Saturday, August 7, 2010

Getting Behind on Stuff

I feel ya.

It starts with simple task. For example, getting the mail from the mailbox that's 50 feet away. A simple task. Toooooo simple. In fact, it's so simple that it could be done at any time, in under a minute, requiring little effort. So why do it now? Right?

RIGHT!!!

This sets off an unimaginable and unavoidable chain of disastrous events. A second simple task, like taking out the garbage is also neglected. Soon more and more shit is neglected until it's a full on shit hurricane.

A turdnado if you will.

Soon, you are being crushed so hard by the weight of all the stuff you need to do that even that first small task you had to do is now physically impossible.

Pictured: A mathematical impossibility.

And this is why I hate getting behind on stuff.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Breaking Bones

I have enjoyed the pleasure of breaking not one bone, but two bones...twice. I repeat, that's the same two bones, twice. Overlooking the uncomfortable and itchy cast, the immobility and the difficulty showering and sleeping, when you break something, it turns you from this...

Into this


To give you an idea of what breaking a bone feels like, take your leg and try to bend it as hard as you can at your shin(LEGAL DISCLAIMER: DONT ACTUALLY DO THIS.) In the beginning, it's not that bad, but as time goes on, it only gets worse until it's nearly unreckognizeable and painful to endure.
It's even worse when you break a bone a second time because you know what's coming. It's like going on a roller coaster, you know it's coming as you go up the hill, but you're unable to do anything about it (unless of course you jump off the roller coaster, but that will most likely result in broken bones).

And this is why I hate breaking bones.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Tyrannosaurus Rex

Pictured: T-rex eating a small child.

Ahh the T-rex. Perhaps the biggest failure of the Cretaceous Period (wikipedia'd that shit). Perhaps, one of the most impractical things to ever exist (only after the slapchop). In the animal kingdom, arms are used for either grabbing or walking. The T-Rex has somehow found a way to not use its arms for either of those (although it has been known to use its arms to wear fake Rolexes).

The T-rex also helped to destroy my childhood in TWO separate traumatizing moments. First, because of Jurassic Park, I was deathly afraid of T-rexes.

And of toilets.

Secondly, T-rexes killed Little Foot's mother.

And my childhood.

The T-rex is also an attention whore. The T-rex doesn't understand subtlety in humour and is often jealous of the attention the velociraptor gets with its more subtle jokes.

And this is why I hate the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Working in a Grocery Store


At some point in most people's lives, one will work in one of these hell holes. There are so many aspects of working in a grocery store that I hate that I may explode while writing this blog.

Pictured: Me thinking about all the bad parts of a grocery store.

Let's start with the customers. A large percentage of the customers seem to think that:
A. You care about the job as much as you care about breathing.
B. You are the head of the company and can therefore make company wide decisions.
C. You have tasted every product in the store.
D. You enjoy hearing their complaints and can do something about them.
E. You have a GPS in your brain and can direct them to the most obscure product in any department. and of course
F. You enjoy being treated like shit.

I hope you get eaten by seagulls!

The management doesn't help either. Often when you start out, you are thrown directly in with sharks with little to no training.


I'm sorry, I don't know where the cream puffs are!

When you come home you smell like the department you work in. This can range from working cash where you smell like sweat and disappointment to working in produce where you smell like rotten beats and disappointment. The uniforms make the Vatican guards look cool.

"You see Loblaws' new uniforms?"

And this is why I hate working in a grocery store.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Non-British People who say Cheers


There seems to be a new pandemic cursing the world these days. And it is people who for whatever reason think that ending a conversation with cheers somehow makes you sophisticated or cultured. I'm sorry but it does not.

It makes you about this sophisticated.

Mainly, it just pisses me off. I think it's awesome when British people say cheers. Hell, it's even cool if an Australian says it. But the second I hear an unaccented person say cheers, my ears feel like they are being raped by a wolf (not as fun as it sounds).


Sexual predator. Get it?! Tee hee.

But you say "I just like the way it sounds. It's more fun than saying bye! :)". Well first off, wipe that dumb fucking grin off your face. Secondly, saying it is an abomination to everyone involved.


It's an abomination even to the Abominable Snowman.

The worst offense is using cheers in an email. Usually, if someone sends me a lengthy email that finishes with cheers, I will simply respond "No."

And this is why I hate non-British people who says cheers.

Video Game Lag


Other than teenage girls, there is no greater source of frustration for teenage boys than video game lag. It can cause even the most docile person to turn into the Incredible Hulk.


"There's no way my Pred missle didn't hit him!"

I have learned to deal with video game lag by commenting passive aggressively.
"Thank you for teleporting me outside my shelter. I was much safer in there, but being outside in the middle of the map is much better."
"Oh yes Xbox, you can stop in the middle of a shootout. I'm sure you're very tired."
"That's ok Xbox, I don't need to able to shoot my gun. I'll be just fine without it."
"I didn't know that they changed the game so that headshots don't kill people anymore, huh."

He knows what he's done.

Most people go through several stages when video game lag afflicts them.
First, initial shock. "What? NO!"
Then panic. "Oh God. No one better kill me."
Then anger. "FUCK. SOMEONE KILLED ME!"
Then rage. "FUCK! FUCKING FUCKER FUCK!"
Then outrageous claims. "I swear to god I'm going to rape this server's brother."
Then deep breaths.
Then resignation. "Give me second. I'm going to reboot my Xbox."


Video game lag depression: the most severe form of depression.

And this is why I hate video game lag.

My Grade 10 Math Teacher


Up until this point in my life, I loved math. I had thought about a career involving some sort of math. But this wench made me despise math. Making an Asian person hate math is like peanut butter hating jelly.


Pictured: Quiet contempt.


I'm not usually a complainer when it comes to teachers, but this was an exception. I LITERALLY could not do anything right.

Put your fucking hand down.


She yelled at me for not looking straight ahead even though I had the very front seat furthest to the right, then she yelled at me for looking straight ahead because it looked like I wasn't paying attention. If the entire class was talking, guess who got yelled at?(I'll give you a hint. It was me.) She threatened to fail me because my writing was not very good, which shockingly did not improve the quality of my writing. She gave me detention for coming up with a more efficient solution to her problem. Finally, she confessed to me that the reason she was so hard on me was that it was for my own benefit.


Was also for own benefit.

I don't know what benefit she was so graciously trying to give me. Was it barely controlled rage? How about unmatched frustration? Oh I know! It was complete disrespect and mistrust of teachers.

And this is why I hate my grade 10 math teacher.

Not Having Air Conditioning

My family is pretty green. Therefore, we don't believe in air conditioning. And by "we" I mean "my dad" and by "don't believe in" I mean "is too cheap to buy". Now I'm no scientist-


Some scientist.

but I believe that hot air rises. More specifically, hot air rises to my room. My room is hotter right now than a gritty reboot film. My room is soooo hot...

How hot is it?

... that Kenyans use it as a sauna. I have tried everything to cool it down. Window closed/open, door open/closed, fans, fans near window, fans near fans, fans near fans near window. Still there is no consolation. Summer, I love you, but if you don't stop being such a bitch this is going to be one long car ride!

And this is why I hate not having air conditioning.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Cheese

Yes you read that right. Cheese has been fucking with my shit (both figuratively and literally) my entire life. Even excusing the violent physical effects that it has on my digestive system, cheese is one of the most evil foods on the planet.



Deviled eggs are the most evil food in the world, that's a given.

I cannot begin to describe (I'm going to describe it in the next sentence) what these curds of concentrated malevolence taste like to me. To me...cheese tastes like the flavour equivalent of drowning in fire.

Cheese ≥ Drowning in flames

If cheese is a party in my mouth then it's the kind of party where you don't know anybody and the only person you know is a total douchebag and you want to leave, but you kind of like the host and things are starting to go ok with the host, but then you go to the bathroom for like A SECOND and when you come back the host is making out with the douchebag.

This is the human equivalent of cheese.

Strangely enough I like pizza though. This makes me hate it even more because although I hate the taste of cheese, I still eat it because it sneaks into my mouth leaching on to something delicious.

Pictured: Pizza with cheese.


And this is why I hate cheese.

March of the Penguins

Yeah, I'm talking to you fucker!

You see, I actually love penguins (except for the racist ones) that was why I was so excited when I got a copy of March of the Penguins. I popped it into my DVD player with barely controlled glee.



And for the first twenty minutes, I totally understood where they were coming from. I mean seriously, who wouldn't walk 70 miles in -60 to a party where there were two broads for every dude and you were guaranteed some action, am I right?



So I assumed the rest the movie would go something like the penguin couples getting married (in a Christian ceremony of course. Just because they're penguins doesn't mean that they have to be heathens) then the mother would raise the penguin baby and bake apple and fish pies while the father worked 9 to 5 as an IT specialist and the whole penguin family would take vacations to Atlantic City. Is that too much to ask for? (Answer: No.) So to my horror, instead of penguin Brady Bunch I got Saving Private Ryan (if Private Ryan was a baby penguin and instead of getting saved he got eaten by a big bird).



Not same big bird, but I'm on to this asshole too.

Every five seconds, a penguin is dying. Too cold, penguin dies. Too old, penguin dies. Too rough with egg, penguin dies. Too hungry, penguin dies. Seal eats penguin, penguin dies. Seriously there are more dead birds than a Chinese meat shop.


Mmmm, Peking Penguin. Come on Chinese people, is there anything you won't eat?

And just when you think the fun is over, the parents just leave. The baby penguins chase after them, but their little penguin feet keep slipping on blood and tears.

And this is why I hate March of the Penguins.