Mystery Solved.

I’m listening to the Muppet rendition of songs like Bohemian Rhapsody, Devil Went Down to Georgia, and Benny & the Jets. Apologies if this post is… well, a bit, odd.

At work, I drink a lot of caffeine. Those of you who follow my endless 140 character rants on Twitter (it’s just like here except smaller! Yeah, I wouldn’t follow me either), know that my preferred drink is Sugar-Free Amp  -- PepsiCo, I am currently accepting offers to be your spokesperson. Waiting by the phone. Just. Call.

Right, so I like caffeine now. I didn’t used to drink it prior to working for the video game industry, so that must tell you what living on the internet (that should totally my job description on LinkedIn by the way) will do to you. When you drink as much caffeine as I do, you become relatively well acquainted with the washroom. The loo. The privy. The toilets. The restroom.

Sometimes, in the afternoon, I’ll see that one of the stalls is sitting there with the toilet seat up. This isn’t a unisex facility. Just for the ladies. I started to see it nearly every day. Thoughts raced about what person in the office was doing it.

This whole mystery reminded me, one day, of a lecture from my college Anthropology days (why did I just make it sound like I’m reminiscing about drugs or something?). Our professor was teaching us about Practice Theory and performativity. We were discussing the works of Pierre Bourdieu and the professor introduced the concept “doxa”. For anyone who didn’t dabble in Anthropology, doxa is a term that refers to something that “goes without saying because it comes without saying” for someone. Whatever it may be is just so engrained in one’s society that he or she cannot imagine it being any other way. This was the example she used to demonstrate this phenomenon:

Professor X (meaning anonymous, not referencing Charles Francis Xaviar… although that would be the coolest! Totally saving that rant for another day) was visiting a foreign country and walked into a public restroom. She checked under the stalls to see if anyone was occupying any of them. Saw no feet, so she opened the door. Upon opening the door, she walked right in on someone who was perched on top of the toilet seat (why this person didn’t lock the door, I don’t know, so don’t ask). Professor Xaviar was so taken aback by this incident because she couldn’t even imagine using the facilities in any other way than she was used to. It was hard to wrap her mind about it. DOXA!

So one day I see the lid to the toilet seat up again and think of that story. I start wondering, “Wow! I must be encountering real life cultural differences right here at work. Not stupid cultural differences like how silly Canadian accents sound. But genuine differences and this can start a dialogue about how diverse America really is!”

Then, the inevitable happened. My bubble was burst. My detective skills failed me. If this had been LA Noire, I wouldn’t have completed the case. The game wouldn’t even have given me the option to skip the scene after three tries. Also, I probably would have killed someone with that fucking car. You drive, I have to look over the case notes.

One fateful day, I walked into the bathroom and noticed the stalls had just been cleaned. All the toilet seats were up. Obviously, I was just continually noticing the one toilet seat that no one had bothered using since someone cleaned.

Looks like I’ll never be one of those meddling kids.

EDIT: I have officially added "lives on the internet" to my LinkedIn profile. Changed "lives" to "resides"... you know, to sound professional.

Koi Fish

I hate koi fish.

To me, this statement should be completely self-evident and require no explanation. However, I’ve learned that my readers sometimes aren’t motivated by the same rage at the audacity of certain animals in their sheer will to exist. Therefore, let us explore the many reasons why koi fish were put on this Earth to annoy and frighten me.

There are very few animals that you can encounter in a park or someone’s backyard that are plausibly Martians sent here to watch us. Look at those big eyes. Obviously, I mean for you to Google “koi fish” for one moment so you can visualize what I’m talking about. I’ll wait.

No, seriously, go look.

OK regardless, ALIENS. That’s what they are, I’m sure.

You’re sitting on the edge of a man-made pond, maybe pondering whether it’s finally time to pop the question to that gal you’re sweet on (wow, I’m channeling the 1940s here apparently) or taking a moment to wonder at the glory of the universe. You glance over at the water, smiling warmly at the crane fishing for its next meal and a tadpole navigating new water. The circle of life at its best.

HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT TRANSPARENT THING!? IT’S LIKE THE SIZE OF MY LEG! WHAT THE HELL!?

That, my friend, is everyone’s first reaction when they see a white koi fish they are not expecting.  “Psh no,” you scoff, “I like koi fish. They’re so playful and exotic!” Clearly, you have become desensitized. Everyone is instinctively freaked out by them. They’re huge. Who do they think they are? 

Whenever I see a koi fish, after I recover from my initial shock and dismay by their presence, I feel compelled to try and catch it. I don’t have this reaction to other fish. In fact, I successfully kept many varieties of fish, sometimes for months at a time! I’m so good at keeping fish that I can’t even count how many I’ve had. My aquarium is THAT popular.

Keeping that fact in mind, none of my pet fish ever died because I reached into the tank to grab them (to be fair, one literally jumped out of its bowl and committed suicide, but that’s a tragic story I don’t wish to delve into at the moment). It’s a struggle I deal with constantly with koi fish though. I really just want to wrap my hands around their little neck bodies and shake them. “WHY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE YOU STUPID FISH!?” I’d cry. Then I would promptly throw it against the wall. I have a strange understanding of fish anatomy and really feel like they’d just stick to the surface like Nickelodeon Gak.

Looking back at all of this, I’m actually kind of confused myself as to why I hate koi fish so much. They’re like the popular girl in school who knows she’s really pretty. Just something about them that I can’t quite describe.

But they’re stupid and next time you see one, resist the urge to grab it forcefully out of the water and slam it against the wall. I don’t think they’ll actually stick. Also despite my belief that they are not of this world, law enforcement will probably count that as animal cruelty.

The last thing I would want is for you to be locked up in the Big House.

Follow your heart.

I'd like to make a deposit.

I hate the Bank.

Honestly, I would rather keep all my money stuffed inside my mattress if it meant I never ever had to encounter another bank. Just so you know, I don’t do that, and please don’t come to my apartment to make sure. This isn’t a thinly veiled treasure hunt. Also, if it helps, I have no money. Hope that clears things up.

There is something seriously wrong with people who decide they want to become designers for banks. It’s worse than hospital design. At least at hospitals, you know everything is supposed to be plastic to wipe off strange liquids. The walls have to be periwinkle so you can pretend that it isn’t a cesspool of death and decay. Cheerful, I know.

But the bank. The bank. What is wrong with the bank? Why is that random huge vase in the middle of the walkway? Who is that lady in the painting!? Is there really a need for all this wood paneling? And who decided that all banks should get together and systematically use maroon and royal blue for every single damn piece of upholstery furniture in the place. Nice plants by the way. I know they're fake, who are you trying to fool?

That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that every single employee loathes you. They don’t want you in there. You hand over your hard earned paycheck and they look at you like you are trash: "How dare you bring this insignificant amount in here? If you aren’t depositing money in the hundreds of thousands, well, we really can’t be bothered to smile at you."

It’s like people who work the lobby at a really nice hotel. I KNOW I make more money than you do, so why the hell do you think it’s OK to sneer at me for wearing a t-shirt in your stupid lobby? I am really making the place look shabby. Such a disgrace.

But anyway, the bank is terrible because you have to go there. It’s unavoidable. They talk to you about the convenience of online banking, but you will inevitably have to enter the dreaded local branch to activate a new card or make a large (but not to them) deposit.

Screw you, the Bank. I don’t need you.

Oh, free checks? You won me over.