Iceberglandia

You know how sometimes everything sucks?

Shit, I bought a lamp for my computer desk. Turns out it’s a halogen lamp, so now I have to choose between being in absolute darkness and not being able to see my fucking keyboard (since it’s black), and burning my retinas.

I had friday off from work, and while I’m the first to enjoy the concept of a day off, my Christmas vacation budget was counting on working that friday. Stupid american thanksgiving.

I bought some juice for my Bacardi Limon, as I do every weekend. Only this time I got creative and decided to buy Tropicana Tropic Blend, which is fucking awful. I spent 20 minutes puking in the bathroom, just because of all the fucking pulp. And the smell, goddamit, the smell!

My remaining team in the mexican soccer playoffs just got eliminated.

And just now, I went for a smoke. Between the wind and the ice pellets, I was reminded of the Pantera song, “Sandblasted skin”.

Oh, and my gf, who’s been in Mexico for a week, chooses not to consider me as a target for communication, despite having land phones, cell phones, and internet connections. Well, she sent me a text message, but that just doesn’t cut it.

So, yeah, I’m in a shitty mood. Oh well.

The Iceberg.

I walk into Starbucks the other day. Yes, I know. Not my proudest moment. But dammit, I need coffee. It’s finally my turn to approach the counter, after several idiots have decided to place unnecessarily complicated orders that take forever to prepare.
The barista (or coffee bitch, as i prefer to call them) asks me what I want.

“Just a large coffee”, I say. At first, I noticed the expression of relief/puzzlement that somebody on this planet is simple enough to order a regular coffee. Then it became apparent she wasn’t familiar with the concept of “large”.
“Is that a Tall, or a Venti?” She asked. How the fuck should I know, I thought, and repeated “just a large”.
Long story short, I had to point at the large (as opposed to medium and small) cups on the counter.
Turns out, and go figure, the “tall” is the medium sized one, and the “Venti” is the large.

How hip does Starbucks believe itself to be, that they hope to rearrange the way people order coffee? Next time I’m at Tim Horton’s, I’ll order a Venti just to see what happens. But I swear, it’ll be the only time I ever use the word “Venti” out loud. Unless someday I learn italian and have to say it.

Oh, and when I was directed to the sugar/cream/milk table, the cunts that had taken forever to order whatever it’s going to take them 5 minutes to consume were still undecided as to what to put in their beverage. I really felt like slapping their cups out of their hands and saying “hey! crisis over!”.

Fuck, I hate Starbucks. Not because of the reasons everybody else hates them, but just for their fucking douchiness.
Truth be told, though, I would have allowed the barista (coffee bitch) to play with my venti manhood. (sorry, I just had to throw that in there). 

The Iceberg.

I might be wrong, but as far as my memory is concerned, it was march. I walked into the office to say something or another to my boss. One of the truck drivers from one of the companies we use to ship shit out was doing some paperwork.
In the office, I noticed somebody had set up a piece of paper. I read it, and proclaimed, both to my boss and the truck driver (I used to get along with her) the following phrase:

This is going to be the easiest $100 I’ll ever make.

The paper was an invitation to participate in a contest to design the new Kaizen forms. The old ones were horribly done (a $100 dollar bill with the plant manager’s terribly pixelated face superimplanted on it. So they wanted new forms. And they made a contest. And I entered.

Now, before I continue, let me give you a brief description of just what in the hell a “kaizen form” is. The word Kaizen, when loosely translated into english, means “Continuous Improvement”. In my particular plant, there are Kaizen forms everywhere, and you are encouraged to fill them out with random ideas to improve production, safety, etc. Basically, any good idea is welcome. And in return, the company gives you a hundred bucks. Neat, huh?

Anyway, back to my story. I entered the contest, and made my design here at home. I can’t show you my design, because it is now the property of the company, but it’s not even a complicated design. Company logo on the top left corner, the word Kaizen written in a thick font which I made look like it’s made of metal, and the japanese characters for “Kaizen” drawn vertically on the right side. I guess all in all, from the moment I GIS’d the company logo to when I printed off my design maybe 30 minutes went by. A cup of coffee and a smoke break. While listening to whatever I was enjoying at the moment.

Now, like i said, this was quite probably in March. So when by late september I had neither seen any new forms nor heard anything about a contest, I assumed they had decided to toss the idea aside. “Fuck it”, I said, and decided to move on with my life.
Then, sometime in October I noticed that there were quite a few forms on the wall where they post the ideas that have been implemented. One of them in particular was kind of folded, and I recognized something about the reverse of the form. “Why, of course!”, I thought. “Of course I recognized that, since I created the damn thing!”.
I inquired as to why my design was being used, while never having been informed about it. I expected a red-carpet event in which I’d be handed one of those giant novelty cheques, for the quantity of ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS, or at the very least a notice, as in “Hey Iceberg! You won the contest”. But nothing.
My boss promised to get to the bottom of this quandary, and the next day informed me that the reason nobody told me anything was because nobody had an idea who had created such a masterpiece. He said he had informed the pertinent party it had been none other than yours truly, and that I would be reimbursed soon.
A couple of weeks later I talked to my boss and the subject of my reimbursement came up. When I said I had received what I collectively refered to as fuck all, he told me to go talk to the pertinent party myself. Which I did, on thursday. They said they’d pay me on friday, but conflicting schedules made that impossible. Yesterday the first thing my boss did when I came in was to walk up to me and hand me an envelope. He said I was fired. He was kidding. I opened the envelope and found this:

Sure, I would have taken cash, but whatever. Or gift certificates for the liquor store.

Just in case my boss or the truck driver ever stumble onto this post, this is for them:

SEE? TOLD YOU!

You have to be filled to the brim with self-confidence when making bold statements like “this is going to be easy”. Ha.

The Iceberg.

Yesterday was my sister’s birthday. We went to her house for dinner, had a good time, food was excellent, and all in all it was a good day.
The problem came later on.

I ate two and a half plates of the delicious meal that was prepared, plus 4 slices of cake (I’m not much of a cake guy, but when it’s ice-cream cake, I’m sold), plus probably 8 or 9 beers. When we arrived home, around 9.30, I was still full, and as happens when food is consumed in excess, I felt drowsy.
Now, who the fuck goes to lie down at 10 at night? Anyway, I fell asleep. Despite efforts to get up (I didn’t want to fuck up my sleep pattern), I couldn’t. Still full, and feeling slothful, I went back to sleep.
Then, the obvious happened. I woke up around 2 AM, fully alert and aware that going back to sleep would be an impossibility.
It was then that I was presented with two choices: I could either try really, really hard to get back to sleep, take advantage of the fact that for once in my life I had gone to bed early, and wake up refreshed and ready to start another week, or I could get up and continue drinking beer and whatever rum I had left. Guess what I did.

Before going back to bed at 5.30 in the morning, I stepped outside for a smoke. Much to my fucking chagrin, it was snowing somewhat hard. So, here I am, at five thirty in the fucking morning of a fucking Monday, standing outside in my socks puffing away at a cigarette. Covered in snow, and of course my socks were absorbing whatever snow the heat from my feet was able to melt. All this, while stressing out because I should really, really be in bed, asleep.
I went back inside, changed my socks and crawled into bed. I stared at the roof for another half hour, 45 minutes, until I finally fell asleep. Four hours later, my alarm went off. And of course, now that sleep is out of the question, I’m sleepy. And, I’m still full from last night. I’m sure I’ll enjoy going to work today.

The Iceberg.

Well, it’s official. My blog sucks.

Even with a post charged with all kinds of sexually explicit search words, the best I could do was receive 11 fucking hits in one day.
It feels like you’re in a pool full of sharks, and you’re throwing chum into the pool, and the sharks won’t touch it, because YOU are throwing it in.
Oh well.

The Iceberg.

Look at these stats:

That’s how many people have visited my stupid blog lately. 9? Fucking nine visits in one day? Pathetic.

So, I got to thinking, hey, sex sells, doesn’t it? People love typing the most insane strings of words into search engines. It’s nice to see how advanced we are as a fucking species. So, what happens if I type random sex-related words, just for kicks and see how many visits I get by this time tomorrow? here goes:

Fuck
Fucking
Tits
Boobs
Pussy
Intercourse
Vagina
Ass
Anal
Blowjob
Blow Job
Hot Babe
Big Tits
Huge Dick
Penis
Anal Rape
Busty Teen
Titties
And just for kicks, while on the subject of tits… a couple of pictures of Denise Milani.

Let the experiment begin!

The Iceberg.

I’ve managed to travel back home twice a year since I moved to Canada. It’s something I like to do. Visit my daughter (when I’m able to), my family and friends, my gf, as well as do my rounds at the various magazine shops, supermarkets, restaurants and random businesses. It always turns out to be an awkward trip, it’s funny to see nothing ever changes there (not that fucking Guelph is a booming town, mind you), but all in all, it’s something I never regret doing.

What I do regret, at times, is announce to my coworkers, or random people in the streets (assuming there is a previous conversation – I’m not the kind that walks around bothering strangers with inane conversations).

The reason for my regret is that without fail, said people immediately become intrigued by my travel, and start asking the same questions and making the same comments:

• Ooh! Mexico! Last time I went to the beach was three years ago!
• Did you get one of those all-inclusive packages?
• Ooh! Latin chicks are awesome in their bikinis!
• What resort will you be saying at?
• Oh! Cheap tequila and hot latinas!
• (the inevitable request) hey! bring me back a bottle of tequila, with the worm in it! usually followed by:
• Do they really eat the worm?

You get the picture. Thousands of similar phrases by well-meaning, but misled canadians who assume Mexico is just that: a huge beach where tequila flows freely and hot scantily clad latinas walk around catering to your every whim. I could only wish.

• To set the facts straight, the closest I am to a beach when I go back there is roughly 250 kms west of La Pesca, Tam., a quasi-virgin beach.
• While down there, unless it’s mixed into one of the drinks I like, but can’t find in Canada, I don’t drink tequila. I find 1 litre bottles of rum for roughly ten bucks, and tropical fruit juices for a buck a pop. That is my drink of choice. And beer, too (and not that Corona crap, either).
• Mexico is the second fattest country in the world. the term “scantily-clad latinas” induces in me a gag reflex. (What has been seen cannot be unseen). Sure, there are a lot of hotties, but there are a lot of hotties here, too. Pretty much everywhere.
• The particular village I visit cannot be considered “paradise”, even in the loosest extension of the word.

So, in short, I speak unto my fellow canadians my wisdom:

This is not Mexico:

The Iceberg.

PS
It’s not that it bothers me when people ask me about my trips to Mexico, it’s just the misconceptions they have. Just sayin’.