Besides about furniture, I haven't had a random rant in a while. We are long overdue.
Today's pet peeve:
The difference between ITS and IT'S
I'll be the first to admit I don't know any grammar rules. I just don't remember being taught them in school. What I did do, though, is read a lot of books. If you read a lot of books, you learn proper grammar without knowing the grammatical rules behind them. It's not rocket science.
ITS is the possessive form of it, applied to nouns. For example, an orange has peel on it. so you could say, the fruit of an orange is hard to separate from its peel.
IT'S just means IT IS.
So in the above example, if you write, the fruit of an orange is hard to separate from it's peel, you are saying, the fruit of an orange is hard to separate from it is peel.
It is very simple to understand that is wrong. It is also very easy to figure out if you have chosen the wrong one, when if you replace it is for your apostrophe and suddenly your sentence does not make sense.
People who stick most in my mind for not understanding this:
- whoever the Deloitte manager was that used to write the Sky audit committe paper. FFS (wo)man, you are a highly-paid professional addressing a bunch of rich geezers on the board of directors of a FTSE 100 company. Pull yourself together.
- Justin Timberlake. I wonder if he kept writing his lyrics in his N*Sync days as "Its" Gonna Be Me.
Oh no now that's stuck in my head.
(Every little thing I do
Never seems enough for you
You don't wanna lose it again
But I'm not like them
Baby, when you finally,
Get to love somebody
Guess what,
It's gonna be me..)
doo doo doo
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Friday, 26 October 2012
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Haircut, Japanese styles
More everyday activities that I voluntarily turn into a blitz of cultural confusion.
I hadn't had a haircut in a while - like I mentioned, I decided to grow out my bob last fall to take advantage of my last long-haired years and therefore only got my brother in law's mother (who is a hairdresser) give me a few layers so that it would grow out without looking like, well, a grown-out bob. Since she did that in October, I haven't had a haircut.
Do most people harbour the same fear/dread/awkwardness I have of hairdressers, whereby you feel a sense of nervousness heading into the appointment? I definitely have that. Something about putting your whole appearance into the hands of a semi-stranger freaks the crap out of me. And yes, I do think hair makes your whole appearance. It really really makes you look different, and can really take you down a few notches on the superficial attractiveness scale. I once told Keith that he would be one cool dude if he would only stop wearing his hair like a lego-man, and that his lego hair took him down from a good 8.5 to a 6. He said I was mean. True as that may be, I stand by what I said. And don't you all start judging me either. I can name a half dozen of you at least who have said to him or me since he started having a hairstyle how much better he looks. I merely voiced, as his Partner of Honesty, what y'all were thinking. In fact I should get a medal.
Anyways, I do think it is nutso that we let someone have that much control over us who we don't know at all, cannot be certain shares our tastes, cannot be certain has any skills whatsoever (there's no certification in hairdressing is there?) and cannot be certain will listen to us or even understands our instructions on what we want. My fear of hairdressers also probably derives itself from never having had a regular hairstylist, as well as some pretty bad hair experiences in my most self-conscious teenage years. I absolutely remember when I was 12 the hairstylist giving me a bowl cut and then cut my fringe (bangs! I mean bangs!) so it was a good two inches above my eyebrows, which I'm sorry, always makes you look a bit mentally challenged. (Wow this post is getting less and less PC by the sentence). When you're just about to become a teenager that is NOT the style you're going for. I totally remember during that haircut the woman also SLASHED MY FACE with the scissors and I was too cowardly to make a fuss (I was 12! I sat in that chair and did what I was told, including suffering injuries without comment!) but definitely got an angry red mark on my face afterward to prove it, which even scabbed over slightly afterwards. When I was 23 I also got a perm, having gotten bored of having long-straight hair for 10 years. While I liked it at the time, everytime I see a pic from those old days I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I looked like an ugly step-mermaid.
So the last few times I've tried a new hairstylist I have always gotten recommenations from friends. In London Taryn introduced me to her hairstylist, a Chinese guy called Jay who was brilliant, he gave me my first graduated bob and I really liked it. He really knew how to style hair to suit your face shape. Too bad he disappeared and stopped cutting hair, Taryn, her mom, and I were all devestated. After that I used Kate's hairstylist at Clapham Junction Rush - nothing to write home about. I also occasionally engaged my bro-in-law's mom's services (once in a cruise ship cabin bathroom, when during a family holiday she couldn't handle that my straggly hair was almost down to my waist), but she's mostly retired and I thought with me being permanently based here it was time I got a proper regular hairdresser. So I asked Stef for her recommendation and she directed me to Misako Hair Salon and her hairstylist, Mako.
Misako is an all-Japanese run hair salon, and I can't decide if it is trendy or not. On the one hand, they are all Japanese. Tick on the trendy side. On the other hand, they are not based in a fancy location. Tick on the non-trendy side. Then, their shop is quite low frills - no receptionist, no computer booking system, unfinished concrete floor, one long mirror on the wall rather than a bunch of little stations, and each of the stylists wear their tools on themselves in different ways - Mako had a little cross-body purse, while the girl next to her had what looked like a toolbelt, and yet another had what looked like a fanny pack. I couldn't decide if this was low-key or deliberately minimalist trendy. Tick on both trendy and non-trendy list. Anyway Mako gave me a very nice haircut (I wasn't asking for anything crazy) but along the way a few points in the process made me giggle as usual. First, while she was washing my hair (I love getting my hair washed and my head rubbed by professionals), she held the ends of my long wet hair and then slapped them against the top of my head repeatedly. Wap wap wap wap. It didn't hurt but I felt a little bit abused. Then, when we sat back down in the hair-cut chair, she said "You like massage?" and I was super confused. Is this the small talk bit? Is she offering me one? Where? Here? On what part of me? Huh? So I just giggled and said "uh.. yes?" and then she proceeded to massage my heck and shoulders. Again, damn these little Asian women have strong hands. The massage ended with her holding her hands together like she was praying and then slapping the fist onto my shoulders. LOUD. more WAP WAP WAP. I almost giggled again. Overall very happy with Mako's work and will definitely go back for more wapping in 6-8 weeks!
Side rant: why on earth have we cultivated this expectation that we need to become best friends with our hairdressers? Why do they insist on prying our life stories out of us and telling us theirs, resulting in awkward small talk while they wield scissors around your head? You don't need to where I live, work, and play to give me layers and an overall 1-inch trim off the length. I don't really want to know about your life either. Just get on with it in silence.
I hadn't had a haircut in a while - like I mentioned, I decided to grow out my bob last fall to take advantage of my last long-haired years and therefore only got my brother in law's mother (who is a hairdresser) give me a few layers so that it would grow out without looking like, well, a grown-out bob. Since she did that in October, I haven't had a haircut.
Do most people harbour the same fear/dread/awkwardness I have of hairdressers, whereby you feel a sense of nervousness heading into the appointment? I definitely have that. Something about putting your whole appearance into the hands of a semi-stranger freaks the crap out of me. And yes, I do think hair makes your whole appearance. It really really makes you look different, and can really take you down a few notches on the superficial attractiveness scale. I once told Keith that he would be one cool dude if he would only stop wearing his hair like a lego-man, and that his lego hair took him down from a good 8.5 to a 6. He said I was mean. True as that may be, I stand by what I said. And don't you all start judging me either. I can name a half dozen of you at least who have said to him or me since he started having a hairstyle how much better he looks. I merely voiced, as his Partner of Honesty, what y'all were thinking. In fact I should get a medal.
Anyways, I do think it is nutso that we let someone have that much control over us who we don't know at all, cannot be certain shares our tastes, cannot be certain has any skills whatsoever (there's no certification in hairdressing is there?) and cannot be certain will listen to us or even understands our instructions on what we want. My fear of hairdressers also probably derives itself from never having had a regular hairstylist, as well as some pretty bad hair experiences in my most self-conscious teenage years. I absolutely remember when I was 12 the hairstylist giving me a bowl cut and then cut my fringe (bangs! I mean bangs!) so it was a good two inches above my eyebrows, which I'm sorry, always makes you look a bit mentally challenged. (Wow this post is getting less and less PC by the sentence). When you're just about to become a teenager that is NOT the style you're going for. I totally remember during that haircut the woman also SLASHED MY FACE with the scissors and I was too cowardly to make a fuss (I was 12! I sat in that chair and did what I was told, including suffering injuries without comment!) but definitely got an angry red mark on my face afterward to prove it, which even scabbed over slightly afterwards. When I was 23 I also got a perm, having gotten bored of having long-straight hair for 10 years. While I liked it at the time, everytime I see a pic from those old days I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I looked like an ugly step-mermaid.
So the last few times I've tried a new hairstylist I have always gotten recommenations from friends. In London Taryn introduced me to her hairstylist, a Chinese guy called Jay who was brilliant, he gave me my first graduated bob and I really liked it. He really knew how to style hair to suit your face shape. Too bad he disappeared and stopped cutting hair, Taryn, her mom, and I were all devestated. After that I used Kate's hairstylist at Clapham Junction Rush - nothing to write home about. I also occasionally engaged my bro-in-law's mom's services (once in a cruise ship cabin bathroom, when during a family holiday she couldn't handle that my straggly hair was almost down to my waist), but she's mostly retired and I thought with me being permanently based here it was time I got a proper regular hairdresser. So I asked Stef for her recommendation and she directed me to Misako Hair Salon and her hairstylist, Mako.
Misako is an all-Japanese run hair salon, and I can't decide if it is trendy or not. On the one hand, they are all Japanese. Tick on the trendy side. On the other hand, they are not based in a fancy location. Tick on the non-trendy side. Then, their shop is quite low frills - no receptionist, no computer booking system, unfinished concrete floor, one long mirror on the wall rather than a bunch of little stations, and each of the stylists wear their tools on themselves in different ways - Mako had a little cross-body purse, while the girl next to her had what looked like a toolbelt, and yet another had what looked like a fanny pack. I couldn't decide if this was low-key or deliberately minimalist trendy. Tick on both trendy and non-trendy list. Anyway Mako gave me a very nice haircut (I wasn't asking for anything crazy) but along the way a few points in the process made me giggle as usual. First, while she was washing my hair (I love getting my hair washed and my head rubbed by professionals), she held the ends of my long wet hair and then slapped them against the top of my head repeatedly. Wap wap wap wap. It didn't hurt but I felt a little bit abused. Then, when we sat back down in the hair-cut chair, she said "You like massage?" and I was super confused. Is this the small talk bit? Is she offering me one? Where? Here? On what part of me? Huh? So I just giggled and said "uh.. yes?" and then she proceeded to massage my heck and shoulders. Again, damn these little Asian women have strong hands. The massage ended with her holding her hands together like she was praying and then slapping the fist onto my shoulders. LOUD. more WAP WAP WAP. I almost giggled again. Overall very happy with Mako's work and will definitely go back for more wapping in 6-8 weeks!
Side rant: why on earth have we cultivated this expectation that we need to become best friends with our hairdressers? Why do they insist on prying our life stories out of us and telling us theirs, resulting in awkward small talk while they wield scissors around your head? You don't need to where I live, work, and play to give me layers and an overall 1-inch trim off the length. I don't really want to know about your life either. Just get on with it in silence.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
The Perfect London
London is amazing if you have no job but yet have access to unlimited funds (i.e. you are stinkin' rich, and mostly because Mommy and Daddy left you a payload, so you're still young and not had to endure some kinda high stress banker job for 20 years to accumulate said riches before retiring. Being a young goldigger would also fit the bill.). Not having a job means you can go and explore and appreciate the quaint venues which are oversubscribed and therefore a nightmare to navigate on the weekends. Having loads of money means that you can actually afford to enjoy these quaint venues, since not a lot is free in rip-off Britain, afterall (although before you Londoners protest, yes I realise that the museums are mostly free and that is indeed awesome - London gets 5 points for that).
If one did indeed have said lifestyle, I imagine what this is what life would be like:
Moseying up the full length of Portobello Road in Notting Hill on a Tuesday, to find a "London's best" brunch spot per Time Out, Lowry and Baker:
.JPG)
Even on a Tuesday afternoon this place was packed. Granted, it was one of those tiny cute brunch places, with maybe about room for 15 to sit-down, but every single table was taken up and when people did get up to leave more immediately arrived to take their table. I looked around me in disbelief, as I always do in London on a rare weekday that I'm not working, and thought - who ARE these people? Surely they aren't all Canadian ex-pats weary of the London life who have quit their jobs and are experiencing their final week in London before they move home to Canada, like I?* There were some usual suspects - a few yummy mummies, a couple of middle-aged ladies, but also inexplicably there was a group of 5 women in their late 20's milling around enjoying the trendiest meal of the day.
You would never find me on at Portobello Road on a weekend otherwise, crowds jostling, elbowing past a little old lady to score that last red velvet cupcake at Hummingbird Bakery (do not worry! they stock them aplenty!), so this is something that I can only enjoy under these rare weekday circumstances.
Then on Wednesday lunchtime, meeting up with Keith and Babs near their office at Waterloo, for a nice pub lunch at Anchor and Hope, where Babs and I devoured this steak pie for two, complete with a piece of bone in the middle of the pie to hold up the pastry, which Keith and Babs tells me is usually an egg cup. I forgot to take a pic beforehand, so forced Keith to do a thumbs up in this pic of an empty dish pie to make it more interesting:
The Anchor and Hope is a yummy gastropub, but one of those that are too cool to have a website. Now, normally, I am against all such nonsense. If you are a restaurant, I demand that you have a website. Better yet, have an electronic table booking system on said website, so that I don't have to interact with mere humans when trying to get myself there for a meal (with the added convenience of being able to book a restaurant at work without advertising loudly on the phone that I'm not actually doing work - it's just a 2 minute conversation, RELAX!).Also, I demand that you put your menu on the website so I can choose my courses before I even step into the establishment (also done at work when I need a break from the ol' spreadsheets). But no. The Anchor and Hope is not this kind of user-friendly establishment, it doesn't need to advertise via a website, because idiots like me are queueing out the door for the privilege to dine there even without it. Keith and I only know of it because his friend Ryo took us to its sister restaurant, 32 Great Queen Street (another restaurant too cool to have a website! In fact, too cool to even have a name, since its name is just its address!), and it was only because the food was delicious there that I was bothering to try to eat at Anchor and Hope. Unfortunately, the only other time I managed to arrange to go to it was when Heidi and I were meeting for dinner one Thursday evening, and when we arrived at 8pm, were told that there was a 90 minute wait for a table for two. Uhhhh no thanks - and we would have known that IF YOU HAD A BOOKING SYSTEM!!! Anyhow, again, without work to go to, another experience to enjoy if you are foot-loose and fancy-free but can afford to pay £16 at lunch time for steak pie.
*Is this sentence gramatically correct or am I being a total douche? I cannot rest until I know the answer!
If one did indeed have said lifestyle, I imagine what this is what life would be like:
Moseying up the full length of Portobello Road in Notting Hill on a Tuesday, to find a "London's best" brunch spot per Time Out, Lowry and Baker:
.JPG)
Even on a Tuesday afternoon this place was packed. Granted, it was one of those tiny cute brunch places, with maybe about room for 15 to sit-down, but every single table was taken up and when people did get up to leave more immediately arrived to take their table. I looked around me in disbelief, as I always do in London on a rare weekday that I'm not working, and thought - who ARE these people? Surely they aren't all Canadian ex-pats weary of the London life who have quit their jobs and are experiencing their final week in London before they move home to Canada, like I?* There were some usual suspects - a few yummy mummies, a couple of middle-aged ladies, but also inexplicably there was a group of 5 women in their late 20's milling around enjoying the trendiest meal of the day.
You would never find me on at Portobello Road on a weekend otherwise, crowds jostling, elbowing past a little old lady to score that last red velvet cupcake at Hummingbird Bakery (do not worry! they stock them aplenty!), so this is something that I can only enjoy under these rare weekday circumstances.
Then on Wednesday lunchtime, meeting up with Keith and Babs near their office at Waterloo, for a nice pub lunch at Anchor and Hope, where Babs and I devoured this steak pie for two, complete with a piece of bone in the middle of the pie to hold up the pastry, which Keith and Babs tells me is usually an egg cup. I forgot to take a pic beforehand, so forced Keith to do a thumbs up in this pic of an empty dish pie to make it more interesting:
The Anchor and Hope is a yummy gastropub, but one of those that are too cool to have a website. Now, normally, I am against all such nonsense. If you are a restaurant, I demand that you have a website. Better yet, have an electronic table booking system on said website, so that I don't have to interact with mere humans when trying to get myself there for a meal (with the added convenience of being able to book a restaurant at work without advertising loudly on the phone that I'm not actually doing work - it's just a 2 minute conversation, RELAX!).Also, I demand that you put your menu on the website so I can choose my courses before I even step into the establishment (also done at work when I need a break from the ol' spreadsheets). But no. The Anchor and Hope is not this kind of user-friendly establishment, it doesn't need to advertise via a website, because idiots like me are queueing out the door for the privilege to dine there even without it. Keith and I only know of it because his friend Ryo took us to its sister restaurant, 32 Great Queen Street (another restaurant too cool to have a website! In fact, too cool to even have a name, since its name is just its address!), and it was only because the food was delicious there that I was bothering to try to eat at Anchor and Hope. Unfortunately, the only other time I managed to arrange to go to it was when Heidi and I were meeting for dinner one Thursday evening, and when we arrived at 8pm, were told that there was a 90 minute wait for a table for two. Uhhhh no thanks - and we would have known that IF YOU HAD A BOOKING SYSTEM!!! Anyhow, again, without work to go to, another experience to enjoy if you are foot-loose and fancy-free but can afford to pay £16 at lunch time for steak pie.
*Is this sentence gramatically correct or am I being a total douche? I cannot rest until I know the answer!
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
First Real Post: Rant #1
My first real post is a RANT. Surprise!!
When I turned to Keith tonight and said "I'm going to start a blog", he laughed at me. Then he asked me what my blog was going to be about. I responded that I didn't think it had to be about only one theme or thing in particular, and that it was for my friends (again, please God don't let this whole venture reveal that I don't have any) to read.
Let me make it clear, I do not have any intellectual interests (or even interests) strong enough to warrant an entire blog with the same theme, unless you want me to write reviews of every single episode of the 7 seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation that we are currently plowing through (Status: currently on season 6 of 7, am enjoying it, but not as much as Stargate SG:1). No one wants that. So, this blog will not be about politics, or religion, or current events, because I know nothing of any of those topics. If there is any theme at all, it will be that I will often RANT about something.
Rant #1: The incompetence of [real estate agent name withheld - code name ABC]
The following is a true story:
12 March - email landlord to let him know we are giving our two months notice on our flat, to vacate on 15 May. He responds to acknowledge and lets us know that he'll get in touch with ABC so they can line up some new tenants
13-14 March- calls 4 times a day from James and Liam, real estate agents from ABC bugging us about keys, taking pictures, letting people in to look at the flat.
20 March- receive letter from Claire at ABC asking us if we would like to renew our tenancy since it is due to expire on 15 June
21 March - receive email from Claire at ABC asking us if we got her letter
21 March 1 hour later - yours sincerely sends snippy email to Claire telling her we gave notice 10 days earlier and have had at least 3 couples traipse through our flat, let in by her colleagues, so no we will not be renewing. And who should I contact about getting our deposit back when we exit the property?
26 March - receive legal documents from Zoe at ABC saying Claire has let her know we are exiting our tenancy early, and that we are to sign the attached documents acknowledging that we are responsible for the rent until they are able to find new tenants.
WHAT? NO. That is not what is in our contract. Our contract says we give two months notice and we don't have to give a sh*t how long it takes you to find new tenants after we vacate
26 March 3 minutes later - yours sincerely is writing long winded email directly to landlord worriedly asking for an explanation as to why ABC think we have to pay rent for as long as he can't find tenants. Thankfully, before sending...
26 March 3.5 minutes later - receive another email from Zoe at ABC, quote "Dear May, many apologies, I have just realised that your property is not managed by ABC! Your landlord will manage your property exit and will let us know when to return your deposit"
In conclusion, every single person at ABC is SH*T at their jobs. How can the entire ABC organisation still be functioning? Worse, I have been to their office, which is right on our street. There are literally 4 desks in that entire office. Which means that these 4 a-holes that I have dealt with throughout this entire saga... sit right next to each other.
Next up... recruiters.
When I turned to Keith tonight and said "I'm going to start a blog", he laughed at me. Then he asked me what my blog was going to be about. I responded that I didn't think it had to be about only one theme or thing in particular, and that it was for my friends (again, please God don't let this whole venture reveal that I don't have any) to read.
Let me make it clear, I do not have any intellectual interests (or even interests) strong enough to warrant an entire blog with the same theme, unless you want me to write reviews of every single episode of the 7 seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation that we are currently plowing through (Status: currently on season 6 of 7, am enjoying it, but not as much as Stargate SG:1). No one wants that. So, this blog will not be about politics, or religion, or current events, because I know nothing of any of those topics. If there is any theme at all, it will be that I will often RANT about something.
Rant #1: The incompetence of [real estate agent name withheld - code name ABC]
The following is a true story:
12 March - email landlord to let him know we are giving our two months notice on our flat, to vacate on 15 May. He responds to acknowledge and lets us know that he'll get in touch with ABC so they can line up some new tenants
13-14 March- calls 4 times a day from James and Liam, real estate agents from ABC bugging us about keys, taking pictures, letting people in to look at the flat.
20 March- receive letter from Claire at ABC asking us if we would like to renew our tenancy since it is due to expire on 15 June
21 March - receive email from Claire at ABC asking us if we got her letter
21 March 1 hour later - yours sincerely sends snippy email to Claire telling her we gave notice 10 days earlier and have had at least 3 couples traipse through our flat, let in by her colleagues, so no we will not be renewing. And who should I contact about getting our deposit back when we exit the property?
26 March - receive legal documents from Zoe at ABC saying Claire has let her know we are exiting our tenancy early, and that we are to sign the attached documents acknowledging that we are responsible for the rent until they are able to find new tenants.
WHAT? NO. That is not what is in our contract. Our contract says we give two months notice and we don't have to give a sh*t how long it takes you to find new tenants after we vacate
26 March 3 minutes later - yours sincerely is writing long winded email directly to landlord worriedly asking for an explanation as to why ABC think we have to pay rent for as long as he can't find tenants. Thankfully, before sending...
26 March 3.5 minutes later - receive another email from Zoe at ABC, quote "Dear May, many apologies, I have just realised that your property is not managed by ABC! Your landlord will manage your property exit and will let us know when to return your deposit"
In conclusion, every single person at ABC is SH*T at their jobs. How can the entire ABC organisation still be functioning? Worse, I have been to their office, which is right on our street. There are literally 4 desks in that entire office. Which means that these 4 a-holes that I have dealt with throughout this entire saga... sit right next to each other.
Next up... recruiters.
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