I love flying. It's a fast and generally convenient way to travel. But there are always some dumbasses who manage to fuck up the whole experience. Here are a few I encountered on Friday:
Checking In-
I hate lines. To aviod them, I use the handy Delta self service kiosk. It prints your boarding pass and then when they call your name you take your luggage to the counter to be checked. Simple enough. Well onFriday when they called my name, some douchebag busted in front of me and demanded to know why I was being served first. The attendant explained that they call people's names in the order that the luggage tags are printed, and then asked him if he had used the self-service kiosk. The man then got angry and said all he wanted to do was talk to someone about something. The attendant politely pointed him to a line that didn't say "SELF SERVICE LINE" in bold red letters. Idiot.
Security-
When people go through security, some of them are pulled aside to go through "extra security" where their bags are searched and whatnot. When someone is selected for this, the security people will put a mark on their boarding pass with a bright orange highlighter. Then they are directed to a special line where there is a woman in boright orange brandishing a highlighter and waving them through. Only people with the orange mark are supposed to go through this line. While I was waiting (in the correct line), no fewer than twelve people tried to go through the "extra security" line. The woman in orange was clearly frustrated, and I don't blame her. Personally, I think if those people really wanted to get through that line, she should let them. It would serve them right to be stuck with a full cavity search as punishment for being complete morons.
Boarding-
Boarding the plane should be one of the easiest parts of the entire flying experience. Your boarding pass contains your seat assigment and zone number. Delta planes board by zone. They say very clearly over the loudspeaker "Now boarding Zone 5. Zone 5 may now board." When this happens though, there is always at least one moron from Zone 6 trying to weasel his way onto the plane. I mean really, what are you going to accomplish by getting on the plane 45 seconds before other people. I hate to break it to these idiots, but everyone on the plane is going to arrive at the same time, regardless of when they boarded.
Pilot-
When you are the pilot of my plane, I only want you to tell me two things:
1) How long until we arrive?
2) When can I expect my snack?
I do not need to know any other details, such as your children's names or what you had for breakfast. On Friday, the pilot's spiel went something like this:
"Hello, this is Captain Bob speaking. My copilot today is Captain Joe and he is looking rather spiffy in his freshly pressed suit. We are running a few minutes behind today, but we will be in the air soon, and I'm going to crank this plane's engines as fast as they can go to make up for lost time. We're about #4 for takeoff, so we should be in the air momentarily. If you look to your right, you will see the "Spirit of Delta." This plane was a gift to the Delta pilots back in the 70's and it is sitting here until it is moved to a museum in North Carolina to go on display. If you look to your left, you will see the rest of the airport and runways. The weather in Denver is about 50 degrees, so I hoped you packed your winter coat! Once we are in the air, I will periodically update you on landmarks that we are flying over, even though you probably don't care. Also, it may interest you to know that my wife left me earlier this week, so if the ride gets a little shaky, don't be alarmed. I'm simply flying more aggressively than usual..."
Anyway, you get the picture. Oh and that part about the "Spirit of Delta" is true. Airline Captains need to learn to just shut the hell up. Don't open your mouth and make me doubt whether you are qualified to fly a plane. Just tell me when we are landing and leave me the fuck alone.
There is so much more I could complain about right now, but I think I'll just cut it off here and save the rest for another installment.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
study abroad grief
i remember a day in the not-so-long ago month of January, when i was ridiculously stoked to be coming to London to study abroad.
but now it's March, and i'm about to gauge my eyes out with a spork. here's why:
the "lecturers" union here in the UK have gone on strike. it started about two weeks ago. frist off, thank GOD i'm not forced to call them professors, because the only thing they profess is there serious lack of knowledge on just about anything beyond their field. granted, that could come from a deeply-vested interest in the subject, someone who loves their field so dearly that they, like Dr. William Marvin of CSU, wears Dickensian clothes on a daily basis and wears his mutton-chop sideburns proudly, declaring that yes, he's a Medievalist and damn proud of it!
these people are not like him. they are not taught anything beyond what their "course" (major) is. but i digress.
the lecturers are on strike for more money. classes have been cancelled erratically, and last week, i didn't have a single one. as though that didn't make the experience weird enough, here comes the real gripe.
the strike is on, but we still have classes (when not cancelled with no prior notice). that also means that assignments are still due when set, including midterms and finals.
HOWEVER, the lecturers are not allowed to grade them. we still have to turn the shit in, but they can't even read it, let alone record a fucking grade for us. and if the strike persists, which it's looking like it will, considering the next walkout (no classes) is scheduled for next tuesday, then we will receive NO GRADES for the whole of the term.
that's right! we will have come here to study abroad in this opressively boring armpit of London known as Trent Park (fondly referred to as T.P. by us caustic Americans) and will have NOTHING to show for it, except papers written and never even graded.
i love the scottish university system, on which the american system is based. bless the U.S. and count your lucky stars you're getting a decent education there.
but now it's March, and i'm about to gauge my eyes out with a spork. here's why:
the "lecturers" union here in the UK have gone on strike. it started about two weeks ago. frist off, thank GOD i'm not forced to call them professors, because the only thing they profess is there serious lack of knowledge on just about anything beyond their field. granted, that could come from a deeply-vested interest in the subject, someone who loves their field so dearly that they, like Dr. William Marvin of CSU, wears Dickensian clothes on a daily basis and wears his mutton-chop sideburns proudly, declaring that yes, he's a Medievalist and damn proud of it!
these people are not like him. they are not taught anything beyond what their "course" (major) is. but i digress.
the lecturers are on strike for more money. classes have been cancelled erratically, and last week, i didn't have a single one. as though that didn't make the experience weird enough, here comes the real gripe.
the strike is on, but we still have classes (when not cancelled with no prior notice). that also means that assignments are still due when set, including midterms and finals.
HOWEVER, the lecturers are not allowed to grade them. we still have to turn the shit in, but they can't even read it, let alone record a fucking grade for us. and if the strike persists, which it's looking like it will, considering the next walkout (no classes) is scheduled for next tuesday, then we will receive NO GRADES for the whole of the term.
that's right! we will have come here to study abroad in this opressively boring armpit of London known as Trent Park (fondly referred to as T.P. by us caustic Americans) and will have NOTHING to show for it, except papers written and never even graded.
i love the scottish university system, on which the american system is based. bless the U.S. and count your lucky stars you're getting a decent education there.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Spoiled Little Bitch
At PetCo earlier, I saw a license plate frame on a Lexus as I was walking to the door. It read "Daddy bought it" at the top and "but I got it" on the bottom. "Daddy bought it, but I got it." What a spoiled rotten bitch. I can already tell that this person is going to amount to a great deal in society. Who has to flaunt their parent's support in such a grossly arrogant way? What kind of insecure daddy's girl feels the need to announce this fact to the rest of the world?
Honestly, we're college students. Most of us have some form of monetary support from our parents. My parents make my car payments too, but I don't feel the need to let everyone know that by advertising on my oh-so-cool S-10.
If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she's a member of the following facebook groups:
What a worthless bitch. If this was your car, let me know by shooting yourself in the face three times.
Honestly, we're college students. Most of us have some form of monetary support from our parents. My parents make my car payments too, but I don't feel the need to let everyone know that by advertising on my oh-so-cool S-10.
If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she's a member of the following facebook groups:
- G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised in the South)
- Southern Belles
- I love President Bush (not picking on Republicans here, but she seems like a blind followers of her parents beliefs, and I'd put massive amounts of money on the fact that they are Republicans)
- I'm a Daddy's Girl
- Always Have on a Set of Pearls
What a worthless bitch. If this was your car, let me know by shooting yourself in the face three times.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Magnolia Crosswalks
Let me set the scene up for you. It's any day of the week. It's any time of day. With me so far? I'm driving down Magnolia, and I have to stop not only for the plethora of crosswalks, but also between them for jerks who refuse to acknowledge their existence.
Listen. I hate stopping at crosswalks, but I always will, because I appreciate it when people stop for me. However, I hate even more, having to stop in between them, thus adding to my brake wear and transit time.
Starting a few days ago, every time I must drive down Magnolia, I arm myself with my air horn.
Anytime I see someone blocking my progress or even attempting to, I give them a nice warning from my horn and yell at them. The monologue usually is something to the tune of "Hey dicknose! Use the fucking crosswalk! It's only 7 fucking feet away!"
I don't know how many people I've made to think they are about to die, but every single motherfucking one of them deserves it.
Why the air horn, you might ask? Just because. No matter how loud they may have their iPod nano turned up, I guarantee I'll get their fucking attention.
P.S. If you are one of these people who shows no regard for the bold fucking white lines on the pavement, never let me find out, because we are no longer friends.
Listen. I hate stopping at crosswalks, but I always will, because I appreciate it when people stop for me. However, I hate even more, having to stop in between them, thus adding to my brake wear and transit time.
Starting a few days ago, every time I must drive down Magnolia, I arm myself with my air horn.
Anytime I see someone blocking my progress or even attempting to, I give them a nice warning from my horn and yell at them. The monologue usually is something to the tune of "Hey dicknose! Use the fucking crosswalk! It's only 7 fucking feet away!"
I don't know how many people I've made to think they are about to die, but every single motherfucking one of them deserves it.
Why the air horn, you might ask? Just because. No matter how loud they may have their iPod nano turned up, I guarantee I'll get their fucking attention.
P.S. If you are one of these people who shows no regard for the bold fucking white lines on the pavement, never let me find out, because we are no longer friends.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Just Plain Stupid
In it's renovation efforts, my apartment complex, The Reserve, has installed a putting green.
About 10 feet from College Street. What a great location!
Part of the motivation for the putting green was to give an outlet to the people who were hitting golf balls in the parking lot. Well not to worry golf fans, now you can hit those balls right into busy traffic! And while you are enjoying this relaxing activity, you can be serenaded by the roaring sound of engines as cars whiz by at 60 mph.
How splendid!
The awesomeness of this new addition to the property can be summed up by this incredible client testimonial overheard one day on the Tiger Transit.
Dude 1: Have you ever used that putting green?
Dude 2: No, it's way too close to the road. What were they thinking?
If you're like me and you've never seen anyone use it ever, don't let that deter you. Just pick up a copy of today's Plainsman and look at the Reserve ad on the back of the front section. There you will see two Reserve employees as they pretend to be enjoying themselves on the putting green. Their fake cheesy smiling faces say it all: "This putting green sucks!"
Thank you, Reserve!
Dumbasses.
About 10 feet from College Street. What a great location!
Part of the motivation for the putting green was to give an outlet to the people who were hitting golf balls in the parking lot. Well not to worry golf fans, now you can hit those balls right into busy traffic! And while you are enjoying this relaxing activity, you can be serenaded by the roaring sound of engines as cars whiz by at 60 mph.
How splendid!
The awesomeness of this new addition to the property can be summed up by this incredible client testimonial overheard one day on the Tiger Transit.
Dude 1: Have you ever used that putting green?
Dude 2: No, it's way too close to the road. What were they thinking?
If you're like me and you've never seen anyone use it ever, don't let that deter you. Just pick up a copy of today's Plainsman and look at the Reserve ad on the back of the front section. There you will see two Reserve employees as they pretend to be enjoying themselves on the putting green. Their fake cheesy smiling faces say it all: "This putting green sucks!"
Thank you, Reserve!
Dumbasses.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Road Age
When I board a Tiger Transit bus each day, I should be thinking things such as "I hope I ace my test today" or "I'm so happy the weather is nice."
Instead I find myself thinking "I sincerly hope I survived this trip."
Why?
The drivers on my route are old. Very old. And apparently senile.
There is one driver in particular that makes me fear for my life every time I step on the bus. So far this semester he has taken us on a hair-raising journey through the Lowder parking lot (note that this lot in the opposite direction of my normal bus route) and once he actually hit a tree when pulling into my apartment complex. He also likes to perfrom what I like to call "road gymnastics" by making right turns so tight that the bus almost goes into a spin, and making left turns out of the right lane. Not to mention the manner in which he slams on the gas the moment you step on the bus so you are forced to fall into the nearest open seat.
Something must be done, because one of these days, he will crash and kill us all.
Once people reach a certain age, they should be forced to take their drivers test over again, because quite frankly, old people suck at driving. And it seriously worries me that the university is putting our precious young lives in the hands of these Depends wearing, prune eating, Lawrence Welk watching psychopaths.
Save me, please.
Instead I find myself thinking "I sincerly hope I survived this trip."
Why?
The drivers on my route are old. Very old. And apparently senile.
There is one driver in particular that makes me fear for my life every time I step on the bus. So far this semester he has taken us on a hair-raising journey through the Lowder parking lot (note that this lot in the opposite direction of my normal bus route) and once he actually hit a tree when pulling into my apartment complex. He also likes to perfrom what I like to call "road gymnastics" by making right turns so tight that the bus almost goes into a spin, and making left turns out of the right lane. Not to mention the manner in which he slams on the gas the moment you step on the bus so you are forced to fall into the nearest open seat.
Something must be done, because one of these days, he will crash and kill us all.
Once people reach a certain age, they should be forced to take their drivers test over again, because quite frankly, old people suck at driving. And it seriously worries me that the university is putting our precious young lives in the hands of these Depends wearing, prune eating, Lawrence Welk watching psychopaths.
Save me, please.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
All I Can Say Is...WHAT THE FUCK
I was tired. I was slightly hung over. I was hungry. I was stressed out. I was in no mood to even be going to campus, let alone put up with any kind of annoyance.
This was the state of things yesterday as I boarded the Tiger Transit.
Sitting in the seat behind the driver was another Tiger Transit driver. He was on of those crusty-ass, old as dirt, I've-had-one-too-damn-many-Twinkies types. I stepped onto the bus and the next thing I knew, he wass saying "Here you go," and shoving something into my hand. Thinking I had possibly dropped something, I took it without looking and trudged over to a seat.
It was then that I took a look at what he had handed me. It was a folded up SGA flier saying "VOTE FOR WILLIAM SAMFORD!"
That asswipe had just handed it to me to get rid of it.
So here is my message to him:
There are trash cans located at the front of every Tiger Transit. They serve a purpose. DON'T HAND ME YOUR FUCKING TRASH!
As if I don't hate fliers enough already, now I'm getting them secondhand.
WHAT THE FUCK?
This was the state of things yesterday as I boarded the Tiger Transit.
Sitting in the seat behind the driver was another Tiger Transit driver. He was on of those crusty-ass, old as dirt, I've-had-one-too-damn-many-Twinkies types. I stepped onto the bus and the next thing I knew, he wass saying "Here you go," and shoving something into my hand. Thinking I had possibly dropped something, I took it without looking and trudged over to a seat.
It was then that I took a look at what he had handed me. It was a folded up SGA flier saying "VOTE FOR WILLIAM SAMFORD!"
That asswipe had just handed it to me to get rid of it.
So here is my message to him:
There are trash cans located at the front of every Tiger Transit. They serve a purpose. DON'T HAND ME YOUR FUCKING TRASH!
As if I don't hate fliers enough already, now I'm getting them secondhand.
WHAT THE FUCK?
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Strum on this, Fucker! (points to crotch)
I HATE these self-important music dicks that walk around like they are the goddamn musical authority ordained by God himself. The fact that you listen to music by bands that are not known by many people does not make you special. You are not elite. All over the country, small groups of people huddle around tiny,unpublicized bands and they too are not special.
The beauty of music for me is that it is so subjective. What one person hears and likes is going to be completely different from another person. So don't fucking tell me that a band I like is a bunch of sell outs with no real sound. You'll hear a real sound when I shit on your face while you sleep. Who are you to tell me that a band isn't good? So what? They make money doing what they enjoy. Who are you to judge their sound. Just because a band doesn't sound the same in every album or even every song on an album doesn't suggest succumbing to pressures other than their own creativity.
Also, don't tell me that you don't like something because it is overplayed. It's only overplayed if you play it too much. If you listen to the radio, that is your fault. The radio is a soulless box of advertisements with the sole purpose of playing what is currently popular over and over. Try out XM. Not only is each channel chock-full of more musical variety, but there are tons of channels to choose from. If you hear something too much, you are setting yourself up in that situation. Fix it and don't make it my problem.
Don't tell me a band's lyrics are shallow or their riffs are pointless and repetitive. I don't care. When music enters my ears, I judge it based on the reaction it evokes in me; not the stylings of individual instruments. You are setting yourself up for a very narrow appreciation if you nitpick on details. If that's what you want, fine. But don't fucking harass me about the songs I listen to.
Goddamn it. Whatever happened to just minding your own fucking business? When did that concept float off into deep space? I don't like country music, but if you are listening to it or even if you love it, I'm going to get up in your shit about it. If you ask me my opinion, I will tell you that I don't prefer that genre and that is all. I'm not going to rant about how it's just a bunch of hillbilly bullshit with the same old shallow twangy guitar..... Fuck people like that.
Listen to the music you want, when you want. Don't take shit from anyone.
The beauty of music for me is that it is so subjective. What one person hears and likes is going to be completely different from another person. So don't fucking tell me that a band I like is a bunch of sell outs with no real sound. You'll hear a real sound when I shit on your face while you sleep. Who are you to tell me that a band isn't good? So what? They make money doing what they enjoy. Who are you to judge their sound. Just because a band doesn't sound the same in every album or even every song on an album doesn't suggest succumbing to pressures other than their own creativity.
Also, don't tell me that you don't like something because it is overplayed. It's only overplayed if you play it too much. If you listen to the radio, that is your fault. The radio is a soulless box of advertisements with the sole purpose of playing what is currently popular over and over. Try out XM. Not only is each channel chock-full of more musical variety, but there are tons of channels to choose from. If you hear something too much, you are setting yourself up in that situation. Fix it and don't make it my problem.
Don't tell me a band's lyrics are shallow or their riffs are pointless and repetitive. I don't care. When music enters my ears, I judge it based on the reaction it evokes in me; not the stylings of individual instruments. You are setting yourself up for a very narrow appreciation if you nitpick on details. If that's what you want, fine. But don't fucking harass me about the songs I listen to.
Goddamn it. Whatever happened to just minding your own fucking business? When did that concept float off into deep space? I don't like country music, but if you are listening to it or even if you love it, I'm going to get up in your shit about it. If you ask me my opinion, I will tell you that I don't prefer that genre and that is all. I'm not going to rant about how it's just a bunch of hillbilly bullshit with the same old shallow twangy guitar..... Fuck people like that.
Listen to the music you want, when you want. Don't take shit from anyone.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Power Trip
It started as a typical Wednesday morning. I awoke, showered, and was busy getting ready for my 11:15 client meeting for Campaigns. Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. I scrambled to clothe myself, but when I got to the door, nobody was there. I turned to walk back into the apartment, and at that moment, the power shut off. Soaking wet and worried about making it to my meeting, on time, I called Kristen and asked to get ready at her house. On my way out the door, I discovered a pink thing hanging on the knob. What was it, you ask?
A notice from Alabama Power informing me that we had been disconnected.
Like I hadn't realized that one already.
The notice claimed that we were not only $178 in debt to them, but we also now owed $60 in reconnection costs and a $185 security deposit. I was angry and confused, because we had mailed a full payment for our last bill and hadn't received another one since. On top of that, we had also never gotten any type of warning from Alabama Power that we were in danger of being disconnected. So, I called Jen and we decided to take the issue up with Alabama Power after my meeting.
Jen and I went to Alabama Power and they were as un-helpful as humanly possible. Apparently our last payment had never arrived, and we never got our bill for January. When we complained about not having any warning, they explained that the warning was enclosed in the bill we never got.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Not only was the woman completely un-sympathetic, she is making us pay the entire $423 charge. So we paid the reconnect fee and the money that we were overdue on, and they are charging us the deposit.
I honestly don't understand why they would feel a need to do this to people who have, up until that point, paid in full and on time every month. I've had that account in my name for a year and a half and we have never had an incident until now.
My parents encouraged me to write them a letter, but since Alabama Power has no competition, I can't exactly use the "I'm going to take my business elsewhere" threat.
So I would like to send out a resounding "Fuck You!" to Alabama Power.
As if my day couldn't get any better, the following things happened:
*I got a $50 ticket for parking in an R-zone disgused as a B-zone when I went to my meeting.
*I went to work and found out that one of my co-workers has been telling the boss lies about me to get me in trouble
*I didn't get to go out because my friend never called me back and didn't answer his phone
*I found out that a certain person is even more of a certifiable ass than we all had previously thought
*Somone parked in my spot and I couldn't get them towed
Happy freaking day to me.
A notice from Alabama Power informing me that we had been disconnected.
Like I hadn't realized that one already.
The notice claimed that we were not only $178 in debt to them, but we also now owed $60 in reconnection costs and a $185 security deposit. I was angry and confused, because we had mailed a full payment for our last bill and hadn't received another one since. On top of that, we had also never gotten any type of warning from Alabama Power that we were in danger of being disconnected. So, I called Jen and we decided to take the issue up with Alabama Power after my meeting.
Jen and I went to Alabama Power and they were as un-helpful as humanly possible. Apparently our last payment had never arrived, and we never got our bill for January. When we complained about not having any warning, they explained that the warning was enclosed in the bill we never got.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Not only was the woman completely un-sympathetic, she is making us pay the entire $423 charge. So we paid the reconnect fee and the money that we were overdue on, and they are charging us the deposit.
I honestly don't understand why they would feel a need to do this to people who have, up until that point, paid in full and on time every month. I've had that account in my name for a year and a half and we have never had an incident until now.
My parents encouraged me to write them a letter, but since Alabama Power has no competition, I can't exactly use the "I'm going to take my business elsewhere" threat.
So I would like to send out a resounding "Fuck You!" to Alabama Power.
As if my day couldn't get any better, the following things happened:
*I got a $50 ticket for parking in an R-zone disgused as a B-zone when I went to my meeting.
*I went to work and found out that one of my co-workers has been telling the boss lies about me to get me in trouble
*I didn't get to go out because my friend never called me back and didn't answer his phone
*I found out that a certain person is even more of a certifiable ass than we all had previously thought
*Somone parked in my spot and I couldn't get them towed
Happy freaking day to me.
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