monster sarcasm rally

I almost forgot

That's 'I almost forgot' as in 'I almost forgot to tell you', not 'I almost forgot it happened'.

While I was off on the Worst Holiday Ever Littlebabycryingpants stomped out of the office in a huff never to return. Her resignation letter (which implies this was a premeditated huff) was two pages long. I've no idea what it said, but I'd venture to guess that I was the subject of at least one badly worded paragraph.

Weirdest response to a shared housing ad

Cherry Pebbles says Hi, my name is Maggie [blah blah blah] Sincerely, Lizzy

I have a new obsession

What the frak?

Reader poll

I need you to help me settle an argument with my housemates. Well, with one particular housemate really...

If you are male, please answer the following questions. All results will be kept strictly confidential*.

1. What is your first language?

2. Do you normally sit or stand when you pee?

3. If you were considering moving into a shared house and you were told that the house rules stipulated that you must sit when you pee, what would you think?

UPDATE for those of you who still aren't getting it...
Of course I am not the one making up the insane rules. I am trying to make him (yes, HIM) understand that, by making such demands, he is being unreasonable.

*By which I mean not confidential in the slightest.

Scenes from my hood

I love my neighbourhood. I really do.

But next year I'm moving to London.

Interruption

Tonight's episode of House reminded me of my grandfather's funeral this past summer.

Okay, so nobody had to drug me to make me go (but it would have helped). And I didn't get pulled over on the way there (but I kept hoping they would). And I didn't make a touching eulogy (nobody did). And it didn't turn out that my grandmother actually hated him and that we were all actually descended from his best friend (well, I'm pretty sure she hated him more than the rest of us did; nobody would have blamed her if it had happened like that, but it didn't work out that way).

But people did keep telling me they were sorry for my loss. To which I always responded: don't be; he won't be missed. And after the funeral my grandmother had a glass of wine and proceeded to giggle a lot. It was the first time in her 87 years she'd ever been allowed to get drunk.

So like Wilson said... That strange annoying trip we just took was the most fun I've had... all summer.

I'll get back to the tale of the Worst Holiday Ever eventually.

Worst Holiday Ever: day 7

Plan: Spend day wandering around the old city. Maybe take a walking tour. Walk around Old Jewish Quarter.

Actual: Wandered aimlessly around city centre. I couldn't think clearly, it was cold, wet and miserable, and I just wanted to find a cup of coffee for less than $5. Got shouted at a few times in Polish.

During a less-than-enjoyable lunch I decided I needed to fly home as soon as possible. This was pointless: I was wasting my time off, I couldn't enjoy the experience. I should head home so I could be there for my mother.

A few minutes later I got an e-mail from my dad. My aunt had died that morning. Still not thinking clearly, I jumped on a computer and tried to book a new flight back to London. It didn't occur to me to change the flight I already had. The one for the next day (i.e. Tuesday) was really expensive, so I booked one for the day after that.

Spent several hours trying to change my London to Toronto flight. The airline didn't have a phone number that would work from Poland, since of course they don't fly to Poland. Had Bridget call for me from Toronto. They tried to sell her a whole new one-way flight from London to Toronto. Eventually gave up and decided I would try again from London.

Sent a message to my parents saying I would try to get home on the weekend, but it didn't look like I could make it before Friday night. Got message back saying funeral was set for early afternoon on Friday.

Spent rest of the evening sitting in the hostel's common room watching bizarre mating rituals of the inmates — one of whom looked just like Freddie Mercury — and feeling horrid.

Worst Holiday Ever: day 6

Plan: Fly from London to Krakow. Spend evening wandering around the old city. Stay in hostel near city centre.

Actual: Woke up, had breakfast, went to internet cafe to check my e-mail. Found a message from my dad saying that my aunt was doing poorly and that my mum had flown to Toronto to be with her. She had planned to go that afternoon, but had moved her flight to the night before.

Decision time... Stay in London, forfeit my flight to Poland, and try to book new accommodation, or proceed as planned. In what is now one of my top five worst decisions of all time, I flew to Krakow.

Landed and began looking for a cash machine to get some local currency. Didn't find one. Oh well, I thought, surely there must be one at the train station, right?

All the tourist sites brag about the fabulous train service and how cheap and timely it is. You can get from the airport to the city centre in just 15 minutes on the train. So, I caught the shuttle bus to the train 'station'. The train station turned out to be a slab of concrete sandwiched between a single train track and a dirt road, served on a plate of wide-open countryside.

We were herded onto the train. And I still had no Polish zloty... A woman came along and asked me to pay for my ticket (in Polish of course). I smiled and showed her my wallet full of pounds. A friendly French girl who lived in London and conveniently spoke Polish offered to pay for my ticket. I thanked her and said I'd gladly give her the equivalent (all of £1).

A Polish woman sitting near us — who inconveniently spoke English — demanded to know why I had no local currency. I said I had seen no cash machines in the airport. She said there were several exchange offices. I said I was looking for a cash machine. There were two, she informed me haughtily.

Well, I didn't see them. And I assumed there would be some at the train station. This response seemed to shock her. She said that I had to pay for my ticket on the train; I couldn't wait until we got to the train station. I meant the train station at the airport.

This is not train station! This is train stop.

Right. I can't believe I didn't know that. Keep in mind, that wasn't even a train official. That was just a random fellow passenger.

When I got to the train station I looked again for an ABM. Didn't find one at first, but I did find a washroom. In most European countries I've been to the public toilets are pay toilets. Fine. I have no objection to this. In every case I've encountered in my travels, there will be a fee marked clearly at the entrance and a turnstile. You deposit your coins and then enter. No coins, the stile won't turn.

Not so in Poland... In Poland there are no turnstiles. You walk in and do your thing. On your departure from the washroom a crabby old woman will appear out of nowhere (always a crabby old woman) and shout at you in Polish. She will continue to do so until you give her money.

Leaving the train station I followed the crowd, assuming that people must be headed into the city centre. After 100 metres or so I came to a T-intersection. To my left I spotted a sign that said the main market square was this way, 1100 metres. I went that way. I walked through the cold and the rain with my 10 kg duffel bag. There were many more forks in the road, but no more signs.

Eventually, I gave up and retraced my steps to the T-intersection. I went to the right. After a few metres I was greeted by a sign that said main market square, 700 metres.

I eventually found my hostel and checked in. I went to a nearby vegetarian restaurant I'd read about online. The menu was in Polish. The cashier offered me an English version. I sat down to look it over. There was a hot guy checking me out. Definitely checking me out. It has to be pretty darn obvious if even I notice it.

When I went back to the counter, there was a different cashier. She wasn't very nice. Decidedly unpleasant. I sat down with my food and the hot guy continued to check me out. Then the cashier went and sat down with him, holding his hand and stroking his hair. Right. No wonder she was unpleasant.

I went back to the hostel and crashed at about 9:00.