The problem with volume control

Hey you, on the train, or on the street next to me, or whatever.  Yeah you on your cell phone. 

Please explain to me why it’s so important to talk at a volume level that is only rivaled by the engine start-up of a commercial jet liner.  I’ve heard your entire conversation, and frankly your weekend plans suck, and your life is trivial.  Oh, and he didn’t sleep with you because you’re an immature idiot.

I’m very curious as to why people feel the need to talk into their cell phones like naïve tourists asking directions in South America.  “WHERE IS BUS!? YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND BUS!!?”  Yes, Juan knows where ‘bus’ is.  Speaking louder like you’re talking to a deaf dog will not help you, or him.  So, just like that – you are an embarrassment to all those in your radiative vicinity.

So you, who’s screaming like a banshee to your friend about your bad “mani-pedi;”  The street noise around you doesn’t make it any harder for the person on the other end of the line to hear you.  And if one of my friends ever calls me screaming into the phone, you better be getting mauled by a bear.  Or else I’m hanging up. D

The Problem With People Walking in the Downtown Core (Soon to be followed by: The problem with people visiting the downtown core from the suburbs)

I consider myself a relaxed person. I also consider myself a picky person. But most of all, I think I’m discerning. I know what I like, and what I don’t, and what will be right for me. Methodical is another adjective that would describe one of my many daily approaches to menial everyday tasks: walking to work. Or anywhere else with a purposeful destination is just that: getting from A to B, because frankly, I need to be at B.

And so with that in mind I depart on my daily errands,  (ok, let’s not lie, I have only a few a week) or to meet friends, but always with purpose and end in mind. I aim to get there as promptly as possible, with as few stops, as few traffic lights, as few friendly head nods, as few eyes met, and as few “hiccups” as possible. Why? Because my goal is not to have a leisurely walk, shoot the breeze, and see what flavour of shit sandwich life throws my way. I save that for when I’m on vacation. Yet, some people seem to have a different idea.

Please don’t get me wrong – so let’s understand each other. I know you’ve got shit all to do today, and that your big obese ass prevents you from putting one foot in front of the other in a timely manner when walking down a street, but in no way, under any circumstance, should you prevent a reasonable person, like myself, from wanting to go at my own pace. Put the rest of that god damn slice of hawaiian pizza slice in your mouth and pull away the starbucks cup from your lips and fucking MOVE ASIDE!

But, no. There is this silly little thing called entitlement that people who walk downtown seem to be fucking oozing out of all their pores. MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Me first!!!! Always!!!!!! Yay!!!!

On a daily fucking basis, I count at least one incident of someone simply not moving aside when walking towards me – AND I’m already as far off the sidewalk as I can be without going into traffic or walking into a pole. Even better, when a couple are walking toward me and the guy/girl stay side by side, when there is evidently only a two person width available on the sidewalk. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Turn back around and walk in your direction?

What bothers me most is the fact that they do either one of these (doesn’t really matter which one, they’re both fucking ludicrous): 1) Realize what they are fucking doing, and don’t give a shit, or 2)Don’t realize what the fuck they’re doing because they’re heads are too far up their ass. I’m not sure which is worse, but it should be fucking ticketed just like a traffic violation and punishable some minute fine, with a yell of “Wake the fuck up!”

So I’ve taken to cycling. I certainly love it more, however, as it distances me from some idiots, it also brings me closer to others. You can expect more stories of annoyance from the downtown core of a metropolis coming your way to a computer screen near you. In my next episode I will discuss the lack of intellect by the visitors from the suburbs (it’s like they leave it at home when they “come down to the city”), or perhaps touch on the uncontroversial topic of cyclists vs. drivers. Oh gee the excitement!

The problem with helplessness

Ok, maybe it’s just me.  Maybe as a society we’ve always been this way.  Or maybe it’s just more noticable now because those who are helpless are no longer dragged away by hungry wolves.

Here’s my gripe; it seems that it has become commonplace in our modern world to expect others to do the thinking for us.  Here’s an example, of the type that happens everyday:

I work in a store, and today one lovely, well dressed lady approached me and said,

(Lady) “my daughter said that you have 30 spf lip balm sunscreen”

(me) “I’m sure we do, but I have to admit, that I don’t know our lip balm products very well.”  [I politely walk her over to the section]

(me, again) “here is our selection, as you can see we have some in little containers and one in a tube”

(lady) “She said it was in a tube”

(me) ”yes, it would be this one”

[she keeps scanning]

(lady) [pensive] “well, I don’t know…are you sure this is all you have?”

(me) “yes, if you’re looking for spf 30, lip balm in a tube, this is it”

(lady) “if this isn’t the right one, can I return it?”

People come in and ask me questions like this all day long.  Most people just simply don’t want to think for themselves.  They need their hand held through every single moment of their life.  It’s not that I don’t want to help people.  I rely on the fact that I love helping people.  But, for the love of God, I just want people to prove to me that they atleast turned their brain on for a second before speaking with me.  I’m not that bright, and I work in retail – so, chances are you are just as, if not more intelligent than I am.  So, if it’s obvious to me, I EXPECT it to be obvious to you.  If it isn’t please do not be alarmed if I look surprised.

The questions I get are mostly good, but often stupid.  I’ve been batting around the idea of holding two counters, one for good questions and one for stupid questions.  I just want to quantify my theory, that’s all.

But the problem with counters, is that when I click it, people are just gonna ask me why I’m clicking a counter.  And, well, that’s just a stupid question.

D

Oh, and by the way, when you call my store, don’t tell me your name, like I should know who you are.  Just cut to the chase, tell me what you want, and let me get back to my day.

The problem with New York

Yeah so, New York City.  Bright lights, big city, all that bullshit.  There’s an expression that ripely describes my feelings on the subject: ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.  Granted, I did only live there for two years, so I’m certainly no expert, but fuck, that has easily got to be the single most soul sucking cesspool of human suffering I know of.  And the funny thing is, most people I knew who lived there felt the same, and yet, they mostly all remained.  There’s a good psychological study for you.

So here’s New Yorkers.  You’ve got a few basic types:

1) The disgusting sports-team-clothing-class.  They are all obese and they all wear professional sport team t-shirts, hats and sweatshirts with the arms hacked away with the same grace and tact one would expect from a person who wears torn soiled sweatshirts in public.  They also wear bermuda style shorts that bear the logos of same teams, with dirty white socks that are mercifully pulled up to the calves, year round.  They speak with all the eloquence of a grade 7 English class and keep themselves in kindergarten level hygiene.  Public conversations are loud and ugly — often employing shouting and beration of one another — not two paces removed.  I guess it’s some way of pretending to be bigger and more prominent in society.  Like when oversized-clothing people drive 12 year old Honda Civics valued under $800, all blinged out with 23 welfare checks worth of cheap fiberglass speed accessories.  Hey guess what, you’re not fooling anyone with all that gold.  Try opening a bank account.  Oh right, no job.

2) The uber-cool hipster assholes who all dress the same and pretend they have no idea they’re trying so hard when you call them out on it.  “I’ve been wearing tight jeans since the 90s.”  No, you haven’t, because you were 6 in the 90s.  I hate you.  You’re just a copy of something someone else realized was uncool when they got wise.  How come fashion and music these days are for the most part rehashings of crap that was no good when it happened the first time around? At least 80s music and fashion was original when it happened, as disgusting and showing of the times as it was.  I have a theory about the 80s — it’s kinda like multi-day winter camping in Ontario — the only people who like it are those who’ve never survived it.  80s shit is around again because the people trying to get it en vogue never lived through piano key lappels on oversized sports blazers with the sleeves rolled up just high enough to expose hard-drug emaciated wrists and pink silk sports blazer sleeve lining.  A friend of mine once underscored the disgraceful 80s with the perfect question — was there no one in charge?  Oh and one more thing to all those 80s music hangers on — it sucked then, and it still sucks now.  No really, it does.  There’s nothing cool about synthesizers and uninspired childish lyrics.  No really, there isn’t.  It’s not cute and kitsch and silly, no.  It sucks.

I’d go on to describe the other types of people who live in fucking New York, but I’m already sick of thinking about them.  But I do go on, let’s get on with the rotten apple…

New York coddles those who would be otherwise incapable of survival in any city that wasn’t so quick to make exceptions for insane behavior.   For example, a man walks up and down the same street block, screaming at the top of his lungs about how god is going to smite all gays and non-Christians through AIDS and other global epidemics.  Literally going up to people and charging their faces.  I watched this.  He would actually go right up to a person, someone just walking along the street, probably on their way home from a hellish day of far-too-stressful-completely-meaningless-cubicle-work and invade their mug with a barrage of profanities and carnival-grade lunacy, exposing them to about 15 seconds of unintelligible madness, only to dart away his always unfocused eyes and move on to the next unknowing victim.  I saw a cop walk right past this.

I worked at a store in the rich part of town.  A woman came in with her child, demanded that she be allowed to use our staff toilet (which we don’t allow because it’s downstairs with all the stock, and because when we did people would piss all over the seat and floor).  We informed her that we don’t have a public washroom but that there were three food service establishments all within a 30 second’s walk of our front door who do.  She actually stood there and argued for about 15 minutes how she should be allowed to use ours.  We refused.  She abdicated to a dressing room for a few minutes.  Upon exiting, produced a plastic bag bulbous with yellow liquid and, handing it to our assistant manager, left.  That’s right folks, she actually pissed into a plastic bag in our change room — where normal people try on clothing — and handed the fucking bag full of her own bio-hazardous waste to another human being.  This is a true story.

Had it been my hands she aimed towards I would have either called the police or kicked her in the box, depending on if natural reflex got the better of me.  But because it’s New York, hey, anything goes, it’s New York!  “Oh, that’s just New York for you.”  Fuck that shit.  By not chastising insane behavior that city is destined to amplify its foundation of crazy — already slick shitty.  Fuck it, talking about it makes me angry enough to go Office Space on a computer screen.

Ok rant over.  Fuck you New York.  Keep your madness.  I’m gone.

The problem with being small

First off, I should say that despite all our problems, they are nothing compared to the problems of Haiti right now.  We here at TPWE recognize that our posts are trivial and really, just in good fun.  We here at TPWE encourage you strongly to donate to the Haitian recovery effort.  Most governments are matching contributions.  So, there really is no problem with being small when it does big things.

Now, on to my problems.

It occurred to me this morning when I poured a cup of coffee at work that I am very smart.  How so, you say?  Simple, I’m not very big.  I stand, at best 5’8″ tall.  By modern standards, that’s puny.  So, what effect does that have on my intellect?  Allow me to explain…

I recently got into a rather heated argument with a stranger who was, while being considerably less cultured and intelligent, was none the less considerably much larger than me.  I had to look up so high at this guy I was almost looking behind me.  Needless to say, even if I had Jackie Chan skills, this guy was going to pummel me.  How did I win out?  Simple – I’m smart.  I was on a bike, he was in a massively oversized truck (which he had previously attempted to kill me with).  When you’re on a bike, you have the benefit of increased mobility.  So, I kicked his side view mirror.

Then I took off.

Colloquially this is known as the Napoleon complex.  When smaller people exhibit increased bravado and aggression to make up for their lack of size.  Scientists have actually disproved this concept.  My theory however, is that small people simply can’t just muscle their way through things.  We have to be sleuthy and smart about things.  We have to figure out what we can get away with and to exercise that ability.  If it means cheating, lying, or any other host of smoke and mirror tricks, we’ll do it.  It’s not above us.  This is life or death to us.

Which is exactly why I was able to figure out that the only way to make good coffee out of our notoriously bad coffee maker was to poach the strongest drip at the start of the filtration process, and then fill the rest of my cup up with water (a la americano).  Cuts the acid, all the flavour.  However, this leaves the rest of my co-workers with bitter, weak coffee.

I should feel bad about this, but small guys like me need all the advantages we can get.

The problem with the human body

This may very well be the single biggest problem that haunts us, humanity.  I have been reminded of it for four (4) (while we’re at it, why in general texts do I often find a number in brackets next to the number word?  Seriously, why is that necessary?) days now as the muscles in my neck have been so tense as to charge me with sharp, life-stopping pain whenever I foolishly take turning my head for granted.  This made me question what possible reason the body could have for tensing up a muscle in my neck.  What if I were being attacked by a guerrilla?  I’d be fucked that’s what.

Ok, so what the hell am I talking about already.  The problem is this: we are not, as conscious human beings, in charge of our own bodies.  Sure there’s you, sitting there, reading this, who is capable of closing the lid to your laptop (do it by the way.  Stop being a lazy asshole reading a blog of all things — what the hell do you care about what I think?  — and get outside and burn off all that excess fat you’ve tacked on while being said lazy asshole).  You can wave your hands in the air or go buy lawn furniture.  But deep down there is this other guy inside your body who you don’t see, you’re not friends, don’t even so much as chat.  He’s the one who’s really in control.  He decides whether or not you get to keep your hair, and if you do, when it’s going to turn grey (yeah, no, thanks, I’d like to keep my hair actually, while we’re at it brain, let’s also leave it brown).  Think about this.  You cut your finger, ouch.  Now, why can’t I tell my brain, ok, cut finger, got it.  I’ll go bandage that up.  Now, turn off pain.  But wait, you can’t.  Cuz that motherfucker who’s the other you, who you’re not talking to, he decides, nope I think we’ll keep this pain going a might longer.  I think it’s time for your hair to recede.  I think you need to find pregnant women sexually arousing.  Why am I not in control of these things?  Why can’t me and the other dude sit down, have some coffee and cake, and talk this one out.  It pisses me off because I don’t like being out of control.  I guess I should take up BASE jumping.  Oh, and fuck off with the capitalization of BASE jumping.  Get over yourselves.  You’re idiots, all of you.

Sorry, I’d stop being much a miserable bastard but I forgot that I’m not allowed to turn my head and was punished with shooting pain  careening across my neck.  I’d tell those muscles to loosen the fuck up but we’re not speaking.

The problem with H1N1.

With the new Y2K scare (swine flu) spanking north america - and soon the world - like a little baby (not that babies should be spanked – please don’t write to me with your complaints, I don’t care), I can’t help but notice the lack of common sense and preventative measures among the everyday public.

Sure, everyone is scared of the whole thing , and very rightly so.  After all, young healthy people are getting taken down like baby seals, and if they (the people) don’t stand a chance against the flu, how’s the world going to survive?  I share the common worry about the fierceness of the swine, but it seams to me that when I look around and interact with people around me, no one else is taking any action.  For example, if I sneeze I wash my hands, if I shake hands I wash my hands, and I use sanitizer often when not around a toilet or restroom.  When I speak about THE swine with people, the conversation is gravely serious, but as soon as it stops, I see them bite their nails, and scratch their ass, and shake hands, and then eat a sandwich. C’mon people! Are you worried, or are you not? If you’re not, then don’t pretend to be.

Then there are those who are concerned, yet they still hold some voodoo belief in their head that the H1N1 flu shot isn’t going to make a diffrence, and in fact that it will harm them. Well, how can I put this succinctly? It’s only the world’s leading health organization, y’know, THE World Health Organization who’s saying it’s a good idea and it DOES work! So spare me your hippy granola-ass interpreatation of science and go stick a needle in your ass. Better yet, go get some hottie nurse to do it for ya. In fact, don’t do it for your yourself, do it for all of us, for the world! Does that strike a deadlock chord with ya brah?

Signing off on all hottie nurses in the world,

K.

The problem with blogs

Jesus, another blog?  Really?  Does the world really need another one?  Yep, another cyber space soap box for the collective egos of people who outside of their 500 sq/ft bachelor don’t have a damn valuable thing to say.

Good thing that doesn’t apply to us.  Welcome to our blog. 

We’re really not the ones to be blogging, to be honest.  We find this whole process just another big pain-in-the-ass-waste-of-time.  Setting up this blog alone gave me mild carpal tunnel, and the ensuing confusion over designing the ‘dashboard’ left me with a case of confusion causing vertigo.  Frankly I’d be ready to call this whole damn thing off if I didn’t think I had a shot at a book deal.  If Sarah Palin can get one, then I suppose they’ll give them to any jack ass with a mildly amuzing story to tell.  At least we’re jack asses. 

So, here we are.   As a famous person once said, “The problem with everything is people.”  So in some ways, the problem starts with us.