Yes, I've been delinquent. This is how one loses readership... never post anything.
It's been a crazy couple of weeks - lots of company in town and lots of yard work. The Redneck is a "make work" kind of guy, not that I'm complaining, but sometimes it's nice to not have something to do.
Our yard is finally coming together, particularly because of the hours and hours we spend out there, but also because we've finally had some rain. We were without for quite some time, not to mention we live in a po-dunk town, so there are constant water restrictions.
We're heading out on vacation within the next week. We have people lined up to stay in the house and spend time with the dog, so all is good there. We're going house boating - it should be interesting to try and keep a 4 year old in a life jacket the entire time - I guess R-Spot will just have to learn to deal with it.
We took her boating yesterday and she had to spend a good 5 hours in a life jacket - she did really well actually. The only part that took some coaxing was getting her into the water to pee. We actually dangled her off the back side of the boat where she peed, and then dunked her into the water to clean to pee off of the boat. She was basically a make-shift mop for her own urine.
I know, parenting at it's best, right? But seriously, stop dialing family & children's services; we got her into the water to rinse off afterwards! (Not to mention, this was the best part of her day - the first thing she brags about ... kids eh?)
I managed to get her onto the tube with me - we went about 3km/hour - which was good enough for her and I together. She thought she was the coolest cat in town. It was pretty adorable actually, and I'm proud of her, considering her attitude about it when we first got on the boat. It only took her a few hours to get used to the idea - not to mention seeing A-Dawg and I go hard.
A-Dawg was a total superstar on the tube - he had a great time and took his knocks well. He took three runs the first time and three runs the second time. He biffed hard core the third time on his first set though. He looked like a little muppet being thrown off of a puppeteers hand, face first into the water at 25km/hour. It was entertaining once he raised his hands and we noted no trace of blood on his face or missing teeth.
When I went the first time, I hung on for dear life, having learned the lessons of A-Dawg's misfortune (that's the best part about being a) the youngest child and b) getting to go second during an activity like this - you see other people make the mistakes and have the ability to learn from them). I managed to last a really long time for my first go, and then on my second go, I didn't last as long, mianly because my hands and arms were so tired. Oh yes .... and did I mention that I lost my bottoms twice?
Yes. I mooned the fish (and then some!)...
:: blushing ::
The first time I was completely unaware that I'd lost my bottoms until I saw them floating past my head - the second time, I felt them fly off and caught them just as they surfaced. I held them up above my head and everyone on the boat started laughing, thinking it was my top - no one could figure out how I'd lost my top underneath my life jacket - that was, until I told them it was my bottoms - then they laughed even harder. It's interesting how something that is of the utmost embarrassment to one is something entirely hilarious to another. *sigh* The second time was much like the first - I biffed out hard on my back and the wake just ripped my bottoms off. Ah yes, good times indeed.
When we'd had enough boating, we packed it in and went back to the dock ... where we waiting patiently for some guy to back his trailer into the water - it was his first time backing a truck and trailer up - so it took about 30 minutes. Needless to say we were laughing at the guy on the water (I know, total spirit of community there) while the Redneck was having a cornary in the truck waiting to back our trailer up. (He's likely the most impatient driver I've ever met!!) ... then we had a fish bake and then headed home .. it was a really nice way to spend the day ...
All I kept thinking was ...."I can't think of a better place to be ..."
... Welcome summer! I hope you decide to stay for another couple of months.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Hardly Believeable.
I'm finding it difficult to be shocked anymore. By people in general - more often than not, those in positions of power; including the RCMP and the key decision makers in our society.
I remember when I was a teenager moving into the political arena - my dad told me he thought I'd make an outstanding politician. He told me that I could do wonderful things in this world with political power - but strongly cautioned me to always weigh the pros and the cons of every decision that would affect more than just myself , and to always act in good faith. These words weren't lost on me - even at 15.
I quickly learned that no decision I made affected only me - because politics and governance aren't about the person, they're about the people. I went forward with my 'career' with a clear understanding the basic course of democracy. I took an oath - and even at 15, 16 and 17, I took it very seriously. I recruited, I met, I made sure there were minutes and agendas and that we were getting together for a purpose - never just to shoot the shit and 'see where it could go'.
I see the way our politicians behave in Ottawa, and I'm disgusted. Sure, if you think referring to Members of Parliament as "whores" because they broke up with a weepy man-child from Nova Scotia and crossed the floor are acceptable, then you likely think nothing's wrong in Ottawa. Or if you think that a useful purpose of ones dollars are well spent while grown men act like 5 year old kids, slinging mud is a good deal, then yeah. No problem. Or if you don't mind turning your television on to watch [accepted] slander taking place, then yes ... yes all is well. Or maybe you think it's okay to see the government being held over a barrel with their skirt over their shoulders being prodded by the opposition to get what they want acceptable - well, then yes, nothing is wrong at all.
Something has to give - because this is a disease and frankly, I don't like my money going to pay for it. It always interested me to watch these morons in Ottawa sit and bitch back and forth about the EI program while I couldn't find a job, nor was applicable to receive EI payments [Interesting - considering all of the years I paid into it and didn't use it. Perhaps they owe me a refund then? ::scoff:: I'd estimate likely about $4000 back if that were the case.. ] Now the EI program is something I've paid into since I was 15 years old - I've drawn on it twice ever; once was when I was laid off from a job, and the second time was for a couple of months of maternity leave. However, I was only able to access these funds by jumping through the hoops of fire that HRDC put out in front of me. Pfft. Red tape my ass. More like - red ass, medical tape.
Okay - so it's not a shock that policitians are, in general, slimy sons-of-bitches because they only care about the $300K they take home, their title and their office. Outstanding and really, no, not that shocking.
I do find it shocking when things come to light out of the RCMP though. I find it almost chilling. These are the keepers of our society - the people who enforce the law - protect people. I have great faith in the RCMP and always have - but it becomes a bit shaky when emails are exposed stating that RCMP officers were on their way to the Vancouver Airport with the intent of using their tasers prior to being engaged by Robert Dziekanski.
You can't always believe what you read though - because media is made up of almost as much bullshit as politicians - but it's difficult to reconcile these events unfolding. Currently, the inquiry is on hold pending an investigation into the new evidence that was just provided by the RCMP's lawyers. That's another thing that really bugs me - why is this email only coming to light now? Why was it not provided with the full discolsure? Did someone head to WalMart and purchase a conscience? The lawyer for the RCMP "wept as she apologized for the situation that saw the e-mail just disclosed." And what situation is that? Oversight? Ignorance? Apathy? Maliciousness? And why the hell is she crying? [Doesn't she know that women who cry at work never get promoted?] No one is going to feel bad for her. She's a moron.
Okay - so it's all bad - but what rattles my cage a *little* more, is that these dough-heads would even let this email exchange take place! They're both "Senior Brass", a chief superintendent and assistant commissioner............. The last time I knew anything ... even in the job I do, which is not really overly important, you don't talk about shit like that in an email; there is PRIVACY LEGISLATION in place that allowes people to access that sort of thing. You take the time and dial the phone. Now of course, that makes it sound like I agree with the sentiment of the email - which I don't. I do clearly have a problem with is the sheer stupidity of the situation.
Inquiries are really, in general, a waste of tax dollars and time. We tie up thousands of hours, millions of dollars, and out of them comes a set of recommendations - but never punishment or acocuntability - even if the inquiry finds someone responsible for the actions that lead to the incident in question. So why bother? I guess we could 'learn' from these things - and perhaps that's the overall goal. Lessons in life are valuable, and seldom fun [if it were fun, it would be called a 'good time'...] I hope that someone took something away from this email debauchery....
Look, I'm not apathetic - I'm just fed up with stupidity and ignorance; that really can't be a bad thing... and I really can't be the only one.
I remember when I was a teenager moving into the political arena - my dad told me he thought I'd make an outstanding politician. He told me that I could do wonderful things in this world with political power - but strongly cautioned me to always weigh the pros and the cons of every decision that would affect more than just myself , and to always act in good faith. These words weren't lost on me - even at 15.
I quickly learned that no decision I made affected only me - because politics and governance aren't about the person, they're about the people. I went forward with my 'career' with a clear understanding the basic course of democracy. I took an oath - and even at 15, 16 and 17, I took it very seriously. I recruited, I met, I made sure there were minutes and agendas and that we were getting together for a purpose - never just to shoot the shit and 'see where it could go'.
I see the way our politicians behave in Ottawa, and I'm disgusted. Sure, if you think referring to Members of Parliament as "whores" because they broke up with a weepy man-child from Nova Scotia and crossed the floor are acceptable, then you likely think nothing's wrong in Ottawa. Or if you think that a useful purpose of ones dollars are well spent while grown men act like 5 year old kids, slinging mud is a good deal, then yeah. No problem. Or if you don't mind turning your television on to watch [accepted] slander taking place, then yes ... yes all is well. Or maybe you think it's okay to see the government being held over a barrel with their skirt over their shoulders being prodded by the opposition to get what they want acceptable - well, then yes, nothing is wrong at all.
Something has to give - because this is a disease and frankly, I don't like my money going to pay for it. It always interested me to watch these morons in Ottawa sit and bitch back and forth about the EI program while I couldn't find a job, nor was applicable to receive EI payments [Interesting - considering all of the years I paid into it and didn't use it. Perhaps they owe me a refund then? ::scoff:: I'd estimate likely about $4000 back if that were the case.. ] Now the EI program is something I've paid into since I was 15 years old - I've drawn on it twice ever; once was when I was laid off from a job, and the second time was for a couple of months of maternity leave. However, I was only able to access these funds by jumping through the hoops of fire that HRDC put out in front of me. Pfft. Red tape my ass. More like - red ass, medical tape.
Okay - so it's not a shock that policitians are, in general, slimy sons-of-bitches because they only care about the $300K they take home, their title and their office. Outstanding and really, no, not that shocking.
I do find it shocking when things come to light out of the RCMP though. I find it almost chilling. These are the keepers of our society - the people who enforce the law - protect people. I have great faith in the RCMP and always have - but it becomes a bit shaky when emails are exposed stating that RCMP officers were on their way to the Vancouver Airport with the intent of using their tasers prior to being engaged by Robert Dziekanski.
You can't always believe what you read though - because media is made up of almost as much bullshit as politicians - but it's difficult to reconcile these events unfolding. Currently, the inquiry is on hold pending an investigation into the new evidence that was just provided by the RCMP's lawyers. That's another thing that really bugs me - why is this email only coming to light now? Why was it not provided with the full discolsure? Did someone head to WalMart and purchase a conscience? The lawyer for the RCMP "wept as she apologized for the situation that saw the e-mail just disclosed." And what situation is that? Oversight? Ignorance? Apathy? Maliciousness? And why the hell is she crying? [Doesn't she know that women who cry at work never get promoted?] No one is going to feel bad for her. She's a moron.
Okay - so it's all bad - but what rattles my cage a *little* more, is that these dough-heads would even let this email exchange take place! They're both "Senior Brass", a chief superintendent and assistant commissioner............. The last time I knew anything ... even in the job I do, which is not really overly important, you don't talk about shit like that in an email; there is PRIVACY LEGISLATION in place that allowes people to access that sort of thing. You take the time and dial the phone. Now of course, that makes it sound like I agree with the sentiment of the email - which I don't. I do clearly have a problem with is the sheer stupidity of the situation.
Inquiries are really, in general, a waste of tax dollars and time. We tie up thousands of hours, millions of dollars, and out of them comes a set of recommendations - but never punishment or acocuntability - even if the inquiry finds someone responsible for the actions that lead to the incident in question. So why bother? I guess we could 'learn' from these things - and perhaps that's the overall goal. Lessons in life are valuable, and seldom fun [if it were fun, it would be called a 'good time'...] I hope that someone took something away from this email debauchery....
Look, I'm not apathetic - I'm just fed up with stupidity and ignorance; that really can't be a bad thing... and I really can't be the only one.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Beige Bras
So the one thing I'm not - is a fan of beige under garments. Surely this can't come as a surprise to you?
When we were growing up, we had this 'Auntie'. She was the one who was asked to help us out with the girlie-issue of locating appropriate fitting 'training wheels' for our boobs [read: training bra].
I can remember when I got my first set of training wheels. I went with my Auntie to Woolco ... and then the Northern Store - and there she stood, hollering across the unmentionables section ... "HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?! IT HAS A LITTLE BOW IN THE MIDDLE."
:: blink :: :: blink ::
A bow? That's why your holding the most embarrassing thing in the world up? To show me a bow? I was entirely threatened by the whole event considering I didn't even have boobs in which to train; and even if I was able to train them - they wouldn't have listened to me very well ["Grow boobs -- grow." -- Nada.] So, I found this almost demeaning. Regardless, I quickly went to her side in order to shut her up. She took the training wheels and wrapped them around my winter jacket and proclaimed it to be a "Perfect Fit!"
Uhm.
Taking into consideration I was a -AAA cup at this point in my life - she gave me a well needed ego boost; too bad the credit could only go to my beautiful northern parka. My Auntie grabbed one more set off of the rack and off we went with the two sets of little training wheels to the check out. It was kind of a blur from that point on as I pulled my fur-lined hood over my head and hid my red face as much as I could from the young man checking us out. [He was touching my training wheels!!] I was so embarrassed, I couldn't even look him in the eye.
When we got to the truck, my Auntie proceeded to tell me how she expected me to wear my training wheels at all times, because it was almost a crime for a young girl to show off her goodies when she was cold.
[What!??!?! No more trick-or-treating?!]
After her lecture, we drove in silence. I stared out the foggy window into the cool Yukon winter mountains and thought about these training wheels. A couple of years previous, I had wanted to have a set so badly - so much so, I scampered off with my older sisters training wheels and wore them to school. I was in the 5th grade. Back in the day, it was cool to wear the over sized t-shirt so your shoulder would hang out, thereby exposing your bra strap. Sports bras were cooler than training bras, but I was too iddy biddy to own a sports bra - besides, it wasn't a necessity, and I knew dad wouldn't be willing to spring for something like that. Nevertheless, I went to gym class in my over sized t-shirt and let my neckline fall below my shoulder as we were running laps around the little gym. I can remember the boys snickering loudly and the girls making fun of me as the strip of white material bounced around on my bony shoulder, glaring in the bright fluorescent light of the gymnasium.
Hmm. Not the reaction I was looking for. Maybe this is where my trepidation stemmed?
We got home and I rushed to my bedroom with a twinge of excitement in my lower belly, and a lot of shame on my face. I didn't want to have to show dad. He asked Auntie how it went, and she told him that she'd bought me two sets of training wheels so that when one was being washed, I always had another to wear. I got into my room and closed the door, ripping my shirt off. I grabbed the little bag from my bed and opened it widely to expose the training wheels inside.
I took one out slowly, realizing that it was beige. Beige! How could I have let Auntie make such a mistake! It looked almost identicle to the old lady bras I'd seen in my grandma's laundry basket when she was visiting from Cranbrook only months earlier. Yuck. Old lady undies. I was offended. My sisters were so nice and bright - white and clean looking, just like my other set of training wheels that remained in the bag lying on my bed.
There was a knock at my bedroom door - it was my Auntie. Crap. Through the door, she asked me if I was putting a set of the training wheels on, to which I replied that yes, I was. She said she'd wait outside the door in the event I needed any assistance. Really? With one clasp? At the front of the training wheels? Come on. What did this woman take me for? I yelled out that I thought I'd be fine, but she said she'd wait anyways.
I decided to slip on the white set of training wheels and grabbed them out of the crinkly plastic bag. I ripped off the tag and navigated the clasp open. As I slipped my arms through the straps, I felt like I was dressing like an undercover cop going out to work the beat. I pulled the training wheels together at the front, covering myself up. They were cold! Oh man! This is EXACTLY what my Auntie was talking about. I felt a bit of relief as I fumbled a bit with the clasp and glanced at myself in the mirror.
When we were growing up, we had this 'Auntie'. She was the one who was asked to help us out with the girlie-issue of locating appropriate fitting 'training wheels' for our boobs [read: training bra].
I can remember when I got my first set of training wheels. I went with my Auntie to Woolco ... and then the Northern Store - and there she stood, hollering across the unmentionables section ... "HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?! IT HAS A LITTLE BOW IN THE MIDDLE."
:: blink :: :: blink ::
A bow? That's why your holding the most embarrassing thing in the world up? To show me a bow? I was entirely threatened by the whole event considering I didn't even have boobs in which to train; and even if I was able to train them - they wouldn't have listened to me very well ["Grow boobs -- grow." -- Nada.] So, I found this almost demeaning. Regardless, I quickly went to her side in order to shut her up. She took the training wheels and wrapped them around my winter jacket and proclaimed it to be a "Perfect Fit!"
Uhm.
Taking into consideration I was a -AAA cup at this point in my life - she gave me a well needed ego boost; too bad the credit could only go to my beautiful northern parka. My Auntie grabbed one more set off of the rack and off we went with the two sets of little training wheels to the check out. It was kind of a blur from that point on as I pulled my fur-lined hood over my head and hid my red face as much as I could from the young man checking us out. [He was touching my training wheels!!] I was so embarrassed, I couldn't even look him in the eye.
When we got to the truck, my Auntie proceeded to tell me how she expected me to wear my training wheels at all times, because it was almost a crime for a young girl to show off her goodies when she was cold.
[What!??!?! No more trick-or-treating?!]
After her lecture, we drove in silence. I stared out the foggy window into the cool Yukon winter mountains and thought about these training wheels. A couple of years previous, I had wanted to have a set so badly - so much so, I scampered off with my older sisters training wheels and wore them to school. I was in the 5th grade. Back in the day, it was cool to wear the over sized t-shirt so your shoulder would hang out, thereby exposing your bra strap. Sports bras were cooler than training bras, but I was too iddy biddy to own a sports bra - besides, it wasn't a necessity, and I knew dad wouldn't be willing to spring for something like that. Nevertheless, I went to gym class in my over sized t-shirt and let my neckline fall below my shoulder as we were running laps around the little gym. I can remember the boys snickering loudly and the girls making fun of me as the strip of white material bounced around on my bony shoulder, glaring in the bright fluorescent light of the gymnasium.
Hmm. Not the reaction I was looking for. Maybe this is where my trepidation stemmed?
We got home and I rushed to my bedroom with a twinge of excitement in my lower belly, and a lot of shame on my face. I didn't want to have to show dad. He asked Auntie how it went, and she told him that she'd bought me two sets of training wheels so that when one was being washed, I always had another to wear. I got into my room and closed the door, ripping my shirt off. I grabbed the little bag from my bed and opened it widely to expose the training wheels inside.
I took one out slowly, realizing that it was beige. Beige! How could I have let Auntie make such a mistake! It looked almost identicle to the old lady bras I'd seen in my grandma's laundry basket when she was visiting from Cranbrook only months earlier. Yuck. Old lady undies. I was offended. My sisters were so nice and bright - white and clean looking, just like my other set of training wheels that remained in the bag lying on my bed.
There was a knock at my bedroom door - it was my Auntie. Crap. Through the door, she asked me if I was putting a set of the training wheels on, to which I replied that yes, I was. She said she'd wait outside the door in the event I needed any assistance. Really? With one clasp? At the front of the training wheels? Come on. What did this woman take me for? I yelled out that I thought I'd be fine, but she said she'd wait anyways.
I decided to slip on the white set of training wheels and grabbed them out of the crinkly plastic bag. I ripped off the tag and navigated the clasp open. As I slipped my arms through the straps, I felt like I was dressing like an undercover cop going out to work the beat. I pulled the training wheels together at the front, covering myself up. They were cold! Oh man! This is EXACTLY what my Auntie was talking about. I felt a bit of relief as I fumbled a bit with the clasp and glanced at myself in the mirror.
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Please, come take my hand
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Soon, you'll need a man
Please, come take my hand
Girl, you'll be a woman soon,
Soon, you'll need a man
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was becoming a young lady. I didn't feel any different before putting those things on - but, all of a sudden, it was as though I had become fully aware of the situation at hand. I could feel the innocence of childhood melt off of me as I stared at myself. Gone were the days of building forts in the living room while watching Zoobalee Zoo with my friends, and gone were the days of painting one anothers backs and arms with water colors, and gone were the days of pretending I was Rapunzel with a bed sheet on my head in place of looooonngggg hair [come on - like you never did this. Don't judge me!]. I was jarred back to reality by the squawk of my Auntie's voice out in the hallway, reminding me that she wasn't leaving until I came out to show her how the training wheels fit.
They sagged in the front. Hmm. Room for improvement.
I slipped my shirt back over my head. It felt so different. I slowly opened my door, and there she stood, towering over the door frame waiting. I walked beyond the threshold and she rushed at me! She grabbed the shoulders of my shirt, feeling for the straps. Once she found them, she proceeded to run her cold bony fingers along the under ridge, ensuring I'd put it on and done it up properly. She told me she was doing this to avoid me pain in the event the garment had twisted while I was putting it on.
Sparing me pain? Hardly. This was likely one of the most painful exersises I'd ever been through. It took everything in my power not to run away and hide under my bed.
Dad could see that I was feeling a bit embarrassed and made no mention of the under garment when I emerged from my Auntie's cold stare and grip. The beige training wheels were never worn. They stayed hidden in the bottom of my underwear drawer until the time came when I had outgrown them. The only problem was hiding from my Auntie on laundry day. She knew I had two, and one time she'd come to the house while we were playing outside. I saw the truck rolling around the street corner and pedalled as hard as my body would go - but I was no match for the F250. I met them at the house, my friends in hot pursuit, curious to my reaction at seeing the truck. I bounded off of my bike and started to head for the driveway ...
"KAIT AU LAIT ... ARE YOU WEARING A BRA????" she screeched from the big red truck.
Crap. Caught.
"No." :: head hung slightly, very warm in the face ::
"Into the house NOW and put one ON!"
I went into the house, my friend tailing behind me. Thank goodness Dad had just finished the laundry. I grabbed my little white training wheels and ran into the bathroom. I slipped my shirt off quickly, slapped the training wheels on and threw my shirt back on. I ran out of the bathroom, tagged my friends on the shoulders and off we went without a word to any of the parental figures in the house.
It's interesting how things in life shape you - and guide you..... If there's one lesson I learned out of all of that, it's that I know how meaningful discretion [and color!!] can be to a young lady. I'll offer both to R-Spot - and all I can do is hope that the compassion I have through experience can lend something to her upbringing.
Damn beige training wheels..
They sagged in the front. Hmm. Room for improvement.
I slipped my shirt back over my head. It felt so different. I slowly opened my door, and there she stood, towering over the door frame waiting. I walked beyond the threshold and she rushed at me! She grabbed the shoulders of my shirt, feeling for the straps. Once she found them, she proceeded to run her cold bony fingers along the under ridge, ensuring I'd put it on and done it up properly. She told me she was doing this to avoid me pain in the event the garment had twisted while I was putting it on.
Sparing me pain? Hardly. This was likely one of the most painful exersises I'd ever been through. It took everything in my power not to run away and hide under my bed.
Dad could see that I was feeling a bit embarrassed and made no mention of the under garment when I emerged from my Auntie's cold stare and grip. The beige training wheels were never worn. They stayed hidden in the bottom of my underwear drawer until the time came when I had outgrown them. The only problem was hiding from my Auntie on laundry day. She knew I had two, and one time she'd come to the house while we were playing outside. I saw the truck rolling around the street corner and pedalled as hard as my body would go - but I was no match for the F250. I met them at the house, my friends in hot pursuit, curious to my reaction at seeing the truck. I bounded off of my bike and started to head for the driveway ...
"KAIT AU LAIT ... ARE YOU WEARING A BRA????" she screeched from the big red truck.
Crap. Caught.
"No." :: head hung slightly, very warm in the face ::
"Into the house NOW and put one ON!"
I went into the house, my friend tailing behind me. Thank goodness Dad had just finished the laundry. I grabbed my little white training wheels and ran into the bathroom. I slipped my shirt off quickly, slapped the training wheels on and threw my shirt back on. I ran out of the bathroom, tagged my friends on the shoulders and off we went without a word to any of the parental figures in the house.
It's interesting how things in life shape you - and guide you..... If there's one lesson I learned out of all of that, it's that I know how meaningful discretion [and color!!] can be to a young lady. I'll offer both to R-Spot - and all I can do is hope that the compassion I have through experience can lend something to her upbringing.
Damn beige training wheels..
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Give a security guard an inch - and not only will he take a mile, but he'll also think he's entitled to more, a war museum dedication and a Purple Heart. ... No, no ... this time they're real police - not Bacon Bits [See what I did there? Ha ha. Funny stuff.]
Today in the Globe and Mail, I read a story about a 38 year old mother who was arrested, cuffed, thrown into a holding cell and fined over $400 for not holding the hand rail on the escalator heading down into the train station. ($100 for not holding the rail, and $320 for obstruction!!!)
I can see a couple of problems with this line of action:
1) Who *actually* holds the hand rails in subway stations .. or on any escalator ever for that matter?
With the threat of H1N1, common colds and flu's, and other incredibly yucky things that are all over those hand rails, I don't think anyone really uses them?! I know riding the C-Train makes my skin cringe sometimes and I only take it a couple of blocks down 7th. The first thing we do when we disembark from the train? Purrell hand sanitizer .... Lots and lots and lots of it. You never know who's doing what in a train or a train station ... for all I know, someone rubbed their nards on the pole the night before ... [Yes, I know they have cleaning people - but who's to say the cleaning people don't do nasty crap like rub their balls on the spot where I might put my hand?!] Actually - they say that you have a better chance of breaking your neck on an escalator than you do catching the flu or a cold - PROVIDED you WASH your HANDS .... some people just aren't that clean ... or what if they have sensitive skin? (I don't know... I'm just grabbing at straws here)
2) Who do these cops think they are putting their hands on someone who's refusing the hold the hand rails?
She didn't even really refuse - she was coming down the escalator digging in her purse for fare!
Disgusting and disgraceful. I googled up the Montreal Gazette for this week and came up with the following (Made me glad I'm in the West!!):
Mohawks, Gangs and Tabacco: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Mohawks+gangs+tobacco/1437136/story.html -- This story outlines First Nations and Hells Angels in the region trafficking cigarettes and drugs including meth, coke and weed.
Savage Purse Snatching: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Woman+fights+life+after+savage+purse+snatching/1606198/story.html -- They could be doing mean things to these little dickheads ...
Smugglers: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Former+Customs+agents+head+court/1607468/story.html -- They could be rounding up more of these people too ....
My point? People have bigger fears that falling down an escalator. Maybe "The Man" should be spending his time elsewhere actually providing the valuable service we all know they have. Everyone knows I'm not a cop hater - I'm a stupid hater.
I respect police officers and the jobs they have to do - but .. harassing someone, hurting them (they skinned her foot with their boots and bruised her wrists with their handcuffs and likely shook her belief in the system)and leaving them feeling traumatized is completely inappropriate. This isn't the first time I've heard of something like this happening with police officers [separate regions entirely] and it makes me wonder if we're entering a time where there is little to no accountability with the actions of the law. The rule of law ...
No one is above the law.
I guess some people need to remember that. Not only that - but courtesy also goes a very long way.
On a side note - Sarah Palin is now defending Carrie Prejean ...(Refer to my post: Sniffling Swine and Hilton). I normally admire women who have the kahones to run for federal politics, but there was something about Palin that was just plain off. She was a good speaker - if someone gave her the right notes, and she had "good family values" (if teen pregnancy is a good family value?) and she is pretty. Apparently pretty goes a long way with some, but not with others.
I don't think I'd want Sarah Palin defending me ... well, unless I was Miss. California - then I guess it would be an "honor"....
From one pretty broad to another...
Today in the Globe and Mail, I read a story about a 38 year old mother who was arrested, cuffed, thrown into a holding cell and fined over $400 for not holding the hand rail on the escalator heading down into the train station. ($100 for not holding the rail, and $320 for obstruction!!!)
I can see a couple of problems with this line of action:
1) Who *actually* holds the hand rails in subway stations .. or on any escalator ever for that matter?
With the threat of H1N1, common colds and flu's, and other incredibly yucky things that are all over those hand rails, I don't think anyone really uses them?! I know riding the C-Train makes my skin cringe sometimes and I only take it a couple of blocks down 7th. The first thing we do when we disembark from the train? Purrell hand sanitizer .... Lots and lots and lots of it. You never know who's doing what in a train or a train station ... for all I know, someone rubbed their nards on the pole the night before ... [Yes, I know they have cleaning people - but who's to say the cleaning people don't do nasty crap like rub their balls on the spot where I might put my hand?!] Actually - they say that you have a better chance of breaking your neck on an escalator than you do catching the flu or a cold - PROVIDED you WASH your HANDS .... some people just aren't that clean ... or what if they have sensitive skin? (I don't know... I'm just grabbing at straws here)
2) Who do these cops think they are putting their hands on someone who's refusing the hold the hand rails?
She didn't even really refuse - she was coming down the escalator digging in her purse for fare!
Disgusting and disgraceful. I googled up the Montreal Gazette for this week and came up with the following (Made me glad I'm in the West!!):
Mohawks, Gangs and Tabacco: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Mohawks+gangs+tobacco/1437136/story.html -- This story outlines First Nations and Hells Angels in the region trafficking cigarettes and drugs including meth, coke and weed.
Savage Purse Snatching: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Woman+fights+life+after+savage+purse+snatching/1606198/story.html -- They could be doing mean things to these little dickheads ...
Smugglers: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Former+Customs+agents+head+court/1607468/story.html -- They could be rounding up more of these people too ....
My point? People have bigger fears that falling down an escalator. Maybe "The Man" should be spending his time elsewhere actually providing the valuable service we all know they have. Everyone knows I'm not a cop hater - I'm a stupid hater.
I respect police officers and the jobs they have to do - but .. harassing someone, hurting them (they skinned her foot with their boots and bruised her wrists with their handcuffs and likely shook her belief in the system)and leaving them feeling traumatized is completely inappropriate. This isn't the first time I've heard of something like this happening with police officers [separate regions entirely] and it makes me wonder if we're entering a time where there is little to no accountability with the actions of the law. The rule of law ...
No one is above the law.
I guess some people need to remember that. Not only that - but courtesy also goes a very long way.
On a side note - Sarah Palin is now defending Carrie Prejean ...(Refer to my post: Sniffling Swine and Hilton). I normally admire women who have the kahones to run for federal politics, but there was something about Palin that was just plain off. She was a good speaker - if someone gave her the right notes, and she had "good family values" (if teen pregnancy is a good family value?) and she is pretty. Apparently pretty goes a long way with some, but not with others.
I don't think I'd want Sarah Palin defending me ... well, unless I was Miss. California - then I guess it would be an "honor"....
From one pretty broad to another...
Monday, May 18, 2009
Annoyances.....
I can't be the only one who has a list of annoyances 6 miles long ... can I?
If I were a Playboy Bunny [LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY]....
My LIKES would be as follows:
* Light Beer
* Rubs on my inner elbow and the back of my thigh [true traits of a golden retriever, no?]
* Selfless people
* Black Coffee
[* There's a lot more but I can't really think of them right now because I'm incredibly irritable .....]
My DISLIKES would be:
* Stupidity
* Ignorance
* Arrogance
* Clams & Oysters
* Long walks [particularly on the beach - HA HA HA... No cliche's here.]
* Cheap champagne
* Sand under my finger nails
* Gossip
* Kids who don't listen, talk too much or whine a lot [frankly, other people's kids in general - which is why I didn't continue with my degree in Early Childhood]
I understand the pain I put my father through as a little girl ....... R-Spot *never* stops talking. And if she's not talking - she's singing. I really, truly, deeply adore my children [the bio-kid and the two steps] - but holy shit! They can do stuff that just drives me absolutely bonkers!
I'm sure R-Spot babbles to hear her own voice - but before I get angry, I remind myself, "This is how kids are - and if she were to ever leave me for whatever reason, I would miss this the most." That brings me back to where I need to be...
I think the thing that grates on me the most is having to repeat myself 10,000 times an hour. Maybe that's it...
Then again - it might be the need to develop birth control to stave off the constant multiplication of socks throughout my house and crumbs in my kitchen.
It could be the dishes that are set inside or beside the sink when the dishwasher is empty....
Hmm. Maybe it's the paper everywhere. [I love the drawings - I really do - but ...... why must we rip every page out of every notebook and every coloring book? The pages are glued together for a reason - I'm almost positive it's to help the mothers of highly artistic children stay sane.]
It might be the unsorted recyclables?
Maybe the empty dog dishes every time I turn around.
It could be the high pitched screeches that each one of the children possess to use at the most inopportune times when they decide to bitch slap one another for whatever infantile reason [... which could be at a restaurant, in the grocery store, or while I'm cooking at the stove and they're battling between the island and I...]
Maybe it's because I can't remember the last time I watched a full episode of anything I truly enjoy ....
Could it be the children dishing dinner ... eating half of what they've taken ... only to be rummaging around like homeless people in the fridge or pantry 30 minutes later because they're 'hungry' ..... [Uh... eat what I cook maybe??]
It could be all of the large voices in the house .... echoing off of the walls and the hardwood floors ... [I crave tranquility!!]
The televisions all at 30+ in volume ....
The clanking of dishes ...
The white lino in the kitchen ... covered in muddy dog foot prints...
I guess I shouldn't complain - because as I go through and assess everything that drives me insane, I can think of many reasons why it makes me shine with joy.
I am thankful to be able to hear all of the things I hate. It means I'm blessed with the ability to hear. I'm thankful to be involved with the nagging and cleaning of my house, because I'm blessed enough to have a family to share such a beautiful dwelling with. I'm thankful to have three little beings who bless me every day with their stories, songs, art work, time and humor.
So what if I'm exhausted & sunburned, haven't watched a full episode of ANTM since the new season started [I know, I know .... it's my guilty pleasure] or because I have to wash my kitchen floors three times a week until next winter.
I don't know many people who have everything I have [multiplying socks and all].
I know I'm blessed; even if I'm in a bitchy mood.
-- Kait --
If I were a Playboy Bunny [LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY]....
My LIKES would be as follows:
* Light Beer
* Rubs on my inner elbow and the back of my thigh [true traits of a golden retriever, no?]
* Selfless people
* Black Coffee
[* There's a lot more but I can't really think of them right now because I'm incredibly irritable .....]
My DISLIKES would be:
* Stupidity
* Ignorance
* Arrogance
* Clams & Oysters
* Long walks [particularly on the beach - HA HA HA... No cliche's here.]
* Cheap champagne
* Sand under my finger nails
* Gossip
* Kids who don't listen, talk too much or whine a lot [frankly, other people's kids in general - which is why I didn't continue with my degree in Early Childhood]
I understand the pain I put my father through as a little girl ....... R-Spot *never* stops talking. And if she's not talking - she's singing. I really, truly, deeply adore my children [the bio-kid and the two steps] - but holy shit! They can do stuff that just drives me absolutely bonkers!
I'm sure R-Spot babbles to hear her own voice - but before I get angry, I remind myself, "This is how kids are - and if she were to ever leave me for whatever reason, I would miss this the most." That brings me back to where I need to be...
I think the thing that grates on me the most is having to repeat myself 10,000 times an hour. Maybe that's it...
Then again - it might be the need to develop birth control to stave off the constant multiplication of socks throughout my house and crumbs in my kitchen.
It could be the dishes that are set inside or beside the sink when the dishwasher is empty....
Hmm. Maybe it's the paper everywhere. [I love the drawings - I really do - but ...... why must we rip every page out of every notebook and every coloring book? The pages are glued together for a reason - I'm almost positive it's to help the mothers of highly artistic children stay sane.]
It might be the unsorted recyclables?
Maybe the empty dog dishes every time I turn around.
It could be the high pitched screeches that each one of the children possess to use at the most inopportune times when they decide to bitch slap one another for whatever infantile reason [... which could be at a restaurant, in the grocery store, or while I'm cooking at the stove and they're battling between the island and I...]
Maybe it's because I can't remember the last time I watched a full episode of anything I truly enjoy ....
Could it be the children dishing dinner ... eating half of what they've taken ... only to be rummaging around like homeless people in the fridge or pantry 30 minutes later because they're 'hungry' ..... [Uh... eat what I cook maybe??]
It could be all of the large voices in the house .... echoing off of the walls and the hardwood floors ... [I crave tranquility!!]
The televisions all at 30+ in volume ....
The clanking of dishes ...
The white lino in the kitchen ... covered in muddy dog foot prints...
I guess I shouldn't complain - because as I go through and assess everything that drives me insane, I can think of many reasons why it makes me shine with joy.
I am thankful to be able to hear all of the things I hate. It means I'm blessed with the ability to hear. I'm thankful to be involved with the nagging and cleaning of my house, because I'm blessed enough to have a family to share such a beautiful dwelling with. I'm thankful to have three little beings who bless me every day with their stories, songs, art work, time and humor.
So what if I'm exhausted & sunburned, haven't watched a full episode of ANTM since the new season started [I know, I know .... it's my guilty pleasure] or because I have to wash my kitchen floors three times a week until next winter.
I don't know many people who have everything I have [multiplying socks and all].
I know I'm blessed; even if I'm in a bitchy mood.
-- Kait --
Monday, May 4, 2009
I Don't Do Stupid...
Without having contact with blog-world for about 5 or 6 days, I have a substantial amount to get out of my head. A friend of mine suggested that blogging would be theraputic, and I think she's right. I think I'd go insane with these thoughts swirling around in my head with no one to read/hear them.
This is just more from the past couple of days ....
I met this girl and she seems like a nice girl - about 10 years younger than me ... and about as mature as the average 13 year old. [Actually, I think both A-Dawg and C-Dot are more mature than her - and by the sounds of it more responsible too.]
She was flaunting an injury ... Ah-hah! I was onto her immediately. She's an 'Attention Grabber' - not interesting enough on her own, needs to have a conversation starter, generally a 'woe is me' topic, or .. perhaps some drama. [Come on, you know the type!! We all know at least one!]
Only rather than saying, "How are you?" she started off by saying how her injury wasn't so bad that she needed the medical attention which was provided, prior to pointing to another ghastly looking scar, suggesting that that injury should have been better looked after. [I bet if you went to Rawanda and asked them how they'd feel for a steralized needle, clean bandages, saline solution and proper medical care, they wouldn't bitch about it....].
As I'm standing there, hearing her silently screaming at me, "Ask me what happened!!! Ask me what happened!!!!!", I looked away for a moment, pretending to be busying myself with something else until I realized she was standing there staring at me. I sighed deeply, and gave in to the idiocy.
Me: "So............ What happened?" :: feigning interest ::
Her: "I was SOOOOO WASTED at this party at my house... and like, I was the rockstar of the night ... and I was like singing [not singing! I bet yer' a real good singer...yew got a purty mouth..], and I got mad, like super mad [mad at ....????], and like, went across the street and punched my neighbours car window... Well, okay, not his window but like, his mirror." [And how exactly did the neighbour feel about having his mirror smashed by a dickhead such as yourself? *thankful I'm not her neighbour*]
Me: :: blink :: :: blink ::
Her: "Yeah. It was totally crazy."
Me: :: blink :: :: blink :: "Uh ... "
Her: :: staring at me ::
Her: "Yeah. Then my fiance [Seriously, fiance? please tell me she doesn't plan on procreating anytime soon.. If she does, someone better have a crystal ball and a psychic there at the time of delivery - if the child's future is as bleak as hers, they should just save taxpayers some money and steralize it on the spot] took me to the hospital and like, I didn't even remember any of it. I like, just woke up the next morning with this cut and was like 'Wooooahhhhh ... what happened?!' .. it was crazy."
Me: :: blink :: :: blink :: "Yeah, like, totally."
Her: "I know right."
[Internal] Me: *Walk away KtM ... Walk away...*
I couldn't handle anymore of it, so I simply turned and walked away from her. I could feel my brain cells slowly curtling and dying from being so close to her within those 4 minutes .... 4 precious minutes of my life which I will never get back.
I've learned great lessons over my life. Some of them have been self-learned, and others have been through witnessing the stupidity of others. They would include:
I worked with this woman once who was training me on a receptionist job. Now really, the odds of someone not being adept or capable at a receptionist's job are few and far between - or so I thought - until I met some of the people who did the job before me and some who did it after me. And I understood why she said what she said to me the day she started training me [which in fact made me terrified of her for the longest time]:
Plain and simple. I'm on board with the concept. I don't do stupid either, and as I've gotten older, and I've witnessed people and the things they do, the things they claim not to be able to do, and the things they just can't seem to learn to do .... It's just solidified my position.
I guess my best bet is to treat this girl like I would treat my kids - ... well .. R-Spot maybe. I don't think she could grasp being treated like A-Dawg and C-Dot. They're lightyears ahead of her and even though they're people years behind her. I should spend less time in public with the dense and more time at home with my kids.
They're some of the smartest people I know.
This is just more from the past couple of days ....
I met this girl and she seems like a nice girl - about 10 years younger than me ... and about as mature as the average 13 year old. [Actually, I think both A-Dawg and C-Dot are more mature than her - and by the sounds of it more responsible too.]
She was flaunting an injury ... Ah-hah! I was onto her immediately. She's an 'Attention Grabber' - not interesting enough on her own, needs to have a conversation starter, generally a 'woe is me' topic, or .. perhaps some drama. [Come on, you know the type!! We all know at least one!]
Only rather than saying, "How are you?" she started off by saying how her injury wasn't so bad that she needed the medical attention which was provided, prior to pointing to another ghastly looking scar, suggesting that that injury should have been better looked after. [I bet if you went to Rawanda and asked them how they'd feel for a steralized needle, clean bandages, saline solution and proper medical care, they wouldn't bitch about it....].
As I'm standing there, hearing her silently screaming at me, "Ask me what happened!!! Ask me what happened!!!!!", I looked away for a moment, pretending to be busying myself with something else until I realized she was standing there staring at me. I sighed deeply, and gave in to the idiocy.
Me: "So............ What happened?" :: feigning interest ::
Her: "I was SOOOOO WASTED at this party at my house... and like, I was the rockstar of the night ... and I was like singing [not singing! I bet yer' a real good singer...yew got a purty mouth..], and I got mad, like super mad [mad at ....????], and like, went across the street and punched my neighbours car window... Well, okay, not his window but like, his mirror." [And how exactly did the neighbour feel about having his mirror smashed by a dickhead such as yourself? *thankful I'm not her neighbour*]
Me: :: blink :: :: blink ::
Her: "Yeah. It was totally crazy."
Me: :: blink :: :: blink :: "Uh ... "
Her: :: staring at me ::
Her: "Yeah. Then my fiance [Seriously, fiance? please tell me she doesn't plan on procreating anytime soon.. If she does, someone better have a crystal ball and a psychic there at the time of delivery - if the child's future is as bleak as hers, they should just save taxpayers some money and steralize it on the spot] took me to the hospital and like, I didn't even remember any of it. I like, just woke up the next morning with this cut and was like 'Wooooahhhhh ... what happened?!' .. it was crazy."
Me: :: blink :: :: blink :: "Yeah, like, totally."
Her: "I know right."
[Internal] Me: *Walk away KtM ... Walk away...*
I couldn't handle anymore of it, so I simply turned and walked away from her. I could feel my brain cells slowly curtling and dying from being so close to her within those 4 minutes .... 4 precious minutes of my life which I will never get back.
I've learned great lessons over my life. Some of them have been self-learned, and others have been through witnessing the stupidity of others. They would include:
1) No one gives a crap about how wasted you were or what stupid things you did while you were drunk. [Refer to FB post] In fact, it makes you sound irresponsible and immature. Don't ask me to take you seriously if you're going to drone on and on about drunken debauchery. I don't care. Stop talking.
2) You sound dumb when you talk like a valley girl, this isn't the valley, and even if it was, you should still talk like a normal person, nobody enjoys the overuse of words such as "like". Refer to lesson 1 for further instruction.
3) Know when you're ahead of the game in conversation. Stop at an appropriate time. If I look like I'm sleeping with my eyes open, the chances are, I'm sleeping with my eyes open. Refer to lesson 1 for further instruction.
I worked with this woman once who was training me on a receptionist job. Now really, the odds of someone not being adept or capable at a receptionist's job are few and far between - or so I thought - until I met some of the people who did the job before me and some who did it after me. And I understood why she said what she said to me the day she started training me [which in fact made me terrified of her for the longest time]:
"I don't do stupid."
Plain and simple. I'm on board with the concept. I don't do stupid either, and as I've gotten older, and I've witnessed people and the things they do, the things they claim not to be able to do, and the things they just can't seem to learn to do .... It's just solidified my position.
I guess my best bet is to treat this girl like I would treat my kids - ... well .. R-Spot maybe. I don't think she could grasp being treated like A-Dawg and C-Dot. They're lightyears ahead of her and even though they're people years behind her. I should spend less time in public with the dense and more time at home with my kids.
They're some of the smartest people I know.
People are peculiar... period.
Arrogance mystifies me. I'm not an arrogant person, I don't have arrogant friends, and my lover, the person who I spend a majority of my time with, is the least arrogant person I think I've ever met. I like down to earth people, people who are trustworthy, reliable, and friendly. People who don't judge me for the freckles on my nose, my tattoos, the little bit of muffin top I have [blushing], the way I parent my kids, or the way I live my life. I am who I am, and I believe what I believe.
Take me or leave me, this is Kait au Lait.
I don't understand why people have to act like their better than someone else. What makes someone better than me?
Does status make someone better than me? Your parents or grandparents are who? Wow. Good for you - this might seem funny to you though ... I don't give a boo what your last name is.
Money? Oh. Okay. Good for you - you struck it rich with oil royalities on your property - you're totally better than me. Oh ... your parents left you money as a result of your dad having the opportunity to go to university and become a doctor? You're DEFINETLY better than me. Ohhhh - riiighhht - you're grandmother sold her percacet and oxycontin to other seniors at the nursing home and left you a small fortune. Yup..... Better. Than. Me.
:: snort ::
I've had recent enounters with people who, in their opinion, are 'better than me'. I can't put my finger on why, perhaps it's just a feeling of entitlement... I don't know.
I had one guy - who I was trying to be nice to [kill them with kindness...blah, blah, blah.] and I paid him somewhat of a compliment, trying to break the ice a bit, testing the waters to see if he was capable of being friendly.
He was entirely incapable.
Rather than tactfully accept my 'compliment' with a "Thank you", he laughed and agreed with me - while nudging his friend who was standing beside him, before walking away from me. [I bet that's how he gets all the girls ... ] His sidekick chortled loudly while trailing behind him down the +15 like dirty little Gollum from Lord of the Rings ["Prreeccciioouusssss... wait for me ... Prreeccciioouusssss"].
Okay - so first, if we want to play the judging game - I'm totally in. I have every ability to play the game like the next person, but there are two differences between me and this guy; both of which leave him at a clear disadvantage. The first being that I'm smart, the second being that I'm witty - neither of which he is able to possess considering he [obviously] has the personality of a dishrag.
This got me thinking ... This guy must be totally incapable of being kind to others and there are likely several reasons for this:
1) His mom didn't breastfeed him and likely didn't hug him enough. [I don't blame her; I wouldn't want him near my boobs either.]
[This is pretty well my reasoning for every man who is angry in life. Read a true crime novel - most men who disrespect [read: murder and maim] women [and others] generally hate their mothers for one whiny reason or another.]
2) His dad left the home while he was a young child due to his resemblance to the front stoop garden gnome.
[Ever seen the movie Pin? If not, rent it and this comment will make sense. Yikes.]
4) His 'IRL friends' are actually only 'IRL' on the WoW realm.
[Aside from Gollum, I'd be hard pressed to think anyone else would be able to tolerate this guy in real life.]
5) He's never felt the touch of a lady ... well ... without the exchange of a five-spot in a downtown back alley.
[I betcha $10 that the last time this guy saw a vagina was when he came out of one. In fact, I betcha another $10 that if I put a shoebox, vagina and a broom in a lineup, this guy wouldn't be able to tag the vagina if it slapped him in the face - provided that vaginas had hands and could slap of course.]
So the solution to this guy's problems?
Well, aside from the obvious, my recommended course of treatment would involve removing the ping-pong ball from his ass, quit playing WoW, trim his nose hairs, get a nicer haircut, bleach his teeth, learn to love his mother, ditch Gollum and develop some qualities that more closely resemble human empathy.
But ..... who am I to judge?
Arrogance mystifies me. I'm not an arrogant person, I don't have arrogant friends, and my lover, the person who I spend a majority of my time with, is the least arrogant person I think I've ever met. I like down to earth people, people who are trustworthy, reliable, and friendly. People who don't judge me for the freckles on my nose, my tattoos, the little bit of muffin top I have [blushing], the way I parent my kids, or the way I live my life. I am who I am, and I believe what I believe.
Take me or leave me, this is Kait au Lait.
I don't understand why people have to act like their better than someone else. What makes someone better than me?
Does status make someone better than me? Your parents or grandparents are who? Wow. Good for you - this might seem funny to you though ... I don't give a boo what your last name is.
Money? Oh. Okay. Good for you - you struck it rich with oil royalities on your property - you're totally better than me. Oh ... your parents left you money as a result of your dad having the opportunity to go to university and become a doctor? You're DEFINETLY better than me. Ohhhh - riiighhht - you're grandmother sold her percacet and oxycontin to other seniors at the nursing home and left you a small fortune. Yup..... Better. Than. Me.
:: snort ::
I've had recent enounters with people who, in their opinion, are 'better than me'. I can't put my finger on why, perhaps it's just a feeling of entitlement... I don't know.
I had one guy - who I was trying to be nice to [kill them with kindness...blah, blah, blah.] and I paid him somewhat of a compliment, trying to break the ice a bit, testing the waters to see if he was capable of being friendly.
He was entirely incapable.
Rather than tactfully accept my 'compliment' with a "Thank you", he laughed and agreed with me - while nudging his friend who was standing beside him, before walking away from me. [I bet that's how he gets all the girls ... ] His sidekick chortled loudly while trailing behind him down the +15 like dirty little Gollum from Lord of the Rings ["Prreeccciioouusssss... wait for me ... Prreeccciioouusssss"].
Okay - so first, if we want to play the judging game - I'm totally in. I have every ability to play the game like the next person, but there are two differences between me and this guy; both of which leave him at a clear disadvantage. The first being that I'm smart, the second being that I'm witty - neither of which he is able to possess considering he [obviously] has the personality of a dishrag.
This got me thinking ... This guy must be totally incapable of being kind to others and there are likely several reasons for this:
1) His mom didn't breastfeed him and likely didn't hug him enough. [I don't blame her; I wouldn't want him near my boobs either.]
[This is pretty well my reasoning for every man who is angry in life. Read a true crime novel - most men who disrespect [read: murder and maim] women [and others] generally hate their mothers for one whiny reason or another.]
2) His dad left the home while he was a young child due to his resemblance to the front stoop garden gnome.
[Ever seen the movie Pin? If not, rent it and this comment will make sense. Yikes.]
4) His 'IRL friends' are actually only 'IRL' on the WoW realm.
[Aside from Gollum, I'd be hard pressed to think anyone else would be able to tolerate this guy in real life.]
5) He's never felt the touch of a lady ... well ... without the exchange of a five-spot in a downtown back alley.
[I betcha $10 that the last time this guy saw a vagina was when he came out of one. In fact, I betcha another $10 that if I put a shoebox, vagina and a broom in a lineup, this guy wouldn't be able to tag the vagina if it slapped him in the face - provided that vaginas had hands and could slap of course.]
So the solution to this guy's problems?
Well, aside from the obvious, my recommended course of treatment would involve removing the ping-pong ball from his ass, quit playing WoW, trim his nose hairs, get a nicer haircut, bleach his teeth, learn to love his mother, ditch Gollum and develop some qualities that more closely resemble human empathy.
But ..... who am I to judge?
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