Archives For rants

my tongue should be registered.

for a number of purposes.

but the most regular use it`s getting these days is spewing forth the vitriol that is building in my veins.

i am a bottler. i have always been.

my mother on the other hand is the continuous nagging sort. she`ll nag about the same thing for years, not figuratively, literally.

when i was 18, just before i moved out of the house, i used to work at a bar. one wednesday night, i had worked the day shift and was hanging out with the night shift guys, before i headed home, we were young and bored and came up with the brilliant idea, for me, the one with the alcoholic genes, who had never been drunk before, to see how many black russians i could consume in a minute. a black russian is coffee liquor and vodka. [a couple of things to note, all of which i learned afterwards. alcohol and sugar metabolise really quickly in my bloodstream causing me to get stinkingly drunk.]

on with our story, i had five of these concoctions in a minute, the ice was still in the glass when i was finished. moments later i realised and i hadn`t eaten for the day and thought a burger and fries would be a brilliant idea. [other note, bad, bad, bad, horrendous fucking idea]

i had lunch/dinner/supper whatever you wanted to call and immediately felt sick, i proceeded to stagger my way to the bathroom and hurl in epic proportions everything i`d eaten in the last 48 hours i believe. [why do i recall this so clearly? well ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this was my first drunk episode].

after the epic worship of the porcelain goddess, i bobbed and weaved my way back to the bar, put my head down and told them to wake me, when they were closing. they did or they tried. i was out like a light or not completely coherent. [the rest of this tale is hearsay, as i have no recollection]

the bouncers, managed to get me into a taxi and tell the driver where my house was. although in the midst of my drunken stupor i did manage to get him to stop in front of my house. getting out of the car was another matter.

the final indignity of the night was the driver, ringing the doorbell at close to 2am at which point my mother and the driver, had to pick me up and put me in my bed.

i got up the next morning thanks to genetics, hangover free, much to my mother`s chagrin. i didn`t hear the end of it til i finally moved out or so i though.

fast forward, carnival 1999, i think, i show up on my mother doorstep with a beer in hand. she looks me in the eye and says…

“you drinking again? you remember what happened the last time you drank? i had to pick you up and put you in your bed”

and that in a nutshell is my mother.

i am the diametric opposite, i will bottle for years. hurt, anger, frustration, disappointment. there are all these neat compartments where i store these things. every now and then there is a crack in the facade and then the full force of my collected wrath is directed at even the most miniscule indiscretion.

i`ve made an attempt to stop but all the anger and frustration of the last two years are building and as much as this helps, it`s merely a siphon. i need an outlet, a release. the facade of holding it together is beginning to crack. and friday`s news was a major blow.

this not about giving up on vic or loving her any less or believing that we`ll not be together but i need to find a way to deal with the all ancillary stuff or it`s going to blow up at the wrong time and wrong person. i need a good cry, a good scream, an outlet in a major way.

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sometime mid-afternoon i realised the internet connection was dropping. so like the good techno weenie that i am i called to inquire.

“oh nothing`s wrong”

“are you sure?”

“positive. have you cleared your cache?”

“yes and i`m pinging servers and none of them are responding”

“well it must be your connection.”

“oh really? well, l`ll reconnect.”

hung up the phone, reconnected, same problem, intermittent connection failure. struggled with it for the rest of the afternoon. called again just before i left…

“oh, we`re having network problems”

well of course you fucking morons, i told you that two hours ago. i really try not to be rude to tech support people but i`ve done tech support, i probably know more about their job than most of those phone jockeys, but at TSTT [hell yes, i`m calling fucking names] these fucking nimrods believe they are always right so when i call i always have to deal with the same fucking condescending tone. i hate that.

i`m using another account with another isp to connect but the problem seems nationwide.

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grooving to the oldies

September 4, 2003 — Leave a comment

well that`s a bit of an exaggeration, i have an 80s playlist in itunes and i`m sitting at work with peter gabriel and general public and madness et al blaring out of the speakers. i am incredibly sleepy and there are all these very strange thoughts running around in my head.

if a straight woman who hangs out with gay man is a fag hag, what`s a straight[ish] man that hangs out with gay women called? {edit: a beard]

i just remember someone else who should stay home and enjoy their money, a couple some-bodies really. phil collins, lisa marie presley are two more people that should just fuck off and leave us to hell alone.

like i said this list will continue to grow as the names come to me.

and another thing, mtv and vh1, change your fucking names. talk about false advertising, when is the last time either one of these channels aired a fucking video. i thoroughly enjoyed i love the 70s and the 80s, but do i really to need to know about the glamourous life of j-lo and hot young pop stars? i think fucking not.

and what is this other piece of tripe that mtv has foisted on us the view. really who gives a fuck about jessica what`s her face and her equally forgettable husband. your reality cheque has bounced and the alarm clock on your 15 minutes has been fucking ringing for about 2 years.

i feel like a geriatric sometime when i complain about the poor quality being produced today. it`s a bunch of recycled garbage, i find myself listening to, more and more, the music i grew up on. everything seems so manufactured and commercial. i`m not saying there wasn`t manufactured and commercial in the 80s, do the names stock, aiken and waterman ring a bell? they foisted kylie [version 1], rick astley and quite a few soon forgotten one hit wonders but there was something about it, that didn`t seem so greedy and malicious as it seems now. or maybe i was still innocent then.

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i was just talking to vic about a list of actors who i would not mind ever seeing on screen [big or small] ever again and it got me to thinking. is there a definitive list of rich and [in]famous people who should just fuck off from our consciousness?

actually it doesn`t matter if there is, i have my own list and i boldy offer it to you. bearing in mind this is a first draft and i`ll add to the list as names come to me, not to mention the cruel thoughts as well.

john travolta, nicholas cage, tom cruise, tom hanks, mel gibson, ben affleck, jennifer lopez get out of the movie making business. don`t act, don`t produce, don`t direct, don`t do fuck all, but stay home and spend your fucking money.

close contenders in the hollywood category include samuel l. jackson and colin farrell. i mean has there been a movie in the last year that these two fuckers haven`t been in. there is such a thing as over exposure.

in the music category, i`m going to give the easy targets a miss, you know who they are and i know who they are and focus my loathing and rage at bands like metallica, the rolling stones, sting, paul fucking mccartney, michael `you can`t have to pay off that many boys` jackson. you all have more money than god, fuck off and leave us alone. the rolling stones in particular, i`m sure all of them have grandchildren, great-grand even, stay home with them, we do not need to see you tired wrinkly asses on tour anymore. have you not heard of growing old gracefully?

whew. i enjoyed that. i feel i`m going to be revisiting this topic frequently.

stabbing morons in the fucking eye.

was i child a molesting priest in my last life? what did i to be saddled with this sisyphian task of tolerating this woman.

i suppose you`re wondering what she did this time.

well she`s wants to fedex some elements of the presentation that were not ready for her to leave with. that`s all well and good, but here comes the moron crackhead behaviour, she calls fedex and then proceeds to make a mass of changes to existing work.

and calling me every five minutes to ask if it`s done yet, does not fucking help

just so fucking tired

August 27, 2003 — Leave a comment

I`m sitting here looking at the bottle of jack. but i don`t want to start down that road now. I`m just so fucking tired, i know vic and i are meant to be together and this just a temporary set back but oh fuck, how many hoops do we have to jump through?

i have never come across a more uncooperative bunch of people, one woman had the nerve to tell me, she understands my need to vent. do you? do you have any fucking clue? do you know what it is to be living out of a drawer, not committing to anything, marking time in a job you hate, waking up every morning alone, knowing that you`re separated from the best part of your life by fucking bureaucracy.

i don`t fucking think so.

how is it in this day of near instantaneous emails, faxes and globalisation, the largest bureaucracy in the fucking world takes three weeks to mail documents. what the fuck is that? it`s a four hour flight between barbados and santo domingo.

i`m going to burst a blood vessel if i continue thinking about this.

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and it gets worse

August 27, 2003 — Leave a comment

so i call barbados to tell them santo domingo doesn`t know i exist [ie they don`t have the documents you fuckwits purportedly sent]. now barbados wants me to call santo domingo and get them to fax that they don`t have it.

i call santo domingo back and they say they can`t do that without something official from barbados. all of this calling is on my fucking dime. why am i doing their fucking job and why do i seem to be the only one concerned?

probably because at the end of the day they really don`t give a fuck. i`m pissed, i`m frustrated and i need an outlet for this. typing isn`t making me any less angry.

i think i just make qualify for the skilled labour immigration programme in canada, but i have 10+ pdfs to sort through. i can`t even see straight, much less concentrate on working out what i have to do with this shit.

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there is nothing in santo domingo nothing by case number, nothing by name, nothing. i can`t get onto anyone in barbados. i`m angry to point of want to hit something, i`m sitting here trying not to start flinging stuff across the room.

what the fuck did we do to deserve this?

why is this so fucking hard?

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i hate talk radio

August 27, 2003 — Leave a comment

i have the misfortune have to actually be at work at 8am and in my travels or is that travails [cause it was actually work to get here, i have no idea what i`m going to do next week when school re-opens] i got stuck in cars tuned to two of the most insipid talk show host in the country.

i`m firmly of the belief that the selection of talk radio hosts is firmly rooted in how little you now and how ignorant you can be, but the hosts are not the worst, the people that call in, oh sweet fucking god, what hole do these people crawl out from. breathe, be calm.

the reason i`m in the office this early on this fine wednesday morning is – i have a meeting, i had an 8am meeting, it`s now 8:06, meaning that the potential client is now late. which dominoes into the fact i had to get up early, skip my morning ritual, get here and she`s not here.

well, fuck it. i`m going to do something productive, i`m going to call and see what progress if any is going on with my immigration application.

and now it’s over

August 24, 2003 — Leave a comment

i love my birthday, what i don`t like is how my friends treat me. this is the second or third time i`ve organised something for my birthday and my `friends` don`t show. i`ve gotten more greetings from my online community than i have from my friends.

am i bitter? fuck yes. i`m resentful, hurt and bitter. i`m there for them, i remember the birthday, they only seem to remember my number/email address/how to find me when the shit has hit they fan in their lives.  i made a decision last night, fuck them all. i`m looking out for me and the people that are there for me when i need someone, that is my resolution for my 32nd year.

i mean i try to be a good friend, but what the fuck. i don`t ask for much, everyone knows how much my birthday means to me. all i ask is it be acknowledged.