Okay. Seriously. The next person who sends me a chain letter is getting a complete verbal beatdown. I am so very tired of some people, who in some seemingly distant universe I viewed as being intelligent, who are constantly sending me bullshit emails. If you send useless chain letters (And, my friends, there is no such THING as a USEFUL chain letter), please read the following very carefully, and understand that I never want to receive another piece of inbox-cannon-fodder ever again, even if it means that your secret crush will hate you forever because you didn't send your completely and utterly worthless email to at least 700 people in 3.4 seconds.
Unless you are a complete moron, you should understand that emails which come to you with no MSN header, no Microsoft seals or stamps, which have 500 spelling mistakes and contain ASCII HEARTS instead of REAL PICTURES are not going to contain life-or-death information about the use of some vital internet resource. I realize - you're scared of losing your MSN; what would life be like without the ability to tell everyone you know that you're drunk, at 4 am? I know that you're scared of the email ghosts who will haunt your dreams forever because they got hit by a train before they could kiss their mostest secret grade 5 heartthrob, and their last wish was for you to fill up Chris Spiker's inbox with 500 flaming emails every day. I also imagine that you may have the IQ of low-fat mayonnaise. But then, even low-fat mayonnaise has never sent me a chain letter; does this make you even more useless than low-fat mayonnaise? I assert that it does.
When you get an email which tells you that if you forward it, Bill Gates himself will give you 250 dollars for every single person you annoy with your babbling idiocy, you might try, just for once TRY and use your brain and just think for a second. Why in the hell would Bill Gates ever give me money to send this email to a bunch of my friends? Yes, I know the email says that money is meaningless to Bill Gates, and it says that you're bound to get at least 10 thousand dollars, just for sending the email forward to your now very lucky friends, who will then in turn send it forward again and rejoice with you as you receive your cheque directly from Bill Gates. Maybe Bill will cook you a hamburger, too. Why the hell not, he's already giving shit away, why not a hamburger too? See because 10 thousand dollars is NOTHING to Bill Gates, right? I mean he's got 40 billion dollars! And if everyone in Canada got this email, and each person in turn received the measly 10 grand from good old Bill, he would only have to pay out 300 billion dollars! Oh wait, that's almost 8 times more money than he has! I guess that makes you a dumass, doesn't it. But who can blame you? How could you have been suspicious about the email that started out "Bill Gates sharing his money"? Just a clue here, but THAT IS NOT EVEN A SENTENCE. And no, Carla Sandborne is not a real attorney who "knows the law". She is a figment of your imagination you twit, she's the equivalent of a rainbow brite unicorn.
Last but not least, if I get one more email about what I'm supposed to do when I'm in love with a girl, I'm going to turn gay.
Alright, I feel slightly better now. And if anyone thinks I was even slightly harsh, just tell me and I'll start sending you some of this crap. I bet it would only take one week make you a believer. And if not, I hate you anyway. Merry Christmas!
Spiker
About Me
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Friday, December 01, 2006
Vancouver - A Third World City
You know what's shitty? When your water is brown and undrinkable. You know where that happens? Somalia, Afghanistan, Hell, and Vancouver. I know what you're thinking - How do I know the color of the water in hell? No, that's not what you're thinking... You're wondering how this happened in Vancouver. That's a damn good question.
I come home one day to find that, not only is my tapwater brown as a Sunday afternoon shit, but it's also undrinkable without in-house treatment. Fantastic. Did you know, no matter how much you boil dirty water, it doesn't get any clearer? It's just that the bugs inside of it eventually succumb to the excruciating, burning awfulness of being boiled alive, and simply die inside the water you're about to drink. Their bobbing carcasses remain, still staining the water a putrid brown. And the fact that there's also silt in the water doesn't seem to help. If there's dirt in my water, doesn't that make my water mud? Am I drinking mud?...
A trip to costco yielded not only a flat of bottled water for 6 dollars, but also some much needed entertainment, as we were witness to the most ridiculous of asian shopping spectacles; the rarely seen "fight-over-bottled-water-in-another-language" (Man it was awesome). This got me to thinking - this brown water really isn't the worst thing, is it? I mean how often is it that we get to see asians fighting over a 6 dollar flat of plastic?
The more I thought about it the more I liked the brown water. There are so many bonuses: You get up in the morning, and the first thing you do (If you're a sturdy, regular fellow such as I) is go to the bathroom to take your morning pee. You stare down at the unfamiliarly colored innards of the toilet, but just before you begin your morning ritual, you realize that the water in the toilet is already dirty - and you feel fantastic. You no longer need to worry about peeing in water which is also suitable to drink, wasting an entire toilet tank just for one small portion of urine. It's like peeing in the outdoors, or watering plants with your pee - you know you're putting your pee to good use. And the greatness of muddy water does not stop there my friends. I've been drinking bottled water for the past week, and I can report without bias that drinking bottled water makes you feel special. It's like, every time you pick up a bottle of water, and crack that seal, you're saying "I know there's water in the tap. Like a barbarian, I could boil it for 10 minutes and try not to think about its less than subtle brownness as I drink it down, dead bugs in mud. But I'm just not going to stoop to that level. I have bottled water. I am worth it."
I could go on.
I awoke the other morning and discovered, to my absolute horror and disappointment, that the water was, once again, clear and drinkable. You cannot know how this tore at my soul; you cannot understand the pain of a man unless you have walked in his opaque, brown colored shoes. I had become accustomed to my wondrously browned water. I had an intimate relationship with my brown water. We had learned to exist together, in peace and harmony, each unit respective and cherishing of the other. Though we had begun as individuals, even as enemies, we had grown together into a nearly inseparable mass - a gelatinous blob of muddy love. And now they had taken it away, without apology, without remorse. Bastards.
But then I got over it. Who wants brown water coming out of their taps? I can go outside and stick my face in the mud if I want some brown water...
Spiker
PS - Ode to Salad: Salad, how I missed you. Thank you for not abandoning me in my time of crisis. Your will is astounding - you stood tall amongst the zucchini and onions and you refused to wilt. I will wash and eat you tonight, and we shall rejoice.
I come home one day to find that, not only is my tapwater brown as a Sunday afternoon shit, but it's also undrinkable without in-house treatment. Fantastic. Did you know, no matter how much you boil dirty water, it doesn't get any clearer? It's just that the bugs inside of it eventually succumb to the excruciating, burning awfulness of being boiled alive, and simply die inside the water you're about to drink. Their bobbing carcasses remain, still staining the water a putrid brown. And the fact that there's also silt in the water doesn't seem to help. If there's dirt in my water, doesn't that make my water mud? Am I drinking mud?...
A trip to costco yielded not only a flat of bottled water for 6 dollars, but also some much needed entertainment, as we were witness to the most ridiculous of asian shopping spectacles; the rarely seen "fight-over-bottled-water-in-another-language" (Man it was awesome). This got me to thinking - this brown water really isn't the worst thing, is it? I mean how often is it that we get to see asians fighting over a 6 dollar flat of plastic?
The more I thought about it the more I liked the brown water. There are so many bonuses: You get up in the morning, and the first thing you do (If you're a sturdy, regular fellow such as I) is go to the bathroom to take your morning pee. You stare down at the unfamiliarly colored innards of the toilet, but just before you begin your morning ritual, you realize that the water in the toilet is already dirty - and you feel fantastic. You no longer need to worry about peeing in water which is also suitable to drink, wasting an entire toilet tank just for one small portion of urine. It's like peeing in the outdoors, or watering plants with your pee - you know you're putting your pee to good use. And the greatness of muddy water does not stop there my friends. I've been drinking bottled water for the past week, and I can report without bias that drinking bottled water makes you feel special. It's like, every time you pick up a bottle of water, and crack that seal, you're saying "I know there's water in the tap. Like a barbarian, I could boil it for 10 minutes and try not to think about its less than subtle brownness as I drink it down, dead bugs in mud. But I'm just not going to stoop to that level. I have bottled water. I am worth it."
I could go on.
I awoke the other morning and discovered, to my absolute horror and disappointment, that the water was, once again, clear and drinkable. You cannot know how this tore at my soul; you cannot understand the pain of a man unless you have walked in his opaque, brown colored shoes. I had become accustomed to my wondrously browned water. I had an intimate relationship with my brown water. We had learned to exist together, in peace and harmony, each unit respective and cherishing of the other. Though we had begun as individuals, even as enemies, we had grown together into a nearly inseparable mass - a gelatinous blob of muddy love. And now they had taken it away, without apology, without remorse. Bastards.
But then I got over it. Who wants brown water coming out of their taps? I can go outside and stick my face in the mud if I want some brown water...
Spiker
PS - Ode to Salad: Salad, how I missed you. Thank you for not abandoning me in my time of crisis. Your will is astounding - you stood tall amongst the zucchini and onions and you refused to wilt. I will wash and eat you tonight, and we shall rejoice.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The Homeless Man Called Me Sexy
Yeah... Seriously. Downtown Vancouver is a weird place.
Hobo: "Hey man, that's some cool hair you got there... WICKED... I mean that's really the new thing eh? Really SEXY, yeah, haha."
Chris: "... " (I did give him a hearty thumbs up while walking briskly on by)
Hobo: "... YEAH... that's why you've got a woman like that, yer hair!"
Chris: "..." (A slight nod and a smile, while walking away)
Hobo: "... YEAH... SHE CAN'T STAND YOU MAN, SHE JUST LIKES THE HAIR... HEUHAAAAHAHCCHH"
Chris: "..." (Sad face)
In the span of less than 15 seconds, one homeless man made me feel uncomfortable, then warm and fuzzy, and finally dismayed. In seconds, he gave me happiness, and then just as easily he took it away. Predictable homeless people... Yes, I do have some change; no, I'm not going to give you any; yes, I do think you should get a freaking job; no, I did not just get a god damn perm. If only every homeless person in Vancouver took the time to read my blog, I wouldn't have to answer so many stupid questions all the time. Well, I feel better now. How about you?
Spiker
Hobo: "Hey man, that's some cool hair you got there... WICKED... I mean that's really the new thing eh? Really SEXY, yeah, haha."
Chris: "... " (I did give him a hearty thumbs up while walking briskly on by)
Hobo: "... YEAH... that's why you've got a woman like that, yer hair!"
Chris: "..." (A slight nod and a smile, while walking away)
Hobo: "... YEAH... SHE CAN'T STAND YOU MAN, SHE JUST LIKES THE HAIR... HEUHAAAAHAHCCHH"
Chris: "..." (Sad face)
In the span of less than 15 seconds, one homeless man made me feel uncomfortable, then warm and fuzzy, and finally dismayed. In seconds, he gave me happiness, and then just as easily he took it away. Predictable homeless people... Yes, I do have some change; no, I'm not going to give you any; yes, I do think you should get a freaking job; no, I did not just get a god damn perm. If only every homeless person in Vancouver took the time to read my blog, I wouldn't have to answer so many stupid questions all the time. Well, I feel better now. How about you?
Spiker
Thursday, September 21, 2006
The Jesus Coin Says That I Am Going To Hell
After reading the title of this blog, you must have many questions. Firstly, what exactly is a Jesus coin? Secondly, if such a mysterious coin exists, why does it mean that you're going to hell? Thirdly, what the crap are you doing heeding the suggestion of ANY coin, not withstanding the fact that the coin in question is a very special coin, a Jesus coin no less. I have answers to all these questions and many more, if you'll just clear your mind and read a little bit further.
A Jesus coin: A coin, made out of the cheapest, shiniest metal, dictating the ten commandments in addition to many other juicy biblical tidbits, all of which are of great relevance to my own salvation and righteousness (also according to the coin). Of course, nowhere on this cheap, shiny coin do the words "Jesus" or "Coin" appear in any way: The name simply came out of my mouth as I was throwing it across the room at my girlfriend, that big sinner. So where did I -champion of philosophy, defender of all things rational - come upon such a coin? Did I order it from www.Jesuscoin.com ? Did it fall from the heavens, striking me squarely on the skull as I was stealing pennies from an unconscious homeless person on the way to the bus stop? Did I wake to find it sitting mysteriously on my nightstand, the moonlight reflecting its wise words onto the ceiling in large and easy-to-read print? The real story is far less interesting than any of these scenarios, I'm afraid; I got it at work. (As a side note, after thinking up the website http://www.jesuscoin.com/, I checked to see if such a website exists, and amazingly (or not) it does, although its contents were limited to a "Coming soon" page. How disappointing...)
After serving a table for around an hour and a half (The standard time at Red Robin, since we are constantly understaffed and so the food takes at least 45 minutes to make its way through the kitchen and out onto the table), I came back to find that only one woman remained, and she was holding the bill and leafing through her wallet. This is the only good part about serving, by the way, when you get paid. She said "Have you ever seen one of these?" I looked at the shiny, cheap coin in her hand and I said, apprehensively, "No... What is it?" And she put it in my hand and looked me straight in the eye, and said "I want you to have this. You have a good day." I remember thinking to myself: "What the hell is this? This is some crap about God, great... I would be happier if she left a twonie. Did she mean to leave a twonie?... This cheap thing isn't even worth a nickel... Unless you count salvation, I guess..." When I was hoping for a good "tip", I was thinking more about money, and less about instructions on how to keep from going to hell, but there you go...
But, perhaps I was too quick in dismissing the advice of this humble coin, this cheap, shiny messenger of God. Let's explore the wonders of the coin, together, to better understand its heavenly awesomeness. Since I can't figure out which side of the coin is the front (Or does it have two fronts... Now that would be a special coin), I'll just start with the side that has all the biblical tidbits on it, and then move on to the ten commandments when we've got a good grip on all that presumably less important stuff. Ready?... Okay! Here we go!
"You have to face a holy God on judgment day." Okay... when's judgment day again? It's not on my calendar and I can't seem to find a date for it anywhere, even on the internet, and if you can't find it on the INTERNET... Well, then you're in a whole shitcase of trouble... You can find ANYTHING on the internet...
"He sees lust as adultery (Matt, 5:28) and hatred as murder (1 John, 3:15). Will you be guilty?"
Oh man... I'm glad my girlfriend isn't like God. Just because I think another girl is hot doesn't mean that I had sex with her. I don't think our relationship would have lasted very long if every time I glanced at a girl, Kelly started crying and running away. I'm also glad that God isn't a judge in some court... I don't know about you, but there are a lot of people that I hate. Somehow, this doesn't seem to be quite as bad as murdering them in cold blood. If every time I saw Richard Simmons sweating to the oldies, or Howie Mandell doing another useless soon-to-be-cancelled show, I got 20 to life, well... There wouldn't be any time to write blogs. And my girlfriend wouldn't be quite so pretty... ew... So, basically, what have we learned from this second passage kids? God is an asshole. If not that, at least he's less understanding than my girlfriend and makes judge Judy look like a stay at home soccer mom. Not someone I'd like to meet, especially on an important day like judgment day (Whenever that is).
"Jesus took your punishment on the cross, and rose again, defeating death, to save you from Hell. Repent (Luke 3:15) and trust in Him today." Sweet! This Jesus guy sounds pretty awesome. I hate-killed Howie Mandell and he took the fall for me? What a nice guy. I guess Jesus is like the best friend you had in gradeschool that took detention for launching spitballs in class, when really, it was you (Thanks again Dan). Wait a second... I knew it was too good to be true. What's with this "Believe in him" talk? I thought he was just being a nice guy, taking the rap for us poor mortals who have sex with our eyes and kill with our minds. Unlike my good friend Dan in gradeschool, it seems that Jesus had a secret agenda - he only took the rap because he wanted something from me in return: It's like going to a free lunch and realizing that you're actually attending a Greenpeace fundraiser... That sucks. Okay, well, maybe the other front side of the coin has some more interesting and useful information, since this side (Which henceforth will be known as the back side of the coin) doesn't seem to be very useful at all.
The ten commandments. See, this seems more promising already. I really should have started on this side in the first place. Sorry about that...
1. You shall have no other Gods before me. - Fair enough. You're the man, cool guy.
2. You shall not make any idols. - Uhh... Do you mean, like, American Idols? Is Kelly Clarkson going to hell?...
3. You shall not take the name of the lord your god in vain. - Well God da.... Jes... Okay then.
4. Remember the sabbath day. - Well no wonder that lady gave me the coin... I was working on a Sunday! Wait a second... She let me serve her, working on a Sunday?! She practically sent me straight to hell all by herself, just because she came in and made me serve her food on a Sunday. What an awful person.
Let's see... Honor your parents, don't murder, don't commit adultery, don't steal, don't lie, and don't covet, to round out the top ten. All of those ones sound pretty good to me, I've got to admit. It must be said, this front side of the coin is way better than the back. Oh, there's some writing around the outside as well:
"For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all. (James 2:10)" What the hell? So, if I tell my teacher that my dog ate my homework, when actually I was up all night playing tetris on my gameboy, I'm guilty of murder? Sweet zombie Jesus. That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've read on this cheap, shiny coin. You know what, I take it back, this isn't the front side of the coin either. Just like a fat lady sitting in a way-too-small chair, this coin has two backsides.
Well, it looks like I'm going to hell, if this double-backsided coin has anything to say about anything. Hopefully this God character will relax a little bit before judgment day, or there's going to be very low vacancy down in the depths of the underworld. That's all for now folks, and I hope you've learned at least one lesson from the Jesus coin; It makes a really shitty tip.
-Spiker
A Jesus coin: A coin, made out of the cheapest, shiniest metal, dictating the ten commandments in addition to many other juicy biblical tidbits, all of which are of great relevance to my own salvation and righteousness (also according to the coin). Of course, nowhere on this cheap, shiny coin do the words "Jesus" or "Coin" appear in any way: The name simply came out of my mouth as I was throwing it across the room at my girlfriend, that big sinner. So where did I -champion of philosophy, defender of all things rational - come upon such a coin? Did I order it from www.Jesuscoin.com ? Did it fall from the heavens, striking me squarely on the skull as I was stealing pennies from an unconscious homeless person on the way to the bus stop? Did I wake to find it sitting mysteriously on my nightstand, the moonlight reflecting its wise words onto the ceiling in large and easy-to-read print? The real story is far less interesting than any of these scenarios, I'm afraid; I got it at work. (As a side note, after thinking up the website http://www.jesuscoin.com/, I checked to see if such a website exists, and amazingly (or not) it does, although its contents were limited to a "Coming soon" page. How disappointing...)
After serving a table for around an hour and a half (The standard time at Red Robin, since we are constantly understaffed and so the food takes at least 45 minutes to make its way through the kitchen and out onto the table), I came back to find that only one woman remained, and she was holding the bill and leafing through her wallet. This is the only good part about serving, by the way, when you get paid. She said "Have you ever seen one of these?" I looked at the shiny, cheap coin in her hand and I said, apprehensively, "No... What is it?" And she put it in my hand and looked me straight in the eye, and said "I want you to have this. You have a good day." I remember thinking to myself: "What the hell is this? This is some crap about God, great... I would be happier if she left a twonie. Did she mean to leave a twonie?... This cheap thing isn't even worth a nickel... Unless you count salvation, I guess..." When I was hoping for a good "tip", I was thinking more about money, and less about instructions on how to keep from going to hell, but there you go...
But, perhaps I was too quick in dismissing the advice of this humble coin, this cheap, shiny messenger of God. Let's explore the wonders of the coin, together, to better understand its heavenly awesomeness. Since I can't figure out which side of the coin is the front (Or does it have two fronts... Now that would be a special coin), I'll just start with the side that has all the biblical tidbits on it, and then move on to the ten commandments when we've got a good grip on all that presumably less important stuff. Ready?... Okay! Here we go!
"You have to face a holy God on judgment day." Okay... when's judgment day again? It's not on my calendar and I can't seem to find a date for it anywhere, even on the internet, and if you can't find it on the INTERNET... Well, then you're in a whole shitcase of trouble... You can find ANYTHING on the internet...
"He sees lust as adultery (Matt, 5:28) and hatred as murder (1 John, 3:15). Will you be guilty?"
Oh man... I'm glad my girlfriend isn't like God. Just because I think another girl is hot doesn't mean that I had sex with her. I don't think our relationship would have lasted very long if every time I glanced at a girl, Kelly started crying and running away. I'm also glad that God isn't a judge in some court... I don't know about you, but there are a lot of people that I hate. Somehow, this doesn't seem to be quite as bad as murdering them in cold blood. If every time I saw Richard Simmons sweating to the oldies, or Howie Mandell doing another useless soon-to-be-cancelled show, I got 20 to life, well... There wouldn't be any time to write blogs. And my girlfriend wouldn't be quite so pretty... ew... So, basically, what have we learned from this second passage kids? God is an asshole. If not that, at least he's less understanding than my girlfriend and makes judge Judy look like a stay at home soccer mom. Not someone I'd like to meet, especially on an important day like judgment day (Whenever that is).
"Jesus took your punishment on the cross, and rose again, defeating death, to save you from Hell. Repent (Luke 3:15) and trust in Him today." Sweet! This Jesus guy sounds pretty awesome. I hate-killed Howie Mandell and he took the fall for me? What a nice guy. I guess Jesus is like the best friend you had in gradeschool that took detention for launching spitballs in class, when really, it was you (Thanks again Dan). Wait a second... I knew it was too good to be true. What's with this "Believe in him" talk? I thought he was just being a nice guy, taking the rap for us poor mortals who have sex with our eyes and kill with our minds. Unlike my good friend Dan in gradeschool, it seems that Jesus had a secret agenda - he only took the rap because he wanted something from me in return: It's like going to a free lunch and realizing that you're actually attending a Greenpeace fundraiser... That sucks. Okay, well, maybe the other front side of the coin has some more interesting and useful information, since this side (Which henceforth will be known as the back side of the coin) doesn't seem to be very useful at all.
The ten commandments. See, this seems more promising already. I really should have started on this side in the first place. Sorry about that...
1. You shall have no other Gods before me. - Fair enough. You're the man, cool guy.
2. You shall not make any idols. - Uhh... Do you mean, like, American Idols? Is Kelly Clarkson going to hell?...
3. You shall not take the name of the lord your god in vain. - Well God da.... Jes... Okay then.
4. Remember the sabbath day. - Well no wonder that lady gave me the coin... I was working on a Sunday! Wait a second... She let me serve her, working on a Sunday?! She practically sent me straight to hell all by herself, just because she came in and made me serve her food on a Sunday. What an awful person.
Let's see... Honor your parents, don't murder, don't commit adultery, don't steal, don't lie, and don't covet, to round out the top ten. All of those ones sound pretty good to me, I've got to admit. It must be said, this front side of the coin is way better than the back. Oh, there's some writing around the outside as well:
"For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all. (James 2:10)" What the hell? So, if I tell my teacher that my dog ate my homework, when actually I was up all night playing tetris on my gameboy, I'm guilty of murder? Sweet zombie Jesus. That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've read on this cheap, shiny coin. You know what, I take it back, this isn't the front side of the coin either. Just like a fat lady sitting in a way-too-small chair, this coin has two backsides.
Well, it looks like I'm going to hell, if this double-backsided coin has anything to say about anything. Hopefully this God character will relax a little bit before judgment day, or there's going to be very low vacancy down in the depths of the underworld. That's all for now folks, and I hope you've learned at least one lesson from the Jesus coin; It makes a really shitty tip.
-Spiker
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Baby On Board
Did I scare you mom? I hope so. Babies scare me, too. Well, my babies do... not that I have any... So I suppose it's simply the possibility of my babies that scares me. How someone can be scared of something that doesn't really exist (like a possibility) is beyond me, although I suppose this is akin to little children crying at night because they're scared of the boogeyman, who also happens to not really exist. I wonder if they would let me name my first born child "Boogeyman"... Is that neglect?...
I talked to my lawyer, and I've been informed that it's only neglect if your gross annual income does not exceed 2.3 million dollars. If you're making more money than you know what to do with, you can name your children anything you want! I'm sure there are plenty of examples out there, but I only need 1 - Frank Zappa. Apparently he has four children, each of whom has a name that is so strange it defies reason itself, ripping at the very fabric of our universe.
"Dweezil Zappa": Yes, he just put a D in front of "weasel" and changed the spelling.
"Diva Zappa": Named after a night of drunken jazz playing ended with a scat war.
"Ahmet Rodan Zappa": After a fierce internal debate which lasted for more than 17 days, Frank finally had a breakthrough when he drew these letters in a competition scrabble game. As a side note, he placed last in the tournament, having failed to create any correct english words.
"Moon Unit Zappa": Wow? If this isn't neglect, I don't know what is.
So I almost forgot to mention why I named this blog "Baby On Board" in the first place. I was walking home from school today when I saw a lady weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic, plowing her way through packs of people with the baby carriage in front of her. At first I thought "Hey, at least the kid is being useful right?". As she passed me, I noticed on the carriage a most peculiar sign: "Baby On Board". Now don't get me wrong, this sign isn't peculiar because it was in error - it was simply a stupid fricken sign. What the hell else do you put in a carriage, other than a baby? It's a BABY CARRIAGE. That's like putting a sign on your hot dog bun that says "Hot dog on board". What possessed the makers of that carriage (Or was this a home-made sign?) to put the most redundantly stupid thing they could think of right on the front of the carriage. If you're going to put something on the front of a carriage, why not make it useful? Maybe a little note reminding people to give their parents a call on holidays, that would be helpful, or perhaps an interesting little quip or life lesson, like "Don't eat yellow snow!" See, that's helpful. That might even save lives.
You know what would be even better, what if instead of advising people as to the contents of the baby carriage, information which is apparently very difficult to ascertain (Don't forget, in the movie Speed, Keanu Reeves drives a bus at 60 miles per hour into a carriage which, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what you like), happened to be filled with 78 empty cans, and not a baby! Hopefully they weren't using this same carriage... And if they were, do you think they could get sued for false advertising?), what if they warned people about the dangers of babies themselves? "Warning: Contents of this carriage are extremely fragile. Do not shake, lift, roll, turn upside down or make baby noises at (including "goo-goo", "ga-ga", and any gurgling sounds) the contents of this carriage. Contents may scream, cry, projectile vomit, spray snot, shit themselves, or throw sharp toys without any warning. Depending on the condition of the driver of this carriage, the contents may be intensely ugly or hairy, and sometimes not fit for human contact. For your own personal safety, please remain 1 meter from the contents of this carriage at all times to prevent injury or death."
Well, that's all I've got for today. I'm sure now that I'm back in school there will be plenty of stupid crap for me to write about. From that kid in my phil 467 lecture with 4 inch gums to the hot dutch girl in my phil 352 class, it should be an interesting semester. Here's hoping Kelly doesn't read this, woooo! Oh wait, I gave her the address... In that case, let's go ahead and downgrade "hot dutch girl" to "interesting european... man". Perfect, she won't suspect a thing. Now where the hell is the backspace button...
Spiker
I talked to my lawyer, and I've been informed that it's only neglect if your gross annual income does not exceed 2.3 million dollars. If you're making more money than you know what to do with, you can name your children anything you want! I'm sure there are plenty of examples out there, but I only need 1 - Frank Zappa. Apparently he has four children, each of whom has a name that is so strange it defies reason itself, ripping at the very fabric of our universe.
"Dweezil Zappa": Yes, he just put a D in front of "weasel" and changed the spelling.
"Diva Zappa": Named after a night of drunken jazz playing ended with a scat war.
"Ahmet Rodan Zappa": After a fierce internal debate which lasted for more than 17 days, Frank finally had a breakthrough when he drew these letters in a competition scrabble game. As a side note, he placed last in the tournament, having failed to create any correct english words.
"Moon Unit Zappa": Wow? If this isn't neglect, I don't know what is.
So I almost forgot to mention why I named this blog "Baby On Board" in the first place. I was walking home from school today when I saw a lady weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic, plowing her way through packs of people with the baby carriage in front of her. At first I thought "Hey, at least the kid is being useful right?". As she passed me, I noticed on the carriage a most peculiar sign: "Baby On Board". Now don't get me wrong, this sign isn't peculiar because it was in error - it was simply a stupid fricken sign. What the hell else do you put in a carriage, other than a baby? It's a BABY CARRIAGE. That's like putting a sign on your hot dog bun that says "Hot dog on board". What possessed the makers of that carriage (Or was this a home-made sign?) to put the most redundantly stupid thing they could think of right on the front of the carriage. If you're going to put something on the front of a carriage, why not make it useful? Maybe a little note reminding people to give their parents a call on holidays, that would be helpful, or perhaps an interesting little quip or life lesson, like "Don't eat yellow snow!" See, that's helpful. That might even save lives.
You know what would be even better, what if instead of advising people as to the contents of the baby carriage, information which is apparently very difficult to ascertain (Don't forget, in the movie Speed, Keanu Reeves drives a bus at 60 miles per hour into a carriage which, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what you like), happened to be filled with 78 empty cans, and not a baby! Hopefully they weren't using this same carriage... And if they were, do you think they could get sued for false advertising?), what if they warned people about the dangers of babies themselves? "Warning: Contents of this carriage are extremely fragile. Do not shake, lift, roll, turn upside down or make baby noises at (including "goo-goo", "ga-ga", and any gurgling sounds) the contents of this carriage. Contents may scream, cry, projectile vomit, spray snot, shit themselves, or throw sharp toys without any warning. Depending on the condition of the driver of this carriage, the contents may be intensely ugly or hairy, and sometimes not fit for human contact. For your own personal safety, please remain 1 meter from the contents of this carriage at all times to prevent injury or death."
Well, that's all I've got for today. I'm sure now that I'm back in school there will be plenty of stupid crap for me to write about. From that kid in my phil 467 lecture with 4 inch gums to the hot dutch girl in my phil 352 class, it should be an interesting semester. Here's hoping Kelly doesn't read this, woooo! Oh wait, I gave her the address... In that case, let's go ahead and downgrade "hot dutch girl" to "interesting european... man". Perfect, she won't suspect a thing. Now where the hell is the backspace button...
Spiker
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Softball - A Fat Man's World
The Red Robin softball tournament: A mystical fire where heroes are forged. A magical occasion where one small man can accelerate from zero to awesome in just under 2.5 seconds. That man. Was me.
Known only by the name that appears on the back of his blood and grass stained shirt, "Curly" steps up to the plate in the top of the 5th inning. This is the last inning in the game, and the score is tied. There is electricity in the air as the crowd stares at the home team's last chance at glory. The only thing standing between the pitcher's mound and certain defeat is a small, hairy man holding a large metal bat. As the mighty pitch soars high in the air, one thought runs through Curly's head: "Where did I leave my beer?" Remembering the lessons he learned while watching The Last Samurai with Tom Cruise, he quickly clears his mind, focusing it so intensely that it nearly pierces his skull. As the ball comes thundering down towards the plate, it is struck with a force unparalleled by any other in the universe. As he drops the bat and sprints towards first base, watching the center fielder run back in awe with his face painted a fearful, anguished red, he knows that life will never be the same, as his and everyone's world has been changed forever by the greatness of this moment. In a matter of seconds, destiny reveals itself and a hero is born: Chris Spiker.
True story. Anyway, we went on to lose the game cause our right fielder can't catch a cold (Though I hear he's had better luck with herpes), let alone a baseball. All in all, good times were had by most, although we would have liked to win at least one game. I guess, sometimes, even heroes fall short. As a side note, "heroes" and "herpes" have curiously similar spellings (Especially on a keyboard) while, sadly, their symptoms are so radically different.
In other news, I'm slowly getting tired of serving tables that speak no English whatsoever. Speaking some English is one thing, but no English whatsoever is entirely different. When a woman tries to order her 9 year old son a 2 ounce strawberry margarita, and your attempts to obtain a legal ID from the fourth grader are met only with hand gestures and frantic nodding, something is surely amiss. I thought briefly of ordering little Johnny Chan a triple, but the morally conscious sections of my brain prevailed on this particular occasion.
One more baseball story for all those sports fans out there. Practicing for the big tournament, we were fielding ground balls and throwing them to first base for the simulated "out" (Or, as more frequently occurred, the simulated "extra base hit due to throwing error"). I caught one at shortstop, loaded the ball into the rocket launcher I like to call my right arm, and fired a nuclear missile towards first base. My coworker at first went to catch the ball, but something went terribly wrong, and the ball got through him after hitting something (I figured it was his glove). A few seconds later, he was retrieving the ball, and fiddling with his throwing hand for some reason, with his back turned to the field. To make a long gruesome story short (But no less gruesome), the following had just occurred: The ball, traveling at an estimated 300 miles per hour, struck not the catching glove, but the index finger of the throwing hand (What was that doing in front of the catching glove...?), dislocating it completely at the second knuckle. At the fence, he tried to relocate his own finger (Being a medical specialist... Not), but apparently he pushed it the wrong way and actually SPEARED the finger's BONE through his own SKIN. I think the first thing he said was "Man... Dude my finger is whack man..." When he finally came around and showed it to me, his finger could have been mistaken for a little lightning bolt, had it not been for all the blood. You could actually see the bone coming out of his skin. Nuff said. Needless to say, I threw a little lighter for the rest of the practice...
Okay, the Oilers game is about to come on TV, so I'd better get going. So far, I've been unable to decide who I'm cheering for. I would love to see the cup in Canada, but really, I have exactly two favorite teams in the NHL: 1, the Flames, and 2, whoever is playing against the Oilers. The reason? They're from EDMONTON. What?... Well anyway, I decided to simply cheer for Canada and let everyone else decide what the hell that means. So... GO CANADA! Yeah... Beer time.
Spiker
-For those interested, here's a cute picture of Kelly and I on her 21st. Happy Birthday Sweetheart! http://www.geocities.com/spiker439/P6080065.JPG
Known only by the name that appears on the back of his blood and grass stained shirt, "Curly" steps up to the plate in the top of the 5th inning. This is the last inning in the game, and the score is tied. There is electricity in the air as the crowd stares at the home team's last chance at glory. The only thing standing between the pitcher's mound and certain defeat is a small, hairy man holding a large metal bat. As the mighty pitch soars high in the air, one thought runs through Curly's head: "Where did I leave my beer?" Remembering the lessons he learned while watching The Last Samurai with Tom Cruise, he quickly clears his mind, focusing it so intensely that it nearly pierces his skull. As the ball comes thundering down towards the plate, it is struck with a force unparalleled by any other in the universe. As he drops the bat and sprints towards first base, watching the center fielder run back in awe with his face painted a fearful, anguished red, he knows that life will never be the same, as his and everyone's world has been changed forever by the greatness of this moment. In a matter of seconds, destiny reveals itself and a hero is born: Chris Spiker.
True story. Anyway, we went on to lose the game cause our right fielder can't catch a cold (Though I hear he's had better luck with herpes), let alone a baseball. All in all, good times were had by most, although we would have liked to win at least one game. I guess, sometimes, even heroes fall short. As a side note, "heroes" and "herpes" have curiously similar spellings (Especially on a keyboard) while, sadly, their symptoms are so radically different.
In other news, I'm slowly getting tired of serving tables that speak no English whatsoever. Speaking some English is one thing, but no English whatsoever is entirely different. When a woman tries to order her 9 year old son a 2 ounce strawberry margarita, and your attempts to obtain a legal ID from the fourth grader are met only with hand gestures and frantic nodding, something is surely amiss. I thought briefly of ordering little Johnny Chan a triple, but the morally conscious sections of my brain prevailed on this particular occasion.
One more baseball story for all those sports fans out there. Practicing for the big tournament, we were fielding ground balls and throwing them to first base for the simulated "out" (Or, as more frequently occurred, the simulated "extra base hit due to throwing error"). I caught one at shortstop, loaded the ball into the rocket launcher I like to call my right arm, and fired a nuclear missile towards first base. My coworker at first went to catch the ball, but something went terribly wrong, and the ball got through him after hitting something (I figured it was his glove). A few seconds later, he was retrieving the ball, and fiddling with his throwing hand for some reason, with his back turned to the field. To make a long gruesome story short (But no less gruesome), the following had just occurred: The ball, traveling at an estimated 300 miles per hour, struck not the catching glove, but the index finger of the throwing hand (What was that doing in front of the catching glove...?), dislocating it completely at the second knuckle. At the fence, he tried to relocate his own finger (Being a medical specialist... Not), but apparently he pushed it the wrong way and actually SPEARED the finger's BONE through his own SKIN. I think the first thing he said was "Man... Dude my finger is whack man..." When he finally came around and showed it to me, his finger could have been mistaken for a little lightning bolt, had it not been for all the blood. You could actually see the bone coming out of his skin. Nuff said. Needless to say, I threw a little lighter for the rest of the practice...
Okay, the Oilers game is about to come on TV, so I'd better get going. So far, I've been unable to decide who I'm cheering for. I would love to see the cup in Canada, but really, I have exactly two favorite teams in the NHL: 1, the Flames, and 2, whoever is playing against the Oilers. The reason? They're from EDMONTON. What?... Well anyway, I decided to simply cheer for Canada and let everyone else decide what the hell that means. So... GO CANADA! Yeah... Beer time.
Spiker
-For those interested, here's a cute picture of Kelly and I on her 21st. Happy Birthday Sweetheart! http://www.geocities.com/spiker439/P6080065.JPG
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Raincouver
I have begun building the Ark. I'm having trouble rounding up pairs of animals... I never really thought about it, but that must have been the hardest part for Noah, man... How the hell are you supposed to gather up a pair of friendly lions? I don't even think Ace Ventura could get two of each animal onto a fricken boat. I thought I might have found a pair of gorillas, but it turned out to be a curiously hairy Indian couple. If this torrential downpour doesn't stop soon, I'm just going to have to forget the animals, grab some hooters girls and sail away into the sunset. Oh, and there's room for Kelly, too...
I'm not sure which I hate more - the -40's in Calgary in winter, or the neverending rain of Vancouver. I've heard that summer here is amazing, but all I've seen so far from behind our sliding glass doors is rain and clouds. Stupid precipitation... It's rained for every single soccer game we've had so far. I would have written a letter of complaint, but I'm not sure where to send it - what's God's address anyway? I don't even think he reads his letters, the jerk... He only answers those stupid prayer things. What kind of management skill is that, diversify for God's sake... haha.
I've been absolutely soccer crazy for the last few days, with the world cup having started. I also started in a soccer league which is absolutely fantastic - I'm pretty much the only white guy on the team, so it's gotta be good soccer. So yesterday, I figured I'd do some training, get my fat ass in shape, so I donned my cleats, got my soccer ball, and went for a nice long run. I found a soccer pitch beside some school, and I practiced my shooting for a while. It was actually a decent day yesterday, with no rain (at least while I was out), so I took the old shirt off and was just running around, kicking the ball, sweating up a storm, having a gay old time of it. After doing some footwork drills, facing the net, for about 10 straight minutes, I turned around and found an entire junior high gym class standing not 50 yards from me, schoolgirls giggling and teacher staring nervously at this potential sweaty-soccer-pedophile. Apparently, school doesn't end for a week. I quickly put my shirt on amidst whispers of "Who's that" and "Why's he so sweaty", and ran home to my girlfriend.
Well, no soccer for me today, after yesterday's embarrassment, but I do have some softball; I joined the Red Robin softball team! I'll be playing shortstop or field, depending on how much everyone else sucks. I'm excited for the big tournament, which is tomorrow, where I get to drink myself into a coma while playing some half decent ball. Should be a grand old time!
Spiker
I'm not sure which I hate more - the -40's in Calgary in winter, or the neverending rain of Vancouver. I've heard that summer here is amazing, but all I've seen so far from behind our sliding glass doors is rain and clouds. Stupid precipitation... It's rained for every single soccer game we've had so far. I would have written a letter of complaint, but I'm not sure where to send it - what's God's address anyway? I don't even think he reads his letters, the jerk... He only answers those stupid prayer things. What kind of management skill is that, diversify for God's sake... haha.
I've been absolutely soccer crazy for the last few days, with the world cup having started. I also started in a soccer league which is absolutely fantastic - I'm pretty much the only white guy on the team, so it's gotta be good soccer. So yesterday, I figured I'd do some training, get my fat ass in shape, so I donned my cleats, got my soccer ball, and went for a nice long run. I found a soccer pitch beside some school, and I practiced my shooting for a while. It was actually a decent day yesterday, with no rain (at least while I was out), so I took the old shirt off and was just running around, kicking the ball, sweating up a storm, having a gay old time of it. After doing some footwork drills, facing the net, for about 10 straight minutes, I turned around and found an entire junior high gym class standing not 50 yards from me, schoolgirls giggling and teacher staring nervously at this potential sweaty-soccer-pedophile. Apparently, school doesn't end for a week. I quickly put my shirt on amidst whispers of "Who's that" and "Why's he so sweaty", and ran home to my girlfriend.
Well, no soccer for me today, after yesterday's embarrassment, but I do have some softball; I joined the Red Robin softball team! I'll be playing shortstop or field, depending on how much everyone else sucks. I'm excited for the big tournament, which is tomorrow, where I get to drink myself into a coma while playing some half decent ball. Should be a grand old time!
Spiker
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Work...
I've been serving at Red Robin for about three weeks now. It was the first job I applied for, and the first interview I got, so I pretty much just went for it. It's been good so far, it's my first serving job so it's been a lot of learning. Like, for instance, learning that everyone who goes to Red Robin is basically a piece of crap with legs, but you have to be nice to them anyway. I think there's this sign at the front door, that I can't see, that says "If you're a complete tool, ask to be seated in Spiker's section." Seriously. What kind of human wasteland orders a water with exactly three ice cubes and 5 lemon wedges? Apparently, anal retentive is a new fad. I'll fit right in...
I've also learned other stuff that's even more useful. Like today, I learned that the manager is always right, especially when the manager is completely wrong.
-"Chris, take that bracelet off."
-"Actually that's my watch"
-"Oh... Well it looks like a bracelet so you should take it off..."
-"But... It says on the wall there that you need a watch, and I tho-"
-"I'm too busy for this right now, we can talk about it later Chris."
-"Uhhh... Okay, but should I keep it on, or... nevermind. Skank..."
I also learned that even when they seat you 5 tables at the SAME TIME, you're still supposed to be able to take all their orders and bring them drinks within two minutes, because Superman worked at the first Red Robin, and if he can do it then you can too! Right... Superman was never that cool anyway. Name any other superhero that was ever felled by a rock. Call me crazy but what kind of panzy loses all his power when he gets near a green rock, seriously. This guy is worse than Goliath; at least David had to launch the rock at that guy, all you have to do with Superman is slip some in his Christmas stocking and he's done like dinner. Maybe throw a little in his morning tea. Shit, just send him some in the mail! Fricken Superman, GOD... More like STUPIDMAN... haha...
The truth is, the only thing I've actually learned at Red Robin is this: People suck. Sometimes, no matter what you bring out, there's a problem with it.
- "This is too... Perfect!... I can't eat this, it's like a piece of art! Bring me something edible, cabana boy!"
- "Oh, well... Okay, fine. But my name's act-"
- "Your tip is going down with each word, cabana boy..."
- "........ Be right back with your meal, sir"
- "...I'm a girl."
- "....................."
Also, I've discovered that I am missing one crucial ability that every server needs to wait tables effectively; The ability to read minds. Because, you know, when the customer orders the chicken quesadilla, it's only because they're distracted by the pretty colored balloons at the adjacent table, and what they REALLY wanted was a taco salad with no beans and dressing on the side. Obviously, this misunderstanding is my fault. Does anyone know where I can buy a gun?...
Even after all the ridiculous things I've been through in the measly three weeks I've been working as a server, there is still one small victory, one shining star which seems to bring light to even the darkest of rooms, and seems to bring a pleasantness to even the very worst of days: At least I'm not working in the kitchen. BOOYAKASHA!
Spiker
I've also learned other stuff that's even more useful. Like today, I learned that the manager is always right, especially when the manager is completely wrong.
-"Chris, take that bracelet off."
-"Actually that's my watch"
-"Oh... Well it looks like a bracelet so you should take it off..."
-"But... It says on the wall there that you need a watch, and I tho-"
-"I'm too busy for this right now, we can talk about it later Chris."
-"Uhhh... Okay, but should I keep it on, or... nevermind. Skank..."
I also learned that even when they seat you 5 tables at the SAME TIME, you're still supposed to be able to take all their orders and bring them drinks within two minutes, because Superman worked at the first Red Robin, and if he can do it then you can too! Right... Superman was never that cool anyway. Name any other superhero that was ever felled by a rock. Call me crazy but what kind of panzy loses all his power when he gets near a green rock, seriously. This guy is worse than Goliath; at least David had to launch the rock at that guy, all you have to do with Superman is slip some in his Christmas stocking and he's done like dinner. Maybe throw a little in his morning tea. Shit, just send him some in the mail! Fricken Superman, GOD... More like STUPIDMAN... haha...
The truth is, the only thing I've actually learned at Red Robin is this: People suck. Sometimes, no matter what you bring out, there's a problem with it.
- "This is too... Perfect!... I can't eat this, it's like a piece of art! Bring me something edible, cabana boy!"
- "Oh, well... Okay, fine. But my name's act-"
- "Your tip is going down with each word, cabana boy..."
- "........ Be right back with your meal, sir"
- "...I'm a girl."
- ".....................
Also, I've discovered that I am missing one crucial ability that every server needs to wait tables effectively; The ability to read minds. Because, you know, when the customer orders the chicken quesadilla, it's only because they're distracted by the pretty colored balloons at the adjacent table, and what they REALLY wanted was a taco salad with no beans and dressing on the side. Obviously, this misunderstanding is my fault. Does anyone know where I can buy a gun?...
Even after all the ridiculous things I've been through in the measly three weeks I've been working as a server, there is still one small victory, one shining star which seems to bring light to even the darkest of rooms, and seems to bring a pleasantness to even the very worst of days: At least I'm not working in the kitchen. BOOYAKASHA!
Spiker
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Well Shit.
So I figure I've got a lot of free time on my hands, so I might as well start a blog, in case anyone is misguided enough to delight in the strange pleasure of reading about someone else's boring life. At least it kicks the shit out of a journal; those things are heinously lame, and why are they always pink? Do they make journals in any other color? Seriously.
I moved to Vancouver from Calgary about a month ago, and it's been a good time so far. I hear the summer is nice out here. It's been raining for two week straight so I guess... It must not summer yet? And I figured out I don't live in Vancouver at all, but some kind of suburb of Vancouver called Burnaby (Is it a completely different city?), which seems to have the same transit system. I think the Vancouver transit system actually extends all the way into Asia, which might explain why there are 47 Asians to every 1 white person here.
Anyway, I'm living with my girlfriend Kelly now. Making the transition from long distance to no distance at all has been difficult at times, but amazing and rewarding nonetheless. I'm happier now than I have been for a while. Calgary was alright, and I did enjoy school, but Kelly and I being apart was something like walking past the beach on a beautiful day and going to the tanning salon; what the hell is the point? Still, our time together hasn't been perfect; this has been no utopian paradise where the sex is free and the beer flows from the heavens like sweet, golden rain. Mind you the sex is still free... Did I just say golden rain? Isn't that like in pornos when people pee on each other or something? How the hell do people enjoy that shit... Anyway, like I was saying, there have been some relationship bumps this past month. No, I'm not talking about herpes. Sometimes Kelly and I are just of different minds I guess...
Let me give you an example. About a week ago, I was cooking dinner; a gorgeous, tasty and healthy gourmet meal for Kelly and I. Spaghetti at its finest. I was just finishing up cooking the chicken and veggies, right, when all of a sudden Kelly pipes up and says "Hey umm... You know there's an onion in the fridge..." Being an understanding and gentlemanly individual, I shot to the fridge and immediately began cutting the onion up for a quick last minute addition to my amazingly awesome pasta sauce. Suddenly, Kelly blurts out "Oh, you don't have to put it in though. I don't even really like onions. I was just telling you it was there..."
OKAY... So what the hell was that? In my own experience, if a woman says something like "There's an onion in the fridge", what she really means is "Put a god damned onion in the pasta sauce you idiot". In my studies of "women", I've found that they seem to communicate in what I have dubbed "Hidden meanings", where they don't say what they mean or mean what they say, and sometimes they actually just talk to confirm that they still have the ability to make sound. Apparently my studies were wrong, and as I was told after putting the onion into the sauce, a woman's verbal communication doesn't actually have any hidden meanings whatsoever. Who knew...
So, armed with this new knowledge, and ready to put it to use, I took my opportunity when later that day, I asked Kelly if she wanted some help with the dishes. She replied "Not really. Well... Only if you want, honey." Clearly, the uneducated Chris would have assumed that this actually meant "You should have asked 10 minutes ago you lazy slice of shit", but having had my epiphany with regards to female verbal communication, I knew that this was actually meant to be taken at face value. Confidently, I smiled and said "Okay, cool! Yeah, I don't want to at all, so you go for it sweetie." Needless to say, we did not have sex for two days.
So what have we learned from this experience? While a simple man would only have blamed himself, I realized a truth so profound it shook the very depths of my being: Women are completely insane, and if you don't know what they want, it's because THEY DON'T EITHER.
Well, other than that, things have been pretty peachy so I suppose I should stop complaining. Until next time :)
Spiker
I moved to Vancouver from Calgary about a month ago, and it's been a good time so far. I hear the summer is nice out here. It's been raining for two week straight so I guess... It must not summer yet? And I figured out I don't live in Vancouver at all, but some kind of suburb of Vancouver called Burnaby (Is it a completely different city?), which seems to have the same transit system. I think the Vancouver transit system actually extends all the way into Asia, which might explain why there are 47 Asians to every 1 white person here.
Anyway, I'm living with my girlfriend Kelly now. Making the transition from long distance to no distance at all has been difficult at times, but amazing and rewarding nonetheless. I'm happier now than I have been for a while. Calgary was alright, and I did enjoy school, but Kelly and I being apart was something like walking past the beach on a beautiful day and going to the tanning salon; what the hell is the point? Still, our time together hasn't been perfect; this has been no utopian paradise where the sex is free and the beer flows from the heavens like sweet, golden rain. Mind you the sex is still free... Did I just say golden rain? Isn't that like in pornos when people pee on each other or something? How the hell do people enjoy that shit... Anyway, like I was saying, there have been some relationship bumps this past month. No, I'm not talking about herpes. Sometimes Kelly and I are just of different minds I guess...
Let me give you an example. About a week ago, I was cooking dinner; a gorgeous, tasty and healthy gourmet meal for Kelly and I. Spaghetti at its finest. I was just finishing up cooking the chicken and veggies, right, when all of a sudden Kelly pipes up and says "Hey umm... You know there's an onion in the fridge..." Being an understanding and gentlemanly individual, I shot to the fridge and immediately began cutting the onion up for a quick last minute addition to my amazingly awesome pasta sauce. Suddenly, Kelly blurts out "Oh, you don't have to put it in though. I don't even really like onions. I was just telling you it was there..."
OKAY... So what the hell was that? In my own experience, if a woman says something like "There's an onion in the fridge", what she really means is "Put a god damned onion in the pasta sauce you idiot". In my studies of "women", I've found that they seem to communicate in what I have dubbed "Hidden meanings", where they don't say what they mean or mean what they say, and sometimes they actually just talk to confirm that they still have the ability to make sound. Apparently my studies were wrong, and as I was told after putting the onion into the sauce, a woman's verbal communication doesn't actually have any hidden meanings whatsoever. Who knew...
So, armed with this new knowledge, and ready to put it to use, I took my opportunity when later that day, I asked Kelly if she wanted some help with the dishes. She replied "Not really. Well... Only if you want, honey." Clearly, the uneducated Chris would have assumed that this actually meant "You should have asked 10 minutes ago you lazy slice of shit", but having had my epiphany with regards to female verbal communication, I knew that this was actually meant to be taken at face value. Confidently, I smiled and said "Okay, cool! Yeah, I don't want to at all, so you go for it sweetie." Needless to say, we did not have sex for two days.
So what have we learned from this experience? While a simple man would only have blamed himself, I realized a truth so profound it shook the very depths of my being: Women are completely insane, and if you don't know what they want, it's because THEY DON'T EITHER.
Well, other than that, things have been pretty peachy so I suppose I should stop complaining. Until next time :)
Spiker
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)