3 weeks ago
Saturday, August 05, 2006
What's with That?
Why, if your mailbox is full, do a lot of ISP's send you an email to let you know your mailbox is full? That's the dumbest thing. But tons of them do it. That's like the postman telling you to check your bulging mailbox by shoving a note in there telling you you might wanna check your mail, or bell telling you your answering machine is full by leaving a message on it. Yup, real effective communication. Way to not get your message across and make the problem worse.
Am I a Perv, or are they?
Ok, this question has been bugging me since I heard this song, partly because the song has been in my head and I catch myself humming it and I want to know what I'm humming, and partly because I'm just too damn curious for my own good. Barby sent me this French song called Porteclef, or La Ziguezon Zinzon if you look all over the net, by La Bottine Souriante. When I first heard it, I had no idea what it meant, my French isn't awesome, but its melody crawled up into my head anyway and followed me everywhere. It wasn't as bad as this gem, stay away from it, Matt, but it was very powerful. So I got curious about what it meant. She asked a friend who spoke French and I looked up the lyrics. Her friend said it was just a bunch of old men singing about how their keychain or their keys are rusty and the key won't fit in the door. But I read the lyrics, and because my French isn't so good when it comes to slang, they still confuse me, but they make me wonder if there is some serious innuendo there. Seriously, anyone who knows french, take a look at these and tell me what you think. Is it just rusty keys, or is it more about...well..parts that don't work so well now that he's old? I want to know what I'm singing!
Speaking of Subs...
I forgot to write this in the last post, but what in hell is with that voice on the subway commercials? I don't know who the guy is, but he sounds like he should play a cartoon character. He talks pretty normal through the whole ad, until he gets to the slogan. Then he wigs out and yells something that sounds like, "Subway, eat pishe!" Eat what? flesh? Fish? It can't be "fresh" because he says that word completely normally while talking about one of the fancy new subs. Seriously, why are they telling him to do that? Or did they just do one take of the slogan and throw it in all of the commercials and that's how he talked at that moment? Whatever the reason, it's annoying!
Oh Mister Sub, Sub, Mister Broken Sub, Please Don't Spill on Me!
Yes, I'm an idiot. But last night's experience with Mr. Sub just had to be written down.
It starts off fairly ordinarily, with a few weird things, but nothing overly bad. I phone, I order a sub. The girl doesn't seem to know how to take an order down because as I'm giving my address, she's saying, "Anything else?" like my address is the ingredients in the sub I'm about to order. But I manage to get it ordered. She says she has to call me back with the total. This isn't super odd, since sometimes they get busy and they have to take care of the angry mob standing in line, and then when the smoke clears, they can calculate your order. They call back in a few minutes, but the wierd part is a guy is phoning this time. He wants to make sure I didn't ask for lettuce. I say I didn't ask for lettuce. This shows his confidence in her ability to take orders. She must have screwed up a few before. What's that? A warning signal?
Then my sub comes, and it's surprisingly light. There's just one bag, which amazes me, since I ordered a sub, a bag of chips and a pop. But I take it, since I think that it all must be hiding in there. I check, and no it is not! All that's there is a sub!
I phone back, slightly annoyed, but no big deal, at least it was, in fact, the sub I ordered. I get the same girl, who recognizes me almost immediately. I say that the pop and chips are missing from my order. She says very slowly, "Oh shoot, I forgot!" The next words floor me. She asks me if I really want her to send me chips and pop, or do I just want to call another night when she's working and then she'll give them to me for free? Um chicky, I ordered them now, I want them now! Plus, if I get them another night, I'm not just going to want chips and pop, I'll want a sub too! And, how in christ am I going to know when she's working? I don't even know her name! She eventually defeatedly agrees to send the chips and pop.
Then I take the sub to the microwave, since it was a hot sub. As soon as I put the sub in the microwave, I know something is horribly wrong. The buns practically fall open, spilling the contents all over the microwave. I get them back together, sort of, and nuke the thing, praying for the best. But the best wasn't very good at all. I had to eat my sub with a knife and fork. A knife! and fork! How shitty is that. Kind of loses the whole sub experience doesn't it?
Then, to topit all off, when I go to eat the chips, they are spicier than I remember that kind being, so I couldn't even eat them! I think the gods, if they exist, were punishing me for being a lazy bastard and ordering a sub when I had food I could have cooked.
It starts off fairly ordinarily, with a few weird things, but nothing overly bad. I phone, I order a sub. The girl doesn't seem to know how to take an order down because as I'm giving my address, she's saying, "Anything else?" like my address is the ingredients in the sub I'm about to order. But I manage to get it ordered. She says she has to call me back with the total. This isn't super odd, since sometimes they get busy and they have to take care of the angry mob standing in line, and then when the smoke clears, they can calculate your order. They call back in a few minutes, but the wierd part is a guy is phoning this time. He wants to make sure I didn't ask for lettuce. I say I didn't ask for lettuce. This shows his confidence in her ability to take orders. She must have screwed up a few before. What's that? A warning signal?
Then my sub comes, and it's surprisingly light. There's just one bag, which amazes me, since I ordered a sub, a bag of chips and a pop. But I take it, since I think that it all must be hiding in there. I check, and no it is not! All that's there is a sub!
I phone back, slightly annoyed, but no big deal, at least it was, in fact, the sub I ordered. I get the same girl, who recognizes me almost immediately. I say that the pop and chips are missing from my order. She says very slowly, "Oh shoot, I forgot!" The next words floor me. She asks me if I really want her to send me chips and pop, or do I just want to call another night when she's working and then she'll give them to me for free? Um chicky, I ordered them now, I want them now! Plus, if I get them another night, I'm not just going to want chips and pop, I'll want a sub too! And, how in christ am I going to know when she's working? I don't even know her name! She eventually defeatedly agrees to send the chips and pop.
Then I take the sub to the microwave, since it was a hot sub. As soon as I put the sub in the microwave, I know something is horribly wrong. The buns practically fall open, spilling the contents all over the microwave. I get them back together, sort of, and nuke the thing, praying for the best. But the best wasn't very good at all. I had to eat my sub with a knife and fork. A knife! and fork! How shitty is that. Kind of loses the whole sub experience doesn't it?
Then, to topit all off, when I go to eat the chips, they are spicier than I remember that kind being, so I couldn't even eat them! I think the gods, if they exist, were punishing me for being a lazy bastard and ordering a sub when I had food I could have cooked.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I Want Job Search Help, Not a Babysitter!
I hope this post will serve two purposes: let me vent like mad and help some other poor soul to avoid this shit so they don't have to vent like mad. So off we go.
A little while back, I started updating my resume and looking for work. I have a student debt hanging over my head, and one day, the government is going to say, "God damn it, no more interest relief for you. Pay up!" So, I want to be able to pay up. But the one thing that worries me is, I'm going to run out of authorizations for my screen-reader if I have to put it wherever I volunteer, plus my job, and what if one of those computers dies and eats an authorization? I'll be screwed. But I know it's unlikely that the place where I work will fork out the money for a screen-reader, it's $1200 for christ's sake.
So, in the search for ways to get a little help with paying for the screen-reader for work, someone suggested that I contact the Ontario Disability Support Program's Employment Support division. At first, I dug in my heels and said absolutely not! I already have to deal with Ontario Disability Support Program, and although I'm grateful for the money I get, I don't appreciate the disrespect and utter lack of flexibility I get from their staff. As if I want to put my future in their hands too. But then I heard good things. I heard they would help with paying for cab fare to volunteer jobs, the ODSP people didn't actually do the employment support work, they just supplied the money, and they said it was very client-centred.
Finally I worked up the courage to try it. I filled out the giant application, which was surprisingly written in a way that treated me with dignity. I thought this was a sign of hope. I sent it back to them. They said I was eligible and sent me back an agreement to sign. It said something about these providers would help with job-search strategies, and would be available if you needed them after you got a job for up to 33 months. I thought, weird, but maybe that would come in handy if I needed different equipment for some reason, or maybe if I ran into a problem that was bigger than I could handle alone, like some form of discrimination, they would help guide me to the right resources. I never gave it more thought than that. So I signed it.
Next, I had to contact service providers, the middle-men who did all the work and got the money from ODSP, and choose the one I wanted. So I called the providers, and here's where the fun starts.
Provider no. 1 seemed very nice. She even knew a couple of professors I'd had and asked if they were still there. She also seemed very flexible, said she would show me how to get from the bus stop to her building, but said for the first session, she'd come and get me and take me there. She even gave me some tips on what to ask the other providers. She then warned me that there was a four to six-week waiting period for her program. I thought she seemed pretty nice, and had her at the top of my list.
Provider no. 2 still gives me the shivers. He was very abrasive, and said something to the effect of, "I will make sure you succeed, and if you fail, it's because you want to fail." Ok, wait just a goddamn minute here. I succeed, and the guy gets all the credit, and I fail, and I get all the blame? How fair is that? He started talking about his methods, and it didn't take long for him to contradict himself. He said he was willing to pound the pavement for me, and in the next second, he was saying he'd give me the control. I had to ask him about that, and he couldn't explain it. Then he talked about how he goes into interviews with people. I stopped him right there and said, "Isn't that self-defeating? Doesn't that mean they'll think I can't function independently and talk to you instead?" He couldn't explain that one either. Then he talked about how he likes to phone employers on my behalf and see if there's a job, and if they say no, he's pretty aggressive about wanting to know why. Ok great. So now he's badgering people into giving me a chance. That's a fine way to start off a career. I feel like he's going to pull the trick from that skit on one of the new Frantics CD's I just got. He's going to walk up to them, make eye-contact with them and then go. "You wanna take this client? You should give this blink a job. Give her a job! Why not? You should give her a job! Wanna give her a job? You should give her a job! Come on! Give her a job!" until they cave in, and to get him out of their hair, they hire me. Next in his string of strange things to do, he was talking about helping another client, and without much prying at all, all I said was, "I think I know her," he whipped out her name. Um, hello? Confidentiality? Does it exist in his world? The final straw was when he chose a place for us to meet before I choose a service provider. Get this. He chose a coffee shop that is in a plaza on a street with no bus stops on it. This plaza is also across two parking lots which are tricky to navigate since they're wide open and easy to get lost in. They can be done, but you need to be able to practice them a bit. Since I've never been there before, and will never be there again likely, this is not going to happen. On top of that, this plaza is not easy to get in and out of. And he says he's worked with the CNIB and knows all about blind people and stuff. So, you can see he went to the bottom of the list.
Provider no. 3 seemed very nice. They talked about how their aim was to get people into an organization doing clerical work as a starting position with hope to move up. She said she was down to Guelph regularly. Then when I chose a place to meet, which was on a main street, she said she was not familiar with that street. Um, and you're down to Guelph when? She's somewhere in the middle.
Provider no. 4 just got back to me and I couldn't get a read on her since I sort of answered her as a beep and we booked a meeting quickly and that was that, and provider no. 5 is still on vacation. But you can see the amount of fun just trying to book meetings with them all. And that, unfortunately, is just the beginning.
I had my first meeting yesterday, with provider no. 1, and it's been a long time since I've left a place so steaming, seething mad. She called it a pre-screening interview. So I thought it was along the lines of, "What aspects of what we do do you want to use? Please check all that apply...do you have a resume? ..." That was in there, but there was much, much more. First off, she asked for lots of personal information, like my SIN number. Um, why would she need that? All she would come back with is, "Well your employer is going to need this." I grinned and said, "So are you offering me a job?" She got all shepish. I told her, if I chose her as a service provider, then I'd be happy to give it to her, but not now.
Next, she started asking me what medications I took, when did I take them, and what side-effects did they have? I'm like woe woe woe! Did I make a wrong turn? Why in christ do you need to know this stuff? She's like a lot of our clients need to be reminded that they have to take their pills because they're out of routine. Ah, so this person works with a lot of people who are slow. Oh boy. Then she asked if anyone managed my money. Now I'm sure all the people she works with are slow. At one point, she wondered if I had a support person come in so I could have her business card read to me. Ok, I already told her I went to university, and I live independently. Why would I have a support worker?
Then the fun went up another level. I could sense that she was taking down what I said, but she didn't believe me. I told her I felt like I was being judged, assessed in some strange way. Surprisingly to me, she said, "Yes, you are! Every time you meet with me, I'm assessing you." Although I appreciate her honesty, this creeps me out. Every time? I can understand the first time, but every time? Isn't this going to become a working relationship where we grow to understand what each other can do and leave it at that?
She then told me that people come in claiming that they have one problem, say, difficulty walking, and then she finds out they actually have schizophrenia and other problems. This really tells me I've made a wrong turn. All I wanted was a little help. I didn't need to be babysat, or investigated in terms of my employability. I already know I'm employable. The difficulty is convincing the employer that I won't cost them an arm and a leg, and yes, I can do the job.
She started asking me if I was receiving services from any other community agency. She even asked if I was involved with the CNIB. And so what if I am. What has that got to do with having a job.
And here's the kicker. She told me that after I get a job, for 33 months, they check in with the employer and see how I'm doing. Ah, so that's how the 33 months come in. This was a complete shock to me, and just about sent me through the roof. Anyone else hear ringing screaming alarm bells? She talks to the employer. Not me. What do I bitch a lot about? People not speaking to me, but to the person I'm with. This just reinforces that need! It doesn't educate the employer that I can think for myself. It tells them I need some kind of mother hen there to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow. She says this is because maybe the employer doesn't want to offend me by telling me I'm doing something wrong or that I'm not doing well. Shouldn't they know that they can talk to me after they've worked with me a while? Even if I am easy to offend, what happens to this poor frightened soul after the 33 months is up? They're going to have to face down the dragon anyway.
I asked her if there was any way around that. She said not really, unless we said you didn't want to be identified with any agency. But that would be hard to explain since we'd probably have to drive you to work." I stopped that one right away. I told her I would be perfectly capable of finding the means to get to work. Then she whipped out this gem. "Well, we don't want you to get hurt trying to do it if you can't." At this point, I was about ready to launch myself across the desk at her. How in the bloody world does she think I made it this far? She already knows my family live nowhere near here, so mommy didn't hold my hand everywhere I went.
I felt sorry for the poor lady. Almost every question she had for me was met with resistance. I think she figured out at this point that this program wasn't going to work for me. So, to save me further aggrovation, she quietly told me that all of the providers are probably going to ask for similarthings since they're all run through the ministry who does the ODSP thing. If that's the case, why isn't ODSP a little more up-front about the invasiveness of the program? I mean, if most of the people are geniuses in France, sadly they aren't going to care. That's probably the norm for them since they do need other people knowing their details and they do have other people speaking for them.
At the end, after I've pretty much decided I'm not coming back, she said, "I'll drive you home." I asked her to just take me to the bus stop and I'll find my own way. But oh no. She was having none of this. I caught myself wondering, "What happened to her showing me the bus stop?" I couldn't convince her to take me to the bus stop. She got one of her colleagues to drive me home. The funniest part of that was she would not leave me until her colleague showed up. What, after all that we've talked about, is she afraid I'll wander off with strangers? It's like I'm guilty until proven innocent, and even when I'm proven innocent, I have to keep appealing my case. I have to convince her I have a brain. I didn't expect that from a place that's supposed to know what kind of barriers we face already. I guess I expected a little dignity. Is that too much?
I shouldn't be so hard on the lady herself. She was just half following what she had to do and half slipping into old habits with other people. If I met her on the street, I think she would treat me with respect. She did tell me she hasn't dealt with very many university students, and she can't usually use the words she was using with me. She also was honest enough to give me the heads-up that the 33-month job-retention stuff was all done between the provider and the employer and she gave me tips on what to ask other providers. So I think she has a good heart. It's just that her hands are tied by the system.
So, I'll meet with the other ones, but I'm probably going to make a speedy exit from this mess. I'll find my own job. I don't need this crap. And to anyone else reading this who was thinking about going through ODSP's employment support program, if you can get up in the morning and take care of yourself, don't even bother. You have too many brains to need their crap.
A little while back, I started updating my resume and looking for work. I have a student debt hanging over my head, and one day, the government is going to say, "God damn it, no more interest relief for you. Pay up!" So, I want to be able to pay up. But the one thing that worries me is, I'm going to run out of authorizations for my screen-reader if I have to put it wherever I volunteer, plus my job, and what if one of those computers dies and eats an authorization? I'll be screwed. But I know it's unlikely that the place where I work will fork out the money for a screen-reader, it's $1200 for christ's sake.
So, in the search for ways to get a little help with paying for the screen-reader for work, someone suggested that I contact the Ontario Disability Support Program's Employment Support division. At first, I dug in my heels and said absolutely not! I already have to deal with Ontario Disability Support Program, and although I'm grateful for the money I get, I don't appreciate the disrespect and utter lack of flexibility I get from their staff. As if I want to put my future in their hands too. But then I heard good things. I heard they would help with paying for cab fare to volunteer jobs, the ODSP people didn't actually do the employment support work, they just supplied the money, and they said it was very client-centred.
Finally I worked up the courage to try it. I filled out the giant application, which was surprisingly written in a way that treated me with dignity. I thought this was a sign of hope. I sent it back to them. They said I was eligible and sent me back an agreement to sign. It said something about these providers would help with job-search strategies, and would be available if you needed them after you got a job for up to 33 months. I thought, weird, but maybe that would come in handy if I needed different equipment for some reason, or maybe if I ran into a problem that was bigger than I could handle alone, like some form of discrimination, they would help guide me to the right resources. I never gave it more thought than that. So I signed it.
Next, I had to contact service providers, the middle-men who did all the work and got the money from ODSP, and choose the one I wanted. So I called the providers, and here's where the fun starts.
Provider no. 1 seemed very nice. She even knew a couple of professors I'd had and asked if they were still there. She also seemed very flexible, said she would show me how to get from the bus stop to her building, but said for the first session, she'd come and get me and take me there. She even gave me some tips on what to ask the other providers. She then warned me that there was a four to six-week waiting period for her program. I thought she seemed pretty nice, and had her at the top of my list.
Provider no. 2 still gives me the shivers. He was very abrasive, and said something to the effect of, "I will make sure you succeed, and if you fail, it's because you want to fail." Ok, wait just a goddamn minute here. I succeed, and the guy gets all the credit, and I fail, and I get all the blame? How fair is that? He started talking about his methods, and it didn't take long for him to contradict himself. He said he was willing to pound the pavement for me, and in the next second, he was saying he'd give me the control. I had to ask him about that, and he couldn't explain it. Then he talked about how he goes into interviews with people. I stopped him right there and said, "Isn't that self-defeating? Doesn't that mean they'll think I can't function independently and talk to you instead?" He couldn't explain that one either. Then he talked about how he likes to phone employers on my behalf and see if there's a job, and if they say no, he's pretty aggressive about wanting to know why. Ok great. So now he's badgering people into giving me a chance. That's a fine way to start off a career. I feel like he's going to pull the trick from that skit on one of the new Frantics CD's I just got. He's going to walk up to them, make eye-contact with them and then go. "You wanna take this client? You should give this blink a job. Give her a job! Why not? You should give her a job! Wanna give her a job? You should give her a job! Come on! Give her a job!" until they cave in, and to get him out of their hair, they hire me. Next in his string of strange things to do, he was talking about helping another client, and without much prying at all, all I said was, "I think I know her," he whipped out her name. Um, hello? Confidentiality? Does it exist in his world? The final straw was when he chose a place for us to meet before I choose a service provider. Get this. He chose a coffee shop that is in a plaza on a street with no bus stops on it. This plaza is also across two parking lots which are tricky to navigate since they're wide open and easy to get lost in. They can be done, but you need to be able to practice them a bit. Since I've never been there before, and will never be there again likely, this is not going to happen. On top of that, this plaza is not easy to get in and out of. And he says he's worked with the CNIB and knows all about blind people and stuff. So, you can see he went to the bottom of the list.
Provider no. 3 seemed very nice. They talked about how their aim was to get people into an organization doing clerical work as a starting position with hope to move up. She said she was down to Guelph regularly. Then when I chose a place to meet, which was on a main street, she said she was not familiar with that street. Um, and you're down to Guelph when? She's somewhere in the middle.
Provider no. 4 just got back to me and I couldn't get a read on her since I sort of answered her as a beep and we booked a meeting quickly and that was that, and provider no. 5 is still on vacation. But you can see the amount of fun just trying to book meetings with them all. And that, unfortunately, is just the beginning.
I had my first meeting yesterday, with provider no. 1, and it's been a long time since I've left a place so steaming, seething mad. She called it a pre-screening interview. So I thought it was along the lines of, "What aspects of what we do do you want to use? Please check all that apply...do you have a resume? ..." That was in there, but there was much, much more. First off, she asked for lots of personal information, like my SIN number. Um, why would she need that? All she would come back with is, "Well your employer is going to need this." I grinned and said, "So are you offering me a job?" She got all shepish. I told her, if I chose her as a service provider, then I'd be happy to give it to her, but not now.
Next, she started asking me what medications I took, when did I take them, and what side-effects did they have? I'm like woe woe woe! Did I make a wrong turn? Why in christ do you need to know this stuff? She's like a lot of our clients need to be reminded that they have to take their pills because they're out of routine. Ah, so this person works with a lot of people who are slow. Oh boy. Then she asked if anyone managed my money. Now I'm sure all the people she works with are slow. At one point, she wondered if I had a support person come in so I could have her business card read to me. Ok, I already told her I went to university, and I live independently. Why would I have a support worker?
Then the fun went up another level. I could sense that she was taking down what I said, but she didn't believe me. I told her I felt like I was being judged, assessed in some strange way. Surprisingly to me, she said, "Yes, you are! Every time you meet with me, I'm assessing you." Although I appreciate her honesty, this creeps me out. Every time? I can understand the first time, but every time? Isn't this going to become a working relationship where we grow to understand what each other can do and leave it at that?
She then told me that people come in claiming that they have one problem, say, difficulty walking, and then she finds out they actually have schizophrenia and other problems. This really tells me I've made a wrong turn. All I wanted was a little help. I didn't need to be babysat, or investigated in terms of my employability. I already know I'm employable. The difficulty is convincing the employer that I won't cost them an arm and a leg, and yes, I can do the job.
She started asking me if I was receiving services from any other community agency. She even asked if I was involved with the CNIB. And so what if I am. What has that got to do with having a job.
And here's the kicker. She told me that after I get a job, for 33 months, they check in with the employer and see how I'm doing. Ah, so that's how the 33 months come in. This was a complete shock to me, and just about sent me through the roof. Anyone else hear ringing screaming alarm bells? She talks to the employer. Not me. What do I bitch a lot about? People not speaking to me, but to the person I'm with. This just reinforces that need! It doesn't educate the employer that I can think for myself. It tells them I need some kind of mother hen there to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow. She says this is because maybe the employer doesn't want to offend me by telling me I'm doing something wrong or that I'm not doing well. Shouldn't they know that they can talk to me after they've worked with me a while? Even if I am easy to offend, what happens to this poor frightened soul after the 33 months is up? They're going to have to face down the dragon anyway.
I asked her if there was any way around that. She said not really, unless we said you didn't want to be identified with any agency. But that would be hard to explain since we'd probably have to drive you to work." I stopped that one right away. I told her I would be perfectly capable of finding the means to get to work. Then she whipped out this gem. "Well, we don't want you to get hurt trying to do it if you can't." At this point, I was about ready to launch myself across the desk at her. How in the bloody world does she think I made it this far? She already knows my family live nowhere near here, so mommy didn't hold my hand everywhere I went.
I felt sorry for the poor lady. Almost every question she had for me was met with resistance. I think she figured out at this point that this program wasn't going to work for me. So, to save me further aggrovation, she quietly told me that all of the providers are probably going to ask for similarthings since they're all run through the ministry who does the ODSP thing. If that's the case, why isn't ODSP a little more up-front about the invasiveness of the program? I mean, if most of the people are geniuses in France, sadly they aren't going to care. That's probably the norm for them since they do need other people knowing their details and they do have other people speaking for them.
At the end, after I've pretty much decided I'm not coming back, she said, "I'll drive you home." I asked her to just take me to the bus stop and I'll find my own way. But oh no. She was having none of this. I caught myself wondering, "What happened to her showing me the bus stop?" I couldn't convince her to take me to the bus stop. She got one of her colleagues to drive me home. The funniest part of that was she would not leave me until her colleague showed up. What, after all that we've talked about, is she afraid I'll wander off with strangers? It's like I'm guilty until proven innocent, and even when I'm proven innocent, I have to keep appealing my case. I have to convince her I have a brain. I didn't expect that from a place that's supposed to know what kind of barriers we face already. I guess I expected a little dignity. Is that too much?
I shouldn't be so hard on the lady herself. She was just half following what she had to do and half slipping into old habits with other people. If I met her on the street, I think she would treat me with respect. She did tell me she hasn't dealt with very many university students, and she can't usually use the words she was using with me. She also was honest enough to give me the heads-up that the 33-month job-retention stuff was all done between the provider and the employer and she gave me tips on what to ask other providers. So I think she has a good heart. It's just that her hands are tied by the system.
So, I'll meet with the other ones, but I'm probably going to make a speedy exit from this mess. I'll find my own job. I don't need this crap. And to anyone else reading this who was thinking about going through ODSP's employment support program, if you can get up in the morning and take care of yourself, don't even bother. You have too many brains to need their crap.
Go West
Am I the only one who when they hear the song "King Of Wishful Thinking" by Go West can't help but to sing "King Of Rip Van Winkle"? Ya... ? Alright. Just checking.
Nooo! I don't have the wrong number! Give me Bob!
Here I go again, babbling about wrong numbers. No, it's not about what we say when someone else gets a wrong number, or people not listening to answering machines in people's homes. This one happens very rarely, but it happens. I volunteer at a Distress line, a phone line that people phone when they're upset, need help of some kind, or are outright at the end of their rope. I also have to answer another line that people phone if they need emergency shelter. I answer this line by saying, "Emergency shelter line." This becomes important.
I picked up this line the other day, and answered it just the way I said I do. The voice on the other line didn't miss a beat. He said, "Yeah can I speak to Robert?" Sometimes people get confused when they call this line. They think we are one of the shelters or that we can connect them with individual people at agencies. So I asked him where Robert worked. He said, "Oh, is this not RME Engineering?" Does RME Engineering sound anything like Emergency Shelter Line? Come on, it wasn't like he called somewhere and the person just said, "Hello?" I swear people are in their own little worlds nowadays. But, should this surprise me? No.
I've also had telemarketers call the distress line trying to sell me magazines. I understand some of them aren't actually able to hear you until a couple seconds later, but this one could definitely hear me. There was no pause, no automated dialing. He would have heard what I said. If I ever have the misfortune of being a phone drone, if I ever dial a number where the person answering says "Distress Line," I will just apologize, say I have the wrong number, and move on. Really, there's no hope of a sale. The most you're going to get is a stern explanation that you're tying up an important line and a quick goodbye.
Some people insist they in fact have the right number. That's fun. I had a friend whose number was just slightly different than the university, and they got so many irate people yelling "Why aren't you answering the phone like the university?" It happened every day. They even had to put the university's number on their answering machine because I guess they got a few irate messages too. Come on people! If they're not answering the phone like the university, news flash, they probably *aren't* the university!
So, are people going deaf? Do we all mumble when we're answering the phone? What is it?
I picked up this line the other day, and answered it just the way I said I do. The voice on the other line didn't miss a beat. He said, "Yeah can I speak to Robert?" Sometimes people get confused when they call this line. They think we are one of the shelters or that we can connect them with individual people at agencies. So I asked him where Robert worked. He said, "Oh, is this not RME Engineering?" Does RME Engineering sound anything like Emergency Shelter Line? Come on, it wasn't like he called somewhere and the person just said, "Hello?" I swear people are in their own little worlds nowadays. But, should this surprise me? No.
I've also had telemarketers call the distress line trying to sell me magazines. I understand some of them aren't actually able to hear you until a couple seconds later, but this one could definitely hear me. There was no pause, no automated dialing. He would have heard what I said. If I ever have the misfortune of being a phone drone, if I ever dial a number where the person answering says "Distress Line," I will just apologize, say I have the wrong number, and move on. Really, there's no hope of a sale. The most you're going to get is a stern explanation that you're tying up an important line and a quick goodbye.
Some people insist they in fact have the right number. That's fun. I had a friend whose number was just slightly different than the university, and they got so many irate people yelling "Why aren't you answering the phone like the university?" It happened every day. They even had to put the university's number on their answering machine because I guess they got a few irate messages too. Come on people! If they're not answering the phone like the university, news flash, they probably *aren't* the university!
So, are people going deaf? Do we all mumble when we're answering the phone? What is it?
The Warbling Whore is Gone!
I can explain I can explain. I know at least one person besides Steve and I will know what I'm talking about. Have you ever fallen asleep with CTV on and been awakened with a horrible start by this horrible singing at 6 a.m. Something about...if the sun, doesn't shine, to mo rooooo? I can't synthesize the horror of that song when you're sleeping. Sometimes, the same voice bellows something like, I'll be way-ay-ay-aiting! I know the first time Steve and I heard that little number, Steve jumped up and shut off the TV. I woke up because he jumped up so fast and asked him what was wrong. He said something like, "I'm trying to shut off that warbling whore!" I think those obnoxious songs have something to do with War Amps, but I'm not sure. At any rate, she's awful. I'd have to wonder if being shaken awake by the test pattern would be more pleasant.
But this morning, after falling asleep with the TV on, when it came time for her to sing, something else came on! Maybe, just maybe, she's gone! Let's hope! After that attrocity, even those Body Break things are a relief!
But this morning, after falling asleep with the TV on, when it came time for her to sing, something else came on! Maybe, just maybe, she's gone! Let's hope! After that attrocity, even those Body Break things are a relief!
You Can Sell Pretty Much Anything On Ebay
Well this is (apparently) the chance of a lifetime. That's right. Now you can be the envy of your friends if you are the high bidder on Ebay. You will win the chance to manage Buff Bagwell
Um.... if this would be your dream come true - you need a new dream. (I'm looking at you, Steve.)
Um.... if this would be your dream come true - you need a new dream. (I'm looking at you, Steve.)
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Best! Headline! Ever!
Cornholing tourney planned in Terry
I wish they'd explain who Terry was and how they got him to agree to this.
I wish they'd explain who Terry was and how they got him to agree to this.
The Return of the Gutless Wonder
I don't know if anyone remembers my post about a girl aledging a police officer sexually assaulted her, not filing a formal complaint, bitching when the Special Investigations Unit didn't come to her doorstep to take her statement and then practically convicting the guy she accused of assaulting her by throwing crap all over the net aboutit, including his name.
Well, the Special Investigations Unit did eventually end up coming to her doorstep and taking her statement, they did a four-month investigation, and they came to the same conclusion that I think everyone did that heard this twisted tale. They actually worded their conclusion quite strongly. They said the alligations were false. Not unsubstantiated, but false. As in "nope, absolutely didn't happen. Move along, nothin' to see here."
You can tell the police chief is tired of this whole thing. I mean, she has not made her side look credible at all. People representing her have been seen downtown burning effigies of this police officer. A fine way to make your side look logical, calm, and rational. She has made veiled threats that if the investigation doesn't go well, there may be retaliation. Now it's over, and I'll admit what he said in the paper sounded a little over the top. He said something to the effect of, "the officer has suffered the most anguish in this whole thing." If I could see inside the girl's head and knew that she was lying, then I'd agree with him. But if there was a chance that she still believed it happened, even though it never did, but it was the way she felt, that's kind of a presumptuous statement to make.
She doesn't know when a game is over, though. She said to a reporter in an email that it just proves that you can do whatever you want if you have a badge in this society. She says she's going to pursue other avenues. It would have been nice if she'd actually taken the first step instead of the police taking it for her. She'd better watch out, because she may be in for a few surprise next steps on the police's part. How long do you think it'll be before she's the defendent in a libel suit?
Well, the Special Investigations Unit did eventually end up coming to her doorstep and taking her statement, they did a four-month investigation, and they came to the same conclusion that I think everyone did that heard this twisted tale. They actually worded their conclusion quite strongly. They said the alligations were false. Not unsubstantiated, but false. As in "nope, absolutely didn't happen. Move along, nothin' to see here."
You can tell the police chief is tired of this whole thing. I mean, she has not made her side look credible at all. People representing her have been seen downtown burning effigies of this police officer. A fine way to make your side look logical, calm, and rational. She has made veiled threats that if the investigation doesn't go well, there may be retaliation. Now it's over, and I'll admit what he said in the paper sounded a little over the top. He said something to the effect of, "the officer has suffered the most anguish in this whole thing." If I could see inside the girl's head and knew that she was lying, then I'd agree with him. But if there was a chance that she still believed it happened, even though it never did, but it was the way she felt, that's kind of a presumptuous statement to make.
She doesn't know when a game is over, though. She said to a reporter in an email that it just proves that you can do whatever you want if you have a badge in this society. She says she's going to pursue other avenues. It would have been nice if she'd actually taken the first step instead of the police taking it for her. She'd better watch out, because she may be in for a few surprise next steps on the police's part. How long do you think it'll be before she's the defendent in a libel suit?
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Boobytrapped! Update
I realize that tomorrow, the original post about this will drift off the main page. So, here's a link to it again.
I got another email about it. They said they'd seriously look into why OCR software packages, packages that turn the printed word into text, thus into something the computer can read, demand the password and tell me what others can do if they want to read the same things. They even asked me for what package I use. Plus, they said they'd do a better job of describing their images with instructions like, "do like this." on them. So, there's hope. Hopefully that wasn't webmaster speak for, "We're doing nothing of the sort to change the site, but we'll tell you we're working on it so you'll shut up and go away." I don't think so, though.
I got another email about it. They said they'd seriously look into why OCR software packages, packages that turn the printed word into text, thus into something the computer can read, demand the password and tell me what others can do if they want to read the same things. They even asked me for what package I use. Plus, they said they'd do a better job of describing their images with instructions like, "do like this." on them. So, there's hope. Hopefully that wasn't webmaster speak for, "We're doing nothing of the sort to change the site, but we'll tell you we're working on it so you'll shut up and go away." I don't think so, though.
Location, Location, Location!
No matter what the word means where you come from, building a restaurant called Cafe Osama across the street from an American embassy is never a good idea.
By the way, the best part of this story is the very last line.
By the way, the best part of this story is the very last line.
Marriage Problems
So John and Mary are having problems in their marriage. She hangs, he drinks and they fight all the time. It never ends.
Finally, after weeks of nagging him to no end about it, Mary finally convinces John to go to a marriage counseller.
On the day of the appointment, they're fighting is worse than usual. They argue all the way to the office, the entire time they're sitting in the waiting room and even as they're walking in the door to the office.
The woman behind the desk says "What seems to be the problem? How can I help?"
The couple immediately starts arguing again, both trying to get out what they think is the problem. No one can hear anyone else and things are going nowhere. Finally the Doctor stops them.
"Alright. I can see this will take some work. So everytime things start to get out of hand - I want you both to come up with something you have in common - that should help you at least remember why you fell in love."
There's a long silence in the room as they stare in to each others eyes. Neither says a word. It's almost like they can't come up with anything that they could possibly have in common.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, John slams his fist down on the desk, stands up, stares right at Mary, then the Doctor and yells "Neither of us like to suck dick!"
Finally, after weeks of nagging him to no end about it, Mary finally convinces John to go to a marriage counseller.
On the day of the appointment, they're fighting is worse than usual. They argue all the way to the office, the entire time they're sitting in the waiting room and even as they're walking in the door to the office.
The woman behind the desk says "What seems to be the problem? How can I help?"
The couple immediately starts arguing again, both trying to get out what they think is the problem. No one can hear anyone else and things are going nowhere. Finally the Doctor stops them.
"Alright. I can see this will take some work. So everytime things start to get out of hand - I want you both to come up with something you have in common - that should help you at least remember why you fell in love."
There's a long silence in the room as they stare in to each others eyes. Neither says a word. It's almost like they can't come up with anything that they could possibly have in common.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, John slams his fist down on the desk, stands up, stares right at Mary, then the Doctor and yells "Neither of us like to suck dick!"
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thought Shake, Extra Thick
It's random thoughts time again! Yep, here's where I ramble about a bunch of crap that probably interests no one. The only difference is this one's full of a bunch of disconnected thoughts. Since most of these random thoughts posts have titles about food, and I figured thoughts of soup or anything else would probably make people sweat way too much on a hot day like this, and salad was already taken, it's a thought shake. So I wonder if you can suck it through a straw.
Speaking of shakes, has anyone else noticed that the Macdonalds chocolate milkshakes are way, way, way too sweet? You suck back on them and it feels like the sugar is going straight to your brain and your pancreas is shrieking in protest. Once, I thought I tasted chocolate powder in them. Like holy crap. They were fine before. Did someone actually demand more chocolate? What is wrong with people, if they did? Or maybe someone at this one macdonalds needs to go back to shake machine school.
I wonder if the construction crew in this part of the city should look into whether they're dyslexic. I'm certainly thinking they should, after I saw the masterpiece of a bus shelter near this place. IT's backwards! If you stand in it, you won't be seen by the bus, and the back wall faces where the front usually faces on these things. When the bus comes, you have to run out and around it. It's so bad that people tell us not to stand in it, that it's better to stand behind it. Nice job...or...boj.
When you're getting a TB test as a requirement for a form, and you come back to have it read, the last thing you need to hear from the nurse looking at your arm is....oh my goodness! So many thoughts race through your head. "Do I have TB? How did I get it? Shouldn't I be coughing or something?" Then she says, "you're clear!" This causes another thought cascade. "Phew! Why was she surprised? Was she hoping I'd have TB? Or, was she fucking with my head just for fun? Does she like saying to people who get lumps looked at, "You'd better sit down. You're fine." What is wrong with this deranged individual?" Or, am I the weird one? Either way, that was strange.
The CD buying spree continues. I now own the two newest albums by the Frantics, and all I can say is, these guys are weird. Some pretty funny stuff swirling around in their heads. I love how some people can take ordinary stuff and make it hillarious.
The other day, I did a couple speeches for my sister's teachers' college class about blindness and education. When she asked me to do it, I was like gee what do I talk about? Well, apparently, there's over 40 minutes worth of stuff to talk about. But the weirdest thing was having the people I spoke to say I was inspirational at the end. Me? Inspirational? Um...ok? I just talked about what happened. I never really thought of myself as inspirational. I even apparently made one girl cry because I was so moving. Allrighty then. I'll try and digest that. I guess they liked it then.
Isn't it weird when you see someone say things that are totally the opposite of what they used to stand for? You can only think they're blinded by love and that's why they say them. Take someone who was always one that would tell people to do their own damn laundry unless there was a physical reason why they couldn't, like they couldn't reach the machines or something, and couldn't understand why guys would hire maids to iron their shirts. Now that they're with this guy who does exactly that, oh how the tune has changed. In fact, the maid does his laundry. When I heard about it, I started laughing and was completely amazed. She stopped walking and said, "Carin, he doesn't have time to iron his shirts." He doesn't? That night, he was going to play tennis and get a massage. I'm sure he could have worked the ironing in there. This guy has lots of money and they're going on trips, seemingly on a whim. I remember when she was sensible and practical. I hope she comes out of this fog. I'd like her back to normal. That would be nice.
And then there are people that are completely unable to see what other people need because they're too wrapped up in their own needs. One friend of mine had an older family member who had to have part of her esophagus ripped out because it had a tumour. Think about that. So she has to be fed through a tube because she can't actually eat stuff. Since this friend's family is spread all over the place, they sent the friend over to help her do stuff she can't do herself because of what's happened. So my friend has to crush up her meds and put them in a syringe, attach new bags of whatever you put into feeding tubes to the machine that shoots it in there, turn the pump on and off that supplies the older lady's tube with stuff, and she has to do this a few times a day. She doesn't have to bathe her, she doesn't have to do anything highly medical, yet this was enough to make her cry because it was so much work! One day, she said she had a migraine headache, so she said she crossly said to the old lady, "I'm going to bed, I'll just get up to do the bare minimum." Is anyone else as astounded as I am? This poor old lady doesn't want to be like this. she doesn't want to be dependent on family to feed her. And then she gets that kind of treatment! My friend even said she made jokes to the old lady about "What are you gonna do when I'm gone?" I thought that since my friend gets sick a lot, she'd have a little more empathy for her relative. I guess not.
*slurp slurp gurgle* That's the end? Yep, it is. Maybe I'll have more thoughts later. Hope you enjoyed this one, and it was yummy yummy tasty.
Speaking of shakes, has anyone else noticed that the Macdonalds chocolate milkshakes are way, way, way too sweet? You suck back on them and it feels like the sugar is going straight to your brain and your pancreas is shrieking in protest. Once, I thought I tasted chocolate powder in them. Like holy crap. They were fine before. Did someone actually demand more chocolate? What is wrong with people, if they did? Or maybe someone at this one macdonalds needs to go back to shake machine school.
I wonder if the construction crew in this part of the city should look into whether they're dyslexic. I'm certainly thinking they should, after I saw the masterpiece of a bus shelter near this place. IT's backwards! If you stand in it, you won't be seen by the bus, and the back wall faces where the front usually faces on these things. When the bus comes, you have to run out and around it. It's so bad that people tell us not to stand in it, that it's better to stand behind it. Nice job...or...boj.
When you're getting a TB test as a requirement for a form, and you come back to have it read, the last thing you need to hear from the nurse looking at your arm is....oh my goodness! So many thoughts race through your head. "Do I have TB? How did I get it? Shouldn't I be coughing or something?" Then she says, "you're clear!" This causes another thought cascade. "Phew! Why was she surprised? Was she hoping I'd have TB? Or, was she fucking with my head just for fun? Does she like saying to people who get lumps looked at, "You'd better sit down. You're fine." What is wrong with this deranged individual?" Or, am I the weird one? Either way, that was strange.
The CD buying spree continues. I now own the two newest albums by the Frantics, and all I can say is, these guys are weird. Some pretty funny stuff swirling around in their heads. I love how some people can take ordinary stuff and make it hillarious.
The other day, I did a couple speeches for my sister's teachers' college class about blindness and education. When she asked me to do it, I was like gee what do I talk about? Well, apparently, there's over 40 minutes worth of stuff to talk about. But the weirdest thing was having the people I spoke to say I was inspirational at the end. Me? Inspirational? Um...ok? I just talked about what happened. I never really thought of myself as inspirational. I even apparently made one girl cry because I was so moving. Allrighty then. I'll try and digest that. I guess they liked it then.
Isn't it weird when you see someone say things that are totally the opposite of what they used to stand for? You can only think they're blinded by love and that's why they say them. Take someone who was always one that would tell people to do their own damn laundry unless there was a physical reason why they couldn't, like they couldn't reach the machines or something, and couldn't understand why guys would hire maids to iron their shirts. Now that they're with this guy who does exactly that, oh how the tune has changed. In fact, the maid does his laundry. When I heard about it, I started laughing and was completely amazed. She stopped walking and said, "Carin, he doesn't have time to iron his shirts." He doesn't? That night, he was going to play tennis and get a massage. I'm sure he could have worked the ironing in there. This guy has lots of money and they're going on trips, seemingly on a whim. I remember when she was sensible and practical. I hope she comes out of this fog. I'd like her back to normal. That would be nice.
And then there are people that are completely unable to see what other people need because they're too wrapped up in their own needs. One friend of mine had an older family member who had to have part of her esophagus ripped out because it had a tumour. Think about that. So she has to be fed through a tube because she can't actually eat stuff. Since this friend's family is spread all over the place, they sent the friend over to help her do stuff she can't do herself because of what's happened. So my friend has to crush up her meds and put them in a syringe, attach new bags of whatever you put into feeding tubes to the machine that shoots it in there, turn the pump on and off that supplies the older lady's tube with stuff, and she has to do this a few times a day. She doesn't have to bathe her, she doesn't have to do anything highly medical, yet this was enough to make her cry because it was so much work! One day, she said she had a migraine headache, so she said she crossly said to the old lady, "I'm going to bed, I'll just get up to do the bare minimum." Is anyone else as astounded as I am? This poor old lady doesn't want to be like this. she doesn't want to be dependent on family to feed her. And then she gets that kind of treatment! My friend even said she made jokes to the old lady about "What are you gonna do when I'm gone?" I thought that since my friend gets sick a lot, she'd have a little more empathy for her relative. I guess not.
*slurp slurp gurgle* That's the end? Yep, it is. Maybe I'll have more thoughts later. Hope you enjoyed this one, and it was yummy yummy tasty.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
That Canadian Guy was Funny!
A while ago, Steve and I got tickets to go see Glen Foster, with the opening band the Black Roses. Well, the show was last night, and it was awesome. If you have a chance to see either of these two, you should go see them.
Glen Foster was funny, but I knew he was going to be funny. I guess what I wasn't expecting was exactly *how* funny he was going to be. When you've heard a couple CD's and a bunch of TV specials, to see him live is a whole different level of funny. Everybody seemed to be having a pretty good time, which was good since I wondered how many of the old ladies near us just came because they saw an ad for it in the paper.
But the big surprise was how funny the Black Roses were. They seemed like they'd be fun from the little bit of them we saw on the CBC and from their website, but god their delivery was hillarious. Imagine two sweet-sounding girls getting up to sing and play the guitar. They have voices that sound like they should be singing songs about the world's problems and how we should all love each other. Then they sing, and make you laugh your ass off about fag hags, cults dying together, dead dream babies, polygamy, screwing, and whatever else is swirling around in their dirty minds. Somewhere, some poor old nun or choir teacher is crying because she taught these girls music and now they're using their beautiful voices to sing such horrible words.
I got their CD, "Look it up Yourself", and parts of it are just...odd. there's no other word for it. Odd. They even signed the CD, which was cool. The freakiest part was while they were signing it. They were talking to me and they sounded all sweet, the way they do during their act, just before whipping out a really sarcastic line or a joke. So I was waiting for them to make some kind of crack at me. They didn't, of course, but it was weird. We added them to our links section under people who make us laugh, so if you want, you can...go look them up yourselves.
So, it was lots of fun. If you can, go see Glen Foster. And check out the Black Roses too.
Glen Foster was funny, but I knew he was going to be funny. I guess what I wasn't expecting was exactly *how* funny he was going to be. When you've heard a couple CD's and a bunch of TV specials, to see him live is a whole different level of funny. Everybody seemed to be having a pretty good time, which was good since I wondered how many of the old ladies near us just came because they saw an ad for it in the paper.
But the big surprise was how funny the Black Roses were. They seemed like they'd be fun from the little bit of them we saw on the CBC and from their website, but god their delivery was hillarious. Imagine two sweet-sounding girls getting up to sing and play the guitar. They have voices that sound like they should be singing songs about the world's problems and how we should all love each other. Then they sing, and make you laugh your ass off about fag hags, cults dying together, dead dream babies, polygamy, screwing, and whatever else is swirling around in their dirty minds. Somewhere, some poor old nun or choir teacher is crying because she taught these girls music and now they're using their beautiful voices to sing such horrible words.
I got their CD, "Look it up Yourself", and parts of it are just...odd. there's no other word for it. Odd. They even signed the CD, which was cool. The freakiest part was while they were signing it. They were talking to me and they sounded all sweet, the way they do during their act, just before whipping out a really sarcastic line or a joke. So I was waiting for them to make some kind of crack at me. They didn't, of course, but it was weird. We added them to our links section under people who make us laugh, so if you want, you can...go look them up yourselves.
So, it was lots of fun. If you can, go see Glen Foster. And check out the Black Roses too.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Well... It Ain't A Door - But It's Cool
So today we made another landmark purchase. It won't be as cool as the door we've all been talking about agani recently - but it's pretty sweet so it warranted a post.
Our family owns a cottage in Harcourt Park. Harcourt Park is in cottage country and is a privately owned huge piece of property with a bunch of lakes and roads and stuff. It's massive. So you buy the cottages from the Harcourt Group instead of from other people and basically you then own shares in the park, which is private property owned by everyone who owns a cottage there. This means while standard laws do apply - certain ones do not. Since our roads are technically not "public roads" and have to be consideredm ore like driveways through the woods that the land is on... you're allowed different vehacles on them than you would be allowed to have on a public road or highway. Vehacles like.... golf carts....
That's right, rather than take your car from cottage to cottage when you visit, most people use their boat or a 4 wheeler or something. Until we moved in a few years ago, and then my aunt and uncle, and then our family's best friends, and then a guy my Dad works with who hangs out with us. We started taking over. And while we did bring 4 wheelers and boats, we also brought Golf Carts. They were the same standard small, weak battery powered ones you'd see on any golf course and we used them because we could carry more people on them than on the 4 wheelers. That was until today.
We just bought the mother of all golf carts. It's an extremely hot lookin' red which is a great start. It has huge mud tires on it to get better traction on the dirt and gravel roads and to keep it up out of the puddles that can accumulate. Also assisting to that end? A bad-ass lift-kit keeps this thing sittin' high and lookin' hot. And rankly lookin' more like a mini-truck than a peaceful golf cart.
As I said, most golf carts on a run on an electric battery powered rechargeable engine which is ok except it's not that powerful and the battery dies quickly. We have one relative who lives 5 km's on the other side of the park. This thing would get you there, albeit slowly thanks to lack of power in the little engine and all the hills that it didn't have the balls to speed up, and would then require charging at the other end before you could come home which took about 4 beers... err... I mean an hour to do. Not this baby. This thing has a gas powered 30HP engine! This bitch will do over 50kph (which is a nice step up from the battery powered one which would hit top speed of about 11kph if you were lucky enough to be going downhill with only one person on it).
It has 6 drink holders (and only 4 seats which is funny but appropriate with our family) which is good since you pretty much have to be loaded to be willing to be seen driving around in a sooped up golf cart. The crowning jewel. A stereo system. Some in the past have had radios but this has a full out CD player and speakers in it. All we're missing is the hydrolics and the rims and we've got Snoop's golf cart.
Just thought I'd keep you kids up to date on the crap we're buying these days.
Our family owns a cottage in Harcourt Park. Harcourt Park is in cottage country and is a privately owned huge piece of property with a bunch of lakes and roads and stuff. It's massive. So you buy the cottages from the Harcourt Group instead of from other people and basically you then own shares in the park, which is private property owned by everyone who owns a cottage there. This means while standard laws do apply - certain ones do not. Since our roads are technically not "public roads" and have to be consideredm ore like driveways through the woods that the land is on... you're allowed different vehacles on them than you would be allowed to have on a public road or highway. Vehacles like.... golf carts....
That's right, rather than take your car from cottage to cottage when you visit, most people use their boat or a 4 wheeler or something. Until we moved in a few years ago, and then my aunt and uncle, and then our family's best friends, and then a guy my Dad works with who hangs out with us. We started taking over. And while we did bring 4 wheelers and boats, we also brought Golf Carts. They were the same standard small, weak battery powered ones you'd see on any golf course and we used them because we could carry more people on them than on the 4 wheelers. That was until today.
We just bought the mother of all golf carts. It's an extremely hot lookin' red which is a great start. It has huge mud tires on it to get better traction on the dirt and gravel roads and to keep it up out of the puddles that can accumulate. Also assisting to that end? A bad-ass lift-kit keeps this thing sittin' high and lookin' hot. And rankly lookin' more like a mini-truck than a peaceful golf cart.
As I said, most golf carts on a run on an electric battery powered rechargeable engine which is ok except it's not that powerful and the battery dies quickly. We have one relative who lives 5 km's on the other side of the park. This thing would get you there, albeit slowly thanks to lack of power in the little engine and all the hills that it didn't have the balls to speed up, and would then require charging at the other end before you could come home which took about 4 beers... err... I mean an hour to do. Not this baby. This thing has a gas powered 30HP engine! This bitch will do over 50kph (which is a nice step up from the battery powered one which would hit top speed of about 11kph if you were lucky enough to be going downhill with only one person on it).
It has 6 drink holders (and only 4 seats which is funny but appropriate with our family) which is good since you pretty much have to be loaded to be willing to be seen driving around in a sooped up golf cart. The crowning jewel. A stereo system. Some in the past have had radios but this has a full out CD player and speakers in it. All we're missing is the hydrolics and the rims and we've got Snoop's golf cart.
Just thought I'd keep you kids up to date on the crap we're buying these days.
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