Damn This World And Everyone In It!

Dear Santa

2011-12-02T11:08:00.003-05:00

Every year, Canada Post has a special program where kids can write to Santa at the North Pole and, apparently, Santa will answer them. I've always wondered exactly what kind of letter gets sent back. Is it a general form letter? Does a volunteer actually read these letters and respond personally? So I figured, what the heck! I'm writing to Santa this year! I'll let you know if the big guy ever responds.

Point Proved By 9:00 a.m.

2008-12-01T09:19:00.017-05:00

Monday mornings suck. Not this Monday morning in particular but, in general, Monday mornings suck. For everyone.

However, my Monday mornings aren't always terrible. I take the subway and the bus to work every morning, then I have to walk about 10 minutes to get to my building. It's not a long commute and Lord knows I could use the exercise so I don't mind it. But, on the occasional Monday, a lady I work with has to drop her daughter off at the subway near my apartment so she offers to pick me up. As much as I don't mind the morning commute on public transit, it's always a treat to have someone pick me up. That gives me an extra hour at home in the morning to do whatever I want. This morning I used that extra hour to work out and eat a healthy breakfast.

Those of you who actually believed that last sentence clearly don't know me very well.

So let's rewind to this particular Monday morning. I actually wake up before my alarm goes off because I'm still trying to recover from the killer migraine I had last night, but I know I'm getting a ride to work so I decide that it's going to be a good day. The power of positive thinking and all that crap. Then my alarm actually does go off and the first thing I hear is something about Jupiter, Venus and the moon all being close together tonight. At first, the astronomy geek in me gets super excited, then reality kicks in and I realize that this is going to be a crazy day. You can agree with me or think I'm insane, I don't really care either way, but I'm telling you...every time there is something funky going on with the moon, things just go all wonky. There's really no other way to put it. There are some days at work where every phone call I get is someone who is insane or things are just are just, well, off. On those days, I always think to myself: "It has to be full moon tonight." and it always is. Like I said, believe me or not, the moon does crazy things to people and nothing will ever convince me otherwise.

So I'm having a good morning, no rushing around to catch the bus, and I go downstairs and wait for the lady I work with to pick me up. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. By now, she's almost 25 minutes late. I know we confirmed right before we went home on Friday evening so maybe she overslept or she forgot about me or she's sick or who knows. For whatever reason, she's clearly not showing up and, by now, I'm going to be late for work if I take the bus. Taking a cab is so not in my budget, I haven't even paid my rent yet, but I hate being late for work. I would rather be an hour early than 5 minutes late...it just throws my entire day off. And that is not the way I want to start my week so I decide to bite the bullet, call a cab, and hope that it gets me to work before the boss. This also involves a mad dash to an ATM.

When the cab shows up, I'm stressed about being late for work, I'm worried about the lady I work with, and I'm pissed that I'm spending money that I hadn't intended to spend. But I decide not to take any of that out on the cab driver so, when I get in, I'm polite and give him a friendly "Good morning" and "How are you?" Again, the power of positive thinking and all that crap. He turns out to be one of those chatty cab drivers, kind of "grandfatherly", and we get into a friendly conversation where the topics vary from the economy, to advice our parents gave us, to society's general lack of common courtesy. The conversation was all over the place but there was a natural flow to it and it actually put me in a good mood. We commiserated about how people like us, the poor schmo who drives a cab or the girl who answers the phone, may not make a lot of money but we always make a point of saying "please" and "thank you". Somehow we got on the topic of our families and he asked if I had children. I told him that I would like to have children one day but it's just not in the stars for me. I can barely afford myself, I could never afford to raise a child. The poor kid would have nothing.

Yes, I know that may come as a shock to a lot of you, but it's something I've thought about a lot ever since I turned 36 and have come face-to-face with the reality that, if I ever want to have kids, there's not much time left to do it. Men don't have that issue, they can have kids when they're 70 years old. Women, it's a different story. Whether we like to admit it or not, that biological clock does exist. Not that I mentioned any of this to the cab driver. It was a friendly conversation but not that friendly.

Anyway, the conversation continued on to other topics and he was a very nice man who not only got me to work with a smile on my face, he actually got me there on time. So I gave him a genuine thank you, not to mention a generous tip, and started to get out of the cab when he said: "You know, I'm psychic."

I replied: "Really? And do you see good things for me?"

Now, going by the general lighthearted, friendly tone of our entire conversation, I assumed he was going to say something like: "You're going to have a good day" or words to that effect. He looked at me, very seriously, and said:

"You have two years."

So I, of course, replied: "Two years for what?"

He ominously held up two fingers and said: "Two years to have a baby. After that...NO CHANCE!" (long pause while I silently sat there and tried to process what this seemingly normal, nice man just randomly said to me) "But you're going to be a good mommy!"

Then he smiled as if he what he'd just said to me was completely normal and not something that would completely freak someone out!! I mean, really, wtf was that? It was such a pleasant cab ride! He was such a sweet old man! Then, at the very last second, it turned into a scene from an M. Night Shyamalan movie. Who says that to someone? Is he really psychic? Did he say that just to mess with me? The Hell?

I gave him a polite, slightly bewildered, thank you and got the hell out of Dodge. Then I looked up and cursed the moon...ALREADY!

Just because

2007-09-25T12:47:00.000-04:00

Godspeed, John.

2007-01-24T12:09:00.001-05:00

As we get older, we become more and more nostalgic about our past. This especially happens when someone from our past disappears from our lives forever. It may be an old friend or just someone we knew and loved from afar. Sure, it's an inevitable fact of life, as we get older, people pass away. But, every once in a while, someone's passing really makes you stop and think about how much happiness that person brought into your life, even if the two of you never actually met.

And so it was with a heavy heart that I read about the death of John Majhor yesterday. He was a man that every Canadian from my generation will never forget. The eighties: the days of big hair, jelly shoes and the birth of mainstream music videos. Back then, we had no MTV, no MuchMusic...the only thing us Canucks had was a little show called Toronto Rocks hosted by a local DJ named John Majhor. John sat in a tiny little area that looked to be the size of a closet. There were no flashy sets, no special guests, it was just us and John watching music videos together.

But this wasn't just any ordinary music video show, it was THE show. Everyone watched it! I remember rushing home from school every day so I could be home in time for Toronto Rocks. I still have the video tape that has the clip of when my high school appeared on the show. It was a quick 5 minute segment about our school releasing a bunch of balloons with tags on them so people who found them could tell us where they were and send the tags back to us. It was our way of "putting our school on the map" - at least, that's what the president of the student council said at the time. (I believe one balloon actually made it as far as Quebec.) But, really, none of us cared about any of that. We were going to be on Toronto Rocks and that was all that mattered!

If teenagers today were to watch an old clip of the show, I'm sure they would laugh at the set, the wardrobe, and the general lack of bells and whistles that seem to come with today's video channels. But, people from my generation, we'd watch the same clip with fond nostalgia and a big smile on our faces. John Majhor wasn't just a random host to us. He was a pioneer, an icon, and a true friend...even if we'd never actually met him.

Rock on, John! And thank you.

'Tis The Season....

2006-11-22T14:36:00.000-05:00

.....where I become absolutely miserable.

I hate holidays. Once you lose people you love, the holidays are never the same. As for me, I never had a big family to begin with. My father had a stroke when I was 10 yrs old. My mother passed away 7 years ago. And my brother lives 3 towns away so I spend pretty much every holiday alone. Holidays are a depressing time for a lot of people and I'm one of them.

But what really makes me miserable is Christmas. Not Christmas, in general, but the fact that Christmas pretty much starts right after Halloween. Two months of Christmas is enough to drive anyone batty. But imagine how annoying it is if you don't even celebrate Christmas, yet you still have it shoved down your throat every day for two months straight. Yep, I'm one of those people too.

A Jew. A lonely Jew during the Christmas season. Sure, we have Chanukka, but you never hear anything about it. It's not like you see Stars of David in every shopping mall. You can't go sit on Moses's lap and tell him what you want as a present. (Not that I'd really want to sit on Moses's lap anyway. Ew. Creepy!)

And then there are the little things that really drive me crazy. For example, every year I am blown away and completely pissed off by the number of people who wish me a Merry Christmas. Hello! JEWISH!! Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about random strangers like store clerks, etc. Those people don't know my religion so I know they're just trying to be nice. I don't mind that at all. I'm talking about people who do know me, like the idiots I work with. Every single person I work with knows that I'm Jewish, yet every single year, half of them wish me a Merry Christmas. To me, that's not them being nice, that's them being disrespectful. That's like them saying: "I know you're Jewish but I'm going to completely ignore your religion and wish you a Merry Christmas because my religion is so much more important than yours." Would it kill them to just once say: "Happy Chanukka"? I think it would.

And you know the most miserable day of all? December 25th. That is the most boring day of the year for us. You can't do anything with any of your friends because they're all at home celebrating Christmas with their families. You can't watch tv because there's nothing on but Christmas specials. And you can't listen to the radio because they're never playing anything but Christmas music. It blows! So what do we do? We all go to the movies. Yup, December 25th is National Jews Go To The Movies day. Of course, there's always some people in line that are talking about what gifts they got for Christmas which always makes me want to go up to them and kick them in the shins. Really, movie theatres should have express lines for Jewish people on December 25th. "Move aside people! Jew coming through!"

But, the one thing I will say about the Christmas season, occasionally people do give me gifts! That part absolutely rocks! Especially since my family is pretty much all gone. Usually I live vicariously through my Christian friends when they tell me about all the stuff they got, so it's always a kick ass surprise when one of them gives me a gift. Does it make me a hypocrite that I despise Christmas yet I happily accept Christmas gifts? Probably. But, hey, if I have to put up with all the other stuff being forced upon me for 2 months straight, I think I totally deserve a present or two. Or five. Or ten! So, if you're thinking about getting me a gift this year, how about this:

Or possibly this:

But, if all else fails, you can just buy me stuff!

Sometimes it pays to talk to strangers.

2006-07-05T09:55:00.000-04:00

I hate summer. I hate summer with a passion.

There's no hockey. All the skinny little women walk around in their tank tops with their bra straps hanging out. (Tacky!) And it's just too damned hot! Especially since I don't have air conditioning. Every summer my apartment turns into an oven. You walk in there and, within 5 minutes, you're literally dripping with sweat. It's completely unbearable. However, I just never seem to have the extra few hundred dollars I need in order to buy an air conditioner.

So yesterday I'm coming home from work and I get into the elevator with some random guy I've never seen before. He decides he wants to make small talk. Clearly this guy doesn't know me or else he would know that I hate people and never chit chat with anyone in my building. I don't know my neighbours and I like it that way. When I come home from work, I just want to be left alone. I don't want to have to make small talk with strangers. However, for whatever reason, I actually decide to be pleasant to this guy. (And, no, it had nothing to do with him being insanely attractive or anything because he wasn't. He was just your average looking dude.)

Him: Finally, the day is over!

Me: Thank God! If only I had air conditioning so I could enjoy it. It almost makes me wish I was back at work.

Him: Oh, you don't have an air conditioner?

Me: Nope.

Him: Do you want one?

So I'm wondering what the deal is with this guy. Does he sell air conditioners? Does he steal them? Is he going to refer me to a friend who owns a store or something?

Him: I'm moving out of the country in a couple weeks so I'm trying to get rid of all my stuff. If you want, I'll sell you my air conditioner for $20.00.

Me: An air conditioner for $20 bucks? What's the catch? Is it broken? Does it leak?

Him: No, I swear, it works great! I'm moving to Japan and I'm not gonna lug an air conditioner with me so I need to get rid of it. You can come look at it right now if you want.

So I figure, what the hell! But as we're walking down the hall to his apartment, I start to wonder exactly how wise this is. A woman walking into the apartment of a total stranger? That's how those stupid women you hear about on the news get killed. But when we reach his apartment, I see that his neighbours across the hall have their door propped wide open. So I figure that if this guy turns out to be some psycho murderer rapist, those people would probably hear me scream. Hmmm....how badly do I want this air conditioner? However, after he opens his apartment door, he takes a shoe and props his front door open so problem solved. His apartment has practically no furniture in it so I guess he really is moving out of the country. That's when I start to think that this guy is on the up and up.

He pulls the air conditioner out of his closet and he tells me that he only used it for one year and he never had any problems with it at all. Even better, he says that I don't even have to pay him right away. He insists that I try it out for a few days and, if I'm happy with it, I can just slip the $20.00 under his door. He even carries it down to my apartment for me. When we get there, I insist on giving the guy his $20.00 because he just seems like a nice guy. Plus, I'm damned excited about the prospect of having an air conditioner! And he tells me that if there are any problems at all, just let him know and he'll give me back my money. So we shake hands and I thank him profusely. At that point, we finally decide it might be appropriate to introduce ourselves. It turns out that Sayid (sadly, not the hot guy from LOST) has lived in the building for 3 years but our paths have just never crossed before.

Anyway, I set up the air conditioner (which involves a long, ugly fight with the pigeons on my balcony who seem to think it's their apartment, not mine) and get ready for the big moment. An air conditioner for $20.00? It's way too good to be true. There's gotta be a catch. Like I'll turn it on and it'll blow all the fuses in my apartment and burn down the building. But I cross my fingers and push the button.

::::::::::::::::::::WHOOSH:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Cold air! It works! No leaking. No sparking. No blown fuses. It totally works! It doesn't really cool down the bedroom that much but it's awesome in the living room! And, believe me, I have no qualms whatsoever about sleeping on my couch for the rest of the summer. Hell, I fall alseep on the couch half the time anyway! Will it continue to work? Who knows. But, for now, I have an awesome air conditioner that I bought for only $20.00 from some random stranger who just happened to make small talk in the elevator with me, the one person on the planet who practically never makes small talk with strangers. Right place, right time, I guess.

I still hate summer. But at least I won't be living in an oven anymore!

A Passover Miracle?

2006-04-14T17:12:00.000-04:00

Or possibly a wormhole in the universe?

Or, most likely, a really bizarre coincidence.

I own only two pieces of jewellery. A necklace that belonged to my mother and a ring that belonged to my grandmother. The ring was the only piece of jewellery that my grandmother owned and she wore it every day. The necklace was the only piece of jewellery my mother owned and she wore it every day. After they both passed away, I wore the ring and necklace every day to remind me of the two people who I love and will never stop missing.

Neither the ring, nor the necklace are real, I'm sure. If you stole them and tried to pawn them, I'm positive you'd get maybe $10.00 for both, if you were lucky. But to me they are priceless.

I wore them every day.

Every day until about 5 months ago.

I was taking the ring off at the end of the day, so I could put it back into my grandmother's old jewellery box, which is what I did every day. But, this time, the ring slipped out of my hand. I heard it hit the floor but when I looked down, it was gone. I searched for hours and hours but I couldn't find it anywhere. There are no vents in my bedroom so I knew it couldn't have bounced into one. The search went on for days, and then weeks. I tore my room apart but it was just gone. It was like it hit the floor and just disappeared. After about a month, I finally gave up.

I was beyond upset about it but what can you do? Life goes on, and really, it was just a ring.

A few weeks ago, I came home from grocery shopping and was putting the change back into my wallet in the living room when I dropped a nickel. I bent down to pick it up but it was gone. Now, this nickel was simply a nickel. It had no sentimental value so there was no extended search for it like there was for the ring. I did, however, look all around and peeked under the couch before I gave up after a minute or so. I turned to my friend and jokingly said: "It must have fallen into the same time-space continuum that my ring fell into."

So, here I am, a few weeks after losing the nickel and months after losing the ring. It's Good Friday. It's Passover. I don't really care what the holiday is, I just know that I didn't have to go to work and that's always a good thing! So I spent the day lazing around being a bum. Watching The Price Is Right. Taking a nap. Basically, doing a whole lot of nothing. After finally deciding to get my lazy butt off the couch, I came into my bedroom and, as soon as I walked in, something caught my eye. There, right next to the chair by my desk, was my grandmother's ring!

It wasn't hidden in any shadows. It wasn't tucked up against the corner of the desk or anything. It was just sitting right there in the open. Right next to the chair where I sit every single night when I use my computer. I swear I looked there a million times! And, even if I hadn't been looking for it, I don't understand how I didn't see it. I swear it wasn't there before.

But it had to have been.

I immediately grabbed it and went into the living room to grab a tissue so I could wipe off the dust and, as soon as I rounded the corner, something caught my eye. There, directly in front of the couch - the couch I sit on every day; the couch I had just been sitting on a few minutes earlier - was the nickel.

A Passover miracle?

Or possibly a wormhole in the universe?

Or, most likely, a really bizarre coincidence.

Don't Confuse Fed-Ex!

2006-02-22T17:20:00.000-05:00

We send out a ton of packages via Fed-Ex at our office - so many packages that we have an automatic pick-up scheduled for every night because not a single day goes by that we don't use Fed-Ex.

So, because we're moving to a new office on Apr. 1st, we need to order new waybills that have our new address on them. Seems simple enough, right? Yeah, not so simple when you're dealing with the geniuses at Fed-Ex.

The not-so charming gentleman I spoke to at Fed-Ex told me it was impossible for them to order pre-printed waybills with our new address on them because "if we change it in our system, the supplies will be delivered to your new office instead of the one you're currently in." According to him, the new waybills cannot be ordered until the day before we move because "shipments will get all messed up".

So I asked him if it was possible to order the new waybills and just make a note to ship them to our current address. Nope. Not possible. We went in circles for bit and he kept saying to me in this really condescending tone: "You're not understanding what I'm saying..." Now, I used to work at a call centre so I always try to be as polite as possible when I'm dealing with someone else at a call centre but this guy was:

1) a moron

2) a prick

So, finally I said to him: "I understand exactly what you're telling me. You're telling me that Fed-Ex delivers all over the world with no problem but they're not capable of shipping some supplies to our office. I could send a package to Outer Mongolia and Fed-Ex could get it there tomorrow, but this? This confuses them."

Honestly, it was the most ridiculous conversation I've ever had! It's Fed-Ex for God's sake! That's what Fed-Ex does - they deliver! But apparently they're not capable of handling an address change in advance because it will be "too confusing". I'm sure he hung up the phone and was like: "Bitch!" but, seriously, can you blame me?

Why People Hate Lawyers

2006-02-22T16:27:00.000-05:00

Ok, there are many reasons, but the conversation I just had with one of the lawyers in our office is one of many reasons I hate them. One of the lawyers I work with (We'll call him "Dick", as opposed to my boss, who we call "Asshole".) is a complete moron. He has absolutely ZERO people skills and talking to him is like talking to a wall.

Me: Dick, Mrs. Client called this morning and wants to know when she can come pick up her Will.

Dick: It's not done yet.

Me: When can I tell her it will be done so she can pick it up?

Dick: I'm hoping it will be done next week.

Me: You're *hoping* it will be done? Or it *will* be done?

Dick: I'm hoping it will be done.

Me: Well, I need to call her back and tell her when it *will* be done.

Dick: I'm hoping next week.

Me: I can't call her back and tell her when you're "hoping" it will done, I need to give her an exact day so she can come pick it up. "Hoping" doesn't answer her question.

Dick: Ok, I'm anticipating it will be done next week.

Me: That's the exact same thing as hoping!

Dick: Well, that's what I'm hoping.

Me: So I should call her and tell to come all the way down here next week and *hopefully* it will be done when she gets here?

Dick: Well, it's a simple Will. It won't take long to do.

Me: So then it *will* be done next week?

Dick: Hopefully.

It was at that point that I simply turned and walked away because I'm pretty sure I felt part of my brain explode. I mean, it's not just me being overly sensitive, is it? The guy is a fucking moron, right?

Just When You Think You Can't Hate Your Job Even More...

2006-02-09T16:37:00.000-05:00

...you discover what a prick your boss really is.

As you may or may not know, I work as a receptionist/secretary at a law firm. My boss, we'll call him "Asshole", is someone who I've always thought of as a nice guy. A damned cheap guy, but a nice one. Turns out, I was sorely mistaken.

We're moving offices in a few months so we've got a lot of paperwork and files that need to be taken care of in order to facilitate the move, and there is a HUGE backlog of files. I'm talking years! So I've been helping out the legal secretaries whenever I can. Meaning, when I'm finished working on my current files, instead of catching up on less important work, I'll go to the secretaries and ask them if there's anything I can do for them to help them get caught up. (I'll spare you all the boring details. When I say "work on files", just assume I'm doing some boring legal paperwork.)

So there is one specific secretary, we'll call her "C", who I've been doing a lot of work for. After I finish working on the files, I give her a list of all the file numbers and she, in turn, gives that list to the lady in accounting so the file can be "closed out" in the system. (I have no clue what being "closed out" actually means but apparently it's very important. *shrug* ) Anyway, every time my boss sees me working on her files, he always casually says: "You're keeping a list of all those, right?" Now, I always assumed he was talking about the list I give to C that eventually goes to the accounting lady. But apparently he had wanted me to keep a seperate list of all the files I've worked on for her. So I mentioned this to C and she kind of shook her head and chuckled: "Yeah, he wanted to keep track of how much work I wasn't doing."

Now, it's not like C is one of those co-workers who sits on her ass and goofs off. She's been here the longest and works harder (and has more files to work on) than any of the other secretaries. So I was really pissed that, had I kept the list he'd wanted me to, I would have been unknowingly spying on C. The more I thought about it, the more it infuriated me. So I went back to C's office a little while later and mentioned how it was really bothering me and she just kind of grinned:

C: Don't let it bother you. We're used to it.

Me: Used to it? Does he do this a lot?

C: Oh, yeah! You didn't know?

Me: No! I had no clue that side of him existed!

C: I don't take it personally. Like when he came to me a few months ago to complain about personal calls and he said: 'I asked Rachel to keep track and she said there were 47 personal calls coming in to the office this week.' I didn't let it bother me.

Ok, now, if this were a tv show with sound effects, this would be the part where they play the sound of a needle scratching across a record.

Me: Wait, wait. What?

C: What?

Me: That thing about the personal calls. Was that just a hypothetical example or did he actually say that to you?

C: No, he really said it to me.

Ok, that? NEVER happened!! Asshole has never ever asked me to keep track of anyone's personal calls. I have never instigated a conversation with Asshole about the number of personal calls people get. The subject of personal calls has never, even remotely, come up in any conversation I have ever had with Asshole. Yet he's actually told people in the office that I was keeping track of their personal calls and reporting back to him? Hmmm, all those times people in my office have treated me like crap or snapped at me for no reason and I wondered what I ever did to deserve to be treated that way? Gee, maybe it all harkens back to the day when Asshole told them I was spying on them. Which I wasn't!

I don't even think it would bother me that much if it had actually happened because then I could at least tell people: "Yes, I did it. He's my boss. He pays my salary. He told me to do it. So I did it." But that didn't happen. It was a complete and total lie. I'm so blown away that he would do that! Did it not occur to him that:

a) I would find out about it.

b) It would have serious consequences for me and the way my co-workers treat me.

And the worst part is that it's not like I'm in a position to confront my boss about it. Not only would it probably get C in trouble, there's really no benefit to me confronting him. I need the job. I need the money. I'm not in a position to tell him what a prick he is and to shove his job up his ass. So I just have to grin and bear it.

But that list I'm keeping of people to kill once they legalize homicide? He's totally moving to the top!

"Let's Be Friends!" - No, let's not!

2006-02-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

Why do people seem to think it's ok to try to solicit money from you at your place of business? I can't tell you how often I get salespeople walking into our office trying to sell me jewelry, paintings, toys, books, pillows (yes, pillows!), spa packages....you name it, someone has come into my office and tried to sell it to me. There is a big sign on the front doors of the building I work in that clearly says "No soliciting". What part of that do people not understand? And then they seem really offended when I refuse to let them walk through our office trying to peddle their junk.

"Well, can you at least ask to see if anyone is interested?"

"No I can't"

"Why not?"

"Because this is an office. My boss is paying us to work, not shop."

But the guy who just came into our office about ten minutes ago takes the cake. I'm sure we've all been approached by these people. I've got files all over my desk, there's a stack of mail in front of me, the phone is ringing as always, (so it's very obvious that I'm busy) and this very well-dressed man walks into the office and literally shoves a card under my nose while I'm on the phone. The card reads:

"Hi, I'm deaf. Let's be friends. Can you spare a few dollars?"

You have got to be fucking kidding me, right?

a) You're deaf, not an invalid. There's no reason you can't work at an actual job instead of going around asking other people to donate money simply because you can't hear. I could understand if maybe you were asking people to help you out because you're going through an especially difficult time, we've all been there, but you want me to give you money simply because you're deaf? I think not.

b) You're wearing a Tommy Hilfiger sweater and very nice leather jacket. I'm wearing 3 year old pants that I bought at Winners and a hand-me-down shirt. Obviously, asking people to be your friend because you're deaf pays well. Perhaps I should consider changing occupations.

c) I'm at work. "No soliciting" You're deaf, not blind. Also, could you at least wait until I'm off the phone before you start harrassing me for money?

d) Judging by the fact that you gave me a dirty look and walked off in a huff when I shook my head, I'm guessing that you never really wanted to be friends in the first place. I'm heartbroken.

Perhaps the card should have read:

"Hi, I'm deaf. Let's be friends. Can you spare a few dollars, even though I clearly have more money then you and I don't even work for a living? If not, you're a filthy whore and I hope you die"

The true spirit

2006-02-06T16:21:00.000-05:00

Wow, I just realized that I haven't posted anything in like 6 months. Probably because I lead the most boring life on the face of the planet. All my friends who have blogs have all these interesting things to write about. They're either travelling, or having babies, or just have a lot of really cool things to talk about. Me? Not so much. I figure that if I keep waiting for something interesting to happen before I post, I'll probably never post again.

So I've decided to use this blog in the true spirit it was created: to bitch about all the damned morons in the world! If there's an idiot on the face of this planet, they find me. I used to vent to my friend L here at work, but she left to go on maternity leave last week. Which is really depressing for me. You know how when you have a really crappy job that you hate, there's usually one person there who makes you laugh, who you can bitch to, who makes it all just a little more bearable? Well, she was that person. And now that L is gone, I'm on my own here. It's just me and all the people I can't stand.

Which means that I now have no one to bitch to about the little things that drive me batty and all the idiots I deal with on a daily basis. And, believe you me, if anyone deals with idiots, it's a receptionist! (By the way, who invented the phrase "Believe you me"? Wouldn't it make more sense to say: "Believe me, you!")

From now on, if you piss me off, you're going in the blog! ("Oooh, what a scary threat!Please don't put me in your blog, anonymous internet girl!") Shut up.

The Crazy Doctor

2005-06-19T12:05:00.000-04:00

So the Mystery Illness is still going strong. After another round of tests and more visits to more specialists, there's still no answer. My favourite appointment in this round had to be when I went to see the Ear, Nose and Throat guy. He was young, cute and very nice. He warned me that he was going to stick something long and hard down my throat and I thought: "Yes!" Sadly, it was just some sort of camera on a stick. I warned him that I might gag and he said that wasn't a problem. I suppose he's used to it. So when I, of course, gagged on it like I knew I would, he simply smiled and said: "No problem. I have an easier way to check." Yeah, easier for him! The easier way consisted of him taking a long tube with a small camera on the end and ramming it up my nose and down into my throat! Yes, it was as horrific as it sounds. It didn't hurt but man was it uncomfortable! And I still gagged on the damn thing, only I couldn't do anything about it because it was up my nose and down my throat! People, trust me when I tell you this, if you ever have to go see one of these specialists, for the love of God, do not gag on the first camera!!

So, after we've gone through this round of tests with no answer, my doctor finally decides I should go see The Crazy Doctor. No, she's not crazy. She's a doctor for crazy people. Some people call her a psychiatrist but I call 'em as I see 'em. If you're of sound mind, you don't need a shrink. Frankly, I don't think that a shrink is going to help solve the Mystery Illness but after feeling like crap for 9 months, I'm willing to try anything. And I know I have issues. I probably should have been sent to see The Crazy Doctor years ago!

(By the way, for those who were wondering, I'm back to smoking. I'm so glad I wasted all that money on those damn patches! What can I say? I'm a weak person with no will power. Now, let me light a smoke and we'll continue.)

I'm a little skeptical when it comes to psychiatrists in general because I believe they have no desire to actually help their patients. They just want them to keep talking so they can keep charging them a zillion dollars an hour. However, since I'm poor and can't afford one of those fancy shmancy scam artists, my doctor sent me to The Crazy Doctor. The Crazy Doctor works at the hospital so my visits are covered by our beloved health care system and I don't have to pay for anything. (God bless Canada and Tommy Douglas for creating our health care system. Also, God bless Tommy Douglas for giving us Kiefer Sutherland, but that's a whole other story.) So I have a little more faith that The Crazy Doctor may actually try to help me since there's no extra money in it to not help me.

Anyway, it turns out that The Crazy Doctor is a woman. A young, pretty blonde woman. My first thought was: "What is she? Twelve years old?" But after looking at her more closely, she's not as young as she originally seemed. She's either my age or not much older. Or she's much older and looks damn good for her age! She seems nice but, to tell you the truth, I don't know if she likes me very much. I wonder if that's a sign that you're truly crazy when you worry that your shrink doesn't like you. I mean, my life is pretty damn boring. I wonder if she actually pays attention when I talk or if her mind wanders off to what she's going to eat for dinner for that night. Hell, sometimes when I'm talking, I start to think about what's on tv that night.

I've only met with her twice so far, only for half an hour both times. I'm not sure but I think maybe she has her own practice and works at the hospital only a few days a week. I have 4 more appointments scheduled with her, two weeks apart between each one. We haven't really got into any heavy discussions yet because the first appointment was her basically asking about me and the 2nd appointment was sort of a follow-up. The one thing she did mention to me? Apparently I'm angry at my mother for dying. (???) Uh, ok. I guess that could be true. (???) I'm certainly angry at her for giving me her hereditary big thighs! But isn't everybody angry at their mother for one reason or another? Maybe everybody in the world needs a shrink.

In any case, that's where I'm at right now in terms of my visits with The Crazy Doctor. My next appointment is on June 28th so, until then, I'll just keep chain smoking while being angry at my dead mother. (???)

A Bump In The Road

2005-04-03T01:13:00.000-05:00

29 days.

That's how long I went without a cigarette. Twenty nine days. You would think I would have broken the habit by then. You would think the cravings would have become far less frequent. You would think it would have become easier.

29 days. That's how long I went before I fell off the wagon.

I was watching a movie last night and every character was smoking in every single scene. Before I knew it, I was throwing on my coat and running across the street to buy a pack of smokes. I kept hoping I would change my mind on the way over but there was no time. For once, the elevator came to my floor within seconds of me pushing the button. For once, there was no line up in the store. There wasn't a time where I had the chance to stop and think about what I was doing, so I could talk myself out of it.

Sad, isn't it? I made it through the first few days of withdrawal symptoms. I made it through the stress of nearly getting evicted. But a stupid movie (which sucked, by the way) is what pushed me over the edge.

The first cigarette tasted disgusting. The second one, not as bad. Now it's just like old times. I tried to tell myself to just throw the pack away but I couldn't bring myself to do it. After all, I don't have money to waste. If I paid $8.00 for this pack of smokes, I'm smoking them! It's amazing how quickly I've fallen back into my old routine. Smoking after a meal. Smoking as I watch tv. Smoking as I type this. It's like the past month never even happened. Like I made no progress whatsoever. It's funny, I never thought of smoking as an addiction until I tried to quit. I always thought of it as simply a bad habit. I guess you just don't realize how addicted you are to something until you try to give it up.

I can't wait for them to be gone. I feel miserable. I feel like all the struggling I've done for the past month has been for nothing. I'm disappointed in myself and I feel like I failed. And the sad part is that, even though I'm so angry with myself, I've really missed smoking. Life is so much easier when I'm not trying to quit. I guess that's the sign of a true addiction.

But, tomorrow is a new day. There are 4 cigarettes left in this pack and I will NOT buy another one tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, I'll stick one of those damn Nicoderm patches back on my arm and get back on the wagon. The big question: will it be just like starting all over again? Is it going to be just as difficult as when I first quit a month ago? Or was this simply a bump in the road and I'll be able to pick up where I left off? Not that where I left off was easy either. But it was definitely easier than a month ago. I guess we'll find out.

10 Days And Counting

2005-03-14T14:57:00.000-05:00

So, here I am. Day 11 with no cigarettes and I'm still alive. More impressively, I haven't killed anyone else!

I'm tempted to cheat every second of every minute of every day. Every time I leave my apartment, it's a struggle not to go into a store and buy a pack of smokes. When does this shit start getting easier? I still crave it just as much as I did 11 days ago!

I almost cheated yesterday. I wanted to cheat yesterday. I tried to cheat yesterday. But I couldn't go through with it.

As usual, these damned Nicoderm patches keep giving me restless nights and waking me up at ungodly early hours. I, by nature, am not a morning person. I despise mornings. But, as much as I try to will myself to sleep most of the day on weekends (Less time awake means less time craving cigarettes), I keep waking up at 7:00 a.m. or earlier. So yesterday I wake up at about 7:30 a.m. I get up, annoyed, do my laundry and it's still only 8:45 a.m. So I decide to go grocery shopping.

By the way, for those of you who have never gone grocery shopping right when the store opens, I highly recommend it! The aisles are practically empty. The bread is so fresh, it's still warm. And, the best thing of all, there are no stupid little children running up and down the aisles. Parents really need to keep those things on a leash!

Anyway, I do my grocery shopping but, because it's so early and the store has just opened, there's only one check out line open and it's the Express Line. The line where they sell cigarettes. Ugh. I keep thinking that I'd be fine if I could just have one smoke. Just one! Not a whole pack...just one! So I convince myself that I can just buy a small pack, have one smoke, and put the rest of the pack away. (Yeah, as if that would happen.) So she starts ringing in my groceries and I also ask her for a pack of smokes. For a brief second, I'm thrilled at the fact that I'm going to get to have at least one drag.

But then something weird happens. I start to get this weird feeling. This really weird, overwhelming feeling...of guilt! GUILT! People, I don't feel guilty for anything...ever. I was raised by a Jewish mother. I'm immune to guilt! But there it was.

So I quickly tell the woman behind the counter to nix the pack of smokes. She kind of gives me this strange look. I guess because I said it so suddenly and adamantly. So, of course, I start babbling about how I'm trying to quit and I almost cheated and I'm sure she really cared. But she just smiled and said: "Good move!".

So I left the store and went back to my apartment where I plopped down on the couch and immediately wished I had bought the pack of smokes.

Oh, and for those who care, the Mystery Illness has been just as bad, if not worse, since I quit smoking. So I guess we'll see what the doctor has to say about that when I go back in a few days.

Like I said, when does this shit start getting easier?

Day 3 in Hell and you're all invited!

2005-03-06T21:48:00.000-05:00

Ok, you don't have to come to Hell with me, but I finally figured out how to change the settings on this damned blog so everybody can leave comments now. But if you plan to leave a comment telling me what an insane bitch I am, save your time, I already know. If you'd like to leave a comment offering me money, what are you waiting for? Just do it already!

So, anyway, this is Day 3 with no cigarettes and things are going really well! Oh wait, that's a lie...I AM IN HELL!! I went grocery shopping yesterday and almost jumped an old lady for her smoke. There's a really nasty guy I always see in the laundry room of my apartment building who constantly reeks of smoke. He's fat, dirty and looks like he hasn't showered in about a year. We'll call him: Comic Book Guy. I'm tempted to go down there and stick my tongue down his throat just so I can lick the excess nicotine off his teeth.

And this Nicoderm Patch? It can bite me! When I was at the drug store, the pharmacist warned me that the patch might "alter my dream patterns". I just kind of nodded and went on my way because what the hell does that mean? Well, now I know. For the past 3 nights, I've had the most bizarre, vivid dreams! I'll have an extremely vivid dream, then I'll wake up every 20 minutes. And the cycle repeats itself all night. What the fuck?

"This product releases controlled amounts of nicotine into your sytem. Also, you might get some traces of LSD, but pay no attention to that."

So I'm exhausted. The lack of smoking, combined with the Mystery Illness, combined with the restless nights is torture. Although, in one of my dreams, Wal-Mart had brought back the old Intellivision game system and was selling them for only $11.99! I was really pissed when I woke up before I got to play Snafu.

Oh, the Nicoderm system also comes with some helpful suggestions for those who are quitting smoking:

If you feel the need for a cigarette, try drinking water. - What crackhead wrote this? In what way, shape or form is drinking water going to help? Yes, maybe if you pee an extra 20 times a day, you'll forget about the fact that you would kill your own grandmother for one drag.

Quitting smoking doesn't mean you have to gain weight. Instead of smoking, try snacking on healthy things, like carrot sticks. - Whoever came up with this idea can take his carrot sticks and stick them straight up his rooty-poo candy ass! Carrot sticks are evil. When I went grocery shopping, I bought cookies, a chocolate cake, ice cream, nachos, honey-roasted peanuts and potato chips. And I plan on eating all that junk until my head starts spinning around and I start projectile vomiting. Suck on that, carrot stick man!

Avoid your favourite smoking areas. - Great, now I have to leave Earth and go start my own new civilization on Uranus. (Heh. Uranus! That will never stop being funny to me.)

Keep your hands busy. - Uh, won't I go blind?

And this is my personal favourite:

If you feel like you really need a cigarette, ask yourself what is really bothering you and then tell someone about it. - I'll admit it. You know what's really bothering me? I want a fucking cigarette!!!!

I also really want to play Snafu. Damn you Nicoderm!

Quitting Smoking

2005-03-04T15:40:00.000-05:00

So my doctor has prescribed the Nicoderm Patch system for me. It's only been one day but let me tell you, I'm ready to rip that patch off my body, cut it, roll it, and smoke it.

I tried quitting once before. It was about two years ago and I made it smoke-free for 7 days. Then I caved. Those 7 days were the longest days of my life.

I don't think non-smokers understand how incredibly difficult it is to quit. It's funny how people have such admiration for and give such support to people who are trying to overcome addictions to drugs or alcohol. But if you tell someone you're trying to quit smoking, they usually just give you a disgusted look and say something assy like: "It's about time!" Let me tell you, people. It is DAMNED hard to quit smoking!

You go through the same physical and mental withdrawal symptoms as any other addiction.

Today hasn't been too bad but I've been at work all day. The real agony begins when I get home and have to get through the weekend. Last time I quit, I found that I only had a couple really bad cravings. It was more the "habit" aspect of it that made me insane. I would sit at my computer and not be able to function because I didn't have a smoke in my hand. Not smoking after meals, that's a killer too. Watching tv. Reading a book. Man, there's pretty much nothing I do that doesn't require me having a cigarette in my hand.

You know, my mother smoked for almost 40 years. She finally quit and, you know what? She dropped dead of an aneurysm a couple months later. How's that for inspiring?

But I'll give it my best shot. Again.

The Mystery Illness

2005-03-04T15:12:00.000-05:00

The Mystery Illness appeared about 5 months ago. September 20th, 2004 to be exact. I remember the exact date because I had originally planned to go to NYC that day but I ended up cancelling because I didn't have the money. Then, out of the blue, I became violently ill that night so I was very glad I hadn't gone on my trip after all.

The main symptoms of the Mystery Illness are:

Extremely fast/pounding heartbeat
Chest pains
Throat closes up so it's very difficult to swallow
Shortness of breath
Tightness in chest/throat
Blurred vision
Headaches
nausea

There are a few other symptoms that pop up now and then but those are the main ones.

I have suffered from migraines for years and they have become more and more frequent ever since the Mystery Illness started. (And, when I say "migraine", I'm not talking about how those annoying people get a little headache and walk around saying "Oh, I have such a migraine!" I fucking HATE those people! I'm talking about actual clinical migraines where you curl up into a ball and silently pray for death.)

I'm also a smoker. Or, at least, I was until today. I've smoked for approximately 10 years.

My father had a stroke when I was 10. Both my mother and grandfather died of brain aneurysms. My other grandfather died of a heart attack. And both my grandmothers died of a cancer. So, as you can see, I have a kick ass family history. We all die young. It's tradition!

Anyway, after 5 months and about 5 zillion tests, the doctors have decided that I'm suffering from panic attacks. I think they're full of crap. Who suffers from panic attacks non-stop for 5 freaking months?? I think the doctors just don't know what it is and are tired of dealing with me so they've decided that it's all in my head.

So, my doctor's solution? "Get rid of all the stress in your life." No, seriously. That's what she said to me yesterday. Get rid of all the stress in my life. Ok, let me just snap my fingers and all my troubles will magically disappear. Hmmm...didn't work. Isn't that odd?

Her other solution? Quit smoking. Yes, the stress of quitting smoking will certainly make my life less stressful. That makes sense. She wants me to go back and see her every two weeks so she can monitor my progress. Won't it be fun when I go back every two weeks and tell her that nothing has changed and I still feel like crap?

Anyone have any ideas as to what the Mystery Illness might be? Oh wait, I just remembered, no one is reading this blog. Well, damn. So much for that idea.

My first post

2005-03-04T12:34:00.000-05:00

So I finally created a blog. A blog that I'm sure no one but myself will ever read. That's ok. Now I can talk about all of you!

Damn This World And Everyone In It! My brother always said that if they ever wrote a book about my life, that's what it would be called. And it's so very appropriate, really. I am a bitter, jaded cynic. I'm sarcastic, and pessimistic, and I hate people. Well, most people. I like Kiefer Sutherland. And that Joe Boxer guy. But that's pretty much it.

So what has made me into the charming person I am today? Good question. I think it all boils down to the fact that most people suck. Seriously, compare the amount of nice people you deal with every day to the amount of complete morons you deal with every day. Think about it for a minute. See?

Or maybe it's due to The Organization. What? You haven't heard of The Organization? Trust me, it exists. I'm convinced that somewhere, there is a secret organization of people out there that exists for the sole purpose of irritating me.

Or maybe it's the fact that my life hasn't turned out quite the way I had expected. I was a good kid, smart student, graduated with honours. Now I'm a 32 year old single receptionist, who filed for bankruptcy a few months ago, and has been dealing with some sort of mystery illness that has sent me to 8 different doctors over the past 5 months. Ain't life grand?