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Wherein I Fail To Thwart The Terrorist Plot at Anime Evolution
Yes, you read that right.
Oh, totally.
SC: “Are the tickets drawn by computer or by hand?”
Oh, by hand, totally. I mean there’s only what? 200,000 tickets? We just use our highly trained team of illegal immigrants to painstakingly shovel them all into a swimming pool. Then we take our attractive blond hostess in her sequin glitter gown, have her ascend a neon lit platform onto a nearby rooftop to the soothing sounds of Guns n Roses "Sweet Child O' Mine". Then she’ll hold up both arms for the camera, and our announcer will suddenly shove her off to plummet several stories into the pool. After our team of celebrity paramedics with a weekend's worth of training ( Which you can watch as a 2 hour special Friday night on ABC ) manage to free her crumpled, broken body, whichever tickets have to be surgically removed are the winners.
So totally by hand, yeah. Well, by face and/or chest cavity.
Perfectly Legit
Me: “and the Visa number please?”
SC: “Its xxxx-xxxx-er….”
Me: “….”
SC: “Let me give you a different one.”
Me: “Alright.”
SC: “It’s xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx”
Minute or two later.
Me: “Alright, you should receive your order in 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Actually, can I give you a different VISA number?”
Ok, dude, seriously, hurry up and remember which of them hasn’t been reported stolen yet and give me that one. Then you can go back to pretending to be a middle aged Italian buttplug stress tester touring the Canadian branch office or whomever the Hell it is you are today.
Kindred Spirits
On Call Tech: “You just caught me as I was heading out the door to go back to the hellhole.”
Well as long as you enjoy your job.
Just Say No
If I ask the question:
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
And your answer is one of the following:
“I have one but I don’t have it with me.”
“I have one but I lost it.”
“I have one, but I’m not sure the letter is.”
“I have one, but I threw it out.”
“I have one, but I don’t remember what it is.”
“I have one, but I got drunk and I had it tattooed to my ass and I don’t have a mirror.”
"I have one, but I got high and I woke up with it up my ass and my fingers aren't long enough and my room mate isn't up yet to help."
Then just say “No.”. Don’t waste your breath. Don’t give me false hope. Just say no. Then let us both move on with our lives and resume wasting your money on pointless merchandise.
God I'm horrible.
Me: “and your zip code please?”
SC: “It’s xxxxx”
Me: “Ok, xxxxx?”
SC: “Yep! That's it. I mean how many zip codes can there be in the country? Ah-hyuak huhuh.”
Me: “…….”
You’re not even remotely funny and I strongly suspect your girlfriend bleats when she cums.
The Wacky World of Anime Terrorism
Ok…this was a huge, rambling adventure of a call and the worst part is she was 100% dead serious. Let me see if I can accurate piece together the entire story…
She had come up to Vancouver from Seattle to UBC with her daughter for an Anime Evolution. Yes, that’s right, an anime convention. Because if there’s anywhere a terrorist sleeper cell is going to be hiding out its at an anime convention cosplaying Naruto.
While she was there she saw a man with a cane on the sidewalk. This man was blind. He was also Afghan. But not really Afghan. Like he was pretending to be Afghan but he was really a white “with a sort of bad tan” because you know there are absolutely no white people in Asia. She could tell he wasn’t a Real™ Afghan because she’s taught ESL for years and he was “pausing in all the wrong places” when speaking whatever language(s) is native to Afghan. But his English wasn’t right somehow either so she thinks’ he’s pretending to be Afghan and Canadian at the same time because he had a really good Canadian accent but it was just a bit off. So he’s a white guy, possibly wearing makeup, pretending to be “Afghan” and/or Canadian, with a cane, on the sidewalk at an anime convention, a type of event where at least half the people there are in costume.
Following so far?
But the mystery is deeper than that. She thinks his cane might be have really been a telescope, for scoping out potential terrorist targets because he didn’t really seem to be that blind and he had “really funny mannerisms” that were “untypical”. Yes, “untypical”, that’s the word she used and I use the term word lightly. So our not blind pretending to be blind possibly western man that’s pretending to be an Afghan and a Canadian with his telescope that he’s using as a cane asked her where the student dance was going to be held. She told him and he went over to hall where the dance was. Quite easily. Because he’s not blind, that’s a telescope.
But you need a hotel pass to get into the dance and he didn’t have one. Or rather he “made lots of motions like he was searching for his” but didn’t have one. So it’s not that he lost it, it’s that he didn’t have one and he’s pretending he’s looking for it so it looks legit. Just like he’s pretending to be a crippled, blind Afghan Canadian with a bad tan.
So she followed him to the dance ( Mysteriously he seemed to have found a pass? ) and saw another man there that looked suspiciously like an Arab ( She didn’t say if he looked like he was pretending to be an Arab or if he just looked like an Arab. ). The not blind/crippled/Afghan/Canadian sleeper cell terrorist suspect looked like he was looking for someone so she figured he was looking for the Arab even though he never actually went over to the Arab in question.
At this point I interrupted to essentially ask why the hell I should give a flying fuck off a short pier on low tide. She informed me because there were lots of Americans at the dance and our Arab/not Arab/Afghan/Canadian/Blind/Crippled/Telescope wielding sleeper cell suspects might be targeting them. Duly noted.
Apparently this display of blatant terrorist plotting alarmed her so much she alerted campus security ( Well, specifically a guy named Ryan. ) and they were “very alarmed”. But that’s probably more because I imagine she went up to one of them and went “THERE’S A BOMB!#~#”. Yet, ultimately, campus security wouldn’t do anything and our Afghan/Canadian/Blind/Crippled/Maybe he’s a pirate since he has a telescope? suspect went unchallenged..
So from there she called the Vancouver PD, who wouldn’t do anything. ( Wonder why. ). So she called the RCMP, they likewise told her off. Then she tried to call the FBI, because the FBI totally has jurisdiction over a Canadian college campus. But she couldn’t find the number. So she, seriously, called American Airlines and asked them if they had the number for the FBI. They didn’t.
So then she managed to find our number in the phone book. Not a new phone book mind you, she said she could only find it listed in an old phone book. I assume it’s not in the new phone book anymore specifically because of people like her.
Either way, she was just trying to alert the proper authorities and since every other proper authority told her off she decided she’d go straight to us otherwise the terrorists would win. Unfortunately, we don’t care either. So I guess there’s no one to stop the dark machinations of the white guy with a bad tan who’s pretending to be an Afghan and a Canadian with “untypical” mannerisms whose not really blind but has a cane anyway but the cane might be a telescope but he has no hall pass yet he does have a hall pass and he seemed to be looking for someone and that someone may have been this other guy that looked like an Arab because obviously all Arabs are terrorists so he must have been pretending to be blind crippled Afghan Canadian’s terrorist contact because if there’s anything terrorists hate its dance parties at anime conventions in Canada where there may or may not be Americans.
Got it?
The Time Box
Ok, let me see if I have this….you need to talk to <lawyer> because your birth certificate is wrong, your Care Cards are wrong, your parents died and left you a couple of boxes but you don’t dare open them because your birth certificate says 56 but you were born in 66. Due to the fact you’ve managed to discover the fountain and youth and shave 10 years off your age you can’t open the boxes because they may suck away your newfound vitality. Ok, think I’ve got it.
Somehow I get the feeling I’ll be talking to you again in an hour or two only this time it’ll be about a possession charge.
Not Quite
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, I’m trying to dial out to Europe.”
Then I can say, with the utmost confidence, that you have failed miserably.
yargh.
( He's calling someone's personal pager. )
SC: “Hey, do you think he’s still up?”
Seeing as I’m not actually sleeping with him, I really couldn’t tell you. I’m sure he’s a wonderful guy, but I kind doubt he’s my type and I get the sense that any torrid love affair we had would eventually be broken up because I wouldn’t be up to put up with his fucktastically stupid friends. Such as yourself.
So I hope you’re happy, homewrecker.
TEH COLOURZ
SC: “I ordered an Aqua but I think you sent me a Turqoise, it looks green.”
Yes, we sent you the wrong colour, its completely our fault. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you didn’t bother checking the colour chart before ordering. I mean, it’s not as if the colour Aqua is listed under “Greens” on the website or anything, right? Oh! Hey! What do you know, it is listed under Greens! Fancy fucking that.
But still, yeah, its 100% our fault, We should exchange it for you immediately. Do you have your order number so I can check your order? No? Of course not, because I’m willing to bet it says “Aqua” on it too.
Just a hunch.
Excitement
Me: “Good evening, <lottery comp-“
SC: “FOUR TICKETS~!#”
Wow, easy there Gilligan. You’re going to have to contain your excitement and try not to wet yourself long enough for me to ask a few basic questions first. Then we can get you your tickets. Although I have no idea what you’re going to do in the 2-3 weeks it’ll take for them to arrive. In fact you may be better off just heading down and getting them from London Drugs. That way you can start excitedly rubbing them all over naked body right away.
867
Me: “and your first name please?”
SC: “Mark”
Me: “Is that Mark with a c or a k?”
SC: “c….er…no, k!. Yeah, k. Er…..c?”
Ok, seriously, if you people are going to keep beating down my faith in humanity like this then at least grab a farkin' shovel and help me dig the grave. Because it won’t be long now.
Edit: MOAR~. Because apparently the above isn't enough.
....
Me: "Alright, the confirmation number for your room is D, as in David."
SC: "B?"
Yes, that's right. B, as in Bavid. Like Bavid Blaine. There's a Bavid Blaine outside of the 7/11 a few blocks up now and then. He kinda of looks like David Blaine, but he's French, smells kind of odd, holds the door open and tells all the mademoiselle he loves them. He told me he loved me once too. But I didn't give him any change on my way back out. So I think he hates me now because he doesn't tell me his feelings anymore.
He's not really a magician though. However, by the look on his face I'm pretty sure for a few bucks he'll make something disappear for you. At least for a minute or two.
Ok?
Me: "Alright, and which credit card would you like to use?"
SC: "YES!"
Me: "....."
SC: "....."
Me: "....."
SC: "...hello?"
Me: "Hi."
Sorry, I was just waiting to see if you'd actually catch on or not. Stupid of me, I know. I really shouldn't be placing any sort of faith in you people anymore. Yet, every now and then my cold, bitter heart beats once and I'm compelled to give you a chance. Then you cruelly spit on it, stuff it in a sack, kick it a few times and throw it into a river from a slow moving vehicle.
Wait, what?
Me: "and your phone number please?"
SC: "It's xxx-xxx-xxxxx"
Me: "...xxx-xxx and the what, sorry?"
SC: "xxxxx"
Me: "....."
I don't know, maybe he had one of those phone numbers that has a phantom number or two on the end so it spells something. However, looking at the keypad here, the only thing I think I can spell with the last part of his number was COCKZ. So I'm really hoping that's not it.
Of course there's a small chance I 'm just sick minded and its really something innocent like xxx-GOT-COALZ?
....Nah, its gotta be cockz.
Ok, now I'm resting. =p
Oh, totally.
SC: “Are the tickets drawn by computer or by hand?”
Oh, by hand, totally. I mean there’s only what? 200,000 tickets? We just use our highly trained team of illegal immigrants to painstakingly shovel them all into a swimming pool. Then we take our attractive blond hostess in her sequin glitter gown, have her ascend a neon lit platform onto a nearby rooftop to the soothing sounds of Guns n Roses "Sweet Child O' Mine". Then she’ll hold up both arms for the camera, and our announcer will suddenly shove her off to plummet several stories into the pool. After our team of celebrity paramedics with a weekend's worth of training ( Which you can watch as a 2 hour special Friday night on ABC ) manage to free her crumpled, broken body, whichever tickets have to be surgically removed are the winners.
So totally by hand, yeah. Well, by face and/or chest cavity.
Perfectly Legit
Me: “and the Visa number please?”
SC: “Its xxxx-xxxx-er….”
Me: “….”
SC: “Let me give you a different one.”
Me: “Alright.”
SC: “It’s xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx”
Minute or two later.
Me: “Alright, you should receive your order in 1-2 weeks-“
SC: “Actually, can I give you a different VISA number?”
Ok, dude, seriously, hurry up and remember which of them hasn’t been reported stolen yet and give me that one. Then you can go back to pretending to be a middle aged Italian buttplug stress tester touring the Canadian branch office or whomever the Hell it is you are today.
Kindred Spirits
On Call Tech: “You just caught me as I was heading out the door to go back to the hellhole.”
Well as long as you enjoy your job.
Just Say No
If I ask the question:
Me: “Do you have a customer ID number?”
And your answer is one of the following:
“I have one but I don’t have it with me.”
“I have one but I lost it.”
“I have one, but I’m not sure the letter is.”
“I have one, but I threw it out.”
“I have one, but I don’t remember what it is.”
“I have one, but I got drunk and I had it tattooed to my ass and I don’t have a mirror.”
"I have one, but I got high and I woke up with it up my ass and my fingers aren't long enough and my room mate isn't up yet to help."
Then just say “No.”. Don’t waste your breath. Don’t give me false hope. Just say no. Then let us both move on with our lives and resume wasting your money on pointless merchandise.
God I'm horrible.
Me: “and your zip code please?”
SC: “It’s xxxxx”
Me: “Ok, xxxxx?”
SC: “Yep! That's it. I mean how many zip codes can there be in the country? Ah-hyuak huhuh.”
Me: “…….”
You’re not even remotely funny and I strongly suspect your girlfriend bleats when she cums.
The Wacky World of Anime Terrorism
Ok…this was a huge, rambling adventure of a call and the worst part is she was 100% dead serious. Let me see if I can accurate piece together the entire story…
She had come up to Vancouver from Seattle to UBC with her daughter for an Anime Evolution. Yes, that’s right, an anime convention. Because if there’s anywhere a terrorist sleeper cell is going to be hiding out its at an anime convention cosplaying Naruto.
While she was there she saw a man with a cane on the sidewalk. This man was blind. He was also Afghan. But not really Afghan. Like he was pretending to be Afghan but he was really a white “with a sort of bad tan” because you know there are absolutely no white people in Asia. She could tell he wasn’t a Real™ Afghan because she’s taught ESL for years and he was “pausing in all the wrong places” when speaking whatever language(s) is native to Afghan. But his English wasn’t right somehow either so she thinks’ he’s pretending to be Afghan and Canadian at the same time because he had a really good Canadian accent but it was just a bit off. So he’s a white guy, possibly wearing makeup, pretending to be “Afghan” and/or Canadian, with a cane, on the sidewalk at an anime convention, a type of event where at least half the people there are in costume.
Following so far?
But the mystery is deeper than that. She thinks his cane might be have really been a telescope, for scoping out potential terrorist targets because he didn’t really seem to be that blind and he had “really funny mannerisms” that were “untypical”. Yes, “untypical”, that’s the word she used and I use the term word lightly. So our not blind pretending to be blind possibly western man that’s pretending to be an Afghan and a Canadian with his telescope that he’s using as a cane asked her where the student dance was going to be held. She told him and he went over to hall where the dance was. Quite easily. Because he’s not blind, that’s a telescope.
But you need a hotel pass to get into the dance and he didn’t have one. Or rather he “made lots of motions like he was searching for his” but didn’t have one. So it’s not that he lost it, it’s that he didn’t have one and he’s pretending he’s looking for it so it looks legit. Just like he’s pretending to be a crippled, blind Afghan Canadian with a bad tan.
So she followed him to the dance ( Mysteriously he seemed to have found a pass? ) and saw another man there that looked suspiciously like an Arab ( She didn’t say if he looked like he was pretending to be an Arab or if he just looked like an Arab. ). The not blind/crippled/Afghan/Canadian sleeper cell terrorist suspect looked like he was looking for someone so she figured he was looking for the Arab even though he never actually went over to the Arab in question.
At this point I interrupted to essentially ask why the hell I should give a flying fuck off a short pier on low tide. She informed me because there were lots of Americans at the dance and our Arab/not Arab/Afghan/Canadian/Blind/Crippled/Telescope wielding sleeper cell suspects might be targeting them. Duly noted.
Apparently this display of blatant terrorist plotting alarmed her so much she alerted campus security ( Well, specifically a guy named Ryan. ) and they were “very alarmed”. But that’s probably more because I imagine she went up to one of them and went “THERE’S A BOMB!#~#”. Yet, ultimately, campus security wouldn’t do anything and our Afghan/Canadian/Blind/Crippled/Maybe he’s a pirate since he has a telescope? suspect went unchallenged..
So from there she called the Vancouver PD, who wouldn’t do anything. ( Wonder why. ). So she called the RCMP, they likewise told her off. Then she tried to call the FBI, because the FBI totally has jurisdiction over a Canadian college campus. But she couldn’t find the number. So she, seriously, called American Airlines and asked them if they had the number for the FBI. They didn’t.
So then she managed to find our number in the phone book. Not a new phone book mind you, she said she could only find it listed in an old phone book. I assume it’s not in the new phone book anymore specifically because of people like her.
Either way, she was just trying to alert the proper authorities and since every other proper authority told her off she decided she’d go straight to us otherwise the terrorists would win. Unfortunately, we don’t care either. So I guess there’s no one to stop the dark machinations of the white guy with a bad tan who’s pretending to be an Afghan and a Canadian with “untypical” mannerisms whose not really blind but has a cane anyway but the cane might be a telescope but he has no hall pass yet he does have a hall pass and he seemed to be looking for someone and that someone may have been this other guy that looked like an Arab because obviously all Arabs are terrorists so he must have been pretending to be blind crippled Afghan Canadian’s terrorist contact because if there’s anything terrorists hate its dance parties at anime conventions in Canada where there may or may not be Americans.
Got it?
The Time Box
Ok, let me see if I have this….you need to talk to <lawyer> because your birth certificate is wrong, your Care Cards are wrong, your parents died and left you a couple of boxes but you don’t dare open them because your birth certificate says 56 but you were born in 66. Due to the fact you’ve managed to discover the fountain and youth and shave 10 years off your age you can’t open the boxes because they may suck away your newfound vitality. Ok, think I’ve got it.
Somehow I get the feeling I’ll be talking to you again in an hour or two only this time it’ll be about a possession charge.
Not Quite
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “Yeah, I’m trying to dial out to Europe.”
Then I can say, with the utmost confidence, that you have failed miserably.
yargh.
( He's calling someone's personal pager. )
SC: “Hey, do you think he’s still up?”
Seeing as I’m not actually sleeping with him, I really couldn’t tell you. I’m sure he’s a wonderful guy, but I kind doubt he’s my type and I get the sense that any torrid love affair we had would eventually be broken up because I wouldn’t be up to put up with his fucktastically stupid friends. Such as yourself.
So I hope you’re happy, homewrecker.
TEH COLOURZ
SC: “I ordered an Aqua but I think you sent me a Turqoise, it looks green.”
Yes, we sent you the wrong colour, its completely our fault. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you didn’t bother checking the colour chart before ordering. I mean, it’s not as if the colour Aqua is listed under “Greens” on the website or anything, right? Oh! Hey! What do you know, it is listed under Greens! Fancy fucking that.
But still, yeah, its 100% our fault, We should exchange it for you immediately. Do you have your order number so I can check your order? No? Of course not, because I’m willing to bet it says “Aqua” on it too.
Just a hunch.
Excitement
Me: “Good evening, <lottery comp-“
SC: “FOUR TICKETS~!#”
Wow, easy there Gilligan. You’re going to have to contain your excitement and try not to wet yourself long enough for me to ask a few basic questions first. Then we can get you your tickets. Although I have no idea what you’re going to do in the 2-3 weeks it’ll take for them to arrive. In fact you may be better off just heading down and getting them from London Drugs. That way you can start excitedly rubbing them all over naked body right away.
867
Me: “and your first name please?”
SC: “Mark”
Me: “Is that Mark with a c or a k?”
SC: “c….er…no, k!. Yeah, k. Er…..c?”
Ok, seriously, if you people are going to keep beating down my faith in humanity like this then at least grab a farkin' shovel and help me dig the grave. Because it won’t be long now.
Edit: MOAR~. Because apparently the above isn't enough.
....
Me: "Alright, the confirmation number for your room is D, as in David."
SC: "B?"
Yes, that's right. B, as in Bavid. Like Bavid Blaine. There's a Bavid Blaine outside of the 7/11 a few blocks up now and then. He kinda of looks like David Blaine, but he's French, smells kind of odd, holds the door open and tells all the mademoiselle he loves them. He told me he loved me once too. But I didn't give him any change on my way back out. So I think he hates me now because he doesn't tell me his feelings anymore.
He's not really a magician though. However, by the look on his face I'm pretty sure for a few bucks he'll make something disappear for you. At least for a minute or two.
Ok?
Me: "Alright, and which credit card would you like to use?"
SC: "YES!"
Me: "....."
SC: "....."
Me: "....."
SC: "...hello?"
Me: "Hi."
Sorry, I was just waiting to see if you'd actually catch on or not. Stupid of me, I know. I really shouldn't be placing any sort of faith in you people anymore. Yet, every now and then my cold, bitter heart beats once and I'm compelled to give you a chance. Then you cruelly spit on it, stuff it in a sack, kick it a few times and throw it into a river from a slow moving vehicle.
Wait, what?
Me: "and your phone number please?"
SC: "It's xxx-xxx-xxxxx"
Me: "...xxx-xxx and the what, sorry?"
SC: "xxxxx"
Me: "....."
I don't know, maybe he had one of those phone numbers that has a phantom number or two on the end so it spells something. However, looking at the keypad here, the only thing I think I can spell with the last part of his number was COCKZ. So I'm really hoping that's not it.
Of course there's a small chance I 'm just sick minded and its really something innocent like xxx-GOT-COALZ?
....Nah, its gotta be cockz.
Ok, now I'm resting. =p
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