America! Fuck Yeah!

Dear Seattle,
I thought you were kind of cool at first. Frasier calls you home. Bill Nye the Science Guy does too. This gives you the kind of street cred most cities would kill for. It's unfortunate you have little else to offer a wide-eyed Canadian tourist who risked her life on the Greyhound coming to visit.
You're not all bad I guess. Certain elements of you warmed my assorted cockles with your rainy-day similarity to Vancouver. And I guess you have some gum flavors that Canada has yet to introduce. But when grey skies and blackberry Trident are the only positives I can come up with, you know you have a problem.
You're just a little boring, frankly. The space needle isn't really that cool, as a matter of fact. More enjoyment was brought from watching the wannabe-yuppie couple videotape themselves making out on the viewing deck than was brought from enjoying the "view" which reminded me of a less-cool version of the Vancouver skyline. Okay, the Experience Music Project was cool, but only because we got to buy our own band poster for our prog-rock outfit "Maracca Obama". I say prog-rock outfit because it sounds cooler than "lip-synching duo air-drumming and air-maracca-ing to 'I Love Rock and Roll' in a mock soundstage and paying $25 for the accompanying DVD and tour poster like the lame tourists we are".
Oh, also, I've thought of something else to complain about. What's with the portion sizes in America? Why does lunch need 3 courses? Why don't they warn you that the sundae you ordered is going to be an embarassingly large spectacle with fireworks and cannons and wheeled out on one of those flatbed trucks that beeps when it backs up like the 1,000 pound man that had to be forklifted out of his house because he can no longer walk and even if he could he wouldn't be able to fit out the door anyway so they had to tear down an entire wall to get him out?!

Dear Wild Rice Asian Fusion Pretentious Ridiculous Portion Fedora Fucks:

Your food doesn't taste good. Putting deer meat in a dumpling isn't so much original as it is gross. Charging thirteen dollars for 2 ounces of tuna with some kind of regurgitated green slop (macadamia puree infused with wasabi-ok fuckers) isn't so much high class as a fucking rip-off. You suck. Your food sucks, you attract fedora-wearing assholes who think that if they spend $200 on dinner they'll have something sweet to talk about with their fedora-wearing asshole friends. Fuck you!
Yesterday I ran approximately 30 feet to catch a skytrain at Broadway station and I didn't catch my breath until Stadium (probably four minutes away). I'd give that 2 notches short of morbid obesity, 5 good notches away from "physically fit".
If you ever see a commercial for "Muckleshoot Casino" you MUST watch it. It features a trailer-y woman telling the story of her son taking her for lunch to the casino every Sunday, before which she plays the penny slots. Complete with Native accent: "I don't play the nickel slots, they're for high rollers.". The story ends with her winning $89 and feeling like a high roller herself. Way to promote racial profiling and confirm stereotypes! It's the best commercial I've ever seen, next to the one for the old-people scooters where the announcer goes "YOU CAN GO ANYWHERE!" and cuts to 2 senior citizens perched in their scooters at the edge of the Grand Canyon.
A warning to all: Don't walk down what is SUPPOSED to be a vacant hallway, letting out a stream of flatulence the whole way, unless you're sure it is, in fact, a vacant hallway.

"I tell my daughter that the Oilers logo looks like a piece of poop dropping down." Just some of the words of wisdom heard at the Oilers-Canucks game I attended. If I wanted to be just as awesome and draw absurdly vague conclusions from the logo of rival cities' sports teams, I could point out that the Canucks logo could somehow be deduced to resemble a killer whale sucking it's own dick. But I don't. Luckily the hilarious man responsible for that witticism was soon kicked out for bringing in outside liquor...I wish I had the balls to heckle at sporting events. I don't actually want to heckle, I just want to respond to hecklers by making fun of their personalities/flaws/unrelated afflictions. For example:
To the small boy who kept saying "OILAHS SUCK!" (in that little-boy-with-speech-impedement way): SPEECH THERAPY RULES!
To the smart-ass woman behind us who said "You know it's sad when you have to clap for your team when they stop a goal.": YOU'VE GOT A RATHER LARGE ASS AND COULD USE A NOSE JOB! (possibly followed by PUT DOWN THE HOT DOG, BITCH.)
...not necessarily the wittiest of comebacks but I find it hilarious.
Coming Soon: A Relevant Post That is Even Remotely Entertaining

I would really like to talk about irritating bus men who talk to their wives on the phone about stopping in Sears to look for some new khakis but they didn't have the ones with the waistband he likes so he's going to try the Bay tomorrow...but I'm just not in the mood. I'm more in the mood to complain about my life.
I really feel that as far as my own existence goes that I don't have much to complain about...but that's never really stopped me. May I first say that I wish facebook was actually for keeping in touch with friends and family instead of a snooping frenzy where people compare their looks and their lives and their relationships with one another. I wish I could go on facebook without feeling an overwhelming urge to look up my exes and wonder who that hipster bitch is in that picture, God she has a shiny face, I hope she doesn't think that wearing a silk scarf and having a nose ring makes her unique...and then I wonder, who am I to insult Picture Girl? She didn't do anything to me. I have nose rings. I wear silk scarves. But by smiling next to someone I once fucked, she is a bitch. At least I have a small sense of pride in the fact that I can compare myself with people I went to high school with, and take comfort in the fact that I have created a life for myself that no longer involves going to the same bars on weekends and having parties in my parents' basement.
Also. Lakeview Terrace looks really terrible. Fuck off already, Samuel L. Jackson. We all get it. You're very slick. You swear. You wear Kangol hats. We're all very impressed.

Who Gives a Fuck About Friday When You Work The Whole God Damn Weekend

Broadway skytrain station smelled inexplicably like balls today. The whole fucking station was just so robustly ball-like. I hope it was one extremely smelly person who caused that. That's actually an accomplishment, because the entire station reeked of genitalia. If someone has the, ahem, balls, to not wash that long, they should actually have some kind of bizarre sense of pride about it. I know I would. Who am I kidding, I know I do. So, the question at hand is, should my first random endeavor be gourmet cooking at Urban Fare, or Suck It Like A Pornstar at The Love Institute? For some reason I think I'll end up choosing the latter. If only to make fun of the people there who will be taking it seriously. You expect people who know lots about sex to be, well, sexy. But they never are. Sue Johannsen? Those fucks from all those weird Showcase shows on Friday nights? No! Although I do admit to being a little turned on by them (the shows, not Sue) when I was in high school and I had never seen porn before. They were ugly and weird, sure, but they showed tits on regular cable! Holy shit! ...I fear I've said too much. Afterthought: Fuck you, America's Got Talent. A tranny lip-synching to Tina Turner is not talent. Nor is a four-year old who can lisp her way through "When You Wish Upon A Star". She remembers all the words because her crazy stage parents beat them into her, not because she's a prodigy. That's all.

I promise, this is the only time I'll do this.

Okay, I get annoyed by my own job just as much as everyone else does, and no, I don't think you give a shit about my work life, nor do I think that it's as funny to you as it is to me. I promise this is the only time I'll bring up work. Unless something hilarious happens. I would like to compare a list of things that are NOT allowed at the office to a list of things that are allowed but SHOULDN'T be. It amuses me to no end.
NOT ALLOWED:
-Having personal effects at one's desk
-Wearing strong deodorant, or perfume/body spray/cologne of any kind. To this point, may I add that we had a THIRTY MINUTE seminar on scents in the workplace, complete with a powerpoint on "what is a scent?". Please use sense and don't use scents!
-flip-flops
-texting
-oranges on the second floor, popcorn on the third

ALLOWED:
-being in your 50's and still thinking it's appropriate to wear a denim Baby Phat miniskirt
-wearing your pajamas, complete with blanket, around the office
-not showering for weeks on end, flaking your filth onto your coworkers, and causing a breeze of garbage/grease/B.O. when you walk by.
-being so obese that you literally look like a walking M&M
-serving cake to the entire office when someone in Prince George gets a promotion/the company website is updated/we reconfigure our TV bundles

I just think it's funny, that's all. I for one am going to be more negatively effected when a woman the age of my grandmother walks around in clothes from fifty pounds ago than I am from flip-flops.

As an aside, I'd like to also note that I discovered a show on TV last night called "Hurl!" where competitive eaters eat a mystery food (last night was chicken pot pie) and the top three eaters are then forced to go into a human gyroscope (those orb things that spin you in all directions) to see if anyone vomits. What. The. Fuck. There was a point in time when Jackass was the stupidest thing on TV. Those days are clearly long gone.

Welcome

Welcome to Robots Vancouver. I hope that someone will read/care besides me. But even if not, that's okay. While I'd hope my own life and what I do on a regular basis would be enough to make me interesting, I know it's not. I work overtime hours in a call center riddled with obesity and elderly women in inappropriate outfits which, while amusing, does not an interesting blog make. So I'm going to start doing new things, taking courses, and watching people more. I'll report back and hopefully it will amuse you, or at least be cathartic to me. I'll start with today's findings. May I mention, I wasn't even looking for fucked up/awesome things to write about.
1. The bus. Three children who's parents' jobs clearly don't include dental insurance. Two boys and one girl. Possibly triplets, how disgusting. The boy looked like he was a few degrees short of retarded. The two girls were having thumb wars. Normally, just being ugly wouldn't piss me off. Well, it wouldn't piss me off that much. But they kept saying "one, two, three, four, five, I declare a thumb war!". Five? Ugh. You mongrel bitches.
2. Biking. Biked past topless woman rollerblading.
3. McDonalds. Woman featuring meth-induced facial sores. Her degenerate boyfriend with mullet. An argument ensued in which he was angry because he didn't have enough money, she fired back with: "Well you shouldn't have told me to get whatever I want then!".
4. Walking home. Old lady with beard disgusted me to the point of not even thinking I could keep my diet fucking coke down.

I swear I'm not a bitch.