It's Not The Heat

It's the cacophony.

It's gotta be age. It's gotta be getting older that's made me less tolerant of certain things, like bullshit, onions, and noise.

I don't remember being so annoyed by noise when I was younger. But I drank a lot in college, so there's much I don't remember.

All week it's been one noisy assault after another and I'm ready to buy a high-powered rifle.

There's a house next door that's been under renovation since before I got here last year. It looks perfectly fine from the outside, but they've been slowly tearing its insides apart and putting it back together, one screw at a time, for an entire year. They must charge by the month.

Most of the work has been fairly quiet - pickup trucks coming & going, large trucks delivering appliances, nothing too disruptive. Then this week began Monster Renovation Week!!!

On Monday they brought out a power washer to strip the old paint off the front steps. A power washer so loud, it sounded like they were in my house power washing the shower.

In the backyard, another guy was running the weed eater. This went on for hours. Around noontime I walked over to ask how much longer I would be without the ability to hear myself think.

Power Washer Guy claimed to not know English. He walked me to the backyard to talk to Weed Eater Guy. WEG translated and mercifully, PWG said he'd only need about 20 more minutes on the front steps. Then WEG said after that, they'd have to do the back deck. Fucking hell.

It's the decibels and the endless onslaught and the constant RAWRR of the generator as he revs it up and down. It echoes off of every other house on the street - it's everywhere and it never ends.

I get it - the guy has a job to do. But would it be the *worst* thing to WORK QUICKLY with the goddamm head-rattling machine? He was moving at a glacial pace, happy to power wash the goddamm stairs all goddamm day.

They finally finished about an hour later and I was able to relax. It was quiet for a while until people started to get home from work.

I guess because it usually rains all the time, whenever it's not raining, people flock outside to do yardwork while they can. Every day it's not raining. Every goddamm dry afternoon you hear the goddamm lawn mowers, weed eaters, hedge clippers and leaf blowers start up all over the goddamm neighborhood. They keep going until it's dark, about five hours later. Every goddamm day.

If you're trying to watch the news or listen to the radio while enjoying a cool evening breeze from an open window, forget it. Might as well throw some marbles into your blender & fire it up.

Day after day, it's been one noisy project after another. Wednesday morning's wake up call was at 7:30 a.m. with what sounded like boulders being pitched into a giant dumpster.

So, so, SO annoyed, I screamed out the window, "IT'S NOT EVEN 8 O'CLOCK YET!" and it went quiet. It stayed quiet until 8 a.m. on the dot, and then the boulder pitching began again.

Later when I went out to run errands I saw they were tearing off the old roof to replace it. Awesome.

We endured More Boulder Pitching Thursday and then this morning began Electric Nail Gun Friday. The best part? They had to use our power for the nail gun.

New Roofer Guy came over early this morning just before 8 a.m. to sheepishly ask if he could "borrow" some power for a few hours because they blew the circuit yesterday.

Feeling generous, I told him he'd have to ask our landlord downstairs. She's usually not up until after 9 or 10 on her day off, so I thought she'd enjoy an early start to her day. She must have said yes, because the nail gun was rat tat tatting moments later.

If it's not one neighbor it's another making all sorts of goddamm noise and I don't understand why they have to do it so goddamm often. Is it because hockey season is over?

They All Grunt a Little

Woke up to very dark, overcast skies this morning so I crawled back into bed after feeding the lions.

I tried to sleep in but was already too awake, so I watched a little "Breakfast Television" - a local TV news show on Vancouver's CityTV.

Never tuned in before this morning. I hope someone else was watching.

The hosts are chatty and bubbly and annoying and at one point they were talking about female tennis players that grunt and make a lot of noise when they play.

They cut to the guy who's supposed to be the serious news anchor, supposedly a tennis fan, to help name some noisy players, and he says in all seriousness, "They all grunt a little after smoking the ball."

They cut back to the bubbly hosts - one was holding her head in her hands and her co-host sat staring into the camera wearing a frozen grin, unable to react to what had just been said on live TV.

They cut to a split screen with the hosts and the serious news anchor who desperately tried to distract us all from what he'd just said by babbling on about tennis as the hosts sat silently waiting for him to stop.

Thankfully, it was time to show us the clogged roads. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's show.

I Remember...

...I'm radioactive. - Steve Martin

We're in the thick of hairball season here in PoCo. Almost every day we find a large, slick, fuzzy casting in the middle of the floor/rug/carpet/hallway. The collection is impressive. They really soak up the varnish nicely.

What I really need is a house with all-tile floors and drains every few feet or so and a fire hose. I suppose that would mean having all plastic furniture. The static electricity in the winters would be brutal. Maybe rubber instead. Or silicone. Stain-free, odor-free, fire hoseable furniture. I like it.

Ooh, but the electronics... OK, all-tile floors with drains and a fire hose, all silicone furniture and electronics housed in waterproof, deep-sea-worthy cabinets. The walls we could paint with marine paint over Tyvek-coated wall board.

Here's a random solicitor for you... the other day I hear a gentle tap at the door, a friendly, sounds-like-your-neighbor-just-popping-by-for-a-quick-chat sort of quiet knock, so I go to the door & open it up only to see a somewhat frazzled-looking guy I've never seen around here before.

He's standing back from the door a few feet, which is good I think, because I don't know who the hell he is or what he wants, and he starts telling me, in a shaky, quiet voice, how he's run out of gas and his bank card isn't working, and might I have any bottles I could donate?

This is when I couldn't be happier about having lived in downtown Oakland and the TenderNob, where I wore a constant, stony expression of barely-restrained homicidal rage and almost-suicidal indifference. This is the face I wear every time I open that door.

Before he'd finished his ridiculous question I blurted out No and shut the door.

Any *bottles* I could donate? How are you going to get all these bottles you're asking for to the recycling center to get those shiny nickels to pay for a litre of gas when you've RUN OUT of gas?

Did he go to every house on the block with this idiotic story? Do most people in these parts say Oh sure and leave the door open while they go about collecting bottles and cans for the drifter at the door? Does he think I don't watch TV and know just about every trick in the book to gain entry into someone's house?

Wellllll mister, I do! I DO watch WAY too much TV and I don't care if you're bleeding out your eyes and have asked me for a tissue. Piss off! Don't make me get my bat! I'll give you something to cry about! Now get off my property! Well, actually, we're renting. Good luck with the recycling!

NOW I Get It

Sometimes I tune into Canadian News, especially when I want to really relax before getting some sleep.

I walked through the room as they were chatting about the deficit Canada is racking up, referring to Canada as a "banana republic."

Hadn't heard that in reference to Canada before, so I Googled "Canada banana republic" and found a number of results (after scrolling through the Gap-related links) to news articles where Canada is frequently referred to as a banana republic for myriad reasons.

Now it's all making sense. Soon after we got here I had to take my car to Canadian Tire to get the Provincial inspection for registration and insurance. I wore my red Banana Republic t-shirt - the one that says "Banana Republic" on it in white letters.

It's a great shirt. I like wearing it and have often worn it when taking care of Canada-related business, like when I've had to go down to Customs, or ICBC, or the Social Insurance office. I figured wearing red might subconsciously help me get better service. Funny, eh? But seriously, I think it works.

But as I was leaving the auto shop that day, the manager sarcastically called over to me, "You know, I HAVE been out of the republic before!" and I smiled and said "Great!" not knowing WTF he was talking about.

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Now I'm going to wear that t-shirt everywhere.

Get Off My Lawn

What IS it with kids these days!? [Fogey Alert, but not really.]

Yesterday evening I had to pick up David from the train station, which requires timing it just right so I'm not waiting at the station forever, but I never want to be late, and then there's rush hour traffic... which means I never know exactly when to leave and I always end up rushing out of the house afraid I'm going to be late.

I had just gotten up from the computer to start the rush to get ready & run out the door when I heard the doorbell followed by a friendly knock. I though it must be our downstairs neighbor, so I was happy to answer and delay my departure for a few minutes.

I opened the door with my wallet, phone and keys in-hand to see two teenage boys standing there with binders in their hands. Fantastic.

Now, the door has a very obvious NO SOLICITING sign on it and to anyone with half a brain cell, it would appear that I am about to leave the house. But still, I cheerfully said, "Hi, what can I do for you?"

Boy #1 began his pitch, talking slowly, his voice shaking, telling me he's going to start dropping off a new, free newspaper next week so he can get credits that will go toward tuition at UBC next year. I told him I thought that was great, and then he interrupted me to tell me that he would just need me to cover the cost for weekend delivery.

I stopped him and asked, "So, you're selling me something, yes?" He emphatically said he wasn't, that he "didn't need any loonies or twonies today." I repeated the question in another way, explaining that if he's standing at my door, asking me to give any money to anyone or anything at any time, that's selling something, and the sign on my door means you cannot come here and try to sell me something. Don't come here at all, really, unless I've asked you to.

He became annoyed and tried to convince me that he was not selling anything, saying, "most of the houses in this neighborhood were built with those [signs], and it was probably there before you moved in."

Whoa, Betty, WHAT? WHAT the WHAT?

I laughed and told him maybe so, but I'd put the sign on the door myself, and if he's going to houses with those signs, he's not respecting the homeowners' wishes, which won't help him in his endeavors.

He continued to argue with me about this as I said "No thanks" and shut the door on him. I was amazed. I've done door-to-door sales, I know it's a shitty job, but his unabashed rudeness was incredibly irritating. Who does that?

If he does end up at UCB one day, he's going to need special classes, but I suspect he's going to end up at Horton's making the doughnuts.

ICBC = Imbecile C*nts Buggering Canada

(She's smiling now, but this ICBC customer is about to be in a great deal of pain.)

Just when I think I don't have much to complain about, a letter arrives from ICBC giving all sorts of purpose to my day.

ICBC - the Insurance Corporation of British Columbia - is the province-mandated auto insurance in ol' Skittish Cenophobia. There are no other insurance companies you can choose to buy your basic coverage from. It's run by the province and there is no consumer advocate/oversight. They charge whatever they want and you get to bend over and take it.

It's the most blatant racket I've ever seen wit mine own eyes. Criminal, really.

I've talked about the exorbinant cost before - we pay twice here what we paid in Alameda, and that's with a 40% discount. Think about that for a moment.

We used to pay about $1,600 a year to insure both cars in Alameda for typical coverage & a fair amount of driving each year. Thankfully, we've had no at-fault claims and Alameda is considered fairly safe.

Here, I'm paying $1,600 to insure my car and David's coverage is running about $1,500/year. Port Coquitlam's biggest crime problem is trashcan-raiding bears and we each drive about 50 miles a month, usually less. (They don't know I like to drive back & forth to California & Seattle as often as I can.)

We each get a 40% "good driver" discount. That means we've had continuous coverage for at least the past eight years and have had no claims during that time.

Without that discount my total bill alone for the year would be just under $2,500. For a '98 Volvo station wagon I drive to Costco twice a month. When I've asked why the rates are so high, they cheerfully smile and say "I'm not sure..."

No one seems to care that they're getting totally reamed by the government. There's no protest, no inquiry, no investigation. Everyone just willingly takes it up the ass and keeps taking it. WTF is up with that? Sound familiar? IRS?


Definitely - building trust. A big pile of trust. A big stinking pile.

I recently got a letter from ICBC letting me know my claims experience letter from USAA would only qualify me for a 35% discount. Why? The verbiage isn't quite right. The verbiage that they specifically requested be in the letter. Now it's not correct.

This morning I called ICBC to make sure they received the NEW letter from USAA that said exactly what they told me it should say THIS time. Got yet another rep who told me it's still not quite right.

It's a different mouth-breather every time with a different complaint about the letter. Had to call USAA for the twelfth time and ask for yet another letter that might appease these blood-sucking morons.

Now I get to wait and find out if this new letter will work. To date, I've had to have USAA issue at least six different letters saying basically the same thing in myriad ways to satisfy ICBC.

These are the things that make me want to soak the bat in linseed oil and use it on the brain donors at corporate. See how much more of a discount I can get that way.

Fun stories about ICBC:

• ICBC admits snooping into juror's private files
• ICBC rigs car auctions for its employees' benefit
• And they sell salvaged cars without disclosing them as such!
  
• ICBC changes renewal policy but doesn't tell customers - oopie!
• A whole website to help people battle ICBC
• ICBC makes $500 MILLION dollar PROFIT! Yay!
• Optional coverage company slams ICBC's fishy biz practices

UPDATE June 3, 2009:
I finally got a letter from the ICBC imbeciles - this last letter from USAA did the trick and my 40% discount was reinstated & retroactively applied.

I even got a reply to the email I sent to Premier Campbell (from his office, anyway) about dissolving the ICBC monopoly and letting other insurance companies compete for basic coverage in BC. I'm sure it won't happen anytime soon, but I expected No Reply. It's a small but meaningful victory. Thanks, Canaduh.

The Local Rag

We get a couple of free local papers chucked onto our stoop every week. They're the perfect size for lining Henry's cage and occasionally have an interesting article or two, usually about bear maulings or gang violence. Sometimes gangs of violent bears.

I recently found a crossword puzzle in one of them. Always a sucker for a crossword, I started ripping out those pages before using the rest for cage liner.

Imagine my disappointment when working one of these puzzles yesterday I found clues such as:
4. Not good. Answer: "bad" I shit you not.
35. Not high. Yup. Answer: "low" Still not shitting you.

Even worse:
50. P_____: bird resting place. You're going to be angry - you will. Answer: "erch" What. The. Fuck.
24. Ca_____: Waterfall. Answer: "scade" Scade? Let's go scading!
58. ___bo: Latin dance. Answer: "mam" At this point I'm ready to jab my pen into my neck.

Still worse:
64. Electromagnetic force. Now, this one seems like a challenge - what might this force be? I'm going to have to look this up in my crossword dictionary, or maybe even the interweb... No. No need. Answer: "EMF" What the WHAT?

Yet more worser:
16. Soluble ribonucleic acid. Answer: "SRNA"
20. Liquified natural gas. Answer: "LNG"
14. Superhigh frequency. Answer: "SHF"

Then they throw in this:
18. Lips. Answer: "labia" This seems wrong. I don't want labia in my crossword.

Like a bad movie, I'm going to stick with it to see what amazing clues await me in future puzzles. [sigh.]

Catching Lies

I've been through customs a few times in the last month, twice in the car at the Pac Highway Truck Crossing and once in YVR. Every time I have to pass through I get nervous and wonder what I'll be asked and what I'll answer.

I've never been detained or harassed by CBP, so I don't know why I get anxious, but I do. I speak only when spoken to and I offer no extraneous information. I make some eye contact but I don't stare. I try to appear casual and relaxed even though I'm acutely aware of every move and twitch I'm making.

It probably has a little something to do with having been arrested many years ago for a minor traffic violation. I would have registered my car when it was due had I been able to afford it, but I let it lapse because I could barely pay my rent back then. I got a fix-it ticket for expired tags and when I didn't get that taken care of, the county of Santa Clara issued a bench warrant. For expired tags.

The next time I was pulled over - for expired tags - they looked up the warrant and took me in, in handcuffs, in the back of the cruiser. For expired tags. If I couldn't afford to register my car, I sure as hell couldn't afford to make bail. So I sat in the county lockup for about eight hours until they processed me out. For expired tags.

I guess that "learned me" that at any time, for seemingly ridiculous reasons, Johnny Law can clap your ass in handcuffs and haul you away. I'm sure back then I realized it was possible I could have been taken to jail for failure to pay the fine, but I didn't believe it would actually happen. Turns out it can! Who knew? This is what can happen in a small town without any real crime.

Anyway, when crossing the border into the US, the CBP is all business - very serious - and they ask a fair amount of questions: "Where do you live?" "What brought you to Canada?" "What kind of video games?" "What titles have you shipped?" "What systems?"

Those questions were for David when he was with me recently on a day trip to Seattle. Later I asked David why they asked so many questions about games/his job - he said they're trying to catch you in a lie.

I told David, if my passport & work permit have certain information, my story is going to support all that information, down to the last detail, true or fiction. Do they really expect to catch anyone by asking a bunch of easy questions? As George Costanza said, It's not a lie if you believe it.

Going down last Thursday, I got the standard battery, where do I live, where am I going, and what's in the box. They almost always ask what's in the box, which first makes me think of Gwyneth Paltrow's head, but then I remember they mean the cargo box on top of the car.

Coming back into Canada, first of all, there are no radiological scanners and all they ask is how long you've been away and if you're bringing any booze or cigarettes into the country. Sometimes you'll be asked if you're bringing more than $10,000 across the border, to which I always want to answer I wish! but I don't want to push my luck.

This last time I returned to Canadia, CBSA asked me if I was a PR. A Personal Record? No. Person of Record? Not sure... Took me a second to figure that out, but then I answered no, temporary resident on a work permit.

He asked me how long I'd been away and if I'd brought anything back with me. I said I'd gone down for the day and brought back a mug and a t-shirt. He said Have a nice night and sent me on my way.

I felt like the biggest idiot. I had a bag of Trader Joe's groceries on the floor in the back that COULD have been a bag full of booze. Blerg.

Definitely Back in PoCo

shot of vancouver from the plane - looks yummy, eh?

Traveling can cause you to lose track of the days, especially when you've had a busy two weeks in a different climate or environment.

I knew I was in BC on a Friday afternoon today when on the way to the store, I saw a guy up ahead of me in the bike lane on a very slow moped. I could have run faster than he was putt-putting along.

He had what looked to be large, white plastic packages or bags across his lap – big, awkward looking things – they looked kinda heavy, too. I wondered if the weight of his packages was what was slowing him down – he was going that slowly.

As I got closer, I saw that he had two large BC Liquor Store bags hanging on each arm – four really big bags, total. Starting off the weekend right, PoCo style.

At the grocery store, the checker couldn’t get one of my things to scan. She started typing numbers into the system, not looking at the screen. I saw “Nutrition Consult… $25.00” come up on my tab as she went on scanning the rest of my stuff.

When she finished I asked her about the Nutrition Consult and she started explaining that they have a consultant who, if I want her to, will take me all around the store and show me products that can help me live a healthier lifestyle. I said that sounded great, then asked her why she was charging me $25 for it on my tab. She hadn’t realized she’d typed that in.

I'm repacking my duffel bag.

Back To Reality

Flew back to PoCo today and while I tried to check in online the day before, Alaska's website said No.

So, I had to check in at the counter, which was OK, as I thought that might prevent me from forgetting to check my bulging 75lb duffel bag. No way would that thing sneak through security.

I hefted my bag onto the scale and the nice agent read the result - 64lbs. I left a couple of pairs of shoes and some clothes in Alameda, but not enough... 14lbs overweight.

She told me, "It's overweight, do you have something to put it in?"
"Put it in?" I answered? My stupidity? The tequila? "Put WHAT in?"
"The extra 14lbs - do you have something you can put it in?"
I'm thinking, Like what? Do you see an empty bag materializing before our eyes?

I told her no, I knew the bag was overweight and I would just have to pay the overage fee. $50. Yikes! But, hey, I got away with it on the way down, so it seemed like a fair deal.

On the first plane I had the pleasure of sitting next to a very loud little boy and his louder younger brother. Thankfully, I had the forethought to recharge my iPod the night before. These kids were born without the Inside Voice Gene and their mother was born with poor hearing. Such a pleasure.

A few rows up from me a guy about my dad's age settled into his seat with a fresh copy of the National Enquirer. By the end of the flight, he seemed to be all caught up on Miley Cyrus and the stars of Twilight.

Just before our scheduled departure, two actual A-Holes boarded the flight with large carry ons and complained loudly to each other that they'd have to move some things around [in the overhead bins].

The second flight was uneventful, though tiny prop jets always make me nervous. It just looks like at any moment, it might stop spinning, and down we'll go like a hot rock. I did another crossword and hoped for the best.

Of course, I returned to grey skies and rain. Very funny. It was sunny and warmer in Canada than in Alameda while I was gone. Canada is kind of a bitch.

Leaving Paradise

So, the weather hasn't been ideal this week - high winds, chilly temperatures - even rain & hail in some spots - but after being away for nine months (wow, I just realized, it's like I was sent away to have a baby in secret), I realize Alameda truly is a beautiful bucolic bubble.

I promise I didn't sneak away to have a baby. If I did, I've no idea where I left it or what it's doing.

This week I've been able to enjoy gallons of Peet's at the store up the street (which apparently causes rhyming), get gas at a brand new Safeway station at South Shore (now called Alameda Towne Centre, even though it's nowhere near the actual town center nor is it olde or British), shop at Trader Joe's and a fantastic local market just a couple of blocks from me, see my amazing chiropractor barely a mile north of our house, get good food and wine just up the street, and shop at the brand new Kohl's also at the Towne Centre.

Just 10 minutes away is Rockridge full of great shops & restaurants and just 20 minutes away I can eat tiny pancakes at Sears or, when it's open, which is not on Tuesdays, for reference, get a fantastic breakfast at Dottie's. That's just the tip of the tip of the iceberg of all that can be enjoyed in San Francisco. Then there's Marin County, the Peninsula... so much, all right here.

I know I was excited about moving to Canada and having an adventure, but it wasn't until being back for this visit did I realize how great this area is to live in. Growing up here you can lose perspective.

It's about time to start packing - gotta make sure I can fit my tequila safely in my bag - but I'm procrastinating... I see rain in the forecast for Friday in PoCo. So irritating. More rain and no more Peet's, no more TJ's, no more fabulous chiropractor, no more Sears, no more Dottie's, no more Cumbre green salsa. Fucking LAME.

But, I will get to see my husband, cats and the parrot. I've got that going for me, which is nice. I guess it's time to see how much tequila and Peet's coffee beans I can fit in with my clothes, or how many shirts, pants, etc. will be staying behind.

Coast Crapital Senseless & Lame

I've never hated a bank as much as I hate this piece of shit Canadian "bank." The people are nice enough, but they cannot make a working website to save their hockey-lovin lives.

Sure, maybe I just need to eat lunch and stop yelling PIECE OF SHIT! at my laptop screen - take a moment to calm down, but where's the fun in that!? PIECE OF SHIT! PIECE OF SHIT! PIECE OF SHIT!!!

I try to log in, it appears as if I'm logging in, then the screen refreshes and evidently I have NOT logged in. I'm trying to pay a bill. I would like to pay the bill. But I CANNOT pay the goddamn bill because this PIECE OF SHIT website will not allow me to pay the bill.

This is the banking website that has their online "representative" fucking around at her desk with a man in a gorilla suit behind her. It should be no surprise that their website doesn't work. It's a PIECE OF SHIT.

Yes, my cookies are enabled. Yes, I'm using the highest level of encryption and all that garbage. Other banking sites work fine. It's just THIS ONE that was built by Canadian geese. I would not recommend using Canadian geese to build your website.

Also, why in the world would I want to join this bank on Facebook? Why in the HELL would I follow them on Twitter? Are you fucking KIDDING me? You're a BANK!

How about you try being a BANK instead of fucking around on Facebook and Twitter? Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe you should focus on BEING A BANK? A BANK WITH A WORKING WEBSITE? Take a minute and think it over.

Meanwhile, I'll be using ANOTHER BANK for BANKING business. Take your time, send some tweets, fill out the 50 Things About Coast Crapital. Here, I'll get you started:

1. Were you named after anyone?
Not someone, but some*thing* - crap, as in the slang term for feces. Because we're supposedly near the "coast," we got super clever and called ourselves Coast Crapital. We're called a savings & loan, but we don't want our customers to be able to access their money too easily. We've taken care of that by having just one branch every 400km and we built a website that looks like a website but it's really just a series of linked JPGs.

2. When was the last time you cried?
Is that a human behavior?

3. Do you like your handwriting?
I like everything I do, even if it infuriates our customers and makes our bank look incredibly stupid and inept. Hells yes.

4. What is your favorite lunch meat?
Bologna.

5. If you weren't a bank would you be friends with you?
Not a bank - that's funny. LMAO.

If I could get my hands around your asinine online rep's throat, I'd squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until my money popped out of her eyes and into my lap where I could use it to pay that damn bill. I hate you so much right now.

Update: I sent them an email telling them about the problem and this is the response I received:

Thank you for your Account Product Support inquiry.

This is a technical issue that can likely be fixed. Please call our technical support at 1.877.33.7736.

Even their support system is manned by geese. Awesome.


Update #2: I replied to let them know they'd left out a digit in their tech support number and how much that bolstered my confidence. I also told them I wouldn't be using their online services anymore. Their reply:

Our website does work and if you are having technical problems with it the I would suggest phoning our technical support line. I do apologize about leaving the digit out last time. [can you hear the whiny "it *does* work!"? - hilarious.]

I told them thanks but no thanks. Isn't it neat when a company argues with you about their broken crap? I recommended their developers do a little testing to see what they could find without me spending any more of my time on the problem.

Someone else replied again - it's been a different person every time - to politely ask me to contact their tech support folks. Third time's a charm - no more argument in that message. Someone over there took the Customer Service Basics seminar. I won't respond this time - I've had enough fun for today.

The Truth About Canada

the country with a logo!

Lovely as Canada is, there's probably some stuff you didn't know about this fair land... stuff you might want to know if you're considering moving to the Vancouver area.

#1 - No Trader Joe's. Anywhere. This blows so hard, I'm not sure there are words to describe how much this blows. Food is expensive. Regular, everyday grocery store fare - about twice as pricey. Every time I go to the store I spend at least $50 for about enough food for one meal with a few other things thrown in. The funny thing - there's a Whole Wallet here - just one, in West Vancouver - so if you enjoy paying four or five times more $$ for food, c'mon up & go crazy.

#2 - No good pizza - at least we haven't found any yet. Pizza is not a priority here, but poutine is. [hurl]

#3 - Nobody Yelps. No one cares which restaurants might give you food poisoning or which chiropractors will help you vs. put you in traction. Thanks. Thanks for all the helpful info.

#4 - You can't access most U.S. web content - no Hulu.com, no Pandora, etc. When looking for a fantastic Colbert Report clip, I'm redirected to ctv.ca, which broadcasts Comedy Network content, but the bitches don't post the content online like they do in the States. It's jankity. Bitches.

#5 - Importing a car - see previous posts - jacked, jacked, jacked, jacked, JACKED. Bitches.

#6 - People come to your door. In the past two months two people have come to the door to either give me mail improperly delivered down the street or to ask questions about something pertaining to the house (I couldn't understand the guy - he was mumbling with a very thick French accent.) In Alameda, maybe four people came to the door in seven years. I liked that.

#7 - If you want to update a billing address for a credit card, you have to close the account. Global economy? Hardly.

#8 - Tidy Cats cat litter - the regular stuff - it isn't here. No one carries it. I don't know why. It's what the cats like, but for some reason, the regular ol' Tidy Cats isn't sold here. Other TC products are, but not this. Bitches.

#9 - Tim Horton's - not very good. The coffee tastes like water they collected from the puddles in the parking lot. Tire water. Only the maple-dipped doughnut is tasty. Not sure why they merged with Wendy's, but you can get a cup of chili AND a doughnut in one stop. Blech.

#10 - Health Care - now, we've not yet ventured into this area [knock on wood], but political ads talk about difficulty with finding a doctor, like maybe there aren't enough doctors to go around. I guess we'll see.

#11- Insurance - we have the basic ICBC auto insurance, but people here have additional, private coverage. Is driving here so perilous that you should have insurance on top of insurance? Now I'm worried that even after all the work it's taken to get the basic insurance, it may not be enough.

#12 - Crime - definitely alive and well. Maybe not as *much* murder as in the States, but since we've been here, there have been a few nasty murders, a couple of rapes and lots of petty crime. You can't leave anything in your car of any value, even in the suburbs. And under any circumstances, ladies, you cannot, not ever, follow the sound of a man's voice claiming to need help into the woods of Stanley Park (or any park). It won't end well. You can be a good samaritan, just not in the parks, by yourself. You're better off running into a bear.

#13 - Friendliness - by and large, people are about as friendly as in the Bay Area. There's the occasional butt munch, but overall, people are mellow and congenial - not very different than folks in the Bay Area.

#14 - Cell phone charges - hold on to your f*cking hat. If you have a carrier with good international coverage, it may not be an issue. We had AT&T and when David was first up here using his iPhone, that month's bill was over $400. The roaming data transfer and long distance charges are redonkulous. Even the land-line bill was craptacularly high. You'll want to get the calling card and use that sucker. Then you'll want to ditch the American phone & carrier and get a local plan. I don't text my friends anymore - too spensy.

#15 - "In hospital" - it's weird and I don't like it. "The victim was taken to morgue to be identified." "The man went to restaurant to eat." "The woman went to gas station to fill up." Ass.

#16 - Traffic - it's a bitch. There are a lot of people in this area - it feels just like driving around the Bay Area, sometimes it's worse. They've built a lot of bridges, but they don't have enough lanes or they need more of them. There's only one highway in and out of North Vancouver. Just wait 'til 2010 and millions of people are trying to get to Whistler. Should be an Olympic-sized clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks.

#17 - Public transporation - seems to work OK. David takes a nice train called the West Coast Express. He says you can always get a seat, but the seats are small and close together. Not being a fan of people in general, I realize this is less than ideal for him, but at least he can sit. Coworkers report that SkyTrain is often smelly and cramped. Sounds a lot like Bart. But it's efficient and they're continuing to expand the line, so that's nice.

#18 - Homelessness - sadly, a fair amount of it. Lots of folks downtown and some out here in our suburb, somehow surviving on the streets in 30-degree weather, and it's only October. Christ. There appears to be larger numbers living in the woods/parks by Pitt River.

#19 - Drugs and drug addiction - a pretty serious problem. The laws and sentences are lax and public assistance is plentiful and there are huge grow ops all over the province. Pot isn't legal, but they don't get aggro should they see someone strolling down Robson smoking a joint. Lots of crack, heroin and meth use.

#20 - No Peet's - enough said. : ((

That said, no one here would ever dream of nominating someone like Palin for elected office.