Friday, December 04, 2009

Si vous voulez vous sentir vraiment misérable, faites-vous arracher deux dents de sagesse juste avant de pogner un rhume et de tomber dans votre semaine, puis rajoutez-en en vous ramassant avec un trucgus qui pend dans le fond de votre bouche (probablement parce que les points de suture ont fondu avant que ça se rattache, ce cossin-là) juste la journée où vous finissez plus de tousser, ce qui fait que chaque quinte de toux vous donne un haut-le-coeur à cause du gogosse trop profond dans votre bouche.

Ça va être une belle journée.

Thursday, December 03, 2009

Bon, ENFIN!!!

Les concepteurs du site Québec 511 ont compris que leur site était poche et ils ont fini par juste dresser une liste des entraves à Montréal! Plus besoin de gosser sur leur foutue carte interactive anticonviviale et incompréhensible!
Translators are a very unique race of people. We know things you're absolutely clueless about. And, well, I'll admit doctors know many things I'm clueless about, but the funny thing about translators is we know stuff you don't know about something you're convinced you've mastered completely, that is: the way you express yourself, in particular the words you use and the way you arrange them.

Let me tell you: if you're not a translator, you probably can't use the right words properly. Just trust me on that.

Having all that precious knowledge, ignored by the rest of mankind, eventually goes to our heads, in a way. So, say, when some lesser-level language person (such as a student or the lowest bidder) has their try at what we do, more often that not (but not always, I'll admit that) they suck, and, yes, we laugh. Most of the time, actually, we bitch, but sometimes we laugh. And once in a while, we laugh a hell of a lot.

Today, there was a document in which some guy had the opportunity to attend sporting events such as the Olympic Games and then did some volunteer work to give back to the sport. The problem was, the translation basically said that the guy participated in the whole list of sporting events and then volunteered in order to congratulate the sport for having given him such pleasure. (Yes, I know that's a weird choice of words, that's my very point.)

My favorite, though, was the translation of a sentence that meant that calls to some technical helpline were answered before the third ring which was put in a way that said, rather, that by the third ring the problem was solved.
Seriously, how neat would that be!!!

So yeah. If you're not one of us, we laugh at you. A lot. Just thought you should know.
Elle a choisi Malik! J'arrive pas à le croire! On nous fait croire qu'on évolue et qu'on apprend, pis après on nous fout une aberration pareille à la télé! Choisir le gars qui la relance dès qu'elle commence à être bien, qui a scrapé plusieurs de ses relations, pour finir par choisir sa femme à la dernière minute, choisir le gars qu'elle avait bien averti de ne plus lui courir après! Pfff! C'est quoi, un chien sale, si c'est pas ça, je vous le demande?

Mais oui, je suis pas nouille, je savais qu'elle allait choisir Malik. Fallait bien qu'elle parte à New York étant donné que Madame Théberge quittait son poste de gardienne. C'était évident. Mais pareil.

Alors voilà. Moi je suis pas d'accord. C'était David qui lui fallait, bon.

Monday, November 30, 2009

What I don't like about shopping is mainly the contact you have to have with people when you do. I like to just do my own thing and not be disturbed by anyone ("Can I help you with anything?"). However, I know I can't get out of it, so I take it. I play the game.

This is why I loathe the new strategy being implemented in the mall closest to where I live, that is, the use of kiosks in the middle of the place, which you pass by as you're going from one shop to another, with the employees CALLING OUT TO YOU as you walk by. I wish I could just grab them by the shoulders and shake them: LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY! I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT!

The Québec Loisir employees, in particular, are absolutely talentless when it comes to recognizing someone they've seen minutes ago. As in, I'm walking in one direction, no thanks, I don't wanna know about Québec Loisir, oh look, I'm going the wrong way, U-turn, I SAID I DON'T CARE ABOUT QUÉBEC LOISIR, DAMN IT!

The annoyance factor has increased in the mall, however, when they introduced a straightening iron kiosk. Just guess what happens - you're walking around minding your own business or speaking to the person you're shopping with, and you get interrupted by those people who want to straighten your hair. Now here's the thing: ever since I moved to this dreaded humid region, straightening my hair has become a solid challenge involving straightening mousse, a hair dryer and a straightening iron. So most of the time, I just give in and curl it (and as keeping nice curls in between shampoos is quite something as well, I'm really not sure that curling is the easiest option, but that would be beside the point).

So, seriously people: if a girl with curled hair walks your straightening iron kiosk by, shut the hell up. Isn't obvious that she doesn't want your to straigthen her hair right there on the spot? Can't you imagine that she spent quite some time getting her hair to curl in a beautiful way?

So yeah. When I walk them by with my hair curled and they want to straighten my hair, I snap, I really do. I'm thinking next time I should just burst into tears and ask them what's wrong with my hair. That could shut them up for good...

Vraiment, certaines de mes collègues sont des bitches finies. Sérieusement, là.

Ce matin, j'ai rassemblé mon courage à deux mains pour poser une question à l'une d'elle. J'ai pensé la lui poser la semaine dernière, et je l'ai pas fait justement parce que j'étais certaine qu'elle allait me tomber dessus. Ce matin, bon, je voulais vraiment savoir, alors j'ai demandé... et elle a accroché sur un choix de mots qui ne lui convenait pas dans ma question et m'a répondu que je connaissais rien sur l'organisation de l'appareil judiciaire au Canada. Pour ensuite me donner une brève réponse. Non mais, sacrament. Voulez-vous ben me dire pourquoi j'essaie encore de communiquer avec cette personne-là?

Ensuite, période de diner. Arrive l'autre collègue bitch, qui m'entend parler d'une autre traductrice. Et puis soudain, paf, elle saute sa coche elle aussi et dénigre complètement les compétences de cette autre traductrice et refuse d'admettre tout progrès chez elle. Non mais vraiment! C'est quoi le problème de ce monde-là? Faut tu avoir un parapluie dans le cul pour avoir tant besoin de rabaisser les autres?

My personal theory is people who work full-time in a pet shop and consider it their CAREER undoubtedly saw their application denied when they tried to get in the Veterinarian Program in college.

This is why one of them went crazy on me yesterday when I went to buy weight-control cat food: How long has your cat been on diet food? They shouldn't be eating that for more than three months. And they should be seen by a vet. You just can't leave a cat on diet food. When was the last time your cat saw a vet?

Erm, excuse me, WHO ARE YOU LADY?

Well, my vet happened to have told me when I got Sambuca that they put indoor cats on weight-control food when they became adults. And I did check again with Anémone today, just to make sure.

That lady is a total freak.