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

Monday, August 31, 2009

With friends like these...

During a rough time in my life, I told one of my good friends about the situation so she could understand my mindset. I was only hoping she would be a compassionate ear to hear me out.

So it comes as a very pleasant surprise that I receive a text message on my phone (broken into three because of its length) at the end of the workday.

Where are you? If I haven't heard from you by the end of the day Ill assume that you're standing on a ledge somewhere & ready to end it. I'll call the police if I have to!

And that's all I needed in order to see that some people really do care about your well-being, even if it takes a grave situation to make it happen.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Bail out

There are several things that bother me, but one of them I can’t stand is when people bail out on me. Sometimes it’s a logical reason, and sometimes it’s not. While I cannot strangle these bailers in person (that’s done behind closed doors), I do want to ask them why they bail out on me.

True, they don’t owe me anything, but they could show some common decency. The total disregard for someone else and the lack of manners pisses me off. I’d rather have them say they cannot meet me instead of leaving me hanging on, checking my phone for a text or message every few minutes (they don’t check their phone because they know I’m the guy calling them every few minutes).

If I want to do something with you and clear my schedule to spend time with you, then why would you string me along and have me wait for you when you have no intention of ever showing up? That’s a question I don’t have an answer for.

As a form of karma, I could stand them up and bail out on them, but that would only bring me down to their level and I don’t want to do that because that would only make me more of an asshole then they are. And, I'm just too classy for that.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Funny boner

Some people don't have a sense of humour. It's not that they don't get jokes, they don't get anything considered to be amusing. Sometimes you have to wonder if they even have a funny bone.

Recently, I discovered a series of referrals from another site. To make a long story short, I made a comment about some athletes being out of shape (which they obviously aren't). At the end of the comment, I wrote "LOL" to emphasize the joke. Of course, one person didn't get the joke and called me out on it.

A diatribe was written, saying I'm bitter and should shut up because I have pictures of myself splattered across my site. Last time I checked, I haven't taken any photos of myself in a long time. And if this person read old posts, he/she should've known (if he/she had a brain along with a sense of humour) I write everything with a tongue firmly planted in my cheek.

If I really wanted to make a big joke out of the whole situation, I would've turned funny bone into funny boner, or something. Then again, I have a sense of humour.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Chasing cars, redux

For several years, I haven’t been able to listen to the song “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol because of its association of someone I know/knew. Whenever the first notes emitted from a speaker, I’d turn it off.

One day, while walking down Queen Street, I heard the song blaring from within a storefront that had its doors open. I couldn’t turn it off and I didn’t care. It was the first time I could hear the song without wanting to hope for a case of short-term deafness.

I had moved on and was in a happier place in my life. No longer did I associate the song with that someone I know/knew, but with a song from a group who is destined to be a one-hit wonder.

And as I kept on walking, the sun shined in my face and I smiled because I knew it no longer affected me the way it did before. I moved on.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Definition of a douchebag

A douchebag is someone who breaks up with you when you’re down and doesn’t care because they’re too selfish to care about anyone else but themselves.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Girlie crap

While in the process of moving, I have to find everything that’s mine in my old place, pack it all up, send it over to my new place, and then unpack. It is in this process that I realize I have a lot of stuff. Not regular stuff, but a lot of girlie crap.

Being someone who works in an industry where beauty products practically fall from the sky (and onto your face), I think it's a shame I'm not a woman (or a guy who is obsessed about his looks) because I don't use most of these products.

Even if I was a product whore, there is still a lot of stuff I don't and would probably never use. From face creams, to body lotions and scrubs, the list is endless. I'm strictly a soap, shampoo and deordorant kind of guy.

The only good thing is I get to have a stash on hand which helps me out when it's time to gift others for their birthdays, anniversaries or special occasions. And, if there is anything left in my ever expanding gift cabinet, there's always an opportunity to sell it to others. Because if I can't be pretty, then at least I can make some money off the girlie crap I have.

Monday, August 10, 2009


Being someone who remembers the little things, I always try to keep track of the moments of the lives of others so they won’t have to.

Because of my incredibly busy schedule for the past few months, I’ve been forgetting things and letting them slip. They’re not incredibly important (no one will die if I don’t call), but they might make a difference to someone else (someone might kill me if I don’t call on their birthday).

It makes me feel like I’m neglecting people in my life when I don’t intend to. It’s not done on purpose, but done because there’s only so much I can do and think of on a daily basis.

And for that, I apologize for being neglectful.

So, happy birthday/anniversary, congrats on the job/promotion/raise, wishing you well on this happy/sad occasion, and above all else, I’m thinking of you.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Reply from J

It's Friday night and I'm about to check my email one last time before going to bed. Quite often, no one writes or leaves a message at this hour, but I see there is one new message in my inbox.

When I click on 'inbox' I see it's from J. He replied to my message from when I ran into him at Holt Renfrew.

Before I begin reading it, I scroll down quickly to see how long it is; probably 750 words. My heartrate speeds up and it feels like it's moving up my chest and into my throat. It's hard to swalow. I want to read it all, but I also want to delete the message.

Certain phrases catch my eye...

You are a stranger to me.

I have been so consumed with what happened after.

I very well could have blocked you on Facebook.

I know I didn't like to see what you were doing.

I had day dreams of punching you in the face.

'I have never hated a man so much in my life'.

'... he still feels [negatively towards me] -- I can't have him in my life'.

I didn't feel obligated inform you I wasn't attending [my housewarming]...

I don't know where to go from here...

In short, J blames me for what he did to me. It's a simple case of projection: I can't hate myself for my stupid decisions, so I'm going to hate you because I don't want to admit I'm - always - wrong.

I didn't accept his erratic behaviours and ridiculous attempt at becoming friends. I'm not one of his (oblivious) friends that he can steamroll over and have them come back just so he can do it again. This wasn't going to be an abusive relationship; I wasn't going to sit there and take it. This time the physically weaker person became stronger when they left.

After reading it, I pass it along to a few people and they all have the same reaction: J has clearly gone crazy, is confused (that's what happens when you live in a bubble), does not know what he wants and I am lucky not to have such a person in my life - I am too good for that.

Part of me agrees with those statements and the other part doesn't. You can't press delete on an email like you can with a person. They'll always be a part of you, even after they move or pass away. J still has feelings for me. No matter how much he claims to hate me, no one would spend the better part of a week composing a response to an ex that's verging on the biblical (in terms of length and dramatics).

I haven't deleted the email; it's saved on my account. It will be seen again and its full contents will be printed in black on white paper when the book is released.