"
Vrej says:
Patrick Dempsey: "No, just the regular kind"
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah Washington:"Fuck you... I'll stick my d**k in yo mama's #@%^@, bitch-a$$ n***a!!!"
Vrej says:
he draws a diagram
MastaC$G says:
Then he gets fired.
MastaC$G says:
Sandra Oh: "wow that escalated quickly. He just asked him to pass him the script book."
Should someone really get fired for that? We've all used unkind words when we lose our temper. More often I use that language simply to exercise my natural belligerence that I have to curb all day long in public. What a burden. And what a relief to be able to just let her rip and use all sorts of foul language when someone ticks you off.
Patrick dempsey and that gay guy who's name I can't remember should be flattered that Isaiah feels he's close enough to them to use such harsh language. The word faggot is a word reserved only for those I feel closest too. The people I allude to are not gay people mind you... That would be rude. You don't call retarded people retarded... You call your friends retarded when they act like retards... Similarly words used to imply homosexuality are set aside only for those who you are comfortable enough with to chastise in such an innappropriate manner. What does that imply about this blog, filled with more profanity than a Chris Rock stand up routine? It means I love all those who read it.. well, most of you homos anyway.
queer
MastaC$G says:
?
Vrej says:
hmmm So i dont get ostracized for the q word, eh? Interesting
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah washintong claims he wasn't even calling the gay guy queer. But other guy who only seems gay. Rather... He said, "you can't treat me like a faggot."
Vrej says:
yep
MastaC$G says:
effin' right you can't treat him like a faggot.
Vrej says:
nor a bitch
MastaC$G says:
eff grey's anatomy.
MastaC$G says:
I like the old stereotype, though. He can be all dignified and calm, spouting out lines about medicine... But when someone crosses him...
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah Washington: "I ain't no bitch, motha f**ka... You think I'm some kind of f**kin' faggot, f**k?"
Vrej says:
Patrick Dempsey: "No, just the regular kind"
MastaC$G says:
Isaiah Washington:"Fuck you... I'll stick my d**k in yo mama's #@%^@, bitch-a$$ n***a!!!"
Vrej says:
he draws a diagram
MastaC$G says:
Then he gets fired.
MastaC$G says:
Sandra Oh: "wow that escalated quickly. He just asked him to pass him the script book."
Should someone really get fired for that? We've all used unkind words when we lose our temper. More often I use that language simply to exercise my natural belligerence that I have to curb all day long in public. What a burden. And what a relief to be able to just let her rip and use all sorts of foul language when someone ticks you off.
Patrick dempsey and that gay guy who's name I can't remember should be flattered that Isaiah feels he's close enough to them to use such harsh language. The word faggot is a word reserved only for those I feel closest too. The people I allude to are not gay people mind you... That would be rude. You don't call retarded people retarded... You call your friends retarded when they act like retards... Similarly words used to imply homosexuality are set aside only for those who you are comfortable enough with to chastise in such an innappropriate manner. What does that imply about this blog, filled with more profanity than a Chris Rock stand up routine? It means I love all those who read it.. well, most of you homos anyway.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Fortune Telling
I rarely watch the news but like many things, the news makes me angry. What's the deal with a weather report??? What exactly do you have to major in to qualify to be a weatherman? It's the only job I know where you can be consistenly wrong day after day and not be fired. A weatherman can easily give you a 7 day forecast and not even be close for seven of the seven days. "Tomorrow's forecast... 60% chance of rain..."
The next day comes... No rain... You turn on the news... "Well, it seems the rain has 'passed over' us and MAY fall somewhere in the Eastern townships." All the while they beguile us with cheesy cartoons of clouds with eyes and smiling suns. YOU WERE WRONG MOFO!!! Fess up!!! What are you paid for if you can't predict the weather? If I were to randomly guess what the weather is going to be like a few days from now I bet I would be right 50% of the time. Try me... Tomorrow, the forecast is going to be rainy... The day after that... No rain... It's going to be 38 degrees... Then on Friday there will be an earthquake and a volcanic eruption... And it will rain cats and dogs... And the rain will have cat-dog hybrid babies... and these mutants will maul the population... And if that doesn't happen, I'll collect my paycheque anyway! I'm sure there are some animals out there that are more reliable at forecasting the weather... They probably pee on the east side of a tree when the wind is going at a certain speed.. or something... Someone must have knowledge of how to predict rainfall by animals urinary habits.
Health reports are an insulting farce. Today's offering, a "report" about the benefits of a polyphenols in delaying neurological diseases. But if you watch it, there are very few scientists speaking. Just slack-jawed locals, "My dad is old... My dad drinks a lot of wine... My dad is not demented.. Therefore wine cures dementia." Cut to a scientist saying, "Wine contains polyphenols!!!" One woman even had the audacity to claim that her mother was LIVING PROOF that whatever fermented leaf, tiger urine or holy water her mother drank was what kept her mind so sharp throughout old age..
They did "interview" one scientist. They had a few shots of him using a pipette. He alluded to the fact that polyphenols may scavenge antioxidants and suggested they could make a polyphenol pill in the future.
Again... I could EASILY spout out a bunch of mumbo jumbo about anti-oxidants. But if I'm not accountable, what credibility do I have? I could say, KFC contains chicken, which contains fats. Fats are found in brain cells. Therefore KFC could cure alzheimers... I eat KFC and I don't have alzheimers. That's pretty strong evidence for my hypothesis.
You know what delays old age, in plain english: "Exercise and Eat properly." The equivalent information in a news report. "New studies reveal that GRAPES are good for you. They contain polyendoamenic acids that prevent old age."
Some hapless bumpkin: "WOW GRAPES!!! Good for you?? I'd better eat lots of grapes and I'd better eat them exclusively. And I'd better go to the pharmacy and see if they have grapes available in pill form. All the goodness of a bunch of grapes, in one convenient pill. For the on the go slob, who doesn't know any better."
The more things change the more they stay the same. The evening news portrays little more than a bunch of modern day fortune tellers and sorcerers getting paid to convince you that they know something that you don't. Sure there are a lot of facts in there, but they have such a bias slant that people are bound to misunderstand or come up with the wrong conclusions. Maybe the scientist in me makes me a little critical of these feeble reports, but what else could they show the general public? That being said, I WILL go and have a bunch of grapes right now. Grapes contain neuron "mightiers" like polyphenol.
The next day comes... No rain... You turn on the news... "Well, it seems the rain has 'passed over' us and MAY fall somewhere in the Eastern townships." All the while they beguile us with cheesy cartoons of clouds with eyes and smiling suns. YOU WERE WRONG MOFO!!! Fess up!!! What are you paid for if you can't predict the weather? If I were to randomly guess what the weather is going to be like a few days from now I bet I would be right 50% of the time. Try me... Tomorrow, the forecast is going to be rainy... The day after that... No rain... It's going to be 38 degrees... Then on Friday there will be an earthquake and a volcanic eruption... And it will rain cats and dogs... And the rain will have cat-dog hybrid babies... and these mutants will maul the population... And if that doesn't happen, I'll collect my paycheque anyway! I'm sure there are some animals out there that are more reliable at forecasting the weather... They probably pee on the east side of a tree when the wind is going at a certain speed.. or something... Someone must have knowledge of how to predict rainfall by animals urinary habits.
Health reports are an insulting farce. Today's offering, a "report" about the benefits of a polyphenols in delaying neurological diseases. But if you watch it, there are very few scientists speaking. Just slack-jawed locals, "My dad is old... My dad drinks a lot of wine... My dad is not demented.. Therefore wine cures dementia." Cut to a scientist saying, "Wine contains polyphenols!!!" One woman even had the audacity to claim that her mother was LIVING PROOF that whatever fermented leaf, tiger urine or holy water her mother drank was what kept her mind so sharp throughout old age..
They did "interview" one scientist. They had a few shots of him using a pipette. He alluded to the fact that polyphenols may scavenge antioxidants and suggested they could make a polyphenol pill in the future.
Again... I could EASILY spout out a bunch of mumbo jumbo about anti-oxidants. But if I'm not accountable, what credibility do I have? I could say, KFC contains chicken, which contains fats. Fats are found in brain cells. Therefore KFC could cure alzheimers... I eat KFC and I don't have alzheimers. That's pretty strong evidence for my hypothesis.
You know what delays old age, in plain english: "Exercise and Eat properly." The equivalent information in a news report. "New studies reveal that GRAPES are good for you. They contain polyendoamenic acids that prevent old age."
Some hapless bumpkin: "WOW GRAPES!!! Good for you?? I'd better eat lots of grapes and I'd better eat them exclusively. And I'd better go to the pharmacy and see if they have grapes available in pill form. All the goodness of a bunch of grapes, in one convenient pill. For the on the go slob, who doesn't know any better."
The more things change the more they stay the same. The evening news portrays little more than a bunch of modern day fortune tellers and sorcerers getting paid to convince you that they know something that you don't. Sure there are a lot of facts in there, but they have such a bias slant that people are bound to misunderstand or come up with the wrong conclusions. Maybe the scientist in me makes me a little critical of these feeble reports, but what else could they show the general public? That being said, I WILL go and have a bunch of grapes right now. Grapes contain neuron "mightiers" like polyphenol.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
AM /EFF 'em!! Radio
Man, am I ever tired of random people calling me asking for survey information or trying to sell junk.... Normally I ask them if I could have their phone number so I could call them back. Of course they seldom allow incoming calls and after I'm informed of this, I generally decline doing business with them.
Today, I was called by someone who wanted to gather information for a survey about ratings on the radio. I was not pleased at all. I particularly hate it when they introduce themselves and ask a question right away, as if they're so fast I won't even notice the survey has already begun.
Survey Guy: "Hello, my name is Guy. We're a non-profit organization collecting information to evaluate the ratings that different radio stations are receiving-Are you over 18??"
Who said I wanted to participate in this survey anyway. I'll ask the questions if you don't mind. "Wait a minute... What interest does a non-profit organization have in getting information for a radio show?? Are you a volunteer??"
Survey Guy: "Well.. I'm an employee..."
Me: "So you are getting paid."
Survey Guy: "Well... we're part of a cooperative..."
Me: "That's irrelevant... Basically, you're asking me to do this survey, so you can collect information that has monetary value to you."
Survey Guy: "Yes..."
The guy then says that he will only take 3 minutes of my time by phone and eventually asks if he can send the survey to my house so I can fill it out and mail it back to them.
Me: "So you want me to fill out this survey for you, which will provide YOU with valuable data. What incentive do you provide for the time it will cost me to do all of this."
Survey Guy: "Well... you will be able to influence the quality of the radio programs you enjoy."
Me: "I don't listen to the radio... EVER!!!"
Survey Guy: "We need information from people who don't listen to the radio as well. Is your adress *****"
Me: "How do you have my adress???"
Survey Guy: "Phone book.. 411... ummm..."
Me: "I see... I ask you again... Why should I do this for you???"
Survey Guy: "Well, there may be a few dollars in the enveloppe if you complete the survey."
Me: ...
Survey Guy: ...
Me:....
Survey Guy: "Can I count on you to complete the survey??"
Me: "Count on me??? I guess decide when I receive the survey after I've seen what kind of "incentives" you provide. Won't I??"
Survey Guy: "Thank you, you'll be receiving the package in a few weeks."
Jerk.... I feel he owes me money for calling my house. He's already indebted to me. Now he's going to send me some freaking survey. I refuse to do it for anything less than 5$ at this point. The most disturbing thing however, is that I took the time to even converse with this guy. I should have just said I wasn't interested, and hung up. At least once a week, someone tries to get something from me for free. They're stealing my time and money simply cuz they picked my name out of a phone book. I'm mad as hell and I won't stand for it anymore!!! Radio stations now??? I have to spend time telling them how I hate that song by Rihanna that they play every 10 seconds? You want better ratings, play music that doesn't suck.
Today, I was called by someone who wanted to gather information for a survey about ratings on the radio. I was not pleased at all. I particularly hate it when they introduce themselves and ask a question right away, as if they're so fast I won't even notice the survey has already begun.
Survey Guy: "Hello, my name is Guy. We're a non-profit organization collecting information to evaluate the ratings that different radio stations are receiving-Are you over 18??"
Who said I wanted to participate in this survey anyway. I'll ask the questions if you don't mind. "Wait a minute... What interest does a non-profit organization have in getting information for a radio show?? Are you a volunteer??"
Survey Guy: "Well.. I'm an employee..."
Me: "So you are getting paid."
Survey Guy: "Well... we're part of a cooperative..."
Me: "That's irrelevant... Basically, you're asking me to do this survey, so you can collect information that has monetary value to you."
Survey Guy: "Yes..."
The guy then says that he will only take 3 minutes of my time by phone and eventually asks if he can send the survey to my house so I can fill it out and mail it back to them.
Me: "So you want me to fill out this survey for you, which will provide YOU with valuable data. What incentive do you provide for the time it will cost me to do all of this."
Survey Guy: "Well... you will be able to influence the quality of the radio programs you enjoy."
Me: "I don't listen to the radio... EVER!!!"
Survey Guy: "We need information from people who don't listen to the radio as well. Is your adress *****"
Me: "How do you have my adress???"
Survey Guy: "Phone book.. 411... ummm..."
Me: "I see... I ask you again... Why should I do this for you???"
Survey Guy: "Well, there may be a few dollars in the enveloppe if you complete the survey."
Me: ...
Survey Guy: ...
Me:....
Survey Guy: "Can I count on you to complete the survey??"
Me: "Count on me??? I guess decide when I receive the survey after I've seen what kind of "incentives" you provide. Won't I??"
Survey Guy: "Thank you, you'll be receiving the package in a few weeks."
Jerk.... I feel he owes me money for calling my house. He's already indebted to me. Now he's going to send me some freaking survey. I refuse to do it for anything less than 5$ at this point. The most disturbing thing however, is that I took the time to even converse with this guy. I should have just said I wasn't interested, and hung up. At least once a week, someone tries to get something from me for free. They're stealing my time and money simply cuz they picked my name out of a phone book. I'm mad as hell and I won't stand for it anymore!!! Radio stations now??? I have to spend time telling them how I hate that song by Rihanna that they play every 10 seconds? You want better ratings, play music that doesn't suck.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Silver lining
A guy spends the night with a 5$ hooker. The next day he wakes up and finds he has crabs. So he goes to the hooker and says, "Hey, you gave me crabs!" And the hooker says, "Well, you only gave me 5$. What did you expect? Lobster?"
This weekend I had lobster. I wasn't too impressed. I can't believe people make such a big deal out of it. I find when I look at lobster it begs the question, who was the first person to decide that a lobster was edible. It kind of looks like a bug. A scorpion to be exact. It has antannae and claws. It's a truly awful looking thing. If I saw one running around for the first time I'd want to step on it, kill it and get rid of the remains as fast as possible.
A co-worker of mine told me that lobster used to be considered a poor persons food, given to prisoners and children. Servants actually complained about having to eat lobster all the time. http://www.gma.org/lobsters/allaboutlobsters/lobsterhistory.html
But now it's considered a delicacy. I must applaud the genius who decided to smother lobster in garlic butter and sell it for 30$ a pound. What does it take to prepare lobster? Nothing. You just dump it in boiling water. Basically what you have is a garlic butter delivery system. It's pretty crazy if you ask me. And pretty brilliant.
I think there's a moral here. It's like, seeing the silver lining in a dark cloud. Making something negative, positive. Lobster is basically a disgusting arthropod that people loathed having to eat. Someone put a value to it and turned it into a huge industry.
Where are the lobsters in your life? What could you do to add value to a negative situation you're in? There are things we take for granted or even look upon as problems. Relationships? Work? Faith? It's time to make lobsters out of those things. Take the problems in your life, boil them in the water of hope and smother them in the garlic butter of potential!!! Turn a 5$ hooker into a million dollar wife. Make your job at the office an opportunity to get some well needed rest. Use an unpleasant coworker as an outlet for your scorn and disgust. Lots of the things we avoid in life are opportunities waiting to happen.
Take your problems and turn them into lobster!
This weekend I had lobster. I wasn't too impressed. I can't believe people make such a big deal out of it. I find when I look at lobster it begs the question, who was the first person to decide that a lobster was edible. It kind of looks like a bug. A scorpion to be exact. It has antannae and claws. It's a truly awful looking thing. If I saw one running around for the first time I'd want to step on it, kill it and get rid of the remains as fast as possible.
A co-worker of mine told me that lobster used to be considered a poor persons food, given to prisoners and children. Servants actually complained about having to eat lobster all the time. http://www.gma.org/lobsters/allaboutlobsters/lobsterhistory.html
But now it's considered a delicacy. I must applaud the genius who decided to smother lobster in garlic butter and sell it for 30$ a pound. What does it take to prepare lobster? Nothing. You just dump it in boiling water. Basically what you have is a garlic butter delivery system. It's pretty crazy if you ask me. And pretty brilliant.
I think there's a moral here. It's like, seeing the silver lining in a dark cloud. Making something negative, positive. Lobster is basically a disgusting arthropod that people loathed having to eat. Someone put a value to it and turned it into a huge industry.
Where are the lobsters in your life? What could you do to add value to a negative situation you're in? There are things we take for granted or even look upon as problems. Relationships? Work? Faith? It's time to make lobsters out of those things. Take the problems in your life, boil them in the water of hope and smother them in the garlic butter of potential!!! Turn a 5$ hooker into a million dollar wife. Make your job at the office an opportunity to get some well needed rest. Use an unpleasant coworker as an outlet for your scorn and disgust. Lots of the things we avoid in life are opportunities waiting to happen.
Take your problems and turn them into lobster!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Props to Heroes and Sheroes
My approach to life is to get things that don't need immediate attention, out of my way as soon as possible. I don't necessarily hang up my clothes when I get home. Why fumble with a hangar like a chump when there are chairs all over my apartment? There's only one of me, and two sofas, 4 kitchen chairs, and my best friend, the lawn chair in my bedroom. After a few days that chair is stacked so high with clothes it looks like the leaning tower of Piza.
I also apply this philosophy to coins. Except whereas I do hang up my clothes at some point, I have never wrapped coins in my life. EVER. And it never really occured to me that I have coins hidden all over my apartment. There was of course the pile of coins on my bureau that grows every time I come home when I empty my pockets. Jen made the mistake of offering to role them.
Well, once she started those I was finding cans full of coins all over the place... And of course there is my pride and joy, not one, but two, ghetto ziplock bags filled with pennies. Long story short, I had a little over a hundred and fifty dollars in pennies, dimes, nickles and quarters.
And it's props all around for alpha posse. Jen gets props for paying the pizza delivery guy 35$ in dimes. I don't think any man could have pulled that off. Of course the delivery did draw the line as he pleaded in a middle eastern accent, "Fine.. But ... no pennies."
Props to Rez and Jbo for bringing snacks, fancy sodas in glass bottles and pretty much everything electronic from Justin's living room. Guitar hero? Sick... But the real heroes are the people who play actual guitar. Jimmy Hendrix... John Maher? I think that's his name.
Props to Vrej for DVD player that plays Divx files. That is truly a kingly gift. And props to Dave for once again, depleting my supply of milk. If I've said it once, I've said it a million timess, it's not the Crizzouse, without the posse.
Pics available on facebook... And if you're not on facebook, get on!
I also apply this philosophy to coins. Except whereas I do hang up my clothes at some point, I have never wrapped coins in my life. EVER. And it never really occured to me that I have coins hidden all over my apartment. There was of course the pile of coins on my bureau that grows every time I come home when I empty my pockets. Jen made the mistake of offering to role them.
Well, once she started those I was finding cans full of coins all over the place... And of course there is my pride and joy, not one, but two, ghetto ziplock bags filled with pennies. Long story short, I had a little over a hundred and fifty dollars in pennies, dimes, nickles and quarters.
And it's props all around for alpha posse. Jen gets props for paying the pizza delivery guy 35$ in dimes. I don't think any man could have pulled that off. Of course the delivery did draw the line as he pleaded in a middle eastern accent, "Fine.. But ... no pennies."
Props to Rez and Jbo for bringing snacks, fancy sodas in glass bottles and pretty much everything electronic from Justin's living room. Guitar hero? Sick... But the real heroes are the people who play actual guitar. Jimmy Hendrix... John Maher? I think that's his name.
Props to Vrej for DVD player that plays Divx files. That is truly a kingly gift. And props to Dave for once again, depleting my supply of milk. If I've said it once, I've said it a million timess, it's not the Crizzouse, without the posse.
Pics available on facebook... And if you're not on facebook, get on!
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