Lost and Stolen Cell Phones... An App to save the day??

 Okay, in the last 4 months I have watched at least 4 people's lives stop suddenly, the moment they either lost their phone (this includes me) or their phones were stolen.

At first, I thought, " Okay that's it, I'm going back to memorizing everyone's phone number and I WILL NOT be so freaking dependent on this little wee computer that holds my life." Uh huh, this from a person who can't remember why she's in a room, but is going to memorize all clients and contact phone numbers. Realizing my ridiculousness, I have been thinking of a solution and find it in the manufacturers.

They have apps for petting an animated cat who purrs or a dog who farts, they have apps that name the song you're rocking out to when you can't place it, they have apps that tell me the cheapest gas prices in a freaking 50 km radius, and my favorite... an app that allows anyone anywhere to look at me in my backyard from space... (geeez, let's hope I'm sunning in something scanty and we'll just say punishment enough to those perpetrating eyes.)

Why the hell isn't there an app for not only finding your phone, but DISABLING IT AND RENDERING IT NO GOOD FOR TRANSFER OF OWNER when some lowlife steals it... Or better, when you lose it and the person who finds it and plans to sell it, answers your millionth call only to tell you to go fuck yourself on your own damn phone?? I'll tell you why... Phones are expensive if bought separately from a contract or plan. Like super expensive. My last blackberry torch... (which I detested by the way, in case you haven't read my rants about it)... was labelled at $749 clams. My new Android phone (that I love, mostly for its word prediction... hilarious) was $599 without a plan, but free with one; good thing I needed a plan. I even would've considered paying the average cost of $200 to cancel my service plan with my then provider, Rogers because it still would've been cheaper than buying the phone outright.

It occurs to me that, like how there won't be a cure for cancer until some other disease that makes more money comes along, there will never be an app like this because of the millions in lost revenue that it would lead to. (and yes my conspiracy theory is very alive this morning. If I'm not careful I may even convince myself that RIM, APPLE and other manufacturers actually employ some thievery specialists that go out into the world everyday with a quota of stolen phones to meet. Someone stop me.)

Kids loose mittens... let's give away new mittens but charge 500-700 for the handy connecting string. If they have their own string... they'll still have to buy a new one.

Duped again, and my only option is to rant about it here. Going to look for my phone

A little note about the Reasons to get over myself:

Reasons to get over myself: Think it's time to clarify something about these here 'Reasons...'
It's predictable for me to see that some of you have been confused, and for me to allow that, so I'll stop it now...

I thought up these reasons way back when I was feeling uncontrollably black hearted. I was a'yellin. I was a'screamin. I was a'fist waving. I was a'tazer buying. I was nothing more than a raving lunatic neanderthal. Uh huh. No joke artichoke. So given that I have the both wonderful and annoying ability to see myself from outside myself, I decided to stop it and return to my shiny, gracious, generous, nonjudgmental,  no yelling, barely any screaming and minor bird flipping, self. It was in that change, that Reasons was born. I needed to remind myself of the good stuff... It's really just a glorified and funny gratitude list... Except that 'Reasons To Get Over Myself' was a way better name. So I see my error here and decide that I should perhaps consider changing the title to something like…

Reasons to get over my blackhearted self.

OR

Reasons to stop this incredibly childish, selfish, laughable behavior...

OR

Reasons to not kill my neighbour that smokes in the hallway and to not buy that damn tazer.

OR

Reasons to stop being such a jerk.

OR maybe I'll take some suggestions...

Hope this little memo clears it up for those of you nice enough to say, "WTF?"

Today's Reason to get over myself:

by Richelle Nantais on Thursday, March 10, 2011 at 7:47am

Reasons to get over myself: I watched "1000 ways to die" last night. It's wrong, I know for me to say, but so hilarious. One guy died huffing his own bung methane... two chicks making out on a dryer caused the gasline to come disconnected and blew themselves up and the last guy put pepper spray up his hershey highway to hide it from the po-po and it went off in there and yep... he died.

I thank the powers that be for brains.

Reasons to get over myself: When I feel misunderstood and on the outs, I thank the powers that be for delusions of grandeur.

I was so the Easter Bunny

In light of the next big holiday, in my calendar, being Easter, I will write this very true story to commemorate the season of spring.

As you may have already read, my grandfather was the Santa Claus in the mall. This comes with almost no advantages, except not waiting in too much of a line up for your candy cane and Polaroid picture, and what was it? ...Oh yeah, being the Easter Bunny in the mall by means of inheritance. If papa can do it, I must have it in my blood.

And it meant $30.00 to a 14 yr old for whom money was not easy to come by.  I am left to wonder what price it would take for me to do this now, 26 yrs later.

My job was seemingly simple; walk around the mall first, waving and handing out chocolate eggs, and then retire to the Easter display, where awaited my comfy armchair, a velvet back drop, (and I freakin love velvet backdrops), the Polaroid camera with some other family member as the mall's photographer, and the fenced off cue area.
I will take the time to mention here, that the bunny costume left much to be desired. The first component of the suit was a zip up foot to neck, manufactured fur suit that in spring time, could leave the 14 yr old inside a sweaty mess, having to endure 100 degree temperatures. It also had a head that was hugely disproportionate to the body. Huge, heavy, and left to simply teeter on my shoulders. It had only two means of seeing out;  two huge eyes made of mesh, both at 45 degree angles from my own eyes. This basically means that I couldn't see anything that was directly in my path. This made for a very challenged bunny, who must be drunk because he keeps running into shit.

I was to seat children on my lap and wait for them to smile for the $5 Polaroid, give them some eggs, and shuffle them aside to make room for the next snotty, unsure, half scared half excited child.

Having no means of reference for the job I took my cues from Papa-Santa...  Ask them what kind of chocolate they like the most, if they've been extra good lately, and promise them evidence of my visit on Easter's Eve. Simple no?

What I didn't realize is that children don't actually expect the Easter Bunny to talk. And when it does talk, they emit a rather excruciating shrill, followed by tears and intense running for their lives. Funny from in the suit, but the parents didn't really appreciate the humour.

I did this crazy gig for 3 years. I am surprised to write that. On the third year though, something tragic happened.

The local school for challenged children decided it would be exciting for their students to see the Easter Bunny that Saturday afternoon. I knew my employer would be watching this endearing display, and I was fully prepared. I had my eggs at the ready, I promised myself not to talk to the children, and I was trying extra hard to just be mature, to take this gig seriously and make my papa proud. I now know that in situations where factors such as these exist, something is about to go very very wrong.

I got through about 2 of the kids lined up for that day. They're eyes openned wide and hugging me, and having a great time with chocolate smeared faces and hand prints on my fur. Then it happened...
The supervisor decided to lay a quadriplegic child across my lap. Given the visual challenges of the suit.... Someone may have wanted to tell the freaking bunny!?!

I couldn't see the child, nor did I have any idea that he was quadriplegic. In trying to blindly adjust him to better suit my lap, yep you guessed it, I dropped him on the floor, where he continued to roll 3 feet from me. Keeping in mind my 45 degree view holes, I couldn't find the kid. I was blindly patting the air with flat palms trying to locate him while the other kids cried and screamed. No number of eggs can forgive this scene. Then just when I thought it couldn't get worse... ( I now know, that it can always get worse), my teetering head rolled off my shoulders and yep, directly onto the kid, who was screaming and crying and had now been hit in the noggin with a giant bunny head.

So there I am exposed as not only not the Easter Bunny but a scared little doe eyed  GIRL teenager, with stringy sweaty hair pressed to her forehead and tears of both embarrassement and disbelief in her eyes. Understanding then that things could get worse and believing I would never recover, I dropped the head, I abandoned the kid, I threw chocolate eggs at whoever else was in the line up, and I ran. Never looking back until this very day.

I hope it's at least funny now.

being yelled at by imaginary ex-wives

Sometimes, when I hear songs, I try to make the lyrics apply to me. I don’t think I’m special on this one. And when the lyrics don’t match any of my experiences, I then ponder the musician’s experiences, but sometimes other people are boring or predictable and I’m ADD so that doesn’t last long. I then try to sing the song to myself, from some imagined stranger’s point of view. In the end, the stranger always turns into my estranged wife and the lyrics always yell at me.

So I’ve just spent the morning being yelled at by my ex, and she’s not even here. Geeez I have such a long way to go. So much work to do.

cp 24 fucked us up the ass again

cp 24 fucked us up the ass again

by Richelle Nantais on Wednesday, February 9, 2011 at 9:46pm

I am angry. I am so angry that I wrote a letter about it. Please read it and comment accordingly so that I may include your thoughts with my complaint process.

...

are you kidding me?

From:

Richelle Nantais

View Contact

To: breakingnews@cp24.com

I am appalled. It takes an extreme percieved injustice for me to bother writing about it. Therefore, I am insulted and dissappointed in the choices made by your programming to allow what I just heard on your show.

I just watched your news program and listened to George Lagogiannis try to dismiss the gay bashing from Jarvis Collegiate as 'teen angst'. I have often thought of Mr Lagogiannis' reporting as narcissistic and frivolous and therefore unworthy of concentration or concern. This item tonight however, crosses the line.

 I thought that news reporting was supposed to be objective. When he asked the bashed victim, whether or not she thought the violence was sparked by 'teen angst' I was shocked. In remaining objective, he should have also asked if the victim felt the attack was fueled by ignorance and a violent fortitude that needs to be arrested immediately. Instead he made the gay community or anyone affected by this blatant ignorance and unacceptable behavior, seem like overreactive and unrealistic folk who cry wolf. We have enough trouble and have shed enough blood, without George perpetuating the hate.

 I expect this behavior and type of irresponsible reporting to be addressed, and ergo, expect a response to this mail that I have been fueled by utter disbelief to write.

Reasons to get over myself: Okay, Nana, don't read this one....

Reasons to get over myself: Okay, Nana, don't read this one....

In my quest to be this polyamorous being, I have yet to be the harem keeper. I instead, have only managed to be one of the nameless, shrouded faced, anonymous and silent members OF the harem. First, my ego cannot take it, and 2. What number am I? and 3. If I had any foreshadowing skills at all, I would've seen this coming.

Can you picture me shrouded and silent?