Category Archives: Rant

Public Service Announcement of the Day

Ahem.

I would like to warn you all about the dangers of accepting weird guys you’ve just met on SnapChat*.

No, it’s not the random dick pics. That’s almost expected with the way my luck has been going lately (where do I meet these people?). It’s not the possibility of randomly clicking his name when sending some ugly face to your friend. It’s not even the awkwardness that comes with a dead SnapChat connection.

It’s that some guys are really really really freaking weird and will send you videos and photos multiple times a day of their friends doing exercises, drinking beer, or even–cringe–MySpace-style selfies (and some guys are nearing 30)…even if you don’t respond.

Just a warning.

It may be hilarious, though. So it’s up to you.

File this one under “things I learned in Saskatoon”.

It may look nice, but this city is harbouring a hoard of awkward SnapChatters.

It may look nice, but this city is harbouring a hoard of awkward SnapChatters.

*for all of you very confused people: SnapChat is simply an app (that’s like a…program…on a smartphone) that allows you to send others photos or videos for only a few seconds until it deletes itself. It sounds more boring than it is.

 

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Kodak, Is This A Joke?

A few months ago my mom won a camera from work. A little, waterproof, video-camera type thing. I took it to PEI with me (because nothing is more flattering than taking pictures of your friends swimming in the freezing ocean). I put it underwater (important, because it’s waterproof and all). The doors got stuck and wouldn’t open.

No one looks that good underwater.

What do I do? Email Kodak.

This experience is just so laughable I had to share it with someone.

I sent them something along the lines of what I wrote above, but I specified the model type and blah blah blah. What I really wanted to know was if it was a known problem with some sort of solution, because I googled around and it’s kind of bullshit that everyone is having problems with the doors getting stuck. I mean, did they not test this waterproof camera…underwater?

So I get a form email back of course, and I kid you not this is what I’m asked:

“1.Was this product dropped or exposed to any liquids?

2.Have you tried taking out battery and placing it back in?”

…but…but…I answered the first one and how will the second one relate to…did you even read my message?

I answer them. I include that it was a gift, because they asked if I had proof of purchase.

Their response:

“Please provide me with the serial number for the Kodak PlaySport ZX5 video camera. The serial number should be located on the box or on the camera on the side where the compartment is located”

…apparently putting both form emails together was too much to handle, oh and by the way the serial number was located under the stuck door. I told them this in my response with the serial number. No acknowledgement.

Apparently after they have all this information they can recommend I sent the camera  in for service…with proof of purchase. Which I told them I did not have, since it was a gift.

Of course, I email a back a polite little “wtf?” message, and then they send me a survey asking about how my experience was. And then an ad asking me if I wanted to buy a new digital photo frame or some crap.

So, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it. I have finally found the company with the worst customer service in the world. Short of actually coming to my house and slapping me in the face, this couldn’t have been any more aggravating.

I wish you all a much less painful experience if your camera ever were to break.

Oh, and by the way, my dad fixed it with some WD40. Thanks for the help, Kodak!

Most of my problems in life revolve around shoes

At the ripe old age of 20 (that counts as a 20-something right? shh!), I have realized that the amount of shoes I need to cover every situation in my life is infinite. I should probably not attempt to have all possibilities covered,  because it will never happen. Living in Canada and having to deal with snow, ice, and the dreaded road salt almost doubles the amount of shoes I need. (Seriously, do you know how much road salt this goddamn city uses? You can walk down the street on a dry, snow-less day and still come home with your shoes covered in stains. It’s magical.)

Over the past few months, I have needed shoes for everything from gardening to going to “the club”. I’ve needed job interview shoes, walking the dog shoes, winter job interview shoes, winter boots, spring sandals, fancy flats and casual flats.

My biggest issue is WHAT SHOES DO I WEAR WHEN? Maybe I’m a little “slow” when it comes to this, but I’m lost. All of these situations require a specific style of shoes. I can’t imagine a hiring manager’s face if one were to walk in with these on (and these happen to be some of the easiest to find or buy shoes EVER. Why? Why these?) :

Will someone please tell me where I’m supposed to wear these, other than accompanied with a black spandex 20cm long skirt at a club?

Apparently I’m also cursed, because every single time I go to the mall looking for something specific (jeans, a new school bag, low-heeled black pumps), I wind up finding 10 beautiful sundresses I resist buying because I’m off track.

I won’t find anything I need that week, of course. The next week I’ll go back looking for sundresses, instead I’ll find 10 pairs of perfect black pumps but no sundresses.  Pure evil.

Also, lets not forget the fact that I am “blessed” with wide size 10 feet, that sometimes spill over to the size 11 rack (I’m 5’10”, okay?).  Some places don’t even carry size 11s.

The worst part is when, in January, I’m being marketed shoes that look like this:

Oh, for fucks sake.

I can imagine some idiot shoe designer, sitting in his LA office, thinking “oh, we’ll give those women in cold climates some boots for the winter! Open-toed to cool down the feet, of course, and suede because suede really holds up to salt and snow.” You suck at your job and should be fired.

I suppose they’re okay for the fall, but the whole idea that I’m supposed to wear these with no socks (for the open toes) makes me cringe because they’ve got no ventilation.

I even went to the big warehouse sale, the Petite Feet Shoe Sale, in Markham the other day. I was looking for some multi-purpose black, low-heeled pumps, and I came home with these:

But they turned out to only be $40 so it’s totally okay I have no idea where I’m going to wear them, right?

I mean, should I just say “screw it,” only buy heels for now on, and be that crazy lady on every reality show who wears heels everywhere no matter what?

I guess I need to cut those “CROCS EVERYWHERE THEY’RE AWESOME SO COMFY!” people some slack, eh? Haha, no.

Sidenote: if you have size 6 feet and live in the GTA, check out the Petite Feet Sale at the Markham Fairgrounds this weekend. Seriously. Half the warehouse is dedicated to you lucky bitches.

Do Not Call Me!

I had alluded to this in my previous post. My home phone number is on the Do Not Call list. It’s worked out pretty well, except for this one company of bastards. If you Google “air duct cleaning telemarkers,” you’ll find messages from other people, mostly from Ontario. These people are awful. They have thick accents, call daily, and hang up on you when you mention the Do Not Call list. I’ve read posts from people who have had the telemarketers end a call with “thanks babe, love you.” What the fuck?

Actually, if you want to know how frustrated these callers are making us, just read through the comments here.

I don’t even know why I am making this into a mini war. I just really don’t like it when people think they can do whatever they want, especially when it comes down to customer service, if you can even call it that.

My previous attempts to get them to stop have been simple.

“Actually we’re on the Do Not Call–” and he’d hang up.
“Could you please tell me the procedure you have when you find out someone is on the DNC list?” silence and a *click*

I have Googled all the different numbers that have shown up on the caller ID. They’re all dead. Fakes. Contacted some “Rogers Helps” accounts on Twitter, since I figured the phone company would at least be able to prevent people calling out from fake numbers. They were no help.

Today I tried to get a little more info:
(This was originally supposed to be some sort of diary-like post, so ignore the awkward tense change here)

April 26th, 12:30pm

Sounded like the same guy with the most unintelligible accent. I asked him to clarify the name of the company before he started with his 5-minute long speech in some sort of weird pseudo-English. “Air duct cleaning,” I’m told again. I asked him where it’s located. “Anywhere in the Scarborough area we come to you.” That’s not what I asked. I asked him for an address, he mentioned something about Scarborough again. I then asked for a phone number where I can contact the company directly, since I “needed to go.” He refused to tell me anything, we bantered back and forth for a few minutes to the likes of:

“Tell me how many bedrooms the house has and I’ll tell you that”
“Are you listening to me? Answer my question.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“What is the address of the company? I just want to make sure it’s the one I’m thinking of.”
“How many bedrooms do you have?”
“Answer my question.”

etc. etc.

I eventually was sick of hearing his stupid voice and hung up.

Who hires these imbeciles?

Oh but wait! All my Googling led me to a phone number. 416-900-2930. I typed it into the yellowpages.ca, making sure it wasn’t a fake number or a number stolen from some innocent civilian.

It came up with some awful skeleton site for “air duct cleaning.” I called it.
A meek, quiet, male’s voice answered. I asked him 4 times if this was the Air Duct company. He finally said it was, and I asked him if they’d called me many times over the past few weeks. He didn’t answer and sounded confused by my question. So I asked him in simpler terms, “Do you use telemarketers?”

“Yes,” he replied, after trying to play dumb and avoid the question.

I went off. I told him to never call again, that we were on the Do Not Call list. He provided some weak excuse about their computer systems (which I had read about on the message boards and was expecting), I cut him off and told him it didn’t matter, because the DNCL is there for a reason and they need to figure it out.

He told me he was “taking my number off the list.” Ha. Ok, sure.

Just for extra measure I reminded him that I now had his phone number, and I threatened to harass the number daily if the calls didn’t stop. (Okay, maybe I actually said I’d “harass the crap out of this number.” Pure class.)

And I will. Oh, boy. I will.

Some other great suggestions I found included: sending them to a made-up address in the middle of no where and keeping an air horn or whistle by the phone to use when they call.

“Fuck youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!”

Does anyone else have any other suggestions? Call the number above if you’ve been bugged by these people. Just do it. If you’re feeling like being a little mean, just go ahead. These people have no right to harass us daily.

I’ve reported them to the DNCL complaints thing multiple times. I doubt they do anything with that, to be honest.

Disclaimer: 99.99% of the time, I am courteous. Any other telemarketer gets a quick “sorry we’re actually on the DNCL!” and he or she usually apologizes and hangs up. Simple. They’re just doing a job, and they most likely don’t enjoy it. These guys, however, have been so awful to so many people they deserve everything they get. It’s clearly some sort of scam. Any reputable company would happily provide you with the address, phone number,  or *actual* company name (Air Duct Cleaning? Seriously?) as soon as you wanted to know.

It’s now been over a week, and I haven’t gotten any calls back. Well, maybe I’ll have some fun with them if they try it again…

A Vegetarian’s Rant

So, I’m a vegetarian. A pescetarian, really, but since all I get is confused looks when I say that, I’m a “vegetarian who eats fish.” I didn’t for a while, but a few trips to PEI (hellllllo fresh seafood!) and living a stone’s throw away the best fish and chips place on the east side turned me over to the dark side. Whoops.

I’ve been this way for, what, 6 years now? It’s just something that I’ve been doing for so long, it doesn’t seem “different” or “special.” I rarely talk about it, people usually only find out about my eating habits when we go out somewhere and I wind up asking for a caesar salad with no bacon. The proceeding conversation is a little predictable, so I’ll offer some advice for those of you who have never met one of us.

Top ten worst things people say when I reveal my eating habits:

1. “Oh, that’s cool. Would you mind if I order a steak? That wouldn’t bother you, right?” The person who’s asking isn’t really at fault, who’s at fault is either whatever crazy judgemental vegetarian they have come across in the past, or the stereotypes they’ve seen. I hate using the goddamn word “vegetarian” because it conjures up images of some crazy, unshaven, ratty-haired hippy who talks about rainbows and throws red paint on people. Thanks, Hollywood. General rule: Don’t judge my food choices, and I won’t judge yours. Unless you’re eating babies, then, well, I’ll say something.

2. “Why did you become a vegetarian?” I usually just brush this off, sorry. I was 14 when I made the decision, I can’t even remember. Fluffy cute animals are too cute to eat? Probably. Let’s not get into an ethics conversation that inevitably catches the attention of some meat-head at the next table who decides to tell me how delicious his steak is. Charming.

I imagine this is how it went.

3. “Do you eat eggs?” DID I SAY VEGAN?

4. “I’ll make you some tofu when you come over.” Yes, because that is the only non-meat product in existence. Thanks. I’m perfectly fine with some salad and potatoes for dinner, and hey, guess what, they’re vegetarian!

5. “I could never be a vegetarian! I love meat too much!” Is this supposed to compliment my self-control, or what? It’s really not all that hard, trust me.

None of you mean any harm, I realize. There are definitely worse things you could say! I’m quite the quiet vegetarian. I bring my own veggie burgers to barbecues, I don’t request any special meals to be made for me, and I don’t care what you eat in front of me. I even find Epic Meal Time hilarious, despite that they cover everything in mounds of bacon.

I would like to include a public service announcement: Thinking of cutting meat out of your diet? Great! Shut up about it! There is a time and a place for talking about your dietary choices, and spitting at uncle Joe for eating turkey on Thanksgiving is not one of them. You’re just making life harder for the non-confrontational vegetarians that have to battle your stereotypes daily. Thank you.

The Grammys & Twitter: Do I Laugh or Cry?

I’m sure you have seen by now the screenshots of the idiotic remarks on twitter last night. One batch was about girls, children, who tweeted crap like “Chris Brown is so hot I wish he’d beat me!” and other things they’re just too ignorant and immature to understand the offensiveness of. I’m not going to get into that, because that would be one hell of a blog post.

No,  I’m talking about this phenomenon of idiots who are resistant to Google, for whatever reason.
Apparently “just Google it” has turned into “just ask on twitter and wait for someone else to Google it for you.” Anyone who has ever been on Yahoo Answers will attest to this, as your physical urge to punch someone/something rises with every post read. Don’t ever go on Yahoo Answers. Just don’t.

Look at this.

I have nothing left to say. I bet they try and CTRL+F textbooks.

It’s not even a Paul McCartney-specific thing. How many times have you posted something like “Yeah I love this new song by the Sexy Tigercats*” and someone asks “whut r they a band”

*Fake band-name, aka my future girl group I dreamed up as a delusional child. I would advise against Googling that. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

For those of you who think like me, take note of http://lmgtfy.com/ and http://justfuckinggoogleit.com/, the most beautifully useful websites ever.

I will never understand this. Here is my totally lame cartoon that was funnier in my head (my graphic design-studying boyfriend left his adobe-[legitimately]-equipped-laptop at home, and I couldn’t resist). Missing are various Justin Beiber CDs, as I couldn’t put myself through drawing those on this trackpad.

Enjoy.

I can now use Illustrator, be warned.

Sometimes My Own Generation Confuses Me

According to Wikipedia (I only use the best resources for my blog), we are Generation Y. This roughly includes people born in the ’80s and early ’90s, if my loyal online encyclopedia is being truthful.

I realize I’m not a revolutionary by pointing out that sometimes people my age are ridiculous, but hey, it’s 2012 and all the original ideas have been used.

Some things I just don’t understand:

1. Wearing sweatpants or *gasp* pajamas outside. To go see people. Or go out to eat. Yes, I own sweatpants and even pajamas, but they for the house, to get the mail, or to walk the dog.

I wore sweatpants to school ONE DAY in grade 5. I remember it vividly. They were light heather grey with a light blue stripe running up the side. I was feeling uncomfortable all morning, and then our very well-dressed French VP came in to visit the class. Seeing her in all her Holt Renfew glory made me feel like a bum, so I went home and put on jeans at lunch. I never wore them again. Even on pajama days in elementary school, I was too uncomfortable to leave the house wearing PJ pants. Maybe that’s just a deep-rooted mental issue with me, but people, put on some goddamn normal pants!

Glamorous

2. Dubstep. Okay, this is obvious. Mostly, I don’t get the obsession with Skrillex. What is cool about this guy, who used to be part of a screamo band? You can’t even sing along, what is this nonsense? I could do an entire post on music. I’ll save that for later.

3. Modern video games*  I kind of gave up on buying new systems after the GameCube, and even that I picked up with my Christmas money a year later for a used price of $80. From what I’ve observed from my boyfriend’s PS3, these new games are like mini-movies and have absolutely no multiplayer (or if there is one it is the lamest thing ever) so you’re forced to only befriend people who have their own PS3s and the game itself. And can we implement a mandatory “skip” button for the cut scenes? I JUST WANT TO PLAY THE GAME. I would express my love for my N64 but I don’t want to come off as a douchebag hipster. (Super Mario 64 was the best game of all time, just saying.)
*Portal 2 was actually pretty okay.

This could be 100 different PS3 games.

4. The beautiful orange skin/bleached hair combination. This isn’t unique to me, most people I talk to also don’t understand. That doesn’t stop it from happening, though. Do these girls enjoy looking like fake, plastic barbie dolls? Or was a genuine accident with a drunken hair stylist or a fall into a vat of tanning lotion?

5. iPods 24/7. Yes, I have an iPod, and now an iPhone. I brought it to high school a few times, but the cords tangling were more hassle than they were worth. I don’t care if you listen to your iPod, but it’s the people who act like they cannot live without it I don’t understand. It’s the kids with the earbuds in (whether music is playing or not, it’s still rude) who are trying to answer the clearly annoyed cashier’s questions. It’s the kids who freak out and argue for half an hour with the teacher about why they should be allowed their iPod in class. It’s the oblivious people who have their shitty music on so loud on the subway at 7am that you can hear it through their earbuds when you’re standing 20 feet away.
Hey guys, you will not melt like the wicked witch of the west if you take your earbuds out for an hour. Trust me, you’ll be okay. And the dubstep will still be there when you get back.

Also you probably don't want to get killed because you didn't hear that tractor trailer.

I’m not a complete recluse from people my age. I do go on the Facebook, I Twitter, and I make the blogs.* I can whip up a fine batch of jello shots and waste a whole afternoon looking at university memes on Facebook. I’ve also seen Harry Potter, so don’t come to remove my Generation-Y membership card just yet!

*Completely intended.

This is satire. I repeat, this is satire. Do not be offended.