Cabbies, gardening, easter, oh my!
2007-04-09

I have been a bit lax in here lately, so I will post two entries this week for those of you who have been jonesin for the sweet, sweet Canuckistani goodness. For those of you with dial-up connections, Wednesday's entry will be image heavy. Get off your luddite asses and buy yourself broadband, it's 2007 for god's sake.

I had a truly British Easter this year; I sat on a pub patio and drank with friends in the sun all day. It was a lot of fun actually, but today I feel like someone hit me in the head with a 10 pound sledge and shat in my mouth. Day old ribs and fries at the greasiest chippy in Notts on the way home was not the brightest idea. I'm supposed to be leaving to meet up with Glennie to watch the forest match in an hour; I pity the poor bastard and anyone else in the home stand within a 50 foot radius of my battered colon. I'm pretty sure that had something to do with the big haysoos' rise (retreat, more like) to heaven. Sorry in advance, Forest fans.

I don't know where you were this Easter weekend, but I am pretty sure the weather in Notts was better than it was where you are. It was unbelievable. It was so good in fact, that I almost forgot I was in England; it took a cabbie to remind me last Friday.

I called Trent Cars to help me truck six bags of compost home from Homebase (The english version of Home Depot). All the cab companies in Notts keep a couple estate cars (station wagons to the canuckleheads) around SPECIFICALLY to help car-less chumps like me haul stuff around. They charge a £2 fee if you ask for one which is a helluva deal if you ask me.

The guy is late, but this is par for the course with taxis in Nottingham. However, this is only the start. The guy gets out of the car and promptly tells me he won't help me load the compost into his car. Strike one. I think that is a bit rude, but the bags are heavy and he is a slight sort of fella so I'll forgive him for that one.

What he does next however, renders me absolutely speechless (quite a feat, I'm sure you can imagine). The pinhead actually asks me if I'm in a hurry, because he would like to stop at Curry's (English electronics store) for a minute. "Um, what? Are you serious?", I ask him. He is.

"Yeah, I am in a hurry, the plumber is on the way to fix my sink.", I tell him. I laugh at the ridiculousness of that excuse, but I think it was good considering I felt like I had just been slapped across the face. It's obviously bullshit, but I'll be damned if I am going to pay for this clown to shop for iPods. He then says, "Well you're lucky then, because I was going to stop there first." How in the everloving FUCK does this make me lucky?! That is a massive strike two. Obviously, "Happy Rob" has left the building.

Usually, I chat to the drivers, I find it's good to speak with the common man every once in a while, but today we drive the rest of the way in stone silence. He pulls up to my house and promptly turns off the meter before I can read it. "How much do I owe you?" I ask. "A fiver, mate.", he replies. As readers of this blog will know, I have been gardening like a motherfucker lately. I have taken this cab ride several times in the past couple weeks and it isn't worth a fiver. I live about 10 blocks from Homebase. psst, hey what's that? Strike fucking three.

Me: "I'm not paying you a fucking dime until you show me how much it was on the meter."
Pinhead: "It was three pounds, plus the £2 charge."
Me: "Bullshit. I've taken this cab ride from Homebase a number of times and it's been £4 at most."

I know we are arguing over a pound, but it's the principle of the thing. I give him four pounds which is four pounds more than it was worth and he drives off in a strop. Cheeky bastard.

D&G cabs for me from now on.