A Day of Disappointment

Overall, I'd say that my new crew at work is a vast improvement over the previous one, which is not to say that I didn't and don't find things I like about Sylvester, Mulan and Wolf Woman. It's just that Teeth's behaviour, and my unwillingness to challenge her on Certain Issues, made the new group the only viable alternative.

And I do enjoy my time with them. When we laugh, which is often, it isn't at anyone's expense. Sex is not the only topic of conversation, and when it comes up, it is alluded to and then the subject is changed. Even Two Clowns is more entertaining than irritating, because everyone in that room smells the bullshit and is laughing inside.

But over the last couple of days--and particularly today--a few things have come up to dash my expectations somewhat.

First off, the Princess of Wales. She's young, so many of her attitudes and opinions may be informed by her relative lack of experience. Nevertheless, I confess that as a proud (tho' not rabid) Canadian, I was disappointed to hear her say that she would return to Wales in a heartbeat (even though she has been here since she was six), and has no intention of getting her citizenship. I protested, saying that as a landed immigrant, she is required to pay taxes but not entitled to vote (which seems wrong to me, taxation without representation). She told me that she in fact finds her ineligibility to vote a relief, because she "hates politics".

I find her point of view--to which she is of course entitled--disappointing because first, if she hasn't actually lived in Wales since she was a small child, and she is now shy of thirty, she cannot have any real experience of what it is like to live there. Now, I'm certain that Wales is a lovely nation; I would like to visit sometime. But my second point is that Canada has treated her quite well; she is employed, both as a biller full-time and as a massage therapist part-time, and she has recently bought her own home. So why the yearning for somewhere else?

Now don't get me wrong, I can understand the yearning for somewhere else. I do a fair amount of yearning myself on a regular basis. But to refuse citizenship based on lame excuses ("It's expensive", "The test is too hard!") seems to me to be dismissive of a place that has welcomed you with every opportunity for success.

Princess Anne told the Princess of Wales that she votes because then she feels entitled to complain. And hey, whatever gets folks out to the polling stations is okay by me. Short of buying votes, of course.

But then Princess Anne went and spoiled it all by telling us that she was in StoopidStore (a local grocery chain) on the weekend...

"...and the place was crowded with Pakis!"

I was startled.

"I don't have a problem with them, but when you're surrounded by them...and all you can smell is curry..."

Okay, so lemme get this straight: you don't have a problem with "Pakis", but you're not comfortable in a warehouse-sized room full of them? And, seriously, you're bitching about the smell? Seriously? Listen, honey, you sound like a racist to me, and I'm amazed that you can't hear yourself talking. What you said is ignorant and hateful and I am deeply crestfallen that you entertain such opinions. Jeez.

Finally, you would think that our recent interactions with Flake would have made it perfectly clear to her that we--and by that I mean BOTH of us (just in case there is a tendency to believe that as the outspoken one, I do all of the Little Hunneydoo's talking for her)--no longer desire her presence in our lives. But I guess some people take some convincing or are slow to get the hint. Because as I stepped out of the front door this morning, I discovered that a small gift bag had been left there by Flake sometime overnight or earlier in the a.m. It was mostly foodstuffs, including treats for the dogs and a package of catnip seeds for the cat.

And attached was a note saying, "For the gifts you gave. The balance of your Christmas gift. Love, Flake."

*sigh*

It is a measure of Flake's chronic inability to get organized that she can't get a Christmas gift together until St. Patrick's Day. It is more importantly a measure of her passive aggression (though I doubt she'd interpret her actions this way) that she would use said Christmas gift to remind us of how she still loves us and is thinking of us, no matter how brutally we have cast her aside.

Yeah, whatever. Listen, Flake: go away. We no speak the crazy here. We no wanna the drama. Capiche? Get it? Comprendez-vous? We're not gonna call ya, we're not gonna reach out and hold your hand and sing "Kumbaya" until you feel better. We're ignoring you. Permanently. We'd appreciate it if you would do the same. Please stop leaving us offerings of food and gifts for the dogs; don't think that any of your birthday wishes or phone calls will elicit any response. We're done. Honestly and truly done.

Seriously.