iLike

Walking behind smokers. There’s nothing I like more than following a billowing smoke signal and inhaling fresh cancer-inducing toxins. Awesome! They should totally bottle that shit up and sell it!

Macho, macho men, who suddenly increase their volume at the sight of a hot chick (for the purposes of this exercise, we’ll refer to the hot chick as me). I also find it SUPER appealing when said (lascivious) men repeat their crap over and over, thinking this makes them seem smart and attractive (or possibly, they think I’m deaf). You look like an orangutan with mental problems, dude.

Pausing to let someone exit a building, and having that person nonchalantly let the door slam in my face rather than holding it open. Really? You were a foot away from me – did you temporarily go blind or did your big fat fucking ego swallow you up? Either way, you’re an asshole. But I can’t wait to let you slam the door in my face again!

Egocentric knobs who feel the need to quote “policy” to me on shit I can recite backwards and forwards. Honey, PLEASE. Isn’t it apparent yet that I can see beyond your mask of ineptitude and inefficiency? Don’t be quoting me that bullshit – if you want to reference policy, you might want to make sure you know what you’re talking about. Mofo.

Train she-assholes who elbow me in the back of the head. Repeatedly. WTF do you think you keep hitting, you obnoxious, self-absorbed beeOTCH? This is the problem with today’s society – everyone is too self-absorbed, and feels too self-entitled to pause and acknowledge the existence of others. Must be nice to live in a bubble. Guess that explains it: there’s not enough oxygen reaching your brain.

Accidentally buying solid milk and dark chocolate Easter bunnies at Laura Secord. First – I hate Laura Secord chocolate, and second, I’m SURE the wrapper(s) said MARSHMALLOW! Damn it. That’s all I wanted for Easter – one chocolate-covered marshmallow animal. Life is tough, man.

I don’t like:

Beautiful sunny days. I mean come on, who needs all this sun? And warmer temperatures? Please! Give me -30 damn it! I want to freeze my ass off and wear four layers of clothing!

The woman at Murale repeatedly calling me “beautiful girl.” Just because I have beautiful eyes and gorgeous eyelashes does NOT give you the right to compliment me. How dare you!

John-boy holding the door for me at Indigo, and telling me I’m the only person he would hold the door open for. Am I suppose to thank you for your chivalrous ways or something? I can hold the door open myself – I am a liberated woman!

John-boy’s colleague greeting me with joy, and hugging me before I left – AND telling me not to buy an e-Reader because I must continue to stop in at Indigo because they like to see me. Ugh, all this love is making me sick. What’s wrong with people?

Not being harassed on the train. Everyone should know by now that I LOVE train assholes and I love being harassed and abused by said assholes.

Having time to practice yoga. Seriously – do you think I prefer yoga to stress? Um, NO – stress totally makes me happy and I love it! I’m convinced being super stressed out and wanting to beat the shit out of certain inept people helps me to burn calories. Fuck yoga and meditation – bring on the heart-attack inducing stress!

And that’s what I like to call a reverse-etiquette post.

PS: To my new readers, I’m sarcastic. In case that wasn’t obvious 😀

Happy weekend dudes and dudettes!

Etify Me

So many people have been harassing me for a new Etiquette post that I just couldn’t put it off any longer (you’re welcome Jill). Now, I usually have a theme when I write these, but this one is going to be a mish-mash of random observations and “suggestions.”

Your crotch/ My face:

To the crotch-jamming chick I encountered on (you guessed it) the train yesterday: As much as I like getting to know new people, I’m not particularly interested in having you stick your crotch in my face at 7 in the morning (or at any other time of the day for that matter). If this is something you’re keen on doing, might I suggest changing career paths and getting a job in a strip joint or perhaps, a brothel. Or if you’re lucky, you might be able to find a Crotch-Jammers Anonymous group to help you with your problem. #trainassholes

Mirror Mirror (is broken):

To the men who think working out their upper bodies and ignoring their lower bodies is cool: You look like fucking idiots. Do you realize that you’re shaped like a light bulb? You can’t possibly think that this is attractive to women! Also, stop walking around like you’re as wide as my Hummer – you’re not. Lose the ego and walk like a normal human being. Also, get a new mirror so you can see how stupid you look. Just sayin’.

OhhhhhM:

Last week I went to a yoga class. I was patiently waiting in the hallway with a few other people (if you know me, you know that my level of patience varies on any given day but I was feeling particularly Zen that day). Anyway, we’re all chilling quietly and feeling our yogic vibes, except for this obnoxious, unkempt douche-bag who was listening to his MP3 at full volume. What the fuck? 1) It’s a yoga studio not Starbucks 2) Dude had a negative vibe 3) Aren’t yoga studios supposed to quiet spaces where you can meditate and reflect?

Surprise fuckers: 

You might be asking yourself what a ‘Surprise fucker’ is and I will tell you. A Surprise Fucker is a craptastic (read: stupid) driver who never feels the need to use his/her turn signal (because let’s face it, that’s just WAY too complicated). I particularly enjoy following Surprise Fuckers for long periods of time because this allows me to practice my defensive driving techniques. This is why I need a Hummer. I would so rear-end their asses. On purpose. Cab drivers are Surprise Fuckers (let’s see if Mr. T is still reading this blog).

The No Entrance/No Exit Policy:

There’s nothing I like better than walking behind someone who is too fucking stupid/lazy/oblivious to hold the door open for me. Now, I don’t think people HAVE to hold the door open for anyone – but when it’s morning rush hour and hundreds of people are getting off  trains and heading for the nearest exit, you would think holding a door would be an automatic reflex, no? No. I’m waiting for the day when I get my ass knocked out after being slammed in the head by one of those really dense doors that’s on a spring contraption. Fucker in front of me will let the door knock me unconscious and go about his day like nothing happened. This is why we have wars, people. Get a fucking clue – being nice is free motherfuckers!

My dog shit here, how about yours?

I have a dog. Her name is Tosca. Tosca is a big dog – she’s a German Shepherd. Big dogs shit big poop. My dog is trained to do her business in our yard prior to our escapades. If, for whatever reason, she needs to poop during our walks, we PICK IT UP. This is why poop bags exist. If you can’t pick up your dog shit, then don’t buy a fucking dog.  I’m getting sick and tired of having to look down when I power walk to avoid stepping in dog shit!

(No) Sympathy for the Devil:

For the last couple of weeks, university students have been wreaking havoc in Montreal, protesting an increase in tuition fees that will be applied each year for the next five years. The “increase” involves the sum of $325. This represents about $1 per day.  I have zero sympathy for these self-entitled brats, who have had no qualms about disrupting the lives of hardworking people like myself. Here’s why: first of all, students in the province of Quebec pay the least for tuition – they pay less than any other province in Canada. Secondly, if you can afford to buy the latest technology (Macs, iPhones, iPads, Smartphones etc.), brand name clothing/ accessories, $5 coffee, and you can afford to party every weekend, then you can afford to pay their tuition. Give up the luxury items and get a job – like I did when I was in school. I worked a full-time job while going to school full-time and I didn’t bitch about it. No one owes you anything.  Considering that tuition is excessively high in other countries, what do my US and foreign readers think about this?

And this concludes today’s etiquette post. Check out my other etiquette posts here. They’re much more sarcastic 😀

Idiot of the Month – May 2011 Winner!

Earlier this week, one of my readers forwarded me the below profile. She came across it on an online dating site, and felt that this person was highly deserving of the Idiot of the Month award. I concur! So without further ado, I present to you the Idiot of the Month for May 2011!

About Me:

  • I drink alot, am argumentative and extremely opinionated! [RAnnDomized: First off,  learn how to spell; ‘a lot’ is two words, not one. Secondly, ‘argumentative’ and ‘extremely opinionated’ are not qualities most women look for in a man. Perhaps you should invest a little time and effort in cultivating your level of intelligence.]
  • I have ego issues, and have problems taking no for an answer. [RAnnDomized: Read: Narcissist. The world revolves around him – yet another quality women don’t look for in a man. In fact, I would venture to say that women run away from idiots like this one and opt for a four-legged pet instead.]
  • On the plus side, I like to balance out my hedonistic ways with healthy experiences. [RAnnDomized: Oh? Such as? Looking at yourself in the mirror while flexing your bicep muscles? Is that what those are? Or perhaps you have a man-made lake in your basement, where you spend most of your time gazing at yourself? Just remember – that’s what killed Narcissus. Just sayin’.]
  • I know I am better than 90% of the guys on this site, in fact I would probably beat them up given the chance. [RAnnDomized: Isn’t that statement an oxymoron? You’re ‘better’ so you’re going to beat the shit out of  your competition? Insecure much? Or is this what you meant by balancing our your hedonistic ways with healthy experiences? Can you say DUH?]
  • PS. I’m well endowed and extremely good in bed!!! [Well now that makes up for everything! Men who boast about how well-endowed they are, and how great in bed they THINK they are, are usually all talk and no action. And they usually suck in bed. This guy needs a reality check on what women want!]

First Date:

Whatever…you pay!!! [Awesome! Thanks for telling us in advance – your level of stupidity and narcissism make it quick and simple to reject you before you even ask us out! Kudos, dude!]

Yup. This one is definitely a winner. I bet unsuspecting females are beating down his door to go out with him. NOT.

If you’re curious to see what I think about online dating, check out this post – and if you want to see who the last Idiot of the Month was, check out this post!

F**k the Rain

What better way to celebrate my return to the Blogosphere then by writing a brand new etiquette post? I know, there is no better way! Given that it’s been raining in Montreal for almost two weeks straight, let’s talk rain.

Photo: Kayode Okeyode


You Poke Me, I Poke You:
OK look – if you are one of those people who sports an unusually long umbrella, can you please have the foresight to carry your contraption upright, rather then slinging it back and forth as though it were some kind of horizontal pendulum (read: weapon)? The people walking behind you will be very grateful I’m sure, because most of them probably don’t want to have their eyes suddenly poked out of their heads, and I’m sure the boys would like to keep their nuts intact. Keep your disco stick to yourself.

Why Does it Always Rain on Me?:

I’ll tell you why – because oblivious, disrespectful train commuters insist on dumping their wet umbrellas in the overheads! Hello? Did you happen to notice that the overhead is just a set of rails with empty space in-between them?! Where do you think the water’s going to go? Do you think the train is equipped with invisible drains? Or perhaps you think that those of us who are seated, should be equipped with wet suits and large waterproof hats?

Rubber Ducky:

Similar to the above, it would be nice if commuters deposited their wet umbrellas on the floor, or perhaps, in a plastic bag, rather than leaving said wet umbrellas dripping on their fellow commuters’ feet. Hello. What the hell is wrong with you people? For once, can you pause to consider that there are other human beings, besides yourself, who reside on this bloody planet? No? Didn’t think so.

Batman & Robin:
You are wearing a jacket, not a cape. Can you please wait until you are off the train before flinging it around as though you’re about to take flight? We’re wet enough – we don’t need an additional sprinkle, thank you very much.

Battle of the Umbrellas:
It’s bad enough that I have to walk outside in the rain. It’s worse that I’ve had to do this for two damn weeks. Please, can you use your head, and either make room for oncoming pedestrians who also carry umbrellas (like YOU)? Perhaps angle your umbrella a bit, or raise it up/ lower it down so that everyone can walk past each other without colliding into a bunch of damn umbrellas? Also, refusing to move your body or your umbrella when people are walking toward you is really quite rude, particularly if this forces a person to hold their umbrella so high up, that they end up soaked. Karma, dude. Karma.

Car vs. Pedestrian:
Yes I know we’re all in a great big hurry to get to where we’re going. That said, in a downpour, doesn’t it make sense for drivers to allow pedestrians to cross the street so that they don’t get any wetter then they already are? You are sitting in the warmth of your car. It’s dry, you’ve got the radio on – everything is right with the world. But that pedestrian is getting soaked because it’s fucking raining sideways and they haven’t invented an umbrella for that yet. Have some heart people!

It’s NOT Li
ke Riding a Bicycle:
Apparently when it rains, people for get how to drive. I could write an entire post about this but I’m just going to leave it alone. That said, I do encourage you to read Driver’s Manual if you’d like to know how I feel about drivers in general.

And finally, a note to Mother Nature:

I understand that you are probably suffering from a severe case of PMS (Pre, Present, Post – whatever!), but I think I speak for all Northeasters (and in particular, Montrealers) when I say this: Please STOP the fucking rain already woman! Take some goddamn Midol or something!

So, what’s the weather like where you are? If you have been graced with the sun, can you please send a little bit my way before I go manic-depressive on the world?

Got something to say? Speak!

The Invisible Post & Jabba the Hut

Before I write today’s post, let me vent about the fact that it was already written – operative words: “was” and “written.” The post was completed yesterday while on the train, and was saved diligently (multiple times) to ensure that the fruits of my blog labor would be safeguarded against accidental deletion.  As I sat myself down last night, ready to transfer the post into WordPress, I came to the shocking realization that the ass of a CrackBerry had eaten my post. Yes, that is correct people – today’s original post was sent into the big black Internet hole courtesy of the AsscrackBerry and/or the shitty GMail app – I haven’t decided which of the two is the bigger asshole yet, but I’m sure they are both equally responsible for the demise of my post.  In any event, I need to sit myself down and re-write the original post, but can only do so when inspiration strikes me once more.  In the absence of said post, I present you with the following true story…  A word of caution: I am not exactly kind in my description of certain events but you may attribute this to the fact that certain people pissed me the F off before 8 a.m. You have been warned – but don’t hold it against me.

As you likely know from reading this blog, I seem to be frequently plagued with interesting situations that I sometimes feel, must only happen to me. I’m convinced that these are the Universe’s way of testing not only my patience, but my mental capacity toward stupidity as well.  Truth be told, it’s probably a real miracle that I haven’t gone Hobo with a Shotgun on more then one occasion as a result of the self-entitled assholes that I encounter more often then I would like. But hey – who wants to spend time in jail for ridding the world of stupid A-Holes?

This morning I woke up before the alarm – another miracle. I got ready for work, had time for breakfast (this is no small feat) and headed off to the train station. When I arrived at Central Station, I bee-lined for the coffee shop that I frequent every day, got my coffee and headed over to the leather chair ‘section.’ As is my custom. I sat down by the fireplace, put my bag on the chair next to me, pulled out my book and plugged myself into the Pod. All was well with the world until Jabba the Hut showed up. I see Jabba on a regular basis and each time that I do, I think a few things: 1) Dude needs to lose weight and fast, 2) He really needs to stop stuffing his face with pastries and danishes before he pops, and 3) It wouldn’t hurt to join a gym. I mean look, the guy looks like an unhealthy slob, end of story. Does that mean he’s not a nice guy? Normally I would say no, but today is not that day.  Fast forward to a few minutes after Turdtastic arrives (err, that would be Jabba to you people) – when his equally plumptastic daughter shows up; she storms in like Rasputia on BBQ ribs (y’all need to check out Norbit if this reference means nothing to you) and slams her shit down on the chair that has my laptop bag on it. No, no people – I’m not exaggerating. There was no civility or delicacy in her actions whatsoever. So I look up as she walks away. Generally, I don’t care if someone puts their bag or coat on the same chair as my stuff, but today was not that day either.

Plumptastic returns from her pastry run (obviously) and with the grace of an elephant, throws herself directly onto my laptop bag. No shit people. She does not ask me if I can move my bag, or if I might be waiting for someone, or if she can sit down. She just deposits her over-sized big ass, onto my shit. It is quite possible that there was steam coming out of my ears at this point but I’m not sure. I grabbed my bag and yanked it out from under her fat ass and informed her that NEXT TIME, she might want to ask before sitting her ass down on someone else’s belongings. Admittedly, my sharp wit was a bit slow this morning because normally, there would be a lot more punch to whatever came out of my mouth. Anyway. I guess Jabba was talking to me because I kept hearing some kind of babbling in the background but Plumpy’s ass was in my way so I couldn’t see him. When I popped my head around said ass, I observed Jabba mouthing something to me. So I take out one headphone and say “Excuse me?” Jabba then has the balls to ask me if there’s a problem. “Yeah there’s a PROBLEM! Civilized human beings typically ask before sitting their asses down on other people’s belongings.” Jabba then starts to give me a lecture about bags not belong on chairs, which was cut short by the fact that I popped my headphone back in for the simple reason that I didn’t give a shit.  There are many things I could’ve told Turdtastic Jabba – like pastries don’t belong in his mouth.  I could’ve told Jabba to get off his high horse, but I suspect he’s not allowed to mount one due to existing animal cruelty laws. Has anyone every seen a legless horse before?  So I will say this: take your sense of entitlement and shove it up your ass. Perhaps you and your unhealthy daughter should consider joining a gym and working out each  morning, instead of harassing people about the bags-on-chair ban.  Also, nice way to lead by example…. DAD (Uh, to be clear, we’re not talking about my dad).