i'm good with the snow we've got, thanks

Last night I had to get home from work in a lovely blizzard. After this snowfall, we had three times more snow in the first 12 days of February here than we usually get in the entire month. It's been a long last couple of weeks. I am thankful I have neither a driveway nor a walk to shovel.

On the way home, I kept thinking things weren't so bad. I was moving slowly, but I was moving. I made a few phone calls, wrote some emails, and listened to a radio documentary and a couple of CDs. After almost 2 hours on the road, I could see my house up the street and I thought maybe--stupidly and optimistically--the end was in sight. Then, on the way up a major (and unplowed) downtown street, I got trapped between a guy stuck in front and another stuck behind me. They got out to shovel and I just turned off my engine. I would have gotten out to help, but neither one of them had snow tires, and really, if you aren't going to have the right equipment to drive in winter and you drive anyway, that's kind of not my problem.

Except that it was, because I was trapped.

Eventually--2 and a half hours after leaving work--I did get home. I think I lost a few brain cells on the way as I cancelled my somewhat intellectual plans and watched the pilot episode of Big Brother, 'til death do you part. Wow.

Last year, in a blizzard that was much, much worse, I sat in my car for 3 hours and 20 minutes, trying desperately to get home. Hungry at one point, I got out of my car, and found a bag of BBQ chips in the trunk. I ate the whole bag, more out of boredom than hunger. They were probably really old but man, did they taste good. This morning I told one of Sunny's team members that my drive home last night was long. She laughed and asked if I'd managed to find a bag of chips in my trunk. Good times.

RainyBow

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SunnyShine note: I'm all set with winter. I never need to see another snowflake again. I don't want to shovel any more. I don't want to climb any more snowbanks so Jethro and Princess can do their business. I don't want to trudge through the knee-deep snow in my backyard to get to my car.

Ummmm...did you really watch Big Brother? Really? Am horrified.

i've seen a lot on the road...

... but I've never seen this one. Apparently Virginia has seen fit to ban "outsized rubber replica[s] of testicles" dangling from trailer hitches, for safety reasons.

Seriously, was this ban really necessary? Has anyone out there remarked on the epidemic of rubber testicle trailer hitches before this news? And if people really are decorating their trailer hitches with these items, where do you think they're getting them? Is some genius out there making oodles of cash with the decorative rubber testicle replica business idea?

safety and sanity

I "worked" today. I use the quotation marks deliberately, as working on Christmas Eve day in my office entails dragging your butt in at 10am and leaving at 12 noon for lunch, conveniently taking all of your stuff with you.

I got invited to join some colleagues for a dim sum lunch. Yum. Better yet, someone else offered to drive, which is always a bonus in our office of scarce parking. Normally, if you go out for lunch, when you return you'll wind up parking out where Jesus lost his sandals.

However, en route to lunch today I realized this colleague was a major offender of one of my pet peeves: refusal to wear a seatbelt. After minutes of listening to her car beep incessantly, reminding her to buckle up, I finally asked if she was ever going to do it. Without a word, she sighed, reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and jammed it into her buckle.

Great.

So let's recap. Before: annoying noise and a lack of safety for her. Now: no more annoying noise, but a clear lack of safety for me. Improvement? Perhaps not.

When I asked her why she wouldn't wear her seatbelt, she said it was because she didn't like the feel of it. (Oh yeah, well do you like the feeling of crashing through your windshield?) This was reminiscent of the other colleague who refused to use her turning signals, one of my other pet peeves. When I asked her about it, she said she just didn't like the sound of them. (Oh yeah, well do you like the sound of your car getting rammed by someone who has no idea which way you're turning?)

Please buckle up and use your turning signal wherever you head to this Christmas. Stay safe. And try not to push me over the edge. Just this once, please, 'cause it's Christmas and all.

vanity plates might as well say NOTKUL

I am on my way home and dude in front of me has license plate NKDBRNCH. Eeeeew.

I may cause an accident or two trying to get a look at him. 20 bucks says he's got a rug.

RainyBow

you wanna ride?

When I travelled on business the other day, I had checked in online and printed my boarding pass. Because I had checked in early, the gate number was not printed on the boarding pass. When I got through security, I walked to the digital screens to see which gate I had to go to.

As I was looking, I heard someone behind me say "You wanna ride?". I didn't pay much attention cause why would someone be asking me this in an airport terminal. I then heard the same question, only louder. I turned around to see a middle aged woman on one of those carts they use to drive older passengers, sick people, and unaccompanied children. She asked me again. I laughed and told her I was just looking for my gate and I was ok. She then commanded me to get on the cart so she could drive me. Commanded is the best word I can think of cause it didn't seem like I had a choice. Quite frankly, she scared me.

So here I am - perfectly capable of walking - being driven down the terminal by this crazy woman. I was mortified enough as it was and then she started honking the horn. Beep beep. Beep beep. She was making people jump out of the way during the entire ride. I was completely petrified that I would see someone I knew - EVERYONE in the terminal was looking. I'm sure they were wondering what terrible ailment I was suffering from. She pulled up and did a u-turn right in front of all of the people waiting at my gate. I saw a few smirks.

SunnyShine
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RainyBow note: I wish I could say that I called ahead to arrange this.

no force on earth can move this mountain

A good friend of mine is addicted to his car. Not addicted in the sense that he shines it every day or has given it a name; addicted in the sense that he will drive to the corner store instead of walking. As well, he is forever complaining about driving. He's a nervous Nelly and I hear daily stories about the idiots on the road and the horrible traffic he had to endure on the way to work. His commute is about 15 minutes through the city streets, against the flow of traffic. If there are 2 cars on the road with him on the way to work, I would be surprised.

Same friend would never lower himself to get on public transit. He boasts that he used to take it all of the time however I have yet to find any corroborating evidence.

We live not far from each other, east of the downtown core. Whenever I have things to do downtown, I take the subway or streetcar. You can park free at the subway on weekends or after 3pm so it is very convenient. Finding parking downtown and dealing with the traffic is not so convenient.

Last Sunday when I went to the ballet, I took the subway. When I got home that evening and was talking to my friend, he went off on a tirade about the traffic that day. Clearly, he knew that the Santa Claus Parade and two professional sporting events were on, so I wasn't feeling so sorry for him. Then, I made the mistake of asking him where he went. He drove right into the middle of downtown, into the area of the parade. I was stunned and told him he was an idiot. Then he started to say that it really wasn't that bad. Oh really?? Please. If he didn't bother to take transit downtown this past weekend, there is nothing could get him to do it. (BTW, the streetcar stop is right outside his door and the streetcar goes directly to where he was going.)


SunnyShine

throwin' up in my car

I have now officially thrown up in my car twice. I'm not counting when I was little and used to get carsick on my parents every half hour. Strangely, they were determined folk and continued to pack me into the backseat for long road trips around North America. I believe I owe my mother for that.

The first time happened two years ago on Christmas Day. I managed to get whooping cough, which is apparently a disease only found in the developing world. Oh yeah, and in me and the one person who I know got it from me (a colleague at work who wasn't so keen on me after that). Whooping cough was one of my favourite strange ailments. I learned that "whooping" actually means something: it's what one does when one is coughing so hard that it's impossible to breathe. Good times.

Christmas Day is non-negotiable in my family. The unspoken rule is that if I fail to show up at my parents' house, instant exile will result. So, while I was so ill that eating was an impossibility, I drank half a bottle of cough syrup and got in my car to drive out to the suburbs. To be fair, my father offered to come pick me up, but I'm a teensy bit stubborn and was certain I could make the half hour drive myself.

Halfway home, in a stretch of the high-speed route with no shoulder, I had a coughing fit so severe that I wound up vomiting in my left hand. Since I had been drinking Buckley's, my vomit was a purple, foamy mess, which made me want to throw up more. There was nowhere to pull over. I was driving at a high speed so I couldn't roll down my window and scrape it off my hand outside. The tissues in the backseat were too far to reach with my other hand. And I was driving standard. I drove all the way to my parents' house with one hand full of purple vomit.

The second time happened yesterday morning. I was driving back into the city after visiting my parents (do you sense a pattern?). A car cut in front of me in the middle lane and swung over to the left lane at a ridiculous speed. Shortly after, with a huge bang, the same car smashed into the back of a tractor trailer about six or seven car lengths in front of me. From my vantage point, the only possibility was instant decapitation. A wave of nausea hit me and I pulled the car over (this time there was a shoulder), jumped to the passenger side and threw up out the door onto the side of the road.

Three times won't be a charm.

RainyBow

how much does a helicopter and helipad combo cost?

A new NHL season is beginning and there's hockey fever in the air. For me, there's only hockey hatred.

You see, I live in the downtown core, and my route home from work passes by our hockey arena. The traffic going into the city on game nights is insanity. It's not just people who are going to the game, it's also people who are going to a bar close by. Yes, apparently if you're going to a bar to watch the game, you have to be at one that's in the vicinity of the arena. Maybe the excitement is inversely proportionate with the distance to the actual ice. You know, like e is to the power of x when d is.... and so on.

While I have to admit that I don't understand the thrill of the game, it's kind of cool to me that so many people find joy in a bunch of guys on skates pushing a small, heavy object around on a small patch of ice. I just wish they could find a way to do it without causing my commute to grind to a complete standstill. Or that someone would purchase me a helicopter and helipad.

RainyBow

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SunnyShine note: I hate hockey. I hate traffic. Imagine how I feel about hockey-related traffic.

someone hurt my car, again

I'm a bit more bitter than usual this evening. You see, this afternoon, on my way home from work, someone rear-ended me, causing quite a bit of buckling in the back of my car.

I'm OK but my car kinda isn't. I've had my poor little guy for just over three years and in that time I've been rearended FOUR times. Yes, four. Actually, one of them was more of a front-ending, since the crazy woman actually backed into me while stopped at a light in the midst of rush hour traffic. (I'm not really sure what to call that, so I group it in with the rearending.)

On top of that, I also had my side bashed in by a guy who clearly couldn't read street signs. So all in all, with this, my poor car will have been reconstructed in the shop five times in three years, all because of other's people's errors.

Four words: Learn to drive, people.


RainyBow


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SunnyShine note: This totally bites.

dear biker guy

Judging by your get-up, it seems you taking riding your bike quite seriously. Helmet - check. Gloves - check. Reflectors - check. Disgustingly tight and unattractive bike shorts - check. Tour de France jersey that makes you think you're cool when you're really not - check. Loser bike goggles - check. (Ok, try typing goggle and tell me you don't type google every time. hee)

So why is it, biker guy, that you can't follow the rules of the road. More specifically, when you are approaching a stop sign, you have to stop. Evidently, you don't know what one of these signs looks like so I have included the picture below in order to help you recognize it next time.




Look familiar? A word of advice. Next time you see this sign, please stop. I don't need to spend the rest of my life in therapy because you didn't feel like stopping. You can't have it both ways. You can't complain about drivers (and swear at us at the top of your lungs) when you're not obeying the laws. Drivers don't actively look for bikes to hit. The fact that I came within 1/2 ft of hitting you was YOUR FAULT. I stopped at the 4-way stop, looked both ways and proceeded. You came to the stop sign to my right after I did but did not stop as I assumed you would (yes, I know what they say about assuming). So had I not been paying attention and slammed on my brakes, you would now be dead and I would be heading to therapy.

Thank you,


SunnyShine

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RainyBow note: Methinks you need to drive in the suburbs more, perhaps.