Letter To The Editor

Dear Editor,

It’s been some time since I’ve written in to a newspaper; I find I just don’t have many pressing or sensitive issues to address in my daily life.  I’ve been living in Toronto for three years and have been enjoying life in the big city. But, recently I’ve noticed a lacking on the busy city streets, an absence, if you will.

Where have all the douche bags gone?

(side note: for those of you lucky enough to have gone through life without encountering a douche bag, let me explain their demeanour. This is a word to describe an individual who has shown themselves to be a complete waste of oxygen, thus comparing them to the cleansing product for vaginas.) 

Moving on...

There was a time when a young woman couldn’t leave her apartment without a male staring at her breasts in the elevator.  This early morning oogling had grown apart of my morning routine as much as the sambuca in my coffee.  The way he would slide on his sunglasses so I couldn’t see where he was looking and slightly purse his lips, it really appealed to my sensitive side.  I longed for that approval as much as I desired a brazilin wax via tweezers.  The cheap thrill it sent through my body to have a sweaty balding man blatantly eyeing me up was almost enough to pass up reporting him to building management. Almost.

Where are my morning commute douche bags? Have they been banned altogether? I miss the early morning conversations of business-douche.  He wore an expensive looking suite that was too small for him and constantly checked his Blackberry every 15 sec.  Most mornings he would be speaking to someone on the phone, letting them know that he wasn’t “going to f*$%ing pay them”, because “they were f*#@ing idiots who couldn’t do their f&*#ing job”.  One morning I even heard him call his associate to say the tab from last night wouldn’t be paid because “she wasn’t F*$&ing bald like the agency promised.” I’m sure he worked with cancer patients all the time.

And what ever happened to the word “toots”? Where did that go? Girls love being referred to by that demeaning remark.  I yearn for the days where guys assume I have no education and only go out in public to “pick up”.  I mean, why wouldn’t I want to spend my evening with a group of guys who can’t form sentences on their own?  Those flipped up collars and mohawk hairstyles get me every time, and I find myself lost in their jagerbomb-drinking, spit-when-they-talk-they’re-so-drunk ways.

But the douche bags I really miss, the one’s closest to my heart, are the touchy feely guys.  You know the one’s I’m talking about.  The guys that take it upon themselves to grab and accost you at their own will.  What girl doesn’t LOVE having some random drunk stranger grab her ass at the end of the night!?  Where have these guys gone? Jail? One night, while locking up my bike après work, a young gentleman walked by me and thought it would be courteous to test the firmness of my ass.  Well….thank you! Thank you for taking it upon yourself to judge the density of my behind.  Thank you for skipping the formalities of an introduction or a hello, because those really do get so boring.  Women just adore a man who goes for what he wants.

So, I write to you Editor; and ask you the question that’s been troubling me for so long.  Where have they gone? The streets of Toronto seem so normal, so civil, so…oh wait…no, I think I see one.  Yup, there he is.  Driving a ridiculously loud car that his mom probably paid for, honking at a girl crossing the street while his friend asks if the carpet matches the drapes. Classy.

Never mind, they’re still here.

10 Reason's Your Server is Smarter Than You

• Even with over 20 people sitting in their section, your Server can still remember what you ordered when it comes to the table, when you can’t.
• Your Server knows how ridiculous you look when you order a side salad “because its all I could possibly eat”, and then consume all the bread and butter on the table, 3 glasses of wine, two spoonfuls of your husbands chocolate cake and a coffee with Bailey’s. Way to play it safe with that salad.
• Your Server knows from the moment you utter “hot water with lemon” that you are a 10% tipper.
• Your Server also knows the moment you say, “I used to be in the industry” that you are an 8% tipper
• Your Server can pronounce Gewürztraminer. [geh-vuhr-strah-mee-ner] stupid.
• Your Server knows that a credit card has to actually be swiped through a machine for it to pay for your meal. Simply showing it to them doesn’t do the trick. 
• Your server knows that Grey Goose sucks. 
• A ‘baller’ issomeone who orders the most expensive items on the menu, has a lot of cheap women around that he’s trying to impress, yells “yo” and “brother” at everyone around him…AND tips.
• Your Server knows what the “beef” is really made of.
• Your server refer's to himself as a server, while you still use the archaic expression "waiter".
• BONUS! Your Server is making all your money on New Year’s Eve, and you’ll end up broke Jan. 1.

What's Your Time Worth?

Recently I spent the day at the mall.  I don’t mean I went there and strolled around for a while looking for slutty tank tops while nibbling on my kernels popcorn and inhaling a delicious Orange Julius.  

I mean; I. Spent. The. Day. At. The. Mall.

I’m not proud to admit it, or maybe I am, I can’t really decide as the shame and exhilaration of the event has yet to wear off. 

9 hours.  That’s how long I stood in line at the Eaton Center waiting for the new iPhone 4.  Stop hating, cease your judgments, we all love apple.  We all want the newest gimmick, we all want a computer that doesn’t require night school to operate, and we all want Steve Jobs to keep dominating the world so that we can keep buying cool stuff. 

After the first 2 hours I was feeling pretty good.  I was confident in my decision, I was proud to be there, taking action towards getting something I wanted, no… needed.  I wasn’t alone either; there were 48 people ahead of me…ya, I counted.  We were all there with a common goal, a common dream.  It felt good to be united.

Then the mall opened.  People started filtering in, and I began to wonder how bad it looked that I was wearing my pajamas and standing in a line that seemed to go nowhere. But you know what? They can’t judge me! They’re here pretty damn early too, and all they want to do is shop.  I’m no different.  But there was something off about these people; they were carrying briefcases, they had their morning coffee, they were wearing nylons and sneakers and seemed to be walking with purpose.  Oh no…the mall was a short cut to their office, they weren’t shopping at all! I started to sweat a bit, I felt judgmentally uncomfortable.

“What’s this line for?” they would ask, a look of skepticism on their faces.  I played it cool with a toss of my hair and answered “iPhone 4” like that would unlock all the mysteries of the world and we would be instant facebook friends.  Their skepticism turned into pity and I began to hate the apple store employee who denied my request for putting bags over our heads.  

Then the questions turned into “how long have you been here?”  This made my sweating turn into the shakes.  Why was I afraid to admit to my commitment, my passion for new stuff! I was ashamed, I was embarrassed, I was standing in the same spot for way too freakin long!!

The fluorescent lights began wearing me down, the same song was playing for the 6^th time in lululemon, I saw apple employees go for lunch, come back from lunch, go for their break, go home!

Then, as the 14^th person questioned my time commitment to all things electronic, I entered a state of complete shut down.  I lay shaking and crying on the floor, begging for a new phone so I could just leave the questioning and judgmental madness that was The Mall.  Then, I began to imagine alternative events that could have taken place in the same amount of time that I had been standing there. 

1)    Drive to Quebec.  This is the worst drive ever. Probably the same amount of boring as standing in line, but at least I would be sitting.

2)    Fly to Vancouver and back. I wouldn’t want to give Westjet the satisfaction.  Plus, I hate peeing in those bathrooms.

3)    Watch the entire Godfather trilogy from start to finish.  Amazing alternative, and I could have used some gangster energy on some of those nagging idiots questioning me.

4)    Make $76.50 at my job.  That’s disgusting. I’d rather be in line.

5)    Learn, memorize and perform the Vagina Monologues.  You may question my abilities to do so, but I can fit an incredible amount of useless crap in my brain.

6)    Translate the entire score of Le nozze di Figaro.  Uuuhhgg. If you’re a singer, you know how gross that prospect is.

7)    Get really drunk, sober up, and get drunk again.  Hhhhmmmm, do they serve booze in the mall?

After an agonizing amount of time, I finally reached the end of the line.  I made it.  I did it! I conquered all obstacles and the prize at the end is a brand new sparkling iPhone 4!!

Then the sales clerk told me I should have called my provider first to find out if I was eligible to upgrade.  Cause I wasn’t.  That would be $750.00 please.

Who really needs a new iPhone anyways?