Neighbour Issue

Last night, I was in a great deal of pain, and so went to bed at 630 pm.

Or tried to.

My neighbour, a man nearing 50, believes himself to be an up and coming rock star.  His band plays in bars....although I'm betting they don't get any return gigs.  If they do, it speaks alarmingly of how much booze affects perception.

So, he was practicing.  Wolf and I had heard him warming up in a falsetto earlier, and as Wolf put it, "It sounds like he's slamming his male parts in a drawer.  Repeatedly."  I suggested, even dared Wolf to go bang on his door and ask if he was ok, but Wolf wouldn't.  Coward.

My bedroom window was open.  So was R's.  The room he was practicing in shares a wall with us, and of course the master bedroom is along this wall.  It sounded like he was standing on my bed, practicing.  At top volume.  What he lacks in talent, he makes up for in enthusiasm and volume.

He was singing in the dreadful falsetto.  He repeated the same song 3x before I realized that it was supposed to be a Led Zeppelin tune. "Rock 'n Roll"

This alarmed me.  First, I was raised on Zeppelin, Eagles, Doors, Steppenwolf, Bob Seger.  I could sing the lyrics to Zeppelin and Seger songs long before I knew my ABCs.  For me NOT to recognize a Zeppelin tune is an alarming thing, and speaks to how badly he was butchering it.  He must have repeated the song 6x altogether, and the only thing that improved was his enthusiasm, and self praise.  I'd never known someone that got worse with practice, but he does.

He then moved on to a Rascal Flatts song.  I have no idea which one, since I only identified it by the singer in the background.  My neighbour was pretty consistent in drowning it out, but I did catch enough bits and pieces to identify the band.

You know how when you're singing along with one of your favourite songs, but don't know all the lyrics quite yet, the way you garble something up, or "mmm" your way through that part?  Yeah.  Well.  R was garbling, at top volume.  Not only was he WILDLY off key, but his garbling didn't even match the missing lyrics syllables.  Seriously. It was bad.  Beyond bad.

I came downstairs, swearing that I was going to go shoot R in the face.  With a flame thrower.  I know where there are lighters and a can of hairspray in the house.

Thankfully, R gave up his vocal practicing shortly thereafter.

My ears seriously hurt after listening to him.  Like having a double ear infection hurt. 
Here's a free tip, in case R ever stumbles across the blog: Your band hasn't made it yet.  Either give it up, or find a different lead vocalist.

And if you EVER damage a Zeppelin song like that again, I have my hairspray at hand.

Don't say you weren't warned.

And stay the heck away from any Queen songs.  You don't want to know what the penalty for killing a Queen song is, but no jury would convict me, cause I'll record you first.

Police Rant

Dear General Public,

I am sick to DEATH of hearing people slag on police officers. Yes, there ARE police officers who screw up. No freaking doubt. They are human beings in a high pressure job, in high pressure situations. Its bound to happen that they screw up, and when they do, they should be held accountable, no doubt about it.

That being said...

Friend of mine was spouting recently about how he dislikes cops. On and on. He's a cab driver, and the fella that takes me to appointments and such. He was complaining about how he got a speeding ticket, and the cop was unpleasant. I asked if he was speeding, and the answer was, "Yes, but the cop didn't have to be so unpleasant about it...I was trying to talk with him, joke around a bit, and he was having none of it, just wrote the ticket." Oh, so because the police officer stuck to his job, he was unpleasant. OK.

I'm sick to death of the culture of it being ok to put down the police force, police officers, call them pigs, etc. Its ok to 'hate cops'.

But isn't it funny how fast that changes when you need one, huh?

So, I invite all of those who proclaim how they hate cops, how useless they are, how corrupt they are, etc...if you're ever in trouble, don't call one.

Since you hate them and don't trust them anyways, don't bother calling.

Sincerely,

The Sister of a Police Officer

About Generalizations

I just wanted to hit on a comment about generalizations. Just as much as there are folks in genuine need of food stamps, welfare, etc and not abusing, and those that do abuse, the same can be said for disability...and let me tell ya, its no picnic to be the one who truly NEEDS Workers Comp to ante up and pay right when you're truly disabled. I doubt its any different in the States than here in Canada from the horror stories I've read on other boards, and yet much of the same attitude prevails..."What do you mean you can't WORK?!" despite the fact I have three doctors saying that I'm unfit for any level of employment...its not my personal opinion of the situation, its their medical assessment. Add to it that chronic pain is an invisible disability, and it makes for loads of fun. Comments like, "You look perfectly ok to me!" make it even more so.

Yes, there will always be some jerk that is on the 6 pm news for painting a house when he's on disability for a supposed back injury, or others who know how to milk the system for all its worth and then some. Heck, I've witnessed people like that at the treatment centre I was forced to go to for several weeks of useless, albeit excruciatingly painful pt, who bragged about moonlighting at other jobs while using their WCB funds to pay the rent. Its jerks like those that cause the issues for people like me who need the system. Its jerks like those that people think of when they hear that I'm on Workers Comp.

I guess what I'm starting this thread for is an open thought or plea that if you happen to run into someone that is on Workers Comp, don't start listing a whole bunch of jobs for them to try. Its pretty frustrating to hear. I've worked with a vocational specialist. Its not that I don't want to work that keeps me from taking you up on 'my cousin Joe has a company, I know he could use a worker like you, lemme give you his phone number!' its that I genuinely, medically, am unfit for any employment. Please don't get offended when someone doesn't take you up on your offer of help. Its not that they prefer to be on WCB. Trust me. Unless you've run into the probably 6 or 7% of folks that are milking it, they'd rather be working.

Starting A Commune, Wanna Join?

*sigh*

I'm getting really tired of some of the stuff that's happening in society these days. The only solution I can think of is finally winning the lotto and buying the acreage that Wolf and I have been dreaming about for years now.

Its just really getting insane.

Take today for example. Diva is 'friends' with the kid across the sidewalk from us. Got invited to the movies. The kid's parents are taking her to see Adventureland. (I say 'friends' because they're the only two girls in the neighbourhood. If Diva had the option of another girl, she would gladly take it.) These are 10 and 11 yo girls, folks. Adventureland is rated 14A, and deals with a story line where the highlight of the lead character's summer is getting to smoke pot all summer long. I soooooooo don't think so. Diva was not granted permission, which led to a long conversation regarding differences in parenting styles, morals, principles, etc.

But, there's more than that. I'm tired of walking down the street and hearing kids in elementary school use profanity like it was a mastered second language, I'm tired of seeing young girls dressed in ways that only seem to serve the purpose to render them physically desireable, and then there's the rising rates of sexual experience amongst children, younger and younger.

And then there's the violence issue. I'm sorry, but I can remember when I was in school, you did NOT talk back to adults. It just did NOT happen, period. Now? *snort*. Things are getting dang scary out there, folks. On the streets, in the schools, in our neighbourhoods.

So, winning the lottery and moving out to an acreage seems like the only reasonable solution. Anyone want to join me?

Dear 'Well Meaning People',

Dear Well Meaning People;

There have been more than one of you in my life lately. Let me explain a few things for you quickly.

CRPS is NOT arthritis. It is NOT a pulled muscle, pinched nerve, or a product of my imagination. Just because your friend's sister's cousin's aunt's husband's nephew's girlfriend had AMAZING results with ground up bat droppings made into a poultice and applied to their feet on the evening of the first full moon does NOT mean that a) it would work for ME and b) that I'm going to rush out and gather bat droppings. I am under the care of NO LESS than five freaking doctors at the moment. I'm willing to bet that if bat droppings had any medicinal affect, ONE of the 5 would have heard of it. So stop already.

DO NOT tell me how horrible my life is, and then ask breathlessly for details. My medical situation, history, and proposed treatment is simply none of your business. If it were, I would tell you. Heck, if I thought it would actually HELP me to talk to you, I would...but not when you're all eager and salivating for the latest news just so you have something to talk to your friends and family about.

And another thing. DO NOT tell me how there are children dying of cancer, managing disabilities, pain, etc and doing it far better than I am. This is MY personal struggle, MY battle, and I quite frankly don't give a fuzzy rat's behind how I rate in your personal view. Poor lil Jimmy is just a breathing head, drags himself across the ground with his front teeth, how dare I complain? Well, good for Jimmy. I don't care. I get to moan, whine, and gnash my teeth if I so desire, BECAUSE this is MY life. Attempting to guilt me, manipulate my emotions doesn't work. So just back the heck off.

I don't have booze or chocolate. Consider yourself WARNED.

And if you still have the need to tell me about some mythical treatment, or children who are having their limbs ripped off an inch at a time by maggots, I sincerely hope you get something large and unwieldy stuffed in a body oriface. Repeatedly.

And to those who will feel compelled to point out, "They were only trying to help!" Please, just don't. Help doesn't guilt. Help doesn't invalidate, manipulate, or leave you feeling like absolute crap BECAUSE you hurt.