Thursday, December 16, 2010

Nobody is polite anymore.

So, as some of you may know (also known as all of you, since all the people who follow this blog are people who actually know me), I'm a pretty polite person. That's how I was raised and even when I want to be really rude, especially to customers, I can't quite pull it off.

As a result of my upbringing, I also fucking loathe rude people. I would actually rather have a ten minute conversation with a fucking moron than a two minute conversation with a rude person. Seriously. That is how much I hate them.

Obviously, my love of politeness makes me miserable at work. I never encounter as many rude people as I do when I head into work. I always forget that I cease to be a human being the second I put on my vest. But really, it fucking serves me right, doesn't it?

For example, I had a "conversation" (I hesitate to call it anything resembling that but can't think of a better word) with a customer yesterday that went as follows.

Kirsten is ringing through customers at her till when she hears some dickwad yelling like a big dickface.


Kirsten: $11.19, please.


Kirsten continues to ignore the dickface, who proceeds to make his way closer and closer to her till, still yelling like a dickwad. He finally makes his googly-eyed way over to her till.

BD: I was calling you, you know!

Kirsten: Oh, were you? I figured you were calling a child. Usually, "excuse me, miss" or something of the sort works a lot better on me.

BD: There's no need to be rude! With a super horrified expression like Kirsten had just slapped him across the face with a rotten octopus.

Kirsten: I don't think that I'm the rude one here...

BD: HEY NOW. Like ohmygod he is so offended. Where's your public relations, girl?!

Kirsten: Where are your manners?


And he literally did not think that he was behaving inappropriately by attempting to call me the way one calls a dog.

Speaking of people trying to get my attention as though I'm a dog, here's another gem from when I transferred to this store.

Kirsten is rolling a rack when she hears someone snapping their fingers repeatedly. Thinking that the person was probably one of those annoying assholes who listened to their music super loudly and couldn't keep still, she kept rolling until she heard someone call out.

Super dickhead customer I will fucking keel you you motherfucker: UMM HIIIII? In a super indignant voice.

The bitch who is going to slaughter you motherfucker: ... Yeah?

SDCIWFKYYM: I was trying to get your attention! Didn't you hear me snapping?

TBWIGTSYM: ... You were snapping at me to try and get my attention?

SDCIWFKYYM: Uhhhh YEAH. Listen, where are the -

TBWIGTSYM: I am not a dog. Starts to walk away.

SDCIWFKYYM: Aren't you going to answer my question?!?!?!?! Oh my GOD!

TBWIGTSYM: No, I'm not.

Kirsten walks away to continue rolling and that motherfucker has to try and find his own stuff in the store FUCK YOU DICKHEAD.

Basically, this all comes down to the same thing.

I love how older people bitch about how rude "my" generation is. Most of the people that I have issues with at work are adults acting like petulant children. That isn't to say people my age aren't rude, it's just that it seems to happen to me a lot more with older people.

And seriously, fucking thank us when we wrap all of your used dishes in newspaper so they don't break. Do you realize how much we fucking hate doing it? Do you realize what a massive time waster it is for us? Do you realize that we don't actually have to do it?

I hate my job.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010


So this is a bit of an unusual rant for this blog, and for me generally, but this really pissed me off, so I'm going to talk about it.

I went to the grocery store today to get some baking supplies (... and stop at Starbucks so what don't judge me). On my way out of the house, I was outside for all of three seconds before I realized that I was really going to need a scarf and gloves. So I went back in and grabbed my Ravenclaw scarf and some little finger gloves. It was seriously windy as hell and I was pissed.

Anyway, I was heading to the bus stop, listening to my Deathly Hallows audiobook (Stephen Fry, of course) and right when I walked to the bus stop, the bus was waiting at the light, so I was all pleased with myself. I stepped onto the bus, still feeling quite pleased with myself (don't ask why, because I have no idea! It's not like I knew I was timing it perfectly) and sat down in an empty seat at the front, because I hate sitting next to strangers on the bus oh god it makes me want to die.

Being intensely self-conscious, it took me about thirty seconds on the bus to realize that two frat boys were looking at my scarf and laughing to each other. So, being nosey, I pretended that I didn't notice. I paused my iPod so I could hear what they were saying. And then I had to resist the urge to strangle them both with my scarf.

First off, they were the type of guys that say stuff like "dude" and "bro" and "man" and stuff. Kaydee and I call them "dudebros". And they were talking about how nerdy I was (I am, thank you), which didn't bother me, but then they were saying that people who liked HP were losers who were unhappy with their own lives and people who hadn't "advanced" past childhood. Oh, and that apparently people who like the series itself are people who are boring and wish that they were constantly worried about dying. I've got news for you, I'm an extremely paranoid human being and I already am constantly worried that I'm going to be brutally killed. I just don't think that He Who Must Not Be Named will do it.

I really just wanted to bitch them out for it. Like, oh, since it's okay for you to judge me, let me express my opinions too! Firstly, I think that you probably didn't graduate high school, since your constant use of "like" suggests an inability to articulate your meagre, unintelligible thoughts.

Secondly, I think that you're both really insecure, since you both insist on ending sentences with some variant of "man". Are you afraid that he's not listening?

Thirdly, an asshole who talks on a pretty empty bus about someone on the bus (sitting not even two rows away, I might add) is a douchebag. Put the pair of you together, and you're nattering like bitchy girls. GOD PUT YOUR CLAWS AWAY AND STOP ACTING LIKE A VAGINA, BRO.

And lastly, anyone who thinks HP is an exclusively children's series is sadly mistaken. There is some fucked up shit in HP that is obviously not meant for kids. As the series advances, it gets increasingly tragic and violent (DOBBY DUMBLEDORE HEDWIG LUPIN TONKS FRED GEORGE'S EAR :( :( :( :( ). What kinds of books did you read as children that make you think that this is tame shit? How silly of me, you're probably still only mildly literate at best.

Don't talk shit about Harry Potter. I will send my dragon to burn your house down and my Hippogriff will fuck you up.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Dragon Quidditch?

I haven't ranted for a bit, but that doesn't mean my life has been rage-free. My life has had so much rage in it that I can hardly function lately.

So, in no particular order, here are the things that I'm hating right now.

1. The "abortion is the undercover Holocaust" speaking thing that was on campus. I can't actually begin to articulate what happened to my brain when I saw a sign that . Basically, my brain shut down, I couldn't hear anything and I was pretty much blind from rage. It was called "Echoes of the Holocaust", so right away I was pissed, because THE HOLOCAUST WAS A GENOCIDE AND YOU CLEARLY DON'T KNOW WHAT GENOCIDE MEANS. The point that he was trying to make (oh, did I mention it was a man? I don't hate men or anything, but why the fuck are so many pro-life activists men?) was that abortion is a genocide because it dehumanizes the group being targeted, along with a few other points that were really just stretching it. Did I mention that a fetus isn't a human? Oh yeah. How can you dehumanize something that isn't human? It has no upper brain function, and isn't that something we try to claim to differentiate ourselves from plants, for example? Plants have no upper brain function and a fetus doesn't either. So really, if abortion is murder, so is pulling up carrots from the ground. Excuse me, though, I've got to leave this point off because I'm about to complete my genocide of potatoes. (Om nom.)

2. The insane levels of chauvinism that seem to be floating around me all the time. A supervisor at work is clearly a chauvinist and I don't fucking care where you're from, when you come to a country where men and women are equal, you have to drop that mindset or I'm going to cut you. And I have this feeling that nothing I say to any of my "superiors" at work will change anything, since they're men too, and complaining to a man about how inherently sexist a man is (especially when they're around the same age and clearly have similar mentalities about women) doesn't really seem like a good idea. I don't even want to think about this anymore.

3. The leaning guy on the bus is STILL on the bus whenever I take it. I've been trying to catch earlier buses and it's like he fucking knows and he keeps taking the same bus as me. I asked him if he had an inner ear problem... probably about a week and a half ago, maybe two, so he's mostly stopped, but i looked like a psycho. It went something like this.

Me: (with bags under my eyes the size of something really really big and eyes twitchy from lack of sleep) Do you have an inner ear problem?

Leaning jackass douchebag dickbag that deserves to die: ... What?

Me: Do you have an inner ear problem. You seem incapable of standing up straight and insistent on attempting to crush my ribcage with your back pack twice a week.

Him: ... Sorry...

I haven't had a problem with him since, but why do I have to say something that makes me seem like a dick to make him stop acting like a dick? I mean, really, if he wasn't acting like a douchebag in the first place, I wouldn't have had to say anything.

4. Drama. For the most part (half, maybe? I dunno) it's a bit beyond everyone's control, but there is behaviour that reminds me too much of someone that I don't want to be reminded of and it's really a bit like high school. I'm hoping everything will settle down, because I'm sick of it, but if it doesn't stop, some people will get punched in the face (the ones that can't really help it) and some will get cut (the people who need to stop because I can't handle this).

Really, I'm way too much of a pacifist to ever actually intentionally hurt someone (unless I feel that I'm in danger), but I might threaten to and I might have really violent dreams about it.

Well, not even the latter. I had a dream that a few of my dear friends and I were playing Quidditch on dragons, and our dragons made a rainbow. And then I got hit (or almost hit? Can't remember) by a bludger directed by a Beater and my dragon burned him to death. Serves you right for being in Hufflepuff, you fucking loser.

... Yeah.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Part time friends.

I've sort of already ranted about this before, but I don't care, I'm doing it again and if you don't like it, stop reading now. But really, keep reading.

Okay. So I have a few friends that try to pull this "part-time friend" bullshit with me.

What is a part-time friend, you might ask?

A part-time friend is a person that you don't see very often or talk to very often. You probably don't even hear from them very often, and when you do, it's usually because they want to talk about themselves. Do you have one? I bet you do.

I fucking hate these people.

Sorry, I don't want to have you text me or talk to me on Facebook just so you can talk about your new significant other and how great they are. I don't want this to happen because you're not going to speak to me again until you need to tell SOMEONE about all of the super fantastic interesting things going on in your life.

If I'm having some kind of get together, don't be surprised if you aren't invited. Don't try to wrangle yourself an invite if you aren't invited. If you aren't invited, it's because I don't consider us close enough to bother right now, and/or because your behaviour is pissing me off and I currently wish that you would die.

The one that really gets me is people who talk to me just to talk about themselves. I have one "friend" in particular that does this. I go months without hearing a word from them, and suddenly they're texting me or messaging me on Facebook, talking about their life, seeking advice, and then promptly shutting up once they've used my vast amounts of wisdom. It's another couple of months til I hear from them again, and the same thing happens.

Here's some brutal honesty. I probably give you my advice because I want to be able to say "I told you so" when you don't follow it and end up fucking things up for yourself. I may not say it to your face, but my god am I fucking thinking it. Even if I don't give you advice out of spite, I do it because I think I'm generally rather good at it, and any advice that I have to give is good practice for when people that actually matter to me ask for it.

In short:

If you treat me like shit, if you only try to be present in my life when it suits you, if you only want to be included in things I'm doing because your other "friends" will be there, if you only talk to me for advice, if you literally don't know the first thing about what's going on in my life, if you can't even be bothered to ask me how I am once in a while, if you're going to try and excuse your douchebaggery by saying you've been busy with your significant other, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you to fuck the fuck off.

If you do this, my tags seem to indicate that I really fucking hate this, to the point that I used three different tags to say "I hate you". Please take this as a warning. And do not try and call me out if you think this post is about you. It's not really about anyone in particular, but if you think this applies to you, it probably does. So make your decision. If you want to try and stay friends, great. If not, I obviously don't really care.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Reason # I don't even know anymore because there are SO MANY

For why I fucking hate my job.

So today, Michele and I were tidying up the store (see, sometimes I forget that the minute I put my stupid vest on, I cease to become a human being, so sometimes I'm completely amazed at what fucking rude pigs people are when they come to shop at that shithole) and we ran into Cindy (I love her) when we headed down another aisle to keep picking clothes up from the floor because it's far too difficult for anybody to do it when they knock things over because they are FAR TOO BUSY DO NOT BE SO INSOLENT.

Yeah. So we went down the vintage aisle, and we ran into Cindy, so we all started hanging stuff up and the like together. And I noticed that it smelled there, and I finally decided to ask Michele about it, thinking that she had probably farted (she's just like that, it's hilarious). And I turned around, and she just had this look on her face that I have never seen before, and she says, "You guys." I look at what she's looking at and oh god what the fuck why is this happening.

Have you guessed what it was?

If you guessed that it was a pile of clothing for men (button up shirt, pants and tie) with A PILE OF FUCKING SHIT ON IT, you're right.

What the fuck is wrong with you you disgusting human being there are bathrooms that are open ALL the time and people shit in there ALL the time and I hope we fucking see who you are on the camera and I will find some way to obtain your image from the security video, I shall blow the photo up and make sure that I put it EVERYWHERE in the store. It will just be sheets of paper with YOUR SICK FUCKING FACE on them and it won't say anything underneath. And if you ever come into the store again you'll be like WHY IS MY FACE EVERYWHERE and I'll see you and I'll say YOU SICK FUCKING FUCK IT'S THE SHITTER IT'S THE SHITTER because you're a disgusting person and you don't deserve happiness or nice things and SERIOUSLY ARE YOU A CHILD.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Bus etiquette.

I never used to have to take the bus, but since I've moved away, I have to take the bus all the time. And do you know what I've realized?

Most people are fucking assholes on the bus.

Here's a list of my least favourite fellow bus patrons.

1. That dickhead who is sitting on the aisle seat when the inside seat is empty, and they won't move to let someone in and they won't move over. I fucking hate this. All of the buses I take are always for really busy routes, and I see this all the time. I just want to slap that asshole (invariably some cocky as shit guy who's sprawled out laughing and texting or some girl who just stares at people, daring them to ask her to move) and say, I get that you feel insecure about your size but MOVE THE FUCK OVER OR GET THE FUCK OUT because you're a rude piece of shit and I hope you die without ever seeing a unicorn.

2. Aggressive old ladies. I don't know if it's just me, but seriously, at least once a day on my various bus trips, some old lady sits next to me, pretty much bodychecking me over when she sits down, and proceeds to beat me with her purse for the duration of the trip. Why do these things happen to me. If I have the fucking NERVE to give her a look, she just glares at me like I'm the worst person ever for giving her a look because she's elderly and can't stand for long and her husband was in the goddamn war and they were poor and she walked five kilometres to school every day and DO I FUCKING THINK MY LIFE IS TOUGH?

3. This one is more a pet peeve for standing. In the mornings, the bus is ALWAYS full when I'm going to class. Even if there are empty seats, I'd rather stand and risk stumbling around like a fucking idiot than sit next to someone that I don't know because what if they need to get off before I'm getting off and then it's all crowded and I can't stand up to let them out but they think I'm just being a dickface and then it's just really bad? Yeah, exactly. I bet you worry about the same thing. Anyway, I hate the asshole on the bus that is standing, wearing a giant backpack. I always seem to end up standing near these assholes. You know, the ones with inner ear problems so that they constantly lean back and press their backpack all up on you and you're like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU KEEPING IN THERE A CORPSE WHY CAN'T I BREATHE. That happened to me this morning and I just wanted to tap him on the shoulder and say excuse me, but the dead babies in your backpack are INHIBITING MY ABILITY TO BREATHE WHAT ARE YOU A DOG FUCKING STAND UP STRAIGHT AND TRY BEING CONSIDERATE OF OTHER PEOPLE ONCE IN A WHILE YOU FUCKING DICKBAG.

4. Any students that are not university students. AKA middle school and high school kids. I can't be objective about what I was like at that age (but I'm sure I was perfectly behaved and fucking awesome), but seriously, kids these days are loud, stupid little toe rags and I would kill every last one of them if I could. You may think that I'm joking because of the Harry Potter-esque insult in there (I belong at Hogwarts, just look at my scarf and tie), but I'm not. I really do hate them and I really do want to kill them. The other day, I had stopped at the grocery store for a few things, and I could tell when the bus was coming up that it was going to be quite full. So I made sure to let this elderly couple get ahead of me in the "line" to get onto the bus, since I'm young and can handle waiting eight minutes for another bus but what if they're in a hurry to use the washroom or take their heart medication? I don't want that on my conscience. Anyway, most of the other people at the stop followed my lead, except these stupid little middle school children, boys and girls (and the girls were all chubby little things wearing leggings as pants WHAT PART OF "THEY AREN'T PANTS" IS SO HARD FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND). They just pushed ahead of them and the elderly couple ended up being left behind, because there were already people in wheelchairs and a couple of older people with walkers so the little elderly man couldn't have gotten on. The bus driver motioned for me to go on, and I went reluctantly because nothing makes me more anxious than a bus full of people that will just stand there and judge me and wonder why I won't make eye contact with anyone, even when I'm getting off the bus and I don't need their judgement.

Anyway, one of the chubby toe rags in leggings was apparently incapable of standing, even with people holding her up and with things to hang on to. Hint: that's what those straps above you on the bar are for. She was standing in front of me and kept crashing into me. She was also a combination asshole, since her GIANT backpack kept trying to push the last breath out of me while she was being loud, pubescent and toe rag-ish. So finally, I got all fed up and I was like, "What are you, a dog? Can you not just stand there, you little toe rag?" or something to that extent. She just turned around and stared at me with her heavy-lidded, overly made up eyes, and I fought the urge to punch her and said, "Excuse me. This is my stop."

Seriously, I hate you all. The louder and more emo you try to look, the more likely it is that I will snap one day and wring the life out of your fat little neck. I hate you so much. Words can't describe how much I hate all of you little toe rags. I actually hate you more than I hate Nickelback and Simple Plan combined.

5. This one is probably the most irritating, depending on who it is. I fucking hate people who yell on their cell phones on an otherwise quiet bus. This seems to happen to me a lot on my way home from work. I go to the top of the double decker because the bottom is full of drunk people who can't get up the stairs (seriously, it's not even 10 PM on Tuesday. Is your life that terrible?), so I figure that I won't have to sit next to someone if I go upstairs. Invariably, there are people upstairs, usually reading or listening to their iPods, and one idiot talking loudly on their cell phone. Last week, it was some guy telling his buddy about how fucked up he got over the weekend. Apparently the friend was trying to out do super loud douchebag, because he was getting louder and louder and saying, "No, no, man, that's nothing, this weekend I-"

Shut the fuck up. Nobody cares about your conversation, and, frankly, if you're going to be so loud, as a person forced to listen to you (I don't bring my iPod to work) I would rather that you were at least saying something interesting. Your middle school behaviour of bragging about what an alcohol tank you are is irritating, and frankly, I bet I could outdrink you. Talking loudly on your phone on a bus doesn't make you more interesting, it just makes people hate you.

God. Taking a bus is crappy enough without all of these douchebags present.

Would I be considered one of the douchebags? Is "seething midget girl radiating hatred toward everyone on this bus she may kill us all OH GOD" a category on your douchebag bus patrons list?

Friday, October 15, 2010

Social anxiety... part one?

This isn't really a rant, but it's about something that I hate... and I had a few conversations (over Facebook, private messages on FB and even at work) about the blog I posted about my anxiety, so I'm going to talk about it and about the most prominent symptoms that I display. If you suspect you have a social anxiety problem and you display some of these symptoms, you probably do, so...

Wikipedia (lolololol it's just in the easiest format to go through) has the symptoms laid out in different categories, so I'm going to lay them out that way and talk about the ones I display...


- "social phobics experience dread over how they will be presented to others."

Yes. I really do. I say that I don't give a fuck about what other people think about me, and for the most part I don't. But the reason I don't care is because I'm generally far too insecure and afraid to even give people the chance to judge me, therefore I'm not generally concerned because I know they haven't gotten the chance to judge me as anything more harsh than the short shy chick who's incapable of looking anyone in the eye.

- The next part is long, so I'll paraphrase and break it into bits instead of quoting directly: The social phobic (I sort of love that term) may be overly self-conscious, overly critical of themselves after activities or have high performance standards. The sufferer tries to create a well-mannered impression but believes they are unable to do so.

Yeah. I dunno if any of you have noticed, but I'm so ridiculously self-conscious that I actually hate myself for it. Seriously. I'm overly critical of myself after situations (I experienced DAYS of self-loathing over the "I'm not lactose intolerant!" remark) and I definitely believe that nobody who ever meets me will ever think that I'm a healthy, well-adjusted person. So... yeah. Fucking hell, I'm blushing and my heart is beating all quickly just from thinking about that STUPID FUCKING COMMENT WHY DID I SAY IT.

- Many times, prior to the potentially anxiety-provoking social situation, sufferers may deliberately go over what could go wrong and how to deal with each unexpected case. After the event, they may have the perception they performed unsatisfactorily. Consequently, they will review anything that may have possibly been abnormal or embarrassing.

See, I always put this symptom down to the fact that I write and have for a very long time. I just figured it was more a desire to shape my own world the way I can shape my world in a story or book than an actual problem. Apparently normal people do not do this. I find this hard to believe. For example, when I say something in class, it literally takes me hours to work up the guts to say it. In seminars, I will do the assigned reading and come to class with ONE thing that I want to say. That's it. I won't think intensely about anything else because it will be a triumph for me to say that one thing. So after I do the reading, I sit there thinking about how I will phrase what I want to say. Then I will slowly start thinking about potential reactions from my classmates and professors. Then I get scared because I think my professor and classmates will think I'm a fucking idiot, and I decide that I don't want to say anything. And then I remember that I want to do well in my classes and that seminar participation is worth a quarter of our grade, and I start hyping myself up to do it again. This usually takes about a week. Then, on the day of the seminar, I focus on nothing else in any of my classes. I think solely about what I will say and what I will say to any potential questions. I never think about what I will say to people who disagree with me because fuck you this is difficult enough already.

Then I get into the seminar. And I don't listen to a single word anyone says. I keep my head down and I draw cubes and triangles and I keep thinking about how I will word what I want to say. Once in a blue moon, I will actually raise my hand to say it. It takes about ten seconds and that is the culmination of a week's work. And I phrase it wrong and sound like an idiot and oh god why am I blushing and stuttering and why is my heart coming out of my chest and everyone thinks I'm so stupid they're all wondering how I even got into this university and my professor thinks I'll never be any kind of historian because I'm an idiot and WHY AM I HERE.

I feel sick just thinking about all of this and I don't think my cheeks will ever return to their normal colour, but okay, onto the next group...


- "Social anxiety disorder is a persistent fear of one or more situations in which the person is exposed to possible scrutiny by others and fears that he or she may do something or act in a way that will be humiliating or embarrassing. It exceeds normal "shyness" as it leads to excessive social avoidance and substantial social or occupational impairment. Feared activities may include almost any type of social interaction, especially small groups, dating, parties, talking to strangers, restaurants, etc. Possible physical symptoms include "mind going blank", fast heartbeat, blushing, stomach ache, nausea and gagging."

I don't want people to pay any attention to me. Ever. I don't want to put myself in a situation where people will pay any amount of attention to me that is more than the level of attention required to notice that there is another human being in the vicinity. I don't fear that I will act in a way that is humiliating, I know I will. In the various number of social interactions that I have to deal with on a day-to-day basis, there will be at least one event that is so humiliating that I will not be able to sleep because of it.

For example, yesterday, a lady was buying a bear costume. If the nails aren't painted, I never know if it's a man or a woman because I can't look people in the eye, but yeah, her nails were painted a really garish orange, so... yeah. Anyway, the bear costume. I was folding it up like I normally do, and I was going to ask her if she wanted a bag before I told her that her total was going to be $8.95.

She was talking to some friend she met up with in the line, though, and I stood there waiting for a break in their conversation, hating myself more with each passing second and wishing that I had the courage to actually look at her to get her attention, until I finally managed a meek, "Sorry..."

She stopped talking to her friend right away and said, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry!" and I was automatically even more ill at ease because who is this woman with the garish nail polish and why is she calling me sweetie I don't know her I DON'T KNOW HER and the type of person that will call strangers "sweetie" is a person that really scares me a lot.

I shook my head a bit, still blushing furiously and unable to make eye contact, and I said, "Do you want a bear?"

Yes. I asked her if she wanted a bear because I was so anxious about the whole situation that my brain stopped working and kept focusing on the costume.

And then she laughed, and it was the worst thing ever, and I didn't fall asleep until after three in the morning because of it.

I literally cannot write anymore because the memory of that is making my hands all trembly and cold. More later, if I can manage.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


I fucking hate WB.

As in Warner Brothers? Yes, those fuckfaces.

Kaydee and I ordered some stuff from their official HP merchandise online store (I don't need your judgement), and Kate texted me to say that we had some slips about the delivery for them. We had ordered Ravenclaw scarves and ties, in case you were wondering. Because we're that awesome.

Anyway, I was thinking to myself that that was a pretty speedy delivery, because (I think) we only ordered them last night. So we were texting back and forth trying to figure out what we had to do next, because apparently they'd tried to deliver them twice but nobody was there to sign for them or whatever. No big deal, right?

Well, over a hunk of cheese and a glass of milk at the kitchen table, Kate and I were talking and I was idly looking the sheets over, when I saw that the green sheets underneath said "invoice".

What the fuck.

I have a confession to make. I shop online. A LOT. Because I don't have to deal with people and their judgement of what I buy (I know they don't judge what I buy but I'm anxious and probably insecure so I think they are) so I do it online, where nobody cares and they'll never know me anyway.

And I've never gotten an invoice for ANYTHING, not even when I bought a singles collection from a guy on ebay that was shipped from the UK.

Because most people who sell online (AKA people who aren't douchebags) declare these things as a gift, right? So the person receiving the item doesn't have to pay duty and stuff like that.

While we were ordering the stuff online, we were a bit choked that it was going to be $15 in shipping (seriously, WB? Canada and the States are not that fucking far from each other), but I figured it was to cover duty, etc.

Not so. In addition to the $55 or whatever it was that we spent on there, we have $21 in duty/taxes/"processing" fees to pay on top of that.

With how fucking rich WB is, you'd think they could suck it up and pay a bit of money so their customers don't blow another $20 on their merchandise.

Apparently the people who own the rights to Looney Tunes, Hanna-Barbera, Cartoon Network (DEXTER'S LAB), Beetlejuice and, yes, HARRY FUCKING POTTER, can't afford to pay some of the fucking money to at least get the charges on an item down to, you know, less than nearly half of the item's total purchase cost.

I'm never ordering from them again. They could start letting people rent Sirius Black (mmmm Gary Oldman) for a year for $20 as a sex/house/whatever you want slave and I STILL wouldn't order from them, that's how annoyed I am.

... Okay, I lied, the idea of resisting a rentable Gary Oldman is proving more difficult than I anticipated.

The point is,

WB fucking sucks.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

I'm a fucking poet.

Once, I wrote this thing that was super deep.

It was so deep, so full of emotion that you'll never understand, that it rendered me incapable of writing properly.

That's right. I threw the rules of spelling and grammar out the window and I haven't looked back since.

Because I'm a fucking poet and I don't need your rules.

Yes, when I say "it's ability", I actually mean "its ability", but who the fuck are you to judge words that stem from a feeling that you'll never be emotionally gifted enough to understand?

I can use commas wherever the fuck I want. If I want to use a semi-colon in a place that makes no goddamn sense, that's what I do because I'm a motherfucking poet. Why is this so hard for you to understand?

Just to rub it in your face, let me break all the rules and write a poem right here, right now. And you can read it, you can attempt to bask in its glory, but you will never understand it because nobody has ever felt the way I feel about anything ever.

This poem is called You'll Never Understand the Depth of My Emotion Because You're Not Evolved Enough (I'm the Anti-e.e. cummings).

I am crushingly lonely
And nobody will ever understand, the Depths of my loneliness.
Capitalizing is a formality that serves only to limit Emotions.
Can't you hear; how Deaf you are?
Your SCREAMS pierce me like your love never did
And I am left without feeling, without fault, without fear.
You broke my soul, And I cut myself with the shards.
I'm serious about everything ever
And you'll never understand.

Thank you. I expect the award for bloggiest bestest blog ever shortly. I feel this is my best work.

Thanks to super awesome roommate Kaitlin for assisting me in writing this poem. I feel like this is some of our best work of mocking shitty fucking poetry yet.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

do do do doooooooooooo

You know when a former friend can't seem to let go of the fact that you're not friends anymore?

It usually goes one of two ways. Either they message/text/talk to you from time to time, trying to be nice and start conversations (that are clearly not welcome) or they finally screw up the balls to attempt some sort of "confrontation" over perceived wrongs and act like a petty little bitch.

Both of these situations have happened to me, and I hate them both.

For the most part, I try to make sure people know why I don't want to be friends with them (if it's necessary - obviously if they've been inconsiderate dickbags or if we haven't spoken in ages, etc, I don't feel it's necessary in the slightest) but the reason I can usually give (and it's usually true) is that we've grown apart.

I'm twenty. I'm going to be gaining and losing friends like mad over the next couple of years, and the vast majority of my friends from high school won't be my friends in the next five years. Are there exceptions? Of course, I certainly think there are, but the fact of the matter is that there are other people in the world, making and losing friends is completely normal and acting like a douchey bitch isn't going to make anyone want to be friends with you.

I think the most important thing to do is to try and handle losing a friend with some... dignity, I guess? If you have any bones to pick with them (the weirdest pictures come up in google when you put that in, I don't understand), for fuck's sake, don't do it on the internet.

Dealing with confrontations over the internet when you have every ability to do it elsewhere makes you look like a cowardly dick.

If you have a problem with someone, texting them is really not the best way to deal with it.

Pick up a fucking phone, people. It won't kill you and the other person will automatically have a bit more respect for your (perceived or otherwise) balls.

Also, I hate working during October with a passion. Work makes me hate Halloween.

People also make me hate people. I seriously contemplated breaking necks today.

I'm too tired for this. Shitty rant over. I'll do a better one... later? I dunno. I'm feeling a bit depressed because I don't get to go home at all this semester.

Does that about sum up your feelings on that last comment? If so, fuck you.

I think....

That I either need to abandon this blog and start a new one, or keep this blog and make another blog about things that don't want to make me break everything.

I think it might make people think I'm more... sane? I don't know. Perhaps?

What do you, all five of my followers (love youuuuuu) think?

My other blog would probably be reserved for my awkward moments, nice stories (like the customer that gave me the rose plant), memories and perhaps a bit of my writing, if I can get around to it.

Post your comments or text me or tell me at work or write on my Facebook wall... but do tell.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

I hate my awkwardness.

This is going to be a different kind of rant, since it's about myself and something I do... but it's also about how people don't respond to my awkwardness correctly.


So Wednesday was just... a really awkward day for me all around. I don't know why. I know I said a couple of weird things, but I'm going to focus on one in particular, and then talk about another one from today.

Okay. So I had gone to the grocery store to get some milk (alone, which I hate doing, but roomie was in class til late and I didn't want to leave it until the next day because I was making cookies and milk was necessary for taste testing purposes after) and I was already all anxious about being alone. I don't know why, but grocery shopping alone is the most awkward thing on the planet for me. I walk in and I just want to shout that I have friends. I can (somewhat) handle shopping for other things alone (like... umm, I dunno, but some stuff, I think...?) but for some reason, grocery shopping alone makes me want to die.

So I was already feeling pretty weird about being there when I walked into Safeway, and my weird feeling intensified as I was walking to the back to grab some milk because my brain managed to convince me that I was the only person shopping alone in there.

I'm sure I wasn't, but when I tried to reason with my brain, I could only remember seeing families or couples or FRIENDS shopping together.

Oh dear god. I was the only person shopping alone in there and I probably looked like such a weirdo with my purse and my giant reusable bag and why had I come here we could have gone a goddamn day without a jug of milk.

And then I remembered that I still had to go through the cashier, and it got worse.

Desperate, I grabbed a little carton of whipped cream (I had also made Jello with fruit in it, so I thought it would be nice to have it on top) to prolong that moment, but in a (fleeting) moment of bravery, I walked up to the express till.

I was in line behind a family, which didn't help, though they were definitely from Newcastle (I have an excellent ear for the various English accents due to my Anglophilia) and it amused me slightly. But then it was my turn.

I saw the cashier give my two items a weird look and I started to panic.

So I decided to try making a joke about it. NOTE: My jokes in socially awkward moments are never funny and they tend to make people really uncomfortable.

"Obviously I'm not lactose intolerant!"

Yes, that is what I said. And then it got worse, because the cashier responded. OH GOD WHY DID SHE DO THAT

"Yeah, lucky you."

I automatically began breaking down that response.


I don't need you to tell me that I have an anxiety problem. I'm already quite aware of it, thank you very much.

After that, I kept obsessively thinking about it, and I finally came to the conclusion that she should have tried harder to make conversation with me, because I was obviously so uneasy. That bitch. I should get her fired.

And right now, just reliving that moment is making me want to die, so I'm going to leave the story about my awkwardness from today until later. I just don't want to think about it. My heart's beating all fast and I'm pretty sure I'm blushing.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

I need a damn car.

So on Friday night, I was taking the bus home. And by "bus", I mean two buses. Now that we've moved, I have to take two to get home from work.

Anyway, yes. I was on the bus. I was waiting at a bus stop downtown and I basically got mauled (yes, literally, want to see my wounds?) by a group of guys that I would call "party boys", only because "frat boys" don't exist in this city. Yet. And hopefully they never will.

They kept asking me where I was going and telling me that I should go wherever they were going, and I kept saying no, that I was going home, that I had just gotten off work and that I wasn't really in the mood, but they wouldn't shut up. When the bus got there, I thought I was saved. I was really hoping that they weren't taking the same bus as me.

But they were, of course. And they were going to get off at campus, same as I was. So they kept bugging me on the bus, until I finally lost my temper (what? I never do that) and told them to shut the fuck up because their pointless and uninteresting babble was making me want to smash their heads together.

They were all shocked, of course. I dunno, perhaps they thought that my shortness and, you know, state of having a vagina (also known as being a woman) would mean that I wouldn't snap like that.

But you know what? Nobody should have to put up with people being so fucking obnoxious that you want to rip their intestines out and strangle those fuckers with them.

Anyway, once the bus got to campus, they staggered off, and I walked over to get on the next bus. I quickly discovered that I was essentially the only sober person on the bus, and I cursed my terrible luck. I was resigning myself to a short but irritating (and potentially amusing) bus ride when some assfaces in the back seat started singing that fucking "Ignition" song by R. Kelly.

Yes, I know what you're thinking.

"But that song wasn't even good when it came out! It's fucking terrible, in fact! Only people who deserve to run marathons whilst on fire would sing that song!"

My sentiments exactly. In any case, it was only one guy that knew all the words, and everyone else just kept joining in at the, "It's the freaking weekend, baby, I'm about to have me some fun!"

UGH it was so irritating. I was thinking up various ways that I could kill each of them (I wanted to give each their own method of death, of course) when the loudest ones all got off at the same stop. Beautiful!

So I was sitting there thinking to myself that the rest of the bus ride was going to be fine. NOT SO! Some annoying guy from high school was talking (well, trying to talk) to me, and I was being pretty short with my answers. We weren't friends at all in high school, and I really wasn't interested in talking to him, I just wanted to get home. He made some comment about me being a big bitch (thank you), and I just said, "Yeah, I am" so he fires back with something else that actually bugged me, so I said, "Shut the fuck up, your full name here."

I don't want to put his full name, because that would be weird and I also don't want to get in trouble, but yeah. I came home and told Kaydee about it, and the second I finished the story, she said, "Did you actually call him *his full name*?"

In short, working on Friday nights sucks because everyone on the bus home is wasted and you're tired and cranky and you wish you had a big wrench to clock every single one of them.

Oh, also! I worked Saturday night as well, and the bus I was taking home was a double decker. I figured I could avoid the drunk kids on the bus by going up to the top level, since the narrow staircase of doom can be difficult to navigate sober.

NOT SO. I was trying to get off at my stop, and I'm pretty sure a kid had passed out on the stairs.

So yeah. No more Friday and Saturday nights at work for me. Hopefully I'll get booked for some events instead...

Sunday, September 26, 2010

An open letter

Dear inconsiderate assholes living above us,

This is a letter from one of the people living below you.

You are fucking assholes. Why do you have to move furniture before nine in the morning? How much furniture do you actually have to move that you do this every single weekend morning? Why do you think that telling your children to stop running around and screaming like banshees means that you're "stifling their creativity"? You're dickheads. You're also dickheads because your children will grow up and start writing really shitty poetry but they will think it's great because their mom never stifled their creativity and then they'll get big heads and they'll become convinced that they're poets when their poetry makes me cringe. And then they'll post it on some popular social networking site for their friends to read, and their friends will unknowingly open the post because they'll be curious about what it might be, and then they'll be forced to read through the drivel written by someone with the IQ of a shoe who thinks that they can see all the world truths that nobody else can.

Your dogs are also really noisy. Your children are noisy. Your children are very noisy when they play with your noisy dogs. Those children will get sick when they move into this place because there is mold, and I feel badly about that, sort of, but maybe if you weren't such fucking assholes I would put more of an effort into making sure that something gets done about it. But really, I'm in this place for four more days, so I don't really care what happens to it after I leave.

The garbage situation here is also intolerable. I get that you have kids that probably still wear diapers (although I'm pretty sure they're too old for that...) but you're filling up our garbage can to the point that they won't pick up our can (which contains two small kitchen catchers. That's it.) and then we have to go another week with you cramming your garbage into our can and then it doesn't get picked up again.

You know what, though? I don't really care about that last one, because you're going to have to deal with it when we leave. And I'm going to create as much garbage as possible for when we leave, just so you have to deal with it.

You know why?

Because I really find you to be that intolerable. You're inconsiderate, loud, creepy as fuck (please stop closing our windows because it's really fucking weird) and you have literally no control over your children, which makes me think that you're not even worthy of an ounce of my respect. Also, your kitchen is mint green. It's really awful and that also makes me hate you.


The pissed off bitch who lives below you that has been blaring music as loudly as possible for the last week.

P.S. I fucking hate you.

P.P.S. But thanks for the free internet that helped me write this post.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Very long update coming soon!

That's right. I'm posting about something that's coming up.

I'm only doing this because I don't know how long it will take me to do it (I want it to be filled with facts. Filled. With. Facts.) and, as a history major, I like to research in excessive amounts, read through everything, make summaries of each article and read each article again whilst taking notes before I make an argument.

In case you didn't guess, my rant is going to involve a lot of history. YAY.

But I'll give a hint... it's about a certain revolutionary figure that left-wing student idealists everywhere know nothing about yet insist on wearing shirts with his face slapped on them.

In case you actually didn't get that (I'm somewhat upset that I just gave it away, actually), my rant is going to be about Che Guevara.

Stay tuned! Or... reading or... whatever.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I don't know why I have a blog.

I fail at updating. I really fail at updating. And it's not like I haven't been angry a million times since my last update, which was apparently two months ago.


This is a school-related rant, but it's not about my classes themselves.

So I'm in a first year class that I couldn't get into in my first or second year. Being a third year in this class makes me realize what (I'm sorry, but it's true) snotty little toe rags first years are.

Allow me to set the stage so you'll understand my urge to bring a large rock (or a baseball bat, I'm not picky) to class on Thursday. It'll be like the sword of natural selection, except... the bat of OH MY FUCKING GOD COULD YOU BE MORE RUDE YOU LITTLE DICKBAG.

Okay. The prof for this class is interesting. Aren't most writers interesting? He started out as a rock journalist and he's got a potty mouth and an epic beard and a really chill teaching style. Needless to say, I think he's epic.

I don't know if people just don't read the little blurbs provided on the school website, but it seems like a lot of these little toe rags are signing up for classes and not realizing what they actually are.

And apparently a lot of people don't know the difference between fiction and non-fiction. I would like the sword of natural selection now because HOW CAN YOU BE THAT STUPID.

Anyway, in the first class, last Thursday, some little toe rag actually stood up and left about half an hour into the class. As in, FAR past an acceptable, "oh dear lord I am in the wrong classroom this is so embarrassing I'll just wait til everyone is distracted and I'll go so they don't judge me I want to die I'm so stupid FUCK" length of time. And yes, I have an anxiety disorder, I do not need anyone (except my doctor?) to tell me this.

Anyway, she stands up and starts walking out the door, right? And the prof asks her if he's done something to offend her, perhaps, that would make her leave at... well, basically at such a weird moment and IN SUCH A RUDE FASHION DID I MENTION IT WAS RUDE. And she gives him this look like, "eww I'm paying for this and I don't want to be here" and she says, "No, I'm just in the... wrong place." And we all know from her tone of voice that it's not that she's in the wrong place, it's that she straight up does not want to be there. So he asks her what she's going to do (HELLO IT'S THE FIRST WEEK. He meant whether you were going to drop the course, not the "hilarious" response you gave in return.) and she says, "I think I'll go have some breakfast."

UGH I WILL KILL YOU DID NOBODY EVER TEACH YOU MANNERS. You couldn't have sat there for a little longer, even until the end of class so you weren't rude because it's not like you had anything better to do anyway since you put aside all that time for the class. You had to get up and then be a rude little bitch about the fact that you were leaving?

And then today, I overheard some idiotic little girl talking to her friend about how she doesn't want to be in a class where we don't, like, write creatively. READ THE FUCKING COURSE INFORMATION. IT'S TWO SENTENCES LONG AND IF YOU DON'T, I WILL FUCKING SMASH YOUR FACE IN WITH A BAT.

All of these conversations go the same way. "Oh... I only really like writing poetry..."

You and 85% of this campus. The real question is, do you write it well? I imagine you don't, because poetry is kind of a fail-proof genre for people to turn to (hello free verse?) and it makes them feel creative. I'm not trying to sound like a snob but drama all the way. That's all I'm saying.

You know, because non-fiction writing can't be creative or anything. Not at all. But fuck, we HAVE writing courses that are more "creative" (although really, see how creative you feel when you have deadlines to work to, a bunch of people critiquing your work while you sit there and profs who essentially want things done their way and their way only. The writing department, in my experience, is pretty uptight for a "creative" bunch of people, and that's why I decided to drop out of that program this year.) and if you read the goddamn course information I wouldn't have to kill you.

Hand me my bat at once.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Oh goody.

Now I actually have something to rant about.

Despite the fact that I would consider myself Caucasian (my grandpa is native, but I don't really look it, so I hesitate to class myself as anything else), I really hate white people sometimes.

Specifically, white people who can hide out on the internet and try to disguise their racism as being a logical view of the "facts".

Let me lay it out for you. Apparently, Vaseline has launched a new Facebook application in India that will allow users to lighten their skin colour in their profile picture. This is to help promote a new "skin lightening" product for men that Vaseline is launching, called Be Prepared.

The fan page of TotalBeauty makes an update and post about it on the website here and the person writing the update says they find it a bit racist. Fair play to them, since I do too.

But silly me! Of course, I've forgotten that there's bound to be a shit-storm of white privilege raining down and saying OMG NOT RACIST A TAX ON TANNING BOOTHS NOW THAT'S RACIST BECAUSE ONLY WHITE PEOPLE USE THEM (any person that actually believes that, particularly Republicans, since it was their "side" of the "debate" that came up with that shit, deserves to be hit by a semi truck with a bunch of pitch forks on the front) and saying that anyone who finds it "racist" doesn't get it.

I had the misfortune of engaging in... I hesitate to call it a debate, since she said nothing that even made sense, so let's call it a "discussion"... with one of these privileged white girls (clearly with a tan, of course... it's interesting, isn't it, that within "white" cultures, people want to be tanned, but within darker-skinned cultures, people want to be lighter/whiter...) who said that an application to lighten skin up to five shades wasn't any more racist than cosmetics (I don't even know) or braces (again, I don't even know).

I suppose this is going to contain two rants (eyyyy! Making up for that absence?), but I'll keep with the Vaseline thing first.

It is racist. Someone on there brought up a really interesting point, though. This desire for lighter skin among darker races (particularly ones that were colonized by European powers) is as rampant today as it was when the nations were under European control, and part of that is because European powers saw pale skin as a sign that you didn't have to work outside for a living, also known as being "well off". But now, within more "white" countries, being tanned is a sign that you can afford to flee to some tropical place and get a super dark tan while you're on vacation. Strange, isn't it?

But yes. Back to my point. It's yet another example of white privilege not understanding how a darker skinned person might view these products and Facebook applications as flashing signs that say that they're not good enough as they are.

It's weird, though, now that I'm thinking about it... a lot of the really popular Bollywood actresses are quite light... Tyra Banks, a very famous black supermodel, is still pretty light... so even though we're not harping on about the caste system (don't even get me started), are we still promoting the image that we generally prefer lighter-skinned people? TOO MUCH DEEP THOUGHT FOR A BLOG ABOUT RAGE.

And now I'm really going to rage.

Spend five seconds on Facebook, and you'll quickly find that the internet is the perfect place for a person to act like a giant fucking asshole with almost no repercussions. It's true. Go there now, click on the first page that comes up and look at its discussion board, if it has one. It works even better if we're talking about a political page.

If you have any reason to want to try and keep your sanity, do not comment if you're going to say anything that is contrary to what everyone else thinks. If this is a pro-Bush page (... why would anybody be a fan of that? I mean George W., for all you perverts), don't get on there and start talking about what a dicktastic fail he was. You'll be called un-American within five seconds, a liberal fascist within a minute and a Nazi within five. It's true.

But the funny thing is, nobody would call you a Nazi to your face, would they? They'd hide behind the tight nod and pursed lips and think it, but they would never say it.

I hate the internet sometimes. I really do. I hate it because it makes people feel safe enough to say and do things that they would never have the balls to do in real life.

One could argue that my blog is the same way.... except... you'd have to have never met me to think that I don't rant all the time about everything.

Haven't written for ages...

But this one will be short.

Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.

I will smash your head in with a fucking shovel.

No more dealing with people on the pity potty, no more trying to make someone feel better about themselves when even they can't do it.

Fuck you, slit your throat, I'll kill you, I fucking hate you, shut the fuck up, please die, go sob your heart out, and by "sob your heart out" I mean "kill yourself", ads;ljghads;jgh

Thursday, June 17, 2010

The city.

I hate it here. I really do. I didn't want to come "home" for the summer, but my dad insisted, because he didn't treat last summer like it was our final summer living together or something. It makes no sense, but arguing with him is pretty pointless.

Anyway, the reason I hate the city is because they do things to "help" that make no sense. Anybody who understands what this city does is sick in the head.

Basically, they noticed that a lot of the houses on our road have a lot of pot holes and such in the gravel just before the paved parts of the driveways. So instead of simply smoothing them out and leaving it, they elected to smooth it out and add this weird hill thing at the end.

Why, you might ask? Because the taxes here go to funding stupid projects at the worst time of year, and to a mayor that is batshit insane. I don't care that people were all OMG A WOMAN, she's still stupid.

So every time we head out in a vehicle that's not a truck (and it's rarely a truck), there's this massive lurch like those speed bumps in parking lots. And no matter what you do, you're caught on at least half the hill when you try to get out into traffic on one of the busiest roads in this shithole in the summer.

I want my broadsword of natural selection now.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Short post. Not enough rage.

Sometimes, people make things so much worse for themselves without even realizing. I would feel bad for them, but I'm not that nice a person, so...

People also have a way of blaming their own shortcomings on other people. I mean, if you have issues with friends, it's probably because you create them. If you're not there for people, they're not going to be there for you. If you act like an idiot, your friends will think you're an idiot.

We have a house full of people right now and it's insane and going to be a very drunken evening. But Clintos is here, and one of my favourite cousins is here, and my grandparents and aunt are here. It's good times.

It's the traffic that's pissing me off right now. I can't believe how douchey people are here. Nobody needs to get out of their driveway because you need to get somewhere zero seconds faster.

I would write more, but I think we have to go pick up alcohol and ice...

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Some people just don't know when to quit.


Have you ever had one of those friends that does things that don't really seem friend-like? I had one of those once, and it took me a really long time to realize that she wasn't my friend at all.

Yesterday, my friend told me about this "friend" she has. A group of them were out for lunch together, and Friend One's Bag of Cunty Dicks had gone along with them. That was the first time most of our other friends had met the Bag of Cunty Dicks (hereafter referred to as BOCD, because it looks funny and because I am lazy today), and they were not impressed. They said the BOCD was abrasive, self-absorbed and catty. They were literally texting me saying that the BOCD (who is a "girl") was pretty much the worst person ever. I paraphrase, of course, but who the fuck are you to tell me what to say on my blog? That's what I thought. :)

Anyway, when they were leaving to pay the bill, the BOCD decided to be really "funny" and "witty" and "outrageously hilarious" by reenacting a scene that involved Friend One. In a very bitchy fashion, in front of their waiter. Friend One was completely mortified and left a message on my answering machine where she talked about how she wanted to kill the BOCD.

I, of course, was furious upon hearing about this. I dislike the girl for many reasons (despite the fact that I've not met her). I think she's bitchy, disingenuous, jealous, rude and sadly lacking in any concept of what a proper friendship is.

My friends and I make fun of each other a lot. For me, the way I grew up has a lot to do with that. My dad shows affection in strange ways, and he's more likely to insult people he cares about than he is to actually admit he cares about them. I happened to pick up this (un?)fortunate trait from him. So I know that sometimes it's hilarious to poke fun at people. But not about something that personal, not in front of a stranger and not in front of people that you just fucking met.

In short, I want Friend One to stop being friends with the BOCD, because the BOCD is not a real friend. She sounds (to me, anyway, and of course my judgement isn't binding or always correct... it almost always is, though. I can't help being awesome) like a convenience friend. A really disingenuous, hateful convenience friend.

And I fucking hate those.

So: I sentence the Bag of Cunty Dicks to death by us beating the shit out of her. I feel that this judgement is fair and impartial, given that we unanimously do not like her. An alternate decision would be slapping her until her neck broke, but we do not have the time for this.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Why can't people use words properly?

GOD this pisses me off. We were just grocery shopping, and this woman basically tried to blow past my family and I and ended up smashing into a fruit cart trying to get around. It was basically this really tiny space, I'll draw a shitty paint thing to show.

Obviously this is an accurate drawing of what she looked like.

I told you it was shitty. Okay. So "us" is where we were standing at first. And then we moved to where the 1 was when she was trying to get past, so she could try and get through that outrageously narrow place.. She attempted to get by, but hit the produce guy's cart at 2. She pushed past all embarrassed, and my mom was just looking at her in disbelief, I think because the woman was really rude. So my mom turned to me and muttered, "ex-fucking-cuse you" and I laughed, because it's so typically my mom. And the lady spins around and this happens:

Crazy bitch: Excuse me, I have a very bad migraine, it's rude to laugh.
Me: Right. I wasn't laughing at you.
CB: Oh you are so ignorant, don't even -
Dad: I laughed at you.
CB: (with a bit of a startled look at my dad before regaining some "composure") Sure. All of you are so ignorant -
Sister: No, you know what's ignorant? Assuming that people are always talking about you.
CB: *stunned silence before walking away.*

Ignorant? Seriously? I literally can't believe how many people use this word incorrectly. For the most part, being called "ignorant" isn't that much of an insult - it means you simply lack the knowledge/whatever in the given situation. I don't know why people think that they have to go for ignorant, when "rude" would be perfectly sufficient. Although I really wasn't laughing at her, so I suppose I wasn't being rude. Although I was laughing at a rude comment my mom made, so...

Anyway, we saw her again as we were walking around the store, and she hid her face and Erin was like, "Hey, look!" so I turned to her and said, "Shh, there's only so many times a person can be belligerent in one day." And then the lady looked up at me and was totally mortified, and I just ignored her and kept going.

And then I got thinking about how annoyed I get at people, because so many people are incapable of using certain words properly. "Ignorant" is one of them, but I've also noticed that a lot of people don't use "redundant" properly either. Erin has this guy who always insists that the self check outs at her work are redundant because they ask him if he wants any bags after he's already started ringing his stuff through, and she always says that that's not really redundant, and he always replies with, "Do you actually know what redundant means?"

Which brings me to the second part of my rant: I hate how people assume that I'm uneducated based on my shitty, minimum wage job. In Victoria, there was this woman that came through my till and started lecturing me about the importance of getting out of my shitty job and getting into school. I kept waiting for a break in her steady flow of condescending crap to tell her that I was actually in university. When she finally stopped to take a breath, I said that I was in my second year of university and that I intended to go to graduate school and possibly on after that to get my doctorate. And she was like, "Well, isn't that surprising, I bet you're the only one that works here that sees any value in education." And I was really shocked that she would say something like that, so I kind of just stared at her before saying, "Actually, most of the people who work on till are students at some sort of post-secondary institution. What university did you go to?" She stared at me for a while and then grabbed her things and left, and I was like RAGE.

I mean, seriously? I only work this shitty job because I don't have a degree yet. I work this shitty job to pay my rent and to feed myself, I don't work there because I want to make a career out of working there. I've never had any interest in staying on for any length of time at any of the high school-type jobs that I've had once I graduate. VV can lick my balls, any of the other places that I've worked can bite me, because I don't intend on working there for my whole life. I have much larger goals for myself than that.

That being said, I do recognize the necessity of people working these shitty jobs. I don't judge anyone's choices either way, I just don't want that for myself. I hate how people just assume that you can't work at a shitty place and want to have any type of respectable future.

And really... some of the people that I've worked with have been incredibly smart. They may not have degrees to prove it, but being scholarly isn't the only way to be considered intelligent. There are tons of people in my classes that say the most ridiculously stupid things, and I often find myself wondering how anyone that thick could possibly get into one of the best universities in the country. There was a girl in one of my third year history classes (British history, in fact) who didn't know who was leading Britain during WWII.

I contemplated shooting her, but decided against it. There was another guy, in one of my Soviet history courses, who thought that Lenin was leading the USSR during WWII. And I'm sorry to anyone that's thinking, "I might not have known that!" and thinking that I'm being a judgemental bitch, but part of studying history is knowing stuff like that. And that's easy stuff to remember in comparison to minute details in legislation and the like. Seriously? Not knowing who led Britain in WWII when you're in a third year British history course is fucking outrageous. Winston Churchill is (arguably) the most famous Prime Minister of the twentieth century (I would say that only Thatcher could potentially push him out, but she's well-known for being a crazy bitch, whereas Churchill is known for being a witty, awesome badass) and you don't know that he was leading the UK in WWII? And I'm sorry, some people may not know that he died 21st January, 1924 (clearly I love Soviet history, I still do things on his death day every year), but Lenin was so obviously dead by the second world war. How else would Stalin's Five Year Plans have happened...? And those are kind of a huge fucking deal when you're studying Soviet history.

In short, I hate everyone.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

God this infuriates me.

So I got a call back from... a well-known bookstore chain today.

Pictured: kitty celebrates my job interview.

Anyway, I had one of those phone interviews (god this place has a ton of stuff to go through, I had to take some sort of weird personality test too) with one of the store managers. She was quite nice, she was asking me lots of questions about my previous jobs and the like. And then she asked what types of books I like to read, so I said translated Russian novels and biographies mainly (... shut up) but that I'm working my way through some Spanish novels (well, they're in Spanish, but by Mexican authors mainly, let me continue so you'll understand this, because I told her that they're written by Mexican authors) now. And she was a bit quiet at first, I could tell she was thinking that I was kinda weird, and then she said, "We have a lovely Puerto Rican lady that works here!" I didn't say anything at first, and then she was like, "I love Spanish people!" And I was like "... Yes, they're quite lovely..." while I debated correcting her. Obviously I decided against it, but... Puerto Rican does not mean Mexican does not mean Spanish. They are not the same.

It reminded me of this article I read in the Globe and Mail, about a... windsurfing accident that a Canadian athlete helped out in. He went looking for the guy. Let me set something up first: they were in Mexico.

Through the article, the writer kept calling the missing man's friend Spanish, and then at the end, he had a quote from the Canadian calling the guy Mexican. I had already figured (from the beginning of the article) that the other men were Mexican, but I decided to hope against hope that they really were Spanish. They were not. I wrote a letter to the writer and said that Spanish and Mexican are not the same thing, just like Canadian and American are not the same thing, just like British and Australian are not the same thing. They may speak the same language (with regional differences, of course), but they're not the same. He replied and apologized if he offended me, so that was nice, but still.

And the more I get into studying Spanish and hispanic cultures and such, the more I notice that we are incredibly guilty of doing this all the time, particularly in North America. And it really pisses me off.

I would write more, but my eyes are bleeding. Perhaps later.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


I wonder if there will ever be a day when I'm not filled with rage about something.

Right now, it's because I simply do not know where I am going to find a job this summer. After my parents insisted that I return home for one last summer (I don't even know why - apparently my dad didn't treat me being home last summer like it was my last summer ever, therefore it couldn't be, because something will be different about my last summer here... I don't know?), I was hoping to just go to the same place that I worked at last summer, that helped arrange a transfer for me when I moved to Victoria.

And this would have been well and good if Victoria store manager wasn't (essentially) a giant bag of dicks.

That's actually the first thing that came up when I googled "bag of dicks", and it has an entire website devoted to it, which seems to be a single page. It appears to be solely that picture, but that was interesting, wasn't it?

ANYWAY, I went by this former place of employ today (after I had resubmitted an application over a week ago) and talked to the hiring manager, who told me that she didn't think she could rehire me because my former store manager didn't arrange a transfer for me. She informed me that I could have phoned ahead and started the process myself, to which I replied that I do not have long-distance on my cellphone plan and have no landline to use and that I couldn't use a phone at work, since all of them but the ones in the offices don't allow long-distance dialing. She said I could have asked a supervisor to call for me, which I told her I had done. I also told her that I was told that when this supervisor called, she could not get a hold of the hiring manager for the store here.

Which I thought was pretty fucking suspicious, but I didn't think there would be such a big kerfuffle about it. I mean, I've worked at this place for pretty much a year (except when bag of dicks made me quit at Christmas for having the GALL to request time off) and she was babbling about probation periods. I realize that I'm only home until August at the very latest, but still - that's three goddamn solid months of employment that they can extract out of me before I go home.

But apparently that's not good enough. It looks like I may be heading back to the island faster than expected, since I'd have an easier time finding SOME type of job there while all those pesky university students were gone for the summer.

This would make me feel much better.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

This is actually a serious rant.

Even though I know that almost nobody reads my blog (it's okay. I've come to terms with it and prefer to use it as a venting platform for all my rage), this really is a serious topic for me.

And I know that it's a pretty taboo topic, which I find depressing, but I'm going to rant about it anyway, because... well, since when do I care about things being omfg so inappropriate?

I'm pro-choice. Yes, I know that you probably guessed that if you read my rant against internet chauvinism here. And I don't care that people commented or messaged me on my Facebook or talked to me on MSN saying that I'm negative. I mean, really? Look at the top bar of this page. Do you see how the address for this blog is please-stop-breathing? Do you expect me to talk about rainbows and shitting unicorns because of how goddamn happy I am all the time? I started this blog so I could rant about all the things that make me really angry, not so I could present balanced arguments that are unclouded by emotion. I'm perfectly capable of doing that too, but why would I? The comments people make about this blog are faux inspirational quotes that sound like a piss-poor attempt at sounding like some kind of Buddhist. How am I supposed to have any kind of intellectual debate with people who try to hang nifty one-liners on my entries so they don't have to admit that, beneath all the rage, I actually have a point? Particularly about my internet chauvinism rant. I don't think that anybody who considers themselves an "intelligent" human being can come up with arguments for why there's nothing wrong with that garbage that tries to mask itself as "comedy".

Now that that rant is over, don't bother commenting on my blog if you're going to hang those lame one-liners on my entries. You know why? Honestly, it's because I don't particularly care about what anyone thinks about this blog. I'm sure that if more people read it, I would, but for now, it's basically like a less lame livejournal for me to have.

On to the rant of the day: It was started off by this article. I don't even know where to begin, but I'll just jump right into this.

In October, members of Harvard Right to Life (HRL) put up about 400 posters in student housing entitled "Women Deserve Better," one of which featuring a woman identified as "Candice." "I was raped and therefore 'justified' in my abortion, but it didn't change a thing," she said. "I suffered because I was led to believe that taking my child's life was okay. It was not, and I have been living with that for five years." The poster went on to give contact info for a local crisis pregnancy center, reminding readers that "there is help for unplanned pregnancies."

Women don't feel guilt about getting an abortion because they've been told abortions are okay, they feel guilt about getting an abortion because they've been told that abortion is wrong. I don't give a fuck that Harvard is located in one of the less "religious" states (Massachusetts). The source I'm using (it's a Gallup poll) states that 48% of people in Massachusetts say that religion is an important part of their daily lives. I mean, really? That's still nearly half the population that says that religion is important in their daily lives. 48% of the people are religious enough that their religion is present in their every day life in some tangible way. This statistic is not saying that 48% of the population in Massachusetts believes in God. Do you see the problem there? They're trying to play it off like Massachusetts is less religious, when really, it's just that slightly less than half the population there is so religious that their day is pretty filled with things related to religion.

There's no question that discussing a topic like rape calls for great sensitivity. But it's doubtful that the reason for the intense backlash was that victims would be traumatized by the very mention of rape: There's no controversy when sexual-assault centers feature victims in their ads. The real reason for the anger was probably expressed by a Harvard Crimson student columnist, who fumed: "What bothers me is that HRL has taken a feminist idea, that women deserve better, and co-opted it to deny women rights." There you have it: If you're not for "abortion rights," you don't care about women. It's yet another case of the left claiming a sort of moral monopoly.

I realize that looking at such a biased article is bound to make anyone enraged, but seriously? The sanctimonious moral right in America is so infuriating to me. I don't know if it's because I'm not American, but I find that constant little shit-talking that they need to put at the end of everything (and the left is certainly guilty of this too) really irritating. Anyway. The student columnist is absolutely right. I wouldn't necessarily call the idea that women deserve better a "feminist" idea (who doesn't think that everyone should be treated equally, regardless of gender, race, religion or whatever else?), but the whole fight for equality is about the fact that nobody has the right to tell another person what they can or cannot do in their own lives, with their own bodies. The student columnist didn't mention abortion at all. They simply said that refusing a woman's right to choose what is best for her, regardless of whatever moral judgements people want to pile upon her, by putting up signs talking about how guilty "Candace" felt about her abortion is, for lack of a better way of putting it, stupid, ignorant, biased nonsense designed to make women feel badly about the choices they make that go against what men think is best for them.

It's a shame, if not a surprise, that the issue HRL tried to raise largely got lost in the process. Their point, after all, is that abortion is not only morally wrong, but it also harms the women it's allegedly going to help. It's a devil's bargain: It promises relief from a seemingly unbearable burden in return for sin, but it ends up bringing burdens that are truly unbearable.

There's so much wrong with this that I don't even know where to start. First of all, the author of this "article" is a man. How does he know about how "unbearable" the burden of abortion is? How could he possibly know? How could he possibly understand what making the decision between aborting and keeping a fetus is like? He will never be faced with that decision. I don't care if his girlfriend or wife is considering abortion and he feels that he understands it when that happens, because he doesn't. He doesn't understand what being a woman is like, just like a woman doesn't understand what being a man is like. He doesn't understand what carrying a child around for nine months does to women, the joys and the serious health complications that it can bring about, the disgust that rape victims would feel about how their child was conceived - he cannot and will never understand any of this. Yet because he's a man, he feels that he has the right to sit up there on his lofty perch and judge the decision of a woman based on the fact that there are some people who feel guilty about abortions.

I mean, seriously? Was this supposed to be an earth-shattering revelation? How could there be women out there who DON'T feel guilty about getting an abortion, given that the vast majority of what we see on television essentially says that anyone who gets an abortion is basically the worst person alive. Don't believe me? Think about it. How many pro-life advertisements do you see on television? Quite a few, right? Even in Canada, we see quite a few (particularly because most of the television we receive is on American channels). Now tell me, how many pro-choice advertisements do you see on television? How many? Honestly? Because you know that pro-choicers would be having a shitfit if something that "offensive" was allowed on television.

To summarize: Men have no right to pretend to be morally superior to women and to sit around and judge the choices that women may make. They don't have the right to tell me what to do with my body anymore than I have the right to tell them what to do with theirs.

Why is it okay for me to walk past a hospital on days that pro-life people are protesting and to be essentially harassed (and I'm not fucking kidding on this one) by a man (because it is nearly ALWAYS a man) that's trying to make me say that I think people who get abortions are going to hell? Why can I not turn to that man and tell him that he shouldn't be having sex with his wife, because they're not having any children and therefore, their sex is pointless, because having sex for pleasure alone is supposed to be some kind of sin? Why is it not okay for me to tell him that he shouldn't masturbate, because kittens will die, because that's what I believe? Why can I not tell him that he should be castrated, because he's clearly too stupid to be adding his genes to the collective pool?

Okay. In more realistic situation/response examples, when a man tells me that I shouldn't get an abortion because it's a sin, why can I not ask him why he's not harassing the man who impregnated me? If I've been raped, why can't I ask him why he cares so much about a fetus when I've, you know, been RAPED?* Why do the people outside the hospital spend so much time focusing on a fetus that they never even consider the reasons that a woman might get an abortion and the events and circumstances that may lead her to get one?

I know I haven't sworn as much in this post as I usually do, but this is actually how I get when I'm very angry. I hit the point where all that comes out of my mouth is "fucking fucktard fucking fuck" and then I get past that point, to a point where I'm literally still on the outside, but hitting people with scooters across the face inside.

* I have not actually been raped. I know someone who has been, and part of what disturbed me the most about the way people treated her after was that they were more focused on her fetus than on her own well-being. I thought it was really sick.

My body, my choice. I have the mental capacity to make decisions for myself, large and small, without the sanctimonious judgements that people could place on me. It's my life and I'm living it, not anyone else. People need to spend less time being so concerned with what other people are doing and be more concerned about their own mistakes in their own lives.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Haven't updated in a while....

My bad. It's not that I haven't been hating things lately, because I most certainly have!

Right now, my work is annoyed at me because apparently someone changed my schedule without telling me. Do not care.

Right now, I'm mad at tequila and whiskey for giving me my first blackout moments, although some good did come of that.

Right now, though, the thing that's pissing me off is one of my friend's ex girlfriends.

She's literally crazy. She doesn't understand that she's the most irrational person on the planet. Think Bella from Twilight, but twenty times worse.

I also hate her for repeatedly insisting that my friend owes her something. It's like,



Monday, April 5, 2010

Tiiiiiiiiired, but

Top five things I hate:

1. Idiots. I also hate the latest trend of claiming to be "trolling" on the internet when someone makes you look like a jackass.

2. People who inflict their mess on me.

3. When somebody knows that they owe you money, but continues to go along and hopes that you won't notice.

4. Hypocrisy. Grasping at straws just makes you look like a loser.

5. I goddamn hate when movie trailers give away the whole movie. Like that "Tron" movie or whatever the fuck it's called? When I saw the preview for it before Alice in Wonderland started, I was VERY annoyed by the incredibly expository bits of dialogue that they used to capture a viewer's attention.

"What, he's going to turn up and say that he just got sidetracked after twenty years?"

"You never know...."

Or something to that effect. This is why I write scripts, because I have a horrid memory for dialogue and would never remember any of my lines.

So basically, this guy's dad is some kind of nerdy guy. I believe he works in some kind of alternate universe. Boring main character decides to go have a look and figure out what happened to his dad. Finds himself drawn into the world, and, lo and behold, his dear dad is there. But OH NO, everything's just so SCARY, whatever shall we do!

That being said... I might go see it because it has Olivia Wilde in it. THIRTEEN! I straight up love her. When we saw Year One in theatres, I yelled IT'S THIRTEEN the second she came on the screen. There was a rather awkward pause after. Apparently there were no House fans in the building.

Did I mention that I find this sudden happening HILARIOUS, and am grateful to the informer? I look forward to the smackdown promised by text message.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Sometimes, I really hate my school.

That's right. I actually hate UVic sometimes.

Not the school itself, but I literally do hate people that also attend UVic. My main problem with UVic can be simply stated in this fashion: white, middle-class entitlement.

I know this is ironic, given that I am white and come from a middle-class background (I suppose. Though I have aboriginal grandparental units and we really aren't all that middle-class anymore), but seriously. I think what boggles my mind most (yes, I did just say that) is that environmental causes attract far more attention than humanitarian causes.

A perfect example of this is the latest bullshit going on on the campus. A group of flaming jackasses... I mean, "guerilla gardeners"... decided to randomly dig holes in a very well-used portion of campus to plant a garden (to draw attention to the lack of environmental sustainability that UVic apparently supports, and to try to encourage people to buy local produce, blah blah). A poorly planted garden, I might add. These 100 people essentially dug holes in an area of campus that has less-than-ideal soil conditions (re: really shitty conditions), chucked some stuff in said holes and called it a "garden."

So. Apparently one of the reasons they decided to take such (stupid) drastic action was because UVic administration has been too slow in granting the request for more garden place. Oh yeah, did I mention that we already have a designated gardening area? Yes, that's right. It has a huge waiting list, blah blah, yes, I'm well aware, but there are also plans on the go to create two more gardens for students to utilize.

Another reason (I do believe this one is my favourite) is that they were tired of a small group of people (administration, bureaucracy, or, most likely, known as "the man") making decisions for everyone.

That's right. A group of 100 students (on a campus with about 20,000 students) is pissed that a small group of people make decisions for the whole campus.

Let me make sure that I'm making my point clear.

0.5% of the student population is pissed that a ridiculously small group of people makes decisions regarding school property.

Do you see where I'm going here?

I think the other thing that pisses me off is the "our tuition fees help pay for this land, so we should get to use it how we choose!" argument. FUCK THE FUCK OFF, IT'S NOT YOUR FUCKING PROPERTY, YOU FUCKING BUNCH OF IDIOTS.

I'm also pissed off at how this has been covered in Victoria. The newspapers and the like only interview students who are "pro-garden," and the only opposing view that they show comes from the administrators. Yeah, because there aren't ANY FUCKING STUDENTS ON CAMPUS AGAINST THIS.

Which is why the Facebook groups for each respective groups has a gap of about 100 people in them - the group against the methods employed by these idiot kids protestors.

I will be clear here, though. I think there should be more garden land for students to utilize if they so choose. I do not approve of the methods used.

Also, the already available school garden land is notoriously neglected. There's a huge waiting list for people just waiting to neglect that land.

It blows my mind that this issue gets more attention than the flower drive that was on campus last week. Apparently UVic kids care more about protesting for arbitrary things that they have no right to than they care about providing funding for AIDS-stricken members of the Victoria community and AIDS research.

Environmental issues are important, but this is yet another example of entitled kids not understanding laws. Our school grounds rules allow for the space to be utilized by students in certain ways (ie eating lunch there, studying there, etc) but NOT for a group of students to decide that the entire campus needs a personal garden.

The big stereotype going around right now is that it's all the arts kids doing this stupid stuff... sometimes, I really hate being an arts student.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Two days since my last rant? OH NO!

I have so many irritating things to rant about today.

But I suppose I should start with a general rant, because it seems to be happening to me pretty often lately. Don't do things just to get some kind of reaction out of me. If you have to resort to something like that, it's more than likely that I straight up do not give a fuck.

And I'll be honest here - I don't give a fuck about most things lately. I'm struggling to break the surface on the "homework/fuck you professors" ocean, while trying to make sure that I'm there in case A/K/A (I do that just for the lulz) need to talk, along with my lovely friends from work. Other than that, I care about my parents. And I care about listening to music constantly. Everything else is a non-issue. I don't have time to devote to drama, nor do I care to.

On a slightly happier note (but that's not the point of this blog!), I'm going to have a campfire type thing with the people from my drama workshop tomorrow night. I'm really looking forward to it, actually. There's this totally badass girl that writes the most twisted stories in the class, and she'll be there. We get on quite well, she definitely brings out the feminist in me. Also, I just enjoy watching her do battle with this weird idiot in our class.

Reasons that I hate this guy:

1. He has this really irritating manner of speaking. It makes me want to set him on fire.

2. He seems to have this tendency to want to deal with really huge topics in the span of a very short script. Like suicide, or homosexuality, or... you know, someone who commits suicide because they're "in the closet."

3. I wouldn't have a problem with the above if he didn't do it so callously.

4. My script this semester was about lesbians who win the lottery. The point of the script wasn't to show that OMGZ LESBIANS ARE NORMAL OMFG or something, it was to show that people always dream about winning the lottery, and it might not always be as ideal as people think it would be. So the girls get stalked and flashed and end up running off because they don't want to deal with the crap anymore. And his peer edit spent AGES wondering why they were lesbians.

WHY do I have to give a reason for making my couple lesbian? It was an... I don't want to say arbitrary, but there was no hidden symbolism or whatever in it. They were just lesbians, because the couple in my script for our play portion was straight. It was more a balance thing for me. Was I setting out to make a political statement by treating a gay relationship like a straight relationship? Nope. A relationship is a goddamn relationship.

A relationship is between two people who are initially attracted to each other and then end up hating each other. Homosexual break ups get just as messy as straight relationships, gay relationships have the revolting lovey-dovey phase at the beginning, blah blah.

It pisses me off that choosing to treat human beings as human beings is a political statement now.