People Who Say Happy Holidays

You know what I hate? People who say 'Happy Holidays' when they should be saying 'Merry Christmas!'
It's not Happy Holidays! It's Merry Christmas! And, should you be so inclined, you can also add: Have a Happy New Year!

Granted not everyone celebrates Christmas - and it's perfectly fine to say Happy Hannukah to your Jewish friends (though Hannukah is over)or Happy Kwanza to those that celebrate Kwanza.

But here in Canada and in the U.S. (and other western societies), our countries were based upon Christian ideals. Yes, our countries should have religious tolerance - that's what makes our countries stand-out in a good way. But, we shouldn't have to lose our own cultural identity just so we don't offend others.
Really... what's wrong with saying Merry Christmas? I'm a Canadian born in England of India(n) descent. I'm Catholic. Christian in the bigger scale of things. And so is Canada. We have 'God save the Queen' all over our money - and money makes the world go round. The US says 'In God we trust' all over their moolah! In Canada, we believe in god. And, in this case, Canada's god is a Christian god.
We should be able to say Merry Christmas to whomever we want. If you find that offensive because you don't celebrate Christmas, tell us. Or, better yet, tell us but also remember to wish us a Merry Christmas, too. Most of us so-called Christians aren't idiots. We will gladly wish you on whatever holiday it is you are celebrating.
The term 'Merry Christmas' is NOT meant as an offensive phrase. It's a Canadian holiday. If it really bothers you, should you really be in a Christian country?
Canadians (speaking for MY country) we love to learn new things. Invite us out to a Bar Mitzvah! Invite us out for D'iwalli. Whatever. we like to have fun, and if we should learn something about your culture or religion - great!
But there is no reason why Canadians or Americans (et al) should feel bad about saying Merry Christmas.
And none of that X-mas crap, either. It's Christmas and you should all have a Merry Christmas!
If you don't like it, too bad. This is Canada. Get used to it. Try fitting in to Canadian social customs for a change!
Growing up in the 70s as a visible minority here in Canada, we had to fit in. People like me (and a ton of others before me), we took a lot of crap from a lot of bigots to be where we are today. Accepted as Canadians. Don't friggin' screw it up. Wish someone a Merry Christmas even if you are a Sikh, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Wiccan or an Atheist. Whatever. It's a Canadian holiday. Don't ruin it for the rest of us who do want to celebrate Christmas!
Have you ever heard the old saying: "When in Rome, do as the Romans do"? This is Canada. When in Canada, do as the Canadians do and have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
I probably shouldn't have written this at 2:45 in the AM - but it's been ticking me off for a long while now.
You know what I hate? People who say 'Happy Holidays'.

Clothes Snobs

You know what I hate? Clothes snobs.
I work in an office environment, and every day I wear a pair of dress pants, a dress shirt, dress shoes (my underwear, while nice, is not dressy) and dress socks.
In other words, I try to fit in. Often, I am one of the few people to always wear dress clothes everyday. Now I'm not complaining about the so-called dress-down Fridays - I wear jeans and a decent shirt... but some people dress in jeans and a the--shirt everyday... and that's fine... if they can wear it and their bosses don't care... that's their prerogative.
Now... a couple of weeks ago, I was asked to go to a meeting where a prospective client was coming in to chat with a bunch of us editors. Fine. I know the drill. Dres up and look like you care. I was going to do that as a matter of course.
My boss, however, actually came up to me to ask if I had a suit. Holy crap. That's rude. Number one... what if I didn't have a suit? Was I expected to go out and buy one for a stupid meeting. I don't know about you, but I don't get paid a lot of money - in fact, I make a bout $10,000 less than I made 16 years ago... but I actually enjoy my job now.
Number two... my boss obviously doesn't think very highly of me if he doesn't believe I would dress up for a client.
Truthfully... I have a suit. I have a few suits. And, I look good in them. The problem is that on a day-to-day basis, why would I want to wear a suit to work and actually look better than the bosses and everyone else? These jokers have suits, but few actually know how to look good.
Hmmm... I suppose that makes me a clothes snob... still, to insult someone to their face about their clothing... well...
You know what I hate?
I hate clothes snobs.

Hyphen-Canadians

You know what I hate? It's hyphen-Canadians, though I suppose you could make a pitch for whatever nationality you wish.
What is a hyphen-Canadian? It's someone who says they are: Italian-Canadian; Indian-Canadian; German-Canadian even French-Canadian... or again, pick your country and add a hyphen before Canadian.
It's someone who is afraid to be simply a Canadian.
To me, that's just wrong.
I love Canada. As a visible minority, people often look at me and see everything except that I am Canadian. It's why when I am asked what I am, I always say I am a Canadian.
I was born in England to Indian (dot not the feather) parents, but moved to Canada when I was still three-years-old. As such, I have little in common with England - except I love Monty Python, British humour in general and have a respect for the monarchy. I also love football (soccer) and cheer for them in the World Cup.
India? While I may look like I'm from India, I've never been there. I don't speak any of the dialects or languages. I don't really hate or love the cuisine.
I am not Indian or English, no matter how hard I try or am told I am.
I am Canadian.
And perhaps because of that, I hate people who say they are Canadian but add the hyphen.
I know many people who have, when asked, state they are "Italian-Canadian", as an example. Really? Were you born there? No, they tell me. Where were you born? Canada.
Okay... but what is always the most damning thing is when I ask if they have ever been to their supposed country of origin, and they tell me "No." So how the fargging hell are you Italian or Hungarian or Dutch or Japanese?
It's like people are afraid to admit they are Canadian! It pisses me off!
The United States of America - love it or hate it - may have a lot of countries around the world hate it - but I'll tell you one thing... they are Americans first and foremost. And for that, they have my utmost respect.
Okay... the U.S. does try and differentiate itself with the African-American moniker, just like Canada has French-Canadians... but I hate the African-American term. It presupposes that all Blacks in the U.S. are African.
Don't give me that crap that Blacks are at one point in time from Africa, because by that same token, everyone on the planet is originally from Africa... unless you are a Creationist - and I'm sure you have an explanation - please share... I'd like to learn.
But really, no Black American when asked what nationality they are is going to say they are African-American - they will answer with pride that they are American!
The Japanese are proud of their country. The Germans and French are too.
Why not Canadians? Why do we have to be stupid hyphen-Canadians?
Canada has long been called a melting pot, where people from other countries are welcome. And Canada is like that, but it sure isn't a melting pot! This melting pot doesn't actually have a lot of melting going on.
I'm unsure who created the term "Hyphen-Canadian" - it could have been me, I've been using it for 30 years to bitch about people afraid to be Canadian, but it wasn't.
You know what I hate?
Hyphen-Canadians

Weathermen

Over-compensating or what...

You know what I hate?
I hate weathermen. Weatherwomen. Weathergirls. Weatherboys. Meteorologists. Whether or not it’s going to rain or not.
Hmm… I just got that… weather and whether.
A typical weekday has me getting up early to get my son ready for daycare and senior kindergarten… and of course me ready for work, which is a form of kindergarten.
Because it’s Autumn, I like to check the weather to see how he and I should be dressed.
I flick on CP24, a Toronto all-day news station and lo and behold – they say it’s going to rain. I flip to the Weather Network (because well, the network is all about weather - it's the one thing they are supposed to do well) and that today's Toronto forecast is cloudy – but no rain!
Who's right? Who's wrong?
How does one dress? It’s supposed to be 18C – so it’s not exactly freezing! But do I need to dress my boy in a raincoat and rain boots – meaning he’ll be safe from the wet stuff; or do I dress him as though it’s a warmish day, running shoes and no rain coat… so he can run around at recess and have fun?
I chose the latter… it’s the Weather Network, after all.
After dropping him off at daycare, I head home and prep for a trip I need to make for a magazine interview – which is lucky, otherwise I’d drop him off and immediately head for work in downtown Toronto.
With an hour before I need to leave, it begins as I arrive back from the daycare. And not just a spit or dribble, but a full deluge that would have had Noah shaking in his sandals.
So… how can the Weather Network get the weather so wrong? I go back in and check the station… they are STILL showing it to be a rain-free day, even while I am toweling off.
Because I had some time today, I was still able to drive back to my son’s daycare with the appropriate clothing and footwear – no thanks to the weathermen.
You know…  should I actually be so inept at my job – being incorrect several times a week, I’d be fired and be looking for work in a new profession! How do these so-called weather professionals keep their job? Is it going to rain or not? Is it raining or not? If I stick my head out the window, chances are pretty good I can tell if it’s raining at this very moment or not.
I’ve watched the weather on these two stations repeatedly – no one is more correct than the other…. Though both have managed to get it completely wrong at the same time.
I know weather prediction is not an exact science – but what science are they using? My slightly arthritic knee is a more accurate predictor of rain than whatever doppler radar system used by the so-called professionals.
So… even while weathermen (and women) have a 50:50 chance of being correct, or conversely incorrect, it’s still a better percentage (okay - ratio!) than say a baseball player: hitters are gods if they succeed 30 per cent of the time, while a pitcher must succeed about 75 per cent of the time – not that has anything to do with anything.
But it does make me wish I had a job where I only need to be accurate 50 per cent of the time – and NOT get called onto the wet carpet should I not even make that percentage.

You know what I hate? Phony-baloney weather people who can’t even tell me if it’s going to rain – even when it’s raining.

People Who Say I Look Like Someone Else

You know what I hate? People who say I look like someone else.

In my early 20's when I had longer hair, people used to say I looked like actor Jeff Goldblum, a goofy-looking guy and movie star, to be sure, but at least he was married to mega hot-babe, Geena Davis. I guess I didn't mind that one so much - at least people were looking. 

But  - for the past 10 years, after putting on some weight and cutting the long hair, I frequently have people coming up to me and telling me I look like someone else - movie star, comedian and deceased, Rodney Dangerfield.

Right. I look like a dead, white, 72-year-old, stocky, Jewish comedian. I tell ya, I get no respect. No respect at all.

People says it's either my eyes (I have wacky screwed up, bulgy eyes? No!) or it's my mannerism (what, am I always shaking my leg and tugging at my shirt collar? No!). Regardless of why, it ticks me off.

What gives people the right to say stuff like that to me? Do I invite ridicule? No! Perhaps if I was told I looked similar to pretty-boy Brad Pitt, I wouldn't take such offense, but Rappin' Rodney?  

I'm not saying people are right or wrong in their assessment of my looks and collar tugging - I'm just asking what ever happened to people minding their own damn business? Do people say whatever is on their damn mind, regardless of the consequences? My blogs, not withstanding, of course.

I don't go out of my way to tell people they look like someone else. I'm Andrew, dammit. I look like friggin' Andrew! What gives complete strangers the right to come up to me and tell me that I look like someone else? Nothing does. Boundaries, people. Boundaries. Remember, if you can't say something nice about a specific person, say nothing at all.

You know what I hate?  

People... well, yes, people, but specifically people who say I look like someone else. 

Drifters

No... I''m not talking about those folks who drift from job-to-job and town-to-town killing people - or even those who don't do me any favours like David (my real name is Bruce) Banner (the Hulk) and Canada's Littlest Hobo (London the dog) who go around helping people - but not me.

Rather, I'm talking about that person who when walking on the sidewalk, drifts as though the wind was blowing them hither and yon. I'm talking about the drifter who can't walk a straight line. 

Every single stinking day, I have ---dare I say it? - WOMEN who are unable to walk straight . Maybe there are guys who do this, but in all honesty, I've not been cut off by one. Women... feel free to rebut.

For women, I know that (actually, I'm assuming) that it's tough to walk in heels or move with skirts that bind you at the thigh... and sure, no one really wants to walk on a grate (I'm assuming heels, again)... I'm actually aware of these things and do NOT take offense when you suddenly swerve into my walking path without caring who's behind or beside you.

It's when there's nothing underfoot and you still can't walk straight! Aaaaghgh! Yes, I'm a quick walker. And yes, perhaps I could sneak up on you. If you were a deaf wombat. But have a care! 

A few years ago on Boxing Day here in Toronto, we had a shooting right at one of the busiest shopping areas in the country. One of the accused shooters - I believe now found guilty - complained that if people were street smarter, no one would have got hurt.

He's an idiot, but I see his point. Gunshots? Duck. Don't go running - you might get hit by the idiots shooting at other idiots. 

Relative to this blog: I guess what he is saying (and me, too), is that people need to be aware of their surroundings. 

If you would like to have a nice casual walk to wherever you are la-di-dah-ing, you still have to be aware of your surroundings. You have to be street smart. Walk straight. If you have to avoid a grate... well, they don't just randomly pop up. You can see them well in advance... take a look around - make sure you aren't going to cut anyone off behind or beside you and proceed when clear.

To me, it's obvious which of you walkers actually have a driver's license. Drive as you walk? Walk as you drive. Defensively. And straight!

I hate people who don't walk straight. Drifters.

One Joker in Oz

My dear friend Michael Hutchison wrote to me today - September 1 - and asked me if I hate Australians.
Of course it was asked tongue in cheek. Still, it warrants a response.

I first met Michael in 1992, I believe while I lived in Japan. Michael was there with his gorgeous wife and three young children - the youngest of whom is now in university. Michael is a scientist currently living in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. He was the guy who introduced me to the Emperor's throne in Japan. You can read about that adventure here in the It's A Wonderful Rife blog - SIT. On a lark last year, I tracked him down over the Internet. It was actually easy because I figured how many Australian fish scientists could there be who also worked in Japan? Apparently he was the only one. And the rare spelling of his surname combined with the scientist stuff and the Japan stuff, and teh Australian stuff... well, it only took three minutes.

Still, he surprised me today when he wrote to me with this: 


"Do you hate Australians who tell you it is the first day of spring and the mango tree, macadamia nut tree, orange tree, lime tree and avocado tree are all flowering in their garden? Or should I wait until mid-Canadian winter to tell you about my workplace under the coconut trees next to the warm white sandy beach?"

Michael, ol buddy, ol pal. I don't hate Australians. Not only do I think your wife and kids are fantastic, but I've also slept with a few of the other beautiful women from there (he brags).

But I do think that I hate you today - and quite possibly later this mid-winter.

People Walking With Umbrellas

Umbrella available at www.artlebedev.com.

This is a two-pronged rant.

1) I hate people who walk with an open umbrella and don't watch where they are going.
It's raining. And you don't want to get wet. Okay, we all get that. You pop open an umbrella--it may not be one of those stupidly large beach umbrellas, it might just be an average sized umbrella. Now perhaps it's because you have weak or teensy tiny arms, but you are unable to lift the umbrella very high over your head - whatever the reason, you have it wedged down atop your skull.
Perhaps you are also cutting off the blood supply to your brain--regardless, by clamping the umbrella onto yourself, you have also effectively cut off your sight lines in front of you.
This means you are going to walk into someone walking towards you. That someone has been me on more than several occasions.
Because YOU don't care about anyone other than yourself, myself and other quick-thinking persons have to quickly move our heads to the side to avoid being stuck in the face by those pokey things on your umbrella.
You don't care.
However, when you and another like-minded umbrella-wielding vision impaired maniac meet,  the ensuing carnage from your umbrellas interlocking is always amusing. Good thing I still have both my eyes to witness your idiotic downfall.
  
2) I hate people walking with a closed umbrella but swinging it horizontally in their fist.
I'm not talking about the umbrella twirler who thinks he/she could be the next Charlie Chaplin--that was funny 90 years ago when he did it, but you look like an idiot now.
Rather, I'm talking about the idiot striding through the crowd with the pointy end of the umbrella always pointing towards someone's crotch or butt. My crotch or butt, for example.
What is wrong with these people? Just because it's raining, is no reason to become even more stupid than you usually are. You'd think that because 60% to 70% of the human body is made up water, that maybe the brain would get smarter with the additional deluge. Sadly, that isn't true, and I wouldn't be left doubled over from a clip to the cajones.
Okay... I've never been hit there by an umbrella (Man! I need some wood to knock!), but that's only because I pay attention to my surroundings and the fact that there are more people than are dreamt of in your world, Horatio (to badly paraphrase another Shakespearean line).

This whole stupidity with people being unable to work with a $0.99 article in public has got me dreading raining days.

I hate umbrella people who have no concept of working well with others. Idiots.

Baseball Players Lying About Steroids

This topic really burns my biscuits.

I hate ballplayers who have taken steroids post-2001 and then lied about doing it.

Before 2002, Major League Baseball (MLB) had no official policy on drug use. For any player during and after 2002 who utilized steroids or other performance enhancing drugs (PED)--and was caught--should have their major league records voided by MLB.

I think it's unfair to penalize the entire team when only one (or more) teammates may have been enhancing their reputation.

I'm not coming from some moral high ground here. When I began working out in the early 90s, I used Androstenedione - a steroid. Steroids do not increase muscle mass. Steroids work to reduce the blockers in your body so that more testosterone can flow through it. High levels of testosterone are already in everyone's body, but there are blockers in place.

When working out, the muscles tear. The idea being that with more testosterone (and creatine) is that muscles will heal faster so that you can work out more often which enables one to get bigger in less less time than one would without steroids. You don't get bigger without the workout.

Personally, I didn't like the way the Androstenedione made me feel, so after maybe six months I ditched the quick fix. Psychosomatic or not, I worked out more often and got noticeably bigger. So... you still have to put in the work. I went from a 36-inch chest to 48-inch in three years. I maintained my weight at 180lbs, so you know I added a lot of muscle--and I was 30-33 years old--about the same age that a lot of baseball players started.

Baseball is a time honoured sport in the U.S. and Canada. We've been playing it in various forms for nigh on 170 years. It can be slow and meticulous, but it's full of statistics that ball fans love to memorize and throw around to impress other ball fans - kind of what I'm about to do.

It's why when it recently came to pass that Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Jose Conseco, Andy Petite, Roger Clemens, Alex Rodriguez, Sammy Sosa, Raphael Palmero have all been outed as steroid abusers, I was shocked. Sort of. More on that later.

Bonds is the MLB leader in home runs (763), surpassing the great Hank Aaron (755) who put up with death threats on a daily basis as he neared the fabled Babe Ruth's then-career home run record (714). If indeed guilty, MLB needs to take away the home runs he put up from 2002 thru 2007 (when he last played)--leaving Bonds with 648. That still leaves him with the season leading total of 73 homers in 2001 as his record. Why? Because he did it in 2001 before the drug policy was enacted in MLB in 2002.

Even if he was juicing, there was no rule prohibiting it. It doesn't matter if he found a "cheat"... Babe Ruth drank beer and ate hot dogs during games... did it give him energy to bat? Maybe. There was no MLB rule prohibiting it... so Bond's record of 73 HRs in a season should stand. His new career total of 648 would still put him in elite company in fourth place, behind Aaron, Ruth and Willie Mays (660). He did win seven National League MVP awards, so he'd lose three of those won in 2002, 2003 and 2004. Unless convicted of a federal crime, Bonds is still baseball hall of fame worthy.

Rocket Roger Clemens who won seven Cy Young awards for pitching excellence ended his career with 354 wins in 24 seasons. While it has been stated that he began using steroids after signing with my beloved Toronto Blue Jays in 1997, note again that it wasn't illegal at that time in MLB. Clemens was 10-13 in Boston in 1996 and considered washed up before going 21-7 in '97 and 20-6 in 1998. My issue isn't with those records. rather, we should subtract his 2002-2007 (when he last pitched) numbers... which would give him a career record of 280 wins and 145 losses. He'd only have to lose one of his Cy Young awards won in 2004 while a member of the Houston Astros. Sounds fair - but he may have lied to the U.S. Congress and if guilty should do jail time. That would void his inclusion into the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.

Jose Cansceco  - at least he never lied about taking steroids. He may have been a jerk and baseball's first ever 40-40 man (home runs and steals--power and speed), but we was not a hypocrite.

Sammy Sosa, Andy Petite, Raphael Palmero--they never broke any major records (okay, maybe Sosa for most years with 60 home runs or more at three years--but all were done pre-2002). Just void all accomplishments from 2002 on.

Alex Rodriguez. He's a Yankee and I hate the Yankees (it's envy). But I really hoped he was going to be the one clean one (along with Ken Griffey Jr.) to break or at least challenge cleanly for the career home run record. Nope. Now, he claims he only used it after coming over from the Texas Rangers to the New York Yankees in 2004... and only for a year... but until his disclosure in 2010, how can we be sure? That means taking his current career total of 604 home runs and adjusting it to pre-2002 levels, but adding in the 2010 total. That would give him 366 home runs. Pretty good numbers, but no matter what the truth is, he hid his PED drug use and broke the rules.

Like Barry Bonds, Canseco and Clemens, Rodriguez was considered a superstar long before the MLB drug policy. Whether they used any performance enhancing drugs (PHDs) prior to 2002 is not up for discussion here. They did not cheat and should not be considered cheaters for any accomplishment before 2002. They merely played within the rules as they were laid out.

Which brings me to one Mark McGwire (pictured above in his Topps rookie card). While he took the 5th Amendment while testifying in front of Congress, it was obvious to all that Mark had taken PEDs. Where the heck do you think I got the idea to take Androstenedione from? I recall reading a sports article in a local Toronto newspaper about a bottle of pills a reporter noticed in McGwire's locker. While the manufacturers of Androstenedione say it's a sexual enhancer, its real purpose could not be denied. Mark was always a big kid and strong. It's a shame he didn't come clean about his PED use. After all, he retired from playing baseball in 2001--the year BEFORE the MLB drug policy was put in place.

To me, McGwire had nothing to hide. He broke no rules (unless it was illegal to take said health supplement--which it was not, at that time). McGwire's career home run total of 582, and HIS single-season record of 70 achieved in 1998 should stand. Sorry Barry, I loved you as a Pittsburgh Pirate, but...  you're out.

If you broke the rules and cheated, your records should be voided for that period. I understand you were looking for a fast fix to take you over the top. But once caught, be a man and step up to the plate and tell the truth. 

I hate baseball players who lie about taking steroids and other performance enhancing drugs.

Not Having Self-Confidence

Looking at the title of today's entry and then looking at those of you who know me, I know you're scratching your head in shock - shock that I think I lack self-confidence - but I do.

There is so much I want to do - want to try - but I can't. Or worse, won't. Whether it's because I have 'responsibilities' as a family man or as an adult, or because I think I'm too old, or because I'm too afraid of failing, I don't do what I think I should be doing or even what I think I might enjoy doing. So I do nothing.

"To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Or to take up arms against a sea of troubles, and thus by opposing, end them."

Shakespeare got it right. All the fear and self doubt is inside of me - you - all of us. It's why Hamlet spaketh in a soliloquy. It's our own inner demons that haunt and battle us the most. There's a reason I used that quote to introduce my 'hateful' blog at the very top.

They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. But in my mind, it either puts you in a hospital or six-feet under. I can't afford to do that.  It could also shatter my fragile egg-shell mind. And all of the King's horses...

I really want to perform a 40-minute one-man show I created after attending a comedy writing workshop back in February... but I'm afraid to fail. I lack self-confidence. 

I hate not having self-confidence.

Customs

You know what I hate? Customs - the type you face when crossing over into another country.
I drove across the Canadian border into the U.S. on Wednesday - in what has always been a slightly irksome 30-minute wait for the past 10 years morphed into a nearly 2-hour wait this year. That's 2 hours of me sitting on the bridge at Sarnia inching closer to the customs agents... 2 hours of me having to take a whizz.

There was no reason for it... I, of course, picked the slowest line to follow (damn that Murphy and his stupid law)... when I actually got to the US customs agent we chatted for no more than two minutes before he was satisfied that there was no way in hell a would-be terrorist would pretend to be a nerd going to a comic book show in Chicago as his excuse for entering America... so what was the hold-up?

No explanation offered - and I sure as heck wasn't going to ask... but I lost nearly 2 hours of my day sitting in a hot car thinking about not peeing. I ended up peeing in a McDonald's medium coffee cup because I didn't want to lose any time trying to wrangle a bathroom key at a grungy gas station washroom. Twice. You don't want to be following me when I'm dumping something out of my car. 

(Okay, I made sure there was no one behind me). Thank gawd for kiddie wipes!!!

The US has every right to protect its borders. I applaud that. I encourage it. But two hours??! That's not cool.

I love America (not as much as Canada - but that's just me), but I sure hate that wait and drag that occurs at US customs.

Does anyone out there have a horor story they's care to see as their guest-written blog? E-mail me and send it in! Let's do it. It's my whine... but like any party, it's better when you share the whine.

I hate customs!

People Who Don't Say Thank-you

So there I was at the local McDonald's getting my community-discounted medium coffee. Two girls were in front of me - and were awaiting their order. One of them dropped something - and no one noticed - not even I.

The 50-ish guy behind me did, and tapped one of the girls on the shoulder to politely tell her she had dropped something. To be fair to the guy, the dropped item was in such a place that to bend down and stick a hand there to pick it up would have been obtrusive.

The girls, in their late teens or early 20s, continued talking to each other, while one bent down and picked it up.

Not so much as an acknowledgment to the man. No smile. No nod. And definitely no thank-you.

Hooo-oly crap.

I turned the man and said... "Let me just say this on their behalf: Thank-you."

He smiled at me and said, "Ahhh, it doesn't even matter. I don't even expect it anymore."

You know what's worse than people not having manners? Someone losing faith that people will actually have manners.

I hate people who don't say thank-you.

Humidity!

You know what I hate? Humidity!

Obviously humidity is important - there's too little in the winter when the air is dry, and there's too much in the summer when I'm a three-shirt a day kind of guy because I'm mostly hair and fat.

I hate the wetness. I've tried to get into a wetness protection program, but nothing I do seems to help. I recently made the mistake of complaining to a friend in Atlanta about the humidity in Toronto and was really put in my place - as apparently Atlanta  suffers tremendously from humidity. That being the case, I still hate it - the humidity, not Atlanta.

Does anyone really know what humidity is? I've tried looking it up on various sites on-line and all I get is confused. Weather folks talk all about humidity, and we all know it means wetness, but really, does anyone understand what it is? There's humidity when it's cloudy, and there's humidity when it's a clear blue sky.

What the heck? Shouldn't the sun be drying up the air? Is there humidity in Arizona? Apparently not - it's a dry heat? Why can't I get an answer that doesn't involve me getting a BSc degree (Bachelor of Science)?

I'm unsure which I hate more - having it rain, getting wet in the rain, having the rain stop and then before I can get dry, I get wetter from the sweating caused by the humidity!

Actually, I know what I hate more - it's not knowing what the hell humidity is!

Really, it's NOT the heat, but the stupidity!

People Who Don't Use Deodorant

I hate stinky people.

Sure we may all have had a day when through no fault of our own the deodorant we're using lets us down or some strange smell has attached itself to us (like THIS).

But what I really hate are people who never use deodorant. If you are one of those people feeling that deodorant is unnecessary, you are WRONG.

You need to use some sort of deodorant! Even if you don't think you do - you do!

I often wonder if that's why some people douse themselves in cologne or perfume - to cover up the stink. That's what it was originally created for. It's true... perfume is considered a deodorant - at least that's part of the definition of deodorant: a substance applied to the body to suppress or mask the odor of perspiration or other body odours.

Come along Sherman, as we travel in our WayBack machine to the time when in 1500BC the Egyptians used to apply sweet smelling aromatics to their body - yes, it was to smell sweet, but it was also used to cover up potential smells--the Egyptians, despite living in a desert clime, bathed regularly.

Now Sherman, let's travel ahead 2000 years to 500AD and visit some foul-smelling barbarians. The Vikings. They were fierce fighters and probably used their foul stench to water the eyes of their opponents before slashing off their head. These bad boys only took a bath once a year. Perfume or deodorant - what's that? Ugh... the smell...

Let's move up to the time of Marie Antoinette - say the 1780s. We've all heard how the French pretty much invented the perfume industry - and helped do major damage to the world's whale population - but these people stunk to high heaven. Yes they wore gobs of perfume - but that was to cover up the reek.

Which brings us back to the so-called present. People smell. Some people smell of soap. Others of a talc. Some reek with a plethor of perfume - and then there's the naturalist  who doesn't wear deodorant or anything to cover up the stench.

It's you stinky folk that always makes me wonder how you find someone to have relations with. Well, I suppose they get sex orally from people telling them: "Eff you, you stink."

Having Newly Purchased Pet Fish Die

You know what I hate?

Purchasing tropical fish for my aquarium and having them all die within two days.

Not only the waste of money - but the loss of life. I feel bad for the fishies.

But what really irks me is that not only did the new purchases die, they brought with them some illness that took out most the fish I already had in my tank.

Twenty fish down, five remaining. The horror. The horror.

In my 41 years of having tropical fish as pets, I've never seen such devastation occur so quickly. Not only did I have very little time to react to try and save them, but I'm baffled because after two days, the remaining five fish are in perfect health.

The still-alive fish are not the same breed - three different ones - and are not all newly purchased fish. There's no rhyme nor reason. What ever killed my fish killed them. The ones that survived appear perfectly healthy.

I actually waited a whole week before writing this blog, a week after the last death to make sure I wasn't jumping the gun with the "healthy" fish. Nope. They are alive and kicking (you can see two of the five fish in the photo above).

What do I do now? These fish are schooling fish meaning they require a minimum of six of their own kind to swim with - it keeps them from mental anguish... but do I dare blow more money I don't have to keep my fish sane? And what if they get sick again?

I hate having new pet fish die.

People Who Cut You Off And Are Angry At You

Have you ever been driving your car, watching where you are going, when all of a sudden someone cuts in front of  - with or without signaling, and maybe they hit their brakes and maybe they don't - but regardless, when they cut in front they were a little too close for comfort... so you hit the car horn.

HONKKKkkkkkkk!

That's like a warning for the verbal expression: "C'mon you jacka$$!"

And instead of a friendly wave to say "Whoops, I'm an idiot!", you instead get: THE FINGER. The bird! The flip-off! The old Read Between The Lines!... whatever you want to call it, you were cut off plus you got told to go eff yourself.

For all of us who have ever been cut off and received an angry retort to your tootle, let me offer up a controlled response to those quote/unquote people:

I hope you get an exotic but virulent brand of herpes that flares up just when you don't want it to.

You know what I hate?

I hate people who cut you off and are angry at you.

People Who Interrupt

Like the title says, I hate people who interrupt me when I'm talking to someone else.

These past two days I've been talking with co-workers and have twice been rudely interrupted by people who want to talk to the person I'm talking to. 

It's like eff-you Andrew! Quit talking while I'm interrupting!

I just have to walk away, because obviously whatever it was that I was talking to them about is not as important enough in the eyes and ears of the interruptee. Not that they knew or cared about my conversation.

Not even an "Excuse me, but... "

How rude. 

For all of you interrupters out there - you can kiss my a$$!

People Who Don't look Where They Are Going

I know this one sounds pedestrian, but what burns my biscuits are people who walk out of doorways, corridors, elevators, shops et al without looking both ways before merging into walking traffic.

If these people drive, they obviously haven't carried their vehicular lessons with them to when they walk. Stop. Look both ways and proceed when clear. You don't even have to signal - which if you drove you probably wouldn't do anyways. D'uh.

These are the folks who are invariably on the cell phone or carrying a coffee when they walk perpendicular into your path. Guess which one I'd prefer to have spilled on me? The correct answer is neither!

People - get your head out of your a$$ and remember that there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your me-first philosophy. (Okay, I may have slightly paraphrased that line from William Shakespeare's Hamlet - and if you aren't sure where, please go and read the play - or go and see it performed.)

What I'm using that wonderful phrase to mean is: to have a care - there are other people on this planet than just a cell phone, a coffee and thou.

I live in Toronto - the largest city in Canada with about 3-million people in it (though as far as size goes, it's got nothing on New York, Mexico City or Tokyo, but it is a busy little town). It is amazing how everyday  - several times a day, in fact - I have to be so friggin' alert to sidestep people who pop out in front of me.

I'll give them credit, pretty much everyone who has jumped out has said sorry - that's great. But pretend it's not you and I doing the side-stepping - pretend it's a not-so-spry senior citizen or a young child - someone could get hurt.

I know we are supposed to forgive those who trespass against us, but I'd rather not have to go to confession every time I go through the obstacle course while walking in a mall or up a downtown street (or down an uptown street for that matter).

Toronto is a big city, people. Full of nice and not-so nice people (I'm nice, but grumpy). Be aware of your surroundings and have a frickin' care. And that goes for the rest of you no matter where you live!

I'm not as spry as I used to be, so I'm eventually going to start landing on people - I'm 220-lb, so It's going to hurt.

I hate people who don't look where they are going.

People Who Talk Loudly On Cell Phones

You know what I hate? Pompous self-serving bastiches who think they are the most important person on the planet and therefore should all pay attention to them while they talk inanely about nothing on their cellphone at 7:30 in the morning.

Yeah, you know the type - the idiots who have no concept of a book and have to talk to someone - anyone - on their cell phone.

While it's true I work for a company that is also Canada's largest telecommunications provider, I have no issue with it. I just hate that blowhard talking loudly on his/her cellphone in the back of the bus or on the subway or god help me, in the elevator.

What the Hell is so important that you need to be on the phone all the time - talking loudly about nothing.

Have you not heard about personal space? Why can't you just say:  "Hang on, I'm just entering the elevator - I'll talk in a second when I get out." That would be polite, but not since the heady days of those stupidly-large 'portable' phones (remember when it was cool to have a large phone?) when your connection would cut out in an elevator or in a subway, have people been 'polite' enough to stop yakking in crowded public places.

Nowadays, telecommunications providers are touting the virtues of their phone signals not dropping calls when you go deep within a concrete construct like an office building or parking garage (previously a barrier to maintaining a phone call). It was an irritation to be sure (wah-wah), but it did offer the rest of the population a break from your inane nattering.

What the hell did people do before cellphones became so common-place? You called people from home, the office or from a phone booth - you know one reason why phone booths are enclosed? Partially to provide the user with privacy!

Sure cellphones are a big help should you be stranded somewhere, or you need to call someone and tell them you're going to be late for that appointment with a hooker - and again, I'm not begrudging telecommunication companies for providing the world with cellphones.

I believe that a cellphone etiquette needs to be developed and observed. It's obvious that cellphone users won't do it themselves, what with being so friggin' busy yakking; and they won't listen to the rest of society (unless we call them on their cell phone) - perhaps the telecommunication industry should create rules of etiquette.

What sort of rules of etiquette would you like to see observed? Let's get a list going!

I'll start it off with: No cell phone use in an elevator if others are present. 

Ahhh, but then again, dumb-ass, ego-maniacal jerks don't know how to read, which is why they are on the phone all the time, anyway.

Should you be one of those rare combination of cellphone user and reader - do the rest of us a favour and exercise some courtesy for the people around you.

Yes, it is true - I do not have a cell phone. Not only do I not want one, I don't need one. I sure as heck don't need the extra cost, but mostly, I don't want to be at someone's beck and call 24 hours a day/seven days a week. It's like that old story about "Bell-ing the cat". I get more relaxing in this way.

I hate people who talk loudly on cell phones. You're all a bunch of phonies.

People Who Don't Say Thank-You

You know what I hate - well, aside from trying to create this blog and not being able to get the blog address I want - I hate people who don't say thank-you when you do something positive for them.

I'm not talking about you handing the cashier your money at the local McDonald's (though I think they should say thanks) - for today's rant, I'm talking about those a$$holes who slowly strut through the door you are holding open for them and don't bother to acknowledge you with a thank-you.

When did we as a society stop being polite? What the hell, people? It's not a race thing or a sex thing or even an age thing. Men, women, boys and girls of all ages have been guilty of this.

I'm not a prick. I don't play with myself as people walk past me. I'm well-dressed, use deodorant, shower often, and I'm not deformed or creepy-looking in anyway that might make someone leery or afraid to talk to me.

Last week at work - I work in a large office building home to several thousand employees - I held the door open for a 20-something man and woman who were 20-feet behind me. I had been in the same elevator as them just seconds earlier - in fact, it was just the three of us in Lord Otis' crypt.

I'm not a slow walker, and may even be considered quick, but it's not because I'm in a hurry. Still, I got to the building's exit before they did and walked through, but held the door open while they took their sweet time. Taking their time is fine - I can't bitch about someone's walking speed in this instance - but after they walked past me, there was no acknowledgment to me for holding the door open for them. It was like they expected me to hold the door open for them.

They weren't the first - I'm 45 and live in Toronto - it happens all the time in this manner-less city. Okay, not everyone is manner-less, but it sure seems that way.

My parents tried their best to bring me up properly. Whether it was to respect my elders, say please and thank-you, stand and shut up when the National Anthem is being played or to give up my seat for the elderly or pregnant - I've always tried to do the right thing.
 
It's why I don't mind holding a door for people. It's me being polite - and no I don't want a friggin' medal for it.

For the past several years now if someone doesn't smile, nod or say thanks after I hold a door for them, I've done a mock bow and excreted a: "You're welcome, Your Lordship (or Your Grace)". In my mind it wasn't to get them to say thank-you - because by embarrassing them most people are loathe to say anything. But one guy did. He actually stopped, turned around, looked me in the eye and apologized. He caught me off guard, but I told him that his apology was accepted - we smiled genuinely at each other and went our way.

While that man must have had a momentarily lapse of manners - he had the good sense and manners to apologize. For the rest of the people who lack manners - while it may not come from me, but just remember what goes around comes around, and look in at yourself the next time you wonder why society has gone to Hell in a hand-basket.


I hate people who don't say thank-you.

Thank-you for reading.