Remember those days sitting in math class and thinking, "when the heck am I going to be using ratios and pythagorian theorems in my real life anyway." Not that I didn't enjoy math class, I did and performed well in class. I found operating in a world of strict rules and correct answers almost comforting; simply a repetition of steps with changing variables yielding a concrete solution.
But as with everything else that goes unused for years, it's now lost to me. I'm sitting here trying to figure out how much water to mix with grout powder for a small project in the house. To say the least it's frustrating trying to painstakingly figure out something that would have taken less than a minute to do when I was 16.
So Craig and I are sitting here trying to work together to find the solution to this problem and hoping that this little project doesn't conclude with us wrapping our hands around each others' neck in exasperation.
Getting old is literally a waste of time.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Alexis in Alexandria
Brie's single piece of advice to me has been: don't tell people your first name; pick an alternate and stick with it." So far people have called me, 'Simo-uh-jenn', Siiiiiii, and Lena. Lena is Brie's pseudonym and mine made no sense, so it was Lena for both of us. I was mostly referred to as 'Miss Lady' which I really enjoyed and will try to get people to use this nickname when I get home.
Miss Lady and Lena have spent the last 2 days in Alexandria. We stayed at the Sheraton Montazah (MON-tah-zah) to be said with a Ricardo Montalban accent and a flourish of the hand. Alexandria sits on the Mediterranean coast and is really beautiful! The main drag borders often violent waves with a brisk breeze that serves as a nice break from the heat of Cairo. There is also a more relaxed air to this town in contrast to the hustle and bustle of Egypt's capital. I loved staying here and left feeling that there was still much more to do.
If I were to go again, i would stay somewhere closer to downtown so I could walk around. Brie and I were rarely hassled on the street, probably because our driver was never too far away. Regardless it was a more relaxed environment. At a couple of the sights, particularly the Citadel at Qaitbey (keet-bay) was the destination for lovers.
We arrived with only 40 minutes to see the entire place. As we ran around madly snapping photos we kept intruding on lovers stealing a kiss. In fact, i think it was just Brie, me, and a shitload of lovers. One really cute couple kept running into us and asked us to take their photo.
I do have to say there does seem to be an element of the hypocritical here. For all the warnings about modest dress and cover your head, and don't show your ankles, the culture here is rife with examples of wanton behaviour. There's half-naked women in arabic music videos, ladies in the restaurant with tight-ass pants or the best was the girl with micro-mini and white leather knee high boots. Still no one seems bothered by this. But take a chubby western girl and put her in a long-sleeve v-neck shirt and capris and suddenly I'm the whore!?! Right.
Oh, Brie ordered food and it's here. back in a jiffy.
Miss Lady and Lena have spent the last 2 days in Alexandria. We stayed at the Sheraton Montazah (MON-tah-zah) to be said with a Ricardo Montalban accent and a flourish of the hand. Alexandria sits on the Mediterranean coast and is really beautiful! The main drag borders often violent waves with a brisk breeze that serves as a nice break from the heat of Cairo. There is also a more relaxed air to this town in contrast to the hustle and bustle of Egypt's capital. I loved staying here and left feeling that there was still much more to do.
If I were to go again, i would stay somewhere closer to downtown so I could walk around. Brie and I were rarely hassled on the street, probably because our driver was never too far away. Regardless it was a more relaxed environment. At a couple of the sights, particularly the Citadel at Qaitbey (keet-bay) was the destination for lovers.
We arrived with only 40 minutes to see the entire place. As we ran around madly snapping photos we kept intruding on lovers stealing a kiss. In fact, i think it was just Brie, me, and a shitload of lovers. One really cute couple kept running into us and asked us to take their photo.
I do have to say there does seem to be an element of the hypocritical here. For all the warnings about modest dress and cover your head, and don't show your ankles, the culture here is rife with examples of wanton behaviour. There's half-naked women in arabic music videos, ladies in the restaurant with tight-ass pants or the best was the girl with micro-mini and white leather knee high boots. Still no one seems bothered by this. But take a chubby western girl and put her in a long-sleeve v-neck shirt and capris and suddenly I'm the whore!?! Right.
Oh, Brie ordered food and it's here. back in a jiffy.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Little miss Egyptian face travels to Africa
This is the one great thing about being of nondescript ethnic origin: Everyone thinks you're one of their own. As I got off the plane and lined up to get through customs the officer took my passport and asked me, "Where are you from?"
"Canada."
"You are Egyptian, no?"
"Nope, Canadian."
"You have face of Egyptian, is good."
It's great! It's my one plus, because otherwise I seem to be a big dollar bill on legs. Brie is forever pushing me past people who want to tell me their story. She sternly takes me by the shoulders, with a firm, NO and we're on our way. It's what makes us a good team. It's only been a couple of days back together, but she and I are a great team. She's got the bartering thing down like nobody's business and I'm able to get people to be nicer to us as they think I'm local. I'm sure some of it is bullshit to get us to buy this or that, but so far it's been helpful or harmless bullshit.
Brie gave a pretty accurate report of our day on her blog, so you can head there to read it if you haven't yet. It was extremely stressful walking to the museum this morning. I'd do it again, mind you, to have the experience but it was a little rough. At one point we were faced with the choice of asking for directions or crossing this 4-lane vortex of chaos. I caught site of this man and went with my gut. He didn't know English very well and it was a bit of a struggle, but he eventually got it and took us across the street with him. We were sad to watch him leave us. I would have followed him to work if I could.
The traffic here has its own indescribable rhythm. I even tried to record a video from the backseat on our way from the airport, but it still didn't fully capture the chaos accurately. Imagine there are 3 lanes painted on the road. Now add to that 4 or 5 lanes of cars trying to weave their way through to find whatever empty space is around them. Somehow as the cars seem to careen through the streets in endless near-misses, they never seem to even so much as touch each other.
The honking is also endless, but it isn't of aggression, it's more like, "hey, here I am. On your left!" Sometimes out of habit, our cabbie would honk his horn with no one around. It's like their security blanket.
After finding our way through the streets on foot, we got to the museum. It is simply amazing. At some parts it feels like you're walking through the museum storage area or back hallways; there are so many artifacts and honestly not enough room for all of them. The tombs alone are stacked atop one another like a Pottery Barn clearance sale. All the while, there is a tremendous sense of awe and history as you walk through the rooms filled with jewelry, tools, and remnants of the dead. The security is high as you would imagine, but it would blow your mind the number of people who still try to get away with sneaking a photograph of a mummy in a darkened room or shining flashlights on the encased jewelry and leaning against statues.
Later in the evening, we ventured out to eat some dinner at Abu El-Seid, an Egyptian hipster joint with a recommendation from the lonely planet guide. It didn't disappoint. Tucked away down an alley with barely any lights or sign is a great decorated door. A voice from around the corner came out and said, Abu El-Seid?. Yes, and opened the door to a dark smoky room alive with conversations in several languages. The inside walls were all carved in wood with coloured glass catching the street lights. It felt a little like a speakeasy saloon, but with a swankier clientele.
The people here are extremely attractive. The men in particular all seem attractive at any age. It is a challenge to find a mean-looking face anywhere we go. Perhaps that's an even louder alarm that we have to be wary of charmers, but thankfully, that's Brie's skill set.
Tomorrow we're off to ride first class on the train to Alexandria for a couple nights. I have no idea what to expect there and how it might differ from Cairo. Suffice to say that with measured excitement we will venture a little further. I have to say how much i appreciate being here with Brie. We seem to have a very similar sensibility and know each other well enough that this trip has been very easy for us.
My only concern at this point is the jet-lag. I'm still exhausted during the day and wide awake at night. It's 2:40am right now and as Brie sleeps peacefully steps away from me, I'm looking around for things to occupy my mind. Thank Allah for my ipod.
"Canada."
"You are Egyptian, no?"
"Nope, Canadian."
"You have face of Egyptian, is good."
It's great! It's my one plus, because otherwise I seem to be a big dollar bill on legs. Brie is forever pushing me past people who want to tell me their story. She sternly takes me by the shoulders, with a firm, NO and we're on our way. It's what makes us a good team. It's only been a couple of days back together, but she and I are a great team. She's got the bartering thing down like nobody's business and I'm able to get people to be nicer to us as they think I'm local. I'm sure some of it is bullshit to get us to buy this or that, but so far it's been helpful or harmless bullshit.
Brie gave a pretty accurate report of our day on her blog, so you can head there to read it if you haven't yet. It was extremely stressful walking to the museum this morning. I'd do it again, mind you, to have the experience but it was a little rough. At one point we were faced with the choice of asking for directions or crossing this 4-lane vortex of chaos. I caught site of this man and went with my gut. He didn't know English very well and it was a bit of a struggle, but he eventually got it and took us across the street with him. We were sad to watch him leave us. I would have followed him to work if I could.
The traffic here has its own indescribable rhythm. I even tried to record a video from the backseat on our way from the airport, but it still didn't fully capture the chaos accurately. Imagine there are 3 lanes painted on the road. Now add to that 4 or 5 lanes of cars trying to weave their way through to find whatever empty space is around them. Somehow as the cars seem to careen through the streets in endless near-misses, they never seem to even so much as touch each other.
The honking is also endless, but it isn't of aggression, it's more like, "hey, here I am. On your left!" Sometimes out of habit, our cabbie would honk his horn with no one around. It's like their security blanket.
After finding our way through the streets on foot, we got to the museum. It is simply amazing. At some parts it feels like you're walking through the museum storage area or back hallways; there are so many artifacts and honestly not enough room for all of them. The tombs alone are stacked atop one another like a Pottery Barn clearance sale. All the while, there is a tremendous sense of awe and history as you walk through the rooms filled with jewelry, tools, and remnants of the dead. The security is high as you would imagine, but it would blow your mind the number of people who still try to get away with sneaking a photograph of a mummy in a darkened room or shining flashlights on the encased jewelry and leaning against statues.
Later in the evening, we ventured out to eat some dinner at Abu El-Seid, an Egyptian hipster joint with a recommendation from the lonely planet guide. It didn't disappoint. Tucked away down an alley with barely any lights or sign is a great decorated door. A voice from around the corner came out and said, Abu El-Seid?. Yes, and opened the door to a dark smoky room alive with conversations in several languages. The inside walls were all carved in wood with coloured glass catching the street lights. It felt a little like a speakeasy saloon, but with a swankier clientele.
The people here are extremely attractive. The men in particular all seem attractive at any age. It is a challenge to find a mean-looking face anywhere we go. Perhaps that's an even louder alarm that we have to be wary of charmers, but thankfully, that's Brie's skill set.
Tomorrow we're off to ride first class on the train to Alexandria for a couple nights. I have no idea what to expect there and how it might differ from Cairo. Suffice to say that with measured excitement we will venture a little further. I have to say how much i appreciate being here with Brie. We seem to have a very similar sensibility and know each other well enough that this trip has been very easy for us.
My only concern at this point is the jet-lag. I'm still exhausted during the day and wide awake at night. It's 2:40am right now and as Brie sleeps peacefully steps away from me, I'm looking around for things to occupy my mind. Thank Allah for my ipod.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
on being a fan
"Never get too high or too low." That's the advice many successful pro athletes try to follow. I am not a pro athlete. I am a fan. It is therefore my duty to ride to the tip top of every high and sink to the deepest depth of every low. For a Vancouver Canuck fan the last few months have epitomized the latter.
What would it be like if you went to work and for the eighth day (in a row, no less) you decide to poop on the floor. Your boss comes in and says, 'Listen, you. Your job is simple. You come to work, fiddle on the keyboard and try to go 7.5 hours without pooping on the floor. Yet everyday I come in here and the same thing: a big pile of steaming, hot shit. What do you have to say for yourself?"
You sit for a minute, ponder the last eight days and respond, "I see what you're saying. I know what I'm supposed to do. I did it before, just fine! But the crux of the matter is, sir. I'm lacking confidence." [split...splat]
It sounds stupid because it is stupid. I love to be an I-told-you-so, so I'll say it again. I knew when the Canucks signed the ancient Mats Sundin to a multi-million dollar contract that the guy would be an utter disappointment. He captained the Leafs, for chris'sakes! My concerns, when I heard that he was coming to Vancouver, were that he took such a long time deciding to play that his Vancouver teammates would question his desire to be there. I say that because if I was playing on that team, I would be like, "Took you long enough, you selfish prick."
As if that wasn't enough, he decides that at the ripe old age of 38, beyond-death in hockey years, all he requires to get back into shape is a three week stint at an LA gym. What an arrogant douche!
So, of course, he shows up, plays like a fat glory-days-clenching beer-leaguer and the Canuck front office rushes out with, "We've got to give him some time to regain his fitness." All the while, they continue to pay him millions and millions of dollars to glide around like our flippin' mascot on the ice.
On the radio today, various commentators chimed in with the same diagnosis: he's not moving his feet. He can't get to where he wants to go fast enough and ends up losing the scoring opportunity, giving away the puck or taking a lazy penalty.
When asked how he feels about the shape his legs are in, Sundin reported, "They're fine." Selfish, arrogant, and grossly self-unaware. No wonder. I was once on a team with someone like that and it was all I could do to hold in my rage. And no, I didn't play very well because of it.
Now by all accounts, I am not in that dressing room and have no idea what the team chemistry is like. But even from my distant vantage point, I can see that the arrival of Sundin has marked the beginning of a wave of losses from which the Canucks have yet to recover.
Team chemistry is a delicate thing. It only takes one dickhead to make you question your love for a sport you've been playing and loving for years. Seemingly minor changes can have great effect. For instance what about the goaltending shuffle that also precipitated the record-breaking losing streak.
When, star goalie and team captain, Roberto Luongo was injured and the team had to rely on backup, Curtis Sanford, collective nail-biting ensued. Sanford under-performed; the other backup being groomed for the future, Cory Schneider, came and went. Vancouver picked up another goalie from L.A., Jason LaBarbera, who after a couple good efforts fell back into his natural routine of sucking really hard.
So when Luongo was ready to return, the team faced a situation of one too many goalies. With an equal degree of inferior play between Sanford (popular with the team) and LaBarbera (acquired for a measly 7th round pick), the Canucks, in their infinite wisdom, gave Sanford the boot. Coupled with the disappointing arrival of Mats, is it any wonder they've been losing?
I have to say, up until the Vancouver/San Jose game, I wasn't too worried. Every team goes through a loss or two. But watching them leading the conference-leading Sharks for two periods by a goal and then seeing them retreat into their own end and not attempt any offence for fear of turning over the puck was simply sickening.
If I'm coaching a team who hasn't been playing very well and suddenly we're ahead and playing well, I'm going to do my best to encourage more of the same. What I wouldn't do, is undercut an already emotionally vulnerable set of players by saying, "It's not like you're gonna score again. Let's just stay back in our end and hope against hope that one of the top offensive teams in the league doesn't score."
So what happens? They score and score and eventually win the game. And now the team is officially in the toilet.
What does all this mean for the fans? It means that a whole host of atrocities have led us down the path to hockey hell for which none of us can help dig them out. It means that while you want to grab each player and management staff person and shake them really hard, you have absolutely no control over what happens. Your only course of action is to bear not-so-silent witness to the tragedy and gut-wrenching disappointment that is the Vancouver Canucks.
What would it be like if you went to work and for the eighth day (in a row, no less) you decide to poop on the floor. Your boss comes in and says, 'Listen, you. Your job is simple. You come to work, fiddle on the keyboard and try to go 7.5 hours without pooping on the floor. Yet everyday I come in here and the same thing: a big pile of steaming, hot shit. What do you have to say for yourself?"
You sit for a minute, ponder the last eight days and respond, "I see what you're saying. I know what I'm supposed to do. I did it before, just fine! But the crux of the matter is, sir. I'm lacking confidence." [split...splat]
It sounds stupid because it is stupid. I love to be an I-told-you-so, so I'll say it again. I knew when the Canucks signed the ancient Mats Sundin to a multi-million dollar contract that the guy would be an utter disappointment. He captained the Leafs, for chris'sakes! My concerns, when I heard that he was coming to Vancouver, were that he took such a long time deciding to play that his Vancouver teammates would question his desire to be there. I say that because if I was playing on that team, I would be like, "Took you long enough, you selfish prick."
As if that wasn't enough, he decides that at the ripe old age of 38, beyond-death in hockey years, all he requires to get back into shape is a three week stint at an LA gym. What an arrogant douche!
So, of course, he shows up, plays like a fat glory-days-clenching beer-leaguer and the Canuck front office rushes out with, "We've got to give him some time to regain his fitness." All the while, they continue to pay him millions and millions of dollars to glide around like our flippin' mascot on the ice.
On the radio today, various commentators chimed in with the same diagnosis: he's not moving his feet. He can't get to where he wants to go fast enough and ends up losing the scoring opportunity, giving away the puck or taking a lazy penalty.
When asked how he feels about the shape his legs are in, Sundin reported, "They're fine." Selfish, arrogant, and grossly self-unaware. No wonder. I was once on a team with someone like that and it was all I could do to hold in my rage. And no, I didn't play very well because of it.
Now by all accounts, I am not in that dressing room and have no idea what the team chemistry is like. But even from my distant vantage point, I can see that the arrival of Sundin has marked the beginning of a wave of losses from which the Canucks have yet to recover.
Team chemistry is a delicate thing. It only takes one dickhead to make you question your love for a sport you've been playing and loving for years. Seemingly minor changes can have great effect. For instance what about the goaltending shuffle that also precipitated the record-breaking losing streak.
When, star goalie and team captain, Roberto Luongo was injured and the team had to rely on backup, Curtis Sanford, collective nail-biting ensued. Sanford under-performed; the other backup being groomed for the future, Cory Schneider, came and went. Vancouver picked up another goalie from L.A., Jason LaBarbera, who after a couple good efforts fell back into his natural routine of sucking really hard.
So when Luongo was ready to return, the team faced a situation of one too many goalies. With an equal degree of inferior play between Sanford (popular with the team) and LaBarbera (acquired for a measly 7th round pick), the Canucks, in their infinite wisdom, gave Sanford the boot. Coupled with the disappointing arrival of Mats, is it any wonder they've been losing?
I have to say, up until the Vancouver/San Jose game, I wasn't too worried. Every team goes through a loss or two. But watching them leading the conference-leading Sharks for two periods by a goal and then seeing them retreat into their own end and not attempt any offence for fear of turning over the puck was simply sickening.
If I'm coaching a team who hasn't been playing very well and suddenly we're ahead and playing well, I'm going to do my best to encourage more of the same. What I wouldn't do, is undercut an already emotionally vulnerable set of players by saying, "It's not like you're gonna score again. Let's just stay back in our end and hope against hope that one of the top offensive teams in the league doesn't score."
So what happens? They score and score and eventually win the game. And now the team is officially in the toilet.
What does all this mean for the fans? It means that a whole host of atrocities have led us down the path to hockey hell for which none of us can help dig them out. It means that while you want to grab each player and management staff person and shake them really hard, you have absolutely no control over what happens. Your only course of action is to bear not-so-silent witness to the tragedy and gut-wrenching disappointment that is the Vancouver Canucks.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Dear Reader
I hate those Christmas show-off letters family members send around every year. They're always so full of shit and dripping with superiority and appeals for praise. Here's an idea. Save us all the saccharin headache and shove that lemon-burnt homemade paper somewhere the light of day will never touch it.
So I decided to write my own version. So without further ado, here's what happened to me this year (relax, if this doesn't make you feel better about your own life, nothing will).
Hey you,
Thanks for your letter updating me on the meaningless details of your life. Since you asked, here's what I've been up to this year.
2008 comes to an end in a little less than 24 hours and marks the end of a miserable transitioning year for me. At the start of January, I had recently finished working short term for a political party and was back at the public library shuffling magazines around in mind-numbing boredom.
In my over-eager ambition to do more (and earn more) with my life, I managed to obtain a permanent position at the aforementioned party in mid-February. It's been a relative successful change in that I had been going on twelve years at the library and desperately needed a change. However, I ended up leaving one extreme and jumping into another. While I don't regret leaving the library or taking a job earning significantly more than I was previously, I do regret that the job has reduced me to quivering rubble.
It's been stressful to say the least and while I have the confidence of my bosses, I realized rather quickly that I was in over my head. And so I started trying to make up for the lack of experience with a keen desire to try to do anything and everything that was asked of me. In an unstructured work environment, I basically was writing my own death certificate.
I've had the last few weeks off and looking back, there are definitely some good lessons to learn before I move on. I learned that I need to set boundaries for my workload and myself. Somehow, I had forgotten how to use the word 'no'. It's become pretty amazing to me that while I have no trouble telling strangers to F.O.A.D, I was unable to understand the scope of what I was agreeing to do on a daily basis. I was trying to keep up with the robots in my office who are perfectly content to spend 15 hours a day cranking out enough emails, reports and forms to choke a civil servant.
Hired consultants would later confirm to higher ups that I have been doing the work of 5 people. Unfortunately, this came after I realized that trailing behind me were the emaciated remnants of my social life and stress-induced bald spots. Seriously, this year, I lost chunks of hair.
That's what my ambition has wrought. Now I'm trying to take the positives from this situation and realizing that I absolutely have to put my foot down and not take on more than I can handle. That's a good lesson to learn. I'll take that.
The second lesson is that working in fundraising or politics is simply not for me. I care about politics and the issues in my community, but working behind-the-curtain is less about hope and change and more an exercise in frustration with mis-guided and mis-directed efforts. Oh, and douchebags. There are a ton of douchebags.
As I look forward to 2009, I hope to find meaningful work elsewhere. Work that would allow me to contribute to this blog more often. I hope to re-introduce myself to my friends and maybe bond with a few new people who think I'm neat.
And hi-fives, I need to get more of those.
As a treat for you, here's a little present from me to you.
Enjoy,
*P.S. if you send me another vomit-inducing about how awesome you are, you'll have to run and hide. Try Asia, I don't have the patience to find you amongst billions of people.
Douchebags of 2008
Sean Avery (NHL player, Vogue intern, GAP model)
- if that description wasn't enough to turn your stomach, this moron called a mini press conference before a game to talk shit about his former celebrity girlfriends who have moved on with other NHL players.
- currently suspended for 6 games and unlikely to return to the NHL
Stephen Harper (Prime Minister of Canada)
- won another minority government for Canada and after acknowledging the need for all parties work together, put together legislation to strip the parties of federal funding. Way to pave the way for cooperation in Ottawa!
- with behaviour like that, this guy is the type of person who comes over for dinner and then shits on your living room rug to say thank you.
Sarah Palin (gender-equality douchebag)
- is an explanation really necessary? I mean isn't setting the women's movement back several decades enough?
- if you need further evidence, this pretty much sums it up.
who else am I missing...?
So I decided to write my own version. So without further ado, here's what happened to me this year (relax, if this doesn't make you feel better about your own life, nothing will).
Hey you,
Thanks for your letter updating me on the meaningless details of your life. Since you asked, here's what I've been up to this year.
2008 comes to an end in a little less than 24 hours and marks the end of a miserable transitioning year for me. At the start of January, I had recently finished working short term for a political party and was back at the public library shuffling magazines around in mind-numbing boredom.
In my over-eager ambition to do more (and earn more) with my life, I managed to obtain a permanent position at the aforementioned party in mid-February. It's been a relative successful change in that I had been going on twelve years at the library and desperately needed a change. However, I ended up leaving one extreme and jumping into another. While I don't regret leaving the library or taking a job earning significantly more than I was previously, I do regret that the job has reduced me to quivering rubble.
It's been stressful to say the least and while I have the confidence of my bosses, I realized rather quickly that I was in over my head. And so I started trying to make up for the lack of experience with a keen desire to try to do anything and everything that was asked of me. In an unstructured work environment, I basically was writing my own death certificate.
I've had the last few weeks off and looking back, there are definitely some good lessons to learn before I move on. I learned that I need to set boundaries for my workload and myself. Somehow, I had forgotten how to use the word 'no'. It's become pretty amazing to me that while I have no trouble telling strangers to F.O.A.D, I was unable to understand the scope of what I was agreeing to do on a daily basis. I was trying to keep up with the robots in my office who are perfectly content to spend 15 hours a day cranking out enough emails, reports and forms to choke a civil servant.
Hired consultants would later confirm to higher ups that I have been doing the work of 5 people. Unfortunately, this came after I realized that trailing behind me were the emaciated remnants of my social life and stress-induced bald spots. Seriously, this year, I lost chunks of hair.
That's what my ambition has wrought. Now I'm trying to take the positives from this situation and realizing that I absolutely have to put my foot down and not take on more than I can handle. That's a good lesson to learn. I'll take that.
The second lesson is that working in fundraising or politics is simply not for me. I care about politics and the issues in my community, but working behind-the-curtain is less about hope and change and more an exercise in frustration with mis-guided and mis-directed efforts. Oh, and douchebags. There are a ton of douchebags.
As I look forward to 2009, I hope to find meaningful work elsewhere. Work that would allow me to contribute to this blog more often. I hope to re-introduce myself to my friends and maybe bond with a few new people who think I'm neat.
And hi-fives, I need to get more of those.
As a treat for you, here's a little present from me to you.
Enjoy,
*P.S. if you send me another vomit-inducing about how awesome you are, you'll have to run and hide. Try Asia, I don't have the patience to find you amongst billions of people.
Douchebags of 2008
Sean Avery (NHL player, Vogue intern, GAP model)
- if that description wasn't enough to turn your stomach, this moron called a mini press conference before a game to talk shit about his former celebrity girlfriends who have moved on with other NHL players.
- currently suspended for 6 games and unlikely to return to the NHL
Stephen Harper (Prime Minister of Canada)
- won another minority government for Canada and after acknowledging the need for all parties work together, put together legislation to strip the parties of federal funding. Way to pave the way for cooperation in Ottawa!
- with behaviour like that, this guy is the type of person who comes over for dinner and then shits on your living room rug to say thank you.
Sarah Palin (gender-equality douchebag)
- is an explanation really necessary? I mean isn't setting the women's movement back several decades enough?
- if you need further evidence, this pretty much sums it up.
who else am I missing...?
Where have you been all my life, lover?
Hello, HD Plasma TV and PVR.
Clear, precise, quick to respond to my demands.
You've brought Conan O'Brien's big orange head so alive, it's like he's sitting in my living room.
With 200-something channels, you never cease to bore me.
Now if only Lost would start already.
Clear, precise, quick to respond to my demands.
You've brought Conan O'Brien's big orange head so alive, it's like he's sitting in my living room.
With 200-something channels, you never cease to bore me.
Now if only Lost would start already.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
A Lesson for Bad Drivers
This is the latest entry on my life's list of near escapes.
After snagging some free tickets to the Vancouver Canucks game earlier this evening, I picked up my friend, Mel in a cab for a fun night of bawdy, bad-girl behavior. While exchanging quips in the back seat, I turned to see this car come out of his lane and ram into the side of our cab. While the impact was extremely loud, our very skilled driver managed to maneuver, minimizing the impact, and stop within inches of hitting a row of parked cars.
Once we stopped, we quickly surveyed each other for injuries. Confirming we were all fine, we got out of the car. The other driver and his passenger pulled over, got out of their car and started berating our driver for, get this, "not looking."
Yea, because driving straight in one lane can get a little tricky at times.
I decide to let the cab driver (let's call him Joe) deal with them. Five seconds later I changed my mind.
I couldn't help myself. Joe wasn't defending himself, so someone had to let these people know their bullshit wasn't going to get them very far. I understand that when you've done something incredibly preventable that endangers the lives of four other people that you may want to pass the guilt onto someone else. Being responsible for an accident is a really awful thing and I can understand if someone simply can't deal with the implications.
Having said that, these people didn't scale back the hostility but began getting more and more hysterical. It needed to stop. I walked up to them and took the only reasonable action I could: YELL REALLY LOUDLY AND WAVE MY FINGER IN THEIR FACE!
It needed to be done and since Joe was obviously distracted, probably trying to figure out how many days of work he was going to lose getting his car fixed, I figured I'd step in for the greater good and clarify the situation.
I made many valuable arguments that were clear, concise and included various re-enactments of how to shoulder-check and how to identify a douchebag (I gave them a mirror).
In the end, I have no idea how it turned out. We were late for the game and decided to walk the rest of the way so as not to miss the opening face-off. However, as a parting shot, I turned to Joe and said (very loudly for the benefit of all involved), "If you need me to explain to the authorities how these people nearly killed us or maimed us to the point of leading an utterly useless and unfulfilled existence, please give me a call."
After snagging some free tickets to the Vancouver Canucks game earlier this evening, I picked up my friend, Mel in a cab for a fun night of bawdy, bad-girl behavior. While exchanging quips in the back seat, I turned to see this car come out of his lane and ram into the side of our cab. While the impact was extremely loud, our very skilled driver managed to maneuver, minimizing the impact, and stop within inches of hitting a row of parked cars.
Once we stopped, we quickly surveyed each other for injuries. Confirming we were all fine, we got out of the car. The other driver and his passenger pulled over, got out of their car and started berating our driver for, get this, "not looking."
Yea, because driving straight in one lane can get a little tricky at times.
I decide to let the cab driver (let's call him Joe) deal with them. Five seconds later I changed my mind.
I couldn't help myself. Joe wasn't defending himself, so someone had to let these people know their bullshit wasn't going to get them very far. I understand that when you've done something incredibly preventable that endangers the lives of four other people that you may want to pass the guilt onto someone else. Being responsible for an accident is a really awful thing and I can understand if someone simply can't deal with the implications.
Having said that, these people didn't scale back the hostility but began getting more and more hysterical. It needed to stop. I walked up to them and took the only reasonable action I could: YELL REALLY LOUDLY AND WAVE MY FINGER IN THEIR FACE!
It needed to be done and since Joe was obviously distracted, probably trying to figure out how many days of work he was going to lose getting his car fixed, I figured I'd step in for the greater good and clarify the situation.
I made many valuable arguments that were clear, concise and included various re-enactments of how to shoulder-check and how to identify a douchebag (I gave them a mirror).
In the end, I have no idea how it turned out. We were late for the game and decided to walk the rest of the way so as not to miss the opening face-off. However, as a parting shot, I turned to Joe and said (very loudly for the benefit of all involved), "If you need me to explain to the authorities how these people nearly killed us or maimed us to the point of leading an utterly useless and unfulfilled existence, please give me a call."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
