Iceberglandia

Well, after all the ordeals aftear dealing with stupidity both with Western Union and Travelocity, I finally picked up my girlfriend at the airport on thursday.

Not that there wasn’t any more stupidity (or downright asshole-ness). For whatever reason, Mexicana (a mexican airline – one of our only two options to fly without touching ground in the USA) offered a flight from Monterrey to Toronto, with an overnight stay in Mexico City, for 1000 CDN. However, if one were to schedule two separate flights, one to Mexico City and one from Mexico City to Toronto, not only was there no overnight stay, but also the price dropped quite a few hundred bucks.
So in the interest of saving as much as possible, as well as not have my girlfriend spend a whole night in some chair at the airport, we went with just that.
I purchased the MEX-YYZ flight wihout a problem. I waited a while, to see if they, too, would find a way to cancel the flight, but apparently not. So I proceeded to purchase the other flight. No dice – apparently you can’t buy two flights with the same credit card.
In any case, we were able to obtain a flight to Mexico City through another airline. I made arrangements at work in order to be able to pick her up at 8.15.

I got to the airport, and immediately looked up at the screen. Flight 886 from Mexicana was scheduled as “ON TIME”, or “A L’HEURE”, depending on which three-second period you happened to gaze at the screen. It landed, taxiied around for quite a bit, and finally arrived at the gate. I expected that ina  few minutes, one of two things would happen: Either my girlfriend would walk out to where I was waiting, or I’d get a call from Immigration, to verify whatever. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was for Immigration Canada to act like utter assholes and do what they did. I’m posting these next few paragraphs on Facebook, and wherever else I can (and would appreciate if you did the same, please).

Canada is a country that is well known for its open foreign policy. Pretty much everybody likes canadians the world over, and in most cases, canadians like everybody else.
The whole thing with migrating to Canada is famous for being so unlike the States, which have pretty much shut several areas of the world out.
A mere walk through the streets of any city – in my particular case, let’s say Toronto – is proof that Canada has never had a problem with welcoming people from all over the world. Italians, Ethiopians, Indians, Chinese, Filipino… and for what it’s worth, even the hispanic community is quite large.

Which is why I was struck with awe when I picked my girlfriend up at the airport this thurdsay.

Let me start with some background, because apparently it’s relevant. My girlfriend came to Canada in May of last year. The six month period in which she could be here legally ended in November, which is when she went back to Mexico. During her stay here, around june or july if I’m not mistaken, her mexican passport expired. Not a big deal, we went to Toronto and got a new one at the Mexican Consulate.

While I waited for her, I got a call from Immigration. They asked if I was expecting any foreign visitors. More or less this is how the conversation went:

Immigration: Are you expecting any visitors from Mexico today sir?
Me: Yes, I am.
Immigration: And who would that be, sir?
Me: My girlfriend – (I paused, in case he asked me to give him her name)
Immigration: And how long is she staying?
Me: Around two months, I guess.
Immigration: Well, that’s funny, because she says she’s staying here to live.
Me (surprised that my girlfriend would be so stupid as to say something like that): Well, you never know what might happen down the road, but for now her return ticket is for May 20th.
Immigration: Well, she can’t live here.
Me: Well, like I said, we’ll see how things turn out, but in case we decide differently, we’ll do the proper paperwork.
Then he started asking me other trick questions, hoping to find out we were lying… questions such as how long we’d been together. Then he started asking me questions – personal questions – about myself. It was at this point that he started acting less “official” and more “asshole”, as he reacted negatively every time I didn’t understand one of his questions. I’m in the middle of a crowded room, on a shitty Rogers Pay-As-You-Go phone, forgive me for not hearing everything you ask. Sheesh!
Immigration: Well, we’re going to give her a visitor whatever he said that sounded official.

A few minutes later, my girlfriend walks out. She starts telling me what happened, when I asked her why she’d declare she was coming here to live. As she told me her story, breaking up into tears a couple of times, I got angrier and angrier.

Turns out, the first person she talked to was a lady who took her passport and noticed it had been issued in Toronto. For whatever reason (I guess she doesn’t know about consulates) this was a red flag for her. My GF was sent to another officer (I’m assuming the one that called me), but when they found out there was a language barrier, they got, of all people, an officer that spoke english and italian. This italian guy, my girlfriend told me, never stopped interrupting my girlfriend, and when he addressed her, he did so by yelling.

I don’t know if the whole “coming here to live” was a fabrication of the italian fuck, or the other asshole who called me. In any case, they staplet a Visitor Record to my GF’s passport, and even had the nerve to ask for my address and threaten that if she didn’t leave the country by May 20th, they’d come looking for her at my house.

I’m still investigating if there is a law that cancels out the whole “visitors can stay in Canada for up to 180 days at a time” law. I’m also trying to find a way to contact Immigration, to speak with them. Sadly, they only give you an 1-800 number you can call if you have paperwork regarding residence. So far, they haven’t been of much help. I noticed a while ago that perhaps the mexican consulate can help. But that would mean making a whole field trip to Toronto.

Whatever we end up doing shouldn’t be necesary, however. We haven’t done anything illegal, and to tell the truth, I find it stupid that Immigration officers consider a return date on a plane ticket (which was purchased based on price) as a fucking Commandment and threaten to come to my house to take my girlfriend by force.

Kinda shakes up your perceptions of Canada as a friendly country, doesn’t it?

The Iceberg. 

I hate “online personality tests”. I think they’re stupid. And I think people who take them are stupid. But, to each their own, It’s not like I was crusading against them or anything.
Just like I hate ‘reggaeton’, wiggers and cowboy wannabes, but I let them be as long as they do their “thing” far away from me. I’m not giong to go on a murdering spree.

I hate. I’m not psycho. There is a difference.

But when these things get in my way and invade my space, that’s a whole different thing. And suddenly, 90% of my Facebook contacts have developed the need to take these kinds of tests.
So now I know what kind of flower some of them are, I know what colour their fucking aura is, and what celebrity (they wish) they look like… among other tidbits of information I could really, really live without.

Maybe what really pisses me off, even more than belonging to the same species as the people who feel the need to partake of this kind of application, is the way that the idiot App Developer’s ego is so fucking huge, they feel the need to present the results with so much text, I can barely see more than 5 or 6 status updates onmy main page. So I have to undergo the inconvenience of having to click on the “older posts” tab.

I’d like to invite people to display a little more brain activity, but yeah, that’s gonna happen, right? Oh well, at least I can rant about it.

The Iceberg

PS
Oh! There’s a Cover Girl commercial on the TV with Rihanna. I guess the next commercial where she appears can advertise “it conceals black eyes, too!”

I just finished publishing an entry on my music blog about Sepultura’s “Beneath The Remains” album. While typing about that, my mind started getting all these flashbacks, so what better path to take than to write about them and bore you some more?

I honestly don’t remember how I met Eduardo. The first memories that come to my mind are of when we’d trade mixtapes – mine consisting of random songs that varied in genre from Johnny Hates Jazz’s “Shattered Dreams” to Ministry’s “Thieves”, to his Madonna remixes and his fucking argentinian “rock”. What I do remember is that at the same time, we both discovered a taste for heavier music. Each in our own way. Things progressed from Johhny Hates Jazz and Madonna, to Ministry, Guns N’ Roses, Primus – whatever MTV played at the time. Then he got expelled from school – and it took a lot of effort to get expelled from that particular high school – and I stopped seeing him for a while.

Maybe a year and a half down the road, I was already into Iron Maiden’s “Seventh Son of a Seventh Son” and Judas Priest’s “Turbo” and “Ram It Down” – granted, not the most metal efforts on JP’s behalf, but “Painkiller” was still a couple of months away. When people who knew I was into metal asked me what the heaviest music was, I’d without a doubt say ANTHRAX!. I hat yet to discover Slayer, Venom, and Sepultura.
One day I stumbled upon his school (in all honesty, it might’ve had to do with me chasing some chick) and I ran into him. He had changed. Long gone were the days when he’d lend me a tape filled with Madonna’s “La Isla Bonita”. When we hung out again, this guy was listening to Nuclear Assault and Kreator. He said he had some friends, see, that got together, and in all mafia-like tradition, he extended an invitation to me to form a part of said “secret” society.

When the so-called “secret” society gathers in what for fuck’s sake is the most public place in a small town, volumes can be spoken about said secrecy. In any case, I followed him into a corner of the town’s soccer stadium. Not inside the actual stadium, but bu the basketball courts, where all the public walks (and drives) by. I was met by suspicious glances by a (no pun intended) motley crew of people.
There was a guy with long hair, and truth be told, a Neanderthal appearance. He would turn out to be the leader of the group. There was a huge dude still in uniform. He worked for the power company. There was another guy, the most vocal of the group, who never seemed to shut up. Other than the Sodom LP he held in his arm, he didn’t look like much of a metal guy. There were a couple other guys. Then there was Eduardo, and myself.

This group of people hung out and talked about bands I had never even heard of. They discussed fanzines and exchanged correspondence with metal fans in Belgium. They traded cassettes (hey, notice the time period, ok?) with people in Australia. The first few days, I was left with the feeling of “what the fuck am I doing here?”. Plus, the long-haired guy was scary to look at. Not threatening, just ugly.

A few days after “hanging out” with them, they started lending me cassettes. I had nothing to offer their “KVLT” metal asses, other than Poison and Cinderella. They claimed they were not interested, but hey, here’s Sodom’s “Agent Orange”. And Slayer’s “Hell Awaits”. And some german band called Assasin.

On one occasion, I inquired as to the name of “the mutilators” to which I was replied by the long-haired dude as: “we don’t call ourselves that. Somebody else started calling us that.”
Okay then!

Despite his peculiar characteristics, I kind of developed a more direct relationship with the guy from the power plant. This is a guy whose main characteristics were showing up in the same uniform every day, being the “funny guy” of the group, and his method of retiring home. That was, perhaps, the most hysterical part. He never once announced he had to leave. He never shook (or slapped) our hands goodbye. He would, and I swear, simply turn around, get in his car and drive away.

This period in my life would turn out to be influential in my life, to say the least. Had it not been for these occurrences, I might be sitting at home begging the heavens for a new Debbie Gibson Warrant album. I had been fortunate to hear about Deicide, and Obituary, and Cannibal Corpse, and Kreator, and Destruction, and Venom, and Celtic Frost. Hit Parader magazine was but a joke to me now. Of course my heart still had (and has…) a soft spot for the Britny Foxes and the Bon Jovis and the Motley Crues, but in a way, I had been enlightened. No longer would I proclaim Anthrax as the heaviest band in the world.

It didn’t (or almost didn’t) come with a price, however. Once, the long-haired guy pulled me aside. He said something to the effect of “well, it seems we’re giving you a lot of music, and you’re not giving anything back. Unless you give us money, we’re not lending you any more cassettes”.
It was easy to override this, being that I could convince Eduardo to lend me whatever he got. But how offensive was that? It wasn’t my fault I only owned music by artists that appeared on Circus/Rip/Hit Parader!

Until, two instances happened. Before continuing, I have something on my chest. Hear me out. The word “poseur” gets thrown around a lot in the metal communities. While the word technically means “somebody who acts as something he isn’t”, most metalheads use it to refer to people who – oh the humanity – like commercial music.
Being that I never denied listening to the likes of XYZ, or Shotgun Messiah, I was always labeled by these guys as a “poseur”. Which turned out to be ironic, when we discuss the instances I mentioned a moment ago.

One of the guys in the group, I had heard, had transcended to the metal world from listening to “cumbias” – the second-worst latin genre (after reggaeton) to exist. As such, he had a high profile to maintain. After all, he cited Tankard and Lääz Rockit as his favorite bands. So when he literally pulled me aside and begged me to give him a copy of Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” without telling anyone, I took it with a grain of salt. I didn’t, in reality, give a shit if he liked Def Leppard or not. These guys had offered me so much music, it was the last I could do in return.
A few days later, though, I began to redefine – within myself – the word “poseur”. Here’s a fucking cro-magnon-looking guy, who has built a reputation of being a thrash-and-death-metal fan, that he can proclaim Death’s “Leprosy” to be commercial. He wouldn’t, as opposed to the rest of us, play soccer with the local kids. He appeared to be too “KVLT” for the most popular sport in the world. So, that night, as I made a cassette tape of Skid Row’s debut album for him, I lost all respect for these clowns. Here wasa  guy who’d announce to the rest of us that a guy in Belgium had received a copy of mexican turd-band Transmetal, and in exchange was sending some garage demo from some Belgian band that – obviosuly – never made it big, and in reality, he was a guy who the next day would be listening to Sebastian Bach sing “I Remember You”. And feeling guilty about it.

Soon after, I was “invited” to make economic donations to the club. Being that Eduardo had been suspiciously kicked out a few days earlier, I decided to respectfully decline. Years went by before seeing any of them again. But I have seen them.

The “caveman” dude, turns out, graduated with honors from a Tech institute. Quite the brainiac, I thought, until I saw he opened an electronic repair shop. In one instance, I purchased a shitty stereo. CDs played shittily, for some reason. When I decided “well, I know the guy, and he’s apparently some kind of genius – plus he likes metal”, I decided to take my shit stereo to his shop. When I played Anthrax’s “Random Acts of Senseless Violence” at his shop, he was oblivious to the cymbals sounding like an old person coughing up a lung. That was the day I completely lost respect for him, end the educational institution which offered him honors.

The “cumbia” dude? I’ve learned he went back to his musical stylings. I had a hard time distinguishing him from a friend from work here in Canada, though. It took the day my friend told me he was from India to convince myslef he wasn’t “La Tripa”.

The non-descript dude with the Sodom album? He ended up marrying Eduardo’s sister.

The power plant guy? One day, a year ago, I accompanied another friend to buy “illegal” XBox games in the downtown of our village. As soon as we turned the corner, a couple of cops arrested us. Except it wasn’t an arrest, it was this guy, pretending to be hilarious. Nothing says HA! HA! like a fucking gun pointed at your neck.
Turns out, he found a career in law enforcement. Judging by the barbeques he must attend with his peers, I can only believe Obituary is no longer on his playlists.

There’s always the other guy I knew from junior high, who landed a job at the local KFC and entertained patrons with Cannibal Corpse cds…

In any case, I sometimes think about these guys. When I download music from swedish metal bands, or up-and-coming american bands, or simply new releases from the bands we used to “share”, I always wonder. Am I the only one left with a taste for Poland’s Behemoth, Norway’s Mayhem or Sweden’s Soilwork? Have those guys discovered At The Gates, Dark Funeral or Fucking Cavalera Conspiracy? Have they watched “Satan Rir Media”, a norwegian documentary on the black metal scene focusing on, among other things, the murder of Euronymous? Are they aware that Kristian “Varg” Vikernes, the perpetrator of said murder, was set free last week from prison? Fuck, are they aware they made a Metal Geek out of me?

If I got together with them, could I be able to present the case that Testament’s “Demonic” album, their best by far, relies more on death metal than thrash? That Exodus’ latest album is by far their best effort? That despite people knocking off Slipknot as another “Hot Topic” band, metal has unexpectedly turned around for the better?

I had the, um, luck, of encountering Eduardo on these past two vacations I’ve had. We’ve exchanged phone numbers. My fingershave grown tired of texting him. He always claims to be busy with his wife.

Sadly, I don’t see us discussing the new Metallica over a case of beer. More likely, he’s back to Madonna, and we’d discuss that over Diet Coke. Because emasculated men don’t drink alcohol. If only he’d give me his LP collection, instead of burning it in the name of Jesus Christ.

Thus endeth my tale.

The Iceberg.

TRAVELOCITY – While three days after writing to them, I’ve yet to receive something other than their auto-response, my sister called me up yesterday. Apparently the money has been refunded. So while I can be quite the disgruntled customer, I’ll be the first to admit when they manage to do something right.

MOVIE MADNESS – I’ve been watching movies like crazy. Well not like crazy, but at least three or four a day. Yesterday I watched two movies which had been recommended to me by friends, plus the “sequel” to one of them.
“Hard Candy”, with that chick from Juno and Nite Owl II, was good. Funny, how I’ve had that movie in my collection for over 2 years and just hadn’t gotten around to watching it.
“Zeitgeist” is more of a documentary than a movie, but it’s not your average wacko documentary. It’s not “we’re conspiracy theorists with very little evidence of what we claim to be true, but LOOK AT IT!”.  It’s actually a very good documentary. So good, in fact, I even watched the sequel, called “Zeitgeist: Addendum”.
The first one starts with what is basically a recount of deities all over the world who shared the same characteristics with Jesus Christ, only much earlier in time. To the average Christian, however, this won’t mean a thing. They’ll just say it’s God’s way of testing faith, or something.
Then it goes on to discuss 9/11. I had my finger posed on the stop button on my DVD player, just in case they started stepping into wacko territory (I’ve watched my share of documentaries on 9/11 where they mention the illuminati, and other crap), but strangely enough, they managed to make sense.
By the end of the documentary, we’re talking economics and war. The second part expands on these two subjects, and how they go hand in hand.
There’s something eerily disturbing about watching the news the morning after watching Zeitgeist and seeing that Citigroup is putting money into one of the largest banks in Mexico. Why? Well, in “Addendum” they go into detail when discussing this kind of activity in a couple of Central American countries.
In any case, both movies are, according to Wikipedia, freely distributed on the internet, and have been translated into several languages. They’re worth watching, just be warned – they clock in at 2 hours each.

THE ECONOMY – One tries, as best as one can, to keep up with the news. It doesn’t take a genius to see things are bad. And while economists, politicians and random people in suits are saying that the economy will recover soon, I have a personal theory. Take into consideration I’m no expert.
Life experience has taught me that when some “temporary” measures are taken, and they work, they seem to lose that “temporary” status. An example of this would be the “tenencia” tax in Mexico. Mexico, see, is the only country in the world (to my knowledge) where this tax exists. It’s basically a tax you pay for the privilege of owning a car. Oh, the funny part? This is a tax you pay ON TOP of the other taxes. This started when the Olympic Games took place in Mexico City in 1968, as a “temporary” measure to ensure funding for the games. 41 years later, people now take the “tenencia” for granted.
So, while the “economy” might get better, I don’t see companies returning to their pre-crisis business models. For example, if they’ve seen that they can get by with their current workforce, why would they re-hire the people they’ve laid off? If companies can get by with 4-day work weeks, will people ever benefit from overtime shifts anytime soon?

TRIVIA – I don’t know if it’s true or not, but if it is, what does this say about us as a species? According to the internet, the most recognized word in most languages is Coca-Cola. Think about that one for a while.

The Iceberg

Since the fucking cowards won’t bother with a reply, I’ll have to do with the auto-reply their bot sent me. With my comments in blue, ’cause I’m The Iceberg.

Your message was received by Travelocity.ca which I should consider a blessing? That’s where I fucking sent it! I’d be surprised if it was received by Osama bin Laden.

Thanks for contacting Travelocity.ca. you’re welcome! I love having to contact you after you fuck me up! it’s the least I can do! We appreciate the opportunity to serve your travel needs. Of course you do! Hence, our present conversation! We strive to respond to all e-mails within four hours I wrote you more than 10 hours ago, but who’s counting? , but sometimes a high volume of e-mails prevents this. I can only assume I’m not the only one you ripped off, then…

We want you to receive the help you need in the timeframe you need it. Well, being that my girlfriend’s flight would be taking off tomorrow, I don’t see that as a possibility. Can you make it friday at least? If your inquiry is of a time-sensitive nature, please feel free to call our Customer Service Center at 800-457-8010 and speak with an agent. Oh, that I did… Three times, in fact! but your incompetent outsourced reps and their different versions of things are about as useful as an oven mitt in a baseball game. Hence, my emailing you in the first place.

Also, please note that you can view your current itinerary at any time by accessing “My Trips” you mean the section I can’t view due to technical difficulties while you sit on top of my 800 bucks? I noticed the “sales” part of your website works perfectly, though! , located in the top right corner of every page on our site. yes, I noticed. All 20 times I tried clicking through it.

And remember, the fastest and easiest way to find answers to questions is to visit our FAQs at: http://us.custhelp.com/cgi-bin/us.cfg/php/enduser/home.php?p_sid=&prod_lvl1=41&prod_lvl2=49&p_prods=41%2C49&p_pv=2.49 unless your easiest and fastest answer has me picking my girlfriend up tomorrow night at Pearson International, an impossible endeavour now that it’s tuesday night, I have no reason to click through your website to be fed more of your bullshit. Thanks anyway!

Happy Travelling! Well, gee, that’s just ironic! Fuckers. And far be it for a mexican to be correcting your spelling, but “travel” is one of those funny verbs you don’t double the last consonant to. The correct spelling would be “traveling”.

Travelocity.ca Customer Support Our motto: We fuck you over! You bring the lube $805!

***Note: this message was sent automatically. Please do not reply.***

_________________

Funny. When mailing these cockbags, they make you select what kind of correspondence you’d like to exchange with them. Sadly, “complaints” isn’t one of their options. Neither is “having the decency to reply in person”, but in all reality, who was expecting decency?

My biggest fear right now is that when I fight with the bank, they’ll tell me Travelocity told them the flight DID go through, and that I’m fucked out of 805 dollars. I KNOW they’re capable of pulling that.

Fuck! and Maddox thought HE had it bad when dealing with travel sites. At least he was able to borad a fucking plane.

The Iceberg

I’m sorry to bore everyone with my disputes with travel sites. It’s just, the’ve been taking up so much of my time and energy, I kind of have nothing else to write about. I mean, I could discuss the movies I’ve watched, or detail how boring life is when you’re off work for two weeks, but please bear with me. I just need a shoulder to bitch on, so to speak.

Anyway, I just sent an email to Travelocity.ca. I know they won’t give a shit. But hey. In the body of the email I narrate the most recent adventures with them. I tried to be polite about it, it’s not like I’m not foaming at the mouth.

Subject: Is this how you treat everyone?

I tried booking a flight with you on Saturday, March 14. Said flight would bring my girlfriend to Canada to see me. She would be arriving Wednesday March 18th – tomorrow.
After giving you all kinds of sensitive personal information, including credit card information, I received a confirmation email. My eTicket, mind you. I notified my girlfriend, and we immediately started making arangements for the trip. Hey, we even started telling friends about our trip!
Then, about an hour and a half later, I received another email, stating that my purchase couldn’t be completed, and to call a 1-800 number. When I did, I was told by one of your Customer Service Reps that the reason was that apparently there were no more tickets for the flight I had selected. Mind you, this wasn’t even one of those “One Ticket left at this price” deals. So, apparently you sold me a ticket that didn’t exist. If only it ended there.
Since your company was of no help to me, I decided to look into other options. Finally, on Monday (yesterday) I found a reasonably priced ticket and attempted to purchase it. “Oh”, the website said. “You can’t buy a ticket with this credit card”.
Being that I knew for a fact that my credit card was not at fault – after all, my purchase with you guys had been cancelled and all – I decided to call the bank.
I was told you did make the charge for my ticket. So not only is my girlfriend not arriving tomorrow, but now I can’t even buy another ticket elsewhere. Naturally, I called your people.
When you send an email stating that I call a certain number, I would advise you to send the correct number. I was told I was calling travelocity.COM, not travelocity.CA. Anyway, I called the right number, and was told that the problem with my purchase was the fault of my bank. I called my bank today, and they say it was not their fault.
In any case, I am told it will take anywhere between 8 and 30 business days to get my money refunded.
What exactly am I being refunded for? It wasn’t me who canceled the trip. Needless to say, this whole situation has put me (and my girlfriend) under a lot of stress, and unless a reasonable solution is offered, I don’t see myself ever doing business with Travelocity again.
“So what?”, you must say. “It’s just some dumb costumer, we don’t need him”. You’ll probably even get a laugh at this. I hope I’m wrong, though. I hope to hear from you soon. Hopefully, with a positive response.
Thank you for your time.

The Iceberg.

Of course I didn’t sign as  “The Iceberg”, I used my real name. But other than that, I copy/pasted. IF there is a response, I’ll be sure to post it here.

And I promise to post about other stuff, too.

Thanks for listening,

The Iceberg

So, between my sister, Western Union, the Royal Bank of Canada, and myself, we finally reached an agreement. My sister got her money back, she said I could proceed with my undertakings in the ticket-purchasing world, and my girlfriend and myself were extatic about the possibility of making the long-awaited purchase of a ticket that would place us, geographically, next to each other.

As I’ve noted before, my girlfriend is not in possession of, nor within the means to obtain, an American Visa. A document so ridiculous, it would only serve us to purchase tickets through airlines that happen to connect inside the US. So, there’s two options, both horribly fucked up.
On one hand, there’s Mexicana. It’s an airline, in case you’re wondering. These dipshits, when their fucking website works properly, offer you the possibility of flying from Monterrey (my gf’s nearest airport), to Toronto (my nearest airport), connecting through Mexico City. Funny thing when choosing short-term flights with these expensive cretins – they insist that you spend the night in the most dangerous city in the world. I’d offer my girlfriend the option of staying with my family, but those pricks only operate on an emergency-only basis, so fuck them. There’s another option:
AeroMexico recently started flying to Toronto. Unfortunately, and the reason I became embroiled in that whole Western Union fiasco, their website indicates that they only accept mexican and american credit cards. As if fucking Visa operated solely in those two countries. On a side note, I’ve seen flights on their site that go upwards of 2,500 canadian dollars, so fuck them. Does the trip include a lifetime supply of booze? Not likely, so up theirs.

Which brings us to the subject of online travel sites.

After reviewing 1,350 CDN flights on Expedia and Kayak, I opted to look into Travelocity. I had dealt with them in the past, with no problems. Plus, I could save myself the trouble of looking up currency converting websites.
Not that I considered it to be an even remotely decent price, but for fuck’s sake, I was tired of talking about, and reviewing, and searching, and evaluating and discussing air travel with the girlfriend. I wanted to get the matter out of the way. I wanted to focus on how I’d pick her up at the airport.
I found this flight for 800 canadian quid. I bought it on the spot.

Not two minutes later, I received an email, congratulating me for choosing Travelocity. Well, gee, I didn’t know settling for a third option because everybody else sucks deserved congratulation, but thanks! My purchase was complete, and that was what mattered.
Said flight was booked with the aforementioned airline, AeroMexico. Those over-expensive cocksuckers. I logged onto their site, and typed the confirmation number. When I saw “STATUS: PURCHASED” and the details of my girlfriend’s flight, I was in ecstasy. I decided to celebrate with a cigarette.
While outside, I ran into my landlord, my good friend Pedro. And his wife. Being that my girlfriend was/is a good friend of theirs (much more than my antisocial fucking ass), I delivered the good news: My girlfriend was coming back on wednesday!
Soon after, I called my sister. I told her also. I had agreed to visit her later, so I’d be leaving my house at 7:30.

Cue the music/record scratch you see on TV when something unexpected comes up. At 7.25, as I was closing my gmail account, I noticed I had one new email. What it said ruined not only my moment, but my faith in the internet. Other than downloading tons of music, movies and TV shows, I have no fucking use for the internet.

“Your transaction could not be completed, and has been cancelled. For more information, please call 1-800-wesuckdicks”.

I called. Apparently, the outsourced indian chick that answered, vishnu bless her soul, was under the impression that “OOPS! THAT FLIGHT WAS ALL SOLD OUT!”. To which I replied a series of uncouth adjectives. When she informed me that for only 25 dollars she could book me another flight, I couldn’t think of anything more offensive to say. Not to her, mind you, I wasn’t about to launch an assault of racial epithets. It wasn’t her fault. It was the company that employed her. I felt like Rorschach with the meat cleaver. What to do?

I hung up. I was so irate, I just hung up. Besides, I was running late.

It wasn’t even one of those “ONE SEAT LEFT AT THIS PRICE” deals, either. It was just a random “buy a fucking ticket from us” deal. And they decided my money is dirty. And yes, I can boycott them all I want, but the fact of the matter is the more these internet assholes fuck with me, the less I’m going to see of my girlfriend.

What am I left with? Do I hire Jason Statham to “Transport” my girlfriend? Do I sue Travelocity for selling me something they regretted – not even immediately, but an hour and a half later – selling? Do I give up and shill out the 1500 canadian for a ticket I could get for 1/3 of the price? What? What the fuck do I do?

I hope everyone at Travelocity – or at least the assholes that put me in this spot – develop sudden blindness. I hope their parents die suddenly. I hope their inheritances get ripped off by lawyers. I hope a housekeeper robs them of objects with sentimental value. I hope they get 2nd degree burns on their next trip to the beach. I hope they develop polyps in their throat. I hope their children are born with cerebral palsy. I hope they find out they’re adopted, or they never find out who their real father is. I hope they suffer long and hard. I wish nothing more than their final thoughts being how they “mistakenly” oversold flights. Fuck them, fuck their children, fuck their friends, and as Penn Jillette said in that Pigface song, fuck the very roots of their family tree.

Don’t want my 805 bucks – or whatever your commision is? Fine. But don’t fuck my life up. I know… oh yes, rest assured, I will not, ever, in my fucking life, be doing business with Travelocity.com. Fuck them. Fuck them hard.

The Iceberg

I just saw Watchmen last night. It was fucking awesome. Just… not for everyone. Or, not for anyone.

Fanboys of the <graphic novel> will argue it wasn’t true to the book. Stupid fucks. I learned Hollywood wasn’t “true to the book” in the eighties, when the kid and the mother survived in the movie version of  Stephen King’s Cujo. But for what it was, it was great. And on a personal note, the movie’s ending had more to do with the overall theme than a mutant mollusk.Sorry, Alan, but it’s true.

People expecting a “superhero” movie will be disappointed. Except for hard punches and an ugly vehicle, there’s nothing classically “superhero-y” about these guys. With the exception of Dr. Manhattan, of course, who is – in case you’re keeping score – more of a god than an actual superhero.

People saying “hey, it’s based on a comic book – my kid will love it!” will end up spending thousands of dollars on therapy for their kids. There’s rape, graphic murder, mutilation, sex scenes, and a whole lot of gratuitous gore in the movie. While true to the story’s nature, and something an adult can understand, there’s something to be said about taking your kids to see a movie where – and it’s not the most graphic scene, but could understandably be traumatic to them – dogs are fighting over the remains of a 6-year-old.

People who expect a whole-out action film will also be disappointed. The whole idea of the film is storytelling. Sure, there are action scenes, but there’s a whole lot more to the movie. There are many slow scenes, background scenes that the typical “hurr, hurr” crowd won’t get. In the movie world, they call it “pacing”. And “character development”.

And then, there’s the whole  controversy over the giant blue penis.
I’m not one to brag, nor do I want to turn your atention to whatever may pass as genitalia on my body, but for starters, what’s so “giant” about it? It’s just a dick. And not gratuitous, if you happen to follow the whole “dehumanization” part of Dr. Manhattan. Gods (or people who have become godlike, if you want to be an asshole about it) have no need for clothes, see? The other question would be… why are so many people interested in a fucking dick? If it disturbed you so much, you should have done what I did. Looked away from it. Not in disgust, but for fuck’s sake, Beavis, what’s with all the “heh heh heh-ing”?
75% of the comments I’ve read online revolve around the fact that you could see a dick in the movie. Of course, 100% of that percent are american. Europeans don’t seem to mind the human body so much. Must be an Evangelical influence there, but for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to step on toes. If it sets your mind at ease, it was a CGI dick, not a real one. Plus, I never once heard anyone complain about the Silk Spectre II’s tits. Who would, of course, but see my point?

So, in a way, Watchmen was made for people like me. Now, now, I’m not acting all above you or anything, I’m just saying it’s a movie someone like myself could enjoy from start to finish. The opening sequence was, well, a masterpiece. Each of the characters’ portrayals was fucking great. Nite Owl’s switch from nerdy introvert to ass-kicking dude was phenomenal. Dr. Manhattan’s, well, acceptance of his fate was superb. Don’t get me started on the fucking Comedian. That guy was ME, incarnate. And Rorschach? ME, incarnate, also. But way cooler. I agree with the internet crowd that’s already claiming an Academy Award for Haley. What he did stood out from the overall awesomeness that was the film. He portrayed Rorschach to a fucking T. The way every nerd in the world envisioned him from the book. Just the difference in his temperament when he had his mask removed, as opposed to when he wore it, was fucking brutal.

Yes, it had its WTF? moments. I, for one, having read the <graphic novel> and watched the movie, have yet to determine why Rorschach’s mask shifts in paterns. I’ve asked myself why, if it wasn’t a premeditated thing but a tantrum, Spectre managed to obtain her costume when she and Nite Owl got horny. I’ve yet to explain to myself why, if Dr. Manhattan was so dehumanized he had already abandoned earth, a Smiley Face appeared on Mars. Why the alleged “smartest person in the world” would choose, as a password to all his revealing files, the title of a book sitting in a bookshelf ten feet away.

But I can forgive all that. I’m not a fanboy. I’m not a nerd. I’m not a prude. I’m not a nitpicker. I enjoy movies for what they are. I suspend disbelief. As long as the story is good – and it was from the beginning (meaning the novel) – I’m in. And I was in. I fucking loved Watchmen. And if I’m still employed, I know I’ll be buying the Special Edition DVD. Especially, if it comes with a bloody smiley face pin.

The Iceberg.
I’m not on WordPress with you.You are on WordPress with ME!

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve walked around with a rain cloud over my head.

Wait, let me rephrase. All my life, I’ve walked around with a rain cloud over my head. But for the last couple of weeks, it’s like it’s hurricane season.

I guess it started, this streak, with a “conversation” I had with my ex-wife. Since the global economic crisis is apparently my fault, I’m never seeing my daughter again. How adult-like!

Then, even my TV hates me. One of the shows I watch has been going through the same 5 reruns each week, for the last month or so. Don’t station managers pick up on that stuff? Anyway, it’s not like it’s the only thing on TV, so it hardly counts. I just thought I’d mention it.

Remember I told you about Western Union and all that? Well, that day I decided to buy a ticket on Travelocity. I put all the necessary information in, and voila! I got an eMail saying “Thank you for choosing Travelocity, here’s your eTicket”. While I was looking for a way to forward the eMail to my gf, I received another one. It said my purchase couldn’t be completed. Turns out, those funny fuckers at Western Union decided to cancel my transfer, but keep the money. So my sister and I are working on that. Meanwhile, my gf and I are still far apart and some dipshit at Western Union falsely believes he’s so great.

Things at work got interesting. First they talked about a one-week shutdown. Then two. Then, it started “next week”. Then, we’d be working on projects during the first week. Then we weren’t. Then they published the list for my department. Then I noticed they snubbed me. Pretty much everyone else is going in, but not me. I’m pretty confident that wasn’t an oversight.

Oh, and then I had my annual review. Since I wasn’t getting a pay increase, I walked into it not expecting much. The standard “this is good”. But when the boss started saying my performance was “satisfactory” because I’m not Smiley McWavesalot, I got pissed. Let me explain.
I’m always driving around doing my best at my job. That includes helping out people I technically could ignore, because it’s not my area – like other people do. I’m always doing shit for everyone else, and even more so lately. With things slowing down, I pretty much LOOK for stuff to do. Despite not being an extrovert, I do believe I have a good relationship with most people in the plant. Sure, there’s people I can’t stand, but for the most part, I have no problems with anyone. But my boss is under the impression that because I have an unfriendly demeanor, I’m some kind of “satisfactory” asshole. Should I drive around in a clown suit, making balloon animals for everyone?
So, whatever little motivation I had is shot. Hey, if they don’t appreciate their workers, it’s all their loss. Besides, I can think of plenty of categories where I’d evaluate the company as “less than satisfactory”. If only I could review them. Ha!

Then, my computer’s hard drive went KAPUT! in perfect timing. The day I get off work for two weeks. I arrive home, and say to myself “well, now I have two whole weeks to sort through all my files”. Thirty minutes later, I couldn’t restart. It was a long night. The next day I took the computer into the shop. A while later they told me they would probably be able to retrieve my data. I didn’t tell them, but I hoped thay would. The punishment for not doing so would have been death. Ha! Ha!

I went to pick my computer up on saturday, since those fuckers never bothered to call, or pick up their phone. Lucky me, it was raining. I arrived, and they had closed half an hour earlier. I caught a very nasty cold/flu combo. Nothing like being bored all sunday with water coming out of your face all the time.

I picked the computer up yesterday afternoon. 150 dollars lighter, and still busy copying files and reinstalling shit, but at least I didn’t lose my files. So now I have a little less than two weeks to sort through all my shit. And no money left. “Lucky me”, I said when I saw that the amount I had to pay was 10 dollars less than what I had. “At least I have 10 bucks left”. Then I remembered I had to take a cab home.

“Shit!”

The Iceberg

Fucking companies, I tell ya. You’d think in this economy, they’d be bending over backwards in order to keep your cash. Yet, they still act like everybody gets 6-digit bonuses every now and then. Like we’re all CEOs of fucking banks.

It seems I might never be able to get my girlfriend up here.

First, there’s the fun in dealing with airline websites. It seems they charge more by the fucking second. Anyhoo, I find a ”decent” price on one of ‘em. The other airline is more consistent in its pricing, in that it never drops below 1,000 CDN. I make the reservation. I call my sister, and she agrees to lend me her credit card to make the purchase. You log back on to the airline’s website. It claims that it only takes credit cards from mexican and american banks. Like, they’re saying “you canadian fuckers up there, go eat shit, eh!”. Ok, plan B.

Since I don’t have the cash on me, I can’t just go over and make a transfer. EUREKA! Surely Western Union has the option of wiring money over the internet! I check their site. I’m forced to sign up – twice – because their website is shit. I finally make it through the whole process. I give them my sister’s credit card number, my girlfriend’s name, and just about all of my personal fucking information. Save for an EKG and my shoe size. I double-check all the information, and click “SEND” or whatever its equivalent is.
Instead of displaying “your money has been sent to XXXX in XXXX, here’s your confirmation number”, it says “to complete your fucking transaction, you have to call this 1-800 number. Boy, I love calling 1-800 numbers! Especially when having an airline reservation that expires in a matter of hours and every second counts.

What kind of Nintendo quest do these pricks think they’re playing with me? I do this shit online, and suddenly I get “SORRY MARIO, BUT OUR PRINCESS IS IN ANOTHER CASTLE!”
So, I call and after a while of being on hold, this fucking idiot answers. This is, if not literally, what happened.

“Oh sir, we’re going to have to cancel that transfer, because the credit card holder’s name and the person making the transaction’s name do not match”.
“Well, the credit card holder happens to be my sister”.
“In that case, your sister is going to have to sign up with us and make the transfer herself”
“Yeah, I don’t think so”
“Is there anything else I can do for you today sir?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, you’ve been so helpful so far”. Click.

Jesus fucking Christ. I mean, I understand (and can appreciate, to an extent) the extra security feature. What I’ve never been able to understand is people’s inability to think for themselves beyond what a computer screen tells them. A computer PROCESSES things, it doesn’t THINK. Do people THINK? Why, not nearly enough.
And if they’re going to be assholes about their security, they could say so right at the beginning. You know, “WE’RE ASSHOLES. IF THE CREDIT CARD YOU’RE USING IS NOT IN YOUR NAME, SAVE YOUR TIME”.

Bunch of knuckle-dragging drones. Oh, and they were charging 42 bucks for the service, too. And they still have the nerve to inform you that, and I paraphrase because I couldn’t stand the sight of their website and I closed the window, “WESTERN UNION ALSO MAKES MONEY WITH THE MONEY EXCHANGE”. Yeah, I needed to know that, you fucking leeches.

Right now I’m kinda running a bit late for work. But when I get back, I’ll be sure to try Orbitz, Kayak, Travelocity and the rest of them travel sites.

Fuck, my head hurts.

The Iceberg