Sometimes, my apartment has the weirdest benefits. I blame living in a small town. I was treated to a rather unplanned–at least, I didn’t plan it–fireworks show for the May two-four weekend. Or, as we call it up here, the Victoria day weekend. It didn’t last entirely too long, but it was vaguely entertaining. Kinda makes me wonder what unplanned goodness I’ll be privy to for Canada day. Or if I’ll still be here to see it.

In randomly unrelated and still amusing news, I’ve gone all 24th century on my cell. My text message, instead of one of the default Nokia sounds the thing ships with, is now one of the com badge sound effects from Star Trek: Voyager. Because, well, I had it on the computer and didn’t have any other use for it. I was moderately amused. Still kind of am, a little. Or rather, I was–now I’m just lazy.

Sorry, no earth-shattering content here. Perhaps I should have saved my PAC-MAN rant for today? Oh well. I’d of still posted this anyway.

Share this:

I haven’t been keeping up on my usual sources of entertainment this week, primarily on account of having catching up to do in other areas. I kick myself for it now. In list format, because I can, things I could have, and should have, soundly mocked this week. You may feel free to mock one or all of them in the comments on my behalf. I won’t be upset.

• What’s the first thing you do if you’ve just been caught in an afair, and your significant other decides to up and leave you? If you’re this chick, you sue the cell company. Because, you know, there’s just no way he would have found out anyway.
• If in doubt, just nuke it. That’s a solution being tossed forward by an apparent expert for stopping the oil spill in the gulf. I’ll have my shrimp with a side order of radiation, please. I always thought “Nuke it from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.” was just a movie quote. Clearly, I don’t get out much.
• Ways not to impress the Afghanistan president, number 54761: call him a weirdo and predict he could trigger a civil war. Yes, even if he did say, supposedly jokingly, he might as well join the dark side. Yes, even if he’s not doing a whole lot better in charge of that country than the dark side. And yes, even if you are–as I think you would be–absolutely and completely 100% in the right. That’s just not cool–especially if you used to work in that country for the UN.
• When even actors are downloading their own movies because it’s more convenient and less annoying than paying for them, you know there’s a problem. Question is, what’s the industry planning to do about it? Answer: probably not much–that would actually require effort.
• And, in the political arena, because I can’t go on a mocking spree without it, we have this wonderful piece of I’m not sure what. Liberal party of Canada leader Michael Ignatieff would just like you to know that, if you didn’t spend all that much time outside of Canada and living as varied a life as he has, you’re not as Canadian as he is. Might I ask, exactly from what planet was he exiled before landing in Ottawa? I didn’t know spending 30+ years in the US and/or the UK–he did both–made anyone more Canadian than the next. Boy have I been set straight.
• And in unrelated news, Montreal won tonight. I thought I told folks to fix the playoffs. They’re still broken.

See what happens when I stay away from news sources? People don’t get mocked. Clearly, we can’t have that.

Share this:

Bad things happen when I check my email. Like, for example, the loss of an ability to breathe. I blame my relatives.

Cough Syrup……….

The pharmacist walks into the store to find a guy leaning heavily Against a wall.

He asks the blonde clerk: “What’s with that guy over there by the wall?”

The blonde clerk responds: “Well, he came in here this morning to get something for his cough. I couldn’t find the cough syrup, so I gave him an entire bottle of Laxative.”

The pharmacist yells: “You idiot! You can’t treat a cough with a laxative!”

The blonde clerk responds, “Of course you can! Look at him, he’s afraid to cough”.

Clearly, family members of mine have way, way too much time on their hands. And now I hurt. Thanks, guys. For serious.

Share this:

I haven’t been spending a whole lot of time in this apartment, particularly when compared to how long I’ve been paying rent on it. But, there’s one very noticeable thing that always seems to be present every time I am. A very bad-sounding, apparently constantly in heat, cat. I didn’t pay it much mind when I first moved in, mostly because I had no idea what it was and, well, was home even less than I am lately. The cat and its owner live right across the hall from me, so anyone who happens to be dropping buy, or standing close enough to this side of the outer door of the apartment, gets treated to a very entertaining meow.

We initially thought the cat might have been sick and/or left alone–particularly considering it’d been keeping it up for almost the entire time Jessica was here after Christmas. So I had little to no choice but to get the landlord over to have a look and make sure. Shortly thereafter, we discovered a note posted to she who shall be officially dubbed Catwoman’s door explaining the cat hadn’t been abandoned/starved/what have you, just that it was in heat. A week, two weeks, three weeks later, and it seemed the cat was still doing that. There might have been small breaks in between, but it seemed every time I left or came back to my apartment, that cat was always in heat. And, sure enough, to this day the note still remains stuck to her door. And I thought I heard it go off again this afternoon.

If I had some kind of decent recording equipment handy I’d post a sample of this cat’s vocalisations up here, mostly because it tries very hard to sound pathetic and instead comes off more slightly amusing. Still, Catwoman maintains the thing’s just in heat–I don’t even know how long a cat’s supposed to be in heat. And, since I can’t prove otherwise, all I can do right now is be highly amused. And try to get a halfway decent recording. Anyone wanna loan me something portable that does MP3 recording? Anyone?

Share this:

We knew back in January we’d be getting bombarded with any and all things iPad. I knew back in January I didn’t want it. At all. What I didn’t know, and probably should have–it’s Apple, after all, is that people would go absolutely crazy over getting one. As in, camping out overnight just to be the first to get one. Well, at least they’re getting free coffee. But still, all this attention for what amounts to a glorified iPod. What’s next? Folks willing–or brave–enough to stand in line for a glorified cell phone? Oh, wait. Never mind. Hey, at least the line to buy yourself a netbook’s nice and short. Anyone wanna join me?

Share this:

I’m the family geek. Which, really, has its positives as well as its rather irritating negatives. And sometimes, it’s neither positive nor negative–just six or seven different kinds of hillarious. Take Friday morning, for example. We’re sitting down for breakfast, and mom brought up an announcement by Google that said they were officially changing their name to Topeka. The announcement, apparently, made headlines.

I didn’t quite have the heart, even after I’d managed to stop laughing, to tell her she’d just been had a day late. But, eventually, I did. She still thought, at least for a few minutes anyway, that it was actually going to be their official name as of–conveniently–April first, the poor girl. In thirty seconds, I summarized the background for Google’s latest of April fool’s jokes. Then got treated to a rare event–I do believe she actually looked like she’d just been handed a 3-dollar bill for a minute.

I’ve been trying for 26 years to pull one over on my mother. Google did it in 24 hours. And all it had to do was make the news. Now, if I’d just waited a day or two longer before breaking the bad news to her… nah, that would be *too* mean. Maybe next year.

Share this:

Because I keep threatening to do this and never get around to it, I now get around to it. I don’t have many pictures of him yet, but thankfully he’ll be around for ages, so that’ll change in plenty of time. He’s just over 6 months old now, and growing like a freakin’ weed. Here’s a comparison.

Jess was up in December for Christmas, and got to spend a little time with him. You may or may not be able to see her in this picture, but she’s there. Mostly, she’s distracting him while mom snaps his mug. You kind of had to be there.

That was at 3 months old. He blew up in the 2 months since then–here’s the same kid in February. Freaking scary the difference.

And, because my family has its extreme random moments, here’s the same 5-month-old, in gangsta form. Hey, if you knew his father, you’d catch on. If you know his father, be afraid for his kid.

Appologies in advance of the images are a little difficult to view or anything. They were taken on a cell phone, and I may or may not have stuck them up here properly. Still, there’s the familial snap fest. There will probably be more. If there are, they will probably be here. And probably, hopefully, slightly less broken.

Also: You hotlink the images and not ask me, I break your fingers. Or at least stare you down angrily. You have been warned.

Share this:

Why I should not be awake at this hour: I end up getting sideswiped by amusing things posted to Youtube. Like this from “Who’s Line Is It Anyway”, the UK edition, that was tossed at me on a chat server. By the way, Lea, I still can’t breathe. Here, have a video.

Share this:

I’ve been a Star Trek fan since I was, like, tiny. Not entirely sure exactly how old, but I do remember coming home from school, watching the usual cartoons, then changing the channel to CHRO–this was obviously way way back before things like A Channel and the like–to watch TNG. I caught my fair share of flack for it–”Star Trek? Again? You’re not grown out of that yet?”–but I didn’t really care. Hell, I still don’t. Which is why I have an external hard drive with everything from TNG to Enterprize sitting on it. Well, okay, that, plus I have an interest in commercial free TV.

Still, with all my interest in Star Trek, it never occured to me to do anything beyond watch the shows, play a video game or two, and later–meaning in present day–take up roleplaying in the genre. So I didn’t do the trivia thing until recently.

Now, though, I’ve decided I might as well go about the doing of that. And, in just an hour of doing so, I discover Vulcan does actually exist. No, not the planet, per say. But rather a town in Alberta that was originally founded in 1910, 50 or so years before the concept of Star Trek was even a theory on a piece of scrap paper. And it’s now Canada’s Star Trek capital.

Holidaymakers are being urged to ‘boldy go’ where they’ve never gone before with a visit to the Star Trek Capital of Canada.

The town of Vulcan in Alberta was granted the official title earlier this month and is now being billed as a ‘logical year-round destination for science-fiction enthusiasts and Star Trek fans from across the galaxy’.

The trekky in me is having a very small heart attack. Excuse me for just a minute. Okay, that’s much better. Now, to go see if I can’t bribe someone into taking a vacation.

Share this:

You can’t go a week in some circles without hearing some crack or another about the guy always wanting sex, and the girl not being interested. I mean hell, it’s a comedian’s default line, if he’s got nothing else. One wonders sometimes where it is they come up with it–I always thought that was just something randomly tossed out there. Not according to a survey done in the US. Apparently, we guys want it more, have more of an interest in it, and will probably want it longer. Yep, give us sex and give us sports, and our lives will be complete. Remember that the next time your girlfriend says you’re never satisfied. Oh, you were expecting a post on my or Jessica’s sexual preference/interest level? Sorry.

Share this:

Only in England does something like this come up. And, only in Canada does it actually make headlines. And, only on this blog will it be mocked. A 23-year-old from London, while walking his dog, decided just because the dog wanted a walk doesn’t mean he had to. London’s legal system felt otherwise.

Prosecutors said Paul Railton was spotted driving at low speed along a country lane in December, holding his dog’s leash through the car window as the animal trotted alongside.

Railton pleaded guilty Monday to not being in proper control of a vehicle. His lawyer, Paul Donoghue, said 23-year-old Railton acknowledged “it was a silly thing to do and there was an element of laziness” while exercising his lurcher, a type of crossbred sighthound.

Yes, I’m lazy. Sometimes, too lazy. Way, way too lazy. But even I’m not quite *that* lazy. Even if they actually wanted to give me a lisence. Say, can he also be charged with being a contender for 2010′s moron of the year?

Share this:

Jessica and I got to talking a couple days ago, and we somehow got on the topic of old-ish commercials. Particularly, that early 90′s or so commercial for coffee crisp. Turns out, she’s never seen it. Ever. For my part, I forgot how it went. Fortunately, the internet knows all. So, because I’ll occasionally do the nostalgia thing, and because in its own way, it’s semi-amusing, I give you the 1990′s, in a commercial. Wanna see? Just hit play.
 

Share this:

It was recommended to me a few times, primarily by Jessica, that I maybe want to consider checking out a political satire group, Capitol Steps. So out of random curiosity, I downloaded a few of their albums. And have been listening ever since.

Mostly, they do the US politics, which well, yeah, there’s plenty to mock there. But they’ve taken a few stabs at this side of the border too. Everyone’s favourite province to pick on gets a special mention a time or two–hello, Quebec. Especially around the time when they were holding their vote for separation. The awesomeness is surprising. Now, if I can just figure out who it was who did “Let’s Bomb Iraq”. Probably these guys–it’s their kind of thing. Now then. Back to seeing if Beyond Satire has been updated in a month or three.

Edit: I was right, it’s them. Oddly enough, when I heard this the first time I didn’t even know the group existed. I’m awesome. Or maybe not.

Share this:

Of course, that realization didn’t quite hit me until Sunday, when I finally decided I’d stop procrastinating and go through some of what I pulled off my laptop’s HD last June before I whiped it and installed Linux. And the things I managed to avoid deleting since I bought the thing in 2004 or 2005 actually manage to scare me. Most noteably things that I forgot I was even involved in.

I’ve been hugely into role playing for a number of years. Since highschool, really. Most of my early creations, though, ended up lost between here and there when the first laptop I owned decided it would rather spectacularly break. Physically. Of course, it was a toshiba so that was kind of expected. But I kept, or tried to keep, logs of as much of the old days of RP as I could. Mostly as something to refer back to should a situation come up where I needed to.

One of my adventures in RP was a medieval style MUD, or multi-user-dimension/dungeon/whatever you want to call it, called Eternal Struggle. I played a variety of characters on that game–anything from the somewhat helpful healer to the cold blooded killer with absolutely no problem pinning you to the wall with your own knife. And he’d give you a pleasant little smile while he did it. Reading back through some of those logs, I reminded myself just how much of an asshole I can be. Sometimes, I surprise the hell out of me.

I play a couple of characters in a Star Trek game, too. Star Trek: A Call to Duty, to be accurate. One of those I’ve had going on since 2006. I forgot about some of the awesome RP I’ve been involved in with that one as well, including a sort of special event RP that went on for a couple months, where I got to hang out with and torment the hell out of a few people I didn’t used to talk to until then. One of these days I’ll get around to posting some of the stuff. But right now, I’ll just say, 4 years later looking back at some of these thinggies, I crack me up.

Sometimes, procrastination is a good thing. At least, it is when it comes to me. I’m kind of thankful I haven’t yet gone through and hit the delete key on about 90% of this stuff. Now, if I can just remember to put them somewhere where I can find half this stuff again. Eh, I’ll do it later.

Share this:

I used to at least make an attempt to watch American idol every couple weeks. Mostly because I was living at home and we only had 2 working TV’s, both of which would usually be in use, but a small part of me found something about the show fascinating. It wasn’t necessarily any of the actual talent–there haven’t been all that many that I’ve seen that made me want to pick up the phone and repeatedly call in to vote, or clear my schedule the next week to see if they ended up bombing out or if they made it into the top fifty million. I thought it might have been the overall hillarity of some of these people who somehow got the judges to believe they could sing, only to have themselves booted when someone outside the actual broadcast could make the decision. Then, I figured it was the general amusement I got out of listening to people who thought they really really could sing, only to discover–not entirely too unexpectedly–they really really couldn’t. Nope, wrong again.

Why do I bother to tolerate a show like American Idol, when I’d much rather be doing just about anything else? Because at least once in a season, usually only once, you get that one particular fool who figures him or herself to be god’s gift to anything musically inclined, and there’s just nothing you can say or do short of tranking them that’ll make them shut up about it. My major complaint with American Idol? It only happens maybe once in a season. So after I see it, I no longer have any real interest in watching. So I usually skip out.

Take tonight’s show, for example. I watched it only because it was on, my mother had the remote, and I’m mommy sitting. And, admittedly, because if the show completely sucks at everything else, I can at least snicker at some of the things that come out of Simon Cowell. It didn’t disappoint on either front tonight, but now that I have no real interest in watching next week, I can make do with what I saw.

Near the end of tonight’s show, we were treated to a very stoned-sounding dood who thought, though I have no idea why–other than the fact he very well might have been stoned, that he could actually carry a tune without a half ton truck. And he chose to demonstrate his unquestionable singing ability with Amazing Grace–not exactly world’s most popular, or best really, song to begin with. That was mistake number 1. Mistake number 2, though? Actually having the nerve to be surprised when all 3 judges pretty much simultaneously decided he redefined suckitude. Mistake number 3? Insisting they were wrong and offering to give them an encore. Whether they wanted to hear it or not. The gentleman’s reward? A personal escort outside. In handcuffs. Whether he wanted to or not.

Now, why in the hell doesn’t American Idol show more stuff like that? That’d make the show about 5 times more interesting to watch. Hell, I might even manage to last through to the finals if they happened to have someone up there who, upon receiving the impression they’re god’s gift to anyone with ears, got told to go pack. Maybe I’m just abnormal, but seeing a person get all uppity like that about a few million people who all think he should be flipping burgers instead of singing would be worth sitting through the rest of the crap. My problem with American Idol really is that simple. They pretty it up too much. That’s probably why you only see maybe 3 or 4 of the people who end up going home–the others, they figure, are probably too strung out at someone having the nerve to prick their ego. And thus, there goes any entertainment value for me. Don’t get me wrong, Idol’s an okay show, if there’s nothing else on and I’m desperate. But it could be so much better. And I might walk away from a show not feeling like taking a nap.

Dear Idol producers. If you happen to be seeing something similar to this here entry, take it under advisement. I have a problem with your show. It bores me to tears. Thank you.

Also, randomly tacked on side point: I still maintain Simon Cowell should consider a career in politics. We’d then at least know what we’re getting, even if we don’t all agree with or like the guy. More than we can say now.

Share this:

On our way back to Canada before Christmas, we did stumble across the required small amount of duh-worthy amusement that seems to find one or both of us on every trip. This in the form of an overly inquisitive and way too curious customs officer who decided, after establishing that Jessica would be visiting her boyfriend–me–in Canada, decided to ask her twice if she was planning to move there. And if she was sure she wasn’t. And every time, she reasured the officer in the same manner that no, there were no plans to randomly decide once she’s over here to just sort of stay put. At least not on this trip. After the interview was over and it was decided both of us were neither terrorists nor future immigrants–apparently they’re on the same list, now, we both had to ask. what would have happened if she’d said yes? The way customs person was going about her questioning you’d almost think a wrong answer to that particular set of questions would have had her haulled off the bus and questioned in more detail in one of those little dark rooms you’re only allowed to see when you’re in the deepest level of shit. I get security. I get paranoia. And I get amusing as hell. This, ms. customs lady person thing, was amusing as hell. Thanks for this. Oh, and by the way. The terrorists are in the next car over.

Share this:

If things get approved within the halls of Health Canada, I have a suspicious feeling we’ll be hearing a lot of folks saying that. And they actually won’t be bullshitting this time. Health Canada’s considering making it mandatory that anti-cancer drugs, assuming those even exist in the first place, be added to bags of chips. Ignoring the fact there are a hell of a lot better ways to medicate folks against cancer, um, someone wanna clue me in on exactly what that’s supposed to accomplish beyond making the severely anti-medication folks reconsider what snack foods they buy? My brain stopped processing after I read that. For the record, the article in question’s on the CTV website if folks want to take a look. I think I need help wrapping my head around this concept. Or maybe I just need food. Well, at least I can test one of those theories.

Share this:

As expected, Jessica’s graduation went off absolutely with no problem whatsoever. She got her diploma, we got a picture, and everyone got to relax a little afterwards with something alcoholic and good conversation. We hit a local bar after the cerimony for a drink or two, and to do some general talking/venting/otherwise unstressing, before coming back to the apartment and crashing. We took it easy on Friday, the only thing going on being Jess having had to do that earning money thing–I’ll never understand why it is that can’t just go away for a day. The evening was spent around the apartment, not really doing a whole lot. There was, of course, the usual talking, relaxing, and being all kinds of glad the routine gets to change for the better. Saturday was the interesting part of the weekend.

Since the beginning of the week, I’d been planning to have a private get together among friends in honour of Jessica’s graduation from massage school. She’d worked her ass off for the past year and a half or so, and didn’t have time to do a lot of that while she was doing it. So I sent a few emails around, made a phone call or two, and got a couple of Jess’s closest friends–and, conveniently enough, folks I’m becoming quite good friends with as well–onboard for our own version of a grad cerimony. That happened last night. The morning was spent at Wallmart, picking up what little odds and ends we needed throughout the week. After that, the only thing we did other than generally cleaning up was making a run for alcohol. And, after $52 and some change was handed over, we had the keys to some goodly awesomeness.

Julie and her husband came over at about half past 3, and after spending about an hour just shooting the shit, we cracked open the booze. Before all too long we’d gotten to the point where we were feeling more than a little relaxed. And when that happens, the randomness knows no limits. We did everything from vent about our respective employment or lack thereof, to mocking certain less fortunate people who weren’t here–thank god–to defend themselves, to even tossing out opinions, thoughts and points of view on the government and its benefit or lack thereof to the average joe. They left early, and Jess and I did a bit more drinking and talking. We expanded on a few of the points brought up, and actually had a very nice little debate going on–I kind of wish I could have recorded it. I think in parts of the conversation we got a little bit too caught up, but hey, that’s bound to happen when you’ve got two very opinionated people in the same room with alcohol.

It was well after midnight by the time she fell asleep. I went and flopped over about half an hour or so after by rough estimation–I wasn’t exactly keeping track of the time last night. It was well into the afternoon, about 2:00 or so, before we were both up and mobile for the day. I don’t think awake came until later, though. Today’s been spent pretty well recovering from that. The most exhausting task on our to do list at the moment is laundry, and that’s being done now. We leave for Canada again on Thursday, Jessica’s birthday is on Tuesday, and Wednesday’s probably going to be spent packing and maybe stealing an hour or two’s sleep. As for the rest of the week, I have absolutely no idea what if anything we can safely say we have planned. Maybe we’ll get lucky and plans will invent themselves. In the meantime, here’s the picture we got from Jessica’s graduation. It was taken on a cell phone, so quality may end up sucking slightly. Enjoy, or something.

Share this:

I’ll freely admit, a lot of these answers are still hillarious as hell, and I’ve seen this come across my inbox a few times. The sad part is, even before we were ready to play host to the 2010 olympic games, while I was doing work at Dell, I actually got some of these questions. Yes, I know, I laughed too.

Now that Vancouver is hosting the 2010 Winter Olympics, these are some questions people from all over the world are asking. Believe it or not these questions about Canada were posted on an International Tourism Website.

Obviously the answers are a joke; but the questions were really asked!

Q: I have never seen it warm on Canadian TV, so how do the plants grow?
( England )

A. We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around and watch them die.

Q: Will I be able to see Polar Bears in the street? ( USA )

A: Depends on how much you’ve been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Vancouver to Toronto – can I follow the Railroad tracks? ( Sweden )

A: Sure, it’s only Four thousand miles, take lots of water.

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in Canada ? ( Sweden )

A: So it’s true what they say about Swedes.

Q: Are there any ATM’s (cash machines) in Canada ? Can you send me a list of them in Toronto , Vancouver , Edmonton and Halifax ? ( England
)

A: No, but you’d better bring a few extra furs for trading purposes.

Q: Can you give me some information about hippo racing in Canada ? ( USA
)

A: A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe Ca-na-da is that big country to your North…oh forget it. Sure, the hippo racing is every Tuesday night in Calgary. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is North in Canada ? ( USA )

A: Face south and then turn 180 degrees Contact us when you get here and we’ll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into Canada ? ( England )

A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys’ Choir schedule? ( USA )

A: Aus-t ri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is…oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Vancouver and in Calgary , straight after the hippo races.
Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in Canada ? ( Germany )

A: No, WE don’t stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Where can I sell it in Canada ? ( USA )

A: Anywhere significant numbers of Americans gather.

Q: Can you tell me the regions in British Columbia where the female population is smaller than the male population? ( Italy )

A: Yes, gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada ? ( USA )

A: Only at Thanksgiving.

Q: Are there supermarkets in Toronto and is milk available all year round? ( Germany )

A: No, we are a peaceful civilization of Vegan hunter/gathers. Milk is illegal.

Q: I have a question about a famous animal in Canada , but I forget its name. It’s a kind of big horse with horns. ( USA )

A: It’s called a Moose. They are tall and very violent, eating the brains of anyone walking close to them. You can scare them off by spraying yourself with human urine before you go out walking.

Q: Will I be able to speak English most places I go? ( USA )

A: Yes, but you will have to learn it first.

Who do we contact to get this officially documented?

Share this:

Anyone curious why it is I didn’t decide to take my parents up on their strong recommendation that I become an English major need only read this. Sure, it’s intended somewhat to be humourous, but sitting in some of the classes I actually managed to go to while I was in college, sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if they didn’t vaguely resemble this.

ENGLISH: This involves writing papers about long books you have read
little snippets of just before class. Here is a tip on how to get good
grades on your English papers: Never say anything about a book that
anybody with any common sense would say. For example, suppose you are
studying Moby Dick. Anybody with any common sense would say Moby Dick is
a big white whale, since the characters in the book refer to it as a big
white whale roughly 11,000 times. So in your paper, you say Moby Dick is
actually the Republic of Ireland. Your professor, who is sick to death of
reading papers and never liked Moby Dick anyway, will think you are
enormously creative. If you can regularly come up with lunatic
interpretations of simple stories, you should major in English.

Nope, sorry. That’d be above my pay grade. I prefer to be locked in a room with only a server or two to fight with. They, at least, don’t tell me I’m wrong.

Share this:

My apartment in Ottawa had its moments of sheer and utter amusement. Not the least of which is the lower floor that, after about midnight or so, took on a decidedly potlike quality. Usually I only happened to notice because I was, as always, up at that hour–only doing laundry instead of my usual routine of, well, doing nothing. Of course there was the lazy and plenty of it, but it wasn’t *all* lazy.

I’d actually gotten used to not being able to giggle amusedly at the fact some poor fool was pretty much baking his brain on a day when most folks would be considering maybe existing just enough to think about going to work. Then I decided to come down to Rochester.

Jess and I were in the midst of getting done with the week’s laundry, and were distracted with talking so much that I didn’t immediately notice, but when we did, I had to keep myself from bursting out laughing in the middle of the hallway. Right there, in my girlfriend’s apartment building’s basement, the potlike quality made its reappearance. My regular source of amusement didn’t abandon me, it just moved in with Jessica. The mocking shall resume.

Share this:

It isn’t very often the whole group of us gets together for a dinner or anything like that, so when it happens it tends to get all kinds of interesting. Tonight’s thanksgiving get together was no different. We all–Jessica, Julie, her husband, Tasha and myself–headed over to a friend and coworker’s place for the evening. There was a huge helping of all kinds of hilarity to go with the equally awesome spread she put out. It’s only the third or so such gathering I got to attend–the others being last year.

As per usual, we had the traditional fixings–turkey, dressing, all but the pumpkin pie. And there was the nontraditional aspect of it as well. Until I came down here last year I hadn’t the faintest idea they thought of green bean casserole as part of the usual routine. I hadn’t had it before, and of course going back this year I had to steal some more.

Now, while I try very hard not to explode all over my girlfriend’s couch, I’m once again mooching off her wireless while we both do the email and such thing. I don’t have the slightest clue what tomorrow has in store, but I can about guarantee it’ll involve the skipping of at least one meal. As for right now? I’m off to explode.

Share this:

When most people who haven’t actually had anything really to do with Canada think of us, their first impression is often of us sitting around, snacking on some poutine, and sucking back a beer. Which, depending on which part of Canada you’re talking about, probably isn’t all too far from the truth. I didn’t know that was true of Toronto, though. But yet, in an attempt at bringing the Pan American Olympics to Canada in 2015, Toronto officials–and some provincial ones–are in Mexico, sitting down to a lunch of poutine and beer. With a little smoked salmon and chardonnay for folks who aren’t french fry fans. Guess what they say is true. There’s always a little fact based in every rumour. Who knew?

Share this: