I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Pre-divorce ceremony

People have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.  At times, so do I.  I use it mainly to see what's going on in the lives of my friends/loved ones.  It's a lot easier than picking up the phone or emailing (Lord knows I do that enough for work). A quick scan a few days a week and I'm updated.

Recently, one of the wall posts that someone commented on is of a friend of Crazy.  There's a photo (taken from Instagram) of an open invitation to Crazy's wedding.  Not only is the marriage to a doctor (once a gold digger, always a gold digger), but the address states he's also moved up the street from me (coincidentally, in the building he wanted me to move into).

Congrats.

Then, a short while later, there's another wall post of the same friend of a picture of white flowers (peonies or roses) and an unopened, red Cartier box on top.

To paraphrase the caption: after kissing so many frogs you finally found your prince.

Gag.

Of course, this is a little jab at me since I was Crazy's only ex, and this friend knows it (because why would you post Instagram photos of someone who has blocked you on social media on your own wall?). I roll my eyes to it the obvious effort to elicit a reaction; that, and the "doctor's wife" comments.

These types of Facebook updates are like having someone blow smoke in your face when they know you're a former smoker.  It's a childish taunt.  What makes it sad is these people are in their 30s.

For those asking why I don't unfriend these people, I make the point that I have nothing against them, only against Crazy (and it'd be pretty stupid to delete over 20 people because of one person's behaviour).
 
So, no matter how hard I try to distance myself from my past, it keeps following me, as it has for the past five-plus years.

It's going to be a lovely pre-divorce ceremony.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Kijiji craziness

Like many people who have useless crap laying around the house, I sell it online in order to have extra space in my cupboards (hoarding is so 2012) and make some cash on the side.  I head off to Kijiji, an online marketplace (similar to a digital yard sale) and post some things.

Because of my work, I get a lot of free stuff that I will never use/wear/etc. but it's brand new and good quality.  I'd never sell something that's old or broken.  Who wants that?  The way I calculate a price is by looking for the original MSRP, divide it by half and take off an extra $5.  It's a good way to garner interest.
 Then, people start to negotiate (a.k.a. "haggle").

For a woman's designer bracelet, I had a girl ask if I could take $X off it and I said I'd only do that if she picked it up at my work.  She agreed... for a second.

That's kind of far for me.  She says in an email.  I tell her I work downtown (and the original posting says to be picked up downtown; I ain't FedEx).

If I pick it up [near your work] can you give me a discount?

I tell her it's already discounted from the original price and I won't discount it more.

Can you deliver them to [a mall that's not downtown]?

She's not getting it; she has to pick it up at/near my work (that's why I gave her another discount).  I'd say English wasn't her first language, since she clearly doesn't understand what I'm saying, but her grammar is fine, so I'll brush it off as a case of idiocy. 

What this girl doesn't realize if that I'd be losing money on the sale by traveling more than an hour one way, waiting for her (assuming she arrives on time), than traveling back more than an hour back to work.  All for $20.  Yeah, you read that right: twenty dollars.

As much as I want to tell her she's out of her fucking mind, I don't.  I must remain professional.

Sorry but that's too far away for me.  Thanks.

Onto the next seller.

Monday, March 09, 2015

North Toronto is not North Bay

It's been said men don't like to ask for directions.  As it turns out, they're also averse to knowing anything about geography, period.

When talking to a guy about where in the city he lives in, he gave "north" as a general area.  I ask a few more questions about proximity.

North, as in past Eglinton?  This area is known as mid-town.

Past Lawrence?  This area is uptown.


Past Finch? This is now considered to be North York, which is no longer part of the city's core.


Is it even Toronto??

And when I probe further, I get the actual location:  North Bay.

For those not knowledgeable in Ontario's geography, it's akin to saying you're Australian people assume you mean Sydney when it's really Melbourne (which is on the other side of the island).

Now, I've never been the best person when it comes to directions (I still don't know where the hell the north star is in the sky), but this guy needs to acquaint himself with a map.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Tenth anniversary

Having a full schedule means some things get put on the back burner.  That's not to say they're not important, but not important at that time.  Work will always come first, followed by errands, family and friends, social life and then whatever I write into my planner (who needs sleep?).

So, it didn't come as a surprise that this site wasn't updated as often as it should've been.  What did come as a surprise was how long I've been doing it.

Scrolling back through the archives, I see the first publishing year.  Shit, it's the 10th anniversary.  Ten years old.  A full decade.  Since this isn't a news platform that requires multiple posts a day, that's a long time.

I wish I had the time to post more regularly, but since I already write a lot for my career (I can see you rolling your eyes when you read that term), I sometimes think, What can I say that will be interesting and intelligent without repeating the same things as years past?  Then my brain starts to hurt, I grab a tumbler with Scotch and then I zone out in front of the TV.

Personal websites are like plants: if you don't take care of them and give them the attention they need, they'll wither and die.  Pretty gruesome way of putting it.

And with that note of positivity, let's see if Human Nature makes it to #11.

Monday, January 12, 2015

I'm not a model, just a regular guy

When it comes to my looks, I don't think I'm particularly handsome.  My appearance can go either way, and I think that's fine.  Thankfully, I'm not an extreme.  It would be such a burden to be excruciatingly beautiful.

When it comes to having others judge you on your looks, I make a joke as a defense mechanism.  Will they like what they see?  You hope so, no matter what the situation.  Usually, I try to brush off my appearance and act as if it means little to me.  It's just one part of the package.

When chatting with K, the whole thing about looks comes to the forefront of the conversation.

"I'm not a model.  Just a regular guy," I say.

Thinking K is used to hanging with the beautiful crowd, I find the response to be promising.  "For me, dealing with a man with a manly attitude, is masculine and with morals and values is worth more than dealing with a model."

When I hear this, I start to think, Hmmm, this could be interesting.  That is, until the douche cancels our plans at the last minute to hang with someone who looks like a model.  Then, I realize some people just want to be around models, no matter what they say.  Morals and values, my ass.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Santa magnet

My friend A and myself are sitting on my patio, catching up on our lives.  It's the usual pratterings about work, home, free time, and what have you.  When the talk veers its way to relationships, I bring something up that's been bothering me.

"I'm a Santa magnet."

"What's that?" asks A between a chuckle.

"It's when the only people who are attracted to me resemble Santa.  You know, old guys with white hair and beards?"  A laughs again.  I give him a what the fuck is up with that? kind of expression.

My first (and only) reply to these men is this:  Don't you feel any shame for hitting on someone who can be your grandchild?  Do you really think they find you sexually desirable?  I know that even older people have their needs, but not with someone who just went through puberty.  Granted, if the nubile have a thing for relics than that's another story.

I have nothing against old people (and, in fact, I get along quite well with them), but I wouldn't want to date one.  I love my grandpa but I don't want to fuck him.

The next day I get three online messages from guys who can only be described as "mature" (i.e. old).  They're all looking for the same thing: a cure for their inflamed joints, and I'm not talking about arthritis.  It's not as if I'm naked anywhere, promoting sex and asking for a sugar gramps.

I text my friend A from the night before.

"Remember what I said about me being a magnet for Santas?  Well, it happened again..."

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Packing up and leaving

Not too long ago, I received a text message from my friend, A. In it, he talked about how he finally moved out of his old place he was sharing with his ex. To paraphrase him, he prayed the insanity would be over. It was a hard day for him, but luckily it was now in the past.

Personally, I don't know why he didn't move out sooner. If not for the sake of the furniture, but also for his well being. Closure is something we all need and he was lacking in it.

Granted, I see things from a different perspective. I like to cut things off and cauterize the wound. Most times, it works for me, but there is one individual who doesn't get the hint and stalks/harasses both me and my friends. That's what you get when had a relationship with a sociopath.

Anyway, I wish him well. I wish him happiness. And, I wish him the ability to find another place downtown so he can finally re-acclimatize himself with the living city and get out there and enjoy life, again.