I think I’m allergic to first dates

I awoke this morning anxious to go pick up my new car.  I knew it was just waiting for me to arrive at the dealership, caress it tenderly and abuse it in all the right ways.  I knew this because 15 hours previous, I had been at said dealership, however they decided that 6pm was an acceptable time to close a RETAIL LOCATION.  Idiots.

I showered and shaved, eager to hop in Terry’s entirely-too-loud Mitsubishi Lancer to ride the 16km to the Saturn location and greet my brand new baby with loving arms.  Of course in being so eager to see my new car, I forgot that when bringing any kind of blade near your throat, attention is key.  Being that mine was elsewhere, I soon learned what it felt like to have multiple slices of skin mysteriously vanish from my neck.  For those of you who are wondering: it doesn’t feel so great.

I didn’t care though; I was getting my new car.

We arrive at the dealership, just in time for the dealerwoman to show me every possible feature on the car.  I’m pretty sure had I not stopped her and told her that I did indeed know what “door handles” are for, I might have been there 5 hours later.  I finally kicked her out of the passenger seat (she was showing me how to use the OnStar system – FYI, OnStar fucking rules) and I headed home where I was to await the call from the lovely Ms. Chiara, telling me that she was ready to be picked up for our first date… A trip to Banff to go picture taking together.

<to be continued…>

All good things must come to an end

As most of you (yes, all 2 of you) know by now, nothing good that ever happens to me ever lasts longer than a day or so.  Of course, that still holds true today.  If you read yesterday’s post, you’d know that last night I put a $400 deposit down in the hopes that I would be approved for financing for a 2009 Mitsubishi Lancer GT.  This morning I was informed by the finance manager at Mitsubishi that the terms of our financing deal were “unacceptable” and that I needed to come up with $5,000 for this deal to work.

As you can imagine, after I finished asking him why the fuck he thought I was capable of pulling $5,000 out of thin air when mere hours previous I told him that my pulling-money-out-of-thin-air hat was at the cleaners.  God fucking dammit, do I ever hate car salesmen.  They are the slimiest bunch of jerkoffs this side of Commissionaires.  And if you know me, you’ll know my undying hatred of Commissionaires cannot be topped.

At this point, I was feeling a bit pissed off.  In fact, you could even say that I was homocidal.  With that in mind, I decided I’d take one last shot at buying a new car before I would push my car off a cliff and say that the Ogopogo ate it.

I walked into the Hyundai dealership with my cheeks a-spread and the lube in hand, waiting for the local salesman to bend me over the nearest table and make me call him (….or her) “daddy.”  It wasn’t until I had been browsing for a few minutes that I realized that there hadn’t been any salesmen trolling for a bite, which actually surprised me more than anything.  This whole letting me approach someone instantly put them on my “I don’t want to kill you just yet” list.

So I finally approach Voitek (I think that’s how it’s spelled) and tell him that I’m a current Hyundai Tiburon owner and am considering upgrading to the latest model (pictured at the top of this article).  We talk for a minute or so about what I like about the car and so on, and so I decide to take a test drive.  At this point, I was expecting “the pitch.”  One thing I never understood about car salesmen is when you say you like a certain car and then they try and upsell it to you, as if you just told them that your family was killed in a 9 car that-car pileup and that you never wanted to see it again.

So we hop in the car, I’m expecting the dude to start telling me how this is so great and that feature is rated #1 in its class…. blah blah blah…. Nothing… The guy is damn near silent.  If I couldn’t see him out of my peripheral vision, I would have assumed that I was alone in the car.

So now I’m getting nervous.  I’ve had no sales-idiots looking at me like I’m their next lunch and I’ve got no sales pitch in one ear while I tune out with the other.  I’m not sure whether they’re genuinely being nice, or if they’re just going to backdoor me and force me into the bondage dungeon later.

Either way, we continue and I decide to proceed with starting the paperwork.  But I’m not nervous at all.  Now I’m getting nervous.  I’m nervous because I’m not nervous.  The fact that the experience is so different to every other car purchasing journey I’ve ever embarked on is unsettling, because I’m just waiting for the punchline – the point in the process when they put their fist in my throat and watch me slowly choke on it.

So we go through the options for financing, and I’m introduced to the business manager, Linda.  From the moment I sat in the chair expecting to be treated like a commission check and nothing more, I was treated amazingly.  And not like the schmoozingly fake BS that other places expect you to fall for in a second, no she was actually a really nice person; hell, she was actually pretty cute too.  If I thought I had an outside chance with her after she saw my financial situation, I’d have asked her out for coffee.

Anyways, we spent about an hour talking about both the car and personal stuff.  We were joking in between questions and I really felt comfortable the whole time.  Of course the comfort just created un-comfort because I just couldn’t grasp the concept that a dealership might actually want their customer to be happy.  (For those of you reading this thinking “Justin, you’re smart enough to know that they’re just doing this so you’ll give them your money” but to that I’d respond that I’m willing to give A dealership my money, I don’t care which one inevitably gets it, I just want a new car.  If you’re gonna treat me with respect, I’m going to give you my money.)

So it’s now 9:10pm Tuesday night, I’ve left them a deposit and am waiting for the mom-ster to contact them in the morning to setup the co-sign piece of the financing deal and then, God willing, I will have a brand new car by Friday evening.

Needless to say, after the numerous attempts I’ve made at buying a car and all the disappointment I’ve dealt with, I’m not getting too excited.  I am however going to stay positive that buy the end of the week, my current set of wheels is going to get a teeny tiny upgrade.

Cross your fingers for me!

I’m a little teapot

As I promised last night, I am going to start updating my site on a regular basis again.  “Is it that time of year again,” I can hear you ask in earnest.  Why yes, it’s that time of year when I am single, addicted to the computer, and in need of getting my feelings onto [virtual-]paper so that I can at least pretend I’ve told someone them, even if my readership on this site is approaching absolute zero.

I believe I should fill you all in (heh…all….like there’s more than one of you) on what’s been happening during the past three months of my life.

The latest chapter in the epic fail that is my life begins somewhere around mid-December 2008.  The spirit of Christmas was in the air, beautiful, colored lights were being hung, and my soul was being crushed by yet another year of loneliness and heartache.  (Does this sound like the beginning of a country song? You tell me.)  Between having to re-acclimate my body to Canadian winters and knowing that Dave’s disgustingly cute girlfriend was days from arriving from Colombia, I was not the most enthusiastic of Santa’s little helpers.

Thinking that “Hey, I’m already on the computer anyways, why don’t I try looking on a few dating sites for someone to share a hot cup of coffee and possibly a shortbread cookie with?”  This is where most people would exclaim “But Justin, if you’re are a useless idiot surfing the internet for a date on the eve of Christ’s birth, who else do you expect to find,” and where someone who isn’t a useless idiot would respond “Oh yeah, useless idiots.”  As I am a useless idiot, I was not mindful of this fact.

I met Shlonya (names have been changed to protect the innocent) and we hit it off moderately well.  We weren’t planning on flying to Vegas to tie the knot as Elvis and Marilyn or anything, but there was enough there that we had a good time at a local pub and the movies (Sweeney Todd…GO SEE IT!) that we didn’t feel like dismembering each other.

Well, not yet anyways.

She went to Las Vegas (see where I’m going with this? … No, I’m kidding, she didn’t get married down there, you putz.) for New Years and immediately after getting back (I’m talking the same night) calls me to schedule date numero deuce.  At first I was a little stunned, actually.  Thanks to my wonderfully high self esteem, I really wasn’t expecting her to call me so soon after getting home, or at all in fact, so hearing from her was a pleasant surprise, not to mention a great little ego booster.

We met for our second date and she had even brought me a gift that she had picked up in Vegas: two Guess t-shirts.  Now this might not sound spectacular to you, but being the lonely guy I am, coupled with the fact that I’d only ever received a Christmas gift from one other girl I was interested in (and I swiftly killed that nasty habit by breaking up with her that same day) put me on cloud 15.  Yes, I actually rose 6 clouds higher than 9.

Well the saying goes: what goes up, must come down.  I’m amending it.  What goes up, must eventually peak moderately above average at which point gravity takes hold and pulls you back down to earth harder than a grandmother does a newborn.

Ok, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but the fact remains that things didn’t stay good for long.

<snip excessively boring story time>

Finally, I’d had enough.  We’d been fighting a lot, mostly about her laziness (her words, not mine) and her job at which she could be lazy – she was an “Inventory Control Specialist”, Staples-speak for “box counter extraordinaire.”  I thought (well, still think) that she was an incredibly bright girl who just didn’t give herself enough credit, but she refused to try and challenge herself.

Can that be considered a true character flaw?  I don’t know.  All I know is that while I may be incredibly lazy when I set foor in my front door, the only reason I do that is because at work, I am an incredibly motivated person.  If I’m not being challenged, I find myself bored and often looking for a new job.  At any rate, not only was she refusing to try and even come up with other possibilities for a career, but wouldn’t even attempt to find the same job at another company that would at least pay her a little more money (she was making less than Dairy Queen employees).

At this point, it’s Tuesday.  We’d fought most of the weekend and she’d been home for a few days doing laundry or whatever it is that she does at home.  During the day at work, I was at a client’s house setting up their computers after their house had been completely renovated.  With this renovation came a new desk.  And this desk was big.  Built into the wall, it was a beautiful structure with cabinets and shelves on both sides, reaching 5 feet off either side of the desk.  Being so huge and being built into the wall meant that there needed to be power sockets mounted in some of the shelves.  Unfortunately, the cabinet guys didn’t have long enough screws to mount the wall plates on these sockets and had to come back the following day to finish up, meaning that the power sockets were just hanging loose.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

As I was about to plug in the router to one of these hanging sockets, I found myself wondering whether these sockets currently had power.  Of course, no sane electrician would just leave live sockets hanging off a wall where some bozo could touch them.

Hi there, nice to meet you.  I’m Bozo.

Just before I went to plug in the router, I had a moment of clarity, stopped myself and asked “Shmoeanne (remember, names are being changed to protect the innocent… or in this case, guilty), these sockets aren’t live are they?”  Now I’m not sure why I believed her when she said “No, they’re not” seeing as she had just spent the previous 5 minutes on the phone with Telus screaming at them because she couldn’t figure out how to delete a voicemail message, but it was at that point I threw caution to the wind and went to plug in the rout—–BZZZZZZZZZT

Now I’m not sure how long I blacked out for, but I do remember coming to across the room with my fingers tingling and a headache that rivalled any migraine I’ve ever had.  I’m not sure if she had to bat me away from the wall with the chair or if I just fell there, but either way, I was in pain.  I went home, took a handful or 6 of Migraine Relief Advil, and crawled into bed.  It was at this point that I decided that I deal with enough physical pain in my life that I don’t need to put up with any more psychological crap than absolutely necessary – I was going to break up with Shlonya this week.


Finally, the day before I was planning on breaking up with her, and the day after our two month “official” anniversary arrives, and I hop in the shower. I look down on the floor and I notice that something looks different, but seeing as it’s 7:30 in the goddamned morning and I couldn’t tell you my own name at this point, I figure that I’m either imagining things or I’m imagining things.

I walk out of the bathroom after getting ready and see that both of her bags are packed.  “Should I be taking this as a hint,” I ask her.  She replied that it would be best if she had some time to herself.  (Editor’s Note: For those of you who are not fluent in the ancient Zulu language of Womanese, that means she was dumping me.)

It saves me the hassle of having to do it tomorrow, so… YAHOO!

That was last Friday.

If you’re keeping score, that means that last week I was electrocuted and I was dumped.  Yes, there are those of you out there who are going to argue that she just beat me to the punch, but anyone who’s broke up with anyone will tell you that the act of dumping someone feels great, so she wins, I lose.

Saturday, I go into the office for a few hours to help Alex develop our new client acquisition process and sometime while we were there, the boss pokes his head in to tell me that he’s giving me a raise.  Due to the fact that I was hired and getting paid as a technician, but since I’m doing quite a bit more administrative stuff lately (like the AARC paper-to-paperless project and the other smaller project planning I’ve been doing) he wanted to compensate me accordingly.

How many of you can say that your bosses have ever just come to you and OFFERED you more money?  NEENER NEENER NEEVER!!!

And theeeeeeeeeeen, to brighten my spirits, I went out car shopping today.  I’ve spent over $2000 in the past 2 and a half weeks alone on my stupid car, so I figured I’d go see what’s out there. Long story short, I just put a deposit on a 2009 Mitsubishi Lancer GT.

Sidenote: Why the hell are the 2009’s out already? It’s barely 2008 and you’re already pushing out next year’s model.  I understand it gives your customers the bragging rights and the ability to pretend like they’re living in the future, but seriously, who are you trying to fool?

So to sum everything up, last week (and I guess the past two and a half weeks if you want to get technical) have sucked so hard, you could slap a sticker on it and call it a Hoover (maybe their 2009 model? :P ) and this week is shaping up to be one of my best in recent months.

I’m crossing my fingers and staying positive.  I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?