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July 16, 2008

We're shirking duties randomly made up by people who hate us

Well, and officially, it's summer and everything sucks. Any intimation of having to do anything at all is met by me with a massive IDONWANNA IDONWANNA IDONWANNA IDONWANNA IDONWANNA!! And I am not alone. This entire jive-ass turkey town is staring out the window (wistfully). If I were Ferris Bueller, I would take the Day Off. I am petulant, emasculated, dyspeptic, and blasé. It's something's-gotta-give mode at Tederick Central Command. (TCC: kicking the TTC's butt!)

If I were a fruit fly, I would be bumping lazily against the fruit, accomplishing nothing.

Ugh. To be on a beach, naked, with a bottle of rum...

July 2, 2008

I've got a tree; pig in a poke.

Since our last installment, I inadvertently celebrated Canada Day by going for an impromptu 1-hour walk that became an impromptu 3-hour hike, which then required an impromptu half-hour climb out of the Don Valley through some rich guy's goddamn back yard, which then dovetailed nicely into an impromptu picnic, then an impromptu sunset lounging with Sarafinaprovised drinks, then an impromptu balcony barbecue till well after the firecrackers were pounding the night sky. Then impromptu sleeping at Sarafina's house when I had none of my things for work with me, necessitating an impromptu 6:30 a.m. wake up / stopover at 3QF to resupply before going to (promptu) work. Finally: back on promptu. But it was a grand way to spend a day, Canada. I like it here.

Trolling the LCBO web site this morning (as is my practice), I discovered that a store very near me has not one, not two, but seventeen bottles of the El Dorado 15-year-old Demerara rum that I spoke of so fondly back in February. So needless to say, I plundered that secret cache and made it my own. It's a little thank-you present to myself for being so awesome, and also to the world for making great rum. But mostly, I want to thank Pirates of the Caribbean, for selling me so many toys. Shit, I'm babbling.

It's Wednesday! Buffy! Astonishing X-Men! Burritos! Oh, 'tis good.

March 10, 2008

Snowblind

I just took my phone to the water cooler to fill it with water. I gotta get off this project I'm on, it's totally fucking me up. And it's not even 2:00 on Monday yet!

Oh the places I've been! The things I've done! It's like that book Bex gave me back in the day, only in reverse. I am anti-Seuss. Ever been crazy-carpeting in Christie Pit with cinammon whisky in the middle of the night? Cuz I have. And then (several hours later, no influenced-driving here) I drove to Brantford and back with the lovely ladies DiFelice. In the past four days I have defeated the Gatekeeper, returned triumphant to the Big Stretch (with a partner!), seen Good Hawskley Workman transform (live on stage!) into Evil Hawksley Workman, reshuffled my Obishelf yet again, had two consecutive coffee shop order screwups, crawled into my car through the back window, received a stupendously awesome bottle of rum, and had a son of a bitchin' terrific breakfast. The world quakes beneath my lightning-spittin' fingertips. (I mean literally: these lazy final days of winter have turned me into a walking electric charge. Arcs of power connect me to the walls of 3QF from distances of up to 15 inches.) And did anyone notice that I'm in last week's Powers? Bendis is good, Bendis is wise.

I need a vacation.

February 11, 2008

I want this rum

El Dorado Finest Demerara 15-Year-Old rum. Just roll that around on yoru tongue for a minute and enjoy it; I do. So, y'know, someone buy it for me or something, because of how wonderful I am. I have a Jar Jar Binks on my desk, and a laissez-faire attitude about my work.

In the meantime, I am working on moving the world away from e.learning, and straight into f.learning.

January 10, 2008

A chilly Caribbean dawn

All right, I've had it; reading The Rum Diary all week has pretty much destroyed any ability on my part to not be fantasizing constantly about getting the hell out of this town and spending several aimless weeks knocking around some anonymous beach in Dominica in the near and immediate future. Fifteen-degree Tuesdays notwithstanding, I have had it with this cold weather shite. I want to be wearing minimal, loose clothing (if clothing at all). I want to wake up covered in sand-flies. I want to watch the sun rise and only then begin considering finding a bed. Oooh, I like that last part most of all.

Speaking of The Rum Diary, I had the best rum evah last night. We went to Scaramouche for my dad's birthday, and after dinner I ordered a shot of a 15-year-old Demerara rum from Guyana... and holy sweet fucking crap, it tasted like cream mixed with vanilla. Enough of this cheap LCBO shit I've been pumping through my veins - I gotta get me some of that. Although I admit the allure would be greatly enhanced if I was buying it myself somewhere on or near the aforementioned beach.

OK, enough griping. As far as "happiness is": walking hand-in-hand before sunrise, and finding a Lobster Johnson in my bag that I hadn't read yet, have pretty much already made my day.

"The monkeys don't speak, but they move like ninjas."

December 28, 2007

Rug and a rum jug

You know what Bex gave me for Christmas? A goddamned rum jug. An actual earthenware jug, for rum. Obviously (as the title of this post indicates), she also gave me a rug. Together, these things make a fine little roll-off-the-tongue phrase which would be suitable for an album name or perhaps a sex act. I'm quite pleased.

More good news: Bex and I finally got around to Suck It: Two! OK, I admit I didn't quite twig to the fact that it has actually been nearly three months since we did Suck It: One. That's shameful. But it's out there now.

While on the subject of podcasting, right after I wrote that thing about how moviesTO had hit its hundredth show and was doing fine, moviesTO got shitcanned. Well maybe shitcanned is the wrong word and maybe it will rise phoenix-like yet again, but for now, it's taking a breather. Which should demonstrate to you why I should never say anything out loud, ever, for I possess the secret of the Deplorable Word.

I got the last tickets to tomorrow night's sneak of There Will Be Blood. I am so fucking proud of myself you'd almost think I'd fought zombies.

December 16, 2007

I am the tauntaun

GUESS WHAT, INTERNET! Turns out you can't move on a day like this! Which, I guess, is why I love Matty Price: a) he tried, and b) he called it off the moment it seemed untenable. He is both charmingly courageous, and reliably pragmatic. That's what we all need in an associate.

So now, I am officially snowbound. I may play tauntaun for the girl later, if things work out; if not, it's me and the Pirates and making the pizza guy bring me food because MWA HA HA I am the ruling class and he is the servant, although truly, he shall be tipped like a king. Ohhhhhhhh I wish I had Spider-Man 3 on blu-ray. I could get stoned and watch that motherfucker twice in this kind of weather.

You know what else I wish I had? Predictive text entry, that's what. Never thought I'd see the day that would matter to me but I am fucking tired of pounding out letters one by one. PREDICT, CELL PHONE, PREDICT! It's not too much to ask. I work for a fucking telecommunications company. I like my phone because it's a flip and flips amuse me greatly, but I'd not say no to a BlackBerry Pearl, not least because of what you get when you remove the word "berry."

So now I'm just jiving my way through some blogTO posts, including yet another snarl at the TTC, and an interview with Faith Erin Hicks that I'll be putting up on Wednesday in advance of her Zombies Calling signing at the Beguiling. (Plug plug.) Hey it's neat when I can use my quasi-journalistic status to talk to people I'd be talking to anyway. It feels like whiskey.

Oh hey: I saw Little Shop of Horrors yesterday. At that point I realized that I had only had one complete night's sleep since Tuesday, and so the second act veered more towards the hallucinogenic than perhaps the director had intended, but I stayed awake through most of it and even really enjoyed some of it. So there's that. Then there was Googmas and 150-proof rum - which, ordinarily, I'm all for, because it's what the pirates drank! but with the fatigue was a real downer - and then getting home from Googmas and now this Even More Snow jive. They had damn well not have the RT working in the morning. Matt wants a snow day.

December 10, 2007

Maelstrom!!!

Keel over topsails, and always with the spinning, spinning, spinning. So:

Last week was hard, but really awesome. I learned so much. Everything from simulation structure to how to eat rasmalai. My ducklings were terrific company even if they did keep me on my toes from about 8 a.m. Monday to just before five on Friday night. So 2008's goal has pretty much become "come up with a business case that gets you to Mumbai." It's only fair; I inflicted a week of Scarborough winter weather on these guys, plus two sixteen hour flights. If I time it right I can hit a rainy season and be as stunned by climate divergences as they were.

Saturday was the office Christmas party.

Holy god it was like the wedding from hell. I took off after the Rod Stewart impersonator kicked the Supremes impersonators off the stage and started singing "Maggie May." Plus there was the whole conspiracy/ambush/"I sense Count Dooku" aspect, to which I dutifully replied "spring the trap." Even ended up getting my goddamned prom picture taken. (Which I never did at my actual prom, now that I think about it, so at least I finally have one.) Damned if nearly the best thing about the deal was that I bought myself what I would enthusiastically describe as a fucking kickass suit. (I also found a oddly uncanny imitation of the Emo Spider-Man suit, i.e. the one he buys and then starts dancing in the street, but I chose not to purchase it, for its use is limited.) Anyways, ultimately this neon-nightmareland was at the very least an opportunity to drink scotch, and a twelve dollar martini, and red wine, and white wine, and rum, in that order, so I guess it was all right. Plus my people were with me. So I give the office Christmas party an A+ for effort, and acknowledge that the competition for my engagement was fierce.

Here's me and the Cannonball:

Me and Al and Al:

So thennnnnnnn, I went back to 3QF and found it once again without power. Which is hilarious in summer but vaguely alarming in winter. Rachie came home drunk and proceeded to give Chris and I about twenty minutes of the funniest fucking free-associative comedy I have ever heard, about her life and her problems. Then Sarafina came over and we decided, yeah, survival wasn't in question and even in a blackout 3QF has charm. So that turned out all right, even if we couldn't watch DVDs. Plus, candles: enjoyable and can make for impromptu, unintended profundity. (Let's go with..... imprunitendundity.) We made up for the movie-watching the next day when the power came back and we spun up Pirates 1 and then Pirates 3 (and it wasn't even my idea!! holy crap), with sushi in between and rum for the latter one. Plus there were crepes and waffles with caramel, and a hoodie. Right: that kind of heaven. It doesn't sound like a lot, but somehow it gobbled up the back half of the weekend, so here I am now. Cripes on a swizzle stick, who is writing my life?

I took today to slow things down, work from home, do some group-support with Jessi, and take a deep, solid breath.

October 28, 2007

That's just drunk talk... sweet, beautiful drunk talk.

I only drank about half a bottle of rum last night, which I guess explains why I'm not hung over; I'm also starting to believe in the preventative powers of a 3 a.m. peanut butter sandwich. Though I don't really understand why. Chemistry? Mebbe.

Anyways the party was a bit of a bust; many folk I truly do enjoy spending time with came by - Bex came as a cloud with TJ as rain, Candace came as the Bride (complete with head-to-toe yellow spandex jumpsuit), and Mark came as that which scares him the most (commitment). So I guess I had a good time, but overall the night was under-attended and never quite hit that critical number of people in the room to really break through. It's funny. Last year you couldn't find a single interesting thing to do on Hallowe'en for love or money and we all pretty much ended up doing nothing; this year there was so much going on that I had three other events that I would genuinely have enjoyed attending, had I not been throwing my own thing that nobody came to. It's all too much work just to end up standing around wondering why you're not having more fun on your supposed favourite night of the year. From now on, I'm a professional Hallowe'en party attender, not thrower.

Good news is, my partially-destroyed beard looks very interesting. I think I shall keep it like this.

Title

Sooooooooooooooooo. [ Exclamation point! ]

It is approximatly as twelve forty six in the morning. My name is JACK! [ exclamation point ]

and I am here with Rebeccva Wood. No reference here, sir.None. SUCK IT
nuns can also suck it

Soooooooooooooooooooooooo. In thge distant future, humans will actually attend 31F parties. Damn that says three one eff! WTF. Well anyway you get the point FUCK ALL Y'ALL. yeah

this is so defenestrated! woooo

p.s. Rebecca co-wrote the motherfucker! All right

People chess

September 22, 2007 6:45 PM

Inside

September 16, 2007 3:55 AM

My birthday will, at least in part, involve this.

September 1, 2007 2:12 PM

Gandalf's gone crazy

August 16, 2007 9:25 PM

Monkey vs. beaver

June 21, 2007 10:34 PM

Over the edge, over again

June 19, 2007 11:02 PM

No word of a lie

June 18, 2007 6:22 PM

Dangerous angels

June 16, 2007 4:30 PM

It never rains

June 10, 2007 1:08 PM

Duelling Jessies

June 10, 2007 2:19 AM

Sri Sumbhajee votes for Sri Sumbhajee

June 7, 2007 12:09 PM

Salty wenches

June 6, 2007 3:38 PM

Up is down

May 25, 2007 7:29 PM