Half Past Wednesday

World’s Worst Kept Secret (or I’m going to have a heart attack and die from not surprise)

2006-01-04T11:28:00.000-05:00

I suffer from depression.

There, it’s out there. After years of trying to fool myself, but always knowing the truth, I figured it was time to admit as much.

Those closest to me have likely always known; certainly anyone who knew me in university could easily tell.

The funny thing about depression (rim shot), is that the more time I have to think about it, the worse it gets. These past couple of months have been the worst in a long while; being out of work has given me more time to focus on myself and my life than is probably healthy.

The kicker is I’ve had all this time on my hands, and haven’t done anything overly productive with it. I’ve kicked around a couple of writing projects, half-heartedly looked at getting an agent, and spent an inordinate amount of time perusing job boards for positions I’m certain I’m going to hate.

I’ve had a couple of good interviews, and one that I’m really excited about but I’m almost under qualified for the position. It’s scary because it’s a big deal… a real grown up job, with real responsibility, and so close to the edge of my comfort zone in all areas that a wrong glance would send it over the precipice.

But as a grown up job, I’d have to give up the non-pursuit of acting as a career. There just wouldn’t be time to do justice to the job otherwise. And to be honest, my half hearted and assed pursuit of acting since I got here has been pretty sad. I know I love it; I just can’t work up the energy to pursue it.

Lack of energy results in lack of action, which only cycles me further downward. I don’t believe in taking drugs; an even me isn’t me. But I feel like I’m being backed into a corner.

Thank god for Gal, who’s been great at keeping me sane, despite the stress of being the only income earner in a city that’s not conducive to it.

Admission is the first step. Incredibly, I feel much better just having written this. I don’t have any more answers, but at least I know they’re out there.

This will likely be the last entry in this blog. I’m planning on starting a new one once I have something worthwhile to say again.

TTFN

I'm de-caffinated!

2005-10-20T16:55:00.000-04:00

Seriously. The former caffeine fiend, the 6-8 cups a day devil, the guy who used to vibrate after 2pm has been caffeine free for over two months.

Don't know why I did it, but I noticed that when I was back east I didn't have any and felt pretty good. So I've avoided it since I've been back, and I've been golden.

Except for the past couple of weeks, when I've found myself dragging pretty hard. And I'm not sure how long it will last, if/when I start working again.

But caffeine free. Whodathunkit?

Now if I could just get rid of this big back of crack...

I don't have TB

2005-10-19T12:57:00.000-04:00

I took advantage of having all this free time by going to the doctor for the first time in at least 10 years (not counting trips to the ER). I got bloodwork, xrays and so on done, and the GP decided that it would be a good idea if he sent me to a lung specialist. Apparently he could here and see some scarring in my lungs. He told me there were two common causes of this; having had a lung collapse in the past, or having had tuberculosis.

Well, says I, I've had a lung collapse, so that's probably it. But in the interest of humouring him (and helping him get a new boat for Christmas) off I trot to the lung guy.

He makes me do a bunch of tests, including breathing through a plastic tube with a big rubber end bit clamped between my teeth, holding my breath in said contraption, panting until I almost pass out in said contraption, and then sealing me in a small air tight chamber to do it all over again. And the highlight of this was the Romanian lab tech who was shouting instructions at me as to when to do any of these things.

Then I see the lung doc again. He asks me if I've spent any time on a farm, reservation, huffing asbestos, using intravenous drugs, participating in high risk behaviour, car surfing, attending law school, climbing hotel balconies, or auditioning for beer commercials. (I've only done 3 of those) He also asks if I've ever smoked. Now, it's not common knowledge, but I was on the sticks for a time, but haven't been for over 5 years.

And then he tells me he thinks I might have TB. Because, apparently that's one of the causes of scarred lung tissue. I told him I had a collapsed lung. He said he needed more tests to be sure. Now, I'm no doctor, but if a patient has scarring on their lungs that can be caused by one of two things, and the patient admits to having had one of those two causes, shouldn't by process of elimination we be able to determine what's caused the scarring? Maybe that's why I'm not a doctor. Afflicted with too much sense. But I guess lung specialists want new boats for Christmas too.

So, more tests, blah blah blah, and believe it or not, I don't have TB. I have something else, which caused the lung collapse oh so many years ago. This syndrome apparently precludes me from ever smoking again, or ever taking up scuba diving, as it could cause "Irreperable Damage"™

So no more smoking or seeing doctors for me. I've done my good deed and secured two Christmas boats.

Job Hunt

2005-10-17T09:34:00.000-04:00

I hate looking for work. It's roughly my 378th favourite thing, right between dropping a bowling ball on my foot, and getting hit by a Mack Truck going 20 klicks.

It's been so so thus far, but the jobs that I've actually had any interest in applying for have been few and far between.

See, the last long term job I worked, I thoroughly enjoyed for the first three years I was there. I was passionate about it, didn't mind getting up in the morning, and so on.

The last two years were a living hell, especially the last six months or so. I was actually supposed to keep working there another six months, but by August of 2003, the thought of working another day, let alone six months there made me so crazy that I resigned on the spot.

So now I'm job hunting. Woe for me.

But I am going to try to stop being such a slacker, and get back to posting at least semi regularly. I'm also contemplating taking a crack at The National Novel Writing Month this year I think.

So to all of you who've kept checking this sad little blog, ta. And to those who've stopped checking ta ta.

I don't make friends easily

2005-09-22T11:42:00.000-04:00

Never have really. That's not to say I don't have great friends, I certainly do. I just don't make new friends with any sort of regularity.

I think a big part of it is that I don't like people. People for the most part are stupid, lazy, self-centered, rude, and can only be depended on to do what's best for themselves. I think it'd be more accurate to say that I hate people.

The events in New Orleans, and all along the Gulf Coast have only served to reinforce that for me. True, there have been some really great stories of heroic people, saving others, behaving selflessly and so on. But I think these stories appear a little more heroic than they are due to all of the bad shit that went down there as well. Humanity as animals.

All of this crap just makes me hate people more and more. If I go out in the city, there's bound to be at least a half dozen people who do something so painfully stupid, ignorant or self-centered that I want to beat them about the head with a shovel.

I am slowly in the process of developing Wal-Mart voice. Mare and Jenn both have teacher voice, designed to bring unruly children back to order; I'm getting WM voice to teach people the proper way to behave in public.

"Hey lady, less gawking, more getting-the-fuck-out-of-my-way."

"Mister, pay attention. The shit that is your brain is dribbling out your ear."

"Well done Captain Fuckwad, between you and your ill-behaved running and screaming spawn, you've done your best to ruin everyone's day."

Seriously people, the world is going to hell in a fucking hand cart, and your average person on the street seems too damned stupid to realize that they're not just on the street, they're *in* the friggin' street! Pedestrian 0, Chloronating the Gene Pool 1.

The thing that alarms me though is that I'm losing my filter. I was in Hell-I-mean-Wal-Mart the other day, and this kid was screeching at the top of his lungs because he couldn't have some toy. Mom was either oblivious, or had recently read the back cover of a new age parenting book that said you're supposed to ignore everything that pops out of your uterus. So at the top of my lungs (1.5) from three aisles over I shouted "Enough already!" and the kid shut up right away. I'm not a parent, I don't have any special skills other than a knowledge imparted by the back of my Dad's hand as to how children should behave in public.

I pulled one public temper tantrum when I was a kid. One. And my mom whacked my ass right in the store, marched me out to the car, and took me home. And at 4 years old, I suddenly knew what was acceptable in public, and what wasn't. My brother and sister were the same way. We were allowed one tantrum apiece, and that was it.

I don't advocate beating kids, but kids are not small adults. You can't reason with a 3 year old. You tell 'em what's what, and when they don't behave there have to be serious consequences to their actions. Kids who understand that there are consequences to their actions don't grow up to be teenagers who act out, adults who have no concept of reality or whatever.

If I ever become a multi-millionaire, I'm going to patrol parking lots with a sledge hammer. Every time someone does something stupid with there car, I will hit it with said sledge. And then write them a cheque to cover the damages.

Maybe I should hold out for billionaire.

Cooke

2005-09-14T14:19:00.000-04:00

"People call me Cooke."

"Why Cooke?" she gazed over her coffee. She normally would have thought this was a bad idea, talking to a guy in a diner. He seemed harmless though, and he certainly was cute.

"James Markham William Cooke is a bit of a mouthful."

"Why not James, Mark, Bill, or Jim or something like that?"

"Only my mother called me James. And my ex called me Jim. Everyone else calls me Cooke."

"So what do you do Cooke?"

"I'm an analyst for the government," he touched his lightly greying temple. Control, he breathed.

"Really, that must be... uhm..."

"Painfully dull," he finished. "It is. What about you Karen?"

"I work in accounts receivable for DataCorp," she grinned. She'd started the job only weeks ago, and was proud of herself. It was a real grown-up job, making real grown-up money.

He smiled at her, happy for the obvious pleasure she took in her job. "Could I call you sometime?"

Karen paused for a moment, pursed her lips in exaggerated thought before fishing a pen from her purse. "I'd like that."

Da-da-da-da

2005-09-09T14:31:00.000-04:00

So I've been quiet... sue me. This job search thing really sucks. What with all the effort of finding a job whose description doesn't make me want to hang myself, then the additional effort required to compose a cover letter, tweak my resume, and then send it off... and from all this. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

So, I'm taking today off, and doing a little writing. And reading. And perhaps, in honour of the first week of school, some 'rithmatic.

I've (re)discovered in the past couple of weeks that I don't function well without some structure in my life. If I don't have a reason to get out of the house almost every day, I get lethargic and cranky. I guess I'm saying my days of being gleefully unemployed are at an end.

I'm now surli-ly (did I just type that?) unemployed. Sans-job-in-a-surly-fashion if you will.

By the way, if House is not the finest show on television, I'm not sure what is. And the first person to say Arrested Development gets a kick to the crack. I've watched it, I don't like it.

Thanks also for the lovely comments, even though I've been a slacker. You are all wunderbar!

Angel of the Silences

2005-08-22T11:41:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the long quiet period, the vacation took a lot out of me. That and I've been trying to keep some semblance of order in my life while I'm gleefully unemployed, so I've been trying to keep my computer time structured. My apologies to you all, I have been lax in the whole blogging thing-a-ma-gummy.

Anywho, the job search is going so, so. Not really into it right now, but have managed to send out a dozen or so requests for auditions.

This past weekend was the first wedding in my family for 'The Kids'. My cousin got married, with all the requisite drama, and Gal got the meet the rest of the extended group of people I don't particularly like much. ;) Except for the fact that I couldn't get drunk no matter how hard I tried, a good time was had by all. Or at least Gal and I.

I'm going to make an effort (half-assed though it may be) to get back to regular posting. Thanks for all the lovely comments while I was taking my 'nap'.

Home Safe

2005-08-13T16:29:00.000-04:00

Shh.... sleeping.

I needed this

2005-08-10T14:41:00.000-04:00

Did I ever. The trip has been fantastic and very restful. Being here for a week is so much better than trying to squeeze a visit into two days.

It's great to reconnect with friends; even though we keep up on each other's blogs and I feel closer to them than I have in years, nothing really makes up for face to face hijinks.

I think that this little group of friends is a bit of an oddity (and not just because we're odd). Mare and I chatted a bit about this; none of us have inter-dated, we've all been friends of varying degrees since at least high school. Few of us are married, though right now I think is the most of us who have been in serious relationships. Few of us have kids.

It's kind of hard to define who are the Usual Suspects, and who are only occasional suspects. For the last few years for certain, I've only been an occasional suspect. Involved in the big events, but absent for the day to day stuff. Certainly there's been additions to the group, some of whom I've met over the last week. And they are all lovely people.

It's also nice to come home. Painful in some ways, wonderous in others, but all in all, pretty good for me.

As I was driving around earlier the week, taking in the changes to the city, I stopped a couple of different places that held strong memories for me. Most of the strongest memories come from a time when I wasn't exactly the happiest cat around. I thought to myself, you know, you've had some incredibly shitty times in this town... but almost immediately, I remembered all the good times as well. Now it's the good times I remember most clearly.

That's not to say I'm ready to come back. I've got too much to get out of my system first. But it's nice to know that things (and I) haven't changed so much that I wouldn't fit in if I did come back.

I guess I've made peace with the life I had here, the demons I wrestled with then are just wisps of memory. I don't feel like I'm running any more. I also realized how much I love the life I have now, and how ready I am to get back into it.

Bravo to you all for being the best friends I could hope for.

Incommunicado

2005-08-03T10:28:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be out of touch (but oddly enough, not out of time) for the next week, as I embark on a road trip out east.

I'll get myself on a regular posting schedule once I return, and will hopefully be able to regale you all with tales of my wayward travels and gypsy lifestyle.

And then I gotta find a job.

Ciao!

Done

2005-07-29T11:18:00.000-04:00

Watch me do the last day dance!

...

Pretty impressive, no? I'm now gainfully unemployed.

I'm in for a beating

2005-07-27T16:54:00.000-04:00

Today on my lunch break, I managed to walk the almost two klicks to the DMV, renew my registration, walk back, grab lunch on the way, and be back in the office in less than an hour.

I wonder what's going to break tonight. I just hope it's not the computer. I don't have the energy to fix it. Please let it be something simple like my clavicle. Or have someone beat me about the noggin with an angry weasel.

Of course, maybe karmic balance was restored by the fact that I got to share an elevator with a guy who smelled like he'd been shovelling onions, boiled cabbage and feces in 100 degree heat all day.

Nah... better get fitted for the cast.

Too much to say (Or Gravy Part 1)

2005-07-25T13:14:00.000-04:00

I have a number of different things that I want to blog about, but no time to do it in. Though I do have my two trainees doing all the filing I've put off for the past 11 months, so that'll keep them out of my hair for a while.

Would love to recount my adventures in movie-copdom, but that's really something I'd need to take my time for. So I'll regale you with a tale of the worlds most obnoxious wedding table mate.

Attended a wedding this weekend for one of Gal's co-workers (who by the way I've met once (and who also apparently received her dress at 4 am the morning of her wedding)). Traditional Catholic ceremony, semi-traditional chinese ceremony. Basically lots of courses (10) mostly with food I don't eat. But I tried (but didn't necessarily enjoy) a lot of it.

I'd met Obnoxious-Guest once before at some guy's birthday dinner. I'd concluded within about 10 minutes of talking to him that I was going to seriously dislike him. Ten minutes after that, I started taking odds from myself as to whether I was going to tell him to pound sand or not.

I don't suffer fools (gladly or not), but I generally don't take a strong dislike to them. I can't count on one hand the number of people that I've contemplated physical violence against, simply due to their idiocy. This fellow is one of them.

He is, to hear him tell it, a genius; apparently deeply knowledgeable on any and every subject, and delights in discussing any and all topics.

A few highlights:

Argued with one of our table mates about the similarities between the Chinese and Japanese character sets. Ob-Gee has been studying Japanese for 5 months. His conversation mate is fluent in Mandarin and Cantonese as well as English. And the traditional and simplified character sets.

The argument with a Hindi guest about something that I didn't understand, but was quite sure from the expressions he was getting that he was full of crap.

Tried to argue with me on several different topics (movies, European history, the relation between atheists and morals) but I wasn't going to take the bait. The fact that he was out of arms reach might have had something to do with it. Not to mention that verbally demolishing an idiot, while fun, is not especially fulfilling.

Aside from the fact he's an ignorant putz... who the hell argues with people you don't know... at a wedding reception no less! A wedding reception that you are attending because your mother is a co-worker of the bride?

My hat is off to you Ob-Gee, you are a bigger ass than I thought you were. And that is quite an accomplishment.

Silence

2005-07-25T09:21:00.000-04:00

For both my brain and the blog. After the raging storm last week, I've been sailing smooth but busy waters. Wrapping up my last week at work has brought me two trainees, which is severly limiting my down time at work, which is when the majority of my writing gets done.

So, after this Friday, I should be able to post more regularly. Anything between now and then I'll consider a bonus. =)

And then a long weekend, two days of getting stuff done around the house, then a road trip!

Pointless

2005-07-18T10:09:00.000-04:00

Temper lost, peace lost, compassion lost, reason lost.
Loss of self, consumed in icy anger, fury, ire and loathing.
I thought I'd killed this me
The me consumed by rage
where reason has no hold.
Imprisoned only, beneath a thin veneer.

Then worse, the me that frightens me more than the rage
Even, unfeeling, compelled by reason, unruled by passion or emotion.
Uncaring, hurtful by calculation, not by passion.
Not willing to accept anything but its own logic driven reality.
Heart turned off, soul smothered, intellect in full control.

Separate, disconnected, passionless and cold.
Analyzing risk versus reward, effort against return
Solitary and unfeeling
Unhuman

So much progress, thought to be made
Gemini nature, at the forefront
the ugly twin.

Janus Gemini each twin
with two faces

Back to square one

20 More Random things

2005-07-14T11:53:00.000-04:00

1. I was 5'5" when I started high school. I was 6'2" when I started my senior year.
2. I have an unfortunately high tolerance to pain killers, which makes for much fun if I'm forced to go to the hospital. No, like I told you four hours ago, Demerol does nothing for me!
3. I'm more Oscar than Felix
4. Tequilla has been very, very bad to me. Grass makes me grumpy.
5. I once propositioned the lead singer of a Celtic bar band between sets. Her husband the drummer was quite amused.
6. I'm slightly dyslexic, fairly colour blind, and partially deaf in my left ear.
7. My father was suspended from his high school for printing Fuck on the front page of the student newspaper. 25 years later, I was chastised for saying fuck (or shit, I can't remember) on stage while in high school.
8. One summer I ran an improv camp for kids.
9. I've delivered 1 eulogy and 1 best man's toast.
10. I've had 3 serious relationships in my life.
11. I was once kissed by a girlfriend's mother.
12. I don't drink nearly as much as I used to.
13. The night of 11 was the last time I was so drunk I blacked out.
14. I'm an open book to a large degree; there are things in the vault I'll never tell.
15. I have an opinion on just about anything and everything.
16. I used to read the entirety of the CNN, CBC, and BBC websites once a week.
17. I've had 11 different addresses in the past 9 years.
18. I stopped smoking 5 years ago, drinking pop 4 years ago, and being single 3 years ago.
19. I've been dating Gal longer than all my previous relationships (serious or not) put together.
20. I wonder why some people find me intimidating when they first meet me.

Follow Up

2005-07-13T13:42:00.000-04:00

In an effort to attain balance after my post yesterday, I've just two things to say.

A) PHHHBBBBBTTTT! (in case you are not sure, this is an eloquent rasberry)

B) Purple Monkey Dishwasher

Politics - Just This Once

2005-07-12T14:42:00.000-04:00

First, some background:

I'm a centrist. Have been for a long time. To break it down further, I'm a social liberal and a fiscal conservative. I'm also Canadian, which colours my view as well, and places me somewhat left of what would be considered an average liberal for our southern neighbours.

I follow current events. I've studied history. I'm enough a student of history to know that it really does repeat itself. I've developed the ability to think for myself, and take a large dose of cynicism daily. For the most part, I don't believe in black and white. Things are only that simple if you glance at them quickly.

Socially, I'm pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, pro-universal healthcare, pro-social safety net. I've discussed these things at length with many people, and come to my own conclusions. I've yet to hear a compelling argument as to why I should change my views. If I do, I just might.

I believe that we shouldn't spend more money than we bring in. I'm all about reducing the deficit. I think we have international obligations that must be met. I think some of these obligations are as important as domestic concerns.

Mostly, I'm about getting things done. Having worthwhile goals, and getting them accomplished.

There are a number of blogs that I read that have been discussing the events in London, Madrid, New York and the Middle East. I respect these people and their view points, some conservative, some liberal. Most of these are commenting on the US being in Iraq, whether it was justified, abuses committed by the US military versus those interred at Abu Gharib, and what actions should be taken (or not taken) against extremists.

I decided that this is important enough to me for me to want to say my piece.

Extremism needs to be ferreted out and destroyed.

Those at the far left and the far right love to pontificate as to why this should or shouldn't happen, and what methods should be used. Trust me when I say that your average extremist doesn't worry about the means. The ends is where it's at.

Is eliminating extremism going to be costly? Yes.

Bloody? Yes.

Unpleasant, messy, mired in tough moral decisions? Yes. Yes. Yes.

Is not confronting and eliminating Extremism going to be less unpleasant, bloody, messy, etc...?

Absolutely fucking not.

I'm not saying that eliminating extremism is going to be a purely military action. It's got to be military, political, social, economic and religious. From without and within, and all around.

It should not be about telling people what to believe.

It should be about telling people that how they want to live may not work for the rest of us. But if it works for them, they should do it. And that how I want to live may not work for them. But if it works for me, I should do it.

And that all that is fine. We all share this planet, and we need to get along. If we don't get along, some of us are going to have to leave. And I'd like to think, if we were to count up all the "I just wanna live my own way" versus the "My way or the highway" folks, the first group will win 100,000 to 1. I hope.

Liberals - Understand that Extremists can't be reasoned with. We can't change their mind. They need to change it themselves, and we need to give them every reason at our disposal to do so. Because they won't even bother to try and change our mind, except to ventilate it a little. Taking the moral high ground against those with no morals gets you nowhere.

Conservatives - Stop pretending that the reason the US went to Iraq was solely to stop terrorism. It wasn't. It was security, politics, and economics. The world runs on oil. It's natural to want a secure source of it. Hussein was a pox and needed to be taken out. Concensus can work. Torture does not.

Far left liberals and far right conservatives: This means you O'Reilly and Colter. This means you Moore. When I say Extremist, I mean you too. Your time will come. Political views aside, you are all quite rude.

This won't be solved in my lifetime. This probably won't be solved so long as there are people on this planet. That doesn't mean it's not worth addressing.

My Luck

2005-07-11T13:09:00.000-04:00

Friday I gave my two weeks notice. I'd tried to see if the production was going to be able to change at all, or if I could flex my way around and still work until the end of July. No dice. So, I gave my notice.

Saturday was great. Gal and I went to a goodbye picnic for a friend who's going to Bande Aceh with the Red Cross. Went to Ikea to finally order some wardrobes to get the apartment in order. There was no line-up at the cash, so we were in and out in 20 mins.

As soon as I saw the lack of line, my Vaga-senses started tingling. I always end up in line, and without fail, it's the slowest line. So I was a little scared.

Went to catch a matinee... again, no line. I started to get a quiver in my stomach.

After the movie, went to Wally-mart. In and out in 20 mins, got in the quickest line at the cash. Future Shop, same deal. By then, I was starting to feel sick. We'd even gotten relatively close parking spots in all these places. This is unheard of for me.

Got back to the apt. and found a relatively close place to park, despite the fact there were 5000 extra people in the neighbourhood for a street festival. Once we got into the apartment, I needed to lie down. I was afraid. Very. Afraid.

Sunday we slept in until 10, Gal got up, and I decided I was going to go back to sleep, as she was going to an art show. I slept until 1, which was very great. As I got out of bed, the metal side support crumpled. Great. I broke the damn bed.

Got a call from the film production office... something came up, and they had to change my shooting dates. I'm now shooting evenings, this week and next. Great. I didn't have to give my notice.

My first scene is in 4 days. I haven't got a script. Haven't heard from them about costume. Great. I'm going to end up shooting until midnight or later, then have to work the next day. Great. I have no idea how many, or what lines I have. Great.

You know, if it weren't for rotten luck, I wouldn't have any at all. =)

But you know what? It doesn't bother me in the least. I'm going to be in a feature film, with a small speaking role.

I'm going to be leaving a job I don't really care for.

Really, it's all great.

Angry

2005-07-07T12:58:00.000-04:00

Events like today's in London make me want to smash those responsible in the throat with a spigot.

Not watching where I figuratively step

2005-07-05T16:55:00.000-04:00

Apparently you're not allowed to tell someone that they really cocked something up. Well, judging at least from the looks of shock I got earlier. Apparently fucking something up is okay, but cocking it up is right out.

Good to know.

I'd recommend 10 gallons of gasoline

2005-07-04T12:19:00.000-04:00

It's looking more and more like I might be able to make the luau. I've yet to confirm my shooting dates and times, but I had a discussion with my boss, and there's no way they can grant me the time off for the shoot.

I can completely understand that, but at the same time, I'm not going to stay at a job I don't particularly like, for okay money, no benefits and no chance for advancement, when an opportunity like this comes up. Half the reason I moved to T.dot was for a chance to see if this acting thing can work out for me (the other half of the reason being Gal).

So, I'll be giving my notice so that I can have the last week of July off. This also means that I'll be available the first week of August. I'm likely going to drive down, and I'll be on the coast for about a week. Then I have to scramble back here and find another job.

I'm gonna need a place (or two or three) to crash while I'm down there. I don't want to burden anyone, so I'll shift from place to place as necessary. And if I'm driving down, everybody better be at this friggin' luau. =) 'los, this means you.

I'm going to spend a day or two in Freddy Beach too to try and catch the crew up there as well.

Of course, if the shoot falls through, I likely won't be down. So keep your fingers crossed for me.

I'm looking forward to Friday Karaoke, and meeting the new Suspects. And of course the disaster in the making that this pig roast is starting to sound like. Someone make sure to arrange some nice weather for while I'm down.

My brush with the military (inspired by AlexendraLeigh)

2005-06-30T12:07:00.000-04:00

My senior year of high school, my dad got it into his head that I should join the military, as a way of paying my way through university. After all, he'd done it, so it must be the best way of doing things, right?

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do in University, but it hadn't occured to me at that point that I didn't have to go. I was thinking a Business Co-op program would probably be okay, and the thought of someone paying for me to do it appealed to me. The thought of the military, not so much, but I figured doing ROTC might not be too bad.

And conveniently enough, the recruiting centre was directly across the street from my high school. So more to shut my dad up than anything, I went over to take the tests. I remember taking the test and thinking that I must have gotten the easy version. I finished in less than twenty minutes and handed my paper into the very surprised proctor.

Two days later they called me back, and told me I'd scored in the top percentile of all test takers. I guessed that didn't bode well for the rest of the incoming recruits. There was some confusion as to whether I had all the academic credits, but after some wrangling we got the physics component sorted out.

So now it was time to do the physical, which more or less went fine. The Doc at the recruiting centre told me I was severely underweight, but that I met everything else with flying colours. I just needed to submit my eyeglass prescription, and we'd be all set.

So I got a copy of that, and faxed it to them.

A week later they called me for some more testing, which I went and did, again scoring very high.

And a week later, again with more testing. Two days after that, more testing. One of the recruiters told me I'd probably end up at the ROTC centre in Quebec. I'd been thinking Ontario or BC would have been better, but what the hell. I looked at the pay structure, and thought it looked pretty good. I'd be making good money all summer, then go to school through the year. I'd then owe them 4 years on the other end.

I hadn't really mentioned much of this to any of my friends, because I knew deep down the idea of me in the military was more than a little ridiculous.

Three weeks and three more bouts of testing later I get a call from a Major telling me that they were not able to accept me at this time, as my vision fell below their requirements.

"Pardon me?"

"Your eyes are too bad son, sorry."

"You can tell that from the prescription I faxed to you?"

"Yes."

"Five weeks ago?"

"Sorry?" He seemd confused. He likely wasn't used to people questioning him. He was a Major after all.

"I've been to your fucking recruiting centre once a week for the past five weeks, and you're telling me now that I'm not being accepted?"

"Well, these things take time..."

"And what about my time? The time you felt was so unimportant that you could waste it?"

"..."

"And how much time could it take? You look at the paper. If the numbers are outside the range, then you call me up and say thanks but no thanks."

"Well, there's no need to take that tone..."

"You know what... if you guys can't get your shit together, I don't want to be in your fucking army anyway." CLICK

So, I guess it wasn't a total loss. I mean if I'd joined the army, how many years would I have had to wait before I got the opportunity to tell a Major to fuck off?

Looking All Serious

2005-06-27T14:00:00.000-04:00

Against my better judgement, I've posted this photo... I think I'll leave it up a couple of days before I pull it. But until then, feel free to admire my magnificence. =)

From Skinhead to Law Enforcement Official in 5 weeks

2005-06-27T12:02:00.000-04:00

Interesting weekend... went to the folks place, blah, blah, blah.

Anyhow, on to the interesting part. I got a call from the folks I'd auditioned for back in May... potty-mouthed mysogonist skinhead, remember?

They decided to cast me as a cop instead, so now I'm officially Cop #1. Apparently I've got some decent screen time, including a riot scene, which will be tres cool. I'll know more once I get my script. So I signed my contract, and got my shooting days on Sunday.

I must admit though, I'm impressed with these folks so far. They are seriously organized, and have their shit together. Of course with a cast of 150+ for a feature, I guess you'd have to be. =)

So for four days at the end of July I'm gonna get to play at being an actor.

Woohoo for me!

This is it

2005-06-23T16:18:00.000-04:00

doo-wop... Actually, it's an excellent example of why I hate people, and the power of priceless comeback. God bless those who are quick with the wit.

Overly cheerful people just piss me off. I've got the same feelings towards them as I do those who are militantly religious - I'm happy for you, but keep it to yourself.

My standard response when grumpy to in(or overly)sincere "Have a nice day!"?

Thanks, I have other plans.

Crime and Punishment

2005-06-23T12:57:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, the Vagabond Kangaroo Court is now in session. The right honourable Lord Vaga of Bond presiding.

Be seated.

Session 5 of 5 for docket number 665 then. Charges of overworking and abuse of Mr. Laugh Track, for purposes of making a singularly terrible and unfunny sitcom seem funny. Defendant is the Fox Network, the sitcom Stacked, and 'star' Pamela Anderson.

Fox, Stacked and Ms. Anderson, you have been charged with a very serious offence; the assault, battery, abuse and overwork of a laugh track.

I myself have watched 10 minutes of Stacked, and am prepared to summarily rule against you. I have not seen such a painfully unfunny, mugging filled, stereotype laden ...oeuvre since the last time I watched 5 year olds put on a play for their parents.

You are hearby convicted and sentenced to removal of Stacked from the already polluted airwaves, $500,000 in restitution to the abused Mr. Track, and an additional $10,000 fine payable to the right honourable Lord Vaga of Bond. This fine represents $1000 for each minute of my life that I will never get back. I will use this money to repair the bleeding from my ears, and the pain in my eyes.

Case closed. Bailiff, take them away.

A Different Kind of Tens

2005-06-22T12:21:00.000-04:00

Gal flew to the east coast on Saturday to surprise her Dad for Father's Day, so I've been a bachelor for a couple of days, and will be until she's back next week.

In that spirit, here's another Tens of things that have happened since Saturday.

1. Number of concussions I've had. (also number of times I've had food poisoning)
2. Number of hours at the walk-in clinic
3. Maximum hours of consecutive sleep
4. Number of times I've lost the cat. (fortunately, also the number of times he's come back)
5. Number of conversations I've had with Ralph.
6. Half the number of hours of work I've missed.
7. Number of times I've answered the phone.
8. Number of hours of Firefly watched.
9. Number of years before I eat at BK again
10. Total hours of sleep I've had.

I don't get sick often, but when I do, I do it up right.

But this alone time has been good. I've gotten a lot more accomplished than anyone in my condition had any right to expect (mainly because I'm stubborn and refuse to allow my body's weakness to rule me). And I've realized how huge a part of my life Gal has become. I started missing her about halfway on the drive home from the airport.

Okay, I lied. I started missing her as soon as I pulled away from the terminal.

More Letters

2005-06-17T15:34:00.000-04:00

Dear City of Toronto Parking Authority,

Haha guys, very funny. Okay, you got me again. Nice trick, by the way, of switching which side of the street you can park your car on. Twice a month no less. Well done, good source of extra income.

Now you know, if you actually enforced some of the other bylaws, you might be able to take your hand out of my pocket. I'm talking about the 3 Minute Idle rule, the Blocking the Box rule, the Do Not Run over Pedestrians Exiting Streetcars rule... plus a host of others. I'm sure that these could carry higher fines than me parking on the wrong side of the street for FOUR FREAKING HOURS!

I mean really... hire me. There's three intersections I could sit at and write my weight in tickets every day for blocking the box. That's probably 8000 tickets a day! At $100 a piece, we could solve this budget crisis in a matter of months. Minus my 10% danger pay of course.

Sincerely,

Lord Vaga "Two Tickets and counting" Bond

**********

Dear Guy who hangs around the diner near where I work,

I'm impressed. You are a burly stereotypical red-headed Scottish looking bearded fellow. Wearing cut-off camo pants, combat boots, a red and white flannel checked shirt, paisley vest and a red tam with a white pom-pom. And how can I forget the corn cob pipe and striped socks?

That my friend takes a certain fashion flair and je-ne-sais-quoi to pull off, and you do it swimmingly. I'm suitably impressed, and that's not easy to do.

Congratulations,

Monsignor Vaga "Brain going into overload" Bond

PS: This letter brought to you by adjectives.

Flavoured Water

2005-06-15T12:57:00.000-04:00

We have a name for this stuff. It's called juice. Or Kool-Aid. Flavoured water is so much marketing crap that I want to beat the next person I see drinking it to death.

Seriously, who the hell are you kidding?

It's water with a hint of peach!

No it's not! It's weak-ass juice - and shitty juice at that!

What's next?

Would you like solid water in your Rye and Seven Mr. Vagabond?

Shut up assmonger, and don't you dare put ice in my drink. I asked for it neat and that's how I want it. And if I find a straw in there, I'm going to rip off your arm and beat you about the head with the wet end. Then I'm going to skewer your left eyeball with the straw, and stuff it down your pants so you can watch me kick your ass!

....

....

...um okay, no more coffee for me today.

New Office

2005-06-13T15:04:00.000-04:00

So we've changed offices over the weekend, and now I have people sitting behind me. Which means my blogging will have to be done a little less, unfortunately. Of course I say this, but it won't necessarily be so.

Plus I have too many writing projects that I'm supposed to be working on to blog at home. We'll see how those go.

As an aside, anyone know where one could put his hands on Final Draft 7? And more importantly, is it any good?

Hugs and Kisses,

Lord Vaga of Bond

The People I really Hate...

2005-06-09T16:19:00.000-04:00

are what I now affectionately refer to as the Puddle Deep. People who feel that they've learned all they need to in their lives, and have no urge to ever have a new thought enter their head.

PD's will hold the same conversation, on the same topic for days on end, covering the same ground over and over again. Their car, house, children, wardrobe, television watching habits are all fair game. Unfortunately, these topics are the only game in town.

Seriously PD's, you've got a couple of options. I'll spell them out, 'cause you sure as hell can't come up with them on your own.

1. Get the hell away from me.
2. Shut up.
3. Deep throat a loaded gun.
4. Never procreate
5. Any combination of the above (preferably all)

Someone said to me that she didn't want to learn anything new because she was too old. I'd guess she's in her late thirties.

No Skinheads Here

2005-06-06T14:28:00.000-04:00

Alas, it's been over 2 weeks since my audition; no joy in that department.

Oh well, no biggie, I'm glad I went, if nothing else.

Maybe it's just me (or A study in bias)

2005-06-02T16:40:00.000-04:00

Sigmund, Carl & Alfred run a very interesting, and thought provoking blog. If you're a thinking sort, like to examine tough questions, and hear other's opinions, it's a great place to stop in.

That being said, I'd be interested to know if anyone thinks that the good Doctor's bias is as obvious as I find it.

Victims, aren't we all

2005-06-02T12:58:00.000-04:00

He stood on the hillock; his gaze crept over the field. It was cold; a frost that snuck up, and chilled all at once, the moment you let your guard down.

Brushing tears of realization from his eyes, his soul tore.

Bodies, piled upon corpses, upon more discarded dead. Men, women, children with empty eye sockets. Soldier and civilian, cheek to jowl.

Damned and Saintly, wrecklessly left, brought down by hatred.

This is the end he thought. Of all things.

We don't need another hero

2005-06-01T13:15:00.000-04:00

... Apparently, this train has plenty.

Marcus leaned against the door of the subway, enjoying the music pumping through his headphones. A little Beethoven always helped to smooth the commute after a long day.

They got on the train two stops after his. He noticed her at first; young, sweet, though a little sad looking. He guessed she was in university. The U of T sweatshirt was a bit of a give-away. She had a beauty that Marcus had always thought of as classic; straight blonde hair, fine features, high cheekbones, and just a small cleft in her chin to offset her otherwise flawless appearence.

She shyly tucked a stray lock behind her ear, and turned to look at her companion. He was pretty unremarkable looking; homely almost. Marcus chuckled to himself, envisioning throwing a penalty flag for "Too Hot Girlfriend".

Marcus closed his eyes, enjoying the music. Two stops later, he sensed a change. A palpable threat permeated the air. He could taste the fear and anger; smell it thick in the atmosphere. It crawled over the back of his neck, chilling and nipping with pointed puppy teeth.

Eyes snapping open, he sought out the danger. It was Miss University and her homely companion, now ugly, his face now contorted in anger and disgust. His mouth was running, small flecks of spittle emerging, punctuating his fury like so many wet exclamation marks.

Marcus assessed the situation quickly. She had done something to raise his ire; deservedly or not, he knew what the next step would be. He had some experience in the area; he sported more than his fair share of bruises.

Shifting his weight to spring into action, he dialed down the volume to his personal soundtrack. Sure enough Ugly's arm came back; so complete in his fury that he did not realize that he was in public. Before it had a chance to go forward, a small Asian woman stepped forward.

"You no hit her," she announced.

"Shut up bitch, this is none of your business," he snarled.

"I make it my business," his diminutive foe replied.

"And I'm making it mine," a burly construction worker announced.

"And mine," a high school student added.

"Mine too," Marcus added quietly.

"You touch her, and I will peel you like a grape," a punk-ish looking girl added.

"Fuck all of you," Ugly announced, and exited the train as it came to a stop. Miss University stayed on, but looked quite embarassed. She mumbled her thanks and smiled shyly.

*****

Four days later Marcus was reading the daily free rag, when he came across a brief news clip.

22 year-old man murdered in city's west end, no suspects.

He knew that Ugly wouldn't bother Miss University again.

In Retrospect

2005-05-30T12:35:00.000-04:00

Prompted by Scum, I'm trying to think back to things that happened when I was 20. My memory's pretty selective, so I've probably missed some stuff.

That was the summer of Black's Harbour if I recall correctly.
The year I developed a large hole in my lung.
The year I dropped out of university.
The year my father and I spoke without ire or rancor less than a dozen times
The year I started working at the grocery store
The last full year I lived with my parents
The year I met someone who would change my life in a most dramatic fashion
The year I wrecked the tendons in my right shoulder and learned to drive a stick left handed.
The year I spent in an emotional whirlpool and psychological sink hole.
The year I wasn't sure I would make it to 21 let alone 22 or 30.
The year I wasn't sure I wanted to make it to 21.
The year I learned that I didn't want to work in Radio
The year I first worked two 30 hour a week jobs to put myself through school.
The year I didn't sleep (well, not really... though there was a 6 month stretch where I was averaging 2 hours a night)
The year I finally learned that just because you love someone doesn't mean that you have to let them walk all over you. (of course, I learned this lesson about 5 more times too)
The year I was accused of having a heroin addiction
The year I learned that I could doze in my car for the three hours between when the bars closed and when I had to unload the trucks at the grocery store
The year my liver would like to forget
The year I punched a guy in the throat for ruffling my hair (proportional response was still foreign to me)
The year I used to roll out of bed, grab a cigarette and clean the paste out of my mouth with a swig of luke warm No-Name Cola.

And so it goes...

2005-05-27T10:30:00.000-04:00

Apparently I turn 30 today. Oddly enough, it doesn't feel any different than yesterday.

**********

Vag@20: Fucking hell! I can't believe I have to put up with this shit!

Vag@30: What shit?

20: Oh you know... Mom and Dad, university, working at the grocery store

30: Oh that's right. You hate everything right now.

20: And why not? Everything is shit. Everything sucks!

30: Hate to break it to you, but things are going to get worse before they get better.

20: What do you mean? It can't be worse than this!

30: Keep telling yourself that.

20: What do you mean?

30: You've got lots to look forward to. Getting screwed over, dropping out of school, constant heavy drinking, bad relationships, having plates thrown at your head, 8 concussions, stress and frustration.

20: Damn. What's the point then?

30: Love. Friends. Good times.

20: I've got that now. Well the friends part anyhow.

30: Trust me pal. Enjoy every moment while you can. It's not the destination that's important, it's the journey.

60: He's on to something there.

20: Everything is just so terrible... I hate it all.

30: Of course you do. You're twenty. You don't know any better. And there's nothing wrong with that.

20: But it gets better?

30: Yes. It gets better. It gets worse. It gets everything in between. And ten years from now, you'll remember being angry all the time, but you won't remember why.

**********

So... my advice to myself for the next 10 years. Plan for the future, live for the moment. Embrace opportunity. Go get it. I've lived a lot in the last 10 years. I hope to live more in the next 10.

More Meme-age

2005-05-25T12:43:00.000-04:00

Total Volume Of Music Files On My Computer:
Just shy of 3 GBs, most of which is Gal's. I haven't had the heart to put much on the system since I lost almost 8 GBs in the great hard drive crash of 2004.

The Last CD I bought was:
Uh... K-Os Joyful Rebellion I think.

Song Playing Right Now:
Man who Sold the World - Nirvana - Unplugged in New York (feeling a little early 90's today)

Five Songs That I Listen To A Lot (Or That Mean A Lot To Me):
Tough to bring it down to five... I go through stages where I listen to some stuff continuously. I'll go with songs that mean a lot.

Across the Universe - Beatles
Under Pressure - Queen & David Bowie
Fur Elise - Beethoven
Hold On - Sarah McLachlan
What a Good Boy - Barenaked Ladies

Weekend

2005-05-24T12:49:00.000-04:00

(Warning, this will likely be a long rambly post, touching numerous subjects. If you don't like that, too bad)

Hoorah for it was a long weekend... not nearly long enough, but good none the less.

Made the mistake of trying to see the new Star Wars on Friday. I always forget how stupid people are. Actually, this was a case not so much of stupid, but of feeling they deserve special treatment. Get a grip folks, you're not special, no matter how much Mummy and Daddy may tell you are. And if you are special, you're exactly as special as the rest of us.

Bad movie. Blech. As much as I admire Lucas for creating an iconic world, and the incredible advances in technology, in my opinion the man cannot direct his way out of a sopping paper bag. Mercy George, no more.

Saturday was excellent. My audition finally came around for the white supremacist with the penchant for potty-mouthery. I'm of two minds about how the audition went. There was some cussing, including words that I rarely, if ever use. The audition was being run by two women, a sweet young lady, and a grandmotherly woman. Good calculated move on the director's part (I think). It made me focus more on the words themselves, and the importance of them. Excellent notes given during the audition, and they seemed pleased with what I did.

Unfortunately, I'm excited about the film and the character (who seems to have a lot of depth), and I think it would be a great and challenging role. It's making it hard to just forget about the audition, and not get butterflies every time the phone rings. I do love that feeling after a good audition though, so even if nothing comes of it, at least I've reminded myself that I enjoy auditioning for good parts (but still not beer commercials).

Best part of this production is it's shooting in July. I'm done work at the end of June; it might be nice to take July off if I get this and have a chance to do some work around the house on off shooting days, plus audition more and write.

Met with my scene partner for tomorrow, and had a great chat. We're both really excited about the scene which is a lot of fun. Plus it's always great to talk with like-minded people about acting.

I don't usually talk to 'civilians' about being an actor... I don't even usually mention it. The next question is generally 'What are you in?' or 'Would I have seen you in anything?'. Actors don't usually ask each other those questions; at least not right off.

I can't count the number of times I've responded to the second one with 'Not unless you watch obscure short films.' And then they sniff, as though you're not an actor unless they've seen you in something. Screw you Sunshine... I don't ask you whether you've worked on any computer networks I'd know? Or pumped gas into my car? I don't do this for you, or for recognition.

Anyhow, the scene partner and I had a great chat about our scene, our characters, how we like to work, what we love about acting, working in the big Smoke, and so on and so forth. It's a real pleasure to be able to talk shop with someone who's had similar experiences. And coincidence of coincidences, we share a birthday. Same year too, which was pretty cool.

It's nice to connect with other actors; and have a sort of short hand.

Sunday was pretty low-key, as was Monday as the weather's been miserable.

Bless the long weekend though... sleeping until 11 was such a treat.

So, I'm in a good frame of mind to start the work week, though that will likely change. Tonight is going to be spent combing the regular audition sites and crafting a letter for a couple of agent leads I have. Plus working on the Meme that Grimace has passed along.

Friday Before a Long Weekend

2005-05-20T15:40:00.000-04:00

Wow... it's about my 329th favourite thing; falling just between dropping a bowling ball on my foot (done that) and getting hit by a Mack Truck going 80 (haven't done that)

Not because I'm stuck here at work.
Not because most everyone buggered off just after 2 pm
Not because clients are calling with irritating frequency
Not because my office mates have been on the phone on personal matters all day
Not because it seems like I'm the only one trying to do any work
Not because it's a gorgeous day outside (finally) and there's beer calling my name
Not because I'm now the only one left in the office

It's because of clients who keep calling and saying... "Wow, didn't expect to find anyone there. Why haven't you gone home yet?"

Why? Why? WHY!?

Because I can't get off the damn phone long enough to wrap up the eleventy million things I have to do today. Because you fuckers keep calling. Because I haven't had any lunch, my blood sugar is low, and I'm getting god-damn ferocious! I've already eaten my fifteenth packet of saltines! It's just not working!

Why am I putting so much effort into a job I'm so ambivilent about, when those who supposedly love it fucked off already?

It's called dedication folks. As much as I may think some clients are idiots, they rightly expect a little thing called service. And I don't think it's right to screw them over just because it's a sunny Friday before a long weekend.

I just reserve the right to be bitter about it.

Interesting Read

2005-05-19T15:26:00.000-04:00

Sanctuary

I don't typically read many politically based blogs/essays, but parts of this one were very interesting. Excellent, compelling points interspersed with blind hypocrisy.

None the less, well written, and at least vaguely worth the time.

New Career Part 3

2005-05-19T14:03:00.000-04:00

Celebrity Rich Person (or Rich Celebrity Person)

Pros
No thought required, mind can remain blank at all times
Laws are really just suggestions
Ability to pursue dreams
Can sleep until noon every day
Constant ego stroking
Can encrust jewels on... well your jewels.
Betty Ford will give you a place to stay when you need to dry out
Get to read interesting lies about yourself

Cons
Almost inevitable cocaine nose job
No need to have goals
Keep running into that vapid hotel chick
Constant ego stroking
No one will tell you attaching gems to your tallywhacker is a "Bad Idea" ™
Paparazzi
Get to read embarassing truths about yourself

The Idiot-ification of the World

2005-05-17T16:20:00.000-04:00

Maybe I'm the asshole. Well, I am, but that's not really the issue here.

When did we decide that we would put up with people being stupid?

Our co-workers, our friends, our families, our elected officials, our clients, our customers?

There's a line that's been crossed somewhere, and I think we need to get back to it.

Let us say that in the course of my numerous positions with numerous companies, that I've become disenchanted with how things are done.

Apparently, in order to ensure adequate results, one now needs to communicate in such a way that the possibility of any thought, (mis)interpretation, or potential for even the remotest type of confusion be removed.

Let us say that a widget is currently named WidgetA. It has, in fact, been mispriced at $25 when it should be $5 less.

Is it wrong of me to think that the following message is clear?

"Please reprice WidgetA to $20. Thanks."

Should I instead, as suggested, use the following message?

**********

"Currently our widget product has the wrong price, which you may or may not have been aware of.
It is currently priced at $25.
Our widget product should be priced at $20.
Please contact me if you require clarification, or if you have any questions regarding the repricing of our widget product.
Once again, please reprice our widget product (WidgetA) from $25 to the new price ($20).

Thanks.

WidgetA now is $20"

**********

Now, I'm certain that whomever is going to rename this, can assume that if we are asking for a change, we want it changed from it's current state to the new state.

Personally (and maybe I'm sensitive) I find this degree of 'clarity' to be painful and somewhat insulting. If you think I'm such an idiot as to not be able to determine from the first message what needs to be done, then you should have me fired.

My experience has shown me that when those less talented at communication try to make things abundently clear, they tend to pollute the issue, eventually making it less clear.

When did we decide it was okay to hire idiots? If you have to coddle people by assuming they are stupid, isn't that really creating more work for yourself? Has the assumed basic level of intelligence fallen so low?

By treating people like idiots, aren't we just creating more idiots? Doesn't fostering incompetence encourage it? And if not encourage it, doesn't it discourage competence?

Don't get me wrong, I'll be the first to point out that most people are stupid. I just wouldn't hire them.

Ouch

2005-05-16T16:06:00.000-04:00

In my never ending search for new curses, swears, put-downs and disparagements, I've heard some doozies.

This one is unlike any other.

Girl 1: Wow, he's treating her like shit.
Girl 2: I know. Why doesn't he just kick her in the box and get it over with?

Vagabond in no way endorses this course of action. In fact, Lord Vaga of Bond recommends exercising extreme restraint while placing one's foot near anyone's naughty bits. While Monsignor Bond may have in the past, perhaps accidentally and inadvertantly knocked someone over with a suspiciously well placed knee to the twig and berries, he does not condone these actions.

As satisfying as it may have been at the time. No matter how much the individual deserved it.

And despite the fact that removing said individual's potential to contribute to the gradual pollution of the gene pool was in fact a service to society in general, and the future of humanity as a whole...

Ah, screw it. I stand by my actions.

Meme

2005-05-16T15:22:00.000-04:00

Alright, seeing as no one from the East Coast would pass this along to me (selfish bastards!) I stole it.

three names you go by:
1. Honey
2. Baby
3. You. No not you... the other one. No, beside you. The tall skinny one.
three screen names you have had:
1. Spider
2. Gdek
3. Omen
three physical things you like about yourself:
1. Height
2. Hair
3. Eyebrow
three physical things you don't like about yourself
1. Posture
2. Knees
3. Neck
three parts of your heritage
1. English
2. Irish
3. French
three things that scare you
1. Spiders
2. Failure
3. Defenestration
three of your everyday essentials
1. Gal
2. Coffee
3. Sleep
three things you're wearing now
1. Headphones
2. Jeans
3. Bits of my lunch
three of your favourite bands
1. Beatles
2. BNL
3. U2
three of your favourite songs
1. Break your Heart - BNL
2. Long and Winding Road - Beatles
3. My Way - Frank Sinatra
three things you want in a relationship
1. Trust
2. Humour
3. Space
two truths and a lie (which is a lie?)
1. I've kissed a man
2. I've been addressed as Monsignor
3. I thought I was a father
three physical features of the preferred sex that appeal to you
1. Teeth
2. The Top
3. The Bottom
three of your favourite hobbies
1. Writing
2. Acting
3. Directing (sometimes all at the same time)
three things you want to do really badly right now
1. Get paid for the 3 hobbies
2. Sleep
3. Stuff with Gal... uh, none of your business
three careers you would consider
1. See Hobbies
2. CEO of a top secret multinational anti-terrorist group
3. Pope
three places you want to go on vacation
1. Scotland
2. Australia/New Zealand
3. Casablanca
three kids names you like
1. Little Pissant
2. Snot nosed flu incubator
3. Ted
three things you want to do before you die
1. Not die
2. Live well
3. Be significant
three ways that you are stereotypically a girl (I'm changing this to guy)
1. Football Sundays
2. Toys
3. I like the boobies
three celebrity crushes
1. Jennifer Garner
2. Catherine Zeta-Jones
3. Angelina Jolie (though she might be a little too crazy for me)
three people to whom i would recommend this quiz
1. Harley
2. WendyKat
3. Kateshrew

Notes on Jim

2005-05-16T10:32:00.000-04:00

Awkward around women
Probably under-educated
Shy
Not especially worldly - naive
Very moral
Upstanding (religious?)
Respectful
Infatuated with Claudia
Desparate for a connection
Trying to avoid embarassment

I've got class!

2005-05-13T13:09:00.000-04:00

Okay, so here's my next scene for class. I know what film it's from, but I'm trying to ignore that, as I'm not looking to parrot someone else's performance.

Next post will be my prep notes for the scene, based on what's written below, and nothing else.

CLAUDIA
Did you ever go out with someone
and just....lie....question after
question, maybe you're trying to
make yourself look cool or better
than you are or whatever, or smarter
or cooler and you just -- not really
lie, but maybe you just don't say everything --

JIM KURRING
Well, that's a natural thing, two people
go out on a date, something. They want
to impress people, the other person...or
they're scared maybe what they say will
make the other person not like them --

CLAUDIA
So you've done it --

JIM KURRING
Well I don't go out very much.

CLAUDIA
Why not?

JIM KURRING
I've never found someone really that
I think I would like to go out with.

CLAUDIA
And I bet you say that to all the girls --

JIM KURRING
No, no.

CLAUDIA
You wanna make a deal with me?

JIM KURRING
ok.

CLAUDIA
What I just said...y'know, people
afraid to say things....no guts to
say the things that they...that are real
or something...

JIM KURRING
...yeah...

CLAUDIA
To not do that. To not do that that
we've maybe done -- before --

JIM KURRING
Let's make a deal.

CLAUDIA
Ok. I'll tell you everything and
you tell me everything and maybe
we can get through all the piss
and shit and lies that kill other
people....

He laughs a bit uncomfortable...repeats her line;

JIM KURRING
Wow....huh..."...piss and shit..."

CLAUDIA
What?

JIM KURRING
You really use strong language.

CLAUDIA
I'm sorry --

JIM KURRING
-- no, no, it's fine. Fine.

CLAUDIA
I didn't mean...it's seems vulgar
or something, I know --

JIM KURRING
It's fine.

CLAUDIA
I'm sorry.

JIM KURRING
...nothing. I'm sorry...

CLAUDIA
No, I'm sorry. I'm saying I'm sorry.
I talk like a jerk sometimes --

JIM KURRING
-- well I'm a real...y'know, straight
when it comes to that...curse words
I just don't use much --

CLAUDIA
I'm sorry.

BEAT.

CLAUDIA
I'm gonna run to the bathroom for
a minute...maybe just --

JIM KURRING
ok.

CLAUDIA
ok.

Ta

2005-05-12T16:49:00.000-04:00

Thanks for the kind words following my last post... I'm in a better frame of mind, despite the fact that the effing cat clawed his way through the screen at 5am this morning, and is still nowhere to be found.

Something better tomorrow, I promise. (Little fucker better be on the porch when Gal gets home, or I'm going to end up spending the night combing the neighbourhood for him.)

Acting

2005-05-10T13:30:00.000-04:00

I have a line in my upcoming scene study class where I must comment and leer at the endowments of my scene partner.

I'm fine with that. The character is a sleaze after all.

It'd be helpful if I could stop blushing each time I did it. Sleaze's don't tend to blush.

Sheesh, what is up with me recently? Crisis of confidence, personal and family crises. Crises of conscience, character and cat.

I sometimes wonder if the bravado and swagger I used to (or feel I used to) portray was as much an act as anything else.

When I was a child, I thought as a man, reasoned as a man, and used a man's language. Now that I am a man, I have reverted to childish things.

I guess I'm too old to know everything any more. Time to start acting again like I do.

My oh my, but I'm becoming a sulky, whiny bitch.

I guess it stands to reason though, that I may not be how I remember myself being. Memory is a fickle thing, and mine I find especially selective. I've blocked out entire months of early adulthood; entire relationships; selective parts of other relationships.

How brittle we are, and how brittle our lives can be. Minute changes reverberate, and destroy what we accepted as unassailable.

Acting indeed. Now the fool.

Creepy

2005-05-03T17:00:00.000-04:00

There are two stores that I've driven by in the city whose signage proclaims they sell lingerie and children's dresses. One adds kitchen ware to the mix.

I'm afraid to go into these stores - unless someone needs a ladle bra. Then I'm your man. And maybe spatula panties...

Tens - Road Rage Curses Edition

2005-05-02T14:14:00.000-04:00

1. Cock-Knocker (not sure where this one came from, but it's very satisfying)
2. Shitstain (which I am banned from using when Gal is in the car)
3. Stupid Qu'est-ce-que Fuck (see, my French isn't totally lost)
4. Ass-monger (Gal came up with this one, and we both giggle about it)
5. Butt-munch (Geez, what am I, 12?)
6. Cornish Game Hen (Just seeing if you're paying attention)
7. Llama, Llama, Duck (I don't have an explanation for this one)
8. Asshole (I'm a traditionalist)
9. Dick-wad (Again with the 12?)
10. Fucking idiot (Which really applies most of the time anyhow)

Where to begin...

2005-05-02T12:47:00.000-04:00

Well, it's been an interesting couple of days to be sure.

Really, I'm not sure what to blog about first. The woman I nearly killed? The one who hates me? My experience with road rage?

Let's start with the middle one first.

Single Gal seeks Oompa Loompa

There's a woman in my new acting class, whom I've met a couple of times before. I think we were also in a class together a year ago or so. She's one of these people that feel the need to comment on my weight. "Tall and skinny... wow, I hate you!" she likes to say.

This sort of comment doesn't usually bother me. It's all genetics for me, not any conscious effort on my part. Plus I've been hearing it since I was about 12, so I've built up a tolerance.

Except, there's something about this woman that just sets my teeth on edge. Not sure what it is really, but her mere presence in a room bothers me. There's no reason for it. She's never done anything to me to merit ire. Maybe it's her voice, or the way she shuffles her feet, or the way that she feels every exercise we do in class calls for hysterics. The way she sniffs dismissively when certain people in class get up to perform.

I'd very much like to tell her off. But, it's a small community, so I'm left in the uncomfortable position of biting my tongue. But the next time she tells me she hates me because I'm tall and thin, I'll let her know it's her prerogative to love short squat men.

Road Rage

Driving in this city takes a great deal more concentration than driving back east. I do prefer it for the most part, but I can certainly see how road rage happens. There's something about putting someone behind the wheel of a car that turns them into an idiot. Not that most of us have far to go.

In T.O. everyone is in a rush to get every where. I'm sure it's the same in most large cities. This often means that you'll have three or four cars turning left through a yellow light. Which means the last car will inevitably be going through a red. This slows up the cars which now have a green. This creates impatience, meaning that now 3-4 four cars will run a red/yellow in the opposite direction in order to turn left.

I guess I find it surprising that there aren't more advanced green signals in T.O. particularly at major intersections. If 3-4 cars can only turn left if they go on the yellow/red, then isn't there an issue. Now I'm not a traffic engineer, but it seems silly. Of course, I came from a city where almost every stop light was traffic actuated.

The worst is pedestrians though, which brings me to my final story...

Pedestrian vs. Car: Best 2 out of 3?

Saturday afternoon I was driving to pick up Gal from work. The roads are a little slick from the recently unleashed torrents of rain, so I'm taking my time.

I approach an intersection, looking at the opposite crossing light to determine if the light is going to turn yellow before I get there. It's still the walk sign, so I figure I'm good. I'm about to apply a little more pressure to the accelerator when I notice a well dressed woman standing on the curb, staring directly ahead of her. Be it precognition, or a finely developed sense of other's idiocy, I unconsciously switch my foot to the brake pedal.

Without looking around at all, living in her own little world, she steps off the curb and right in front of me. I tap the brakes to bleed some speed before applying them completely. I manage to stop about a foot from her. The Acura behind me gives me the gentlest of taps to my rear bumper.

The woman is standing in front of my car, gaping like a fish. I slam my car in park and pop out the door.

"Jesus Christ lady! What the hell?"

No response.

"Fuckit, the next time you step out in front of my car, I'm gonna fucking hit you. Pay attention for chrissake!"

Still no response, but she turns and walks back the way she came. The other people who were standing on the curb are looking at her like she's crazy and/or stupid. They also look a little surprised at my outburst.

Acura and I check out our respective cars; no sign of damage, so I hop back in the car and off I go.

Nothing is worse than anger born out of fear. I mean, if you're looking to off yourself by stepping in front of a car, use your head. A Saturn doing 40 klicks is not going to do the job. If you have trouble understanding the crossing lights, then wait for someone else to go first.

Jeebus, my heart hasn't raced like that in a long time.

More random Internet theft...

2005-04-29T13:28:00.000-04:00

Appetizer
Which keys do you have on your key chain?

Car key, my house key, parent's house key, handcuff key.

Soup
What is the most spontaneous thing you've ever done?

Um... moving to T.O.? Or the 5 day trip to T.O. with gal after we'd only been dating 6 weeks?

Salad
Who is the best cook in your family?

I'd say me. Mom cooks okay, and Dad can be inspired, but he gets all frou-frou with ingredients, which results in conflicting tastes. I on the other hand, cook a damn fine chilli, turkey, pasta of numerous types... of course, I don't follow recipes, so I never make the same thing twice.

Main Course
If you were to write a "how-to" book, what would the title be?

How to remember the little people - Shoe tread Choosing for the Ego-maniac

Dessert
Name a recent fad you've tried.

Cannibalism.

And I say woot, woot!

2005-04-29T12:20:00.000-04:00

Not really.

In any case, I've got an audition coming up for a role in a low-budget feature as a white supremacist with a penchant for potty-mouthery. Seeing as my last role was a walk on as Jesus, it'll be a bit of a change.

Fingers crossed!

I can't believe it

2005-04-28T11:41:00.000-04:00

I just blogged about a reality tv show.

I feel slightly dirty.

Is This Reality?

2005-04-27T16:35:00.000-04:00

Kelly: You have a hard time making commitments.
Ron: What do mean? I made a commitment to the military.
Kelly: Yeah, but you got out of that.
Ron: How'd I "get out of that?"
Kelly: You were a POW.

I don't watch much reality TV. Any really, I guess. But I like this show, though I'm not sure why.

But the above exchange just made me boggle. I'm not an advocate of violence (not an opponent either), but I honestly cannot believe the guy didn't punch her right in the mouth. I'm pretty sure that I would have. Of course, Gal's response was much less kind towards her than mine. I love that about her. =)

I'm pretty sure that the above has to qualify as one of the top 3 Dumbest Exchanges I've Ever Heard. Yay ignorance!

And thusly... here is the Top 3 List! In no particular order:

1. the Above.

2.
Employee: I don't understand why I'm late for work! I leave at the same time every day!
Me: Why not leave 10 minutes earlier?
Employee: Wow, that might work!

3.
Cop: I'm going to have to give you a ticket for your registration being expired, and another one 'cause it's not signed.
Me: Um... what?
Cop: Two tickets.
Me: One because my registration is invalid.
Cop: Yes.
Me: And the other, because my invalid registration isn't signed?
Cop: Yes.
Me: Just checking.

Green Eyed Monster and 'Fraidy Cat

2005-04-27T13:54:00.000-04:00

I don't really believe in jealousy. I'm not saying I don't believe it exists; I've seen it first hand. I just do my damndest not to feel it myself.

That being said, I'm a little envious of my sister. She decided that she wanted to get into acting last year, after her career as a hairdresser was kiboshed due to whiplash from a car accident.

So she signed up for some classes, got an agent, and started working hard at it. I guess that's the big difference between my sister and I. She works hard at everything she does, regardless of whether it's something she's interested in, regardless of how many other things she has on her plate, regardless of how things are going in other areas of her life.

She called me last night to say that she was pretty sure she was going to get cast in a low-budget, non-union feature. It sounds like a pretty B, direct to video type project. But it's acting work. On a set, paid.

And as happy as I am for her, I'm just a little angry with myself. Acting is supposedly my dream, yet I've done squat in the past 4 months to make this dream happen. Granted, I'm starting an advanced class tonight...

But I've had a draft message for a couple of different agencies for almost 3 months. And I haven't sent it. First the excuse was the move. Well, that's out of the way. Now I have no cell phone, so I'm loathe to send the letters out, without an easy way to get a hold of me. Right. Excuses all.

In reality, it's because I'm afraid. Afraid that I'll be told that I have no hope of fabricating a career as an actor. Afraid that if I do become even mildly successful, I'll discover that it's not what I want to do with my life. I'll grow to resent it, then hate it. Afraid if I don't pursue it, I'll what if myself for the rest of my life.

It's safer to fantasize about how great achieving your dreams will be, than to actually put yourself out and go for it.

No more. The timid little kid I was is gone. No more excuses. No more envy. If she got what she wanted, there's no reason I can't.

Good on you kid. Congratulations on the possible role, and thanks for giving your big brother an unintentional kick in the ass.

Another quip to keep in my head

2005-04-25T14:51:00.000-04:00

This one almost slipped out today...

"Don't shit on a plate and tell me it's meatloaf."

I really don't know where these come from, but someday, I'm writing a book.

Just so we're clear

2005-04-22T12:11:00.000-04:00

Let me see if I understand this...

In order to own a home or a car in Canada, I need to have insurance.

I pay a set amount every month to the insurance company, for said insurance, ostensibly to cover expenses should something 'bad' happen.

Yet, I make a claim for any amount, regardless of whether or not I am at fault, and my insurance company either jacks my rates sky high, or refuses to provide me with coverage any longer.

On top of this, insurance companies post record profits every year.

So basically, I'm paying a sum of money every month for the privilege of... what? Hassle? Aggravation?

If my car were to be totalled in an accident, I couldn't afford to replace it without filing a claim. Yet, if I file a claim to replace the car, I can either no longer afford to insure the new car, or cannot get insurance at all. The end result is I can't drive in either case.

Hmmmm... how does one go about forming their own insurance company? I need to get in on this scam.

New Career 2

2005-04-22T09:29:00.000-04:00

Jeopardy Host

Pros:
Opportunity to kick Ken Jennings in the teeth
Steady work, only 2 days a week
Opportunity to learn mostly useless information
Comped suits
Decent pay
No actual knowledge required

Cons:
Likely to be a pre-school tournament soon
Random asses on the street expecting you to be smart
Ken Jennings
Probably don't get a cut of each players winnings
Inane chit chat after the first commercial break
Occasionally terrible category names

Study in Contrasts

2005-04-21T14:21:00.000-04:00

I'm a late luncher. It's something I learned from working twelve hour shifts. The further back in your day that you can push lunch, the shorter the rest of the day will seem. I usually go for lunch sometime after two, grab a sandwich and/or go for a walk. What this has to do with the story below, I have no idea. Segue's are not always my strength.

Today, I had the opportunity to be walking behind a lovely young lady. I work in/near the fashion district, so it's not uncommon to see models wandering about the area. This one was exceptionally attractive, in a perfectly natural way. Not a hint of fake-plasticness about her in the slightest. Just an incredibly beautiful natural woman.

Now, if I weren't happily living with Gal, well... actually, I wouldn't have done anything. Let's not kid ourselves here; while I'm not above making an ass of myself, this young lady was so beautiful it was intimidating. Which for me is a big thing; I pride myself on being un-intimidate-able.*

The ubiquitous cell phone rings and she answers as we're waiting for the light to change. And what to my shocked and soon to be bleeding ears happens? She launches a most vile spew of invectives, cursing to make a bike messenger** from a Tarrantino film*** cover his ears.

I was taken aback! Shocked! Appalled! How could this beautiful creature use such language as to bring a tear (not of joy) to my eye?

I can swear, curse and so on with the best of them, given proper prodding... but I've never said some of the words she said in public! Her language made everyone waiting for the light to change uncomfortable, of that I'm sure.

The c word, the q word, the ever popular effer... it was all there and more. I've never gone from so attracted to so repulsed in such a short span before.

I guess it takes all kinds.****

*And if I am intimidated, I do my best to hide it.

**Bike messengers are the new sailors.

***Cause Quentin likes the cussin'

****I couldn't figure out how to work in "From the mouths of babes"

New Career

2005-04-20T15:53:00.000-04:00

So I've been thinking about what I should do if I grow up. I really should start looking into one of these career thing-a-majigies... I think I might make this a regular feature. Post a job, and I'll weigh the pros and cons; feel free to chime in.

Today's career:

Police Officer
Pros:
Get to carry a gun
Don't have to think about what to wear to work
Pretty decent pay
Benefits package
Company car
Neat gadgets like walkies, handcuffs, pepper spray, baton and hopefully a taser.
No more speeding tickets

Cons:
Odd hours
Getting shot at
Not being allowed to use gun, pepper spray and/or taser willy nilly
Possibility of ending up on COPS or Most Amazing Police Chases
Silly looking hat
Apparently there's a physical component
Allegedly can't shoot suspects instead of chasing them down

Lyrics to the song I'm listening to right now

2005-04-20T12:02:00.000-04:00

I know why I like you
it's cause of your clothing and your haircut
and 'cause you're racist.
I have a match; your face,
My asking you questions you can't answer.
You want to box me?

Our world works in a weird way
I've heard them say a man with a beard may
frighten children or dogs but a moustache scares me more.

I know why you bite me
it's cause of your instincts and your canines
and 'cause I kicked you.
I have a bone to pick;
Please go on the paper and fetch me my slippers
and stop meowing.

Man's best friend wags his tail and
bares his teeth to the man with the mail and
though he's frightened of thunder he never goes to war.

Tell me what's the circumstance of circumcision?
And what goes in my daughter's pants is whose decision?
I've seen the facts of inter-race relations,
of see-through slacks, of cyber-masturbation;
if a hundred monkeys each could get their own show,
Perhaps one day a chimp might say
"You have faith, you just need to use it sayeth the Lord"

I know why I like you
it's cause of your sandals and your supper
and 'cause you're Jesus
I have a match; your Dad, my dad has
your picture right next to your mother's
and one of Charo

They hold hands up in heaven.
And they say that their son's name is Kevin
But I read in a book somewhere that his name is Jack

I Know - BNL

Meetings

2005-04-19T15:26:00.000-04:00

I hate 'em. Absolutely, and completely. Meetings are the life preserver of the self important and uninformed, at least most places I've worked.

Meetings rarely start on time, and even more rarely finish on time.

The only thing worse in my mind, are training sessions. The penultimate? Online training sessions, with a conference call dial in, to listen to the questions.

Blech. Sat through one today that lasted an hour when it could have been covered by a 1 page document. Even better... I figured the same thing out last week on my own, and sent around said 1 page document.

It really amazes me that companies ever get anything accomplished.

It's a little bit funny

2005-04-18T12:33:00.000-04:00

How the clients that take the most effort to please are often those that produce the least amount of return.

No matter how often it comes on, or how badly butchered for TV it is, I have to watch A Few Good Men to the very end.

How I swore I would unpack right after my move, and here it is almost 3 weeks later... still not even close to unpacked.

That I can't even fool myself anymore.

No matter how many times I hear it, Tuktuyuktuk always makes me smile.

That I'm wondering if this is all there is to life, but am still too lazy to get up off my ass and get more.

As much as I get frustrated with my current job/coworkers, I can't fool myself into thinking it'll be any different elsewhere.

That watching a kid squeal in delight while getting onto a bus makes me wonder if I can ever be that happy or excited about anything.

That some people see me as incredibly driven.

How I feel that I'm faking my way through life.

That as self-absorbed as I might sound above, this list makes me laugh.

Expressions I Just Don't Get

2005-04-14T12:40:00.000-04:00

- Pouring out a 40 for my dead homies -

This one I don't understand. I mean, I get the gist; a tribute to a fallen comrade. But pouring out 40 ounces of an alcoholic beverage? Where I come from, this is a quick way to join your dead homie.

Watch this commercial to get a feel for how many Maritimers feel about liquor in general. I love the whole ad series.

Maybe it's the pouring out part I don't get. If you could 'pour out' into a series of glasses to share amongst friends (or not), that'd be cool. For some reason I get the image of pouring it on the ground. And that's just not cool. In fact it's alcohol abuse. And we'll have none of that here.

I've grown to love blogs

2005-04-12T11:57:00.000-04:00

I am, by my very nature, a solitary person. I used to be very social, the sophisticate clown, always ready with a wry remark or carefully considered put-down. The zing was my thing.

Not so much any more. I'm not sure where that Vagabond went, whether he'll come back, or even if he will. Is it age? The sapping of my will by mind numbing, soul stealing tasks, meant only to garner one more paycheque? Or is it simply growing up? And would I accept him if he came back?

With the change I've fallen away from friends and family in some ways. With Gal in my life, I've become occupied with 'couple' things, as is wont to happen. Don't think I resent that; it's merely a changing of priorities. But sometimes I do wistfully think back to a time where all my free time was spent willingly and joyfully with friends.

In the intervening years from University to now, I've fallen out of touch in a lot of ways with friends. Part of it was moving to different cities, first an hour away, now twelve. Part was an unco-operative job schedule which naturally isolated me from people with regular 9-5's. Part was me.

But in the past few weeks, I felt some of that distance shrink, thanks to blogs. I know more about how friends are feeling than I did when I wasn't 800 miles away (somehow, 1200 kilometers doesn't convey the same emotion). And for that, I'd like to say thanks! And thanks for sharing. And I miss you all. And that's too many 'And' extensions.

And to the new friends I've made exclusively through blogging, thanks to you as well. I've never made friends easily or quickly, but there are many of you I consider as such. I've learned more of the world outside of my head in the past months than I ever thought possible. I never really put much thought into the idea that you could be friends with someone you've never met... but there's lots of you I'd love to sit down for a beer with, and just shoot the shit.

Pretty deep for a Tuesday morning... I'm going to blame the hayfever meds.

Tens - Quips I managed to keep in my head and not let out of my mouth Edition

2005-04-07T15:58:00.000-04:00

1 - I promise to be nicer if you promise to be smarter.
2 - Right. And you're the boss why?
3 - Doh. Keep forgetting competence and authority don't go hand in hand.
4 - You're smarter than you look. Then again, you'd better be.
5 - *You* are telling *me* to be clear in my communication? I'm clear, you just don't like what I have to say.
6 - Who died and made you me?
7 - Howzabout you go play a nice game of Hide-and-go-f*ck-yourself?
8 - Great. A Jerk-in-a-box.
9 - You my friend are not nearly as deep as you think you are.
10- Better you than me.

Super-Fantastic!

2005-04-06T15:59:00.000-04:00

Step right this way folks, right this way! Today you will be astounded and amazed, amazed I tell you!

Today we're going to wander over and take a gander at the world's first Snarky-go-round™! Don't get too close Miss! You wouldn't want to accidentally be pelted with Sarcasm! It's tough to get out of fabric I hear.

If you look closely, you can see Sarcasm riding just behind Irony, Wit, and way at the back, sort of off by himself is Pun.

Coming around now we have Surly, Insulticus, his sister Disparagement, and cousins Belittlement and Put-down. Also we have Pejorative and Snidely.

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, the Snarky-go-round™ offers all sorts of fun and amusement. Offer your friends, co-workers and enemies the chance to take a ride on the Snarky-go-round™! They'll never forget your generosity!

Experiencing the Snarky-go-round™ is the gift that keeps on giving! It's one that'll show you it truly is better to give than receive!

Now, if you dumb rubes would just follow me, I'll show you our real estate division...

Moov-ed

2005-04-06T15:02:00.000-04:00

I'm not dead, just dead tired. The move went as well as can be expected. Movers were a little slow, but all in all it was fine.

Now comes the unpacking, which I hate more than the packing and/or moving itself. Ah well, it'll be a week or two before we're settled.

And I'm fighting again with the cable company. Surprise, surprise. I should have known better than to stay with them... I guess I stick with them and they stick it to me.

Gal keeps telling me I should go work there, subvert them from the inside. I'm not sure that I could do it without losing it. Actually, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't make it through the interview with a straight face.

Speaking of interviews, now that the move is complete, and once I get the interweb at home again, Job Search 2005 is going to commence. I'm hoping for something great, and baring that, something I won't hate within 2 years. We'll see.

Agent Search 2005 will also start shortly. If it goes well, and I start getting paying gigs (I wish), I may be able to call off JS 2005 altogether.

Of course, if I had a tank, I wouldn't have to worry about the cable company any more.

Amusing aside - One of my co-workers said I'm the most negative person she's ever met. I chuckled at that, thinking of her meeting University Vagabond. Now that fellow was negative.

And that's why I killed her

2005-04-04T13:43:00.000-04:00

Startling admission no? There was no real reason to do it. Boredom made me do it. Overpowering, mind numbing, hate inducing boredom. And strawberry tarts.

You see, She seduced my baby. Stole him from under my wing. He was just developing into something really great. And then, She came along; with her long arms and succubean ways. Suddenly I didn't even recognize him anymore.

He wasn't what I wanted him to become; in his place was a pale parody of potential. He lay there, deformed, unrecognizable. Nothing... a confused, frustrating amalgam of possibility and failure.

So I killed Her.

Inspiration, I am no longer your bitch. I will no longer bow to your capricious ways, forced to fawn over every new idea you pop into my head. For once, once!, let me finish spawning and raising one baby before you plant the seed of the next.

I beg of you. Stop teasing me!

Premature

2005-03-28T17:06:00.000-05:00

Declaration of victory that is. Damnit!

Apparently TP and TPF are still at the apartment. Gal just got home to discover that they haven't finished packing up the stuff that's not going on the moving truck. Cause they haven't had all day to do that. The movers moved them out in 1.5 hours flat. That would bring them to 10 am. So what, praytell, other than getting the hell out of our apartment, have they been doing all day?

Can't be anything naughty, cause the only bed in the place is Gal's and mine; so help me Whoever, if they were there and I find out, there will in fact be hell to pay.

Apparently they're going to stay with our other former roommate for a few days. He has a new one bedroom basement apartment, that's about 302 square feet. Good idea to have three people there for a few days. I'm guessing it's because TP is to cheap to get a hotel room for a few days. Too cheap in the same way that she had 6 cousins and their significant others stay over for a weekend. Without consulting the roommates.

And too chicken to ask Gal and I to stay with us.

Hopefully they'll be gone before I get home. I hope for their sake, and my own sanity that that will be the case.

We can all hope n'est ce pas?

Victory is Mine!

2005-03-28T13:06:00.000-05:00

Okay, I lied.

Well, not really. I just didn't pay attention when TP and her fiancee (hereafter TPF... (odd that particular acronym can also be used for That Poor Fu... err Fellow)) said that their movers were coming today.

So, with any luck, they will be gone before I get home, and I'll not have to see them again. Yea me!

Of course, last night they had to be their typical ignorant, inconsiderate selves. TP got home from work at around midnight, and proceeded to pack up dishes. Much clanking ensued.

The fact that TPF had spent the entire evening on his duff was not lost on me. So, I left the bedroom with the intention of gathering up the cat, and a little education.

See, Gal and I sleep with our door slightly ajar, to allow the cat the opportunity to exit the bedroom to use the facilities, have a midnight snack, etc...

So when TP and TPF are loud after we've gone to bed, there's really no sound barrier. Hence my frustration.

So I collected the cat, loudly telling him that it was time for us to go to bed, as Gal and I had to work in the morning, and needed some sleep.

He started as TP clanked some more dishes togther, and I soothed him, telling him I knew the loud noises were disturbing, but that it was alright, as we were going to bed.

This may seem odd to some of you; knowing that I often have a tendancy to be brutally direct. For some reason I've adopted this approach with TP.

The reason, really, is that if I tell her directly to stop being such an inconsiderate pain in the ass, she'll get all wide eyed and apologetic. "Oh, sorry, I didn't even think. I'll stop doing what I was doing right now!"

Sounds like a better solution no?

Well, the problem is that she'd then sulk and pout about the house for the next week and half. Again, not much of a problem for me, but a big problem for Gal. There's also that whole issue about my bullshit detector going off, and me having to ask her how she could be so stupid as to not realize that whatever she was doing might disturb others.

See, when TP starts a conversation with me, I reply with one word answers, until such time as I can leave the room (usually post haste). That's to avoid the whole bullshit detector going off. Gal hasn't been able to do that (being as they've known each other since before grade school).

So, in the interest of not making the whole year a miserable experience, I adopted this indirect method of communication (handy things, cats).

Now, I don't seem to be able to deal with her in any other fashion. I don't think she has any illusions as to what I think of her, seeing as she hasn't tried to engage me in conversation for about 4 months...

In any case, I don't matter no more!

TP and TPF will be out of Gal and my hair, hopefully forever. I'm sure TP will leave a 'nice' little note thanking us for being roommates, much like the card she gave us a week or so ago.

Rampant insincerity I can deal with. Hell, I've learned to bend it to my own means when the purpose suits me.

Joyous, joyous day! No more flatmates ever!

Vagabond: Victory is mine, victory is mine. Great day in the morning, victory is mine
Gal: Good morning, dear.
Vagabond: I drink from the keg of glory. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land
Gal: It's going to be an unbearable day

Holidays

2005-03-25T16:45:00.000-05:00

I've discovered that I love working on holidays.

Today is Good Friday and I'm in the office working my tush off. I find it much easier to work hard when there aren't people in my way. Plus I can crank the tunes, and just let the phone go to voicemail without worrying about someone glaring at me.

In exchange, I get next Friday off, which is handy cause it's the day after moving day. Gonna need it.

It also means I drove today rather than taking transit, and my commute was 20 minutes instead of the regular hour. And I didn't have to sit next to the smelly subway folk.

And the biggest bonus is that I won't have to do it all again next Friday.

Fear

2005-03-24T11:40:00.000-05:00

No, not the movie with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon.

I'm not afraid of many things. I can probably count them on one hand. That's not to say that I'm reckless or foolhardy, I'm just not especially fearful.

Some of the most commonly heald fears mean nothing to me.

Fear of public speaking? Ummm... got that one licked. Hell, I relish an audience.

Fear of heights? Licked that when I worked in the warehouse for the grocery store. Before that summer the third step of a ladder was it for me. Since then, heights have no hold on me.

Claustrophobia? Nope, not really. That's not to say I enjoy enclosed spaces, but I'm like a cat. If I can fit my head through an opening, the rest of my body can fit as well. No worries of getting stuck.

Emetophobia? I don't have a fondness for vomit, but I'm certainly not afraid of it.

Arachnophobia? Okay, I've got that a touch. Well, more than a touch. It's not like a shriek like a pig-tailed school girl, hands fluttering in a pointless attempt to ward off panic. I just leave the room, and ask Gal to roll up a newspaper and smack the little eight legged freak dead. I even get skin crawlies with obviously fake movie spiders. Fear Factor? Fuggeddaboudit.

What I do fear more than anything is being trapped in my own body. I've always been a tremendously independent person, taking care of myself, doing my own thing. I don't like to be fussed over.

So the thought of dementia, alzheimer's or anything where my conciousness becomes trapped in my body scares the crap out of me.

As my Nan got older, I remember this normally sweet tempered English lady displaying more frequent fits of temper. It was frustration at not being able to do what she used to be able to. And even worse, knowing that she used to be able to do whatever it was.

My grandfather was the same way.

Now granted, Nan was 95 when her mind started to go, and my Granddad was in his 80's. I've got a ways to go before I hit those ages. But I do live in fear of that. I know me. I know that I'll be completely unsufferable. Especially if I'm stuck in the crooked home we saw on 60 Minutes.

8 Days!

2005-03-23T16:57:00.000-05:00

Yeah, that's right. Eight little days.

Flash Fiction Challenge #5

2005-03-22T14:20:00.000-05:00

The city was dark. Granted, the storm had knocked out the main generator hours ago. Ant like crews scurried about, doing their best to bring light back to life.

His reign over the city was coming to a close. Ultra-violence no longer carried the stigma it once had. He was certain he didn't want to rule over a city rife with gangs and junkies.

All due respect was no longer given. A man of his stature commanded a certain deference. His new lieutenants did not seem to understand this.

The old guard was passing. Burning out, bright loud fireworks fading into mid summer twilight.

The gangs didn't understand. Strength without restraint, influence without class, wealth without refinement were all pointless.

Cash was replacing wealth. Dirty paper replaced influence; anyone holding bills felt that they deserved respect. Common thieves all.

There was one solution; bring the world to it's knees. Free love, free hate, free expression; their time had come and gone. He would bring civilization to an end, emphasizing mass consumption and gluttony.

If the nouveau riche felt they were entitled because of the size of their bank account - let everyone feel entitled. The American Dream was a sham.

Could a man such as he bring it about? The end of civilization as he knew it? Simply to spite what mankind was becoming? Did one man have the will, the fortitude, the stomach to do such a thing? Why not? After all, wasn’t man due?

The lights flickered on.

----------
This week's challenge:
1. Maximum length: 250 words.
2. The theme is: power
3. The time is: 1968
4. Within the story, you must use this text: all due respect.

10 Days to Go

2005-03-21T12:35:00.000-05:00

Yes, that's right, 10 days to moving day. I'm fairly confident I can make it through 10 days without committing a homicide. I mean, I'm at work for 7 of those days, which means I'll likely be too tired to commit a mercy killing when I get home.

The other three days I should be packing, so really, the time for cleaning the gene pool is winding down.

Those who read this blog who've known me for a while understand that subtlety is not necessarily my strong point. The rest of you have probably picked up on this as well.

The special version of Vagabond Subtlety ™ is somewhat akin (great word, no?) to the engagement of Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck. Only less understated.

However, with age has come a sense of refinement and restraint. I've learned not to put myself in situations that would lead me to exercise (read unleash) my frustration with The Princess.

Case in point... she did a card reading for her boyfriend Saturday night. She then offered to do one for Gal, who graciously accepted. Apparently during the card reading, TP indicated that Gal might have problems in the future with a difficult partner.

Hmmmm.... project much?

Anyhow, she then offered (wisely through Gal) to read my cards. I politely declined; being as it was Gal who relayed the offer. It would have been somewhat more satisfying to laugh in TP's face, but in the interest of having the next 10 days pass as quietly as possible...

Anyhow, my early twenty-ish self would have taken up the offer, in order to ridicule and make faces at TP. I come from a background of champion eye rollers. Mom is the queen and Dad is the king of Eyerollia. Plus I've got that whole eyebrow are-you-shitting-me-or-are-you-just-stupid quirk.

So I passed on the offer.

However, there's been a bag of garbage sitting beside the door since early yesterday afternoon. Apparently the 40 trek down the hallway to the garbage chute is too much of a strain. If it's still there when I get home, it's moving into TP's bedroom.

If I have a good day, I'll even leave the garbage in the bag.

I just don't know

2005-03-18T09:46:00.000-05:00

This came to my attention this morning while I was doing my daily news check.

I graduated from that school. I have friends who work there. I probably know some of the kids who go there.

I'm in shock. I don't really know what to think.

Some folks I know from there are saying it's getting blown out of proportion. I trust their judgement, so I'm sure that's the case. But still...

I guess if I had any innocence left, it's pretty much gone now.

How can I be so knocked for a loop by something that didn't even happen?

Nasty Sod

2005-03-16T14:42:00.000-05:00

Yes I am. No, not full time. On a mostly part time basis. Offer void where prohibited, available with limited APR financing. Offer not valid in Quebec or the Continental United States. All applicable taxes.

An example you say? You won't just take my word on it?

Alright then.

There was a tremendously tall lad in my class in primary school. We'll call him Oval Head, because that's what we called him as he had one. At the tender age of 10, O.H. was already over six feet tall.

Our teacher had the brilliant idea of setting up our desks in clusters of four. O.H. had the desk facing mine.

"Hey OvalHead, get your boat feet out from under my desk."

"Shut up pipsqueak. Your feet don't even touch the floor."

"Articulate for a dumbass aren't you?"

"Shut up!"

"Go fuck yourself Oval Douche!"

We were nothing if not original. I won most of these exchanges at this age because I was the only one who would pull out the forbidden words.

This went on for a few days, with O.H. getting to the point where he'd slouch down in his chair in order to kick my legs under the desk.

"You do that again, and I'm going to stab you in the foot." My bounds of tolerance had been reached. That and my shins were bruised beyond belief.

"No you won't pipsqueak," he sneered. Watching someone with an ovular (am I using that right?) shaped head sneer is hardly intimidating.

So, I got ready. I surreptitiously took out my math set, and readied my protractor. He drew back to kick me again, and I set my weapon in place.

His scream of pain got the teacher's attention. Of course, he couldn't tell her what happened, as she'd already given us shit for carrying on. It was also French class, and he couldn't figure out how to say protractor in French.

I put the protractor back in my math set, noting with sick satisfaction the blood on the pick. I guess the top inch had gone into his foot.

Never mess with a nasty sod with a protractor and the will to use it.

Flash Fiction #4

2005-03-16T12:23:00.000-05:00

I’d been deep undercover since the end of the big WW2. Moscow was not the best place to be stationed during the winter of ‘58. First off, it was cold. Secondly, unless you were part of the party elite, there was never enough food to go around.

Supposedly I was training the women’s track and field team. The Canadian Olympic Committee wanted to determine if all the female shot-putters with mustaches were actually women or not. Judging from their Adam’s Apples and visible packages, I was pretty sure they weren’t.

The government subcommittee wanted to be sure though. I think it was because I’d been sleeping with Dief’s wife. The Prime Minister wasn’t happy about that. Not that I can really blame him. For the sake of the country, I’d accepted this post.

Natalya and I had just returned from watching a smuggled in version of Dracula. Christopher Lee is as big a ham as I remembered. At the Hop was blaring from the downstairs babushka’s illegal transistor.

The only good part about being stationed here was Natalya. She was a Slavic Goddess, less the mustache, Adam’s Apple, and package. These Moscow girls make me sing and shout, that Georgia’s always on my mind. Never mind the Ukraine girls.

Natalya wanted to drink. Seeing as there was nothing else to do, I grimaced through three glasses of the cheap stuff, before retiring for the night. I was lucky to have someone keep this comrade warm.

Friendship means sometimes having to say you're sorry

2005-03-16T11:29:00.000-05:00

I was perusing the 'sphere and came across this post by Melina about friendship.

I've been thinking about this some recently. Mainly because I don't really think I've made any friends since I moved to Toronto. Not that I've been really trying all that hard (read at all), so I'm not really concerned.

What does tickle the nervous part of my mind, is that I'm fine with that. Gal and I have gone out with a couple different people, but we didn't really have a good time. and didn't particularly like the people.

It's been odd for me, as this is the first time I've ever had to/tried to make friends as part of a couple. Hell, it's the first time I've been part of a couple for longer than a couple of months at a time.

On the flip side, Gal and I keep each other company, so I'm not a hermit like I was before we met. Human contact is a good thing (get your minds out of the gutter, you dirty birds!)

Anyhow, is this a normal part of getting older? Not being interested in making new friends? I have enough trouble keeping up with the old friends (sorry!). And I mean old in both the having been friends with them for a decade and a half, and in the fact that they're all getting old(er). They're getting so old and wrinkley that they look like David Brinkley.

I've got to take at least a portion of the blame. The fact that I've become more and more of an introvert (in the Meyers Briggs sense) as I've gotten older has contributed.

That and the fact that most people are assholes. There's only room for one asshole in most friendships, and I prefer that asshole to be me.

Inspiration

2005-03-15T15:32:00.000-05:00

Nope, none today. I'm wiped today, what with packing, going to war with the Cable Company, residual irritation with soon to be ex-roomies, impending job & agent search, and an irritating lack of sleep.

So I'm overtired and cranky, which is pretty much what I was all the time at my last job. I didn't realize how much I didn't miss that at all.

But, on the plus side, I've been asked to contribute to a book on working in Independant Film. That will be interesting if nothing else, but it is something else on an already fairly full plate.

I hope that things get a little more steady once we move... these peaks and valleys are killing me.

Vagabond Goes to War

2005-03-11T17:05:00.000-05:00

That's it. I'm going to throw down. Cable Company ™ and are I going to go at least 400 rounds, and I'm going to win. Or at the very least, I'm getting a bunch of free stuff.

I can put up with terrible service if I'm not paying for it. I think.

Otherwise that's it. I'm so angry right now, if I were to win a large sum of money, I'd offer $50k bounties for anyone who quit Cable Company and signed a contract not to work there for at least 3 years.

I hate those bastards!

The Cat

2005-03-11T13:09:00.000-05:00

The Basil
Originally uploaded by Vagabond_Shoes.

This is a Flickr test.

As an aside, it is sad to note that this cat has had more pictures taken of him in the last 6 months than I have in the last 6 years.

With apologies to Sting

2005-03-11T10:49:00.000-05:00

I don't drink Starbucks, I like Tim's my dear
I like my seaweed dulse all dried
And they can hear it in my accent when I talk
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke

See my walking Eglington Avenue
A Timmy's clutched close to my side
I take it everywhere I walk
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke

I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke
I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke

No one will like you there, is what someone said
Here's is where you should stay
It takes courage to leave your home and smile
Be yourself, no matter what they say

I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke
I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke

Messy drunken riotry won't lead to noteriety
Amongst millions I'm a lonely one
Sarcastic anti-piety, is rare in this society
Is drinking hard my only way to fun?

Takes more than a postal code to make a man
Takes more than some pogey from the gov
Teach the Upper C's, learn from 'em when you can
A New Brunswicker will always drink for fun

No one will like you there, is what someone said
Here's is where you should stay
It takes courage to leave your home and smile
Stay East Coast, no matter what they say

I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke
I'm an alien, East Coast Canadian
I'm a New Brunswicker in the Big Smoke

Danger Boss Robinson, Danger!

2005-03-10T16:34:00.000-05:00

My boss sends out an email that asks me to break down how I spend my day. I'm assuming she means how I spend the time that I spend here working. Broken down by percentages.

There is also a request to break down how I'd like to spend my day. Broken down by percentages.

In the interest of not getting Dooced, I'm going to keep what I wrote between Boss Robinson and I. But there's a part of me, wrestling with a much smaller part of me, about sending exactly what I'd like to be doing with my day. Broken down by percentages.

Anti Bath

2005-03-10T12:28:00.000-05:00

I am the above. Firmly.

After yesterday's freezing temperatures, both in the office and outside, I was thoroughly chilled by the time I got home. So chilled in fact, I was doing my paint agitator imitation. (As an aside, don't hand me a cup of hot liquid while I'm in that state)

So Gal suggested I take a bath. I was fairly non-convinced about the goodness of that idea, but she drew it anyway. She lit candles too, which was nice. I'm not sure what purpose the candles serve, but hey, I've never seen her take one without candles, so I'm guessing they're necessary.

I'm 6 feet 2 inches tall. Gangly some would call me. I do not fit well in a standard sized tub. My options are to submerge my upper body, or submerge my lower body. I cannot be fully submerged.

Which means that while I'm soaking my top, my legs are getting cold. And when I switch, my upper body get cold.

I'm also kind of lacking in padding, so sitting in a tub is not exactly comfortable for me.

So, the whole point of the bath - warming myself, was at least half defeated at any given moment.

And thus, I am anti bath. Firmly pro shower though. If I had a shower with a seat in it, I might never get out.

Some things

2005-03-09T14:55:00.000-05:00

A.
I'd like to present the Toronto Transit Commission with the following awards:
Meritous Citation for the avoidance of accidental displays of competence.
Burgundy Fellowship for adherence to the letter of their service promises as opposed to the spirit.
and finally The Silver Mass Transit Award for the pool to see how often they can cause passengers to take a tumble through jerky and erratic operation of all TTC Vehicles.

Way to go folks, way to go!

B.
It's about -15 C in Toronto today. Seems like a perfect time to shut off the heat in our office. It's hard to type with these gloves on, I'll tell you what!

C.
Saw a kid today with a Megadeth Ride the Lightning patch on his backpack. I'm officially a curmudgeon, as my first thought was "He can't wear that! He wasn't even born when that album came out!"

D.
Am I old because there are kids entering high school who were born the same year I entered high school? Mare - How does teaching them feel?

E.
I hate the cable company. Not in a normal every day type of hate, but more in a I'll dedicate my life to bringing you down hate.

F.
That's it. Carry on!

Singing in the Rain

2005-03-07T14:07:00.000-05:00

Hello Mudda
Hello Fadda
I think I'll eat this
Hot Enchilada
It's so tasty
It's so yummy
Now I've got hot grease upon my tummy!

I now pronounce you...

2005-03-07T13:14:00.000-05:00

The Anonymous Coworker is getting married, and has a good post on the start of wedding planning. And it got me to thinking.

Now, I've never been married (that I know of), and don't really have any burning desire to be married. But I have been to a fair number of weddings in the last 8 years or so. In fact, I was averaging 4 a summer for a couple of those years.

As I mentioned, my soon to be ex-roommate, The Princess (TP), got engaged. Now the engagement was kinda silly in my mind, but what the hey, it means something to the two of them.

So I'm wandering through the kitchen over the weekend, and what do I see but a HUGE three ring binder, bursting at the seams. It's wrapped in cloth, with Dream Wedding (or something like that) stencilled on it.

Basically, it looks like she has her wedding already planned. From what I've heard, she started gathering articles, pictures, etc... in her early teens.

I'm all for planning, but if you've put that much thought, love, wishing, hoping, praying, and what have you into an event, is there any possible way that it can live up to your expectations?

Really, if you've dreamed about it since you were 13, can it end up being anything but a let-down? I honestly don't know. I can't see that it would for me.

And isn't the wedding really just the starting point? Is getting married more important than being married? It's a big day granted, but come on... There are lots of days to come after it.

I equate it with some folks I knew in High School. It was obvious to everyone (them included) that they were living out the best days of their lives. Good for them. But if the best days of my life occurred when I was 17, someone please shoot me in the head.

It's not the day, the ceremony, cake, photographer, reception, and gifts that matter. It's the possibility of everything to come after that day.

And I guess that's why I'm in no hurry to get married. I don't need one day to remind me of the possibilities of every day to come. It's great for some... it's just not my bag baby!

Questions from AlexandraLeigh

2005-03-04T14:44:00.000-05:00

Here goes:

1. If you were a superhero, who would you be? What special powers would you have?

I'd be the Muter... with the stunning but useful ability to envelope people in a bubble of silence, so I don't have to be subjected to their snivelling idiocy.

2. Describe your ideal bathroom. (OK, this isn't a question, I know. But...it still requires an answer, so it counts.)

Not so much into bathrooms... one with all the fixtures, a kickass multi-headed shower, and a huge tub for Gal. Oh, and self cleaning. Slate tile, and heated floor perhaps? Hmmm... maybe I'm more into bathrooms than I think.

3. What are your top three favorite songs of all time?

Hmmm... that's a toughie.
Are you gonna go my way - Lenny Kravitz
Across the Universe - The Beatles
Amazing Grace - but only on the bag pipes.

4. If you could pack up and move, where would you go?

Well, I did pack up and move to T.O. with no job prospects, so this is familiar territory... but now I would say New York. If you want to act, it's that or LA. Though I like the idea of 72 degree winters, New York appeals to me more. Of course, London would be really cool as well.

5. Name a time when you most proud of yourself. (See No. 2.)

Tough call. The time I fired a guy, even though I didn't want to. It was best for all involved, but was really tough.

Delivering the eulogy at my grand father's funeral.

Quitting the job that was driving me mad, despite the fact I had no other prospects, then up and moving 1200 kms.

Thanks AL!

Mom! Why does the mail smell funny?

2005-03-03T11:39:00.000-05:00

Oh Really?

Not sure how I feel about this. It all sounds very safe, and very above board, but the idea of shipping anthrax next to my CD's from Amazon just seems odd.

Despite assurances that this is common practice around the world, I'm pretty sure that it was not a well advertised one.

At least it's not CanadaPost. I still haven't gotten two books I ordered before Christmas.

In other shipping shennanigans, a friend of mine was asked to send yogurt through the mail. She found a piece of yarn in a single serving package, called the helpful 800 number, and they told her they would send her an envelope to mail it back to them.

She gets the envelope, and it's basically one of those foil cookie packages, with those fold over twist tie clips. It's got a stamp on it, so she follows the directions.

Now, I think that the people at the 800 number have a pool running on how many people they can get to send yogurt through the mail.

And I would not want to be the postie who has to sort and/or deliver that package in the middle of July.

Why not Puma?

2005-03-03T10:10:00.000-05:00

There's a bunch of blogs I read on a daily basis, mainly to keep my sanity at work. The reason I don't have a list of them is mainly sloth.

In any case, today I'd like to say a special thanks to Mooberticus Cowerovskisen for getting John "Cougar" Mellencamp's Jack and Diane stuck in my head.

Thanks MooCow, you glorious sadistic bastard! Now I'm going to have to hum either the Hockey Night in Canada Theme, Mr. Sandman, or Tiny Bubbles.

Of course, he does get bonus points for using the term Manhooker.

Sincerely,

Vaga "Large Breed Cat" Bond

Quandry

2005-03-02T15:32:00.000-05:00

I've got one.

So I'm starting on the job hunt, and my Dad caught wind of it.

As I've aluded to before, my Dad and I haven't always gotten along. In fact, we started getting along better once I moved out, and a lot better when he moved 1200 kms away.

Anyhow, he's asked me to send him a copy of my resume, and that he'd "put a word in" at Big Company where he just became a VP.

Now obviously, I wouldn't be working in any sort of area where I could end up reporting to him. But, he's one of 6 VPs. So I'd end up in one of their chain's of command.

And to give further context, my Dad is one of those people you either love or hate... and I'd say more lean towards the latter.

I can't help but think that absolutely nothing good can come from he and I working for the same company.

Plus, what if we were in a meeting together? Everyone calls him Mr. Vagabond... do I call him Dad? Mr. Dad?

Is my resistance to the idea because he suggested it? Pride? Good sense? Laziness (always a good bet for me)?

Last Night in the World

2005-03-02T11:31:00.000-05:00

Dreams had always been more real than the waking hours to him. He reveled in their intimacy, their lack of control, the absence of expectation.

In dreams there were no whys, only whats, nebulous though they may be. There were only occurrences, which while they fed off prior incidents, did not need to be directly related. There was no cause and effect.

He longed for that simplicity. Dreams had no requirement of human interaction, something he struggled deeply with. He could never anticipate what waking people would say the way he could in dreams. Waking people disappointed, dream folk did not.

Pulling himself slowly from the cool sheets, he began to plot. Was there a way he could play all day with the dream folk, and avoid those who let him down?

Was there a place where laws were merely conventions? Flying above a room, filled with swimming pools, simply because you could? Where dream folk frolicked, pretending to be unaware of those around them?

He eyed the needle.

Perhaps tonight.

The Ides

2005-03-01T16:41:00.000-05:00

March is typically a good month for me. Part of this may be that I could have been Julius Caesar in a past life, and karma is finally swinging my way.

Anyhow, I started my last job in March, and though I hated it towards the end, it was pretty good to me for three and a half years.

Gal was also born in March. Not that I knew her when she was born, you see... it's just another reason to like March.

March is where spring tends to turn the corner, and if not outright kill winter, at least tends to muzzle it somewhat. That and you know that there's a finite number of storms left to the season.

So, I'm starting hard-core into the new job search. I've seen a couple I'm interested in... certainly one of them has a salary range in a neighbourhood that I'd like to live in.

Hmmphh - Just got out of a meeting I was pulled into... just a 'quick' meeting over lunch. Started at 12:30, ended at 3. Nice.

I'll try to post something more interesting tomorrow. But the above does reinforce how much I need to find something more fulfilling. Fortunately, my boss at least understands where I'm coming from, and has no problem with giving me time off for interviews.

A letter to the woman sitting on the bench at Osgoode Station last Friday

2005-02-28T15:12:00.000-05:00

Dear Lady (and I use that term in the loosest possible sense),

Hygiene is important. Very important. However, I'm not sure that it's so vital that you need to haul out your nail clippers, and trim your nails while waiting for the subway.

I'm almost positive hygiene is not so vital that you need to take off your boots and socks, and trim your toe nails as well.

Judging from your attire, you likely have a home with a bathroom in which you could perform such tasks. Actually, I don't care where you do it, just so long as it's not within my line of sight.

Love, hugs, kisses and etiquette lessons,

Monsignor Vaga of the West Side Bond's

PS: Sadly, that's not the most disgusting thing I've seen in our subways.