Thursday, June 30, 2011

Highway to hell

This past Tuesday I was in a minor car crash.  I'm fine, nobody was hurt.

My mom was driving; I sat in the passenger seat while my sister sat behind me in the backseat.  We were on our way to the mall for the afternoon, but we were first picking my sister's friend up, who lived fairly close to the mall.  We turned onto her court, maneuvered around a Bobcat (to which I said something along the lines of, "we almost hit him!"), only to be t-boned by a car rapidly reversing from the first driveway on the right.

As my memory serves, he wasn't driving overly fast, but now looking at the damage to the right side of the car I'm shocked.  I don't exactly remember the impact, I just remember my sister screaming, but we were nudged to the side before he realized what he was doing and stopped.  (by my use of phrases like "I don't remember" it sounds like it was some massive crash where I was heading toward the light and woke up in a hospital bed with amnesia - god forbid - but the impact was enough to terrify me and keep me shaking for a good while afterwards) He hit the side where my sister and I were sitting, and the sight of a car backing up straight into you is something I don't want to see now.  Now seeing the damage on my door, I'm surprised I'm not a pretzel.

Sure, my neck hurt for a while afterwards, and my sister hit her head on the window by jolt, but we were unscathed.  My mom sent us off up the court to my sister's friend's house where we sat around until the insurance stuff was sorted out and the police filled out their crash report.  The guy was apologetic; he knew it was entirely his fault and he seemed genuinely sorry, although my mom told us after that he had said his head wasn't in the right place because his wife just left him and if we weren't in the way of his car he would've gone out to kill her.  Uhhhhhh.. (and I swear to the baby Jesus I didn't make that up)

If anything, I've re-evaluated my thoughts on driving.  I'm sure my friends can attest to the fact that sometimes I'm not the most precise or careful driver, and I realize I'm like that.  Even though we weren't at fault in this case, it's opened my eyes to the idea that anything can happen at any time, since none of us even saw the guy throw into reverse.  It just means I need to keep all the more attentive, and maybe keep the radio down just a tad.  I'm notorious for loud music.

Then again, I'm not the worst driver in the world - or, I'm not as bad as people make me out to be.  My dad is convinced I'm the worst driver to ever grace this earth, and he's forbidden me from driving his BMW - he wouldn't even let me take it a few hundred feet up the road to pick up a friend and come back; "that's far too risky," he said about the trip that only involved driving straight and turning once.  While sometimes I'm airy, I'm not a dangerous driver at all.  Maybe I have a bit of road rage, but that's only because pedestrians are fucking idiots, but I'm safe and I have yet to endanger anyone.  I know my responsibility as a driver and as the one with my passenger's lives in my hands, and I would never abuse that in trade for dancing around to music or looking at the dog on the side of the road.  Lighten up, pops!

The damage to my car is fairly bad, but the car is still drivable for now.  I have yet to take the wheel since Tuesday, and I'll be slightly apprehensive when I do.

Friday, June 24, 2011

The woes of being a cashier

I work at a grocery store (which shall remain unnamed, of course) as a cashier.  I've been there now for over a year, and it's the first job I've held - yeah, I waited around unemployed until I was 19.  (to make me seem less of a slack I was hired when I was 18 but my first official shift was after my birthday) At the end of the day, I do enjoy it: it isn't a bad job at all, and I find fun in it with the people I work with.  Sure, sometimes the minutes tick by excruciatingly slow, and sometimes the monotony and repetition of it all gets to me, but I have a good job and I can't complain.  I still do, obviously.

I can complain, though, about the customers.  Slay me now.  Good thing I'm in customer service, me, the person who hates people!

I can't stand how ridiculous people are.  It bothers me knowing that people go on power trips because as customer service representatives, we're supposed to appease them.  You don't need to act all mighty because I'm the clerk that's serving you: I know I am, so you don't need to be an asshole.  More often than not I deal with customers who complain or give me a hard time for the sake of it, and even in the times that they're wrong, they won't own up to their mistakes.

In truth, I give customers what I get from them.  If you're going to answer my "Hi, how are you?" with a great big smile and a genuine return of the greeting, I'll strike up conversation and smile extra brightly (you should see my good guy smile) and give a good parting wish.  However, if you mumble, or if you are quite obviously short with me, or if you ignore me, I'll be rude.  That's just the way it is.  I'm not rude unless someone is rude to me.  Trust me, I don't even like admitting that I get rude with customers sometimes, but it's the honest truth, since I live by treat others how you want to be treated.  (I definitely don't.  Cliche) I feel like you're undeserving of outstanding customer service if you're an ass to me.

It irks me when my honest mistakes are returned with rudeness.  I admit, I make mistakes sometimes with the codes or whatnot.  (I had to memorize hundreds of codes.  Of course our system doesn't use the numbers on the stickers) When I make a genuine mistake or cause minimal discrepancies, I apologize profusely.  I should really make a tally for the amount of times I say "sorry" in a shift; I'm sure I say it even when I don't have to be sorry.  That being said, I hate that if I make a minor mistake, realize it, apologize as profusely as I do, and take measures to fix my flub, some people still treat me like I'm an imbecile.  Humans make mistakes.

Sometimes I find that being overly nice to rude people gives me satisfaction.  I'm usually more satisfied with being just as rude back, though.

I swear to god I'm so fired after this blog post.  Hello, boss, I reiterate: I love my job, I'm just complaining about some people who are idiots.

Today, I had quite the shift.  I worked the 5 to close, which really does suck if you think about it, because you only get one break and you're the very last to be on cash, even when people crawl through the cracks of the closed doors and continue shopping fifteen minutes past the store's closing time.  In tonight's shift, I: cut my arm on a sharp edge and drew blood, and that shit still stings; I slammed my hand into another sharp edge and it bruised instantly; got increasingly queasy when smelling the pizzas we make (Thursday night is the pizza special, and I swear to god, the smell of that grease makes my stomach turn.  As does the thought of the smell as my stomach turns now); and, four hours in, got hit with a massive wall of nausea which caused me to abandon post in a freaking hurry and get sick in the washroom.  Not the best shift in the world.

Anyways, I have a good job, but people are retarded.  That's no secret.  I've always had problems with other people, because everyone who isn't me is, by default, an idiot.  (I'm kidding.  You aren't, you who reads this.  You're sexy)

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Write on

As usual I've hit a blogging snag - that is, it's been a while since I've updated, and I've found myself without a solid enough topic to update about.  There's a reason.

All of my creative energy - which, truthfully, there's a whole lot of - have finally found release because I've begun writing a book.  I hate saying I'm writing a book, because that implies that it's going to be published, but then at the same time I don't like calling it a story because that sounds so juvenile.  Either way, I've started, and as of late I've been on a massive roll.

Simply, the concept is a lot like the UK series Skins: I've come up with a group of eight or night characters who each have their own storylines, and some of the stories are complementary.  Each chapter is character centric, so each character gets their own chapter where the majority of their story will come to a front; not all characters are in every chapter, either.  Okay, essentially, it's just like Skins, where each episode is named after a different character.  Given that I'm not actually going to have this published (well, who knows), I'll say I'm inspired by that show.  When I'm published then I'll deny any similarities.

Either way, it's been a long time since I've legitimately written.  I feel the itch to write a lot more frequently now, and I'm excited to see where this is going.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The Drunk Post: The Sequel

Holy hell.  Apparently, in my drunken stooper, I decided that it would be a good idea to replicate one of my previous blog posts entitled "The Drunk Post" - at least, if anything, this time it's waaaaay more cohesive and takes a lot less effort to decipher.  (grammatically, that is.  As for reasoning - I just don't know..) Something possessed me to blog while extremely intoxicated; I promise you, my friends, I am paying for it in a disgusting way as I type this disclaimer, and I've doomed myself to a permanent position on my couch watching TV.  Never again.  Ready for some humour at my misfortune's expense?

So! There's a transformer in my head, and it's going on and on and I'm like trasnformer, stop it, please, I'd like my beautiful sleeping time.  Transformers, robot in disgusie.

My friends amnd I desiced to go to a clubbish shit thing above a Philty McNasty's resurtant in here, and like we got there and there were around five opeple tjere so it was no fun.  But before we even left I had like  2/3s of a 26er of rum and a few beers, but by a few I mean 4, and a shot of absnithe.  I'm ready to goooo, THERE WAS NOBODY THERE EXCEPT SOME LEATHER COUCHES THAT LOOKED LIKE GUIDOS AND SNOOKI.

I think.. I odn't kmow.  Yhis is horrifyingly horrific and I'll regret dis chit in the morning but whateva! I had a good time dancing on an empty daince floor. Mehheh

To the h8ers: rofl

I hate you, and I'm like, my sister is trying to sleep but I'm hollering everywhere and if I'm able to find my Scream costume I feel like I might scare her in the night. SHHHHH weeping the fountain of eternal youth.  Be young, be free, be immortal, highway unicorn

In sum:
  • There were Transformers in my head.  Hopefully it was Optimus Prime..
  • The couches at the club I was at looked like Snooki.  (!?)
  • I'm devious, though thoroughly inspirational. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Hobo bachelor

My parents have gone on vacation.  They've been gone since May 28th and won't get back until next Tuesday.  I hate them, really.  My dad was a top earner in his company for the year so he won a trip to Vienna, Austria and Prague, Czech Republic.  Given that both my mom and my dad are turning (or in my mom's case, has turned) fifty this year, and that it's their 25th wedding anniversary in October (it's disgusting that they've been together for thirty years), they extended their vacation to include a Mediterranean cruise and a few days in Rome, too.  Like I said, I hate them.  I'm deviating from the point.

My sister and I were left money to spend over the course of the two weeks.  My parents outlined that it was to be for emergencies, or things like groceries / other necessities we may run low on, but I've so far bought various amounts of alcohol and the Scream trilogy on DVD.

Living without my parents has got me thinking about how I'll be when I move out.  I have yet to move out - not even move into residence - and I'm now 20, so it's in my immediate future.  (we'll see if I'm on res this upcoming school year) Not that my sister and I have been left as orphans at all: my grandmother calls everyday to check if we've been eating and we've had a few visits from family members with arms full of food.  Aside from the constant family checkups, then, this is the closest I've felt to holding down the house independently with responsibilities I'm expected to uphold.  If these weeks have been any indication, I'm afraid of my future.  (don't be alarmed by my sometimes disgusting ways)
  • I've been given the simple responsibility of driving my sister to school every morning, but every morning I oversleep my alarm clock and wake up to her pounding on my bedroom door saying we need to go now.  It's an absolute struggle forcing myself up out of bed - and that goes for the days that I'm not even hungover.
  • Our dishes are piling up.  The point where we literally had no glasses left to drink out of was the point where we decided to run the dishwasher.
  • I can't cook for shit.  I've been eating like crap lately.  My sister and I are slowly chipping away at the stock of food we have.  I drink milk like water but we've run out of milk three days ago and neither of us can be bothered to walk to the store at the corner of my street to buy some more.
  • I do nothing but watch TV shows online all day (particularly that UK series Skins which is pretty awesome) and often times I don't bother showering unless I know I'll be seeing someone that day.  I've run out of deodorant, too, and much like my milk predicament I have yet to force myself to buy some more so spraying cologne everywhere has sufficed instead.  I actually haven't shaved since my parents have gone, either, because I don't have them barking things like "hey wolfman" at me.
I repeat: I'm scared for when I move out on my own.  I'll be such a lost cause it'll be tragic.  As I put it to my friend Amy in a text message, I'll be a hobo bachelor.  "I'd come save you, then smack you for needing saving," she says.

In all seriousness, though, I'm sure I won't be as bad of a lost cause as I'm making myself out to be.  (I do shower, people, I swear to god) I might blame it on the summer: the sweltering hot weather has given me no motivation to get up and actually do something.  Otherwise, I don't actually have a reason aside from that fact that I'm purely lazy.  Perhaps, when I'm out on my own, knowing that the safety net of my parents won't be back in five days, I'll get myself together completely: it's that knowledge that my parents will be back soon that gives me the attitude of "eh, fuck it, we can run the dishwasher and do the laundry the day before they get back."  I'm certain I'll learn how to cook once I quickly get tired of Kraft Dinner or boxed mashed potatoes night after night

Considering all of this has made me want to shower this very instant.

Monday, June 6, 2011

The Dark Knight.. who?

X-Men: First Class is fantastic.

There was not a single flaw in this movie.  The only gripes I've been able to come up with have been things only hardcore, die-hard X-Men fans like myself would complain about; but even then it's things extremely insignificant, like I wish they didn't favour random characters over having Cyclops and Jean (a sequel, I say) or I wish Moira and Banshee had their Scottish accents.  Like I said, I don't care at all about minor things like that: this movie is as close to comic book or superhero movie perfection as possible.  It is, at least, on par with The Dark Knight; I feel that TDK, while technically flawless, didn't have nearly as much fun with itself like XM:FC did.

Astounding to me is that First Class finds its believability in its roots in history.  It's tough to make a movie grounded when the protagonists can read minds, turn to diamonds, manipulate metal and shapeshift.  First Class finds its antagonists - a group of high-rolling mutants known as the Hellfire Club - actually instigating the Cuban Missile Crisis.  How awesome is that, seeing Kevin Bacon as Sebastian Shaw in a Russian war room convincing the Soviets to move their nuclear missiles to Cuba?

It was a joy to me to see a devastated franchise get a new life.  It was troubling to me, an X-Men fan, to think that the only way I'll ever see my favourite characters onscreen again would be in Wolverine sequels.  (by the way, I HATE Wolverine: he's already monopolized the original trilogy and it's bad enough we'll keep getting shit movies starring him with characters who have no business being in them - take Gambit in X-Men Origins: Wolverine.  What the fresh hell?) In a similar sense, it was awesome to see older characters like Mystique and Beast again, played by really talented young actors.  It didn't hurt that my favourite naked blue character was played by Jennifer Lawrence.
Move over, January Jones.  You may not have worn many clothes in First Class, but your acting was kinda mediocre.  Besides, Jennifer Lawrence is my age.  SOULMATES

First Class was absolutely riveting.  I couldn't look away during the entire final act.  Throughout the whole movie my friend Amy and I constantly looked at each other and whispered "badass!" after a really, well, badass display of superpower.  (pretty much anything Magneto did.  Or, hell, even Emma Frost turning her hand into diamond to cut off a piece of glacier - yeah, glacier - to get ice for a drink.  It was the 60s and all; I believe Shaw's line was "now be a doll and fix me a drink")

It's very strange, re-watching the original trilogy (which I have been, forcing my friend to watch them so that I have an excuse to go see First Class again), knowing how the characters started off.  It's hard to watch Xavier and Magneto become friends when you know they're destined for enemies; similarly it was particularly difficult to know that Mystique was an innocent young girl considering in X-Men and X2 she's sliding around naked kicking ass and licking her lips at men as a villain.

X-Men: First Class works as a finely crafted film.  It works - and then some - as a prequel to the original movies.  It completely blows other superhero movies out of the water with its innovation (set in the 60s and in history, to be specific) and visual wonder.  I cannot wait to see it again.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Let's play a love game

I'm 20 and single.  While I would never say I'm bothered by the fact that I don't have a girlfriend, I would say that from time to time I remind myself of my bachelor status and can't help but feel a little bit lonely.

This past year marked a new sort of romantic revolution for my closest friends.  Quick background: I have an extremely tight-knit group of friends, the same friends that I've had since kindergarten (it certainly helps that we all live in the same neighbourhood and are walking distance from each other, save for one); as it stands, I'd say that they're all my sisters.  Wait up, put the breaks on: yeah, they're girls.  I'm going off on a major tangent, but the fact was that in grade school I was part of a larger circle of friends - had a handful of "best" guy friends - but by the time we got to high school the guys were the ones who drifted and the girls were the ones who stayed constant, and now, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Anyways, of my group of friends, three of them got boyfriends this year (one has since broken up with her boyfriend - for good measure), and I was left alone as "the single one" along with another friend of mine.  I'm truly as happy as ever for my committed friends, but in a time where I was blatantly more single than ever, sometimes it stung.

Like I said, I'm not angry or upset with being single around people who aren't.  At this point in the summer, now, I don't even look at the two remaining couples as couples, given that we're all around each other all the time anyways so it's getting to be far more natural.  But as I said, I'm sometimes reminded by the fact that I don't have someone, and I can't help but feel a little discouraged in myself.

I would never say that I've ever been overly confident in myself.  In addition to that, I seem to be extremely particular in the girls I decide I like, and because of that the chance that that one girl will like me back is slim.  I've always said that I'll never be the type to hook up: when I do date someone, I truthfully wouldn't be surprised if that'll be it - I'm not looking for something casual, I'm looking for meaning.  I'm such a hopeless romantic it's absolutely disgusting.

One of the more upsetting things I've ever been told in my life was that I was looking for a girlfriend for all the wrong reasons; that I was so desperate for someone (a few months back when my friends' "boyfriend boom" was in high gear, yeah, I felt the loneliness or even jealousy the greatest) that I was looking for a girl just to label them as "mine."  That would never, ever be the case.  Even in the time where I was heavily influenced by being one of the sole single ones, I would never date someone for the sake of it; it would've been all the same aside from a minor sort of internal pressure I was dealing with to find someone.  That pressure's since been alleviated.

Now that it's the summer, I don't find myself overly concerned with being single.  Yeah, it would be very nice to have someone, but my activity this summer is so limited that happening upon someone outside of who I normally see is next to impossible. But then, you never know.

Re-reading this post, it's a bit of a clusterfuck.  I can't even draw my own conclusions.  The best I would say in a nutshell is: I'm single, people around me aren't, that doesn't bother me, but sometimes it does, and I always want someone, but sometimes not, and sometimes it's a more pressing want, but mostly I'm good.  In the meantime I'll just pine for Jennifer Lawrence.