it's ok for someone else to drive through a storm for us

I need to rant.

So I have this friend I used to work with years ago. She's very smart and highly amusing. However, she and her husband are almost hermit-like in their dedication to never going out. They have used every excuse in the book to get out of events, such as home renovations, someone's imminent death, a possible and crucial phone call, a fender-bender, and even once the loss of too much blood during her period for her to drive the car. Whatever. We've made a lot of plans over the last while, and the last time I saw her was in 2004.

So the crazy twosome invited me over for a dinner party last night. The weather forecast as of last Wednesday said there would be a massive snowstorm all night Friday and all day Saturday (in freaking March, but that's a whole other issue). Their house is not walking- or public transit-distance from my house. Call me crazy, but, while I have great snow tires, I'm not so keen on driving through massive storms unless it's a matter of life and death.

Thursday I dropped her an email and offered, "the weather's not supposed to be so good. Should we cancel?" I figured that with these people, any out would be immediately embraced. Not so much. Friday I tried again. I called on the pretense of telling them what I was bringing, and casually mentioned the weather issue again. No dice.

Saturday I got a bit panicky. I went for a walk in the storm in the afternoon and there was so very, very much snow. It was blowing horizontally. But I figured three tries on tactfully bailing would be too much, given that I was invited to someone else's house, and I hadn't seen them in so long. So I resigned myself to driving.

That afternoon, Sunny texted to check whether I was still going. One hour before, Sunny texted again to see if I were really going. I could barely see out of my window. 45 minutes before the dinner, I was putting on my coat and packing up the cupcakes I'd baked when my phone rang.

Friend was calling to tell me that her husband said the weather seemed "kinda bad" and that she should probably check to see if I still wanted to come. She threw in that the plow had not actually been up her street (apparently a small detail to her). Clearly, I took the out and declined.

Really, the people who do anything to get out of stuff themselves waited until I was on the verge of risking life and limb to give me an out? Ridiculous, no?

RainyBow

can't you just listen to the CD at home?

Sunny recently posted about the absence of common courtesy at cultural events. Well, a girlfriend and I have been subscribing to the local symphony for quite some time, and tenure means that we now have great seats. Last night those great seats made me lose even more faith in humankind. And yes, that's still possible.

Generally, I can live with somewhat crazy people sitting around me while I'm enjoying classical music. Last night I was OK with incessantly sniffing man who toe tapped to some random beat, and woman wearing garish neon pink tights and matching garish neon pink sweater with a tiny jean skirt in the middle (she was about 20 years too old to be wearing said outfit, and believe me, I'm not missing the irony of that statement coming from me and my new-found cougarness). I was even OK with dude behind me leaning so far forward in his seat that I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. Icky, yes, but not grounds to go postal.

But the crazy guy next to me put me over the edge. Said crazy man arrived alone so presumably came to enjoy the music. And yet, at the beginning of the first piece, he removed his digital camera from the holder on his belt, then proceeded to run through every photo on his memory card, zooming and deleting here and there. At intermission, I mentioned that this was distracting and asked if he could refrain from further camera activity.

After intermission, my new crazy friend decided to spend the full 81 minutes of the next piece perusing the 2008-09 symphony schedule and filling in the order form for his next subscription. This involved much rustling of paper, fiddling with his pen and attempts to write on his knee. After about 20 minutes, I contemplated using my complaint-free world bracelet to strangle him. There doesn't seem to be a lot of positive energy seeping in from the bracelet yet, but I'm expecting it to start any time now.

RainyBow

the piano debacle

I live in a condo building with great walls. I've never heard a thing from any direction. But, in December, the family next door got a piano for their small child. My beautiful silence was shattered by the sound of endless scales and Silent Night, played over and over, with the same cringe-inducing errors every time.

After a Saturday when I was flat on my couch with a head cold and listened to the piano for three brink-of-insanity hours, the condo board finally had professional sound testing done last week.

After I pestered the management for follow-up, I got a letter this week. The sound test showed the noise was intrusive, yada yada. Vindication. But then it ends with, "We have advised the residents not to play their piano until a solution to the noise transmission in place."

Solution? What solution to the noise transmission? You have people living on both sides, and above and below. The only noise solution is to return the piano to where you bought it and purchase a keyboard and headset to replace it.

RainyBow
________________

RainyBow update (4 hours later): Jinxed myself. I worked from home today, and at around 2pm, while I was in the middle of something important (of course), the piano began again. I thought I was going to cry.

I called and emailed to complain. The security guard was up in 2-3 minutes and just said, "Yeah, I'm hear about the piano that you're not supposed to be playing." Apparently they were told that if they play it again, legal counsel will be retained and action will be taken.

Assholes.

the important and the not-so-important

In important news, the trial of former Liberian strongman and supreme asshole Charles Taylor is finally moving forward. Last year he was the first former African leader to stand trial in front of an international tribunal, but then the trial was adjourned, until this week. I can't contain my excitement at the thought that Taylor could actually be found guilty and sentenced. I know I'm getting ahead of myself, but this is such a great precedent in a part of the world that's seen many elusive strongmen who've done their country and their people so much damage.

I only wish I could get better updates than the sporadic and sketchy articles I can find here and there. Everyone knows how the media doesn't bother covering Africa. I need to find a good west African blog. Suggestions, anyone?

In not-so-important news, I almost lost my mind at work today. I have complained before about the behaviour of others in our open office grid. Well, today, the woman who recently moved beside me had a loud 20-minute conversation about one of her direct reports. She made a phone call (presumably to Human Resources) to talk about her review of a member of her team. Apparently this fellow (who she actually named, several times) was giving her a hard time because of the rating she gave him, since he believed he had outperformed everyone else. She actually used phrases like, "I just think he's completely delusional and I worry that when I tell him he has no grasp on reality, he may just lose it on me."

I sat at my desk, paralyzed by disbelief in what I was hearing. I don't know the person to whom she was referring to, but someone else in the vicinity may very well have. Shouldn't it be common courtesy to take a conversation like that behind closed doors?

I thought about making a fake phone call of the same kind to she how--or even if--she would react, but I think the effort would be wasted. She's just clueless. So upsetting.

scale hell

Well, I've had a long weekend babysitting. (Brace yourself for that complaint later, once I've had a chance to process.) I was really looking forward to a rare evening at home tonight, alone. After the last few disappointing books, I had a more promising one and some yummy snacks in hand.

I had just settled into my chaise longue (by the window, under a blankie) when the madness began. Piano scales. Now, I probably enjoy the piano more than the average human being. I played for over an hour virtually every day of my life from the age of around 5 until around 18. I studied piano theory, I passed the teaching exam, yadda yadda. So at the beginning the scales were somewhat enjoyable, as they brought back some fond memories. They also proved to be a bit of a quiz; for a while it was fun to name the key of each scale.

Well, now it's been a few hours and I'm ready to lose my mind. Who brings a piano into a condo building? And who practises scales for hours? Do these people not understand that they share every wall with someone else? There are plenty of keyboards you can get with headphones for these types of living arrangements... or you could buy a house.

I'm going to admit that I'm a bit of a crazy person. I've already complained to the concierge downstairs, left a voicemail for building management, spoken to one of my neighbours, and re-read the condo regulations to determine if this is indeed a recognized noise violation.

I'm giving up now and going out for a drink before I hurt someone.

RainyBow

foiled by foil

I attended the ballet this afternoon. I'll steer away from complaining about hordes of people taking the subway downtown to see the Santa Claus Parade. I'll also steer away from complaining about the Santa Claus Parade itself.

This post is about gum. More specifically, the fact that it is now pretty much exclusively packaged in the noisiest foil packaging ever. What happened to the quieter paper packaging? I miss that packaging.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that I hate gum. I hate seeing people chew it. I hate HEARING people chew it. I hate it when people talk to me while they are chewing it. I hate hearing people snap and pop gum. I find it cheap and tacky and I use it to judge people. Don't hate. We all have our things and this is mine. I'm sure you have skeletons in the closet too. (Have I posted about this hatred before. I might have. Who can remember?)

Today at the ballet, everyone seemed to need gum approximately 5 minutes after the beginning of the production or 5 minutes after the end of the two intermissions. (OMG, there is a Dentyne Ice commercial on right now. First visual is a piece of gum popping out of foil. Princess has just kissed frog with fresh breath. Gum is haunting me. grrr) Why they couldn't manage to pull out the plastic and foil package during the 15 minutes of intermission (x 2) is beyond me. Do you have any idea how loud and annoying those gum packages are while you are hearing Chopin and watching two dancers dance a Jerome Robbins piece? Where have the manners gone? At the very least, they could have waited for some clapping during the piece and quickly taken a piece then. Selfish.


SunnyShine
_________________

RainyBow note: You have most definitely posted about this before. I, on the other hand, am in a permanent state of gum DEFCON 1, on alert with maximum readiness to fight random gum cravings. I normally carry 4-5 packs of gum, with a full array of flavours from fruity to minty. Most days I'm good with just Chiclets Sours, the greatest gum ever invented (except that I don't love the weird blue flavour, and I'll actually open the packages to ensure I buy the ones with the fewest blues).

My most similar (and way less rational) pet peeve is with people who eat tomatoes like they're apples. You know, those people who'll bite into a tomato and let the juice run down their chin? Ick.

make the noise stop

This weekend, Rainy and I attended both a book reading and a play. We're geeks. We admit it.

The reading event had five award-winning authors, who are up for a national prize, reading passages from their nominated books. We arrived fairly early and were close to the front of the line. This was good planning as the line up behind us was quite long and snaked around several times. As you would expect, the age of crowd at this event was skewed older - 50s, 60s. This would lead you to conclude that the people were orderly and polite when the doors opened and it was time to find a seat. You would be wrong. We practically got stampeded to death by seniors trying to decide between this seat and that seat. It was a little crazy. We settled into our seats and watched the scene around us - lady wearing a carpet blouse, girl with long red hair tied back with three or four scrunchies of different colours and a head band of yet another colour and crazy nike shoes with holes in the soles, author with thinning hair combed in an odd manner, people fighting for seats. Good times. People watching is always enjoyable.

Then, the noise started. The guy directly behind us decided he needed to tap out a tune on the book he was holding. This was not soft, barely audible tapping, this was LOUD, thundering tapping. It was so loud and annoying, I could hear it over the seat mayhem and loud overhead music. I was hoping he'd tap for only a few seconds and then stop. Nope. The tapping went on and on. Mercifully, it stopped when his friends showed up or the event started....can't remember which.

Then came the intermission. This time, the instrument of choice was an empty water bottle. I thought the book tapping was annoying but the bottle tapping was worse. I was starting to feel homicidal. He must have heard us complaining about it and moved down the row to annoy other people.

As annoying as that was, at least he didn't make noise during the actual event. This brings me to the play this afternoon. We saw a fantastic play that was enhanced by the running commentary of the two teenagers behind us. When they weren't laughing, they were talking or shouting out. At the beginning of the play, the woman beside me shushed them. It didn't work. I resigned myself to the noise cause there's no talking to teenagers. You might as well talk to a brick wall.

Of course, they weren't the only ones enhancing the experience. The woman behind us started eating a chocolate bar - or some sort of food in a noisy package - right when the second act began. She could have eaten it during the 15 minute intermission but she decided to save it for the action. She put it away for a while and then brought it back out during the climax of the play.

I think I need to be a royal or Bill Gates or someone who can go to private readings/screenings/openings etc. I bet they don't have to put up with the noise of the riff raff.

SunnyShine

common c-o-u-r-t-e-s-y

I live on a fairly quiet street in a residential neighbourhood. There are young families, retirees, single women (me), lesbian & gay couples and it's the kind of street where people take pride in their homes and say hi to their neighbours.

You'd think it was pleasantville, however - and there's always a however - across the street are the noisiest and rudest bunch of teenagers in existence. How many of them actually live in the house is a mystery cause there are always so many around that it's hard to tell. This pack is being raised by a single mother who doesn't seem to notice or care about what they do or when they do it.

I would guesstimate that the teenagers are 13-16. None of them seem to drive but their friends sure do. They show up after midnight hanging out of windows and with music blasting. Also, I have noticed that these teenagers cannot communicate without screaming at the top of their lungs.

I cannot tell you how many nights I have been woken up by them. They come home at all hours of the night and never quietly. I have twice seen them peeing on the street - both boys AND girls. Who is raising them? Peeing on the street???

They also enjoy skateboarding and basketball dribbling at 2am. I now cannot hear a skateboard without feeling homicidal. Like I said, their mother doesn't seem to care.

Times sure have changed. Had I come home at 2am when I was their age, I can guarantee I wouldn't have seen the clock move past 9pm for years. Also, where are they going or coming from at that time? Are there clubs for 15 year olds? Are they spreading their joy at another house with equally tolerant parents?

Has anyone ever heard of common courtesy? I am still deciding what my next move will be next time they wake me. Here are the things I have come up with:

1. video tape and take pictures - esp useful and embarrassing if they are peeing
2. come outside with the Dog and ask them to wake their mother so I can speak to her
3. ring their doorbell incessantly at 5:30am when I wake up so they can see how it feels
   
4. call the police and let them handle it
5. speak to the mother separately (she won't care, believe me)

I think I may take pics or video anyway but I'll keep you posted as to what else happens. I am turning into a curmudgeon.

SunnyShine