What the sign says?

The youngest lad and I had the misfortune of having to take the train into the big city not to long ago  (We all know what train.  Public transit.  Super gross. Perhaps a slight phobia involved.) and during this trip we happened to notice a sign posted right inside the door.  We both looked at each other and then proceeded to interpret the sign.  I took a picture to share with you all.  Here are some of our guesses: Man with cane, Hold the hell on to the bench in front of you, Sit the hell down, Man seating only (because the figure is quite obviously a man), Mime seating area only, Imaginary seating area and Bald guy seating.  Honestly, the longer I stare at the picture the more confused I become.  Is it really supposed to be seating for people who need assistance and use canes?  Seriously, I live in this country, could you imagine someone who visits here from another land trying to figure this out?  I understand that having to put words on any given sign presents problems because the sign then becomes seven feet long with all the mandatory languages but really?  Do you want people using their own discretion when reading something that you have spent time, money and transit resources to put there? (On a small side bar here one must note that they are right now asking us for more money for transit.  Why? So we can hire more qualified sign creators? So they can form a Sign Creation Committee that meets bi-weekly to discuss the importance of signs, the creation of said signs and sign placement? I don't think so.)  Consider this the riddle of the day (or in my case riddle of the year because I will most likely not be posting another riddle for some time.  Perhaps.)

Annndddd The Raccoon Came Back The Very Next Year

The persistent little bugger is back!  Presumably to make a nice, dry nest in the attic of the house because that is definitely one of the places it seems to want to get into.  This time around it is making no bones about wanting to get in.  Any way it can.  A couple of nights ago it tried to get in through an upper window of the house (freaked me out when I looked out the window and there it was looking back at me!).  My theory on this one is that, at some point, ole Rocky looked in the house, saw the larger of the two cats (who coincidentally has a raccoon like tail) and thought "Damn Brother, you got a nice gig going on here. Think I wanna get me some of that! - presuming this particular raccoon talks a little gangsta.)  Well I don't think so dude.  We are again waging an all out critter war on this bad boy because the last time it tried to create a nice little home in the attic it cost us thousands of dollars to replace the roof (Which it tore up in various different spots.  Even pulling out the insulation!)  The only problem is, this fella/lady (don't know is it is a she or a he but we keep calling it a he because he is clearly an asshole!) is the most stubborn critter I have ever seen!  It is not scared of us at all and no matter what we do to scare it off it just sits there and glares at us or very slowly walks to another portion of the roof.  I keep telling the other members of the Raccoon Brigade that we need to block its access to the roof but apparently I am the lowest member of the troupe so this idea has not been considered.  Yet.  I am sure the men folk will come to the same conclusion soon.  Now to find a way to make them think its their idea, quickly, before we have another roof to replace! (Or a litter of new, super cute, raccoon babies up in the attic!) 

When Companies Don't Stand Behind Their Shit

I apologize for the profanity in the title.  There is no other way to put it.  I think it is a serious disgrace nowadays that companies do not stand behind their products and/or the work they do on those products once the damn things break.  Case in point - My Lemon - The cute little car I bought brand spanking new off the lot of the Seedy Car Dealership (No, it was not a back ally, buy car for no money down car lot, it was a reputable, very large car dealer who will now be forever referred to as Seedy!).  Ok, yes the Lemon is eleven years old now but so much has gone wrong with the damn thing I should have just sold it a LONG time ago.  The writing was on the wall when the speedometer kicked the bucket less than seven years after its birth.  That wasn't even the beginning but up until that point was the most expensive of all the "repairs" this damn thing has needed.  So I spent the thousands of dollars for the dealerships extremely over priced mechanics to fix the speedometer only to have the damn thing start to malfunction AGAIN.  I am sure you can already figure out the next chapter in this story?  When I call, the helpful Mechanic at the dealership tells me to drive directly to the Service Department next time the speedo malfunctions so they can see it when it is not working.  So two months later I do just that only to have the Chick Working in the Service Department look at me like I was bloody crazy but humored me anyway and got a mechanic (only after she promptly informed me that, of course, the warranty on the parts they put in the Lemon is for only one year.)  Mechanic (who seemed appropriately sympathetic) checked it out briefly and talked to his "Service Manager" who then informed me that they just install the parts they don't actually guarantee the damn things will work once they charge people a million dollars to put them in!  He tells me I need to call the Head Office of the Dealership.  I already know where this is going but as an exercise in my patience I make the call anyway and was informed that I need to have the car diagnosed by the dealership (read - pay a ton of money for them to find out the speedometer that they installed is faulty) and only then would Head Office decide if they will cover the cost of fixing the part, AGAIN.  Doesn't help that the Woman I talk to at Head Office says "Wow, I have never heard of two speedometers going in one car."  Really?  But yet you don't feel obligated to maybe stand by the last speedometer you installed?  Huh.  To me it's just a big corporate bag of bullshit that they do to rob us of our hard earned dollars.

AND ironically I missed a call the very next day asking how my service was?  Can you effing believe it?  They did say in the message that they would be also sending me an on-line survey (from Head Office no less) and they would appreciate me marking "yes" to the excellent service question.  I cannot wait for the survey to come!  So excited to tell them that they suck, their service sucks and I will never buy their brand of car again!  BRING IT ON!

Spin Class - The Ride to Hell

Let me just start by saying that I thought I was on the path of being in pretty good shape (physically).  After last night, I think now that I have a long, long way to go.  About a half an hour into the class I was both almost puking my dinner up AND shooting hate thoughts to the spin instructor.  Every time that woman told us to increase the tension on the bike and increase our rpm to anything over 55 I was pretty much telling her to eff off in my head!  My poor legs were on fire!  I watched the clock for the last 30 minutes with bated breath for the damn class to end.  Spin class made running look like a leisurely stroll around the mall! 

The after class Mexican bath idea would have been good however my only focus was getting myself to the arena without crying and or curling up in the fetal position in the parking lot.

Within an hour of finishing the class my lax friend, who is clearly mentally unstable, suggested we attend another session.  I was shocked.  Like birthing a child, are you not supposed to wait until you forget about the pain and suffering before you are stupid enough to do it again?

Although today is now filled with copious doses of Advil and I am currently sitting on a pillow because my ass is so sore, I will do this stupid bike ride to nowhere again.  If nothing else to try to get to 31 minutes before I start spitting venom at the spin instructor.

This could be the end....

Of me.....  Yup, signed up for my first ever spin class with one of my lax ladies.  We plan to spin before our money suckers game tonight.  I have, of course, spent at least the last thirty minutes obsessing about how yucky I will look (smell) during the entire game (fixed that persistent little ditty with plans for a "Mexican bath" - deodorant swiped on top of existing smell.  Should work.  I hope.)  Long story short - I have pre-booked an ambulance to stand by and will ask one of the other lax ladies to just keep the kid if I don't show up during or after the game.  I got this!  Or not.  Will report back tomorrow if I still resemble a functioning human.

The Public Biffy

This is one topic I could go on and on about but I will spare you all the gory details and focus on just one (or three) aspect(s) (this time).  This particular protest has to do with the size they make damn public washrooms!  Seriously, I am fully aware that I ain't getting any smaller but come on!  Once you get in the squishy little stall how do you get the darn door shut?  I  know you have all been there - running to the ladies room get in the stall and practically had to stand on the bloody toilet to get the door closed!  Don't even get me started on where to put all the crap we drag in there with us.  Shelves people.  Give us shelves! (or more hooks - whatever).  Our fellow "man" must have designed these things because common sense would say have the door open OUT.  Not only would that make it easier for us, with purses and potential shopping bags, to get IN but it will also be a better indicator to us upon walking in that the stall is free and available for use!  Oh, and how about making the toilet paper come out in more than one small square at a time increments?  Would that be so hard?  Put a little WD40 on the paper rollers people.  Its called Washroom Customer Service.  Should be mandatory!