Stamped: September 21st, 2006 | Toggle Similar
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Really, really fucking pissed.

NOW? No, fuck you, it is a problem. I’ve officially hit the breaking point and I see no further use for the West coast attitude other than to make me shake with rage and indignation about the unholy façade that is grace under pressure. Fuck that.

Last night someone stole my bike. Now it really wasn’t my bike but one I was borrowing from my landlord, and now I have to pay her some ungodly amount of money for a bike I used for approximately two months. Awesome. Thanks a lot you piece of shit thief. I hope you burn in a hell of your own creation, which definitely includes pigeons pecking at your peanut butter slathered genitals.

R.I.P.

I think I must have a sign on all my belongings that say, “JACK me!”, because I have had a great run here in the last couple months with people trying to or succeeding in COMPLETELY FUCKING RIPPING ME OFF.

Oh, and Canada? Don’t let anyone try to tell you Canadians are peaceful and unassuming, they are a bunch of pilfering fucking asshats if you ask me. The FIRST night I was here I grabbed a bus from the airport to downtown. Excited and happy to be starting my big beautiful quest for self-enlightenment and a hot Canadian boy, I joyfully threw my luggage under the bus with everyone else’s. Chin resting on hand as I gazed peacefully at the twinkling lights of Montreal I must have been lost in reverie a bit longer than I thought. I got off the bus last, and climbed down the stairs to retrieve my luggage. I looked under the bus and lo and behold, there were no suitcases left. Shaking my head a bit I looked at the bearded burly man of a bus driver and inquired as to where in the name of Sweet Christ my bag was. He very helpfully shrugged his shoulders. Thanks farmer Ted, much appreciated. I’m not going to detail to you every important thing that was in the bag because I don’t want to go into a rage blackout, fall off the chair and bump my head, no health insurance and all, but I will tell you that there were more than a few things in there that are completely irreplaceable. For about two weeks I would be walking around my apartment, stop, ask myself where an item was, remember it got stolen and shake with bitterness for a couple minutes. That was fun, and it just about set the logistical tone for how things go ‘round here.

Between two weeks without internet (Bell Canada makes Comcast look like a shining angel from customer service heaven), a broken stove, misrouted mail, electricity that frequently blows circuits, countless bad dining experiences and a stolen bike, I think I’ve handled things rather gracefully. But the bike was the final straw and for the last week that I’m here, if someone so much as SNEEZES in the wrong direction they are getting chewed out. I’m sick of playing Suzy fucking sunshine so if you’re considering ripping me off, screwing me over or just generally being an asshole I’d advise you to hit up the next customer cause I’m really fucking over it. See that’s the problem with the California “no worries” attitude, there are worries and there are things to be pissed off about and just because you tell yourself it’s no big deal doesn’t mean it isn’t. Instead it festers and bubbles and lays in wait until you remember that you’re from the east coast and WE DON’T DO THAT, we yell and whine and bitch and complain and if we don’t then we die. Simple, eh?

So in short, world, STOP FUCKING PISSING ME OFF!!!!!!!!

Thank you and goodnight.

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