There’s a study out that basicly says coffee doesn’t do much for regular drinkers of the stuff. Now, granted I don’t consider myself a regular–meaning daily–coffee drinker by any means–I get my caffeine from other sources if I need it, but I’m going to just kind of give this report a big fat no. I’m not a morning person by any stretch. Wasn’t before coffee, or other sources of caffeine, am not any more so after. But, if I’m going to be required awake and mobile before the sun’s up–believe it or not that has been known to happen, there will be coffee involved. That’s a rule. One of three things will happen. The world will wait until at least 10 to start turning, there will be coffee present should the world–and I–be required mobile prior to 10, or at least one individual–noteably the individual who decided to wake me–will probably die. I’m not a coffee/caffeine addict by the standard definition. I’ve gone several days without anything caffinated. But not before 10. Trust me, it’s for your own safety.
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I’m going to disagree with this study. With emphasis.
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I just downloaded Hurt Locker. Quick, let the lawsuits fly!
Until there came rumblings on a few of the tech blogs I read occasionally about the possibility of a non-government copyright group going after people who it believes downloaded the movie illegally, I hadn’t ever heard of Hurt Locker. Indeed, it would have probably been one of those movies I ended up watching and not even seen an ad for. That is, until confirmation that the group has indeed launched a suit against 5000 people for supposedly downloading the movie. The sad part is, this particular group isn’t even asociated with the MPAA, acording to the CNET article. Without rehashing opinions I’ve already spilled over on this site, I’ll just say this much. I may or may not actually end up watching the movie. I have, however, downloaded it. Sue me. It’s no crime, but indeed, if the industry thinks it’s got a case, I do mean it literally.
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Note to potential landlords. My age has nothing to do with giving you money.
I’ve been trying to find halfway decent ways to save me some money–cutting back on things where possible, changing companies if another company offers me a price significantly lower than what I’m paying now, and most recently, looking for possible places to call my temporary residence that end up being relatively cheaper than that which I’m currently staying in. On top of trying to get me properly educated, but that’s another entry. Since no one around here wants to hire folks in my particular fields, and since no one in Ottawa has gotten around to calling me back yet, saving money until either situation changes is the thing to do. Enter a bit of research being performed on my part over the last couple days.
There’s a possible building I’m looking at moving into. When I called about it on Friday, they didn’t have anything available. I got a call just a few minutes ago that one of the renters there may be looking to sublet the apartment. Over the course of the conversation, the process of 20 questions ended up starting. Around question 19, I was in full WTF mode. He asked if I was working at the moment, which–okay, I get it–you need to be paid. So do I. I told him I was presently on disability, but that I had been working. I didn’t tell him if I have my way I’ll either be working or back in school by this time next year, mostly because that would generally lead to me informing him I’d be moving out just as soon as either situation came to light. Then, he asked my age.
I’m not one to keep my age a secret by any means–I’m 26, if you’re curious–but, er, what does that have to do with my ability or willingness to pay the rent? I don’t get it. If it’s a disability thing, I’m kind of WTFing just a little more–but that, at least, isn’t altogether very surprising. But, still. I have money in hand. I want to give this landlord money. I can keep giving this landlord money until such time as either I go completely and totally broke or he raises his rent beyond my price range. My age has very little if anything to do with that. So, uh, what’s it to him? Anyone have a clue? Can I borrow it?
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The big hazy.
What happens in Quebec doesn’t very often stay in Quebec. Take this, for instance. Forest fires in Quebec have prompted smog/smoke alerts in Ottawa, Pembroke and area. Apparently, from what I hear, looking across the Ottawa river you can actually see it coming. Well, that settles it. The US has the big easy (Hello, New Orleans), and now, Canada has the big hazy (Hello, Ottawa). And it’s all Quebec’s fault.
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The best pitcher in baseball is perfect–just not in Toronto.
Back in December, the Bluejays’ best pitcher, possibly of all time, flew the coop. I wrote this entry about it then. No sooner does he leave the team does he put up the kind of game that’s only ever happened 19 other times in the history of the league–a perfect one. He was good with Toronto for years. He’s perfect in Philadelphia. And it couldn’t have happened to a better pitcher. Now if it’d just happened in Toronto.
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I didn’t want things done the easy way anyway.
For the better part of two weeks or so, I’ve been on a hunt for a non-painful way to get hold of my highschool transcripts so I might go back and start on the path to putting my geekness on paper in the form of an actual college-level diploma–something I admittedly should have done when I was messing around in college anyway, rather than the program I ended up picking. It required playing phone tag with the highschool, and then playing phone tag with the college, and now going back to the highschool in question.
The school I went to and graduated from is presently 6 hours away from where I live, give or take. Which escentially means I can’t much walk in with money in hand, and walk out with a copy of my transcripts. Since I’m looking at applying to Algonquin College here in town, and I’d already attended the Ottawa campus, I figured they might still have the transcripts that were submitted to them roughly 7 years ago–my credentials re: highschool haven’t changed since then, so I might as well make it easy on everyone, right? If you agree, then apparently you’re as wrong as I am. Apparently, transcripts are only kept at the college for a year.
So, after two weeks of back and forth with the voicemail of someone who apparently hasn’t been in her office since December, a couple days of back and forth with the voicemail at the college’s reception desk, and finally getting someone with half a brain to call me back, I’m right where I started two weeks ago. Monday, I call the highschool yet again, and probably land in their voicemail, yet again. And we somehow work out an arangement in which they get their money and I get my proof of education in under a month. Hopefully these folks are a tiny bit more familiar with the concept of email than they were when I actually went to this school, but I’m not holding my breath on that one. Thanks, educational administrative folks. I was trying not to do it the easy way. You’re so accommodating. So when do you start working *with* me?
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I really need to stop finding new shows to watch.
I recently this year developed an interest in a TV show, “Ghost Whisperer”. The plot was halfway interesting, the characters were semi-realistic–except for that whole ghosts thing, but hey, some people actually believe they can do that–and it was actually not something I ended up falling asleep to. It was also cancelled. Go figure. I’m starting to suspect it’s an unwritten rule or something.
I ended up finding another show of interest a couple years back–a recommendation by then a fairly good friend of mine. After the second season, cancel city. Yeah, definitely an unwritten rule. I’m just going to stop discovering new things to watch now. I’ll watch them after they’ve already been cancelled from now on. Hey, at least then I’ll know to expect it. That’ll show ’em.
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No wonder I was sticking to the air in my apartment.
According to Environment Canada, current humidity level around these parts is 94 percent. No, I didn’t misread–94 freaking percent. As in, the air outside–and at the moment, inside–my apartment is nearly all moisture. If I hadn’t just yesterday set up my AC, I think I’d be cursing mother nature right now. Instead, allow me to simply flip the switch, close my windows, and laugh at mother nature. And then see if maybe I can’t peal the air off me. I swear, if it had substance, that would be required right about now. So uncool.
In unrelated news, at least it’s only 16 degrees c out there right now. 16 humid degrees, but still. Now, about that dehumidifying.
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If you’re in Toronto in July and have an interest in supporting ODSP recipients, check this out.
Date July 7, 2010
Time 1 p.m. – 5 p.m.
Where Metro Hall Rotunda, TorontoEvent source
ODSP Action Coalition——————————————————————————–
From an ODSP Action Coalition announcement:
Please join us on July 7th for the ODSP Action Coalition’s event “Telling Our Stories: Disability Should Not Equal Poverty”.
This event will bring together ODSP (Ontario Disability Support Program) recipients, agency workers and members of the general public to learn more about what it is really like to live on ODSP.
The speaking agenda includes a panel discussion on human rights and ODSP (all panellists are on ODSP), as well as personal stories from four people with experience living on ODSP.
The event will also include informational displays and an area where you can share your own story. We are also excited to launch the ODSP Action Coalition’s Disability Declaration at this event.
For more details visit
https://www.odspaction.ca/story/join-us-june-24
English, Web Page
Complete announcementWere I one of those people with the reason and money to get myself down to Toronto, I’d be going in a hurry. Mostly, because this fits right in with my own ODSP campaign. But, since I’m not presently able to, I’m going to encourage strongly anyone who reads with an interest in hearing what they have to say to get around to checking it out. It could stand to be quite educational.
Update: Apparently, the article as pasted comes with a surprise–in the form of a broken link. Have a working one.
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Someone kindly enroll this kid’s father in parenting classes.
I’ve met some bad–naye, horrible–parents in my 26 years. granted, I’ve med some even worse kids, too, but still. Nothing has quite come close to this.
“I’m not worried about his health, he looks healthy”‘ shrugged the boy’s father Mohammad Rizal. “He cries and throws tantrums when we don’t let him smoke. He’s addicted.”
There are rumours floating around that it might be a hoax. Whether ’tis or ’tis not, this post serves as notice. I am officially bringing back the moron of the year award. And this fine example of parenthood is the first candidate.