The gym, a moron's meeting place!

As you can tell from my catchy title I have joined a gym. I recently realized that it was time to try to get back into shape. I started with a diet and lost 70 lbs, and I know some of you are thinking bullshit, but it's true. The next step was to join a gym. After carefully considering my track record of joining gyms and never going, like an idiot I signed up for more torture. After a few visits to the gym I came to the conclusion that gyms are just not my cup of tea...and here's why.... Gym's attract douchebags and morons and in some cases moronic douchebags! It's not to say everyone that goes to the gym is this way, but there exists a serious population of morons at this place. Now maybe the lack of food from my diet has made me easily irritable or it's the fact that I HATE MORONS!! there are several types that particularly get on my nerves.............. 1. The musclebound freak with the fake tan The only thing this man loves more than his own reflection is sleeveless t-shirts. Sure, we all wouldn't mind toning up or putting on some muscle, but this guy's artificially tanned muscles are his full-time job. After hearing the guy go on about it for 20 minutes or so, we don't feel so bad for putting a video game controller in our hands and watching our body turn to dough. This has got to be a mental illness, a male inverse of anorexia, except this disease lands you in a sideshow for freaks instead of the fashion runway (Yes, we know not all top models are anorexics. Some just do coke). Researches believe that the roots of both self-perception disorders come in early adolescences. While girls are dreaming of lounging poolside in Barbie's dream house, men want to be tearing down Cobra's infantry as a G.I. Joe. Seeing the sculpted action figures sets up an unattainable goals for young men,after they become rippling man-beasts. Let's all take a minute to thank the parents of these impressionable youths for going Joe instead of Ninja Turtles, or our society may presently be plagued with mutant reptilian half-breeds roaming the sewers. These guys walk around the gym complimenting each others "delts" or "Lats".........

2. The peacock This asshole usually rolls in during prime workout hours when the gym is packed and has either a faux hawk or some form of spiked hair that has half a tube of alberto styling gel in his hair. Not only does that shit get all over the equipment but it stinks when you are next to it trying to workout. these guys walk through the gym in their wife beaters, ed hardy or tapout shirts and occasionally do a set and usually have a protein shake, then try to pick up the women. It actually pains me to see these half-wits swaggering through the middle of the free weights area like male peacocks, puffing out their chests, permanently shrugging their shoulders like they have a syndrome, and holding their arms out wide to the side as if they were carrying a small pig under each one. What they are trying to do is con you into thinking that they have huge muscles. Any person with a brain can see they are full of shit. These same same pricks fill up their protein shakers at the only water fountain in the gym: Th Douchebags. I don’t know what pisses me off more—the fact that most of these special people probably don’t have the faintest idea why they’re ingesting extra protein in the first place or that they’re completely unsympathetic in the extreme to the needs of the person who is actually working out, who is no doubt being deprived of much needed water while they’re pontificating over what type of protein is best and whether taking creatine is ‘cheating.’ And what are fat burners anyway? Save that shake for the changing rooms you poser and quit purposefully ‘flexing’ every time a hot blonde strolls by in her Juicy tracksuit. It doesn’t impress them, and you look ridiculous!This isn’t helped by the fact that they seemingly haven’t had access to a dictionary or indeed any form of education for the last 18 or so years, so all you tend to hear are phrases like ‘sick, yo man, brah!........ . The phone talker:

Pretty self explanatory, these are usually the same guys or girls who jabber away on the phone when in line at the grocery store or the license bureau. these people are so afraid to be alone that they have to talk on the phone at all times. I realize they are doing it so joe friendly won't talk to them, but seriously dude, I don't want to hear you tell your pals about your car or anything else, shut up! this same annoyance can cover those pricks who sing along with their ipod out loud! This isn't american idol, and it's not karaoke night at the cock n bull. You suck, your choice of music is terrible, do you realize how hard it is to workout when you have to listen to some tone deaf person belting out the words to latest justin bieber song?..........

.finally the locker room naked guy

This guy is a prize, now i know it's a locker room, people get changed and showered. Everytime I go in there it seems like there is always one or two guys who think it's their livingroom. I swear they spend all day in there taking showers and trying to talk to you, probably works at a nightclub as a bouncer or something. It's usually one of those guys with the huge upper body and the tiny legs. I mean, what's the deal with that? Tell me where in the international texts on bodybuilding/nightclub security does it say that you must possess the upper body of arnold schwartznegger combined with the lower body of an underfed giraffe? They are always close talkers too. This guy wants to know your life story, and how long you been working out there etc. He'll stand in the middle of the locker room talking about his ingrown toenail as everyone wishes he won't bend over and touch it. He inevitably does and nobody wants or needs to see that! Despite all these guys I guess the gym serves a purpose, for me it's trimming down some unwanted weight, and for others it's hanging out with naked men in a lockeroom. For soccer moms to get together and gossip and for people to get so big they can't tie their shoes or wear a suit.

The Anatomy of the Mullet

The other day I found myself at a bestbuy just outside Boston. The place was crammed full of last minute christmas shoppers. While waiting in the customer service line I once again found myself looking around at all the people in the store. I noticed for some reason there were a lot of mullets around. Is the mullet making a comeback? did I miss the memo? Should I go out and purchase a stone wash denim jacket? Is it the town I was in? Is the mullet making a comeback..seriously?? After looking around a bit I look forward and standing directly in front of me was a short man with an I-pod (hell it may have been a walkman!) but he had a beautiful mullet.This here is a world class Mullet! A truly rare site these days! It is of the northern Yokel version usually found in the North Dakota or Idaho areas, the extended "neck curtain" provides for warmth against cold Canadian winds coming down from the prairies as well as protection for the back of the neck from the sun while farming potatoes. This protection saves these potato farmers from getting the more commonly found "redneck" which is the main difference between the "yokel"mullet, a "redneck mullet" and it's cousin the "Hillbilly" mullet AKA "Kentucky waterfall". Which in Canada is compared with "coupe Longueil".

The "hillbilly" version is middle lenghth between the northern and the southern redneck style. The hair is cut shorter from the scalp which causes a stiffness which makes this mullet practically immovable to strong winds from Tornados and 1980's pickup trucks with no windows. The "hillbilly" mullet can be found throughout the midwest but has been known to travel to Las Vegas and other vacation spots and can be found drinking canned beer (usually in a can cooler holder aka koozie) wearing a speedo. The northern Mullet "yokel" is much longer therefore leaving loose hair which blows all over the place in the wind and is commonly found disguised with some sort of mesh hat, and sometimes accompanied with a neck beard. These mullets are more and more moving towards extinction, they are much harder to maintain and must be shampooed more than once every springtime. This is what makes them such a rare and wonderful siting, it is extremely uncommon to find them outside their normal habitat. The canadian version of this mullet is known as the "coupe sept illes".
The "redneck" is much shorter and easier to groom, ocasionally you will find a "redneck" mullet has been twisted into a rat tail style, but make no mistake it is still a mullet. The "redneck" mullet is like a cameleon and changes form sometimes, and has changed colors as well. Under a hat, this mullet can be mistaken for "hockey hair" it is not uncommon to see 2 different colors on one of these mullets. It's shortness provides less wait on the head which is great while waiting in long welfare lines or for just siting on the couch in the frontyard rolling a ziplock bag full of cigarettes.

The "Yokel" aKA the northern mullet is not the rarest mullet and not the most endangered of going extinct....that honor goes to the Asian Mullet. Asian hair is perfect for mulleting (styling like a mullet) thick, dense hair provided a perfect "brush" top with a tremendous back dangle. At a distance from behind gave the illusion that the person was wearing a black turtle neck. This style was very popular with a cowboy hat and usually found at a karaoke bar.Or accompanied with a leather jacket with large amount of zippers on it.

Barista = Douchebag

I occasionally go into starbucks, but only when its empty. I tend to swim with the dunkin donuts and Tim Hortons crowd and every now and then there is a quote unquote Trendy coffee shop filled with wannabe hipsters called something like the "Z room", which is trying to show they are free thinking liberals even though every shop like that is the same. The table and chairs are from a used furniture store.A barista with a liberal arts degree who wont serve you an espresso in a paper cup as it ruins the taste. He gives all his unemployed friends free coffee.Wi Fi for free loaders ,Horrible baked goods from the local gluten free bakery and The menu is written on a chalkboard.

But recently I found myself in a starucks and the asshole behind the counter with his nose ring and badly dyed hair covering half his face thought he was the coolest thing ever . I ordered a large regular coffee, no need for me to look at the menu, it's pretty straight forward. This couterperson looks at me and says "Venti coffee?" Irritation setting in....I say "the biggest size you have" he smirks at me with cockiness and says "so a venti then"...now.... I'm not italian, and I do not speak it, however I know "venti" means 20 as in 20 ounces but if I ordered the rest of my order in italian, they wouldn't know what the fuck I'm saying, so save it!! so I'm not getting smarter by ordering a venti. I say " YA! the biggest size you have". He then responds "hot or iced?" So I tell him hot which I thought was a given, If I wanted a fucking ice coffee I would say give me an large ICE COFFEE! Coffee is a hot drink! Well he wasn't done yet, He then says "venti coffee with room?" And I immediately was picturing tossing this douchebag over the counter and ripping his nose ring out and giving him venti punches in the mouth! I was a bit confused, Room??? so I just said "I want a large coffee....please!". And he says as if I'm a moron with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, "do you want room for cream or milk?" I told him no and with my hands shaking paid him. He said thanks and enjoy your coffee. And I couldn't resist responding "enjoy your studio apartment"

Room?? Like I'm supposed to know this. Just give me a fucking coffee, as strong and as hot as you can get it. Let me worry about the cream shithead. Ordering a regular coffee shouldn't be 5 minute conversation. I'm sorry I'm not trendy enough to know the starbucks lingo, ordering my colombian coffee in Italian at a chain coffee shop!! Ridiculous!! Then I stand there waiting for my coffee and he looks at me with a confused look and says "ahh, is there ahhh, anything else sir?" I say "ya....my coffee??" he chuckles (which makes me feel like throwing a steaming cup full of hot coffee in his face) and says "oh, just go to the end of the counter and the "BARISTA" will serve you. The what?? are you kidding me?? take the GOD DAMN POT AND POOR ME A FUCKING LARGE CUP!! is what I was thinking as I walked to the end of the counter. I get to the end and the "Barista" looks at me as if I'm from Mars and looks slightly affended I didn't ask for foam or sugar or cinnamon vanilla flake or some kind of fancy fucking design. Well excuse me if I actually enjoy the taste of coffee!! This person probably has no idea what good coffee tastes like, and I'm the outsider because I don't feel like paying 8 dollars for my coffee. By now I have lost almost ten minutes of my life which I will never get back. The "Barista" hands me the cup as says "here's your venti sir" I snatch it, and say "do all starbucks servers have to learn Italian?" He replies with conviction "first of all, we're baristas and second of all, that's what they're called, a mcdonald's employee wouldn't call a big mac a whopper would he...it's what makes us unique or different?? I stare at him for a long 10 seconds and say "thanks for clearing that up for me" and turn and walk out with my blood boiling hotter than my coffee.

Unique?? it's coffee for God's sakes! give me a break! Does this asshole truly believe that nowhere else serves what they serve?! I have been to Colombia and have drank some of the best coffee in the world and it was poured into my cup by a chubby sweaty colombian guy named Orlando wearing a white apron and a 20 year old white T shirt and sweat pants! And by the way dick, you work for a chain and publicly held company, way to rage against the machine...poser!

Now let's examine this for a second...what is a Barista? well according to the many definitions I have read it is a for of bartender. It is an italian word for someone who makes and served hot drinks such as espresso and cappucinos. I will certainly not take anything away from a "trained barista" if there is a college or school for this. It can be an art to make these types of coffees especially the way they are meant to be made with old fashioned espresso machines. This being said to call a starbucks coffee maker a Barista must insult a lot of older Italian people who do it the correct way, not by pressing a button on a machine. To call a starbucks employee a "barista" is like calling a mcdonald's cook a chef! Anyone who puts "barista at starbucks" on their resume is basically telling the person reading it that they are in fact a douchebag. To me a "coffee expert" which baristas claim to be, should be able to tell me all about the coffee bean, where it came from, the oils, and how long it was roasted etc. not "we put 5 lbs of the black beans and mix it with 2 lbs of the brown beans and then you have our house blend!" The sizes at starbucks are short, tall, grande (another italian word) and of course the ever popular venti. I'm not even going to tackle why venti is the biggest and grande is actually NOT the Grande-est. The italian references confuse me, Starbucks was founded by jerry baldwin, Zev Siegl and Gordon Bowker in Seattle..I don't think you can get less italian! and this whole, give them your name thing, as if it going to make it a personal experience. I can go in 5 days in a row and those pot smoking underachievers will never remember my name so they can stick that system right up their ass.

Alas, I am just an onlooker, an outsider, I don't know the real satisfaction that comes with being a starbucks barista. Perhaps I will go undercover and discover the magic of coffeemaking starbucks style, It shouldn't be hard to fool them into fitting in. I will grow my hair out and dye it black with blue highlights put a hole in my ear the size of a quarter, get my brow and nose pierced. Have my wallet connected to my belt by chain and wear a black t-shirt over a white turtle neck and trade my car in for a bus pass.....On second thought, maybe I will just go on living my life and not care at all whatsoever....ya I think I like that idea!

Mini mid life crisis

Well folks, usually my blog contains a series of my bitching about things that either have happened to me or annoy me. Today will be the same, only this time, I deserved it!

It's hard to be perfect, God knows I'm not, although I am as close as humanly possible! however even I slip up occasionally. I made the grave mistake of trusting my friends. I mean , come on! what kind of idiot does that? Recently I have had a few episodes where I have found myself reverting back to when I was young...er. I am afraid that I am in the midst of a mid life crisis!

A couple weeks back a buddy and I were at a bar visiting another so called friend at his place of work. This douchebag is a bartender, so we are having a few beers and we're having some fun, when another friend walks in spewing some made up story about a house warming party. She mentioned she made some jello shots for said party, but nobody wanted.....a few things wrong with this, one....who brings jello shots to a house warming? maybe a plant, a frame, perhaps a bottle of wine. O ya..and jello shots! second...if these jello shots were broken out at any party, they would have disappeared. Nobody can turn down jello shots in paper shot glasses! I don't care who you are! So I believe she brought them in because she was craving them and made up this elaborate story to make us feel bad and have a few jello shots with her. After the story she asked us if we wanted to try a few. My buddy and I figured, hey, what the hell, we're game. I still wasn't sure these jello shots even existed. We finish our drinks and one at a time we venture outside to the parking lot. She opens her trunk like it's a gun deal in the ghetto, reaches in and pulls out a big tupperware full of jello shots! Badass!! we start slurping away like a bunch of college frathouse kids, one after another we are downing them. In the distance curious onlookers think we are most likely doing drugs of somekind. My buddy shouts out "o man, you gotta try the purple ones, they're really strong!" we all look at each other like junkies fighting for the last fix of heroin. and grab the purple ones that remain. I think we did about 7 each, which is 21 jello shots in about 4 minutes. I wish I could tell you this story was from when I was 18 years old, but unfortunetly it was a couple weeks ago, 13 long years after my 18th birthday! We stroll back into the bar, everyone looking or was it just me and the paranoia was setting in. wait a minute, it was only jello shots! All I could think about was the purple ones, and if there were more of them! ...All of a sudden, this feeling of shame came over me, I was so hard up for a buzz that I went to the parking lot to down some jello shots? yikes...so as the shame crept in and I was crashing from my jello shot high I realized that I may be experiencing a slight midlife crisis. I mean, could it be possible that I was one of the lucky ones, I recognized the crisis as it was starting? All of a sudden I felt compelled to get my ear pierced and get barbwire tatoo around my bicep. Start using words like "Phat" and "far out" and "dig" as in "I dig it" Trade my car in for a convertible and perhaps grow a mullet!...ok no mullet. Maybe I will go out and buy a skateboard and learn the halfpipe......well if you know me, you will certainly know that me on a skateboard doing the halfpipe is not only freightning but about as likely as george bush starting a hip hop career. I decided to ignore the feelings and move on with my night....I should have taken heed.

Some time passed and I was invited to a friends birthday dinner, it was a harmless wednesday night or so I thought. During dinner the service was so slow I had enough time to consume 2 bottles of wine to myself. I agree that was a tad excessive but let's move on. So after dinner we went to a bar down the street where I had a couple strong drinks, then the next thing I know we're going to another bar! what is this, I haven't "bar hopped" in years! It fucking sucks! you get comfortable, develop a rapore with your bartender and bang! all of a sudden you have to go. I was at the mercy of my friends obviously because I was no longer driving. At the next bar, I had a few more drinks and out of nowhere, it was decided that we would have an afterparty at a friends house. At the douchbag's house...ya the bartender!.....BIG mistake! So I'm thinking , cool , been a while since I have done that too! I'm gung ho and it's a freaking wednesday! I have saturday night fever! we get to my friends and after one drink I hit a wall!... done! I used to party till the sun came up, and I thought this was going to happen again, but as it turns out I was the first to crash out or should I say pass out. This would prove costly mistake on my part. I crash on the couch, no big deal, I trust my friends. I'm sure they were enjoying themselves and that's all that matters.....right??....right???....WRONG!!! DO NOT TRUST YOUR FRIENDS!!....

About 7am I awoke, parched and my mouth tasted like hot dog water. It felt like there was a horse standing on my head. I roll up off the floor...yup you read right, I awoke on the floor. and drag my ass to the bathroom. I take the world's longest piss, the whole time with my forehead on the back of the toilet. I run the faucet, my tongue feels like fur, I wash my hands and drink some of the cold water. I splash some water on my face as guilt begins to pour in. This will not last long as I look in the mirror.....SON OF A BITCH!! they wrote on my face!!! They drew a cat face in fucking permanent marker! You got to be kidding me!! I look like a bad kiss concert, and my tongue is dark purple! most likely because of the cheap red wine I drank the night before. I cannot begin to tell you the range of emotions that passes through your mind when you see something like that staring you back in the mirror. First the irritation of the hangover then the stunned surprise when you first see it. This is then followed by anger that you let this happen to yourself. You are mad! you want to know who did this? Deep down you know. Then as the anger subsides you can't help but laugh and appreciate a good prank. This laughter does not last long, it is followed by shame. The same shame I felt after the jello shots. Finally...revenge is on your mind. It's early, I'm the only one awake, hmmm what to do??? well I'm still thirsty so I will have a drink of water or juice and think about what to do. Then it hits me! Sabotage His beverages! So the cranberry juice was laced with tabasco, the water with more hot sauce, the milk with cesar dressing and the coke with worchestersire sauce or however you spell that! I got into my car with a small victory that I could only share with myself! It was a victory none the less. Unfortunetly we are not teenagers and he has a wife who had to suffer the guilt by association!....O ya, one more thing, I left in my fucking socks! Some idiot left wearing my shoes which were 4 sizes too big for him! Am I too old to act like this?? Has this behavior been deemed unacceptable for someone my age??..I don't know and I can't hear you because I am too busy getting my ear pierced and reving the engine of my new sportscar!

Travel pains!

Recently I had the pleasure of travelling to Cuba for a week of scorching sun, sub par food and a lot of booze. I was lucky to have great weather when I was there, however getting there was awful!

I am not a small man, in fact I am bit on the large size. So I often wonder why they make planes so damn small. I realize, or hope at least that anything being built in this century is equipped to handle the "growing" population. In case you don't get my subtle way of using quotations to show the word "growing" It was meant as a play on words about north america's crisis with obesity. Older planes, which when you go on vacation to places like Cuba are what you fly on. When you travel with airlines such as Sunwing, Gotravel, Zoom etc, the planes are normally the castoffs from the major airlines such as Air Canada. They buy the plane then paint it, re-panel the inside and presto...new plane....or is it??

So my vacation starts off around 7pm, I arrive at the airport to get checked in to the airline, of course there is a terrible lineup, but I knew this would happen. I bear the line and the morons in it. I like to look at the people in the line and pray they do not sit near me. Looking at the people with the fake tans and their newly bought clothes just for the trip. The women, I know this, are dressed strategically, they take the time to actually choose their "travel outfit" this is a look or outfit they wear just for travelling. They take it off the minute they check in to the hotel. I don't understand why they do this but I guess it's just one of life's mysteries just like Easter island, the bermuda triangle, creation of mankind or the fucking difference between yams and sweet potatoes!. After the first line to check in, get your boarding pass and check in your bags. Then it's off to another line, herded like caddle to customs and scanning. I look around and realize that there is a lot of people in this line and hope they all will not be on my flight. Ineveitably they all are. After the three hours of bullshit, I board the plane and find my seat. Seat 14A, this is a special seat, it is the "unreclinable seat" this and the last seat at the back of the plane are unreclinable. It happens to be in front of the emergency exit, therefore my seat is rigid and does not move. It's also about as wide as a newspaper. I squeeze into the seat, and push down the arm rests which for me are more like rib crushers. I try to fasten the seatbelt, unfortunetly it falls short by about 6 inches. This is not the first time, so I know they have belt extenders. I ask the flighty flight attendant for one of these extenders. She tells me "no problem" then calls out down the aisle to another flight attendant asking her for the belt extender. This of course makes everyone turn around and look at me! Only thing I can do is pretend to work with the air conditioner. Then the flight attendant grabs it and hands it to dumdum number one. She rushes it over to me, as everyone watches. The embarassment just makes me start sweating, to make matters worse the douchebag in front of me reclines his seat. I cannot move back and now I have some asshole on my lap. He's so close to me I can give him a shoulder rub and headbutt him at the same time. The people behind me are constantly swearing and the idiots all have Ipods in their ears so they are constantly yelling. I am already at my wit's end. We take off, then the flight attendants pass and give you that complimentary drink, it's usually about 3 and a half ounces of the soda or juice of your choice! Wooopity do!! It's like a shot glass, I'm usually done by the time she is serving the people behind me. Then all smiles the next one comes with the bag of shitass salty pretzels or fuckin corn chips, which are hard enough to open and make you soooo thirsty you wish you didn't slam back that drizzle of coke they just gave you! I tell ya , they plan these things, I see them snickering! Then of course they see I'm dying of thirst so they pass offering me an alcoholic beverage at a cost of course! My right butt cheek has completly gone numb so I now have to lean to the left. I settle in to watch tonight's inflight feature..which on a plane full of vacationing adults is quite appropriate...The tooth fairy!! No word of a lie, I had to watch the Rock prance around in a fairy costume and when he wasn't he was pretending to play hockey!!! You gotta be kidding me!! I need distraction though, the arm rests have begun to fracture my ribs and the smell of the rogaine or grecian formula in the hair of the scumbag in front of me is making me dizzy. Another genius move is they put the plug in for the headphones on the inside of the arm rest, I guess fat people don't watch movies!! I guess we'll be too busy stuffing our face with salty pretzels and barely chilled soft drinks! I cannot even see the 2 damn holes I have to plug into. Maybe if I push hard enough I will feel my ribs against the grooves. So I squeeze my hand down to find the holes, I'm fumbling around like a virgin on prom night, I am squirming and breathing heavy. I have my head back and I'm looking at the ceiling, not knowing I begin to talk "o ya! there it is, that's it" "I can feel it"....little did I know I attracted a bit of an audience, I guess between the squirming, the breathing and talking and the fact that I was reaching down....it looked bad!! What made it worse was the movie was "the Tooth Fairy"!!....I got a lot of strange looks for the rest of the flight and some while I was in cuba!....by the way, the tooth fairy has Ashley judd playing the Rock's single parent girlfriend, kind of a small role...What the hell happened to her! So I plug in and spend the next 30 minutes adjusting the volume which is twice as hard as plugging in, the buttons are flat so sometimes you don't know when you are pressing them and all of a sudden the volume is blaring and you cannot locate the button anymore!!!! While I am wrestling with the armrest I noticed something very odd... I noticed there were little ashtrays on each armrest!!! HOW OLD IS THIS FUCKING DEATH BOX!! I had to look it up, the first smoking ban was in 1983, then in 87 for flights less than 2 hours and finally in 89 for domestic flights less than 6 hours. So I'm figuring at least 21 years old this aircraft is! I thought about going up front to see if the pilot was wearing a leather helmet, goggles and a white scarf . I doubt if I would travel longer than an hour in a 21 year old car! I'm here writing so therefore I made it but there is one more thing that annoys the shit out of me, and that is the landing applause! Why is there applause after landing? the plane touches down and everyone starts clapping and cheering??, I guess these people stand up after a root canal and give the dentist a round of applause. Maybe if the pilot made a miracle landing but what are these people expecting to crash and when they land safely they look at eachother and are compelled to applaude! Do the same people applaude the train conductor? I think the next time I take a taxi, when I arrive at my destination, I will pay and get out and give him a standing ovation!

Some Assembly Required"

Now let me start by saying I am a relatively patient man. I mean I can "lose it" now and then, but it usually involves acts of major stupidity that lead to my inevitable frustration, and once I am in that state of non comprehension, the gloves are off!
Now frustration can rear its ugly head in many forms. There is the simple frustration one gets for example when say you are opening a jar that just will not open or perhaps you're fumbling for the key in the dark in the pouring rain outside your house. These, although inconvenient, are mild cases and at worst, will bring out the mumble of soft swear words under your breath such as ... shit come on or... you got to be kidding me. These frustrations aren't so bad because you know if you concentrate hard enough, it will come to an end.

Then there is the "medium frustration" which may find you perhaps physically responding by either "flipping someone off" or smacking a table or dashboard. These actions brought on by say for example, someone cutting you off on the road or better yet when talking on the phone with customer service reps who are located on the other side of the world in some non airconditioned building in Bangladesh, which is a way for major companies to save a buck and enables them to screw with your sanity. But eventually you calm down and forget about it.
Another example may be when you live with someone, either a room-mate, girlfriend or wife who constantly forgets to replace the toilet paper roll! After some cursing and contemplating using the cardboard empty roll, you come to your senses and do the embarrassed penguin walk over to get a fresh roll. But anger subsides and we move on with our day!

Today I am sitting in front of my screen thinking about a way to tell you about the most frustrating pain in the ass I have ever seen. I am talking about the "Allan key" Those of you who don't know what it is, it's a "L" shaped metal tool that for some reason people feel it can replace a whole tool box. It's "L" shaped because only Losers can think this is a useful tool!!...yup I said it! L is for Loser!! Nothing tests a man's patience, sanity and manhood like putting together a piece of furniture with that fuckin tiny piece of shit!!. I recently found myself in one of Canada's finest all purpose furniture stores, you know the ones, big and huge full of displays and aggressive salespeople. Why I was there I have no idea...I must have been drunk...anyway I had my eye on a nice wall unit, so I bought the damn thing and had it delivered the next day.

The box arrived at the house and I read a sticker on the box that read "some assembly required", I thought to myself, no big deal, I could handle this. I was fired up, excited about opening the box and getting this thing together. I grabbed my toolbox and ripped open the box. I grabbed the instructions, one paper, not a book! nice I was liking it already. The instructions were on a cheap faded photocopy, which was a bit weird, but no worries. It said I only needed the pieces in the box and the miracle tool "allan key", I thought to myself, "this will be a piece of cake. I spread the pieces A to K on the floor and open the bag of screws and nuts. trying to follow the instructions and the diagram I begin to piece it together. Piece by piece it is coming together, each attachment like a victory in battle! All this with the "Allan Key" sure my hand was now getting muscle cramps and blisters from using it and sure it takes twice as long as a regular screwdriver, but it was all coming together. The big pieces were assembled, I am begining to realize that this is "all assembly required" the clock shows I have been working on this thing for 2 hours. Time to speed up and put in shelves and handles. Something's wrong!! how the fuck am I supposed to squeeze through the little space provided to put in the screw? Who designed this thing? some skinny piece of shit sick bastard!! for over 30 minutes I struggle with the screw as thoughts of skipping it comes to my head. Just as I'm at my breaking point, it works. this process goes on for the next 4 screws. I'm getting pissed off now, this stupid tool is hurting my hand and I keep dropping the fucking thing cause I cannot get a proper grip. Who invented this thing?? Why don't they use regular screws so I can use my screwdriver, I am forced to use this stupid thing! I have hit the wall, at the point where there is a screw that will not cooperate. It has defeated me.
I'm standing on the other side of the room now staring at this incomplete piece of shit! I'm pacing back and forth threatening it as if it can hear me. I'm pointing at it yelling like some WWF wrestler before a match. I almost give it a dropkick, then a suplex but I pull myself together and wipe the sweat from my brow and get back at the torturous job of attaching the shelves. The first one I try won't work, I am really thinking about dowsing it in gasoline and lighting it on fire then stripping down to my underwear and curling up in the fetal position! Why has this itsy bitsy tool and it's fucking screws got the better of me! What is wrong with me? AM I really a man, a real man can put together a simple wall unit! the blood is boiling! the shirts been ripped off hulk hogan style, I'm screaming at this piece of junk and with my sanity on the line I take one last long look at it and............
I have a wall unit in my livingroom that holds only my TV and nothing else because it has no shelves and no handles!! and after a few months in a straight jacket and in a padded room I can enjoy it!

Get a life!! get out of the emergency room!

Now, let me start by saying this is purely an observation. It is based on 3 different occasions, rather than recount all three stories I will summarize what I took from them.
Is it just me?, or are the emergency rooms full of ridiculously weird people? I'm talking a shade above retarded here! I guess it depends when you go I guess. This story starts with a trip at about 1am to the emergency room for a very bad cut on my hand sustained while squeazing a pint glass at a bar after realizing how god damn stupid the bartender was.....I won't get into that today. So here I am gushing blood with glass chips sticking out of my wrist, ...cool right??...no way, I feel like an asshole as I have to scream through a stupid thick glass window with a hole the size of a golfball, similar to prison visitation, at least in prison they can talk through a phone. Repeating myself over and over again as the color changes in my face. Do I have a hospital card??...WTF!! I have a medicare card!!! what is this a fucking library!! or a private club!!....no I don't have it!! but I have been here before! look it up!! "Sir we don't have you here" .....well then I guess I am imagining things!!
Here is a lesson, don't lose your hospital card, you might as well be a farm animal looking for treatment!! after I go through the process of getting a new card, and the receptionist sees the blood stained whole roll of paper towel soaked through on my hand. She has the balls to tell me
"you know, you really shouldn't use white paper towels on a cut like that! there is a lot of chemicals in that paper!"....
I think, hmmm good to know.....she hands me my card and tells me to go sit down.....are you serious??? I guess she wanted me to peel off my shirt Rambo style and wrap it around the hand...
The next time I go to the hospital, it's because I have incredible chest pains. At the urging of my co workers I go to the hospital about 12:30 am, this is 3 months after the hand situation....Now, I'll admit, I should have had the damn card, but I came from work, and the card wasn't in my wallet, I took the damn thing out because the lady last time stuck an appointment sticker on the back of it and now the paper was curling and sticking to my other cards in my wallet. I walk in there hand on my chest like I'm dying, and tell them I have very painful chest pains, I even used the word "acute" when describing the pain, that usually gets the nurses moving.....well....nope, this was the layed back shift. Nobody was moving, they don't fear death over there. As I sit in pain in front of the glass window once again listening to the receptionist lecture me about my card, I fade away and begin thinking about the feeling I would get from swinging a sledge hammer through the window, perhaps a bat or even an ax!! ripping my shirt off and turning green like the hulk, and then running through the halls in my bare feet and jean shorts!...I snap out of it and go sit down.
The third trip was not even 3 weeks later, I was in total agony from an attack of gout, those of you who do not know what Gout it, let me tell you, It is something you would not wish upon your worse enemy, trust me...if you don't believe me find someone who suffers from it, and ask them?....This time I had my card, everything was ready to go, they have my medical history, my meds and everything, I just need a refill on my pills. The pain was so bad , I had not slept in 3 days. I figure, this should be a simple trip, see the doctor, then, boom , he writes the prescription (which is not an addictive narcotic) not a painkiller of any sort. It is a pill designed to flush the acid from your body, dissolving the gout. So I was not some junkie looking to score some percicets.........
nope, doctor did not believe I had gout, who the fuck does he think he is? Had I possibly been misdiagnosed by specialists, my family doctor and others along the way, the last 5 years since I have had this , they were all wrong, and this lowly night shift, emergency snot nosed, german jerkoff doctor thinks I don't have gout and that it is tendonitis or bursitis. So he sends me for x-rays and blood work!!! except it's like 3am now!!!......

I do not normally go to the hospital, in fact, before these three trips, it had been almost 8 years. Some things never change though.....What I'm talking about, is the waiting room!! This cesspool of germs and misery has not changed in half a century at least. I am a people watcher, so I guess I can get entertained..... again, these 3 visits have made me come to these conclusions, I have built this in my mind, but all from fact.
The waiting room....is like the price is right. Once the room is filled up, everyone sits, tries to avoid eye contact, some others pretend to sleep as to not talk to anyone. Then there is chatty cathy! Every waiting room has her, she won't shut up, has never heard of whispering and has for some odd reason a very good knowledge of the room. She knows where the bathrooms are, the coffee machine, parking payment machine, wheel chairs etc.. She also likes to guess, an old man stands up in the room (it's inevitable) he reaches in his pocket and jingles some change, but he looks confused (as most old men do) he looks left and then right. That's her signal,
"looking for the vending machine??"
a startling voice is heard over the silence of the sick and injured. Annoyed yet polite, the old man nods, she leads him half way there then returns to her seat. Of course tells the person next to her upon sitting down how she couldn't find the vending machine her first time in the hospital too. Poor guy perhaps was just looking for a newspaper...... Someone limps to their seat, there is chatty cathy again..."you should take a wheelchair" ...startled that this stranger is talking to them, the person responds with a shake of the head as if to say "o no i couldn't"... cathy is already up and pushing it towards them and making them sit in the chair, even though the person visibly wants to tell her to go fuck herself. This exact scenario happened twice, once to a kid and once to me. Kid was practically crying after she opened the foot stirrups and told him to put his foot there.(or was that me??) Why do we listen to her?? because it's after midnight and we're tired and vulnerable, and to oblige is easier than conflict. The room is getting tighter as more and more people enter, nobody is getting called, the one doctor is "in emergency surgery" ...hmmm. my ass, he's probably eating in the back or taking a nap. As time ticks on, the un easiness of the crowd begins to show, a concerned mother, asks how long it will be, the triage nurse tells her to fuck off basically. A few older lonely looking people just come in and sit down, as if to hang out. Cathy is scoping out the room looking for anyone to make eye contact with her, that one person is asking for it. Cathy zeros in on someone and out it comes, the complaining, the "i've never seen anything likes this speech." she points out, some of the sick and injured, singaling them out and apparently diagnosing them at the same time..
" look at this boy, clearly he has broken his ankle, or look at that poor woman, she appears to have a massive migraine, i mean come on!!
give her some aspirin. Cathy will then go to the woman , and ask her if she would like an aspirin? (like that will help)
you know what would help her headache cathy???
if you would shut up!!! too late though, Chatty cath as I like to call her, is knocking on the prison window which by some miracle withstood my sledge hammer attack from earlier and she is bent over yelling into the golfball hole asking for aspirin for a patient she doesn't know!.....Now she has everyone's attention, they are looking at her, some want to kill her, some out of boredom. She has made a friend, the eye contact has made the other person open up... this other person was looking for the moment to talk, because she is clearly a hypocondriac(please excuse my spelling, not a word I use often) Every waiting room has one, usually 8 out of 10 times, it's a urinary tract infection. I gotta sit here now and listen to these two morons discuss the fact they BOTH! have UTI (as they call it) I take note of all the different hospitals they are talking about, maybe it's me, but I'm 30 years old and I have been to maybe 5 different hospitals in my entire life. these people have been to hospitals in new york city, paris, australia, calgary and quebec city. to name a few.. I'm about to lose my mind when.......it's price is right time!! you thought I forgot?? here 's how it works, they cram the waiting room, from midnight to about 230 am, everyone gets anxious and impatient. Then doctor shows up, the nurses have put the cases in order of priority. Sorry to say Cathy, but your last!! She knows though, so she makes herself comfortable. The P.A. goes on, everyone turns intently, false alarm, just paging a nurse. At this point everyone is on their toes ( except the kid in the wheelchair)...it goes off again, says a person's name, and the smile comes over their face, either for "it's about time" or they are happy to get the hell away from chatty cathy. They get up and head towards the triage door, like rod roddy just told them to "come on down!! you're the next contestant on the price is right" it's like they won the draw.
But Wait!!! They come back and sit down,... burn!!! the nurse just takes your blood pressure and temperature and asks you aout your medications and allergies. What a jip! Once you are through Triage, then the evaluation starts, if your ailment is serious, they call you right away, if not, you wait...To watch the minutes go by as people realize they are not important despite the pain they are in,
Is absolutely priceless!!! When your name is called everyone in the room looks at you like you are the chosen one!!! all that, to go in for sub par medical treatment and not much more answers than what you came in with. Just a let down all the way, You endure the painful wait, at least give me a great look over and a fucking lolipop. Next time I go to the hospital, it better be on a gurney.