Top 10: Things That Aggravate Me (and then some)

In no particular order. For no other reason than I've seen a lot of them recently. And I believe they need to be shared, exposed, finger pointed for all that they are. If you find yourself guilty of any of those, please consider stopping.

Public Bathroom Etiquette

Here are just a few of the things I've been subjected to in the last couple of weeks while trying to take care of my -rather private, thank you- business.

• Public bathrooms, as opposed to parking garages, should be surrounded by 10 feet of concrete all around. The bathroom stall is no place for lengthy conversations on your cell. Of any kind. I have no interest in being witness to the fight you're having with your boyfriend, or the quotes the insurance company is offering you. And hey, here's a little tip: if I'm aggravated by not being able to shoot my golden trickle in peace, whoever you're talking to is bound to be aggravated by your grunting and the sound of toilets flushing all around you. I can see where you might need to use your phone in a parking garage. I mean if your car won't start or someone is trying to mug you, it might come in handy. But seriously, I rather doubt you'll call anyone if you happen to have a bathroom emergency. First you'd probably be too embarrased by whatever you're calling about, and second, let's face it, no one in their right mind would come rescue you anyway. If you need coaching for anything happening in there, I suggest you re-take potty training.

• No talking. Please. Do your thing and go. If you absolutely need to talk to me while I'm in the bathroom, please let it be about something worthwhile. If you can't manage even that, at least wait for me to be at the sink. Do not, I repeat DO NOT engage me in conversation while I'm actively relieving myself. Or while you're doing that, for that matter. Conclude your conversation before entering the stall and resume it at the sink, if you must. Better still - come by my desk or stop me in the hallway. That way I at least have the option to pretend I'm busy or late for lunch. Cornering me between the sink and paper dispenser will only lead to your demise. I can't help it, shoving your face in the trash bin and running for my life is a reflex.

• Take your big business home. Or use the handicapped washroom. Or find an empty floor. Ok, I know bathrooms are supposed to be for crap, and you're totally in your right to take one in there, but please consider the poor ventilation, poor flushing power and other bathroom guests. I mean, seriously, I hate pointing it out, but grunting and heavy breathing tend to make me uncomfortable to the point where I'm trying to remember my CPR training. To use it on myself. My gag reflex isn't that sensitive, but if you're serious enough about passing that log, I might have to consider turning around and emptying the other side of me once I'm done peeing. Which would be no small feat considering the auto-flush toilets in the building.

• Wash your freaking hands. Don't pee and dash. That is just disgusting. It takes what, 10 seconds? Oh, and use SOAP. Wriggling your fingers under the tap just won't kill all that nasty shit you just wiped off your ass. And if you think I don't know who you are because you were in the stall when I came in and got out while I was in there, you are mistaken my friend. I ALWAYS look at shoes under the wall, and I'll track you down. Oh yeah. I'll know you're a dirty non-washing crap hand fiend. You remember THAT next time you're in the crapper...eyes everywhere. Thought those fancy patterned socks were cool? They're very incriminating, that's what they are.

Being out and about etiquette

Ok first, I have to point out that these things only aggravate me if I see them when I'm on my own. With one or more friends, I find those very entertaining indeed. Guys, thanks for providing entertainment, and keeping us laughing for weeks. Only please try to keep it for when I'm with company - sharing afterwards, without the visual, is really not as fun.

• Girls need support. Big girls, small girls, all girls. Wear. A. Freaking. Bra. I don't care what size you are, they make bras that'll fit you. Buy a corset. Shit, use duct tape if you have to. Seeing you walk down the street with each boob swinging in different directions is just not a sight I should be subjected to. I get dizzy, distracted, and a little grossed out. I don't really care about that 'be natural' granola crap. The natural shape of your boobs is whatever shape your bra molds them into. Period.

• Oranges look best unpeeled. K now before this sounds harsh, I do realize that cellulite is quite unavoidable, even in thin people. But for heaven's sake, I don't need to SEE IT. I've got enough of my own to deal with. Quit wrapping your textured thighs in too short, too tight apparel. It just doesn't look good. Sorry to be the one to break it to ya, but yeah. Not sexy.

• Know where you're going, and get there. Yeah, I know, the market is a pretty amazing place, and those carrots will make you stop in your tracks. But for the love of god, MOVE TO THE SIDE. There are people walking behind you, and in front of you, and if you're in the middle of a group of 10 people who all stop when you do, I'm bound to just walk right into Uncle Ed's behind. I have places to go, I know exactly where I'm going and how fast I want to be there. Don't stop my progress because you just realized you forgot your shopping list or because you have to get your cell phone out of your oversized purse. MOVE!

• Learn to walk before you get stilettos. Yeah, they look great on the shelf. Yeah, they make you look awesome when you look at yourself in the foot mirror. But try walking in them before you set out on you Friday night adventure. Walking as if you've got a watermelon up your butt with arms extended in front of you ready to grab whoever happens to walk by because you can't keep your balance only makes you look like a cheap whore on your first night manning the corner. Mind you, they don't even walk, so you look worse than they do. But you are pretty funny to look at. Carry on.

Driving Etiquette

Oh my. Where do I start. Where do I stop? I have to give myself a limit on the number of Aggravating Situations I write here. Me being the EXCELLENT driver that I am, I tend to notice flaws when it comes to others.

• Blink on, blink off. I don't know which aggravates me most. Those of you who don't use the blinker, or those of you who forget it's on. If you want to cut in front of me, you better have that blinker on. Yes, I will recognize the telltale signs that you desperatly want to get in front of me. The hugging, the swerving, the dangerously close nosing...but I will not let you pass unless I see that little flashing light. Period. Asshole in the big SUV that think you can squash me just because you're bigger than me: not working my friend. Flashers work on every model, I checked. They are not an option. I'm sure you're no closer to wanting to fuck up your bumper than I am to letting you do mine in. I'll play the bluff any day. And that little finger gesture? I don't get it. Write a manual on what it means and mebby I'll think of reading it. After I see you cut in BEHIND me. Blinkers on? Seriously? Don't you HEAR that tick tick tick thing going? Come ON!! If you're a little Smart thing just following your line, not so bad. I know you're just high on something or other, or muching bio-health food and haven't realized that the little spiritual drumming you're hearing is your blinker not going off. But hey, big 18 wheeler-guy? You freakin scare me. Are you moving into my lane or not? Cauz you're swerving anyway, so it's hard to tell. I hate playing the 'did-he-see-me-did-he-not' game. If you see me passing you at 200 over the speed limit, check your blinker. It's probably on.

• Left = Faster Than Right. Yes. I know this is complicated to understand. So let me explain it in no uncertain terms. Stay. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way. I am a pretty decent and patient driver. I really am. I will follow you in the left lane at 60 kms an hour, so long as you're actually PASSING people in the right lane. I won't tailgate you or anything. But if the right lane is empty, or you're going the exact same speed as your right-couterpart, I get aggravated. The left lane is meant to be a passing lane. I know, surprising, eh? Dude. Glad we cleared that out. If you're not passing, MOVE OVER. Don't try to be the hero that slows me down. You'll just end up being the dimwit that has my bumper in your butt. Yes, I have a right to go 100 kms an hour on the highway. Not my fault your Lada only goes up to 75. Deal with it and move over. I might be going slightly over the speed limit, but if I'm not passing, I'll move over myself. See? It's that easy.

• Pedestrians are kings. I believe that, even when I'm a driver. Let them pass. It's not worth trying to make that right on the red because you think you can make it before the crossing people reach you. Be freakin' patient. Oh, and don't try to make it through the light if you haven't got space on the other side. You'll just end up in the middle of the pedestrian crossing line and my friend Andre will take pleasure in scratching your car with his bag as he walks by. We are all pedestrians at some point. Show them the respect you expect when it's you crossing busy streets. And if it's raining? Give them the right of way. Dude you're high and dry in the car. They're walking through the downpour. Seriously.

• Stay. The. Fuck. Away. I have no interest in feeling your front bumper hit my steering wheel. If you're trying to pass people in the right lane, let me pass them first and then I'll move out of your way. If you've been hugging my ass while I'm doing that, DO NOT pull in behind me as I change lanes. You better pass me, and fast. Else you got ME in your ass the whole way. Seriously, that drift you're getting just isn't worth it. You're not saving that much gas. If I can't tell what kind of car you drive cauz all I see in the rearview mirror is your ugly face and half your wipers, you're way too close. Know what that leads to? Breaking. Yeah. So you make up your mind whether you want to follow me at 60 kms an hour. Smart ass.

Ok, I'm getting aggravated just writing this stuff. I have way more coming - how could I bypass the gym, the customer service or the phone etiquettes? I'll write that up in Part II. I'm done for tonight.

Going Home

Yes, I will be going home to North Hathley tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll be back on Sunday. My parents, recently back from an 8 year stay in Africa, are having their long-awaited house warming. Them and all 62 guests.

It'll be nice to go back towards Estrie, to feel the cool air and see the mountains and trees. I'm hoping for a visit to the cemetary so I can say hi to my grand-parents. I'll be seeing my sister, brother in law and my godson. It'll be nice to be with the family - and not at work.

I have had a pretty busy week, so I'll surely have a lot to write about when I come back. In the meantime, hope everyone has a good weekend :)

Sabs - no laughing without me, and keep Dan and Kazoo entertained. Don't forget the mix.

Dan - keep Sabs entertained and get Kazoo back from vacation. I'll staple your shirt when I come back to work on Wednesday.

Andy - hope you're having a blast in BC. Sorry about your luggage, but I'm sure you can find purty underwear wherever you are.

Ray - stay out of trouble. Hah! As if :)

Everyone else reading this - don't miss me too much. If you can.

I Don't Have a Prostate

Well not that I know of anyway. But I know a bunch of people who do, and although I'm not quite sure what it does for them, I do know that it is prone to cancer. And, well, the bunch of people I know who have a prostate are quite dear to me (for the most part), so I'd rather they hang around and stay, well, alive.


That is one of the reasons I participated in the Ottawa's Motorcycle Ride for Dad event. And I say one of the reasons because it would be quite dishonest of me to try and convince you that was the only one. I have to admit I was really looking forward to the ride, and the riders, and seeing all the bikes, and partaking in all that the Ride involves.

The $300 I managed to raise from sponsors was totally for my love of healthy prostates, however. My friend Andy and I raised close to $500 together, which I think is pretty decent, and which I hope will help researchers find a cure. So I'd like to officially send a BIG thank you to all of you who contributed, and apologize if I guilt tripped you into it. No scratch that. I'll stick with the thanks :) I also owe a HUGE thanks to Dan for totally stealing my donation sign up sheet and collecting over $100 on my behalf. AND donating of his own on top of that. Dan, you da best. After me. I mean. Yeah, you totally rock. Whenever they start the Sexy Prelude Ride for Prostate Cancer, I'll be sure to return the favour.

For any of you who have a prostate or know someone who does, or did, you can donate online here.


Ok, I'll stop talking prostates soon enough, but there is a bit more in there somewhere that I just have to write about, so bear with me.

So we're hoping for nice weather on Saturday, obviously, because riding in the rain isn't quite as fun as riding in the sun. The first part of the ride is a big procession of bikes going through downtown at crawling speed, just so everyone gets to see us and grow really annoyed at all the blocked streets. We were to meet up at the National Aviation Museum and from there all the riders took off in a double line procession running through downtown and all the way to the first halt in the Carp area. For the road map, click here. Start time: 8h50 SHARP.

Or so it said on the paper.


So Saturday morning, 6h30, Andy and I are looking at the downpour out the window and hoping it'll stop, even though it really doesn't seem like it will. And this wasn't a drizzle, either. I'm talking freakin buckets of water coming down. I wouldn't ride the motorcycle in that, let alone walk out the front door for fear of one of those massive raindrops connecting with my skull and making my brain explode. But of course we don't want to miss the Ride, so we do the only thing we can - decide to leave as late as possible without being late. Three coffees and a shower later, and BAM - the rain has stopped. Don't ask me how, but I did it again. Willed it away. Heh. Yeah, I'm that good.


15 minutes later, we're on the road (ok make that 17 minutes cause we had to go back for the camera). The sky is steel gray but the sun is shining through and we're pretty much feeling like a million bucks. Riding through almost deserted streets through Ottawa in the morning is pretty nice. As we got nearer to the starting point, we started seeing volunteers posted at every street corner, waving and giving us the thumbs up. How they knew we were going to take part in the Ride I have no idea, but my guess is they waved at every bike they saw. This was the big day, after all. As we got closer, I started seeing bikes coming from every direction. And I mean - bikes. Everywhwere. Murders of bikes, as Andy likes to call them, 20, 30, 50 strong. They're in front of us, in the back of us, all you can hear is bike engines roaring and the anticipation is so strong you can feel the electricity in the air. Had I not been wearing my helmet, my hair would probably have been a big freakin hissing electrified thing akin to that ball of lightnig we loved to play so much with at the museum as kids. It was cool.


So after going all around the museum, we are instructed to park in a line. People park behind us, and there's a sea of bikes all lined up, as far as the eye can see. Let me tell you, it was pretty impressive. And (devil me) I couldn't help but wish for someone to lean against one bike and start a domino slide...ok, bad bad Xtine. No. I didn't wish that. I just...giggled at the thought. Yeah. It was a pretty neat experience. I also discovered the joys of being a passenger on a bike after a rainstorm. Remember riding your bicycle in the rain, and how you got that wet and muddy line from your butt all the way to the top of your spine? Yeah ok, multiply bicycle power by what, 3 billion? Yeah. My butt was wet, and so was my braid. But hey. I'm a biker chick now apparently, so it's perfectly normal to have a mud skid mark on my back. Bonus for the hair.

So there's a stage there, and some people talking, but I'm busy looking around at bikes and people and outfits and stuff so I can't tell you much about it. I only recall one gentleman talking and that's cause he was funny, and here's the last bit of the prostate talk for ya. This gentleman was talking about this and that and then says: ''So I've been getting a lot of emails from you guys, and I really try to answer all of them, but in the meantime let me answer the most popular questions so you all get the answers right here''. Ok by then he had my attention. Here's what he said next.


"Prostate exams. A few tips. If the doctor has both hands on your shoulders while doing the exam, GET OUT OF THE ROOM.'' (laughter here, although nervous laughter, as far as I could tell, from the gentlemen present. Mine was a big heartfelt laugh. Go figure). ''Oh and one other thing - if the doctor asks you to make any sound at all, like animal sounds, that is NOT part of the exam''. (more laughter, definitely strained at this point. I'm still laughing my ass off. Go figure again). He did make me pretty happy I'm a woman and don't have a prostate, whatever it's for. Heh.


So after quite a bit of talking, we are asked to walk to our bikes and get ready to go. My 3 coffees are starting to swell up in my bladder by this point, but I don't feel like using the restroom when we're almost ready to go. So Andy says - yeah, but can you hold it in for 2 hours? Yeah. I can. No problem. So off we go to the Old Virago, and...wait. Who would have thought it takes so long to get 2000 bikes going double file? Yeah. Takes a while. But not to worry, we're still pretty excited, waiting to go, we can hear bikes roaring to life row by row, and by god we can't wait to get going. Eventually we do, and we're off!


We ended up being side by side with a Harley guy and his passenger. Now I'm a pretty easy going gal, and pretty accomodating as far as I know. But seriously, this guy got on my nerves. For one, he had the radio blasting 'Oldies 105' and the songs just kept repeating themselves. I'm not sure if his partner enjoyed the songs or just wanted to die, seeing as she was pounding her thighs with her fists to the beat of 'Love me Do'. Now I'm not sure what was up with that guy, but he obviously could not deal with the idea that we might be ahead of him. Even though the biker in front of him was closer to him than the biker in front of us, every time we sped up to catch up, he'd gun it and try to outrun us. Which is to say, he'd speed up as close as possible to the guy in front of him so that our front wheel did not go beyond his. Let me tell you, if he didn't have a backrest on there, that girl woulda been sitting, driver seat, on the bike behind within seconds. This was just brutal. I laughed at most of it, because I really didn't care. But it was just ridiculous. If that girl doesn't have whiplash today, I'm really surprised.


The really cool thing about the parade was that all cross streets were blocked off and we got to run red lights. Cops even waved us through those. And you wouldn't beleive the cars waiting in line to turn. It's not like there weren't signs, either. But I guess people just ignore those, because all you could see for miles were lines of cars with doors open and drivers out on the curb sheilding their eyes to try and see how long this line of motorcycle really is. Long, it was. And we just waved at them smiling. Hah! I do pity the joggers waiting to cross to get to the other side of the path. I mean you can only jog in place for so long before giving in and starting to wave. Yeah, everyone was having a grand time.


When we got to the first halt, most of the parade was already there. It was pretty cold, too, and although it wasn't raining, the sun had gone and hidden behind clouds, so that by the time we stopped I was freezing. All I could think of was the free coffee...and the porter potties. Yes, by that time, my 3 morning coffees and water had inflated my bladder to what felt like exploding proportions. So we made a beeline for the potties.


Ok. 2000 bikes means approximately what, 2500 riders? Add volunteers, gawkers and police officers, and you got roughly 3000 people in one spot, gunning for coffee and potties. All 10 of them. Yes. You read that right. 10 potties for 3000 full bladders. Ouch. By the time I got halfway up the lineup, I was looking for nearby bushes. Better still, I was trying to convince all the male prostate wearing people to head for the woods and let me through. Seriously, by the time I actually got to a free one, I didn't even feel like I had to pee anymore. I cursed for not buying depends, but in the end all was well. I did my business and walked out about a thousand pounds lighter.


We headed for coffee and the poker run table. Oh, I didn't mention the poker run. We got to draw a card when we registered, and we got to draw one at every halt after that. You collect 5 cards and make the best hand out of it. With my luck, my first card was a 2 of spades. Never fear, I was gunning for 4 of a kind, or a full house. Jacks full of deuce. So all excited about the first poker halt, I drew...a six of clubs. Not great, but hey, not bad. I still had a straight shot. After coffee and a smoke, we were about to set off when I spotted Paul, a guy I work with, and an avid biker. So we stopped and said hi, chatted a bit, then walked to the Virago and set off.

Now the rest of the run is free for all. Meaning that everyone is going towards the same spot, but we're not following each other anymore in a parade kindof way. So for the first half of this run, we were pretty much on our own, still waving at the many (surprisingly many) people on the side of the road or sitting on their lawn waving Ride for Dad flags at us. Oh I should mention that we had 2 said flags, but ended up losing them somewhere around Waba. I was supposed to keep an eye on their steadiness, but I guess my brain froze and when I looked next they were gone. Man in the minivan behind us, if they hit your windsheild, I'm sorry. If you happened to catch one, I want it back. Thanks! :D


We eventually caught up to some riders and followed them. More riders caught up to us and followed us. And so we pulled in to the second halt in the middle of a 40 or so murder of bikes.

There were hamburgers and hot dogs to be had there, and so we had them because we were pretty hungry. We got another card (9 of hearts - wtf), tried to warm up a bit (sun was still hiding) and got on our way pretty quickly. By this time, my reynold's fingers are tingling all the way up to my elbows. I can't feel half of my toes and all in all, I'm having a grand time.

So we set off again, and, of all wonders....the sun actually pops out. We go through hot and cold pockets, the scenery is breathtaking, and I can't beleive this wonderful and magical country is but an hour and a half from home. I had never been down that way but seriously folks, that is a really, really nice area. Fields, old welcoming farm houses, rivers and lakes, windy roads....so very poetic and rustic and homey. I forgot all about being cold, and just took all I could in before the next stop, which was lunch. MMmmmm.. Riding makes me hungry.


Lunch halt was nice simply because it was, finally, sunny and warm. We found a cool spot in the grass and just laid there for a while, warming up. I even took off my leather jacket and hoodie. Then we got some burgers and fruit, ate, and got the next poker card. Queen of spades. Finally a good card, but sweet fuck all for my run. Ah well. There's always next year. Andy at this point has two fives and whatever else though, so I'm still hoping he'll get a full house or something. After warming up, eating and going to the pottie again, we set off for the second to last run of the day. This one will take us to the final halt, and then there's the journey back home.

So we set off right behind some other folks, and some more soon join us in the back. This is where I finally remember I have a camera. Stupid me. I tap Andy on the shoulder and tell him I wanna get it out of the saddlebag, so he knows to lean to the left as I'm leaning to the right, half bent over the fast moving pavement, getting my camera out of the bag. We've done this before, so I'm pretty confident about not falling off. I'm less confident about not losing my gloves in the process, so I stick them under his butt. I get the camera out and start shooting, then realize the battery's about to go dead. Stupid dumb luck. Anyway, I tried to get as much of the murder and scenery as I could, so I hope this gives you an idea of how really cool this ride was. If you've ever been on the back of a bike and tried to snap good pictures as you're winding around scenic roads, without making your driver want to kill you, you might have a little appreciation for my sense of balance. Enjoy.

First pic of the day. Starting point, sea of bikes.

Same, from a different angle.

Andy and the bikes, before we set off.

Lunch halt - after half the bikes are gone. I never remember the camera.

Run to the last halt - this and the next few are just shots of the 'murder'.

Andy and I - In a rearview mirror.

Yup, I guess this is where we're turning :)

And, well, me and the Old Virago. Or I should say the Old Virago and I. Not the best picture, but this is after the last stop...I'm a bit tired. So is she. :)

Other things of note - we saw a rider down, it was sad. I think he/she is allright, we're still not sure what gender he/she was. Other than that, I didn't win the poker run (big surprise) but Andy almost got 5 5's. Which I think is cheating, but whatever. He didn't get them, so we just rode back.

And now my fingers are tired. Take care of your prostate, or prostate bearing friends. Be good, be safe...be all that you can be :)