Who Shot Will Sasso?

Got a call yesterday from my brother-in-law who is also my accountant.  I took in all my receipts and documentation to do with my income taxes a week or so ago and he's completed my taxation already.  For the first time in years, I'm finally going to get a refund, as opposed to having to pay in.  I guess unemployment has it's perks, although I'd imagine the fifty-two bucks coming my way will be diverted into the outstanding amount owed from four years ago, which I'm thinking is still in the thousands, or something along those lines.

I asked B___ what I owed for doing my taxes and he compassionately told me to simply bring him a coffee with cream.  As I said, unemployment has it's perks.  So I stopped at the nearest Tim Horton's by his office, to assure freshness and temperature, but what a chore that ordering process was.  [Head slap!]

I've voiced my opinions on this subject before and god damn it, I guess I'll be voicing them again.  I feel for any poor f*ck who faces oppression on a day-to-day basis in whatever backward f*cking country they come from, having to flee to the freedoms provided by one of the greatest countries in the world, Canada, but god damn it.  Learn the f*cking language.

It's good that there are people coming into this country who are willing to take those shitty f*cking jobs that no one with a grain of self respect would ever do as a life long vocation.  Flipping doughnuts, schlepping french fries or whatever the f*ck, but damn it!  Learn the language.  If you want to speak your jibberish in the back of the kitchen while preparing salads or cream-filled eclairs, then by all means, do that.  If you're going to work the front counter, then learn the language.  If I, myself, decided one day, "F*ck it!  I'm going to move to Buttf*ckistan."  I'm going to learn to speak Buttf*ckistani, come hell or high water.  I would show the Buttf*ckistanians that much respect.  I wouldn't dream of clumsily selling goat milk with my thick non-Buttf*ckistanian English.  The same should go for here in Canada.

An order that should have taken sixty seconds, at most, to place, took nearly four minutes of my endless failures to comprehend the less-than-broken English of (more consonants than vowels) girl.  I asked for an extra large coffee with cream and got the response, and I'm not exaggerating, "Doo da tray dee dee?"  I assume she asked a question as her tone rose at the end of her garbled speak.  "No," I said, "I want a large co-ffee, with creeeeam."

"Doo da tray dee dee?" she asked, with a look on her face like I was supposed to know what the f*ck she was saying.  "WHAT?" I confusedly responded.  She just smiled and repeated, "Doo da tray dee dee?"  I stared at her blankly...  "I...  I don't know what that means."

"Doo. Da. Tray.  Dee dee?" she said slowly, as if that was going to help.

"I want an extra large coffee with cream." I said.

"Ah." she muttered, and I swear I saw a light coming on.

"Oh good," I said, "I thought I was going to have to shoot myself in the head over that."

"Oh.  You want shot o assass-oh?"

"What?!" I charged, "Who shot Will Sasso?"

"No. You want shot o assass-oh!"

"WHAT?!?" I just stared at her, as she stupidly smiled back at me.  Truly a living example of: The lights are on, but nobody's home.  Dumb as f*ck!!

The one thing that stupidity has that I would consider to be a good trait is; Stupidity is colour-blind.  In fact, stupidity is affirmative action.  Stupidity, for all intense purposes, accepts people of all colours, cultures, creeds, and etcetera.  No matter what background you come from, whether you're a camel jockey from Kuwait or a race car driver in Milan or that Ivy League professor in Connecticut, you all possess the possibility of being painfully stupid*.

I don't know what the solution is to all this.  I wish there were a simple vaccine that people could get shot in their asses, that would vanquish stupidity forever, but until that day comes, I'm afraid all of us, myself included, are going to have to grow thicker skins in order to deal with these stupid f*cking people, whether they are domestic or imported.  In the meantime, maybe we need support groups.  A weekly meeting where us normal people can meet up for tea and cookies and a sympathetic shoulder to lean on while we talk out the idiocies that we're forced to contend with on a daily basis.

I did, finally, get my order.  Like I said, it took way longer than it needed to have taken, and it was finally because (more-consonants-than-vowels) girl finally handed me off to another bloke.  His English was atrocious, as well, but at least he was smart enough (barely) to take my order, accurately, and send me on my way.

.

Side Note: (*I met a college professor once, who was highly decorated with all kinds of diplomas and certificates.  He had a brand new car, which was failing miserably.  The cause was no oil.  He'd run the car for a couple of years, never changing the oil or even checking it or anything of the sort.  Then one day, he turned the key and the engine had seized up on him and he couldn't figure out why.  No oil,  stupid!!)

Number Two Ain't No Shit

F*CK!  I love that word.  I use that word frequently, though when written [typed], I do choose to censor it by substituting the U with an asterisk (*).  However, saying the F-word, "F*CK", seems gratifying.  Not only that, but I love the versatility of the word "f*ck".  It can be a noun, verb, adjective, or my personal favourite, almost every word in a sentence: "F*ck the f*cking f*ckers!"  It's many uses is covered in an online parody found on YouTube, it's origins are unknown, but who really gives a f*ck? It's f*ckin' funny as all hell. [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSEXgQ58AoM]

In all it's genius, the word "f*ck" tends to offend many people, especially the plethora of bible-thumping folks that I work with.  I don't know why, I'm almost pretty sure the word pre-dates Christ, himself.  As if he never screamed out "F*ck!" when they were hammering spikes through his hands at his crucifixion.  I know if it were me, I would've had a few choice words to share, but I digress.  It is only for these few people (at work) that I make the sacrifice and avoid the excessive usage of the F-word.  More for the avoidance of judgemental looks and alike.  Unfortunately, in the avoidance of uttering this word, I find I'm unable to truly be myself, and THAT kinda f*ckin' sucks.

As much as I love to voice the F-word, loudly and proudly, believe it or not, it is not my most favourite word in the English language.  My favourite, may come as a shock to some.  My most favourite word to use is: EXTRAVAGANZA!!!  It's just fun to say, especially when really emphasized, ex-TRAVA-GAN-za.  My daily life doesn't require it's use very often, which may be why I enjoy the word so much.  It's not common and it's definitely not run-of-the-mill.  If I choose to say the word, it's for something truly special, and I don't have many of those days either.

So that was my number one word, and f*ck was my number two.  That is.., until recently.  A few short days ago, I came to realize that there was a new number two.  F*ck had been pushed back to third place.  A bronze f*cking medal.  The new silver recipient was tremendous.

Actually, that IS the word, number two on my list: TREMENDOUS.  I've used it for years, often describing a mishap involving myself.  Like an injury I sustained a couple years ago, from a fall which had me land with a 'tremendous thud', all the way to the present when I last had a migraine forcing me to miss work; "I woke up this morning with a tremendous headache which requires heavy medication..."

On the way home from work, I tried to round out my top five favourite words, but I found myself unable to do so.  I love the word FREE, but I can't decide if it's the word itself that I'm enamoured with or the concept, because I really do love free shit!  I also like the word 'motherf*cker', but can't decide if that should be included with 'f*ck', as it IS a variation of the word 'f*ck'...  I wish there were some kind of verbal guru I could enlist to help guide me in shaping my Top 5 words.

Even now...  I sit back, hands clasped behind my head, looking up into the corner of the room, I can't think of any other words.  Maybe I only have a top three.  Bah.  F*ck it!  Who really gives a shit?!?

Porn Score and Seven Years Ago

Porn score and seven years ago.... Erk!!!  Actually that's not what I wanted to speak out about.  Although, one of the funniest things I ever came across in a record store was a compilation CD for the most popular porn music from the 1970s and 80s.  I never purchased it, of course, but just the thought that there was a demand for a movie soundtrack to be produced, always amused me some.  As if up to that point in time, people just watched porn to listen to the outstanding musical score.

Earlier, this afternoon when I was departing from work after a long, well-worked day, I was passed by one of the hundreds of Filipinos who are currently in the employ of the company that I work for too.  He was walking briskly with one hand over one ear and clenched a cell phone tightly in the other.  The conversation he was having was either a heated argument, or he was very passionate about the subject matter.  I couldn't understand a single word, as he was speaking in his native tongue.

I tend not to walk at a very fast pace.  I'm more a fan of moseying.  Being excited to leave at the end of the day, isn't lost on me, I just choose to relax a little more when walking out to my vehicle.  This unidentified Filipino, though, was in a hurry.  As he whisked by me, I overheard some of what he was saying.  It all sounded like gibberish, to me, but like I said, he was very animate about this conversation.  I swear to all that I hold dear to me, he uttered the following words, "Bow-Chicka-Bow-Bow".  I don't know what the f*ck that was but either something was lost in the translation or he was getting ready to shoot an amateur porno.  I doubt it was the latter, as Asians (and I'm sure Filipinos can be included), have tiny dicks.  Nobody wants to watch a dirty movie, if the guy has a tooth pick dangling between his thighs.  A tree trunk in a guys pants can be quite overwhelming and discouraging, too, sure but needle dicks?  Nah, I don't think so.

My point being is...:  How do you consider "Bow-chicka-bow-bow" a legitimate language?  They should simply abandon this language.  In fact, ANY language that sounds similar to (or exactly like) porn music, should be abandoned they way ancient languages had been discarded hundreds or even thousands of years ago!!

Chinese, Japanese, Korean and all points in between, sound like the bells ringing off in a f*ckin' pinball machine, drop the f*ckin' language.  If you're from the middle east and your language sounds like someone throwing up or trying desperately to clear their throat, then lose the f*cking language.  If your language sounds like the background music to Ron Jeremy tearing up some poor unsuspecting woman in a 1970s adult flick, then lose the f*cking language.  Even French is a stupid language.  It sounds like the gibberish people say to babies, thinking the child will find it cute and not think you're an idiot.

Someone gave me shit, once upon a time, on Facebook, when I said he lived in a Third World Country.  "I from Spain!!" he typed in reply, adding some mismanaged, poorly executed profanity.  This is when I stated to all of the Facebook world, and now I share this with all of you fine readers, after which, you'll think about it and realize that it's true.

ANY COUNTRY WHERE ENGLISH
IS NOT THE PRIMARY LANGUAGE, I CONSIDER TO BE
 A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY. 

English is such an awesome language.  Granted, it's probably the most difficult to learn as there are so many words that describe the same f*cking thing.  Then again, by using only one single term or phrase to describe an item or description, is pretty f*cking boring.  The written word is so much better too, not to mention easier to understand.  Unlike that tic-tac-toe looking shit that the Asians use for communication or the squiggly lines that the middle east uses.  That's probably why middle easterners are so angry and bombing shit all the time.  No one can understand their shit.

Everyone just need to relax.  Kick back with a cold one, listen to some Rosetta Stone or hit the books.  It's been said that if you listen to some relaxing instrumental music, that learning becomes easier.  I don't know how well it works with porn music playing in the background.

Language Lessons

I'M MOVING!!!  Packing up my shit, tucking my cat under my arm and f*cking off!!!  Getting the f*ck outta here, man.  Damn straight.  I'm grabbing a globe.  I'm going to spin the f*ck out of it, then jab my finger down on it.  Where my finger lands, that's where me and my cat, Monkey, are going to call home!!!

Actually...  I'm not really moving.  I can't think of anywhere I'd rather live than here in Toontown.  Maybe if I had one of my dream jobs, I'd consider another location to call home, but here in reality, I'm staying put.

If I was going to move away, off to a far off land..., let's say Fucktopia.  You'd be god damned sure that I'd learn the language.  The absolute basics of the Fucktopian language, at the very least.  Hello's.  Good-bye's.  Where's the f*ckin' bank?  Police.  Doctor.  As well as, basic sentences and phrases.  .

For example:  If I were working in a factory setting and a fellow came along and asking assistance in lifting and moving something too heavy for one fella to handle, I'd hope to understand enough to help the poor bastard out, instead of standing there with my dick in my hand, smiling like a retard, nodding and repeating "Hi!"  I think it's necessary to have, at least a basic grasp of the language used by those who reside where you choose to reside.  It's only respectful for those around you..

Let me clarify this more clearly.  I'm employed at a local factory that produces farm implements.  A majority of those employed at the facility are of Filipino decent.  Fresh off the boat, brought here to Toontown, specifically for employment here.  A fairly large percentage of those immigrated folk, can't even speak a lick of English, which makes working along side of some of them rather frustrating.

The facility, where I'm employed, is split into two plants.  An east plant and a west plant, each producing a different implement or two.  Today, a fella from the east plant was ill and I was instructed to go over and cover for some of his duties, one of which was to transport a rack into the assembly line and transfer emptied paint racks from the stand to the rack.  Some of the paint racks are small and light enough to handle alone, but most of the others are really f*cking heavy and require two people to lift and carry them.

The first few were fine.  I'd drive along side of the stands and pop each side onto the rack.  Others though... Wow.  Un-f*cking-believable, how heavy these things were.  So I walked up to one of the workers standing there, staring off into space and asked, "Hi!  Could I borrow you for a second to help me move this rack, please?"  To which the daydreaming foreigner smiled and looked straight at me and answered, "Hi," followed by a long-ass pause, where he continued to smile and nod.

I walked back to the painted rack, thinking he was following behind me.  When I turned, I noticed no one was there and the daydreamer was still standing there smiling and nodding.  "Hi!  Hi!  Hi!"

If this occurred just once, I'd understand.  One lump of shit overlooked in the sandbox, but this happened two more additional times.  Not to sound rude (too late), but I guess I should've looked for a round-eyed f*cker to lend me a hand.

At least these folks had the decency to smile.  Some of the Filipino folks in the west plant just stand there and stare at you like you have a piece of snot caught in your beard.  Giving you, almost, a look of total disgust.  As if I were the one who just stepped off the boat.  Even people who've been here, in Canada, for a decade or two, can't speak any of the language.  How stupid is that?!

Comedian, Andrew "Dice" Clay once said: "If you can't speak the language, get the f*ck out of the country!!"  More truer words have never been uttered by anyone before or since then...

Language Barrier

I should have known that Thursday was going to be a f*cked up day at work, when I jumped up at 5:31am, in a panic, thinking I was late for work.  I'd already gotten one sock on my foot before I realized that I had an entire hour before I had to depart for work.

For the most part, my day was relatively routine.  I got out to my primary work area and was greeted with a horrific mess left by the previous night's crew and the "burn-off" idiot from that morning.

I drive a fork lift for a industrial-type factory here in the city.  At the current time, I am covering for a fella who's off with a nasty back injury that required surgery.  What the job entails is placing steel racks onto carts for the assembly/paint line at the industrial factory in where I am currently employed.  The emptied racks, once depleted of the parts they hold, must go to a fiery furnace to have the paint removed from the racks.  It's an easy process which is complicated in it's explanation.  Suffice it to say, the guy who works the burn off area, is as a fellow worker described as a "dip-shit".  And this dip-shit, causes me grief on an almost daily basis.  However, he is not what made this day stupid.  It was the communication with one or two other people.

The plant in which I work, employs a great deal of people of the Filipino persuasion.  What I find odd about these folks, is the fact that they come from a Sovereign State of South East China, they all have Mexican-type names, but can't speak a lick of Spanish.  It's all that ping-pong wing-wong shit.  That isn't a language!  Those are sounds from a vintage pinball machine.  What's even more f*cked up is, a majority of these folks, can't pronounce the letter 'F'.  The very same sounding consonant that starts the country of their origin.  The afore mentioned dip-shit, can't even pronounce my name.  Always calling me "JEPP".  Who the f*ck is Jepp?

Believe it or not!  I don't have that much of a problem communicating with the Filipino workers.  Granted I don't speak to the masses, but instead a few strategically placed folks.  The people I have a problem speaking to, are the people of the caucasian persuasion.  The older white guys who were born and raised right here in Canada, where English is their primary language, but you'd never know it because the order in which they speak certain words, totally confuses the f*ck out of me.

For example, this grey-haired guy flagged me down yesterday and kindly asked me if I'd pick up a heavy steel instrument from outside and bring it to his stall inside.  I gladly agreed, always eager to help, and asked where he was.  

"I'm right across from where they're building those great big tanks." he said.  I knew exactly the tanks to which he was referring and quickly picked up the tool with my fork lift and traveled down to the stall across from those giant tanks that were being built.  Once there, I asked the grey-haired fellow where he'd like it.  The man just stared at me and told me he didn't know what I was talking about.  

"You just asked me to bring this down to you, like two minutes ago."  As it turned out, it wasn't the same guy.  For some reason, in this general area, there's about three different old f*ckers, all with the same shitty haircut and all with same shitty salt-n-pepper 1970's porn mustaches, thus confusing the hell outta me.  Eventually, I found the guy, who didn't have the stall across from the big tanks being built, but was beside the giant tanks.  I tried to explain his error, "You said across, which would indicate that there was some sort of barrier that divided you from the tanks.  Like a river.  Or shrubbery.  A field or in this case, the roadway..."  My words were futile.  He just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language.  What a dumb-ass.

Today, the same thing occurred.  There were some carts outside with shiny red painted parts on them.  This guy, who's name I'll change to protect innocent...  Let's call him DICK!  Come's up to me and asks, "When you have a spare moment, can you bring in those painted parts for me?"  I thought it odd, being he is a welder, but what the f*ck?  He apparently knows what he's talking about.  So I bring in the two carts of painted parts and park them in his stall.  About five minutes later, he storms up to me and demands I remove these painted parts.  "You don't put painted parts in a weld stall!" he said forcefully, to which I replied, "You told me..., 'When [I] had a moment, could I bring the painted parts in to you."  

"Well I meant to take them over to R___."  She's located on the far side of the west plant, in which I currently work in.  

"If you'd have said that, I would have, but YOU said 'bring them in to YOU'."  (In my world, when someone requests that something be brought to them, it literally means: Taking that item and bringing it to that person.  It does not mean: Taking [said] item and shuffle it off to whomever.

"Well I meant for you to take them to R___!" he repeated, adding more force to his tone.

"You should've said that then." I answered, unwilling to take any shit.

"You know what I meant."

"I can't read minds.  You should say what you mean." I quickly answered and leaving the matter at that.

My biggest frustration in life, is why it seems those who are to speak English most fluently, seem to f*ck it up the most?  Some days I just want to scream and pull my hair out when dealing with these dumb-ass people...

Perhaps it's my own fault, though.  Over the years, since leaving high school, I've tried to perfect my speech and use of the English language.  I've improved myself so much so, that a few years ago I was tested on my speech, reading comprehension and writing.  The result was scoring in the top twenty-one percentile for my age group.  Which was explained to me as my being "smarter" (that's debatable, I suppose) than 79% of the people in my age group.  I can't help but wonder, where I'd score in comparison to the age group of older grey-haired f*cks with 70's porn-style mustaches...?