Survey Says...

Because why not do a little 2011 wrap up? And also, because Aunt Becky practically forced me to...


1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Lots! I... went to a hospital in this city, hiked to the top of a mountain, wore my very own wedding gown, spent a week in Hawaii, got a Mantoux test, filed a complaint with the BBB, got a professional mani/pedi, bought brand new furniture, changed my name... that's all I can think of right now. There are always new experiences to be had.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I can't remember if I did. I probably won't this year. Anyways for me a new year always seems to start in September. I think because it is my birth month and when a new school year always started.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Everybody! It would be easier to count the people in my life that weren't making babies.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
People I knew. People I didn't know but was still upset about. And if pets count, them too.

5. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
A million dollars. A second bathroom. A new windshield. Health Benefits and Paid Vacation.

6. What countries did you visit?
Managed to make a few trips south of the border.

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why:
August 27th - because it was a nice day for a white wedding

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
That I am still on speaking terms with everybody who 'helped' me plan the wedding. Also, painting our deck.

9. What was your biggest failure?
The gym.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
yes - the Great Mystery Illness Of 2011

11. What was the best thing you bought?
My brown boots.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Mine. That's right, I was a champ. Also, my husband's - for putting up with me.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
The usual suspects.

14. Where did most of your money go?
The wedding fund.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Hawaii!!

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?
Long-legged Guitar-pickin' Man - Johnny and June

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? happier
ii. thinner or fatter? fatter
iii. richer or poorer? money-wise? or in a "the best things in life aren't 'things'" kind of way?

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Laughing!

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worrying!

20. Did you fall in love in 2011?
More today than yesterday but not as much as tomorrow..

21. How many one-night stands?
Zero. Well, if we're talking being used and discarded, I should be able to count the cat who spends the night sleeping on my face, but won't even talk to me during the day.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Can I change 'hate' to 'don't waste my time and energy on anymore'? Then yes.

23. What was the best book you read?
I read some good ones this year, some classics and some new books. I spent the most time on "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" trilogy.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I took guitar lessons!

25. What did you do on your birthday?
I had dinner and drinks on a patio after work with my family-in-law. I turned 28. I still cried this year like I do every year, but it really wasn't so bad.

26. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Being able to drink coffee and eat cheese!!! Zeus' Beard! How I miss cheese! Also, winning the lottery.

27. What kept you sane?
Alcohol. And cigarettes. But mostly, my husband.

28. What political issue stirred you the most?
Immigration. Oil. Gay Marriage. Canada's role/place in the world.

29. Who did you miss?
My Grandpa.

30. Who was the best new person you met?
It's a tie. My 'new' English cousin or my adorable new niece.

Bonus Question: Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
I'm always learning something, and usually the hard way. DO NOT buy a gym membership. To be honest though, I have spent a lot of time searching for what it is that will make me happy in life. Needless to say, I haven't found it yet. This year I decided maybe that's because it isn't about me. I'm not quite ready to share this idea just yet but I will.

Shove A Bum, Chum?

Over the holidays my brother and I went to go see a movie together (the new Sherlock Holmes, very good). I hardly ever get to see him, or go to the movies, so I was excited. And for the purposes of this story, I should tell you that my brother enjoys being a bit of a curmudgeon.

So, we get to the theatre at 6:45. One showing started at 6:40 and the next is at 7:15. We could have made the earlier showing (it would probably still be the pre-preview commercials) but we decide that since we both wanted good seats - three quarters of the way back, in the middle of the row - and snacks, we should go to the 7:15 showing.

Twenty-five minutes later we are sitting quite comfortably in our favourite seats, eating our snacks and watching previews when a man walks into the row with a group of about five people behind him and asks us to move down a few seats for their family. I don't even remember thinking about it, I just unconsciously started to gather all my things and get up, when I heard my brother say "No." Just like that. No. And then I think I stayed there half out of my seat frozen for a moment. The man asking for our seats seemed a bit taken back as well. What do you mean, he says, I have all these people, we want to sit together... Too bad, says my brother. I scold him and move down a few seats, beckoning him to scooch over with me. He moves over one chair and sits resolutely. I sheepishly move back to the seat beside him, and by now the man and his group have wandered off into the dark theatre in search of other rows. As I said at the beginning, this is not completely unexpected behaviour from my brother, so I chuckle and shake my head and pat him on the arm and we go back to watching the previews. 

Except I couldn't stop thinking about what had just taken place. See, we knew it was going to be a crowded show and we both wanted to sit in our favourite spot - middle of the row three quarters back. We had purposely gone into that movie theatre early. Half an hour early. So we could get comfortable and have our snacks and sit in those seats. Why does some guy who walks into a movie that has already started assume we were saving those seats for him, because he got there late and still wants his whole group to be able to sit together. And why does my brain assume without even asking me that I would immediately get up and give them to him? And when this random person asks me to give up my seat and move to the end of the row, which I hate, why would I assume my brother is the one being rude for objecting and not this guy for expecting that we would?

My brother and I talked about it then, and I laughed and gave him a squeeze, because I decided what I may have initially deemed discourteous was really my big brother sticking up for me, for us, on a rare night out.

This may seem strange and fairly trivial to you, but it was a moment of epiphany for me. I constantly allow people to impose upon me. More than basic civility would require. I seem to feel as if it would be rude of me to insist upon my own preferences or needs, but I expect exactly that from others without thinking that they, in fact, are the ones being inconsiderate.

As far as theatre chairs are concerned, from now on I will only agree to move one seat in either direction to accomodate a late-comer.

I'm curious what other people would have done in that situation: Move to the end so the group could sit together in the middle? Or tell them tough titties, you should have come earlier?

"Merry Fishmas!"



Mr. Burns as Santa



I'm having trouble getting into the "Christmas Spirit" this year. We have had our tree up for weeks. I've gone to the parties. The presents have been bought. But I'm just not feeling it.

I don't know what it is. Its like I almost feel resentful of the the obligation that is Christmas. And because that is so much the opposite of what the spirit of the season is supposed to be, I just can't reconcile the two.

I am doing these things - not because its pretty and fun, or because I want to spend time with family and friends, or because I like hanging wreaths and giving gifts (all of which is true!) - but because I have to. And I better be excited about it and have a good time. And spend enough money to convince certain people that I really mean it. I object to being obligated to do these things, which should stem from the goodness of my own heart, not from some cultural/commercial pressure to do so.

Bah!

Sick and Sad

"My Tram Experience" went viral this week. If you haven't seen it you can google it. But its not the video that I found so upsetting. Enough people on the tram were standing up for themselves and for eachother, although their actions, while well-meaning, were probably just egging this hateful woman on.

What disturbed and genuinely saddened me were the responses to this woman. After seeing it, I viewed some of the YouTube response videos, read some of the comments - I was expecting outrage and sympathy for the people she was attacking, and maybe even a heart-felt apology from other decent white folk on behalf of our race. I found just the opposite. Maybe it was the comfort of anonymity that the internet provides, but hundreds of people spoke up in defense of this woman's vile and ignorant rant, cheered her for it, proud that somebody "finally spoke out"

The more things change the more they stay the same. Sometimes I wonder if we have made any progress at all. It made me sad, and it made me think of this speech:


"The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say yes or no. He who led on the young men is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets; the little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are - perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my Chiefs! I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the Sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."

Chief Joseph - in surrendering to General Nelson Appleton Miles after long evading a pursuit nearly to the border of Canada. (October 5, 1877)

World Health Club

Okay for this one I should have listened to everyone else and never have joined a gym in the first place. We have all heard the stories. But it was such a good rate ($40 a month and only $199 if I chose to buy out), and I was determined not to get suckered in to any other deals, or promotions or programs while I was there, even though they came at me hard, and I could see myself going to this gym for a long time. Have I mentioned previously that learning the hard way is pretty much the only way I learn? Now we are moving out of the area and are going to be on a very tight budget so the other day I decided to go in one last time and buy out of my term.

Here is the complaint I ended up filing with the Better Business Bureau:

According to the BBB's records, all complaints filed against World Health Club have been resolved to the customer's satisfaction. I'll be going back to the gym tonight to see if they now feel more motivated to play fair.

You may get the impression after reading about US Airways, and Expedia, and Shaw, and now World Health, that I am an antagonistic sort of person. I don't know if that is the case. I've worked in a customer service capacity for over a decade and have a very good understanding of the service provider - client relationship. I know the expectations from both sides of the counter. I don't like this culture of consumerism that we live in, the materialistic nature of it all. But I think that you can choose to be a mindless consumer or an intelligent one. Consumers need to understand their power. We, as consumers, need to realize that we have the ability to control and demand the products and services that we want. Because if they don't give us what we want, we can find another provider who will. That's how this game works. So yeah, maybe I rake airlines or monopolistic cable/phone providers over the coals when I feel I am getting ripped off. I wish more people would. Long-term contracts and usage fees - don't even get me started. If more consumers understood their rights, these companies would have to bend to our will instead of the other way around.

Okay I am stepping off the soap box now.

In Which The Scholar Gypsy Finds A Home

I am moving again.

This time it is into our own home and so this, hopefully, will be the last move for a long time. I have gotten pretty good at it over the years - I count 17 in total. If you do the math that’s one move for every 19 months, although in reality I stayed in some places a lot longer than others. That being said, I’ve gotten pretty good at packing my life up and moving on. In fact I always kept the same boxes and knew exactly which items got packed in which box, and which box fit where in my car. I can tell you that if you put books in a duffle bag and clothes in a box you can carry more of each and more easily.

But two years ago, when my husband and I moved into our current place, I made the decision that I was going to ‘settle down’ - I was going to plant some roots. So I unpacked every bin. I threw out each one of those boxes that had travelled with me all those years and I intentionally didn’t keep good-looking moving boxes that I came across. I started buying furniture and picture frames and dishes. And now we are moving into a home of our very own and I’m looking around wondering where on earth all this stuff came from and how am I ever going to move it all! My only consolation is that this will be my last move for a long time.

I do want to say that moving is great opportunity to purge any useless, wasted, or unwanted items from your life; it’s a streamlining, a lightening of the load; it puts things in perspective. Who knows what we’ve managed to collect over the last two years and are these objects, these things, something that we really need? I know exactly what possessions are most important to me - they’re the ones I found room for in the cramped backseat of my car, the ones I deemed worthy of packing up and carrying with me each time I moved on.

It will be nice to build a nest, to create a home for myself and my family, to encourage that wandering spirit of mine to find a place to be at peace. I’m looking forward to the future, but in doing so, am reminded of my past.

In no particular order, here are a few of the places I have lived in (by lived, I mean have actually taken up residence and not counting the homes I lived in with my parents):

-         four apartments, for some reason each one a completely different lay-out than the others (I thought that would be pretty standard?) but each fairly decent

-         the upstairs of two houses and the downstairs of one

-         a hotel

-         a van

-         a house with 8 people and one bathroom. (I slept in the dining room. And often peed in the yard.)

-         An R.V. And not one of the big nice ones, one of those pop-up ones. A friend of mine slept on the floor and we hung our clothes to dry on the picnic table outside.

-     the basement of a house which I shared with two other people

-         a tar-paper shack. Yes literally, with a pump in the basement to bring in water which always seemed to break after I had lathered my hair.

They're not track marks, I swear.

Within a time period of about 5 weeks I will have:

-had one IV 'placed' (and by placed I more accurately mean jabbed into the crook of my arm - there was literally blood spurting all over myself and the bed, which apparently "happens sometimes")

-had multiple vials of blood taken on two separate occasions,

-been given three injections, and 

-done one skin test.

I seriously feel like if they keep poking all these holes in me I might spring a leak.

What's In A Name

Leading up to the wedding, I was asked a lot if I was going to change my name once I was married. If you asked me in my early twenties when I was still all fired up and "damn the man!" and quoting passages from the Vagina Monologues as a personal mantra, I would have said no to name-changing. (In fact, I would have told you I had never planned on getting married but that's a story for another day.) I've chilled out a bit over the last decade. And being engaged for eighteen months gave me a lot of time to think about identity, to think about marriage, to think about family - to think about names.

I like my name. It's a good solid name. Its unique without being awkward. I like the people it connects me to. I will miss it. But I will be changing it, and yesterday I finally mailed the paperwork to get the name-changing ball rolling. I'm not sure why I was hesitating, I guess I knew I would get around to it eventually and with everything I have had to do since getting back and settling in to married life, it hasn't really seemed like a huge priority. And honestly it is a huge hassle. It's not just filing your marriage papers and walking away with a new name. Once I get our certificate back I have change to my license, my passport, my health card info, my credit card, my bank cards, my cheques, my insurance, my hyrdo and electric, cable and various other bills, my emails, my work/payroll info etc. etc...  And who has time for all that?! There is an argument to be made for having the same last name as your children, but we don't have children. We have cats. And seriously, the longer that I keep my 'old' name the less I seem to care about changing it, so I feel like I should get it done now while I still feel motivated.

So why am I doing it?

Because I don't have to worry about my old family name dying out with me. Other members are producing offspring, the family name will carry on.

Because he has a good last name too. It has history, its old and solid while still being unique, like mine.

Because I like the family that it comes with. I like the people it connects me to. I like the feeling that I am a member of this particular family, and the bond that it creates.

Because I'm in this with both feet, I don't need to hold on to it as some sort of back door in case this doesn't work out. And hyphenated names sound stupid. I'm sorry but they do! Ours would sound especially ridiculous.

Because really, what's in a name? I'm 50% my mother and 50% my father. Do women realize when they are keeping "their" name, they are only holding onto their father's and the only reason they have that name is because their mother gave up hers when she got married? Wouldn't it be taking more of a 'stand' to keep your mother's maiden name?

Because I honestly don't think its that big a deal. I have nothing to prove. I'm unapologetically independent. I am strong as a woman and equal in my partnership; I don't feel a need to hold onto a surname as some sort of statement of rebellion against an oppressive patriarchal system.

Because it means something to him and he means a lot to me. If I really don't care either way, then why not change it. Yes, its a ton of paperwork and pretty inconvenient, but I've done stupider things for love.


* I know its a controversial issue, I'm not trying not to get political here and I'm not trying to start something. I'm just sharing my own personal reasons as to why I decided to make the switch.

One of these things is not like the other...

Amanda Knox                            Casey Anthony

If you pay attention to the news or pop culture at all you know who these two women are. They have both been through very public trials, each one having been charged with a murder. They both have had their entire lives - their families, their childhoods, their 'partying' days, their lifestyles, their secrets, their mistakes - revealed to the world and picked apart in microscopic detail under the unflattering light of a bare bulb. They both spent time in jail. And they both have recently been exonerated. 

The difference is that one of these women came home to a hero's welcome and is expected to quickly become a millionare; the other has been declared a villian by the public and will probably spend the rest of her life hiding out in Florida somewhere.

It leaves me wondering about the two similar women, the two similar stories, the two similar verdicts and the two drastically different outcomes.

Both of these young ladies were aquitted because, according to a judge, there were enough holes in the prosecution's case to cast a reasonable amount of doubt. The exact details at the time of death are sketchy in both cases. A lot of the evidence is circumstantial.

Let's take a bird's eye view: 

Although she did provide conflicting statements, Casey swears she wasn't there the day her child died, that she has no idea what happened that day.

Did Casey Anthony have something to do with it? Yeah, probably. 

Where was she when it happened? Nobody knows for sure.

Is she lying to protect herself? Prosecutors felt they could prove that she was. 

Although she did provide conflicting statements, Amanda swears she wasn't there the night her roommate was brutally assaulted, raped and murdered, that she has no idea what happened that night.

Did Amanda Knox have something to do with it? Yeah, probably.

Where was she when it happened? Nobody knows for sure.
 Is she lying to protect herself? Prosecutors felt they could prove that she was.

These women have both been found innocent.

It seems to me like public opinion hinges on how the media chose to present each of them. For the masses, Amanda Knox is fashioned in the media as a mistreated victim, a beleaguered hero and so that is how she will be treated, while Casey Anthony is painted as a selfish, irresponsible, unfit mother and deserves to be treated as a social pariah for the rest of her life.

How can audiences be outraged by one and not the other? Or sympathetic enough to look the other way in one circumstance, but not the other? Do audiences do whatever Nancy Grace tells them to because they just want her to stop yelling? Does no one take a step back and actually utilize some critical thinking skills?

Maybe we will never know what really happened. I'm sick of hearing about both of them. All we know for sure is that the life of a young Meredith Kercher and an even younger Caylee Anthony was tragically cut short. Why isn't our focus on them? On offering support to the families of the real victims here? 

"Why you have to go and make things so complicated..."

Well I was asking for it. Things just got a hell of a lot more convoluted. I have a seemingly pathological tendency to make my life unnecessarily complicated. I would like to say that it is unintentional; there is enough evidence to support that I come by this predilection genetically. At least then I would have some sort of excuse. At any rate, here I am again.

Will discuss more later, from a distance.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat

Lately I've been feeling like every day is the same day.

Wake up, go to work, get home 11 hours later, feed the cats, change the litter, wash the dishes from last night's dinner, start tonight's dinner, eat, watch a show or two, fall asleep on my face by 9:30.

Wake up the next day, go to work, get home 11 hours later, feed the cats, change the litter, wash the dishes from last night's dinner, start tonight's dinner, eat, watch a show or two, fall asleep on my face by 9:30.

Repeat precisely. Ad nauseum. I could time it down to the minute, but if it bores me to tears it would probably make you want to rip your eyes out/never come here again.

It's such a routine that I wonder if I've been so forgetful lately simply because each day blurs into the next and is the same as the one before it.

And is it deja-vu I experience or is it that I was in that exact same place doing that exact same thing so many times before.

I feel like maybe I should be trying to start something new, but I've honestly been afraid of what stirring the pot might bring up. And then I wonder if maybe I should just enjoy it before the next shit-storm starts. It never rains but it pours as they say. But what it is called when the sailors were stuck on their ships with no wind? Nevermind, I googled it. The Doldrums.

Twenty-Seven

Growing up I had some rough years.

Ages 11 and 12 were extremely awkward and pretty lonely.

Still not quite sure how I survived through 15 and 16.

20 - 21 is sort of hazy and mostly miserable.  

Twenty-Seven was. a. rough. year.

Its been a big ‘transition’ year to say the least, except that the word transition implies change and I haven’t changed anything. At all. Same partner, same house, same job, same desk, same bus route, same old brown shoes.

I had passed the four year mark. Four years is how long I can talk myself into staying in any one place. After that I get antsy again, start feeling the urge to keep moving. Jann Arden’s Where No One Knows Me starts playing on repeat in my head. But moving on was no longer an option and I was struggling with being ‘settled’. And then someone said to me, “Maybe not changing is the biggest change of all.” Yeah. Think about that. So I have been.

A few excerpts (or highlights if you will) of 27:

• An extremely important person in my life passed away. It took a long time to process.
• I had my very own stalker (again), who refused for almost a year to get bored and move on. With a heaping dose of harrassment and even a death threat or two thrown in for good measure.
• My depression kept getting worse and worse, even though I tried to stay on top of it. (In my experience with depression I have found that it is cyclical, but this slump just went on and on and on.) Whine and Wines, exercise, going back to a counsellor regularly, painting the house… nothing helped. And six months of crippling depression really takes a toll on my body, my relationships, my social life, my work, everything!
• I had bizarre and troublesome health concerns.
• I had to cut out coffee.

(And, although our wedding was a labour of love, and beautiful, and such a my-heart-is-so-full-I'm-crying joyful event, I struggled with it. Because it was also arduous, and frustrating, and stressful, and time-consuming, and money-consuming.)  

Yesterday I was another year older and got to put all that behind me. And twenty-seven ended on a positive note. I have learned some valuable lessons and important things about myself. I have a wonderful, loving, and incredibly patient husband. I have some changes and a new role to look forward to at work. I’m going back to school in my spare time. And I think I know what I want in life. I’m looking forward to 28.        

Sweatin' from the Kung-Pow!

Why do I do this to myself! I had another pita at lunch today. Now I get to spend the next four hours in agony at my desk. And my desk partner and I never did make it to "openly farting in front of each other" status.

Back when I was in university I used to eat pitas on a daily basis. I had a job at a pita place. I got the job because I was there every day eating pitas anyways.

I just can't resist their gooey deliciousness and when I have an extra six bucks I'll buy myself a pita for lunch as a "treat." I don't know why.

Could you say no to that? I didn't think so.

FTB - this is the reference I was making: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJIZo9DA-5g 

US Airways Update:

To my surprise, I actually got a letter back! Good thing too because if not I was going to get David Thorne on the case...

"Thank you for contacting Customer Relations. We appreciate hearing from our customers and having an opportunity to address their concerns.

I'm sorry your flight was canceled from Lihue to Phoenix. In addition, I regret you were not provided with additional information concerning the flight’s cancellation prior to your arrival to the Lihue airport. I understand you were displeased with the meal vouchers provided. These vouchers may not cover the entire meal expense; however, meal vouchers are issued to off set meal costs.

I would also like to apologize for the poor customer service you received and how each situation was handled. Our customers expect and deserve service that is helpful, friendly and knowledgeable. Please be assured that your concerns have been documented and forwarded to the appropriate Managers to serve as a learning tool on how we can improve our service.

I recognize this flight’s cancellation caused you a major inconvenience. To convey our apologies and regain your confidence, we have authorized two $100.00 Electronic Travel With Us Voucher(s)

Based on your comments, we could have done a better job of assisting you, and I assure you the necessary steps will be taken to help prevent a recurrence. We know that you have many choices when it comes to traveling, and we thank you for choosing US Airways."

So there it is. $200 is not a whole lot when it comes to air travel but at least its something. Its the first genuine apology and an attempt to make it right. I'm satisfied.

Damn The Man!

If I had to choose one motto that I live my life by (other than "don't pee into the wind") I think it would be "the less you have, the less you need."

I still use bunny ears for my television. I have had my good old reliable antenna for well over a decade now, packing them up with whatever TV I had at the moment and taking them with me. Paying an extra fifty bucks a month for cable so I can watch reruns of Tool Time just never seemed worth it to me. With my bunny ears I have pretty much gotten all the TV that I need - the News, the Simpsons, the Thursday and Sunday night line-ups, and movies on the weekend. And these days if there is anything special we want to watch, we just download it or watch it online.

But for the last few months, the airwaves have been increasingly inundated with warnings of the switch to digital. I was told countless times this summer that as of Aug 31st I would have to say goodbye to my loyal rabbit ears and finally buy in to what the cable companies have been aggressively trying to sell me if I wanted to watch any TV. at all. ever again! dun dun dun......

I am happy to say that the CRTC's scare compaign did not shake my good faith in my simple antenna. Or I didn't care enough to be bothered by it. Well, we turned the TV on when we got back from our trip, did a bit of jimmying and some minor adjusting, and lo and behold, we still had free television! 

The channels are different but they were easy enough to find. We don't get Access anymore but now we get OMNI which seems like a fair trade. CBC is gone but instead we get this weird channel that only plays old shows, so I get to revisit my youth by watching Alf again! And see The Waltons for my first time ever. So there's that. Still get City TV and Global so my line-ups are intact. And even one more channel, which I can't recall at the moment. The best part is the new channels are HD now or something because the sound and picture is fantastic!

So there, take that CRTC!

US Airways (aka The Crappiest Airline Ever)

This is the complaint letter I wrote to US Airways today. Like they even give a damn.

To whom it may concern:

My husband and I were booked to fly US Airways on our way home from our honeymoon this past weekend, and I now have the unfortunate responsibility of reporting our absolutely terrible experience and the extremely off-putting ‘customer service’ we received on our latest flight. I will not be naming names as I understand that these things happen and are sometimes out of one’s own control, but this situation needs to be addressed by your company.

We were scheduled to fly from Lihue to Phoenix on US Airways Flight Number 47, at 10 p.m. on Sunday September 4^th. We double-checked the flight status that afternoon and got to the check-in counter at the airport 7 p.m. after checking out of our resort and returning our rental car - only to find out from the desk agent that our flight that night had been cancelled. We had not been notified and had been standing in line for at least twenty minutes without any notification at the airport or by a US Airways agent. We therefore had absolutely no time to make alternative plans. We were offered another flight on Tuesday night, 48 hours later than our original return date. That would not do.

The counter attendants were unapologetic, as was the agent I immediately called on the phone, and entirely unenthusiastic, showing no initiative in helping us to find other arrangements. The desk agent told us we had to phone the customer service line, the customer service agent on the phone told us we had to get help from someone at the desk. Finally after much persuading, and confiding to the agent that I would probably lose my job if I did not get a flight that would get me back to the mainland by Tuesday, she found a Hawaiian Air flight out of Lihue at 9 p.m. Unfortunately, it took her until 8:45 (almost two hours on the phone with her) to find that flight and it had closed by that time. This was actually a blessing in disguise because we would have found ourselves stranded again - she had booked us on a return to Vancouver, when our final destination was supposed to be Calgary. We then had to call back and talk to another agent.

We were informed there was nothing that could be done. Apparently, according to the US agent, no airline had any flights out of Lihue, or Honolulu, or any of the other islands we could transfer to or from for at least 24 hours. As you can imagine I found this quite hard to believe. However, it was late and we were tired. We booked Flight # 47 for the following evening and were told we would be put up by the Marriot for the night and handed $5 meal vouchers.

I am not sure where the good folks at US Airways eat their meals, but five dollars will not get you a bottle of water in Kauai. Especially not at the Marriot. When I explained that we were newlyweds and did not have the money it would cost to stay for another 24 hours, at least, on the island and that five dollars is a coffee not a meal, again they shook their heads unapologetically and said that there was nothing they could do to help us out.

On the flight the following night, we were a bunch of haggard travelers sandwiched on to an old jalopy of a flight, I think this airplane was around before I was. We were all jammed on to a trans-oceanic flight without even room for our luggage much less our knees. We were still charged for baggage. The desk agent was belligerent and asked if we had paid for our baggage yesterday before our flight was cancelled. Of course we said no and were informed in a tone that we were still expected to pay the extra fees. We received beverage service once in six hours and garbage pick-up only at the end of the trip and there was no in-flight entertainment. The flight attendants were rude and snappy. Upon our exiting the plane she said and I quote, "Have a nice day… Or not..." Completely unacceptable. However, at this point I just wanted off the plane.

We stopped at the US Airways customer service desk in the terminal between transfers, bedraggled and weary, to ask for a band-aid. We could over-hear the agent there was obviously having a personal phone conversation and did not even put the phone down to answer us. She simply said no and continued on with her conversation.

At each turn, your staff showed no initiative, no accountability, no desire to provide adequate or even acceptable customer service, and no attempt to make it right. Myself, my husband, and our families are frequent travelers and we often choose US Airways. I hope that my concerns are taken into consideration and we are able to find some resolution to these issues. In these hard times one would think that a company would understand the value of retaining loyal customers.

Sincerely,

*Lethal Lizzie*

P.S. Out of your list of options on your complaint form (ex. desk agents, phone agents, amenities, baggage, canceled flight, flight attendants, international travel) I had to select "Other/ Miscellaneous" since you did not have an "All of the Above" option.

Do you smell burnt toast?

Frank Howard Clark said that the next best thing to solving a problem is finding some humour in it.

I'm heading off to finish planning, and then actually have, a wedding. I have encountered a lot of hiccups/family members/problems/obstacles/brickwalls along the way and I am sure I'll have a few doozies to tackle in the next few days. Not to mention another fifty or so years of marriage (and everything that means) ahead of me.

I think my toast will be "to finding the humour"

Wish me luck!

Yard Toilet

One of the annoying things about living in a house constantly "being renovated" is the half-assed contractors' tendencies to leave all their garbage behind after they leave. We've burnt it in the firepit, or chucked it in the nearest dumpster, or found some other creative means of disposal - even though we are promised repeatedly by these guys that it will be picked up and taken care of. This one we have no idea what to do with and frankly we don't want to touch it and so it has gradually become a part of the backyard.

Toilet - Winter

Toilet - Summer

You'll notice we moved it in order to mow the lawn. Someone suggested turning it into a planter to add to the dilapidated charm of our backyard. I think we're sending the bums that live in our garage mixed messages.

Getting Raped by Expedia (again...)

I'm losing it. 18 days till the Big Day and I'm just hoping I can make it; finding my melt-downs have increased in frequency and severity.

But the big kick in my taco was dealt by Expedia. I should have known. Blood-thirsty bastards. I'm not even going to go into how a $600 return trip booked to Ontario ended up costing a whopping $2400 when my granpa's health swiftly deteriorated and we ended up scrambling to make it to the funeral. Or how I basically ended up writing Expedia a check for $700 when my father-in-law suffered a heart attack and we had to change the date of our flights. I can dismiss a cold-blooded corporation for being what it is and suck it up because I want to be there for my family. I can also assume some responsibility because I did not factor the unexpected death of a family member into my summer vacation plans and therefore did not buy flight insurance. My bad.

This situation was entirely different. And I assumed, laughably of course, that Expedia would oblige. I realize how ludacris that sounds. In between running around like a freaking crazy person at work as per usual, I had to book three flights for the wedding. Fine. I had twenty minutes to sit down, and being the multi-tasking whiz that I am, I should be able to answer phones and check emails and book flights at the same time. Except on the last flight I had to book, which is the following Thursday from the other flights I booked, I accidently was on the wrong month. I know, stupid. I must have slid the flight calender over or something but slid too far or whatever cuz I ended up booking the flight for the last Thursday of September instead of the last Thursday of August. Yeah, thats bad.

I was on the phone with Expedia in 0.5 seconds flat, explaining how I had clicked the wrong button and it probably hadn't even gone through yet and could you please catch it and adjust it to the right date?

No dice.

She put me on hold for about fifteen minutes before she came back and pleasantly told me not to worry she could switch it for me, but it would cost $50 for the cancelling and re-booking fee.
"No no no (this is what I was afraid of) I'm not cancelling and re-booking, please I just clicked the wrong button and it wouldn't let me go back and if you could just go in there and correct that for me..." 

And yes, she was very sorry but no, there was nothing they could do. Except put me on hold for another fifteen minutes while I'm sure her and her collegues laughed maniacally. When she composed herself she got back on and asked me if I would like to re-book a flight. Which, of course I had to, for the last Thursday of August. She told me the flight was the same price so no worries and she just had to put me on hold while she booked that for me. TWENTY minutes later she comes back on and informs me that actually the flight is another $40, plus the $50 dollar re-booking fee and "is that alright ma'am?"
IS THAT ALRIGHT??! NO THAT'S NOT ALRIGHT, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU ASK ME IF THATS ALRIGHT. I'VE BEEN ON HOLD FOR AN HOUR SO THAT YOU COULD TELL ME A $270 FLIGHT HAS SOMEHOW MAGICALLY BECOME A $370 FLIGHT.
So I asked why the increase since she had previously told me the flights were the same price. "Well its a month earlier." So what. "So its more expensive." You knew that before when you told me it was the same price. "Well its actually more. Is that okay?"
IS THAT OKAY??! NO THAT'S NOT OKAY, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU ASK ME IF THATS OKAY? YOU'RE JUST GOING TO PUT ME ON HOLD FOR ANOTHER HOUR AND THEN FORCE ME TO PAY WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT ME TO PAY!!!!!!!
Just book it. "Okay I apologize ma'am I'm just going to put you on hold for a few minutes while I book this flight for you."
I WILL COME OVER THERE SET YOUR CUBICLE ON FIRE AND CHOKE YOU WITH YOUR HEADSET WHILE I WATCH THE PICTURES OF YOU AND YOUR CAT 'MITTENS' BURN!!!!!!
Yeah, whatever, thanks.


 

GPs

I hate doctors. More specifically, I hate male doctors, since I have never actually had a bad experience with a female physician.

I hate going to the doctor. I loathe going to the doctor. If I am sitting in one of those tiny rooms in a doctor's office on those paper sheets that only half cover the actual bed-stand-thing after waiting at least two hours before I even get to the tiny room, its because I think that I am dying, I most likely am dying, and if I stayed home I probably would die, and whoever found me would cry and say "oh, if only she had given in and gone to the doctor all of this could have been avoided!" So, sometimes I find myself cranky and sick and haggard at the doctor's office. (If I have showered and put on a bra it is a miracle - which is to say I usually go greasy and bra-less. It isn't pretty.) This is usually the first thing I say to Dr. Dumbass when he walks into the room: I hate going to the doctor. I know people come in for every little ache and sniffle and waste hours of your time with their whining/need for attention. I assure you that I do not do that and the only reason that I am here today is because I have been <insert whatever has been wrong> for <insert ridiculous length of time> and I am desperate.

Some highlights:

One time, I had a high fever and an excrutiatingly sore throat for about 3 weeks. If you have that for more than 3 days, you are supposed to go in. But with my attitude being how it is, I waited as long as humanly possible hoping it would get better. I finally dragged myself in, most likely collapsed on the paper bed-thing and croaked something about searing pain, I don't really remember on account of the fever. I do remember him asking me to take my shirt off so that he could cup my breast and then giving me a fifteen minute lecture about smoking. I also seem to recall asking what information he was able to gather from feeling me up and wouldn't a test for strep throat possibly be more productive. He told me about the wonders of apple cider vinegar and sent me on my way highly doubtful that apple cider vinegar would adequately fend off a streptococcal infection.   

One time, I fell down a flight of cement stairs leading to a basement in a house where I was dog-sitting. The dogs were hovering and barking around me, licking my face but not running off to get me help. Somehow I made it back upstairs to the couch where I stayed until the following morning, only getting up to hobble over to the door to let the dogs in and out. This one was bad. I went to a doctor the next day. I told him what happened and that I was afraid I may have broken my tailbone. He asked me bend over the paper bed-thing, slipped on a pair of gloves, and put two fingers up my bum.
"Ya, I'd guess probably broken."
"Alright that's fine, what next."
"Oh well there's nothing you can do, I guess you could buy one of those air donuts to sit on if you wanted, but I would say just try to take it easy for a bit."
So what did sticking your digits up my bum have anything to do with it?? If there is nothing you can do either way, then why not just say that, slap me on the ass, and send me on my way.   

My most current experience with GPs to diagnose my recent mystery illness was no better, probably even more frustrating because I had to go back so many times, explain myself repeatedly, go through numerous and ultimately useless tests, forcefully insist that my symptoms were not "normal" and that "waiting and seeing" was not a satisfactory solution. Of course I finally went to a female physician who brilliantly thought that maybe listening to a patient describe their symptoms could be helpful in treating them.

I waste my time (which is just as vaulable as theirs!) to pay $50 a pop for some condescending, arrogant, self-important, over-paid, pervert to give me the up-down while either ignoring me completely or flippantly brushing off my concerns and then sending me on my way.

And that's a little bit about why I hate GPs.

A Restricted Diet

Lately what has really been grinding my gears has been a ban on certain foods handed down to me by new doctor. I used to pity people who had to pain-stakingly guard their diet, and now I am one of them. I'm a pretty low-maintenance lady, never giving a whole lot of thought to food besides my fiber intake, and this new diet is proving to be a real hindrance.

What can I have for breakfast that doesn't include caffeine or dairy or eggs. McDonalds is out, Tim Hortons is out, those Boost shakes, waffles/pancakes, yogurt, milk and cereal. And a cup of fresh fruit just does not cut it. (Don't even say muffins or donuts cuz you know that is just a giant slice of cake in a different shape and I have a wedding gown to squeeze into.) I started out by spending a fortune on egg free/dairy free waffles that I ate with the fresh fruit, but that's just not enough fiber in the morning. Threw me off for days. I decided to go back to cereal and choke it down with vanilla soy beverage.

And lunch! What's a sandwich without mayo and some thick slices of cheddar? A pretty lame-ass sandwich.

Bye-bye sweet pizza, lasagna, double bacon cheeseburger (love hurts!), icecream, how can life be sunny side up without two sunny-side-ups smiling back at me next to the hashbrowns?

I will be eating much healthier now thanks to grilled salmon with a side of rice, soy, lots of fruit and veggies, and my body will have to find a different fuel to get me through the day now that caffeine is out so that's good too I guess.* My intestines will thank me for it. But I am still feeling really quite pouty over this whole thing.

(*Although I have promised sweet, sweet coffee that it will continue to be my secret lover - in back stairways and dimly lit rooms, no one has to know...)  

Back to the Grind

Alright I'm back. Took a little longer than expected. New post up soon!

~lethal lizzie

Haitus

Sorry folks, I know we all love a good rant. Unfortunately I have been, and am still, on a temporary haitus while I deal with actual real problems going on in my life, my usual bloggy "dramadies" will have to be put on the back burner. Will be back with more fury in the near future....

~Lethal Lizzie

Working on my Fitness

Yesterday I got home from work and I knew supper was a couple hours away. I wanted a snack. And there were so many goodies to choose from. I decided to be healthy and have strawberries. But you know what goes really good with strawberries? Two-bite brownies. So I had about four of those. (You know, making healthy choices is hard when you are out of the house twelve hours a day and don't have hundreds of dollars to spend on food! A McBurger satisfies my hunger and costs two bucks.)

Yesterday I got home from work and I planned on heading right back out to the gym. But I was exhausted, and cranky, and cold, and hungry, and knew the gym would be packed at six o'clock on a Tuesday. So I ate my strawberries and brownies tucked under my blankets in bed and started watching a new series about Zombies. And I was so cozy by the time the first show was over that I watched another one. The Zombie Apocalypse is so much more interesting than the treadmill at the gym. Of course, by then it was getting late and there was still dinner to make and chores to do before bed.

And then... the GUILT MONSTER Rrrraawrrr! It's hard to stay on the fitness wagon. Shouldn't I be able to give myself a break without feeling like a total failure? Nope! Not if I want to get in shape! Starting a gym membership makes you feel bad about yourself in entirely new and twisted ways.

Sidewalk Etiquette

First of all, if anyone has not seen The Oatmeal's Minor Differences comic about motorists cutting each other off versus pedestrians cutting each other off, you need to go check it out here:

http://theoatmeal.com/panel/minor_differences?f0=motorists-jpg&f1=pedestrians-jpg

While I'm not prone to road rage, I do get some sidewalk rage. Especially working in a busy downtown core, people sauntering completely oblivious to the flow of traffic can really grind my gears. Here's my shortlist: 

• Ping-Ponging: These people meander back and forth looking anywhere except straight ahead. They are impossible to pass without bumping into because just when you think they are far enough away on a diagonal trajectory to get by them, they suddenly swing back the other way inevitably cutting you off. (You'd think since they are looking around they would notice that you would like to get by, but nope, they don't.)
• Sidewalk Hogging: These people like to all walk side by side, even if there are three, four or five of them in a group (two large people is more common and just as bad). They also typically move very slowly - maybe you have to walk that slowly to stay synchronized. Also very difficult to pass. You may even have to detour slighty to get around them. (Or start singing the Red Rover song then burst through the line - I have not tried this.) 
• Sudden Stopping: These people have been walking along together having a conversation and realize they are about to part ways, or reach their destination, before the conversation is over. So, they stop. Suddenly. Right where they were walking. No moving to the side to make room for everybody else walking directly behind them who would like to continue on. It doesn't seem to matter that they are at the bottom of an escalator, or in a doorway, or right in the middle of the sidewalk/path/hallway etc. 
• Tail-Gaiting: This one might just be me, so I put it at the bottom. But I have a significant personal space bubble and nothing creeps me out more than someone walking right behind me. If they are passing me that is fine, but its when someone parks right on my heels and I can feel my hair move when they cough on the back of my neck... gives me the heebe-geebes. Plus I get really self-conscious that they are staring at my bum. There's lots of sidewalk - go find your own.  

Is there anything I missed?

**There may have been one or two incidents when I was practically climbing out of my car window to shout vulgarities at a fellow motorist, totally his fault, but typically I find that level of road rage just plain ridiculous. When I see people honking and screaming and ramming each other during morning rush hour I wonder - how can you be that angry already?? Its 7 a.m! There will be plenty of stuff to piss you off in the next 12 hours. Relax and drink your coffee. One time I cut somebody off, totally my fault, and he drove by me, for real no kidding, shaking his fist in the air at me. ("Shake harder, boy!") And then looked completely dumb-founded when I burst out laughing. It makes me think of this:

http://www.youtube.com/embed/GrCYX5lxVQo?rel=0



Forever Winter

I know we are all getting sick of the complaining, but I am so sick of this winter!!! Enough already!

Seriously, yesterday it occured to me, wearing a short-sleeved shirt outside is some completely bizarre and totally foreign concept. I saw them folded in my drawer, and I honestly wondered for a second why I have them. Do I wear these?? I have no recollection of a time when waking up and heading outside would not require at least three layers.

I'm trying to picture my trip to sunny Arizona next month (where it is hot Hot HOT!) and I actually can't imagine wearing next to nothing. Won't my skin be cold? I still carry around my mittens in my pockets.

A little S.A.D. anyone?

Zumba Zumba Zumba

You know what doesn't grind my gears? ZUMBAAAA!!

I went to my first Zumba class the other day with a friend of mine, who I was very grateful to have for moral support, and I had a BLAST!

I know I looked a fool, jumping and gyrating awkwardly, with sweat dripping down my back and a huge dumb grin plastered to my face. But it made me remember how much I missed dancing.

I don't go to clubs. Nowadays it only reminds me of how young I used to be. I end up feeling wildly out of place, or like some cougar trying to re-live my youth. I've had my party days and I have no interest in re-visiting them. (And getting hit on by some 19 yr old makes me feel like a perv.) But I used to love to grab a good friend, go out and just dance -close my eyes and feel the beat and dance and dance and dance. Its hard to explain the euphoria, but it was like nothing in the world mattered. And I had forgotten how much I missed that release.

I found it again in a small Zumba class led by the exuberant and flamboyant Franco, who could shake it in a way no man should be able to. And it felt fantastic.

Pregnant?

This one isn't just for me, but also for all my lady friends out there dealing with the same thing. The "oooooooh, maybe you're pregnant?" query that we all have to deal with anytime we are bloated/cranky/tired/nauseous/peeing/sore/wearing purple on a weekday etc... This one really gets my goat. Maybe that's why people like to ask it so much.

So here is a list of some "symptoms" people like to point out to me and their corresponding non-baby-related reasons:

Weight-Gain
-I have gained 20 lbs in less than twelve months. Its not baby-weight. Its fat. I joined the gym, leave me alone.

Frequent Peeing
-I was recently told I have 50% of the amount of water in my body that I should have. My anxiety causes excess sweating and increases the frequency of urination. Now I am supposed to drink 4-6 litres of water a day. It makes me pee a lot.

Nausea/Dizzy-Spells
-I am not a morning person - getting out of bed at six in the morning is enough to make me nauseous. Also: spending the next twelve to thirteen hours stressed out and running around like a mad-woman; eating irregularly or not eating at all; dehydration; low blood pressure; not getting enough sleep; depression; anxiety.

Fatigue
See above. In addition, at the end of every long day, dragging my expanding ass to the gym.

Forgetfulness/Mood Swings/Irritability
Depression; anxiety; stress; being too freaking busy to remember every single detail of every single thing and raging at anybody who makes this more difficult/adds to my to-do list/gets in my way.

(**Yep, as you can see, I'm pretty much the most desirable woman on the planet)

Hopefully my own personal reasons, and so so many more that somebody else might have which would be much much worse (infertility, recent miscarriage, use your own imagination), are enough to illustrate that asking somebody if they are "with child" is a very personal and potentially weighty question. And should not be considered idle chatter >> Do you know if its going to rain tomorrow? What are the intimate details of your reproductive system and current sexual relationship?

When somebody thoughtlessly and flippantly suggests, to me, the possibility that I am pregnant, without knowing anything about me personally at all, I am always tempted to respond with something along the lines of, "No, why? How often do you engage in unprotected sex?" Maybe I should go into exhaustive detail about my menstrual cycle, since that is really what they're asking about, is it not? Would they think that was inapproriate? Well so was the question!

Hello, I am not available to take your call....

... please (DO NOT HANG UP ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE!!!!!) ...leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

The worst part about going through the whole song and dance and riggamarole of checking voicemails is to make it all the way through the automated menu torture only to find that the caller has hung-up on my voicemail. Why would someone listen all the way to the end of the voicemail intro just to hang up after the beep?

If you don't want to leave a message then hang up before you are asked to do so. And if you don't want me to call you back, why are you even calling in the first place?

"Tramp Stamp"

There are very few places a woman can get a large tattoo on her body. Not many of us have big bulging calves or biceps to put a piece on. A chest tattoo is hard to hide, encroaches on the boobies, and will start to wrinkle and sag. A tummy tattoo will stretch and deform after pregnancy. A woman's back - a woman's back is a perfect, broad canvas on which to place a piece of art. And by far the most practical. But - in what I find to be a glaring testament that misogyny is alive and well - any artwork, portrait, drawing or scribble found on a woman's back is called a tramp stamp.

I myself have a tattoo placed on my back. It is not a butterfly flitting out of my ass crack. It is not a name in hearts, it is not a dolphin circling my tailbone, or some tribal-shaped V pointing towards my bum. Instead, it is a rather large backpiece, about 7 inches high and 5 inches wide. It took over seven hours to trace, outline, colour and shade. In one sitting. And yet, it too, is generally referred to as my tramp stamp. I know men who have backed out or called it quits after a quarter of that amount of work. And many women with much more intense and beautiful work done than mine. Why can a guy get some half-ass, crooked, cliche, tribal/barbwire arm-band tattooed onto him and its not called a Douchebag-Band? But when a woman does the same thing, somehow the label 'tramp' comes into play?

Just another little example of how in our culture a woman's expression of self is immediately insulted, trivialized, and discounted. And we all just go along with it. Are we even consciously aware of it?

Turn Signals

This is something I noticed almost immediately when I moved out west. I think learning to use your turn signals wasn't a requirement for passing the driver's test or something. And it is extremely frustrating.

Turn signals are not meant to confirm that you, the driver, are turning. (Hopefully you know when you are turning.) It is meant to inform me, the other motorist, of your intentions, on account of me not being psychic.

I couldn't count, in the five or so years that I've lived here, how many times I have been sitting in my car waiting for somebody to drive by so I could turn out, only to see them turn onto a street fifty metres behind me. (I have drawn a diagram because that sentence made no sense and there was no better way to say it - see below.) Or I've pulled up behind someone in those lanes where you can either go straight or turn and I'm stuck behind them waiting at the light because although they intend to turn left they did not feel like informing any other driver around them of their decision.

There are so many other situations where this comes up in intersections and parking lots. I can't think of them all right now and it would take much too long to describe each one. But if you think about it, the turn signal is an ingenious concept and poorly under-utilized here. Its hard to trust other drivers on the road, because its hard to know what someone else is thinking. But this brilliantly simple system of blinking lights clearly and quickly lets other drivers around you know what you're doing, so that they can avoid smashing into you, or wasting their time waiting for you. Turn signals - use them!

The C-Train

I could make this one about public transit in general, but there would just be too much to say. Plus the C-train really grinds my gears. It also induces vomiting. (Okay, not so much vomiting as severe nausea.)

People ask me why I use the bus for commuting to and from work instead of the train. The bus can take up to three times as long, depending on traffic. The bus also costs more, since with the bus you have to use a ticket every time. (Our LRT operates on the honour system - you are expected to buy a ticket and there are random surprise checks to strike the fear of God into people. If, however, you travel during rush hour with 10,000 other commuters there is some safety in numbers and many people I know don't buy tickets for rush hour transit). The bus driver makes you show a ticket.

Here's why I take the bus:
On Monday I wanted to go to the mall by my house after work, which also happens to be my train stop. So at ten after 5, I squeezed myself onto the C-Train. As usual, we are packed in like sardines in a can. I had managed to make myself a nice little bubble until the next stop and a couple dozen more people crammed themselves in.

If you know me, you know I HATE the sound of snot. I hate sniffling, I hate nose-blowing, I just hate it. That I can visualize your gross snotty snot running all over the place just.. ugh! (Which is why, out of consideration, I will never blow my nose in front of you.)

Well the lady to the left of me cozies up to my ear and begins to sniffle. And I'm not talking shy little sniffles. I'm talking full on, nose brimming with mucous sniffles. In my ear. So I shift to my right slightly. The guy in front of me also has the sniffles. His sniffles are worse than he thinks, and his little polite sniffles are not cutting it because now he has snot running onto his lip. So I turn back to my left. The lady on my left decides once and for all, with one thundering sniffle, she is going to get her snot under control. In my ear. So I quickly shift back to my right just in time to see the guy in front of me (who is now looking down at his I-Pad) has a long thick stream of snot dangling from his nose. I could have vomitted on the spot. But since the unspoken rules of social etiquette are not a mystery to me, I did not throw up all over my fellow C-train riders. I gagged quietly to myself, looked at the ceiling, and tried to think happy thoughts.

You would think that the majority of the people on the C-Train would be people like you and I. Regular, decent, polite, not entirely socially inept, folk coming to and from work. Especially during rush hour. But this is not the case. There are countless horror stories that could be told about the hygiene, the B.O., the crazies, the gropers, and shovers, and backpacks and strollers. The bus might take longer, and sure there's always a drunk or two, but at least I don't have to throw elbows to fight my way on or off, and I have the space to sit unmolested and read a book quietly in my own seat. And if someone is dripping snot onto my lap, I can give them a dirty look and move to a different seat further away on the bus.

It's A Slippery Slope

Here’s another phrase I can’t stand.

If I’ve gotten suckered into a debate (there happens to be several people in my life who love a good rousing debate) and someone says “its a slippery slope” as a justification for their argument, as far as I’m concerned the conversation is over. Because now we are just talking in absurdities. And instead of getting dragged into a reasonable debate about relevant and important subjects (which I don’t always mind), now I’m having a hypothetical argument about ridiculous and non-existant situations where anything we say has no bearing on reality or the actual argument itself. (This is what I call “quibbling” - which is just argument for argument’s sake. Don’t even bother; there are better ways to spend my time.)

I find this statement comes up a lot when discussing something like gay marriage, or legalizing marijuana.

“It’s a slippery slope. If we let a man marry a man, what next? What if he wants to marry his horse?Are you gonna let a man marry a horse (cow, sheep, its almost always a farm animal)?” Nobody mentioned farm animals. Nobody is talking about farm animals. Well, except you. Do you want to marry a horse? The argument is not whether or not it would be appropriate for that farmer to marry Babe. We are talking about two human beings, who want to commit to sharing their lives with each other in marriage and everything that entails.

If someone says “it’s a slippery slope” there really isn’t a response I can come up with that isn’t sarcastic. And I’m sure there are goat-marrying crackpots out there, but that’s not really the point. I bet when African Americans were finally allowed to vote somebody warned that it was gonna be a slippery slope. “If we let Black people vote, what next? Women??!” (While we’re here I’ll just mention that Blacks in Canada were seen as persons and given the right to vote 1837, whereas women did not get that consideration until 1929 – almost 100 years later; in the U.S it was 1870 and 1920 respectively). And I’m sure people were crying, “What next? Are we going to let my dog vote now?!”

When you insert “slippery slope” into a reasonable argument you’re suggesting that by even considering it we are all going to lose it completely. As if opening your mind to new concepts will result in a complete and utter loss of all reason and rational thought. Debating with people like that is a slippery slope too - towards futility.

I Would Have Done That

Over the last decade I have had a lot of housemates. I have had some wonderful, amazing housemates with whom I have forged tight bonds and still am close friends with to this day. I have also had roommates from hell. I could start a whole other blog called “Roommates From Hell” and fill it with outrageous anecdotes. I’ve lived with a lot of people who “would have” cleaned the bathroom, or “would have” thrown out their garbage. I lived with one roommate who I can only assume was doing a study on the breeding habits of the millipedes who took up residence under his plates in the kitchen, otherwise he “would have” done the dishes. Home is not the only place I hear this useless and ridiculous sentiment, but it is where I learned to loathe it.

I am expecting somebody to do something. They tell me they will do it. I wait and wait for them to do it. I finally do it for them. Then they come in and see it is done, or see me doing it, and say “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, I would have.”

No. Who are you lying to – me or yourself? If you were actually going to do it then you would have done it. You were given plenty of time to do it, and I know that because I didn’t want to do it and was putting it off hoping you would eventually get around to it. And if you really feel bad that I ended up doing it, how is saying “I would have done that” supposed to make anybody feel better? “Oh, really? Well in that case, thank you so much! Your good intentions made the work a breeze!”

As a good friend of mine likes to say – don’t piss on my shoes and tell me its raining. How about next time, spare me the bullshit and just get it done.

Close Talkers

I knew this girl in high-school who was what you could call a "close-talker." Except in addition to that, she would hold my wrist with her bony claw fingers while she was talking. I would back up and she would move closer, until eventually I was practically pinned against a locker. Still makes me shudder to this day. I can't remember my Woodshop teacher's name but he was a close talker too. And a yeller. One time he was yelling in my face about something - although I can't remember what - and suddenly he stopped and asked if I had pizza for lunch. Then he said "Oh no wait, that was me." Ugh!

Recently there has been a new close-talker in my life. I back up and he moves closer. We go about this little close-talking dance until finally I can wriggle myself out of the conversation. Once, we started the conversation on opposite sides of the desk. Feeling safe, I engaged him in a longer conversation then usual, until I noticed he was slowly moving closer. Eventually he, very slowly, made his way around the desk until he was actually standing over me in the chair! I realize in his case it might be a hearing issue so I always let it slide.

I may have a slighter larger personal comfort zone than most people; my "bubble" extends probably about two or three feet in each direction. But I honestly don't think we need to be able to smell eachother's breath in order to have a conversation. Blech! There just doesn't seem to be a polite way to tell someone, who genuinely wants to spend some time and have a conversation with me, to back the hell up.

It won't let me embed the video but here's the YouTube link for the Seinfeld clip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGVSIkEi3mM

you know what REALLY grinds my gears?

... that I don't even have time to write a fun little blog about what grinds my gears.

New post hopefully up later today

RAWWRR! RAGE MONSTER!!!

I hate pretty much everyone and everything today. I feel over-worked and under-appreciated and I just want to go to the gym and sweat it out a bit then curl up in my bed and watch Disney classics to sooth my soul which of course I obviously can't do because I never get to do anything I want to do. I can't even get a spare freakin second to eat some breakfast (in this case - a chicken burger from Wendy's because I am also battling a Hunger Monster)

The Immigration Debate

An article caught my eye today on CBC.ca 

“Politician Likens Illegal Immigrants to Feral Hogs”

Representative Virgil Peck said Tuesday that his remarks during a Monday meeting of the house appropriations committee were "regrettable." The committee was debating whether to try to control the wild hog population by using gunmen in helicopters. Peck said, "if shooting these immigrating feral hogs works, maybe we have found a solution to our illegal immigration problem." The remark drew gasps from the audience and other legislators. Peck later said he was joking and told the Lawrence Journal-World after the hearing that his constituents are upset with illegal immigration.

This is something I think about a lot as a Canadian watching the ‘Immigrant Debate’ in the U.S. I was there last year when Arizona enacted their immigration bill and I remember being incredulous, and disgusted, and saddened. And embarrassed! The entire community that we stay in is maintained, cultivated, and kept absolutely spotless and beautiful by the Mexicans who work there. They are quick, and efficient, and friendly. And just like anybody else, want a good life for themselves and their family. They don’t even presume to expect an honest wage for an honest day’s work. My heart went out to them. And let’s just get this straight before we move on – they are not stealing American jobs. They don’t sneak across the border and become teachers or dental hygenists. They are doing the jobs that nobody else wants to do.


When have Americans gotten it in their heads that only Americans can pursue the American dream? The words on their beloved Statue of Liberty read:  

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door"

When did this become no longer true? The population is made up of the children and grand-children and great-great-grand-children of immigrants. When was it decided that the country now belongs to them alone and they to get to prevent other immigrants and refugees from “taking over the country”???


But the most ridiculous thing is this fence. The  $49 BILLION fence that stretches a whole 700 miles (out of a 1,969 mile-long border). If a person really wants to cross the border to pursue a better life for themselves or their family, they are going to cross the border, half-ass fence in the way or not.


My thinking is, why not spend that $49 billion on immigration, integration, or citizenship programs? Now, Lizzie, you say, you live in Canada not the U.S. This is not our problem. But the problem is, I hear the same kind of ignorant and bigoted thinking coming out of mouths of CANADIANS!! And we need to nip that in the bud right now. People say they will take our jobs and take our space (take up housing/land, drain our resources etc). This kind of talk really should not be tossed around in Canada. Let’s put this into perspective. Canada is what – the 2^nd largest country in the world? 30 million people live in Canada. 30 million people live in just New York City alone. I think we have the space/resources to help a neighbour out.


I realize this was a really long post and I apologize. But the ‘Immigrant Debate’ really grinds my gears!