This article on punctuation marks on British signs is hilarious (I thought of a certain housematey whilst reading this). Please read and giggle:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28938136/?gt1=43001
(Being a purist myself, I am strongly in favour of keeping the punctuation marks.)
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
I Am Incapable of Operating a Computer
If you see this pop up on your computer:
You are in for a world of pain. Don't be a dumb bitch like me and click on the link at the bottom of the pop-up and download the anti-spyware software called Perfect Defender. It's an evil trick concocted by someone who has less than a life than me that contains viruses and other bad things for your computer.
I'm going to die one day, and when I look back on my life, I will think about how I wasted several hours of it (that I never got back) trying to fix this.
* I should specify that Malware is not the evil spyware program, I'm just too lazy to take a new screen capture.
** Many thanks to G who also wasted part of his life that he will never get back helping me.
You are in for a world of pain. Don't be a dumb bitch like me and click on the link at the bottom of the pop-up and download the anti-spyware software called Perfect Defender. It's an evil trick concocted by someone who has less than a life than me that contains viruses and other bad things for your computer.
I'm going to die one day, and when I look back on my life, I will think about how I wasted several hours of it (that I never got back) trying to fix this.
* I should specify that Malware is not the evil spyware program, I'm just too lazy to take a new screen capture.
** Many thanks to G who also wasted part of his life that he will never get back helping me.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Homoeroticism in Tennis
As you are aware, I'm busy watching the Australian Open instead of doing my homework. Am currently watching a match with Roger Federer (ranked number 2 in the world, former number 1 for three years) and the commentators have begun their usual homoerotic commentary. Not that there's anything wrong with homoeroticism but it's borderline creepy when it's used to describe tennis players on TV. Allow me to transcribe two discussions that just happened about Roger Federer pictured below:
Commentator #1: I see Federer has a new outfit - a royal purple colour.
Commentator #2: Looks good. Well, he looks good in any colour really.
~~~~~~~~
Commentator #1: I don't think people realize how big these tennis players are in real life. I'm sitting courtside and I can really appreciate how big Federer is. Don't you think?
Commentator #2: Oh, definitely. Federer is listed as 6"1 but he looks much bigger than that when you're sitting near the court. I guess that's part of The Master's image.
I should also mention that in addition to "The Master", Federer is also referred to as "The Maestro" and "The Swiss Maestro." Cringing yet? This is almost as bad as when the commentators were talking about how hard Rafael Nadal's back muscles felt when one of them put his arm around him while having his photo taken. Granted, some of these men are so beautiful, it's not surprising that otherwise straight men are checking them out.
*************************Update*****************************
Roger Federer's new nickname is apparently 'The Velvet Sledgehammer'. This might be a new low, please read an excerpt from a news article describing Federer's win over Del Potro:
"You cannot blame Juan Martin Del Potro for looking shell-shocked after taking a beating at the gifted hands of Roger Federer. Playing the Swiss on the sort of form he showed in dispatching Del Potro 6-3 6-0 6-0 en route to the semifinals must be like being beaten up by an assailant in velvet gloves, whose every punch comes in the form of a caress - but is none the less brutal for it."
Commentator #1: I see Federer has a new outfit - a royal purple colour.
Commentator #2: Looks good. Well, he looks good in any colour really.
~~~~~~~~
Commentator #1: I don't think people realize how big these tennis players are in real life. I'm sitting courtside and I can really appreciate how big Federer is. Don't you think?
Commentator #2: Oh, definitely. Federer is listed as 6"1 but he looks much bigger than that when you're sitting near the court. I guess that's part of The Master's image.
I should also mention that in addition to "The Master", Federer is also referred to as "The Maestro" and "The Swiss Maestro." Cringing yet? This is almost as bad as when the commentators were talking about how hard Rafael Nadal's back muscles felt when one of them put his arm around him while having his photo taken. Granted, some of these men are so beautiful, it's not surprising that otherwise straight men are checking them out.
*************************Update*****************************
Roger Federer's new nickname is apparently 'The Velvet Sledgehammer'. This might be a new low, please read an excerpt from a news article describing Federer's win over Del Potro:
"You cannot blame Juan Martin Del Potro for looking shell-shocked after taking a beating at the gifted hands of Roger Federer. Playing the Swiss on the sort of form he showed in dispatching Del Potro 6-3 6-0 6-0 en route to the semifinals must be like being beaten up by an assailant in velvet gloves, whose every punch comes in the form of a caress - but is none the less brutal for it."
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Why Living In Other Countries Is Bad Pt 3
January 15, 2009: MY CHEQUE WAS FINALLY DEPOSITED INTO MY AMERICAN ACCOUNT. It's over!!! IT'S. OVER.
Psychology Moment
I'm reading about psychotic disorders from a somewhat out-of-date textbook. While the content is generally factually accurate, the wording is sometimes a little...un-PC, which is amusing to me. One example is the description of Delusion Disorder which is a nonbizarre delusion (i.e., involving situations that occur in real like, such as being followed, poisoned, loved at a distance, etc) of at least 1 month's duration.
One of the subtypes of Delusion Disorder is Erotomanic type: delusions that another person, usually of higher status, is in love with the individual.
Here is the description of who usually develops this subtype:
Patients with erotomania frequently show certain characteristics: They are generally unattractive women in low-level jobs who lead withdrawn, lonely lives, are single, and have few sexual contacts.
Who rounded up all these patients, then rated them on attractiveness, compared those attractiveness scores to the general population, and then published the results? Also, it is my contention that the majority of men suffer from low-grade erotomania - studies have shown that men tend to sexualize social interactions moreso than women and tend to assume women are more interested in them than is actually the case. Funny though.
One of the subtypes of Delusion Disorder is Erotomanic type: delusions that another person, usually of higher status, is in love with the individual.
Here is the description of who usually develops this subtype:
Patients with erotomania frequently show certain characteristics: They are generally unattractive women in low-level jobs who lead withdrawn, lonely lives, are single, and have few sexual contacts.
Who rounded up all these patients, then rated them on attractiveness, compared those attractiveness scores to the general population, and then published the results? Also, it is my contention that the majority of men suffer from low-grade erotomania - studies have shown that men tend to sexualize social interactions moreso than women and tend to assume women are more interested in them than is actually the case. Funny though.
My Memory Is Really Going
Today at school I went to the bathroom. Then I walked around campus, saying hello to people as I passed along the way to the library. After I sat down at a computer to do some work, I looked down and saw that I had not done up my belt before leaving the bathroom.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Why Living In Other Countries Is Bad Part 2
January 12 2009: I finally access my email from Scotiabank about my cheque that is floating around in limbo. Would you believe that in the age of computers, internet, and after the invention of FAX and TELEGRAPH this is how banks cash international cheques:
1. American bank puts a hold on a foreign cheque for 30 days, then sends it on "collection." This is to confirm that the cheque can be cashed. In this process, the request to cash the cheque is sent VIA SNAIL MAIL to my bank in Canada.
2. The Canadian bank receives the cheque and responds "immediately" VIA SNAIL MAIL AGAIN.
3. Once the American bank receives the confirmation, the cheque is cashed.
Unfortunately, I tried to cash my cheque right before Christmas which apparently "slowed this process considerably."
You're telling me no one can pick up a bloody phone? Or scan the cheque and email the image to the Canadian bank? There is no other way to do this other than regular mail? So I'm paying bank fees all over the place and getting 19th century banking services.
According to my Canadian bank there is no estimate on when my cheque can be cashed. Because, much like determining if Creed had sex with a man, it would be impossible to tell.
1. American bank puts a hold on a foreign cheque for 30 days, then sends it on "collection." This is to confirm that the cheque can be cashed. In this process, the request to cash the cheque is sent VIA SNAIL MAIL to my bank in Canada.
2. The Canadian bank receives the cheque and responds "immediately" VIA SNAIL MAIL AGAIN.
3. Once the American bank receives the confirmation, the cheque is cashed.
Unfortunately, I tried to cash my cheque right before Christmas which apparently "slowed this process considerably."
You're telling me no one can pick up a bloody phone? Or scan the cheque and email the image to the Canadian bank? There is no other way to do this other than regular mail? So I'm paying bank fees all over the place and getting 19th century banking services.
According to my Canadian bank there is no estimate on when my cheque can be cashed. Because, much like determining if Creed had sex with a man, it would be impossible to tell.
Lawsuit
My loyal readers may remember the obscene $265 hospital bill I received last year for bloodwork. Well, I received in the mail a package describing a lawsuit being filed against the hospital where I got this bloodwork done. Apparently the hospital is being sued for charging uninsured patients unreasonable rates for medical services. Anyone who received services in the past 7 years is potentially eligible to get a refund on their bill!
At first I got really excited but then scanned the eligibility requirements. I meet all of them except for this: the bill has to be over $500 to get a refund. If not, tough luck, chump. So I got ripped off, but not ripped off enough to get any sort of compensation. I hope you optimists are reading this and now understand why I don't get my hopes up about anything. Bastards.
At first I got really excited but then scanned the eligibility requirements. I meet all of them except for this: the bill has to be over $500 to get a refund. If not, tough luck, chump. So I got ripped off, but not ripped off enough to get any sort of compensation. I hope you optimists are reading this and now understand why I don't get my hopes up about anything. Bastards.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Why Living In Other Countries Is Bad
I realize I brought this upon myself by moving to the states, but I wasn't prepared for the nightmare that is cross-country banking. I have a bank account in Canada and a bank account in America. Every few months I transfer Canadian money to my American account so I can pay bills/rent. After successfully doing this several times, I have suddenly entered a painful, never-ending nightmare of currency exchange and there is no end in sight. Allow me to construct a timeline:
Early November 2008: I deposit a cheque for $3000 CAD into an American ATM. The ATM ate my cheque and did not deposit it. The bank teller tells me to come back next week to claim my cheque.
Next week: The cheque is missing. I am given the number of the ATM company to request a search for my cheque. A file for my search is created, I'm told to wait 2 weeks.
2 weeks later: The cheque is missing for good. I am told to cancel that cheque and deposit a new one.
December 12 2008: I deposit a new cheque for $3000, this time directly to the teller. The teller has no idea how to exchange foreign currency. I am trapped at the bank for almost an hour while multiple tellers work on the problem. I am told not to deposit cheques of foreign currency again. A hold has been placed on my cheque and it cannot be cashed for up to several weeks.
Sometime over the Christmas break 2008: I realize I no longer have enough money in my US account to pay January rent. I drive with G to the US side of the falls and deposit US cash into an ATM.
Later over the Christmas break 2008: I realize several cheques I wrote were cashed right before the new year. Once again, I no longer have enough money to pay rent. I a second, angrier trip to the falls with G to deposit US cash I received as a Christmas gift.
January 5 2009: I call my US bank to complain about my cheque. First, I was given the wrong phone number by the teller. Then I can't get through to the correct number because I don't have a social security number. Then I get through to a different number but am hung up on. TWICE. After one hour I get a hold of a real person at the bank. They inform me they don't know why the cheque hasn't been cashed and am told to wait for the manager to call me. I miss the call from the manager because I am in class. I am told Scotiabank has put a hold on my cheque.
January 6 2009: I email Scotiabank the details of this problem and await their response which is expected within 24 hours, as advertised on their webpage.
January 10 2009: Finally receive response from Scotiabank. However, when I click on their email I am greeted with an error message saying the email is temporarily unavailable.
January 11 2009: I type this blog entry while flames lap the sides of my face.
To be continued...
Early November 2008: I deposit a cheque for $3000 CAD into an American ATM. The ATM ate my cheque and did not deposit it. The bank teller tells me to come back next week to claim my cheque.
Next week: The cheque is missing. I am given the number of the ATM company to request a search for my cheque. A file for my search is created, I'm told to wait 2 weeks.
2 weeks later: The cheque is missing for good. I am told to cancel that cheque and deposit a new one.
December 12 2008: I deposit a new cheque for $3000, this time directly to the teller. The teller has no idea how to exchange foreign currency. I am trapped at the bank for almost an hour while multiple tellers work on the problem. I am told not to deposit cheques of foreign currency again. A hold has been placed on my cheque and it cannot be cashed for up to several weeks.
Sometime over the Christmas break 2008: I realize I no longer have enough money in my US account to pay January rent. I drive with G to the US side of the falls and deposit US cash into an ATM.
Later over the Christmas break 2008: I realize several cheques I wrote were cashed right before the new year. Once again, I no longer have enough money to pay rent. I a second, angrier trip to the falls with G to deposit US cash I received as a Christmas gift.
January 5 2009: I call my US bank to complain about my cheque. First, I was given the wrong phone number by the teller. Then I can't get through to the correct number because I don't have a social security number. Then I get through to a different number but am hung up on. TWICE. After one hour I get a hold of a real person at the bank. They inform me they don't know why the cheque hasn't been cashed and am told to wait for the manager to call me. I miss the call from the manager because I am in class. I am told Scotiabank has put a hold on my cheque.
January 6 2009: I email Scotiabank the details of this problem and await their response which is expected within 24 hours, as advertised on their webpage.
January 10 2009: Finally receive response from Scotiabank. However, when I click on their email I am greeted with an error message saying the email is temporarily unavailable.
January 11 2009: I type this blog entry while flames lap the sides of my face.
To be continued...
Friday, January 9, 2009
Addiction
I've tried to kick this habit a few times but it never lasted very long. I have no idea how people can stop doing drugs or drinking because what I am trying to do is almost impossible. I am trying to stop twiddling my hair.
The main impetus behind this bold endeavour is my fear of balding. I have been warned since I was a kid that I will get a bald patch where I twiddle. As a kid I thought this would never happen but as my body grows moldier and saggier with each passing day, I see now that I'm not invincible as I once thought.
Cutting my hair usually stops me from twiddling until it grows out again. But this is only a temporary solution. Besides, to supplement the twiddling I tend to overeat in order to keep my hands busy, and I really can't afford new pants right now. What I do need is a healthier crutch. And I think that crutch should be crocheting.
I used to crochet (and knit) when I was a kid but stopped at some point. However, given that tennis season is gearing up, I will need something to distract me for hours on end while I sit in front of the TV. So please help me kick this habit for good. Does anyone need an afghan, scarf, or pair of baby booties? Just let me know.
The main impetus behind this bold endeavour is my fear of balding. I have been warned since I was a kid that I will get a bald patch where I twiddle. As a kid I thought this would never happen but as my body grows moldier and saggier with each passing day, I see now that I'm not invincible as I once thought.
Cutting my hair usually stops me from twiddling until it grows out again. But this is only a temporary solution. Besides, to supplement the twiddling I tend to overeat in order to keep my hands busy, and I really can't afford new pants right now. What I do need is a healthier crutch. And I think that crutch should be crocheting.
I used to crochet (and knit) when I was a kid but stopped at some point. However, given that tennis season is gearing up, I will need something to distract me for hours on end while I sit in front of the TV. So please help me kick this habit for good. Does anyone need an afghan, scarf, or pair of baby booties? Just let me know.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Why Traveling is Awful
I arrived in Chicago yesterday after my whirlwind return home. I loved seeing everyone while I was home but getting across the border is really annoying. Collectively, I've spent literally hours pulling together the necessary paperwork proving I am who I say I am and that I'm really a student etc. Apparently, this was all a waste of time.
My sister and I left for the airport a tad late (my fault, but let's not talk about that...) but with plenty of time to make my plane. We answered the usual inane questions at the border (citizenship, purpose of crossing the border, anything to declare, etc). I show the border dick (BD) all of my paperwork and he takes FOREVER to read it over. When he was done, he hands us a white piece of paper and tells us to pull over!
They put us in a little holding cell fitting for criminals and made us sit there. At this point I have 50 min left to get to the airport. I, of course, am furious and cursing up a storm. My sister, usually the angrier of us, is remarkably calm. Eventually BD comes back and asks us how we're related (what does that matter?) and then asks me what school I go to - twice. Then he asked me why I was going to the states. In my bitchiest tone I replied, "I'm TRYING to get to the airport so I can go back to school."
Then he gave us back our ID and said we could go. They didn't search the car, my suitcase, call the school, nothing. So what was the point of all that??
We got back on the road and my sister literally gunned it at 140/kph to the airport. I ran inside with 20 min to go. When I checked my bag they said the airline couldn't guarantee my bag would be on the plane because I was so late. When I asked what the chances were the chick said in HER bitchiest tone, "I don't know. I don't have a crystal ball and I don't play the lottery." (???).
By the time I made it through security and to my gate, the plane was already boarding. I spent the next 1.5 hours figuring out how long I was willing to stay at the airport waiting for my bag to arrive. Fortunately, in un-Skelena fashion, my bag DID make the plane and I picked it up right when I arrived. Unfortunately it weighed about 50 billion pounds so dragging it on and off the El/the bus was not pleasant. Fortunately a random person (RP) helped me carry it down a flight of stairs. On the way home the bus driver and RP told me how much they loved Canada, Toronto/the falls specifically. That was a nice welcome "home."
My sister and I left for the airport a tad late (my fault, but let's not talk about that...) but with plenty of time to make my plane. We answered the usual inane questions at the border (citizenship, purpose of crossing the border, anything to declare, etc). I show the border dick (BD) all of my paperwork and he takes FOREVER to read it over. When he was done, he hands us a white piece of paper and tells us to pull over!
They put us in a little holding cell fitting for criminals and made us sit there. At this point I have 50 min left to get to the airport. I, of course, am furious and cursing up a storm. My sister, usually the angrier of us, is remarkably calm. Eventually BD comes back and asks us how we're related (what does that matter?) and then asks me what school I go to - twice. Then he asked me why I was going to the states. In my bitchiest tone I replied, "I'm TRYING to get to the airport so I can go back to school."
Then he gave us back our ID and said we could go. They didn't search the car, my suitcase, call the school, nothing. So what was the point of all that??
We got back on the road and my sister literally gunned it at 140/kph to the airport. I ran inside with 20 min to go. When I checked my bag they said the airline couldn't guarantee my bag would be on the plane because I was so late. When I asked what the chances were the chick said in HER bitchiest tone, "I don't know. I don't have a crystal ball and I don't play the lottery." (???).
By the time I made it through security and to my gate, the plane was already boarding. I spent the next 1.5 hours figuring out how long I was willing to stay at the airport waiting for my bag to arrive. Fortunately, in un-Skelena fashion, my bag DID make the plane and I picked it up right when I arrived. Unfortunately it weighed about 50 billion pounds so dragging it on and off the El/the bus was not pleasant. Fortunately a random person (RP) helped me carry it down a flight of stairs. On the way home the bus driver and RP told me how much they loved Canada, Toronto/the falls specifically. That was a nice welcome "home."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)